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I.

There are tales that outlive the teller, mysteries that shall never be known, movements of the winds of time and space that defy understanding, dances of Spirit that send one into breathless ecstasy. Upon such winds we mortals are storm-tossed, within such mysteries we delve deep in our search for the meaning of our existence. This tale, the one I shall lay before you, is one such tale. I, Saliya, now tell thee. For it is mine own...

I was a somber child, dark in appearance and mood. My family could never quite figure out why I was that way. They cajoled and teased and tried repeatedly to make me smile. And, at times, they succeeded. For I was loved. That I knew well. And, I was still a child after all. There were many of us in the family, my father and mother, three brothers and two sisters. So, ever it was noisy and busy. For a somber child of moonlight and shadows it was a merciless hell in miniature. There was no escape for me other than the times I snuck outside late at night and walked under the stars. I could find quiet then, and peace, and an easing of mood not found elsewhere. The desert winds spoke to me of many things. The whispering shadows revealed themselves to me and I came to find comfort within them. The shining stars enfolded me in silent majesty wherein Spirit taught me the magics of the ancients.

I told no one of this. Who would believe such fancies from the mouth of a mere child? But, I knew and held it dear to me, cherished and treasured.

There was one other thing I recall clearly from those long ago days of my childhood. One night, after a particularly stressful day of chattering siblings and bustling parents, I arose from my cage for my nightly easing.

I walked far that night, to the very edge of the oasis. All was still, but for the low murmuring of sands through the dune grasses. I sat down, there at the seeming edge of the world and watched the stars wheeling above. Without warning, a wave of pulsating energy swept over me. I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm and centered. It was so powerful! And I did not understand what was happening. But then the gentle voice came, a trail of whispering almost below the range of sound.

He will come one day. Be prepared, my daughter.

Then, again, the song of the sands and I opened my eyes wide, breathing in short gasps. Such power is not easy for a child to assimilate. Yet, I was not frightened. I was curious, fascinated, awed. Who was he? What did the voice mean? Whom was this claiming me as daughter? Did I not already have a mother? Round and round the questions surged till I was almost dizzy with their labyrinthine twists. I could not encompass it and returned home to lie upon my bed, feeling starlight shimmering through my veins and hearing that voice over and over. I fell asleep to that voice, and an aching wondering within.

I am now a grown woman. Time passes irregardless of memories we cling to, irregardless of adult rationalizings about childhood moments, irregardless of any desire to hold to youth. I still remember though, still hold that night as a closely guarded secret. And I yet await his coming.

II.

When I first came to womanhood my father tried to marry me to the wineseller's son. But I would have none of it. I didn't want to be more trapped than I already was and, though the wineseller's son looked to be a simple man, I had no interest. My father fought me for weeks on end, but I remained adamant. One night, when we had been arguing and I even became so furious as to scream at him, my father took one deep breath and looked at me searchingly, then sighed. I knew then that I had won. The wineseller would have to search elsewhere for his son's bride. I would retain my freedom.

Now, I help my mother with the household tasks and cooking, but when I can I escape to the edge of the oasis. I walk and think and watch the skies. At times, traders come with their caravans plying spices, exotic fabrics, deep red wines and chests of earthenware pottery. I find it enjoyable to roam through their camp, listening to the tales of their journeys. Some have come to this oasis for many years. They remember me as the solitary wild child, but they still hold me in kind regard. I laugh softly. Perhaps they think I've not my whole mind intact. They could be correct, but I do not think so.

One day while wandering past one of the caravans I noticed a slouching man watching me closely. His eyes were those of a serpent and I quickly made my way closer to the center of the wagons where I would not be so alone. Inside, I shivered, remembering his lascivious look. I looked more carefully about me but I did not recognize the people of this caravan. Suddenly, I knew that I was in danger. I could sense violence in the air; violence that leaves one breathless and torn and bereft of roots to cling to.

I tried to wend my way past all the bodies bustling before me, but I knew it was too late. Much too late. I murmured a quick prayer to the gods above, hoping against hope. Making my way to the first wagon, I turned and there he was standing in front of me, he of the burning serpent eyes. Before I could move or run or even take another breath, his hand clasped my mouth tightly. HIs other arm yanked me hard into his side, bringing tears to my eyes.

I heard a harsh whisper in my ear, "You come with me now, woman! Resist me and the slavemaster will make it worse for you." His hand reached up and grabbed a handful of hair, and again tears ran down my face as he pulled it roughly. The slavemaster! I moaned against his filthy palm but he did not care, only pulled me further behind the wagon and then half-dragged me to another wagon hidden in the high grasses. Struggling to free myself only served to have him cruelly tighten his grip. Upon reaching the wagon, the foul creature stopped to tie a cloth gag over my mouth. He then parted a ragged tapestry and thrust me ungently inside. I fell to the floor, skinning my hands and bumping my forehead on the rough wood. Behind me I heard the click of a lock. Raising my head I saw through blurring tears that I was enclosed in bars, trapped in a slaver's cage.

