Scars of the Golden Dancer, Chapter 3 - Crimson Lines (Patreon)

Dear Patrons

I hope everyone had a good Christmas, if you celebrate, are having a happy Hanukkah, enjoying any holiday they celebrate, or at least not being too stressed by the holiday season if it's not your thing. I've been running around a lot for the holidays, and while I made some progress on a new story for this month, I'm running short on time. Thus, I decided to put up chapter 3 of Scars of the Golden Dancer for this month's feature. It's longer than what I was planning to do at first, and who doesn't want more content instead of less?

I do have a blog post to put together I'll get up before the end of the month. In the meantime, chapter 3!

In a town like Zaptu, everyone knows everyone else. It not hard to find someone like Zayn, but I first need to find someone willing to talk to me. Based on my past experience in towns like this, not everyone likes to talk to an outsider asking questions. After the response I saw to Zayn's dancing last night, I decide it's best to wait until evening and see if I can find him myself back at the caravanserai plying his wares.

That means though, I have time to waste. The inn keeper is kind enough to lend me a book of poetry he has, so I spend the heat of the day reading in the shade under the only date palm in the inn’s courtyard. It’s an old book, but the words upon the pages are timeless. The poet speaks passionately about his beloved, and I take the time to savor his words.

Only when the sun is starting to set and casting long shadows through the town that I head back up to the caravanserai. Even if Zayn isn't there, someone should be able to direct me to where I can find the jackal.

The guard at the gate of the caravanserai tonight is different than last night's guard. He's an older wolf with the broad stocky frame of a warrior. He just nods at me when I approach and waves me by. Inside, things are quiet. There are a few merchants in one corner talking, while another is packing up his wares for the night. I wander around watching, as some people tend to a few camels, but none of the performers from last night appear to be about. I wonder who I should approach, when to my surprise, someone flags me down.

"Back looking for more entertainment?" asks a cheetah who is closing up a stall for the night. He was carrying things back into a storm room behind his stall, until he noticed. It takes me a moment to place him, but I realize he was the one running the dances last night.

"Perhaps," I say, keeping my voice neutral. I don't want to be forward about what I want. I want to feel him out first. “You can make arrangements for me?”

“He nods. Should you wish. Just let me know what your taste is, and I can find you something different from last night."

"I would be interested in more of the same actually," I say.

The cheetah considers me for a moment. "I'm afraid Zayn is not here right now."

"Might you know where I can find him?" I inquire.

He nods. "I do, but did you not get your monies worth from last night?" he asks and smiles at me.

"Oh, I did," I say with a wink. "I was hoping to see him again, before I leave town."

The cheetah’s smile fades, and he doesn't say anything. Realizing I need to press this, I add something to keep the conversation going. "He dances very well. Would it be possible to get another appointment with him to see some of his other moves?"

The cheetah flicks his ears and gives me a half smile. "That he does. He is my best dancer, but I am afraid Zayn will not be up for more business today. He already has a customer for the night."

"Oh," I say, feeling a tinge of disappointment. "Will he be available tomorrow?"

"I hope so, but he might not be."

"What do you mean?" I ask, probing.

"He had a customer come back in town late last night. A regular of his. Zayn went to meet up with him a few hours ago. Their sessions are quite involved, so I know for sure he won't be up for more business tonight. He rarely takes on more business right away after these sessions happen," says the cheetah, crosses his arms. He takes on a more guarded posture. "I can see though that your needs are taken care of tonight by one of the other girls.

"One of the girls isn't what I looking for."

The cheetah shrugs. "Then I'm afraid I can't help you today. Perhaps the next time you come to town; I can arrange a session for you."

This cheetah is a lanky, but he's not intimidating to me. He's older with some gray in his black fur., and while I can tell he's got a lot of raw power, he does not have what it takes to bring down someone like me.

"And what about tomorrow?"

He clears his throat. "Look, I don't want to promise you something I can't deliver. We'll be lucky if Zayn has the energy tomorrow."

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t see Zayn after he visits for a while. I don’t know what they do. All I know is he pays well.”

"How rough is this guy?" I ask confused. "Wouldn't tomorrow be good for him?"

The cheetah sighs. "Zayn is highly independent. He had to be growing up here as an orphan. He’s not going to tell me. All I know is he went to see Zayn earlier today and it wears Zayn out. Sometimes, I don't see him for a week after these sessions."

I file that piece of information away. "If he is so independent, how do you know if he will be predisposed against more business tomorrow or even for the rest of the night? Perhaps I can go and inquire myself?"

The cheetah gives me a quizzical look I don't understand. "I do not think that would be a good idea."

