Even the Wingless

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  "Come, come. Do you lack imagination? Surely there is some use acceptable to you. Her hands, her mouth, her body, they're all quite capable. The lack of a second pair of arms as proper females have does limit her in some respects, but she more than compensates in other ways. One even gets used to her having no breasts."

  He remembered her words: if the Emperor commanded, both she and Second obeyed. Were these displays required?

  "I am not interested," Lisinthir said.

  The Emperor leaned against the arch, arms folded over his chest. "It was not a request."

  "I will not torture her," Lisinthir said, his entire body stiffening with denial.

  "Are you so wicked a male that you can find no use for a female that is not torture?" the Emperor said. "I thought you prided yourself a gentler thing." He waved a hand. "Come. This is one act a Chatcaavan male can do that surely you are capable of, and find no evil in. Or do you consider the use of a female evil?"

  "When it is without consent, yes," Lisinthir said.

  "She consents," the Emperor said. "Ask her. She would probably be delighted to serve you."

  "And you would know how? Since you never speak to her," Lisinthir said, fighting a sense of helplessness. He heard his own protests for what they were: obvious attempts to squirm out of this test, so obvious they could not be misinterpreted, so desperate they painted him weak. He knew what would follow, and when the Emperor's hand flitted in a shrug he saw it: all of it, all his effort, crashing to pieces, shattering. All the blood he'd shed. The progress he was about to make with Second; the progress he'd already made with the Emperor. All of it, destroyed.

  "Then it is as everyone thought," the Emperor said, turning to leave. "You are just like the others."

  Each joint ached as Lisinthir forced himself to step out of the pool; his movement arrested the Emperor's eyes, halted him.

  The Slave Queen kneeled before him when he stopped before her, bowing her head and spreading her mutilated wings.

  "What would you, Master?" she asked.

  Did she address him so to prove something to the Emperor? Or to enforce proper male behavior on his part? Did she countenance this? Surely she wouldn't obey him. He couldn't imagine a single task for her that he could bear, and his limbs seemed incapable of movement. He chose the only one he could think of that would require the least of them both.

  "Pleasure me," he said, and groaned as her cool tongue flicked out to touch his skin. In all their time together, he had done this more often than he wanted to count for the Emperor. To have the favor returned—she was so expert. He wasn't prepared. He bent over her and felt more pain than he had in weeks of humiliation at the Emperor's feet.

  Walking to them, the Emperor tilted the Slave Queen's head up, smeared her saliva over her chin. "Did you enjoy your service?"

  "Yes, Master," the Queen said softly. Did he imagine her contentment?

  "An interesting change of pace, isn't it?" the Emperor said. "No barbs, more flesh, all that softness."

  "It was very easy, Master," the Queen said.

  "And you?" The Emperor turned languidly to examine Lisinthir. "Was she satisfactory at the task?"

  Still recovering from the strength of his release, Lisinthir looked the male in the eye and said, "You would have done better."

  The rage that rose in the Emperor's eyes inspired a lazy grin in Lisinthir. He wore it long enough to hit the ground, and then the two fought themselves into a pool and blood streaked the coral tiles. The pummeling the Chatcaavan gave him was reminiscent of the first in its ferocity, in its newness. The violation felt fresh, and he resisted it with a fury, a glorious fury.

  The cessation of the violence, so abrupt, so intense, took both their breaths away, left them hip to hip, arms tangled in one another's hair. The veils of mist their fighting had broken reformed, left beads of water as clear as gems on their bodies. Lisinthir had never felt anything more intoxicating than the blood-and-steam-streaked heat that joined their bodies, thigh to breast.

  "Every time I think I have you understood, Ambassador, you slip through my fingers," the Emperor whispered, touching the Eldritch's lips, the arches of his talons brushing just beneath Lisinthir's nose on skin still wet from the steam of the bath and his sweat.

  Lisinthir licked the bottoms of the Emperor's fingers, then sucked on their tips and bit the claws. The Emperor hissed and pulled back, but his eyes reflected the laziness of pleasure.

