by CA Morgan
Eris shivered and forced himself not to tremble in the presence of Raga’s magic. He knew this display was but child’s play for this particular type of sorcerer. Elementals were the force of all creation.
Never in his life was Eris Pann called a coward. Not even when confronted with overwhelming odds and running was the only option. It goaded him to have such an unrestrained fear of such a harmless display. Harmless. What god in any universe would do this for a man, on a whim, on the chance of this crazy plan?
He knew that some magics were merely illusion, while other conjurations could be killed with sword or amulet in hand. But he also knew there was a great difference between those magics and those of a Red Vale sorcerer.
He wondered if the gods themselves feared this group of elemental sorcerers, who were the embodiment of every form of raw elemental power that existed in the world; at least as far as he knew and understood these things. There was no telling what other forms might exist within the boundaries of the Red Vale and he hoped never to find out.
Several days ago he stopped doubting that Raga-Tor was the fire elemental; so useful, yet so deadly. And now, after the events of the evening, there was no forgetting their mutual nemesis, Charra-Tir, who was the essence of an ocean’s tempest.
Eris would never forget the chillness of her touch, nor her deep, haunting blue eyes that spoke of unknown horrors that dwelled in the depths of the seas.
Though the room was growing warm by the working of Raga’s magic, Eris shivered yet again.
Pulling himself up proud and tall, he forced himself to be unafraid. What was there to fear anyway? The worst thing that could happen was that he might be killed. And what was that? Nothing he hadn’t faced before on countless occasions. It was only a brief, though perhaps painful, transitory state that wouldn’t last indefinitely before the embrace of everlasting blackness and unknowing consciousness.
Eris believed little in the gods, whether that of his own people or those he had learned about during his travels. Rather, he thought of them only as he cursed by their names. Of course, there was always the possibility of finding one’s self hurled into the seventh level of Riza’s hellish dominion. That particular thought crossed his mind more often than did the promises of a gentle paradise as foretold by the religions of more civilized men.
“Your pensiveness is unbecoming, Eris,” Raga said as he finished his work. “You’ll crease your face like that. We must have you as flawless as possible.”
Eris woke from his thoughts and stared at the center of the room where an ornate, gold frame held a large piece of silvered glass.
“It’s time for you to see yourself and choose a costume. Are you ready?” Raga asked and stepped back from the glass.
Eris took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be an easy task. Slowly, he rose from the bed and walked to stand in front of Raga, but with his back to the glass. He untied the cloak and handed it to the sorcerer.
He didn’t want to see himself. To see the mockery of the man he was. To see the revulsion he felt when he was so changed. Would he find in his appearance the weakness he felt? Would he have a sense of shame standing there thus changed with the huge vitality of Raga only a step behind? He closed his eyes and heard the echoing voice of Charra-Tir as she pronounced his fate those terrible months ago.
“For the violation of my temple, and your interference with my altar maiden, you shall know her shame and despair. You will know what it’s like to be chattel in the world of men.”
Eris felt Raga’s hands rest gently on his shoulders as he was turned around.
“Open your eyes. Become the woman you see,” Raga said, kindly, without malice or insinuation as if he had read his thoughts.
Eris opened his eyes slowly. At first he felt the clutch of revulsion as the shape was so alien and unfamiliar, yet his eyes considered what they saw with a masculine perspective and he appreciated the beauty he beheld. Slowly, timidly, as though he was looking at something he shouldn’t, he looked himself up and down. When he opened his mouth to speak, no words came. What was there to say?
He was as Raga had said—simply, overwhelmingly beautiful. And what eyes, Eris thought, and leaned a bit closer to the mirror. The most incredible green eyes looked back at him. Like flawless jade, they gave his face a sensuous, feline appearance. Thinking as a man, he knew he could never resist them.
He saw no weakness of limb and for that he was pleased. There was only the graceful suppleness of a dancer, or even better, he thought, the fluid strength of the few swordswomen he had come across, but their skin in no way compared to the flawless olive complexion of his.
