#326: Untold Tales of the Parodyverse: On Things (and People) That Go Bump In The Night  Go straight to part 1: On the Transfer of Power Go straight to part 2: On the Completion of Old Business Go straight to part 3: On What Happened In the Kroth Barn Go straight to part 4: On Zaahir's Will Go straight to part 5: On Midnight Encounters Previously: UT #325: On the Return of the Juniors (and On the Return of Caph) Characters in this story outlined in the Cast List Situation overview in A Caph Recap Glossary of Caphan terms in The Caph Lexicon Previous chapters at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom. Descriptions of our regular cast at Who's Who in the Parodyverse. Locations explained in Where's Where in the Parodyverse. On the Transfer of Power The House of Kiivan had been hastily refurbished, filled with lavish gifts from great lords who wanted their Emir to be very certain that they had supported him all the time of his exile. The Imperial Palace thronged with new-given slaves and furnishings and jewels. Ohanna kept the list of it, for there was as yet no time to appoint a Vizier or High Leman to record everything. She’d drafted Hacker Nine to keep the database. There were all kinds of decisions to make and all kinds of people wanting to see the Emir. Lord Vaahir of Viigo placed himself squarely between the new-returned Prince and the office-seekers, his dour look and fearsome reputation sufficing to keep powerful lords at bay. Many remembered who it was that had slaughtered every last man of the House of Oodan. Kiivan closeted himself in his study with the great database of Caph, with Visionary and Vaahir and Losiira. Occasionally Caphans great and minor would be summoned then sent off with jobs to do. “Who knew there was so much paperwork after you took over a planet?” Visionary sighed. “Lisa never mentioned it.” “There are many people vying for Prince Kiivan’s attention now,” Losiira noted. “Nobles who wish preferment, those who fear punishment for collaboration, those who demand justice or compensation for their losses. Senior slaves from the merchant guilds with urgent questions about supplying the stricken cities. Bards that wish to learn of the deeds of the Emir to satisfy the hunger of the crowds. Men and women seeking vengeance for the wrongs done them during the occupation. I have called for two dozen adminstrators from the Eunoch’s Guild to begin the prioritising.” “If it’s any help I can go outside and glare at the traitors,” offered Vaahir. “A reputation for wiping out whole Houses that annoy me can be useful sometimes.” “That’s great,” agreed the Emir. “I might actually take you up on that wiping people out thing if these desperate idiots don’t stop alternately fawning over me and treating me as if I was still three. Where’s Ohanna? She and I had a list of all this stuff worked out with the Librarians. Isn’t she done with the new ownership codifications yet?” “She’ll be ready soon,” Vaahir said evasively. “What do you want doing with the Caphans that sided with the Pigeonwarriors? To the mines?” “We’ll give them their day in court,” Kiivan allowed. “For now use the Thonaggarian lock cages and see they’re guarded by somebody you trust.” “There’s a lot of diplomatic messages too,” worried Vizh, thumbing through the thick wad of scrolls from the offworld communications towers. “Everyone either wants a treaty from you or demands a tribute. A lot say you owe them money.” “If they took contracts with those who raided Caph then they can chase the Thonnagaraians for payment, and good riddance to those who helped with the oppression of my world,” answered Kiivan. “In fact find me a good galactic attorney and we’ll counter-sue for damages their trade caused to the planet.” “And tell those worlds seeking tribute that we stand defiant,” added Vaahir. “Tell them that if they want to bother Caph they’ll need to talk to the Lair Legion first,” added Vizh quietly. “Or I can get them Mumphrey’s address. Or Donar’s.” Kiivan shot the possibly-fake man a quick, grateful smile and turned to the next pile of papers. Losiira laid a hand on it to prevent him taking them. “It is late now, Master,” Kiivan’s new house-mother noted. “And you will need to be sharp and ready for tomorrow’s high court.” “I have all kinds of things I need to do before that,” the Emir protested. “That pile…” “Pardon, Master,” Losiira bowed low, “but Mistress Ohanna said that you valued honesty and initiative amongst your slaves. And she asked that I be sure you do not use your strength unwisely, but husband it for when you will need it most.” The Emir of Caph looked up at the determined headwoman of his House. “Ohanna said that, did she?” “I’m sure your eminence would not punish a humble slave such as I for daring to care about his wellbeing,” Losiira manipulated expertly. Vaahir and Kiivan exchanged impressed glances at how well the pleasure slave could handle a master. “In the morning, then,” agreed the Emir. “I do feel a bit exhausted. Liberating planets and getting mortally wounded and initiating worldwide timejumps and restructuring societies is a lot more tiring than it looks.” Losiira nodded understandingly. “I will light you to your chamber, Master,” she promised him. “And there you may regain your true self.” Serooq, High Priest of Raathi, carefully touched his taper to the votive bowls and lit the scented oil. The glass containers each began to glow a different hue, painting the masjid with rainbow lights. He bowed to the glass image of