Captivated

'What is this place? Kava?' he asked the bath master.

'It is the fabled city of women,' came the reply. 'Have you never before heard of Kava? No one is certain where it is, for those who have attempted to follow the Kavan caravans claim those very caravans disappear right before their eyes, leaving not even a trace upon the sands of the desert road. Once a year their High Procuress comes to Ramaskhan looking for male slaves.They only buy males.

'Kava is ruled by women. It is said their wealth is endless, and their land fabulously rich and beautiful. Great shipments of gold and precious gemstones from their mines pass through our land regularly. Silk from Kavan looms is famous and greatly sought after, as is the fine light wool cloth they produce.'

'How do you know it is a city of women?' Dagon asked. He wanted as much information as he could gather about these women who thought they now owned him.

'Once, a very, very long time ago,' the bath master confided, 'a slave escaped from Kava. He finally reached Ramaskhan. It was a long and dangerous trek. He lived but a short time afterward. Before he died, he told of the city of Kava where men serve the women inhabitants but are not permitted in the city after dark except on rare occasions. He told of a place where the male children are taken from their mothers when they reach the age of eight years. Then those boys spend the next eight years being trained as warriors. It must be true, for that is another of Kava's exports. They sell cohorts of fighting men. The absolute best mercenaries to be had.'

'If no one knows where the city is,' Dagon said, 'how is this all accomplished?'

'At the time of the winter solstice,' the bath master replied, 'Kava's female warriors bring the cohorts for sale that year to the winter festival, which is held outside the gates of this city. They never have enough cohorts, of course. The demand for Kavan cohorts far outweighs the supply. Some years they bring but a single cohort, in other years, perhaps two or three. Once in my memory, they did not come to the festival at all… Now, will you seat yourself, please. I wish to wash your hair, and I must pare your nails.' The bath master busied himself as he continued to speak. 'You are a fine figure of a man, and will undoubtedly sire many sons on the beautiful women of Kava.'

Dagon said nothing more. He had learned enough. He would never see Kava, but it would make an interesting tale to tell when he escaped back to Aramas. Once home, he would slay his traitorous twin brother, Nogad, who was even now usurping his rightful place as first heir to the King of Aramas. He would use the Kavan caravan to leave Ramaskhan, and two or three days into the journey, he would disappear into the desert to make his way back home. He had two deserts, and three seas to cross, but he would regain what was rightfully his. Nogad would regret the day he crossed his elder sibling.

When Dagon had been bathed, and a fresh length of clean linen cloth had been wrapped about his loins, he was taken to the encampment of the lady Zenaida. A leather-clad woman warrior took charge of him at the camp's perimeters as the slave merchant's assistants bid him farewell, but not before making a few snide remarks regarding his amatory future. The leather-clad warrior looked scornfully at the pair. Without a word, she motioned to Dagon to follow her, leading him to the largest tent set directly in the center of the camp. She pulled back the entry flap.

'Go in, barbarian. The High Procuress awaits you,' she said.

He moved slowly through the entrance. Inside, the tent was luxuriously furnished, and the blue-garbed woman, now veiless, was seated upon a small dais. She was quite beautiful despite her girth. Her skin was the color of the white jasmine flower, and looked to be as soft as silk. She had an elegant nose, and a small rosebud of a mouth.

'Come in! Come in!' The plump hand motioned him forward, the black eyes sparkled. 'Sit down opposite me. Are you hungry? Of course you are,' she answered her own question before he might. 'I doubt the fare in Master Ashur's slave pens is either tasty or even palatable.'

Half a dozen young women were setting down platters and bowls from which tasty odors were emanating. The gold goblet near his hand was filled with a fruity red wine. His nostrils visibly twitched.

'First tell me your name, and then you may eat,' the lady Zenaida said. 'I'm sure you already know who I am. Ramaskhan is a city of gossips,' she chuckled.

'I am Dagon, Prince of Aramas,' he said without hesitation, and then reached for the goblet.

