by J C Kang
Master Anish nodded. “You go first. I must check in on Elder Gitika. I will rejoin you afterward.”
Chapter 9:
Mixed Signals
Cassius greeted his guests in a haze, thoughts dwelling on the disastrous lovemaking with Brehane. If it could be called lovemaking. It had been too easy to get her into bed, with no smooth words or foreplay required. She’d resisted his kisses, ripped off her own clothes, and got straight to straddling him. Rarely had he failed to bring a woman to climax, but from the wrinkles in her brow and her pursed lips, Brehane clearly hadn’t enjoyed the experience. Her luscious curves pressing against him when she collapsed after a futile half-hour did little to excite him.
“Signore Cassius?”
Cassius shook the fog out of his head. How absurd, to get tied into a knot over a woman. It wasn’t as though he was seventeen again, when Julia had ripped his heart out, taken a part of his soul, and all of his money with it. He looked over to Patrizio, who’d just spoken.
Patrizio pointed with his eyes to the next guest, and mouthed, Signore De Lucca.
Cassius followed the steward’s subtle gaze.
Dressed in a sleeveless longcoat made from Cathayi silk and Estomari lace, face powdered to smooth perfection, De Lucca made for a striking figure—despite his short stature and waifish frame—as he swept in ahead of his entourage. He eschewed a hat, allowing his long mane of black hair to tumble down his back. Keen, brown eyes glinted with the business acumen that had allowed the man to rise from poverty to Tokahia’s social elite. His name had spread to other Estomari city-states as rapidly as that of the most elite Diviners.
Behind him sashayed in a dozen of his whores, as well as two Bovyan bodyguards. Those brutes in the manor… Cassius’ gut tightened. They looked like bulls in a glassware shop, not to mention they were a reminder of the deal he’d made with the Bovyan, Phobos, to keep the Aksumi here for some nefarious reason.
Still, he and De Lucca clasped wrists. The signore’s only piece of jewelry, a ring of brushed pewter, felt so icy on Cassius’ forearm that he almost jerked back. Instead, he bowed his head as a host should. “Signore, welcome back to my home.”
De Lucca laughed like a bow raking across violin strings at the wrong angle. “Many thanks for having me. I’ve brought some entertainment.” He gestured back to his courtesans.
Cassius studied each one with forced nonchalance. They all had impeccable make-up and wore revealing yet classy outfits. Their smiles ranged from sultry to innocent, and they moved with a tasteful sensuousness. Unlike common streetwalkers from the Mafia-held sections of the entertainment district, they exuded elegance. No, these weren’t normal whores, and they’d made De Lucca rich.
Still, even if there was little better in this world than the touch of a beautiful woman, there was no challenge in paying for it. Cassius glanced toward the top of the staircase. Brehane had yet to come down, probably disappointed by his poor performance. Then again, Makeda hadn’t emerged either. There had to be a story behind their mutual dislike, something having to do with Pyromancy and Biomancy.
Not his problem. Let the Bovyans deal with it, whatever they had planned, and he’d be a step closer to eradicating the Mafia and their threat to the pyramid. He turned back to his guest. “Signore De Lucca, I hear you are constructing a new villa on the outskirts of town.”
The Teleri guards stared. De Lucca turned his head, brow furrowed for a split second before his expression eased.
His high-pitched voice could pierce eardrums. “Yes. I want to start a plantation.”
Cassius kept his face impassive. Fanaya the Farmer occupied an auspicious seat in the heavens, foretelling bumper harvests for the next few years. There would be more than enough food flooding the markets, making agriculture less profitable. Perhaps this young upstart should stick with peddling flesh. He bowed again and extended a hand to the banquet hall. “Make yourself welcome, Signore De Lucca. I—”
A swirl of black flashed on the mezzanine. Cassius looked up.
Makeda strutted to the top of the steps, the high slit in her black silk gown revealing a shapely leg sheathed in black fishnet hose. The dress’ plunging neckline laid bare the valley between her breasts, and the tight waistline emphasized the sweeping curve of her hips.
