"But it's dangerous out—"
"Shush and listen! Not an hour ago my half sister made a joke about you sleeping with her while I sleep with the Lupanian boy for the next seven years. Believe me, please, I shall never, never do that, my love. Please understand, I wanted you to hear it from me before some stupid misunderstanding sunders us again. I am not sleeping with him."
"I trust you, Lavenci. Why do you worry about a joke?"
"I do not want any possibility of you being hurt again. I— I have been seeing a lot of Azorian. After he completely healed my hand, and he revealed vast amounts about Lupan and his people's sorcery and cold sciences. Mother and I have sketched him in every detail, tested his strengths and castings, and even taken samples of his hair, blood, and the like. He ... he also did something else with me—no, nothing like that. After he healed my hand he began to make me slightly Lupanian."
I blinked. "How—or should I say why?" I asked. "Please explain."
"Azorian, a Lupanian male, can touch me. He thought that if I had the inner form of a Lupanian, the constancy glamour would no longer affect me. He changed me inside, so that my life force is now Lupanian. Please, hold out your hand, I want the first man I touch to be you."
I extended my hand. Lavenci's pale fingers hovered so close that I could feel the heat from her skin. Her hand closed on mine—and sparkles of blue flashed behind her eyes as her body convulsed, racked by the constancy glamour. I had to let her pick herself up off the ground unaided.
"It is as I feared," she whispered, standing before me with her head bowed.
'The glamour repels all male humans. Making my life force Lupanian did not help."
"Perhaps if he changed me, so that I was Lupanian?" I suggested.
'That may not be possible for a while, Danolarian. Azorian is very sick."
"Sick?" I exclaimed, instantly alarmed. "How?"
"I am not sure, but his fabrication spell is a very severe strain when working on live bodies. Building a tripod tower is child's play by comparison. Over four days he spent three hours out of every four refabricating either you or me, and apparently only one hour in four is considered dangerous."
"He is our only friend among the Lupanians. His loss would be a catastrophe."
"I know. After the attacks of this afternoon he worked more frantically than ever. He sat with me in the fabrication spell for six hours without a break, but then he just toppled and fell. He is asleep now, best to leave him resting. I'm sorry, this will cast a pall over the evening, but I still want you to eat with us."
We began to walk for the entrance to the academy.
"Have you heard about the Wayfarers?" I asked.
"Yes. You are to escort people out of the city tomorrow, before the Lupanians arrive. I shall have to stay here. Laron has plans for a squad of scholars to stay within the city, in hiding. We shall study the Lupanians when they take over, learning about their cold sciences and magic. The city is full of secret,
hidden, forgotten places. Mother thinks we shall be safer here than out on the plain. She has spent much of her life not being noticed by the authorities, so she should know."
For a dozen or so heartbeats we stopped and stared into each other's eyes. There was so much to say, but I had contained myself for so long that I could not release my tongue to speak freely. I thought to skirt the subject, then edge inward.
"In seven years you will be free of the constancy glamour," I began.
"That is the theory," she replied, now frowning. "Will you really wait seven years for me?"
"I shall look upon it as a chance to prove my love for you."
"Your love, for me," she said dreamily, with a little smile. "I had despaired of ever hearing those words from you." She now looked up, but her face was full of concern and worry. "Danolarian, it may be more than seven years," she explained.
"But why?"
"Remember, a glamour cannot be lifted unless both partners are alive. Remember too that mother has influence. I suspect that she used that influence to have someone else hanged in Pelmore's place. She wanted him alive to continue her experiments to free me earlier."
"I did see him hang," I assured her.
"You saw someone hang. That man had a comfortable padding on his stomach, I questioned Laron about that. Pelmore's stomach resembled a washerboard, I of all people should know." It was now that Lavenci broke up, and began to sob.
"So unfair! I know how Pelmore feels beneath his clothing, Danolarian, yet nothing of your body."
