“I do not know of what you are speaking,” the woman said nervously and moved away from Kigva, who followed after her and tugged on her sleeve.
“My mistress is the wife of an important man,” Kigva said low. “She wants to help, but dares not do so publicly. I know there are women of importance involved in this for I saw them marching in the streets that day you went to the emperor’s palace. My mistress has sent me to learn more and to aid you.”
“Who is your mistress?” the woman wanted to know, but Kigva shook her head.
“I dare not say her name for her well-being, but you would be surprised if you knew it.”
“Say nothing,” the woman’s younger female companion said, trying to draw her friend away. “This could be an attempt to harm us all.”
“Please,” Kigva pleaded, “I mean you no evil.”
Turning, the two women hurried away from her.
Sighing, Kigva was about to move away from the Razi kiosk when another woman there murmured, “There is a meeting tonight in the house of the widow of the feather merchant, Aja.”
“When?” Kigva asked without even reversing herself.
“At sunset,” came the reply.
“Thank you,” Kigva said, but the woman had already moved off. She found the feather merchant’s house by watching in the street for the cloaked women hurrying into one particular dwelling. She joined a small party of them, pulling her hood up over her head to shield her face as they were all doing.
The meeting began. Kigva was surprised to see the headmistress of the Pleasure Guild step forward, throw back her hood and address the gathering.
“Women of Hetar,” Gillian said, “it is past time that our voices were heard. For too long have we been silent and docile while our leaders have brought the people of Hetar to poverty. Meanwhile, they have grown richer. Now Gaius Prospero, whom I well know, claims that this land across the Sagitta is a danger to us. That we must attack them before they attack us. He lies! And we all know he has lied to us before. This is not to protect Hetar. It is to enrich the emperor and his friends. We must resist this latest assault on Hetarian families that will only weaken us.
“Terah is a peaceful land. For centuries the Coastal Kings have traded with them, but never have the Terahns allowed any Hetarian to put a foot on their soil or even sail within sight of their coast. And yet Gaius Prospero claims they are a danger to us? How? He would risk the lives of our men for a war that need not be fought. But the Crusader Knights and the Mercenary Guild grow restless and he fears them.
“Our emperor is also a greedy man. He seeks the wealth of Terah. Not for Hetar and its folk, but for himself and his cronies. Look how we were told that the Outlands posed a danger to Hetar. That if we would conquer it, its lands would be divided among our citizens and its people would give us cheap labor as slaves. Its herds, its flocks, its mountain wealth would be ours. But they are not ours. The clan families of the Outlands were gone. Their herds and flocks were gone. And Gaius Prospero and the magnates have taken the majority of the land for themselves.
“Now this emperor tells us that Terah is a threat to us, but we will conquer it and its lands, its people, and its wealth will be ours. I do not believe Terah is a threat to us, nor do I believe that its lands and wealth be ours if we conquer it. They will be Gaius Prospero’s and the magnates’.
“Many men will die in this attempt and there is no guarantee that Hetar will prevail over Terah. Our men must sail across the Sagitta, and they do not know what awaits them when they get to the other side. We know so little of Terah, my sisters. But I do know that if we attack this peaceful place they will resist. Whether we take it or not matters little. Our men will be killed. Who will take care of us when that happens?
“The other provinces are divided in this matter. The Shadow Princes will not aid us, nor will the Forest Lords. The Coastal Kings do not like Gaius Prospero, especially now he has taken their lands for himself and his friends and their vessels for this ill-advised venture. They cannot defy him openly, but they will do their best to thwart him. Only Squire Darah, the governor of the Midlands, sits in the emperor’s pocket.”
A woman stood up. “I am from the Midlands. Most of our sons have been conscripted to work in the factories of the Coastal Kingdom or as servants to the Mercenaries or the Crusader Knights. Our farms are old and the land tired. We were promised new lands, but few have been forthcoming for us. My brother and his family died last winter in the Outlands because they could not afford to keep the little house they built warm. Now my two oldest sons slave in the factories for the magnates and my younger one was recently taken to serve the Guild of Mercenaries as a servant lad. My daughters and I are left to work our land with my crippled husband. They would have taken him, too, but for his infirmity. Where is the justice in that?”
