Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: The Garden of Veils

Reyhan Shahzad, beloved free companion of Daan Shahzad, placed her hand on her left hip once again and ran it slowly down and over her rump. It was clear to her these days that she was putting on some weight. Soft living over the last year or so had added a little plumpness to her hips, her bottom and, not quite so worrying, her breasts. Her breasts had actually done quite well out of the excessive bak-la-va of recent months, but she regretted the extra padding on her hips and ass. The slight swell of her stomach was hidden by a tight girdle that one of her slave handmaidens had stitched for her. There was little opportunity for a free woman of high station to exercise in Tor, and try as she might she had failed with any diet plans. Luckily for her though, her companion, Daan, had a fondness for a little plumpness around the hips, ass and breasts, or so he told her anyway. 

The weight wasn’t excessive, but the more it remained on her, the more concerned she became about it. Bathing in the mornings with her slave girl handmaidens only served to illustrate the difference in their bodies. Where the girls were kept slim and supple by their work and diet, Reyhan contrasted with their bodies in a way that embarrassed her. She had tried eating less, but there were always grand dinners at the house and it was hard to eat tiny portions when the men at the table were feasting and drinking without restraint. And during the day there would always be silver trays placed before her with sugared pastries and delicate morsels high in calories. She felt her hips again and frowned. The looseness of her gowns concealed the plumpness but she knew it was there. Reyhan was still a very beautiful woman, and she still enjoyed the company of her free companion at least once a week, perhaps even twice if she whispered seductive things to him in the evenings, but in her mind she was always weighing up her own appearance with that of the slaves that Daan Shahzad couched with on the other nights. The little sluts kept so slim!

“Reyhan, it is so good to see you,” said Laleh Sasani of House Sasani, as she crossed the soft grass of the Garden of Veils to greet Reyhan. Laleh was Reyhan’s sister, older by five years, and like Reyhan she had been free companioned for three decades; in her case to Hashim Sasani of House Sasani. 

The Garden of Veils was the secluded, and well-guarded place in the palace grounds where the free companions of men might wait and socialise together while their men were entertained by the Emir Shadam IV in this banquet hall. Women were never invited to these banquets and they were left to make their own polite entertainment together as their men folk feasted, drank and no doubt rutted with the palace girls. Reyhan had accompanied her man to the Palace tonight because the Emir was to bestow upon him the governorship of one of Tor’s most contested provinces. It had been contested for over a century by the nomadic tribesmen of the desert, but as it commanded valuable water wells and salt deposits, not to mention secured the best of the trade routes from the south and east, it was too valuable to surrender to the Bedouins. 

“How lovely to see you, Laleh, my precious sister,” said Reyhan as she air kissed the cheeks of her sibling. “Salaam and health to both you and Hashim.”

“Salaam. And health to you and Daan too,” said the sister. “How are my lovely nieces, Serafina and Jaleesa?”

“Troublesome and slightly naive if they do not realise their mother knows of many of their tricks and ruses,” said Reyhan. “They think they are so clever and deceptive – the folly and overconfidence of youth,” she sighed. “They have a tree house which they think is a secret from me. They go up there to watch the slave workforce toiling in the fields.”

Laleh laughed softly. “How positively scandalous. Such naughty girls. What are you doing about it?”

“Oh, I will arrange a nasty little surprise for them in a day or two. I will have a couple of my men set up an innocent little camp below the tree once they’re up there, and have the men appear to remain there on guard duty all day and all night, being relieved at various times by other men. Let the girls stew in their cramped tree house, afraid to come down, getting hungry and cold as the night draws in. I’ll come out the next morning to relieve the guards and call the girls down, making it clear I knew they were up there the whole time. I suspect they will be hungry and will have had little to no sleep as there is nowhere for them to lie down on the small tree platform. I’ll hurry them into the kitchen, whip their impudent little bottoms and then give them some hot soup. A stern talking to will follow and they will be confined to their rooms for a week.”

Laleh laughed again. “We used to get up to similar pranks when we were slips of girls.”

“We did, but Serafina is nearly 22 now and should have a serious and practical head on her shoulders. She should also be free companioned! I want grand children! She has a duty! She is wilful and disobedient when it comes to my wishes in that matter. She seems to think she can pick and choose when and to whom she is companioned. I will not put up with that nonsense much longer. I was companioned when I was 19. And even then my father thought it a year late.”

