by Allan Cole
Then their fingers touched and Safar felt her shiver. He looked into her eyes - saw the dancing flecks of gold. He saw her lips turn up in a familiar crooked smiled.
"It’s Nerisa, Master!" Gundara hissed from his breast pocket. "Nerisa!"
But Safar had already seen and known. He was in shock, seeing little Nerisa raised from the dead to come back as the beauteous Lady Fatinah.
Nerisa gave his hand a warm, firm squeeze.
She whispered, "Don’t give me away." Then, loud enough for all to hear, "How kind of you to visit my humble home, Lord Timura."
Safar murmured a suitably polite reply.
"I fear we’ve started without you, My Lord," Nerisa said, pointing at the tables of food. "Why don’t we dispense with formalities and join the others before you starve to death.
"Perhaps, if you are still in a generous mood, we can have a little chat later and get to know one another."
Safar came unstuck enough to make an awkward bow. In a daze he let a servant lead him over to the banquet area.
Only when he sat down did he realize he’d left Leiria in the entryway without orders. He turned his head and saw her looking in his direction, her face like stone. He whispered a message for a servant to carry to her, saying she could join the other bodyguards in the pantry. But when the message was delivered he saw Leiria give a furious shake of her head, hiss something back, then exit into the storm.
When the servant returned Safar wasn’t surprised at her reply: "Please tell his Lordship thank you, but I shall wait in his carriage."
This was not good.
Then he heard Nerisa laugh - that natural earthy laugh breaking through her facade - and he forgot all about Leiria.
* * *
The rain had made the banquet late, but it also caused it to break up early. The guests streamed out, saying they had a lovely time but Her Ladyship would understand that with the storm they had to hurry home.
Nerisa murmured polite good-byes, but the whole time her attention was fixed on Safar, tarrying in an out-of-the-way corner near the verandah. It was as if all the years between them had collapsed into but a few days or weeks. Old emotions were new again, swift torrents hammering against her mature resolve.
She called herself a fool, thinking it was only the stress of the meeting churning up silly emotions. And even if she did still have tender feelings for him, Safar had never shared those feelings. He’d only been kind to an orphan waif. Kindness did not equal love.
Once again she steeled herself and when the last guest was gone she strolled over as casually and easily as any great lady going to greet an old, dear friend.
But when she reached him he leaped to his feet, saying, "By the gods, Nerisa, I thought you were dead!"
And he crushed her into his arms.
* * *
Outside in the carriage, peering through the curtains. Even in the downpour she could make out Safar’s familiar figure pacing in front of the wide glass verandah doors.
She saw another figure approach - a woman’s slender figure.
Lightning crashed, momentarily blinding her.
When her vision returned she saw Safar and the woman embracing.
* * *
The last vestiges of Methydia’s gentle spell of forgetfulness vanished when Nerisa came into his arms.
A thousand and one thoughts and emotions burst forward, while another thousand and one crowded behind, demanding to be heard.
But all he could say was, "Nerisa, my little Nerisa."
He kissed her hair, her cheeks, the tears flowing from her eyes, crushing her against him as if the tightness of his embrace would keep her from turning into a ghost and wisping away.
Then their lips met and the embrace become something else altogether.
It happened so abruptly there was no time for questioning, much less surprise.
* * *
Nerisa melted against him, weeping and murmuring his name. She was in a dream, an old sweet dream, and her Safar was holding her close, kissing her, whispering endearments. Passion firing them both beyond control.
She opened her eyes and saw her major domo’s shocked face reflected in the glass of verandah doors. But she didn’t care and she waved a curt dismissal just as Safar swept her off the floor.
And she said, "Yes, yes, please, yes," and somehow she directed him to her rooms.
Then they were in the big soft bed, tearing at each other’s clothes.
"After I fled Walaria," Nerisa said much later, "I became a caravan lad."
She smiled at the memory, nestling deeper into Safar’s arms. "I always did play a good boy."
Safar gently caressed her. "You wouldn’t have such an easy time of it now," he said.