XXX
She led me into Madame Karracel's Exclusive and Intimate Services. Begun as a mere front for the Academy, it was now making an impressive profit. In the lounge, several alluringly dressed women smiled and waved, then we walked down a passageway. Part of a brick wall swung back at Lavenci's touch. Beyond it was complete blackness. With the door closed again, she conjured a soft glow in her palm then led me through a maze of corridors, passageways, courtyards, stairways, and doors. Finally we stepped out... into what was indistinguishable from a room in Diomeda!
There were beaded, tasselated hangings everywhere, soft, deep rugs underfoot, incense burners, and piles of huge, heavily embroidered cushions encrusted with beads, mirrors, and polished semiprecious stones, and candles held by iron dragons in various poses, not all of them very dignified. A sparkling curtain of beads was drawn aside, and Madame Yvendel, the tall, svelte, elegant woman of indeterminate but mature years, walked out to greet us. She was dressed in silks that would have been exotic even in Diomeda, and while there was a sprinkling of grey in her long, black hair, her legs could have belonged to a woman in her twenties. Her silk robes managed to show a great deal of those legs, of which she was obviously proud.
"Where is your guest?" she asked imperiously, after a glance at my Wayfarer's clothing. "And why have you brought your guard in here?"
"Mother, this is Danolarian Scryverin, Inspector, Wayfarers, West Quadrant."
"Charmed, ladyship," I managed, bowing.
"Danolarian!" she exclaimed. "My apologies for not recognizing you, the light is dim in here."
"No excuses, Mother," said Lavenci in triumph. "You forgot him, and there's an end to the matter."
"Forgot him? Ridiculous! I remember the night he rescued you and brought you home. You had two broken ribs from the Inquisition Constables. Silly girl, all you did was kiss him goodnight, and ask when he would be at the Lamplighter again. When your father rescued me from the dungeons of the summer palace at Narmari, why I had him into bed with the breath knocked out of him before his drawers had even hit the carpet."
"Mother! Really!"
"What?"
'Try to show more sensitivity when discussing my conception."
"Whatever."
Madame Yvendel circled us once, obviously appraising me. "So, will it be one more for breakfast?" "Yes!" snapped Lavenci.
"Wait a moment, what about the constancy glamour?"
"We can share my bedchamber and we can share our nakedness, even though we may not touch," replied Lavenci, with a firm, dangerous edge on her voice.
"Besides, Danolarian can kiss and caress my hair."
"Well, allow me to be of the same service as your hair," Yvendel said brightly as she stepped between us. "Lavenci, Danolarian, take my arms and I shall escort you into the dining room."
Madame Yvendel led us into another, similarly furnished, room, where a meal that was exotic and generous, rather than sumptuous, was set out on a low table. We lay down on cushions, Diomedan style, and began to eat various dips on flat-bread. I passed tests in Diomedan etiquette, having lived a short time in Diomeda. There was a place set but vacant, probably for Wensomer, I surmised. Lavenci and Yvendel bickered continually. I felt like asking a few pointed questions about Pelmore, but refrained for the sake of good manners. A gong sounded somewhere in the distance.
"Ah, Wensomer at last," said Yvendel.
We stood up as Wensomer entered. She was wrapped in what looked to be quite a h
eavy cloak, given the heat of die summer night. She swept it off and cast it aside, revealing some scraps of red meshwork and jewelry, a pair of sandals, and nothing much else. She also looked exceptionally fit, and had the best developed abdominal muscles I had ever seen on a woman.
"Look, it's the succubus costume I wore for my fourteenth birthday revel," she cried, holding her arms out. "It fits again."
"It may not if you breathe too deeply," observed Lavenci.
"Mother, we might have a problem, due to the arrival of— who is that?"
"Wensomer, may I present Danolarian," said Madame Yvendel.
"My sweetheart!" declared Lavenci firmly.
"Your sweetheart," said Wensomer, nodding knowingly. "Except for the constancy glamour—wait a moment. Alpindrak, the inspector from the Wayfarers who tracked me there, er, Scryverin, is it? The youth with the rather nebulous past?
Lavenci's former sweetheart—except that you still are?"
"Your servant, ladyship," I said with a bow.
"Well, I really was hoping to meet you in better circumstances, and here you are. Does Lavenci need someone to occupy your talents while her constancy glamour is wearing off?"
"No I don't!" snapped Lavenci.
