by Джеффри Лорд
His hands rose and encircled her long, fine neck as if he was going to strangle her. His fingers played lightly along the line of her jaw, then crept around and stroked the nape of her neck. They crept lower, found the hook that held the gown, and slipped it open. Tarassa shrugged her shoulders, and the gown slipped from her body and flowed down off the cushions onto the floor with a faint hiss.
Somehow that hiss was one of the most exciting sounds Blade had ever heard. After it died away he could see all of Tarassa’s equally exciting body. Her olive skin was evenly tanned from head to foot. Her breasts held their subtle curves through every movement. Her flat belly seemed to flow down into superbly turned thighs with a neat triangle of dark hair nestling between them. Blade ran his hands down her spine to cup and stroke her firm buttocks. She gasped and lowered herself until her body was resting against his from head to toe, her hair flowing over his face and her lips still nuzzling the side of his neck.
She seemed to want to ride him, but this was not Blade’s pleasure at the moment. For once, it mattered to him to take a woman the way he wanted her. She was a princess and the ruler of Parine’s thousands of subjects, but here and now on this couch in her palace she would for once submit to the will of another.
Tarassa suddenly found herself being gripped by two arms with steel muscles. The long fingers of two large hands closed on her so gently that they could not have bruised, but so hard she hadn’t a chance or a hope of escaping or moving except by Blade’s will. He rose, and she rose with him. Then he was turning her over, lowering her onto her back on the cushions with enormous strength and determination and yet also an enormous gentleness. She felt herself in the grip of a will so powerful that it didn’t need to show off, but merely proceeded straight to its goal. She was that goal, and the realization filled her with an excitement she had never known or even imagined possible.
Blade sensed that excitement in the woman he held and rejoiced in it. His own arousal was mounting with terrible force and terrible speed. A fight to wait while the woman under him rose to meet him would be a fight he was certain to lose. For once he would not have to wage that fight.
Blade thrust with enormous force and eagerness into the princess. He felt her match that force as her arms and legs clamped tightly around him, match the eagerness as her cries of delight echoed around the chamber. He pressed upon her, driving her body down as deeply into the cushions as he drove himself down into her.
Such fury and excitement could have only one ending. That ending came for both of them with a sudden force that was still more terrible than what had gone before. The princess screamed as if she were in deadly pain. Her body jerked and twisted under him; she would have writhed and heaved herself about desperately if Blade’s weight had not been upon her.
Then Blade soared up to his own peak and passed it. He let out a great gasp instead of a cry and held to the princess like a drowning man holding onto a log. He heard her gasp in turn as his arms locked around her like steel bands and his legs thrashed wildly between hers, as if he were struggling to drive himself still deeper into her and pour out the last of his enormous desire and excitement. He would have controlled himself if he could have, but for the moment that was far beyond him. He was as helpless in the grip of his exploding desire as a child in the arms of its nurse.
The explosion came swiftly. It passed as swiftly. Blade found the strength to roll off the woman, and she found the strength to roll toward him so that they lay together, her breasts and thighs against his shoulders and buttocks. It was in that position that a quick, infinitely relieving sleep came over them.
The sleep lasted only an hour or so. Then they rose, bathed, and returned to the couch for a more leisurely, more tender joining.
They spent the rest of the day and all of that night in the bath chamber, sleeping, bathing, making love, eating and drinking from the silver platters and cups brought in every few hours, and talking. As Princess Tarassa had promised, Blade had ample opportunity to tell of his adventures in detail. Whenever the princess thought his interest in storytelling was fading, she would draw him to the couch. Somehow he always rose from there ready to continue telling his tale and answering her questions as fast as she threw them at him.
It was obvious that Tarassa was not just gratifying her personal curiosity. In this chamber she was a woman, indulging in all the pleasures she was capable of enjoying and giving all that she was capable of giving. Yet she was still the ruler of Parine, ruler of a small and lonely land whose safety depended heavily on learning all that could be learned about those who might become its enemies. Blade had seen more of the inner workings of the Empire of Saram than anyone who had come her way in many years. Because of this, she would have spent hours or days in his company if he had been foul-mouthed and ugly, or even seventy years old, diseased, half blind, and impotent. That she was able to find so much pleasure in doing her duty was an extra gift.
Often she made reference to things that Blade did not understand without immediately explaining them to him.
«Would you say that His Magnificence Kul-Nam is mad?»
Blade sipped wine and nibbled on a rough sandwich of flat, dark bread and goat’s-milk cheese while he searched for the right words.
«I would say that he is not entirely sane at the moment. He is likely to become less and less sane as time goes by, but how rapidly I do not know.»
«Does his present madness affect his ability to rule?»
«It seems to be making him dangerously sensitive to anything that seems to threaten his dignity, let alone his power. It has already led to some unjust and unwise moves. Remember that rebellious town?»
She nodded. «But he is not yet unfit to rule?»
«Ask a question I can answer,» he said, slapping her playfully on the rear. Then he went on, soberly. «He is not the best ruler that Saram might have. But so far he is not so bad that civil war, chaos, and the onslaught of the Steppemen would be preferable. If it were left up to me, I would probably grit my teeth, hold my nose, and do what I could to keep Kul-Nam alive and on his throne until there was someone better to put in his place.»
