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

Also to round out my May content this month, the updated version of chapter 3 of Scars of the Golden Dancer. If you've got the interest, take a look at the earlier draft version and see how it compares with what I published.

It is a rare treat for me to have time to waste in my life. The innkeeper is kind enough to lend me a book of poetry, so I spend the heat of the day reading in the shade under the 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 work.

It is only when the sun is starting to set that I head back up to the caravanserai. Long shadows cross my path as I walk, and I wonder if Zayn will be there. I don’t know what type of schedule the jackal keeps, but he might be around. Even if he’s not, I need to stretch and there’s no other place in town to go.

The guard at the gate of the caravanserai is different from last night’s guard. He’s an older wolf with the broad stocky frame of a warrior. He 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 the courtyard, watching, as some people tend to a few camels. The crowd from last night has been replaced with the orderly process of business. I stop at one stall, run by a cheetah, to look over the goods he’s selling. It looks like he’s already packed a few things up in the back of the stall, but he’s got some cookware lying out still. Nothing catches my eye that I would want to carry back home over the mountains.

“Ah, you are still in town, I see. I thought the caravan left in the morning,” he remarks to me. It takes me a moment to place him, but I recognize him as the one running the dances last night.

“Oh, I wasn’t with them. I’ve been traveling alone.”

The cheetah gives me an appraising look. He’s lanky and a little older with some gray in his black fur. “Not many lone travelers out there, but some people make the journey by themselves. I know it can be dangerous to travel the sands alone.”

I shrug. “I tend to be more worried about raiders than the dunes themselves, but anyone who thinks I’m an easy mark will find that assumption wrong.”

He nodded. “You heading north or south?”

“West actually, over the pass.”

“Oh. Heading over the mountains would be the quickest way to Aksu. Not many take it because it’s a steep climb. Negotiating the trail with pack animals can be a challenge, I’ve heard.”

“No one from here takes it?”

“A few people do, but I haven’t ever done it myself. There’s nothing out that way until you cross the mountains. Then you see farming communities in the high valleys on the other side. There’s no water until you reach the high pass.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I wanted to ask, are dances like last night very common here?”

“I usually arrange something once a week, depending on how many caravans are passing through town. Why, looking for more entertainment?”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind actually,” I say.

He shrugs. “As you wish. Just let me know what your taste is, and I can find you something different from last night.”

“I’ll remember that.” I consider for a moment. Something doesn’t sit right with me. “You arrange all the clients for the dancers?”

The cheetah frowns. “I only arrange the dances themselves, but I forward everyone business. We’re a small town and sometimes there is no coin to be had for anyone. I’ve been through my own lean times, so I ask only for a small cut for myself after I pay the musicians.”

“What about for Zayn?”

“What about him?”

My eyes narrow. “Well, he has scars….”

He blinks. “Scars?”

“On his back. He’s got scars under his fur.”

His eyes narrow and his whiskers twitch. “How many?”

“A number of them. I assume he was whipped before he came here?”

“Zayn was born in Zaptu. I knew his parents before they passed.” The cheetah looks down at his shaking hands. “God forgive me, I should have known.” He clasps them to try and keep them steady.

“What do you mean?”

“Zayn had a client earlier today, Sarda, who seems to favor him. I’ve not been able to figure out what he does to Zayn, but I never see him right after he visits.”

“How rough is this guy?” I growl. “Have you never thought to ask?”

“I don’t know,” the cheetah says, his voice cracking. “Whenever I bring up Sarda, Zayn has always dodged my questions. I told Zayn when he started dancing the coin would not be as good as the others, but I was not going to take away his hope. He is stubborn and insisted on finding out himself.”

I can feel my stomach turning. “So, this has been going on for a while?”

“I think so. I should have figured out this was what was going on. I told him he needed to be careful, but I had no idea it would come to this.”

My paw falls to my sword hilt naturally. “Where are they?”

“They would be at Zayn’s house, but Sarda may have already left. I know he likes to travel at night when it’s cooler.” He looks at my paw on the kilij. “I know you may be thinking of doing something rash, but I should warn you, Sarda is well connected.”

I let go of the sword. “So, what are you going to do?”

He frowns. “I’m not sure there is much I can do right now. Sarda is a friend of the Emir. I need proof before I can petition.”

