Esarhaddon uHuzziya had not seen his villa since the spring, and he was glad to be home once again. The return journey to Nurn had seemed endless, and he and his men had braved everything from a slave rebellion to two different orc mutinies. He had been wounded numerous times upon the trail, and had been beaten savagely by a group of rogue Mordorian soldiers at Cirith Ungol. A mad general had even given the orders to have him roasted alive over a raging fire, and yet another attempt was made on his life when Durraiz and her band attacked him in his tent. There had been times when he doubted that he would live to see the dawn of the next day, but he had survived everything – albeit with an inordinate number of scars which seemed quite excessive for a mere merchant.

Esarhaddon promised himself that he would not set forth on another slave buying journey for a long time, for he needed to recuperate from his many injuries, and he had enough adventure to do him anyway. Instead, he would reacquaint himself with the joys and pleasures of the quiet life on his lavish estate. As he thought of that pleasant prospect, a smile spread over his tawny face.

It had been late the previous night when he had reached his villa, and he had been too tired to do more than eat a light meal and take a bath. That morning, he had risen ere dawn, enjoyed a breakfast of sesame rolls with cheese and jam, and then listened to Chamberlain Nobo give a report of all that had transpired during his absence. Esarhaddon was grieved to learn of the unexpected passing of Mistress Miral, and lamented that he had been unable to attend her funeral. He was pleased to learn that the chamberlain had extended condolences on his behalf to the teacher's family, who resided in the nearby village of Blûgund. To pay tribute to Miral's contributions to the School of Industry, Esarhaddon authorized Nobo to make an appropriate donation to the family so that they could purchase a larger and more ornate memorial to mark her grave in the village cemetery. It seemed a fitting way to pay tribute to a woman who had been so influential in the success of the school.

After finishing his morning business, Esarhaddon sought out the sanctuary of the luxurious chamber which he called the Tulip Room. He always found great delight in this room, for its many windows provided a magnificent view of the garden which lay between his house and the School of Industry. He was extremely proud of this garden, which had been designed by one of the most renowned gardeners in Southern Nurn. Walks wound their way through the lovely trees, shrubbery and flowers, and fountains shot sprays of water into the air to tumble down into marble basins. Brightly colored goldfish hid among the lotuses and waterlilies in serene reflecting pools.

Designed by an architect from the city, a number of small gazebos gave both the members of Esarhaddon's household and the students of the School of Industry quiet places where they could chat and gossip. The largest of the gazebos was used as a center where those students talented in music and singing could perform in outdoor concerts for Esarhaddon and his family. While the gazebos were charming little jewels in their own right, the highlight of the garden was a large kiosk built in the center of the garden. Surrounded by a portico with arched columns, the building was faced with white marble tiles with golden accents. The loveliest structure in the garden, it was known as the Rose Kiosk for the profusion of roses that had been planted around it.

During the planning phases of the construction of the garden, Esarhaddon had taken bids for a large garden house from architects all over Western Nurn. He had finally selected the plan of a Khandian – which was surprising enough in itself, given his dislike for the people of that land – but the building was so strikingly different from the architectural styles common in Nurn that it caused quite a stir among those who saw it for the first time. Some thought the building lovely, while others thought it a betrayal of tradition and an acceptance of the alien architecture from the East. Slowly people began to see its beauty, and many architects began to copy the style of the Rose Kiosk to the point where it was now commonplace. Esarhaddon, who could care less about what others thought stylish and fashionable, felt amused and for some reason satisfied whenever he visited a wealthy man's gardens and saw a building almost identical to his once ridiculed Rose Kiosk.

In spring the garden came alive with colorful tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, and other springtime flowers. The tulips, though, were the highlight of the garden, and they came in a variety of colors. There were red, white, yellow, pink, orange, purple, and salmon in stripes, splotches and delicate shades and hues. There were ruffled and frilled and plain tulips, all in such a variety that they seemed to be competing with each other. If Esarhaddon happened to hear of a new variety that had just been developed, he was willing to bear the pain of having to part with some of his gold to purchase the costly bulbs. He had missed the tulip flowering this year, but his consolation was that he had come back to Nurn a much richer man.

