Pt. 01 Sabriyah 02: Negotiation

[[Since I included a pronunciation in chapter 1 for Sahvorin, if anyone is wondering, Sabriyah is pronounced Sah'

bree'

ah (rather than

Sob'

ree yah') vent (vint = "daughter of") Zeh'

dah'

nahn, and the collective people are pronounced Yah' lah

yee'

as part of the Yalay (Yah lie') tribe. Their dialect, Yalyidi (Yal'

yee'

dee). The pan-Caliphate is pronounced Sah' lek

Thool'

(easy), and Phaeccia (Fay' shuh, also easy) is a kingdom that borders the southwest of Srad (srod, or the Sradi--srod' ee--Desert Caliphate, or Sradi Caliphate) and is one of what are referred to here as the Principalities (though they are known by more descriptive names that may arise in the future)--a group of nine nation-states ruled by individual princes that are all too often warring amongst themselves to increase the size and composition of their individual territories. Other names here: Fhalad Datu'ul (Fah lahd' Day' tuh

ool'

, the pause between the two u-characters is subtle), Zimyeh-Tan (Zim' yay

Tahn'

) Paklani (Pok

lan'

ee'... often more like Pk

lan'

ee' as the first syllable is spoken very swiftly) and Veskan'To (Ves' kan

toh'

). I'll try to continue supplying pronunciations in a header like this in the future. All characters are 18+]]

Chapter 2

Negotiations

"You had questions, my lady," Sahvorin reminded her.

"Yes," she said. "I suppose the first is whether you personally examine all your visitors in this manner." She battled to keep her tone neutral, still unable to properly contextualize her emotions. Excitement, shame, relief, and worry were all embroiled in more epic a combat within than ever she had seen in the physical world. The deed was done, though; so for now, she still had her duty to attend. The thought of a pudgy, old and dignified ambassador being examined may easily have amused her earlier, though now she could not even imagine a smile for the thought. Too much confused her, incited and excited her about the last few moments.

"All? No. The females. Yes," came the lord's nonchalant reply, the expressive boredom of his cheek upon his fist resuming.

"What of the males?" Her nipples felt intensely irritated by the clothing now. If the robing was no so complex, the silks would have been preferable. Sabriyah put a concentrated effort into ignoring the entirety of her body and its signals. The veil was in place again, though she had refrained from devoting time to the layers of fabric on her head.

"The soldiers will handle any males," the broad shoulders lifted briefly in a shrug. "As I stated, I share your social respect for females, and will do all I can to provide more privacy and a much less embarrassing audience, as you are now intimately aware."

"How... considerate of you, my Lord." She wanted to sound insulting and demeaning as much as gracious, though her years-long training to avoid negative tones kept her in check. Likely, to her benefit. Sabriyah, and her tribe, could not currently afford for negotiations to break down. She had endured that mortifying event. It was over. Best not to waste the progress needlessly.

So who am I now? And what will my people think when word spreads that male treatment is so invasive knowing I proceeded alone?

She managed to keep the dismay from her expression, though her heart picked up its pace.

"You're welcome," came the reply with no hint of awareness. "I do not believe it a practice that will necessarily persist, however."

"No?" she inquired.

"Once at least one tribe secures alliance, the others will reconsider their hostility, if only out of respect for ancestry."

Lucky me, then, for being here first

, Sabriyah thought with a modicum of loathing. It was immediately shoved from her mind, however, before she would necessarily pay heed to the heat still lingering in her belly. "A valid assessment," she admitted.

His hands thundered together twice. "Chair!" he declared loudly.

In that moment, Sabriyah's hand had instinctively grasped for the sword that was currently dangling from her saddle outside the gates before she calmed herself. For the shortest instant, she could swear she saw amusement in the baron's features, but when the door behind the throne opened and briefly indulged her attention, the boredom was still apparent when her gaze returned to him.

The female soldier from before, breasts still exposed and rippling with each stride, carried in a wooden chair and placed it in front of and facing the warlord. Though their eyes never met, the woman's expression was as emotionless as that of her liege.

