Inside the Great Hall
The guest room allotted to the Ubar was vast, and the girl looked about it in wonder as she smoothed down the silken sheets on the huge bed. Lavish silken drapes framed the arched windows, and the floor was a beautiful mosaic of thousands of brightly coloured tiles.

She paused in her work to wipe her brow, looking over her shoulder to ensure she was not being observed by a passing guard. To pause in one’s work could be cause for discipline. She was not a freewoman. She caught sight of herself in the huge golden framed mirror on the wall opposite. She saw a pretty olive-skinned girl in a tiny white sleeveless tunic, its hem coming high on her thighs and split at each side.

She smiled at her reflection and turned, lifting the hem to show the tiny mark high on her left thigh. It was a beautiful, delicate mark. It had been put there by a white-hot iron, marking her forever as what she was. She smiled again and then touched the band of steel that was fastened on her slender neck. It was a collar, it too marking her as what she was. The girl could not remove it as it was locked upon her.

From the distance she could make out the tiny cursive writing that was etched upon it. She could not read, but knew what it said. ‘Slave of Tor’. It was a common collar, worn by state slaves.

She smiled again and turned, never losing sight of her reflection, looking admiringly at herself with the vanity of a slavegirl. She lifted her left leg, bending it back and adjusted the tiny silver bell that hung from the anklet she wore. That too was locked upon her, the bell too marking her as what she was.

She brushed some dust off the sole of her small foot. She was barefoot of course. This fact too marking her out from freewomen, marking her as what she was. “La kajira!” she said proudly to her reflection in the mirror.

She gave a twirl, giggling. Hearing a sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside, she let out a tiny squeak of panic and quickly resumed her work, preparing the room for the arrival of the ruler of Schendi himself.

good morning beautiful

*face lights up at the sight of you*

how are you my lovely?

Good morning darling. xx

idolized

*sliding in*

Stroked

Stoked

Inside the Great Hall
“Take care with those, clumsy girl. You are not skinning a bosk!” snapped the kitchen mistress

“Forgive a girl, Mistress” replied the girl as she placed another peeled ta-grape into the large silver bowl.

“And hasten!” said the kitchen mistress, giving her another sharp look before going to attend to other jobs around the steaming kitchen

“Yes Mistress!” replied the slave.

She stood at the large table in the kitchen along with three other slaves chosen for the task. Peeling the skins off ta-grapes was a delicate, laborious task, fit only for the swift, nimble fingers of slavegirls.
She was tunicked now, as were the others in the kitchen, but it clung to her in the oppressive heat of the steamy room. Tor-Tu-Gor was already high in the crystal blue sky and its rays streamed into the open windows of the kitchen where slaves busied themselves under the strict supervision of the kitchen mistress.

The heavy air in the room was thick with spices, brought especially for the arrival of the Ubar. The main dishes would be spiced and glazed with honey. A variety of meats, tabuk, bosk, and kailiauk would be served, along with fish and poultry. The smell of roasting meats filled the room, and the girl was almost salivating at the thought of hopefully being thrown a scrap of meat during her serving.

She took another bunch of grapes and continued to swiftly, expertly, peel the thin skin from the small fruit, casting her eye around the table at the other slaves engaged in the same task, pouting as she saw they were much faster, much more proficient than her at the task.

streaked

Outside the Great Hall
“Take care with those, clumsy girl. You are not skinning a bosk!” snapped the kitchen mistress

“Forgive a girl, Mistress” replied the girl as she placed another peeled ta-grape into the large silver bowl.

“And hasten!” said the kitchen mistress, giving her another sharp look before going to attend to other jobs around the steaming kitchen

“Yes Mistress!” replied the slave.

She stood at the large table in the kitchen along with three other slaves chosen for the task. Peeling the skins off ta-grapes was a delicate, laborious task, fit only for the swift, nimble fingers of slavegirls.
She was tunicked now, as were the others in the kitchen, but it clung to her in the oppressive heat of the steamy room. Tor-Tu-Gor was already high in the crystal blue sky and its rays streamed into the open windows of the kitchen where slaves busied themselves under the strict supervision of the kitchen mistress.

The heavy air in the room was thick with spices, brought especially for the arrival of the Ubar. The main dishes would be spiced and glazed with honey. A variety of meats, tabuk, bosk, and kailiauk would be served, along with fish and poultry. The smell of roasting meats filled the room, and the girl was almost salivating at the thought of hopefully being thrown a scrap of meat during her serving.

She took another bunch of grapes and continued to swiftly, expertly, peel the thin skin from the small fruit, casting her eye around the table at the other slaves engaged in the same task, pouting as she saw they were much faster, much more proficient than her at the task.

subject

plaid

object

tartan

Kilt

Depravity

Scotsman

Moaning
Talking in my sleep
Moving about restlessly

Sleeping
Dreaming about Her…

Inside the Great Hall
The girl, along with others, had been woken before dawn to be put to work. The word had come that the arrival of the party from Schendi was imminent.

“Harta in your work, worthless kajirae” snapped the kitchen mistress as she strode through the hall, snapping her switch into her palm. “These tiles are to be gleaming within the ahn. Food has to be prepared, water fetched, rooms readied. Harta, harta!” she snapped again, not happy at being brought into the hall at such an ahn.

The girl on her knees, slapped the wet cloth down again and pushed it forward with both hands over the marble tiles, inching forward, the bucket at her side. She, like the twenty other slaves assigned to the task, was naked and gleaming with sweat, her hair tied back with a simple white ribbon. All the girls were naked.

There was so much to do, and the Ubara had put much of the responsibility on to her. She alone would ensure that the Schendi Ubar’s visit would want for nothing.

She then squealed as she felt a sudden, stinging lash upon her back. “Less daydreaming more work, lazy girl!” snapped the kitchen mistress.

“Yes Mistress, yes Mistress!” cried the girl, realising she must have slowed the pace of her work as she recalled the previous evening.

Once again she applied herself diligently to her task, her arms going back and forth at a furious rate as she cleaned the floor.