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.
Chapter Four
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 hi
s 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, sta
rtled.
"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?
Unveiling the Sorceress Page 8