"Thank you, Rheianna," Sahvorin waved her away when she looked back at him. She departed again, still ignoring the remainder of her clothing piled aside the throne.

The emissary slipped around the chair and seated herself when the baron gestured. "My next quest--"

"Before we begin," the lord interrupted. "Allow me to say that you are a strikingly beautiful young woman." He straightened once again in the throne, appearing more regal in his posture, albeit still unconventionally underdressed for the occasion. "Are you wed?" the question was not probing, but casual, just as was the statement. Not asked as if by a potential suitor (or the father of a suitor), but as one whom merely sought information. There was no smile to accompany either, nor any other indication of flirtation.

She had heard the same before, particularly from villagers, and could not reconcile them with the nonchalant manner in which they were applied here. "Thank you, my lord," Sabriyah responded, a bit more bashfully than she would normally have responded to such pleasantries. "No. I am currently more focused on my duties as emissary than that of family."

Her refusal to wed for so long now had inevitably caused a friction between she and her father. He often attributed this dissonance to playful frustration, rather than anger, but it was her job to discern the difference... to scratch beneath the surface and recognize the underlying motivations of others, as much as it was to sometimes hide her own. As he had trained her to be, her father, to this day, remained a diplomat.

"Intelligent, determined, an eye for what's really important," he stated with a little more enthusiasm than she had yet witnessed. He actually seemed mildly impressed, despite the disinterested stare that still held his own face captive. "What is your age? If I may so inquire."

"Twenty-three winters," she answered almost quizzically. She almost felt a slave on the block, her attributes listed and inquiries answered, though not for her physical appearance as she would expect, but as a skillset. Being as Sahvorin was a foreigner here, would he bargain for her services (should agreement be reached here) in further diplomacy efforts with the other tribes? Would he be willing to entrust a local for such diplomacy?

The emissary was having a hard time getting a read on the foreigner. And it was not entirely the earlier incident that disoriented her. His mood and mannerisms were indecipherable, aside from the boredom he readily had on display over the course of their meeting so far. "If we may proceed, Lord Sahvorin..."

"Playing the pitch? Afraid of commitment? Merely disinterested?" he asked, ignoring the redirection. "Be forthright with me."

She was fairly certain at this point that he knew local custom, and that by all accounts, she would be expected to have wed by now. Her mask slipped a bit, revealing the cautious hesitation in her answer. "My work is more important, currently. I am of more use to my tribe as emissary than as another mother."

"As you are following in your father's footsteps, yes. That is somewhat unusual for a female in your..." he paused for correction, "

our

society. Yes?"

"Yes, but not unheard of," Sabriyah believed she could safely conclude that he was not mocking her, but she was equally unsure where he was leading unless her previous notion of acquiring her diplomatic expertise was relevant.

"I believe that sates my curiosity," the lord nods as he leans forward. Thick fingers were steepled in front of his chest, a barely perceptible smear of blood on the forefinger of his right hand. "Would you care for refreshment before we continue?"

"Water would be appreciated. Thank you," she replied. With no small effort, she avoided the sight of her blood and what it represented, suppressed the associated emotions, and calmed herself during the ensuing lull. She looked forward to being back to the matter at hand... back to

negotiation

.

Another thunderous clap echoed in the chamber and after a quiet moment, Rheianna rushed in, bare breasts bouncing, carrying a ewer and two goblets. The Baron set a small table that had resided aside the throne between them.

How did she know, this time?

The girl filled each goblet with clear water, as Sabriyah pondered.

And why have a soldier play servant?

Due to her culture, she believed she already knew the answer, though perhaps she was also correct initially when she considered he was bolstering his ranks with slaves. At least one, anyway.

"Your father desires to know my intentions." After the woman had retreated behind the door again and both had sipped, his fingers were steepled again. "As I'm sure all tribal leaders would."

"Of course," she agreed, ecstatic to return to her proper business. "You are, no doubt, aware that Salekh-Thul's son remains, lord Sahvorin."

"Please, call me 'Garin,'" the barest of smiles etched his cheek momentarily before fading.

