
Juno Books www.juno-books.com
Copyright ©2007 by Saskia Walker
First published in 2007, 2007
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The night Amshazar was requested to appear before the council of the gods, rumors were rife concerning the troubled times in the exotic lands. Whispers passed among those studying the sorcerous arts, suggesting one of them would soon be called upon to initiate the gods' intervention.
The rumors proved to be correct. Amshazar, who had long since reached the first order of magi skills and knowledge, was demonstrating the art of controlling a shared power force to a novice when the messenger arrived.
"Power can be made stronger when nurtured between two," he said, as he harnessed the glowing ball of light he had summoned, moving it slowly between the open palms of his raised hands.
The young students who had gathered around him in the Hall of Knowledge that evening jostled closer, filled with anticipation, eager to take their knowledge of sorcery to the next level. Amshazar scanned their faces and, seeing one who was more reticent than the others, made a mental note to draw him in. A more enthusiastic student stepped closer to Amshazar, pushing back the sleeves of his robes and raising eager hands as he moved into place.
"Open yourself to the power, but be prepared for the rush of heat when it moves between us."
The keen expression on the student's face altered to one of concentration, and the ball of heat shifted a little, moving infinitesimally in his direction. Amshazar felt the tug within as the young student connected, and then grounded himself to level off. Rays of light traversed the space between them, locking them into each other, connecting them at the very core of their being. The other students clustered around them, impressed murmurs passing between them as they observed the shared power, how it pulsed and grew, thriving on the two souls who had tapped into it.
In the background, Amshazar noticed the presence of the gods' own messenger standing at the arched doorway into the hall. The messenger nodded himself into the chamber and shared his purpose with those near the door. Faces turned in Amshazar's direction.
Sensing he was needed elsewhere, Amshazar nodded at the more reticent magi student, indicating he should share in the exchange. "Join us, we'll harness it between three of us," he encouraged.
Shortly after the nervous student keyed into the exchange, Amshazar shifted the balance between the two novices. They exchanged excited glances when they realized what they were achieving. The master stepped away and allowed them to manage between them. Their hands moved around the energy force. It hummed with vitality, thriving on their eager spirits.
"In practice, you would sense the highest reach of power and then direct it to your subject. There you might use it for healing, to turn back wrongdoing or to guard those in danger."
After another few moments, he clapped his hands gently, dispersing the ball of energy, smiling. "For now, we will put it to rest, we've had enough for one evening."
Chuckles passed amongst his students as they discussed this latest lesson with the two participants. Amshazar acknowledged the messenger and took the chance to slip away, joining him, and leaving the chamber by his side.
The messenger said little. There was no need to say much; his presence alone spoke for him. He accompanied Amshazar through the corridors of the Magi school toward the spire that reached skyward. Nodding at him, the messenger opened the door at the bottom of the staircase, and gestured him on.
Amshazar mounted the worn stone steps that led upwards from the secluded magi school embedded in the mountainside, up and into the presences of the deities. The steps were worn by those who had gone before---centuries of magi who had trained there, who had acted upon the words of the gods when called and instigated their wishes amongst their chosen people. He passed through the upper portal and emerged from the tower into the swirling mists of the deity plateau, a place where the gods met men and dispensed judgment.
Amshazar paused. The air here was colder, but invigorating, and he took a moment to become accustomed to it. Preparing himself, he peered through the mists toward the massive white stone gathering table, expecting to see a full quorum assembled. Instead, he saw only two figures seated there. The first was the goddess Sevita---she who inspired the higher emotions. The other was the thoughtful god, Credan, an eminent deity who exerted a fatherly presence upon the gods of the council.
"Amshazar, thank you for your swift response," Sevita said as he approached, her voice reverberating softly in his every fiber. She presented in human form as a simply dressed woman in her middle years, her hair loosely plaited over one shoulder. Her immense, serene feminine power and beauty was nevertheless visible in her aura. She shimmered with it, the plain garments she chose to wear made almost translucent by her inner radiance.
"You are aware we have asked you here because of the recent unrest in the exotic lands?"
Amshazar nodded.
"Alas," she said, and sighed, "Hurda is to blame. He became bored with the council. I'm afraid we lost him for a while." She looked deeply regretful. Hurda was an unpredictable god, a god who often inspired warlike tendencies.
Credan gestured with his hands, shifting uneasily in his chair. He took the form of an aged and wise man, with long silvering hair and a furrowed brow. The breadth of his wisdom made itself felt in every way, far beyond his current form. "Hurda took it upon himself to inspire the need for ownership, instilling greed in many of the souls of the exotic lands, undermining the notion of fair trade and harmony that had begun to take root there."
Credan's eyebrows lowered as he contemplated the situation. "The trouble that has already begun can---and will---grow, powered by its own ire and the subsequent need for revenge. We have been contemplating how best we might intervene."
Sevita smiled gently at Amshazar.
That was why he had been called. They wanted to him to intervene on their behalf. It was a worthy challenge, something he had been preparing for these past years. He lowered his head, indicating his acknowledgement; prepared for whatever they asked him to do. He had been ready for some time, having devoted his life to this. Fully trained and adept in the sorcerous arts, his time as a tutor to the newer magi was but a passing phase. The gods had previously indicated he was meant for a higher purpose, and his time had come at last.
"I am aware of the situation, and the potential for large scale war within a few years if it were to continue to develop. Whatever I can do in the matter, please say. I am your servant, and I am ready to act."
Sevita nodded, exchanging glances with Credan. "We are still debating the best way forward, but we wished to speak with you first." Her eyes shimmered with admiration. "We appreciate your willingness in this matter, Amshazar. We consider you our finest magus. The tasks ahead demand someone with the skills and subtlety you possess."
Amshazar was somewhat embarrassed by her praise. "There are many magi eager to act upon your instruction, I am but one of many."
Credan gave a rare laugh. "Sevita has selected you, Amshazar, and I trust her judgment in this matter."
A curious smile graced Sevita's lips. "You are the right magus for this task. I'm very fond of you, and I am aware you seek a challenge."
"You are very fond of everyone," Credan retorted at her side, somewhat sarcastically. "If I had my way Hurda would have been banished from the council for this latest selfish action."
Amshazar restrained a smile. Credan seemed rather jealous of Sevita's tolerance with her favorites. She who inspired the higher emotions---and who reminded all souls that life springs from love---magnetized both people and gods.
"Hurda has shown some remorse," Sevita responded, unfazed by Credan's remark. "Our responsibility to men and to each other is to guide and illuminate, not dictate. Besides, part of my purpose here is to bring the kinder emotions into play where there might be none."
She gave a gentle tut, then returned her attention to Amshazar. Her eyes burned with the strength of her inner knowledge. "The council feels your skills as a tutor might be called upon. Your insight and your way with people engender trust. These qualities will take you where you need to be, to the very heart of the matter. The conflict must be unraveled subtly, from within."
Amshazar felt a strong but implicit undertow in her message, something deeper that she perhaps wasn't sharing with Credan. There was a glint in her eyes, indicating a seed of thought she was keeping to herself for the time being. Amshazar allowed her to see he sensed it, wondering at the same time what other motives she might have. In recent times she had been more assertive in the council. As one of the few female gods, she argued for a greater voice for womankind, and for female entry to the magi school. She had not yet achieved the latter, but was that the ongoing purpose behind the glint in her eyes? Amshazar didn't question it, knowing that all would be revealed soon enough.
Credan folded his hands in front of him. "Return to the council tomorrow at dawn, if you will, Amshazar. We will come to agreement on how best to proceed by then, and you will need to be ready to leave. We envisage this being a long challenge, though, and we will assign you a spirit guide to act as mentor. He will hasten your communication with us, as and when you see fit."
This last statement alone would have indicated to Amshazar the weight of the matter, if the rumors preceding the evening's events had not already done so. Spirit guides were only brought into action in matters of great magnitude, where haste and reinforcement might be needed.
He dropped to one knee before them, passing his fingers over mind, lips and heart, offering his thoughts, words and deeds to them through the age-old, time-honored gesture. "I take the task willingly, whatever it might demand of me."
He sensed Sevita's pleasure. This was important to her, above and beyond the obvious reasons, but as he stood and took his leave, Amshazar still didn't have the first clue why.
The foreboding cry of a lone desert hawk echoed through the foothills. Elishiba, daughter of the Emperor of Aleem, sensed danger in the air and watched the hawk's flight across the tawny sky. Her senses were on high alert. A storm approached. In the distance, the sky had begun to splinter with shards of vermilion and amethyst light. She unlatched her flowing headdress where it was drawn across her face to conceal her identity, and lifted her chin, knowing instinctively the incoming storm was but a precursor of things to come.
Her mount reared up and whinnied, losing its footing amongst the loose rocks and boulders. She clutched at him and soothed the large beast with a hand on its silver-streaked mane, murmuring words of comfort as she looked over her shoulder, protectively, toward the precious land behind her. Suzin, the city that was her home, was just visible in the wide valley set below the Zaneesie Mountains. Beyond the massive walls of the city itself, she could see dust clouds scurrying low on the horizon, rolling in across the desert sands. If the dust storm gathered strength, it would sweep into every household, insidiously creeping beneath the wooden doors and across the stone floors, ruining the crops in the stores.
Worse still, if it had grown strong enough in its birth in the far deserts, the dust storm would have awakened the dust devils, the demon shayatin who slumbered in the dirt of the barren lands. Under the power of unrest, be it a storm, a war, or spiritual fears, they could travel through the sands as far as the outer city walls, taking form through the sand to rise and claim a few souls at will, before returning to their lair deep in the sands.
Elishiba sighed heavily. In the scheme of things, this was far from her biggest problem, but she prayed to the gods it would not happen, not with so much else at stake. Troubled times were upon them. War was on the horizon, and she and her ailing father were doing all they could to avert it. She had braced herself, for she had to be a strong and fearless leader, if her people were to survive.
Cursing the storm rolling in across the skies, she urged her mount onward, throwing the loose material of her headdress over her shoulder and across her face. The horse, encouraged by its mistress, picked its footing carefully over the rocks. The route was familiar, and the small shepherd's hut that was her destination was soon within view. A steady glow of light seeped beneath the heavy, wooden door from within, warding off the dark skies and demons. It pleased her to see it, although she would not be able to visit for long.
"Hush, Fidda," she murmured to the horse as she quickly dismounted and tethered him under the shelter at the rear of the cottage, out of the path of the storm, stroking his white and gray mottled coat affectionately. She rearranged the saddle cloth as she pulled a bundle from its binding across Fidda's hindquarters, adjusted its weight, and took it with her.
She knocked at the heavy wooden door, and then pushed it open. A clattering sound emerged from within the one-roomed shelter. Basim, the elderly shepherd who lived there with his wife, stood up from his place by the fire, his stool falling over as he did so. He stared at the robed figure in the doorway with wide, frightened eyes, his hands straightening his belted tunic and loose trousers as he did so.
Elishiba stepped inside and pushed back her headdress, revealing her identity, smiling broadly. Her long hair tumbled free of the headdress as it came to rest around her shoulders, and she shook it down her back as she moved.
The old man's lined face lit with untempered joy as she walked across the small space and embraced him with her free arm. "My Empress..." He held her for a moment, then called, "Fahima, it is Elishiba."
His wife emerged from the darkness of the store cupboard, a young goat kid clutched in one arm, her pale blue eyes straining to see.
"Is it really you?" She looked at her tall empress with curious eyes as she set the goat down.
Elishiba lifted the bundle of goods she had brought from Suzin down from her shoulder, offering it to them. "Yes, it is only me, come to see how you fare."
Basim shook his head, smiling warmly at her. "You should not be coming up here worrying about us, when the gods of the elements are as restless as this." He gestured outside, but took the bundle into his arms gratefully. Fahima embraced her in greeting and guided her visitor toward a stool by the fireplace.
Elishiba shrugged off their concern. "The storms are the least of my worries, as I am sure you have heard."
The provinces surrounding Aleem, their precious homeland, were jockeying for alliances. It was time for commitment if they were to strengthen against outside enemies. She had taken action, made a tentative pact. The neighboring province of Karseedia---although a previous enemy on the battlefield---was the most obvious ally, and the coupling of Aleem to Karseedia had been agreed. If the plans for the alliance were realized, centuries of tradition would be sacrificed: Aleem, the smaller of the two countries---but the wealthier---had always been vulnerable to invasion from its formidable neighbor. And although an uneasy truce had lasted more than two decades, to "trust in Karseedia" still meant, colloquially, to expect betrayal and deceit.
Elishiba had agreed to marry Hanrah, the Emperor of Karseedia, to seal the pact, but in truth it was an opening for Elishiba, a chance to get close to Hanrah and negotiate. She didn't plan to allow her country to be swallowed by his or anyone else's.
It was a dangerous situation to walk into, but there was no other, easier solution, so she had pursued it, but with caution.
The couple exchanged worried, knowing glances. They knew of Elishiba's dilemma. News from the city of Suzin passed from person to person, and eventually reached even the most outlying inhabitants in the province of Aleem.
"I cannot visit with you for long today, for there is much to be arranged. But we have a while." Elishiba smiled at them reassuringly.
"You will surely drink tea with us and wait for the storm to pass," Fahima asked, "before you return to the city?"
"I will, gladly." Elishiba took her seat by the fire, setting her sandaled feet on the small woven rug she had brought them several visits before, the one item of luxury they owned---and treasured. She had tried to give them more, but they were proud people. Everything else in the small home was simple, from the cooking implements to the mattress they slept upon.
Tucking the skirts of her robe around her shins, she watched the couple help each other with their tasks, content to be in their simple home. She had known them since she had stumbled upon their shelter as a small child out riding with her father. The emperor and his young daughter had been parted from their guards and companions during a rare rainstorm. The couple had welcomed the grand strangers, and shared tea with them by their fireplace. The young Elishiba had delighted in the couple and the goats they reared.
Her father, Ramsis, was a ruler who appreciated the most humble and heartfelt gestures of all his subjects. He knew that wisdom and loyalty could be found more easily among the modest than the mighty, and Elishiba had followed suit. At least once during the thirty day moon cycle she would ride up to visit the shepherd and his wife, bringing them wine, fruits, and leavened bread from the city.
She watched as Fahima took some precious jasmine leaves from a carved box and sprinkled them into a metal pot, which she handed to her husband. The young kid followed her, bumping against her legs as she went. Basim filled the pot with water from a jug and latched it over a hook, which he swung over the lighted fire, before pulling two more stools closer toward its hearth.
"He is a headstrong young fool, this one," Fahima chuckled, lifting the restless goat between her capable hands and gesturing with him. "He butted his mother until she would have no more of him and we had to bring him in here instead." Fahima rested the jittery kid down by Elishiba's side, and she fondled the creature, which nuzzled up to her in return.
Fahima brought dishes to the fireside and then settled beside them. "Tell us, how is your father? We have heard little news of him."
Elishiba shook her head. "It is not something we wish spread to our enemies, so we speak little of it. I'm afraid his health continues to weaken. I was hoping he would be able to travel with me to Karseedia, and to stay while I negotiate, at least for a while. But he will remain in Aleem when I leave."
"We did not expect to see you at all," Basim said.
"I had to come, to say goodbye." Elishiba hurried on, but noticed the tears glistening in Fahima's eyes. It made her heart stronger though, for it was for people like this for whom she made her quest. "I will ensure that someone calls on you from the city, as I have, but this will be my last visit, at least for some time."
Fahima wrung her hands. "Karseedia is a treacherous country, my Empress, a place ruled through evil and wrongdoing---it will be our saddest day when you go there."
"What you say about Karseedia is true," Elishiba agreed, with a soft laugh. "But there are worse threats further afield, and we must strengthen Aleem in defense against them." Her thoughts turned briefly to the many half-made plans she harbored, plans of gaining security for her people, without sacrifice.
"This union between you and the Emperor Hanrah," Basim ventured, his eyes watchful. "It is something that was first spoken of when you were just a child."
Elishiba nodded. "Oh yes, my father and the Emperor of Karseedia considered the implications of such an alliance, but so many lives had been lost on the battlefield. The wounds were still fresh. The match was unpopular with the people on both sides, and it was never promised."
"So why is it that you must go now, Mistress Elishiba?" Fahima asked, impatiently.
"It is not without a great deal of thought that I have come to this decision." Elishiba accepted a dish of tea from Fahima's hand. "It seemed at first the only way to ensure negotiations move forward, on relatively friendly ground. Although I think ... I hope," she glanced at them, "that there may be other ways to resolve the situation. I promise you, I will find the best way forward, for us all." She sipped the warm, fragrant liquid and nodded appreciatively at Fahima.
Fahima sighed. "I do not want you to marry this man."
Elishiba smiled at her simple statement. "You should understand that I renewed consideration of the match myself. It was a matter of necessity. Aleem has always been vulnerable; our place on the trade routes has deemed it so."
She shrugged lightly before she continued. "Allying ourselves with an enemy we have the measure of is the more sensible thing to do. The envoys of Karseedia informed us they would not enter into further discussions on the matter, without some grand gesture on our part, some ... sacrifice." She rested the dish down on the floor.
"My father did not encourage it, but he understands why I have chosen this path, and he respects my efforts. A little while ago, he began communication with the new Emperor of Karseedia, Hanrah. The union has been agreed. In the passage of a few moons the escort party will arrive to take me there. Once arrived, I will begin to assert my own demands, in earnest."
Elishiba noticed it was easier to be strong and focused when she was in the city, living her sophisticated, decadent court life, surrounded by her followers and with Aleem's elite army, the Immortals, nearby. Away from there she had to be braver, but she still had to face it. This is what life would soon be like all the time---full of doubt and not a little fear. Leave her home, she must. Fight, she must. Besides, Fahima and Basim were as much part of Aleem as they all were, and she had vowed to find a way to draw a protective shield over the land and people she and her Father governed.
"If you must marry this man, will you ever be able to return to your homeland?" Fahima asked, with a note of reluctance, as if she did not even want to voice the question.
Elishiba nodded. "If the union takes place---although it is my will to find another way, if it is possible---I will have it written in the contracts that I shall be able to govern Aleem, as before---and alone. I will travel back and forth, if necessary."
In her heart of hearts, Elishiba knew that another way had to be found. If the pact were sealed by marriage, she would be bound to Karseedia forever. Marriage, to a man she did not know, who came from a long line of power-hungry warmongers---if she thought on it for too long, her belly tensed. But no matter how difficult, if it were the only way to protect her people, she would do it.
The wind wailed outside, rattling the door on its hinges, and a somber silence descended over them. The young goat leapt to its feet as if it, too, had been listening and butted up against Elishiba, making her heart soften. She smiled and fondled the soft locks beginning to sprout around its ears. "If the gods are willing, I will be back in my homeland before this little one is full grown."
She turned back to Basim and Fahima. "How many trips have you taken to the Souk these past weeks, Basim?" The conversation turned to the more everyday news they shared on her visits, Elishiba secretly treasuring each moment in their company. Her will was fiercely strong, but she knew her promise to them wasn't built on the certain knowledge of what might actually transpire. She could only guess what lay ahead. They must be prepared for everything and anything.
When the winds died down, she took her leave of the couple, drawing her headdress low on her brow and across her face to hide her identity. Her father and others at the palace thought she shouldn't travel alone this way, and she didn't wish to draw attention to herself. She untied Fidda's reins, glancing toward the distant outline of the city.
Dust hung in a gray pall around the outer walls, beginning to settle. Mercifully, it had been a shallow windstorm, after all, but it would wreak havoc enough among her beloved people. She mounted up, setting off as quickly as Fidda could negotiate the path, praying to the gods.
"How I wish I could protect my people from the insidious dust, and from every other foe and tribulation that exists," she said to Fidda, her hand tangled in his silver mane. The horse whinnied, tossing his head left and right.
As she stroked him and reiterated the prayer, a massive peal of thunder rolled across the skies and a flash of light broke through the darkness. She started, her hand lifting to shield her face. The gray sky illuminated strangely from within, and the clouds opened. Soft rain began to patter around her, splashing onto the rocks, cleaning the dust from their surfaces. Relief seeped into Elishiba's bones.
Fidda lifted his head, enthusiastically snorting the fresher air. She urged the horse on, faster, thanking the gods of the elements for hearing her prayers. Sometimes Elishiba's faith in the gods waned, but in that moment she almost believed she had the power to make them hear her words. She smiled to herself, wishing it were true. "A power such as that I could surely use," she murmured.
Good fortune had been theirs and one danger, at least, had been averted. The dust would soon be mud on the ground. The people would be brushing it from the streets by the time she reached Suzin.
"If only my enemies were wished away so easily," she reflected, with a wry laugh.
Mehmet, the dowager Empress of Karseedia, glanced around the palace corridor to check she was not being observed, then stepped closer to the ornately carved wooden panels gracing the wall at this spot. The panel hiding the secret passageway she sought bore the image of a learned man with a book in one hand, holding a torch aloft in the other. She flattened her palm against the carved torch. The panel opened and she quickly stepped inside, pulling her heavy silken robes after her.
When the panel shut behind her, she blinked until her eyes became accustomed to the gloom of the concealed passageway, scowling as she did do. Something was going on in the palace, something involving her son, Hanrah, something that was not of her bidding. It turned her mood sour at the very time they should be celebrating Aleem's forthcoming surrender to their greater power. She wanted this intrusive problem stopped and obliterated, even if she had to see to it herself.
She settled her small lamp into a wall-mounted sconce and then traced her hand along the rough stone wall as she hurried along the passageway, barely pausing to lift her expensive robes to protect them from being torn or stained---such was her rush. The faint sound of water dripping and her soft leather slippers scuffing over the cobblestones were the only audible sound in the dark, narrow space. The lamp behind her shed only the smallest speck of light to guide her. She knew this passage well, though, for it was one of many well-hidden secret observation points that networked the royal palace in Lhastari. As always, the place smelled musty from a leak where the secret passageways intersected with the palace water supply, but she left it unfixed rather than reveal the hidden network to the servants.
Her hand brushed up against a jutting outcrop of rock, dank and slime-covered. It indicated she had reached the place. Her fingers sought the loose stone, and removed it. Standing on tiptoe, she stepped forward and leaned into the viewing niche. Her chin rested on the damp stone as she moved close to the small peephole.
She refocused her vision, for the brighter light within the chamber below was at odds with the gloomy passageway. Focusing on the drapery of the heavily embroidered wall hangings that bedecked her son's bedchamber, her gaze followed them down, leading her to the sight of a cluster of limbs on the bed itself.
Even though she had half expected this when she'd observed her son, Hanrah, and his longing glances at the youth, she ground her teeth in annoyance. Hanrah was there, in his luxurious private chambers, cavorting with the nubile, a mere slave.
"Blind fool," she whispered to herself, between gritted teeth. "What possesses you to be so unwise, my son?"
The two lithe bodies were entirely naked, and rolled together in an urgent rhythm against the fine, imported cotton bed coverings. No place for a slave. The slave boy's face contorted in ecstasy, his arms stretched back, his fingers clutching at the curtain that hung behind him while he watched his Emperor pleasuring him.
Mehmet seethed.
Hanrah was bent over the slave, devouring the youth's manhood with a hungry mouth, his head bobbing, and his hands working on his own stiff organ all the while.
Mehmet's blood began to boil, undiluted rage pumping through her veins. Her hand clutched at the loose rock as if to crush it, her mouth twitching in anger and frustration at the sight of her son, the ruler of Karseedia---and the future ruler of much more, if she had her way---on his knees in front of a mere slave, pleasuring him like a courtesan. She had to keep her lips tightly closed in order to contain the urge to scream down at him from her current viewing point, that wretched boy. He had no clue how to act like a ruler, even though she had instructed him often enough. Worse of all, this behavior seemed to be a recurrent pattern. His desire lay with scrawny males, while his half-brothers rutted their courtesans and created offspring as a daily event. Meanwhile, her security and power was threatened by her son's unwillingness to plant his seed in a fertile bed.
She heard the slave boy's loud, frantic moans as he reached climax---closely followed by her son's gleeful laughter---as she moved away, slotting the stone back into place. This had to be over, and now.
Charging back along the corridor, and through the palace, she marched in upon the two of them shortly afterwards. The slave boy was strewn across the bed, still naked, his eyes shut in reverie. Her son lolled against him, idly stroking and toying with him a while longer, his expression sickly with adoration. Her hands fisted at her sides at the very sight of it.
At the sound of the door crashing closed behind her, Hanrah turned his head in response. Caught in the act by his mother empress, his expression altered immediately to one of complete fright. He leapt off the bed, staggering down the marble steps that led up to it, his thick hair awry.
Mehmet took pleasure at his fearful reaction, assured by it of the strength of her hold on her son. This was no time to lose her grip on him, and she had no intention of doing so. The slave's death would prove that to Hanrah.
The slave sat upright, and seeing that it was Mehmet herself standing there, his eyes opened so wide they were in danger of falling out of their sockets. He leapt from the bed and darted down the steps to the ground, prostrating himself on the stone-flagged floor before her, arms outstretched, legs folded under him, his limbs shaking with fear. A mumbled torrent of allegiances and apologies spilled from his mouth.
"Guards!" Mehmet screamed.
"Mother, no." Hanrah shook his head vehemently.
The slave's glance shot to Hanrah, concern spilling from him. Hanrah lifted a hand in his direction; frightened for the life of the slave he had polluted himself with so readily.
Rightly so. Mehmet gave an accusing cackle. "Oh, yes. It is too late to protect your dirty little secret. We must have the guards deal with him." She walked toward Hanrah, collecting a robe on the way over to him. She threw it at his feet. "Cover yourself."
Hanrah ignored the robe, quickly stepping between his mother and the slave.
Mehmet noticed the gleam of defiance in his eyes. Her son, usually meek and pathetic, was reacting. He truly was willing to protect this one. Interesting. Had his spirit finally been stirred?
Guards entered the room behind them. Mehmet smiled at her son.
Hanrah's eyes flickered as he glanced at the guards and then back to her. He opened his arms, obscuring the youth on the floor from her sight. "They will have to kill me first," he declared.
Mehmet widened her eyes, her tone sardonic. "Such bravery, my boy. If only it were aroused for the sake of something worth winning ... such as the treasures of Aleem."
Hanrah's gaze dropped and he looked sheepish, but still he didn't drop his arms.
"Empress?" queried a guard behind her.
Mehmet lifted a hand in acknowledgment and then directed her attention to the cowering youth. Perhaps this was not the right time. It would be a shame to destroy this novel air of defiance her offspring suddenly had about him. She would deal with the slave later, privately, and take great pleasure in doing so.
"Go to your quarters," Mehmet hissed at the shivering boy on the floor, "or I will order your execution, right here and right now."
Unsure, the slave slowly drew himself up to his feet, his hands covering his genitals while he cowered behind Hanrah, clearly terrified to make the wrong move.
"Kazeen ... run!"Hanrahwhisperedurgentlyoverhisshoulder, his expression fear filled. "Go, Kazeen, go," he added, and nodded quickly, indicating the slave should indeed take his leave.
The slave paused and looked longingly at Hanrah, as if afraid to leave him.
Mehmet growled at him.
He needed no more encouragement to make his escape, not even pausing to gather his clothing before he headed for the door at great speed, one hand still covering his genitals, the other lifted as if to shield himself from the watching guards. When the door clattered closed behind him, Mehmet dismissed the guard with a flutter of her hand and no further instruction.
The door closed again, this time with quiet respect rather than a panicked bang. Mehmet stepped closer to Hanrah and tugged on a stray lock of his tousled hair, drawing him around to face her.
Relief flooded his expression.
Mehmet suppressed a smile. "My darling son, the pride of my life." She kept her voice low, and stroked her hand gently over his cheek. Hope flickered across his eyes. Oh, how that grated on her nerves. He should know, instinctively, what she wanted from him: loyalty, bravery, and an heir to secure their position.
She snapped her hand away only to came crashing back down, delivering a viscious slap to his face.
"Yow," he cried, his hand nursing his cheek, his mouth pursed into a pout---decidedly childish for a man in his twentieth year.
A sense of pleasure flared inside her. Inflicting pain did that for her. "Wretched boy," she snarled. "Do I have to remind you that your four younger brothers snarl at your heels like hungry dogs, eager to take your place as emperor?"
He shook his head, his gaze on the floor. The robe she had thrown at him still lay at his feet.
"How is it that your father was one of the most powerful men ever to ride across a battlefield, a man who set fear into everyone he met, and yet you are not fit to be his offspring and carry his line forward?" She glanced down at his flaccid manhood, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. Power was certainly not coming via that route, no.
Hanrah hung his head in shame at her words and their inplication.
Her son could not be relied upon. Instead, she would have to play a much more duplicitous game to get what should rightfully be theirs. Her hand went to the pendant at her neck, the treasured vial that held her ultimate means to obtain power. If all else failed, she would unleash the contents. Then the people of Aleem would be sorry they had not been more forthcoming. Meanwhile, however, she needed Hanrah to be the powerful emperor his father would have been proud of. A leader who was about to bed his bride, plant his seed in her womb, and take her land and chattels as his own.
"It seems I must instruct you how to behave like an emperor, yet again." She kept her voice low and threatening, then growled at him, letting him feel the extreme nature of her dissatisfaction. He looked miserable enough. His father's disappointment in him was what hurt Hanrah most of all, she knew that, for he had loved his father, no matter how different they were. "Bathe and dress, then report to my chambers."
She turned away, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, still rubbing his face, his expression petulant. Cursing Hanrah's weaknesses, she strode across the room and out the chamber door. In the corridor, she grabbed, unceremoniously, the first guard she saw and instructed. "You, fetch Sibias."
She paused, while she reconsidered who should be present. "And bring Amshazar too." Her son's favored friend and advisor should be there to witness this humiliation as well, she decided. Perhaps it would break the nomad's attachment to her son. She was eager to rid them all of Amshazar's annoying influence over Hanrah. "Tell them both to report to my apartments, immediately."
The guard nodded and bowed low, his hand touching back and forth over his lips and forehead while he chanted a stream of loyal vows and backed away from her. Every member of the household knew that look of hers; she made sure of it. Mehmet was renowned and feared amongst her subjects.
Amshazar sat quietly meditating in a concealed tavern amidst the streets of Lhastari. It was a dark and dingy place. The air was humid, for it was small enough to contain every breath emitted by its occupants, every scent lingering on the air and recirculated by the textile swag being wafted overhead. Even the dishes of burning musk ashes set upon the worn wooden tables could not refresh the stale atmosphere, but it was a quiet, secluded place and few inhabitants of the royal palace went to hovels such as this. They had no need to venture out, for all the comforts they might require were provided within the palace walls.
Amshazar had gone there for a moment's peace before responding to the order he had received to attend the Empress Mehmet's chambers. He nursed his dish of wine in one hand and focused on the dim light given out by the flame of a brass lamp that hung low over his table on a dusty chain.
What now? he wondered.
Three hundred and eighty moons had passed since he had been sent to the exotic lands, and the threat of war still simmered all around them. He had insinuated himself into a pivotal player's stronghold, and gained notable influence there whilst at the same time concealing his true identity.
The tensions in the Lhastari palace were increasing rapidly in the days before the greeting party's departure for Aleem, minor arguments and feuds erupting frequently. It was tiresome but necessary to be aware of the feuds. He was eager to be on his way to the city of Suzin. He had convinced Hanrah to send him as part of the greeting party, in order to get to know the Empress Elishiba as soon as possible. She was clearly a key player, and he needed to know and understand her motives soon. The waiting and the atmosphere were, meanwhile, making him restless. There were greater issues at stake than this latest squabble, whatever it was, he had been summoned to attend to. But this preparatory ground must be ridden over, as sure as the trek to a battleground must be covered before the battle may commence.
Drinking down the sour wine, he stood up. He dropped a coin on the table and another at the feet of the small boy who sat in a corner, stripped to the waist, lazily pulling the rope that moved the swag of material overhead, in an attempt to stir the air. The boy grinned at the mysterious and beneficent visitor, waving at him as he left, calling a blessing of the gods after him, while hiding the coin in his belt in case his master, the tavern owner, should see the gift.
Amshazar nodded at the boy, then stepped outside and drew the hood of his robes over his head, concealing his face. The sky was heavy with restless, ochre-streaked clouds. It was quickly growing dark in the passageway outside. The heat of the day hung heavy in the air but the sun was sinking, causing great shadows to encompass the narrow, high-walled streets. Amshazar passed swiftly along them, imposing and solitary.
"Will you take a woman for your pleasures, master?"
Amshazar paused and turned toward the voice, ready to dismiss the woman who had called to him from the shadows. She stood with one arm outreached, holding her robe open so that he could observe her figure, outlined as it was in a dancer's costume, embroidered with worn gemstones, faded and heavily soiled from her hours on the street. He stepped closer, his attention captured by something in the woman's expression.
This woman was no whore. Even those who were not gifted with the sight would notice that much. Unlike the women of the Souk, who happily reveled in their wanton debauchery, this woman took no pleasure from her work. Her chin had lifted when he had responded to her words and he examined her eyes closely.
"Take me with you for the night, master, and you will not be disappointed." The woman stared at him with hope, but her eyes were dull and unhappy.
Amshazar looked deeper, far deeper, and within moments, he saw into her very soul. There was little life within her. All that existed there were fleeting, wistful memories of days gone by, a lost lover, and the image of a pitifully thin child whom she longed to be beside. He glanced around. He had to avoid drawing attention to himself, but ... the boy needed his mother. There was no one in sight. Besides, he found people often did not see what was in front of their very eyes. He was gifted, yes, but the ability to summon the power of the magi was within the reach of every man. The ability to see, understand and tap the source was what eluded the majority.
He lowered his head to hide his face and breathed in, deeply. He invoked the power from deep within, chanting the call of the magi low beneath his breath. He opened his hands when the power began to pulse in his veins. His palms glowed faintly in the gloomy shadows. The woman began to back away, her eyes wide with fear, a strangled cry captured in her throat.
He passed his hand across her brow, instilling her with purpose, and erasing the nature of their encounter from her mind. The woman blinked and started, as if she had not seen him standing in front of her at all.
"Forgive me, for I must go," she said, turning away from him. "My child is ill."
"Wait," he said. "Go to the house of Luma Jerez tomorrow, for he has need of a serving woman in his kitchens, and you will do the job well. That will feed you and your child until he is strong enough to work." With that, he turned away, leaving the woman standing, silently staring after him as he went.
Amshazar shook his head. The province of Karseedia was filled with hunger and despair, whilst the palace itself was filled with every indulgence the inhabitants could desire. He'd heard better things of Aleem. It was a province where the rulers cared for their people and held worthy ideals. But how long would it be before Mehmet sank her claws into those ideals, and crushed them? If he did not step in, and things did not develop as he hoped they might, it would not take long at all. As the thought occurred to him, the gentle laughter of his magus spirit guide, Santor, echoed through his mind, and he smiled to himself. He was here for a reason, and its significance was beyond that of even Mehmet's understanding.
He looked up at the spires that marked the palace out at the very pinnacle of the city. It stood at Lhastari's heart and every narrow street seemed to twine inexorably around it. The guards at the palace gates eyed him with mistrust as they always did, but stepped aside without a word when he drew nearer, swiftly closing ranks again in his wake. He paused a moment in the marbled walls of the entrance passage to the palace, while his eyes grew accustomed to the change in light, then moved on and closed himself into the interior world of the palace.
The intense heat of the afternoon subdued slowly into the dark shadows of the majestic entrance portals. He detested this place, with its rancid aura of Mehmet's power. The woman had pure venom running in her veins. A wry smile escaped him. There was a certain odd fascination in observing it at such close quarters, however, and it was his duty to watch, and to influence. His own powers were implicit and subtle, compared to the blatant harridan of a woman whose land he currently abided within.
There was a hushed atmosphere in the corridors. It was always like this when trouble was afoot. He stopped outside Mehmet's chambers and nodded at the sentry to indicate that he should announce his presence.
His entry into her inner sanctum was met by Mehmet's harsh voice, it rankled yet provoked his spirit---she made him at once wary and cynically amused. She was standing over her son, who sat with his head hanging down, subdued, before her. Her closest acolyte and advisor, Sibias, sat nearby with arms folded, observing her with blatant admiration. The sentry coughed lightly, unable to muster the courage to announce their presence in any other way. Mehmet turned toward the door and the sentry made a hasty exit, leaving Amshazar to find his own way in.
When she saw Amshazar enter the room, Mehmet threw the goblet in her hand onto the table, where it crashed and spilled a dark pool of blood-red wine across the white marble. A servant darted out from the shadows at the room's edge, to silently remove the debris.
"Ah, Hanrah, your friend the interloper has arrived." She cast a disdainful look over the man who had entered the room. Her hands went to her hips, her hair flying out in a heavy surge of rich umber, touched only occasionally with fine lines of white. Her features belied her age; she was a handsome woman with amber eyes, kept beautiful and decadent by her indulgences, yet tainted---in Amshazar's eyes---by her vindictive nature and her lust for power, both of which were so hideously apparent in her expression.
"I suppose as his intimate," she spat the word in Amshazar's direction, "you must speak on behalf of my son, who seems quite unable to speak for himself." She glanced with distaste at the hunched figure before her. "Tell us if you will, Amshazar, why my son sees fit to lower and debauch himself with the celibate nubiles we prepare to service his future Empress?"
Her harsh, accusing laughter echoed around the elaborate outer meeting room of her extensive chambers, a room decorated with exquisite painted screens imported from the far-east, and ornaments studded with precious gems and painted with gold-leaf.
There was a sense of perverse enjoyment about her mood, Amshazar noted. He sensed she was secretly gratified to have the opportunity to vent herself on her progeny. Her overriding emotion toward her own son was annoyance. Once Hanrah had come of age, she no longer had her deceased husband's kingdom under her direct jurisdiction, although nothing had really changed---she manipulated Hanrah as easily as if he were the lowest of the province's subjects.
Hanrah shifted his feet, but did not raise his eyes. Amshazar noticed then that Mehmet's robes were stained at the hem. She wore the finest clothing, fabrics that had been crafted over for many months by many slaves, and yet she held no value or pride in what she already had, only what else she wanted. This greedy trait was the root cause of her lack of fulfillment and bitterness.
Amshazar smiled. "Perhaps Hanrah wanted to examine the young man who has been promised to the chambers of his future wife," he replied, in an ironic tone. "As preparation for their mutual intimacy with the Empress Elishiba."
Mehmet blinked, her lips tightening.
Amshazar gave her another subtle---if sardonic---smile, as he observed her expression altering. "The use of slaves for pleasures of the flesh might be part of their future lives together, surely?"
Her mouth opened then clamped shut again, her eyes glistening with annoyance. Hanrah glanced round at her. His ruffle of unruly curls, mischievous face and slight body, made him look more like a street urchin than a leader of men. Amshazar noted the fading red imprint of her hand on his face. It was not the first time she had hit him.
Amshazar was his friend and mentor; Hanrah had no other because it took confidence and downright audacity to bypass his malevolent and overbearing mother. It was the place he had sought out to best influence things, but he had grown fond of the young Hanrah. Ever since Amshazar had crossed the path of the young emperor's hunting party on the borders of Zadria, he had been in residence. He had directed the young emperor's bow and arrow with some choice words of guidance that day. The two had fast become friends. Hanrah had invited him to become part of the court circle against the wishes of his mother, perhaps the only true rebellion he had ever made---so far.
Dallying with slaves resulted in a small harangue, compared to the outright battle of wills that had ensued over Amshazar's presence. However, Amshazar had managed to exist in relative ease since his arrival at court, much to Mehmet's annoyance. She would prefer to have him do wrong, in order to have him expelled.
During the uneasy silence, Sibias had taken the opportunity to stand up, as if eager to end the interrogation. He had, no doubt, been sitting there witnessing Mehmet's tirade for far too long already.
"Amshazar has a point, albeit somewhat tenuous," he said, stroking his lengthy beard. He offered a gracious smile to Mehmet, to sweeten her in the way only he could.
"Dallying with slave boys is no pastime for an Emperor," she responded, angrily, her amber eyes flashing. "He has tutored concubines whom he ignores, in favor of such diversions."
Sibias shrugged. "Soon he will have his future wife by his side. That will keep him otherwise occupied."
"Indeed," Amshazar interjected. "The Empress Mehmet should remember the more important events that will be upon us soon, and overlook this minor indiscretion."
"Overlook it, again," she replied, reminding them that this was not the first time her wayward son had been discovered with his roving eye set outside her jurisdiction. She tugged restlessly at the ornate amulet that hung around her neck.
