by Cindy Dees
Purposeful movement drew her eyes. Her guard was returning with a man who was blessedly dressed and walking in a straight enough line that he must not be completely snockered.
This new man stopped in front of her. He gave her dark cloak and hood a once-over while she clutched both more closely about her. “Welcome to the court of Emperor Xerxes, my lady. With whom do I have the honor of conversing?”
Time to put her plan of attack into action. The historians back at the Project Anasazi lab had worked it out. They’d decided it would be too dangerous for her to come to this time as a female commoner. She would have to pose as at least a minor noble so that no one made her a slave and restricted her movements while she searched for a piece of the Karanovo medallion.
She replied as regally as she could muster, “I am Lady Tessa of Marconi. I come from lands far to the north and west of this place. A great and terrible storm has cast my ship upon these shores. I fear I am the sole survivor.”
Interest sparked in the retainer’s gaze. “What empire holds sway in your country?”
“No empire. The holdings of each local lord are his alone to protect and rule.”
“Are these holdings large? Rich? Fertile, perhaps?”
She shrugged under her cloak. “Large, yes. Rich?” She gazed around the hall. “Not by these standards. Fertile? Famine is completely unknown in my home. We have such an abundance of meat and grain that my people sell a huge surplus each harvest.” And wouldn’t the average American farmer get a kick out of being described that way?
The retainer looked decidedly intrigued now. Almost as if he were calculating the income from seizing her lands. “Have you supped, Lady Tessa?”
“I have not.”
“Come. Let us break bread together.”
Something tickled the back of her mind about the significance of breaking bread with someone—must be some local custom that Athena had implanted. Tessa frowned. Better safe than sorry. “Forgive me, kind sir, but I do not hunger. Perhaps I may warm myself by a fire for a few minutes and then seek my rest?”
The retainer frowned, but replied courteously enough, “As you wish. Come with me.”
She picked her way gingerly across the room, dodging some of the more…athletic endeavors…of the guests. Her host deposited her by a fireplace so large she would need to stand on a chair to touch its mantel. A roaring blaze poured out heat. She was already warm under her sturdy cloak but wasn’t about to take off the garment and risk rape in this assembly of debauched drunks.
Not to mention the professor could very well have dressed her like a freaking harem girl under this cloak. Tessa had already registered a complete lack of undergarments, and a suspicious breeze had wafted up her skirts as she’d followed the guard earlier.
If time of day translated during time travel, it should be barely nine p.m., but this party looked to be well advanced. She was hungry and hot and more than half tempted to leave.
But academic curiosity got the best of her. Was Xerxes here tonight, in the flesh? The name of the fabled Persian emperor still echoed down through history. He’d assembled the largest army in the history of mankind for the purpose of invading Greece, but ultimately failed. Tessa had studied the histories of the invasion in detail. She probably knew the names of many of the lesser kings and generals in this very room.
She scanned the hundreds of men in the hall, seeking some indication of which one might be the mighty emperor. Many wore jeweled circlets and a few wore the crowns of kings who served the Persian emperor. The variety of race and dress was impressive. But then, the Persian Empire spanned North Africa, Eastern Europe, all of the Middle East, and stretched well into Central Asia.
Which of these were General Masistes, Xerxes’s brother, and General Mardonius, ill-fated commander of the doomed invasion of Greece? Was Artaxerxes, heir to the throne, here? Maybe even Xerxes’s Jewish Empress, Esther, of Old Testament fame? Despite the perspiration plastering Tessa’s dress to her skin, the thought of standing in the presence of these giants of history made chills race across the back of her neck.
Unfortunately, historic celebrity spotting wasn’t her purpose for being here. Finding a piece of the Karanovo stamp was.
The stamp was an incredibly important bronze medallion, decorated with depictions of the constellations of the zodiac. When all twelve pieces of it were assembled, it was supposed to signal some faraway council that mankind was ready to enter the ranks of star-traveling races. Tessa’s job was to find and retrieve a piece of the medallion.