“You see, you are quite lovely,” Raga said, quietly. “The Sultan would have to be blind not to choose you.”
From one of the chairs Raga picked up a golden circlet. It was hung around the back with a fine, golden mesh studded with diamonds that would hang down just to the nape of the neck.
“You never said my eyes changed colors,” Eris finally managed to say. He found himself quite intrigued by the way the corners were drawn in a slight, upward slant.
“I didn’t want to spoil it for you. Besides, by looking down you can see some of your other comely endowments,” Raga said with a wink. Eris flushed involuntarily and felt an inkling of understanding the words spoken by the sorceress.
“What is that you have?” Eris asked quickly to change the subject.
“It’s a headpiece. I thought it would look nice, and keep your hair out of your face during the dance. Shall I put it on for you?” Raga offered.
“I’d almost forgotten about that asinine dance,” Eris said glumly. Seeing Raga about to speak, he added quickly, “I know, I know. What choice do I have? Put it on. We’ll be here till the sun rises if I try to do it.’
“There. Now won’t you make an impression,” Raga said and smoothed the ebony locks. The gold and diamonds sparkled against the blackness like stars in a midnight sky.
“Now, we need to see which color of costume suits you best. Here is a green one, and a red. Which do you like best?”
Eris suddenly felt very silly and awkward. He laughed, but it came out as a lilting giggle, which only heightened his embarrassment. Once more he felt the heat rise in his cheeks and was sure they flushed.
“Very good,” Raga complimented. “I didn’t know you had it in you to laugh without that obnoxious sarcasm. What’s so humorous?”
“This,” Eris said and turned around to take hold of a piece of cloth with each hand, “an all-powerful sorcerer and the hero of Rennas Baye discussing colors of cloth instead of polishing swords and singing tavern ballads. What fools we are.”
“You’re still drunk. When you’re as old as I and have many sons, then you may laugh at all of this. But for tonight, turn around and pay attention. We’ve still to teach you how to dance,” Raga said.
Eris gave him an amused smirk and turned back around with something akin to a swagger. Raga ignored Eris’ orneriness and draped the green cloth over his right shoulder and the red over the left.
“I don’t like the green one,” Eris said, as he studied himself in the glass. Whether it was the masculine or feminine side of him that chose the color, he couldn’t tell. “No, it has to be the red.”
“Good. I don’t care for the green one either,” Raga agreed and the green garment dissolved from Eris’ shoulder into a mist of red vapor.
Eris nearly jumped into the next room as the warm redness touched his bare skin. He glared at Raga for touching him with his magic and snatched the costume from him.
“Sorry,” Raga apologized quickly and tried to look contrite, but Eris was already absorbed with the problem of trying to figure out the ins and outs of the costume.
Eris handed Raga part of the costume as he pulled on a pair of very full pantaloons of the sheerest and finest red fabric he had ever seen. Fine golden threads woven through the fabric made it shimmer in the light. The pantaloons’ soft folds were gathered at the ankles by wide bands
of gold and blue brocade ribbons. He fastened a metal belt of golden links, tinkling coins and sparkling diamonds and rubies low around his hips.
The bodice was red like the pantaloons and it seemed there was barely enough fabric to cover his ample bosom. It was held in place by a string of pearls passing around his neck and several around his back. Five more strands of pearls were attached to the sides of the bodice and caught up between the breasts with a brilliant diamond pendant.
The cascading rows of precious gems tickled Eris’ stomach as he bent down to tie on elegant, gold sandals. He pushed two bracelets in the shape of uncoiling serpents securely onto each upper arm, and then slipped on a handful of bangles that Raga handed him. Finally, Raga fastened a sparkling diamond choker around his neck.
“Well,” Eris said as he adjusted one snake band, “if we can’t convince the Sultan one way, the wealth of jewels I have on will be more than enough to buy him, or any ruler for that matter.”
“That’s true, but there is still one more thing left to do. Close your eyes,” Raga said.
