The Lotus Ascension

by Adonis Devereux

  “But still my sister.” Soren pulled her close again. “Always my sister.”

  “Always yours.” Sillara wanted nothing more than to cling to Soren forever. “Yours as I am no other man's.”

  “I know it. Your soul and your love are mine alone.”

  “Merieke is not good enough for you.” The words burst out of Sillara.

  “And Konas is not good enough for you! No man could be.” Soren's words did not seem prideful to Sillara, for she understood perfectly. No woman could deserve Soren. He was the paragon of men. But when it came to her, there was no question of desert. There was no thought of being good enough for Soren, for she simply was Soren's. Their love, their belonging to each other, was a fact like the earth beneath their feet. It simply was.

  “Soren, my love.” Merieke swept into Konas's garden, and Sillara wanted to scratch out Merieke's eyes. This woman, this slut who had bedded half of Arinport, had rights to Soren.

  Bile rose in Sillara's throat, and only Soren's arms around her kept her steady.

  “Yes, Merieke?” Soren continued to stroke Sillara's hair.

  “Konas tells us that these people name you their King and Sillara their Queen?” Merieke's voice seemed to Sillara to be dripping with poisoned honey.

  “That is so,” said Sillara. “They have named me Queen since my arrival, and they said that my King would step down from the sky as a gift from the gods. Soren is, clearly, a gift of the gods, and they would have him for their King.”

  Merieke chuckled, and Sillara hated the sound. “Well, it's just as well that Nathen is willing to go back tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Go back?” Sillara could not understand Merieke's meaning.

  “Yes, of course. Your father awaits news of you both, and it would be well if Lord Itenu—or should I call him 'Kamen' now that he is my father, too?” Merieke smiled and sat beside Soren and Sillara, entwining her arms around Soren's waist. “If Kamen should find out that his daughter's betrothal to the Ausir King is about to be overridden by desert savages.”

  “They are not savages,” said Sillara. “They have a culture of their own, and it may not be as ancient as Sunjaa, but it is certainly older than the Zenji!” She could not help the jab against Merieke's mother.

  “Can Nathen fly the balloon?” asked Soren. Sillara felt his disinterest in the subject.

  “I'm sure he can.” Merieke leaned up and kissed Soren's lips. “But don't worry, love. I'm not going back, not until we can leave together.”

  Sillara rose and stumbled back. She could not bear to see this, to see Merieke with Soren, and as she left, making her way, unseeing, back to the house the Desertmasters had given her, the only crumb of comfort she had was that Konas was not allowed near her. That was one pain Soren would be spared.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Konas laughed to himself as he sat near the town well and watched Nathen fiddle with the rigging of the balloon. The human did not know what went where, so Konas rose to go help him. But as he got to his feet, Merieke, with furtive glances, met Nathen there. Though they were far from anyone else and deemed their conversation secret, Konas, with his keen Ausir ears, heard every word.

  “When do you leave?” Merieke asked. She held a linen-wrapped bundle in the palm of her hand.

  “As soon as I can figure out where this goes.” Nathen held up a metal clasp attached to a longer strip of black silk.

  “Here.” Merieke handed Nathen the small packet. “Use it carefully.”

  “I will, sister. Thanks.” Nathen slipped it into the belt of his skirt.

  Merieke stretched and looked up at the sky. “What’s your plan, then?”

  “I’ll fly this damned Ausir contraption back to the oasis where father and Kamen are. When they ask where Sillara is, I’ll tell them Konas kidnapped her, and that will be the end of her betrothal to the Ausir King. And if not...” He patted the packet. “Once Kamen burns this gods-forsaken town to the ground, it’ll keep Konas’s hands off her. Haven’t you seen how familiar he is with Sillara now?”

  Merieke nodded. “He plays quite freely with her body.”

  “I wonder if they’ve fucked.” Nathen’s shoulders slumped, but then after a moment, he set his jaw and hardened his gaze. “I’ll saw more than his horns off if I find out he has.”

  Konas, having heard all this, strolled over with an easy smile. “Good morning. Looks like you could use a hand.”

