Scrappy Nirah

originally posted May 10, 2006

"You are the Poet. The one that owns the girl with the nose ring," the fellow said to me. "Nirah, yes," I replied, pausing to speak with the fellow. It is something of a busy day today. I thought a cup of black wine and a leisurely ahn or three would be a fitting way to begin it. Perhaps I would have a plate of eggs. Bread. Bread would be good. Incredibly busy. I did not know how I would fit it all into the mere twelve or thirteen ahn remaining. Still, I am a polite sort. I could make time to converse with the fellow. He seemed decent enough. "I am Dmitri. I work in the commissary," he informed me. How very odd, I thought. Was he here to ask what I might like to have for my morning repast. No. He mentioned Nirah. Right. Moving on. "Tal, Dmitri. I am Szol of Ar," I replied. We grasped one another at the forearm for a moment. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance.""Your Nirah is a scrappy one, Szol of Ar," he smiled."Well, yes. I am pleased you are enjoying her," I said. I had never referred to her as 'scrappy' before, but I suppose that was an apt description. "She is a vital woman.""Most definitely true," he concurred. "I have used her many times, and my thanks for that by the way, but she is scrappy in another sort of way.""Oh?" I asked."We have been taking bets upon her and another girl, a red-head, that works in the kitchens for several hands," he admitted. "The other girl is a fiery one, fiercely possessive of Bjorn, a Guardsman of the Eastern Watch."I smiled. I could see where this was going. "When Bjorn noticed your Nirah, we knew it was only a matter of time," he said. "Yes, the strapping blonde fellow. With the scar. He had a few days of paid leave recently," I mentioned. "He asked if it would be permissible to put Nirah to extended use.""Yes!" exclaimed Dmitiri. "When we did not see your Nirah for two days, we knew it would not be long.""That which you were taking bets upon?" I inquired."Indeed. Yesterday afternoon it came to a head. After the red-haired girl demanded an accounting, your Nirah delivered one. An open palm that nearly spun the other's head on a swivel.""Ah," I said. Slave girls are known to fight now and again. It can be amusing to watch them vent their frustrations upon one another. Sisterhood, even when it is achieved, is often a tenuous thing. The little animals are just too competitive."It quickly devolved into the pulling of hair and rolling aroundon the floor," he informed me. "Your girl, however, delivered two close fisted blows to the other. The first of which split the other's lip. The other blackened her eye. We had to whip them apart with belt straps.""I see," I remarked. I wondered how soundly Nirah's fist had connected with the other's lip. I did not gainsay them the right to put Nirah under leather discipline. "The red-haired girl's mouth will bear evidence of the beating after it has healed? The House of Clark seeks recompense for the injury?""No. No, nothing like that, Szol of Ar," Dmitiri assured me with a smile. "She will heal fine. If her mouth is swollen for a few hands, there is even benefit in that."I smiled, somewhat relieved. It would not be necessary to put scrappy Nirah in close chains. Of course, that it would not be necessary did not mean I would not do so. It is more accurate to say that scrappy Nirah would not be put into close chains for her indiscretion with the red-haired girl. Indeed, it did not even qualify as an indiscretion. That was only a squabble between slaves and hardly of interest, other than a passing amusement. "My wager was that it would be yesterday they would fight," he told me. "I bet, too, that your Nirah would emerge the clear winner should they battle."I nodded. Good for him. He had bet well. I did not expect to have a Silver Tarn Disk pressed into my palm. I did try to refuse it, but he would not hear of it. Apparently, he had bet extremely well."I wish you well," he offered as he took his leave, shaking his head in negation as I tried to return the money to him. "My thanks!"