I don’t know anything about the Emir of Zaptu, but I know that connection makes this more complicated. The cheetah’s words could fall on deaf ears. “Let me go for you,” I offer.

“What good would that do? A wanderer from the sands has no say here.”

“I can wait until Sarda is gone and talk to Zayn. I will find out the truth for you.”

He considers, tail lashing behind himself. “Zayn will probably turn you away at his door, but he won’t talk to me about this. He might talk to someone else. Whatever you find, nothing must happen to the lion. You aren’t prepared for that kind of trouble.”

I grit my teeth, but I know Usman is right. The politically connected are always dangerous to confront. “I promise nothing will happen to him.”

“When you finish, no matter what happens, come back here and let me know. If I’m not here, talk to the guard at the gate. Tell him you have a message for Usman, and then let him know what you found. He’s a friend of mine and will let me know what you say. Is this okay with you, yena?”

I nod. “I can do that for you.”

“Good. I pray that my fears are wrong, but I fear that my prayers are for naught.”

The cheetah tells me how to find Zayn’s house. There is a great sadness in his expression as he does. I thank him and 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 shutters, the paint flaking off in many places due to the sun. 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 Sarda, I don’t want to disturb him and arouse any suspicions. Swiveling my ears carefully, I don’t hear anything to suggest the lion is here, 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.

“Why are you still here?” he asks.

“It’s a long climb up in the mountains. I decided to take a day to rest. I thought perhaps you might like company.”

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

Is he 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 where to find me anyway?”

“The cheetah who runs the dances told me when I pressed him. Should I come back tomorrow?” I inquire. “I was planning to leave in the morning.”

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

“He told me that also.”

“Then you can go tell Usman then I’m fine.”

“It’s hard to tell a man you’re fine if you won’t open the door. He is worried.”

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.

“It’s fine!” 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.

“What happened?” I ask him.

“I had a customer,” he snaps, as he turns around to face me. “He’s fond of the whip.”

My heart sinks. “You said this happened only once.”

His 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 someone to notice 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 ask.

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. They pay less for men than woman. Plus, the work is intermittent. You’re the best customer I’ve had 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 is 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. “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?”

“No, but this doesn’t have to be your life,” I say. “Usman can help you.”

“Usman has already helped me far more than he should have. I need to be able to stand on my own, and this is the life I have here.”

“You’ve got to find a better life than this.”

He squints at me. “And who is going to help me do that? You?”

“I don’t know, but this, this is not living. This is dying slowly.”

“I’m sure there are men who would be happy to take me away from here to be their little house boy,” he snarls, “but I will never submit to that. At least out here I support myself.”

“At what cost? You know what this is doing to you. Those scars will only get worse.”

He lifts his paw from his side where he’s had it clutched. There is blood on his pads, and he studies it. “It’s what I have.”

“You can find work that doesn’t require you to sacrifice your blood to the whip.”

“If only.”

“At least let me dress your wounds.”

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 very sparse. The first room is set up as a majlis. There is a lush divan covered with pillows and a low table for serving drinks, but 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. 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. The room also seems like it once contained more furniture than it does now. There is a trunk at the foot of the bed, and a table placed nearby. The bed itself is broad and pillows are stacked on one end against the headboard. 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 placing an old cloth on top of it and lies down on his stomach. I get on the bed after him. The mattress is softer than I expect it to be, packed with quality 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 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?

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. “Should I leave you to rest now?” I don’t know what else I can do but tell the guard what I’ve found. Only time will heal his wounds.

He scratches at an ear. “Yes. Will you be leaving in the morning?”

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

“You are going to Aksu?”

“Yes. I am going home.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “You want to help me? You really want to help me?”

“If there is something I can do, yes.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “There’s little left for me here, and if you think I deserve better, help me get there.” He opens his eyes and stares at me. “Take me to Aksu. Show me where there is a job I can do that doesn’t put me on my knees.”

I open my mouth and close it. “Wh…at?”

“Take me to Aksu.”

Aksu’s streets are vibrant and full of opportunity, but they are not without their own challenges. “I can do that, but what will you do when you get there?” I ask cautiously.

His ears lower. “I don’t know. Maybe what I do now? The coin would be better I imagine.”

My mind races thinking. “I’m sure you can do better.”

“Maybe, but I survive. It’s what I do.”

“You can do more than just survive.”