Cassius’ heart picked up a few beats. It would be a shame to turn her over to the Bovyans…but a small price to pay for exterminating the crime families and preventing the orc gods’ return. He nudged Patrizio. “You chose nicely for her. I’m surprised it fit so well.”
“Fits is hardly the word I would choose.” Patrizio’s gawk replaced his usual professional stoicism.
Makeda descended, one leg crossing the other, the sway of her hips mesmerizing.
A smile quirked on Cassius’ lips, unbidden, as he followed every move. Of the two ladies, Makeda had been the more boisterous. An annoying trait, but that was now overshadowed by her physical perfection. If Brehane had been the antipasti, Makeda would be the main course tonight; and this time, he wouldn’t fail to bring her to climactic bliss.
“Your mouth, Master Larusso,” Patrizio whispered, leaning in.
Heat burned in Cassius’ cheeks as he closed his mouth. Flashing his most smoldering gaze, he strode to the head of the stairs and extended his hand to meet Makeda’s. “My lady.”
“Your first lady.” She grinned, chocolate eyes sparkling.
Her palm was so hot in his. He nodded. “Of course, my first lady. Please let me introduce you to—” He looked left and right. De Lucca and his entourage had already headed off toward the banquet hall. He pointed his chin at them. “Come, meet my guests.”
An Estomari lady might tilt her head and bat her lashes, waiting for the man to offer an elbow, but Makeda tugged him along.
Perhaps forwardness ran in their family. Maybe she’d lead him to the bedroom this way, too. He looked her up and down as they walked. “The dress fits so perfectly, as if it were made for you.”
“I had to make some adjustments.” Her laugh might be confused for a donkey’s bray, and in that, she might be more closely related to De Lucca than to Brehane.
It was all Cassius could do not to grit his teeth. “Oh? You are skilled with needle and thread, then?”
Her brows furrowed. “Of course not. Tailoring is men’s work. I used a Transmuting spell to shrink it in some places, enlarge it in others.”
Like the bust and hips. Apparently Aksumi sorcery had mundane uses. However, it was unlikely that the Teleri would agree to a war on the Mafia just to have Mystics make alterations to their armor and uniforms. Perhaps the two Bovyans would show their hand when they saw his dark-skinned guests.
Indeed, as soon as they passed by the columns separating the central hall from the circular banquet room, the bodyguards flanking De Lucca stared. Fixing his gaze on her, one leaned over and whispered in the other’s ear. Then again, if they were plotting, so were the Signores. Every single man was ogling Makeda.
If she noticed them, or even the orchestra playing their violins and cellos, she certainly didn’t show any sign of it. Instead, she seemed more preoccupied with the transparent dome, which provided a stunning view of the heavens.
She gestured to it. “How is this even possible? What is it made of?”
Cassius waved at it. “It’s the lens of a dragon’s eye.”
She stared at him, eyes wide and smile wider. “How?”
“In antiquity, the orcs turned on their dragon allies in the Dragonpurge. They slew the great dragon Grellax on this spot. His bones stretch below ground, from his tail at my megalith circle to his head here. The Elf Angel Aralas raised the lens and set it on these columns.”
Her gaze swept over each column, nodding each time. “They are aligned the same way as your megalith.”
He nodded. “You have a good eye.”
She grinned and pointed to the mosaic floor, the hexagonal tiles depicting the continent. “The map is distorted. From the size of your city, you appare
ntly believe yourself the center of the world.”
“Of course not, my lady.” He shook his head. Still, it was amazing she recognized the map at all, since the size of each region shrunk in relation to its distance from the city. Her homeland was a sliver at the edge.
She looked back up at the dome. “It’s beautiful.”
“Nothing but the best for my guests,” he said. It was amazing she’d noticed the column alignment. It allowed him to glean the stars’ secrets during these meetings, where so much of the city-state’s policies were decided. Right now, Fortuna danced with the red star of Konkistor, indicating an auspicious time to discuss military affairs. He gestured toward his other guests. “Come, let me introduce you to the rulers of this city.”