Esarhaddon took another drink from his coffee and studied the garden as the early morning sunlight illuminated the grounds. While there were no tulips upon which to feast his gaze, he still found the view from the window relaxing with its profusion of stately trees, attractive bushes, and plants of every description, many of which he could not name. He did not need to know the names of the vegetation; he left such things up to the gardener. He needed to talk to the man in the next few days, but there were others on his estate that he had to see first.

A knock on the door diverted his attention away from the garden. "My sons," he thought as he rose to his feet, his face brightening. Oft during the journey, he had wondered how his two sons were faring. The younger, Kabtu, was a bright and inquisitive lad of seven years, who possessed a kind heart as well as a penchant for mischief. The elder, Abaru, was a youth of fourteen who could be impulsive and immature at times. He was currently serving an apprenticeship to Shakh Sandana, a prosperous vintner who operated one of the largest vineyards in the entire Western Province, as well as one of Esarhaddon's closest and most respected associates. It was Esarhaddon's hope that Abaru would learn discipline and responsibility over the course of his tutelage, but he feared that the elderly wine merchant had a tendency to be too lenient with the boy.

"Permission to admit the honorable Masters Abaru and Kabtu," the doorman called. When Esarhaddon authorized their entry, the doorman stepped aside, bowing, as the boys walked by him.

"Kabtu!" Esarhaddon exclaimed as the younger boy broke into a dash and rushed up to embrace him. Giving the child a squeeze and a sturdy pat on the back, he looked over his head to his older son. "And Abaru! Seeing you two brings delight to my heart!"

"Father, you were gone so long!" Kabtu hugged him tighter.

"We expected you back two weeks ago!" Abaru exclaimed, his dark brown eyes solemn, almost accusing.

"Many things went wrong," Esarhaddon explained. "We passed through great dangers, but we will discuss all that later. Sit down, my sons." He gestured to the cushions on the other side of the table.

"Father! Please tell us about your adventures!" Kabtu exclaimed after they had all sat down.

"Kabtu, did you not hear our father say that he would tell us about his travels later?" Abaru remarked disapprovingly. While he loved his little brother, he was also annoyed by him quite often.

"Son, there are too many tales to tell all at one sitting." Esarhaddon smiled at the little boy. "It might take several days to relate them all. In any event, I am more interested in hearing what my sons have been doing in my absence."

"I have been learning much about the management of an estate," Abaru answered, thinking about the elderly vintner to whom he was apprenticed. "I have also been excelling in archery and swordsmanship." He far preferred the latter pursuits to the former, for he hated studying and loved the stories his father told about their ancestors in Harad who had once been tribal raiders.

"My sons must be taught many things in order to become worthy successors of the House of Huzziya. It is also important to learn the art of the blade and bow, lest one be taken unawares by danger." Esarhaddon thought of his many close brushes with death on the journey, and felt a profound sense of relief that he was home at last, far from the perils of the unpredictable trail. Not wishing to dwell any more upon such unpleasant matters, he turned his attentions to Kabtu.

"And you, Kabtu. Have you been getting into mischief while I was away?" He gave the little boy a stern look, but the twinkle in his eye showed that he was speaking in jest.

"No, no, I have been very good!" Kabtu sputtered, his cheeks turning red. "I am learning all sorts of new things in my classes, such as how the great dragon Glaurung destroyed the city of the wicked elves, and the tale of the elf lady who turned into a bird and flew away with Lord Melkor's Silmaril. I am also getting better at sword fighting. Soon I will be able to use a real sword instead of a wooden one!" Eager to impress his father, the little boy rambled on about the various achievements he had made that spring and summer.

"I am pleased to hear that you have been diligent in your studies, Kabtu." Esarhaddon gave his son a nod of approval. "Perhaps you and Abaru can give me a demonstration of the skills you have learned with the blade."

"I would like that very much, Father," Abaru remarked, eager to show off his prowess as a warrior.

"I fear that any displays of martial skill will have to wait until the morrow, however, for I have many matters to which I must attend this day. Chamberlain Nobo has given me a report of much that has transpired during my absence, but there is still much that I must learn."

"You have not yet mentioned the new slaves from the North." Abaru tried to hide his eagerness to learn about the new arrivals, for he wished to appear mature and circumspect. "What is your opinion of them?"