He shrugs. “Well?”

This is not a development I expected. “You should talk to Usman first. I am in no particular hurry to leave town, but I do know once you leave, you may never return here. The journey is not dangerous, but it is not one you will want to make by yourself. Aksu is very different than Zaptu.”

Zayn’s gaze hardens. “As I said, I survive.”

I know what desperation does to people. I’ve felt it myself, yet I don’t know if this is desperation or if I am an opportunity to leave he’s never had before. “If that’s what you wish, I can help you. I have a friend, Fadel, who has connections. He even employs some entertainers himself. He will know what you can do, but you will need to sort out your affairs before we leave first.”

His ears perk. “I can do that. I will talk to Usman first.”

“Good.”

He walks over to the door to let me out and pauses. ““Why did you come here?” he asks me.

“I told Usman about the scars.”

He frowns. “I see. Well, he was going to find out at some point.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He already has done so much for me. I do not wish to rely on him for everything.”

I’m not sure what I can say to that. Even though he is in pain, he stands up straight to carry himself with pride. Zayn reminds me so much of the close friend I lost it hurts. He too was proud and strong, but he is gone. Only the memories are what I have, and when you’re alone in the desert, sometimes regrets are all you can think about.

“You know where I’ll be staying,” I say, and Zayn lets me out of the house. He quietly closes the door behind me, leaving me in the cool night air.

#

I turn over what happened in my head all night and the next morning. When I run out of questions for myself, and with nothing better to do, I 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 innkeeper is somewhere inside, hiding from the midday heat. The shade of the lone date palm in the courtyard is at least a welcome addition, and I sit under it on top of a carpet.

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

“I wondered if you would be hard to find, but I see that is not so. Zayn says you go by the name of Naji?”

I set the book down. “That I do, but I’m not trying to hide or anything,” I say, looking up at him. “I’m surprised to see you though.”

He waits, and when I gesture, he sits down on the carpet next to me. “I thought we should talk,” he says.

“Zayn told you he wants to leave Zaptu?” I ask.

“Yes, yes he did. We had a long conversation last night about Sarda.”

“Has he changed his mind?” I don’t really expect the jackal to leave with me. I’ve thought about this, and while he might be better off in Aksu, this is his home. Usman, though, shakes his head.

“He told me it was better he leave. There are too many memories for him here.”

I’m taken aback by this. “There are?”

“Generally, people only dance for a few years. He picked it up not long after he turned eighteen. It’s not easy for a man to do that. People think it makes him less than a man.”

“That’s nonsense.”

He chuckles, amused. “Oh, I know, but Zayn is only twenty-two. He’s still got some of that youthful stubbornness going for him.”

“I see. You don’t approve of him leaving, do you?”

The cheetah leans forward. “I blame myself for not having the coin to hire him, but even if I did, he wasn’t going to let me. Zayn followed an all too familiar path for me, and I know that no matter what he does now, people will remember.” He lifts up his hands. “You see this gray here?”

“Yes.”

“Age does this to you, but when I was young, I used to be quite a dancer myself back in the day. It’s been years, but there are people here who still think I’m less than a man because of that. I even have two cubs, but that’s all they see. I’m told that in Aksu, people don’t have time to care about each other’s personal lives.”

“A few do, but there is a community of people like myself. We call ourselves mithly. If you know what the risks are though, why do you run the dances?”

“We are a poor town. We always have been, and we maybe always will be. The Emir collects taxes, but he has little extra after upkeep for the caravanserai. Our lifeblood comes from the caravans. I took over the dances so I could have some control, to try and create a better space than the one I used to work in.” He sighs. “There are limits to what I can do.”

“I gather there have been problems like Sarda before.”

“There are always problems like Sarda, but he is going to be a particularly difficult one. I believe he lives in the town south of us, but I know he is a friend of our Emir. Sarda always favored Zayn, but his tastes are dark. I don’t know what he will do if Zayn is not here, but the most I can do is warn the other dancers not to accept his coin. I don’t have the ear of the Emir.”

“It is not healthy to treat someone like that.”

“Of course not, but Zayn always took coin for his lashings. Even if the lion wasn’t the Emir’s friend, that limits what recompense Zayn could seek.”

That’s not right, but I don’t know what can be done. I am just a stranger here. “I have a friend who I believe can help Zayn find some work. He has connections. He won’t have to sell himself.”