To that end, she cast her mental awareness outward, seeking the distinctive sine-wave signature of the bronze wedge.
Hmm. Not in the room, but definitely in the vicinity.
Off to the east.
She zeroed in on it more tightly. A clear pinprick of energy tickled her second sight. It was not buried; rather it was out in the open in some way.
She sensed wood near it. Moving toward water. The signature was unmistakable, just like the other Karanovo piece she’d handled.
Outstanding. This mission was going to be a piece of cake. She would make a graceful exit out of this den of iniquity, find the segment of the medallion, then activate her cuff and let Athena bring her home.
If anything, faint disappointment filled her at how easy this was turning out to be. She’d hoped to spend a little time here. But if all went well, she might be in this era for only a few minutes. Bummer.
A raucous cheer went up twenty or thirty feet away from her, making her jump. A stunning brunette had stepped up onto a raised dais at one side of the room. Her high-waisted red gown was elaborately embroidered—and transparent. The diaphanous silk barely clung to her breasts, in open defiance of gravity. A gaudy necklace dripping with what looked like pigeon’s-blood rubies encircled the woman’s long neck. She raised graceful arms, swathed in jeweled bangles.
Her voice was huskier than Tessa expected, earthy and dripping in sex, when she called out over the din, “Do you wish to see my sorcerer perform?”
A roar went up. Many of the otherwise occupied guests disengaged, to make their way toward the woman. With an excellent sense of theatrical timing, the brunette waited until the noise died down and the musicians had been waved to silence.
When every eye in the place was firmly fixed on her, she called with grand dramatic flair, “Bring forth my magician! I, Queen Artemesia, present to you the shape-shifter of Halicarnassus!”
Artemesia! Tessa stood up eagerly to get a better look at the legendary woman who’d ruled the seafaring kingdom of Halicarnassus single-handedly and with great success. How incredible to have read about this Persian noble in Herodotus’s histories and now to be standing before her in the flesh.
Delia McCowan, a colleague back in Arizona and a time-travel veteran, had warned her of how strange it could be finding oneself in the midst of living history. But this…this was beyond amazing.
Artemesia was speaking again. Something about a man who could become a beast before their very eyes.
Tessa raised a skeptical brow. She didn’t for a moment doubt the existence of psychic skills—hers were formidable—but shape-shifting? This she had to see.
She looked across the crowd at the heavy curtain behind Artemesia. One of the advantages of being five foot seven in ancient Persia was that in this assemblage, she was taller than all of the women and many of the men.
The curtain behind Artemesia swept open.
A tall man stepped forward—tall even by modern standards. Such was the arrogance of his demeanor that, had he not already been identified otherwise, Tessa would have pegged him as Xerxes. His skin was bronze, but more as if tanned than genetic. Dark brown hair flowed in a mane about his shoulders. His eyes were blacker than any depravity this room could hold, snapping with disdain for the mere mortals at his feet.
No wonder folks in this time period believed in gods, if men like this walked among them!
His features were classic—strong jaw, high cheekbones, sm
ooth brow. His nose was as arrogant as he was. A slave ran up and unlatched the man’s cloak, whisking away the scarlet wool with a flourish.
A sigh went up from the assemblage. The sorcerer was naked above the waist, his lower body draped in little more than a linen towel held in place around his hips with a jeweled belt. And what a body. It was as perfect as his face. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his arms wreathed in corded muscles.
Artemesia stepped close to him and ran her hand possessively across his belly. The sorcerer’s stomach muscles contracted into a six-pack a bodybuilder would envy. The queen’s long fingernails left four red trails across his skin.
Tessa’s gut tightened, as well. There was something…primal about this man. Almost animal. Raw and sexual.
Artemesia looked toward the far end of the room and called out, “Majesty, perhaps you would honor us by choosing a beast for this display!”
Tessa craned her head to see who the woman addressed, but a large cluster of guards crowded around whoever answered. A male voice shouted back, “Let us have an elephant!”