Amshazar looked at the pendant, quickly scrutinizing it. The vapors it held moved more restlessly than ever, as if feeding off her mood. It emanated dark and unruly power, the restless presence of the forces captured within the vial causing ripples in the atmosphere. Amshazar had long since guessed the contents, and made himself aware of its state of flux at times like this. He would be much happier if it were not Mehmet who owned such an object.
Mehmet was waiting for a response. Amshazar gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her comment, keeping his expression impassive. Mehmet let out a disgruntled snort, annoyed that her attack had been cut short. Hanrah stood up, realizing the argument had been averted.
"Get out of my sight," she declared, waving her arm in the air, as if her son were a fly that had landed on her.
He smiled amiably at Amshazar and raced toward the door, closely followed by the other attendants who also took their moment to escape the scene.
"Will you never learn?" Sibias muttered, when they were out of her hearing. Hanrah threw him a warning glance---he resented taking instructions from his mother's favored advisor, preferring to speak with his own.
"You could at least be more cautious, to avoid discovery," Amshazar added, eyeing the deviant urchin-leader with amusement. He believed that Hanrah had it in him to be a better ruler than his widowed mother gave him credit for, but guiding the young man under her watchful eye was no easy task.
"'Shazar, I don't know how she found out," Hanrah replied, his expression perturbed, as if he had begun to question it himself.
Sibias mumbled a hurried goodbye and left the pair of them. Amshazar noted the older man's change of mood. He obviously knew that Mehmet was having Hanrah watched. It was likely that she was having everyone in the palace watched. It took one to know one, and Amshazar was as much a watcher as she, although his motives were different.
Amshazar knew that she called him a "spathaka," behind his back, for she considered him a spy within her midst, although there was little she could do about it. The friendship between himself and Hanrah continued to be her only concession to her son, one that she allowed unwillingly.
Once Sibias had gone, Hanrah grew tense and gripped Amshazar's arm. "What of my friend, Kazeen?" His eyes looked haunted. "My mother will have him hunted down and murdered. I told him to run, I can only hope he understood. Can you help him ... for me?"
He clearly cared deeply for the slave who had caused this latest harangue. Amshazar nodded, but did not want to say too much just then, in case they were being observed. "Come, let us sup together, we can discuss it privately."
"Thank you, friend." Hanrah spoke humbly.
Resting his hand on Hanrah's shoulder, Amshazar tried to distract him from the subject until they were alone. "We must raise a goblet together, for tomorrow I leave to collect your future wife."
The smaller man responded with a faint, wary smile and a nod. "I wonder what she will be like," he said, as they walked on.
Amshazar did not reply. From what he had heard said of the Empress Elishiba, she had an intelligent mind and a fiercely strong warrior-heart. She was also wise enough to fight for her country's place in the hierarchy, a fact that had brought her under the scrutiny of the gods.
Yes, she would be good meat for Mehmet, he thought to himself, with much anticipation.
lishiba was ready for them. She smiled to herself as she stripped off her clothing and walked down the steps into her bathing pool. On the ebb of evening, songbirds had gathered in the tranquil courtyard outside her apartments, and she granted their songs a secret audience while she thought through her strategy. She'd settled upon a plan. It relied on her bravery and her wit in the heat of the moment, but if all else failed, she would be in their court. She would die for her cause, if it came to it. She would fight to protect her people, no matter what.
As the water embraced her body, she melted into it, watching as the light lowering across the opposite wall of the chamber charted the passage of the sun sinking in the sky. She leaned her head back on the ledge of the bathing pool and moved her arms in slow circles. The flower petals moving over the surface of the water exuded a heady scent and she floated in the perfumed water intoxicated by the atmosphere.
The pool was adorned with the treasures of their province, and her fingers traced the ornate lapis lazuli and turquoise inlaid tiles around the edge of the huge bathing pool. Her fingers knew the shape of the stones as well as the lines of her own body. These were the valuable stones that made Aleem a popular trading post between lands near and far.
A sound captured her attention, and Elishiba rolled her head to glance after it. Elra, her handmaid, was moving quietly at one side, arranging the oils and cosmetics her mistress would need when she emerged from bathing. Her twin sister, Amra, moved gracefully beside a screen, laying out the vivid silken tunic and copper waistband that Elishiba had requested to wear that evening.
Elishiba watched their graceful movements. Their waist-length hair, the color of ripe dates, moved in silken ripples as they swayed with the innate sensuousness of the harem women they resembled. They mirrored each other in their gestures, as they did in so much else. Their voluptuous figures and attractive features were so identical that Elishiba had them wear sashes to tell them apart. Elra wore a bind of indigo across her body, and Amra a scarlet. Sometimes she thought of them as one woman, two halves of the same, perfect creature. In their sisterly affections they reminded her of a happy child, caught kissing its own reflection in the looking glass.
Amra turned to her mistress and gave a gentle smile. "Do you wish to wear the jewels of pageant during the festivities tonight?"
Elishiba pondered the question. The visitors she and her father were receiving were an unknown quantity, and they hosted them with caution, for it was the greeting party representing Karseedia that was due to arrive that day. These were the designated acolytes of Hanrah and his mother, the dowager Empress, Mehmet. They were the men who were to escort her back to their land, her new home.
"No, the simple lapis. We shall exhibit the wealth of our land, but not so much that it indicates willingness to share it with them."
Amra bowed her head, turning toward the outer apartments to prepare the jewels.
Elishiba moved in the water and looked up at the high window. Lush green foliage crept through the narrow arches, filtering the remaining light and dappling it across the marble floor toward her. Elra was lighting the candles set into evenly spaced niches in the walls and soon the room was infused with their warm glow, outshining the fading light of the outside world.
The outside world ... very soon, she would have to leave Aleem for Karseedia. She loved her home. It pained her to even think of leaving it, but her heart was strengthening. It had to.
"Elishiba, may I have your attention for a moment?"
The husky male voice drew her back from her thoughts. It was Xerxes, her closest and most loyal manservant. He was a fine Aleem warrior, a leader of The Immortals, and one who took his vows very seriously. The Immortals were so-called because they believed defending their beloved land until the death would bring them immortality. Devoted and powerful, they itched to do battle with Karseedia, and Elishiba feared the wisdom of even taking a small number of them with her to Lhastari.
Xerxes stood to the side of the sunken bath. The drapes of his robe still swayed with movement as he stopped at the top of the steps that descended into the bath. With his massive, muscled arms folded across his chest, he presented a powerful image of male strength, and she admired it, openly, smiling up at him.
He returned her smile, indulgently, as he looked down at her, his dark eyes made even blacker by the sight of her body through the petals on the water. Elishiba knew it was shown to good effect against the blues and greens of the tiles, and the crystal waters that ran down to Suzin, from the Zaneesie Mountains. The water was piped into the palace and then warmed in a huge furnace, for her to bathe in. His eyes on her imbued her with her own kind of strength, lusty female power.
She gestured fluidly with her hand, indicating that he should begin. He hesitated, his eyes watching her breasts as they bobbed gently near the surface of the water. The candlelight glinted on his smooth, golden skin. It was the color of the sandstone walls of the temples when the afternoon sun warmed them. Elishiba watched as the beautiful shape of his shaven head was highlighted by the wavering patterns of the candlelight, dancing across the bones like shadows on the far hills at sunset.
She was very fond of him, and they had been lovers, until the latest turn of events had forced her to put some distance between them. It was hard, to say the least. He was an adept and passionate lover, and he had been both angry and hurt at first. Eventually, he had acquiesced and agreed it was for the best thing to do for their people, but the history between them remained.
"The preparations for the banquet are complete. Everything is just as Elishiba has requested." He bowed, but his eyes still lingered on her body. He inclined his head. He was waiting for her to instruct him.
She idled a moment, enjoying the sight of desire in his eyes. The shape of his head alone was handsome. He knew that, and had it shaved daily, to catch her eye. His mouth was wide, expressive; his brows were heavy dark lines, echoing the dark line of hair that grew down his chin. His ears were adorned with rows of silver hoops, evenly spaced, except for one gap, where she herself had knocked the hoop from his ear in a moment of blind and ecstatic passion. He had left the piercing naked and wore the small scratch she had caused him unwittingly, with true pride, reminding her of his prowess.
Elishiba smiled at him and let her body float up through the water. "I feel there was something else you wished to say---a comment on our visitors perhaps. They have arrived?"
He smiled in response to her words. "You are perceptive, as always, Mistress." His tongue lingered on the name he chose to call her at that moment. "They have arrived," he continued. "Two men, with a number of slaves and a heavy guard ... however, their soldiers seem unwilling to accept our hospitality."
He adopted a disgruntled expression. He had made it clear on more than one occasion that he felt their position would be better secured on a battlefield, but Elishiba was a leader of a different kind. Too many lives had been lost to similar causes over the centuries, and now it was time to cut to the heart of the matter. Elishiba did not aspire to be a leader who hid behind her army rather than talk and negotiate. However, centuries of turmoil and death in battle were not easy precedents to overlook, and the way had to be led by a grand gesture---the betrothal. Beyond that, Elishiba intended to negotiate her way toward peace and cooperation.
"It is our duty as hosts to break down such wariness and teach trust, is it not?" She swam across the pool toward the steps.
"As you say, Empress." He stayed at the edge of the pool, a bemused expression on his face.
"What else have you to tell me?"
"I thought you would be rather amused to know that among the gifts they have brought for you, there is a selection of nubiles from the northern countries. Pale, thin creatures they are, too." He gave a mocking frown, as if in distaste. "They are a gift sent by Hanrah's mother, and are offered to ... to keep Elishiba supple and pleasured." His mouth twitched into a smirk and his eyes glinted with amusement.
Elishiba laughed aloud, the sound echoing within the cavern of her bathing room. "Did you hear that, Elra?"
Elra nodded, joining the other two in their amusement.
"Do I need their offerings? Is Elishiba not kept happy enough by her own chosen companions?" She flashed her eyes at him.
"Indeed," Xerxes replied. His body wavered on the edge of the pool. The heat in his eyes passed through her flesh as she rose out of the water, beginning to mount the steps. She looked at his muscled arms. His powerful shoulders looked inviting against the pure white of his robes, slung low across one shoulder. He moved slightly, flexing his chest as her gaze crossed it.
Her body responded with desire. She glanced up and smiled at him. He turned and took the wrap Elra carried toward her mistress, opening it for her himself as she stepped from the pool.
"Thank you, Xerxes."
His gaze met hers as she turned into the robe.
She returned his gaze, unflinching. "I trust you will bring your favored concubine of the moment to the banquet this evening."
He nodded his head slightly, his smile turning wry, yet lifting one corner of his mouth. It was her way of reminding him of their agreement. Their relationship was strong and trusting, but it was also edged with desire and she often teased him this way. If things had been different, she thought wistfully as she watched him leave, perhaps it might have been Xerxes she would have taken as her betrothed. They would have ruled Aleem well together, and she could have been happy. But that was not meant to be, even though they had both thought of it often enough.
She sighed, and adjourned to her dressing chamber.
Ramsis, Elishiba's father, was just as restless and uneasy about the visitors, but his worry manifested itself in different ways. Later that evening he paced behind Elishiba while she sat before her looking glass. Elishiba watched him while Elra prepared her for the banquet, applying kohl around Elishiba's indigo eyes.
"I have spoken with Sibias," Ramsis told her. "He is the older man of the two advisors, and he is close to Hanrah and his mother, Mehmet. I feel it is to Mehmet that he owes most loyalty, however, for he has been with her for many years."
Elishiba frowned, she did not like the stories she had heard of Mehmet. She was a notorious empress who had ruled harshly beside her warmonger of a husband. "Is this Sibias as power hungry as his mistress?"
Ramsis paused, and laid a comforting hand over his daughter's shoulder. His eyes showed the doubt that echoed in his soul. The atmosphere of change was devastating to him---he felt weak, manipulated by an inevitable situation. He no more wanted his daughter to leave his side than she did. He squeezed her shoulder. "No, Sibias seems fair. So too is the other man, the one they call Amshazar."
Elishiba looked at her own reflection as she considered her father's words. Elra was painting her lips with precious dark red pigment from a tiny inlaid box. It offset the rich purple satin of the long tunic she wore; the opulent colors were like bright jewels against the ebony of her hair.
She had heard many strange stories of this man, Amshazar, whom some also called "The Nomad." Officially, he came with Sibias to lead her and talk to her about her future role as Empress of Karseedia. Rumor had it that Amshazar was not Karseedian. He was said to be from a distant land and had strange powers, that he could read minds and win the trust of anyone through his sorcery. Somewhat reluctantly---for she was made curious---she reserved judgment until she met him, and reminded herself that whatever he was, he was, above all, annexed to her enemies.
"That is not all they say about him, Father, we must be cautious." She leaned her head to one side, her heavy hair falling back as Elra hooked ornate lapis lazuli gems through her ears.
Ramsis glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his hand on his chest, where his breathing was labored. "Do not fear, my child, I will do my best to make sure that no harm comes to you. I have pleaded with the gods. I have asked for their intervention. They will send us a sign and grant us assistance."
He fell silent then, as if he wished to say no more, or feared that he had already said too much.
Elishiba caught the subtle inplication in his words, but did not press him on it. Her father's faith in the gods was fierce, unwavering. She prayed for the very same herself, even though she did not feel as sure as he was on the matter of the gods' intervention. Who or what would they send, if they deemed the Aleemite plea just? She wanted no war, nor did her father. They wanted cooperation, peace in this time of unrest. They wanted protection for their people. What manner of assistance would enable them to achieve this?
Her father looked wistful and then he smiled, and she knew they shared the same curious thoughts in that moment. His long graying hair fell about his noble head in waves, as if its strands were gentle thoughts emerging from his mind.
She smiled back and turned to him after Elra finished settling the collar of gems around her neck. "Come, let us go to the banquet and I shall judge these two envoys for myself."
She rose to take her father's arm. Together, they walked through the palace, and across the central courtyards and elegant gardens toward the banqueting hall. A trail of servants walked alongside them, carrying long torches to light their path. The night was warm, the air palpitating with the scent of the jasmine that trailed over the walls of the court; the sky looked mellow and almost plush with hazy moonlight.
Despite the heavy weight on her shoulders, Elishiba entered the banqueting hall with a sense of anticipation. She was keen to meet the guests. It was an important occasion and extensive efforts had been put into the evening's entertainment for them and their visitors.
The banqueting hall was the largest room in the palace, gaunt and majestic. Its ancient walls were hung with heavy embroideries from around their province. Each depicted images of life in the region, from as far as the mountains that surrounded Aleem. As Elishiba and her father walked the length of the great hall, she glanced, as she always did, from image to image. She felt as if she were traveling amongst the villagers who had taken the time to depict their lives in woven threads for Ramsis and Tala's wedding. Her mother, Tala Ekana, had died when Elishiba was young, but she had chosen the arrangement of the tapestries and Elishiba always felt she knew her mother better through them.
Chimes heralded their entrance. The warrior guarding the door alerted the inner guests to their host's presence and Helena, her father's musician, stilled her fingers against her stringed harp and rose from her cushioned stool. She bowed her head as Ramsis and Elishiba passed her by. Ramsis looked fondly at Helena, his concubine, as he passed.
Elishiba also exchanged smiles with the woman, with whom she fared well. Often she would allay her deepest fears for her people by reminding herself of Helena's young son, Tariq, her half-brother. If good fortune did not choose to reward Elishiba and her father, Tariq would become emperor, and as he grew, he would surely fight for the people of Aleem in their place.
As they approached their places at the long, low table at the head of the room, Elishiba noticed an older man there, a stranger.
He was standing, awaiting their arrival. Her father whispered that this was the Karseedian they called Sibias. He wore loose trousers with a belted shirt, a big man, heavily set, with silvering hair and a ringleted beard streaked with white.
"I am honored to meet you. The Daughter of Ramsis is as beautiful as we have heard." He bowed his head low before her when introduced, as custom demanded, but his words held a false note that she didn't overlook.
Sibias watched her through narrowed eyes as she merely nodded in response to his greeting, and moved on past him to take her place at the table. She had no intention of trusting this man, despite her father's more positive attitude toward him, and her instincts were not without good cause.
She nestled into the large, silk-bound cushions beside her father's place, at the center of the long and low feasting table. Despite her steely determination to make the plan work, rebellion had a grip on her at that moment. Whilst Ramsis spoke quietly with Sibias, she listened instead to the musician, watching Helena's delicate movements appreciatively, and nibbled on savories---roasted ostrich and goose, braised meats bound in tender pastry nests. The flavors enticed her taste buds, each in turn. She lingered, before indulging herself on each morsel.
The conversation between Sibias and Ramsis occasionally reached her. They spoke of the trade routes, how they might be expanded and made strong through the union of their lands. Their conversation was staged and polite and she felt little interest in it. Instead, she tried to focus her mind, sure in her heart that somehow this dreadful union could be averted.
As her gaze wandered, she saw Xerxes across the room, seated with several of his men. A dark maiden in scarlet robes sat by his side and Elishiba looked at her with curiosity. This had to be his woman, and she was a beauty. The woman looked proud to be by his side. And why wouldn't she be? Elishiba mused, sadly. Whilst she found that a certain sense of regret invaded her, she was also pleased to see he had honored her request to bring his woman to the event. When he caught her eye, she acknowledged him with an approving smile and a nod of her head.
The court poet recited three new works. Ramsis had risen and moved amongst his guests in the background, chatting to the families of the officers of The Immortals, and court officials, scattered at tables, greeting them. Elishiba watched him fondly.
When two flute players joined Helena, the dancers took the floor to move in brightly colored weaves of movement, following where the music led them. Elishiba allowed the sensual pleasures of the occasion to relax her, supping on the plum-colored wines, breathing the aromas of perfumed sweetmeats before tasting them.
It was with surprise, then, that she felt a dramatic shift in the room's atmosphere, as if a powerful vapor passed through her mind and captured her attention, as if it had entered her body and touched her very soul. Her skin was suddenly alert; her senses no longer relaxed, but keen and focused. That is how she became aware of the sudden presence of the other man at the table: Amshazar. She had neither seen him arrive, nor had she seen him take his place to her left, on the other side of Sibias.
He was just suddenly there.
This must be the man they call The Nomad, she thought to herself, for she had known it was Amshazar before she had even turned to look at him. His presence in the room had altered it completely.
As she glanced over at him, her breath felt trapped in her chest. He was a compelling personage---of that there was no doubt. She was surprised most of all by his outstanding looks, for his reputation had not even hinted at the striking nature of his appearance. His hair fell past his shoulders in a dark brown, mahogany-brushed curtain, trailing into loose curls at its tails.
His features were those of the soaring hawk, keen and observant, about to swoop on its prey. His darkly fringed and hooded eyes glowed emerald green in the flickering candlelight, his sharp eyebrows echoing the distinct line of his cheekbones.
The defined line of his jawbone was clean-shaven, his skin a tawny color, gently sun-kissed. Devastatingly attractive, he wore it with an unassuming air. Dressed in charcoal robes, he was discreet and set apart from them all in every way, and yet he had affected the very air she breathed, she was sure of it.
His posture was quietly self-assured and yet watchful as he engaged in a whispered conversation with Sibias. Elishiba watched the stranger, unable to take her gaze away from his flashing eyes and his chiseled mouth while he spoke. When he glanced her way, he fixed her with those eyes, and then inclined his head in acknowledgement, a slight smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.
She tried to look away, but could not.
He had a penetrating, unafraid stare. He was indeed a hunter. And she was captured in a glance, as if he had pinned her with one sharp talon. The look in his eyes both tormented and aroused her. Her heart beat erratically. She could not drag her gaze away.
In the background she was vaguely aware that Helena had begun another song, accompanying the delicate notes she spun by her slender fingers, with her beautiful voice. Thankfully, he looked away, breaking the tension. It was not until then that Elishiba she realized she had not responded to his acknowledgement. He had affected her so strangely. Her blood was racing. Her hairline felt damp, the palms of her hands too. She lifted her goblet and drank heavily from it.
He stood up and walked in her direction. She rearranged herself on the cushions in an effort to regain her composure. He was tall and elegant, leanly muscled, and he walked with the quality of a man who answered to no one. Bowing graciously before her, he caused most of the people in the room to turn and watch his actions.
"Empress Elishiba of Aleem, as your Father is with his guests, may I present myself? I am Amshazar."
He spoke quietly but distinctly, and the rich tone of his voice resonated through her body. Whilst his greeting was polite, he seemed to insinuate himself in some other way. She felt as if he had touched her, intimately. Her heart thudded in her chest. That the gods had given him their secret gifts, she did not doubt. He had a dark, brooding quality and an aura of knowing things beyond their immediate manfestations. She felt as if he could read her thoughts, for when he looked at her it was as if his very spirit climbed inside her mind and body.
"Welcome, to our home," she said, with effort. It was difficult enough to welcome these strangers, without the overwhelming nature of this man's stare.
He smiled, as if amused by a private joke. "It is interesting ... to finally see its legendary charms for myself." His eyes raked over her from head to toe as he spoke.
She could not tell if his appraisal was deprecating or complimentary, and her hackles automatically began to rise. She pursed her mouth but had no chance to reply, for he was approached on one side by her father, looking concerned, and Sibias, on the other, looking suspicious.
He did not need to look to sense them closing, that much was obvious. He stepped back, folding his arms, a slightly disdainful smile on his face. Everyone was watching, and Elishiba found that for some reason it took a great effort to remain calm and collected.
"We must present Elishiba's gifts," Sibias said, forcing the attention away from whatever had been said. Amshazar had not taken his focus from Elishiba, but nodded and turned away. The two older men stood awkwardly for a moment, and then Ramsis also returned to his seat beside his daughter, while Sibias instructed his attendant.
"You look startled, my precious," her father whispered, squeezing her hand with concern.
Elishiba assured him it was nothing to be concerned about, and then sat dazed and smarting, as a retinue of servants began to heap gifts upon the floor in front of her. There were exotic furs and carved boxes, a feathered headdress and matching jewelencrusted waist and armbands. It was most likely looted bounty, she assumed wryly, as she watched the stack of goods grow. There was a hand-painted silk robe of some beauty, which caught her eye, reluctantly, for she was determined to show little interest.
"These are gifts from Hanrah, selected by his own hand for his betrothed," Sibias said. "Mehmet sends you a more practical gift." There was a smug tone to his voice. "Slaves, chosen by Mehmet herself." He smiled and there was a decidedly practiced air about his expression that rankled.
Perhaps everything about these two men would make her feel uneasy, she thought. They were here to destroy her world, after all.
Sibias clicked his fingers and three young men entered the banqueting hall. A hushed and expectant murmur ran around the assembled guests at the sight of the slaves. Slavery was not an accepted part of Aleem society, not had it been for many years, although it was widely practiced in the surrounding provinces. Their dynasty preferred to believe that people who came willingly gave more of themselves, and discouraged the practice.
The youths were slim and pale, just as Xerxes had said, and they were dressed identically in short, plain tunics, but differed from one another in their coloring. One had the fairest hair she had ever seen. Flaxen, it was cut short, but fell forwards over his eyes. It gave him a shy, self-aware look. When they stood beside Sibias, she noticed that each was different, yet of the same mold: lean and delicate in appearance, with strange gaunt features. One had darker hair than his companions, but none were dark as Aleemites.
Elishiba wondered about their histories. How long had they been slaves? How long since they had been taken from their homes and families in the north? She tried not to engage in looking at them and focused instead on Sibias, arching one eyebrow at him quizzically. He shifted awkwardly under her enquiring gaze.
"Four slaves, to use as you wish." His hand waved in the direction of the young men.
She looked again. "Four? I see only three."
"Ah, yes," Sibias frowned. "One, um ... was forced to remain in Karseedia. Mehmet did mean for you to have a set of four." He cleared his throat abruptly.
Out of the corner of her eye Elishiba noticed that Amshazar stroked his chin whilst smiling to himself, as if privately amused at Sibias's error. It made her curious to hear the full story, but she shelved it for the moment.
She shrugged. "I have no need of Mehmet's slaves." She was gratified to see that Sibias was immediately irritated by her reaction. Did they think her some swooning girl, a blushing novice who needed to be tutored in every way?
"Perhaps Elishiba will devote herself to her new husband, and does not require the service of any slaves to pleasure her in the Aleemite way." It was Amshazar who had spoken.
Elishiba glared at him, for it seemed he was mocking them, as if he were intent on being provocative. First he defied convention and approached her without the presence of her father for introduction, and then he ridiculed their ways. Aleem was a decadent society; she knew that---one that held physical pleasure in the highest esteem, as a manifest twin to spirituality. He was obviously knowledgeable about their ways, but she would not allow him to mock, oh no.
"Perhaps I will do as I wish," she retorted, quickly, unable to hold her tongue in check. She would keep one, merely to put Amshazar in his place. She could free the youth from his slavery if he wanted to leave. But she could not take them all, at least not publicly, for that would be too compliant with Mehmet's wishes, and she had to indicate her independence. She would find a way for them all to be freed of their captors, and that alone would be a triumph over Mehmet.
And a symbol of things to come?
The thought made her more determined.
"Tell me your names," she requested, giving the three youths her attention. The one with the darker hair glanced at his companions. Since they were obviously rendered speechless by the directness of their new mistress, he spoke for them all, happily calling her attention to himself.
"I am Patrino." His expression was decidedly lustful. He nodded to the others. "Anton and Kerr."
Elishiba's gaze drifted back to the fair-haired youth who had originally caught her attention, Kerr. As if bidden by her enquiring stare, his eyes rose to meet hers. They were palest blue, like a softened sky after a rainstorm in the emerging sunshine, almost opaque. He was already set apart from the others in her eyes. "Have you any special skills, Kerr?"
"They all have special skills," Amshazar interjected, with a distinctly ironic tone and more than a hint of amusement. "They have each been trained to offer you something unique in terms of physical pleasure."
He seemed intent on breaking her concentration on the nubiles. "I wish to hear him speak, not you," she said dismissively, sending a cool smile in his direction.
Amshazar lifted his brows, but seemed more amused than shocked by her remark.
The young man spread out his hands, palms upward. Keeping his eyes lowered, he answered. "To bring your body and spirit peace and pleasure, with my hands." He spoke with such an unusual voice, subtle and pausing, as if with difficulty. He was not speaking in his own tongue, perhaps, Elishiba thought. In the ensuing silence, while Elishiba looked at his downcast blond lashes, his hands trembled slightly and he looked up at her again. The flop of blond hair teased down over one eye.
Elishiba nodded at him, smiling. "And other things, perhaps? Do you sculpt?"
He broke into a smile. She had been right in guessing he was an artisan. "I am a painter, your highness," he answered, simply, nodding enthusiastically. There was a natural vitality about him she liked.
"I would like you to show me your skills soon, Kerr." She gestured with her hand toward the court attendant who had led them in, indicating that her choice was complete. The young men were led away. Elishiba looked toward Amshazar, expectantly, but he uttered no caustic remark this time. His expression was as watchful as before, stalking her every reaction, but guarded. She could not, in truth, fathom him, and decided he was merely being careful not to expose his thoughts. It was ironic, for he seemed so able to read those of others.
When she retired to her chambers some time later, she found Elra and Amra sitting curled up on the bed, giggling and whispering together. Amra was combing out her sister's waist-length hair while they talked. Elishiba nodded at them in greeting and indicated they should carry on. She felt a little unnerved, for some reason. It had been a strange evening. Sibias had been pompous and overbearing. He had quickly bored them by talking about the extensive and secluded training of slaves in their province, a topic that repelled his audience. However, it was the meeting with Amshazar that had put her in this uneasy mood, his watchfulness and his comments, no doubt.
She sat in her dressing chair, thinking about Amshazar, wondering about him. The sisters watched her and quickly noticed her distracted state. When she stretched herself like a cat, and began to undo the coil of gems at her throat, they acted. Elra unfurled her limbs and crept to the edge of the huge bed on her hands and knees, before slipping off it and walking to Elishiba's side, to assist in her disrobing.
Elishiba merely murmured appropriately when Elra asked her about the evening.
"He is attractive, yes?" Amra asked, joining them. Her sister giggled and hushed her.
"I am sorry, Empress," Elra explained, "but we saw him in the corridors, you see, and we could not help noticing."
More giggles.
Elishiba smiled, her eyes rolling. They were always like this when they saw a man they both liked, and he was attractive---there was no denying that.
"Attractive, yes ... but a dangerous man, too, I'll warrant."
"Dangerous?" Elra asked, eyes wide, her expression surprised. She looked quizzically at Amra over Elishiba's head. Amra shrugged in response.
Elishiba drifted with her thoughts and within moments found a picture of Amshazar reclining on her bed had manifested itself in her imagination. Quite impossible, of course. Pleasure slaves were one thing, to dally with an esteemed advisor to her enemy was quite another. The image refused to leave her mind, nonetheless.
After a few moments, while they stored away her gems and brushed out her hair, Elra broke the silence again, with another question. "When will you have him for your own?"
"What?" Elishiba stood up, causing chimes to echo through the room as her earrings scattered to the floor. She turned to look at the two girls. "Whatever do you mean?" She flushed, embarrassment swamping her, for they had guessed her thoughts.
The two women glanced at one another, and Elra answered. "He is yours to take, isn't he? The gift from the North?"
Elishiba sighed. They were talking about the nubile, Kerr. Why had she not realized? She sat down again and apologized. "I am so uneasy about this betrothal," she explained. "So, you like the pale young man?"
The twins giggled in response.
Elishiba smiled. That was enough of an answer. She had chosen the right one. The sisters would welcome him in and perhaps find pleasure with him. They could do with a distraction during this time of tension. Besides which, she reflected, he might prove useful to them through his knowledge of the Karseedian court that had taken him and trained him as a slave.
"Is it true that he has never been taken in passion?" Elra whispered, close against Elishiba's ear, her arm linked around her mistress's shoulders.
"My, oh my. Palace gossip does spread quickly ... apparently it is so. He is gifted and pure."
Elra removed her waistband, setting it on a table at one side.
Elishiba could see the blatant interest in their eyes. "And you two would have him for yourselves, to remedy his virginal state?"
The sisters blushed but Elishiba chuckled, drawing them closer. "Truthfully, I selected him because I wish to give the young man his freedom, as I would them all. But I think if we treat Kerr well we might keep him with us for a while, to see what we might learn from him of his previous owners."
"You think we might be able to make him enjoy his days with us?" Amra murmured, sensing fun.
"Enjoy them ... and desire more, perhaps," Elishiba replied. "I would rather he chose to stay with us. You know that. I feel sure you could entrance him. Can I entrust that duty to the pair of you?"
Elra's smile was wide and delighted, and Elishiba embraced her affectionately. She encouraged them, amused as the two sisters evolved a scheme to win the young man over. Amra pointed out that they must stimulate the desire for him to stay quite early on, so that he thought it was his own choice when the time came, and he would be more willing. Elishiba thought it quite resourceful.
Happily distracted, the three of them shared their ideas about the young innocent into the early hours, conspiratorially.
The faint sound of the women's laughter escaped from the balconied windows into the silent hours. Their movements caused the candles to flicker, casting shadows around the room. In the gardens below, Amshazar listened, and watched the flickering light.
The moonlight was waning. Clouds had scudded across the night sky since earlier that evening. He observed the way the amber light spilled down from her balcony while he contemplated the situation. The unlikely coupling of the scamp, Hanrah, with the exquisite Elishiba had amused him, but only momentarily. She was truly exceptional. Her spirit had resonated through him as soon as he had set eyes on her. She had the gift, oh yes, just as the magi leaders had predicted when they had discussed what might be behind Sevita's peculiar interest in the Empress of Aleem.
Yes, he mused wryly. Had women been accepted as magi novices---as Sevita wished---and Elishiba presented at the Magi school, she would have been accepted. Of that there was no doubt. Her soul was strong, her purpose true, and she had the gift. Her skills were slumbering, unused, as he had been told to expect. That was something he would help her with, something he would guide her to recognize and nurture. Was this what Sevita had hoped for? By perhaps proving her point through a woman such as Elishiba, she could sway the council on her other, more personal, cause?
Elishiba's talent and potential was something he had been prepared for, but her beauty and intelligence had more than surprised him, much more. He had not considered that Elishiba would stir anything in him other than a desire to guide her to her destiny. However, as soon as he saw her, he wanted her. When she set her steady gaze on him, her spirit and sensuality had rung a clarion cry through his very being.
"A real beauty, isn't she?"
Amshazar started, and looked at his lurking spirit guide with a frown. He was hovering in the bushes a mere arm's length away. "Santor, although I value your presence whenever you choose to present yourself, I have to ask---must you sneak up on me this way?"
Santor shrugged his bony shoulders. "Apologies, old friend." He had only partially crossed over from the spirit world, and his image was faint. His tufted beard and hair were hardly distinct from his face, and his robes were barely there at all. However, his wily, amused expression was not lost on Amshazar.
He shook his head. "I warrant the magi leaders would not have given you this role had they realized what a danger you are."
Santor adopted a more serious expression. "I'm honored to be your spirit guide in this and all things," he said, with an underlying mocking tone in his voice.
Amshazar returned to his observation of the balcony. A moment later he was jabbed in the ribs by a bony elbow.
"Admit it, though, you were surprised when you saw how truly enticing she is, the daughter of Ramsis, yes?"
Amshazar threw a warning glance at his guide, who had a tendency to overplay his mischievous streak at times---not an ideal tendency for a magus spirit guide, but one it appeared they were both stuck with. "The situation is complicated by the attraction, I cannot deny that."
Santor chortled to himself. "Oh, I think it is within your power to resist this urge you have to possess her ... but will you really want to resist it, Amshazar, hmm?" Even though his form was not fully realized, the twinkle in his eyes was.
Amshazar ignored the statement, arching an eyebrow at him, unwilling to answer such a provocative remark.
"The Aleemites are passionate people," Santor went on, "their Empress is a perfect example of that. She is a lush woman." He moved his hands through the air, as if outlining an invisible female form. "To bed her would, I'm sure, be most---"
"Hold your tongue, if you are able, and stop quizzing me on the subject," Amshazar whispered. "I am trying to order my thoughts for a more pressing matter, that of revealing my more noble intentions to her."
"Ha, are you indeed?" Santor nodded, knowingly. "I'll leave you to stand here in the bushes gazing up at her window, while you contemplate these more pressing matters; shall I?"
Amshazar gave him a terse smile. "Why don't you do just that, and perhaps you will choose to converse with me more sensibly in the morning."
"Perhaps I will." Santor dipped his head and with another quiet chuckle, was gone.
"More of a trial than a guide," Amshazar murmured to himself, after he was gone. It was infuriating at times, having a spirit guide who thrived on mischief. Brooding, he continued to merge with the night shadows after Santor's unexpected intrusion.
What Santor said was true, as ever, though. It made him ponder the situation, and that was his guide's purpose. Whilst he knew he must not reveal the reason for his presence too soon---for it might put her in danger---he wondered how long he could afford to wait. The moment would come of its own accord, when their minds could meet and exchange this vital knowledge, the knowledge that would empower her and help her survive the treacherous times ahead. He only hoped it was soon enough.
The sound of her laughter reached him once more, and he sighed into the night. Above all, he needed to keep his wits about him, in order to encourage the moment when it arose. He couldn't afford to be distracted by her beauty and her feminine allure. He had chosen the life of a magus, eschewing the normal path a man might take. The gods had chosen him to undertake their will, and the goddess Sevita had sent him because she knew he would help her prove her additional point about women as magi.
So he assumed.
He stared up at the balcony, wondering, suddenly unsure. Eventually, he left the hidden spot, but only after the candles faded and the night sky had begun to brighten.
Yoshi, Elishiba's seeress, was intent on the dual pursuits of speculating about Amshazar, while attending Elishiba in her chambers. With the back of her wrist, she pushed back the scarves that encroached over her forehead
"This man they call Amshazar, he is no Karseedian, no. Perhaps he is from another place, another time." She hummed to herself, as was her way when she followed her own thoughts.
Elishiba knew she ought to hush her seeress, or tell her to focus her mind on something more relevant, but she was reluctantly curious to hear anything about Amshazar, so let her chatter on.
"There's that special glow about him, oh yes." Yoshi's eyes glistened, heavily fringed and full of hidden secrets and visions. She flashed them at Elishiba, to emphasize her words.
"You are sure he has powers?" Elishiba asked, tensing as she did. If Yoshi confirmed what she herself had felt the previous evening, her worries would only multiply.
"I am sure enough, but wait while I ponder it more." Pausing in her task, she leaned back on her small stool and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her veils slipped back over her thick, short black hair, and wisped lazily to rest over her shoulders. She hated to wear her hair long, but covered her head in scarves to create the illusion that would make her accepted in their society. Despite her many years there, Yoshi was no court player at heart.
Yoshi had been selected by Elishiba's mother to be Elishiba's nursemaid, and had been by her side since her birth. She had been one of her closest companions ever since. Aside from her companionship, Yoshi also had the gift of sight, the sight of things yet unknown. She could tell fortunes and occasionally had visions that would direct her chosen ones to wise words and actions. Elishiba waited, breath bated, to hear what she might have to say.
Her eyes flashed open and her mouth moved into a secret smile. She eyed Elishiba up and down appreciatively as if responding to her thoughts, and then bent to pursue her task once again. She was crushing vanilla pods between her hands, and then rubbing the oil over Elishiba's hands and arms.
"What do you see?" Elishiba asked, growing frustrated. She knew by her actions that Yoshi had seen an image of the future.
Yoshi shrugged, chuckling to herself. "You find him pleasing to look upon, yes?" Her softly rounded features glowed and she beamed, her expression filled with amusement.
Elishiba tried to control her annoyance. It was a direct question regarding a subject she had yet to completely understand. "He is a beautiful man, yes." She tried to sound objective. "But it cannot be, you know that."
Yoshi shook her head, her expression growing serious. She spoke low and intimately. "You and the magus Amshazar---"
Elishiba interrupted, halting her with hand upon her shoulder. "Magus? He is truly a magus, as we have heard in the rumors?"
Yoshi nodded. "Oh, yes. And you are destined to share the most intimate gifts of the love goddess with him ... he will fan the flames around you and then draw and sup from the waters of Sevita's secret oasis, deep within your body. He will bring you much pleasure."
Elishiba felt suddenly light-headed.
She closed her eyes, but as she did she was more acutely aware her skin tingled and her intimate places felt hot, damp and heavy. She chastised herself, reluctant to allow herself to drift with the physical responses that were stirred in her at that moment. Whether Amshazar was friend or foe was far from being established. Her father and her country were at risk. She had to tread carefully.
Yoshi shook her head and continued. "He will bring you many gifts; he will unleash the woman in you and more. You will find your power and your inner vision, that which I have not been able to reveal to you all these years." Yoshi sighed in disappointment.
This last was a more familiar topic of conversation. Yoshi had often told her she had the ability of sight unseen, but Elishiba had found no evidence of it to date and, being a pragmatic soul, dismissed her words. Now that Yoshi was attaching so much significance to this mysterious man, this enemy of her people, it only served to send Elishiba into confusion, even though she wouldn't admit to it. Instead she blamed the scent of the vanilla. It was heady and intoxicating; that, she decided, must be the cause of her lack of focus.
"Enough." She drew Yoshi's hands together to stop her actions. "Elra, call for the nubile ... it is time for us to make him one of our own."
Amra and Elra rose from their places quickly, their eyes sparkling. Elishiba felt a momentary pang of pity for the poor youth. The sisters were going to create mischief with him, but it would do him no harm---far from it---and the interlude would be a welcome distraction from the sense of uncertainty that increasingly threatened her equilibrium.
"Are you all ready?" she asked, and her question included Yoshi.
The twins began to move in response. Elra went to the bedchamber. Amra ran across the room and pulled the bell rope to summon an attendant.
Yoshi nodded, a slight smile around her mouth as she brushed a stray vanilla seed from Elishiba's arm. "It will be, you and this Amshazar ... by the flames of the love Goddess Sevita, it will be."
She stood up, fetching her stool up in one hand, drawing her scarves back into place with the other. "And the pure one, this nubile slave." Yoshi nodded toward Amra, who had pulled the bell rope to summon Kerr. "He will also be part of this, for he holds a secret, hidden link."
She clipped her veil across the lower part of her face and left the room, hurriedly, so that Elishiba didn't have time to question her last and most confusing comment.
Whatever did she mean?
Elishiba fretted on the remark. Was the Karseedian slave part of this as their informant on the Karseedians, as she hoped he would be, or simply as a member of her staff?
