Emmaline resisted the urge to struggle as she was led up the stairs by one of the guards, the other remaining below to bar Markus from attempting to follow. The guard grabbed her rump with a grin and muttered something in Arabian that she didn't follow. They reached to top of the stairs and the door opened before them. A moon faced man with very smooth skin and a completely hairless face guestured her in to the rooms beyond. The guard opened his mouth as though to object but the hairless man snapped at him in Arabian, Emmaline caught the word fool but not much else. The guard gave Emmaline a shove and she stumbled on the top step, staggering into the arms of the smooth skinned man. He was dressed in a silk robe of plain but very fine fabric.

"Come girl," he said in passable Reikspiel closing the door behind him.

"A blonde eh, did they take you as a slave off a ship," the fellow inquired politely.

"Yes master," Emmaline replied demurely as they passed through a large hall floored in priceless rugs and lined with works of art from a variety of cultures. There were several other closed doors which Emmaline presumed led off to private quarters, though she saw no servants other than this one.

"A pity," the man replied as he led her to another large set of doors, these ones inlaid with gold and precious stones. The  servant knocked respectfully on the door and a voice called from beyond in acknowledgement. The door swung open and she was led into a vast bedroom. The central dome was vast and hollow above them, hung with green plants and painted with a convincing fresco of the night sky. They even sparkled with some sort of luminescence which she couldn't identify.

"Thank you Khazeem," said a powerful looking man who rose from a divan in a robe of white silk with golden stitching. He was tall and fit though there was a slight plumpness around his midsection which showed that he ate well regardless of how much effort he put in to staying fit. His eyes were dark and slightly beedy which gave him a look of rakish cruelty.

"I will take it from here," Mavikim said, making a waving motion with his hand. Khazeem nodded and stepped back through the doors closing them behind him with a resounding boom, leaving Emmaline alone with the Arabyian lord. He gave her a long look and his lips curved into an appreciative smile.

"Well you are a cut above what they usually send me," he told her walking over to her and beginning to circle like a shark. His fingers stretched out and brushed her hips as he moved around her like a stockman inspecting a cow.

"Which one of them sent you?" Mavikim asked curiously. 

"Hakeem of Copher," she replied, plucking the name of the hedgewizard they had spoken to earlier. Mavikim arched his eyebrow at the statement though his inspection didn't cease.

"I've not heard of Hakeem, what favor does he ask for?" Mavikim asked curiously. Emmaline's mind wheeled for a moment before landing on a plausible lie.

"Revenge, against a pirate known as Von Roberts," she extemporized quickly. Mavikim cocked his head. 

"I had heard an Imperial pirate put in here a week ago, I'm not surprised he was as offensive in Copher as he was here."

"Shall I dance for you Lord?" Emmaline asked feeling more than a little nervous at the strange Arabyian's attention. Mavikim laughed cruelly. 

"That won't be necessary," Mavikim laughed and he took Emmaline by the hand and lead her into an alcove in the back of the vast chamber. She just had enough time to recognize that she was in trouble before she was shoved roughly against a rack. Emmaline cried out in shock but Mavikim bent her wrists back and fastened brass shackles with a click. She kicked out, catching Mavikim on the hip. The Araybian grunted but it was like kicking a block of granite. He seized her ankle and locked down first one and then the other so she was completely immobilized.

"Not much point in fighting girl, you are payment afterall, I suppose when I am done with you, you can at least take solace in the fact that Hakeem will be granted his favor. Brief solace that is," he chuckled evilly. Emmaline muttered a spell, preparing to blast Mavikim with a lance of golden light, but the winds would not come. It wasn't that the wind was weak, it was just... gone. Mavikim took up a large knife, tested the edge of on his thumb and then slashed away her clothing with practiced care. Her eyes flicked to the to the corners of the room, and too her horror she saw that runes had been inlaid in the tile work, warding runes to make the area null to magic. Realization dawned and cold gathered in the pit of her stomach. Mavikim did have a Djinn whose favors he hired to others, and as he did so he defended himself from Araby's sorcerers, but living in a fortress that would repel magical attack.

Mavikim chuckled at her chagrin, though it didn't seem that he had realized that she had tried to cast a spell. Leisurely now he moved to a side table which was covered with a velvet cloth. He whipped it back theatrically to reveal, knives, pincers, whips and other implements she couldn't name.

"It is a big favor that Hakeem asks, but I think you can make it worth my while."