"And if I toss in a dirham for the information of where I can find him?"

"I get that you don't like woman, but why are you so determined to see him?"

This is question I'm not sure I know how to answer for myself even, but I don't want to seem hesitant. "He's nice," I blurt out, and then go on before the cheetah can question me on that. "I felt there was a good connection, and you can't find that just any one-night stand. I'm willing to toss some more dirham his way, and even one yours, for the pleasure of his company."

He frowns. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then what is it you want?” I ask.

The cheetah looks me over. “You know your way around with the sword?”

That catches me off guard. “Yes.”

“You’ve worked as a sell sword before?”

“I have.”

“Then I propose a trade. I want to know what this Sarda does to Zayn. You promise to tell me that, and I’ll tell you where to find Zayn.”

“Sarda?

“Yes, he’s a lion. I know you want to stick your prick in my star dancer, but I need to know he’s okay. Zayn is unlikely to make time for you tonight. He will probably turn you away at his door, but I want you to ask him why. Tell me what he tells you. When you finish, no matter what happens, come back here and talk to the guard at the gate. He’s a friend of mine and will let me know what you tell him. Is this deal acceptable to you?”

I nod. “I can do that for you.”

“Good,” he says, and then tells me how to find Zayn's house. There is a sadness in his expression. I thank him and promise to talk to the guard when I’m done. I head off toward the golden jackal’s house unsure of what awaits me there.

#

It doesn't take me long to reach Zayn's house. As the cheetah described, it lies on the edge of town. The mudbrick home has a faded blue door and faded blue shutters, the paint is worn and flaked off in many places due to weathering. The house itself, while larger than some of the other houses in town, looks older. The squat structure is quiet, but in the growing dark of night, I can see light leaking from around one of the shuttered windows.

I pause by the door considering what the cheetah said. If Zayn is still with his other client, I don't want to disturb him. Swiveling my ears carefully, I don't hear anything to suggest he is, but I can't be sure. After listening for a minute, I finally knock, using the hanger set into the battered wood.

Inside, I hear a little shuffling. "Who's there?" Zayn calls out.

"It's me, Naji", I say. There is silence for a few moments.

"I thought you were leaving town today. Why are you still here?" he asks.

This is indeed a good question. So many thoughts race through my head. I still want to know what makes this canine tick, but I also don’t understand what the cheetah is concerned about. All day it has been eating at me that I need to see the jackal again, yet I am only one of his many clients. "I'd like to see you again," is all I can offer.

There is silence again. It doesn't sound like he's moving to get the door. "Now?" finally comes the exasperated response.

Is he actually with his client the cheetah spoke to me about? "Is now not a good time?" I ask through the door.

"Now is certainly not a good time. Who told you were to find me anyway?"

"The cheetah who runs the dances told me when I pressed him. Should I come back tomorrow?" I inquire through the closed door.

“Why the fuck did Usman tell you where I live? He knows I don’t want more business.”

“I pressed him,” I say. “He seems worried about you for some reason.”

I don't get a response. After a moment of silence, I hear the sound of movement and the door opens inward. I step into the room and Zayn closes the door unceremoniously behind me. He looks displeased to see me. His scowl isn't what catches my attention though; it's the scents in the air. There is the distinct tang of blood in the room. I sniff to process what my nose is telling me. The smell of sex is there and someone else's scent too, but it is blood that permeates the space.

Zayn is standing before me naked. The fur is matted on the sides of his chest and stomach. A lantern is hanging in the back of the room, and as I study Zayn, I can see a crimson tinge along his flanks, mixed into his tawny fur. He starts to say something to me, but I reach out and grab his shoulders to turn him around.

"Hey!" he yells at me, but I ignore his protest. His back is a mess. The fur matted with blood. I turn him toward the light, and I can see fine cuts underneath. Most of them appear to have closed but a few are still oozing blood. It looks horrible.

"What happened?" I ask him concerned.

"I had a customer," he says defensively, turning around to face me. "He's fond of the whip."

My heart sinks. "You said this happened only once."

He ears lower. "So, I lied," he says. "People are paying me for a good time. Usually they have me face down in a pillow or on my knees. It's rare for one of them to notices the scars under my fur. If they ask, I tell them a half truth about it."

I'm shocked he willingly puts himself into this situation. What type of bastard does this to someone? "How often does this happen?" I whisper.

He rolls his eyes. "Every few months when Sarda passes through town. He pays well. Two gold dinars usually. Generally, I don't make much at the dances. You're the best customer I've had there in a month's time. This is the only way I've found I can guarantee I can afford to eat."

