Chapter 13- Separation

(If you prefer Wattpad to read, you can find the novel here : https://www.wattpad.com/story/78722854-the-songs-of-loss-book-one-armanth )

 

“You said WHAT?”

Priscius’s outraged cry echoed throughout the villa and froze all the slaves present all the way to the bathhouse. To tell the truth, even his henchmen within earshot of the roar paused in alarm to hear their boss.

Jawaad, sipping the tea offered by the slaver, hadn’t blinked; he’d been expecting it. In fact, he had placed his free hand on Lisa’s head at her feet, holding her firmly, his fingers sliding down her forehead to her eyes, in anticipation of his opposite number’s outburst; and he had done well. When Priscius burst out, she too almost cried out in fear, abruptly taking refuge in Jawaad’s legs, out of a viscerally anchored instinct the scope of which she couldn’t even have grasped herself. But it was against him that she had just hidden, trembling like a leaf, her face half-buried in her long kilt.

Jawaad noticed with interest that Sonia hadn’t left anything out. The little redheaded barbarian wasn’t aware of it, but she was already imbued with his presence. The master merchant repeated calmly.

“I’ll take her for nothing; I’ll take her off your hands.”

Priscius exploded a second time, his bearded face turning scarlet.

“But have you lost your mind? Who do you think I am, by the ancient gods? Do you have any idea what she’s cost me so far? By Wotan, I don’t know what’s keeping me from kicking your ass out of my house!”

Jawaad raised an eyebrow at the slaver and his threat, without seeming to take any real offense. He slid his hand down the side of Lisa’s face to rest his head against her leg. She was on her knees and still trembling, allowing herself to be taken in without resisting for a moment. The master-merchant looked at Priscius, as impassive as ever, but left it to the slave-owner to see for himself the hold he already had on the young slave.

“She’s unsaleable, and you know it; besides, you owe me. I brought your educator back to you when the law gave me every right to keep her, since she broke into my home.”

Priscius had to restrain a violent urge to punch the master merchant immediately, but Abba, standing behind Jawaad, glared at him at the same instant, urging him to contain himself. Leaning against the wall of his office, arms folded, the colossus armed with his huge scimitar watched over his boss without hiding his disdain for the Nordic man with whom Jawaad was doing business. It was rumored that this black slaver could break a horse’s skull with his fist; his enormous biceps made this rumor entirely credible, and Priscius had no desire to verify it. But he barked again, his tone snarling:

“Don’t talk to me about that ungrateful bitch! She’s not about to get out of the cage I threw her into!”

“However, your business is largely based on the educational talents you exploit in her, and her escapade was useful to me, as I told you. It was for her usefulness and value that I decided to bring her back to you. But… I could just as easily take her back, you know? Enough witnesses have seen me holding her on a leash all morning for me to assert my right.”

Priscius glared at Jawaad, eliciting only his customary indifference in response. He angrily plunged his hand into the bowl of pistachios on his desk, more to find something to squeeze and crush than out of hunger. He tore out his words, his tone scolding.

“I’m forced to thank your generosity, master merchant, but she won’t escape the punishment I reserve for runaway slaves, believe me!”

“That’s your business; all I’m interested in is getting rid of the young redhead. You owe me and you can’t do anything with her; whatever happens, you’ll be out of pocket.”

“And how can you claim that, tell me, eh?”

Jawaad stretched out a smile and his hand, continuing its caressing slide over Lisa’s face, whose eyes he was hiding, came to flatter her lips with his middle finger before gently forcing its way into her mouth. To her own surprise, Lisa didn’t try for a second to escape the gesture and let herself be taken without resistance, grabing the finger of the man at whose feet she had taken refuge. She didn’t know who he was, she just knew that she knew his smell, and that it intoxicated her to the point of haunting her and making her lose all fear, whereas she knew full well that the smell of men panicked her; besides, Priscius’ smell, close by, set her nerves on edge. Understanding all too well the discussion taking place in Priscius’s office, of which she was the object, the only thing that managed to hold back her panic was to rely completely on this bewitchment whose origin she couldn’t really realize, even if she suspected it had something to do with what Sonia had done. Sonia had never mentioned the Languori or the Languiren to her protégée. Without having a clear explanation or fully realizing that, in fact, she simply couldn’t have resisted it, she surrendered herself to this fragile but sweet plenitude, so as not to give in to the fear that had been gnawing at her ever since she’d been kneeling next to the master merchant, between these men who frightened her.