Nerisa giggled. "Actually, it became a problem fairly quickly," she said. "I suddenly bloomed, as the old grannies gently put it. One day my breeches didn’t fit over my hips. The next, I was bursting the seams of my lad’s shirt. I had to bind myself down and get looser clothes."
"Did no one ever suspect?" Safar asked.
She shook her head. "Never. Oh, I got a few odd looks once in awhile. But that was the extent of it. Second glances, nothing more."
Safar said, "That leaves a great leap from caravan lad to the rich Lady Fatinah."
"I suppose it does," Nerisa answered. "Although it didn’t seem like it at the time. I had some money. The gold you gave me. I invested a little of it in some of the caravan goods, made a good profit and invested more."
Nerisa laughed. "I found I had a talent for merchanting. All those years as a little thief served me well when it came to picking out bargains and quality goods.
"After a time I had enough to become a minor partner of a very wealthy caravan master."
"Lord Fatinah, by any chance?" Safar asked.
Nerisa made a face. "It’s true he was named Fatinah," she said. "But he was no lord. He was a merchant, nothing more. Old, fat and kindly. At least I thought he was being kindly. He treated me like a son."
Another laugh. "As it turned out, he merely had a weakness for handsome boys."
Safar stirred. "You mean, he...?"
"He... nothing," Nerisa said. "Fatinah was an honorable old man. He believed it unseemly to take advantage. I never even knew his feelings toward me... or the boy he thought I was... until just before he died. Then he confessed all. Swore he loved me. And handed me a will, saying I was to inherit all."
"That’s when I became a woman... and his widow. The will would never have stood, otherwise. No one would understand, much less believe, that he’d give such a fortune to a mere boy. So I invented our marriage. Paid certain sums to certain people to draw up the necessary documents. No one ever questioned an old man would be fool enough to give his money away to a grasping young woman.
"Even so, the rumors started that I’d killed him. Especially after I purchased the necessary background to make him a nobleman."
"No one ever questioned that?" Safar asked.
Nerisa came up on an elbow, that crooked grin of hers playing on her face. A smile that brought a pang of love to Safar’s heart, rather than its lesser cousin, Fondness.
"If you play the royal," she said, "and you play it well, no one questions anything. Especially if you have money.
"Besides, in these times there’s so much chaos all of Esmir is turned upside down. I took advantage of that chaos, running caravans into places no one else dared go. I suppose I made a profit on the troubles of others. But I brought them what they needed. Bought what they no longer had use for. And consoled myself with the thought that I’m Misery’s child.
"I believed I had a right."
"I suppose you do," Safar said. "Once I’d have said otherwise." She smiled at this. "But there are so many greater thieves in this world, thieves who will steal dreams. Thieves who break you. Thieves who would kill all you love, require you to watch, then kill you as well.
"And then steal your heart out of your body to make a sorcerer’s meal."
<
br /> Nerisa embraced him - twining arms and legs about him. Made her body as soft as she could for a shield that would protect him and comfort him from all the devils tormenting him.
She was Nerisa, the thief of Walaria, and she would allow no man she loved to come to harm.
* * *
Later she took him into the nursery to meet Palimak. The child was awake, hazel eyes reflecting the candle she carried.
Nerisa picked the child up, wrapping his favorite crib blanket close around him. He was a tubby little thing with dark hair, olive skin and pearly milk teeth.
"This is Safar," she said to the child. "The one I’ve been telling you about all these months."
She made a nervous smile at Safar. "This is Palimak," she said.
"My son."
Palimak turned his chubby little face to look at Safar. He kicked his feet in delight and smiled.
His eyes lit up and with a shock Safar saw the hazel turn to a glowing yellow.
Demon yellow!
Nerisa’s heart plummeted when she the look on her lover’s face.
Safar managed a faint smile and held out a hand. Palimak grabbed his foremost finger and squeezed.
"He’s strong!" Safar said, dredging a compliment from the depths of his confusion.