the founder of his sect, and only then turned to meet his visitors. “Well?” “He means it,” Prince Laartroon of Laartros answered in a hushed but agitated tone. “Everything he said. The fines on the Houses that collaborated. The compensation courts for the dispossessed. The restrictions on offworld sale of chattels. He’s even sticking to that ridiculous revision of the Code of Ownership that he proposed.” “I tried to talk to him,” added Lord Troovis of Troovis. “He wouldn’t listen. That damned Vaahir was there all the time, interposing himself between me and the Emir.” “Of course he was,” snorted Laartroon. “He’s going to do very well out of this, is Vaahir. Warlord of Caph. The power behind the throne. Do you think he’s going to let the boy hear anything that isn’t to his advantage?” Troovis shook his head. “I tried to make Vaahir see reason. Offered him a very acceptable bribe. He threw me out. Me!” “The alien war chief was there too,” reported Laartroon. “Lord Viisionary. He said little but the Emir was very attentive to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if all those absurd notions have come from his head. Him and that Lair Legion he serves.” “And from the wench Ohanna,” complained Troovis. “If ever a slave needed flogging back to her place…” “So Kiivan is serious in his intentions,” interrupted Serooq. “He seeks to alter the sacred traditions of our world, the right order of things. Whether these ideas are his own or those of others who control him does not matter. Only preserving that which should be.” “He’s too popular,” frowned Laartroon. “And well protected. Assassination would be problematic just now. The mob would rend anyone who attempted it.” Serooq looked down at the seething party in the courtyards of the city below, his lip curled with disgust. “He is Caliph and Emir, and his person is sacred,” he chided his visitors. “If he is leading our world astray it is our duty to guide him back to the right ways. If others whisper blasphemies in his ear then it is they who must be removed.” Laartroon and Troovis liked the sound of that. “How shall it be done?” asked Troovis. “There are means,” answered the cleric. “If his reforms fail – when his reforms fail – the boy will be exposed as a fool and a failure,” Laartroon noted. “The way will be open for him to receive… better advice.” “And they shall fail,” promised Serooq. “Raathi has already shown me ways to make it so.” “Has he now?” said Laartroon with a vicious little smirk. “He has, praise him. And the first such gambit may be the last we need.” The high priest gestured his conspirators closer. “It all begins at the Great Court hearings tomorrow…”  On the Completion of Old Business Ohanna of Raael also worked late into the night, long after she had dismissed the flagging Zack Zelnitz to return to his kitchen refuge. But as the second watch was beginning Ohanna found herself surrounded by Miiri and her tent-sisters, each carrying a small bowl of scented oil with a lit taper. “What’s this?” Ohanna asked, taking a step back. “You know what this is, little sister,” replied Miiri with a smile. “We’ve come to prepare you.” Ohanna looked nervously at the women. “Prepare me for what?” “You know what,” Sayaana answered. “You know our customs. You called upon the Emir of All Caph. You claimed the rakka hoth of him, the salvation-quest. You demanded of him the rights of all Caph to be freed from the raiders who had taken them.” “And he did that,” Losiira declared. “Nobody can deny it. Our world is alive and free because of it.” “And there is not a soul alive on this world today who does not believe that he did it because of you,” added Luuma. “For you.” Ohanna conceded that with a little tilt of her head. “And now the rakka hoth is redeemed,” Kaara noted. “And the Emir is owed a reward.” Ohanna found herself blushing. “Kiivan and I… we’ve been together for a long time. Friends. Rivals, even…” She glanced over at Philaana. “You will be the mother of his child, most valuable of the women of his harem…” “But you are his best beloved,” the daughter of Ytirar answered. “We went to the Emir with joy to do our duty to him, and we are proud to be so honoured. But tonight and always his first thoughts will be for you. And when his hand reaches out in the darkness it is you he should find.” “You he must find,” corrected Odoona, who was a romantic and a traditionalist. “If you want him to find you,” Miiri added to her younger kin. “But I think that you do. Or did you accept that ring of his just because it looked nice?” Odoona looked at the band on her finger. It was of gold, with an Earth diamond set upon it. “There is an Earth custom,” Deeela explained to her tent-sisters, “wherein a man and a woman give themselves to each other to own forever. The ring is a sign of it. Kiivan was asking Sir Mumphrey about it.” “Kiivan’s a smart boy,” approved Miiri. “He is a good man,” Noona declared. “And you should go to him, Ohanna.” “He’s still working,” Ohanna objected. “There’s so much to do.” “Knowing when to stop your Master working is one of the great skills of a pleasure slave,” lectured Sayaana. “He must know rest and comfort so that he may be refreshed for tomorrow.” “But mainly it comes down to this,” Kaara said practically. “He loves you. You love him. You’re been burning for each other for so long that you don’t know how to begin now.” She gestured to the exiles. “That’s why we’ve come as your sisters. To help you. To prepare you. Now come and be anointed and garlanded, because