“And fine companions father found for us both.”

“True,” said Reyhan with a soft laugh. “I played so hard to get when I first met Daan, but he excited me from the moment I set eyes on him. I wasn’t going to be an easy catch though. A woman wants a man to fight for her.” 

“Very true. I still remember the expression on his face the very first time he was permitted to see your lips. I thought he was going to grab you there and then! By the way, are you aware everyone has been talking about you tonight?!” Laleh gazed at Reyhan’s curves, noticing how prominent the woman’s breasts and rump seemed these days through her expensive gallabiyah. She had put on weight it seems. 

“Why do they gossip so?”

“Well, it is said that we are all here tonight, the heads of the great houses, because your man is to be given the governorship of Al-Quada-a-Dhum! Is this so?” She moved close to her sister to whisper, so that the other women might not hear.

“Where have you heard that?” asked Reyhan politely.

“My spies!” said Laleh with a soft laugh.

“You have spies?” enquired Reyhan, innocently. “Spies, here in the palace?”

“As do you, Reyhan, and most Ladies of the court. Any Lady who did not operate her own spy ring would soon see her man lose status in the ever shifting politics of court life. It is a game we play, and you and I play it well.”

“I suppose we do,” said Reyhan with a smile. 

It was common knowledge in Tor of course that the palace of the Emir was infested with spies to the degree a grain barn might be infested by mice and rats. And that predominantly these spy rings were all controlled by the women of the great houses. The men rarely indulged in such subterfuge but instead spoke to their free companions at night for news of the politics of the day. Their women would be only too pleased to recount what they had learnt, while held in the warm and comfortable embrace of their beloved, and they would whisper into the ears of their man all the secrets they had paid for with silver and gold. Such was the way of intrigue in the city of Tor in the Tahari.

There were perhaps twenty ladies of the court here tonight, representing the central Houses of Tor, and of these maybe six represented the most powerful players of the Great Game of State. One principal Lady missing from the Chamber of Veils was the unfortunate companion of Rajif of House Turan. She, alas, was now enslaved, along with her daughters, when her House had fallen out of favour with the Emir. She and her daughters had been the source of fierce bidding at auction. Many houses wished to own the women of the ruined House Turan, and it is said the daughters themselves had sold for many gold pieces each. As woman they were hardly worth a fraction of that, but their titles and former status meant that their value on the auction block far outstripped their anonymous value as common merchandise. The companion of Rajif had sold for nine gold tarsks, herself. She now served in the harem of Subric of House Boquar. 

“So? You simply MUST tell me,” said Laleh. “The truth will be revealed in just an ehn or two anyway. Whisper it to me, dear sister. I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Very well, but it is a blood secret, for I would be in trouble if I told anyone before the Emir’s own decree.”

“It is true then?” Whispered Laleh. “You have Al-Quada-a-Dhum?”

Reyhan simply nodded. She picked at a plump ripe date from a silver tray and placed it under her opaque veil to chew on. “The House of Shahzad will be given this great honour tonight.”

Laleh tried to smile, but she honestly didn’t seem too happy with the news. “Your House will be the most powerful in Tor.”

“Though we shall not be in Tor itself. We will command 300 lances though, and have 50 Sardaukar as support.”

“Oh.” Laleh knew that 50 Sardaukar was probably worth 300 lances on its own. These were the hand-picked legion of the Emir. The fiercest fighting men money could buy. They were essentially a mercenary company, often recruited from sell swords from all over Gor. But predominantly they came from the northern reaches of Torvaldsland. They were giants of men, not like the wiry, agile kaiila riders of the desert tribes. “You know what this means then, Reyhan?”

“The other Houses will want to bring us down. Yes. I understand. We are now a threat to you all.”

“You have the Emir’s favour,” said Laleh, thoughtfully, “but we all know how transient that favour can be. House Turan enjoyed the Emir’s favour until just a week ago. And now look at them.”

“Daan is clever and I am resourceful. We are not House Turan.”

“Perhaps not, but my beloved, Hashim, will not like this. I fear he will move against you, and he will seek to draw other houses into an alliance against House Shahzad.”

