Lion Head Mesa Krýo

Midday had arrived. The overcast had created an illusion of frozen time, leaving the skies painted in grey no matter the hour. From sunup to the time it set, the heavens remained colorless. Winds chased across the mesa, biting with a chilly force.

Arsenio could feel that his pelt was not thick enough for the shift in temperature. His nose had run since the late hours of the night before, dribbling down into his whiskers. He’d taken to licking obsessively until he felt he would not sputter all over himself. There was a cold ache in the Greek man’s broad shoulders – a sign of battles fought, and injuries forgotten.

Prowling from the caverns, Arsenio searched for one of the healing wolves. Perhaps they could give him something to ease the shift in weather.

the queen reclined in a bath.

tamar had heard arsenio outside the royal door. he had become silent as of late, and it was why she had begun to pay him more mind.

eventually he returned to the network of pathways and rooms. "arsenio," tamar said as she came to his side. had she been waiting for him? the girl would not admit it. "has your sleep been disturbed?" she wished to convey that she had seen his changes, but did not want outright to ask.

tamar; dancer.

The auburn wolf sniffed sharply, sucking mucus and snot down his throat like a thick slime. The Greek man grimaced at the sensation before he breathed a wheezing sigh. His sense of smell was all but erased by the cold that had settled beneath his skin. This was his only reason for missing her approach.

It was not until her voice spoke his name that the mercenary turned his head toward her, expression softening.

She wished to know if his sleep had been disturbed? Arsenio did not understand. He had thought the lady Tamar wanted nothing to do with him. She had been quieter, stepped softer, and he had done all he could to keep his gaze from traveling to her. Some nights, the Greek could not help but to fix his gaze on the shape of her frame, on the sharp glimmer in her brown eyes.

Tamar, Arsenio spoke her name, voice cracking. I am not used to this cold.

The man studied her as though he would never have another chance to let his eyes rest on her figure.

arsenio was quite sick. tamar nodded. "it is not for a man who knows sun." 

"'come," she said softly. he ailed. she had found a remedy for the queen's sour head and she meant to do the same for the guard.

the servant moved to lead them to a small store-room with fragrant herbs. not truly a place of healing herbs, but enough for tamar to begin her quiet rummaging.

The auburn figure trailed after her slowly, his steps plodded heavily against the earth.

Tamar led him into a storeroom where she moved to busy herself with searching. Arsenio watched her quietly from the entrance. The glimmer of his eyes could not be pulled from the rich warmth of her coat, the diligent way that she leafed through various herbs and medicines.

It was in this moment that Arsenio allowed himself to wonder. What might her coat have felt like against his chest, the scent of her figure mingled with his own? What might she taste like when pleasured?

she was beholden. 

unaware of arsenio's titillated thoughts, tamar finally drew a pair of dark-green leaves from their locale.

she chewed them. and as she did so, the girl spoke again. "my mother used this for all of us children, when the cold nights came again to the desert and the coughing followed."

tamar discovered next that she had no place to set her medicine. she would not put it upon the dusty floor at their feet and so she cleared her throat and lifted her muzzle toward his.

her blood pounded in veins both embarrassed and unknowable.

When the autumn maid spoke again, it was of her mother. She said that when they had been young, her mother had used those leaves to help with their coughing. This told him two things of Tamar that he had not known before. Tamar had siblings, and she missed her mother…

Arsenio softened when she turned back to him.

The maid approached and he continued to look at her, searching for a sign that she was not quite finished with him, that he had not pushed her boundaries too far.

The desert, the Greek repeated in a rough whisper. He could picture her sleek figure among warm sands – a streak of firelight against a sea of earth. So transfixed with her tale, Arsenio did not understand that she meant for him to take the herbs from her lips. The mercenary only smiled at her, pleased to be in the same space.

once when she had looked out across the sands and seen the moon hang low, it had been red.

it had gathered a thousand fires in its heart, her father had said.

arsenio reminded her of that moon in this moment.

he only smiled at her. the maid rolled her pale eyes and balanced for a moment, seeking to stuff the herbs into the side of his jaw. "yes. the desert." but now she did not want to speak of it. "swallow that."

The firelight wolf rolled her eyes at him and rose, stuffing the greenery into the side of his mouth, impatient surely. Arsenio blinked with surprise, momentarily stunned. This sensation did not last long, of course.

It took only a moment for the auburn guard to draw the leaves onto his tongue and grin a cavalier show of teeth. He savored the taste of Tamar and swallowed the leaves after finding them distasteful to chew. When he had cleared his mouth of the medicine taste, Arsenio wondered if the firelight woman would send him away. He did not want her to ignore him, to go back to the queen as if they had not shared that time together.

Do you wish for me to go?

Arsenio watched her closely.

"no."

she was amazed that her voice did not shake. "i wish for you to get better."

suddenly desperate for something to occupy her restless paws, she began to rummage again with no true aim. tamar's knowledge of healing was rudimentary; she was no physician. she bore only a love for the verdant things of the world.

studious she was, and did not look at arsenio.

The man’s belly flipped excitedly at hearing her response.