you have a duty to perform; to Kiivan, to Caph and to yourself.” Ohanna took a deep breath. Miiri shot her an encouraging smile. “Yes,” Ohanna said, the first tinges of a smile appearing on her lips. “Take me to my lord.” “Ah,” understood Kiivan as the fringed curtain across his bedchamber was pushed aside and the girls entered with their candle-bowls, leading Ohanna of Raael. His throat was strangely tight as the young woman entered, her oiled body carefully painted by her sisters. “Hello, Kiivan,” Ohanna greeted him. “I have come to give you thanks.” Kiivan noted the mother from the bardic college amongst the retinue, beside Losiira and the other former exiles, and he realised that this was another official function. “I asked of you the rakka hoth” Ohanna declared, “the salvation-quest that is the right of every Caphan of their Emir, to save me and my world from those who would oppress it. I declare that that rakka hoth is fulfilled, by your body and blood.” “And yours, Anna,” the Prince answered. “Make sure the ballads get that point very clear. The House of Raael has kept the treasures of Caph safe since time beyond telling, and its last daughter has excelled all the generations before by her loyalty and courage.” “About that,” Ohanna replied. “On the day that the invaders attacked, my father, Kiivas of Raael, bade me take charge of certain things which are yours by birth. I have brought them to you tonight, because now they are yours by right.” Kiivan already had the sword of Gaath, first ruler of All Caph, slung by its scabbard at the head of his bed. Now the Prince realised that Ohanna bore with her the Sceptre of Korrvis. She carried the Orb of Truul and the first crown of the Caliphate on the B’Tari Codex that was the first record of lineage of the Houses of Caph. She wore the Xindii Vision Stones – and only the Xindii Vision Stones. “These are yours to take,” Ohanna told him, laying the treasures of Caph at Kiivan’s feet. “All of them.” “Well done!” proclaimed Miiri. “And now we all go get a nice cup of chak-lat and leave these two young people to their own ceremonies.” “But…” the bard-mother began to protest before Kaara and Noona hooked their arms around hers and led her to the door, “The ballad… it has to have an ending!” “Ohanna will brief you on the ending in the morning,” Deeela promised. “We’re all looking forward to hearing about it. But for now the Emir of Caph wishes to speak alone with his best beloved in all the world.” There was a general exit of pleasure slaves. Only Ohanna remained behind, colouring nicely as she added the Xindii Vision Stones to the pile of treasures. “Well,” said Kiivan, smiling, “this is very different from the first time you shared my bed with me.” “Then we were frightened children huddling for comfort,” Ohanna told him. “Now we are man and woman, and comfort is only part of what we desire.” The Prince was suddenly uncertain. “You don’t owe me anything, Anna. You know that, don’t you? You really are free.” “Our culture would say different, that you are owed everything I can give you. Ask the revered bard-mother out there how the story must end. But even if that is not the case, Kiivan, you owe something to me.” She held up her hand, where the diamond ring sparkled. “At least, as I understand Earth customs, this comes with certain duties and obligations, in its giving and receiving.” “It does,” the Prince agreed. “Ohanna, I love you.” “As I recall, you told that to all of Caph, at the exact moment when I needed to hear it most.” “And you?” Kiivan asked anxiously. “All our tales are full of the glorious moment where the hero proclaims his love for the girl, but we never wait to hear if…” “I love you,” Ohanna cut him short. “How could I not? You’re my best friend. You’re my match. Apart we’re both strange, incomplete, damaged creatures. Together we change worlds. And you want me.” Kiivan nodded. “I want you. Come to my bed. Forever.” They kissed then, an electric meeting of lips and minds. “There are certain things which are yours by birth,” Ohanna whispered hoarsely, holding him close. “But some are won only with your deeds. I have brought them to you now, because now they are yours by right.” Then at last there were duties and obligations, there was giving and receiving; but those seeking more knowledge of such things are referred to the Caphan ballads which recount the occasion in lengthy detail. On What Happened in the Kroth Barn Pretty much everyone had gone to bed, exhausted by the events of the day and the revels of the night. Lord Khuufar had retired with Leeti and Aliina. Even Slavemistress Juura had finally passed out and was snoring heavily on the feast trestle. Only Maarna and Koodi drudged on, finishing the necessary tasks that would prepare for the coming day. Maarna hated milking the kroths, so Koodi traded sanding the dishes and headed out to the byre tent with a bucket and a handful of slithgrass. The animals seemed restless tonight, but perhaps they’d just picked up on the mood of the day. The earth tremors the previous morning had upset everyone and the party had been very loud. But Koodi caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, a shifting shadow up by the bales of fodder. “Who’s there?” she challenged, reaching for her short stubby working knife. Some collaborators had fled the battle earlier. Silence. Koodi wondered if she should call the guards, but she didn’t relish the blows she’d receive for raising a false alarm. Instead she lifted a lantern higher and played it over the bales. A naked figure huddled up, shielding her eyes from the light, terrified. “Please! Let me go! I’ll go. Just let me…!” Koodi lowered the lantern and took a step forward. The intruder was young, and there were livid green lash-cuts across her back and flanks. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Why are you in the Master’s kroth tent?” “I was… I’ll go. I was hiding.” Koodi caught her breath as she saw the livid new-burned brand on the girl’s forehead, a stylised X proclaiming her shame to all. “You have been cast out!” she accused. The girl nodded miserably, her eyes already red with many tears. “Please don’t call the guards,” she begged. “I didn’t steal anything.” Koodi knew that she should summon help. The intruder was evok-hai, masterless and scorned. She was not allowed near the property of decent folk. And yet the soldiers would doubtless treat her cruelly before they tossed her in a ditch somewhere. “Who are you?” Koodi demanded. “Who were you?” she corrected herself. “I was Vespiir. My Master was Deevar of the House of Deevar. Now I am nothing.” “What did you do?” the drudge wondered with morbid curiosity. “What did you do that they did this to you?” “Does it matter?” the sundered girl asked bitterly. “Yes,” answered Koodi. “There was a slave here, Ariisi, who slept with a drudgeman, Jakot, without the Master’s leave. She was flogged and cast out. Jakot was gelded. Is that what you did? Or something even worse?” “Something worse. Please, let me go.” The fugitive stopped for a moment then looked pensive. “What’s your name?” she asked suddenly. “Koodi, of the House of Jathaar,” answered Koodi. “I’m a second rank drudge.” Of course, that still put her infinitely higher up the social scale than an evok-hai. The law offered no protection to one so outcast. Vespiir was fair prey for whoever chose to torment her. There was no penalty for her murder. “Koodi, yes,” Vespiir answered, thoughtfully. “But Jathaar, that’s not right.” She looked doubtful for a moment. “Not… not Maarna?” “Maarna’s doing the dishes,” Koodi answered in puzzlement. She realised that the cowering girl was even younger than she, barely more than a child. She could not long ago have gone in to her first Master. “How do you know Maarna?” “I don’t. I dreamed her, that’s all. I dreamed two dreams. In one Maarna found me, and she called the guards, and they… I have no protection now. And then the guards sold me to an underground torment den. And then I died there, for the pleasure of the patrons.” “You dreamed that?” “Yes. In my other dream you found me, but… after that the dream became very strange.” “Strange how?” Vespiir shuddered. “I saw many weird things, sights I did not understand. I saw far shores and terrible monsters. And I saw you standing with me before Prince Kiivan himself. It made no sense at all.” “None at all,” agreed Juura. “They were only dreams.” “But my dreams happen,” Vespiir confessed. “They happen all the time. I know what people are going to say before they say it, often. I glimpse moments. I know how to avoid accidents.” Koodi found that hard to believe. “What, like one of the priests of Raathi?” she asked sceptically. “You are not a man.” Vespiir shuddered and bit back a sob. “That… that was my problem. When the priests found out what I was doing, what I was seeing, they cried blasphemy. My Master… my former Master… he had me put to the question.” Koodi’s eyes were wide. She looked at the livid marks all over the fugitive’s body. “And I answered everything they asked,” Vespiir confessed. “Sometimes before they asked it.” “That’s not possible.” The tears were flowing freely now. “That was when my Master disowned me. When I was marked with the Outcast Brand. Then the slaves were… unkind to me. I was left for dead.” She wiped tears away from her bruise-blackened face. “If it hadn’t been for the disturbances of today they’d have made sure I was dead. Instead I crawled away, hid. Dreamed.” “If you can see the future…” began Koodi. “I think you’re going to ask me what you’re going to say next. But that’s an easy one. And now you’re about to say ‘I can’t get you to see the Emir of All Caph’.” “I can’t get you to see the Emir of All Caph!” Koodi objected. “I’m just an uglydrudge. I have to milk the kroths. I have to report you to the guards.” “If you do that,” answered Vespiir, covering her head in her arms, “then I will die.” “And if I don’t?” “Then your life will be destroyed.” On Zaahir’s Will Oloora almost dropped the decanter she was carrying when she saw who was calling her. It was the dark of the night and the corridors of the palace were lonely and deserted. The drudge hadn’t expected to encounter the High Priest of Raathi. “M-master,” Oloora stammered, attempting a courtesy without dropping the glassware she balanced. “How may I serve you?” “Oloora,” repeated Serooq. “It is Oloora, is it not?” “Yes, Master. Most holy one. Oloora.” Serooq moved from the shadows, closer to the trembling slave. “I thought so. You served here before the Pigeonmen invaded, did you not?” “Yes, Master. Then I was taken to the House of Aarmus. Now I am owned again by the Emir of All Caph.” “And you are loyal to your Emir?” “Oh yes, Master. All Caph loves Prince Kiivan! I am proud to serve in his House.” Serooq considered this for a moment. “Well done,” he told the drudge. “Your loyalty well becomes you, and I am sure it will tell at your next valuation. You are a faithful follower of the ways of Raathi too, are