  Nathen smiled back, his lies hidden under the guise of friendship. “Yes, I don’t know how to attach this.”

  Konas took the metal clasp and clipped it to a ring inside the basket.

  “Right,” Nathen said with a chuckle. “I was looking for something on the outside. Thanks.”

  Konas nodded. “No problem. It’s a good thing I’ll be going with you, then. You don’t seem too familiar with the way our balloons work.”

  Nathen’s smile vanished. “You’re going back, too.”

  After what Nathen had planned, Konas had no choice. If Konas did not go, Nathen would poison Kamen against him, and when he came for Sillara, he would kill Konas as quickly as he would any Desertmaster. “Of course. How else will you get back? You might go off in the wrong direction and miss the oasis by days.”

  Nathen sputtered some objection about watching after Sillara.

  Konas thought of Soren and how Sillara would be alone with him. Every part of him wanted to stay—his jealousy burned within him—but letting Nathen go through with his lies was just as bad. Konas was caught between two heavy stones, and he was the grain to be ground up.

  “Can you fly against an unfavorable wind?” Konas asked, saying nothing of his true feelings.

  Nathen shrugged and stared at Merieke.

  “There it is, then.” Konas readied the balloon for departure and then walked off to get provisions for the trip. Until he turned the corner, he heard every word of the siblings’ conversation.

  “Now what?” Merieke asked in a harsh whisper.

  “Just let me think.”

  “Well, think fast.”

  Konas got to the corner of a house and peeked around to see Nathen patting his belt.

  “Well, if I can’t get Kamen alone to tell him my story,” Nathen said, “this should do the trick.”

  Merieke leaned up and kissed her brother on the nose.

  “And what are you going to do?” Nathen asked, taking his sister by the waist and pulling her against him.

  Merieke put her hands flat on his chest. “Enjoy Soren, of course. I can’t wait until I can call him husband. Once this whole mess is sorted out.”

  “Have fun.” Nathen slapped her ass and playfully pushed her away.

  “Don’t worry, brother. Soon you’ll have your Sillara, and we’ll all be happy.”

  Nathen would lie, cheat, and perhaps even stoop to more desperate means to get Sillara for himself, so though Konas did not want to, he knew he would have to explain to Kamen his marriage to Sillara as soon as they arrived at the oasis. He could not give Nathen a chance to poison Kamen’s mind against him. This desperate thought gave Konas’s feet wings, and he sprinted to his house to gather his belongings. When he returned, he found Nathen alone and ready to go.

  “A fine day for a little trip.” Nathen smiled and took Konas’s bag. “Let’s get these Itenu children out of trouble.”

  But Nathen courted more trouble than he knew, and Konas could not wait to see his face when he learned that Sillara was already his wife.

  ****

  Konas steered the balloon the whole way back, and Nathen was so little help that Konas regretted not letting him just fly off by himself. He would have crashed and died in the trackless desert, and Konas would not have been forced to reveal everything so soon. Konas had hoped to inform Sillara’s parents of his marriage only after Sillara was safely back in Arinport, when they would be more amenable to hearing how their daughter had been secretly married.

  More than once on their journey Konas looked over at Nathen in an
noyance, but whenever Nathen caught his eye, they exchange false smiles of easy friendship. How could Nathen even think he could aspire to Sillara’s hand? He was simply not worthy, and any hope he had was nothing more than delusion. Konas could have laughed in his face for his presumption, but he held his peace. He would laugh in time, when Nathen realized that he never had a chance with her.

  In time Konas spied the oasis, a small patch of green and shade set in the middle of a sea of burning, yellow sand.

  “Finally.” Nathen stood up from where he had been lounging in the bottom of the basket. He had done nothing to help the trip.

  Konas rolled back the black silk flaps one by one, slowing their velocity and dropping them closer to the ground. The brilliant reflection of the sun off the white panels of the balloon made their approach seem like a falling star. When they landed, everyone was there with expectant, hopeful looks to meet them.

  Slaves took hold of the basket and pinned it to the grass as Konas reached up and grabbed the deflating silk balloon. He gathered it in folds against his chest, for he had to secure the balloon before he could greet Kamen and the others.

