by Allan Cole
The caravan master sighed heavily and said, “If Coralean had a copper coin for all the times he was advised not to worry, Your Highness, he'd be even richer than he already is."
Iraj laughed. “Why is it that every phrase you speak dwells so much on profit?” he asked, half jokingly. “There's more to this world than money, don't you know?"
Now it was Coralean's turn to laugh. “That was always your trouble, Majesty,” he said. “You think of profit as a base thing. A dirty thing. Whereas I, Coralean, know profit to be a thing of the utmost beauty. For profit is at the heart of all mortal endeavors.
"As a merchant sage once said, ‘It is profit that drives all civilization.’ How true, how true. For isn't it profit that makes kings—and lack of the same that ruins them? And does not profit allow the artist to make art and the musician to make music?
"More to the point—if you and my old friend Safar Timura win this day, why, the whole world will profit from your victory. So don't mock profit, majesty. But, praise it to the heavens!"
Palimak, confused and angry over the dual identities with which he was confronted, broke in,snarling, “Never mind the talk! Let's just cast the spell and get on with it!"
Just then Eeda hurried into the chamber, pale and obviously in great pain. “Forgive me, lord husband,” she said, “but our child is coming!"
The news badly shook Coralean and he instantly swept Eeda off her feet into his arms. “We must find a midwife,” he cried.
"Nay, nay, lord husband,” Eeda said. “I can do this myself—if you will help me."
"Of course I'll help,” Coralean said, voice weak. “What shall I do?"
"The child's birth can help the spell,” Eeda said. “So, please, just place me on the floor. And let me—and your coming son—do our magic."
Inside Iraj, Safar quickly caught Eeda's intention. He rose up out of his nest, urging Protarus to wait until the proper moment. Eeda's bravery also broke through Palimak's reserve and he, too, whispered for Iraj to hold.
Coralean placed Eeda gently on the floor and ran to fetch pillows and blankets to make her more comfortable. As he pushed pillows under her, she cried out, gripping his hand fiercely.
Then she shouted, “He's coming, lord husband! He's coming!"
As she writhed in the throes of birth agony, Safar gave the signal for the spell-casting to commence.
And drawing on all of Palimak's powers, along with those of the Favorites, then combining them with Eeda's magic, Safar forged these spellwords:
"Eight winds blow, eight winds bend;
Is it life or death these winds portend?
And where hides the Viper of the Rose?
And what dread secrets shall we expose?
Into the Hells, our souls cast forth,
East and west, south and north.
North and south, east and west.
The gods awaken, ah, there's the test!"
Through Iraj's eyes, Safar saw Eeda jump as if she'd been struck with a lightning bolt. Then Coralean was holding up a bloody, crying little thing.
And then the whole floor gave away beneath Khysmet and Safar found himself falling through darkness toward a great, fiery light.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
SPIES AND OTHER LIES
Rhodes was so intent on his daughter's charge that he didn't notice the airship soar out of the castle grounds. Jooli was sprinting toward his command post, smashing through every defense and cutting down every man that got in her way.
Her shrill war cry ululated up the hill, making his blood run cold. Even though she was still at a great distance, he believed he could see the fury and hate in her eyes. All concentrated on her father.
Running with her, the Kyranian troops were also taking a terrible toll on his men. And although he knew Jooli was only prolonging the inevitable—and his trap would close any second—the ferocity of her attack struck fear into his heart.
Brave though he was, Rhodes was so guilt-ridden by his treatment of his own flesh that for a moment he imagined her hot vengeful blade plunging into his breast.
"Get her! Get her! Get her!” he shouted to his officers.
Panicked by their king's hysteria, they ran around shouting confused orders to their underlings.
Only Tabusir kept his head. He walked quickly but purposefully to Clayre's litter. The spy had a duty to perform that he was looking forward to eagerly.
Clayre saw him coming and smiled a thin smile. Although she not only distrusted Tabusir and disliked him intensely, she'd been worried for some time now that her son was playing her false.
