A few minutes later six men entered, large, broad men wearing black haddinn on their tanned bodies. They wore nothing in the way of swordbelts or daggers, and around their necks gleamed bright bronze chains. I found myself shrinking back from the one who came to stand over me, and his mind was contemptuous as be crouched down and began pulling away the shreds of what clothing was left to me. My sounds of protest were joined by similar sounds coming from the other women, but none of the men paid any attention to them. We were all stripped naked in a matter of minutes, then each of us was lifted in the arms of a man and carried outside.
The sun was a blazing hot disc in the sky, too bright by far to be looked at directly. The man carrying me moved across the sand and away from the open tent, bearing left toward a pool of water separated from the main body of water, the others walking beside or behind us. It seemed that we were going to be allowed to bathe, and the pleasure brought by that prospect nearly drowned out the extreme embarrassment I felt over being carried around naked. There seemed to be few men around aside from those who carried us, but I still disliked the idea of being displayed so openly.
When we reached the pool of water I expected to be put down on the bank, but the expected failed to occur. The man carrying me stepped down and waded into the water, moving forward until the water was knee-deep on him. Only then did be put me down, and not to let me begin bathing. He held me by the arms and dunked me completely under the water, kept me under for a moment, then pulled me erect again. The water was only thigh deep when I stood up, but thigh deep is still deep enough to get you good and wet. I stood sputtering and wiping cool, life-giving water out of my eyes, and therefore failed to see where the small oblong of sandy, soapy material came from. I suspect it came from the man’s haddin, but the first I knew of it was the touch of it and his hand against my skin. I jumped and tried to move away, mortified that I was being bathed by someone else—and a man at that—but evasion wasn’t possible. Big fingers clamped around my arm, holding me where I was wanted, and the bathing proceeded according to the wishes of the man with the soap. His mind was still contemptuous; and he took considerable pleasure from the embarrassment he gave me.
By the time the baths were over, none of us were even hoping any longer that we’d been “saved” from the savages. Exactly what our positions were we didn’t yet know, but honored guests are rarely bathed all over by strange men, up to and including places usually considered intimate. I’d blushed and cried out, and tried to protect myself, but nothing had kept the big man in the black haddin from doing exactly as he pleased. I wasn’t the only one burning in furious embarrassment, but the other women kept their consternation to themselves, not even struggling with the men who bathed them. The one odd note in the entire thing was the complete lack of interest in all six of the men. They could have been bathing seetarr for all they seemed to care, but I didn’t have much time to dwell on the oddity. Two robed, veiled women carrying thick bundles came to stand on the bank of the pond, and their amusement at what was being done to us was too obvious to ignore.
When I was finally released I waded to the bank, cleaner in body but not happier in mind. The two robed women had spread cloths on the bank, and it was to these cloths that we were directed. We were handed other cloths to dry our hair with, and it quickly became apparent why we didn’t need to dry our bodies. Within minutes the sun itself had dried us, and was already beginning to take the dampness from our hair. We were given wooden combs to see to the tangles, then we were given dark brown robes and leather sandals, all without a word being spoken. The silence bothered me, but I didn’t break it; the minds of the women told me they would not have answered even if spoken to. A wall held their emotions tightly in place, and they worked quickly to get the job over and done with.
When we all wore sandals and robes, one of the veiled women led us toward a large tent while the other stayed behind to gather up the wet, used cloths. The men had disappeared while we were drying ourselves, but they hadn’t gone in the same direction in which we were being led. The tent we were taken to was blue and white striped, square and high, and divided inside into many small rooms. The entrance curtain parted to show us a small area entirely bung about with while silk, the same covering the ground, but we weren’t allowed immediate entrance. Our sandals had to be taken off and left beside the entrance, then we were able to follow our guide to the right, deeper into the tent. Findra, the blond tripper, walked close beside me, her mind upset and unhappy, but she hadn’t said any more than the rest of us had.
Our final destination was a room of white silk somewhere in the heart of the tent. Our guide led us into it and waved her hand, indicating that we were to stand where we were. She herself stood to one side away from us, her mind held purposely blank, her body held relaxed but ready. I didn’t know what she was ready for, and I was sure I didn’t want to find out. The four Rimilian women with me knew more than I did about what was going on, and the misery in their minds told a good deal of the story. They were trying to hold back on their fear, but it increased in each of them despite everything they could do.
The mystery was solved for me in a shorter time than I had expected. We had been in the room for no more than ten or fifteen minutes, nervous but enjoying the strangely cooler temperature, when a man suddenly appeared from behind one of the silk hangings. He wore white robes over his massive frame, a white veil over his features, and sandals on his feet. Around his waist was a swordbelt, from which hung a sword to the left and a long, terrible-looking dagger to the right, and his mind reacted very little when he looked at us. The veiled woman immediately knelt when she saw him, putting her fists to her forehead as she bowed. The newcomer ignored the gesture as he looked at us, then slowly came forward to the woman nearest him. He crouched in front of her and removed her ankle bands, then stood straight and moved to the next woman in line. In another five minutes the bands—of whatever number—were gone from all of us, and the man moved back to a place where he could look us over again.
“Remove the robes,” he suddenly ordered, his voice fiat and authoritative. My first thought was to refuse and then demand release, but the waves of fear coming from the other women almost knocked me over. This was not a man to refuse or argue with, their minds said, and they made me believe it as much as they did. I fumbled and pulled at the robe I wore, aware that Findra was doing just as the rest of us were even though she hadn’t understood the command. In seconds we were as bare as we’d been in the bath, but the man in front of us wasn’t as unaffected as the men in black haddinn had been. He examined each of us in turn with his blue eyes, his mind and body humming with approval and pleasure, his amusement clear when he saw the blush covering me. Maybe it was the blush, but his eyes rested on me longer than they did on any of the others, his interest evident and totally unconcealed. I know I blushed deeper then, increasing his amusement, and was almost relieved when he spoke again.