Usman said Zayn is independent, and I can see that. It's not just his body posture that tells me that, but the hardness in his gaze. He's clearly in pain, his paw is pressed to his side, but his eyes are clear and focused on me. He's stubborn. He doesn't want me interfering. "No one should be this desperate."

He snorts. "Spare me the sympathy. Life is not easy."

I gawk at him. "And this is what you call a life? Being beaten because of someone's whims?"

The jackal snarls at me, both in pain and frustration at me. "He's careful. He never whips me more than I can take, and he makes sure not to leave visible scars. You think I like being someone else's dark sexual gratification?"

Life in the caravan towns can be hard if you're not a trader, but I've never seen something like this. "No, but this doesn't have to be your life," I say. "I can take you to Aksu."

"Oh, so I can be your little house boy?" he sneers at me. "At least out here I support myself."

"I can find you work. Real work that doesn't require you to sacrifice your blood to the whip."

"As I recall from last night, you are a hired blade. Now you come to my house and want to tell me how I could be something I'm not? I don't even know why you are still in town! I certainly don't need to be lectured by a sworn killer."

The fur on the back of my neck stands up. His comment stings. Why am I here anyway? I'm a man of action, a man not afraid to face death. It's why I'm so good with a sword.

Yet deep down, I know I have a soft spot, and time has been making it bigger. The fire in his eyes reminds me of my lost friend Isim. I know what desperation does to people.

"A sword should never be used in anger. I've been paid on to do things I wish I never had to do. I’ve faced the consequences of my actions before, so I have my regrets. I know what pain feels like, but I refuse to let regret become all that I am. At least let me help you."

He's still glaring at me, but he's not speaking. His muzzle is closed, his eyes still clear and focused. He's thinking about what he should do about me.

"I can dress your wounds for you if you'd like. I've gotten good at that over the years." It's the least I can do for him right now.

He considers for a moment before he says anything. "That would be good. There is only so much I can do back there on my own."

As he steps away from me to fetch something, I finally look around his house. It's kind of very sparse. The first room is setup as a majlis. There is a lush divan covered with pillows, a low table for serving drinks, but very little else. A single faded wall tapestry with geometric designs hangs over the divan. A rug has been placed before the divan, and while comfortable and inviting, it doesn't fill up the room. The rest of the room is bare besides a cabinet Zayn is pulling things from. The hearth looks cold, and barely used, and only a few cooking utensils sit near it, collecting dust.

Zayn returns carrying some poultice in a jar, a clean rag, and a bowl with water. He hands them to me. "Here.” He glances toward the couch piled high with pillows. “Let me lie down on the bed so you can put that on," he suggests.

I nod in agreement and Zayn walks through an arched doorway into his bedroom. This room also seems like it once contained more furniture then it does now. There is a trunk at the foot of the bed and a table placed near the bed. The bed itself is broad and pillows are stacked on one end against the headboard. I notice two ropes are hanging from the headboard. I want to ask about this, but I bite back the comment.

He gets on the bed after laying down an old cloth, and lies on his stomach as I get on the bed with him. The mattress is actually softer than I expect it to be, carefully packed with straw. I start by cleaning the scratches. The rag quickly turns pink from the blood on his back. Under my strong paws, he whines and growls at points as I rub poultice into his wounds, but only when the pain is too much for him. As I work, I glance back up at the headboard. How many other men have had him on this bed? Do they often tie him down, or are the ropes just for this special customer of his?

This isn’t right, but if this is the life, he wants for himself, I need to not interfere. I barely know him anyway. When I'm done, I sit back and look over my handiwork. The wounds look better at least. I get up from the bed and he follows my lead.

"Thank you," he says stiffly.

"You're welcome," I say bobbing my head. "Should I leave you to rest now?"

He scratches at an ear. "Yeah. Will you be leaving in the morning?"

"I guess. I need to set out at some point on the mountain road into Khalin."

He nods and follows me as I walk back into the front room. He glances toward his divan, and a goblet placed carefully on the serving table. "Why did you come here?" he asks me.

I pause, keeping my tail still. "You remind me of someone I used to know; an old friend who is no longer with us."

He flicks an ear. "I do?"

"Yeah. He loved to dance. He said if he hadn't been so skilled with the sword, he'd have joined an acrobat troupe in Aksu."

He scratches at an ear. "I imagine that is an interesting way to live."

"It's different. I guess."

He glances back at the glass sitting on the table. "Do you think one of them would take me?"

I tilt my head. "In Aksu? I don't know, but even if they didn't, there are other places you could seek work. I have some friends who owe me some favors."

