Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2012 Adonis Devereux
ISBN: 978-1-77130-067-4
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Marie Medina
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To JMJ
THE SOLDIER’S LOTUS
Adonis Devereux
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
One death. She was owed one death, and Saerileth felt that at last, after a lifetime of waiting, that death would soon be in her grasp. Her heart rate increased ever so slightly, and Saerileth inhaled slowly. To give in to excitement was to disgrace herself; to lose control was to disgrace every Lotus in the guild.
She inhaled again, a slow, deep breath, and the overpowering scent of the purple hyacinths that filled the garden soothed her. For thirteen years this garden had been her refuge, this guildhouse her home. Now she would be leaving it. This dawn was the last she would see here. Saerileth closed her eyes and slowed her breath. All Lotuses received training in listening, but few could match her skills. Across the garden, separated from her by its entire length, two men spoke in low voices. She knew they discussed her, and she focused her attention on them.
“The Guild of the Red Lotus acknowledges receipt of the full payment for Saerileth, eighteen years of age, who has attained the rank of full-blown Lotus.” The guildmaster himself spoke, and it was pride to Saerileth to know she had earned that distinction. All her thirteen years of training had led to this moment, and even the thought that she might be able to obtain the death she was owed could not quite overpower the honor she felt at this instant.
“May I be permitted to see the Lotus?” The man who spoke was, Saerileth knew, not the one who had purchased her. He was an emissary merely. “Ulen Ahnok would not be pleased to see the arrival of a lesser Lotus.”
Saerileth noted the slight variance in the guildmaster’s breathing, and she knew that he was deeply insulted. His words, however, were smooth, his voice unperturbed. “Certainly. Lotus?” He glanced in her direction, and Saerileth obeyed the implied summons.
She traversed the garden with the light gait of a dancer, despite the tightness of the long skirt beneath her pallav, and when she stood before Ulen’s representative, her face demurely veiled in a portion of the long pallav, which wrapped over her shoulder and across the lower half of her face, she saw that her walk alone had brought the man to a full erection. She smiled, the curve of her lips hidden, but she knew that the light of her expression would touch her eyes.
“This is Saerileth, full-blown Red Lotus.” The guildmaster bowed deferentially toward her as he introduced her. “Would it please you, Lotus, to show your new master’s representative the symbol of your rank?”
Saerileth glanced over the man, sizing him up at once. He was Sunjaa, and he had the black skin of all his people. He was, to judge by the calluses on his hands and his wide-legged stance, a sailor. Doubtless he was the captain of the ship that was to take her to Arinport. “Is my new master so distrustful?” Saerileth spoke softly in the Sunjaa tongue, dropping her luminous blue eyes. “I am desolated to learn this.”
“Please, Lotus—” The captain half reached out to her, but she stepped back smoothly, avoiding his hand as if by chance.
“I live and serve at my master’s pleasure, however,” said Saerileth. She knew that her actions here would begin to drive the captain into obsession, and she needed this to be so. With a graceful lift of her left wrist, she revealed the soft, white skin of her forearm, and there the delicately inked tattoo of a full-blown Red Lotus met the captain’s gaze.
“I am sorry, Lotus.”
Saerileth acknowledged the guildmaster’s apology with a slight nod, and she withdrew once more to her place at the far side of the garden. She sat, almost letting her veil slide as she did so, giving the captain a tantalizing glimpse of her blooming cheek.
“Your master will not thank you for that, captain.” The guildmaster shook his head. “He will have much to do to overcome the resentment you have created just now.”
The captain said nothing, and Saerileth smiled beneath her veil. A Lotus, even a privately-owned one, could never be forced into anything; she must always be wooed. The captain would already have one reason not to deliver her as promised.
“Does the Lotus bring any attendants?” At last the captain found his voice. “What requirements does she have?”
“She will require food of the finest sort your master eats,” said the guildmaster. “Here in the guildhouse she has been trained in every art, including the culinary ones, but she will need to learn what best pleases the palate of Ulen Ahnok.”
“Yes.” The captain was no longer looking at the guildmaster. His gaze remained fixed on Saerileth, and she rose from her seat to look down at the lotus-filled pond, allowing the curve of her hips to be seen as she knelt by the pool.
“She will also require a dulcimer—”
“Dulcimer, sir?” asked the captain.
“An instrument of Ausir design.” The guildmaster sighed. “Are the Sunjaa so uncultured then?”
“We have an older culture and a longer history than any other nation of Men,” said the captain, and Saerileth knew, by the raised volume of his voice, that he spoke to her, hoping to find favor with her, but it was still at least partially for his master’s sake. She was not worried, however. She had an entire day’s sailing to get him to do her bidding.
Saerileth glided back toward the guildmaster then, and as she passed by the captain, passing near enough to touch, near enough for her perfume to waft over him, she tossed her head as though freeing a tangled curl from beneath her veil. “I also require, guildmaster, that my chest of herbs be placed in my cabin. It must be kept completely dry.” She did not look at the captain, but she heard his breathing speed up.