Her mind constantly ran wild with conspiratorial possibilities. Foremost among them was that Rhodes might make a last-minute alliance with her granddaughter, Jooli, and that the two of them would turn against her.
And even if this possibility was only the product of a fevered imagination, what if that was how it turned out? No matter their bitter past history, they were still father and daughter.
If Jooli survived her father's trap and struck a bargain with him Clayre had no illusions about what would happen next. A powerful witch, as well as a superb warrior, Jooli would make certain her grandmother didn't survive the day.
As guilt-ridden as her son over her treatment of Jooli, Clayre became fearfully obsessed with her granddaughter's intentions.
She had to be sure, no matter what the cost.
And so during the storm she'd sent for Tabusir, that most corruptible of corrupt men, and had dazzled him with gold and seductive promises.
Clayre was a beautiful woman and a rich woman who had years of practice in all forms of seduction. She'd only needed a little gold and a few hot-blooded hints of pleasures to come to convince the spy to join her.
And now she was not disappointed when the moment of Jooli's death neared and Tabusir came to her just as they'd planned.
When she saw him, she quickly turned her thin smile of satisfaction into one of erotic warmth. And she bedazzled him with her beauty as he dropped to his knees and made suitable gestures of loyalty and obedience.
"You are such a pretty fellow,” she murmured to him in her most alluring tones. “Kneeling there so handsomely before me you fair make my poor heart leap."
Tabusir knocked his head against the ground, saying, “I am but a man, Majesty. A worshipful man, burning with love for you. If only I dared take you in my arms and kiss you!"
"Soon, my handsome one, soon,” Clayre said, only partly lying. “Pray be patient. For I yearn for you as much as you yearn for me."
Then she drew the spy up, looking full into his eyes. Delighting at her effect on him as he seemed to quiver and quake with desire.
She drew a long tube from her bodice and handed it to him. “I've made this for my son,” she said.
And he pulled the two halves apart, revealing a sharp dart. Tabusir started to test the point with his finger, but she stopped him, saying, “Don't touch the point, my dear. It's poisoned, you know."
With a brisk intake of breath, Tabusir snatched his fingers away just in time. He glanced down and saw that the needle-point of the dart was smeared with a yellowish paste.
"One prick of the dart will do,” Clayre said. She pointed down the hill, where Jooli and the Kyranians were hammering their way through her son's lines.
"If my granddaughter should win through,” she said, “there's a good chance she'll try to turn my son against me. If this happens, you only need to get close enough to the king to throw the dart.
"It won't kill him, for, as I told you last night, that is not my desire. But it will immobilize him—freeze his body and his will—until we decide what to do with him."
Tabusir examined the dart closely. Marveling at its handworked design. The Lady Lottyr's face had been carved on one side. And the needle's shaft had been lovingly stropped many times before the poison was applied.
"But what of Queen Jooli?” Tabusir asked. “Even if we remove your son, she'll still be a threat."
"Neve
r mind Jooli,” Clayre said. “I have plans to deal with her. It is my son who worries me the most."
Actually, it was Kalasariz’ presence inside her son that terrified her. The king and the cunning spymaster made a formidable combination. Naturally, she said nothing of this to her new ally.
Smiling, Tabusir leaned close to Clayre, whispering, “I am yours to command, my queen. But might I beg of you one kiss to steel my nerve and send me on my way?"
Clayre thought, Why not? Tabusir really was quite handsome as well as clever. Of course, after he attacked her son, he'd have to be put to death himself for treating a member of the royal family in such a manner. Still, there was no harm in a kiss, was there?
And so she kissed him, full and deep. She was delighted when she felt Tabusir shudder.
But as she gently pushed him away, he whispered, “Here's a gift, Majesty, from your loving son."
And he rammed the poisoned dart into her soft, heaving breast.
Instantly, Clayre become immobilized—freezing into a living statue. Her expression was one of great surprise.
"You see, Majesty,” Tabusir said. “After I spoke to you last night, I reported to your son. And he made me a much better offer."