"A good question, son, one which I cannot answer now. While all these slaves have promise, they need the rough edges taken off, and that is a long process involving training them in manners, reading and writing, and so many things. One decorous, well-trained slave who can read and write, has the ability to play an instrument or dance and sing, and has mastered some craft will sell for far more than one who has no accomplishments." Esarhaddon gave Abaru and Kabtu a knowing look. "You will learn all this and much more, my sons, as my brother and I train you in the business."

"Father, do I have to be a slave trader?" Kabtu spoke up, making a face.

"Certainly, son, why would you not want to be a slave trader?" Esarhaddon frowned at the boy, amazed that the child would suggest such a thing. "The House of Huzziya is well-favored by the Tower and has a reputation for offering the finest slaves that money can buy." The boy was talking nonsense, but he would be patient; after all, Kabtu was only seven years old. "I asked you a question, son. Can you tell me why you would not want to be a slave trader?"

"Because I would not want to be a slave myself," the little boy replied.

"Kabtu! Do not be disrespectful to our father," Abaru exclaimed, giving his brother an astonished look. He was not sure if he wanted to be a slave trader either, but he was clever enough to know when to speak and when to be silent.

There was silence for a long moment, and Abaru wondered why his brother said and did such stupid things. Esarhaddon's heavy lids sank until his dark eyes were mere slits. The boys were uncertain whether their father was on the verge of becoming furious or if he was merely pondering Kabtu's audacious statement. They did not understand the man, but they knew that his temper could quickly boil over, sometimes for the slightest offense. They feared him, and for good reason.

"You will learn the business, son." Esarhaddon's voice had a tinge of ice to it, but his face had begun to turn a fiery red beneath his tawny skin. He controlled his outrage and anger, though, but he wondered if the boy was slow-witted. "If you do not follow the family tradition, you will bring dishonor to us all. Do you want to do that, Kabtu?"

"No, Father, of course I do not want to do that." The way that both his father and brother were staring at him made the little boy feel very uncomfortable, and he had some idea of how a trapped animal must feel. "What I said was foolish, and I apologize." His little shoulders slumped, and tears filled his eyes. He wished he had never said anything. Maybe he should keep his ideas to himself the way that Abaru had told him he should do. Ever since his mother had died the year before, Kabtu really had no one to whom he could tell his thoughts and feelings. His tutors were always finding fault with him, and he had no real friends of his own.

"My son," Esarhaddon replied, "I forgive you for your unwise statement, for you are young. In time you will see the wisdom of following the family profession. Mordor wages war with Gondor and Rohan, and many will be the captives who are destined for Nurn. The more slaves that the army captures, the more money there is to be made by slave traders like us."

Abaru was glad that his father had not continued to castigate Kabtu for his foolish words. He felt sorry for his little brother, and did not like to see him upset. Kabtu seldom laughed and smiled since his mother died. "How sad he looks all the time," Abaru thought. Their father's two wives seldom had time for the little boy. While Shumeeren was polite to Kabtu, Abaru knew that she disliked both of them and resented their presence. Anúrnissa was a pleasant woman, but she spent most of her time with her maid servants. Now that Abaru was serving as an apprentice to Shakh Sandana, he visited the villa infrequently, so Kabtu had few close companions.

"Both of you will get to meet the new slaves later this morning." Esarhaddon now sounded amiable, the admonishing tone having faded from his voice. "First, though, I want you to meet Goldwyn, my new concubine from the North. From the moment I first laid eyes upon her, I desired her for my own, and now we will be together at last." He paused for a moment in contemplation, and then chuckled. "I fear that the lady is less than pleased with this arrangement, but over time she shall see the folly of her ways."

A look of bewilderment came over Abaru's face. "Why does the lady not want to be your concubine? You are well respected by the Tower, and one of the most influential merchants in the Western Province." He thought back to the letters his father had sent over the course of the journey, and the favorable words he had written about Goldwyn.

"Goldwyn is as haughty and stubborn as she is beautiful," Esarhaddon explained. "To her mind, the qualities you have listed are irredeemable flaws, for she erroneously believes that Mordor and its allies are evil. Her land does not practice slavery, and so she considers my profession abhorrent, even though I am a well-respected and honorable merchant. She also clings to her past life and loyalties in Rohan, not realizing that her future lies in Nurn — and with me."