"Pity. Inspector, had the light not been so bad at Alpindrak Palace, I might not have flown out of your company so soon. Strange, you are not a spotty student, lecherous academician, homicidal peasant, or even a seven-hundred-year-old reformed vampyre. Lavenci usually likes them peculiar."
"You should talk!" called Lavenci. "You married a corpse five years dead to become empress."
"True, but I did not sleep with it. From what I heard of Pelmore—"
"You tried to seduce a man whose penis was a small dragon that hated women. Then you turned him into a cat!"
"That was an unfortunate accident."
My imagination seriously contemplated suicide after trying to conjure an image of a human-shaped Wallas getting into bed with Wensomer.
"What family does not have the occasional frank exchange of views?" asked Madame Yvendel, putting an arm around me and gesturing back to the table.
"Oh no, you must take a place beside me," said Wensomer, bracketing me from the other side and pressing a rather large breast in red netting against my chest. "I have done more work on your origins, and a certain reccon who served with you four years ago says that you had a strong Torean accent, and that you worked fanatically hard to change it."
"You're right, I am Torean," I admitted, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Lavenci wink, then nod discreetly.
"I knew it!" Wensomer exclaimed in triumph. "I am part Torean too. Mother once made one boast too many, and I worked it out. I think it is so romantic, being from a people of a dead continent. We Toreans must stand together, except when lying down, of course."
Lavenci put her hands on her hips and faced us squarely with a very stern look on her face.
"Sister dear, this is getting all very tiresome," she declared. "If you wish to seduce Danolarian and exercise his primary sexual characteristic until it screams for mercy, then go ahead,
it is between you and him. I certainly will not be able to do the like with him for seven years, and I suppose I should not be selfish. One the other hand, I would strongly advise you to ask his birthname before you do anything rash."
"Birthname? Very well Danol, what is your birthname?" I cleared my throat, then looked from Yvendel to Wensomer.
"Darric Gregoral Warsovran," I said in as steady a voice as I could manage. As slowly as if they were moving through water, Yvendel and Wensomer disengaged from me and drew back, eyes wide and jaws hanging slack.
"Melidian's son," whispered Yvendel.
"My brother?" gasped Wensomer.
"Half brother, actually," I said as casually as I could.
"My brother!" said Wensomer excitedly. "I should have guessed. You showed so much skill, tracking me across all of Greater Alberin. Did I tell you I watched you play the sun down on Alpindrak? My brother. Do you do magic?"
"No."
"Pity. Look, do lie down at your place. Taboulan garnish? Holvis? Tarengan?" The serving maid entered with a plate of savory chicken pieces.
"Mirriel, have you met my brother Danolarian?" called Wensomer. "Charmed, sir."
"He fought in the Charge of Racewater Bridge, on the side of Princess Senterri."
"And he's my stepson," added Madame Yvendel.
"And he's my sweetheart!" Lavenci pointed out rather more loudly than was necessary.
The serving maid hurried away with some empty plates. Wensomer drained a goblet of wine. Not to be outdone, Lavenci did likewise. Madame Yvendel suddenly got up and left without a word.
"How could a spineless wonder like you charm the hearts of my brother?" said Wensomer.
"I find Lavenci enchanting," I began.
"She knows nothing of the real world, she's a social cripple," laughed Wensomer.
"You always had freedom to do anything!" snapped Lavenci. "I didn't."
"And everything that I did, you came along and did better!" retorted Wensomer, suddenly reddening. 'Took me five weeks to solve the enchantment-stability equations of Lei Vestoller the Wise. You did them in half an hour."
"You should have left the ether values as variables and inverted the—" ¦
"You use your intelligence to humiliate me!"
"Well, you're too lazy to use your intelligence. Besides, I never became empress."
"Well, you've lined up the Emperor of All Torea to be your bedmate!" Wensomer shouted back.
"Ladies, please," I begged, but nobody seemed to notice me.
"You were always the star of every revel and feast!" cried Lavenci. 'The men always crowded about you."
"You seduced my Laron on the roof of the academy during his graduation reception! I was so humiliated."
