Tevi sank down on a chair and rested her head in her hands. Had she been wise to insist on the change of plans? Had she been right? The doubts threatened to crush her. She never had any problems when it was just her and Jemeryl alone together. Why had she let other people get under her skin and put them in conflict?
And yet, Jemeryl had given in and let her decision stand. Tevi bit her lip, feeling perilously near to tears—not from guilt or regret that she had annoyed Jemeryl, although both might come later. But until that moment, she had not realised how desperately she needed the reassurance that Jemeryl also saw their relationship as a joining of equals.
The last three years had been tough. Now that it was nearly over, Tevi could let herself relax. As the tension ebbed away came the realisation that not for a second, not with all the temptation, not by word or action, had Jemeryl ever treated her as a possession. Of course, Tevi had known it, but not until then had she let herself consciously think about it.
Tevi berated herself. She had been unfair, and she owed her partner an apology. But more than that, she needed to tell Jemeryl just how much she loved and valued her.
Klara had been left sitting on the back of a chair. The magpie stared at her with black beady eyes, radiating disapproval. Was it worth talking to the familiar? Trying to explain things? Jemeryl would know what she said, and it might be easier than talking face-to-face. But Tevi felt that she had already acted like an idiot. There was no need to act like a coward as well.
Jemeryl had been gone for about five minutes when a knock roused her. When Tevi opened the door, a blank-faced thrall stood outside on the landing, holding out a note. As soon as Tevi had taken it, the thrall turned and left. Presumably a reply was not required. Tevi closed the door and broke the seal on the paper.
Tevi,
Please come and see me. I must talk with you. There are things we have to settle. I need to know where you stand. You know that this situation cannot continue.
Yenneg
“I do?” Tevi spoke aloud, her face screwed into a confused frown.
If it had not been for her name at the top of the page, she would have wondered if the thrall had made a mistake and delivered the note to the wrong person. In fact, even the name was curious. Her rank was not given as Captain, and it was the first time she could remember Yenneg not calling her Tevirik. Something odd was happening.
Tevi opened the door again. She wanted to be ready for when Jemeryl returned, so that they could talk, but that was all the more reason to deal with Yenneg as quickly as possible. Surely, whatever he wanted to discuss would not take too long. Tevi trotted down the stairs.
Outside, sunset was past and the inner bailey was fading into the gloom, but the light was still just strong enough for the shortcut across the garden to be safe. Tevi jogged along the gravel path through the central garden while her thoughts snagged on barbed recollections of the argument with Jemeryl. She was desperate for the chance to explain why she had needed to assert her own will.
Tevi was still juggling with feelings of self-reproach when she arrived at Yenneg’s quarters. However, once she had arrived, memory of the peculiar summons squeezed its way back, claiming her attention.
Like on the first occasion when she had visited him, Tevi was shown into Yenneg’s small private parlour. The atmosphere in the room was subtly different though. The only light came from the fire and a couple of candles. The scent of sweet lavender filled the room. Yenneg also seemed to have taken more care than normal with his appearance. His clothes were casual, yet clearly expensive. A blue silk shirt matched his eyes and contrasted with his blond hair, while the cut of the collar drew attention to his well-formed features. Two glasses of wine stood ready on a table.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Yenneg smiled broadly. “Yes. And thank you for coming so quickly. I’m sorry if the message was a little...cryptic. But I will explain all. Please, take a seat.” Once they were both in their chairs, he picked up a glass of wine, indicating for Tevi to do likewise. “A toast. To the future.”
Tevi took a sip of the wine, to cover her surprise as much as anything. Yenneg’s behaviour was definitely unusual.
Yenneg watched her closely, still with the broad smile spread across his lips. “What do you think of the wine?”
Tevi took another mouthful, this time considering the rich flavour filling her mouth. “It’s very good.”
“I’m pleased you like it. It’s my favourite vintage, but expensive. We import it from your Protectorate.”
“Oh. Right...um.” Tevi’s confusion was growing. “And what was it that you wanted to talk about, sir?”