Tarassa nodded. «You sound very much like Count Durouman.»
«Who is Count Durouman?»
«Oh, a nobleman who commands a squadron in the Royal Fleet of Nullar. He was a friend of my husband’s, and I have taken his counsel on several occasions.»
Blade was absolutely certain that Tarassa had told him the truth about Count Durouman. He was just as certain that she had not told him the whole truth. He made a mental note of the name, for some occasion when he could catch Tarassa off her guard.
Blade found no such occasion that night, and after a while he gave up listening and waiting. No matter what pleasures Princess Tarassa might allow herself, the statesman and the ruler were always there along with the woman.
Eventually they fell asleep in each other’s arms. When they awoke it was dawn. Blade knew that, because sometime during the night a panel had been opened in the ceiling of the chamber. Pale pink dawn light and a cool, scented breeze crept in.
Tarassa was sitting beside him, propped up on a stack of pillows, still entirely naked. She had a carved board across her knees and a piece of parchment spread on it. She was writing on the parchment with quick, bold strokes, dipping her pen in a silver inkpot held out to her by a kneeling servant girl.
Finally she folded up the parchment, shoved it under her pillow, and dismissed the girl. Then she turned to Blade, who was watching with an expression carefully intended to show a polite lack of curiosity.
«That was a letter to Prince Durouman.»
«I thought he was a count.»
«Indeed, he is that, among the nobility of the Kingdom of Nullar. But he is by right a prince, for he is the true heir to the throne of Saram.»
«He is of the house that Kul-Nam’s grandfather overthrew?»
«Yes. He is the great-grandson of the emperor who perished. The kings of Nullar have been goo
d to the exiles over the past century, for they have no great love for the usurpers of Saram. At the same time, they have been cautious. They have given the exiles titles and honor, wealth and positions of trust. They have never been willing to aid them in an attempt to return to their rightful place upon the throne of the Empire.»
«That is not unwise of them. The attempt might fail, with nothing to show for it but another war with the Empire.»
«That is true. Or rather, it has been true. What you have told me and what I have heard from others suggests that times are different now. As Kul-Nam grows more and more bloodthirsty in gripping his power, he will put more and more people in fear of him. In the end he will weaken that which he seeks to strengthen.»
«So you think it is time for Prince Durouman to strike?»
«It is time for him to know all that I have learned and to consider what he should do. I will ask for your help in speaking to him.»
«You think he is so much better than Kul-Nam that it is worth a civil war to place him on the throne of Saram?»
«I do. I would ask you to take my word for it, but you are not a man to do that.»
«I am not. I gather you have summoned him here?»
«Yes. I do not know when he will come, for he must come alone and secretly. He is negotiating a marriage with the king’s daughter, Princess Varra, and he will be careful to do nothing to endanger it. But he will come, sooner or later.»
«That is good,» said Blade. He reached out a hand and stroked her hair, then her cheek. «We have time for ourselves, then.»
«We do,» she said with a smile. Her own hand reached out and stroked Blade intimately. Her other hand moved under the pillow and drew out the letter, then placed it on the floor beside the couch.
«So that it won’t get wrinkled,» she said, and turned to him.
Chapter 19
The letter to Prince Durouman could not go off for several days. After it was sent, nothing Blade or Princess Tarassa could do would bring Prince Durouman to them any faster. So they put him out of their minds and turned to the work at hand.
Blade quickly understood why Princess Tarassa’s subjects respected her and were willing to bear the expense of her little pleasure palace and her other indulgences. Out of every ten waking hours, she devoted nine to the work of ruling Parine and only one to her personal affairs and pleasures. When she was not at her desk reading or dictating state papers, she was in her audience chamber hearing complaints, dealing out a brisk but even-handed justice, presenting or receiving gifts. When she was in neither of those places, she was in the saddle crossing and recrossing the island. Once she even boarded one of Parine’s few galleys and spent an exhausting and uncomfortable week touring the other eight islands that made up the principality.
The only thing she did for her own pleasure was to move her household from the marble palace to the Prince’s Suite in the main castle overlooking the harbor. That way, Blade could more easily keep an eye on his ship and still spend each night with her. Even that meant giving up the luxury of the palace for a sparsely furnished, dank, and generally grim suite of cramped rooms at the top of the castle keep.
Blade had no real work after the first few days. The workers of Parine’s modest shipyard knew their business, their tools were good, and their backs were strong. As the days went by, Blade realized that by hovering over the workers he could do nothing except annoy them and probably slow down their labor. His ship was in the best possible hands.
The galley’s crew was just as well off. Word rapidly got around the town and the island beyond it who these men were and what they’d done. They found themselves greeted as heroes of a battle against the pirates, who were cordially hated in Parine, and victims of the tyranny of Kul-Nam, who was hardly more popular. They were wined, they were dined, they found all the women the loneliest sailor could hope for, and they seldom had to pay for anything.