Priscius winced as he watched the scene. So far, no man had ever managed to coax this fearful girl without her trembling with fear at the slightest touch, and here she seemed completely under his spell. Jawaad finally replied:

“Because your educator explained to me that she couldn’t even make a Languiren out of her. And the rest you can see for yourself… If you give her to me, you have everything to gain.”

Priscius raised a doubtful eyebrow:

“What do you mean?”

Jawaad looked down at Lisa, who was sucking on his finger, almost hypnotically calm again now that Priscius had stopped screaming. She no longer trembled, her eyes closed, lending herself to her own surprise with immense comfort at the game imposed by the master merchant. The latter, as impassive as ever, took another sip of his drink before answering, avoiding to give his opinion on the beverage – nobody ever knew how to make tea.

“Your reputation has suffered some serious setbacks recently. Behind your back, other slavers from the great houses of Armanth have been making fun of you, and it won’t get any better if they learn that you haven’t been able to train and educate a slave…”

Priscius grumbled in annoyance at the unfortunate trick he’d fallen victim to, which was beginning to cost him dearly and not just financially. He glanced at Abba again, in the hope of support; after all, he was one of his colleagues. The black colossus responded by staring at him with a perfectly understood air of hostile disdain. He’d known about it all along and didn’t feel the slightest compassion for his colleague; the latter had been too arrogant and was paying for it, even if Abba found the method employed highly questionable.

Priscius turned back to Jawaad, who was taking his time, his thumb caressing Lisa’s face. Snuggled up against him, eyes closed, she had stopped trembling and was breathing more calmly:

“So what?”

“So what if you gave a slave, whom you knew had been broken on purpose to make you lose face, to a renowned master merchant, what would they say of you? That you’ve got rid of a burden you can’t make anything out of, or that you’ve given a valuable gift to one of the richest men in town, whom everyone knows to be difficult?”

The slaver squinted, regaining his composure, as he weighed the merchant’s offer.

“Well… I’ll mention the generosity of my gift, and its value, of course, since, as you know, you’re not exactly considered an easy customer, quite the contrary.”

Jawaad nodded with a brief smile. Priscius resumed, still hesitant; he wasn’t going to give in so quickly without trying to negotiate.

“But you’re weighing up the price it’s costing me? I’m going to give you a really expensive gift, which won’t help my finances.”

“-That depends on how much you value a few andris and your reputation, Priscius. Fortune is easier to forge than renown…”

Jawaad had a point. Priscius thought again, observing the red-haired slave with the tattooed breast for whom he had nevertheless spent more than he should have, with the aim of thwarting Batsu and his colleagues’ plan to ridicule him. Despite his best efforts, he’d had little or no success so far. Here, at the feet of the master-merchant, even if the young woman’s fear was palpable, she could almost have given the illusion of an artfully trained girl, if not truly educated.

“Let’s say I accept. What guarantee do I have that you will make a good name for my goods and my household?”

“None, Priscius; but I’d be ungrateful to disparage the man who gives me a generous gift, don’t you think?”

“In short, let me summarize your proposal: I give you a valuable gift, in exchange for no clear assurance that I’ll get anything out of it?”

“You’re getting rid of a girl who’d make you nothing, who you couldn’t even display on the auction block, leaving you free to pass it off as a generous and friendly offering to a master merchant. You’ve already lost the money you’ve paid out, but you can restore your reputation. It’s up to you.”

There was a long silence. Abba watched the two men and the puny little slave hiding at his boss’s feet. She hadn’t really improved physically since he’d seen her in Batsu’s cages, before he’d traded her to Priscius to pay off his debt. While she was clearly better groomed and cleaner, she was still very thin and her back bore the fine, tangled scars of the whip. Abba tried to figure out why she could be so special as to interest Jawaad so much; at first glance, he found it hard to understand. She was undoubtedly pretty, but tiny and frail and, to the slaver, severely lacking in form. He’d break her at the first blow of his back if he picked her up, and wouldn’t risk grabbing her wrist at the risk of crushing it carelessly. From his point of view, based on her looks, nothing of value could be made of her. Lossyans who want to buy a slave are most often looking for women with generous, feline forms, heavy, arrogant breasts, silhouettes exalting the most lascivious femininity. In this case, she was more the shape of a starving teenager who’d stopped growing, with breasts too small, hips too narrow; but she was mixed-race and a redhead. A redhead with green eyes, and an earthling to boot. Four traits, three of them rare, that in themselves made her a commodity that could be worth a small fortune.