“We will be enemies then soon,” said Reyhan with a serious expression.

“We already are, sister,” said Laleh. “You know there is no love lost between our companions. Hashim would see Daan crucified in the barren desert, and his women enslaved.”

“And Daan would see Hashim crucified in the desert and his women enslaved. You are right. The plotting will begin as soon as the Emir awards the governorship to my House.”

“Oh, it is already under way, Reyhan. Hashim is busy even now. By the year’s end either you or I will be wearing a steel collar. One of us will be perfumed and dressed in soft silks in some harem. It is a matter of inevitability.”

“You will look good in a collar, then, Laleh,” said Reyhan.

“As will you, though you have put on a little weight I see.” she touched Reyhan’s hips for confirmation. “It will be the kettle girl diet for you, perhaps?”

She was referring to the barbed insult free women of Tor said of one another. ‘That girl there, she should be on a kettle girl diet. Look at her hips!’

The kettle girl diet referred, insultingly, to the hard labour of a kettle girl and her bland diet of slave gruel. A combination that worked wonders for her figure of course. 

The Garden of Veils was, as the name might suggest, a rather beautiful garden enclosed within the palace itself, like an expansive courtyard, and made into a twisting and turning maze by the presence of many silk screens. These pieces of brightly patterned silk fluttered in the breeze and were in fact the veils suggested in the title. Women might walk alone or together with other women through the spaces between the fluttering, billowing silk veils, to explore sculpted garden spaces and sparkling fountains, or perhaps places of rest and contemplation amidst wonders of natural beauty. Part of the excitement was getting lost in the maze, though in truth one could never truly be lost for it was easy to navigate through the pieces of silk that were tethered to bars only at the top of each piece of material. The walls of the maze therefore resembled multiple washing lines, though rich silk ones. The antics of the free women in the Garden of Veils was acutely observed at all times by the stern faced Mothers of Virtue who gazed own from high crenulated places. These were women of the court charged with overseeing the palace slaves and visiting free women. Their sharp tipped whips lay coiled at their sides and in the white robes and white hijabs that they wore they resembled flighty ghosts who moved back and forth along the crenulated spaces, watching for any sign of a Lady loosening her veil, or hijab even for a moment. If such a thing happened, no matter the high rank of the Lady in question, the Mothers of Virtue would ring a hand held bell with a single strident clapper, and pointing down at the woman, cries of, ‘shame! Shame!’ would echo around the garden, and other women below would quickly gather to see which high born Lady had shamed herself so. In this regard it was rare for any Lady to risk slipping her veil or hijab aside. The eyes of the Mothers of Virtue were everywhere in the palace. It was rumoured that any Lady acting in an improper fashion, no matter how powerful that Lady might be, if a Mother of Virtue spied her acting in such a fashion, her name would be reported to the Emir’s ageing mother. On at least one occasion the offending woman had been seized from her free companion by order of the Emir, stripped in public, enslaved and then branded for her wanton behaviour in, for example, allowing hair to slip forth from under her hijab. The Emir brooked no laxity in the behaviour of Ladies in his palace grounds. 

“You know I love you dearly, sister mine,” said Laleh Sasani.

“I do know that,” said Reyhan, “and you know I love you dearly, too.”

“But you know that if your man takes this governorship, I will stand by my man when he enslaves you. I will not beg him for mercy. I will stand aside when you are stripped, branded and whipped on to the auction block.”

“I too will stand by my man when Daan ruins House Sasani, and you and your daughters are stripped, branded and placed on sale in the market square,” said Reyhan with sympathy. “I will continue to love you always, sister, but I stand by my man and I will see you belled, silked and branded.”

“You cannot win, Reyhan. Go to your proud man; beg him on your knees not to take this prize.”

“I will do no such thing. I will stand at his side and give him the support he expects from his free companion. It will sadden me to see you a slave, but slave you will be, Laleh.”

“How you will regret those words when it is you on your knees in nadu and I who hold the slave whip.” Laleh moved forward and air kissed the cheeks of her sister softly with her eyes closed. “Salaam, dearest one. I wish you and Daan great health.”

“And I wish you and Hashim great health and blessings too, beloved sister,” said Reyhan as she air kissed Laleh back.