Study of a Master's Heart: Part Six, Conclusion

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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   Rumors began to sweep through the city. Prince Raji, who once had 
a conflict with Master years ago, began to spread accusations that 
the Master was influencing people up against the royal family.  It 
was all a blalant lie, of course, the Master could care less about 
the rulers.  But the Master was one of the wealthiest people in Asia 
and the Middle East, and his power frightened Prince Raji so much 
that he sought to bring him down somehow.  

   Master ignored the rumors and kept going about grooming his horses 
and conducting business.  Lalan was nineteen now, although by his 
height one could hardly tell.  He was still shorter than everyone and 
Ahmed, who surpassed him by five years, was almost as tall as the 
Master.

   The nights Lalan and Master had spent together in those six years 
were full of an unspoken tenderness and sometimes savagery and 
hunger.  Either way it was with love they embraced each other.  Ahmed 
would sometimes steal Lalan away during the lazy afternoon hours and 
make love to Lalan as well, the Master did not mind.  Afterall that 
is why he had bought Ahmed in the first place. 

   Ling, the servant Lalan had tricked with a dead rat years before 
was colder than ever, and the years did not water down his anger.  He 
would talk crudely to Lalan and push him around sometimes but Lalan 
did not pay any mind to it and did his work as usual.  Of course 
Ahmed would see what was going on sometimes and give Ling a hearty 
shove in return, sending him sprawling on the ground. Needless to say 
Ling hated then both with a frightening passion but the Master didn't 
feel anyone was in danger, it was just common servant conflicts.

  One night Lalan lay in the Master's arms, his thick straight black 
hair fallen like a heavy silken shawl over the Master's shoulder, the 
Master asked him about Ling.

  "Oh, it's the same thing as always.  Nothing new,"  Lalan said.  
"Although he did get a bit carried away earlier today and got slapped 
by Ahmed."

   Master sighed, caressing Lalan's soft shoulder with his calloused 
hand and then he lifted Lalan's face so he could look into his eyes.  
Through the years Lalan's eyes had changed so that the amber 
underglow they had was actually more visible, and sometimes in the 
bright sunlight his brown eyes looked like they were on fire.  "What 
shall I do?"  Master whispered.  

  "Oh, you know Ling is getting old and cranky, don't let it bother 
you."  He smiled and kissed Master's mouth.  They made love, the 
heavy insence smoke mingling with the scent of sex as they embraced 
each other.  

  The following morning Lalan stood out in the bright sunlight that 
filled the courtyard.  Two servants were there, one with a sytar and 
one with a tabla and they began to play music.  Lalan had learned to 
dance soon after his arrival, and would perform sometimes in front of 
guests, or just the Master on lazy afternoons when the sky was washed 
scarlet with the dying sun.  Lalan wore a sari now, by the Master's 
insistence but Lalan wore it wrapped around his waist leaving his 
torso exposed.  He wore a burgundy sari now, trimmed with gold suns 
and silver moons.  

   Lalan's long thing fingers wound through the air throughout the 
dance, his foot coming down hard against the floor at times so that 
the bells around his ankles jingled.  Years later, in his old age, 
Lalan looked back on this and realized that dancing every morning 
would calm him down somewhat so that he wasn't as mean as he used to 
be when he was younger.  

    After the music stopped Lalan turned to smile at the musicans and 
he saw Ling standing there in one of the doorways with a scowl on his 
face.  An eerie smile had formed on Ling's face and his eyes were 
cold, like two dull stones set there.  Lalan's smile faltered and he 
turned away.  The day followed without much change, Lalan fed the 
horses and Ahmed brushed them down.  And after lunch, they relaxed in 
the courtyard, laying back on the benches and sighing as the breeze 
caressed their hair.  

    Ahmed was the first to notice.  He sat up abruptly and kept still 
as he strained to listen.  Lalan began to ask him what it was but 
Ahmed shushed him immediately.  Lalan sat up and then heard it too.  
It was the clatter of horses hooves.  And they both knew the Master's 
horses never came so close to the house.  They both stood up quickly 
and began to rush to the door to see what was happening when suddenly 
three mounted horsemen rushed into the courtyard.  One of them was 
Prince Raji, his heavily outlined eyes darting about.  

   Lalan's heart raced, panic seizing him, and he tried to rush out 
the door.  

   "Get them!"  Prince Raji shouted.

   Lalan had just made it to the doorway when he felt an enormous 
hand grasp him by the hair and lift him off his feet.  He screamed, 
horror laced with pain as he felt the weight of his body pull down on 
his hair and scalp.  He was suspended in the air by his hair like a 
puppet, his feet kicking and his hands up grasping the wrist of his 
captor.  Everything was in a chaos, people were shouting, screams 
echoed in the house, and horses overran everything and everyone.  
Ahmed was shouting but Lalan did not know what was going on.  But 
then, as if on cue, his captor turned him (still suspended by his 
hair) and Lalan watched Ahmed get pinned down by three other men that 
had rushed into the courtyard.  Prince Raji remained on his horse 
watching, and Lalan whimpered in fear as one of the men pulled out a 
huge knife.  Ahmed struggled but he couldn't move and his eyes 
panicked as he saw the man with the knife in his hand.  

   "Oh gods in heaven!" Lalan cried out suddenly, kicking his legs 
helplessly as he saw the man looming over Ahmed. 

   "Should we geld him?"  The man asked.

   Prince Raji thought for a moment, narrowing his eyes, then shook 
his head.  "No."