"Riddles," she grumbled. "What use to me are riddles?" But Amra was busy instructing the attendant who had answered her call to bring Kerr to his mistress's chambers. It was time to take their places.
Kerr stood outside the heavy, ornately embossed brass door of Elishiba's chambers, waiting while the guard announced him. His nerves almost had the better of him. Elishiba was such a beautiful and awe-inspiring Empress---he was positively terrified of her. Not in the same way he feared the Empress Mehmet. He understood what she was. Evil. The Empress Elishiba confused him, for she seemed kind.
He glanced around to get his bearings.
This palace was much less overwhelming and cavernous than the one in Lhastari. The pillars and carvings were smaller. They had not been created to make one feel as tiny as a flea, as those in Lhastari had, and they were more lovingly carved. The wall hangings he had seen were rich in color and design. The curtained balconies were draped with opaque material, light enough to lift on the slightest breeze, all of which gave the palace of Suzin a sense of calm beauty.
He couldn't help wishing this were his new home. Instead he had to form part of the escort party for the Empress Elishiba to Lhastari, a place that he was sure she would find ugly and uninviting, in comparison.
The heavy door swung open, and a friendly-looking woman appeared, nodding in greeting and beckoning him in with apparent pleasure.
"I am Amra," she said, and led him across the outer rooms of the chambers.
She had to be one of the handmaidens he had been told about in the servants' quarters. Then he saw that an identical woman watched from a seat by the bed as he walked by. She smiled at him when he glanced her way, and he dropped his gaze immediately, unsure of the appropriate behavior.
"This is my sister, Elra," said the first woman. "We've seen you in the palace and we are most pleased to welcome you into our fold. We are Elishiba's people, and we hope you will enjoy your time with us."
Kerr wasn't used to respectful treatment. Astonished by their friendliness and overwhelmed by their beautiful symmetry, he was unable to respond with anything but a hopeful smile.
Amra led him on again and into a large bathing room, where Elishiba waited for him beside the pool. Her eyes were momentarily clouded with thought, he noticed. She had been a kind person when he first met her and didn't deserve to have such worries.
"Kerr, thank you for coming." Her expression lifted.
He inclined his head, genuinely pleased. "You want me to work with my hands, for your pleasure?"
Elishiba smiled and so did Amra, who stood by watching.
"Your meaning is clear," Elishiba said, "though I feel the language you have to use is unfamiliar to you. Where do you hail from, young Kerr?"
No one had ever shown any awareness of him as a person with a history, and he barely knew what to do or say. "I do not know where I was born, mistress. I was very young when I was taken from wherever it may have been." He swallowed. "I was taken into Vereh, a land with a more ancient tongue, where I trained before shipment to Karseedia."
She nodded. "Tell me, do you think you have come to know Karseedian court life well?"
"Well enough, I suppose, mistress. I have spent the past five moons there, readying for my role. At first we heard that all four of us would be used in the Empress Mehmet's household, and then we were told we would be yours, instead."
She frowned when he said four, and he shifted from foot to foot, always uncomfortable when he remembered his dear friend Kazeen, who had mysteriously been taken from their group. They were told he had been banished from Lhastari, for a reason that was kept hushed from them. He feared the worst, that Kazeen was no longer alive. Whispered conversations amongst the slaves who had been in the palace at Lhastari for longer than he hinted it might be so. He comforted himself with the hope that Kazeen had escaped, even if it meant he roamed the streets, homeless.
"I hope you will be able to help me when I go there." Elishiba spoke, drawing his attention back. "I fear I am a little nervous about the whole thing."
He couldn't imagine a woman such as her being nervous about anything, for she seemed so brave and sure, but when she blinked her lambent eyes and smiled gently at him, he forgot to wonder any more about her comment. "I will try to do whatever I can to help you."
"Good, good, that pleases me very much."
Her kind words made him feel braver. "I know how you must feel, mistress," he offered, "for I always feel new."
"I'm sure you do." She squeezed his arm affectionately. "Now, will your craft ease the tension in my limbs?"
"Greatly."
"Would it be suitable to do it here?" She indicated a long, low stone bench by the side of the pool.
He nodded.
"Will you need some oils, perhaps?" It was the woman called Amra who asked.
He nodded again, and Amra collected a pottery jug of almond oil from the shelves, delivered it to him and then left the two of them alone.
Elishiba unbelted her gown and let it slip to the floor. He felt the color rising in his cheeks and averted his face when she smiled at him. She lay down prone on the bench. He got to work as soon as she was in position, focusing on the job, his hands astutely learning her body, moving in slow strokes, to prepare her flesh for the deeper massage to come. He had been told he had a gifted touch and she appeared to be relaxing.
He was about to ask her if his touch was deep enough, when he heard a cough behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a plump, older woman by the door.
"Your father requests your company, mistress," the woman said to the empress, but she smiled over at him as she did so.
"Ah, yes, thank you, Yoshi," Elishiba murmured, looking over her shoulder.
Kerr's hands hovered in mid-air while he waited to see what would be expected of him.
"Alas, we must continue this another time, Kerr." She sat up, giving him a gentle embrace and a kiss upon his cheek---both of which shocked him immensely---before picking up her gown and wandering away from the bench. She turned at the door, still trailing the gown from one hand, her naked body gleaming against the ornately embossed brass. "In fact, perhaps you could wait here for me to return?"
He nodded, focusing on her face, and she waved at him, smiling, as she slipped on her gown and left the room.
He sat on the edge of the stone bench, disconsolate, waiting. Her scent hung rich and mellow in the air. He rubbed his hands together and the almond oil gently dispersed itself on his palms. He loved the smell of it, the texture. Of all the oils he had been taught to work with in the seminary where he had grown up, he loved it most of all. It was slick but light and thirsty, drinking itself into the skin. He breathed deep.
"It was vanilla," he whispered, answering the curious question that had been tickling at the back of his mind. She had been wearing vanilla. After a couple of minutes with his eyes fixed on the doorway, the last spot he had seen his new mistress, he began to glance around the room, looking at the bathing pool, the shelves of cosmetics, the carved dressing screen. On the other side of the pool, high up on the wall, three arched windows let the midday sunlight flood in. The whole room was light-soaked, from those windows, set so high.
A sound startled him: it was a delicate bracelet of laughter, two chuckles intertwined. He inclined his head and tried to capture the fleeting sound. Voices, soft feminine voices, whispering. It had to be the sisters.
Cautiously, he stood, following the sound to the doorway.
The door stood open, just as Elishiba had left it, and he paused at one side of it. The choice was entirely his, to pass into its opening, or stay behind it. He thought about it for a moment, feeling uneasy, and then slid behind the door, moving to the gap at its hinge. He peeped through the chink into the space beyond, into the empress's bedchamber.
He could see the long delicate veils of the curtains where they were pulled back along the head of the bed. Some two-thirds of the length of the bed was in his view, and, with it, the sight of the twin sisters, Elra and Amra, chatting together on the bed. Kerr shifted his position, and then drew back, focusing his eyes again. They must have forgotten he was still in there waiting. After a moment, he leaned forward to take another look.
The two women, so identical, presented a perfect image of dusky skin and burnished hair. He'd been trained in the seminary to observe a detail to distract from the whole, during his work, and so he tried to watch their hair, but his eyes drifted. One of them lifted her arms and hoisted her wisp of a gown over her head.
Shocked, he strained against the doorframe, resting his forehead against it, and shifted to gain a closer view. The women rolled across the bed, whispering and laughing. The naked woman gained the upper hand in a gentle play-fight, and crouched over her sister, pinning her down, the soft swells of her breasts swaying as her body moved enticingly.
He couldn't see the face of the woman beneath, but the one above was smiling, her face lit with delight. A sense of extreme longing had him firmly in its grip. His thoughts strayed away from the lessons he'd been taught, to an imagining that he was there, on the bed, a part of their affectionate games.
The dressed twin reached beside the bed and pulled a jeweled box close to them on the covers. From it, she drew out a long smooth object, a large crystal gem. She seemed to offer it to her sister. In the bright sunlight blazing in from the balcony beyond them, Kerr could see that it was a piece of rare amethyst, carved into the shape of a large phallus, fully erect and smooth in its length. Swollen wide and flat at the head, potent balls weighted it at its base.
The naked woman caressed it lovingly in her hand and thanked her sister, who was walking away and out of his field of vision.
Seeing the woman handle the object like that made him mutter to the gods under his breath. He pressed one hand hard against the thudding base of his own cocked phallus, his eyes closing.
A moment later, he heard a noise and scampering footsteps. His eyes flashed open, his breath caught in his chest. The woman had moved from her place on the bed. She was running directly at him, toward the bathing chamber. The amethyst was held aloft, her breasts bouncing gently as she ran. Instinctively, he tried to hide, squeezing himself behind the door and into the niche afforded by the door's hinges. He closed his eyes, trying to wish away the telltale bulge below his belt. He heard her naked feet whisper lightly across the flagstones and opened his eyes, cautiously.
She was standing beside the stone bench, faced away from him. She poured oil from the jug he had left standing there, running it over the carved phallus in her hand. She placed the jug down, a throaty chuckle in her voice as she ran the glistening object between her opulent breasts and over her nipples. Then she turned and ran from the room again.
She hadn't seen him.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief and took up his former viewing point, where he quickly found he couldn't maintain the position for long because of his extreme state of arousal. It was long enough to see her taking her place on the edge of the bed, facing his direction, and long enough to witness the gleaming head of the carved amethyst being pushed deep within her thighs. Long enough to see it disappear into the soft down surrounding her secret channel. Long enough to her hear pleasured gasps, and just long enough to see her lie back on the bed and manipulate the lucky object inside her secret flesh, thrusting it in and out with gusto. Then it was too much.
He drew back, turning away, but he couldn't help himself and had to remedy his own pain by taking matters into his own hands. Reaching beneath his tunic, he held and rubbed his phallus hard, erupting violently against his fingers moments later, his thighs shuddering under him just as the sound of her delighted moans and cry of release reached him.
His chest thudded and he struggled to gather himself and hide what he had done. When he'd removed the evidence and regained his composure, he sat down on the bench. Dropping his head, he rested his forehead on his hands, his mind awash with images of himself engaged in extreme debauchery with the twins, several years of careful training cast aside in a matter of moments.
Elishiba decided to pass the requisite time by claiming a few moments for herself in the courtyard gardens. A stone seat placed beneath the trailing jasmine was a spot she often frequented when she needed some solitude. She surely needed that now.
Yoshi's words were still echoing in her mind. Of course, Yoshi had been known to be wrong in her predictions, but that was usually when eager subjects pressed her for information. These thoughts had appeared to come readily, and Yoshi seemed to be so sure about her predictions on the matter. The things she had said about Amshazar tumbled through Elishiba's thoughts like vivid acrobats vying for her attention, tugging it this way and that.
Amshazar. Since their first meeting he was never far from her mind.
Yoshi had implied ... well, she had stated there would be something between them, but surely that could not be? Elishiba had felt an attraction the night before, and it must be that Yoshi had sensed, she rationalized, in an attempt to keep a level head. But what of the other things Yoshi had said, about his influence in her life? What did it all mean, and how could she begin to use the information if she didn't have the first clue what it meant?
Before she had time to consider the issue further, something captured her attention---something that threw her into a deeper quandary.
Amshazar himself was approaching.
His tall, imposing figure moved silently through the courtyard, his hands folded behind him, his gaze fixed on her, his expression gently enquiring. When he saw she had noticed him, he nodded in her direction.
She forced herself to breathe and inclined her head in response.
His dark good looks drew her attention as if she were tethered by rope. His bearing was equally impressive, his fine figure moving toward her with a self-assured charm that made her blood heat. Anticipation trickled through her and she altered her position so that she might invite him to rest a while by her side. They could chat. She would ask him if he was comfortable in the apartments that he and Sibias had been allocated.
Glancing back, she noticed he had paused on his approach and turned to greet another---Yoshi had emerged from a doorway and was now busy conversing with him.
"Gods above," she murmured, "that woman is sure to make trouble for me, meddling as she does in my affairs."
Elishiba tried not to look directly at them, lest they sense her annoyance. However, out of the corner of her eye she could see Yoshi was chattering at speed, seemingly relaxed in the stranger's company. Whatever it was she said to him, he smiled and glanced in Elishiba's direction. The pair set off again, together, walking toward her like two old friends.
At that moment, Elishiba caught sight of another figure emerging from the palace, further along the path. It was Sibias, and he was advancing quickly, seemingly at great haste to join the others in their approach.
It was all she could do not to stare at the sight of the three of them closing on her supposed moment of solitude with varying degrees of speed.
Gods above. She was entitled to a few moments for herself, surely? She shifted on the seat, intent on looking disinterested, trying to ignore the annoying voice in her head that pointed out it was not Amshazar who had provoked this response, only the additional presence of the other two.
Amshazar paused and bowed. "Empress Elishiba."
Sibias caught him up and did the same, panting and holding his robes in place, casting a dismissive glance at Amshazar as he did so. That these two supposed allies were at odds was patently obvious. She noticed, too, that Sibias looked quite comical, with his robes askew and his long and complicated beard parted by the breeze of his hasty approach.
Yoshi made a great show of taking up the seat by her mistress's side and folded her arms over her ample bosom, looking Sibias up and down as if eager to see him off.
Amshazar smiled at Elishiba. It was both an intimate bond with her and a silent, amused remark on the situation.
She returned the smile. She couldn't help herself. "Good day. I trust you fare well in our care?"
Sibias opened his mouth to respond but Amshazar had her attention. "You offer an oasis of calm and beauty in troubled times," he said. "How can we not fare well, resting as we do amidstt such exquisite grace?"
His expression was as knowing as it had been the night before, and she sensed an undercurrent of meaning in his words that touched the very core of her womanhood. Heat pooled between her thighs. Her breath came uneasily, as if it were trapped in her throat. Her heart beat ever faster, tight as a goatskin drum pounding within her chest.
She felt Yoshi moving at her side and the quick nudge of her elbow prompting her to reply.
"That pleases me," she responded, her voice a whisper, her chin dropping and her gaze shifting away from his.
Sibias butted in. "Might I enquire if the Empress is ready for her tutoring?"
Elishiba's head snapped up, her mood altering immediately. "Tutoring?"
Sibias had a superior look on his face. He tugged his beard into place, his mouth pursed. "It is necessary for you to undergo some instruction in the ways of our land. It is part of the reason for our presence."
Not only was his tone condescending, his comment was a rude reminder of what was ahead. She disliked him more with each passing moment. Where Amshazar was seductive and charming, this man was simply overbearing. Both of them sought the same ends, however: to manipulate her. Despite Amshazar's obvious charms, she would not forget that, she vowed it, for did not his more subtle charms surely made him the more dangerous of the two?
"I will give you your audience tomorrow."
"Thank you, Empress." It was Amshazar who spoke, bowing and taking her cue to leave, ignoring Sibias's low grumble and his thwarted expression, as he gestured the older man along the path.
"What were you saying to him?" Elishiba whispered to Yoshi, as soon as the two men had walked away and were out of earshot.
"I asked him if he were lost and then I offered to lead him to his destination." Yoshi gave Elishiba a sidelong glance, which only confirmed her mischievous intent.
Elishiba threw her hands up in annoyance. "Isn't it enough that I have to spend my last precious days in Suzin being tutored by him? I certainly don't want to prolong the contact by seeing him walk in my favored courtyards."
Yoshi raised her eyebrows. "It was for that reason I offered to guide him elsewhere, but your comment shows me he has indeed caught your eye. You didn't even mention the old goat who was following him." She laughed and poked her mistress in the side. "Admit it," she demanded.
"Ach. Leave me be." Elishiba rested back on the seat, annoyed with herself.
Yoshi chuckled on, but she was right. Elishiba had hoped to speak with him alone. It was for a good reason---to learn whether she should fear him and banish this growing attraction before it took hold of her. Wasn't it?
"You will do better to approach the tasks ahead with more self-honesty, my dear child." Yoshi patted Elishiba's hand. "You will see, soon enough."
Elishiba muttered to herself, annoyed. Yoshi was the only person who could reach her like this, not even her beloved Father could make her admit to her misgivings and her deep-seated fears.
After a moment she sighed, then nestled closer.
Yoshi put an arm around her shoulders.
Somehow admitting her fears to herself let them wash over her and away for a few moments, which allowed her a moment of comfort. They sat that way for some time. Then Yoshi spoke again.
"You must be prepared for more of this ahead ... there will be many adversaries vying for your attention. Each has their plan to fulfill. It will be for you to choose the best path to follow for your own purposes."
She gave her mistress a comforting squeeze. "It will be hard, very hard, I warrant you that, and there will be many dark moments ahead, moments of pain and anger." She tensed and shifted uneasily. "But you will find a way to come through this, and triumph."
Elishiba pulled back. Yoshi's eyes had an overcast look about them that unsettled her. "Can't you tell me more? So many riddles. They only serve to confuse me."
Yoshi shook her head. "The visions are cloudy."
Her tone was evasive, but Elishiba knew from past experience there was no point in pushing her. If she had something to say, she said it.
Yoshi patted her hand. "Know this. You will understand soon."
Elishiba nodded. "I fear you are right about how difficult this will be, I only hope you're right about the end result. Now, I suppose I must go and see how the twins have fared with Kerr. We need at least one true ally in this affair."
Yoshi's dark eyes began to twinkle again. "Oh, you will have your ally in him, believe me."
"The poor young man will be enslaved to Amra and Elra forever, I have no doubt." Elishiba chuckled and rested a kiss on Yoshi's cheek before she left.
She paused to inhale the heady scent of the courtyard flowers before returning indoors, and it soothed her. Walking down the shady corridors toward her chambers, she was about to turn the final corner when a voice drew her attention.
"Empress Elishiba?"
Drawing to a sudden halt, she saw Amshazar standing in the shadows of a side passage. His eyes were almost totally concealed in the darkness, and yet he seemed to be scrutinizing her. He'd been waiting there for her, she was sure, emerging now that she passed. Glancing ahead, she could see around the corner to where the sentry guarded her chambers. A shout would have the soldier by her in seconds.
She stood her ground.
Amshazar stepped out of the shadows.
How at ease he was, she noted, as he walked toward her. His bearing was almost noble, and yet she sensed no falseness in his manner. Sudden, dangerous curiosity fired her blood as he drew close. "Are you in need of assistance?"
"Forgive me for startling you by my approach," he said. "You were concerned about the tutoring Sibias suggested. I felt I should speak to you on the matter, privately."
She was bemused by his remark. "I am concerned, yes. Should I not be?"
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Empress, you are understandably wary of us. The history is difficult to overcome." He gave a quick smile. "I only wish to put your concerns to rest."
"Go on." She lifted her eyebrows in enquiry, and waited for him to continue. His very proximity drew her into dangerous games. She knew she should just walk away, but there was something so very compelling about him. It would not allow her to pass up the chance to speak with him alone.
"Sibias plans to discuss the customs of Karseedia, to prepare you." He paused, deliberately. "For my own part, I have my duty to my friend, Hanrah, to fulfill." His voice was a low whisper, and he stepped closer again. He had only to reach out his hand, and he could touch her.
Her heart raced.
"I also wish to know you better," he added.
His simple, bold statement startled her. She glanced at the sentry down the corridor, then back. "Why would you wish to do that?"
He smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting. It was dangerously seductive. "Curiosity rises between us, teasing us both, does it not?"
There was no mistaking his meaning, and she could not hide her surprise. Her lips parted, her breath coming ever quicker.
"I am curious about all things," she retorted. Heat rose in her face. Even if she had wanted to, she could not have walked away. The intimate nature of his bold stare made her skin tingle with awareness. Her lips parted as she looked at the firm line of his mouth, unbidden desire for his kisses coursing through her.
Then suddenly, and without warning, his eyes shuttered and he drew back, glancing around as if he thought they were being watched.
"Please, be assured that I wish you no harm," he whispered. "Quite the opposite, in fact." He bowed his head and made a hasty departure, his final, fleeting smile leaving her wavering unsteadily.
Only then did Elishiba become aware of footsteps echoing down the corridor beyond them. The palace guards were changing over and a group of ten men had marched to her chambers to relieve the sentry there. It was an unusual sight. Her rooms normally went unguarded, but she'd been glad of it just then. Her father had insisted her chambers be kept secure with so many strangers in their midst.
She gathered herself and continued on her original path, but as she did she heard footsteps scuttling away down a corridor to the left. Glancing after the sound as she passed, she saw a figure hurrying away from the scene. Was that why Amshazar had gone, she wondered? Had he seen someone else nearby? Not the guards, as she had originally thought?
The person glanced back over his shoulder before he disappeared round another corner. It was a young man and his face looked familiar to her, but at first she could not immediately place him amongst those that she knew. One of the nubiles, she realized, the confident one. Patrino, was it? Yes.
Had he heard her conversation with Amshazar? Had he, in fact, been spying on her? It was possible that one or all of the nubiles had been trained to do just that, although she sensed no hidden purpose in Kerr. Perhaps Patrino was on his way somewhere, but why did he run away when she saw him, if that was the case?
She continued quickly on to her private rooms, thankful to be inside when the door closed behind her. She would ask about the other three nubiles, find out why Patrino was wandering the palace and acting in such a suspicious way. And Amshazar? He had said he meant no harm. How readily could she trust that?
"I cannot even trust myself, when he is near," she reflected wryly. He stirred inappropriate desires in her; desires that she should quickly stifle if she were to keep a level head.
Locking away the encounter with Amshazar for later consideration, she took a moment to quell her chaotic thoughts before pressing on with the task at hand. The main rooms were empty, so she went to the bathing room.
Kerr sat forlornly by the pool.
He lifted his head expectantly when she entered. Seeing who it was, his concerned expression broke into a gentle smile.
No, she sensed no ulterior motive in him. "I am sorry, Kerr, you have been very patient. We will have to continue another time after all."
He nodded and stood up silently. He looked quite pale, she noticed, and there was a small frown furrowing his brow. After a moment of hesitancy, he walked over to join her at the door.
She led him into the bedchamber and stood in the center of the room, between him and the open door beyond. His exit was clear and marked out for him. He hesitated, and she saw his eyes dart over to the bed, which was empty save for twisted and abandoned sheets, and a heavy jeweled box.
She could not restrain her smile. The plot had come to an auspicious conclusion. His attention had surely been harnessed. He shook himself out of his reverie and made ready to leave her company, politely offering his services at any time she needed him. She noticed the pout of desire that projected his lower lip, ever so slightly. When his time to choose came, he would be eager to stay, she had no doubt.
She put a thoughtful hand on his arm, making ready to open the path to him. "Oh, and when you return to the servants' quarters you must ask the housekeeper to show you where Amra and Elra's chamber is, when it is time to dine. You must spend more time with them and be guided by them, for they are your kin now."
If she had doubted the sisters' power to entrance the young man, that doubt was dismissed when realization dawned over his expression. He smiled widely at her statement, and it was as if sunlight had suddenly poured into a long-darkened room.
His eyes lit and he nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Empress. I am grateful for your kindness."
"Aleem does not keep slaves in the way that Karseedia does," she told him. "I have trusted you and taken you in because I like you. I want you to be happy with us, but I need to be able to trust you."
Kerr nodded, smiling at her words. "I am your loyal servant, your trust will not be misplaced."
Something urged her to be more forthright with him, soon though it was. "If you have any concerns ... about anything, please talk to Amra and Elra, or to me. I may come to you seeking the same confidence in return."
"I understand," he said, and bowed his head, though she doubted whether he really did. When he took his leave it was with much more purpose in his steps.
They had their ally, their confidant. Kerr was becoming part of their world. Or were they becoming part of his much darker world, the world that called him slave? The doubts were never far away, ready to pounce on her. Whatever hope Yoshi had given her, she still recognized that they could easily be absorbed into the Karseedian court, just as Kerr had been. They too could be made slaves, forever lost to their own kind.
She walked with Kerr to the door, and as he walked away down the corridor, she watched his retreating back with a deep yearning for resolve. Looking beyond him, she stared into the shadows were Amshazar had waited for her, and a tremor ran through her. Part fear, part arousal.
Yoshi put her hands on her ample hips and nodded at the untouched plate of food sitting by Elishiba's side. "How do you intend to keep your strength, if you do not eat your food?"
"I cannot. Believe me, if you had spent the whole morning with those two, you would have been put off your food as well." That wasn't quite how it had made her feel, at least not Amshazar. Despite certain vows she had made, she was finding it hard to ignore his effect on her. It was an unsettling state to find herself in, and her mood was getting the better of her.
"It is our penultimate day in Suzin and there are a thousand things I would much rather be doing," she declared. Soon they would leave for Lhastari. How she hated it. She didn't want to go, so she could not bring herself to be involved in any so-called education they gave her about Karseedia. That, and the fact that she would rather be alone with Amshazar than suffering Sibias, totally unnerved her.
Yoshi picked up the platter of untouched food, helping herself to a cluster of grapes as she did so. "You might learn something that is useful, useful to you in a different way than they had intended." She gestured with the grapes. "You must win by being observant, find a way to outwit Hanrah and Mehmet." Popping a grape into her mouth, she gave Elishiba a knowing look.
Elishiba gave a deep sigh. "I know. It belittles my country and my people to be involved in it, but you are right. I will try harder this afternoon, I promise."
"Surely it was not hard to listen to the handsome Amshazar? I believe his voice alone could captivate me, if it was my attention he wished to gain." She chortled to herself as she deposited the abandoned platter of food on a table near the doorway. "Or was that why you found it so hard to concentrate, hmm?"
Elishiba flashed her a warning glance. Once again she had hit upon the truth. He was indeed a distracting presence.
Returning to her seat, Yoshi ignored the warning. "What exactly did they talk to you about this morning?"
"Oh, Sibias spent a tedious spell of time talking about Karseedian court life, during which he reiterated many times his deep devotion to the Empress Mehmet." Elishiba rolled her eyes. "In fact, neither of them spoke about the Emperor Hanrah much at all." She frowned. "Perhaps he doesn't exist." She laughed. Wishful thoughts besieged her.
"Interesting," mused Yoshi. "We have heard said that Mehmet is the stronger of the pair. Perhaps this confirms it. What did Amshazar have to say?"
"He was quiet at first." Elishiba pictured him again in her mind's eye. It wasn't hard to do. "When he took his turn to speak, he spoke formally, of the traditional ceremonies that surround the marriage, and how my life as wife to the ruler of Karseedia might be expected to evolve."
"He wasn't friendly?"
Elishiba picked up her goblet of pomegranate juice, sipping it, thoughtfully. "He wasn't as provocative as before, more formal." That had been a disappointment, she found. It had been hard to concentrate. She had tried, because she meant to learn things, things that might perhaps enable her to find a way to redefine her obligation. However, she could no more concentrate on it than she could consider it her true destiny. Instead, she had been compelled to observe the attractive features and lithe body of Amshazar, while he focused on the items he had brought to show her, small intricate parchment illustrations of the courtship rituals.
"I notice he seems amused by what Sibias is saying sometimes," she added, when she realized Yoshi was waiting for her to continue.
"Oh yes, they are like two hounds battling over a bone, that fact is sure enough." Yoshi chortled again, amused by the potential drama. Her eyes twinkled. "What do they plan for you this afternoon?"
"You tell me, Seer." Elishiba reached for Yoshi's hand, teasing her by tugging on it demandingly. "Or do you like to see me squirm?"
Yoshi gave a prim smile as she pulled her hand free, which indicated she was pleased with herself in some way. "You can tell me all about it later."
Standing, she reached to tidy her mistress's hair, and then added, "you look a little melancholy, but otherwise you are presentable. Now, go to your meeting, and keep your wits about you, my girl. Ask questions and listen. Don't let your stubborn streak get the better of you."
Elishiba raised her eyebrows, but resisted the temptation to rebel, getting to her feet. "Yes, Yoshi. Of course, Yoshi."
Yoshi merely waved her off.
As Elishiba walked along the corridors toward the small private chamber that had been set aside for the day's meetings, she humored herself by planning for the morrow. She wanted to spend it with her people, not those of Karseedia. Once inside the chamber she settled onto her cushions and waited expectantly. She was greatly surprised when the door opened and Amshazar entered the room alone.
There was no sign of Sibias.
A moment later a servant entered behind him carrying a wooden box, which he set beside them before leaving. The door closed with a resounding clang.
They were alone.
Amshazar stared at her, his gaze laden with speculative appraisal. It unnerved her. "The insignias of Karseedia." He nodded to the mottled walnut case the servant had put on the floor. "I thought you might wish to familiarize yourself with them."
He made no move to open the box.
She nodded, taking in the look of his darkly handsome face, his strong body within its robe of darkest midnight sky. That morning, her glances in his direction had been surreptitious, but she was so surprised he had come alone, she found herself staring openly.
He met her gaze with candor and addressed her curiosity directly, his own stare tempered with amusement.
Her gaze dropped first.
She felt heat blossom beneath her skin. He had, of course, been very aware that she was observing him that morning, she realized, scolding herself for her transparency.
"Sibias will join us shortly," he said, as he took his place on the cushions in front of her, folding his long limbs beneath him as he drew the box closer. "He is ... resting." A smile passed over his lips, and he lowered his eyelids to mask his expression.
It made her curious, but she didn't comment.
"Let us examine these objects, and see if we can find reason in them." Again, his remark seemed odd. From the box, he drew out several brass platters, inscribed heavily with symbols and images, and a massive beaten-copper goblet, which glowed warm and heavy in his hands.
She tried to draw her eyes away from the strong line of his thighs as he moved, visible through the linen of his gown.
He began to speak about the inscriptions, drawing her attention to the details around the bowl of the goblet. "Here, you will notice that the temples of the gods and goddesses are represented."
He pointed to a series of small depictions of buildings, each topped by a likeness of the deity to which they were devoted. "The people of Karseedia have a special devotion to the god Hurda, who they believe has favored Karseedia in these adverse times."
He looked at her, waiting for her reaction.
"With no disrespect to the gods, Amshazar, but it seems we must watch ourselves and barter with our enemies, to survive in these adverse times." She was unable to keep the cynical tone from her words. She expected a retort from him.
He smiled.
It was devastating.
"Quite so." His eyes twinkled. He placed the goblet down on the low table between them, still smiling at her remark.
Oh, but he is an attractive beast, enemy or not.
His hands were strong and elegant, his long fingers loosely locked together in his lap. She craved the touch of them. If only it were he that I had to wed, she thought, and her face heated guiltily at the very idea.
"What is he like? Hanrah?" She jolted slightly at the sound of her own, rather nervous and unplanned question.
The silence that followed hung heavily in the chamber. He was watching her closely, his expression less guarded. Did he feel some compassion for her, she wondered.
"The Emperor is but a man," he answered, eventually. His voice was quiet, controlled. "The potential is there, but he is only a man ... just as you are only a woman." He emphasized every word.
A wave of instinctive objection swept through her body to flush into her face. However, something else quickly followed, something that had come in response to the tone of his voice as he had said "woman," and the weight of his eyes on her body while he had said it.
Her lips softly closed.
His brows were lowered and he looked at her through narrowed eyes. His expression emphasized the implication of his words. Desire glinted heavily in his eyes.
She didn't want the moment to escape. It was as if they were suddenly unaffected by decorum or by pretense, and she must speak. "And you, Amshazar?"
He met her glance with understanding, acknowledging their meeting of minds. The atmosphere between them had intensified.
A silent thunderbolt rumbled in and flashed across her consciousness. Her blood began to race; her skin was fluttering with sensation. "What are you, Amshazar?"
He sat still for a split second of time, wherein their mutual desire was fully realized and weighted the atmosphere between them. Then, without reserve, he answered in a wryly-amused tone. "I am just a man, a man with normal instincts ... and desires."
The subtle reference he made to desire and the suggested intimacy between them caused another wave of tremulous anticipation to wash over Elishiba. What was he trying to imply? And he said he was a normal man. Everything about him seemed to contradict the simple statement. The atmosphere crackled with his intensity.
"That is not what they say about you," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat; again she was surprised at her own provocative remark.
"I am what you see before you." His hand rested against his chest, his eyes flashing dark, challenging her.
How could she believe him when every fiber of her being suggested he was something much more powerful? Moreover, what was it in her that recognized that in him?
"Are you what they say?" Her words came of their own accord, her voice barely audible. Had she even wanted to, she felt sure she could not halt and return along the path they were traveling.
"A sorcerer, is that what they say?" His tone had a certain weary irony to it.
She nodded.
He lifted a brass platter and rested it on its edge, his fingers rolling it back and forth while he contemplated her.
In his eyes she saw a gleaming light shifting, restless and powerful.
"The soul is a very powerful thing, Elishiba. When one fully comprehends its abilities to evoke change, its power is within reach of even the simplest of men." He spun the platter from his fingers.
Elishiba watched, breathless, as it rolled across the floor away from him. He never took his eyes from her face, but lifted one hand toward the platter, a faint gleaming light emanating from his palm toward the heavy object. She looked from it back to him, mesmerized by the rolling light she saw in his eyes. The platter spun on its axis, then suddenly stopped.
Elishiba stared.
It did not, as expected, clatter to the floor, but began to spin again, in the opposite direction. Building speed, it began to roll back toward them, into his waiting hand.
Despite herself, she hunched back into her cushions. "Hail the gods what is this, if not sorcery?"
Amshazar lifted the platter into his hand, turning it over before putting it to one side. "Simple sorcery is within your reach too, Elishiba, that and much, much more. The power is there for you to channel."
She shook her head in response to his remark, and hastily reminded herself she had seen trickery such as this before. Why, she was sure the urchins in the Souk would do as much for a coin. But their ways were indeed trickery, made from pieces of thread and slight of hand. What she had just witnessed here was of a different league of sorcery. That light in his eyes, and in his palm, had given out a sense of restrained power. The atmosphere in the room had shifted in tune with him.
He smiled gently at her, unfazed by her disbelief, but quite willing to go along with the more dangerous game that persistently emerged from their conversation. He eyed her openly, and the strange rolling sense of power was there, tenfold.
Elishiba's senses began to roar.
She felt moved, compelled to look beyond the surface of this. As she did, she thought she saw an image of their bodies entwined, emerging from the deep well within his eyes. A dark and invisible sirocco surged up around them.
She whimpered.
He sat silent and controlled within its dominion, resisting its force. His lips were tensely chiseled, the expression in his eyes brooding as their spirits lifted from their physical selves, and merged.
Elishiba felt buffeted by it, and her hands lifted, opening to him, ready to take him in. Sensation raced over her body, and deep within---it was as if his spirit was moving against her most intimate flesh. She became aware of the sudden heat in the air as she drew it over her tongue when her lips parted.
Then, suddenly, and without warning, Amshazar lifted his hands and closed his eyes, breaking them free of the spell and releasing her from its grip.
"Elishiba ... remember, whatever happens, immense possibility for change is yours." His voice was hoarse. "Even though it often appears we are but man and woman in this," he added.
It was almost as if he spoke to himself, but the way he had whispered her name stroked her whole body with its caress, implied a much deeper meaning.
"We are also enemies, are we not?" She got the words out quickly, unbidden questions once again escaping her in a moment of pure frustration.
"Enemies? Are we?" His expression was serious. There was an aura of extreme concentration, of meditation, about his posture.
"Sibias approaches." He nodded toward the door, his expression growing guarded.
Her own expression was not so well disguised. She had felt his powers and had wanted to submit herself to them. She wanted him, that fact was undeniable now. The elements of passion had come upon her with a force that was all consuming. She felt stripped bare, and could only stare at him, willing him not to break the strange contact he'd made. Her innermost flesh throbbed with longing. She wanted to tell him but had no idea where to search for the words.
There wasn't long to contemplate her inclination to speak her desires aloud, for the door flew open and the young nubile, Patrino, entered the room at that very moment.
Elishiba stared at him, startled.
"Master Sibias is on his way," he announced. He had a sly, watchful expression on his face.
Before either she or Amshazar had time to respond, Sibias came into the room behind Patrino. The older man glared at Amshazar's back, mouthing silent words, seemingly annoyed.
Amshazar stood and quickly took his leave, giving her a fast, reassuring glance as he left the room, leaving the older man to take over the instruction.
She watched him go, both dazed and confused by the encounter. The nubile, Patrino, followed him out, closing the door after them. Who was he with, she asked herself---Sibias, or Amshazar?
Sibias quickly settled himself in the place Amshazar had left. He looked at the abandoned casket and then at Elishiba's distracted state. "I must ask you what has been said in my absence." He pursed his mouth for a moment. "For the purposes of completion, you understand."
If she'd been at all assured of herself, she might have sparred with him, for she resented the demanding look in the old man's eyes. He was obviously aware of some heated atmosphere in the room and quizzed her, as if he had a right to know what had gone before, but Sibias's words went all but unheeded. Elishiba was trying to reconcile the confusion she felt. Amshazar had proven what they said of him, yet that had been nothing compared to what had passed between them. The strange emotions that had been unleashed by his words and actions were unbearable.
"You must forgive me, Sibias. I have to leave you now. I feel unwell." She stood up and walked from the room with as much dignity as she could, and with Sibias's unconvincing murmurs of concern echoing behind her. As soon as she made her way down the corridor and into her chamber, she ran inside and called for Elra.
"Let no one in, I wish to be alone," she begged, when her companion appeared.
Elra dropped the sewing in her hand. "Yes, Empress, your will is done."
Elishiba ran to her private chamber and threw herself onto her bed. Her hands trembled; her mind was awash with questions. What had Amshazar meant about powers being within her reach? What had happened to her in his presence?
Her own vulnerability astonished her.
She felt thoroughly disarmed by the desire he had aroused in her, and huddled against the bed covers. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she tried to cast off the powerful sensations rushing through her.
His image had begun to creep within her blood and bond itself to her emotions. A seed of fear lodged itself within her heart, beginning to grow. Could it be that Amshazar had woven a spell over her?
Her hands fisted against the bedcovers. How could she have allowed her emotional drawbridges to lower? He was her enemy. She ought not to feel this way about such a man. She pressed her face into the cushions, and wished it all away, but for some reason the gods didn't respond to that particular prayer.
Instead, waves of desire assailed her, growing with every moment, and she buried her face against the bed, her body aching with forbidden need. It was then that she felt his presence returning, pacing out of the shadows to meet her: Amshazar, mysterious and forbidden. Elishiba felt his dark form brush against the glowing embers of her passion.
Her eyes flashed open, but she was alone.
Sibias snatched the note from the sentry who had delivered it, and read it with blazing eyes as the messenger departed. Amshazar continued to eat his breakfast, observing with cautious detachment. Sibias was in a temper, had been ever since yesterday's little interruption to his planned pontifications. Adept in the darker side of the art of sorcery, Sibias hid his black soul quite skillfully, but when he was thwarted, as he had been the day before, that black soul was all too apparent to Amshazar.
Sibias had made it known that his sudden need for sleep after their midday meal the day before was suspicious. Mistrustful of most everyone around him in this alien province, as well as of Amshazar himself, he could not fix upon the culprit. It was a simple spell on Amshazar's behalf, gaining him valuable time alone with Elishiba, but Sibias had been fuming ever since.
Sibias crumpled the parchment between his hands and threw it aside. "In response to my request, the empress has refused to spend her last day in Suzin continuing the interrupted class from yesterday."
Amshazar glanced down at the older man's hands, where he could see that his fingernails were embedded into his palms. His brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes spewing hatred.
"You will have her locked within the walls of Mehmet's palace soon enough, Sibias," he commented.
Sibias didn't miss the reference to it being Mehmet's palace, his eyes flashing in annoyed recognition of the remark. No one was supposed to actually acknowledge it aloud and reveal Mehmet's hidden manipulations, oh no.
"We had a task to undertake. We didn't come all this way to waste what little time we have to prepare her." He glared at Amshazar, and then stormed over, slamming his fist down on the table. "What was it that you said to her yesterday that made her take flight?"
Amshazar reached out to steady the rattling platters on the table, before answering. "We spoke about the insignia of Karseedia."
Rising to his feet, he cast his trailing robe over his shoulder. "The Empress was unwilling to accept the information we were giving at face value. She is an intelligent woman, and she is more concerned about meeting her future husband."
He forced a smile at that point. "I suggest we allow her to get used to that idea, before swamping her with other, unnecessary information."
Sibias's eyes turned black. His inflated opinion of himself meant that he was unable to accept advice from anyone. Most didn't try to give it, either.
"You do not fool me, nomad. Not for a moment." Sibias spoke with deep sarcasm. "You said something to upset her. You think you will get away with it, but you won't. Mehmet doesn't intend to let you influence her son unduly. One whiff of duplicity from you and you will be banished forever."