A cheer went up and all eyes fastened on the sorcerer.
Tessa watched with interest as the magician raised his hands chest high, his palms facing outward toward the crowd. He closed his eyes and released a slow breath.
Several women screamed. People in the first few rows of the audience cringed back in terror. A collective gasp rose around her.
Tessa glanced around, startled. Everyone was staring at the sorcerer, mouths agape.
Quickly, she glanced back at him. What was going on? He looked fine to her, just standing there with his hands out.
His contemptuous gaze raked across the crowd, passed over her, then jerked back.
Across the heads of the assemblage, the two of them locked gazes. His black eyes drilled into hers with an intelligence, a razor sharpness, that stripped her bare. And she had plenty to hide.
As the stare stretched out, it was as if he willed her to come to him and submit to him. But she was no wilting lily to be so easily intimidated. She was a military officer, a combat veteran who’d braved the mostly male ranks of the U.S. Army and earned the grudging respect of men determined to despise her. At least until they’d discovered her little secret. It turned out that the army rank and file weren’t quite ready for psychics to command them.
The sorcerer was staring at her as if he already knew about her gift—or curse, as it were. His hands fell heedlessly to his sides, his gaze still locked on hers.
Another gasp went up from the crowd, and then cheers and wild applause erupted, along with shouts to do it again.
Still he stared at her.
Okay, he was starting to creep her out, here.
“A monster! A monster!” the crowd shouted. “Make yourself into a monster!”
Tessa took a step back, then another. An intense need to get away from this man and his sledgehammer charisma overwhelmed her.
He took an aggressive step forward, but Artemesia grabbed him by the arm and pulled.
Impatiently, he shook off the queen’s hand, still staring at Tessa.
Thankfully, he didn’t pursue her as she backed away from the fireplace. From him.
Clearly irritated, he glanced down at his queen, who was saying something inaudible to him.
Tessa seized upon his momentary distraction. Turned. And fled like a big dog from the Sorcerer of Halicarnassus.
Two
Great galaxies above. Who was that woman?
Rustam shook off Artemesia like a pesky fly, while across the room the stranger’s aura crackled, practically violet around her. Only a psychic of extraordinary power could gather so much energy to herself and not implode.
Other thoughts, desperately hopeful thoughts, crowded in. Had someone come for him? Was he finally rescued?
“Make yourself into a monster,” Artemesia hissed.
“Not now,” he snapped back.
“Do it or I will have you whipped.”
He might be her slave, but even she knew not to cross certain lines with him. He was fortunate that she was the sexual predator she was—and that he could sate her appetites as few men could. Otherwise, his lot in life here would have been much worse. Even without the sex, though, he held a measure of power because of his psychic abilities that even she could not deny.
“Touch me with the rod and you will die where you stand, woman.”
Artemesia jerked back. “Mind your tongue,” she muttered.
He looked up to where the glowing stranger stood by the fire. Curses! She was gone. Who was she?
Irritably, he turned his attention to the rabble at his feet. Ignorant and superstitious, their minds were child’s play to manipulate. Sending an image of himself as some creature or another barely required conscious thought, let alone tapped his true mental power.
Maybe because he was angry that the stranger had slipped away, or maybe to teach Artemesia a lesson, he sent them all an image of the most gruesome creature he could imagine.
The crowd screamed in horror. There. Let that be the stuff of legends for centuries to come.
He projected the image long enough to give everyone nightmares tonight. Then, in disgust, he dropped the sending and leaped easily from the stage, leaving Artemesia to make her own way. A pair of eunuchs jumped forward to lift her down.
He strode across the room in search of that globe of violet energy and the woman it hovered around. The entire room was still suffused with a faint afterglow of the stranger’s aura. Incredible.
He pretended not to hear Artemesia calling out to him in that demanding whine of hers, which set his teeth on edge. But then a pair of Immortals, Xerxes’s personal guards, grabbed him by each arm. He could’ve fought them, and likely defeated them, but a dozen more guards would replace them. And the idea was to stay alive long enough to escape this godforsaken court and get back home.
