disappeared even as it had earlier revealed itself.
They moved through the passage for several hours. It was very silent but for the sound of feet, both animal and human. The area was comfortably wide enough to accommodate the caravan, and very well lit. The air was still, and a trifle musty. Dagon had noted the smoking top of the mountain as they entered beneath it, but he saw no evidence of volcanic activity as they moved along. They stopped to rest and eat after an hour or more. A woman warrior came and unchained Dagon, reconnecting Wit to Ziv.
'The lady Zenaida wishes your company, barbarian,' she said.
Reaching the High Procuress, he bowed deferentially to her.
She handed him a piece of flat bread to eat, and offered her flask of wine. 'Walk by my side the rest of the way,' she said.
'I thank you for your kindness,' he answered.
'Nicely done,' she remarked approvingly. 'Polite, but not servile. I knew I might count upon your instincts, Dagon.'
'Why does the mountaintop smoke?' he asked her. 'This is no volcano, great lady.'
'You are observant,' she replied. 'The top smokes because we make it smoke. People see it, and assume the mountain is dangerous. That, of course, suits our purposes as you will soon discover. It is so simple. The smoke comes from pitch burning in a kettle. The kettle sits atop a clay brazier so no flames from the fire can be seen.' She held out a hand to him. Pulling her to her feet, he helped her into her cart, which was drawn by two sturdy white horses. 'Another hour,' Zenaida said, 'and we shall exit this passage into the valley of Kava, my princeling. It will be another day and a half to the city from there.'
It was late afternoon when they came forth from the tunnel. Immediately the sound of trumpets was heard echoing back and forth throughout the great valley with its rim of green hills. Dagon looked about him, and saw the fortifications at the tunnel's mouth. Upon the barricade walls stood well-armed women warriors, and a half a dozen trumpeters who were sounding both a welcome and a message to the forts farther on, and closer to the city itself. He was impressed in spite of himself.
They made their encampment that night by the tunnel fort. Looking out over the valley before the sun set, the Prince of Aramas thought he had never seen a more beautiful place. Their travels the following day confirmed his first impressions. Zenaidapointed out the road moving back into the mountains where the mines were located. They came down into an area of soft hills where sheep and cattle grazed. In the deeper valley there were orchards and vineyards. They passed through several small villages, the most interesting feature of which was the paucity of men, and older boys.
'Are there no men in these villages?' he asked.
'There are some graybeards, of course, whose good behavior over the years has earned them the privilege of remaining with their mates. Other men are allowed to come at planting and harvest times, and, of course, at festival times,' Zenaidaexplained. 'Each year on the great feast of Suneva the eight-year-old boys are gathered up throughout the land, and brought to the military barracks to begin their training.'
'Have you ever had any sons?' he gently inquired.
'Durantis and I bred up three boys and four daughters,' she replied matter-of-factly. 'Our sons are long gone, and our daughters are a great comfort to us now. Sons leave their mothers when they take a wife anyway,' Zenaida reasoned. 'They would have gone sooner than later, my princeling.'
It was midmorning of the next day that they saw the city for the first time. Dagon had to admit to himself that he had never before seen such a wonderful and fantastic place. It was all white marble. Golden domes and soaring silver-roofed towers that touched the sky, green hanging gardens, and glistening water courses all beckoned.
'There is the Outer Palace of the Consorts,' Zenaida told him, pointing to a magnificent group of buildings as they passed it. 'And there are the boys' barracks there.'
He noted both were well outside the city's walls. He was surprised when the caravan turned off, but his mentor explained that the new male slaves would be bathed, evaluated, and then sent to their assignments. 'What of me? Am I to go to the queen now?' he asked.
'No,' she said. 'You are my personal gift to the queen, Dagon. I did not purchase you with Kava's funds, but my own. You will come to my home to be bathed, fed, and rest. Tonight I shall offer you to Kalida with my compliments.'
'I thought men were not allowed within the city walls at night,' he replied.
She smiled at him. 'They are not but for lovers, and rank has its privileges, my princeling, as you well know.'
The palace of the High Procuress was a gracious structure of creamy marble. Entering into its courtyard, Dagon saw the great pillars holding up the porch were of red-veined marble capped in gold, and the courtyard was filled with flowers. By the time he was taken to the bath, Zenaida's handmaidens had already broadcast forth the details of his manhood, and he was surrounded by an extraordinary number of women.
'Get away from him, you lascivious little demons,' the bath mistress scolded the murmuring, pointing females. 'He is the great lady's gift to the queen this very night, and must not be worn out by your enthusiastic licentiousness. Go along with you now. Shoo!'
Disappointed, the women departed.
'I hope he displeases her, and gets sent to the square for common pleasures,' one girl said. 'Then I'll ride that big stallion to a froth, by Suneva, I swear it!'
'You never rode any man to a froth, Gaia,' came a voice, and the other women erupted into laughter.
The old bath mistress cackled. 'They will carry on at the sight of a bulging manhood,' she said bluntly. She stripped the linen from his loins, and stared. 'By Suneva, they have not lied! I've bathed many a man in my life, but never have I seen a manhood this big! It is at least thirteen marks in length. Can it be fully sheathed within a lover?'
'It can,' he replied.
'Ahhhhhhh!' the bath mistress said wistfully. 'To be young again, or perhaps not even so young.' She fondled him, shaking her head and sighing. Then, catching herself, she took up the tools of her trade, and began to bathe him, calling to her assistants to come and help her, for there was much to do. Dagon must be fed, and rested, too, before the evening came.
He was taken naked from the bath, given a solid meal, and then washed lightly again before being taken to a bed space to rest. He slept for several hours before being gently awakened. He was clothed in a length of snow- white linen which was artfully wrapped and draped about his loins, and a twisted golden torque was fitted about his thick neck. Gilded leather sandals were placed upon his big feet. Zenaida herself brushed his thick dark hair with sandalwood oil, and then tied his locks back with a thin gold cord. She ran her hands over his naked shoulders, turned him about, and ran them over his broad chest.
'You are beautiful,' she told him with a sigh. 'Keep your wits about you, my princeling, and remember all I have told you. Ah, to be thirty years younger!' Then she turned, and he followed her.
'We are walking?' he asked the High Procuress.
'The queen's palace is but across the square,' she replied.
They were permitted to pass into the royal residence without challenge, as Zenaida was known by all. Zenaida moved swiftly for a woman of her girth. He moved after her. A beautiful young woman who looked familiar to Dagon greeted them at one point. She was garbed as an officer of the guard.
'Good evening, my lady,' the officer said.
'Good evening, Captain,' the High Procuress responded. She turned to Dagon. 'This is my middle daughter, Berenike, who is captain of the queen's personal guard.'
Dagon bowed. 'I greet you, Captain Berenike.'
'He is magnificent,' Berenike said to her mother, barely acknowledging Dagon. 'Do you believe he will be successful?'
'It is in the hands of the goddess, my daughter,' Zenaida answered. 'Is she waiting? What has she been told?'
'Only that you have a gift for her,' was the reply. Then the captain let her gaze wander to Dagon's crotch. 'Let me see, Mother!' she begged girlishly.
Zenaida chuckled. 'You are incorrigible as always, Berenike.' Then she delicately lifted the draped linen up so her daughter might see.
