“Thank you,” he said out loud to the city, and slowly sank back down again. He knew he was going to have to rest for a while. His farsight couldn’t reach farther than a few inches through the tunnel wall. By now he’d decided he was in one of the very deep tunnels that lay a long way underneath the usual canal tunnels he used. If so, he was really alone in a way he’d never been before. Nobody had been down here since the city was built, and he still didn’t know what kind of creatures might have done that work. Whoever they were, they’d certainly built very well, though why they would want to build a lighted tunnel like this was beyond his comprehension. But then, that was true of the whole city.
He tried to relax, but it was difficult. Without the city’s usual background babble of longtalk, the isolation was quite crushing. He was also angry at himself for what had happened in the House of Blue Petals. Of course Ivarl would figure things out eventually. Concealment was not a secret in this city, not among the Masters and quite a few others. And that ability Ivarl had—the glow that surrounded both him and Tannarl—the sparks, was something Edeard had never heard of before. Now, though, he wasn’t entirely surprised, not since the final night he’d spent with Ranalee.
Like all the Grand Family daughters, Ranalee was a lovely girl. She had raven hair that her maids brushed straight every morning so that it would fall halfway down her back. Her face was also long, with narrow eyes and a cute little nose. All nice features, though in combination they gave the impression of coldness. That seemed to be another eternal feature of Makkathran’s aristocracy: The richer or more powerful the family was, the less laughter was to be found in their lives. However, she was fiendishly enjoyable in bed. And truth be told, he was rather excited at the way she had spent a couple of weeks maneuvering Kristiana out of the picture. That single-minded possessiveness when focused on him alone made her even hotter.
He certainly didn’t object when she announced they would be spending the weekend at a family-owned lodge out on the Iguru. Macsen and Boyd enviously wished him luck. He’d wondered afterward if they were being prophetic.
The lodge was a work of art, made from carved timbers and decorated with a tasteful excellence that only the Gilmorn money could provide. He enjoyed the very human architecture after the city’s relentless nonhuman appearance. They took “almost no one” with them, as Ranalee defined the five servants who were there to cater to her every whim. At night she dismissed the staff to their cottage. “Outside their farsight range,” she explained with relish, “because we won’t be able to keep a seclusion haze going.” He was led into the main bedroom with its huge normal bed, one with a wooden frame and springs and a feather mattress; it was the first he’d slept on since Plax, he realized with a fond recollection of Franlee. Ranalee made him wait while she attired herself in some of the most expensive lingerie produced by the city’s couturiers. Never before, Edeard thought, had so much money been so incredibly well spent. It must have been the wine and being graced with such a vision that had left him so vigorously aroused. Ranalee exploited that state and her own sexuality quite ruthlessly. Sweet little Franlee would have been appalled by their behavior.
“I like that you’re so receptive,” Ranalee told him as they lay side by side on the lavender-scented sheets. Ranalee, he’d discovered, wasn’t the kind of girl who wanted to cuddle afterward. Candelabras in each corner of the room produced a mild yellow light, enabling him to see the expression of distant satisfaction on her face as she stared up at the bed’s embroidered canopy. “On every level,” she added.
“Yes,” he said, not quite sure what she was saying.
“I have a proposition for you. I’m sure Kristiana and others have made it, but I have the contacts and ability to make it work better than they ever could. And in addition, you wouldn’t be entirely dependent on Gilmorn money, which for someone like you would be quite important, I imagine.”
“Uh, what kind of proposition?” Edeard was still reliving the last couple of hours. He’d never been so ferocious before; it was an abandon she had demanded and responded to in kind. The exhilaration had been overwhelming, making him desperate for it never to end.
She turned her head to give him a shrewd stare. “I marry you and arrange for rewarding contacts with all those desperate third and fourth daughters.”
“Marry?” he blurted. They’d known each other for a few weeks.
“Yes. I am a second daughter, you know.”
“Er, yes. That’s very flattering, Ranalee, but I’m not quite sure, er, what I want.”
“Well, it’s about time you seriously started thinking about it. You have value now; you should capitalize on it.”
Edeard wondered if he had misheard something. “Capitalize?”
“Well, face it; for all you’re popular and interesting, you’ll never be Mayor.”
“Why not?” he asked indignantly.
Ranalee laughed. “You’re not one of us, are you? You don’t belong to a Grand Family.”
“The Mayor is elected by the city.”
“Dear Lady, are you joking?”
“I can make it to Chief Constable. As a Grand Council member I’d be eligible to put my name forward.”
“With our family backing, you probably could get that far. But when did the Chief Constable ever make Mayor?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Never.”
“Oh.”
“So don’t be so silly. I’m talking about the future.”
“All right.” He was stung by the crack about him not being able to achieve much on merit. “What’s the proposition?”
“I told you. I’ll be your gatekeeper.”
“I’m … sorry, I don’t get any of this.”
She rolled onto her side and reached down between his legs. “Exploit your potential. That’s what the families truly value. These, to be precise.” Long-nailed fingers closed around a very sensitive piece of anatomy.
“Potential?”