Abaru wondered why his father would bother with such a woman, but he knew better than to question his judgement. "I look forward to making the lady's acquaintance."

"Now I have gifts for the two of you, but they cannot come in the house." Esarhaddon smiled at the expectant expressions which came over the faces of his two sons. "I have brought a dapple gray mare for you, Abaru. Her name is Zûbardniz, and I won her in a race against the chieftain of the Dolrujâtar. I will tell you that story later. Her saddle and bridle are of the finest leather, crafted by the nomads. She also comes with a fine caparison."

"Father, you have honored me greatly," Abaru spoke up, his eyes shining. He could barely wait to see this fine horse.

"Did you bring anything for me?" Kabtu asked hopefully.

"Yes, my son. I brought you a milk white mare that I bought from the nomads. While she is very gentle, she also has spirit," Esarhaddon replied. "I think that you will like her."

"Oh, Father, how wonderful!" Impulsively, Kabtu hugged his father around the neck. "My legs are too long for my old pony, and I have been hoping for a horse."

"Now you have one, my son."

"Will you tell us about your adventures now?" Kabtu looked to his father, his face filled with eager anticipation.

"I suppose I could tell you a tale or two," Esarhaddon chuckled.

The rays of the morning sun filtered through the silky curtains which hung over the latticed windows, bathing the chamber in soft, muted light. Anúrnissa, Esarhaddon's Second Wife, lounged upon a low couch, embroidering pink roses upon a cream-colored pillow cover. She was clad in a loose gown the color of daffodils, the brilliant yellow shade flattering her ebony skin, and behind her left ear was tucked an artificial flower crafted of golden silk. Occasionally she placed her hand upon her rounded stomach, seeking the presence of the child within. Beside her, a servant gently fanned the air, driving away the sultry August heat. The only sounds to break the quiet peace of the room were a wistful melody played by a servant strumming a lute and the occasional chirping of a trio of pet finches in a cage. This tranquil scene was interrupted by the sound of soft rapping upon the door, and the lady's handmaiden slipped quietly away to answer the knock.

"The Lady Shumeeren and her retinue," the maid announced as she returned to the chamber.

"I have been expecting her, Zamara." Anúrnissa smiled and put away her embroidery. "You may admit the lady to my presence."

"Yes, my lady." Zamara bowed and went to admit the visitor to the chamber.

Anúrnissa rose ponderously to her feet and embraced her guest, kissing her on both cheeks. "My dear, how good it is to see you!"

"Dearest Anúrnissa, you should not have stood to greet me." Shumeeren's voice was gently chiding, though her eyes hid a dark envy.

"I am not an invalid," Anúrnissa laughed, "but let us sit down. While the child is very definite that he tires of his abode and wants to see the world, his appearance will not be today." She ran a hand over her extended abdomen. "Dear Shumeeren," she thought to herself, "how she worries about me! I feel as close to her as if she were my sister."

"Here, let me help you," Shumeeren insisted as she took the other woman's elbow and guided her to the divan. She knew that Anúrnissa's homely handmaidens resented her. "They are all jealous of me, of course, both Anúrnissa and her women. They are all fat cows, dull and stupid!" Smiling a honeyed smile, she accepted a cup of tea from one of Anúrnissa's servants.

"I am so glad you came to see me today, darling Shumeeren." Anúrnissa smiled as she leaned back against the cushions of the divan. "Please help yourself to the pastries on the table. The almond cakes are particularly delectable, but not as flavorful as your recipe." Frowning, she shook her head. "Even though you have given the cook your priceless recipe, she never seems able to duplicate it. Really! I wonder what is wrong with that woman." She rolled her eyes towards the heavens.

"Oh, my dear Anúrnissa, I share your concerns about the woman. Sometimes I think she is dull-witted." Shumeeren sighed heavily. Oh, how she disliked the cook, and she was certain the woman felt the same way about her! She had always been convinced that the stuffed pheasants the cook had once sent to her chamber had a stale, tainted taste to them. She had insisted that her own handmaiden, Bimi, taste them again in case they had been poisoned, but the servant did her duty with such relish that she had eaten almost half of one bird before Shumeeren told her to stop. When Shumeeren had complained about the miserable tasting pheasants to Esarhaddon, he had laughed at her. Wretched cook! He really should have dismissed her to someplace unpleasant!

