I struggled with the desk and managed to haul myself away from the book. Stay tuned for Part 6 of The Slave Princess. I squeezed it and began to massage it gently. “Lady Kayla!”
“Ah, you must be Dorazi.”
“Dor-zi, my lady,” he corrected me and bowed. He cleared the room of people, put himself into arru-sha and broke the spell. After several minutes of deep concentration my mind cleared and a verse from the sacred canticle entered my mind;
Night surrounds me
With her cloak of silken blue;
Unfathomed darkness;
Warm and all-embracing,
Speak to me of mysteries
In your whispered, honeyed tones. It was Dorzi’s breathing. What insolence. The renewed onslaught of my mouth was too much for poor Dorzi. The next thing I saw was my mother’s baleful countenance…………………
No one in the household knew how to break the enchantment and Dorzi was nowhere to be found. My father had studied the arts of sorcery and necromancy for over twenty years and only then were the proscribed texts revealed to him by his teachers; masters in the art, which was as old as time itself.