Amshazar gave a quiet laugh. "I am sure Mehmet would appreciate your supplying me with that information." He paused to watch the annoyance in Sibias's expression multiply. "If I were---in fact---intending to influence her son, knowing her intentions would put me in a much stronger position."
"Damn you." Sibias was livid.
Beyond him, Amshazar saw Santor's image forming from the atmosphere. He had an amused expression on his face and nodded over at Sibias, rubbing his hands in glee. Santor was always around, observing, when drama was afoot. It caused Amshazar to chuckle.
Following Amshazar's gaze, Sibias swung around and looked behind him. Santor mocked an obscenity at Sibias, a physical gesture more commonly found in the Souk than in the hands of a magus guide, and Amshazar felt sure the gods would have reprimanded him severely if they had cause to witness it.
Sibias sensed the presence, but could not see it, his training in the art of sorcery being of an entirely different breed---an ugly, more malevolent and greedy breed.
"Good day to you, Sibias," Amshazar said loudly, drawing his attention back. Bypassing his adversary, he walked to the door of their shared dining chamber with the sound of the other man's annoyed mutterings behind him. Amshazar lifted a hand and waved when he got to the doorway, Santor waving regally beside him.
"Wait," Sibias called out, reluctantly, seemingly disgruntled by the change in the atmosphere Santor had caused. "I have not finished speaking, you cannot just walk away. We must insist the Empress continues her instruction."
"I agree." Amshazar suppressed a smile, for that is exactly what he intended, although he planned to have Elishiba pursue a different type of knowledge altogether, and, after yesterday, he knew that the Empress responded better to practical examples than to dry words. Beside him, Santor nodded his agreement, smiling, before fading away into the atmosphere again.
Sibias narrowed his eyes, seeking out the fleeting spirit presence without success.
"Alas," Amshazar continued, "it looks as if today is not the day for lessons about Karseedia." No, because he had other lessons in mind.
The object was small, a pretty thing made from fine copper strands formed into the shape of a star. Elishiba had owned it for so long she didn't remember exactly where it had originated, other than it was a gift from travellers who had broken their journey at the palace, before passing along the trade route. She'd taken to the copper star when she was just a young girl, and her father had allowed her to keep it. It sat by her bedside amongst her other favoured trinkets, until today, when she had awoken looking at it. She'd picked it up and turned it in her fingers---it wasn't a heavy thing, barely weighed anything at all.
It had been late, very late the night before, when her mood and thoughts had finally turned away from the subject of desire, to the other emotions and ideas Amshazar had set running within her. She was fixed on the suggestion he had made about sorcery being within the reach of even simple men. Could it be so? An impulse to find out had urged her into action. First, she'd sent a note to Sibias refusing his instruction---the notion of spending her last day in Suzin closeted with the old goat, as Yoshi called him, repelled her. Then she dressed in plain robes for the day ahead.
Taking the star into the receiving room of her chambers, she set it down on the stone table. Beyond it, the sheer curtain at the balcony lifted and wavered in the breeze. The curtain moved easily. How hard would it be move an object such as the star, without touching it? Amshazar's words still whispered in her mind.
Simple sorcery is within your reach.
The idea excited her. That she could not deny. Why had he even said such a thing to her? She could see no obvious motive in his words and actions, but there had to be one. He'd indicated he meant her no harm, but could she believe that? He definitely wasn't in league with Sibias that much she felt sure of.
The power is there for you to channel.
How? She'd always assumed sorcery was a learned thing, and yet he had spoken and acted as if it was something that came from within. Yoshi had often remarked upon the slumbering nature of Elishiba's soul, but Elishiba adopted a more pragmatic approach. Until now. The idea that sorcery might be within her reach at her time of greatest need lit her up from within.
Pulling a cushion closer, she sat cross-legged in front of the stone table, her elbows on her knees, her fingers meshed. She concentrated on the object. Resting on three of its points, it was a tiny little thing, fragile. Not heavy. Surely she could perform a simple trick like this?
Time passed.
Nothing happened.
She concentrated on the star until her head hurt, and her eyes were stinging from staring at it. She wasn't doing it right, there had to be something else that she was missing. Flexing her shoulders, she held out her hands and tried to visualize light coming from her palms, as Amshazar had manifested the day before. She moved her hands, willing it to be so.
Still nothing.
Slumping, she rested her temples in her hands, cursing under her breath while still staring at the object. It was stupid of her to have hoped for such a thing. How could she know anything of sorcery? She had never felt anything like it before. Her heart was in turmoil, because at some point in the night she had latched onto this vague notion of it being within her own grasp, as a means to help her people. She was clutching at futile, unrealistic hopes. That was all it was.
"How can I help my people if I cannot do such a simple thing?" Frustration boiled up inside her and she glared at the object.
As the rush of emotion was unleashed, the curtain at the window suddenly lifted, wavering wildly into the room.
She felt no breeze.
Her glance fell back to the object on the table. The star was tipping slowly. Rocking upon the three points it currently rested upon, it was lifting and teetering toward a fourth point.
Behind her the door flew open.
As it did, the star rolled across the table and dropped to the floor. Astonished, she rose to her feet, her hand at her throat to quell her erratic breathing.
It had been the door opening. Nothing more.
But ... had the star not moved, ever so slightly, before that moment? The curtain, too, had gone against the breeze.
Emotions tumbled within her, confusion, momentary hope, and disappointment.
Elra and Amra closed the door behind them as they entered, and Amra spoke when they saw her. "Mistress, forgive us, have we disturbed you?"
"No, I was only thinking." She took a deep breath, laughed at herself, and then smiled reassuringly. "Come in, I am almost ready."
Lifting the star from the floor, she was startled to find it warm in her hands, as if it had been held over a flame. Something had happened. She put it down reluctantly. Later, she promised herself.
She snatched up a black scarf she had left nearby, and ushered the twins in. They nodded at the sentry as they left the chambers and Elishiba informed him that should her father call, she would be gone for some time, walking in the gardens. The three women then headed into the servants' quarters, and on, to a small gateway that led into the city.
Elishiba bound her head in the scarf as they went, concealing her face and leaving only her eyes visible, so that she looked like none other than one of the staff, venturing out into the heart of Suzin.
With Amra and Elra similarly attired, they walked the passageways as if they were ordinary women, women of the city. They each carried baskets to make their amble through the busy streets seem natural, and so it was that Elishiba was able to take in the scents and sights of everyday life. Members of the emperor's household were not expected to walk through the streets on foot, but she often did this, secretly, to observe life in the city without being observed herself. This time was particularly precious, for she wanted to store her memories of life in her home before leaving it.
As they passed along the streets to the busier part of the city, she pushed thoughts of sorcery and salvation from her mind, vowing not to be swayed from her purpose, like a flitting bird drawn to something shiny.
"Where would you like to go, first?" Amra asked.
"The temple," Elishiba replied. "Then the Souk." She took Amra's arm as they walked. "Tell me, how is our new friend, young Kerr?"
Amra chuckled. "We spent a most pleasant evening with him last night, chatting about the palace he knows, how it differs to our own."
"We learnt much," Elra added. "I can picture the place already."
The twins went on to describe various features that Kerr had described, as they walked, and Elishiba listened carefully, noting that the palace in Lhastari sounded much more immense and complicated than their own. She rejected the feeling of unwilling containment that crept up her spine at the thought of being closeted inside the palace, their old enemies' stronghold, concentrating instead on the details that might be helpful to them when they arrived.
"Have you noticed anything about the other young slave that they brought with them," Elishiba quizzed. "The dark-haired one known as Patrino?"
Amra shook her head.
Elra frowned. "He does flit between the servants' quarters and the chambers where the Karseedians rest."
"Now that you say it," Amra added, thoughtfully, "I do recall seeing him about the place."
It was just as Elishiba had suspected. "I think he spies upon us. Perhaps for Sibias, or maybe Amshazar, or perhaps for my future husband." She couldn't keep the cynicism from her voice. "I suppose we should expect it from all of them. Kerr seems to be more trustworthy, or a better actor."
"We cannot be sure," Elra replied, cautiously, "but he has given us no reason to mistrust him."
Elishiba nodded, lightening the mood. "I agree. Did he stay with you willingly? Have you won him over?"
Amra covered her mouth with her fingers as she giggled and leaned in to whisper her answer. "He spent a restless night attempting to sleep between the pair of us."
"We claimed we were cold," Elra whispered on the other side.
Elishiba laughed softly at the image. "That poor young man, you have won his devotion already. That is good."
As they moved away from the main thoroughfares, they passed along the narrow, cloistered passageways that led into the temple courtyard. The whitewashed walls in the covered passages were broken up occasionally with fretwork grills, behind which were the quarters of the temple priestesses, the women that tended and watched over Sevita's temple.
The temple itself was hidden in the midst of the city, and they grew quiet as they approached. The guards at the gates let them pass, and they mounted the wide stone steps between the massive pillars that fronted the building. Pushing open the heavy cedar wood doors, the three women went inside.
The temple was quiet, for which Elishiba was grateful. She preferred it when it was like this. At times of pageant the temple was lit by thousands of candles, reflecting off the floors and walls where each and every tile was plated with silver and gold. It gave the impression that visitors were walking on a path of sunlight, to worship at the goddess's feet.
Today the temple was fairly subdued. A temple priestess moved amongst the candles, shifting some, lighting others, her simple white gown swaying as she moved, her long hair trailing down from her shoulders to the back of her thighs. The few candles that were lit had been placed around the massive representation of the goddess herself, at the center of the temple. The flickering flames of the candlelight reflected here and there on the precious metal on the floor, so that Sevita appeared like a sun radiating out from her center.
As they walked toward the massive stone statue, the twins separated off, each taking a kneeling cushion in the shadows, allowing Elishiba this personal moment with her favored goddess.
A long, velvet-covered kneeling pad stood at the bottom of the steps up to the statue. Elishiba set her basket on the floor and then dropped to her knees, looking up at the goddess. Here she found her own serenity, her own strength. She drew it from the goddess who was loved by her people.
The stone likeness was the height of five men, reaching almost into the roof of the temple. Sevita was depicted naked and on her knees. Between her open thighs, precious gems, silver and gold coins were piled up into the crease of her womanly channel, like the waters that she watched over, the essence of life. The serene face of the goddess smiled down at Elishiba, and she felt almost at peace, for the first time in many days.
"Guide me, Sevita," she whispered. "Show me the way, whether it be through wit, war, or self-sacrifice, I need to know the way."
Above the statue, high in the ceiling of the temple, a patterned beam of sunlight poured through a carved panel, spiraling out, creating a spiritual pathway between Sevita's heavenly being and her physical representation here in the temple. As Elishiba looked at the statue and then up, to the pathway of light to the spiritual being in the heavens, words whispered around her mind.
By the goddess Sevita, it will be.
Yoshi's predictions. The echo of those words made Elishiba's skin tingle. Amshazar's image came to her mind---it was never far away, not since she had first seen him. It caused a wave of heightened awareness to wash over her body. The desire that she felt for him, was it wrong? Would it cloud her vision? Would it put her people in danger if she allowed herself to be totally seduced by his spell?
Staring up at the statue, she felt only the warm embrace of the goddess's love in response to her many questions. Sighing, her gaze rested on the bountiful breasts of the goddess, and her own breasts ached to be touched.
He will sup from the waters of her secret oasis, deep within your body.
Again, Yoshi's predictions haunted her. Heat flared at her core, her channel tightening. She blinked back the wave of desire that coursed through her, her body wavering.
"Trust in the goddess," a woman's voice whispered.
Elishiba turned toward the sound.
It was the temple priestess. She had paused beside the kneeling figure of her cloaked empress, a bundle of candles in her arms. "I sense you have a woman's decision to make, am I right?"
Elishiba nodded, her fingers moving to the scarf that covered her head and face, making sure it had not slipped and her identity was still well hidden.
"You must live as the goddess would, if she were a woman."
"Yes, I feel that too." What the priestess said made sense to her. The goddess's love was bountiful, her passion immeasurable, her serenity a given. "I must undertake a great task, and I seek the goddess's guidance on the decisions I must make."
The priestess nodded. "If you have asked for her protection, and have faith in her bounty, she will help you."
"Thank you, for your words." Elishiba looked from the kindly, wise face of the priestess, back to that of the stone goddess, taking the simple advice into her heart.
The priestess smiled and moved on.
Elishiba lingered a while, until she heard other visitors arrive, then she stood and took her leave, locking into her heart her faith in the goddess, taking Sevita with her.
Out on the street, the sun seemed even brighter after the hushed, shadowy interior, and they hurried on. They were soon deep within the hub of the Souk, with the scent of spices, rising bread and freshly roasted meats tempting the palate. The bright colors of the goods and the sellers' costumes were vivid in the sunlight. It blazed off brass ornaments, drawing out the subtlest glossy threads woven into sumptuous carpets, brightly patterned blankets and the great reams of material stacked everywhere. Beads and embroidered head dresses were spread out on the ground, watched over by the hunched figures of wizened grandmothers, who rarely looked up, unless they sensed a buyer approach, or to chase off the scrawny dogs who closed in at regular intervals to cause momentary chaos.
Instinct seemed to lend itself to their sales and the protection of their wares.
Further along the street, ripe fruits were heaped on display. The aroma of their fermenting sugars hung heavy on the air, redolent enough to inspire their flavors on the tongue. A young man offered fresh slices of mango, bartering with buyers, hawking his wares. As they walked by, Elishiba stopped to take an offered sliver of the fruit from his knife, sliding it beneath her veils to bite its firm flesh. The flavor melted over her tongue. She indicated to the twins, and they bought some of his wares, pausing to speak with him awhile.
Elishiba moved on, observing the open doorways of the buildings clustered beyond the stalls, where dusky figures stood in the shadows, watching, and waiting. The seductive music that echoed through the walls and into the streets, made the lusty undercurrents known to the observant. The women were barely concealed by strings of beads or thin gauze curtains, which made them at once hidden, yet totally visible: the women of the Souk, lusty creatures whose wares were more sensual in nature.
Today they seemed symbolic of everything for sale here, exotic and sensual. The seductive voices from inside the cramped houses seemed to speak to her then, whispering of love and lust. Is this what Sevita wanted her to know and consider? Beneath the hubbub of voices, she almost heard the secret sounds of the women's clothes swishing across stone floors as they danced for their men.
She breathed deep the heady mixture of life here in the heart of the city. It was here that Elishiba felt most a part of the city, its life, truly, thriving on its energies, its vibrancy. The city was a woman, Elishiba was sure of it. Like the goddess who watched over it, lush and fecund. Deep inside, Elishiba craved that too, to be her essential woman, to know herself and to always be sure of it.
As the twins meandered off between the stalls, she watched a man approach a beaded curtain, tempted to another vision of life, one of simple pleasures. He was tall and sparely built, but there was a suggestion of vitality in his leanly muscled frame. His features were rugged, his skin dark. He wore his hair held loosely at the nape of his neck. A robe was slung back over his shoulders and the emblem of The Immortals was visible on his breastplate.
He was one of her men.
As he stood before the beads, a hand emerged, a female arm, beckoning. The woman's fingernails were long and tapered, stained with red that coiled over her hand in delicate scrawling designs. Bells trailed from her wrist to dance down over her long delicate fingers. The woman gestured her hand toward him, fingers twirling, the bells tinkling, and he smiled, taking her fingers, as she led him inside.
Elishiba closed her eyes, and imagined, her mind strangely afloat on the seductive atmosphere. She was that woman, drawing a man into her home, taking him for pleasure. He was tall, and as he strode into the interior he bent to kiss her mouth. His name whispered over her lips, and she felt his presence closing on her, the skin on her back alive with the certainty of it.
Amshazar.
Again his image haunted her.
Spellbound, she felt his mouth brush over hers, heard her own whimper. His hands moved on her body. His fingers traced her spine, holding her attention. It was as if he was all around her, causing tormenting waves of desire within her.
The sensation was shattered, quite suddenly, by a distant scream. Her eyes flashed open, and she rested her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself, suddenly dizzy and confused by the images that had crept upon her of this man, yet again, and even more confused by the way those images had been broken by a cry, a wild fearful cry. She felt hot and confused, her hair damp against her neck.
More screams and shouting issued from a place beyond the stalls. A sense of panic was high in the air. People were running in the direction of the noise, calling to each other to see what it was about.
Elishiba gathered herself. She could not see the twins, and hurried through the souk hoping to find them there. The previously busy stalls had been abandoned, the people running to where the crowd was gathered. As she too closed on the place, she caught sight of Amra and Elra deep in the crowd, hugging against each other. Craning her neck, she struggled to see. Like everyone around them, the twins stared down at the scene beyond.
"What is it?" Elishiba asked a woman nearby. "What is happening?"
The woman's eyes were wild with fear. "The boy, he is sick and they were bringing him into Suzin to be nursed, but a shayatin has followed them into the city to claim his weakening heart, his soul."
A shayatin? A dirt demon, here in the city?
It was unheard of. Shayatin preyed on people when they were isolated in the desert, or when the city was in danger or under siege. It was not for many years that this had happened, and Elishiba had never witnessed it before. Her heart beat hard in her chest, concern overwhelming her.
The woman by her side wailed aloud, tears spilling down her face while she gripped Elishiba's arm, her fears tumbling out. "Aleem is cursed. Enemies walk through our gates taking what they want. Our empress will be used as a whore at our enemies' hands, while our people become victims of thieves and shayatin."
Elishiba stared at her in horror as she took in what the woman was saying, realizing the extent of her people's fears. It pulled on something deep within her, drawing on her essential womanhood, her very being---that which she had called upon at Sevita's knees. Her heart grew strong, her will more fiercely determined than ever. She clasped the woman tight against her for a moment. "It will not be so, sister. Trust me, it will not be."
With the promise still on her lips, she squeezed herself between the crowds of onlookers, only halting when she reached the inner edge of the gathered crowd. She could scarcely believe the scene before her.
A narrow stretcher made of sticks and torn fabric bore the body of a thin young boy. Beside him, the demon rose and sank into the sands, its body forming from the very grains itself. As it lifted once more, grappling at the body on the stretcher, Elishiba saw a screaming skull, eyeless, but with vision all the same. A hollow, hungry mouth and bony fingers emerged from the sand and plucked at the stretcher's edge. The boy screamed and writhed in agony when the demon's finger brushed over his throat, as if it had taken the breath from his lungs.
Elishiba's skin crawled with fear and revulsion. She stared in horror. The color faded from the boy's face. Grains of sand were pouring into his mouth as the demon moved over his face. Nearby, a woman was on her knees, wailing. The boy's mother, Elishiba knew it in her heart. Two young men tried to draw her away, but she clutched at the earth with her fingers, powerless, yet unwilling to flee.
"Gods, help us," Elishiba whispered, horrorstruck.
Her attention shifted when a tall, hooded figure in heavy sacking robes emerged from the crowd and taunted the demon, his arms raised as if warning the creature off in a commanding voice. Beyond him she caught sight of a scrawny elder man, with a tufted beard, who stood by his side. The two challengers had apparently come forth to take on the creature.
A glimmer of hope for the boy sprang into being in her heart.
On his feet the robed man wore dusty, worn boots, a traveler. His robes, too, were worn and travel weary. He chanted aloud an ancient, foreign-sounding tongue. Whatever it was that he said, it harnessed the demon's attention.
The demon paused and lifted its shifting sand-formed skull, turning in the direction of the stranger. Elishiba watched in awe. The shayatin had understood what the stranger had said.
Hope thrummed in her chest.
"People, give me your strength, focus on the boy," the hooded figure shouted in the direction of the crowd.
Some of the crowd fell to their knees, as if willing. Others backed away, too afraid to be involved. Elishiba stepped forward, her heart beating fast, her feet moving of their own accord.
The hooded figure seemed to focus on her, but she could not see his face. He reached out a hand in her direction, and between them a powerful force grew. It was immense, tugging on her very innards with its strength. It was happening so fast, she could barely make sense of it. Her body reacted, her response forming out of her need to help. The man was using her to assist him in his cause, she realized. And then the crowd seemed to sense it too, and she felt her torso heating fast, as if there was a burning rock lodged in her chest.
Between her and the stranger a fiery glow grew.
Voices lifted in concern, but she was locked into the experience and only faintly heard them. The stranger held her attention, directing the pulsing force between them, with one hand. It swirled out from him, only to be spooled back and reinvigorated from within her.
Hot and vibrating inside, her chest ached. A fearful moan escaped from her lips, but she could do nothing but give of herself, as she watched him raise the other hand, and move it through the air, before lashing it out in the direction of the shayatin.
Cries issued from the crowd.
The force between her and the stranger lifted and flashed out, harnessing the shayatin in a net of light, enmeshing him to the spot, and forcing him down into the sand from which he had formed. The demon fought the interference, bony fingers locked into the glowing light around him, mouth open in an angry sneer.
The crowd huddled back, as light arced between the hooded figure, the crouched demon, and Elishiba.
Her limbs were shaking, her chest now painful with the force that was running through her. She lost sight of the crowd around her, aware only of the hooded man and their joined purpose. All of her desire to protect and love her people was funneling out of her into the atmosphere, and challenging the demon. She felt the resistance of the demon attempting to feed back into her heart.
Two against one, the hooded figure was using her.
But who was he? The words flitted through her mind even as she wilted under the force of the experience. In her heart she knew, but before she had time to acknowledge the truth of the matter, the power reached a sudden, higher pitch. Her arms shook, her body surging with energy.
The creature's forearms bent backwards, its hollow eyes turned toward her now, its mouth open in a fierce grimace. The arc of light strengthened, she felt the hooded figure forcing it so, and her body shuddered, her head spinning. A scream emerged from her mouth, a violent release of emotion, a shout of fury and victory.
Grains of sand spilled from the demon's head. It was disintegrating before their eyes. As the demon sank into the earth, becoming nothing but dust, the boy beside him moved, his body jerking, breath sucking back into his lungs. He sat up, coughed and spewed dust and bile.
His mother rose to her feet, staggered forward, as a cry of joy lifted from the crowd.
Elishiba gasped for breath, triumph flooding her senses, her attention on the hooded figure. He had drawn her into his actions, used her and shown her what she wanted to know---how to help. He seemed to be alone now, for the older man had disappeared from his side. He pushed the people who clustered around him away, directing their attention to the young boy.
The stranger walked in her direction. As he closed on her his head lifted, and he grabbed her by the hand, drawing her away and directing her behind a cart laden with goods.
Her legs were weak and her feet heavy. She staggered after him, her scarf slipping from her head as she went. She clutched at it with shaking fingers, trying to pull it back into place.
"Hurry," he said when they got beyond the cart. "Leave this place before your identity is revealed."
The sound of his voice ran over her, calming her spirit like cool water to burning skin. For a single moment she caught sight of those now familiar hawk-like eyes within the gloom of his hood. Her heart leapt with certainty, with sudden understanding.
"Be on your way now," he urged.
"But Amshazar, you saved the boy," she stated joyously, breaking into a smile.
"We saved him," he responded, securing the scarf where it had fallen from her face, his fingers brushing the side of her cheek as he did so. "Now go, back to the palace. We must not be seen together."
She felt tenderness in his touch, her senses heightened as they were from what had happened. And then he was gone, moving swiftly away, taking the opposite path to her. She wavered in his wake and clutched at the edge of the cart for support, watching as he disappeared.
"You knew it was me," she whispered to herself, taking in the implications of all that had happened. Her skin was alive with sensation, her mind humming with possibility. Inside, a fragment of that hot rock still flamed in her chest, and with it the certain knowledge that she must find out who he really was, and make him teach her to use the power.
The sound of the horn echoed down from the tallest spires of the palace, alerting the people of Suzin. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was past its zenith, and the moment of the emperor's daughter's departure was almost upon them.
Elishiba ignored the mournful sound, focused as she was on Amshazar, and the activity surrounding the departure. She looked for Amshazar's face in the crowd. Questions, unresolved plans, and above all hope, echoed through her mind. When she had returned to the palace the day before, he was nowhere to be found and she never had a chance to speak with him, to question him about what happened in the market place. Word had quickly spread about the occurrences in the city. It seemed that some of the onlookers were now calling the mysterious salvation the work of a lord-sorcerer, an expert magus. Was that what he was? she wondered, her belly fluttering with expectation. She bided her time because she knew instinctively he had meant only her to see and to know more. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, not even Yoshi or the twins. However, the strange, incomplete knowledge the day before had brought about made her stronger.
The vast traveling party was almost fully assembled inside the palace gates. The retinue of servants and equipment for the trek, together with the vast amounts of possessions that seemed to have been arranged to make her future life more acceptable, had taken hours to organize. The caravan included both Karseedian guards and a troop of The Immortals headed by Xerxes, as well as her intimate courtiers---Elra, Amra, Yoshi and now Kerr, too. She had told Yoshi and the twins to stay in their homeland, but they would not be parted from her. Even Yoshi, who hated to travel---and was currently causing chaos in her efforts to mount the large, docile camel that had been organized for her to ride---even she was ready to leave, but also determined to return to Suzin. She had sworn to Emperor Ramsis that she would return to him with Elishiba by her side.
Elishiba hoped it were true.
Leaving her father was the hardest to endure. He reassured her that they would be together soon, but she found little comfort in his words. At least Yoshi and her closest companions were with her.
And Amshazar?
Again she scoured the faces of those gathering to leave, and her heartbeat tripped when she saw his figure cutting a path through the crowd. He strode to a large white horse and mounted. As he lifted the reins in one sure hand and stroked the horse with the other, he looked her way. Their eyes locked. He nodded at her quickly, almost imperceptibly, when they made eye contact.
Her blood heated instantly, and a sense of surety descended on her. For the first time she felt truly ready to take this task on, deep down, like a certainty she was doing the right thing. She needed that surety, she realized. Turning to Xerxes, she signaled she was ready. Her father hastened to her side and her young half brother, Tariq, with him.
"You must keep Aleem safe, while I am gone," Elishiba whispered, as she bent to kiss her stepbrother.
Tariq nodded, and then hurled himself into her arms.
"Look after Father, and make your mother proud of you," Elishiba added, as she ran her fingers into his soft curls, fondly.
"Come home soon," Tariq demanded.
"As soon as I can." She stood and kissed her father quickly, turning away from them before the pain started again. She and her father had spent an hour alone earlier that day, discussing details, saying their goodbyes.
As she turned, she saw that an argument had broken out between Xerxes and Sibias. Seeing her watching, Xerxes walked to her side. He wore the polished chest piece of The Immortals' battle attire, as did all his men, marking them out as fierce, devoted warriors. Despite her vow not to wage war, a sense of pride blossomed in her heart. "What now?" she quizzed.
"He is insisting you travel in their royal palanquin." His eyes gestured right, where a covered podium was mounted on a camel. Although pleasing to the eye, it looked like a ridiculously uncomfortable way to travel for long distances. Looped back, heavy curtains would be dropped down on the occupant, blocking their view of the outside world.
"The Karseedians brought it with them," Xerxes added, "and he says the Empress Mehmet will expect to see you arrive in it."
Elishiba smiled at Xerxes. She had no intention of spending three days being jolted to her destination, captive in a small prison, when she could ride her own beautiful stallion. "I may be going there to negotiate for the sake of peace, but they cannot order me where to sit. At least, not yet."
"Never will they, Empress." His handsome mouth curled. His faith in her warmed her heart. He held up one hand, and shook his head at Sibias and the men who waited to assist her into the seat and its shaded interior.
"I will ride my own mount," she declared loudly, and gestured to one of her own men, who led Fidda forward.
Sibias scowled. "It would be unwise of you not to accept this generous gesture from the Empress Mehmet," he shouted across at her.
He was an unpleasant man, but when he was thwarted in his plans he wore it badly, and looked comical. "Maybe later," she responded, mounting Fidda. "If only to keep the peace," she added, in a low voice.
"I'm ready." She took a deep breath and nodded at Xerxes, who gave the signal. Her people began to move toward the gates of the palace and the winding street through the city to its outer gates. Sibias and his men had to hasten toward their own mounts in order to keep up with them and join the caravan.
Xerxes smiled at her admiringly as he mounted his horse.
She returned his glance affectionately, noticing that beyond him Amshazar, too, was amused. It gave her strength, and seeing them both that way, it made her think. Xerxes---her familiar companion andloverofdaysgoneby---andAmshazar---themysteriousstranger whose motives were still so unclear to her. It was Amshazar who stirred her blood in that illicit way. He was the one who set her skin alight with sensation whenever he was near, he whose image had haunted her since the first moment she had met him.
The palace gates opened.
Shouts issued from the crowd when they saw her.
Elishiba guided Fidda to the front of the caravan, and as it passed through the gates and began its passage through the crowded city streets, people jostled to get near her. She reached down to touch their hands, grasping as many of them as she could. A lot of the women were crying, and even the younger children were wide-eyed and watchful, clinging to their mothers' sides, aware that something portentous was taking place.
This wasn't what she wanted.
She wanted them to be secure, to know and trust her even while she was gone. She told them so, reassuring as many as she could. Inspired by their heartfelt gestures, their calls for her safe return, she gestured over to the nearest guard who flanked the caravan. "Give me your sword."
The soldier obliged, drawing his heavy sword from its sheath and passing it to her. She gripped Fidda's reins with one hand, directing him ahead of the caravan. As she did, she raised the sword, pointing it at the path ahead, and called out the words of the battle prayer the warriors of The Immortals chanted to strengthen their souls. "I will fight in your name, Aleem, my life is yours."
On hearing the familiar vows, the crowd raised their hands to her, repeating the words alongside her, recognizing her strength.
"To fight upon the battlefields of The Immortals, with your laurels carved upon my breast would be an honor for you, my homeland."
The crowd surged forward, touching the trailing hem of her robes, calling out and wishing her safe return. At her back, she heard her soldiers join her chant. She felt the love of those who accompanied her. Alongside her, the devotion of the people she sought to protect swelled. As they passed through the outer gates of the city, a trail of flowers had been left upon the ground to mark her way toward the distant land. The gesture made her heart ache, but still she smiled, promising them she would return victorious, and that Aleem would be safe.
On the crowd went, many of them running alongside the caravan for as long as they could, until the soldiers turned them back to the safety of the city.
It was not until they had passed many leagues beyond the city walls, and the last of the stragglers who ran alongside them had gone, that Elishiba finally lowered the sword and covered her face with her veil. She focused on the horizon, refusing the emotion that had built inside her. Her will was strong, but even so, a battle lay ahead. What sort of battle, she did not yet know, but whatever it was and no matter how that battle had to be fought, she would fight to win. For her people.
That first afternoon their journey passed quickly and uneventfully. They needed to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall, then set up camp for the night. In the hotter season, just a few weeks away, traveling across the desert by day was altogether impossible. Even now it was uncomfortably hot, and that's why they had waited until the afternoon was well under way before setting out. Through the twilight they traveled. It was only when the sky grew wholly black and the air turned suddenly cold that they unfolded the long caravan into a broad, temporary settlement.
Elishiba barely noticed the procedure. Tired and withdrawn from the emotion of the departure, she ate little and fell quickly into an uneasy sleep in the spacious tent erected for her and her closest companions.
On the second day, she felt stronger again, and became preoccupied with how and when she might speak with Amshazar. When she could not see him---and he watched her, too---she wondered where he was, and sought his image out. She also began to notice her surroundings more. Their passage away from the mountainous region brought them into a vaster landscape, marking the distance of their journey through a sparser region, where the people were still Aleemites, but lived a more nomadic life than her own kind.
Taking in the sights, she was also aware of where Amshazar was, at all times. It made her skin tingle and her blood heat when she noticed him watching her as well. Silent questions passed back and forth between them as they observed each other. He was waiting, too, she realized now. He was waiting for her to speak to him. Soon. Soon they would speak. Anticipation flooded through her.
The occasional dwellings they came upon held small groups of shy inhabitants who emerged to observe their passing. She insisted they pause a while here and there, and the people brought them out fresh water, speaking with her enthusiastically, waving them on as they went. Where Xerxes was impatient and concerned for her safety at these times, Amshazar seemed to watch her with a more curious, sympathetic gaze.
The land and its immense space fascinated her, so very different to the heavily walled city and clustered homes within Suzin, already so far behind them. Having only ever traveled a few hours at a time, the journey was becoming an experience in itself, bringing welcome relief from her preoccupations. This route was one that had been followed by some of the visitors who had stopped in Suzin over the years, those who made their lives on the trade routes, bringing precious, rare items for sale, incense, ivory and silks. Carved boxes, jewels and spices, their wares providing them with funds to live on, and hospitality along the way. It made her curious. What would it be like to travel that way, to live an adventure every day? The journey was opening her mind to new possibilities.
She ventured away from her companions, ignoring Yoshi's constant complaints about the journey, and the twins' lighthearted flirting with Kerr. Instead she led Fidda, rather than simply allowing him to follow the troupe before them. Fidda galloped up and down the caravan, passing amongst the line of mules that carried great blankets bulging with the goods that unwound into their dwellings for the night. She rode past the camels that brought up the rear of the caravan, heaped high with many boxes carrying supplies and possessions.
Riding alongside Xerxes a while, she observed his powerful presence over his men. She had never had a chance to see him in his role as a leader of The Immortals outside the city, and it intrigued her. She noticed with pride how he kept everything in order, and how he warily kept note of where their Karseedian companions were. He watched Sibias and Amshazar above all, especially when they talked between themselves, along the journey.
She galloped past the two of them at such a moment herself, in her passage up and down the great snake of the caravan weaving its meandering line over the land. Again, Amshazar held her gaze. The low set of his headdress only served to accentuate his handsome face, the sharpness of his features and his sensuous mouth. His hair twisted amongst the folds of material, entwining the shimmering burnished strands with palest blue draped against his neck. He and Sibias paused on their conversation when she drew near. She slowed Fidda, but did not halt until he spoke directly to her.
"You swoop amongst us like the desert hawks, Elishiba," Amshazar called, eyeing her floating robes, the swathe of white linens that covered her from head to toe. The thin, gleaming material reflected the sun, whilst also making her an unmistakable figure amongst the variously robed travelers.
He pointed overhead.
She looked up and noticed a trio of hawks, circling high above them, moving in synchronized and harmonious patterns, casting shadows in the bright sunshine.
"They hope for failure in our journey, for their subsequent feasting." He smiled, insinuatingly. His words always seemed to hold an undercurrent of suggestion, and warning.
She unlatched her veil, curious as to his deeper meaning, wishing she could question him openly. "Do you expect failure?"
"Never." His suggestive tone reminded her of another encounter, when he had remarked upon the curiosity that rose between them. The look in his eyes confirmed that curiosity was still mutual.
She felt her skin heat. To distract herself from his tone, she backed her mount up, turning him gently with a subtle shift of her hand on his reins, to move in step alongside them. "I'll try not to read complacency in your comment, Amshazar."
"Failure is a result of complacency, not the reverse. I myself have no intention of entertaining either complacency, or failure." There was such a teasing tone in his voice and his expression, that Elishiba found herself smiling, thinking back to his actions on behalf of the young Aleemite in the city, the boy he had saved from the shayatin.
"Such talk of failure," Sibias announced, with false merriment. "We are about to forge a great alliance, let's forget the uninvited hawks who ride with us." He glared at Amshazar, as if in warning.
Elishiba chuckled softly. To see Sibias flustered by their curious interchange amused her. Amshazar acknowledged her amusement, and their underlying conversation, reminding her again of their secret encounters. Her gaze fell to his hands on the reins of his mount. How she longed for the touch of them.
Sibias looked from one to the other of them, and opened his mouth as if to comment again, but Elishiba urged her horse on, and threw her veil back across her face, before he had further chance to comment.
For the rest of the day Amshazar eyed her openly, which kept the arousal he kindled in her simmering beneath her skin. Warm embers of anticipation glowed inside her.
By early evening, they had crossed over into the territory of Karseedia. A dark and uneasy atmosphere crept over the terrain, as real and ominous as if it were a swarm of death ghouls descending upon them. Elishiba sensed it in the atmosphere, and saw it reflected in the eyes of those traveling with her. They were alert to it too; aware that they were no longer in their homeland and more, that discontent was breeding in the very air itself here in this neighboring land.
The sun disappeared and the evening grew cold. They set up camp and Elishiba watched gratefully as fires were lit and her tent was erected. It was vast and comfortable in comparison to the smaller tents everyone else would bed down in that night. Even so, Yoshi trundled around the tent, complaining bitterly that she would have to burn precious incense to rid them of the smell of camel dung while plumping flattened cushions and trying to make some semblance of comfort for them all.
Amra and Elra stayed close by her side. They had adopted Kerr into their service, keeping him close by too, supplying him with tasks and teasing him with sips of their wine, and bites of the roast meat and warmed bread they had brought in from the campfires.
Elishiba ate a little and sipped a glass of wine, then donned a heavy cloak and left them to their flirting. Her silent unease at being on Karseedian territory was forcing her to take action. She walked out into the night, gesturing at the sentry stationed outside the tent, indicating that she should be left alone, and walked quickly into the darkness at the edge of the camp. A short climb had her up on the rocks above the enclave where they had halted for the night. The sky was vast and clear, the desert night air crisp and alive with mystery. The moonlight spilled an eerie passage of pale light through the dark sky. She shivered and drew her cloak tighter around herself.
Looking down at the sprawl of tents, interspersed haphazardly with the glowing embers of fires fading into the night, she could make out the dim inner lights of the many tents, and watched the shadowy movements therein, the occasional stirrings of music and voices reaching her through the still night air.
Where are you, Amshazar?
Lingering images of him upon his stallion that day stalked her memory; his teasing words haunted her, his knowing smile, his watchful ways. He reminded her of a poem she had heard told of a creature called a panther, a sleek black cat, waiting to step out of the jungle shadows, to meet its mate. Prowling, he was always prowling and watching. She wondered about his presence in this; he seemed not quite to fit with the rest of those involved, and yet moved amongst them so easily, so ever-present. She wondered, too, if others noticed and felt his presence, as much as she did. Since the day before, his insinuating ways made more sense, even though she could not begin to explain it.
As if in response to her thoughts, she saw his distinctive outline pass swiftly through the camp, and into one of the outer tents. A light flared within, but she could not make out any further movement.
Where had he been? she wondered. Conferring with Sibias again, perhaps. Could she get to know him, truly? Her practical nature meant she had to find out, to confront the questions he had planted in her, directly. And now she knew where to find him. Her chest grew tight with anticipation. She stood up, moving quickly down into the encampment, through the tents and toward the spot where she had seen him.
The path through the campsite seemed fraught with obstacles; a figure emerged in front of her, suddenly, gesticulating to someone and laughing. Elishiba pulled her veil close to hide herself from the man's view, as he turned to speculate on her flitting shadow. She raced past him, not wanting to know if she recognized him or not.
She was just a few steps away from his tent when she began to reconsider. Was this wise? The notion that she was under his spell once again crossed her mind, but she shook it off. As she did, the skin on the back of her neck prickled with awareness. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Sibias passing. His eyes were narrowed as he observed her there. Was he following her, or had he been on his way to see Amshazar? Just as she was about to say something, make an excuse for her presence in this part of the encampment, a cruel smile passed over his face. His eyes glittered in the darkness, and then he left the spot without acknowledging her.
A shiver ran down her spine. She wondered what had passed through his mind to make him smile that way. It was as if he were perversely pleased to catch her near Amshazar's tent. Perhaps he hadn't recognized her, though, dressed as she was in her cloak. She tried to take comfort from that thought, but felt the urge to hurry inside Amshazar's tent.
She moved close to it and whispered his name. "Amshazar?"
"Come inside."
He knew. He knew she was there. It sent a nervous tremor through her, and made her question her sanity in approaching him secretly, but she was unable to walk away. She drew back the drape of material that covered the entrance.
He was sitting in the small dim enclosure, but rose to his feet when she drew the curtain back. His mood was focused, serious. His hair hung loosely around his face, his eyes dark as they rested on her.
She knew instantly he was expecting her, from the look on his face. Had he lured her there? Her doubts multiplied, and she wanted to turn away, but his brooding eyes held hers.
He suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in.
Elishiba gasped at the sudden contact.
"Come inside, before you are seen," he urged. His expression held a note of caution.
She felt the heat rise to the surface of her skin, suddenly embarrassed at being there. She began to turn away from him, but he held her still tighter.
"No." His voice was commanding. "Elishiba, you came here because you had to. Now is not the time to leave."