“There is no justice in Hetar any longer,” another woman said sadly.
“No, there is not,” Lady Gillian agreed. “Our once-proud country with its laws and its customs no longer exists. But why should we stand idly by as Hetar slides further into chaos?”
“We are but women,” came the answer. “It is not our duty to rule or to instruct our men in that manner. It is tradition in Hetar that women are the lesser.”
“Why should we be?” Lady Gillian asked her audience. “We manage the Pleasure Houses. We manage our families. Those of you wed to men of business more often than not are involved with your husbands’ work. We bear the children of Hetar and teach them. A life of pampered and privileged leisure may be fine for some, but even those women will lose all they have if we do not stop Gaius Prospero and his minions from forcing us into a war that need not be fought. Will those men care for Hetar’s widows and orphans? Have they done so in the past?” Lady Gillian looked out at the other women. “You know they have not. How many of you have taken in your sisters and their children? We do not need another war!”
“You say that this Terah is not a threat to us,” a voice came from the crowd. “But how do you know that for certain? Do the men who are our leaders not know better than you?”
“Nay, they do not,” came the quick reply. And then Lady Gillian held out her hand to a shrouded figure who had been standing near her. “I bring you proof positive, women of Hetar. I bring you the Domina of Terah herself. Lara, daughter of Swiftsword and Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries. She is a child of Hetar as are we all.”
Stepping forward, Lara pushed back the hood on her cloak, smiling at the gasp from the large group of women crowded into the feather merchant’s house. “I come in peace, my sisters, and bring you greetings from my husband and dear lord, Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah. As Lady Gillian has told you, Terah is a peaceful place. We wish no war with Hetar. If the truth be known the Terahns desire nothing more than to be left alone to pursue their crafts, which have been sold here in Hetar for several centuries. We are not a warlike nation, but we will protect ourselves if we are attacked.”
“You say you are of Hetar, yet you speak for Terah,” said a woman.
“I was born in Hetar and lived my early years here, but I am now the wife of Terah’s ruler, and it is fitting that I take his land for my own.”
“You have magic,” another voice said.
“I do,” Lara replied, “else I should not be here tonight to greet you all and answer your questions. My magic has grown stronger over the years, but I have used it only for good—except once when I used it to punish someone who was most wicked.”
“You say Terah is a peaceful place and means Hetar no harm,” a woman near the front said. “Why should we believe you? It is said you betrayed Hetar.”
“And who tells you that?” Lara said with a small chuckle. “Gaius Prospero? Do you know why he speaks ill of me, my sisters? Because he lusted after me and I refused him. Now he would lead the men of Hetar into a war as he led them into the Winter War. Do you recall the seven carts piled high with the dead that were driven to his door when that debacle concluded? There are surely s
ome of you in this room tonight who lost loved ones then.”
A murmur of assent arose from among the crowd.
“It is said your magic caused those deaths,” a woman finally said.
“I used no magic in the Winter War,” Lara told them quietly. “But I did fight by the side of my then-husband, Vartan of the Fiacre, who was later murdered in a plot fostered by Gaius Prospero. Hetar invaded the Outlands and tried to enslave two of the clan families. Gaius Prospero believed they were weak and disunited, but they were not. The five other clan families came to the aid of their brothers and sisters and drove Hetar from their lands.”
“You fought by your husband’s side?” a voice asked, disbelieving.
“She lies! The clan families are a myth. There was no one in the Outlands when we reclaimed it. It was empty and fertile land,” another voice cried out.
“Land confiscated by Gaius Prospero and his friends,” a third voice said.
Lara shrugged off her long enveloping dark cloak. She was garbed in the leather pants and the cream silk shirt she had once favored. “I do not lie,” she told the gathering. Then reaching back over her shoulder she withdrew Andraste, her sword, from her scabbard and swung it over and around her head. “Sing, Andraste!” she commanded the sword. “Sing for the women of Hetar, I pray you!”