“Well, the wine is not completely unrelated. I wanted to show that we get some of the benefits of the Protectorate, even here. In fact we can have as much as we want of the best on offer.” Yenneg took another thoughtful sip. “I know my summons was abrupt, but I wanted to see you before the council meeting starts tomorrow. I’ve been away from my region for too long and will have to rush back as soon as the meeting is over, so we won’t have a chance for another talk before you leave Tirakhalod. I’m worried that you have not considered all the things you should have.”
“What do you think I’ve overlooked, sir?”
“Please, for tonight, forget the sir. Call me Yenneg.” He put his glass down. “I’ve been reviewing your results on the battle table. They’re very impressive. And I’ve been wondering if it might be sensible to pick army officers who are gifted with tactical rather than magical ability. So I want to repeat a question that I asked you before. What would it take to make you stay in Tirakhalod?”
“I um...want to return to the Protectorate. I don’t think I...” Tevi took a gulp of wine, desperately trying to come up with a tactful way to explain. Was Yenneg even aware that to be ungifted in Tirakhalod was to live as a sub-human?
“In the Protectorate, your position is...what?”
“I’m just an ordinary mercenary.”
“No special status?”
“No.”
“That’s a waste of talent. Here you could be so much more. You could command hundreds of soldiers. I would promote you to sub-divisional leader with your own castle. You could have wealth, luxuries, slaves, whatever you desire.”
Tevi glanced up sharply. Yenneg had put a distinct emphasis on the last word. His eyes were fixed on her. In the flickering firelight his face shifted in and out of focus, melting. Tevi blinked and shook her head to clear it. Yenneg’s features settled down. Yet still they seemed to be subtly different than before. He carried on talking, describing the army post he had earmarked for her, but Tevi found his words hard to follow. Her gaze fixed on his lips. As it did so, her stomach jolted uncomfortably, like a failed somersault that ends in a fall. She took another few sips of wine to combat the wave of nausea that struck her.
At last, Yenneg finished speaking. “So what do you think?”
Tevi swallowed. It was a good question. What did she think? Could she think at all? Yenneg’s presence a few feet away was sending a whirlwind through her head. She felt as if chains were binding her to him, pulling her close. Yet every time she tried to evaluate the effect, the chains melted like ice in a furnace. The constant flux intensified the nausea in her stomach.
“Er...I’m sorry. I don’t feel too well. Maybe the wine has...gone to my...my head.” Tevi struggled to get the words out.
“Oh, my apologies. Have you not eaten yet this evening? The wine is rather strong on an empty stomach. I should have thought.”
Yenneg stood and put his hand on her shoulder. For a second, the touch sent a sparkling wave rushing beneath her skin before it fizzled out in a soggy anti-climax. Was she drunk? Or had Yenneg poisoned her drink? Tevi was sure that she had not had enough wine for the first option, yet the other made no sense. Perhaps she was suffering from a delayed reaction to the spells Mavek had cast on her while attuning the rune sword.
“My head is...”
“Why don’t we
go outside? The fresh air might do you good,” Yenneg suggested quickly.
Tevi nodded her agreement.
They paused at the doorway to the tower, while Yenneg dispatched a thrall with a note. Tevi stood with her eyes fixed on the battlements, gulping air. The stars were out. More time had passed than she had thought. The cold evening breeze cleared her head, but the world was out of kilter. Tevi was sure that the epicentre of the disturbance was Yenneg. Yet the harder she tried to pinpoint the feeling, the less certain she became. Somebody draped her cloak around her shoulders.
The thrall with the note marched away. Yenneg took Tevi’s arm and steered her towards the garden. A small amber mage globe bobbed above their heads, lighting their way. Gravel crunched beneath their feet. The soft dusk was full of the scent of roses and the trill of insects.
As they strolled between the flower beds, Yenneg carried on talking about all the things Tevi could have if she stayed in Tirakhalod, but Tevi paid little attention to his words. The touch of his arm was unsettling. Whenever she looked away, she was overwhelmed by the idea that it was Jemeryl beside her, and arousal swept over her like a cavalry charge. Whenever she looked back at his face, the charge collapsed in chaos. By the time they reached the lily pond, Tevi was certain that some sort of magic was being used against her.