Her eyes shifted to the gathering, stopping on De Lucca’s whores. They mingled among the signores, some sitting in men’s laps, while others guided hands toward bare flesh. Now that the initial shock of Makeda’s grand entrance had subsided, the men resumed their fondling. One of the courtesans fed a signore a grape, lip-to-lip, while another dabbed wine on her neck from a crystal carafe for her client to lick off. Stimulating certainly, but all paid for.
Cassius smirked. Whores’ services weren’t worth a bent copper. He studied Makeda’s expression. Eyebrows clashing together, she pressed her lips tight. He leaned over. “Do not worry, my first lady. I will let the signores know that you are here as my guest. They won’t do anything brazen.”
“Brazen?” She cocked her head. “No, I am just shocked by how easily they succumb to their advances.”
He laughed. “They are paid to.”
Understanding bloomed on her face. “They are… I don’t know the word in your language. Shermuta.”
Disdain hung heavier in her words than the hammer which Derkin used to forge the world. Yet who could blame these women, who were forced into this life by circumstances often beyond their control.
“Cassius!” Wispy as a paperwood tree, Signore Bianchi stood next to De Lucca and one of the Bovyans. With one gaunt arm draped over a courtesan, he used the other to beckon Cassius.
Makeda’s hand in his, Cassius guided her over the marble floors, around the long central table laden with wines, grapes, and cheeses. “Signore Bianchi, thank you for coming tonight. Allow me to introduce one of my special guests, Makeda, daughter of Kidist, from the Aksumi Mystics’ Conclave.”
The men’s eyes roved over her, Bianchi’s with unconstrained lust, De Lucca like an equine merchant at a Kanin horse auction. The Bovyan’s expression managed to mix both sentiments.
Pit forming in his stomach, Cassius pulled her closer.
If Makeda noticed, it didn’t seem to bother her. If anything, her look was disinterested.
“You have exquisite taste.” With a sweeping bow, De Lucca took Makeda’s hand and kissed it. “I have a sister who is close to your age. You will have to come and have coffee while you are here. Signore Bianchi imports the best coffee beans from Levastya.”
Makeda stared at her hand in his before meeting Cassius’ gaze. She turned De Lucca’s hand over and kissed it in return.
The room went silent for a few awkward seconds. Low murmurs and giggles erupted.
Bianchi cleared his throat. “Cassius, we were just discussing the pyramid honor guard.”
“Yes, I was just there earlier. I know you want to reduce funding, but they look horribly unprepared. The only thing they’re protecting is their purse strings.” Cassius tugged his beard. “We’re becoming lax in our sacred duty. The old legends say if the orcs ever regain control of all the pyramids, they’ll summon –”
Bianchi waved a dismissive hand. “Thousand-year-old fairy tales. There haven’t been armies of Altivorcs or Tivorcs marching on Tokahia in three hundred years. They’re just roving bands of mercenaries, and certainly no threat to the pyramid. The orc gods won’t be returning on their flaming chariots any time soon.”
Makeda nodded. “And the prophecies say the Dragonstones need to be removed from atop all the pyramids. Even if all the others fell into the orcs’ hands, they could never capture the Mystics’ university in my homeland.”
With a sigh, Cassius pointed to the heavens. “The star of Konkistor, God of the Orcs, brightens. In three years’ time, it will reach peak luminosity, coinciding with the Godseye Conjunction and the return of the Golden Flock. It augurs great change. We should at least maintain, if not boost, the honor guard until then.”
Bianchi shook his head. “We have real, immediate problems. The other city-states aren’t paying their fair share for the pyramid’s protection. The local merchant guilds want a tax cut. Now, the crime families are trying to expand their influence. We can’t afford to waste money to feed, train, and pay a thousand men to lounge around an ancient relic that nobody cares about.”
Cassius snorted. “I have it on good authority that the crime families want to control the pyramid.”
De Lucca waved his hand up and down in a calming gesture. “I agree with you, Signore Cassius. I proposed to Signore Bianchi that we maintain the honor guard, but use Bovyans.”
The last thing Tokahia needed was more Bovyans. Cassius’ protest died on his lips as his eyes fell on De Lucca’s entourage.
“May I introduce Captain Baros.” De Lucca gestured to his guard.