Abba returned his gaze to his boss. He’d known him for years and knew there was one last thing that would explain Jawaad’s interest, but it only made the slaver even more dubious: if this green-eyed redheaded earthling was a Loss Singer, even if the chances were slim, how would he have known and why was this what he was looking for? He kept his thoughts firmly in mind; the first chance he got, he’d tell Jawaad all about it and question him a bit.

After a moment’s agonized reflection, Priscius finally decided to answer, his words punctuated by raging steps to one side and then the other, his large hand still kneading his pistachios, which he ground in an angry tic.

“-Ha, take her! But we’ve agreed that it’s a prize gift I’m giving you, and I won’t hesitate to spread the word, so I hope you won’t go around telling a different version!”

Jawaad pressed Lisa a little harder against his leg to anticipate her anguished reaction to the decision, still gagging her with his finger, which wagged gently to tease her tongue.

“I always honor the gifts I receive.”

Priscius nodded, still very much unconvinced of the merits of negotiation, but such an opportunity wouldn’t arise again, so he had a choice between something that might secure him real prestige, or nothing at all. He dropped what was left of the pistachios into the bowl on his desk and, shaking out his hands, took out pen and paper.

“I’ll draw up the property contract, which will be registered, so that things are done properly.”

“As you wish; in general, the spoken word is enough for me.”

Jawaad pressed his caress lightly against Lisa’s cheek, which had begun to tremble like a leaf again. She had just become aware that she was being given to this man she didn’t know, like a commodity; nothing more than an object of negotiation, or a prize animal; that she was suddenly going to change environment again, leaving places that, even if they were prison-like, were reassuring and familiar, at least a little; but above all, what created such a deep hiccup of anguish that Jawaad could feel it, was that she understood she was going to be separated from her sister.

***

Sonia’s assistant, who was standing in for the caged educator awaiting her fate, was surprised to discover that she had no chance of stopping Elena; not without an electric prod, anyway. She was far too agile, too fast and, above all, too determined.

“Stop it, there’s no point, you’re not going to change anything!”

“She’s my sister!”

Word had spread through the Jardin des Esclaves of the return of Jawaad, the master merchant, who had undoubtedly come to buy one of Priscius’s daughters; and as soon as Lisa had been sent to the master’s offices, everyone suspected that he had come to close the deal. Priscius’s howling had confirmed the rumor.

What had, not long before, thrown the slaves into turmoil had been Sonia’s reappearance. The slaver had restrained himself from exploding as he regained possession of his property, and had listened to Jawaad’s explanation as he brought her back to him; but once he’d given it, he’d slapped the educator’s face hard enough to knock out a horse, sending her tumbling to the ground; and in his anger, he’d kicked her in the stomach again. One of his henchmen then dragged Sonia by the hair, with a few more blows for good measure, and threw her into the basement cages, with no one allowed near her.

An icy chill had spread over the entire garden, accentuated by the dampness of the rain that had started to fall again since morning. Sonia was particularly feared, sometimes hated too, but above all respected. Seeing her treated so brutally, with so little consideration, had shocked everyone. Some of the girls in the household silently rejoiced, but for most, the spectacle had appalled them and affected them deeply and permanently. Sonia’s assistant was not the least affected, and the fright of the scene had made her careless, otherwise she would have anticipated the reaction of the elder of the two redheads, who retained a strong, rebellious temperament. She would have tied her up tightly and, above all, she would have had the goad at hand, never mind Sonia’s prohibition on the subject; in any case, it was too late. When Elena saw her sister, led by Jawaad, heading for the entrance to the estate on the other side of the gardens, she leapt up to run at full speed towards her. She was really agile; Sena, that was her name, couldn’t hold her back, launching herself after her with panic in her heart. Both she and the undisciplined slave running towards her youngest daughter would pay dearly for this, especially given Priscius’s mood.