It was then that the women saw in the exquisitely decorated hilt of the sword the head of a woman whose emerald eyes opened and fixed them all with a fierce stare. Then the sword began to sing in a deep and dark voice. “I am Andraste! I will drink the blood of the invader, and the unjust as is my right! Let Gaius Prospero and those who follow him beware my sting!”
Lara placed the sword before her, Andraste’s stern face looking out at the women. “I was taught to use this weapon by Lothair, a Shadow Prince,” she explained. “I am a woman first, but when I must be I am a warrior. As for the lies told you about the Outlands, it was my magic that removed the clan families to a place of safety from the danger Hetar posed for them. They, too, were peaceful folk, content to care for their flocks and herds, their gardens and mines.” Lara did not mention the Shadow Princes’ part in taking the clan families to the New Outlands. If the women believed that she alone was responsible for the rescue they would believe her magic even stronger than it was, and that was not a bad thing.
A deep silence enveloped the room as the women took in all Lara had said to them.
Lady Gillian finally broke the quiet. “We must force the emperor to put aside his plans to invade another peaceful land. If Gaius Prospero would govern us, then he must do so fairly and justly. He and the High Council must spend their time working to overcome the problems we have here in Hetar, not in planning wars that only enrich them and impoverish us.”
Lara slipped Andraste back into her scabbard. She looked out at the women. “My sisters,” she said, “I beg you to dissuade Gaius Prospero from this tragic mistake. Do not invade Terah. My husband and our people stand ready to defend our lands, and we will prevail.” Then she turned to Lady Gillian. “Thank you for letting me speak,” Lara said. She reached for her cloak, putting it about her shoulders. “May the Celestial Actuary give you wisdom and keep you in peace,” Lara said and with a flourish of her hand she disappeared in a pale mauve haze.
Moments later she reappeared in her own chambers. Mila, her serving woman, jumped at her mistress’s appearance. “I don’t think I will ever get used to you doing that,” she said with a nervous chuckle.
Lara laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She handed Mila her long cape, and removing Andraste from her back, set the sheathed sword in her place above the hearth in the dayroom. “I’m going to lie down for a little while,” she told Mila. “Being but half-faerie, I am sometimes exhausted by the appearing and reappearing.”
Mila nodded. “I put a decanter of fresh-squeezed juice by your bed,” she said.
Lara nodded her thanks, and entering her bedchamber changed into a loose robe and lay down, falling into a slumber almost immediately. But her sleep was troubled, as it had been in the last few weeks. She kept hearing a voice calling her name and twice now she had found herself summoned to the Dream Plain only to sense another presence but not be able to see it or communicate with it, whatever it was. Awakening after a restless few hours she poured herself a goblet of juice and sipped it thoughtfully. Something was missing, she realized, and she knew that there was only one person who could help her. She needed to speak with Kaliq, but he had been avoiding her summons. That in itself was odd and only increased her curiosity. She sensed she could not remember something—what it was escaped her.
Magnus entered her bedchamber. “How goes your campaign to undermine Gaius Prospero?” he asked her with a small smile. He flung himself down next to her.
“You’re back,” she said. “How is Uncle Arik? All is well at the Temple of the Great Creator? And aye, my campaign goes well, I believe.”
“My uncle sends his regards,” the Dominus said. “He wants to know when you will give me an heir. No female can inherit the title of Dominus, as you well know.” He ran a finger down her arm. “You are looking impatient with me,” he grinned.
“There will be no more offspring until I am certain Terah is safe from Gaius Prospero and his ambitions,” Lara told her husband. “We have spoken on this before.”
“Will we ever really be safe from Hetar?” Magnus Hauk asked his wife.
“Probably not,” Lara admitted, “but carrying a child weakens my powers. You do not want me weakened right now, my lord. There is more going on in Hetar than meets the eye. The lady Gillian has reached an age where she must give up her power to another. Her successor will be the lady Farah, who is the mother of Lord Jonah, who has, as you are well aware, married Gaius Prospero’s divorced wife, Vilia. Tonight I saw Vilia’s serving woman among those gathered to listen. Her hood fell back a moment. I have only seen her twice but I recognized her. It is obvious that this movement of women is growing in power, and Vilia has sent her servant to learn what she can and gauge the danger. But to whom? Vilia can have no loyalty left to Gaius Prospero, which can only mean she does whatever she does for her new husband. I believe Lord Jonah is positioning himself to overthrow Gaius Prospero.”