"You made a point of seducing every one of my partners, including Laron."
"You bettered every one of my academic triumphs, you always did in hours what took me months, you little bitch!"
"Little? I'm three inches taller than you!"
"My curves are better. What do you think, Danol?" I opened my mouth. "See? He agrees. He's my brother. He'll always be my brother. You are only his sweetheart. He may leave you."
"Ladies, ladies," I cried, but at this point Madame Yvendel returned.
"Danol, you may like to see this," she said, opening a large folder. "Here is your father's graduation scorecard for 3112, see, his marks were very high. Here's the love letters he wrote and left under my door, and this is a picture of the ship he fled home on when he heard I was pregnant."
"With me," said Wensomer.
"What else? A lock of his hair, our first condom—"
"Somewhat redundant by then," Lavenci pointed out.
"Here's the key that Rax Einsel duplicated and used to free me from the dungeon in the summer palace."
"Rax was my father," Lavenci reminded us. "He was a deadly shot with a crossbow."
"I called him Uncle Rax, he was a nice man," I said. "Was he really?" asked Lavenci.
"I've always wanted a brother," said Wensomer, reaching unsteadily for another jug of wine and raising an eyebrow at Lavenci. "Have you met my brother?"
"Yes!" snapped Lavenci.
"Here's a sketch I did of Rax," said Yvendel. "Rather heroic, I think."
"I remember you!" Wensomer suddenly exclaimed, taking my hand. "My first voyage to Torea, I was disguised as an ambassador's daughter. It was in the summer palace at Narmari. You and I bored a hole in the back of the royal privy and we played "Whose Botty Is That" until the guards chanced upon us. We had to apologize before the entire court."
"I was very young," I said pressing a hand over my eyes for a moment.
"What a wonderful stepson," said Madame Yvendel, absently picking up the goblet that Wensomer had just filled and draining it. "I'm tired of being surrounded by women, spotty youths, and bloodless sorcery academics. You are a fine young man, I'
ll have a spare room made up."
"He sleeps in my room in my bed!" shouted Lavenci.
"You can't even touch him without being sick," retorted Yvendel.
"He can hold my hair," replied Lavenci. "Danolarian, I want to apologize for my family."
"Have you forgotten about mine?" I sighed, by now regretting that I had not just invited her down to the Lamplighter and taken my bagpipes.
"What was it like, growing up as Warsovran's son?" asked Wensomer.
"I was given everything," I replied, relieved to be on a neutral subject. "I learned languages, archery, riding, astronomy, medicraft, the ways of command, the skills of strategy—"
"I meant girls. I heard that you lost your virginity to a princess on your thirteenth birthday."
"I'd rather not—" I began, by now rather beyond despair.
"I was fifteen and a half for my first time," said Wensomer.
"And I was fifteen," retorted Lavenci.
"See what I mean!" cried Wensomer. "She always has to go one better—and she did it with my favorite guard, too."
"You treated him shamefully," began Lavenci.
"Here is a sketch I did of your father in 3111, during classes," said Madame Yvendel.
"Would you like to see my soft-toy collection?" asked Wensomer. Wensomer led me away to her bedchamber. Her soft-toy collection consisted of several dozen pink, fluffy dragons with silly grins and large genitalia.
"Really, it means so much to me to have a brother," she confided, grasping my arm with both hands while swaying rather heavily. "I'm tired of living in Lavenci's shadow."
"Er, but, you were empress, and you were the most powerful sorceress in Scalticar."
"Pah, raw power, who gives a toss? Lavenci is monstrously intelligent, she betters me in everything that matters, and she does it so easily. Promise you'll not side with her against me?"
"I'm sure diplomacy will triumph," I promised.
We returned to the dining room. Dessert featured another acrimonious exchange about former lovers, magical theory, disastrous experiments, important people and exotic, dangerous beings the three women had killed, spectacular hangovers they had experienced, and people they wished they had not woken up beside the next morning. After that, the serious drinking began. I had the impression that Yvendal, Wensomer, and Lavenci loved each other dearly, yet they antagonized each other beyond comprehension. It was little wonder that Lavenci had not been able to confide in them for courtship advice.
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