Lisa walked on, almost haggard, guided by Jawaad who kept one hand firmly on her head. She heard Elena’s cry and saw her running towards her from the other side of the garden. It’s hard to say whether Jawaad was surprised by his new slave’s reaction or simply decided to let her be; he just stared at his empty hand, one eyebrow raised, where the young woman’s head had been the moment before, as if the fact that she’d started running had some kind of amusing and curious incongruity for him. Lisa had slipped out of his grasp without a moment’s hesitation, and had in turn dashed towards her elder sister, almost falling into the pool that adorned the central square.

“Bloody rubbish from… !”

Priscius, red with anger, was already rushing after the young woman, unhooking the whip from his belt. He wasn’t going to let such rebellion happen within the walls of his estate! Jawaad blocked his path with one arm, glaring at him with dark, evil eyes.

“You’re not touching my property.”

Nodding towards Abba, who had also been surprised, the master merchant followed his runaway slave, in no hurry. The black giant complied with an air of understanding and threw a menacing glance at Priscius, which clearly sounded like a « you, don’t move ». The Nordic suddenly felt he’d been taken for a ride in his own house, and he wasn’t a man to admit it. So he stepped forward, angry. Whoever he could get his hands on was going to pick up for everyone else.

Elena could hardly have been stopped by anything, she was running with all her might. It was at the foot of the square steps, in front of the pool, that she grabbed Lisa and hugged her, collapsing to the ground with her. What they said to each other, drowned in their tears, was only understood by the one Jawaad who knew – albeit very rudimentarily – French.

“Lisa! Lisa, Lisa… you remember what I told you, you remember? I’ll always be here, I won’t abandon you. Even if we’re separated, I’ll never abandon you and I’ll find you again. Do you hear me? Little sister, wherever you are, whatever happens, I’ll find you!”

“I love you, Elena! I love you, Elena! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything! I beg you, forgive me for everything I’ve done!”

Elena placed a kiss on her younger sister’s forehead as she broke down sobbing, becoming for a brief moment the eldest, the strongest. She heard Sena just behind her, but didn’t care, just as she didn’t care about the men in front of her who were about to rip her sister from her arms.

“It’s not your fault; it never was, little sister. I love you, there was never anything to forgive. Lisa, be brave. I swear I’ll always be here…”

Elena was interrupted by the voice of Sena, who, seeing not only Jawaad but also Abba and his master approaching, was worried:

“That’s enough, Athena! Come here!”

His order sounded like a false authority laden with fear. Priscius raised his whip as he came upon the embracing couple, ready to strike indiscriminately. An enormous fist brought his gesture to an abrupt halt, under the terrified gaze of the assistant. Abba thundered, his muscles bulging with anger, his voice annoyed and clearly threatening:

“You do that, I’ll take you down, even slaver that you are, in your own home! Is that clear?”

Priscius pulled on his arm. The slaver was powerfully built and even older than Abba, so he was confident in his strength; but the black giant’s grip was a vise that tightened again, painfully. The Nordic barked angrily at his colleague:

“-How dare you attack your host! This is my house and I have full authority over my property, you son of a bitch!”

Priscius had blurted out the insult in anger, without a second thought; he immediately regretted it. With a brutal swing, Abba sent him waltzing into the bushes surrounding the square, as if he’d weighed nothing. Priscius had barely touched the ground when the black colossus was already advancing on him.

“The son of a bitch is going to make you eat your words and throw them up with your teeth!”

Elena clutched her youngest daughter tightly, amazed by the scene; as for Sena, she retreated in cautious flight, livid with fear. Jawaad reached the eldest and grabbed her shoulder, while turning to his second.

“Abba, no. We are his guests.”

Then turning to Elena.

“Let her go.”

The young woman hugged Lisa a little tighter. Tears were streaming down her cheeks in burning furrows. She stared at the master-merchant, pleading.

“Please don’t…”

Jawaad replied with astonishing calm. His gaze, so dark and uninviting as usual, became almost reassuringly peaceful; but the order, dry and implacable, brooked no discussion.

“She’s mine, slave. I’m taking her away, so let her go before I force you.”

Elena opened her arms to free her youngest daughter, repressing a tremor at the merchant’s tone, but Lisa held on with all her might. The eldest blushed, unable to give up. Clutching her sister close, she bowed to the ground, bending over to touch Jawaad’s boot with her forehead. She put all her willpower, all her hopes, into speaking as clearly as possible in Athemais.