“See to it.” The guildmaster gave the order on her behalf, and Saerileth bowed her head. “Now, Lotus, if it pleases you to prepare for your journey to your new home?”
“Yes, guildmaster.” Saerileth could hear the captain’s pained words as she left.
“Why wouldn’t she order me herself?”
“I told you. You have insulted the Lotus. You will have much to do, as will your master, to soften her resentment.”
“I will do anything and everything she might require.”
Saerileth smothered her smile in her veil. Her breath was in danger of speeding up, too. One death. Only one death. She could not afford to make a mistake. This captain was already more than half hers, but she would not rush him. The ship departed in a quarter of an hour. By dawn tomorrow it would dock in Arinport. She had twenty-four hours. That would be plenty of time.
****
Screams and cries and the clanging of steel on steel.
Saerileth trembled, looking up at her nurse, not daring to speak. The closet was dark and stuffy, but she did not complain. This was a thing beyond complaint, a day beyond terror. The tumult grew fainter, but Saerileth did not move to open the closet. Neither did her nurse. They stared at each other, and Saerileth could scarcely make out the shape of the gash on her nurse’s brow. Blood dripped into her nurse’s eye. Saerileth wanted to wipe it away, but something, like fear but stronger, kept her motionless.
And then the closet door was wrenched open. A warrior, Sunjaa like the others, armored like the others, with a bloody sword like the others, stood there. But his face was beautiful like the sun at noon, and when he saw Saerileth and her nurse he shook his head.
“Abrexa’s chain! A child?” He scooped her into his arms.
****
Saerileth sat up in her bed. She had dreamt all the way to the end, and the nightmare had turned to joy. That was uncommon. More usually she woke in the midst of the clamor of the battle. That she had slept until the end she considered a good omen. She rose and made her way to the porthole. She could, by craning her neck, see the twin moons still high in the sky. She had woken precisely when she had intended. She glanced back around the cabin and sighed. She would have liked to take the dulcimer with her. Despite the captain’s ignorance, apparently Ulen Ahnok had researched her more thoroughly. A walnut dulcimer and two silver beaters had been waiting for her. But perhaps, once she had collected the death owed her, she could go back to the master who had purchased her. She bore him no ill will. He had, after all, made it through the screening process of the guild, so he would have to be an intelligent, educated, wealthy nobleman.
Saerileth patted the dulcimer. The herbs, on the other hand, she could not leave. She opened the tiny chest and pulled out the various packets. Two or three were in tiny, stoppered ceramic vials, and these she wrapped in linen before adding them to the small seal-skin bag. Seal-skin would keep the herbs dry even if she should fall into the water. She tucked the seal-skin bag into an inner pouch in one of the folds of her pallav. No one would know it was there.
The danger of her present undertaking struck her like a fist, and Saerileth inhaled deeply. The calming breaths failed. She shook her head, displeased with herself. By the moons she had at least an hour’s leeway, so she took the time to run through some dozen of the Lotus-Forms. The positions, the stretches, the swift jabs – none seemed to be possible given her tight-fitting skirt, but the seams were designed to give. The tightness gave way to freedom of movement, and when, fifteen minutes later, Saerileth readjusted her pallav, she was ready.
She rang the bell the captain had given her upon her coming aboard. As she heard the approaching footsteps, she sat back on the edge of the bed and draped her pallav across the lower half of her face.
“How may I serve the Lotus?” The captain himself had answered her summons, as Saerileth had known he would. Three glances at him over dinner, one whisper of his name, one half-touch of her hand on his arm as he passed, and he was hers. She knew it.
“Please, sir, close the door.” Saerileth purposely gave the captain more deference than his rank deserved, and she looked up at him through her long, black lashes.
His breath quickened, and Saerileth slowed her own as he closed the door. She closed her eyes. She could hear his pounding heart.
“How may I serve you?” he asked again. Though Saerileth’s eyes were still closed, she knew exactly where he stood, exactly how far he was from her.
“I have been sold,” said Saerileth, and she allowed her native Zenji accents to tinge her voice as she spoke. “I have been sold to a man three times my age, to one rich, yes, but one who – who cannot love me.” It was a line she would not have used had the captain been a more educated or cultured man, but his lack of knowledge of the ways of the nobility had been obvious to her. He was a commoner, and he had a commoner’s views. Though as a Lotus she was property, first of the guild and now of Ulen Ahnok, she was not accounted a slave. A Lotus was highly honored, and a commoner would consider her almost magical.
“What can I do for you?” asked the captain. “If you will bid me do anything, anything at all, for you, I would hold myself honored.”
Saerileth’s eyes filled with tears, and she allowed one to fall. “I know you are Sunjaa, one of the people of the Word. You have written your oath to Ulen Ahnok, have you not? How could I ask you to do anything that might jeopardize your word?”
“And I will here write for you, Lotus, a new oath, one that will bind me to you and your service for all my life.”
“I do not require so much as that.” Saerileth fixed her eyes on the captain, knowing that their cobalt blue was only enhanced by her unshed tears. “Just an hour. I cannot ask for more than that.”