He stopped, chagrined.
Artemesia’s arms wrapped around him from behind and she purred in his ear. When would the woman learn that he was not fond of things feline?
“Does not the feast put you in the mood for pleasure, Rustam?” she murmured seductively.
The woman was attractive enough, her sexual appetites sufficiently depraved to keep even him mildly entertained. But he wasn’t in the mood tonight.
Apparently, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, however. Meanwhile, the residue of the strange woman nipped at Rustam’s skin and frayed his mind until he was so edgy he could hardly contain his own power.
He looked around urgently for a convenient male. Someone of sufficient rank and political influence for Artemesia to deem worthy of her attention. Someone young and strong enough to pleasure her long into the night.
There. The distinctive toga of a visiting Greek. Rustam recalled hearing that some general was newly arrived, Hippoclides of Dardanus. He’d supposedly come to negotiate an eleventh-hour peace with Xerxes before the Persian emperor annihilated Athens and conquered all of Greece.
The Greek’s back was turned, but from the massive musculature of his bare shoulders he was a bull of a man, fit and in his prime. Impatiently, Rustam reached out with his mind and dragged the Greek away from a goblet of wine and to his feet.
A group of drunk Persian nobles stumbled past, staggering intentionally-by-accident into the Greek with shouts of laughter.
Rustam took a quick step, placing himself directly behind the general. Planting his hand between the man’s shoulder blades, he physically shoved Hippoclides at Artemesia.
As the Greek bumped into the Persian queen and grabbed her to steady her with an exclamation of apology, Rustam mentally blasted them both with a full broadside of lust.
Sparks practically jumped off the couple as they gazed into each other’s eyes. The queen grabbed the Greek’s hand without a word and dragged him off toward her chambers. There. That ought to keep Artemesia occupied for a while.
The residue of his mind blast sent the entire hall i
nto a renewed frenzy of sexual activity. Tonight he would have no trouble collecting a bedful of beautiful women eager to experience the legendary sexual prowess of the Sorcerer of Halicarnassus. Only one woman was on his mind, however. A shadowed form in a dark cloak and bathed in power.
He roamed the hall in tense frustration. No sign of her anywhere!
He accosted several court servitors, and none of them knew where the tall, newly arrived woman might be. Swearing under his breath, he slipped out of the orgy into a servant’s tunnel that led to the kitchens. He ducked into a dark niche, tucking his tall form into the low arch. He closed his eyes and reached out cautiously with his mind.
Ever so gently, he mentally searched the palace, seeking out that enormous bubble of power. The trick was to locate her without her becoming aware of his probing. The task took concentration he hadn’t bothered to muster in months. Damn. He was getting lazy in his accidental captivity. He must get back into the habit of exercising his mind powers.
There. In the south pavilion of one of the lesser palaces: a burst of energy that made the fine, dark hairs on his forearms stand up. He opened his eyes and moved swiftly down the tunnel.
Cautiously, he approached a small chamber, the kind allotted to minor nobles of little political importance. Odd. No guard stood at the door. What noblewoman would dare to travel alone?
He eased up the iron latch and pushed her door open. No sword dropped across the opening to bar his entry. He sniffed the air experimentally. No one stood immediately on the other side of the wooden panel. He slipped silently into the unlit chamber.
Moonlight shone through the open window, falling across the floor between his feet and a low bed against the far wall. Gauze curtains were pulled around it, hiding the bed’s occupant.
He eased forward, skirting the blue-white shaft of light. He pulled his own power inward as much as he could, minimizing his aura so as not to give warning to the stranger.
He drew near the bed. A lone figure lay upon it, not under the covers. Expecting trouble? Gentle curves and long legs announced her to be a woman, and tall, the same one he’d seen earlier. Her violet aura was not so strong now that she was at rest, but a faint lavender glow suffused the room. In its dim illumination, he made out exquisite, exotic features.