He kissed her immobile face, rudely crushing his lips against hers.
Then Tabusir turned away and strolled off to see how the king was faring against his daughter.
* * * *
Leiria ground her teeth impatiently as she waited for Rhodes to spring his trap on Jooli. From her hiding place in the rubble of a destroyed farmhouse she watched her friend lead the charge through the castle gates.
Sequestered in other nearby places were fifty Kyranian soldiers, all aching to join the battle.
On either side of her were Renor and Sinch and she heard their gasps of alarm as several enemy soldiers confronted Jooli. Then they sighed in relief when the warrior woman easily cut them down.
"Silence!” Leiria hissed. “You'll give us away!"
Not that she blamed them for displaying their youthful tension. She was damned tense, herself. They'd all crept out into the teeth of the storm several hours before dawn.
Drenched to the bone, buffeted by fierce winds, they'd had to fight a battle with the elements long before they were set to engage Rhodes. In the end they managed to set up a perfect double ambush—finding hiding places on either side of the road that Jooli would use.
And they were well back from the positions Leiria knew the king's soldiers would take when they made themselves ready for Jooli.
She hated to admit it, but the whole thing had been Iraj's idea. A master tactician, Iraj had immediately guessed what Rhodes would do after Lottyr reported back to the king that the Kyranians planned a surprise attack the moment the storm ended.
With Queen Yorlain as her slave, Lottyr had obviously overheard every detail of their planning session in Safar's quarters.
"He'll have a surprise attack of his own planned,” Iraj had said, using his own voice. “But we'll be ready for him!"
"With me as bait for the trap?” Jooli had asked, eyes glowing at the prospect.
"Exactly,” Iraj had said.
Leiria shuddered at the memory of that odd scene. Iraj's voice issuing from the lips of her lover. It had made her feel filthy all over.
She pushed those thoughts away. This was not the time and place for such weaknesses. But she couldn't help wondering for just a moment if she and Safar would ever have a life together.
Leiria bit her lower lip, using the pain to wipe that question from her mind.
Hells, most likely they'd all be dead by the day's end!
She concentrated on Jooli and her soldiers. Saw them fight their way along the road, leaving dead and wounded men in their wake. Saw the shadowy forms of Rhodes’ troops creeping in from every side. Saw the defiant flag of Rhodes fluttering over his command post far up the hill.
Then, as Jooli and her troops reached the bend in the road, Leiria saw the enemy soldiers leap up on every side of her. She heard them shout shrill battle cries as they closed the trap.
"Now!” Leiria cried.
Drawing her sword she leaped to her feet and gave the signal that triggered Iraj's double trap.
* * * *
Rhodes gaped like a village fool when he saw Leiria and her men suddenly leap up and attack his men from behind.
"Where the hells did she come from?” he shouted.
But there was no one to answer, for his officers were as stunned as their king to see such a perfect plan foiled.
It was all over in a few moments. There were terrified shrieks of surprise from his own men, mingled with the clash of steel against steel as the Kyranians worked their awful will.
And then the ambush site was reduced to a bloody mess of soldiers groaning their last, while the Kyranians stood around, leaning on their swords and laughing or slapping one another on the back, no doubt saying what clever fellows they all were.
He saw Jooli and Leiria meet, embracing like sisters. Then turning to look up the hill in his direction. He saw Jooli point straight at him and had no doubt about what she was saying to Leiria.
Rhodes turned and caught sight of Tabusir standing nearby, as stunned by the turnabout as everyone else.
"Send for my mother!” Rhodes shouted at the spy, all his fears and anxieties spilling over the cliffs of reason.
Tabusir gawked at him. “But, Majesty,” he said, “your mother can't come, remember?"
"What did you do? What did you do?” Rhodes babbled, drawing his sword.
"Only as you asked, Majesty,” Tabusir replied, edging backward, trying to get out of the king's range. But two officers moved in on either side, grabbing him by the arms.
