Free On Azrael's Wings by D Jordan Redhawk Page A

doors. Midia urged Ursula to help her move a padded chair out to their mistress. As soon as she was seated, the two slaves bustled about, making things more acceptable for a Lord and general. The bedside table was placed beside Azrael and several cushions were strewn around the chair, many piled high enough in front of her to form a makeshift footstool.
    “Lord Azrael, I’ve instructed a man to bring food and drink,” Suma said at his general’s shoulder. “I told him to select random vendors.”
    “Good.” Azrael waved her slaves to the cushions on either side of her. “Will you stay for the bidding?”
    “No, Lord,” Suma said. “I’ll see to the children’s release then return to pick up the proceeds from the auction. A full accounting will be on your desk before midday.”
    The dark woman lounged backward, indolence in every line as she set a booted foot against the railing, playing her audience on the other balconies. “Very good, Captain. Dismissed.”
    Bowing, the blond man backed away and disappeared.
    Ursula, seated at her mistress’ left, gawked at her surroundings. In the time it had taken to get settled on the balcony, the crowd had grown by half again. The mass of humanity milled about, buying food from wandering peddlers, chattering and yelling to one another, or doing as she was by simply watching others. On the platform, the cleaners left and a handful of jugglers took their place to entertain prior to the auction. The sun marched higher and the brunette was glad for the awning above; already beginning to warm, it promised to be another hot day.
    A hand on hers startled Ursula and she jerked, seeing Midia pointing toward the room. With a nod, she followed and found that Suma’s soldier had returned. The desk held a large platter of food - slivers of fruit in small pastry cups, clever webs of sticks that held still sizzling fried trout, an assortment of cheeses of all colors, several varieties of bread plus thinly sliced meats. Amazed at the obvious work that went into some of the items, Ursula was loath to spoil their beauty. She caught a wink from Midia and grinned at her foolishness, preparing a plate for their mistress as the blonde left to serve Azrael tea.
    Bringing the laden plate, Ursula set it on the table and curtseyed. “Milady.”
    “Thank you, Ursula. Be seated.” Glancing over her shoulder, Azrael said, “Swordsmen, help yourselves.”
    A chorus of agreement met her ears and she could hear the two guards inside availing themselves of her generosity. Cups and plates were passed to the two outside.
    “Midia, Ursula, you as well. It would be a shame to waste these artistic endeavors,” Azrael said, taking a bite of thick brown bread.
    “Yes, Milady.”
    With delighted eagerness, Ursula picked over the platter, adding bits and pieces of things she’d never seen or tasted before. Soon she was seated on the balcony, plate in hand, a mug of water placed nearby.
    Despite having breakfast, the brunette cleaned her plate, finding many new favorite foods in the process. She stopped once to refill Azrael’s plate but was otherwise left undisturbed. Finished, Ursula drained her mug and rose. “Would you like anything else, Milady?”
    “No, I’m well, Ursula. Thank you.”
    Upon returning her plate inside, the slave couldn’t help but pinch one more piece of white cheese before refilling her mug. Once more she returned to kneel by her mistress.
    “Heilsa!”
    The noise from the crowd died down as a man stepped onto the platform. He was barrel chested and bandy legged, an incongruous combination more likely belonging to a crippled beggar than a successful trader. Dressed in linen, he shuffled about with arms held high as he gained the audience’s attention.
    “We are well met today, fellow citizens,” he called. “I’ve twenty-four fine women from Lord Azrael!” The auctioneer waved at her balcony before bowing deeply.
    Azrael paused from picking her teeth, saluting in