In uttermost despair I dropped my smarting head to the floor and began weeping. I had thought to escape one trap. Only to find myself caught in another. This time, my freedom would be much more difficult to regain.

III.

The buzzing in my head and the constant side to side movement of the wagon as it made its way to an unknown destination drew me into a haze of uneven sleep. Hours passed unheeded. Curled up in one corner, I finally came out of it enough to notice we had stopped. My wrists were sore and swollen from the tight ropes and a lingering pain in my head still made me wince as I sat up, waiting for what was next to come.

Without warning, the tapestry was pulled to one side. There stood my captor, looking at me from his snake eyes, a wide leer on his face. I backed up as far as I could into the corner and watched him warily as he unlocked the barred door and came to stand over me. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled me to my feet roughly. I swayed a little, suddenly lightheaded again.

"You go now to be prepared, woman," he said, as he directed me out of the wagon into a strange courtyard. Wincing at the brightness of the mid-day sun, I tried to look around but there was not much to see -- a bland building with one door and no windows, stables off to the right and a high wall to the left. Through the door we went, his hand firm upon my shoulder, ensuring I would not bolt and run.

Inside was a confusing hustle and bustle, strange people talking all at once, and a few children chattering and laughing at a table as they ate. A heavyset, short woman dressed in a bright saffron yellow robe saw us and immediately walked over. "So, a new one for processing, eh, Shamz? She's a beauty! The Master will get fullest price and more for her, I'm sure," she said in a husky voice, looking me up and down as if I were a cut of beef at the butcher's shop.

"Well, go on with you then. You can leave her with me."

Shamz nodded and started towards the door, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll let the Master know of our new prize, Dunasha."

So, there I stood with this woman...utterly miserable and forlorn, desperately homesick and deeply frightened. She placed her hands on my limp arms and turned me in a full circle, making clicking noises at the state of my dress and hair. I faced her once again, silent as stone, ignoring everything around me; my head now falling downwards as darkest despair almost dropped me to my knees.

She watched me closely and then sighed, not unkindly, "Girl, your fate is sealed. Accept it. No slave has ever escaped from this place, nor shall you. Come, and I'll see that you are cleaned and given fresh clothing. I'll tend to that bruise on your head and also feed you. We don't want you too thin when your new owner buys you."

At her last words, I broke and started weeping again. Hands clenched at my side; my thoughts went winging to my family, to my home, to all that was lost to me.

Again, Dunasha sighed, shaking her head. How many times she had been through this, seen these tears. Relenting, she drew the weeping woman close to her, held her in an embrace maternal and soothing. Eventually, she knew, the tears would fade and resignation would set in, perhaps even a modicum of happiness. It always happened that way with these new slaves.

IV.

Hours went by where I was led around and told to do this, do that, lift my right arm, lift my left leg, put that gown on, and so on till I felt so exhausted I thought I would faint. Yet, Dunasha kept such a close eye on me she knew when I reached my last reserves. She brought me to a quiet room, simply furnished with a cot and a stool and a small table. Placing a bowl of hot broth and a hard breadroll on the table, she encouraged me to eat. Her silent eyes continued to watch me, but by now I no longer cared.

I finished the simple meal then sat there waiting for the next command. A huge yawn caught me and I swayed a little, more sleepy than I had ever been before. When she saw what she had knowingly been waiting for, Dunasha laid me down gently on the bed and covered me with a blanket. That was all I knew as my eyes closed, everything forgotten for at least some small time. There was only the darkness of utter deepest sleep.

The morning came with the rays of the sun peeking through the small window above the bed. I awoke slowly, still groggy from the rigors of the day before. When my eyes fully beheld the room I was in, memory came flooding as a swollen river--the capture, the torturous wagon ride, the arrival at the house of my owner. A slave! The thought of being owned as property still rang echoes of fear and revulsion within.

Somehow, I must escape, get away from this place and back to my freedom. I moaned softly, at a loss as to how I would accomplish such a thing. I did not know where I was, how far from my home we had come yesterday. Yet, I knew I must now be strong. I must keep my eyes and ears open and seek any knowledge and opportunity that would aid in gaining back my freedom. Now was not the time for tears of weakness nor fear uncontrolled, now would have to be a time of strength, cunning, and determination. None would own Saliya!