The Magic Mines of Asharim

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Stop it! I will do it.”

  Another silence. Zak’s exultation hit me like a hammer.

  “No!” Xando wailed. “You must not let him bully you.”

  “Demons, Xando, it’s only sex. I was a companion-servant, remember? I’m used to it.”

  “But that was different. What about me? You must not—”

  “Don’t tell me what I must not do! You don’t own me. I’m perfectly happy to do this, so stop fussing.”

  He threw up his hands, and backed away from my vehemence. The cabin wasn’t big enough for that, so he bumped his head, and with an exclamation of annoyance, stormed out and off the barge, setting it bobbing wildly. Renni scampered after him.

  Zak watched me, his face not quite concealing the glee behind it.

  I looked him up and down, taking in the sweat and dirt-encrusted clothes, and his dripping face. “You will have to bathe beforehand.”

  He sketched an ironic bow. “Bathing is always a pleasure. I am a good son of Mesanthia, Lady, in every way.”

  ~~~~~

  That last night at Brinmar was strange. Renni was triumphantly chatty, seeing victory drawing near, in the hope of Xando turning to her for consolation. Zak ate at our court for once, stolidly chewing his food and being his usual unflappable self. Several women tracked him down and set out to seduce him, but in the end he left alone. I was quietly pleased by that.

  Xando said not a word to me all evening, and when we went to bed, turned his back on me. I couldn’t blame him for feeling betrayed, but I had to do this. It wasn’t just that I wanted Zak physically. If that were all, I could resist him perfectly well, as I had quite successfully for the whole moon I’d been at Brinmar. Well, probably. There’s no knowing how a moon on the canals together would end up.

  No, the truth was that I needed Zak’s help to do what had to be done, and if sleeping with him smoothed the path to his co-operation, then that was what I would do. But there was another benefit to it, beyond politics or my own pleasure. Zak had shown me something new in myself, an ability to feel an intense passion for someone that was entirely my own, and not solely a reflection of the other’s feelings. My affection for my husband, for Rufin and then Xando – I could never be sure how real that was. But what I felt for Zak came from deep within myself, not drawn out by any emotion in his mind.

  Now I knew that what I felt for Xando wasn’t real love. I liked him well enough, and he’d been a friend to me at a time when I was unhappy and lonely and vulnerable; he’d been kindness personified. His ability to shield me from overwhelming emotions had probably saved my sanity at Twisted Rock. But I’d been affected by his feelings for me, and it made me feel guilty for misleading him. He thought of me as his lover, and, to be honest, he was getting very clingy just at a time when I needed him less.

  Ironically, he seemed to need me even more than before. I was all that kept Renni at bay, for one thing, and for another, he appeared to have no other friends. I never saw anyone speak to him except for practical questions or a courteous greeting in passing. No one came to bid him farewell before he left. Even Renni had a couple of friends who spent the last evening with her, asking her questions about Mesanthia and her life there. Mind you, their minds were devoid of interest in the answers. They were driven solely by politeness. But Xando couldn’t even muster one acquaintance who felt an obligation to socialise before he left. He ended his stay at Brinmar as alone as he’d started it. As did I, of course, but that was by design. Or habit, perhaps.

  We left at dawn to put as many marks between ourselves and possible pursuit as possible. The Hrandish had departed in some haste after they had failed to capture or kill me, and although the prince had brought a full retinue, they were gone, too. The bargers who currently manned the wharf reported that the town had sent people to clean up the mess the Hrandish had left behind, but the place still stank.

  A great crowd came to see Zak off, despite the early start. Mostly women, I noticed, some crying. The rest of us stood self-consciously to one side, unbothered by well-wishers, waiting for him to be done. He peeled himself away from the clingiest ones, and skipped into the barge. He was light on his feet for someone so well-built.

  Xando and Renni took themselves straight into the cabin, but I stayed on deck watching Zak expertly unhooking and winding ropes. It wouldn’t hurt to learn how to operate one of these devices, I told myself, although in truth I just enjoyed watching his muscles rippling.