"Who are you to decide what I shall do?" Even though she resisted, it was faltering. She could feel the heat of his body, and her own melted in response. She let him hold her wrist, not fighting it. There was something curiously satisfying about the way he held her so tightly. The curtain fell closed at her back. She swallowed. The atmosphere in the small interior was close, the private space of his tent implying its own intimate suggestions to her.
He did not reply, but smiled and drew her in against him so their bodies touched.
She gave a quiet gasp, unable to withhold her surprise. His sudden proximity threatened to overwhelm her; she was awash with desire for him. She steadied herself, weighing her body against his grasp.
"We both know what this about." His darkly hooded eyes glittered.
Her legs felt weak. The subconscious forces of desire that had forced her there were rising rapidly to the surface. She grappled with reason, reminding herself of the questions that had also brought her here. "Who are you, Amshazar? I came here because I have to know that."
"You have many questions," he said, smiling gently and releasing her wrist, his fingers moving to stroke her hair back from her face.
She wavered, but sensed tenderness in him. It made her feel more vulnerable, and yet, somehow, cared for. He was such an enigma. Why did he act this way around her?
"I wanted to explain things to you." His voice was low and quiet, his breath warm on her face. "I had to wait for you to come to me, because it is difficult for me to get close to you. You are always heavily flanked with guards and companions."
Elishiba blushed furiously, realizing the truth of that statement.
"I cannot explain everything fully now," he continued, "but my role here is to assist and guide you. Your wish to deal with Aleem's situation without resorting to war is a noble one, but no small task. I will help you."
"But you are allied to the Karseedians. For all I know, this might be a trick to gain my trust when I should not be giving it." She was surprised at what he said. His words also filled her with cautious hope.
His gentle, reassuring smile made that sense of hope grow stronger.
"You are understandably wary. For me, being alongside Hanrah was the most logical place to begin, because there I would be able to reach both of you. I also hope to influence him, although he is under his mother's harsh rule as much as the next person in Karseedia."
His tone was wry as he said those last words.
There was logic in what he said, but still her mind ran with questions, objections, and curiosity. "The things you said to me, when we were at home in the palace, about the power of the soul. I felt as if I had begun to understand what you were saying, but then..." She shook her head. "Amshazar, what happened between us, with the shayatin---I cannot make sense of it."
He nodded. "Know this. The power you saw that day in the marketplace abides within you, and if you use it for just causes as we did then, you will find it and control it easily." He lifted both her hands in his, holding them to his chest. He was fully focused on her, his head lowered to hers. "Time is short, though. I must ask you not to question things so much, but simply to believe. It's a big thing I ask of you, I know, but in doing so, you will open yourself to it more quickly."
"I want to." She opened her fingers within his loose grasp, and rested them against his chest.
"I know," he whispered.
She felt her cloak slide away down her back.
His face was a hair's breadth away from hers. He ran his warm palm up the back of her neck beneath her hair.
She tingled with self-awareness, looking at his mouth, longing for its touch on hers. "Make me believe," she breathed.
He nodded. Cupping her head slowly, he pressed his mouth to hers, opening her up.
Her response was immediate, her hands on him, her lips parting, his kiss met and returned. Beneath her fingers, his body was hard and taut, desire rising in him as surely as it was in her. Her eyes closed and her fingers clutched at him. Her limbs turned to fluid, her intimate parts afire. The firm demand of his kiss fanned the flames deep inside her, flames that seemed to burn all around them.
She whimpered with need.
"Hold onto me, you will see," he whispered hoarsely, as he moved to kiss her earlobe.
Something had changed.
Her eyes opened. They were no longer inside the tent. Instead, the cold night air surrounded them. The tent fell away around them. She was locked in his arms and they were moving up and away from the spot.
"Amshazar!"
She clung to him, her fingers locked around his neck while she looked this way and that, her eyes widening as she realized how far above the encampment they were. Wind whipped around them, their robes flapped and their hair wavered as their bodies moved as one, rising from the ground and soaring high, into the night sky. The tents were just small patches of color beneath them, lit by the fires dotted here and there between them. The rocky outcrop nearby was a distant blur in the darkness. He held her against him and she clung to him, her body crushed hard against him for support.
"There is no need to be afraid," he said.
She couldn't help herself. Her feet scrambled against his.
"Trust me." He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.
She saw the warmth there, the tender humor at her responses, the power, and the desire. A vital force burned within him, holding them safely aloft.
"Join me," he said, his voice reaching her above the roar of the rushing air. "Remember how it felt in Suzin. Use your inner strength to master this."
Doubt swamped her. The roar of the wind seemed to blast through her as she resisted. Her body and mind were locked into the jeopardy.
"Trust in your emergent skills in the art of sorcery, Elishiba," he said to her, encouraging her. "Feel for it inside you and ask it to make you a safe path here."
She saw faith in his eyes. He believed she could do it too. And yes, she wanted to know this, of course she did. She had seen what he could do, what was possible. If she could make it real, it would help her to achieve her goals.
"Hold me?" she asked tentatively, still incredibly afraid despite what she had previously seen.
"Yes, I will keep hold of your hand, I won't let you fall. But you will find your path."
Light blazed from his eyes, she felt it willing her power to grow, willing her to move forward with this. She nodded. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten, recalled the sensation that she had felt in the marketplace in Suzin, and summoned it again. Instantly, heat throbbed in her, hitting her with a dizzying rush.
Make me a safe path, she chanted within, willing the power to grow.
After a moment her feet leveled, as if being supported from below. She loosed her grip on him. Even though he held her, she trembled, her legs wavering, but she did not fall. Her eyes flashed open. It worked. A dazzling rush hit her, her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
They were surrounded now in gleaming white light, and she felt the tug deep within her, just like the pulsing sensation that had passed between them in Suzin, now more pure and serene as it meshed them together in this moment. He held one of her hands in his, and encouraged her to move. Slowly, she stepped apart from him, as they rode the night sky. He took a step forward. She moved alongside him, cautious but thrilled by each part of the experience. Her senses were filled with the experience, the very physical nature of it. She felt as wild and restless as the elements themselves, joyous laughter escaping from her open lips.
He smiled and gestured toward the distant sky beyond them.
She followed his gesture, attempting to gain the measure of the experience. Thin layers of cloud shifted across the moon, splaying the fall of light to the far edges of the sky and beyond.
"The stars," she exclaimed. She was amazed at their luminosity. The sky was alive with flickering lights, the stars vivid and alive against the vast sky. The surface of the sky looked as if it ran on forever, much deeper and more immense than she had ever imagined.
His hands moved back in around her waist, so that he held her loosely. "Yes, so beautiful, and near enough to touch."
She nodded at him, enjoying his hands on her. Then she was captured by the passion in his expression. He wasn't looking at the stars. He was watching her. His eyes were dark with desire, his expression intense. Stillness had fallen over them, she realized, as if his focus was solely on her and they no longer whirled into the sky. She had a sudden feeling of significance, as if this moment had torn away some facade between them. The desire in his eyes mirrored the undeniable craving deep within her. She wanted him, this man who was watching over her as if encouraging her to be as passionate and strong as the wind itself. "Am I dreaming this?"
"No," he replied, and his smile made her cling tighter to him.
"Will they be able to see us, from below, from the encampment?" She was suddenly aware they were above their people, entwined together in the sky.
He shook his head. "If they look they will think they see a falling star. The power manifests as light."
She smiled at how it might seem to onlookers, her fingers running into his hair as she pulled him down to kiss her again.
Oh, how she melted when his mouth covered hers, reaching to meet him, her innermost flesh tightening rhythmically, her entire body craving his. His hands were all over her, stroking her, feeling her through her robe, hungrily responding to her hands on him. His body was strong, sure. She measured it quickly, memorizing each plane, each muscle, through the fabric of his clothing, trembling with need when she felt his phallus large and risen.
He led a trail of kisses across her face, and then she felt the pressure of his mouth on her neck. The urgency and passion in his kiss made her dizzy, and she threw her head back in ecstasy. Liberation coursed through her, paralleled by the need to express her desire to him. His hair streaked out into the night, her own twining into it as she longed to twine her body with his in passion. They were moving again, she realized, and then he leaned over her, and she rode the sky on her back with his body over hers.
"What else do you want to know, Empress Elishiba?"
There was more than a question in his eyes, there was a suggestion, and she felt a hollow response inside her that wanted everything he might have to give her. Strands of her hair whipped across his face as he waited to hear her answer. A sudden tremor ran through her body. It was as if they were both possessed by the chaos and passion of the elements.
"I want to know you," she dared to whisper. "You, Amshazar."
The wind whistled around them, clouds shifting on the currents, the sky streaking with sudden moonlight beyond him, casting his face in shadow. "Things between us are fragile."
She felt hesitance in him.
His eyelids lowered as he contemplated her. "If we become..."
"Lovers?" she stated. There was a new directness between them now. Was it a gift from the elements? Could she take him as her lover, this dangerously handsome, desirable sorcerer?
He stared into her eyes.
Her heart tripped. He wanted that too. She could feel it with every part of her.
He nodded, but his hand was on her throat, stroking her. "It will change things between us, forever."
He had been thinking about the implications as much as she had. A thrill ran through her. "They are already changed, forever," she stated.
"That is the truth," he murmured.
Any last shred of resistance between them was melted in his kiss, casting it off into the night winds. She was giddy with arousal, reckless with abandon, thrilled at the mutual desire confirmed in his words. Every nerve ending in her body yearned for his body to rise over hers and take her. The longing inside her had become an ache, a very, very painful ache. It was just within her strength, still, to resist from begging him to take her. Then she felt the soft thump of cushions at her back and gasped aloud.
They were back in his tent, and instead of the night sky, she saw the shadows that were cast by the candles wavering across the fabric as it tented over them once more. For a moment, she became aware of the distant voices of those who sat around the campfires. But the sound fast faded away again, because she was on her back, and he was between her thighs. She touched his face, outlining his lips with one finger. "Take me," she whispered.
"It has been so hard being near you, and wanting to hold you in my arms and do just that." His voice was hoarse.
She shivered, and then nodded.
"It was the same for me. From the moment I saw you, I could scarcely deny it, though I feared who and what you are." Her free hand had found its way inside his robe and touched his naked chest, tentatively, in a silent plea.
"Don't fear me, sweet Elishiba." He kissed her mouth, her face, and her eyelids. His body was taut with restraint, and when his mouth touched hers it seemed to burn her to the core. She sought the wetness of his mouth to calm the flames, trying to pacify the need in her. It was futile. She reached for him and her hands slid up the line of his arms, her mouth inviting his tongue deeper.
A moan of longing escaped him.
She drew up one knee at his flank, her robe sliding down her leg when she did. His hand moved there and stroked her naked thigh. The fragile wick faltered, sending the shadows dancing wildly around the tent, when he knelt over her and pulled up her robes. She half sat to assist in the undressing, shifting as the swish and sway of the fabric on her alert skin teased her, until she was naked before him.
His eyes glinted as he took in the sight of her naked body, making her writhe before him, pride and desire rich in response to the look in his eyes. He growled in his throat, his hand moving down the length of her torso, between her breasts, and lower, to where she ached for him. With an enquiring finger, he stroked over her mound, brushing over the nub of flesh nestled between her folds, then moved deeper, into the receptive sphere at the entrance to her womanly channel, and tested her.
She whimpered, crazed by the intense feelings he was causing in her. Her hips moved to meet his touch, her body clamoring for him.
His mouth pursed as he moved his fingers, stroking her juices up and down over her swollen, sensitive folds, teasing over the swell of her desire until she cursed aloud. He slowly withdrew his finger, trailing it up across her belly, lacing a circle of its moisture around her right nipple. Following it with his mouth, his teeth grazed the skin that reached in response.
"Your body is so lush, so beautiful." He reached for the thin rope belt that held his robes in place, untying it.
She bit her lips together, unable to reply, watching his strong, naked body unsheathed in the candlelight. His body was beautiful, taut and sinuous, expressing the same elegant perfection as his features. His shoulders were more powerful than she had imagined, the muscle of his chest beautifully carved. Her gaze followed the line of dark hair from his chest down to his belly, where his phallus bowed, potent and erect, ready for her.
"Somehow," he whispered, as he eased the head of his shaft inside her willing flesh, "I feel this has to be done." A look of significance passed briefly over his face, and then was gone. He drove his length inside her, his eyelids lowering, his mouth opening in a grunt of pleasure as he wedged against her very core.
When the sudden heat and fullness captured her senses fully, her ability to respond properly was gone. She met his gaze. Time seemed to stop.
"Amshazar..."
As she said his name his mouth closed over hers, his tongue teasing against hers, presenting a curiously gentle counterpoint to the vibrant thrust of his body elsewhere.
His hands moved over her flank, moving the flesh of her buttocks in his hands. He reached under her as her body raised, his hands caressing her. His every touch and precise measured movement caused in her the utmost inability to resist total abandon. Her knees lifted, her feet moving on the rugs and cushions, her hips grinding up against his. Her hands moved over his shoulders and upper arms, reveling in the power as he lifted up and thrust inside her.
Her climax was blistering on the horizon. The sensation of his shaft bowed there, moving against her most sensitive and secret places, built waves of pleasure inside her. Her breath came quicker with each stroke. Her body was bowed back against his, arched in suspense. She couldn't hold back her moan of ecstasy. "Yes, oh yes," she whispered.
"Tell me," he whispered, rising up onto his arms, his chest powerfully strong as he flexed, thrusting deep and slow, and intensity blazing from his eyes. "I want to hear you say that you will trust me in this battle with Karseedia."
The way his words were breathed between his gritted teeth in between thrusts pushed her over the edge. Her body flexed and reached. She tried to speak, but words could not form, for she was about to climax. She opened her mouth wide and rode the feeling. A wild cry, a dense, muted scream rose up in her.
He clasped his hand quickly over her mouth, and contained her release within their hearing. As the heat flamed out and spread through her, it melted her flesh on his. Grappling for his fingers, she moved his hand. His eyes locked with hers, his gaze compelling her to speak, concern in his expression. Her heart soared when she saw the look in his eyes. Dizzy with pleasure she reached up and kissed his mouth, laughing softly against it. "I will trust you," she whispered.
Then and only then did he groan, riding her deep, hunting for his release inside her. The thrust of him, so deep within, fast led her back to her own peak. She gasped when her entire nether region flamed and sparkled, sensation soaring inside her. "Dear gods," she exclaimed, her inner flesh clutching and holding his rigid phallus as she released a second time.
She saw his eyes narrow, his head drop back, felt him shift and withdraw, and then his seed spurted against her belly. The sense of loss she felt was sudden and acute, until a moment later he clutched her close against him, whispering to her, slowly kissing her down to the ground, his hair closing in around them.
She reveled in his touch, craving more of him, craving his body alongside hers. The sensual heat in her body ebbed, slowly, but her nerve endings still hummed with the aftermath of his lovemaking. She moved her thighs, embracing the liquid heat inside her, then captured his face between her hands. "Who are you, Amshazar? I answered your question, but you never answered mine."
He lifted his head to look down at her, and opened his lips to reply, but before he had a chance to say anything, the sound of a woman's scream reached them. Snaking through the low hum of life in the camp, it pierced the air between them.
"What was that?" She reached out to touch his shoulder, questioningly.
His eyes grew dark, his mouth tense. "Alas, I fear the battle begins earlier than I had expected."
She was stricken by a sense of dread. A distant gannet cry echoed the earlier sound. A shiver raced up her spine. Torn between the need to stay with him, and that of returning to her people, she moved reluctantly, reaching for her robe.
He gripped her arm as she tried to take her leave. "Tread carefully, Elishiba. Do not let the enemy see what is in your heart and mind. Your newfound skill is with you now and it will grow. You will know when to use it, but guard it well."
At the sound of the scream,Kerr leapt to his feet, staggering back from the place where he had been warming himself by the fireside. The dreadful sound had come from within Elishiba's tent. His immediate thought was of his mistress, and then he remembered she had gone out for a walk some time earlier.
She might have returned.
He glanced across the blazing fire to where Elra had been chatting with the warrior known as Xerxes. Elra now had one hand over her mouth, the other on her chest. Her eyes held a stricken look. She stared over at the entrance to the tent, where a sentry had his sword unsheathed and was entering the tent, closely followed by another of the Aleemite guards. The sound had definitely come from in there. Both Elra and Xerxes started to move toward the spot.
"No." Xerxes arrested Elra with a hand on the shoulder. "Please wait here. There may be danger."
She pulled free of his grasp, stumbling as she ran toward the tent flap.
Kerr followed them. He felt a sharp jerk on the back of his tunic.
"Wait up, young man." It was Yoshi, and she had a flagon of wine clasped in her free arm. If she was outside the tent, who was left inside?
Kerr fought back the feeling of dread that came over him as he took the flagon from her. Elra had gone inside and a garbled wail came from the tent. What had she seen? He and Yoshi exchanged glances, and then hurried on. He lifted the flap covering the entrance to the tent, and Yoshi darted in. Glancing past her, Kerr saw figures gathered around a dark shape on the floor. His heart skipped a beat. A cry of dismay escaped Yoshi's lips, and she pushed away the sentry as he tried to block her path.
The sight of Amra's contorted body transfixed Kerr. He set the flagon of wine on the ground, barely noticing as it sloshed up over his sandaled feet. He had once before seen a corpse, and he knew that was what he was seeing now, but he had never seen anything so strange and disturbing before. Her eyes were open and rolled back in her head. She had a painful grimace fixed on her face. Both hands were clawed at her neck, her tongue lolled at one side of her mouth. Her normally warm, healthy skin was tinged blue, her body bowed up at the torso. It was as if she had choked, or been choked.
Bile rose in his throat at the sight.
Elra knelt, weeping, over the body of her sister. Kerr stood silently watching as she clutched with useless hands at the still form of her twin. For several moments he was unable to respond, his body shivering involuntarily.
A second sentry was trying to pull Elra away from the corpse, while Xerxes walked slowly around the body, scouring the ground. Yoshi had closed on the group and was staring at the scene with astonished eyes.
"Did anyone pass you?" Xerxes directed the question at the sentry who had been on duty outside the tent.
The sentry shook his head.
"And the empress?" Xerxes was focused, his powerful body emanating fury and purpose.
"She went for a walk," Kerr offered, stepping forward. "She said she wanted to get some air."
Xerxes eyed him with suspicion. "How long ago?"
"Enough time for us to eat, and unpack the bedding. We'd been out by the fire for a while after that."
Xerxes nodded. "She may have avoided this fate for herself, but we must find her now. I have to know she is safe."
Elra seemed not to even hear what was being said around her. She had collapsed on the ground by her sister's face, weeping softly against her. Instinct took control of Kerr and he moved to her side. Nodding at the sentry whose actions had proved futile, Kerr took her into his arms gently. She seemed to wilt against him more readily, which made his heart lurch in his chest. Familiarity, he guessed. Whatever the reason, he was glad of it.
Beyond her, he stared in horror at Amra. Strangest of all, now that he was close by he could see that her beautiful, long hair was wrapped around her throat, snakelike. It was as if her own hair had throttled her, the strands tightly imbedded in the soft skin of her neck.
"Her hair," he whispered. He looked up at Xerxes, unable to believe what he saw.
Xerxes' lips were tightly closed, his eyes flickering with thought. He nodded at Kerr, and Kerr knew then that this powerful man was just as shocked and confused as he was by what he saw.
More of the Immortals entered the tent, filling the space to crowded. Kerr recognized them as the three men who guarded the outside perimeter of the tent. They looked astonished, low curses passing from their lips when they saw inside.
"The empress is missing. Gather your men, find her," Xerxes ordered. One of the sentries nodded and disappeared out of the tent. Xerxes turned his attention to the second man. "Scour the perimeter of the tent closely. No one passed the duty guard." He ducked down and tested the fabric of the tent near to where the body lay, but found it heavily weighted, as it should be. "There is no sign of entry here, but check outside." He shook his head, confused. "And we must double the guard around the tent. How many in the camp know about this?"
The third sentry shook his head. "Those who heard thought it an animal, there has been drinking." He lifted his shoulders. "Many are already asleep."
Xerxes nodded. "Gather a dozen of your men, send them amongst the camp to question those of our people who are still awake ... and all of the Karseedians. Wake them. But do it quietly. Whoever has laid hands on the Empress's handmaid will be dealt with."
Yoshi shook her head, assertively. "No one has touched her." She stepped cautiously around the body, pointing as she went, her expression one of great caution. "There is evil here. See, her hair..."
As if barely able to look, she gestured to where the long tresses of Amra's hair bound her throat. "I have seen something like this before, many years ago." She swallowed hard, looking at Xerxes. "Someone has practiced a treacherous, forbidden act, one from the ledger of the dark arts. What frightens me most is that Elishiba may have been the intended victim."
The look of fear in Yoshi's eyes made a shudder pass through Kerr. To see her so disturbed made him wonder what was to become of them. She was the one who kept them all in order, and up until then she had made him feel secure. If she was afraid, he was afraid. He clutched Elra closer in his arms, and as he did he saw the empress herself dart inside the tent.
Kerr sighed with relief.
She looked dismayed at the sight of the gathering, her cloak clutched in her hand, her face flushed. "What is this, what has happened here?"
Xerxes darted over to her, and gathered her into his arms to protect it from the sight, but it was too late, for she had seen and cried out in anguish. Close on her heels, the Karseedian they called Amshazar followed her into the tent.
Xerxes moved swiftly, withdrawing his dagger from its sheath at his belt, putting himself between the empress and Amshazar.
"What business have you here?" he demanded of Amshazar.
Amshazar bowed his head and opened his palms, showing that he had no weapon. "My business was to see the empress safely back here, since there has been a disturbance." As he lifted his head he fixed Xerxes with a determined stare, his expression serious.
Kerr wondered what would happen next. Xerxes looked suspicious, and did not yet lower his weapon. Then the empress moved and pulled at his arm, forcing him to lower it. He turned to her in disbelief.
"This is not Amshazar's doing." Her voice faltered, forehead furrowing, her eyes flitting about the tent and from one to the other of the two men as she spoke.
"How can you be sure of that?" Xerxes snapped back, his gaze flickering between the two of them. "To return here after committing murder would be the perfect excuse, would it not?" His eyes narrowed.
Kerr soothed Elra in his arms he watched the unfolding scene, unable to turn away, for the three of them had now created a peculiar and uncomfortable atmosphere between them, diverting everyone's attention from the body. He felt the warrior's dislike of the other man, who he obviously thought of as an enemy.
The empress looked uneasy, color rising in her cheeks. "Please, Amshazar, it would perhaps be best if you go." She looked at him beseechingly.
He did not falter under her stare and did not move.
"I am safe now," she added. Some unspoken message passed between the three figures, tension ratcheting up.
Xerxes lifted his dagger again.
Amshazar's eyes shifted strangely as he stared at the empress, and then he finally lowered his head. "I am at your service, should you need me."
With that he took his leave.
The empress seemed relieved he had gone, and then turned back to the spot where Amra's body lay, breaking free of Xerxes' concerned arm when he tried to hold her back as she flitted toward the body.
"A search is on. She was attacked, somehow, here in the tent, when she was alone." Yoshi tried to explain. "There is evidence of perverse sorcerery. I believe this to be an act from the dark ledger."
"Sorcery?" Elishiba repeated, swallowing hard, her cheeks flushing and her eyes rounding. She turned back to Xerxes. "Why has this happened?" Her mood was evident in the desperate note of her question.
Kerr felt the warrior's growing frustration. He put one fist to his head. "I can only believe Yoshi's suggestion because no person passed us, and no one has been in here." He looked at her with clouded eyes, guilt-ridden. "Perhaps they thought it was you." He seemed to swallow his words as soon as they were out, realizing what he was implying, but it was too late.
Elishiba stared at him, realization sinking in. Then she stepped closer to the body, staring in horror, as if compelled to look. "Such treacherous enemies walk amongst us?"
"On your heels, mayhap." Xerxes weighed his words carefully.
Elishiba shot him a cautionary glance. "Amshazar and I were talking when we heard the scream. It wasn't him."
Yoshi added her own comment. "Amshazar stands alone in this. He is not your adversary."
Xerxes gave a frustrated growl. "You women are blinded by his charm, that's all it is." His mouth twitched. "It is time for me to join the hunt," he said, bowing his head and leaving.
"His jealousy leads him," Yoshi commented. "I will make a sleeping draught for Elra." She shuffled over to the fire, shaking her head wearily.
Outside, Xerxes could be heard instructing the guards to stay with Elishiba.
"Watch over her for me ... keep her safe," Elishiba said to Kerr.
He nodded, emphatically.
"Do not let anyone else in here, and no one else is to know we are afraid." Her voice faltered, and after a moment, she walked out.
He managed to make Elra sip the dish of brew Yoshi had made and soon enough her body ceased its trembling. She lifted her head and looked at him beseechingly with her troubled eyes. "Her sash, please give me Amra's sash."
Kerr glanced over at the colored sash that Amra wore. Both sisters had a sash, each a different color. It helped to tell them apart. The scarlet sash lay across Amra's torso, beneath her clawing arms. His gut churned at the idea of moving her.
"Please," Elra whispered. This was the first thing she had said since the body had been discovered.
His chest ached to soothe her. He would do anything, no matter how hard. "Hush, I will get it."
Flanked by guards, Elishiba's heart beat furiously against the wall of her chest as she wove her way back to Amshazar's tent to question him. Amra was dead. How could it be? She wasn't ignorant of such malevolent violence, but never had it been so close to her before. Moreover, why---why had Amra been the victim? Had her handmaid seen something, or someone?
She heard Amshazar's voice echoing in her mind, his knowing words and his dark expression after the scream. And then, when he had followed her to her tent, she had seen a ghostly apparition behind him, the same man that she had seen that time in Suzin. Who was he?
At first she had dismissed Amshazar as the murderer, but a cold claw of fear had traced over her spine. He was a sorcerer. Could he be in two places at one time? She had to know, and a growing clarity of mind made her trace her path back across the encampment, cool and determined. She was afraid, and her guards had discouraged her from venturing out, but she had to speak with him, to challenge him in the face of what had happened.
The camp itself seemed quieter now, but the atmosphere spoke of hushed footsteps and whispers. Flares on the horizon indicated a search amongst the rocks they were sheltered below.
She observed their passage, knowing that Xerxes and his men would find something, if something were there to be found. It was more than likely, however, that the perpetrator was still amongst them, under cover of the camp. Many watchful eyes hid themselves from view here.
Amshazar was waiting for her, as if he had known that she would return. He stood outside his tent beneath the crisp skies, observing her approach, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of her guards.
She paused; she did not want the guards to overhear any references to her previous encounter with Amshazar. "Wait here," she instructed. "I will be within your sights," she added, when they hesitated. "I need to speak with Amshazar, that is all."
The guards stood by observing as she closed on her target.
"Was this why I was with you," she whispered to him when she reached his side, "to undermine me through such treachery?"
He reached out for her arm, drawing her close so that they would not be overheard. "You were with me because you wanted to be with me," he responded, his expression earnest.
"And now my woman servant is dead." She felt panic strike, the whole strangeness of the night's events taking hold of her, casting her adrift from reason. "You knew something. When we heard the scream, you knew what had happened," she said. "This evil thing, to take a life ... someone so very precious to me." The tears were welling inside her. She battled against them, and the rage she felt, glancing back at her guards for reassurance. "Was it supposed to be me, was this to undermine me? To warn me, and if so, of what?"
He lifted her hands in his, holding her wrists with strong fingers.
She was shaking. If this thing had been done to strike fear in her soul, it had surely succeeded.
"Listen to me," he whispered fiercely.
She struggled against him, but he held firm, his gaze flickering between her and her men, cautiously weighing their mood and possible reactions.
"Elishiba, please..." He held her hands with one of his, and moved to stroke away the hair that tangled itself against her cheek.
"Enemies are everywhere. There are struggles ahead of you. There is more at stake than you and your father could realize. Please remember that nothing is as simple as it seems."
She could not grasp his words. He was talking in riddles, telling her nothing. She saw only that she had been with him, and then this awful thing had happened to them.
"You tell me nothing. Are you part of this, Amshazar? Did you know of this, when I was with you?"
He shook his head, but his eyes remained clear and focused. "No, I knew nothing of it, until the sense of evil circled the camp on the night air, and we heard the scream."
She wanted him not to be part of it, despite the fact he plainly was, somehow. Her heart ached for it not to be so. And yet she felt she needed to mistrust him, for he was so very much part of the unknown world into which she was walking. Something within her, desperation for comfort, perhaps, or the fact they had become lovers, wanted to question and to believe. "I am surrounded by enemies. I cannot even trust my own servants to observe and keep my people safe. You are allied to my enemy ... who am I to trust? Tell me this."
"You can trust me, Elishiba. Believe this much." His gaze held hers.
She wanted to hear him say that, yes. But at the same time she could not easily accept it. Even as she struggled with her dilemma, the passion with which he had so recently taken her haunted her body. She threw her hair back, breathing deep, closing her eyes momentarily to clear the tears that threatened to fall.
He leaned closer, his breath tracing a warm passage over her cheek. "You trusted me as a woman trusts a man to whom she offers her body. Trust me again."
His voice was slow and murmured against her skin.
His words brought more questions. Had she offered herself to him, had she trusted him then? Had he led her there on a carpet of sorcery beneath her feet, to save her from something that might have happened to her, or to distract her while his men gained access to her people? Was he just another player in the scene, a foil for deceit? Could she even trust herself, in the face of her overwhelming desire for this man?
She pulled free, putting her hands to her head. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I cannot understand why this has happened." She looked back at him, needing to see his reaction, trying to gauge him. "Was it meant to be me?"
"I do not think so." He frowned. "It was a sophisticated act. The purpose was more likely to be exactly this." He nodded at her. "To undermine you and those who serve and protect you, to unnerve you as you approach Lhastari."
She thought about what he said and nodded. It had affected her and all of those closest to her. They were becoming as restless and afraid as a group of captive animals. That is not how she'd wanted to arrive in Lhastari, no. She had wanted to be strong and sure. "Yes, I see that. I didn't anticipate feeling this way. Someone has taken control of that."
"Tried to," he stressed. "They have tried to take control. I know it's no easy thing to accept, but you must use your response to this situation to make you strong, do not allow it to weaken your resolve."
What he said struck a note with her. She eyed him carefully in the moonlight. If he was behind this, he'd woven a clever plot and was concealing his path well. Who else could it be? Sibias? That thought triggered a memory. "Wait ... when I came here earlier tonight, to see you---"
Her thoughts rushed as she remembered. "Sibias saw me, he saw me coming here and he smiled." She shuddered at the memory of it.
Amshazar took a sharp intake of breath. "He may have acted upon the moment, in that case. Sibias is Mehmet's tool, and he truly is vermin of the worst kind." He seemed annoyed, his cheeks moving with restrained annoyance.
Could she trust him? He was no friend of Sibias, true. Then she remembered the man she had seen by his side, twice now. "There was another man, and he appeared in the tent earlier, when you followed me, he was close by observing when Xerxes quizzed you. Who is he?"
His head lifted, his forehead furrowing. "What did he look like?"
"An elderly man, with a raggedy beard. He appeared and disappeared quite suddenly, but I had seen him near you before, in the marketplace in Suzin."
"Santor." He broke into a strange, bemused smile. "You can see him," he stated, and gave a soft ironic chuckle. "Forgive me, Elishiba. He is a spirit guide and the fact you can see him surprises me."
Warily, she watched his expression changing, her arms folding protectively over her chest. His amusement over this did not reach her. "A spirit guide?"
He reached out and stroked her arm. "A mentor, if you like. It is good that you can see him. If anything happens to me he will be there to guide you."
His eyes grew shuttered, and something leapt inside her. If anything happens to me? In that moment, she realized how deeply she had become attached to this man. This stranger---a stranger who might easily have evil motives behind his seductive ways.
The chaos surrounding her was closing in, ever quicker. She pulled away from him. He was watchful and quiet in response. She put her hand to her forehead, pushing back her hair.
"Empress?" It was one of the guards, his expression heavy with concern.
She nodded at him, before returning her attention to Amshazar. She felt dizzy, suddenly exhausted and cold. "How can I be sure it was not him, and that he acted for you?"
Frustration flitted over his face. "Elishiba, I am here for you, and so is Santor. I cannot say more. You are wounded by what has happened, but you can be sure of me."
Oh, how hard it was to deny him, to deny herself. She longed to slide into his arms in that moment, to take the comfort he offered. But her vow to protect her people meant a heavy burden had been placed upon her, and with Amra's death, guilt and fear had been added to the mix. She felt overwhelmed. She needed the solace of familiarity.
"Amshazar. I am sorry, I cannot promise you anything now." Her voice caught in her throat, emotion threatening to unhinge her as she drew away from him, forcing herself to deny his offer and all that it might lead to. "I need ... to be with my people."
After a moment he nodded. "I understand. Try to rest."
She walked back to her men, and as she did, she had to wonder---if this had not happened, would she still be in Amshazar's arms?
As Amshazar stepped inside his tent and dropped the flap, frustration boiled within him. He did not blame her, under the circumstances, but he resented the situation they found themselves in with all his being. They'd gained so much, and now it had been shattered. Part of him wondered if that was a motive, too. That Sibias had seen their potential closeness developing and plotted to ruin it.
He snatched up his cloak, blew out the candle in his tent, and left. Pacing fast out of the camp and up to the rocks above the encampment, he found a dark place to sit beyond the place where Aleemite warriors scoured the surrounding landscape for evidence of the murderer's escape route. It was a futile hunt, for he was sure that Sibias had used the power of the forbidden ledger. It was hard to track.
Amshazar needed guidance and he focused within, attempting to pass into the higher plane of magi form to undertake passage to the gods' council. For some reason, he could not. Again he tried, chanting the mantra, visualizing the portal. Frustration was getting the better of him. He had begun to care too deeply for Elishiba, and he questioned what it was doing to him.
"Rest easy, Amshazar," a familiar voice said.
Opening his eyes he lifted his head and saw Santor standing close by in the darkness
"I sense your impatience," Santor said.
"Annoyance, perhaps," Amshazar responded. "I need to seek the advice of the gods, may I be granted an audience?"
Santor stepped aside.
Amshazar's frustration mellowed instantly when he saw who was waiting for him---the goddess Sevita herself. Cloaked heavily, her face was shrouded to conceal her inhuman glow. She moved toward him on a wisp of night breeze.
He was shocked. It was unprecedented; he had never known one of the council to present this way. Getting quickly to his feet, Amshazar bowed his head, dropping to one knee, moving his hand over forehead, throat and chest, in the traditional greeting to show his devotion.
She nodded at him, gesturing for him to stand, her aura glowing. "I heard your call, Amshazar. However, I wished to speak with you alone, rather than with the council. Is that agreeable to you?"
"Yes, of course." A private audience was better still.
"You are upset at what has happened here, and rightly so." She gave a sad smile. "You have made great progress with Elishiba, under difficult circumstances."
"I had."
"You feel her pain?"
"Yes." As he looked into her shimmering eyes, he understood why she had asked that. "Is that what this is about? Is it necessary for me to feel her pain?"
"No," she responded, smiling gently at him. "It was merely an observation. It wasn't even necessary for you to become emotionally involved, but your affection for Elishiba grows. You believe it will complicate things. I believe it will give you new strength, as it will her." She paused. "Few great things are achieved without growth and pain, Amshazar. The passage toward love and happiness is rarely trouble-free. It involves sacrifice. Compromise. It involves feeling things that we perhaps do not want to feel, such as the pain that the one we care for feels."
Amshazar pressed his lips together, trying not to respond badly. Now was not the time for pronouncements of affection or doubt about the nature of love and its effects on his ability to think with clarity. "Forgive me, goddess, I am merely frustrated because I had begun to gain her trust. This has put a barrier between us."
"It has, but it is not insurmountable. That which you have forged cannot be undone. We cannot control how everyone here will behave. There are no guarantees, Amshazar. As hard as that may be, we are only here to guide, we cannot interfere further than that."
He nodded, his head lowering. She was right; he had been hotheaded and lacked caution, in the heat of the matter. "I understand."
"You are in a difficult situation, and you care for Elishiba. But I believe she is stronger than we had even suspected. The power was in her all along, all you have done is draw back the veil."
It was true. For those who studied the art of sorcery, it took time. The passage of many moons. Not so for Elishiba. Just as the magi leaders had suggested, there was something special about the Empress, something that had encouraged the gods to guide her. "Goddess, forgive me for my impertinence, but I sensed from the beginning you had some other motive here? Am I correct?"
"You are astute." She smiled. "As you are probably aware, for the longest time I have fought for the women of the world to be allowed the chance to enter the Magi School, but the council would not entertain the idea. I have long been convinced women such as Elishiba would have natural talents in sorcery, that their female emotion would empower them. It is early yet, but Santor informs me of your fast progress. You have opened her eyes to the path."
"Yes. I was skeptical at first, but as soon as I met her, I saw it in her. She is naturally adept and has learned the way very quickly."
He frowned, unsure how he felt about the fact that the goddess was using Elishiba to prove her point with the council.
"Do not think badly of me, please. She is for me a test ... mayhap a way to prove my point, but what we teach can only help her."
As her words sank in and he realized how easily she could read him, he mustered the ability to create some distance between what he was feeling, and what was really happening. He saw that his emotions were bringing him confusion.
Was this what love did to a man?
Apparently so.
It wasn't something he had ever considered, and he felt a wry sense of self-awareness when he realized what was going on. "Yes, Goddess," he said, apologetically. "I do understand that, forgive my heated call for your guidance."
"Please, don't apologize. I wished to speak with you on this matter. Your timing was right and true. Go back to the encampment, Amshazar, because your protection and guidance will be needed there soon." She opened her cloak and moved her hand in the direction of the dark side of the camp, shedding a fast-shifting beam of moonlight over the place where the animals were being kept.
"Keep the faith," she added, "and all will be well."
Kerr needed air, but he would not leave Elra's side until she rested.
When Elishiba returned, she and Yoshi called the sentries and they finally managed to withdraw the body from the tent, after Elra had swallowed all of the draft Yoshi prepared. She whimpered at the sight of the body of her twin being taken away, but was struck by a torpor too heavy to fight any longer. When she grew drowsy, Kerr moved from her side, covering her over with a blanket and leaving her under Yoshi's watchful eyes. He found that he grew dizzy when he stood up and moved around.
"I must get air," he whispered to Yoshi.
She nodded, blinking softly, understanding him. "We will watch over her."
Kerr glanced back, unsure. She was still whimpering even in her sleep, her arms folded across her chest, her fingers clutching at herself as if part of it had been wrenched away, which, he supposed was what has happened to her. The thought of it sickened him again. Once again, bile rose in his throat. He'd held himself together for her sake, but now he walked to the tent flap; lifting it, he disappeared outside.
The air hit him with startling force as he walked away and he realized how oppressive it had been in there. He stopped and retched. Drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, he leveled himself and breathed deeply. Staggering between the tents, he moved away between them for a moment's solace. He walked and walked, and when his head cleared he found himself out where the animals were tethered. It was dark out here at the edge of the encampment.
Kerr cocked his head, listening, for something made him uneasy. The sound of distressed animals? He still felt light-headed when he moved, but he was compelled to follow the sound. He moved carefully, peering between the tents. After a moment he heard voices whispering---men, talking. One seemed to be instructing the other.
"Take the carcass beyond the camp and bury it deep," the voice said.
Kerr was near the perimeter of the encampment, and he could see the outline of the beasts tied up nearby. There was movement in their midst. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw two men moving around in the moonlight, and he recognized both of them.
But it was the sight at their feet that captured his attention most of all. Amongst the animals---many of them mewling in distress---a young goat was laid out and pinned to the ground, its body cut open from end to end. The creature's entrails had been pulled out and wrapped around its own throat.
Kerr had never seen anything like it before.
But oh, he had.
Yoshi had said Amra's murder was an act of sorcery from the dark ledger. He hadn't understood what she meant at the time, but now he knew instinctively that it related to this. This was the evil power she had sensed. The similarity between his beloved friend Amra and the poor unfortunate sacrifice showed him exactly how the deed had been done. Hidden here, amongst the animals where no one would think to look at the poor beasts, this goat had been sacrificed in Amra's name.
Sibias unfolded a piece of sacking and handed it to Patrino, gesturing beyond the horses. "Hurry, my boy. You have done well so far, you led the Aleemites a merry dance. Surely the sight of a little blood is not affecting you?"
The older man laughed, but Kerr could sense that Patrino felt discomfort. Kerr stepped back, and as he did Sibias looked in his direction, his head snapping up as if he had heard.