Arsenio had been so transfixed by the woman that he had failed to keep himself clean. His nose had run down, dribbled into the rust-colored hairs on his lip and chin. A flash of pink showed his tongue, slick with snot as he brushed it over his nose. The taste of it was salty and unpleasant, but the Greek man swallowed it down.

Tamar had moved to busy herself with the herbs and medicines in the storeroom. Arsenio was not sure what she was looking for, but he enjoyed watching the way her eyes searched and then found.

Will you tell me more of the desert? the mercenary asked her quietly, moving to find a place within the storeroom where he would not be in her way, somewhere that he could continue listening to her move about and busy herself.

she turned toward him and their breath mingled in the small space.
arsenio held the flowery berried fragrance of akashingo. but below that was the scent of hard terrain and long miles eaten by patrols. he had spoken of water.

"what is — skoit -- sko -- mmm!" she finished with a small snort. "your village. beside the sea." her eyes searched his own. "you tell me stories of the sea and i will tell you mine of the desert."

this time she did not stir to look for things she did not want. she lifted a fore-ankle to her nose, indicating that arsenio might wipe his own a second time.

Arsenio’s smile slipped from his features. The auburn man lowered his head to his paws, drawing his tongue across his nose and lips until they were free of mucus.

Tamar wished to know of the seaside village he had talked about. The Greek man found it difficult to say anything regarding the homeland he had concocted for the sake of his story, to spare him the prying gaze of the Pharaoh. The mercenary did not wish to lie to her, or to spin a story for her that would come from nothing. Arsenio also did not want to tell her anything of his true home. The herbs had softened his resolve. The softness in her breath had created a crack in his defenses.

I am not from the warm waters, but a perilous mountain called Rhamnus Peak, which sits as a palace beside the beach. It is a place for Gods and for men who wish to be Gods. When I was no more than a boy, my father threw me from the mountain and into the water below, Arsenio said to her in a quiet voice. His eyes were faraway, his lips were drawn in a tight line. I have not seen the peak since that day.

when arsenio spoke, it was to tell a different story.

not a village but a mountain. not warm water but deep ocean. tamar's expression tightened to hear of how he had been thrown into it to die.

she wanted to ask why, but there was no answer for that.

she felt that he did not lie or shield in this moment. tamar slid down along the wall to sit beside him, their shoulders not quite touching. "my father sold me to traders for a piece of the sea." her pale gaze was filled with understanding.

The hair along his neck spiked, jagged and angry. Arsenio could not imagine offering a child in exchange for a swatch of land. He could understand even less of the exchange for a piece of the ocean. The disgust and anger he felt was fueled by his own shared experience with a poor guardian for a parent.

I have asked the man who employed me for your freedom, the Greek man stated suddenly, his eyes drifting away from the autumn colors of her face and coat. As payment for my work, here.

Arsenio did not know if this was something that would be granted, but it was the only thing he had considered since his work had begun. What could Germanicus offer him that he could not obtain on his own, anyway? Nothing beyond that – beyond the freedom that Tamar deserved.

the shock was apparent upon her face.

the red-sun ears folded back.

the pale eyes were clear and questioning. they had shared a fierce moment. did arsenio mean now to say that he would buy her?

she chose not to believe this. and she thought of the desert. a great aching entered tamar. and her soul longed for the embrace of her mother. the girl's gaze dropped away, closed; she leaned her head back against the wall. she was not sure there would be a return for her. they would welcome her. they would call her 'daughter' and thank their god for her return.

but her father would not understand what she had become. she would live her days at the side of her mother.

arsenio had looked away from her. tamar did not face him. "when you are paid you will go." her voice was soft and unreadable.

If there is nothing for me to stay for, I will go, yes.

Another pause. 

You could join me.

Still, his eyes would not meet her. Arsenio was struggling with a nervous flipping stomach. 

It was not that he wished to buy her, no. It was that he could think of nothing else that would suffice in exchange for the work he had performed. There was nothing that they could offer him that would be enough. If the Greek man could grant her freedom, if he could buy the ability for her to choose, that was adequate.

his words gave her hope.

and tamar did not want hope.

his words swelled her chest for a future he said in plainness.

"there is only one way for a maidservant to be freed."

a long-held truth. it too bore its own hope.

Arsenio sighed, a heavy noise that filled the space around them.

The Greek man was not certain if she had resigned to her fate, or if it was merely her attempt to dash any hope of escape, but he felt the weight of her words sit on his shoulders like a large stone. Tamar did not speak what Arsenio feared. Nevertheless, he did not wish to linger on the prospect that she had spoken, that there was only one way for her to be freed from Akashingo.

Then, I suppose I will remain for a while longer, the auburn wolf remarked dryly. Arsenio rose from his place and turned to leave her with the stores. One last glance over his shoulder where his glacial eye lingered on her frame before the mercenary plodded quietly from their meeting place.

tamar watched him go.

when he had gone she considered how he had looked. the sound of his voice.

she pondered these things, and when later she lay at the foot of the queen's bed, tamar thought of them long into the night.

of freedom.