  And tonight I would share his bed. I smiled and allowed myself a bubble of delight deep inside. Surely after all the misery of my life, I was entitled to a few hours of pleasure sometimes? It wouldn’t be long before I was committed to Hurk Hranda and whatever foulness the prince could dream up for me, but for now I would enjoy whatever modest happiness I could find.

  Zak pushed us away from the wharf, and took up the tow rope. Silently we glided down the canal, the dry leaves on the trees rustling above our heads like the fingers of dead men. Already they were brown and withered, and would soon fall. Their season was almost over. But after a winter’s rest, the trees would burst into new life again, bright and green and vibrant, full of promise. There was hope in that. Whatever happened at Hurk Hranda, there would be another spring, and another after that.

  We paused to open the gate in the tunnel and glided on. A man appeared from behind a bush, ready to close the gate behind us. He waved, but we were in the cool dankness of the tunnel before I could wave back. In a few moments we popped out into the warmth again. Barely past dawn, and already the air was close and humid. It would be hot again today.

  Behind us, the gate clanked shut. I was outside the walls of Brinmar once more. Very likely I would never return here. It had served its purpose, for I was a registered thrower now, with a full complement of flickers at my disposal, but it would never be a home to me. Whatever happened in the future, there was no place for me here. Perhaps there was no place for me anywhere.

  We had to open the gates to allow us access to the main canal, and that took some time, even with Zak directing my efforts to help. At last we were free, and it was only a short paddle down to the town’s main wharf to collect the barge horse ordered in advance. Then we were on our way.

  First we headed east, retracing our route from the narrows. Before we reached there, we took a northern branch canal, a minor route, winding and little used, but it would bring us by the most direct way to the main south-west to north-east waterway, where with luck we could get on at a faster pace.

  That was a pleasant day, the weather hot and still, the strand watchers friendly and the fish obliging enough to jump into Zak’s net when we stopped for the noon table. Supper was fried fish, with fresh greens and bread, with juicy peaches to follow, all washed down with a foamy brown ale, not at all like the light type I’d seen at Brinmar. “It travels better,” Zak said, with a shrug. He was a good cook, tidy and methodical, cleaning up as he went, so there were few pots to wash afterwards.

  “If the women would care to get the dishes clean,” Zak said with a wide grin, “the men will go off and get themselves cleaned up. Then you two can bathe while we set up the beds. Tomorrow we can swap chores.”

  He disappeared into his bedroom, reappearing with a neat bundle, presumably a drying cloth and clean clothes, and skipped up the steps to the deck. Moments later, a splash. Sulkily, Xando did likewise. He’d hardly said a word to me all day, but when I accidentally touched his hand while reaching across the small table for something, I’d been shocked by the level of his anguish that leapt into my mind from his. His anger had gone, replaced by something much worse.

  Part of me wished we could go back to those early days at Twisted Rock, when everything was easy and I was awed by his ability to shut the world out, and mesmerised by his love. I’d been thrilled to meet another Mesanthian, even a Tre’annatha, who understood me just a little, someone who spoke my language, was educated and civilised, and could give me a decent game of dragon stones. I hated to end thi
ngs this way, in grief and bitterness and silent misery. But perhaps all love comes to this in the end, if it’s not strong enough to survive. Perhaps it has to be this way. True feelings can’t just wither and die, they have to be torn apart like the roots of a living tree ripped from the ground. Better that than the invisible walls of indifference.

  The men bathed in the canal and the women cleaned, and then the women bathed and the men rearranged the little cabin with the bench made up into a bed and the hammock swinging gently above. The table and two chairs folded ingeniously flat, and vanished into the hold.

  “Early night, I think,” Zak said. “We’ve had a long day, and I’d like to make another early start tomorrow.”

  And so we came to it, the four of us standing in the cabin in a swirl of clashing emotions. Renni’s, oddly, were the most difficult to read. I felt triumph in her, which I expected, but something else – I think she was embarrassed.

  Zak’s feelings, on the other hand, were as clear as glass. He boiled with desire, overwhelming a whole array of more subtle emotions underneath. No embarrassment in him. Despite the raging within, outwardly he was composed.