you not? Your kitchen-mistress says it is so.” “Of course, most holy one. I never miss a devotion, unless I am set some task by the slave-mistress. I try my hardest to be true to the ways of Zaahir.” “Very good,” approved the high priest. “Then you will be blessed. Zaahir has chosen you.” Oloora frowned in puzzlement. “Master?” “Zaahir speaks through me, Oloora. And he has chosen you to save your Emir, Prince Kiivan. Will you answer the call of Zaahir?” Oloora nodded, uncomprehending but faithful. Serooq handed two small sachets of herbs to the drudge. “These are rare powders from a distant star,” he told her, “From a people called the Z’Sox. They will spare the Emir from a terrible fate.” Oloora looked at the packets. “I do not understand, Master.” “Tomorrow you will serve drinks to the Caliphate Court,” Serooq told her. “The first time you are called to bring refreshments you will secretly add a pinch of powder from the first sachet to the drinks you give to Lord Vaahir, Lady Ohanna, and the alien Lord Viisionary. You will also add some to a cup and drink of it yourself.” Oloora had been well trained. She did not ask why. “When you are called to give refreshment again you will add a pinch from the second sachet. Drink of it yourself first before serving it to those three again.” Neither substance would set off the toxicity monitors alone. Only mixed in the stomach would they become lethal. “Tell no-one what you do or who instructed you. This is the will of Zaahir, and his solemn command.” “Of course, Master. As you direct.” It was the High Priest of Raathi who commanded her. They saw further than other men, and their ways were strange but perfect. How could the drudge refuse? Serooq touched her head then, as if in blessing. “You serve your Emir better than you know,” he promised her. “You shall serve Zaahir himself in the next world.”  On Midnight EncountersVizh woke up suddenly as he felt the warm soft woman crawl beneath his silken sheets. “Relax,” Miiri told him. “It’s only me.” “Oh,” Vizh said in a strangled whisper. “That’s fine then.” The former slave and mother of Vizh’s twins chuckled. “It is fine. I’m not here to get in the way of any relationship you may or may not be finally getting round to having with any computer-woman you’ve taken far too long to get round to dating. We’re not here to yekla-sto all night, or even for a quick v’vlak.” She snuggled up against the possibly fake man and laid her head beside his on the pillow. “I’m actually saving you.” “Saving me?” “Visionary, you’re a great Lord, wearer of the saffron mantle of leadership, hero of the Transworlds Challenge, slayer of the Parody Master. Protocol insists that when you visit the House of the Emir of All Caph you should be awarded all due hospitality. And on Caph that means…” “A companion for the night,” Vizh concluded. “A pleasure slave.” “Probably not just one,” Miiri frowned. “You are a great Lord after all. There are songs.” “So you’re here to keep me company so I don’t have to have some poor Caphan pleasure slave in to ‘keep me company’,” Vizh realised. “More like a dozen pleasure slaves,” Miiri giggled. “There was quite an argument forming about precedence. In the end Losiira ruled that it was best to send in the girls who’d been trained in satisfying your boundless desires. Noona and Odoona and Deeela are supposed to be here with us as well.” Vizh swallowed hard. “Well, I suppose I should say thank you. In words.” “You have a reputation to consider. Later on I may have to scream in ecstasy a bit and maybe tear the sheets a little, but don’t worry.” “Caph is very complicated, isn’t it?” Mirri snorted. “Explain Super Tuesday to me again,” she challenged. Vizh brought his arm round and cuddled Miiri affectionately. “Have I ever told you properly how glad I am you became my friend? And not because of the whole Earth-shattering sex followed by you giving me two beautiful children thing. Well, not just that.” “You tell me every day in your regard for me, in your respect and with your body language,” the Caphan answered. “With Caphans you do not tell your feelings only with words. We try to see the heart.” “How do you feel, then?” Vizh wondered. “Now that you’re back on Caph, unexiled?” Miiri considered this. “Conflicted,” she admitted. “And that is a word I never even knew before I came to your Earth. It is wonderful to feel the sun on my skin and the wind stirring the t’grum trees, to smell the yava blossom on the air, to see my people again and speak their tongue. But so much has changed.” “I’m sorry your House is gone,” Visionary told her. “The people and the place you grew up. Everybody here thinks they were real heroes, if that’s any comfort.” “The House of Raael fell with honour,” Miiri agreed. “And that is of some comfort. I’m still enough of a Caphan for that to matter.” “But you’re not enough of a Caphan for other things?” Miiri shook her head. “I can’t see myself becoming anybody’s slave now, settling down to breed his sons, commanding his lesser women, keeping his estates. It all seems so… small.” “You’re grown up, I guess,” Vizh offered. “So… you’ll be coming back to Earth?” “My sisters and I have discussed this much,” Miiri admitted. “It is a hard thing for tent-sisters to part, and very rare for those tent-sisters to make the choice for themselves. It is usually a Master’s will.” “Well you all have a choice this time,” Vizh said firmly. “Whatever you want. Anything at all. And if you stay here then Kiivan damn well better take proper care