“Master, I beg you… she’s my sister. Don’t separate us… I beg you. Buy me with her!”

“Why should I do this, slave?”

Abba, a few steps away, was standing in front of Priscius, who was trying to extricate himself from the branches with angry, disordered gesticulations. The altercation had sounded the alarm, and the men of his domain were approaching at full speed. Some had already run back to get their weapons. As for the slaves, they all remained hidden, staring at the scene with awe and respectful fear. Only Sena remained, and she opened her round eyes to see Elena begging the master-merchant, something she would have thought impossible for the rebellious barbarian.

Elena breathed anxiously, swallowing her tears, her heart pounding. She could feel Lisa clinging desperately to her, holding her breath, looking up at Jawaad with pleading, tear-drenched eyes. The eldest in turn raised her head, arching her back and pretending in a sensual movement to want to climb up the merchant’s legs. She silently thanked the heavens: her youngest daughter was loosening her grip a little, which helped her in her attempt at seduction.

“Because I’ll do whatever you want, master, whatever you ask, if I belong to you. I’ll do anything to stay with my sister…”

Jawaad lowered his head, squinting. He stared at the young woman, so similar and yet so different from his younger sister. More grown-up, like more woman and more beautiful; stronger too, obviously. He’d been able to see her character on his previous visit, but this time he had the opportunity to observe her gaze; a dark green gaze, with the hue of thick foliage. Pleading, tear-fogged eyes, betraying fear and exhaustion, but still fiercely shining with will. A voice was heard a few paces away: Sena was approaching fearfully. She was casting clearly fearful glances at Priscius, further away, who stood before Abba in silent defiance, but she was trying to reason with Elena, in a very insecure voice:

“Stop it, Athena, a slave doesn’t decide who she belongs to. You’ve been promised to the auction, to the highest steps of the Celendaterio dais, so let go of Selyenda and come back at once, or our master will punish us!”

Jawaad raised his gaze to the young woman who, as much by her hesitant voice as by her visible panic, didn’t seem to be doing very well. The master merchant’s voice became biting and cold, disdainful:

“And why shouldn’t she try to convince me, slave?… She doesn’t decide anything here, but at least she has the courage to try…”

Sena replied, practically pleading this time:

“But… master…. Our master doesn’t allow it…”

“Me, I allow it.”

Elena regained a little of her nerve, trying out an enticing smile, made a little pitiful by her tear-drenched face. But no matter, she had to try everything.

“I will serve you according to the least of your wishes, I will do anything you may wish, master. I can learn quickly, anything you wish; become anything you order… Please, buy me with my sister.”

Behind Jawaad, Priscius regained his composure, his henchmen joining him. Abba followed their approach with his eyes, eyebrows furrowed on his brute face. Provoking a brawl that could end in bloodshed wasn’t going to serve anyone’s interests, so he took a step back, glaring at the slaver.

“-The matter is closed. Let’s not fight at your place, I don’t want to kill your men or take a bad beating.”

Priscius frankly hesitated before swallowing his anger and gestured to stop his men arriving to the rescue:

“So, case closed, Abba, but you and your boss, you…” he changed his tune to something more polite, his voice muffled: “get out of my house, now! This is my house, and I decide my own laws here!”

The black giant nodded in agreement, rather wisely. He didn’t want to have to find out if he could beat up the slave owner’s entire household, and he doubted he’d come out unscathed. He turned to Jawaad, who remained as calm as ever, crouching down in front of the begging slave. He had just gently grabbed Lisa by the arm, his gaze on Elena.

“-I’ve got all the slaves I want, and the last one I wanted is now mine.”

Elena sat up abruptly on her knees, suddenly panicking, staring at the merchant with her eyes drenched in tears.

“No… please, I beg you! She’s my sister… she’s my only family; don’t separate us! I beg you, it’s too cruel, we can’t bear it. Please, don’t! I… I know you understand!”

Jawaad calmly placed his free hand on the young woman’s cheek, in a gentle caress of his thumb, gazing into her deep, dark green eyes, veiled by the tears that now flowed in burning streams. Lisa was still sobbing, pleading, without a word, and the master-merchant looked away from her for a brief moment, before returning to Elena.

“I can understand that.”