Nerisa turned her face to Palimak, hiding her feelings. "Of course he’s strong," she said. "Aren’t you strong, my Palimak? The strongest little boy in the world!"
The child gurgled pleasure. Then he threw up, soiling himself and Nerisa’s sleeping gown.
"Oh, you bad boy, you!" Nerisa scolded. "Here I’m trying to show you off and you play the little pig."
Then she burst into tears.
Safar sat beside her, putting his arms around both of them.
"Why are you crying?" he asked. "Children make messes. That’s what they do! Besides making you love them, of course.
"Ask my sisters what a mess I was! No. Come to think of it, don’t. They will tell you in excruciating detail what a dirty little boy I was."
Instead of calming her, the words infuriated Nerisa.
"That’s not why I’m crying!" she said. "As you know very well!"
She reached into her gown, drew out an object and threw it on the bed.
"Here!" she said. "Here’s your damned old knife."
Safar stared at it. It was the silver dagger Coralean had given him long ago.
Nerisa wiped her eyes, pulling herself together. "That’s why I came here," she said. "To return the dagger. It’s yours. It was wrong of me to keep it. And I was a fool, a stupid, weak fool, to deliver it to you myself instead of sending a messenger."
Palimak started to cry, which made Nerisa angrier. "There, you see what you’ve done!"
Safar was confused. "What have I done?"
"I saw that look on your face," Nerisa said. "You think he’s a monster! A half demon, half human freak.
"Well, be damned to you. I’ve had my pleasure. I’ve had my girlish dream. Safar Timura, my great ideal. The man who had so much kindness in him he could understand anything and anyone." She laughed bitterly. "I should have known better. And it’s a good lesson for me.
"Now Palimak and I will be on our way. And to the Hells with you! And to the Hells with me for letting you make me into a fool!"
Safar started to get angry himself. "This is hardly fair," he said. "The least you could have done is warn me. At least you could have-"
A voice broke in: "Shut up, shut up, shuutt uppp!"
Safar swatted his tunic pocket. "Just stop it," he said. "I’m not in the mood to hear you argue with Gundaree."
The little Favorite leaped out of his pocket onto the bed. He put his hands on his narrow hips.
"I am not telling Gundaree to shut up," he said.
His eyes swept over Safar, then Nerisa, then Palimak. Back to Safar again.
"I am telling you to shut up, Master," he said. "And you too, Nerisa."
He sighed. "You were the first one to give me sweets in a thousand years," he said to Nerisa. "And you," he said to Safar, "have been a decent master, as masters go. Otherwise I wouldn’t say a thing.
"If you both insist on making stupid human mistakes, why should I care? But I guess I do. So I’m saying, Shut up!"
"What mistakes?" Nerisa asked.
"He thought you had a husband," he said to Nerisa. "A demon husband."
"She thought you didn’t want a little monster on your hands, much less a woman who would sleep with a demon."
"I don’t have a husband," Nerisa said. "Demon or otherwise. Palimak is a foundling. An orphan. Like me."
"And I don’t care who you slept with, or didn’t sleep with." Safar said. "It’s none of my business. As for me thinking Palimak is a monster because he’s part demon, why nothing could be further from the truth.
"He’s a child. I like children. Ask my mother. Ask my father."
"There, you see?" Gundara said. "Wasn’t that easy."
He hopped onto the bed, growing larger. He chucked Palimak under the chin. The child gurgled in pleasure.
"Why don’t you leave him here with me?" Gundara said. "Go back to the bedroom and do whatever you think is necessary to apologize to each other."
The little Favorite paid no attention to the murmurs between the two lovers. Nor did he turn to watch them slip out of the room. His entire focus was on the child with the glowing yellow eyes.
"What a handsome little thing," he said. "Eyes just like mine.
"Do you know how to talk yet?"
Palimak burbled and wriggled his little arms and legs.
"I guess not," Gundara said.
He made himself smaller and hopped onto the child’s chest. He made funny toad faces and Palimak laughed, eyes glowing brighter.
"Do you know how to say, shut up?" Gundara said. "Go ahead. Try it. Say - Shut up. Shut up. Shuutt uuppp!"