"This town has always been my home," he says spreading his arms out. "I was born here, on the edge of the great desert, and I buried both my parents in the sands out there." He pauses, and I nod so he knows I'm listening. "It hasn't been easy, but I have survived. Tell me Naji, how can I trust you when you say you say you'll take me to Aksu?"

I clear my throat. "I have been around long enough to know you shouldn't trust me blindly. I have seen the cost of deals built on false trust. While I will gladly give you my word, only with time can you truly come to know me well enough to know the value of that."

"Then I would be a fool to go with you," he remarks.

My ears fall. "Indeed, you would be, just as I am a fool for offering."

He looks around the room, thinking.

"Every time I sell myself, I risk being hurt. The regular customers I know what to expect, but every new person, there is a little bit of apprehension in the back of my mind. It's usually not warranted, but sometimes it is. I've had to become a good judge of character," he says. "You seem honest with your offer, but only the most insidious of liars are willing to suggest they may be lying. Very few people can lie to you so convincingly and yet so blatantly that you still believe their lies."

My ears perk at that. It's a keen observation, and one I I've had to follow in my own trade. "Wisdom does not come easy. It must be learned."

"Indeed. If you will give me a day to think it over, perhaps I can take you up on your offer."

"Of course," I respond, feeling my heart quicken at that thought.

He walks me to the door. "I will send you word tomorrow."

“Then I will wait and see what you want to do.”

He nods and stands by the door, waiting for me to leave. I take the hint and I step outside. Zayn quietly closes the door behind me, leaving me in the cool night air.

#

I turn over my actions in my head all night and the next morning. When I run out of questions for myself, and with nothing better to do today, I have return to the book of poetry, the spiraling lines of verse echoing in my head. The sun is high in the sky before anyone comes looking for me. The small courtyard of the inn is deserted. The inn keeper, is somewhere inside, hiding from the midday heat. The shade of the lone date palm in the courtyard is at least a welcome addition.

I am reading a passage I read yesterday that talks of the joys of pure love, when I hear the crunch of paws on the sand of the courtyard. Looking up, I see the cheetah from the caravanserai coming up to me.

"I wondered if you would hard to find, but I see that is not so."

I set the book down on the carpet I am sitting on. I am sitting on a worn silken cushion resting on top of the carpet.

"I did not know I was worth seeking out," I say looking up at him.

He waits, and when I gesture, he sits down on the carpet next to me. "I did not think so either, but it appears you have been busy." 

“And the reason for this is?”

“You’ve been busy it seems, yena, planting seeds in people’s minds.” 

"You have talked to Zayn then."

"Indeed. We spoke this morning. He looks like hell, and what I have feared it true.”

“You didn’t know?” 

The cheetah shakes his head. “No. I would have never let Zayn do that if he’d told me what was going on, but Sarda arranged things with Zayn directly. We had a nice shouting match about how I could have done more for him if he’d let me.”

I consider the cheetah. “He didn’t want your help?”

“He wanted to work things out on his own. He does that sometimes.” The cheetah sighs. “I should have known something like this could have happened.”

I glance to my sword lying on the carpet next to me. “Who is this Sarda fellow Zayn mentioned and where is he?”

The cheetah follows my glance. "He's a lion from the north. I'll be keeping an eye out for him when he comes back this way, but I can do nothing about him right now. That is not why I came to see you though. I'm told you have offered to take my best dancer to Aksu."

"That I did."

“That is an interesting thought, but forgive me, I should at least introduce myself. I am Usman. I was a friend of Zayn’s parents."

"Naji," I say.

"That much I have learned. Tell me Naji, if Zayn goes with you, I will not need to cross the mountains to come find you, will I?"

I clear my throat. "I would never do that to someone."

"For your sake, I hope so," he says, putting weight behind his words. "The cost of our sins often comes back to us."

I know this from experience, but now is not a time to dwell on those moments. "Do you think he will be better off here?"

Usman reaches up to scratch behind his ears. "Probably not," he says finally. "People will pay for his services, but they don’t want to pay well. I know the dance is an easy path for anyone, especially for a mithly man, but I still want to make sure he be safe. On that front, I have failed him."

"If Zayn comes with me, I will make sure he gets to Aksu safely, and I will help him find better work." I affirm. “He won’t have to sell himself like that.”

The cheetah considers me carefully. "I hope you are the man you seem to be. Zayn says he is willing to make the journey."

"I didn't know that."

"We talked about it this morning. I knew his parents well. It was a tragedy when Zayn lost his father as a child. It was even worse when his mother died when he was fourteen. After that, he didn't have any family left."

"And you pushed him to dance?" I ask.