The summerhouse loomed before them, the scene of Ranenok’s rendezvous with Kharel. Yenneg led Tevi up the short flight of stairs into a hexagonal room, twenty feet or so across. An ornate gilded seat ran along the wall facing the door. The narrow bench did not look suitable for an amorous encounter, and the remembered comment about splinters suggested the floor. Tevi’s eyes fixed on the wooden planks, imagining what had taken place there. The train of thought was definitely interacting with the magic being used against her, sparking it off with new impetus.
By now, Tevi had strong suspicions about the exact nature of the spell and knew that she should get away from Yenneg, but the magic was sapping her will and her knees were weak. She staggered and sat heavily on the bench. Immediately, Yenneg was beside her. He raised his hand to her cheek and gently turned her face towards his. Their eyes locked, with bizarre effects. On one level, Tevi found herself enraptured by the deep blue depths, but whenever she tried to put the eyes into the context of Yenneg’s face, the attraction exploded in a stomach-wrenching surge.
Judging by his expression, Yenneg was not suffering from similar problems. “Admit it. You’d like to stay here with me.”
Yenneg’s face was getting closer. He was going to kiss her, Tevi knew, but she lacked the strength to resist. She was no longer sure if she wanted to. Their lips met. To her amazement, Tevi felt herself responding, her mouth opening, her tongue caressing his. It was almost like passion, but an odd disembodied passion, as if Yenneg were not really there.
Yenneg was burrowing beneath the folds of Tevi’s cloak. She felt one of his hands rub along her thigh then move up, past hips and stomach, towards her breast. Was it his hand or Jemeryl’s? Tevi was unsure. Then a movement of her head brought her chin into contact with the roughness of his shaved face and the confusion was routed.
She pushed him away. “No.”
The disparate parts of Yenneg’s face coalesced into an expression of astonishment, followed by fury. He leapt to his feet. “The bitch! She has got you under a spell.”
Yenneg’s hands moved, unmistakeable spell casting, weaving patterns in the air that left faintly luminous traces. Tevi braced herself for the magical assault, yet nothing happened. The speed and style of Yenneg’s gestures changed to sharp cutting motions, and his expression grew fiercer.
“What spell is it? Do you know?”
Tevi shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. Sparks drifted from Yenneg’s fingers towards her, giving off a thin, humming whine. Tevi watched them get closer and fade. Yenneg’s hands moved again, but then a new sound from outside distracted them both. Footsteps crunched on gravel.
Yenneg jerked towards the door and then back. A look of desperation swept over his face. Without warning, he launched himself onto Tevi, knocking her flat on the bench, his body half covering hers. Tevi summoned her will, desperate to break through the bonds and shove him off. Yet her spellbound limbs would not obey.
“What the...” A voice shouted.
To Tevi’s relief, Yenneg scrambled away. In the mage light by the doorway stood Jemeryl and, beside her, the smaller figure of Bykoda. Tevi tried to rise, but her body was helplessly uncoordinated. She slipped off the bench and ended up sitting on the floor with her back braced against the edge of the seat.
Jemeryl advanced into the room. “What is going on?”
Bykoda was the first to reply. “I think, my dear, that’s a rather naive question, especially from a woman of your intelligence.” The elderly Empress had not left her position by the door.
Tevi was vaguely aware that Yenneg was making a show of straightening his clothes, well in excess of anything justified by their minimal disarray. However, it hardly registered. Jemeryl stood before her, filling the world. The entire weight of the spell hit Tevi in a onslaught of sensation. She could scarcely breathe. Her body was shaking. She could not move her eyes away, not that she had any wish to.
Yenneg spoke next, in tones of bravado. “I don’t know who told you we were here, but you would have soon found out anyway.”
“Tevi?” Jemeryl’s voice held nothing but disbelief.
Despite the chaos that was tearing her head apart, Tevi understood what scene Yenneg was attempting to play out, with herself as a conscripted actor. She needed to force out an explanation or denial, but no words could get past her lips. Jemeryl’s presence was paralysing her, an effect far more irresistible than anything Yenneg had achieved.