of you all!” Mirri smiled. “My sisters have all been very homesick, so to return like this, in triumph, to great glory, is a dream come true.” She raised an eyebrow at the possibly fake man. “We’ve all been revalued, did you know that? Mother Jaan herself made the tally, based upon our fame and deeds, and upon the price for which you sold us to the Shoggoth.” “I’ve always known what you girls were worth,” Vizh promised, “and you can’t write it in numbers in any book.” “Losiira has also been awarded the rank of Mistress of Slaves,” Miiri reported. “She will need it as the head-woman of the Emir’s house. She will lead Kiivan’s harem and home.” “Kiivan’s still going to keep a harem?” Vizh frowned. “I thought he and Ohanna…” “Ohanna is free,” Miiri answered firmly. “If Kiivan wishes her company, he can court her as is proper. If she elects to give him a son or daughter, that is her choice. And if she chooses to undergo the Earth custom that the Emir wishes to adopt, and become his wife and Queen… well, I understand that sometimes that can be very satisfying too.” “I guess Caphans don’t have the same cultural taboos as humans.” “The massive gender imbalance here makes monogamous one-male to one-female relationships impractical,” Miiri pointed out. “Besides, where’s the fun in that?” “Um…” said the possibly-fake man. “Losiira will make sure that Kiivan’s house and harem are run fairly and well,” Miira promised. “She’s had plenty of practice with us under the most testing of circumstances. I suspect that Sayaana and Philaana will wish to remain in the Emir’s House too.” Her grin broadened. “For a true Caphan pleasure slave that’s basically as good as it gets. It’s a complete ‘In your face, other pleasure slaves’ for all time. It’s the Superbowl win.” “Not Luuma? She’s pregnant too.” “Luuma would feel confined in the harem of a Prince. Once she has weaned her gift to Prince Kiivan she will seek adventure with a Master who appreciates that. There are many possibilities for a woman who has borne the child of an Emir. Many will bid to own her. She’s going to be spoiled for choice. I know she’s very much looking forward to the kroth g’saans.” “Do I want to know how that translates?” Vizh asked cautiously. “It’s perhaps best rendered as ‘trial nights together to see if slave and Master are compatible in their desires’. Luuma’s proposing quite a programme when she’s given birth.” “I… see. And the others? Deeela’s not wanting to join Kiivan’s, um, team? I thought the daughters of Ytrigar did everything together?” “Deeela has chosen to own herself,” Miiri reported with some pride. “Like me. Deeela feels the calling of the bard – we always knew that story and song were strong within her – and Losiira has nominated her to the college. But Deeela feels she must follow that calling first on Sol III. It is her dream and desire after our tent-sisters have birthed to enrol in one of your universities of education and study music there.” “I can see her being a big hit,” admitted Vizh. “And, um, the others?” “We’ve all had very flattering interest shown in us,” Miiri preened. “Noona will go where Losiira goes if she has a say in it. She has always preferred Losiira’s touch to that of a Master. They will not be parted by choice. But Odoona also wishes to return to Earth, if the Shoggoth will allow it, for reasons of her own.” “Odoona?” Vizh wondered. “I thought she’d choose to stay with her sister. Her birth-sister, I mean.” “Odoona’s heart leads her back to Earth also,” Miiri answered diplomatically. “Kaara must return to Lemuria, for she has not yet been won of the Shoggoth by him who would own her. The Shoggoth will continue to grant Lemurian refuge to all of us who wish it.” Vizh felt a little knot of worry relax in his stomach. “All of us? So you’re not staying on Caph, then?” “All of us will stay for the birthings,” she replied, “to assist with the mera’h and the other necessaries, and because a sisterhood like ours does not part easily. But I’m returning to Earth to stay near Magweed and Griffin, of course. And because I like Earth. And because I have things there that I still want to do, and things I still want to be.” “Good,” answered Vizh. “I have taken much interest in the charitable foundation on Earth which was created with the proceeds of our sale to the Shoggoth, and I do not wish to leave those young women whose lives the foundation has changed without guidance or comfort.” “That’s quite inspiring really,” admitted the possibly-fake man. “I bet you know how to convince social services officers to do what you need them to.” He pondered a bit more. “It’s good you’ll be coming back.” “So you have no need to fear,” Miiri told the man she was huddled up against. “And now if you would like to cover your ears, I’m about to begin screaming in ecstasy.”  Kaara of Jaaxa fell back onto the pillows and let the sweat cool on her heaving breasts. Vaahir of Viigo toppled beside her, gasping for breath.