Blade had been worried that his crew might be jealous of his relationship with the princess. Instead, he occasionally found himself being almost jealous of his sailors. On an average day they saw a good deal more of their girls than he saw of Princess Tarassa. Their girls did not have to work twelve hours a day ruling Parine!
Blade found himself spending many hours of his free time talking war and politics with the commandant of the castle. The commandant was the first of the four officers who’d visited Kukon upon her arrival. When he was not putting on an act, he was a sensible enough man, well educated and obviously a competent soldier. He came from one of Parine’s oldest families-in fact, from one older than Princess Tarassa’s own.
«Three hundred years ago we had as strong a claim to the principality as her forefathers,» he said. «As little as a century ago the prince had to cast two of our house from the West Cape cliffs for plotting against him. But those days are long past, and no one wishes our princess anything but prosperity and happiness, and her son after her. What the gods send to them, they send to us also.»
«To Princess Tarassa!» said Blade, raising his cup, and they drank.
Two days after that, news reached Parine that made everyone start, and sent cold chills up and down the spines of those who understood what the news meant.
A pirate galley had been caught in a squall off the north coast of the island, driven ashore, and wrecked. Half the crew perished in the surf, but the other half made it to shore and were promptly rounded up by the local farmers and fishermen and a force of soldiers under Tarassa’s personal command. The prisoners talked so freely that there was no hope of concealing the news that they brought.
A force of Steppemen had ridden out of nowhere and camped along the western shore of the Emerald Sea, just north of the Strait of Nongai. They made no hostile move against the tribes there, but sent word of their coming to the pirates of the islands. The pirates sent back an armed mission, to find out what the Steppemen were doing so far from home and what they might want.
It turned out that they wanted an alliance with the pirates against the Empire of Saram. They would move south along the coast toward the northern border of the Empire. As they went, they would drive out the local people and permit the pirates to set up bases in the harbors there. Then the pirates could raid the coast of the Empire as they had never done before. The Steppemen would sail aboard the pirate ships, to strengthen the landing parties. The Empire of Saram would be caught between attacks from the sea and attacks from the land and crushed like an eggshell.
Details didn’t matter. All the pirates told so nearly the same story that it was obviously true. It was also just as obviously grim news.
«Such an alliance would indeed be a terrible danger for the Empire,» said Tarassa. «Even if the Steppemen are on the northern border of Saram, they could not easily get through the mountains.
«But aboard ships of the pirates they would not have that problem. The pirates have seldom raided the coasts of Saram with much effect. They do not greatly care to fight on land to begin with, and if they land they cannot ride. So they cannot go far from the coasts or escape from the Emperor’s cavalry.
«The Steppemen, on the other hand, live in the saddle. Put a thousand of them ashore in Saram, mount them on captured horses, and they would keep ten thousand of the Emperor’s soldiers busy chasing them. Before they were caught they could slaughter and burn along a hundred miles of coast. A few such raids, and not even Kul-Nam’s executioners could keep his people from fleeing inland.
«Then the pirates will have nothing to fear from the fleet of Saram. They will swing to the east, ravaging the coasts of the Five Kingdoms. Parine stands in their path, and it will be among the first to feel their attack. Blade, this alliance is the greatest danger to my people since the great war with Saram a century ago!»
Blade frowned. The situation certainly seemed as grim as the princess said. But there was a possibility she hadn’t mentioned, one fast taking shape in the back of his mind. It was a wild and desperate idea, but so was the situation.
It was al
so an idea there was no point in putting into words yet. It would be useless without the cooperation of Prince Durouman, and the prince was nowhere in sight yet. Even when he arrived, it would probably take many hours of persuasive argument before he would agree to such a gamble. Blade did not blame him. The prince sounded like a statesman who disliked gambles that would kill others. But what else was there to do-wait while the Steppemen and the pirates of Nongai forged an axe and brought it down on the necks of everyone within their reach?
So keep silent, and wait for Prince Durouman.
Good luck and a brisk wind brought the prince’s galley into the harbor of Parine only two days later. The whole island was still buzzing with excitement and growing alarm over the news from the north.
Prince Durouman was followed off his galley by some thirty guards, all in anonymous green liveries, all bristling with weapons and armor. They were obviously alert, tough, and superbly trained fighting men.
«You have strengthened your bodyguard since last you came,» said Princess Tarassa politely.
Prince Durouman nodded. He was a well built and alert-looking man just under six feet tall, with a darkly tanned skin and an even darker brown beard. The hair on his head was thinning, although he could not have been more than thirty. In ten years he would probably be as bald as Kul-Nam. He did not look as if he would have many of the Emperor’s other qualities.
The prince looked around to make sure that no one but his own guards were within easy hearing. Then he grimaced. «I dislike giving the impression of so great a fear for my own skin. But I have no choice. Kul-Nam seems to be striking out more wildly at his enemies than ever before. If he can afford to send an army and a fleet against the pirates, why can’t he afford a few assassins to put an end to me? I decided I could not afford to leave him an easy path.»
«That you have not,» said Blade, looking at the guards again. Any assassin who tried for the prince would be very lucky to get through them. He would be even luckier to get out again.