The enormous man thumped his fist on his chest. “Honored, Signore Larusso. I have three hundred men in my cohort currently working for the Signores. Another hundred are employed by the crime families, but their contracts expire between tomorrow and two months from now. Beyond that, I can request a thousand more. We will work for food and half the pay of your current honor guard. We will take care of our own training, and I guarantee you that no orc warlock or Mafia enforcer will get close enough to spit on the pyramid.”
“See?” Bianchi grinned. “We can reduce honor-guard expenditures by over half.”
Cassius stroked his beard. A handful of brutes in the city as bodyguards was manageable, and actually made sense if they lived up to their deal and wiped out the Mafia. However, inviting a small army sounded like a monumentally bad idea…especially considering that they believed they had a Divine mandate to conquer all of the Arkoth and the Estomar. “It would be a logistical nightmare to bring them all here, and uh, see to their needs.”
Captain Baros waved a hand. “We have a battalion stationed in Levastya. It would be just a couple weeks’ march. As for our needs….” His eyes drifted from Makeda to De Lucca.
“I will take care of it.” De Lucca bowed. “The plantations I am building will house them and grow their food.”
Cassius studied De Lucca’s inscrutable expression. The upstart did nothing unless he benefitted. The question was, how would he benefit from having a large company of Bovyans in Tokahia? In his ambitions, had he played into the Bovyans’ hands?
De Lucca smiled. He’d come out of nowhere—his birthdate, birthplace, parents’ names, everything secret. He claimed to be descended from the heroes sworn to protect the pyramid, but no amount of Divining had revealed anything about his past or future.
Cassius would redouble his efforts to find out more. Perhaps the invitation De Lucca had extended to Makeda to meet his sister could yield more information. Sometimes, women’s idle banter revealed more than the Gods’ Whispers.
A hush fell over the room, followed by more pointing and quiet murmurs. Cassius looked.
Brehane stood at the entrance. If Makeda had been stunning, Brehane was nothing short of Divine. Her gown’s rose-gold mesh accentuated her brown skin. The elegant design hinted at the curves he’d explored just a couple of hours earlier, without revealing too much. Give her a sword and bow, and she might be mistaken for Solaris’ shieldmaiden, Deena.
Her deep brown eyes searched the crowd before locking on him. Her expression contorted into a scowl.
In contrast, his own lips tugged up at the corners. The unfulfilled confusion he’d felt before melted away.
Makeda released his elbow and stom
ped toward her cousin.
✽ ✽ ✽
Brehane had been hesitant to attend Cassius’ reception, because if he wasn’t going to spill his seed in her, he was simply a distraction from her goal of finding Melas and eventually restoring the Biomancers’ honor. Still, the thought that Makeda might succeed where she hadn’t drew her like a demon to a summoning circle.
Now she surveyed the room, feeling ridiculously plain in the monochrome gown she’d found in the dressing room. Although shiny, it lacked the vibrant colors of the jackets, stockings, and hats the men wore. Like peacocks, they drew the eye, no doubt to win the attention of the women here. They, too, sported the most delightful colors, though the clothes covered very little. Even the musicians, playing exotic stringed instruments, wore bright jackets and pants.
She felt frumpy and underdressed, like a merchant or laborer back home.
At least Makeda, now tromping over, looked equally dull, even if the cut of her black dress exaggerated her curves better than an illusion. Brehane wiggled her fingers, ready to raise a ward against whatever the assama had planned.
Something was wrong. Makeda’s creased brows looked less competitive and more confused. She took Brehane’s hands in hers, in a surprisingly sisterly gesture. “Cousin, I don’t know what to make of this reception.”
Brehane scanned the room again. The dozen men were audacious, hands all over the giggling women. Such a lack of modesty. “Me either.”
“The men are shermuta.”
No wonder they were so brazen. They were paid to be so. Still, Cassius must’ve contracted the cheapest brothel in all of Tokahia. Other than Cassius, the dark-haired one he was talking to, and the two enormous soldiers, the other men were generally plain-looking to downright ugly, with plump bellies that even their colorful clothes couldn’t hide. If she ever stooped so low as to pay for a man, it certainly wouldn’t be one of these specimens.