'And just how did you come to be in Ramaskhan's slave markets, Dagon, Prince of Aramas?' she asked him, reaching for the bread.

'I was betrayed by my twin brother, who desired to have our father's throne,' Dagon said. He pulled a small chicken apart, and began to eat hungrily.

'You were the elder,' Zenaida said.

Dagon nodded, swallowing. 'By about a minute or two, lady. They say when I was born, Nogad's hand was fastened about my ankle as if he were trying to prevent me from coming into the world before he did.'

'A formidable opponent,' Zenaida observed. 'Eat now, and then we will talk more,' she told him.

He ate slowly, carefully, not allowing himself to be fully satisfied lest he make himself sick. It had been several months since he had had a decent meal. He finished the chicken, a loaf of bread, and then swallowed down a dozen oysters, liberally quaffing the red wine so that his cup was refilled twice. When a platter of fruit was offered to him, he took a peach, splitting it with his two thumbs, and eating it with a grin of delight even as the juice ran down his chin. Finally, licking his fingers clean of the peach juice, he looked directly at her. 'Do you always feed your slaves so well, lady?'

'No one goes hungry in Kava,' she said quietly. 'It is not our way to mistreat people.We are not men. '

'But you need men,' he remarked softly.

'They toil in the mines, in the fields, and in other capacities,' she replied.

'Where will I labor?' he probed.

'You are intelligent,' Zenaida answered, ignoring his innuendo. 'I believe you when you tell me you are a king's son, for you have not the look or the bearing of a peasant. After I purchased you today, your ears were undoubtedly filled with all manner of salacious gossip, and some of it is true. Men are subservient in Kava, but why is that so different from other cities where women are subservient?'

'Men are superior to women,' he said quickly. 'We are stronger, bigger, wiser.'

'Stronger and bigger in many cases I will allow, butwiser? No, Dagon. Men are not wiser than women, and women are the superior sex, because it is through them that the gods have chosen to reproduce our kind. Before you protest that your seed is necessary to that task, let me remind you that it is the only thing required. Your seed is useless without a woman to nurture the new life, to bring it to fruition, and to finally birth it. And when it is birthed, we nourish it with the milk from our breasts. Men have nothing with which to nourish a newborn. Without the fertile field of our bodies, your seed is worthless, Dagon. That is why women are superior.'

'What do men do in this world? They start wars which kill innocents, and ruin both agriculture and commerce. And why? For more land? More wealth? To do what with? Bah! That is why Kava exists, and is ruled by women. We use men's strength, and we use their seed, both of which are positive things. Men, however, are but an auxiliary to women, and must be kept servile. That is our way. We do not cause, or go to war. We are wealthy beyond your wildest imagination because we spend our energies in making things grow by our toil. You will soon see.' She smiled at him, and then took a long draught of her wine before continuing.

'In Kava we are governed by a queen. When our queen falls in love and mates, a new queen is chosen. Kalida, the queen who now rules us, has never fallen in love. She has ruled longer than any of our queens, and while she has offered to step aside so a new queen can be chosen, we cannot allow it, for it breaks with our custom. She must fall in love, and take her mate. Or she must remain queen.'

'And you think I am that mate?' he said.

'Possibly,' Zenaida told him. 'Understand, the queen must love you, not just make love to you. Few Kavan women under the age of fifteen are virgins. We celebrate life, our bodies, and all that it entails. Kalida has an insatiable appetite for making love, but, sadly, no man has ever captured her heart. If you can do that, my handsome princeling, your fate will be golden. You will live in the Outer Palace of the Consorts, and nothing, even other women, will ever be denied to you.'

'But my sons, if the gossips of Ramaskhan are to be believed, will be removed from their mother's home at the age of eight, and trained as warriors to be sent off at sixteen, and never seen again,' he said.

'But is that not what men love to do best, Dagon? Fight. We simply teach our sons how to fight, and how to