  But Kamen could not wait. He came up to the balloon and looked over the edge of the basket. “Where’s my daughter? Where’s Soren?”

  Konas said nothing at first. He did not want to have to explain everything while he was dealing with securing the balloon.

  Rage worked through Kamen’s features, and he twisted his mouth. “Did you leave my daughter dead?” His hands flew at Konas’s throat. “You took her out in your balloon. You killed her.”

  Konas wrestled with Kamen until he knocked the basket over and fell out. Kamen flipped Konas over and rolled up on top of him. Konas was a skilled fighter, but Kamen’s wrath lent him great strength. Besides, Konas had no desire to injure his wife’s father, so he fought defensively, shielding himself from Kamen’s blows.

  Suddenly Kamen was jerked off him, and Konas scrambled to his feet to find Darien holding Kamen back.

  “You killed my child!” The veins stood out on Kamen’s neck, and though his wife tried to soothe him, he would not hear her.

  “Sillara is well and unharmed,” Konas said. “Nathen and I came back to get help.”

  “Help?” Kamen, now calmer, broke Darien’s relaxed grip. “Why would she need help if she were well? And why didn’t my boy come back?”

  “He won’t leave her side.” The thought of Soren sitting with her, holding hands and talking, pained Konas. “She’s trapped in a town called Tambril’s City. It’s peopled by savages who claim her as their Queen. And they say they’ll have Soren as their King, too.”

  “What?” Ajalira asked. “Tambril? An Ausir name. Are these people Ausir?”

  “No.” Konas dusted himself off. “They were led to their oasis home by a half-Ausir named Tambril. He came from the east with a people before the coming of the Fihdal or the Vadal into the west. His people intermarried with the Sunjaa for a time, but as they became numerous, they were banished for polluting their bloodlines.” He leveled an accusatory stare at the representatives of what he considered a racist people. “Tambril went into exile with his mixed blood people. He built their city and gave them technology beyond their understanding. Now the savages worship Sillara, to their minds the perfect mixed blood being, both of Ausir and Sunjaa heritage, and they will not let her go.”

  Kamen spoke through gritted teeth. “Won’t let her go? We’ll see about that.”

  Nathen appeared then, smiled at Konas, and then, turning to Kamen, opened his mouth to speak. Konas sensed that, in his youthful boldness, Nathen was going to lie right in front of Konas. Whom would the Sunjaa believe, after all? One of their own, or the horned foreigner?

  Konas prevented him. “There’s one more thing, Lord Itenu.”

  Kamen, who had turned away, looked back. “What’s that?”

  “I’ve married Sillara.”

  Every jaw dropped open. Even the slaves, who were busy tending to their various duties, stopped what they were doing and looked at Konas in astonishment.

  Nathen’s mouth worked until he was able to form the word. “Married?”

  Konas smiled at him the exact false grin Nathen had given him. “Yes. Couldn’t you tell?”

  “I will speak with you alone, tutor,” Kamen said. He led Ajalira away to their tent, and Konas followed, leaving Nathen standing speechless and directionless.

  Once inside the tent, Kamen whirled on Konas. “Explain yourself.”

  Konas looked at Kamen and then Ajalira. Though Kamen was clearly angry, Ajalira was harder to read. If she was angry, she buried her feelings deep down. As she was Tamari, however, Konas assumed she would not hide how she felt. She must truly have been intrigued by this turn of events.

  “We hit a nasty sandstorm,” Konas said.

  “Yes, I heard.” Kamen crossed his arms over his scarred, bare chest. “What does this have to do with marrying my daughter?”

  “Our balloon went down in the middle of nowhere. We ran out of water quickly, but we stumbled upon Tambril’s City.” Konas let out a long, slow breath, steadying himself for the lie. “When I saw cloaked, loinclothed savages, I knew Sillara was in danger. They looked at her like men bereft of reason and civility, so I told them she was my wife. I had to protect her from the barbarians.”

  Kamen nodded, and as his anger cooled, his lips turned up in a half smile. “You Ausir are a clever people. You marry Sillara in name only to protect her, keeping her safe for your brother.”

