It was not the last time that the master would enjoy her.

Lavina had been thrust into slavery,

but at least she got clothing out of the bargain.

When the master finished with her that first time,

he left her for the others to dutifully clean,

carting water over from the pool

so as not to pollute it.  Then, they dressed her,

bound her legs and arms with rope,

and left her blindfolded under guard in the sand.

She was left alone throughout the night

and slept throughout the day.  When she awoke,

her dress was being removed from her lower body

as others held her, pressing her face down in the sand.

This time, the master took her in the smaller hole.

Afterwards, she was washed and redressed,

then put on the back of a camel with several bags

of goods to be sold.

The master enjoyed her, through one hole or another,

each night after waking, before they set out

in the cool night air.  Sometimes, though only rarely,

the man who spoke her tongue would approach her

during the nights, when she was left bound and blind

in the sand.  He called her Oasis and ignored her

when she claimed to be called Lavina.

He said that his name was Ahremed,

but refused to provide his (and her) master’s name,

saying that, as a woman, she was not entitled to speak it.

When she asked the name of this island,

he laughed and said, “truly, you are an idiot woman.

This is no island.  This is the center of the world.

Or, at least, you are headed there.”

He said that they were heading for the capital of Bahtud,

which was fortunate because she would surely fetch

the highest price there.  He added that her intact clitoris

marked her for a barbarian, and that, under God,

they could do no evil unto her.  Most nights, though,

he did not deign to speak to her, instead

leaving her alone, in the dark of the cloth about her face,

with not even the desert air on her skin for company.

After seven days’ journey, Lavina one night

heard the sounds of others, then the sound of stone

beneath the camels’ feet, and knew they had arrived

at some city.  After some time, they stopped,

and Lavina was escorted off the animal

and into a house that was not a ship or a hut

for the first time since she’d sailed from home.

She remained blindfolded, and slept on the floor,

finding oddly that she missed the sand beneath her

and the whisping desert wind that hushed her to sleep.

She barely slept, knowing it was still night,

before she was kicked in the side to wake her up.

Ahremed explained that she had overslept

and that they were headed to market.

“Every day we keep you is money lost,” he explained.

This time, she wasn’t put on a beast of burden,

nor did the master take her, lest he sell a freshly soiled product.

Instead, they marched her through the streets, blind.

When they stopped, she heard a great commotion,

and when, at last, they took the blindfold off,

the morning rays revealed a thriving market

the likes of which she’d never imagined,

rows of booths stretching as far as she could see

down the wide stone street, itself teeming with people.

All around her, the same men who’d held her down in the desert

now stood, surrounded by goods from foreign shores,

jewel-encrusted lamps, spices carefully measured,

silken garments that would seduce the hardest god.

Men passed, stopping to buy objects brought from half the world away,

but none, on either side of the street, failed to note the fair skin

of sweet Lavina, though few inquired further,

knowing she was out of their price range.

The day continued, and more people filled the stones

than Lavina had ever seen, including in Triemte at its busiest.

Eventually, a man with a large retinue of his own

stopped by and pointed out the beauty standing,

her fair white cheeks exposed beneath the beating sun.

Yet instead of passing, his comments little more

than idle wishes, he stopped, and there negotiations began.

Lavina could understand nothing.

Then, some of the men escorted her back into a house

lining the street, where she was hidden from view.

As the inquiring customer watched, her robes were stripped from her.

Lavina wanted to ask what was going on, but knew

none would understand, Ahremed being nowhere to be seen,

and all such inquiries would yield was a beating.

The customer approached her nude body,

gazed at her breasts, then put his hands between her legs

with no more thought than one would hold a fruit

to test its freshness.  He felt her clitoris, then turned

and spoke to the others.  The master stood by,

speaking to him occasionally, explaining, and talking up his wares.

The customer turned back to face her eyes

and pinched, crushing her clitoris between his fingers.

He turned and spoke to the men again,

then stepped away, and Lavina was bound back up

beneath all the layers of fabric.  The customer

then began deeper negotiations with the master,

as Lavina was expected to stand silent.

At length, the master and the customer agreed upon terms,

and the customer beckoned for someone, who

handed two bags to the master, who grinned widely

when he looked within.  Then, all went back outside,

Lavina in tow.  There, Lavina spotted Ahremed

and asked what was going on.  “You’ve been sold,”

said Ahremed.  “Praise be to God.”

Lavina asked who this customer was, and Ahremed obliged,

explaining that he was a price of royal blood

looking for something to impress his half-brother, the king.

This price, whose name was Galehmad, was well-known

to be in trouble with his half-brother, and it was for this reason

that he’d come to Bahtud, to explain himself

and make things right.  He’d come to the market

looking for some trinket to astonish, and found Lavina.

Rumor had it this prince hated the king, but the king’s lust

was legendary:  he had forty-two wives, Ahremed noted

without affect.  “We’ve lucked out,” he concluded.

“They’ll be no one to talk to,” she cried out as Galehmad’s men

led her away.  “So much the better,” Ahremed replied

without moving.  “Perhaps you’ll learn to shut up

and be a woman.”  With this, one of Galehmad’s men jerked her,

shouting something sharp and terse.

Lavina wanted to cry out, to say that the master

who sold her had used her, that he was disreputable,

that she was a foreigner and not a slave,

anything to stop, to spoil this exchange,

but knew nothing could come of it save beatings,

and so restrained her speech.

When she turned to look back,

just before the master’s booth faded

behind the walls of passing customers,

she could see Ahremed already turned away,

talking to a widely smiling master

who was gesturing at the heavens,

no doubt thanking their slavemaster of a god yet again.

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