"We must not be too hard upon the cook, Shumeeren." Anúrnissa's lovely face wore an expression of concern as she reached for one of the cakes. "I believe she sincerely tries, but there are so many here for whom she has to cook, and I sometimes wonder if she has enough helpers." Anúrnissa, good-hearted woman that she was, had difficulty being harsh to anyone.

"Of course, you are right, my dear." Shumeeren inclined her head. "Let us now talk of something else. I understand that the child will be born within a fortnight. How wonderful that will be for you and our lord!" It almost hurt her mouth to say those words, but Shumeeren smiled such a sincere smile that no one would suspect the intensity of her envy and jealousy. Although she and Esarhaddon had tried many times, no children had ever resulted from their amorous encounters. Every time she saw Anúrnissa's changing body, she felt like screaming with rage at the unfairness of it all.

"Yes, my friend. I am so excited!" Anúrnissa gently rubbed her stomach. "I am convinced that it will be a boy." She looked to Shumeeren. "What do you think, my dear?"

"Why, it will be another son, of course," Shumeeren patted Anúrnissa's hand. A wicked thought came to her mind just then, and she hoped that the child would die. However, some remaining goodness in her nature caused her to feel guilty – but not too guilty.

"Perhaps, dear Shumeeren, you will be next to find yourself with child." Anúrnissa gave the First Wife an encouraging smile.

"Maybe the Great Eye will gaze upon me with favor," Shumeeren answered piously. "Every day the Lord of Gifts hears my earnest prayers." She raised her eyes to the heavens, her expression devout. She had sent many prayers into the ethers, but she knew that the truest expression of belief could be realized only by sacrifice. She had Bimi procure birds, gentle doves, pristine in their whiteness. Making sure that they were not noticed, the two women had gone into one of the small courtyard gardens during the new moon. There, Shumeeren had performed the sacred rituals, killing the birds and smearing their blood over her breasts and between her legs. She had even drunk the metallic tasting liquid in a toast to the Giver of Gifts. Nothing had ever worked.

"Shumeeren, I am sure that He will answer you soon," Anúrnissa answered encouragingly, hoping that she sounded sincere. She shuddered inwardly at the mention of the Great Eye. She considered that the First Wife was wasting her time praying to the Dark Lord, for He was grim and cruel and cared nothing for people. She doubted that he would answer any prayer unless it would benefit his designs. Still, she felt sorry for the other woman.

"Perhaps the next time the Giver of Gifts comes to Nurn to bless all the land, He will see fit to bless me and answer my entreaties." Shumeeren had heard tales that even women whose wombs had been closed for many years would become pregnant just by beholding the Great One's face. She felt a thrill of excitement when she thought of the Lord of Mordor, and fantasized that He would bless her with His favor. She tried to envision how it would be to lie with Him, and she felt herself growing aroused at the thought. Just one night of passion with Him, and she was convinced that she would be with child, for was He not the Lord of Gifts?

Both women fell into a quiet reverie, Anúrnissa thinking about her unborn child and Shumeeren daydreaming of being ravished by Sauron. Anúrnissa smiled as she thought about the rosewood chest filled with linens and little gowns that had been lovingly embroidered by her and her handmaidens. As the finches chirped happily in their cage and the lute player played a soft melody, Shumeeren put aside the titillating visions of Lord Sauron's virility and concentrated on how she could get into Lord Esarhaddon's bed. She had not been at all pleased when she had received word that her husband was bringing home a new concubine from the North. She was even less pleased now that she had made the woman's acquaintance.

"What do you think of our lord's new concubine?" Shumeeren raised her voice slightly to get Anúrnissa's attention. The Second Wife was watching as one of her handmaidens fed the finches. "Nasty little birds," Shumeeren thought. "Always fouling their cages and tossing out the seeds!"

"She is quite lovely," Anúrnissa replied, more interested in her pet birds than she was in discussing the new concubine. It was not that she was jealous. She accepted that Esarhaddon would take other women, for that was the common practice in the South, and she was grateful for the time he would give her. Yes, it hurt her to share him, but she knew she still held a treasured place in his heart. She had other things to occupy her mind than the new concubine anyway; soon there would be a child to divert her attentions.