Usman shakes his head. "No, I would never do that to anyone.” He gives me a sad smile. “I know exactly what dancing and whoring yourself out is like. It’s been a while, but when I was young, I had to earn my coin on my knees. I would never suggest that line of work to anyone. Zayn is the one who wanted to earn his own coin. I do my best to protect all of the dancers, but it’s not an easy task."

I look over the cheetah, and I can see a tiredness in his presence. "And now?"

"Now I don’t know. For all my good intentions, it's not been easy to get Zayn clients willing to pay good coin. This is why I can't tell him he would be so much better off here than in Aksu."

“I cannot tell you if you treated him right or not.”

“I know. I can only move forward.” The cheetah gets up and dusts himself off. "Sarda will return this way, and he will pay for his actions. Do not make me regret trusting you. He will need help once he reaches Aksu."

I don't know if Usman ever would find out if something happened to Zayn; I don't know if he even has contacts in Aksu, but I do not plan to give Usman any reason to come looking for me or Zayn. "On the honor of my sword, you have my word I will see him to Aksu safely, and I will help him find honest work there."

"Then be at the gate of the Caravanserai mid-morning tomorrow. Zayn will meet you there. He has preparations to make today."

"He has reached a final decision?"

The cheetah nods. "Yes. I wanted to speak to you before you go, but his mind is made up." He holds out a hand. I get up and take the out stretched hand. We exchange cheek kisses in a formal greeting.

"I wish you both a safe journey,” says Usman.

"Thank you," I say, and he turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the courtyard with the book of poetry.

#

The guard at the caravanserai, the caracal from my first night in Zaptu, watches me for a while, until he gets bored with that. He has dozed off a few times already as the morning air has become hotter. Sitting in the shade of the caravanserai's wall, I play back the last day and a half in my mind. I didn't expect to be taking someone with me on over the mountains when I came to Zaptu, but the company will be nice. I don’t know though what the future holds for myself and Zayn.

Mid-morning passes, but Zayn still hasn't shown up yet. I wonder if I should go looking for him, but this is where Usman told me to wait. As the minutes slip by, I wonder if he has changed his mind. I have already purchased extra provisions for the jackal, so it is now a waiting game to see if he shows up.

Finally, with the noon sun having taken almost all of my shade, I see Zayn coming up the dusty road. He has a rough spun white kaftan on with a brown tunic and pants underneath. In normal clothes, he looks handsome, his golden color fur is striking against the neutral colored clothing. On his hip, he carries a sword, possibly the one he dances with. On his back, he has slung a pack.

"I'm sorry it took so long, but I wanted to have tea with Usman before leaving," he says. "I had promised to do it, and I wanted to say goodbye to him and his wife."

"I understand. You two are close?" I’m not sure how Zayn really feels about Usman.

"To a degree. Usman has always been a good to me. He was close to my parents, and he looked out for me when they passed. When I started dancing, it changed our relationship a little. It was good to finally reconnect away from the pressures of life before I leave."

I nod. "He seems like he his heart is in the right place.”

Zayn just nods.

“So, do you have room in your pack for supplies? Also, is that all you are bringing? I was wondering if I was going to have to try and buy a camel to make the climb with us.”

"There is a little room left," he says, taking a wrapped bundle of food that’s been sitting next to me. He puts the back down and sees how he is going to fit in it. "This is all that I have left, so it's already full."

"You sold the house?" I say shoving the other two bundles of food into my pack I bought for him.

He nods. "If I am going to do this, I might as well go all in."

I'm a little floored by the fact he just sold his house. "So that's it then. No turning back?" I ask reaching for my pack, standing up.

"That's it," he says. "I have my father's sword, my mother’s shawl, and my clothes. Everything else in that house was old, and I had to sell the valuables years ago to feed myself. There is little left here for me anymore."

I look at my charge for this journey. His posture, even his composure is different now that I'm not his customer. I'm not sure I would have trusted someone like me if I was in his situation. He's still very attractive to me, but that doesn't feel like the proper response. I feel the stirrings of the memory of what we did two nights ago, but I have to push that down. Now is not the time for such thoughts. There never may be a time again for those thoughts.

I pick up my pack, and the waterskin I'll be carrying. "The road up over the mountains will be rough, and we'll have to carry enough water for the day. I’m told there is a spring high up in the gap the road passes through where we can refill our waterskins, but since we're starting out late, we may not get there tonight. Are you ready?"

He looks back toward the village and then at the caravanserai. "Yeah," he says finally. "I'm ready."

I take a deep breath, and start walking toward the dusty trail that leads away from Zaptu toward the Sultanate of Khalin. Behind me, the jackal follows.