Kerr's heart hammered in his chest, his skin growing damp. He knew that if they found him watching, he was in grave danger.
A voice hissed to him from behind where he stood. "Step to your right. The moon is casting your shadow, move beyond it."
He did as instructed, seeking out sight of his rescuer as he did.
A tall figure moved swiftly through the shadows toward him. Still unsure, he was about to take flight when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning quickly, he found that he stared into the face of Amshazar. Kerr saw concern and restless emotions reflected in his eyes. Glancing back he saw that Sibias moved closer.
Amshazar held one finger to his lips.
Kerr looked from one to the other, suddenly afraid that he had walked into a trap. These two were oft together.
"Rest easy, young man. I will not let them know you are here."
Kerr saw Amshazar's eyes glistening in the darkness. Then he lifted his cloak, as if to conceal Kerr behind it.
Surely it would not be enough to conceal them both? With bated breath, Kerr listened. The footsteps grew closer. Sibias would see them there, in the shadows, surely? Cloak or not. Then he noticed how dense the darkness was behind the cloak, and felt a strange tingling in his limbs. The footsteps paused and then moved on, before retracing back to the spot where Patrino still labored.
As the cloak lowered, Kerr saw they were safe. Somehow, Amshazar had concealed them both. Kerr breathed somewhat easier. He knew little of this man called Amshazar, except that something about him made him feel in awe. That feeling grew.
Amshazar nodded toward the center of the encampment and put an arm around his shoulder, quickly leading him away from the spot.
"We must tell someone what we saw," Kerr said when they were a safe distance away.
"No," Amshazar replied. "Not yet. I will deal with Sibias when we reach Lhastari. If we acted on our knowledge now, we would alert Elishiba's enemies. They mean to undermine her. For the time being, we must act as if we don't know who has done this. We must show strength in the face of adversity."
Kerr frowned, not sure he understood.
"This has been done as a warning. Be vigilant now. Tell me, how does your mistress fare?"
"She is sick with worry. Yoshi has given Elra a sleeping draught and she rests now, but it is a troubled sleep. Amra's murder has affected us all." His thoughts were still in turmoil. "Do you think the empress will be able to return home? I know she will not be safe in Lhastari, for surely there is more of this to come."
Amshazar gave a gentle nod. "You are not wrong there. Alas, she must continue on this journey, dangerous though it is. Be strong for her and her kin, you are helping by being with her."
Amshazar squeezed his shoulder, which somehow made Kerr feel stronger. "I will try."
"Be watchful. Together we can help her."
"Forgive me," Kerr mumbled, "for I am so unsure."
"Do not be afraid. I know that it must seem odd, because you know me as one of the Karseedians."
Kerr nodded.
"I am here for another reason than that which might be obvious."
They were close to the center of the camp, and Kerr noticed that Amshazar had led him back toward the empress's tent, safely removed from Sibias and his suspicious task with Patrino. "There seems to be wrongdoing everywhere, it is difficult to know who to trust."
"You are not the first person who has said that to me tonight," Amshazar replied with a rather sad smile. He stopped walking and faced Kerr. "You have been worried about your friend Kazeen, yes?"
Kerr was startled by the unexpected remark. "Yes, I have."
"Kazeen is safe in the city of Lhastari, but hidden, for the Empress Mehmet has put a price on his head. She wishes him dead."
Kerr heated with a sense of injustice. "Why?"
"She is a cruel woman. I tell you this because I want you to trust me, and see I mean no harm. I will help you see him again, when we get there, if you will help me."
"I thought perhaps he had been killed, but hoped it were not true."
"It was a close thing, but he is safe."
"What is it you want me to do?"
"It may be hard for me to speak with Elishiba from now on. I need you to be my eyes and ears, and to pass a message to her if I cannot get close to her myself."
Kerr paused, turning his doubts over in his mind. As he did, the moonlight fell across them and he saw the sincerity in Amshazar's eyes. He could not doubt this man. Deep inside he felt the honesty of Amshazar's words. His purpose was just.
"Your will is done," Kerr whispered.
In the early dawn light, Elishiba sat up and stretched her stiff limbs. She had not slept. They had spent the night coiled together, Elra, Kerr, and Elishiba. Yoshi had sat nearby, propped against a stack of cushions, dozing on and off as she watched over them. Elishiba was relieved to see that she was snoring softly now.
Elra's face was grief-marked even in repose. She clutched Amra's scarlet sash against her body. Kerr held her loosely, but close, and the image touched Elishiba. It was as if he had offered himself as a surrogate twin. Was this part of the sense of destiny about young Kerr that Yoshi had foreseen? Elishiba wondered on it. He had become part of their intimate group, and she was glad of it.
Outside, the camp was stirring. There would be gossip and whispering as they prepared for the onward journey, speculation about the danger into which they all apparently traveled. It wasn't far now. They would arrive in Lhastari before nightfall. Elishiba was ready for it. Amshazar was right. Amra's murder would either weaken or strengthen her. She felt cold, empty, but strong and purposeful. That she had been naive and unarmed was more than apparent. She would have to be more thoroughly prepared from now on.
She crept closer alongside Elra and stroked her forehead, pushing her loose hair back from her face. Elra's eyes opened. She stared up at her mistress, and then silent tears began to mark her face. The pain inside her was great, but instinctively Elishiba knew what to do. And she believed now, she believed that she could help her people. Whether the sorcery that Amshazar had introduced her to was the same breed of esoteric power as that which had been used to cause Amra's death, she could not be sure, but she would use what she knew to heal now, to restore the balance.
She rested her hand on Elra's forehead and summoned all the warmth, love and care she had inside, both for this woman and her sister, now gone. The emotions swirled within her, causing a strange feeling she now recognized as the growth of healing power.
Elra sighed and her eyes closed. The heat grew and traveled into the palm of Elishiba's hand, transferring to Elra. It seemed as if Elra were an open channel, and Elishiba sensed this was somehow different than when they had dealt with the shayatin. Then it was as if she and Amshazar had to force the power into him, for he was unwilling. Her handmaiden---although deeply wounded at this time---had an open communication channel with her mistress, which enabled the healing power to travel swiftly to where it was needed.
Elra's body trembled against the blankets and then stilled. After a few moments, Elishiba moved her hand away. Elra opened her eyes and looked at her mistress. She sat up and rested herself into Elishiba's arms, who rocked her slowly. The grief had not gone, nor would it ever. But it had been tempered.
They stayed that way for some time, and then Elishiba drew back and looked into her handmaid's eyes. "Do you wish to return to Suzin?"
Elra shook her head.
"Take some time to think about it. You can return with The Immortals, you will be safe."
Elra squeezed her mistress's hand before giving a sad smile. "I don't understand why this has happened, but my place is with you, more so now than ever."
"I'm glad of it, but say the word and you will be safely home in Suzin." She took a deep breath. "This has perhaps occurred to make me afraid, but I cannot let it happen."
"I feel that too." Elra seemed thoughtful now. "The evil that has struck at my heart and yours," she blinked, and Elishiba felt the depth of her contained emotion. "We must not let it creep into the heart of Aleem."
Reaching into her lap, Elra clutched at the sash that Amra once wore. Lifting the precious fabric in her fingers she bent to kiss it. Then she lifted it over her head and rested it across her shoulder and down between her breasts, until it lay against her own bind of indigo. "I must be both Amra and Elra for you now, Empress."
Moved deeply by her words and actions, Elishiba nodded. "We will enter the city of Lhastari later today. I am determined to show them that whilst we represent a small, peaceful country, we will not be trampled on."
The caravan moved in a more subdued procession than before. Speculation about what had gone on in the camp the night before was, however, rife, the conversations ongoing in low-level murmurs. Amshazar observed it cautiously, his senses honed to pick up information and gauge reactions.
Elishiba rode at the forefront of her closest companions, her magnificent stallion a noble white beast with silver coins spilling over his coat. A worthy mount for her, the horse held its head high. So too did she. Her expression was determined, her beautiful eyes focused on the horizon. Ebony hair escaped her white headdress on one side, sleek as it hung down against her breastbone. Her body undulated gracefully with her steed as she rode, making Amshazar want to hold her in his arms again.
Although they exchanged an occasional lingering glance, he could not reach her so easily at that time. She was hurting from the loss of her close companion, her confusion a wary divide between them. He sensed her mind was focused on their arrival, her hands moving to stroke her mount often the only clue that she was aware of her current whereabouts.
He wanted to lead her away from this path, hide her away in a secret place and make her happy, mesh their bodies together and see the passion flare in her eyes the way it had the night before. But he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. That was merely his selfish desire forcing his thoughts, his attachment to her causing him to put his own feelings first. She needed to do this, for her country, for herself. But he would protect her in her cause, no matter what.
Sibias approached her while she was talking quietly with her warrior Xerxes, and blatantly asked her how she fared. She eyed him knowingly and answered him with one word, before turning her attention back to Xerxes. Sibias's further attempts at conversation were rejected. Even so, he wore an unbearably smug expression, smiling whenever he caught Amshazar's eye. He had evidently convinced the Aleemite guards he was innocent of all knowledge concerning the incident the night before. Amshazar avoided him and his constant companion, the slave Patrino. He knew that if he were to speak with Sibias while in his current mood, it would end in a brawl.
As the day wore on the winds lifted a desert storm, hampering their progress. In the heat of the day the overcast sky and the swirling dust seemed a cruel reminder how quickly things can change. The mounted guards from Aleem formed a barrier at the side of the caravan, riding close upon each other, their shields raised to protect their empress and her entourage. Thankfully it did not last long and the desert demons were not drawn to them.
When the dust storm dissipated, he noticed that the tight group of Aleemite warriors gathered around the Empress masked a hidden conversation. The mood amongst them was changing. He could sense the warriors' anticipation rising and when he looked closer, he saw that Elishiba was directing them, gesturing back across the caravan as she gave instructions. What it was that she was planning he could not tell, but her warriors seemed pleased to act on her directions, their eyes glinting and their posture proud.
Amshazar smiled to himself. If Sibias thought he would make her meek through his actions, he had surely been mistaken.
Mehmet yawned, tapped her fingernails on the wooden arms of her ornate chair, and then fidgeted again with the large jewelencrusted armband that rested a mite too heavily upon her wrist. The courtiers also shuffled restlessly upon their seats, assembled as they were on a platform to see the arrival of Hanrah's bride.
It was close to evening. It had been the middle of the afternoon when the watchman had raised the call, reporting that the advance rider was on the horizon. She would have spent much longer in her bath if she had known they would take this long to complete the last stage of the journey. Were they dragging their heels, afraid to face their destiny under Karseedian jurisdiction?
The notion satisfied her immensely.
She smoothed her hair and checked her jeweled hands, pleased with her appearance. The daughter of Ramsis would be tired and disheveled after her journey in that wretched contraption. Mehmet had hated to travel within its confines and was pleased to pass it on.
Hanrah shuffled at her side. Dressed in the finest robes made especially for the occasion, he sat hunched over in his stately chair, brooding. His eyes flitted nervously and he bit into his fingernails as he waited for the arrival of his betrothed. Beyond him, she could see the much finer figures of his half-brothers amongst the gathered courtiers, their mothers preening beside them.
"Sit up straight," she hissed, when she caught sight of the smug glances from her late husband's many concubines. They waited like gannets for her son to fail, but he would not. Oh no, not with her guiding him.
Hanrah did as he was told, shuffling in his seat. He stared fixedly at the palace gates, which would be opened when the caravan reached the heart of the city, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. With that wretched slave boy he'd set his sights on, no doubt. Not for long though, it was only a matter of time until her men hunted the slave down and fulfilled her execution order. She was about to comment on Hanrah's sorry attitude when a fanfare sounded.
She could see movement outside the gates as they swung open. The Lhastari citizens pressed forward, craning their necks to witness sight of the Aleemite surrender.
Karseedian palace guards pushed the crowds back, ushering the prize through. Mehmet broke into an amused smile when she saw the Aleemite guards were clustered around the camel bearing the curtained traveling box, their shields raised, as if they could protect their empress even now. Fools. She was merely a key. Once Mehmet had hold of the key, the door would be open to them, then the key would be disposed of. A simple and flawless plan.
She noticed with reluctant admiration that the Aleemite warriors looked more outstanding then their own, riding proudly as they did in their polished silver breast shields. It was a fine piece of armor. Worthy. She might consider adopting that particular part of their culture, once she swallowed Aleem into their kingdom. Or maybe not. She didn't particularly want reminders, once the deed was done. Apart from the wealth of fine lapis lazuli treasures and its powerful location on the trade routes, there was little else she wanted from Aleem. As far as she was concerned, it was a small and undeveloped country.
When she took control she intended to raid the place, then keep the country and its inhabitants under her jurisdiction---as a buffer against enemies for their land---with a handful of loyal Karseedians stationed there. It's what her husband had dreamed of and attempted for many years---just as his entire lineage had before him. They hadn't been as clever about it as Mehmet had, though. They charged in like enraged animals. Claiming ownership of the land by claiming the Empress Elishiba was a much simpler way to enter and take whatever they wanted.
She sought Sibias amongst the crowd, but he was evidently in the rear. A massive warrior with a shaved head headed the entourage. He was an attractive man. As the caravan drew to a halt at the foot of the steps to the platform, the warrior with the shaved head gestured to another Aleem guard, who climbed down from his horse and approached the waiting courtiers, bowing at the bottom of the steps, as if requesting permission to approach.
Hanrah looked at his mother for guidance.
She shrugged one shoulder. "Perhaps he has been instructed to present some token." She waved her hand dismissively and Hanrah gestured the guard forward.
The guard ran nimbly up the steps.
Mehmet frowned.
The Aleemite had his hand on the pommel of his sword in a manner that unsettled her. Surely they had not sent an assassin? That would be suicide for the rest for them.
The guard stared directly at her as he ran up the steps, confrontation evident in his very stance.
Tension crackled in the air. Hushed whispers of concern rose amongst the gathered courtiers.
Mehmet's hand went to the amulet that hung between her breasts, ready to protect herself if needs be. The palace guards caught her glance and adopted a battle-ready stance.
The Aleemite guard's head was tightly bound in his headdress. She could see only his eyes glittering from the folds of white cloth. When he reached the top of the steps, he dropped to one knee in deference.
She rested easier. She saw no gift in his hand and sighed heavily, annoyed. "Pull back the curtains, let us see my son's betrothed."
The guard stood, and then lifted one hand toward the camel-mounted palanquin in which the empress rode, gesturing instructions to the attendants.
"At last," Mehmet said expectantly, rising to her feet.
Hanrah stood up next to her.
The procession split either side of the camel. On the guard's signal, the attendants tapped the animal's head with sticks. It lowered to the ground and the attendants reached to pull back the curtains. As they did Mehmet watched, expecting a figure to step out. Instead, what looked distinctly like a corpse bound for burial slid forward, strapped by rope to a narrow plinth.
Mehmet stared at the sight, then sighed deeply. Elishiba was dead. Her immediate reaction was annoyance. Sibias had failed to get the prize here in one piece. She cursed aloud and sought Sibias's face out in the crowd, hissing her annoyance at him, wherever he was. "Damn you, Sibias, your duty was to keep her alive until after the wedding ceremony."
Gasps of dismay ran around the assembled courtiers as they stared at the body presented by the Aleemites. Hanrah looked from the curious sight of the corpse, to his mother and back, his eyebrows lifted in speculation.
Sibias had emerged from the procession and was trying to push past the Aleemite guards. Even in that he seemed thwarted. She waved him on, and then pulled off the bracelet that had been annoying her and threw it on the floor.
The heavy object bounced once and landed at the feet of the Aleemite guard who still stood by, observing. He bent to retrieve the object and it was then that Mehmet realized that the guard was watching her steadily. She was about to order him to lower his gaze in her presence, when she noticed a curious, defiant look in the eyes that watched her so closely.
Mehmet's suspicion flared. "You there, what are you staring at?"
The guard didn't move for several long moments, during which Mehmet's unease rose. She hissed impatiently.
"I stare with interest at my prospective mother-in-law," the guard replied in a soft, level voice, apparently female, then pushed back her headdress. Ebony hair tumbled down over her shoulders and she shook it out proudly.
Elishiba. Mehmet recognized her instantly from her likenesses, and gave her future daughter-in-law a tight smile, biting back her rising irritation. "Was there any purpose to this rather childish hoax?"
Elishiba stepped forward. "Oh yes, it confirmed something I wished to know." She gave a knowing smile. "Whether or not my future mother-in-law would be ... saddened ... to see me dead." Sarcasm rang in her carefully chosen words.
Mehmet mustered a laugh. She was taken by surprise, and resented still more that everyone around them, Aleemite and Karseedians, ogled the whole exchange. Even the city dwellers jostled at the gates to see what went on. But Elishiba was perfectly calm. This was unexpected. Mehmet even got the impression this was her idea. Then she had to wonder, had Elishiba heard her initial response to the sight of the body?
"Of course I would be upset," she lied, annoyed at being put on the spot by a young adversary.
Elishiba'seyebrowsliftedimperceptibly."Iwasn'tsure.Especially as my handmaiden was killed along the journey, and my warriors are under the impression her fate was meant for me."
She nodded toward her men. They were observing the exchange as if ready to take on the entire city.
Tensions ran high. Mehmet's gut instinct was to have the lot of them killed for displaying such insolence on her territory. That would, however, deprive her of achieving her goal. Soon, though.
She was about to respond when Elishiba looked around and continued to speak. "And the Emperor Hanrah, where is he? I am eager to meet my counterpart."
Counterpart?
Mehmet gritted her teeth. Elishiba was either ignorant, or she was being purposefully obtuse. Her imperial son held much higher status than the daughter of Ramsis ever would. Then she noticed her son gawping at Elishiba with a half-smile. Simpleton. The irony of the situation grated on Mehmet. He was most likely stupidly impressed that she was dressed as a boy. She reached over and pushed him forward, not trusting herself to say more.
Hanrah stumbled forward and then half bowed to his betrothed.
Elishiba stared at him for a painfully long time, eyebrows arched disbelievingly. Then she fished about in her sash and pulled out a small object.
Mehmet saw that it was a Karseedian coin bearing the likeness of Hanrah. She narrowed her eyes, her irritation increasing by the second. The artist had crafted it in the likeness of his father, more than a genuine likeness of him. It had been Mehmet's instruction at the time, a decision she had been forced to regret on several occasions, due to mockery.
Elishiba held the coin up alongside his face.
Hanrah shuffled his feet awkwardly during the inspection.
"Your likeness does not do you justice, Emperor Hanrah," Elishiba declared. "You look so much more kindly, and friendly," she added with a smile. "I am pleased to meet you at last. I feel sure our negotiations will go well."
Elishiba obviously thought she could hold sway over Hanrah. Deep inside Mehmet, it stirred a deep-rooted fear. No one could ever influence her son as she did, she assured herself. He's mine and mine alone. She watched, unsettled, when Hanrah grinned at his future wife, evidently humored by her remark
Mehmet fumed, her annoyance with the situation multiplying by the moment. The sooner the marriage was over and done with---and she could dispose of Elishiba for good---the better. She nodded at a guard, beckoning to him.
"Order Sibias to attend my chamber immediately," she said sternly. She paused and shot Elishiba a warning glance before she continued. "And have my son's bride taken to her quarters."
Then, without another word to Elishiba, she took Hanrah by the arm and led him away.
Amidst the onlooking caravan procession, Amshazar held Sibias back for as long as he could to give Elishiba time to address Mehmet in her own way, but his antagonist's ire was rising.
"Step away or you will regret it, Nomad." Sibias's eyes flashed and he drew a dagger from below his robes.
Amshazar glanced at the object, smiling when he saw the handle was crafted from a goat's hoof. "Let them speak, your meddlesome ways will have you back by Mehmet's side soon enough."
Sibias bared his teeth. At that very moment, there was movement on the platform ahead, and the Lhastari guards ushered them on. Amshazar nodded and gestured to Sibias to go first. Sibias glared at him and then thrust forward, elbowing his way.
Looking back at the platform, Amshazar noticed that Elishiba had gone. So too had Mehmet and Hanrah, although many of the courtiers sat by, watching the passing Aleemites with curiosity as they were marched inside the palace by Lhastari guards.
Amshazar reached out for Kerr in the crowd as they moved, ducking his head down to the youth, he whispered in his ear. "Meet me tonight when the moon is high, outside the fortune teller's door, two streets away from the servants entrance. We can go to our meeting with Kazeen from there. Do you know the place?"
Kerr nodded, one hand still entwined with the lone twin, Elra, as they discharged their mounts. Amshazar noticed she looked afraid.
"Close to the soothsayers' tavern?" Kerr asked.
"That's the one," Amshazar replied. He nodded over at Elra to reassure her. "Keep your wits about you, both of you, for now the sparks will fly."
Sibias dropped to his knees, declaring in grand terms how much he had missed his beloved empress, offering kisses to her slippered feet.
Mehmet stared down at her acolyte. "Your task was to put the fear of the gods' wrath into her, to make her humble."
Mehmet was still seething. It would take more than kisses on her feet to change that. The obvious amusement amongst so many of her courtiers as they had observed Elishiba's arrival exasperated her tremendously. Sibias had then arrived into her chamber sheepishly, proclaiming great faith and devotion to her, as if that could make any difference.
"She's a very headstrong young woman, who inspires great devotion amongst her people." Sibias stated this as if it was some sort of an excuse.
"So?"
"Without them she will flounder. The death of her handmaiden confused her. She didn't know who to trust. She was getting closer to Amshazar, but I stopped it."
"Amshazar." She put her hands up in despair. "Why does that not surprise me? Tell me this, Sibias, why isn't he dead already?"
"It's not through lack of trying, believe me, mistress." His eyes were black as he looked at her. He licked his lips. "He seems to have some lucky charm, but it will not last. The Empress Elishiba suspected it, and was questioning him. Now she is not sure, but for some strange reason that makes her braver."
"Brave, or stupid." Mehmet planted her slippered foot against his shoulder and pushed him back. "I do not need her attempts at being equal to me. That is not what this is about. She should be grateful I am willing to take their pathetic little country into ours."
Sibias grappled his hands on the floor, steadying himself, his eyes filled with adoration, her physical gesture of disdain affecting him in a very specific way. "Yes mistress, she should be grateful," he breathed, looking up at her. "She will be, soon enough."
His subservience affected her, harnessing her mood and focusing it on all she could have, and how easily.
"You're right," she drawled. It was within her reach now. They would make short work of it. There was no escape for Elishiba, not now. Sitting on the edge of her chair, she swung open her legs and pulled him closer by the stuff of his robe, so that he shuffled on his knees between her thighs. She tugged on his beard. "It is good to have you home, Sibias."
His eyelids lowered, his face flushing with arousal.
She had many young lovers, but something about Sibias was special. Their intimate bond was crucial. Their mutual hunger for her power---combined with their understanding of one another's basic needs---made it so much the best.
His nostrils flared. "Permission to touch you, mistress?"
"Permission," she sighed, her spirit sharpening by the moment.
His hands moved in around her ankles, stroking slowly up the length of her legs under her robes and between her thighs, his thumbs seeking out the heat at their juncture, stroking her intimate flesh adoringly, his hands trembling but sure.
Mehmet rocked toward him, thriving on the sexual power she had over him, using him while her mind flitted on. "She's nothing but a chattel," she declared.
"Nothing but a chattel," Sibias repeated, his fingers moving inside her, sliding easily in and out of her damp channel. His entire soul seemed to thrive on being her servant in this most intimate act, while plotting her aggrandizement.
"And what do we do with chattels?"
"Use them and cast them aside?" His voice was ragged with need, his eyes rolling with black lust.
"You are very good for me, Sibias," she sighed. "I did miss you."
With practiced hands Sibias stroked her flesh, his body shuddering with torturous restraint as he contained his own desires, in order to prostrate himself to hers. "I promise you she will burn in the fires of Hurda's temple."
"Yes," she encouraged, her pleasure soaring. "After her birthright has become mine, the memory of her sorry screams will lull us to sleep at night." Gratification throbbed inside her, a huge rising wave of power, a symbol of the power that she craved.
"Soon, Sibias, very soon."
She threw herself back in the chair, tearing her gown up to her waist, riding his hand with abandon until she roared with pleasure.
The chamber to which Elishiba was taken was gloomy and small. It had no balcony, and only a very small gap in the wall let in light and air. She looked around with a wry smile. It was a prison. A cell. Behind her Yoshi grunted disparagingly as she entered the room. Elishiba glanced over her shoulder and nodded to her.
As she took stock of their quarters, she thought back to her old friends Basim and Fahima, and their humble hospitality. It wasn't that she desired a festive welcome. No. In fact she wanted to be beyond that point and moving ahead with negotiations. What surprised her was that Mehmet had not taken the opportunity to exhibit their wealth and power, as Sibias had done in Suzin when he presented her gifts and made such a big show of it. Maybe now that Mehmet had them ensconced in the city, she didn't feel it necessary to bother with such formalities. Or maybe she had cancelled any such plans after their initial meeting. She had definitely been irritated by Elishiba's approach. Maybe she was expecting a simpering maiden. Elishiba now knew for certain it was indeed Mehmet who was in control. Everything they heard on the subject was true. Mehmet was the true ruler here. Amshazar had prepared her well.
The thought of him made her smile. She hadn't been able to face her doubts about him on the journey that day, but now she felt his power funneling into her from somewhere beyond these walls.
These walls. Her cell. There wasn't even a balcony. She glanced around, her suspicion rising. At the very top of the room, dimples in the frieze around the wall appeared at regular intervals. They were placed as if part of the design, but it was obvious to Elishiba that they were peepholes and she was being watched. She felt it at every turn.
She strode into the center of the chamber and put her hands on her hips, then looked over at Yoshi, rolling her eyes up. Yoshi nodded to indicate she understood, glancing away.
Elishiba smiled at the serving woman who had seen them in, a tall, lean black-skinned woman, extraordinarily beautiful and yet cowed in her servitude. "Please inform your mistress I cannot rest in a chamber without a balcony."
The woman's soft brown eyes rounded in disbelief. She obviously didn't want to pass that message. They truly did keep their servants in a state of fear, Elishiba reflected. Everyone she had seen so far had haunted eyes. "Tell her the Empress Elishiba said this," she added, encouraging the woman on her way.
The woman paused a moment longer, unsure, then nodded her head and left. Elishiba noticed two guards flanked the door, spears crossed against the entrance. She had the feeling they would bar her exit should she try to leave.
Yoshi shuddered as she looked about. "The Empress Mehmet is a harridan, a she-viper."
"Yes," Elishiba mused, toying with the soft furnishings on the mattress. She felt strangely empowered, despite the situation, and saw that Yoshi was the same. Now that the journey was over, her seer bristled with proud indignity. "Somehow, it makes it so much easier to dislike her."
"Indeed," Yoshi chuckled. "I think you annoyed her with your introduction, Mistress."
"That I did. She refused to negotiate as a result, perhaps. But I will force the issue on the morrow."
"What of your betrothed?" Yoshi wore a mischievous expression.
Elishiba couldn't help smiling. "I was taken by surprise on that account, I must admit. I confess I thought he was the palace jester."
Yoshi folded her arms over her ample bosom. "There is a jest here, although I'm quite sure the she-viper intended it to be on you."
"She will have to try harder," Elishiba responded, taking a cautious seat at a padded bench set on one side of a carved ebony table. She looked at Yoshi with curiosity. She had not made any predictions for some time. "Have you had any visions you wish to share, my seer?"
"My vision is obscured by a dark cloud on the horizon," Yoshi stated, simply, eyeing the frieze in the wall. "But I have faith you will overcome it." She gave Elishiba a weak smile and then averted her eyes.
Elishiba was about to quiz her on it, when she realized it might be better not to know more, and that Yoshi felt that too. "Thank you for your faith, Yoshi. I hope I can do it justice. Now come and sit down, I have no doubt the Empress Mehmet will keep us waiting for some time."
"Where are the others?" Elishiba whispered in a low voice to avoid being overheard, when they were either side of the table.
Yoshi scowled. "The guard informed us we would only be able to serve you one at a time. Xerxes said it was an attempt to unnerve you, to separate us and break us down."
Elishiba nodded. It would take more than that to separate them in spirit.
Yoshi slid forward onto her elbows, her hands masking her face as she spoke. "Did you notice the pendant she wore?"
Elishiba moved into the same position. "The strange crystal with the shifting purple light within?"
Yoshi nodded. "Do you know what it is?"
She shook her head. "It is significant?"
"I cannot be sure, but there was a presence within, a malevolent force."
"Within the pendant?" It made sense, for it had caught her attention and it seemed an unearthly gem, the like of which she had never seen before. "What do you think it is?"
"Jinneyah." Yoshi hissed the word so low that Elishiba only just caught it.
She sat back in her chair, withholding her surprise, glancing around the room. If Mehmet owned the fearful power of a captured female jinn within that pendant, and could unleash it whenever she chose, it would take more than newfound sorcery to challenge her.
Did Amshazar know about the jinneyah? He must, if Yoshi had seen its presence. He was so much more powerful and all-seeing. Why hadn't he warned her of it? Surely it was important? But then, she reflected, their time together had been so harshly interrupted. Perhaps he had intended to tell her more, much more.
And make love to her again? Her body hummed with desire as the thought crossed her mind. The jeopardy she faced only seemed to make her passion rise like an unslakable thirst. She'd heard tell of such things, of warriors dying on the battlefield, desirous of one last kiss, weak but virile to the end. The human urge to be loved and to survive does curious things to us all, she mused.
"The jinneyah is bad news," Yoshi whispered. "Mehmet will do anything to get her way."
"Yes," Elishiba replied. "I think the battlefield might have been fairer."
"Don't say that, you don't believe that."
Silence rested heavily between them.
"Don't forget your ally in Amshazar," Yoshi added.
"I haven't forgotten Amshazar." Even if she wanted to, she doubted it would be possible to obliterate him from her mind and body. It was almost as if he had possessed her heart from the moment they had met. She knew it empowered her though, she recognized that it was a positive thing now. Clarity of mind was with her at last.
Yoshi smiled. "Good." She had that twinkle in her eyes that indicated she was pleased her vision had come true.
Elishiba rolled her eyes and put her finger to her lips.
The serving woman returned. She looked even more afraid. "The Empress Mehmet said you will remain here until your marriage."
"I see," Elishiba responded. Prisoners they were then. However, if Empress Mehmet wanted each and everything to be a battle, she was well prepared. "Please return to your mistress and say I understand her intentions. However, I suffer a malady which worsens if I am unable to get fresh air on a balcony."
Yoshi flashed Elishiba a grin.
Elishiba returned her smile, but then felt remorse because the serving woman looked so very afraid. She pitied the poor woman, who was trapped between her and Mehmet. It wasn't in her nature to treat her servants harshly or make them do things against their will. As she looked over, she noticed that the woman's robe had been torn on the back of her shoulder since she had passed the message to Mehmet.
"Wait." She stood and halted the woman with a hand on her shoulder, drawing her back. "You are afraid, aren't you?"
The woman hesitated, her eyes searching Elishiba's for understanding. Then she nodded, her gaze dropping.
"I am sorry to put you in this difficult situation." Elishiba slid her hand against the woman's back where the fabric was torn. Stepping behind her, she cautiously moved the woman's robe.
The woman gasped, but did not speak, her head lowered. Elishiba frowned at the marks and bruises upon the woman's beautiful shoulder blade, where she had been beaten.
"What is your name?" Elishiba asked.
"Folami," the woman replied.
"Are you a slave?"
The woman nodded.
"Please do not fear me. I regret that I have to send you back to your mistress with another problem. Alas, I need to state my position clearly with her from the outset, for I fear that she wishes to enslave me too."
The woman nodded sympathetically. Her eyes were deeply intelligent, but sad.
"Where are you from, Folami?"
"I was born far to the south, a hot place where it seldom rained." Her voice was soft and gentle, as was everything about her.
Elishiba had heard of such lands. It seemed that the Karseedians plucked slaves from everywhere. From Aleem too?
Folami left, and again they waited.
Time passed, the sun disappeared and Yoshi had to light all the remaining candles in the chamber.
When Folami returned, she did not shut the door behind her. "I am to lead you to a different chamber."
Yoshi stood to her feet with a pleased smile. Elishiba was not so trusting.
They followed Folami through a maze of corridors and into another chamber. The guards who had flanked the first chamber followed and immediately crossed spears behind them as they entered the newly designated chamber. It was marginally larger, although the balcony overlooked a closed courtyard, which was not what Elishiba was hoping for. Furthermore, on their arrival they found a meager meal awaiting them on the table.
"The Empress Mehmet asked me to inform you that this is your evening meal. She said she is sure you are tired after your journey and that you wish to prepare for your forthcoming marriage, which will take place shortly."
Elishiba smarted. "There will be no wedding until we have negotiated the terms of the treaty."
Folami shook her head sadly. "I cannot pass your response. The Empress is dining and stated she will not take any more messages."
Elishiba had to strongly resist the urge to insist upon a message, but she could see from Folami's eyes---it was pointless.
Taking pity on the woman, she walked over and rested a hand on her arm. "I appreciate your efforts."
When she touched her this time, Folami withdrew her arm, glancing nervously around her, a stricken expression on her face.
That confirmed it. She knew they were being watched, even though they had moved quarters, and she was afraid.
The streets of Lhastari were in darkness by the time Kerr managed to get away from the palace that night, the houses quiet. He stood at the servants' entrance, pausing only briefly to get accustomed to the gloom, then he hastened his footsteps through the dark narrow alleyways, breaking into a run, afraid that Amshazar might not have waited for him. He'd been ready on time to get to the designated meeting point, but the servants in the palace were a suspicious bunch and watched him whenever he tried to leave their quarters. And now, if Amshazar was gone, he would have missed his chance to see Kazeen again.
He turned the final corner, into a narrow street where the buildings almost touched, and peered into the darkened doorway where they had arranged to meet. He checked again. Above the doorway a wooden sign marked it out as a fortuneteller's place of work. But he saw no figure in the doorway. He was just about to turn away in frustration, when he heard his name being called from the other side of the street.
Amshazar gestured to him when their eyes met.
Kerr hurried over. "Forgive me for being late. The Karseedian servants were watching me. They trust me even less now since I am in the service of the Empress Elishiba. I couldn't take the risk until they bedded in for the night."
Amshazar nodded. "You did the right thing. We must be cautious. Are you sure no one followed you?"
"I don't think so," Kerr replied.
Amshazar put one arm around his shoulder and began walking quickly away from the spot, talking all the while. "The palace in Suzin was very different, was it not?"
Kerr gave a gentle laugh. "It was. I would much rather call that country home, than this one."
"The Aleemites are a more fair and generous people," Amshazar agreed. "Now I must ask my favor of you. When we return to the palace later tonight, I would like you to pass Empress Elishiba a message for me."
"I will try. What is your message?"
"Tell her that Mehmet plans to move things along quicker. The Empress Elishiba has to understand that time is much shorter than she might imagine. I need to speak with her, and if she goes out onto the balcony of her apartment at dawn, I will contact her then."
"Her balcony at dawn," Kerr repeated. It would not be easy to pass the message, since they were only allowed to meet with her one at a time, but even if he had to pass the message by one of the others, he would do so.
Amshazar proceeded to chat about their journey, and Kerr realized that he was talking to distract him from the route they took. Even if he had concentrated, Kerr didn't think he would be able to remember it. They had hidden Kazeen well. But why? He knew that the Empress Mehmet had ordered him to be executed. Why then, was he even in the city? Why had he not taken flight long before? Amshazar had said all would be explained, but it was of the utmost importance for Kazeen's life that nobody in the palace found out where he was staying.
Amshazar stopped finally at a worn wooden door and tapped several times in quick succession. They had reached the edge of the city dwellings, and the stone of the perimeter wall was visible beyond the last cluster of houses. After a moment, a wooden panel in the door was opened and a woman looked out at them. Amshazar nodded at her and she slotted the panel back into place and opened the door. Amshazar ushered Kerr in quickly, looking over his shoulder as he did.
Kerr found himself in a tiled entrance. Contrary to the outside of the building, which had looked impoverished, the inside was comfortably furnished with carved wooden chairs and inlaid tiles creating a decorative border around the walls. The woman bolted the door heavily behind them and then led them over to a second doorway. She glanced from Kerr to Amshazar. "You are sure this is safe?"
Amshazar nodded, and the woman left them at the doorway. When she had gone Amshazar put a hand on Kerr's shoulder. "You may be surprised at what you learn."
Kerr did not know how to respond. He nodded, wondering what this was about.
Amshazar opened the door and led him in. They were behind a carved wooden screen through which he could see light glowing. Amshazar paced to the end of the screen and bowed low. As he made an introduction for himself and Kerr, Kerr couldn't help glancing through the carvings in the screen. As he did, he saw Kazeen seated on cushions by the side of the Emperor Hanrah. Kerr was amazed. The two men appeared to be having supper together.
"Come in, come in." It was the emperor's voice.
The emperor himself was here, in this tiny house hidden away in the back streets of Lhastari? And he was with Kazeen?
Amshazar beckoned him out and Kerr, confused and bewildered, followed and stepped into the room. As he did, his old friend Kazeen leapt his feet, his face breaking into a big smile.
"Kerr. How good it is of you to come to see me." He darted over and embraced Kerr, who returned the gesture, strange though the situation was.
"You are well and safe?" Kerr asked, although he could see that Kazeen looked well, and had in fact fattened, which made him look far healthier. He wore exquisite robes too, and fine leather sandals. Around his wrists he wore copper armbands studded with gems.
"I am, my old friend."
Kerr's sense of relief was great. He had been worried for so long, all the while he had been away. Even so, he felt strange. He didn't know what he expected to find---he hadn't thought too deeply about it because he was worried enough---but he hadn't expected to find Kazeen looking quite so much as if he had prospered.
As they embraced each other, serving girls carried large platters of food into the room, which they set down on a low table. Amshazar was already seated on the cushions arranged there with Hanrah. One of the serving girls returned, carrying an ornate jug that she set down by Hanrah, before bowing and leaving the room.
"Come, sup with us." Hanrah beckoned.
Kerr and Kazeen joined him and Amshazar, seated around the feast that had obviously been prepared for their arrival. The food smelt good, and in the background Kerr could see that expensive incense burned in a salver near a generously built fire. The atmosphere was almost celebratory. This was not what Kerr had expected of the evening when he had slunk out to meet Amshazar in the dead of the night.
Hanrah poured wine and placed cups of it into their hands, encouraging them to drink.
Kazeen's eyes sparkled, and Kerr wondered if perhaps he hadn't seen anybody outside the house since the execution order had been announced. Was he a prisoner here? This safe house, a prison too? It was then he realized this was part of the reason he had been brought to see Kazeen, because Kazeen needed to see his friends. He could not leave this place. There was no other way.
"Eat, please eat something," Hanrah encouraged, seemingly eager for them all to be happy.
Kerr and Amshazar helped themselves to the tasty morsels that had been prepared. The meat had been roasted with fenugreek and other spices, and was delicious. It seemed strange to sit here with his old friend, the emperor, and Amshazar, in a small hidden home so close and yet so far from the palace, eating well. He tried not to eat too hungrily, but it was fine fare compared to the food they had in the palace.
"The meat is good," Amshazar said, as he picked up his cup and lifted it to Hanrah and Kazeen.
Kerr joined in the toast, wondering why. But as Hanrah chatted about everyday things that had happened in the court, he kept putting his arm around Kazeen's shoulder and on one occasion reached over to kiss him upon the cheek. Kerr was surprised, just as Amshazar had predicted he would be. But he had seen such intimate friendship between men before. In the seminary where Kazeen and he had trained, two of the other novices had shared such a relationship. The tutors had discouraged it, but the deep and passionate affection between the two men was powerful. It wasn't something that could be ceased on the word of others.
That's what was happening here, he could see it now. And this was why there was a call for Kazeen's execution. He was the emperor's secret lover, a male concubine.
As Kerr thought back over what had happened, the events began to fall into place. He noticed Amshazar smiling over at him. It took this---to see them so happy together---to understand. Hanrah and Kazeen seemed to move toward one another so naturally, their bodies touching each other softly here and there at all times. Now he knew why Mehmet was so angered by it, why she had called for the execution of her son's lover.
Their visit passed quickly and before they took their leave, Amshazar began to speak seriously with Hanrah, seemingly keen to alert the emperor to his mother's plans to hasten the marriage. Hanrah put his head in his hands, fretting. "I cannot go through with it."