Tevi watched Jemeryl take another few steps forwards and then crouch down so that their eyes were no more than a foot apart. Tevi thought she would die from the shock. Yet somehow, she forced her mouth to shape the words, “Wine. Love potion.”
Her voice was not loud enough even to count as a whisper. Certainly nobody else in the room would have heard, yet Tevi could not control her breathing to manage anything else.
At first Jemeryl showed no sign of comprehension, but then suddenly, the bewilderment on her face transformed into fury. She leapt up, her arms moving in a blurred aggressive swirl. The gesture ended with an action like hurling a ball. Blue fire erupted from Jemeryl’s hands and shot towards Yenneg.
The other sorcerer had obviously recognised the gesture and made an effort to protect himself. A shimmering shield sprung up before Yenneg, but it was not strong enough, and the shockwave knocked him off his feet. His shoulders slammed into the wall behind him and he crumpled to the floor. Jemeryl had been telling the truth when she claimed to vastly excel the acolytes in magical ability, not that Tevi had ever entertained doubts. Jemeryl’s hands moved again, and this time Yenneg was sprawled on the floor and in no state to mount a defence. A second bolt of blue fire burst in his direction.
Lightning in the form of a whip snapped across the room, intercepting Jemeryl’s attack before it struck. The diverted fireball hit the wall of the summerhouse two feet from Yenneg’s head and smashed through it, as if it were a stone going through wet paper.
“Jemeryl.” Bykoda’s voice crackled like her lightning whip. “I understand that you’re angry, but I have uses for Yenneg. If you must take it out on someone, I’d rather you did it on your two-timing mercenary slut.”
“Tevi had no part in this.”
“That wasn’t the way I saw it. She wasn’t fighting him off.”
“He’s drugged her.”
Meanwhile, Yenneg had clambered to his feet and was edging around the room towards his defender. “I haven’t. Tevi...darling, tell her how you feel about me.” He neither looked nor sounded as confident as his words.
Tevi shook her head, partly in rejection, partly hoping to clear the paralysing fog.
“Tevi. You needn’t be frightened of
her. I’ll protect you.”
His words were so absurd, they were almost funny. What Tevi would have liked to say in reply was, You’re a filthy gutless maggot who isn’t worthy to breathe the same air as Jemeryl, but all she managed to get out was, “Bastard.”
“He’s drugged her,” Jemeryl repeated.
“Why do you think that?” Bykoda asked.
“When I visited Dunarth, she complained about wasting her time making a love potion.”
“She told you it was for Yenneg?”
“No. She wouldn’t say.”
“I suppose we could ask her.” Bykoda spoke lightly.
“There’s no need. Tevi would never be interested in that turd-eating mongrel if she wasn’t under a spell.”
Yenneg had reached Bykoda’s side and clearly felt safe enough to rejoin the argument. “You’re just jealous.”
“I’d tend to take Yenneg’s part in that.” Now that Bykoda was no longer at imminent risk of losing one of her acolytes, she appeared to find the situation amusing. “He’s not so unattractive. If I were fifty years younger, I might be interested myself.”
“Tevi wouldn’t be. What he doesn’t know”—Jemeryl stabbed her finger at Yenneg, who flinched noticeably—“is Tevi’s background. On the islands she comes from, they have strange taboos. One is about choice of lover. All the people from Tevi’s home have an exclusive interest in either men or women. Never both.”
“Really? How perverse. Most folk have enough trouble finding a suitable lover without cutting their options in half.” Bykoda laughed as she spoke.
“There’s nothing rational about it. It’s the way they’re brought up and it gets ingrained. No man would ever stand a chance with Tevi.”
Yenneg’s composure was unravelling again. “That’s nonsense. Of course I haven’t drugged her. Why would I be so desperate for an ungifted grunt?”
Jemeryl turned on him. “It’s easy enough to prove. When I heard about Dunarth’s potion I made a diagnostic tincture. It’s in my room. We could send a thrall to get it.”
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 14