  A rush of terrifying ecstasy and peace flooded him. There was nothing he wanted more to do than this. No more compelling use of his time than to do battle so, and feel his triumph in the fascination, the entanglement of the most powerful male in the Chatcaavan Empire. Lisinthir licked the final claw and smiled, eyes nearly closed, as the Emperor stroked the edge of his jaw, his alien satisfaction radiating through his fingertips to mingle with Lisinthir's own.

  The waters crested around the Chatcaavan's body as he pulled away. It seemed to cost him great effort to reach the steps, but once he did so he left the pool with his usual quickness of motion. With parted wings, the Emperor strode naked from the chamber, and so great was his magnetism that Lisinthir found himself on the end of the pool closest to the door, one hand stretched out against the slick tiles. He shivered.

  The Slave Queen knelt beside his arm on the tiles. He glanced at her, surprised to find her eyes demurely turned away. In her arms she held a towel.

  "Lady," he said huskily. He forced himself upright with difficulty and walked out of the pool. Strands of water ran down his body, and his hair stuck to his skin in strange silvery curls.

  "He is well and truly taken with you," the Slave Queen said. She stood and wrapped the towel around his body, wicked some of the blood from the scratches on his chest.

  "Is that so unusual?" Lisinthir asked, studying her face. He had rarely seen her so, and realized belatedly that her behavior was that of a female before a male. A Chatcaavan male. Save, of course, that she spoke. The Eldritch clung to that as proof of his identity.

  "Usually he puts a male in his place within days of choosing him," the Slave Queen said.

  "You say 'usually'," Lisinthir said. "There are exceptions?"

  The Slave Queen did not answer, but walked to a chest in the corner he'd never seen her open. From it, she withdrew a satin robe, indigo with black trim edged in tiny beads. The draft across his shoulder-blades and back marked the slits he would have used had he been winged; the female had to tie these at the base, and even so they remained open. A few minutes later he'd been led out the bathing chamber, onto a couch to recline with a glass of tea wine and a hekkret roll. The attention distracted him enough to make the pursuit of his question unimportant.

  Once the nausea and the numbness set in from the drugs, the question came back. "Exceptions, lady?"

  "Rarely," the Slave Queen said, coming to kneel before him, her head bowed. "Only for a few cases. An extremely fractious noble who would not take the yoke required several weeks' training to mend his ways. A lord who refused to accept the Emperor's sovereignty was broken over a month's time, with public tortures scheduled regularly until he yielded. He died a day later. Several female Alliance slaves he spent weeks with simply, this one believes, out of curiosity over their bodies." She cleared her throat. "The Emperor is also known for his caprice. At times he chooses randomly among the court, and renews his mastery over the court with campaigns that some find perverse."

  "How is this any more perverse than his usual behavior?" Lisinthir asked, stunned.

  "It is considered gauche to question the loyalties of those who have already been tested once, master," the Slave Queen replied.

  Lisinthir studied her curved body, so graceful... she had spent so much of her life on her knees that her body seemed poured into the position. Gently, the Eldritch reached out and touched the side of her beak with the back of his pale hand. "'Master', is it?" he asked, his voice heavy.

  "This one begs your indulgence," she said. "She means no disrespect—
"

  "Stop it," he said. "I don't want a piece of furniture. Or even a servant, no matter how useful. I need someone to talk to, someone closer to sane. If you withdraw from me just from swallowing my seed, what will you do when his depravity demands other sacrifices?"

  "Your pardon," the Slave Queen said, eyes flicking up to meet his, though she did not lift her head. "It was not pleasuring you that set me away from you."

  Lisinthir frowned. "What then?"

  "Seeing you fight with him," the Slave Queen said, her voice breathless. "You have no scales. No wings, no teeth, no claws... nothing. You are helpless, no better than a prey animal. But the ferocity of your response and..."

  "And?" he prompted, gentle.