“Then my Lord Vaahir has missed me,” Kaara noted mischievously. “I was so hoping he had.” “Like an absent limb that I constantly expected to be there,” the Warlord of Caph confessed. “We’ve never been together much, so I don’t know why it seems so strange when we’re apart.” “But it does,” the last daughter of Jaaxa agreed. She huddled against her lover as Vaahir drew a sheet to cover them in the cool of the night. She examined him by the pale golden light of the single oil lamp burning over the bed. “What will you do now, my Lord?” “Well give me a minute,” grinned Vaahir, “and then I thought maybe the j’troon k’solth?” “Ambitious man,” Kaara giggled, “but I was speaking rather more generally. You have served your term of penance on the distant world of Plxtrazar, and you have led the resistance which helped to liberate out world. What now for the mighty Vaahir, Warlord of Caph? I’m sure you have a future in Prince Kiivan’s bold new reign.” “Next,” sighed Vaahir, “next I shall return to Plxtrazar. That is a stricken planet, in its own way as harmed by war and evil men as is Caph herself. It suffered before the Parody War and it suffers now, and I shall not abandon it to those who would raid it to oblivion. It needs strong defenders, and it shall have them. After that, there is the question of those who killed my father and clan-brothers for resisting Thonnagarian rule. I think there might still be a little bit of blood-vengeance inside me straining to get out.” “If you did not take your duties so terribly seriously I would not be attracted to you,” confessed Kaara. “I recall my fourth birthday, you know,” – Caphan years are four times longer than those of Earth – “That summer after I danced for you and you declared your intention to own me. I was in the women’s court when word came that you had conquered the Pirates of Kothkalchia and liberated their captives, and that you had dedicated the victory to me.” “I was young and stupid,” reminisced Vaahir. “But your price was set at nearly eight hundred thousand shekli, and that was more wealth than a younger son of a minor House could ever hope to gather in his lifetime without doing something extraordinary.” “It made for a very memorable birthday, anyhow. It’s those little things that turn a girl’s head.” “Like wiping out a pirate stronghold. Noted.” “And after that,” remembered Kaara, “every few weeks, word of some new adventure. The ruins of T’Loth, the caves where the krummush bears ranged, the tyrant of Voldemeer, the challenge of Lord Haarmish…” “I wasn’t just young and stupid,” Vaahir admitted, “I was young and very stupid.” “And very romantic,” Kaara added. “After you dedicated the decapitation of Volooth of Voldemeer to me the house-mothers reassessed my price at one million, nineteen thousand shekli.” “Which meant that the bounty I’d gained for taking Volooth down was less than the value I’d added to you by dedicating the victory,” admitted the warlord. “Young and very very stupid indeed.” “You would have bought me, though,” Kaara said confidently. “If the House of Taaleen had not been raided, captured, destroyed by Prince Oodan and all brought to ruin, you would have owned me.” Vaahir nodded. “I’d like to think so. Either that or ended up dead after one of those ‘nobody-else-is-insane-enough-to-take-this-quest-Vaahir’ missions went awry. But things turned out differently.” “Things turned out differently,” Kaara agreed. “Do I really want to know what price you’ve been assessed at now?” the Lord of Viigo asked, bracing himself. Kaara whispered shyly into his ear. “Ouch,” he winced, paling. “Zaahir’s brood, that’s a lot of krummush pelts. A hell of a lot.” The pleasure slave squirmed against him. “You’re saying I’m not worth it, my Lord Vaahir?” “You teasing minx, of course you’re worth it,” Vaahir answered fiercely. “I have obligations, you know that, for things I’ve done and for duties I’ve accepted. But I intend to own you, no matter what the cost, no matter what your price might be set at, and you will be mother of my children and my best beloved all of our days.” “Well then,” Kaara told him, “you might want to look at this epistle from my Lord Manga Shoggoth as to the terms of my purchase.” Vaahir was an experienced adventurer. He knew when he’d walked into an ambush. He took the sealed scroll from the woman he loved, broke it open, and read. “Master Shoggoth does not believe in slavery,” Kaara told him, “but he does believe that mortals only value that which they must work for.” Vaahir swallowed hard. “He must want me to value you very highly,” he noted. “Fortunately I do.” He folded away the letter. “This is your price, Kaara of Jaaxa, flame of my heart, and it shall be met.” “Because now you are older and stupid?” the girl teased him. “I am.” Kaara bit her bottom lip. “We could just run away,” she ventured. “Leave Caph, keep running. Nobody would come after us.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I would run away for you, Vaahir.” He pulled her closer to him, as if he would never let her go. “I will own you, legally and forever,” he told her. “Or die trying,” he added, with a glance at the Shoggoth’s note. A wide artless grin washed over Kaara’s young face. “It is good that we are both such great, stupid fools,” she admitted, hugging him tightly. “And now you have no choice but to console me with the j’troon k’solth. Right now!” “No choice, eh?” “Not for a man who takes his obligations so seriously, no,” Kaara insisted. She reached over to get the oils and the feathers. Next Issue: High ceremony and low treachery, one outcast seeress and one drudge’s desperate quest to save a planet, Miiri at the Tower of Raael, Shazana Pel versus the Caliphate Council, the punishment of Kriije, Kit Kipling’s choice and plenty more, coming up in UT#327: On Affairs of State and the State of Affairs, and kicking off with On the Morning After the Night Before Miiri image is by Visionary (amateur background is from me) Cast List: High Caphans of Rank: Prince Kiivan, Emir of All Caph, is the rightful heir to the Caliphate and