“Lady, you’re ignorant. I just didn’t realize how much. How do you think families like mine achieved our position?”
“Some of it was luck, being in the right place at the right time in history; some of it was due to hard work, your family especially. Your ancestors took huge risks exploring new markets with their ships.”
“Crap. It’s breeding.”
“Right.”
“You doubt me? The one thing the families cherish more than anything is a strong psychic ability. That’s what we use to maintain our position. Farsight that can see what our rivals are up to inside a seclusion haze, a third hand strong enough to protect ourselves, and a few other useful little talents, too. We prize that trait above all others in a mate. That’s what every family bloodline nurtures. And now you’ve walked out of the wilds and into the city, a simple country boy with more strength than a dozen family sons put together. We want you, Waterwalker. We want what these contain.” Her fingers closed tighter, nail tips sharp on his scrotum.
Edeard kept very still. His tongue licked around his lips as she held him on the threshold of pain. “Okay, I get it now.”
“Good boy. So I marry you.” She smiled and stretched provocatively. Her voice purred, echoing inside his skull. “You get this magnificent body whenever you want and in whatever fashion you desire. And you’ve already discovered how fantastic that will be for you. I’m everything a man dreams of. Aren’t I?” The way she spoke it was a taunt, a challenge.
“Yes.” He couldn’t lie to her. That same husky voice had goaded him throughout the night. It spoke directly to some animal deep inside, awakening the most shameful desires. Yet she was the one suggesting them, rejoicing at how badly their bodies could behave. The notion of every night for the rest of his life spent like this one was igniting a fever inside him. He would fight every bandit on Querencia to make it happen.
“I will yield to you,” she promised meekly. “You will father a host of lovely little girls in me. They will run around the mansion
and live a life of luxury and make you unbelievably happy while you clear the scum out of the city and ascend to the Chief Constable’s office. That’s by day,” she vowed tantalizingly.
“And by night?”
Ranalee’s smile mellowed, and she eased her grip a fraction. Her lips were now so close, they brushed his ear. “I will bring a multitude of the city’s minor daughters to our bed.” Now her hand crept up to hold his stone-hard member. Edeard smiled in utter bliss as she directed his imagination to the satisfaction his masculinity could achieve for him. “Each of them yearning for you to sire a daughter. They will pay to receive your fulfillment again and again.”
“Yes,” he groaned ecstatically.
“Beautiful girls. Young girls. Girls like Kristiana married off to equal nonentities out in the merchant classes or the militia—our country cousins. They’ll have the daughters who’ll go on to marry the next generation of first sons. Every family will be in a fervor for them.” She sucked in her cheeks thoughtfully, suddenly playful. “Maybe I’ll be able to negotiate a percentage of the dowry as part of your stud fee.”
Edeard was suddenly bedeviled by an image of Mistress Florrel that he must have allowed to slip out.
Ranalee laughed delightedly. “Her! Yes, that’s why she was so sought after. She is an amazingly strong psychic; I’m four generations down from her myself. And don’t forget Rah, either.”
“Rah!”
“Why do you think every Grand Family claims to be descended from him? We actually are. A third hand strong enough to cut through the city’s crystal wall; who wouldn’t want that?”
“I never knew any of this,” he said softly. It all made perfect sense now that she’d laid it out.
“Within three generations your descendants will rule Makkathran. That’s less than a hundred years, Waterwalker. And then you will be king in all but name. Think what you can achieve with such power.”
“I will break them,” he said, eager now that she had opened his eyes to so many opportunities. “I will destroy the gangs. The city will regain all it has lost since Rah’s time. The Skylords will come again to carry us off to Odin’s Sea.”
“I will go there with you.”
“Yes, together!”
“As it is this night, it will always be for you. I pledge myself to that cause. Your pleasure will never end.” She rose above him, face gleaming triumphant in the tranquil candlelight. “Now you will celebrate our union,” she told him, her whisper filling the room in a crescendo.
Edeard’s mind lost all focus as his flesh obeyed her demands. He was lost between ecstasy and delirium.
“You will give me our first daughter this night,” Ranalee decreed.
Edeard laughed ecstatically. “Let’s just hope it is a daughter.” Tears of joy were running from his eyes.
“It will be. They all will be. Every girl knows how.”
“How?”
“How to take care of an inconvenience like that. They must be girls.”
“But the boys …”
“There can be no boys. They have no value. The families practice primogeniture, apart from the odd embarrassment like the Culverits. So your daughters can marry directly into a family’s main lineage.”
“What?” His thoughts were swirling as panic contaminated his physical delight. “What?”
“The embryos are not people,” she crooned. “Not at the stage where their gender becomes apparent. There isn’t even any discomfort for me. Don’t think of this anymore.”
“What? No!”
“Relax, my beautiful strong Waterwalker. Do what you do best.”
“No,” Edeard shouted. He felt smothered, fighting for breath against a torrent of horror. “No, no, no.” He pushed. Pushed hard. Pushed with his third hand. Pushed himself away from such evil.