He considers me. “I would ask you if he should trust you, but that is pointless. Only the most insidious of liars are willing to suggest they may be lying. Those are the people who can lie to you so blatantly and yet so convincingly that you still believe their lies.”

My ears perk at that. It’s a keen observation. “Wisdom does not come easy. It must be learned.”

“Indeed. I must get back to my stand. Zayn has some business he wants to attend to today, but he told me he should be ready by mid-morning tomorrow.”

I’ll need to get some extra supplies for the journey then. “Then have him meet me at the gate of the caravanserai.”

The cheetah nods and gets up. “I’ll let him know.” He holds out a hand. I get up and take the outstretched paw. We exchange cheek kisses.

“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. I sit back down and pick it back up. I flip it open to where I had stopped reading. The destined lovers in the poem talk about how they were meant for each other, but is life ever like that? Is it ever so easy that two people will meet and fall in love and that all will be simple and good?

Maybe for someone else, but not for me. My fate is complex and ever changing, and right now my journey entails someone I hardly know.

#

The guard at the caravanserai, the caracal from my first night, watches me for a while until he gets bored. He has dozed off a few times as the morning air warmed. 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 over the mountains when I came to Zaptu, but the company will be nice. What happens when we reach Aksu, though, will be interesting. I hope Fadel can help Zayn out.

Mid-morning passes, but the jackal still hasn’t shown up yet. I wonder if I should go looking for him, but this is where I told Usman I would wait. As the minutes slip by, I wonder if Zayn has changed his mind. I purchased extra provisions for the jackal, so all I can do is wait 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 brown pants underneath. In normal clothes he still looks handsome, his golden color fur bright against the neutral-colored clothing. On his hip he carries his sword, and on his back he has a pack.

“I’m sorry it took so long, but I wanted to have tea with Usman before leaving,” he says. “I wanted to say goodbye to him, his wife, and their cubs.”

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

“To a degree. Usman has always been a father to me, but we’ve also had our disagreements. It was good to finally reconnect away from the pressures of life before I leave.”

“He seems like he has his heart in the right place,” I offer.

Zayn just nods.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

He looks back at the village, ears lowered. “Zaptu has been home, but it hasn’t treated me like a home for a while now.”

I remember leaving my home village the last time. I didn’t realize at the time it would be forever. “Sometimes we outgrow the places we were born.”

He turns back to me. “I guess I have.”

“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 still,” he says, taking a wrapped bundle of food that’s been sitting next to me. He puts the pack down to shove it in. “This is all that I have left.”

He’s really doing this. I keep wondering how serious he is about it. “You sold the house?”

“Usman gave me what he could for it. It’s not much, but he’ll find someone in town who needs it eventually. 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 and standing up.

“That’s it,” he says. “I have my father’s sword, my mother’s shawl, and my clothes. I’m going to build a new life for myself. Beyond Usman and Farida, there are just memories here now.”

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. I feel the stirrings of the memory of what we did two nights ago, but that was just business. Now is not the time for such things, and there may never be a time again. We are barely more than strangers.

“I hardly know you, and you hardly know me, so I want to be clear on this before we leave. I’ll take you to Aksu, and I’ll help you find work, but I don’t owe you anything beyond that. The road I walk in life tends to be walked alone.”

He gives me a steely look. “I gathered that when you came to town by yourself. Don’t worry, once I land on my feet, I’ll be able to take care of myself.”

I soften. There’s no need to frighten him either. I can see the tentative tail wag he’s doing. “Once you get used to it, I think you’ll like Aksu. It took me a while to adapt to it myself.”

“You weren’t born there?”

I shake my head and pick up the waterskin I’ll be carrying. “No, I’m from the savannas of the south originally. I live in Aksu now, though.”

“I don’t know much about that.”

“Perhaps I’ll tell you about it at some point.” I look up toward the mountains. “The road up over the mountains will be rough, and we have to carry enough water until we reach the top. I’m told there is a spring high up in the gap the road passes through where we can refill. It will take two days to reach the pass. They said the trail should be pretty easy to follow.”

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Then let’s get going.”

I start walking toward the dusty road that leads away from Zaptu toward the Sultanate of Khalin. Behind me, the jackal follows, his paws soft against the sand and stones.