Jawaad’s voice was calm, surprisingly almost gentle.

“But from now on, your sister belongs to me, not you. You’re slaves, your bonds are none of my business, they have no value here. You’re a commodity, like her.”

Elena broke down sobbing, clutching at the merchant as he rose to his feet, dragging Lisa with him. The eldest begged again, almost in a scream:

“No, please don’t do this, don’t separate us! I beg you, please!”

But the master merchant pushed away the young woman’s clutching hands, turning to Abba impassively.

“Let’s go.”

Lisa, who had remained so passive until then, suddenly pulled away at the same moment. Jawaad held her tightly, and the frail girl had no chance of escaping his embrace, but she had grabbed her older sister with all her might.

“Elena, don’t leave me!”

The eldest, her face broken with grief, whispered again in their native tongue, her voice broken by sobs.

“I promise you, I’ll find you, and I’ll come get you. I’d never leave you, little sister. I would never!”

Jawaad patiently pushed Elena, forcing Lisa to let go. The latter was crying with all her might, refusing to let go of her sister. The master merchant simply pulled a little harder to lift her up and take her in his arms; but he stared at the older girl for a long time, his dark gaze at that moment thoughtful and unfathomable, as he backed away with his burden that still resisted and wanted to cling to his sister. The latter, in a gesture of desperate resignation, gently grabbed the arms of her younger sister, who kept calling out to her, forcing her to let go. She could no longer hold back her tears, still murmuring.

“I’ll come back for you… I’ll spend my life on this, Lisa. Courage, I’ll come back for you.”

“I love you, big sister! I love you so much!”

Jawaad nodded towards Abba, who was waiting for his boss to follow in his footsteps, and headed for the exit. Lisa struggled again in his arms, screaming at the top of her voice:

“ELENA!”

Priscius had lost his patience for good. Mad with rage, he lunged at Elena, who took the first blow head-on, causing Sena to yelp in fear and retreat; but the eldest only had eyes for her sister and as Priscius angrily grabbed her by the hair and by one arm to drag her behind him in angry imprecations, she screamed again, for Lisa:

“I love you, little sister! I’ll be back for you, I swear!”

Jawaad just turned his gaze to catch a glimpse of Elena suffering Priscius’ wrath, frowning briefly at the scene. He tightened his grip on his still struggling slave, running his hand over her face to blind and gag her. As he had expected, of course, she immediately seemed to give in, despite her panic, and became calm again. He left Priscius’s domain without bothering to say goodbye, leaving him to his own raging anger.

 

***

Lisa would remember those moments years later. She’d remember every night she lived under Loss’s sky those screams that tore at her heart; the scathing, horrible sounds of Priscius’s blows to her sister, unleashing on her all the rage and frustration he’d accumulated, blindly. She’d remember thinking he’d kill her; and finally, the cold, cruel indifference of Jawaad, who carried her away from Elena, and that of Abba, who hadn’t looked back at the scene for a moment.

But after all, they were just slaves. In the eyes of the spectators present, just merchandise; animals to be bought, used and sold. Who would have cared if an animal had been beaten by its owner? The blows she could hear so distinctly, every impact and every scream in response, made her nauseous, and when Jawaad held her against him, pulling her away, forever – how could she have believed anything else at that moment? – from her sister, placing his hand over her face to gag her cries of distress, she wanted to bite him, to sink her teeth into his palm, hard enough to tear his flesh away; but she was unable to do so, docile and fascinated.

She didn’t know it yet, and couldn’t understand it, but what Sonia had done to her bound her to him more strongly than any chain. His scent was that with which her soul was impregnated to its very essence; it was for her the most intimate of all refuges, the yoke under which she instinctively bent, the cloak in which to come and seek protection and comfort. She had no reason to love him, and at that moment, she hated him with all her despair; but all her instincts already cherished him infinitely.

This is what the Languori had done, enslaving her like a docile doll subjected to his every move, powerless to resist; her will was vain and ridiculous, faced with the immense strength of the bond Sonia had taken care to build and consolidate.

At that moment, she would have liked to die, as the screams and blows rained down on her elder sister; she would have liked to hate him, to scream all her rage at him, but all she could do was weep, snuggling into the reassuring embrace of his arms. The world became an opaque mist for her, as her mind wandered once again into the meanders of madness and despair.