"Yes, that she is," agreed Shumeeren. "She does have strange ideas, but perhaps that is to be expected from one who hails from a primitive land which has long languished under the corruptive influence of Gondor. I suppose we should take pity upon her ignorance."

"The war has robbed Goldwyn of her husband and her sons, and her anger and grief have planted the seeds of bitterness in her heart." Anúrnissa reached out and touched the other woman's arm. "Let us make her feel welcome in her new home, and perhaps in time she will heal."

"Yes, perhaps; we can hope." Shumeeren had to concentrate her will to force her expression to be sympathetic. Perhaps the Northern woman would commit some grave offense, and Esarhaddon would sell her off at the next big auction.

After giving Abaru and Kabtu a brief account of his travels, with the promise of more stories of danger and adventure to come, Esarhaddon summoned his two wives and his new concubine to join them in the Tulip Room. He was eager to be reunited with his family, and he wanted to introduce Goldwyn to his sons. It was his hope that the lady would take a liking to the boys, and perhaps act as a mother figure to them. After Abaru's mother had succumbed to a dreadful affliction of the breast, her sister had filled the dual roles of being both mother and aunt to the boy. Now Abaru and Kabtu had no one, for Tiranna had perished after giving birth to a dead baby the previous year. While Esarhaddon held both of his wives in the fondest of regard, Shumeeren had little experience with children and little love for the boys, and Anúrnissa would soon be busy with her own child. Perhaps Goldwyn would be the mother that Abaru and Kabtu so desperately needed.

It was not long ere the doorman announced the arrival of Shumeeren, Anúrnissa, and Goldwyn. As the three women were ushered into the chamber, Esarhaddon and his sons rose from their seats and went to greet them. A small procession of servants followed the women.

With the entirety of his family assembled before him at last, Esarhaddon felt a sense of profound contentment wash over him. "How good it is to be home again! Shumeeren, you look more beautiful than you did when at last I saw you." He inclined his head towards her and then turned towards his second wife. "My lovely Anúrnissa, I am indeed fortunate that I was able to return before the child was born." He saw how her eyes were soft with love as she looked up at him. Sometimes he felt that he almost loved her, as much as he could love anyone. Love was a dangerous emotion, and he had never allowed himself to truly love any woman since his first wife had died on the journey to Nurn so many years ago. Something had changed, though, when he met the beautiful woman from Rohan, and whenever he thought of her, he was consumed by yearning, much like the feelings he had felt for the poor girl who had died in the desert. He knew he was a fool, for love left the heart open to bitter pain.

Esarhaddon stepped forward and took Goldwyn's hand in his, directing her to stand beside him before his family. "As you all know, I have decided to take a new concubine, the Lady Goldwyn of Rohan. Like the other new arrivals, she comes from a faraway land, and knows little about our customs and ways. The journey south was detrimental to her health, and she has been very ill. It is my hope that she will recover here at the villa." He turned to face Goldwyn. "My Northern flower, I understand that you have already made the acquaintance of my wives. Now I want you to meet my sons, Abaru and Kabtu."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Goldwyn." Pressing his hand to his heart, Abaru bowed from the waist in a gesture of cordial respect.

"Welcome to our home, Lady Goldwyn," Kabtu exclaimed after repeating his brother's motions. "It is a wonderful place to live!"

"Thank you both for the warm welcome," Goldwyn replied stiffly. She had no desire to meet any of these people, but she knew that custom demanded that she remain civil until provoked. Feeling her spirits sink in resignation, she cautiously regarded Esarhaddon's two sons. Abaru favored his father the most, although his tawny skin was somewhat lighter, and his body was as lean as a young sapling. Although he was a handsome youth, his cheeks were pitted in places by tiny pockmarks, and Goldwyn recalled that Esarhaddon's household had been stricken by the Red Plague years before. Kabtu was a pudgy little lad, with cheerful brown eyes and fair skin tanned by the summer sun. Goldwyn felt a pang of sorrow strike her heart, for Kabtu looked to be only a year or two older than Fritha, her youngest son, and Abaru appeared to be only slightly older than her eldest son, Fródwine.