"Of course, lord Garin." There was a mild hesitancy as she retained the title in the name, but he did not seem to notice, nor did he insist in further clarification. "Though not well-liked anymore than well-known, some tribes may be willing to accept him as pan-Caliph purely out of a sense of duty."

"I am aware of the remaining son," Garin conceded. "Though, he seems far more interested in the Temple than the province. His devotion to Zet leaves Srad contested both within and without. Has your father set you to approach him after your departure here?"

"It was a consideration," she admitted, though speaking no further. The Zetian temple was a last resort. If the Yalayi could not ally with Sahvorin, they could seek protection from Salekh-Thul's heir and Zet, in hopes the other tribes would respect his lineage and the deity. Sabriyah was not so sure.

"I would intend to do no more or less than Salekh-Thul, himself, bade me. However, as much as I would prefer not to impose myself as recognized figurehead, since my desire is only to maintain this barony, there are at least two tribes that would gleefully remove my head... and most others would be indifferent if those two were successful." Garin settled back into the throne, wrists lazily dangling over each arm. "I, honestly, see Sahvorin as no more than the tenth tribe. We are new, yes, but we are here by invitation. Were the other tribes content to carry on as if Salekh-Thul remained, and merely appoint new barons, I would happily work with them."

"But the Paklani and Veskan'To insist that you had part in the disappearances," Sabriyah concluded for him. She, too, was well-informed. She received no feedback from the warlord, however. She might as well have reminded him that fabric was flammable.

"I wish harm to no one. I require only what Salekh-Thul has already demanded as tribute from each tribe for protection of the Phaeccian border, prior to his disappearance," he said. "No more, no less."

"Three warriors or horses per year, plus provisions. That is all you require from my people in exchange for our protection?" Sabriyah reiterated Salekh-Thul's terms verbatim, to ensure clarity.

"Permanently, yes. Temporarily, I require what would normally be provided the Caliphate per cycle. Either until his return, or until another Caliph is determined."

This was not unexpected, and in truth, far more beneficial than assumed when she departed the village. Both she and her father had expected to eventually bargain down to twice the former tribute cost than he was currently proposing. Her confidence spiked, the earlier incident all but forgotten. A slight, solemn nod was offered in response to Garin. "As we have already agreed to those terms with Salekh-Thul, we will stand by that commitment."

"Oh, and let us not forget two female slaves, per year."

Sabriyah's brow furrowed. She was unaware of such a stipulation. There was nothing in any document that would corroborate it, but he spoke as if it were a given. "I do not recall that in the prior terms, my lord."

"As you may have noticed during your brief time here, women are scarce," Sahvorin responded evenly.

"Yes," she admitted without pause, "but as the Yalayi do not keep slaves, it would not be something we could readily provide." Slaves were expensive, and were she to agree, the tribe would give up more in their cost than the worst case scenario tribute she and her father had discussed. Especially if it were annual.

"No matter," the stillness of his body was a bit disconcerting. "I do not mind if their training needs be performed here. Your tribe may take from common stock. Preferably if any are as beautiful and intelligent as you."

Sabriyah paused. The compliment was ignored, as she recognized it as a part of the bargaining posture. The lord was attempting to throw her off guard; get more from the exchange than he previously admitted. It occurred often enough. She had a response prepared for a similar occasion. "If I may... as the new member of the province, perhaps it would benefit the people of Sahvorin to enter into a marital exchange agreement, instead. Such and arrangement would weave your people into the culture. My people would find it equally as beneficial for our Sahvorin protectors to be wed to Yalayi women. We would welcome it, in fact, as soldiers committed to our tribal lands for our protection while also supplying herdswomen and homemakers for your soldiers here at the keep would provide a spiritual incentive for our protection as well as the mere mercenarial one," she spoke measuredly.

Though a riposte, it was truth. Beyond merely posting a few guards at campgrounds and villages, the endeavor could be a means to make the men feel more connected to the people that they were defending over time. For the first time since her arrival, Sahvorin appeared thoughtful for a moment before speaking.

"That is a very convincing argument," replied the lord. "You are correct, it would also provide a measure of protection for us were we more publicly ingrained ourselves into the local culture." The pensive expression melted and boredom resumed. "I am in agreement."