“How is it that you can see all these machinations after simply glimpsing a lady’s servant, Lara? Are you even certain this woman was who you say?”
“I never forget a face,” Lara replied quietly. “And as for how I see what I do, my lord husband, it is because I am Hetarian-born. Deception and subterfuge are in every Hetarian’s nature, Magnus, even one who is half-faerie. Never forget that.”
“Do you warn me?” he asked softly.
“I should never betray you or Terah,” Lara replied as softly.
He pulled her down into his arms and kissed her mouth in a slow and leisurely fashion. “Give me a son, my faerie wife,” he said.
“Not yet,” she told him again as she had every time he had asked. She loved him, but his trusting Terahn nature would not allow him to fully understand the dangers they faced. It was up to her, Lara realized, to protect him and in doing so, to protect Terah. She pulled him back down to her and kissed him fiercely. “Do you want to take pleasures with me, Magnus?” and she smiled when his turquoise eyes lit up in answer to her question.
Her fingers began to unlace his shirt carefully. Anticipation, Lara knew, was always stoked by going slowly. Pulling the shirt over his head Lara pushed him onto his back and smoothed her hands over his broad chest. Bending her golden head she first nibbled at his nipples, scoring them lightly with her teeth, and then began to lick at his flesh with long sweeps of her tongue. “Ummm,” she said. “You taste salty and smell of leather and horse, my lord.” Her head moved lower as her fingers began to undo his leather riding pants. She slipped a cool hand beneath the leather, reaching down to fondle him. Then she moved to draw the riding pants down over his slender hips and long legs.
Lara wiggled her way back up his
body until they were level again. Then sitting up she pulled off her sleep robe and climbed atop the Dominus. “Now, my lord, we shall begin again,” she said. Lowering her head and bending her body she began to lick and nibble at him, sending little shivers up and down his spine. She was very, very thorough. Reaching up, she unbound her long gilt-colored hair and trailed it slowly up and down his torso. He shuddered. Straddling him, her buttocks toward him, Lara began to caress his rod, which had already burgeoned. Her fingers reached beneath him to cup his seed sac in her palm. She gently squeezed it, careful not to give him any pain. Her supple fingers fondled the pouch and he groaned. His rod stood straight and tall. Lara bent to kiss its head, drawing the flesh back to view the garnet-colored head. A tiny bead of moisture glistened in its single eye.
“Enough!” he growled, pulling her down and onto her back. His lips met hers in a fiery kiss, his tongue chasing hers about the cavern of her mouth. “You’re a wicked temptress, my faerie wife,” he told her. His fingers now sought her core, pushing past her nether lips to bury themselves within her. She was very wet and deliciously hot. Soon he would sheath his love rod inside her, but for now he wanted to tease her a bit. The three fingers moved slowly back and forth in a leisurely manner. “I love taunting you,” he whispered against her mouth.
“I love it when you do,” she murmured back, her green eyes closing as she enjoyed the sensations he was creating within her. “But do not be long,” she said. “I need you inside me.”
He played with her for a short while more, and then withdrawing his fingers he mounted her and thrust deep inside her. Lara sighed and raked her nails lightly down his long back. Magnus Hauk began to move, slowly at first and then with increasing rapidity. What was it about Lara that, no matter how many times they coupled, he could not get enough of her? He groaned with the pleasure his body was receiving from the simple possession of her.
Lara thrashed beneath him. He was very hard, long and thick. And oh so skilled with his love rod. Never had she known a mortal who was so proficient in passion. He forced a hand between them and played with her already excited love bud. But when he next reached beneath her to push a single finger into her other channel Lara gasped with a mixture of utter pleasure and a trepidation that she did not understand. “Magnus!” she cried out and then she was overcome with pleasure as her juices crested, bathing his love rod as his own juices mushroomed forth to fill her with his heated tribute.
The Twilight Lord Page 28