liberator of his homeworld. He escaped when Caph was invaded by Thonnagarians, trained in different times and places, and returned just over an Earth year later having grown to adulthood to save his people. Ohanna of Raael is Kiivan’s constant companion, and as the Caphans would put it “his heart’s desire and best beloved”. She is younger sister to the exiled Caphan Miiri, and arguably the most extensively offworld-trained woman of Caph. Although Caphans have no such custom she is now Kiivan’s fiancée. Vaahir of Viigo is Caph’s greatest warlord, Prince Kiivan’s mentor and right-hand man in retaking Caph. Vaahir’s passion for the Lady Kaara of Jaaxa is celebrated in song and story. Serooq, High Priest of Raathi is one of the religious leaders of Caph, keepers of tradition and morality. Now that the Thonnagarian invasion is over he has been able to come out of hiding to lead the Caphan people in right ways. Prince Laartroon of Laartros was offworld at the time of the Thonnagarian takeover and therefore avoided the worst excesses of the occupation. He has returned now to reclaim his estates and stake his position in the new hierarchy of Caph. Lord Troovis of Troovis survived the reign of Prince Aarmis by being alternately stupid, subservient, absent, and stupid. He sees a future for himself in politics. The Lost Flowers of Caph: Nine Caphan pleasure slaves sold offworld to the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad and liberated by the Lair legion during the Transworlds challenge, now finally returned to the world of their birth. The nine are: Deeela, a daughter of Chieftain Ytirar by Iliia the Fair, She and her triplet siblings are sometimes called the Lost Jewels of the House of Kelinda after their abduction by raiders on the occasion of their vina drea (ceremony of bonding) to Laamis of Laamis. Deeela dreams of becoming a bard like her tent-sister Losiira. Sayaana, also one of three daughters born to the Chieftain Ytirar out of Illia the Fair. She is the best weaver and needlewoman of the group, and most accomplished at performing kelanath-sto. Philaana, younger sister to Sayaana and Deeela. She bears a child of Prince Kiivan, Emir of All Caph. Noona of Portaa. the older of two sisters sold offworld to the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad from the marketplace of Luutan. She is Losiira’s lover. Miiri of Earth, daughter of Prince Kiivas out of Ekooria of Damaar, is the most liberated of the Caphan exiles. When she was no longer owned by Visionary (a fiction anyway for the comfort of the rescued slaves) she returned to him as a lover and bore him twin children, Magweed (Naari) and Griffin. Miiri no longer wishes to be owned by anyone save herself. Odoona of Portaa. Noona’s younger sister, a romantic dreamer; she has an unspoken crush on Lord Visionary. Losiira of the Nine Songs is the oldest of the nine Caphan exiles, and the only one accredited by the bardic college. She had now been accredited as a slave-mistress and house mother, and has been awarded the rank of mistress of the House of the Emir. She also carries a child of Prince Kiivan. Luuma Swiftheels, famed for her athletic prowess, also carries a child of Prince Kiivan. Kaara of Jaaxa, last daughter of a murdered House, was ravaged and sold into slavery. The youth who strove to own her was Vaahir of Viigo, and his exploits to escape and save her are chronicled in the Tenth Caphan Saga in Untold Tales #202-212. Common Caphans Koodi of Jathaar is a drudge, one of the menial class of slaves who form the majority of Caph’s population. Her master is Lord Khuufal and she lived most of her young life in domestic service in the deserts of Urendiir. When her Master joined Vaahir’s rebellion Koodi came to Alcaphia as a runner bringing arms and supplies to the warriors. While camped outside the city Koodi encountered the outcast seeress Vespiir and made a fateful decision that she knew would destroy her life. Vespiir is an outcast slave, masterless and unprotected, for the crime of being a seeress. Only males may possess the gift of Raathi, and so Vespiir is evok-hai, fair game for any who would harm or kill her. She bears the Outcast Brand on her forehead, proclaiming her shame to all who see her. Oloora of Kiivan is a drudge in the Emir’s palace, an innocent pawn in most holy Serooq’s plots against those who advise Prince Kiivan. Heroes From Earth: Visionary, possibly-fake man and headmaster of the Junior Lair Legion training programme, was formerly the accidental owner of nine Caphan slave girls, including Miiri who later mothered his twin children. His yellow coat is often mistaken on Caph for the saffron mantle of a powerful lord. Other People Mentioned Lisa Waltz, first lady of the Lair Legion, recently gained the cosmic post of Destroyer of Tales. Before that temporarily ruled the worlds of Technopolis and Apocalyspe. Sir Mumphrey Wilton was the formidable leader of the Earth coalition during the Parody War, and is not known for suffering fools gladly. Donar, Hemigod of Thunder is one of the Ausgardian pantheon, an old member of the Lair Legion and the League of Regulars with Visionary. He smites people. Hallie is a sentient artificial intelligence that dwells in the computers of the Lair Mansion. For some time now she and Visionary have been threatening to date each other. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2008 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2008 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