  Konas nodded and smiled back. He was not about to disabuse Kamen of his mistaken notions, at least not yet. The truth of the matter would be more palatable coming from Sillara herself. If thinking he married Sillara by proxy kept Kamen happy for now, that was fine with Konas. Kamen would know the truth eventually, however, so Konas felt it necessary to ease his father-in-law into the truth.

  “Tivanel never intended to marry Sillara,” Konas said.

  Kamen’s good humor evaporated. “What?”

  “He still loves your wife.”

  Kamen took Ajalira’s hand in his. “Then your brother is a fool and knows nothing of us.” He looked a long time at Ajalira, and she stared back into his eyes. Konas did not interrupt their wordless conversation, for their looks told him that they were alone in their thoughts, communicating with their hearts what words could never express.

  “I rejected King Tivanel before Sillara was conceived,” Ajalira said to Konas. “Take this message to your brother: I will never wed him, not under any circumstance.”

  She did not have to say it; Konas knew that the circumstance she alluded to was Kamen’s death. Kamen was human and would therefore die an old, withered man while Ajalira still lived in her bloom of youth. How would she live without Kamen, then, all those long centuries? But Konas recalled Kamen’s and Ajalira’s words at their birth of the twins: “not you without me, nor I without you.” When Kamen passed into death, would Ajalira deny the world her continued life and beauty? For a mere man, would she kill herself? These were questions Konas could not answer, for he was already in the fullness of his manhood, though Sillara was yet young. Given her half-Ausir lifespan compared to his full one, they would die about the same time. Konas would never have to make such a choice, and he could not imagine the world without Sillara in it. He could not imagine a place not filled with her many-voiced song.

  “I will tell him,” Konas said, “but he will not listen to me. He never has. He’s sure he can win your hand.”

  Kamen squeezed Ajalira’s hand. “Her hand is mine alone, now and forever.”

  Konas turned the conversation back to Sillara. “The savages out in Tambril’s city are fanatics who believe their Queen and King have come to them predestined. They would rather kill the Itenu children than let them go. They have said as much to me, that it is better they die than live apart from them.”

  “We will assail them,” Kamen said.

  Konas shook his head. “It would be impossible t
o march an army across the desert. It’s too remote, well beyond any of the mapped oases.”

  “What can be done then?”

  “Unless they can escape by stealth, they will be trapped there forever.”

  “You know the city,” Ajalira said. “Can you get them out?”

  Konas would love to sneak Sillara away, but if possible, he would abandon Soren to his cage. “I’ll try.”

  Kamen patted Konas on the back. “Come around to our tent this evening. Let’s share a meal before we return.”

  ****

  The word spread through the camp of Konas’s marriage to Sillara, and Nathen fumed at the knowledge. He sat with his brother in the doorway of his father’s tent and stared his open hatred at Konas the whole day. Orien and Darien seemed unaware of Nathen’s mood, however, for Nathen dealt and spoke lightly with them. He kept his wrath hidden, pent up in his breast, and Konas wondered what the lovestruck youth would attempt on the return journey. Would Nathen even need to go back? Or would he make some excuse, persuading Darien to force Konas to take him with him? And then what? Nathen would throw him from the balloon and kill him.

  Konas had to let tomorrow worry about itself. The sun was setting, and he had a meal to share with his parents-in-law. Konas was thrilled to think of himself as part of the Itenu family. As Seranimesti, he was proud as any Ausir, but as Itenu, he shared a new life with his beloved bride. He missed Sillara, so he hummed one of her tunes, augmented in his memory by her own voice. Konas could not wait for the dawn, to fly back into her arms, to defy the savages of the oasis-town and lead Sillara to freedom. Freedom to love him again. Freedom to live the life Konas had always wanted to share with Sillara.

  Ajalira and Kamen greeted Konas warmly at the doorway to their tent and bade him enter. As Konas slipped in, he glanced back at Darien’s tent to see Nathen still sitting in the gathering gloom murdering Konas with his eyes. He would deal with Nathen soon enough.