  I didn’t need to see inside Xando’s mind. The hurt eyes he turned on me, the anguish written on his face, told the story. He was pale, and swallowed repeatedly. But he said nothing, made no further protest. That was something to be thankful for.

  What about me? What did I feel? I couldn’t even think about my own feelings. I was overwhelmed with Zak’s desire, and if the other two hadn’t been there, I would probably have jumped on him right there. I wasn’t capable of rational thought in that moment. All I wanted was to get him naked and inside me, and the sooner the better. It had been so long since I’d been swept away like that, I no longer had any defences for it. There were only two ways to deal with it. One was to touch Xando and block it, but that was out of the question. The other—

  Demons! Why were we waiting? “I’m going to bed.”

  Zak flicked the curtain aside for me, and I climbed the three shallow steps to the bedroom.

  “Look—” Behind me, Zak spoke to the others, his voice soft, sympathetic. “You may want to take your blankets and bunk down on the towpath with the horse.”

  “What? Why—” Xando’s voice, petulant. Not understanding.

  “Out of earshot,” Zak said firmly.

  Then Renni’s voice, a low murmur, followed by feet on the ladder, then the gentle swish of the barge as they disembarked.

  A moment later, Zak’s head peeped round the curtain, with a grin. “Now, Gracious Lady, let us begin.”

  30: Hassalma

  The bedroom was bigger than I’d expected. The roof was high enough for me to stand upright, and narrow windows high up on all four sides allowed a little air to circulate. A large bed with drawers beneath it took up half the space. Unlike the makeshift accommodation in the cabin, it had a thick mattress, silk sheets and soft pillows.

  On the other side of the room, a hinged shelf made a rudimentary desk, a chair beside it. Below it, shelves filled with books, held in place by bars. Low cupboards lined two walls, and vividly patterned rugs splashed colour across the polished wooden floor. In one corner, a basket-weave chair was suspended from a beam by a chain.

  Not a thing was out of place. I remembered the equivalent room on Morna’s barge: the dingy bed, the low roof, the debris from years of indolence. A barger’s room. This place was very different.

  “You live here,” I said, as Zak came up the steps behind me. “This is your home, not Brinmar.”

  He nodded. “Yes, the barge is mine.”

  After some rustling in a cupboard, he brought out perfumed candles, lighting them from the small lantern which hung from a hook. The room filled with their heavy scents, musky and redolent of spices and waxy tropical blooms. In an instant I was nine years old, skipping through the Imperial Gardens with my father, breathing in the fragrance of summer evenings. Nostalgia snatched at me for a moment, until I caught myself, and remembered that I would be there again soon. After so long in exile, at last I was going home. I wondered what state the gardens would be in now, whether the present Keeper had managed to keep them going.

  “You like it?”

  His voice broke my reverie into pieces. Just as well. Nostalgia was an indulgence I could ill afford.

  “I do.” This was the home of a civilised man, and cultured, if the books were any indication. And also the home of a seducer, judging by the bed. “Very romantic. Do you bring all your women here?”

  “The Brinmar women? No. This is where I retreat… afterwards. You’re the first I’ve allowed in here.”

  Was that flattering? Not really, he’d had no choice if he wanted his bed warmed. Still, he was clearly a very private man, and I felt privileged to be here. “Will you expect me to retreat… afterwards? Because I have to warn you, that bed looks very inviting. You will have to haul me out of it bodily.”

  He laughed at that. “No, you’re welcome here. But only you. Not the others. And if ever you need to get away from them, you can come here.”

  “May I read your books?”

  “Of course.” A smile. “Now, let’s get comfortable, shall we?”

  I hung my thrower’s coat on the chair by the desk and began to unbutton my shirt, but his hand lightly brushed mine. “Not yet. First, we relax. Sit.” His voice was a low murmur in my ear, enticing me.

  He waved towards the basket-chair, and I manoeuvred myself into it, leaning back against the cushions, setting it swinging gently. Tucking one leg under me, I kept one foot on the floor to stop the chair spinning.