"Elishiba does not seek marriage either, she had hoped to speak with you to negotiate a peace treaty."
"Mehmet will never agree."
"It is your agreement she seeks," Amshazar pointed out.
Kerr was fascinated by their conversation but he also wanted to take the chance to speak with Kazeen. Moving closer to his side, he whispered to him. "You are content to stay, to take risks?"
"I cannot leave him," Kazeen replied. He didn't need to say more. Kerr saw the answers to the questions in his friend's expression.
"Thank you for coming to visit us," the emperor said to Kerr when they prepared to leave. Hanrah reached out to clasp his hand with both of his own.
"I am honored," Kerr replied.
Amshazar bowed his head to the emperor. "Don't forget what I said about Mehmet's plan. You need to be ready. The Empress Elishiba wishes to negotiate before it is too late."
Hanrah looked suddenly diminished, nervous and unsure. He looked to Kazeen to reassure himself. "She is a beautiful woman, but in my heart Kazeen is the person to whom I am already betrothed."
He rested his head upon Kazeen's shoulder, and Kazeen's arm went quickly around Hanrah's back, drawing him in against himself.
Kerr felt his heart ache for the two of them and the sadness of their predicament.
"You understand now," Amshazar said as they traced the path back toward the palace.
"I do. It is hard to believe we have just supped with the emperor himself, here, hidden in the city."
"Emperor or not, you see that Hanrah is a gentle person. Just a man, who feels and cares for the one he loves. Whether we are born to high or low life, we cannot predict where our hearts will lead us." His tone was reflective.
They walked in silence for a while, and Kerr thought about what he had said. Desire was so strange, so unpredictable. Here was an emperor who needed to be with a slave, a man who lived under an execution order, a man he must meet in secret. And he himself---a slave---was now in the intimate companionship of the Empress of Aleem, where desire had led him to the twins, and where he now tried to fill the gap by Elra's side. Love not only determined where they went, but who they allied themselves to, and what risks they took with their lives.
"What will happen to them? Will Kazeen ever be able to leave that place?"
Amshazar shook his head. "I have spoken to them both about it. They know they are living a dangerous life, but Hanrah feels he cannot leave Lhastari, and that means that Kazeen cannot either." He looked at Kerr, who nodded.
Despite the situation, he had never seen either of them so happy. To take them apart would be a tragedy.
"What if the Empress Mehmet finds out?" he asked, even though he didn't really want to know the answer.
"We must hope that she does not, although I feel time and tide has been against them from the very beginning," Amshazar replied.
While her son apparently slept, the Empress Mehmet hosted a banquet for her most trusted courtiers that night. The revelry was decadent, with dancing and feasting, and she took great delight in periodically entering the hidden passageway to go and look at her caged bird in the chambers below.
It was late in the night now. The candles burned low and some of the guests slumbered amongst the cushions, while others indulged in debauched carousing of their own in the growing shadows. Mehmet was considering retiring when she noticed Sibias gesturing to her from the entranceway, where he stood with a young slave boy.
Her interest piqued, she joined them. "What is it?"
Sibias ushered her and the slave boy out into the corridor, away from curious glances of those who watched on. "Patrino here has news of Kazeen's whereabouts."
The news chased away any weariness she might have had. Concerned the guards would overhear, she led both of them to the nearby hidden panel that accessed the network of viewing corridors in the palace. Sibias knew of the network, of course, but the young slave boy looked fascinated, his eyes bright with interest.
She watched him cautiously, mistrust her first instinct. He exclaimed in awe when he saw the narrow stone-cobbled passageway, lit by the torch held in a metal sconce on the wall. There in the hidden compartment, Mehmet encouraged Sibias to proceed.
"Patrino followed one of the other slaves when he left the palace. He met with a tall, cloaked stranger two streets away, and they went as far as the western edge of the city. The slave was a friend of Kazeen's and we believe he went to see him."
Her interest sharpened. "And? Where is he?"
The slave boy's smile faded. "I lost track of them, they moved quickly in hidden shadows, at one point the tall man lifted his cloak and it was as if they disappeared behind it."
Mehmet flashed Sibias a look. "Sorcery?"
He shrugged, his expression noncommittal. "It doesn't matter. It has narrowed the search down to a specific number of streets. I have ordered a team of guards to prepare for a house-to-house search upon your word."
"Good," she responded. "We will dispatch them immediately."
The prospect of capturing another exotic bird in her cage pleased her immensely. Her gaze returned to the slave boy. Pride made him smug. He looked like a loose-mouthed creature. She needed silence on this matter if her plans were to succeed unhindered.
She walked slowly down the cobbled passageway, pausing after a while. "You have done well, young man."
The slave boy grinned.
Sibias's eyebrows lifted.
She smiled at him, exchanging silent understanding, sharing the secret thrill of what she was about to do. She took another three steps until she came level with the lever built into the wall. Seeing her hand reach for it, Sibias immediately stepped aside, leaving the slave boy alone on the spot.
"But you see, no matter how good you are, we cannot afford to have you speak to anyone on this matter."
Sensing something was amiss Patrino shuffled and put his hand on his chest. "I will tell no one."
"No, you won't, because I will be sure of that." She pulled the lever in the wall and the stone beneath his feet shifted, opening the trap door that was set near each entrance in case an unwelcome visitor found the secret passageways, or for convenient, secret disposal of a traitor. She watched his expression of horror as the stone moved beneath his feet and he fell.
His scream echoed up around them.
Then, an eerie silence.
Sibias grabbed the torch from the sconce and they both moved quickly toward the open trap. He held the light over the pit, where it cast strange shadows around the walls and deep into its heart, where a massive set of upright spears set in stone were decked with the bones of those who had gone before him, and now bore the body of the slave boy Patrino atop the stack. Soon the rats would pick clean his bones and it would be as if he had never existed.
"He was a helpful slave," Sibias commented as he looked down on the body, without regret.
"He'd served his purpose. Now we know where my son's forbidden concubine hides, we had what we needed from him."
"And you dealt with him very efficiently, Empress." Sibias licked his lips, as thrilled as she was by their power over those who served them. The light and shadow from the torch showed his expression, his demonic thirst for more death and carnage, and the chance to unleash his black sorcery in her name.
"Thank you," Mehmet said, anticipation rising fast inside her, for she wanted all of that too. "And now let's deal with the rest of them just as fast and efficiently, and then we can claim Aleem for our own."
Kerr had hoped not to awake Elra when he returned to the small, bare room she had been assigned in the servants' quarters at the palace. He'd promised he would stay by her at night, lest she was beset with nightmares about what had happened to Amra. But she was awake, sitting by the dim light of a low burning candle.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to join you. Have you slept at all?"
"No, but I have managed to make us more comfortable here." She was sitting against the wall, where he saw that she had stacked cushions and blankets. "I begged Xerxes to retrieve them from the traveling goods," she explained, her forehead puckered by a frown. "So little is provided for the lower order of servants in this palace."
"You have made it perfect," he said, as he sat down. He eased her in front of him so that he could gently massage her shoulders as they talked. How different it was to where Kazeen was currently living, Kerr couldn't help remarking to himself. Kazeen was hidden in the city, living a luxurious life in a place like a prison. How strange life was. It was good, however, to have seen his old friend well and happy. For the longest time he had thought him dead or banished.
He tucked a soft blanket around Elra's legs, nestling closer, her body warm and tender in his arms as he held her. "You should have rested."
"I couldn't."
He soothed her, kneading the tightness in her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. He wished she had returned to the safety of Suzin, but at the same time was so glad to have her near. He had grown very attached to the twins, but it was not until the death of Amra that he realized there was love in his heart, as well as desire. If something were to happen to this woman here he would never forgive himself.
"What is it?" She glanced back at him in the dim light of the candle. The flame shone on the rich brown of her sleek hair, highlighting the curve of her cheek, her skin so dusky and inviting. "What are you thinking about?"
Kerr's desire for her rose inside him and he sighed softly. "How much I care for you, but also that I wish you were safe, far away from here."
She smiled, and he was glad of it, for he had not seen her look that way for several days.
She turned in his arms, her hand against his shoulder as she looked into his eyes. "I care deeply for you as well, my love." She drew him down over her, her hands running over his back, possessively. "I want you to make love to me, Kerr."
To hear those words upon her lips, it was like a dream. His blood was pumping; he was fast growing hard. And yet he resisted because of what they had lost. His body was already molded against the curve of her hip, and his hand roamed up from her waist to where he could feel the weight of her breast against his thumb. "I want that too, but are you sure this is the right time?"
"Yes," her eyes glistened in the candlelight, but her smile reassured him. "We both wanted to couple with you. Amra has gone from this world and now it is you who makes me feel whole again. I need you, Kerr."
Her words made him proud. "You both wanted me?"
Her eyes were filled with secrets and memories.
A suspicion crept up on him. "Wait ... did you two know that I was in the Empresses' bathing room, that first day I met you?"
"Maybe."
"You did." He laughed softy. "What were you trying to do, drive me to madness?"
"Capture your attention, perhaps."
"You surely did that."
As he thought back over what had happened, knowing what he now knew, he wanted to see her as she had been, in the comfortable surroundings of her home, where she had lived a happy, carefree life. He wished that he could provide that for her. But after this night, he had also seen that love could thrive in the most unlikely circumstances and under immense pressure. Kazeen and Hanrah had proven that to him. Despite the circumstances they lived under, they found happiness in their moments together, no matter how short-lived. Rather than regret where they were not, they should celebrate being together.
He stared into her eyes and ran his finger from her beautiful lips down her chin and the length of her neck, slipping his hand inside her robe to touch the warm supple flesh of her breasts. When her nipple hardened beneath his hand, he whispered his pleasure aloud, and then climbed over her, moving between her opening legs, his body driven with the need to unite with her and make her happy. "I love you," he whispered.
He moved to kiss her, and that's when he felt her stiffen in his arms. She was looking over his shoulder at the door. The sound of footsteps marching along the passageways reached him. He glanced up at the small window. Light was pouring into the room. It was dawn.
A moment later the door was flung open and a torch flared into the room, dazzling them. The person holding the torch shouted an order. Guards spilled into the tiny space and snatched Kerr out of Elra's arms. Drawn weapons were at his throat. He shouted and scrambled for freedom.
Anger flashed through him when he heard Elra's muffled resistance to their captors behind him. Another of the guards had lifted her. He shouted his objection, and then a hand clamped over his mouth and he was hauled bodily from the room.
Elishiba slept a shallow sleep at first that night. Then she slid deeper, and dreamt she was walking in a starlit sky. In the dream she was alone, and then she saw Amshazar seated on a throne in the midnight sky, as if he were a king or a god. He whispered her name, and offered her his hand. When she reached out for him, she realized she walked on a carpet of stars that showed the way, but as she walked, she seemed to grow no closer and a sense of fear stole into her heart.
She was growing restless with concern, when a sound startled her from her dreams. She blinked into the darkness and then noticed the door to the chamber was open and light spilled in from the outside corridor. Yoshi was pushing past the guards into the room, prodding one of their spears out of her way as she did so, nose in the air.
Puzzled, Elishiba sat up.
Yoshi trotted across the room, a blanket thrown around her shoulders, a self-satisfied smile on her face. The doors clanged shut behind her, leaving them in darkness.
"What happened?" Elishiba whispered when Yoshi settled back on the mattress beside her.
Yoshi plumped the pillows to hide the fact she was speaking, for even in the darkness they were both concerned about it. "A message from Kerr. He came to the door and told the guards to wake me. He insisted one of us come and speak with him, offering to change over with me. I didn't want to leave you, but he was insistent. He would not allow the guards to deny his request, stating I must surely be tired." She paused to chuckle, clearly impressed by his resourcefulness. "He said he would be there to do your bidding so I could sleep."
"I missed all of this?" Elishiba thought she'd only been dozing, and then she remembered her strange dream about Amshazar.
"You were asleep." Yoshi poked her with an accusing finger. "Don't look so appalled. You didn't sleep at all last night. I had to let you rest."
Elishiba hadn't meant to sleep. She'd stayed clothed in the close-fitting tunic and skirt she had slipped into when she had finally changed out of her Aleem guard's clothing. When she'd gone to rest, she stayed propped up, for she had wanted to stay aware of her surroundings. "Well, never mind that," she replied, shrugging it off. "Don't keep me in the dark on the matter, what did Kerr want?"
Yoshi leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "He had a message from Amshazar."
Elishiba's blood quickened at the very sound of his name.
"Ah, your attention is grabbed when he is mentioned." Yoshi put her mouth right beside Elishiba's ear, as if about to impart another secret. "I was right about him and you, wasn't I?"
Elishiba drew back and sighed. "What is the message, Yoshi?"
Even in the gloom, Elishiba could see that Yoshi lifted her eyebrows, waiting for the response.
"Yes, yes. You were right, now tell me!"
"You are to meet him on your balcony at dawn. Go as if to take some air. Don't be obvious."
Elishiba stayed still for a single moment while the message sank in, then she rose, pulling order into her clothing.
Yoshi chuckled. "It is not yet dawn, mistress."
"It will be, soon enough. I need to get some air."
Yoshi lay back on the bed. Elishiba could see her smiling into the gloom as she settled onto the pillows.
"You are clearly struck by love, empress," she whispered.
Elishiba lifted one hand to stop her. "Yoshi," she hissed under her breath. "Now is not the time to torture me with your pronouncements. We are in grave danger here. I hope that Amshazar comes to speak with me because he intends to bring helpful advice. Now hush and get some rest."
Yoshi yawned and nestled down to doze, her smile apparently fixed on her face.
Elishiba ran her fingers through her hair and then strolled toward the balcony. She glanced up at the decorative frieze on the wall as she went. They had seen a light moving there earlier that night, after they had blown out the candles. All was still and dark up there now. It didn't prove anything, and she tried to look as natural as possible as she stepped outside.
There was a distant haze at the very edge of the sky, and the smell of dawn was in the air, as if the atmosphere was already changing the state of the earth with the rising sun. She walked to the edge of the balcony. As she'd noticed earlier, there was no balcony to right or left, or above. The one below was closed and shuttered. The wall behind her ran up to a decorative top, as if that were the roof.
Their meeting was arranged; yet now she felt its impossibility---as well as the danger closing in on them. She'd been denied more than one visitor of her own kind, surely the mysterious nomad would not be allowed access. And if he somehow made his way through the labyrinthine passages of the palace to her, what chance would they have to speak before Mehmet's people discovered him and tore them apart?
How would he reach her? Through sorcery?
Believe and it will be possible, she told herself, remembering their time together in the desert, the fantastic feats he had shown her she could achieve.
She stood at the edge of the balcony and put her faith in Sevita, the goddess who had led her to an understanding of herself. Pleading with her inner image of the love goddess, she asked Sevita to give their meeting her blessing and shelter it; silently chanting a mantra of devotions.
After a few moments the sky lightened. She heard her name being whispered and looked up toward the sound. In the pale dawn light, she saw that Amshazar was leaning over the decorative wall above. She broke into a relieved smile.
"You did well to insist upon a balcony, empress." He smiled back at her, and then rolled a rope ladder over the precipice. It unfurled down to her, and he gestured for her to climb up to him.
She grasped it, climbing up to him as quickly as she could. It made her think of her strange dream, and yet this time she closed on him quickly and readily took his offered hand when he reached over to her. "I thought you might have to use sorcery to reach me," she commented.
"A rope ladder sufficed in this case. We must always use our skills judiciously, asking ourselves if the gods would approve." As he helped her over the edge, he added: "And where you are concerned I fear I grow selfish in my need to see you." There was a jest in his tone, but truth too.
She felt her face heat with pleasure at his remark, and glanced around to distract herself from the self-awareness and arousal he caused in her. She saw that the roof was staggered and there was indeed a room above theirs. She peered into it, trying to see where they were. Heavy curtains had been pushed open at the shutters. There were dusty and threadbare. Beyond that, she could see an old armchair, its leather skin torn, horsehair stuffing seeping out.
"Will we be discovered together here?" she asked.
"Don't worry, there is no one around. The room is an attic where ancient scrolls are kept. They are not used often," he said wryly. "Hanrah's father collected them from the lands he raided. He kept them for their value, but the Karseedians are more inclined to instinct than intellect, as you might have noticed."
His words amused her. "Yes, indeed. There was little thought put into our initial meeting with the emperor." She smiled. It was good to see him, to be this close to him again. "I'm sorry I could not speak with you yesterday," she added, because guilt had stolen into her heart. "That I doubted..."
"You needed time, I understood that." He looked into her eyes, searchingly. He had not removed his hand from her waist, where he steadied her. "How are you now?"
She gave a soft laugh. "Surprisingly level-headed, given the circumstances. It is not how I expected to feel. At home, in Suzin, I was so confused by all of this. I thought I might be more easily swayed, and yet it is now that I feel I see most clearly."
"Looking into the enemy's eyes can do that to a person."
"She is an enemy, isn't she? Of the most despicable kind ... Mehmet is the one controlling all of this, isn't she?"
"Yes, but you needed to see that yourself to understand it. I don't want you to be here, to do this, but it had to be so."
She understood. "I know. But I cannot agree to these terms. I cannot marry Hanrah without fair negotiation. It is what we were promised in my coming here, and yet I feel as if I have been very foolish and have led those closest to me into a dreadful trap." She glanced at him to see his reaction to this most dreadful of her fears.
He put his hand behind her shoulder and ushered her toward the shelter of the room. "A battle or war can take many forms. If you had refused to compromise in any way, Karseedia would have attacked without warning. You took this step to avoid your people being subjected to such a battle. Sometimes it is necessary to walk into a trap to push things along. You have taken a leading step, that means you have some control in the situation."
She gave an uneasy sigh. "I do not feel as if I have any control in the situation."
He lifted the curtains so that she could go into the room. "Many years ago, Mehmet arrived here in exactly the same way, with the same fears. She has rearranged the circumstances to suit herself, as can you. Although I suspect you will handle it very differently." He smiled.
"I would despise myself if I were to stifle my people as she does." She looked around the room, peering into the gloomy corners at the large pottery urns where the parchments were stored for protection. "At the same time I hope we don't end up like this." She gestured at the long-forgotten parchments that had once been loved by their creators.
"Don't doubt yourself now, Empress. It may sound strange, but Hanrah may be your ally in this, for his heart is betrothed to another."
His comment surprised her, but if it were so, he might be right.
He tipped her face up with one finger beneath her chin. "You came here to negotiate, did you not?"
He was so close. She ached for him to kiss her as he had before. It was so hard to concentrate with the yearning that built inside her, but she had to ask him the questions that flitted endlessly through her mind. "Yes, but she refused to speak with me, and apparently Hanrah has no voice of his own. She wants only the fruits of the marriage."
A wry look crossed over Amshazar's face. "I suspect that's not all she wants."
"True ... and what about the jinneyah that she has in her possession?"
"The jinneyah?"
Yes, he knew about it, she could see that, but he was also startled by her remark. "It wasn't me," she added, "Yoshi recognized what it was."
"It is no small thing." He grew thoughtful. "Mehmet has owned it for many years. She can be irrational, and she yearns to behold the power of this thing that she owns."
"Your words are not encouraging me," Elishiba breathed, unable to help herself.
"You have more wit than she, Elishiba." He broke into a grin, which helped to ease her tension.
"Your remark is very flattering, Amshazar. However, that is not what I need most at this time."
Admiration shone in his eyes. He stroked his fingers through her hair, his hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder, making her waver under the enclosing touch of his warm palm.
"The jinneyah is a particularly malevolent being, but it functions under the most basic of rules---that is what we must remember, whatever happens. By granting three wishes to the owner, the jinneyah wins her freedom. The most important thing for the owner to keep in mind is to use the third wish to once again imprison the jinneyah. Cautious owners---owners who take only two wishes---have used the immense power of the jinns successfully. But it is a dangerous undertaking. If Mehmet does resort to using it, I fear she will forget that in her lust for power."
A frown gathered on his forehead. "The conflict between Karseedia and Aleem will be nothing compared to the clouds we would live under should this jinneyah be set permanently free."
A shiver ran through Elishiba as she listened to his words.
"Remember your newfound strengths," he said, "your fledgling sorcery. The simplest of spells can trip up your enemies if used cleverly."
He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke, and she felt her will strengthen. She remembered his healing power with the sick boy in Suzin. Was he using his sorcery on her, to help her be strong? Or was it something else?
His eyes were drinking in her face. It had an astonishing effect, as if she were turning to liquid at her center. Desire had never affected her this way, not so powerfully. She lifted her fingers to his lips and touched them lightly. "Amshazar, you fire my spirit," she murmured, desire surging up inside her.
He took her fingers and kissed their tips, looking deep into her eyes. She tilted her head back, asking for his kiss. He offered her one---long and gentle---first brushing her lips with deft movements then reaching into her, drawing her to him.
She offered, she gave; she met his kiss with every part of her, declaring her desire for him openly. They had both waited for that kiss, that naked kiss, wherein the two of them admitted this thing between them, the power if it, its undeniable grip on them.
Her hands clutched his shoulders as their kiss grew more passionate, and his hands roved her waist and hips, his body pressed more fully against hers. He backed her toward the wall and when she felt it at her back, she gasped and his head dropped kiss her neck.
His mouth on her skin seemed to brand her, and she flamed in response, wanting him to claim her. She needed this, she needed to couple with this man who gave of himself to help her win her battle, this man who set her alight with passion.
"Make love to me, Amshazar," she whispered. "I need it. I need you."
It took four of Mehmet's strongest men to restrain the handsome Aleemite warrior with the shaved head. Despite the number and stature of his adversaries, he struggled and fought them with zeal. He lashed out with his fists, even though they were shackled together at the wrists. The loose chains that hung from the shackles whipped out across the stone floor of the servants' quarters as he struggled.
Mehmet watched, amused. Her servants had long since backed away and run from the sight, cleverly hiding themselves to stay out of trouble.
As the Aleem warriors and servants were picked up, one by one, and brought to her, the shaved-head leader glowered and cursed. "You will never subject the Empress Elishiba to your will," he spat at Mehmet and Sibias.
"What a loyal, devoted slave you are," Mehmet commented. "However, you are somewhat outnumbered, as you may have noticed."
He ignored her remark.
She gestured to the four massive warriors, who proceeded to lift the chains that hung from his shackled wrists, looping them across his back, tying them in place, so that the chains ran along the outside of his arms and across his shoulder blades to latch together at his spine. Metal poles were inserted into slots in the chains at his shoulders and elbows, so that the four men could move the Aleemite between them and keep him at arm's length. It was a clever gadget, one her late husband had brought home from his travels, where he had seen enormous creatures kept as pets this way.
With the shaved-head warrior eventually under their control, they pushed him down on to his knees, before her.
Mehmet stroked her riding crop through the palm of her hand as she observed him bucking against them. "I like your spirit. What is your name?"
He ignored her question, a growl in his throat as he flashed menacing glances at his captors.
She strolled over to him, lifting his glowering face with the tip of her crop beneath his chin.
He jerked his head away. She couldn't help pausing to admire the view. The taut lines of his neck tapered into powerful shoulders, the muscles in his upper arms flexing as he tried to break free of the shackles. For a moment she thought he might manage it. His arms were rigid with effort, and the edge of the shackles bent and lifted as he twisted his wrists within them.
"They call him Xerxes," interrupted Sibias. Jealousy flickered in his eyes.
Mehmet smiled.
She returned her attention to the man on his knees. "Xerxes, is it?"
He glared at her, but did not speak. Her grip on the crop tightened. She lashed out with the crop, scoring his face across his cheekbone, blood smarting from the wound. He did not flinch under the blow, staring at her all the while. She gave a wry smile. She couldn't be sure her own warriors would behave so well.
In the background, a pair of Karseedian guards brought in two more of the Aleemite party, a young woman and a fair-haired youth. They stared aghast at the sight of Xerxes bound at her feet.
"Elishiba's servants," Sibias commented.
She was still annoyed that she'd been unable to force the man on his knees to acknowledge her, but she had what she wanted---bargaining power with Elishiba. Sibias had told her this man was a favorite, Elishiba's most trusted warrior.
"Take these prisoners to the temple," she instructed. "Who is left?"
Sibias's eyes glinted. "One woman servant who is with her in her chamber." He paused, a look of relish passing over his expression. "And Amshazar."
"Ah yes, Amshazar. The nomad."
Sibias had bided his time well. They both had. But they had suffered her son's strange friend for long enough. She had good reason to punish Hanrah now. He had disobeyed her wishes by keeping his forbidden lover in the city secretly, against her will. Her men had already hunted down Hanrah's lover and taken him to the temple, where he would be offered as a sacrifice to the god of war. A fitting tribute, she mused, with relish.
She felt no remorse for Hanrah over the loss of his chosen courtesan. He'd gone against her wishes for the slave's fate. That payment in death had already been promised, many moons ago. The death of Amshazar would be Hanrah's punishment for going against her will secretly. Then, with the fruits of the marriage harvested, her most powerful time would truly begin.
"I need you, Amshazar."
Amshazar groaned with longing. Her words rang through him, quickening him to his vitals. Why, he asked himself, why was he overcome by such urgent desire when danger lurked all around them? When she had said those words, and he'd seen the look on her face, his loins immediately began to flood with vigor, his entire body straining to be close to her. He wanted her, yes. And badly. But there was something else in him, relief. The painful doubts he'd endured when he thought that he had estranged her after her handmaid's murder. The relief he felt, knowing that was behind them, was great.
Their destiny was carved, and where it led he could not tell. But beyond that the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to know more of this woman. This woman who had kept him awake at night since he had first laid eyes on her, and when he did sleep, he dreamt of her. He needed to understand this. He needed to know what this emotion was that haunted him constantly. It was not a mistake, he told himself, what had happened between them. He had wondered, after that fateful night in the desert. But now, he was sure of himself.
Her voice was so warm and vibrant when she whispered her need. It hummed like a firefly on the wings of the night, as redolent and vivid as the physical heat she was emanating. She smelt fresh and alive and he tasted pure pleasure on her lips. He moved her up against the wall, lifting her easily against the hard surface. She gripped his shoulders in both hands, breathing fast, her eyes wide. He wanted to get her out of her clothes, to feel her need trembling through her naked body, to answer it with his own, but there wasn't time.
"Elishiba, I love you," he murmured as he kissed her skin, his hands lifting her skirts. "Since I first met you I have wanted you. Our time is short, but I need this as much as you do." He stroked his hand over her lush, intimate flesh, his phallus growing rigid when he felt it give beneath his fingers, and the dew of her desire seeped onto his fingertips.
She moaned in response to his words and actions. "Gods, Amshazar, what are you doing to me?"
"Taking pleasure in you; you are so ripe for this." He continued his mastery of her senses, stroking her bud until she was shivering with torment, her mouth open, and her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Oh yes, my sweet Elishiba, you are ready for this."
Her knees buckled and she moaned loudly when her climax suddenly shuddered through her. Her eyes were bright and feverish and her left thigh drew up around his flanks. "Amshazar, please," she moaned, a plea in her voice, hands clutching at him when she felt his hardness nudging into her. "Join us."
He groaned aloud, thrust deep into her, reaching for her exquisite embrace on his shaft. Oh, how her body molded inside, he savored how each move he took reverberated through her. She gasped as he probed deep, her breath panting harshly against his face. He held her with his hands around her buttocks, angling her body against the wall within his grip, reassuring her that she was safe in her abandon. "Elishiba ... you are on fire."
"Yes, my love," she responded, her eyelids lowering, "to have you there inside me, it's so intense." Her legs locked around his hips, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
At the base of his spine, a fierce thud threatened to undo him. His extreme arousal was being heightened by her words and the small gasps she gave through the breath of space between their open mouths. He began to take deep strides, reckoning with control, wanting to release himself to this binding passion, yet wanted to take control of it and make it endure. With each movement he made she uttered a breathless cry, her body fast rising to pitch again. Her passion undid him and he rode her faster, her body shunting against the surface of the wall, her breasts up-tilted under her tunic, the nipples jutting through the fabric.
He felt the clutch, the warm embrace of her sheath as it tightened on him, and he could hold on no longer, his seed spilling even as he pulled free.
"Amshazar," she whispered, and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, Amshazar."
He kissed the tear away, cocooning her against him, holding her safe. He kissed her over and over, hungry to make the moment last, to feel every ounce of her softness, to reassure himself she was real and safe in his arms for as long as he could, strengthening her with his caresses, strengthening them both through their bond.
Even when he felt their nemesis taking action, like a swarm of death ghouls descending upon them, he fought for every tender moment.
The wrench when it came was painful, as if in parting with him she was doing it forever. Amshazar held her until they heard voices rising up from the balcony down below.
"Hurry," he said, his glance flitting from the roof space outside the shutters, back to the doorway inside the room. "The guards are coming for us now. Mehmet means to force the ceremony to get what she wants."
Panic hit her fast. "Now?"
He captured her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "Hold steady to your goals. Do not doubt yourself, no matter what happens. Your cause is just; don't let yourself be manipulated by cold-hearted victims of greed. Remember what is possible. The gods are with you, as am I." He smiled, although it was fleeting.
Elishiba tried to grasp what he was saying, noting in particular his reference to the gods, but at the same time she could hear the voices downstairs growing louder. Her thoughts went to Yoshi. Then she saw movement at the rope ladder that still hung over the edge of the roof.
Amshazar noticed it too. He put one hand against her shoulder, took a fleeting kiss, and then nodded her toward the doorway that led into the palace. "You go that way, I will delay them. There's no reason why we should make this simple for them."
"Amshazar?"
"There is no time. Remember what I said; remember the power in the sorcery that we shared. You have the ability, and that will be a great surprise for Mehmet. You have the advantage. Trust in yourself, and know that I love you." He turned away and was gone, hastily closing the curtains and shutters behind him.
Elishiba stumbled toward the inner doorway. She opened it cautiously, her heart beating fast as she glanced up and down the corridor outside. A candle stood in a sconce outside the doorway. Had Amshazar left it there, had he suspected this would happen?
The corridor was dark and much narrower than those below, with frequent doorways along it, presumably storage rooms like the one she had just come from. Left or right? She pushed the feeling of inevitability that crept up on her, the doubt that she could make any difference at all. In its place, she remembered Amshazar's words. He had told her not to doubt, and he'd said that the gods were with her. If Mehmet wanted to push the issue of marriage without further discussion, then Elishiba would make it as difficult as possible for her.
She darted left, away from the light, following the corridor, pausing whenever she heard footsteps echoing behind her. She felt her way along the walls in the gloom, but she used the time to prepare herself. She thought of her people, Tariq and her father. Basim and Fahima, who represented so many others in her heart.
I will not buckle, she told herself. I will not let them down.
A creeping suspicion came over her---she felt as if she were not alone. She paused. The skin on the back of her neck tingled with awareness, the palms of the hands growing damp. In the darkness ahead a fire leapt to life, as high as a man. From it Sibias emerged. He raised his arms, and the flames crumbled to ashes around his feet. He laughed aloud and looked at her with glowing eyes---eyes filled with evil. His appearance had changed---or had it been revealed? The white tendrils of his long hair and beard moved in a medusa-like cacophony of snake heads, tiny white asps that watched her like so many more eyes on her.
"The Empress of Aleem is lost." He chortled at his own declaration, and then clapped his hands. "Your presence is needed in the temple. Allow me to help you find your way." There was a sneer in his expression, a cruel laugh in his voice.
She had never seen him so blatantly a master of the dark arts, and knew now that it was he who had Amra's blood on his hands. He'd covered his tracks well that night and fooled them all, but the pretence had seemingly gone as he undertook Mehmet's handiwork within the safety of her palace.
Instinctively, Elishiba turned away. As she did a gaping pit opened in the floor at her feet. Strange contorted creatures---half human, half animal---jostled below her. They reached up with claw-like hands and frenzied jaws to snap at her. She snatched at the wall, wavered on the edge of the pit, glancing beyond where down the corridor torches flared and Karseedian guards poured around the corner.
She felt Sibias's hand on her shoulder, his breath against her neck he leaned close against her. "The emperor awaits his bride."
"Is that what Mehmet told you to say?" she retorted.
He hissed at her in response, his fingers biting harshly into her shoulder. The Karseedian guards beyond the pit backed up, shifting against each other, their eyes wide as they took in the sight before them.
"You think you can persuade Mehmet to listen. You are a token," Sibias whispered to her, "a mere key to a vault, Elishiba. That is all."
She forced a dry laugh, the muscles in her feet and legs tightening as she wavered on the edge of the pit. "You'd do better to think of me as a vast wall than a key, for that is what I intend to be."
She averted her eyes when she felt the cold, scaly skin of an asp moving against the side of her face. As she did she heard Sibias chant in a foreign tongue and then her body was spun harshly from his hand and down, down, into the pit.
Her vision shifted, became a swirl of darkness dotted with bright hungry eyes and open jaws. She braced herself, grappling with her hands for something solid to cling to, grappling inside for the sorcery that she had learned, to combat his spell. Anger flared up inside her and a web of white light enclosed her, but it was all happening too fast. Her body stopped spinning and dropped. She shut her eyes tight. Her body hit a soft mattress. Her eyes flashed open and she found herself back in her allotted chamber. Sibias had transported her back to the chamber below. His sorcery was powerful, could she even hope to equal it?
She rose up onto her hands and knees, gasping for breath. Sibias stood at the end of the bed. His arms were folded across his chest, his appearance somewhat more normal. Several servants and guards stood by, Folami one of them. There was no sign of Yoshi.
"You're wasting the Empress Mehmet's time." He flicked his fingers and Folami ran forward at his bidding, a mound of fabric balanced in her open arms. "You will be dressed and taken to the temple where a simple ceremony will unite Aleem to Karseedia forever." There was no doubting the promise and the pleasure in his tone.
A bolt of anger hit her, anger in the face of injustice. "I came to Lhastari in good faith to represent my people, but I will not proceed, not without the negotiation I was promised in coming here." She rose up on her knees, sparring with him deliberately.
"Your voice is a mere wisp on the wind." He waved his fingers in the air, clearly relishing his power. "And I advise you to hurry yourself, if you care at all for the safety of those you hold dear." He chanted again in the strange foreign tongue and drew a circle in the air with one finger.
In the space he had marked out, Elishiba saw a vision of her people. Elra, Kerr, Yoshi, and Xerxes bound in chains, being herded through the palace. She felt hot and cold all at once, her belly churning. "You cannot do this," she murmured, as she stared at the strange vision, slumping down onto the bed in shock.
Sibias clicked his fingers. The vision disappeared. He lifted the fabric Folami held in her arms and tossed it onto the mattress where Elishiba knelt. "Move," he bellowed, "or each and every one of them will die a slow and painful death because of your tardiness."
With a satisfied grin, he took his leave.
Elishiba stared down at the fabric with blind eyes, frozen in the face of his threat. Folami reached out to her with a sympathetic hand. Ducking her head down to meet Elishiba's gaze, her soft brown eyes encouraged Elishiba to move.
Elishiba nodded and took the offered hand, her mind working furiously as she rose to her feet. Could she really hope to change this situation, when the Karseedians held her people, in exchange for her subservience? Could a spell protect them? Could she even risk that? Whatever way she addressed the problem, it felt like a maze without escape.
Don't doubt yourself. Amshazar's voice echoed in her mind as she rose to her feet. The simplest of spells can trip your enemy.
"Kind Mistress Elishiba, let me help you," Folami said, attracting Elishiba's attention again.
Elishiba noticed the other servants were busy. One warmed a dish of incense, while the others seemed to be preparing jewels. Elishiba nodded, seeing honesty and concern in the woman's eyes. She wanted to help; Elishiba could see and sense that.
"Tell me about the temple, describe it to me," Elishiba requested in a low voice. She didn't want to be taken unawares as she had been with Sibias in the attics.
Folami nodded, and then took the handful of jewels that one of the other servants passed to her. "Please lower your head, kind Mistress," she said, and then in a hushed voice, "It is a huge temple, built into the palace itself."
Elishiba was disappointed. She'd hoped it would be outside, in the city perhaps, like their temples in Suzin. But the Karseedian rulers were not so eager to share with their people. That much had been obvious when they approached the palace the day before. The inhabitants and the city itself looked poor and neglected, compared to the inner domain of the palace.
Folami placed a heavy collar of gold coins around Elishiba's neck, arranging it over her shoulders as she straightened up. "Inside the temple there is an effigy of Hurda, the god of war. It flanks one wall," she continued. "His open mouth is where they offer," she paused, and their eyes met. "Sacrifice."
Elishiba swallowed, remembering the disturbing image Sibias had shown her. She took a deep breath and as she did she realized the smell of incense was heavy in the room, its perfume heady. Her suspicion grew---was it a vapor that would make her docile? The air was growing thick with it.
Another handful of jewels was brought to her.
"We must hurry, lest the incense makes me sleepy. Tell me more," she encouraged.
Folami nodded, her gentle brown eyes acknowledging Elishiba's suspicion about the incense. She lifted a thread of coins and weaved them into Elishiba's hair. "I have only been there once, but I found it a stifling place. There is only one doorway in and out that I know of, and the entrance is near to the chambers of the Emperor. I am told this was because the emperor's father had a great allegiance to the god of war, although the Emperor Hanrah himself does not go there often."
Folami grew silent when the other servants moved around Elishiba, placing ornamental bangles on her arms and around her ankles, replacing her soft kid slippers with embroidered ones. Elishiba barely noticed. She took shallow breaths, imagining all the while the place Folami described, preparing herself.
Folami shook out the material she held, folded, in her arms: a massive veil of sheer fabric, dotted with glinting threads that spangled gold and silver light across it. For a split second, Elishiba saw a star-filled sky reflected in its threads, and felt Amshazar's body brush against her own. Then it was gone. The sensation lifted her and she knew with deadly certainty that she had to walk further into Mehmet's trap in order to destroy it, for that was what she intended to do. As Amshazar had pointed out, she had the advantage, for she had skills Mehmet was unaware of.
She believed. She had to.
The veil was shaken out between four of the servants, and then lifted over her so that it fell into place over her head. It hung down as far as her hips, to trail her back and brush the floor behind her.
Elishiba didn't care to look at her reflection when encouraged to do so. In her mind and heart, she was dressed for battle. She braced herself for it.
Mehmet had never seen her son so disheveled and fretsome. Granted, he had always disliked the temple and the necessary acts of worship that went on there. However, he looked as if he was practically losing his mind with whatever ailed him. He stood in the center of the temple gesticulating wildly at Amshazar and the Aleemite prisoners, his hands shaking, his eyes flitting anxiously.
"You cannot treat people this way," Hanrah declared, pointing at the gallery where Amshazar and the assembled Aleemites were on their knees, heads bowed. Behind each prisoner a Palace guard stood, his sword's point at the back of the captive's neck warning against any rash move.
"I can," she replied, savoring the thought of the high esteem they would gain from the god of war, when these bodies were offered as sacrifices to him. He would imbue their future efforts to win power and land with good fortune.
"Settle yourself down, Hanrah." She pushed him toward the throne that had been set up for him, the seat from which he would take the hand of his bride.
He buckled under her aggressive gesture, and then leapt back at her, snatching at her arm. "Mother, you cannot force people to do things against their will."
"Yes, I can. Now lower your voice, you are making a spectacle of yourself. Don't let your people know how weak you really are."
"I do not wish to marry her," he declared.
"Ah, so it is yourself you're afraid for. I thought you were concerned for your special ally, Amshazar."
"I am concerned for him." Hanrah shook his head. The situation really had upset him, foolish boy. She wondered how he'd react when he realized she'd run his forbidden courtesan out of his hidden den and had him within her grasp as well. She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Hanrah, it will be an extremely short marriage, in name only. Remember that. But I do need you to do this one simple thing for me."
Still he shook his head. "I cannot do it. There is another to whom I..." His voice trailed away to nothing when he realized he was saying the wrong thing to her, his eyelids dropping.
Gods, he is a dullard, she thought to herself with annoyance. She resisted the urge to comment about the person he had almost referred to, and narrowed her eyes at him, forcing him to feel her will. "Do not disobey me."
She noticed a flurry of activity at the entrance of the temple, and Sibias emerged, his appearance clearing a passage between the assembled guards, servants and courtiers. Many of them had not seen him in his sorcerer's mantle, that which empowered and revealed his darkest powers.
"Be quiet," she said to Hanrah, holding her son by the sleeve, turning her attention to her favorite as he approached. "Well?"
Sibias bowed his head and smiled at her, his eyes glowing. "Your will is done," he said. "The empress is being prepared." He glanced to her side and frowned, observing Hanrah, who struggled like an untrained hound in her grip.