"Lady Goldwyn, it was a delight talking with you yestereve, and I hope that we can visit again soon." A dazzling smile lighting up her face, Anúrnissa clasped her hands before her heart. She felt terrible that their first meeting had been marred by Shumeeren's foolishness, and she wanted to do her part to smooth things over. It was always important to make a good first impression.

"We hope you will be happy here, Lady Goldwyn." Shumeeren felt the bile rising in her throat as she said those words. What did Esarhaddon see in this Northern woman? Her pallid skin was pasty white and her eyes were too narrow, giving her face a severe appearance. She was also one of those women whose faces always looked like they were scowling when no smile turned up their lips. Shumeeren prayed to the Lord of Gifts that Esarhaddon would reconsider his decision to name this Goldwyn as his concubine.

"Everyone, please be seated." Esarhaddon gestured towards the parallel divans which were built along either side of the room. Only the members of the family were afforded this luxury; the accompanying servants went to stand unobtrusively along the wall in the event that their superiors had need of their services.

"My lord, my heart has ached for you, and all my thoughts have been of nothing but you day and night," Anúrnissa cooed, surprisingly graceful in spite of her condition as she lowered herself to the cushions.

"My soul was like a great windswept desert without you, and I feared many times I might die as I cried out to the Lord of Gifts for your safe return," Shumeeren spoke up, not to be outdone in eloquence by her rival for Esarhaddon's attention.

"I am home now, though there were times when it seemed extremely unlikely that I would ever see another dawn." Esarhaddon's brow furrowed as his mind took him down paths of memory that he never wished to tread again. "On many dark, lonely nights, it seemed that the wind brought me the sound of your lovely voices. Often you kept me company in the deserts and lonely places."

"My lord," Shumeeren's voice became low and seductive, "how I have pined for you! When you are gone, it is as though the Sun and Moon have fallen from the heavens and all is dark and dreary. Now that you are back, my heart sings with joy." She was pleased with the way he smiled back at her, for she knew that he was far from being immune to compliments. He was vain and enjoyed flattery, and she liked to give it.

Beside Esarhaddon on the divan, Kabtu shifted uncomfortably. He did not like it when his father paid attention to Shumeeren, for he found the woman to be unpleasant and ill-tempered. Abaru gave him a smile of encouragement, and Kabtu relaxed somewhat. He was so glad that his brother was back home for a few days.

"I have brought gifts for my three lovely ladies, the jewels of my household." Esarhaddon directed two of the servant women in attendance to fetch three small chests from a nearby cabinet. The boxes were made of rosewood which had been carved with intricate floral patterns, and around each box had been wrapped a piece of twine upon which was tied a piece of parchment bearing the name of the intended recipient. The servant women set the gifts down in front of Shumeeren, Anúrnissa, and Goldwyn, and then resumed their stations along the wall.

"How wonderful!" Anúrnissa exclaimed as she opened the chest and lifted out a beautiful turquoise and silver necklace. "My lord, thank you!"

When Shumeeren opened her gift, she found a similar necklace made of turquoise and silver. A little spark of anger flashed in her eyes, for she thought that Anúrnissa's necklace had been crafted with better workmanship and more exquisite stones. She would never let her rival know she was jealous, though, and she beamed affably at Esarhaddon when she fastened it about her neck.

Goldwyn received the same sort of necklace as the other two women. While she appreciated the skill which went into crafting the piece, she felt little love for the gift, for she resented the giver. Still, though, she did not feel that it was proper to be overtly rude in front of Esarhaddon's family, and so she mumbled out a few words which she hoped sounded appropriately grateful.

"These necklaces were made by the Dolrujâtar tribe of Southern Gorgoroth," Esarhaddon proudly explained, pleased that his gifts had been well received. "There are some shawls and a robe for each of you. I will have the servants take them to your rooms. The nomad women are as skilled in weaving as their husbands are in making jewelry."

"My lord, you are most generous!" Anúrnissa's dark eyes filled with love.

"Generous? Yes, I think I am," Esarhaddon chuckled as he leaned back against the back of the divan. "Now I will tell you some of my travels, before we proceed to the School of Industry to meet the new arrivals."