  I didn’t quite know what to make of him. Did he go to so much trouble for all his women? Some men like to play the romantic, but in my experience they usually get down to business pretty quickly, for all that. He didn’t know that this slow build-up was all unnecessary in my case, I suppose, and it was rather sweet. His desire was damped down now – his self-control was formidable – but it was still there, still warming me from the inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted to relax first. I’d spent enough time looking at him and dreaming of this moment, and spinning things out wasn’t going to make me want him more.

  More rummaging in cupboards produced two wine glasses, shaped in the Imperial style, flamboyantly curvaceous, and engraved with the symbols of Empire: the whale, the lion, the dragon, masters of sea, land and air. The Empresses were never noted for their humility. Another cupboard revealed a small barrel of wine, a rich ruby red. Zak pulled a small table from beside the bed, placing it between us, and set the glasses within easy reach. Then he perched cross-legged on the bed.

  “Try it.” That mischievous grin was making my heart skip about. The way his lips quirked when he looked at me – I was quivering with anticipation.

  Still, if he wanted to play at seducing me… Obediently, I sipped the wine. My eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Trellian, surely? How did you get this? I’ve never seen any this far west.”

  “You’d be surprised how much goes west. And south, if it comes to that. The Karningplain is a thirsty place, and they grow little of their own. I’ve got several barrels in the hold, mostly Vilkorani, but some Trellian as well.”

  I didn’t want to talk about wine. I didn’t want to talk at all. “Why are you doing this?” I burst out.

  “Why did I blackmail you into my bed? Several reasons.”

  That wasn’t what I’d meant, but I didn’t correct him. The broader question was one I was interested in, too. So I let him talk, his face uncharacteristically serious.

  “You and Xando, for instance. When I look at you, I don’t see two people in love. There’s none of the touching and cuddling and whispering you see in true lovers. I’ve never seen you kiss.”

  That was true, and yet we had, at one time. We’d walked round with hands permanently entwined, and we’d kissed, too. When had that changed?

  “You don’t even look at him,” Zak went on relentlessly. “Yet you look at me. You watch me constantly. That
’s not the behaviour of a woman who’s contented with her choice. That’s not a woman who’s getting everything she needs from her man.”

  I couldn’t speak. It was all true, and I knew it. I sipped my wine and listened.

  His voice was warm, casting a spell over me. “Then there’s Renni, another layer of complication. And here we all are, stuck on this tiny barge for the One knows how long. If we get into the rains, we’ll all be caged in the cabin getting more and more fractious. That’s too volatile a situation, and sooner or later it will explode. I’m forcing the issue so we get the explosion sooner rather than later, that’s all.”

  “Oh, so it’s just your altruistic nature at work, is it? How kind of you, saving us from ourselves.”

  He made no reaction to my snappishness. “Not entirely altruistic, no. I shall enjoy this very much, I assure you. And I’m going to make very sure that you enjoy it too. But you know, if you don’t want to do this, you can leave any time you want.”

  “Can I? Really?” After all he’d said? And was that disappointment scratching at my heart?

  “Of course. I’m not going to rape you. I’ve laid out my stall, so to speak. You know what I’m offering. You know what Xando’s offering. You can choose.”

  There was no shred of doubt in his mind. He knew what my answer would be. And so did I. After all, I knew exactly what Xando was offering.

  “But why? You weren’t interested in me, not in the slightest. You took no notice of me at all. Now… here we are. What changed?”

  He laughed, the teeth gleaming again. “Ah, good question! No, I wasn’t interested in you when I thought you were no more than a spoiled Akk’ashara brat – fallen on hard times, admittedly, but still. Just another vapid, silly woman, without a single thought in her head that wasn’t put there by someone else.”

  “It wasn’t interesting that I was being pursued by Hrandish warriors for killing one of their princes?”

  That brought a wider grin. “Well, I didn’t know the reason for all the unpleasantness outside the walls. Not at first. And the rumours swirling about you – they seemed too outlandish for words. Escaping Caxangur disguised as a servant? Ridiculous. Walking through mountains? Impossible. But you recognised my tattoo, and you have your plan, and that intrigues me. You are a lady of depth, Lady Flethyssanya of the Most Noble Line of Dre’allussina. You may succeed or you may fail, but either way it will be glorious. Have you any idea how – how sexy that is?”