And Palimak spoke his first words, "Shut up!"
"That’s my boy," Gundara said. "Won’t your mother be surprised in the morning?"
"Shut up, shut up!" the baby cried, "Shut up, shuuut uuppp!"
* * *
"It’s my understanding," Kalasariz said, "that Lord Timura and this Fatinah woman have been in each other’s company for weeks."
"That is so, My Lord," Leiria said. She turned to Protarus. "Lord Kalasariz’ understanding comes from my daily reports to him, Your Highness," she said. "Reports you ordered, Sire."
Protarus smiled. "I wanted to hear it from your own lips, Leiria," he said.
"Then you have heard it, Majesty," she said. "Other than for the hours of the business day, Lord Timura and Lady Fatinah have not been apart since the night they met."
"Doesn’t that trouble you, Leiria?" Kalasariz asked. "It was my impression that you and Lord Timura have been lovers for some years."
Leiria shrugged. "It was my duty," she said. "The king knows that."
Protarus chuckled. "And an unlovely duty it was," he said to Kalasariz. "My friend Safar may be Grand Wazier of Esmir, but he is not so grand in bed." Then, to Leiria, "Isn’t that true, my dear?"
"I have little experience with men, Majesty," she said. "But you are such a lion, sire, I was spoiled for any other."
Protarus roared laughter. "You see how it is?" he said to Kalasariz. He wiped his eyes. "When I bed a woman, she stays bedded, dammit! You should hear the weeping in my harem when I choose who is to enjoy my royal embrace and who must wait until another night."
Kalasariz grinned. "All of Esmir knows of your prowess, Majesty," he said.
He regarded Leiria. The moment he’d first seen her cast adoring eyes on Safar he’d known he could make use of her one day. It was his fine fortune Safar had betrayed her, giving Leiria good reason to seek revenge. Otherwise, kingly orders or not, he wouldn’t have trusted her reports about Safar’s activities.
"I don’t think we have any further need for you at this moment, Leiria," he said, dismissing her. "You may report to me at the same time tomorrow."
/> Leiria touched hand to sword hilt and bowed in the military manner.
"Very good, My Lord," she said, and exited.
Protarus stared after her, thinking. Then he said, "This Fatinah must be an amazing creature to have Safar so spellbound."
"She is quite beautiful, Majesty," Kalasariz said. "I wouldn’t mind giving her a tumble myself."
"I doubt if you’ll have the opportunity," Protarus said. "Lord Timura has asked me for permission to wed her."
Kalasariz eyebrows rose. "Will you give it, Majesty?"
"I don’t see how I can deny him," Protarus answered. "It’s a routine request my courtiers are required to make by law. I’ve never said no to anyone yet."
"But we know nothing about this woman, Majesty," Kalasariz said. "This fact alone should make us be wary. My spies have sought information about her all over Esmir. To no avail. Apparently she just suddenly appeared one day. A rich noblewoman no one ever heard of before."
"And she has a child," Protarus said.
"Yes, but whose child is it, Majesty? That too is a mystery."
"I can’t imagine any man wanting to wed a woman who was bred to another," the king said. "Beautiful though she may be."
"My sentiments exactly, Majesty," Kalasariz said. "Considering everything else, it tends to add to my suspicions."
"You think she is dangerous?"
"I know of no other woman like her in Esmir," Kalasariz said. "Somehow she’s made herself extremely rich. From all reports she becomes richer by the day through shrewd business dealings. She answered to no man, at least until she entered Lord Timura’s life. And it’s my guess she doesn’t answer to him either."
"Do you think she advises him?"
"That would be a safe assumption, Majesty. She’s certainly a strong willed woman. And ambitious."
Protarus stirred, rapping his rings against the throne.
Then, "Yes, she would be, wouldn’t she? She has my Grand Wazier in her thrall. What next?"
"Yes, Majesty," Kalasariz said. "What next?"
* * *
Chapter Twenty Six
Where The Ravens Wait