“And what must I do for you in this one hour?” The hunger in the captain’s voice was greater than she had expected, but she did not have time now to adjust her influence.
“Set a fire in some part of the ship. Nowhere that would endanger anyone, of course!” Saerileth turned to face the captain, and she let her veil fall away.
“Abrexa fuck me.” The captain’s whispered oath was his only response to seeing her naked face, and Saerileth pretended not to hear it. He stared at her full, red lips as she spoke, and she could see the hardening of his shaft inside his breeches.
“I cannot go to Arinport. I … cannot.” Saerileth turned away again, but she did not lift her veil. Instead she let the captain look upon her profile in the purple moonslight. “If you cause some commotion in the ship, something that will keep everyone busy, prevent anyone from pursuing, I could take a lifeboat and be gone.”
“A small fire would not do this, Lotus.” The captain began to pace.
Saerileth lifted the edge of her pallav and hid the lower half of her face once more. She knew perfectly well that a small fire would not do what she required. She knew exactly where to damage the hull to make the ship so unseaworthy that it must be attended to immediately, to the exclusion of all else, but yet allowing enough time for it to be repaired before sinking. She would, if pressed, suggest it herself, but she hoped that the captain would think of it himself.
He did. “If you and I, Lotus, hit the hull in several places – but can you do this?” He paused, and his anxiety was greater than Saerileth wished. “Are you able to, if I give you a chisel, crack pitch? For I cannot do it alone, not in enough time.”
“For my liberty’s sake, sir, I can do anything necessary.” Saerileth did not find it necessary to mention that, due to her training in the arts of the Lotus-Forms, she could probably have broken the captain’s neck, despite the seeming fragility of her frame.
“Then I will bring you a chisel at once. Wait until you hear me pass by the outside of your door. I will have the lifeboat ready before we begin.”
“Yes, sir. May Melara Rose-goddess and Chained Abrexa both rain blessings on you.”
“I pray they may.” And he was gone.
Saerileth took up a place by the door and berated herself inwardly. She had behaved as badly as a budding Lotus! She had made a mistake only fit for newly-tattooed recruits. She had overshot her mark. He was too much in love with her. She only hoped that, in the midst of the confusion they were about to cause, she could find a way to leave him behind.
****
Saerileth shivered in the sea-spray. The lifeboat rocked perilously, and the captain’s muscles strained beneath his tunic as he rowed. The Sunjaa ship was still visible, but already they were well away. Saerileth could, by concentrating, still make out shouts from the ship, but the captain, she knew, could not. For another ten minutes they traveled in silence, the captain rowing as fast as he could. Saerileth watched him, and she did not dare to relax. She had failed to leave him behind, as he had met her halfway to the lifeboat and had remained at her side thereafter.
“We are free, Lotus.” The ship was at last out of sight, and even Saerileth could no longer hear the sailors. She was alone on the sea with one she had made obsessed with her.
“Thank you, captain.” Saerileth curled up in the corner of the lifeboat. She was afraid, afraid that she might have to collect a death not owed to her, to take a life for her own protection, and she did not want to.
“I have written my new oath, Lotus.” The captain let the oars hang in the oarlocks and moved to sit beside her. He pulled from beneath his tunic a rough parchment, not the papyrus that Saerileth had expected of
a Sunjaa. On it he had written Sunjaa hieroglyphs. “Can you read it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Saerileth bit her lip and forced her breath to slow. He had written out that he forswore all other allegiances, repudiated all other oaths, and bound himself to her only. “But I cannot accept such an oath, captain. It would bind me as well as you, bind me into the role of your mistress.”
“It has been written,” said the captain. “And so it is.”
“I shall not be your mistress,” said Saerileth, but she took the parchment nonetheless, tucking it into her pallav.
“My lover then!” The captain leapt upon her, taking her words as she had dreaded that he would. She had done her work far too well. In her fear that she might not succeed in gaining sufficient influence over him by the time they reached Arinport, she had overshot her mark. He was mad with desire for her.
“No.” Saerileth slipped from his grasp, and she saw the confusion on his face. He had not expected such abilities in her.
“For you I have thrown over everything!” His eyes grew wild. “You must reward your servant!”
“I never asked this of you,” said Saerileth. “And I beg you not to do this thing. Do not try to force yourself on me. It is forbidden.” She hoped against her better knowledge that her words would have some effect, but still the captain came on. He ripped at her pallav, trying to tear it from her. His hands sought her breasts, and Saerileth closed her eyes. She had not wanted this death.
As he pulled her toward him, she clasped her hands around his neck.
And snapped it.
Only when she had heaved the corpse overboard did she realize that the captain had, in his struggles, knocked the oars loose. She had no paddles of any kind, no way to steer, and she was out of sight of any shore. Despite her fear, however, Saerileth did not forget to tear up the parchment of the captain’s vile oath, scattering the tiny pieces onto the waves.
The Soldier's Lotus Page 1