Ranalee wailed in shock as she flew through the air. Edeard was panting hard, trying to shake the miasma from his thoughts. He felt as if he were shaking off a nightmare. His heart was yammering in his chest. He searched around frantically to see Ranalee sprawled across the rug at the foot of the bed. She looked dangerous, her hair wild, a snarl on her lips as she stood up and faced him.
“What happened?” he gasped, still fearful. He could barely resist the urge to continue, to bend her over the bed and take her, and from that to rule Makkathran through his offspring.
“I set you free,” she growled.
Her voice seemed to clang around the inside of his head. He groaned at the intensity, jamming his hands over his ears.
“I showed you your real desires. Follow them. Liberate yourself.”
“Stop it,” he begged. He was curling up, struggling against his own treachery, his yearning to follow her path into the future.
“Inhibitions aren’t for people like us. You have strength in your blood, as do I. Think what we can achieve together. Believe in us.” She caterwauled the last words at him.
The force behind the command almost sent Edeard tumbling from the mattress. Her mind was bright and hot. It finally made him realize that it wasn’t her voice he was battling. Somehow she was speaking directly into his mind. Insidiously potent longtalk had corrupted his thoughts, forcing him to bend to her will as if he were no more than a genistar being ordered to clean up manure. He clenched his teeth and concentrated, willing his third hand to contract around him, becoming hard enough to deflect longtalk. He was pleading to the Lady to make him strong enough.
“Listen to me!” Ranalee demanded.
Edeard could see her lips still moving as her voice faded away. Every trick he’d learned in the city about shielding his emotions was woven together and reinforced by his telekinesis. He crouched on the mattress, hearing nothing, sensing nothing.
Ranalee glared at him. Once his nerves had steadied, he glared back. His hands were trembling from shock and fear.
“You.” He gulped down a breath. “You tried … You wanted me to … Oh, sweet Lady.” The thought of what he’d only just managed to elude sent another shiver along his spine.
Ranalee regarded him contemptuously. She said something.
Edeard cautiously allowed her voice through the shield his third hand had created. But not her longtalk. Lady, no! That he kept perfectly blocked. “What?”
“You stupid pitiful country peasant.”
“Bitch,” he spit back.
Her contempt matured into utter scorn. “You think that isn’t you? You believe you are noble and kind? Do you know how the dominance works? It plucks at the true strings of the heart. And I am a master of those passionate tunes; I play men for the simpletons they are. I recognize what lurks within, Waterwalker. You are all ruled by your ego and your lust, the real traits flowing in the blood. Everything I offered is a seed inside you. I simply give you the chance to let your true nature grow.”
“I am not like that.”
“How many family girls have you already bedded? You gave in to yourself on that quickly enough, didn’t you? How many months have you and your pitiful squadmates spent in a lowlife tavern, plotting and scheming to overthrow the gangs and make you Chief Constable? That is exactly what I offer you. Not in the way your childish daydreams imagine, I can give you all that for real. Grow up, Waterwalker. Your supposed virtue cannot bring you to power by itself, for that power is ultimately what you crave. The power to shape the city in your vision. That’s right, is it not?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “An honest city. One where people are not bred for advantage and profit.”
“Sometimes you have to do what’s wrong in order to do what’s right.”
He stared at her, stunned.
“Oh. A phrase even you’ve heard, then? Do you know who said it? Rah himself as he forced his way through Makkathran’s walls. He knew that only inside would his people have sanctuary from the chaos spilling out from the ships that brought us here. So he gave us the city. He took the city and by doing so gave us order and stability that have stood for two thousand years.”
“
No.” Edeard shook his head. “I’m not … Children shouldn’t be born for that. They should be loved for themselves.”
“They would be. And ours would be destined for greatness, too.”
“It’s not right.”
“Really? And what if you only marry one girl, a nice sweet little thing who loves you dearly the way it is out in your backward villages? What do you think awaits those children of the Waterwalker? Me. That’s what. Me and all the others like me. The fewer children you have, the more valuable they become. The boys will be seduced by family daughters; the girls will be taken as trophy wives by our first sons. It will make most excellent sport. We will have the strength of your blood one way or the other.”
“Not like that you won’t.”
She tossed her head, regarding him with true aristocratic derision. “You can achieve so much, Waterwalker. If Makkathran is to be remade as you would wish it, then it must change almost beyond recognition. I have no quarrel with that, for I would be atop that change. But radical change must come from within. You know how that has to happen now; your blood must spread wide, carrying with it your will.”
“I can change things from where I am.”
“No,” she said harshly. “Change imposed by an outsider is an external threat, the one thing that would pull all of Makkathran together. The families, the common man, even the gangs; they would unite to defeat you.”
“Those groups, they want me to win, to get rid of the gangs and the corruption that allows them to thrive.”
“They want you to get rid of the gangs, that’s all. You can’t do that, not without help from the established order; they’re woven too tightly into our streets and canals for you to root out. The councils and the guilds won’t help you unless you’re committed wholeheartedly to supporting them. You don’t have a choice. Your subconscious knows that. I saw your every feeble thought tonight.”
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 84