"Please, Majesty!” Tabusir begged, feeling his carefully built world suddenly crumble beneath him. “I only dealt with your mother as she would have dealt with you. I only did what you commanded!"
"Damn you!” Rhodes roared. “How dare you turn my own words against me? I am the king!"
And with one blow he cut off Tabusir's head.
Then he raced to his mother's litter, his men leaping away when the saw the agony in their king's eyes and the bloody sword in his hand.
Clayre was all alone in her litter. Her slaves had already fled, taking with them every valuable they could find in their haste to escape the king's wrath when he learned that his mother had been murdered.
Her silk robes were gone, rent from her frozen body, and she was half naked. Her purse and jewelry were absent. And her magical table was shattered, the gold-tiled pentagram having been ripped from the very wood it had been fixed into.
Even the litter itself hadn't gone unscathed—gilded decorations and jewels had been torn from their settings.
Falling on her and embracing her, Rhodes cried, “I'm so sorry, mother! So sorry! I slew the villain who harmed you!"
But when he felt her stone-like flesh he leaped back, as if she were a leper.
And he shouted: “I need you, mother, more than I have ever needed you before! Please, please help me!"
But the only answer was the startled look frozen upon Clayre's face. And the poisoned dart sticking out of her chest.
Rhodes fell to his knees, weeping.
Inside him, Kalasariz sniffed the blood of failure and rose from his nest like a great white shark shooting out of the sea's cold, dark depths to seek his moment of gory opportunity.
He had the demons, Luka and Fari, crying in his belly, but he was hungry. Oh, so hungry.
And the Lady Lottyr whispered from someplace close: You were right, Kalasariz. The king has failed.
The spymaster said nothing in reply, but only ghosted toward the throbbing souls she was offering him, like pearls set in sweet oyster flesh.
First he gulped down Clayre and, oh, she was good and, oh, she was tasty. He felt the fires in his belly explode with increased power and energy. Then he found the soul of Rhodes, which was still weeping for his mother. And that soul was even mo
re delicious and more power-giving than Clayre's.
He felt strong, so strong. And his mind, which he'd always prized above all things, became all-seeing.
Kalasariz/Rhodes whirled around, bellowing to his men. They fell to their knees before his awful majesty.
And Kalasariz thought, This is good. This is very, very good.
Coming up the hill he saw Coralean riding a huge horse. The caravan master was so immense that his feet dragged along the ground. He had a small woman in his arms. And she held a bundle that Kalasariz couldn't make out.
Marching on either side of Coralean were Leiria and Jooli, their armor sheening under the Demon Moon. Their troops behind them—Kyranian troops. Eager for the final kill.
And beyond them, hovering over the cone of volcano, Kalasariz could see the fabulous airship floating free. Ready to move in at a moment's notice and bombard King Rhodes’ positions.
Kalasariz felt a flicker of disappointment. He'd come so far. Dared so much. But now, on the eve on his ultimate victory, had he already been defeated?
And the Lady Lottyr whispered, I promised you two battles, Kalasariz. And it is only the second one that truly counts.
Kalasariz felt hope rise like a mighty spear in his fist. And, already knowing the answer, he asked, Who do we fight?
And the Lady Lottyr replied, Safar Timura and Iraj Protarus. They're waiting for us now at the gates of the Hells!
The spymaster's hunger burned brighter at this prospect. And he said, Let's fight them, then.
But at that moment he heard a cry, coming from far away. It was like that of a newborn infant demanding new life.
He asked, What's that?
The Goddess Lottyr replied, Only a child, Kalasariz. Nothing to worry ourselves about.
But he was worried. And as the whole world shimmered about him, slowly dissolving, he heard the child cry once again.
Then he found himself striding along a broad beach, sword in hand. He heard drums throb and horns blow, then the voices of singing people.
Kalasariz found them dancing naked under towering palm trees, singing praises to a beautiful queen who led them in their dance. Beyond he saw the volcano, black smoke and angry sparks sputtering into the skies.