  "And that your pleasure with him was more intense than it was with me... that is a male's way. Females cannot give a male the pleasure another male can with the tests, the dominance."

  Lisinthir drew back from her, put the wine aside and the remains of the roll. His first deep breath set off a coughing fit, but the second gave him the scent of the harem, and the rose spice perfume off his own hair. "All I need," he said, "is to understand how his mind works, enough to tell my people how to guard against him."

  "And then...?" she said.

  "And then, I can go home," Lisinthir said.

  The Slave Queen tilted her long head. "Go home?"

  He hadn't even realized the desire was in him until it had come out of his mouth. But once he'd spoken, the yearning had shape and weight and urgency. To go back to a world of safety and normalcy—before it was too late—yes. He wanted that.

  "Even ambassadors have their limits," Lisinthir said, letting his head loll back on the pillow.

  Left to herself not long after, the Slave Queen closed her eyes and set about tidying the suite to keep her mind too busy to remember rose-spice skin, smooth and hot, and sincere and melancholy eyes. She was not certain she was glad of the distraction that arrived on her landing, though she dropped to her knees and bowed her head accordingly.

  They did not approach her, however, but remained on the landing.

  "You think it will work," Second said.

  "Yes," Third said. "It can be done."

  Second eyed him. "You court danger with so little thought for yourself."

  Third hissed a laugh. "Nothing of the sort. I am just... hungry. Hunger excuses many things. But you will see. I will provide the evidence that was withheld from us."

  "I hope so," Second said. "He is no doubt about to force himself into my study and there I will have to throw him enough meat to keep him off the Empire's body."

  "You should just turn him away," Third said.

  "If only it was so easy." Second folded his arms over his chest. "Work quickly, Third."

  "I will," Third said, and his eyes on the Slave Queen filled her with dread. "Or at least, as quickly as the situation warrants. Which is not very quickly at all."

  There was now a new male standing in front of Second's door, one in livery and marked appropriately. The guards had spread themselves out further down the hall.

  "What are you?" Lisinthir asked. "A secretary?"

  "I am Second's aide," the male said, bristling.

  "Ah, very good," Lisinthir said. "I'll see him now."

  "Second is indispos—"

  "I don't care if Second is vomiting onto his own wings," Lisinthir interrupted. "I am here to see him. You will go in his office and tell him I have business to discuss with him. I will wait here for your return, and then you will bring me an unopened bottle of your master's best brandy. Then you will have disposed of your duties."

  The Chatcaavan stared at him, gape-mouthed. It amused Lisinthir in a very distant way to see how similar the expression read to a human's, or an Eldritch's. Then he said, steel in his voice, "GO."

  The aide jumped and went through the door, leaving it ajar in his haste. Lisinthir wondered if he would have to amble in after him, or if the aide would do as he'd demanded... and was pleased to see the aide re-joining him.

  "The alcohol now," Lisinthir said. "I'm thirsty."

  The aide backed away from him. Just for entertainment, Lisinthir added, "Perhaps you've heard how Second's other helper fared when he irritated me."

  Another dropped-jaw look. The aide fled. He might not get the alcohol now, but the reaction had been worth it. With a chuckle, Lisinthir walked into the office and faced Second, who was standing, wide-eyed, behind the desk.

  "Was the aide intended to stymie me? Because he wasn't very effective," Lisinthir said. "You seem to have trouble choosing adequate helpmates."

  Second folded his arms. "I am not ready to speak with you."

  "But you are past due," Lisinthir said and sat on one of the chairs. He leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "I am here for my answer. To the heinous crime committed against that colony and the disrespect you are paying the treaty with your casual disregard of the borders."

  "Perhaps you can bring these issues to the Emperor," Second said, tail lashing. "You certainly have plenty of time to do so."

  "The Emperor doesn't make the kind of decisions that he, in his infinite wisdom, allows to fall to you... and well we both know it," Lisinthir said, ignoring the barb. "Do you have a problem with me, Second?"