Zadanan's daughter was both pleased and relieved, though she kept it internal. "Very well, my lord. Shall we talk specifics?"

"Let us begin at one Sahvorin-Yalayi marriage per two hundred of your people. One half to live with the Yalayi as protection, and the other to be welcomed here." There was the smallest hint of a smile across his lips. "I will also grant a local garrison of twenty more men where they find it most strategically sound for your defense. By my estimates that would provide roughly thirty soldiers at your disposal," he concluded.

"I believe that would be more than sufficient, given the reputation of your people's prowess," Sabriyah replied. She was growing more confident by the second.

Such number of highly trained soldiers would do well to ease her people's fears and deter the Fhalad Datu'ul.

"Very well," he agreed, "then I will agree to the weddings, the garrison, and I will reduce the number of annual slaves to but one." Garin leaned forward, clasping and raising his goblet of water. He paused there, cup midair, awaiting her response.

Sabriyah had begun to reach for her own goblet with a measured smile, but froze as he finished speaking. The curl of her lips evaporated, her brow creased into concern before she caught herself. "I do apologize, lord Garin, but as I have stated, the Yalay tribe does not command any slaves. Our tribal lands are desert-locked, inland, and do not have the resources to purchase, nor the inclination or ability to war for them. Our numbers have dwindled in recent years. It is partly why I am here to negotiate protection."

"True, but you still number some four thousand people," he replied evenly. Frozen, but for his mouth when speaking, the vision of him awaiting the toast was a little unsettling. "What is the freedom of one compared to so many?"

The ambassador's mind raced as quickly as her heart for the right diplomatic solution.

We could possibly trade with another tribe... one of the border tribes, but the expense may prove difficult for Yalay until relations are improved.

Yet even before the pan-Caliph's disappearance, inter-tribal trade for them was sparse. "Perhaps," she began slowly, "a little time to consider?"

"Certainly." Garin lowered the cup and straightened a bit, the hint of a smile did not yet diminish.

"For all other terms, however, we are in agreement," Sabriyah asserts as she rises and leans forward to offer her own goblet in placation to the warlord.

His smile spread as the metallic clink rang dully through the chamber. The boyish appearance glowed in the varied light from the mosaic windows and multitude of candles overhead. In that moment, the emissary found him quite charming and handsome, and was unable to ignore the former fire deep in her belly that began to rekindle, despite her subsequent effort to suppress.

Both have a sip from their cups, then returned to their previous position and postures. The marriage arrangements would provide eight or nine Sahvorin warriors (depending on the split) to assist in keeping their settlements safe, and the garrison another twenty. With such an agreement, this fortress could possibly also serve as safe haven should it become necessary.

But can I condemn one of my fellow tribeswomen,

per year

, to enslavement for our safety?

The concept of the greater good had not escaped her, yet she knew well the treatment of many slaves, particularly those that were reluctant or resistant. It would likely be just as difficult to find "volunteers" as it would be to purchase them to serve that portion of the agreement.

Sabriyah wished she had time to return home and speak to her father, but to ask the Baron for such patience in finalizing their bargain by the few more days that it would require for travel would not be diplomatically appropriate, especially with the representatives of other tribes currently en route. Perhaps, at the very least, she could take time to return to the camp outside so as to consult with Yessol; if for naught else, then to hear someone else verify the necessity of what she must do. Otherwise, they would have to withdraw and and set sights toward the Zetian Temple.

Though it seemed almost as fair as appealing to the outlander for protection, Sabriyah had reason to be reticent in approaching the Temple, herself. The clergy there were more pious and would thus be far more restrictive in Zet's directives than her father and tribesmen had always been. That she has not yet wed and simultaneously not an acolyte to the faith would put her at a severe disadvantage, in negotiation as well as her own intellectual freedom. She had a nagging fear that should she choose to cross that threshold, it would be only once, agreement or no. There was little her father would be able to say in that circumstance. Though she had her doubts whether Lord Sahvorin was entirely aware of the implication in his earlier comments concerning the Temple, the emissary had to assume he knew well, considering how informed he has proven otherwise.