Others watched too. Mehmet saw that it was time to take action. "Guards, stoke the temple fires in readiness for our offerings."
Sibias's eyes lit. "The first, as we agreed?"
Mehmet hesitated only a moment. Since Hanrah's forbidden courtesan was what seemed to be ailing him, it seemed the logical thing to do. If he were gone, Hanrah would have nothing to fight for. Right now, she needed him, even if it meant temporarily stamping the passion out of him to get her way. He had to learn. This was one way. "Yes, do it."
Sibias clapped his hands over his head.
Glancing to her right, Mehmet saw her men working steadily at Hurda's wall, stoking the fires there. The flames in Hurda's hungry open mouth leapt high. The assembled crowd moved back, afraid. Screams issued from beyond the entrance. A pair of guards entered, hauling a struggling figure between them.
Hanrah broke free of her hold when he saw who it was that was being brought in. "Kazeen," he shouted.
Guards blocked his path to the prisoner. He looked back at her, his expression frantic.
"Say goodbye to your friend," she instructed.
He shook his head vigorously. "Please, no."
"I need to make a sacrifice," she said in a weary tone, secretly amused at his sudden turnaround.
"Not Kazeen, please." He was quite desperate.
Would he do anything to save his lover? An idea occurred to her. Why not keep the slave a while, in order to manipulate her son. "What would you do to save him?"
Hanrah frowned, apparently fearful of saying the wrong thing. "Whatever you wish, Mother."
Mehmet smiled. "Agree to the marriage, and I may allow him to live."
Hanrah's frown deepened. "Promise me that if I do this thing, he will be spared."
She disliked promising something she had no intention of doing. She gave a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. "All right then, I promise." She gestured to the guards who held Kazeen. "Take him over there. Where we can all see him." Under her breath, she murmured: "We might as well have everyone and their lovers present and accounted for."
The guards moved the struggling slave in front of the gallery, stationing themselves either side of him, pushing him to his knees between them. Hanrah stared across at the slave, his expression woebegone. Mehmet snapped her fingers at him and pointed at the throne. He took his place without saying a further word.
Sibias had observed the whole procedure with amusement, but once Hanrah was seated, he gestured toward the door. A further scurry of activity ensued, and the sound of a horn announced the arrival of Elishiba. Mehmet took her place alongside her son, sitting to observe the entrance of Ramsis' daughter.
All eyes watched as the figure covered in a voluminous veil slowly entered the room, a hum of high expectation going around the crowd. Several angry shouts issued from the gallery of prisoners, only to be hushed by guards. Mehmet glanced over, saw that blood had been drawn on the warrior Xerxes' neck. Amshazar, however, seemed strangely still and watchful, as if unperturbed by his situation. It made her curious but she dismissed it, turning her attention to Elishiba, watching with anticipation as she moved into the room.
She expected some amount of resistance from the Empress Elishiba, who had seemed so determined to have her voice heard the day before. Instead, Elishiba was silent. Her outline was strangely contained, apart from her feet as she stepped into room. Was it Sibias's special incense that had made her this way, or something else? Mehmet frowned. The veil she wore obscured her features, which meant she could not read Elishiba's mood. She wished she hadn't insisted on the veil after all, since she had only decided upon it to impress the courtiers who watched on. It was nothing but a nuisance.
Elishiba seemed not to move her head, not even to glance around at her surroundings or to look for her people. On first entrance to the temple visitors were usually shocked, for the effigy of Hurda was frightening, and many disliked the smell of burnt flesh, which sometimes resulted in fear-filled screams, retching and vomiting. There was no such reaction from Elishiba.
"Get on with it," Mehmet declared to Sibias, uneasily, rising to her feet. She grabbed her son by the shoulder of his wedding coat and hauled him back onto his feet.
"There will be no marriage until the agreed negotiations are fulfilled." Elishiba's voice rang out across the temple, calm and clear, projected for all to hear.
Several of the courtiers chuckled with amusement at her audacity. Others gasped in astonishment. Mehmet was somewhat startled. She expected screams of indignation, yes. An attempt to run, perhaps, but not this unearthly calm sense of purpose that emanated from the solitary figure before them. She looked at Sibias, who seemed perplexed as well. With her free hand, she reached for the comfort of her pendant, for it always reassured her. Elishiba had made her uneasy, with her self-assured air of control, and she drew strength from the restless jinneyah within.
It helped.
"Sibias, indicate to the Empress Elishiba that she and her people are subject to our will now."
He nodded, shifting his shoulders, lifting his arms in readiness. He began to chant his sorcerer's tongue.
Mehmet leaned forward, licking her lips in anticipation. This was going to be good. Sibias moved his arms, undulating them, and from his fingertips drops of liquid fell to the floor where they shimmered and grew, changing into the shape of serpents. Screams of horror came from the crowd.
Mehmet smiled with pleasure. Sibias's creature of choice was the snake, for he admired its cold power. Soon there were as many as twenty or thirty large serpents at his feet, writhing in amongst each other.
Sibias weaved his arms and pointed them in the direction of the daughter of Ramsis. The serpents moved under his spell, slithering across the floor of the temple toward the lone figure. Mehmet waited for the daughter of Ramsis to scream, cower and beg, but she stood her ground. The snakes were closing on her fast, and shouts of outrage emanated from the gallery area where the prisoners were held.
Mehmet was annoyed at the lack of spectacle. "Sibias, she has been overly drugged by your incense."
The snakes were almost upon her feet when Elishiba finally moved. She pushed back the veil, and put her hands out toward the apparition that Sibias had created. Mehmet stared in dismay as rays of white light poured out from the palms of her hands, creating a barrier around her, which the serpents moved along but apparently could not breach. They slithered around the halo of light she had created but could not break in.
Sibias roared with rage, sending out more serpents, until a pile of them encircled her, as high as her knees, but still she did not falter, her eyes glowing with certainty that she held them at bay.
Mehmet cursed loudly. "She uses sorcery!"
Elishiba slowly lowered her hands and as she did the light dropped and the snakes melted away into the floor.
Sibias roared with fury. His hands fisted in the air and he closed on her. Elishiba lifted one hand and pushed him back with a powerful beam of white light centered upon his chest.
Mehmet gritted her teeth with frustration. The daughter of Ramsis had secret powers, how annoying was that? Her hand closed on the amulet at her breast.
Elishiba seemed to notice that and frowned at her. "Negotiate," she declared, again.
"Never," seethed Mehmet. Damn the woman, she thought to herself. If Elishiba knew sorcery, she would battle them at every turn. That was not what she wanted. Elishiba could clearly equal Sibias; she would not be forced. Mehmet was thoroughly angered by the turn of events and wanted done with her, this young woman who so blatantly opposed her. She would offer Elishiba as sacrifice, her and her people, and claim her country anyway. There was only one way to do it. She yanked the amulet from its chain, pulling the stopper from it in doing so. A desire akin to lust roared up inside Mehmet as she watched this most longed for moment. "Pretty spells are as nothing compared to the power I own," she cackled.
Oh yes, there was hesitation and concern in Elishiba's expression now, for the amulet had spun into the air, bursting free of Mehmet's palm. Purple and white vapors poured out into the atmosphere before her. The vapors shot high, almost to the ceiling of the temple, and around her voices lifted in concern. Within the purple mist a figure had begun to form.
Mehmet peered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see what her jinneyah looked like, this thing that she had held close to her breast for so many years, this powerful thing that she alone owned.
A sound like a great yawn emerged from the mist and, as it evaporated, a tall and mighty woman could be seen standing there. Her breasts were bare, a simple swathe of fabric hung around her hips held in place by knot at the front. Her skin gleamed. It was the color of aged parchment, her eyes almond-shaped and slanted up at the outer edges. Her upper arms were strongly muscled and encased in copper bands, as were her ankles. Her feet were bare, apart from rings on her toes, and her wild black hair spooled down her back to the floor. She grinned at the assembled crowd expectantly, at once fearsome, bawdy, and warrior-like.
"Greetings." She spoke in a strangely accented voice. "You are my owner," she added, and pointed down at Mehmet, leaning down to examine her.
Mehmet took a deep breath, a heady thrill running through her as the awesome jinneyah recognized her for what she was. "Yes, I am your owner."
The jinneyah smiled, slyly. "Allow me to grant you three wishes, owner."
Excitement ran in Mehmet's veins. She glanced over at Elishiba, beautiful, magical Elishiba. She hated her, wanted rid of her. She was more of an obstacle than a key. Now that the jinneyah was truly hers, she would gain control of Aleem through her power, instead. "Jinneyah, my first wish is for you to destroy my son's betrothed ... and make sure it's a painful death, why don't you."
The jinneyah bowed her head, smiling as if in anticipation. She opened her mouth and began to sing a peculiar song, her hands weaving together in front of her as if to guide the notes on the atmosphere. The assembled crowd looked on, mesmerized, as the sound filled the temple, a curious and unsettling tune, until within it the sound of a long and painful scream emerged.
Mehmet looked at Elishiba with anticipation, but she was still, her gaze averted elsewhere, which led Mehmet to the horror of the sight before them. In front of the prisoner's balcony, the slave boy Kazeen writhed on the floor in apparent agony, his fingers clutching at his throat and belly, blood pouring from his mouth onto the floor.
"Kazeen, no!" Hanrah shouted as he launched himself across the temple.
Mehmet's head snapped back toward the jinneyah. She had ceased her song and stood by with her arms folded beneath her bare breasts. "What is the meaning of this? I instructed you to kill my son's betrothed."
"I have done your bidding, owner. This is the person to whom your son considers himself betrothed."
Mehmet looked back to where the jinneyah pointed, at the slave boy Kazeen, now lying still on the floor, her son beside him wailing with grief, blood staining his clothing.
"That is not what I meant," she cried out, confused. This was supposed to be about her gaining power. The occurrences here today were driving her to madness.
Hanrah lifted his head at the sound of her voice and shouted across the temple. "You should have known I had betrothed my heart to him."
He stood to his feet, blood dripping from his hands. He glared at her with an expression she had never before seen, one that shocked her to the core.
"I will never forgive you for this. I would rather be left in the desert without water than be your son, I curse you, mother of mine, you and every evil bone in your body!"
Horrorstruck, Mehmet saw the truth. He'd changed. He'd turned. She looked to Sibias, whose image floated strangely before her eyes. Faces stared at her all around, Hanrah's expression mirrored over and again. She backed away, broken by the unfamiliar look of retribution in her son's eyes.
Elishiba watched the unfolding scene with both fear and caution. Her legs were shaking, her mouth dry.
As Mehmet slumped into her chair, her eyes clouded. Events had taken a strange and unexpected turn.
Elishiba's gaze flitted around the place as she tried to keep everyone within her sights. Hanrah seemed fixed where he stood in the center of the temple, staring at his mother in disbelief, blood dripping from his hands. The young man to whom the jinneyah had directed her power must have had been his secret lover, Elishiba realized, the one Amshazar had mentioned.
Sibias stood by; at first apparently thrilled by the sight of the loosed jinneyah, his mood had quickly turned with the tide of events. He looked as if he was about to take action. Beyond him, in the prisoners' gallery, she sensed Amshazar was watching him too, as he had been all along. Amshazar's power and support had poured into her since she had entered the temple, even before. He guided her all along, and she had cautiously bided her time, waiting for the right moment. And apparently it had come.
Mehmet had used one wish, but now she was weak, losing sight of her purpose, her goals shifting all the while as she tried to find her path. Her guards and courtiers were growing restless, although wary under the awesome presence of the jinneyah. Now was the time for Elishiba to take action. But how? The question raced around her mind. A simple spell, Amshazar had said. She needed to take advantage of the Jinneyah's remaining wishes. But the Jinneyah answered only to her owner. Elishiba's mind whirred on. She could barely breathe, for the tension in her body was so acute. All around her emotions flared: fear, horror, fascination, disgust, curiosity. The whole gamut of human emotion poured out of the souls within this temple, those who had witnessed the strange things that had gone on. The jinneyah stood by, chuckling darkly to herself, patiently waiting to see what her owner said next.
How can I control this? The question echoed within, and as it did Mehmet let out a great moan of frustration, her fists slamming down on the arms of her throne. As she lifted her chin and let the wail of frustration out, Elishiba saw the way.
She looked at Amshazar. Their eyes met across the crowd. He nodded at her.
Mustering every bit of emotion inside her, Elishiba drew upon the love she had for the people who waited for her to see them safe. She rolled the emotions over and over until they grew huge, a power welling within her that she could use. When she felt it was large enough, she tapped Amshazar's vitality into it to further enhance it, and then pushed the force out across the temple.
Light flared across the gap between her and Mehmet. Mehmet's head dropped back against the headrest of her throne, and her mouth opened wide.
Elishiba mouthed the words she needed her to speak. "Jinneyah, my second and third wish is for you to return to the amulet, and for you to take me with you."
Mehmet's body shuddered. Her head was fixed back against the chair, her neck stretched and her mouth gaping as the strange garbled words spilled out. The Jinneyah roared fiercely and stamped her foot, anger spilling from her. The sound rattled the very walls of the temple, dust and plaster falling around the room.
Sibias shouted his objection, hurling himself at Elishiba. She moved to avoid him, but a huge flash of light obscured her vision and then she saw that a figure blocked his way. It was Amshazar. He had broken free when she needed his protection and held back Mehmet's acolyte with splayed hands.
"The jinneyah. Elishiba, the jinneyah," Amshazar shouted, as he battled with Sibias.
Elishiba's glance flitted between the two men, now wrestling each other with both body and will, and the jinneyah who was fuming in frustration.
Again she pushed, and the garbled words issued from Mehmet's mouth. "Return to your prison, and take me there with you, I command you as your owner."
Elishiba sensed resistance in Mehmet's body; it was shaking, shuddering as if she'd been poisoned. Her head was still fixed back, her throat swallowing convulsively. She kept the power flowing although the pressure to hold Mehmet in place and repeat the words to the jinneyah again was immense, her limbs shook and she felt sick to her gut from effort.
A scream issued behind her and she saw that Amshazar and Sibias rolled toward the fires that flared from the effigy of the God Hurda. Amshazar was dangerously close to the flames and her heart leapt with fear for his life. As her focus shifted, Mehmet seemed to break free of the spell. Elishiba channeled her energy once again, pushing her enemy back to the chair. The Jinneyah was already vaporizing into the amulet, her hands reaching out for Mehmet as she did so. She was nearly there, and with all her being she pushed again, repeating the words.
In the background, she heard Sibias bellowing fiercely. In the corner of her vision she saw that Sibias stood in the flames of the fire, his arms outstretched toward Amshazar. In his death throes, he sent out black jets from his fingers to his old adversary. "I die, you die," he screamed, with his final breath.
"No," she said, as Amshazar dropped to the ground, a pile of serpents covering his face. He writhed, but his power was wholly with her now, and he did not break that loop. On one side of her, her goal, now so near to fruition. On the other, Amshazar struggled for life. Could she risk shifting the power to Amshazar, to help him? Uncertainty gripped her, and as it did, the jinneyah seemed to resist grabbing hold of Mehmet, and grew strong.
Amshazar, her heart cried out.
An apparition appeared in her vision. It was the spirit guide Santor, and he ran to her. "Empress, the jinneyah."
"But Amshazar," she cried, tears spilling from her eyes as she saw his body twitch one last time, and then fall still.
"There may still be a chance for Amshazar, you must not allow the jinneyah to defy you, it senses the conflict in Mehmet, it thrives."
She wiped away her tears, nodded and focused again on her goal, not breaking with it until both the jinneyah and Mehmet had turned to vapor and disappeared into the amulet. Santor bent to stopper the amulet, fixing it in place on the pendant, before fading away into the atmosphere.
Shaking, Elishiba ran to her lover's side.
The snakes had vanished. The place where he had fallen was on her abandoned marriage veil, his dark hair splayed out against the star-dusted fabric. She bent to kiss his mouth, where no breath stirred. She kissed his brow tenderly, her hands holding his, whimpering softly, her tears falling onto him. Her heart was breaking.
"Do not leave me, Amshazar, my love," she whispered over and again, kissing his face, but it was hopeless. Within her, emotions battled. Her sense of loss was greatest of all.
It was not for some time she realized there was an unearthly silence around her, and she lifted her head. Through the veil of her tears she saw the onlookers were silently watching her and Hanrah, who stood close by staring down at her and Amshazar.
With the back of her hand, she wiped away her tears, uncertainty creeping up on her. Her glance went to the palace guards, who restlessly kept watch on the prisoners, murmuring amongst themselves. If someone did not instruct them soon, they would take action borne of the insecurity they felt. Their ruler in Mehmet was gone. Her acolyte, Sibias, too. The courtiers were watching Hanrah. It was to him they had to answer now, and if he did not instruct them, his brothers would step in.
Elishiba looked at him. There was a hollow, lost look in his eyes as he stared down at Amshazar's body. His world had been rent asunder. And yet now he was its true leader.
"Hanrah," she said.
She had to repeat his name three times before he focused vaguely on her.
"Emperor Hanrah of Karseedia, your guards await your instructions. Please be merciful to my people."
The small man looked around him vaguely, glanced back at Amshazar's body, and then surveyed the entire crowd in a slow circuit, as if realizing it was his duty to lead them now.
Elishiba's heart beat hard, concern flowing in her veins. Now that Amshazar was gone, she did not care for her own safety, for it felt as if part of her dying inside, a slow and painful death, the death borne of loss and grief. She cared only for her people.
"Guards," Hanrah called out in a hoarse voice. "Let the prisoners go."
There was resistance in the guards, but he repeated his command and the guards sheathed their weapons.
Elishiba felt a great weight lift from her.
After he gave the order, Hanrah walked away from the scene. The courtiers cleared a passage for him as he left the temple behind.
Voices lifted; there was movement in the gallery. Elishiba saw that Elra and Yoshi were making their way toward her, others beyond them.
Yoshi practically ran at her. "My girl, my precious girl." She put her hands on Elishiba's shoulders and looked into her eyes.
Elishiba could see that Yoshi's eyes were filled with tears, tears of relief. She looked beyond her, to where Xerxes stood. His eyes were still watchful, blood on his face and shoulder. The Karseedians milling around also looked uneasy, cautious, too, for their familiar world had been rattled to the foundations, and they did not know where they stood now. They could so easily turn, Elishiba thought, spying the forgotten amulet lying on the floor.
"I will anoint and bind his body," Yoshi promised, as she encouraged Elishiba to leave Amshazar's side. "We will take him home with us."
Elishiba nodded. Moving from Amshazar's body unwillingly, she reached out to where the amulet lay on the floor.
"This has been hard," Yoshi said, as she looked sadly at Amshazar's body. "But you can go home now."
Elishiba shook her head, her hand closing on the pendant, taking it into her safe custody. "No. I cannot leave here, not yet. Not until a peace treaty is negotiated and signed."
Elishiba felt raw, as if Amshazar's death had stripped and bared her for the world to see. A night and a day had passed and still she felt as if her heart was being wrenched from her chest. She tossed and turned on her mattress, refusing Yoshi's healing draughts, choosing instead to stay awake and run over what had happened in her mind, trying to see the way she might have saved him by using the jinneyah in a different way, but she had to face the truth. She knew deep down he had prepared her for this.
He'd told her what had to be done with the final wish, no matter what. But it hurt so much she couldn't find solace in that simple truth. She thought of her dream, how she couldn't reach him. Was this why? Grief brought denial. She had been awoken from that dream. If she hadn't, she would have reached him. He would always be a part of her.
All that had happened in the temple the day before had cast aside the need for decorum and subterfuge, and despite her pain Elishiba felt an almost brittle clarity of mind with regard to their situation. She had her duty to her people to fulfill. That was all that mattered to her now. As far as she was concerned, the barriers had been removed. Now she could speak with Hanrah in plain terms, as she had always wanted. She had to address the subject of a mutual peace treaty, something that had never been broached before. If she didn't, there was no way to know which way Hanrah would proceed with his time of rule.
At first she and her closest companions were concerned that Hanrah was going to refuse her request for a private audience, and that she would have to force him to receive her. They waited a whole night and day, and then Yoshi brought her the message he would meet with her. What did he feel now, she wondered. Was he angry? Would this tragedy turn him into his mother's son?
When she was finally ushered into his chamber, she saw a broken man before her, and recognized the mirrored reflection of her own state of being. She had lost her handmaiden, and her lover. He had lost his mother, and his lover.
A chair had been set up some eight-arm's length away from the emperor. Elishiba ignored it and instead picked up a small footstool, which she carried over to where he was seated and set it down at his feet. He looked with curiosity at her, but didn't seem surprised. Perhaps he would have no cause for pretence now either. Perhaps he too was far too raw to muster it.
She sat down by his feet, her hands resting on her knees as she looked up at him. He was dressed in the same clothing as the morning before, she noticed. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and obvious grief in his expression. The slight man she had first thought the court jester had no such look about him now.
They sat that way for some time while she contemplated him. Beneath the pain she saw a gentle man, a man who waited to be told---and to be led. It was no wonder his mother was so afraid that someone other than she would influence him. And yet in being so harsh with him, she had ultimately forced him to break free of her will.
"We have both suffered immense loss, Emperor Hanrah."
He stared at her, and then nodded.
"When I came here, I had hoped to negotiate peace between our countries, without casualty for any of our people. This is something I think we can still achieve."
He eyed her warily, as if surprised by her remark. "I thought you would be angry," he said, "I thought your warriors would take revenge upon us."
She shook her head. "The losses we have suffered have only proved to me that I don't want the same to happen to more of our people."
He seemed to contemplate what she said, and then he wrung his hands together quickly, suddenly fidgety, as if the idea disturbed him out of his state of grief. "It would only get worse, this awful pain inside." He put one hand to his chest, his eyelids lowering.
She reached for his free hand, taking it tentatively, offering him solace. His fingers clasped hers loosely and after a moment he returned the gentle squeeze she offered. He met her glance and gave her a sad smile, as if he too recognized how similarly they mirrored each other in their situation. It wasn't something she had imagined, when she set out on this journey, to be sitting at the emperor's feet comforting him as they negotiated their way forward. Because of their mutual loss they were both bared to the soul, layers of false platitude and confused vision torn away. She briefly contemplated using healing sorcery upon him, but she doubted her own resources at that time, after all that had happened the day before. She felt too that it was important for them to meet as simple equals, and resisted the urge.
"All we have ever needed is for our countries and our people to have security, to negotiate for trade and for trust. As leaders we can harbor those qualities without war."
"But how?" he asked, reaching for a tray that had been set out nearby, offering her a small cup as he spoke. "The history between our lands, all that has gone before ... this bad feeling surely permeates all of our people?"
Elishiba took a deep breath. It was time to make her move, to be decisive and guide him. "We must lead them. We must enter into a peace treaty. If we operate on fair terms, it opens immense possibilities for us to be strong neighbors, protecting our people together, rather than dividing and halving their strength."
He stared into his tea thoughtfully, turning the small brass cup before sipping from it and sighing.
"I try to feel in my heart for the best way forward, and to feel what my closest friends would have thought, too." He reached for her and lifted her hand. "You loved Amshazar?"
The sound of his name opened the gaping maw in her chest. "Yes, I did." It was all the response she could muster, but he looked deep into her eyes and nodded, as if he had seen the answer there.
"He was a good friend to me," Hanrah continued. "A trusty adviser. He has been taken from us both."
Yes, she saw that now, he had lost even more than she had. "He will live on in our hearts."
Hesighed,andshefeltresistanceinhim."Howhaveourancestors dealt with this, with this pain, after the loss of life in battle?"
Hope bloomed inside her. He wanted to move on; he wanted to change, to be different to them. She grasped hold of that hope, for both of them, for all of them.
"Some people thrive on war, but neither of us feel that way, so perhaps we can change things." He wanted to believe her; she could see that, so she continued. "We can have your scribes prepare a peace treaty. Then I can return home to my people with the channel between us open and friendly. Our people can trade and live without fear of each other. If our countries are attacked from enemies beyond, we will unite as one to face them."
"Unite as one," he repeated, his eyes brightening.
Elishiba felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. "It will be a new chapter in our history."
"Yes, it will," he replied, with a gentle smile.
The sun was lowering on the horizon, shimmering over their path like gold coins spilling from the sky. Elishiba rode into it but barely noticed, following Xerxes as he led their small caravan, her thoughts faraway in a moonlit sky where she had walked amongst the stars with her lover.
"Come on my girl, lift your head, we are on Aleemite land now." Yoshi gave a gentle smile, her eyes filled with concern.
Inside another day they would be in Suzin. Even though she wanted to be there, to see her father's face and hold Tariq in her arms, it was hard to even think of it. Her heart was breaking. She mustered a smile for Yoshi and nodded. All of them had been eager to see home, and had risen early and traveled much longer hours and through the heat of the days to get there.
Yoshi urged her mount on and whispered something to Xerxes. He nodded, looking at Elishiba sadly. "We will rest up ahead a while," he called out to the small group who trailed after them, "until the sun falls."
He led them toward the rocky outcrops that now lined their path, which afforded some shelter. Dismounting quickly, he strode to Elishiba's side to help her down.
"Thank you," she said.
"Empress..." He lowered his head. "Yoshi told me about the bond you shared with Amshazar. I am sorry for your loss."
She put her hands on his shoulder, touched by his remark. She knew those words would not come easy to him. "He was a good man, Xerxes."
"I know that now." Guilt shadowed his eyes.
"Don't be hard on yourself. I mistrusted him as well, in the beginning. We had to."
She rested her hand on his chest, and he took her into his arms, holding her. Holding her as a man holds a woman with whom he might stay with forever, and still she thought of Amshazar. Would it ever get any easier? Did she even want it to?
After they had taken water she broke from them, wandering away to address the quiet grief in her heart in a moment of solitude. She walked past the place where the rock thrust up from the earth and the crag turned to dune. Looking out at the horizon as she sat down on the sands, she pulled her headdress low on her face to keep out the sun.
She sank her fingers into the sand, spilling the warm grains of Aleem through her hands, staring down at it, marveling that this was home. They had achieved their goal. She had secured the future for their people. But it had been done at great cost to her heart. The past days had brought her so much, and taken so much. Amshazar.
Her eyes closed, and she pictured his face. Pictured him when he had held her on the balcony in the dawn. She had known then he loved her, she had recognized it in his eyes, and in her heart.
She lost track of how long she had been sitting there, memories of Amshazar flitting through her mind, when she heard a voice at her side. With a start, she turned and saw that it was Santor, Amshazar's spirit guide.
"Forgive me, Elishiba, I didn't mean to startle you."
She breathed and nodded, putting her hand out to him in greeting, glad to see him and yet wondering if she would even be able to feel him if she touched him. "It is good to see you again, Santor. Thank you for your guidance in the temple in Lhastari, you came to me when I needed it most. It was an impossible choice for me to make, and yet I know Amshazar would have wanted it to end the way it did."
He rested his hand in hers, and although she did not feel solidity, she felt the pressure of his reassurance. "You cared deeply for Amshazar, your grief is visible."
"My affection for Amshazar grew quickly and lodged deep. The pain..." She shook her head, unable to put it into words.
"Your love for him and your people made you fearless. It led you to use your sorcery in its most powerful form, and at the time it was most needed."
His words made her suspicious.
She lifted her head, dismayed. "Are you saying it was necessary for me to love him that much and to hurt that painfully, to fulfill the challenge?"
Santor was not at all daunted by her remark. He shrugged. "I am merely commenting. It helped, did it not?"
She felt appalled at the idea of it. "I hope his death was not to serve that purpose."
"Some men never die."
Elishiba stared at the spirit guide, trying to grasp the underlying meaning in his words. That's when she noticed that his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and a smile played around his lips.
"Are you telling me that Amshazar was an immortal?"
"Oh no. But it is only the finest magi, those who have carried the message of the gods successfully who go on to become immortal. I think perhaps Amshazar was one such magus, don't you?"
She sighed heavily, her shoulders sinking. For a moment she had thought ... she had been given hope by his remark.
Once again she felt his comforting hand on hers.
"In your grief, Elishiba, you are forgetting one important thing, how vital and powerful your sorcery has become, nurtured as it is by the love you feel."
He seemed to be hinting at something.
"What are you saying?"
"I am suggesting that the gods favored Amshazar, and if he were here, the gods would be pleased. And if someone had the power to bring him here..." He glanced at her in that mischievous way of his.
"Bring him here," she repeated.
Santor rested his fingers on his chin, thoughtfully. "How much do you desire it?"
She gave a breathless, frustrated sigh. "Santor, that is immeasurable. I would give my life for his."
"You do not need to do that. The fact you feel that way is, however, hopeful."
She flashed him a desperate glance, her heart beating hard. He bowed his head, but his merry smile did not escape her. She would get to the bottom of this riddle yet. "Why do I need to feel it?"
"The goddess who rules the higher emotions takes note of such things, and it is she who watches over you both."
"The Goddess Sevita?"
He smiled. "You might get accustomed to unraveling riddles yet, Empress."
She scrambled to her feet, sliding against the side of the dune as she moved to stand in front of him. "Santor!" Pleading beseechingly, she rolled her eyes. "If you have been observing me at all closely over the past few days---which I am sure you have, since you make such knowledgeable remarks---you will know by now that I am quite useless at solving riddles."
Santor stood, laughing heartily. "Believe in yourself, Empress," he urged. "There is no harm in trying, after all, hmmm?"
"You really think I might be able to ... Is that why you said what you said in the temple, about there still being a chance for Amshazar? You mean now, don't you?"
He smiled. "I suggest that if you're going to create some sort of ... oh, fireball?" His eyebrows lifted suggestively. "You might perhaps do it in that direction, away from the spot where your friends are encamped."
Elishiba turned her attention to where he gestured, looking out at the expansive desert sand and the golden globe of the sun sinking on the horizon. Shimmering, it blazed across the sand.
Bring him back? I surely want that.
Could she really do it, though? If the gods had decreed it so, and she wanted it, what was stopping her, only fear that it would not work? She wouldn't let that happen. The back of her eyes pricked with tears, but she wouldn't let doubt cloud her vision, not this time. She stepped away from Santor.
He didn't follow. They both knew he didn't need to, not this time. Back in the temple of Hurda she hadn't been so sure. Now, she was. If it was possible, she would make it happen, because there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to have him in her arms again.
In her heart, she had everything he had given her, everything he had made her feel, and everything he taught her. She would use it all---she would give it all. She took a deep breath, her headdress falling back from her head as she lifted her face to the heavens. "Amshazar, I love you with all my heart," she whispered.
Lifting her arms slowly to the sun, she summoned everything she had within, the immense love she had for him, the desire, the desperate need to be with him for longer than they already had.
The power grew in her chest, rolling into a ball of fire that burned and flamed within. She recalled the first time, how it had grown and thrived between them in Suzin. She held onto it for as long as she could, until it threatened to burst through the wall of her chest, then she opened her hands. Her body jolted, her palms blazing sheer white light into the path of the sun. It reached as high as the sky on either side of her, creating a channel of light. She pictured him there, willing it.
In the distance, she heard the concerned voices of her companions as they ran closer to see what was happening. She heard Yoshi call out that Amshazar's body was gone from the palanquin it was being transported in, and certainty flooded her. Nothing could distract her now, because this was everything to her.
Her energy fed into the sun and it flared and bled into the horizon, creating a shimmering path of pure white light across the sand. The light whorled in on itself to an eye at its center, and she recognized it as a conduit between her and the sun. Her arms were shaking with effort, her body hot and glowing.
"Amshazar," she cried, calling out to him, remembering her strange dream and willing herself to complete the image and reach out to him without failure. "Amshazar. Hear me. Feel me. Find me!"
Her voice rang out over the land, echoing through the sky and across time, louder than thunder, fiercer than lightning. The sun's rays radiated further than ever before, shimmering out across the sky and filling her vision. She fought to remain focused on its heart, battling with the sheer force of her own vitality. And then she saw a dark shape forming there in the heart of the light. Her body jolted, a massive tug snatching at her, pulling her bodily across the sand.
It was him---his answering call. The response she'd felt in their shared power, but now so great it almost sucked her into its heart. He was drawing on her to come alive.
"Amshazar," she cried.
Across the space the shape moved, his bodily form absorbing the whorling light around him as he grew closer. As she took in the sight of his tall familiar form, his handsome face, the fall of his hair on his shoulder and his smile as he looked at her across the gap, she trembled inside.
And then the blazing sky melted away into the sunset, and he was right there in front of her, reaching out to her with both hands. She ran to him, meshing her fingers in his, reassuring herself it was real, it was really him.
"My love, I heard your voice," he said, as he took her into his arms, his voice rough with emotion.
"Hold me, hold me," she whispered, savoring the feeling of him. She kissed his face, her hands running over his body, claiming him as her own, because if this were another dream, Elishiba never wanted to wake up.
The night Elishiba appeared before the council of the gods for her introduction, she was filled with nerves and excitement. Amshazar was by her side, which calmed her a little---enough so she felt she could perhaps speak without stumbling over her words too much.
He led her by the hand and together they mounted the steps in the magi citadel. "See how worn the steps are, centuries of magi have trod this path before us. You are the first woman to do so."
Elishiba paused and lifted her eyebrows. "Amshazar, please. You are making me nervous again."
He gave her a quick kiss and smiled. "You have nothing to prove. You've already done all that they hoped for. This is just about what happens next."
What happens next? This was the first time he'd mentioned that. She was about to quiz him, when the door at the top of the steps swung open soundlessly and revealed the portal he'd described.
Santor stood there, beckoning them on.
Elishiba exclaimed in wonder as they stepped out into the mists of the plateau. The sky overhead shone with turquoise and silver, the mists rolling away from their feet as they approached the massive stone table, around which a group of figures sat.
Santor introduced her. "Empress Elishiba of Aleem."
"Welcome, Empress." It was an older, thoughtful god who spoke, and he was at the head of the table. "I am Credan, and we are pleased to welcome you here this evening."
Elishiba murmured her thanks, glanced around at them all and then bowed her head, barely able to look upon them, for their personages were so awesome. It was Sevita who captured her attention most, for Sevita was smiling at her fondly. She was the only female presence, but she was so powerful. Elishiba knew that her order was equal to that of the male gods around her. Elishiba felt bathed in her beautiful radiance, an encompassing glow that enthralled her.
"Amshazar, thank you for successfully delivering a message to the exotic lands," Credan continued. "This has been a project of special interest to Sevita, as you were aware."
Amshazar squeezed Elishiba's hand as he acknowledged Credan's words. "I'm pleased we were able to avert conflict. The Empress Elishiba has proven a worthy recipient of magi knowledge."
Several of the assembled gods chuckled and Credan lifted his eyebrows in an expression of amused irony. "The goddess Sevita has a very direct way of demonstrating her wishes."
Elishiba felt that they were talking about her but wasn't quite sure.
Sevita smiled, apparently not in the least perturbed by her companion's remarks. "Empress, you must forgive us. They jest at my expense, not yours."
When she blinked, Elishiba felt a certain understanding settling within her.
"It has been my wish for a long time that women should be admitted to the Magi School. You embodied the strength and clarity of mind that assured me you would be an ideal recipient of such knowledge. You not only proved adept at sorcery, but you demonstrated your female knowledge, and instinct helped you seek the just path. You have paved the way for many women to follow." She folded her hands in front of her. "I hope you will forgive the fact you represented a test for me?"
Elishiba paused only a moment before nodding. "The skills I learnt from Amshazar enabled me to achieve the very thing I wanted, the safe negotiation of peace for my country and my people."
"It is my belief," Credan interjected, "that the empress would have achieved much without the benefit of sorcery. However, it has proven an important point to us as the council. We must consider women as candidates for the Magi School. I'd also like to add that your influence on Emperor Hanrah of Karseedia seems positive. Whilst he is in a difficult place within himself at this present time, he will come through it and in the future he will visit Aleem and he will adopt many of your more just ways with your people."
Elishiba couldn't withhold her smile in response to that news, and glanced at Amshazar. He nodded, and she could see the pride in his eyes. "If that is the case," she said to the assembled group, "it makes me very happy."
She lifted the pendant she had been wearing around her neck since they left the city of Lhastari, and carried it to the table, setting it down carefully. "I have brought this captive jinneyah and her prisoner, the Empress Mehmet, here for your safe custody."
"A wise move," Credan said with a smile.
One of the other gods murmured something about keeping it safe and out of Hurda's reach.
Credan lifted it in his hand, observing for a moment the swirling purple and white lights within the amulet, before snapping the object closed within his palm, wherein it seemed to vanish completely from sight. "We appreciate your thoughtfulness on this matter, Empress."
Elishiba stared for a moment, wondering if it were some trick, a sleight of hand, and then chastised herself. These were gods, not men. She rejoined Amshazar, who nodded approvingly.
"Part of our duty when we gather here at the council," Sevita said, "is to consider the prayers of those who seek our intervention, and to discuss the continuing influence we may have."
She directed this last remark to both Elishiba and Amshazar, and Elishiba was aware that Sevita was trying to draw Amshazar into the conversation.
Amshazar nodded. "I noticed Hurda has not yet rejoined the council?"
Sevita sighed. "Alas, the god of war has still not returned. He is now out of favor with us here. He has taken his meddlesome ways further afield and I'm afraid there is still more work to be done, Amshazar."
Amshazar put his free hand to his chest. "I understand, and I await the council's suggestion on how to proceed."
For one terrible moment, Elishiba thought they were going to part her from Amshazar, for the conversation suggested they were going to instruct him with another task, and that he would have to leave her. She tensed, a sudden chill overcoming her. Could she bear to be parted from him again?
As soon as the fear welled up inside her, Sevita seemed to sense it and the golden aura surrounding the goddess's body grew brighter, which lulled Elishiba's troubled spirit.
"Empress Elishiba, now that your country is at peace with Karseedia, we foresee a stable and prosperous period ahead in your region. Your father's health is weak, but he is more content now, and that will enable him to rule until your stepbrother Tariq comes of age. In view of that, we wondered if you would consider spending some time in the Magi School to extend your skills, and then use your powers as a negotiator and a leader, alongside Amshazar, in the future?"
It took a moment for Elishiba to realize the immensity of what the goddess was saying. The opportunity they were offering her was so incredible, a mammoth decision, so life-changing in every respect. To leave Aleem, but to stay by Amshazar's side? She had done her duty to Aleem, was her place with the man she loved now?
She turned to him and looked into his eyes.
He lifted both her hands in his own and raised them to his lips, kissing them gently. "This is a big decision, my love. If you choose to stay with your people, I will understand and return to you as often as I can."
Elishiba shook her head, for she sensed her destiny in this. This is what he'd meant when he said the meeting would also be about what would happen next. It was about the future, their future. Their lives, and what they might go on to achieve. Together.
To explore the world with the man she loved, to take on new challenges, to practice and refine her new sorcery alongside him, would be a wondrous thing. She remembered how she had seen the trade routes unfolding before her, and how she'd wondered about those who lived on the road. As she looked at her handsome lover, she recalled watching him riding his stallion across the desert sands as they made their journey to Karseedia.
He smiled, and in the deep well of his eyes she saw a world of possibility---a world of adventure---and an image of them entwined in that starlit sky when they had first become lovers.
"I would be proud to accept this opportunity," she said to the assembled group.
Sevita nodded, smiling to herself, and an impressed murmur ran around the assembled members of the council.
Elishiba felt Amshazar's response, a vibrant life force pulsing through their clasped hands. He hadn't been sure of her choice in this matter. He was pleased, grateful, too. But for Elishiba the answer had come readily, because it was written on her heart.
Saskia Walker is British by birth, but due to her parents' nomadic tendencies, she grew up traveling the globe---an only child with a serious book habit. She dreamed of being a writer since the age of 12 and finally began writing seriously in the late 1990s. By that time she'd received a BA in Art History and a Masters in Literature and the Visual Arts, and worked in all manner of diverse careers---but the stories in her head simply had to be written.
First published in the small press under the guidance of the leading British fantasy writer, Storm Constantine, she's now been published in almost forty anthologies, including Best Women's Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica and the Black Lace Wicked Words series. Her first erotic novel, Double Dare, came out in October 2006 and her first fantasy romance, The Strangeling, was published in early 2007 by Juno Books. Novel Reckless is forthcoming.
The author lives in the north of England---close to the beautiful, windswept landscape of the Yorkshire moors---with her real life hero, Mark. Mark supports her work through all its ups and downs, and runs the tech side of her Web site (www. saskiawalker.com). He also, she says, "somehow manages to keep me sane and grounded when fiction threatens to take over."
Visit www.juno-books.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