  "Why ever would you think that?" Second said.

  Lisinthir smiled with the faintest of menace. "You have a peculiar habit of reporting the most minute details of my behavior to the Emperor. Tell me, was it really necessary to inform him of my talking with the Slave Queen each morning? Particularly since you don't use the Slave Queen as a male should, yourself."

  "I would be remiss in not keeping the Emperor informed of your... behaviors... Ambassador," Second said. "It is part of my duty to assess threats against him."

  "And you fear me," Lisinthir said.

  "I don't like you, Ambassador," Second said after a moment's tense silence. "That doesn't mean I fear you."

  "It doesn't mean you don't fear me, either," Lisinthir said.

  "What I feel is immaterial," Second said. "You had asked for reparations. I have found you the commodore who led the errant group into your space. Shall I have him executed?"

  "Don't bore me," Lisinthir said. "The execution of a single commodore in your navy... what will that accomplish?"

  "It will assure you that we will punish those who transgress against you—"

  "And that punishment will put a roof back over the heads of those whose walls crumpled when you fired on them? Will that punishment change the policy I'm sure is secretly held at the highest levels, that you can traipse into Alliance territory at any time so long as there is gain to be had?" The force of his own anger surprised him, as it always did. "You tried to deny it. Now you try to distract me. How weak a creature do you think I am, Second?"

  "We have no money to give you to pay for construction," Second said. "We have projects of our own."

  "You don't have to give us money," Lisinthir said. "You can lift the import taxes."

  "Are you insane?" Second cried.

  "You did real damage to us, Second," Lisinthir said. "If you draw our blood, we will demand blood in return."

  "I have offered you blood!"

  "Useless, worthless blood, the life of a thief without honor or value," Lisinthir said. "A single life to pay for multiple incursions which probably involved the slave trade. Do I suppose correctly?"

  Second froze in place. Lisinthir held his eyes without blinking, letting a fraction of his rage touch his face.

  "I cannot lift the import taxes entirely," Second said. "I can reduce them."

  "That may suit," Lisinthir said, torn between fierce satisfaction at having backed Second into a corner... and worry, that he enjoyed doing it so much. "Talk."

  In the revolutions the Slave Queen had lived at court, she had observed patterns in the Emperor's behavior where it intersected her life. In particular, he passed through phases where he did not involve her in anything he did, and phases where he vi
sited her every day, sometimes several times a day. She never knew how long these phases would last, but he seemed to always live in either one phase or the next. He was rarely a casual visitor.

  Thus she suspected he was entering a full use phase, for he came to her more frequently.

  Except he never wanted what she expected.

  In the waning afternoon, the Emperor reappeared on her landing and presented her with a bottle of lotion. He waited until she hastily pulled out a low table and stretched himself on it with a yawn. That itself was a command, but one she rarely received; with only one set of arms, her massage was markedly inferior to that which any one of the females downstairs could offer. But she bowed her head and applied herself as best she could to his needs, grateful that he required nothing more of her.

  It was enough that he'd ordered her to cross the barrier that had always existed between her and the Ambassador. Third and Second's arrival on her landing had given her something to worry about, but too many times she'd come perilously close to remembering what it had felt like to give the Ambassador ease. How strange that his softness of manner with her was reflected by his body's lack of cruelty. A female learned swiftly how to please a male without chafing the insides of her mouth against his barbs and it had taken her several moments to let go of that habit with him—

  —but this was a disastrous road. She concentrated on the tense and complex muscles around the Emperor's shoulders and was so engulfed in the work that she saw the approaching male only when he was so close his feet appeared beside the Emperor's face.

  "Exalted," Third said. "I was told you could be disturbed."

  "Only because I neglected to give instruction otherwise," the Emperor said, sounding displeased. "What is it, Third?"

  "You may want to rein in your Second, Exalted Emperor," said Third. "He has halved the import taxes on luxury items and reduced them to a quarter on essential aid items. The wingless freak has him twisted backwards and begging for a rod."