   "Very well."  With that the man bent forward and sunk the blade of 
the knife into Ahmed's throat, slicing it deftly across.  Blood 
sprayed up in the men's faces, and Ahmed's body convulsed before 
relaxing.

   Lalan was screaming hysterically.  The tears blurred his vision so 
that the scene became nothing but globs of color. He was in a rage, 
his friend and lover so thoughtlessly slaughtered before his eyes, 
and he reached out with his fingers and sought to scratch the flesh 
of his captor's face.  But he was quickly dropped to the floor and 
pinned down by the same men who had Ahmed.  

   "What about him?"  The man with the knife asked, the drops of 
blood still on his face and the front of his robe.  

   "You idiot, can't you see he is already castrated?" Another man 
asked.

   "I know that!"  The man said.  "But should we kill him too?"  

   Prince Raji eyed Lalan over.  "No, keep him aside for me."

   With that the men pulled out some rope and tied Lalan up like a 
kill in the woods and flung him against the far wall. Pain jarred 
him, his scalp was still throbbing and his ankles and wrists were 
severly cut by the tight rope, but most of all, his heart was 
throbbing as if it meant to burst.  Tears ran down his face, dripping 
off his chin and moistening his bare chest. Out of the corner of his 
eyes he saw as other servants were brought in and lined up along the 
floor.  One throat was slit after the other, and screams rose up into 
the sky as fear seized the remaining servants, watching as the 
executiner came closer with each cut.  Blood began to pool on the 
ground, and the horses skittered over it, their hooves and fur 
turning scarlet.  

   This is hell,  Lalan thought.  This is hell and I am in it! "I 
curse you ALL!!"  He cried out suddenly.  He only heard laughter in 
response.  

   Then, as if out of a haze he saw Ling approach him.  A huge smile 
was etched on his face.  

   "It was you,"  Lalan whispered through gritted teeth. "It was you 
who brought this unto us!"

   Ling kicked him hard in the stomach, making Lalan gag then vomit 
the contents of his lunch over the floor. He heard more laughter.  
"Well, your Master has been accused of bringing an uprising against 
the royal family,"  Ling said with a smirk.

   "Those are lies,"  Lalan cried.  "Those are lies and everyone 
knows it!"  He began to sob, unable to control himself.  

   Sometime later, after a pile of dead servants accumulated in the 
courtyard, someone grabbed Lalan and dragged him out into the open 
field before the house.  Lalan watched in sorrow as he saw the house 
go up in flames, the flames mirrored in his tear-glazed eyes as they 
shot up into the sky.  The Master's horses had been slaughtered as 
well, and their corpses littered the field, attracting the flies from 
the city.  

   Weak, cold, and shivering Lalan saw the Master tied up in the 
distance, and pushed roughly toward the gates.  Someone lifted Lalan 
up and pushed him closer to the scene so he could watch.  A stake had 
been set up, surrownded with tree branches.  The pain in Lalan's 
heart increased to an almost unbearable as he saw the Master stripped 
naked, his beautiful body shinning with perspiration.  The men tied 
him to the stake, and Lalan saw that a wound on the Master's temple 
had covered the side of his face and neck in blood. The branches were 
lit on fire with torches, and Lalan's throat tightened into a knot, 
he wrenched himself free of his captor and rushed forward toward the 
pyre. He was screaming, attempting to jump across the field with his 
tied ankles and then he fell forward on his face.  He looked up, his 
face streaked with tears and dirt and saw the flames overtake the 
Master's body.  Master had thrown his head back and his neck was taut 
with the effort to control the pain.  His golden hair caught the fire 
and drowned out his face.  Lalan was weeping so hard he could not 
even hear the crackle of the flames.  

   When the flames died down somewhat he saw the body there, charred 
black and silvery in the sunlight.  The jaw fell open, and then 
fell.  This seemed to start an avalanche and then the head fell and 
exploded into dust--followed by the rest of the body.  All that was 
left was thin blackened bone that had once been part of Master's arm 
burt into the charred stake.

   The world changed then, the winds sweeping up the dusty remains of 
the Master's body and scattering them across the field, over the 
gates and down to the city.  The world was silent, the sun bleeding 
its colors into the weeping sky, the flaming house attempting to 
reach up and touch it.  Everything Lalan had known and loved was 
destroyed, his childhood, and his anger, and his loves slaughtered 
brutally before him.  And the blood stained his feet and hands, and 
the pain drenched his body, his soul, and what remained of his 
tattered heart.  The wind seemed to be an ocean, moving with the 
waves, making the hair of the scattered dead float, sweeping the 
scent of death gently across the earth.  

   Never before in his life had Lalan been humbled. His rage and 
pride always preceded him.  Now his rage and pride had been burt 
away, charred into dust as he saw the Master go up in flames.  And an 
unspeakable sorrow and shame shook him.  He wished it didn't have to 
be his Master's death that humbled him.  He wished it had been 
something else.  

   He wished it had been his own death.

   But he had little choice as to the events that changed his life.  
From the moment he was plucked out of the tavern by his Master and 
castrated, to the inevitable love they shared, to the brutal 
slaughter of his memories.  

   He was but a grain of sand, in the vast ocean of the wind.  And he 
was as helpless in it's course as the living are to inevitable death.

   Lalan knew that now.  

   The sea of the wind swept up Lalan's hair from his shoulders, and 
mingled it with the floating ash.  

   But the sea did not wash away his sorrow.