“What are you going to do?” Eris asked suspiciously.
“Apply your make-up.”
“I don’t see any on the chairs.”
“There isn’t.”
“You’d better think twice before you magic me.”
Raga sighed. "You might be handy with that little shaving blade of yours, but I doubt you know much about this so be quiet and close your eyes."
Eris stubbornly refused. He barely tolerated Raga’s magic as it was.
“Close them,” Raga insisted in an even voice. “Don’t make me force you.”
Eris stared coldly at Raga a moment more and then closed his eyes. Almost immediately he felt a warm, damp mist flow around his head, and the sweet smell of orange blossoms wafted passed his nose.
“I believe that is one of your favorite fragrances,” Raga said, sniffing the sweet perfume.
“How do you know?”
“When I was healing you, I ran across a few interesting items. This was one of them. In fact, on that thought I placed a mind-bonding marker. It will help you sustain the link between us,” Raga told him.
“You did what?” Eris demanded, incredulously. His eyes snapped open. “Verin’s eyes!” he swore suddenly as the red mist stung him.
“Did I tell you to open your eyes?” Raga asked. He shook his head in exasperation and grabbed Eris' hands. “Don’t rub them. You’ll smear everything.”
“They hurt, damn you,” Eris said, angrily, struggling against Raga’s grip on him.
“The feeling will pass shortly.”
“I told you not to touch me with your sorcery without telling me first. Now you’ve been playing with my mind, and you expect me to trust you? You’ve already put me through more than anyone has a right to do.”
Raga gripped him tighter. “Hold still. It will pass. And what I did was for the best. I was already there, so why not? Why waste my energy to do it later? If I never told you, you would never know the marker was there. Good. You’re finished. Now you can open your eyes.”
Eris blinked a time or two to get rid of the gritty feeling left over from the magical mist and turned to look in the glass. His eyes were kohled and lined to further enhance their already exotic look. His lips were red like a wet, polished apple, and his cheeks were powered with the touch of a summer rose.
Eris raised an eyebrow and studied his face.
“I’ll never be able to get this stuff on right.”
“You won’t have to. You’ll have plenty of servants to do it for you. How many days until the new moon?”
“Twelve.”
“Good. That will give us plenty of time to get you out of the seraglio. Who knows, you might even learn how to put all of this on in that length of time,” Raga teased.
“Don’t count on it. As soon as that stone is in my hand, I’ll be looking for a way out and you had better be ready,” Eris said and swept out into the room leaving a trail of orange blossom behind.
“Whenever you say things like that, I get worried,” Raga said. The looking glass vanished in a golden flash.
“You’re worried? What about me? I have to enter a seraglio with probably fifty other women.”
“You’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
“If I entered as myself, as a man, I would think I was in paradise, but as this—”
“Erisa the Wench,” Raga teased and Eris gave him annoyed look.
“What do women talk about anyway?” It was something he’d never given much thought to. He doubted that his grandmother’s conversations that he had listened to as a child would be topics of a harem.
“How should I know? You’ve a better chance of understanding their minds than I do,” Raga answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose they talk about their hair, clothes, and the virility of the Sultan. Things like that.”
Eris wrinkled his face.
“I’m going to die of boredom, and from being fluffed and puffed, not from any curse,” he grumbled, fidgeting with the pearls hanging from the bodice.
“In that case, it’s time to give you something better to complain about. It’s time for you to dance,” Raga announced. He moved a small table and the chairs out of the way. “And, before you say anything, yes, I’m going to use a spell on you. We can’t have you lumbering about like a camel on ice. Come, stand over here.”
It was futile to argue, so Eris stood on the spot Raga indicated.
“Sometimes, I think you should stay a woman. You seem to be a trifle less ornery this way,” Raga commented, as he draped a cloak over Eris’ head and shoulders and handed him two small packets of paper filled with lumpy powder.
“What’s this for?”
“I thought it would be better if you wore the cloak to the palace and have it on when you begin your dance. That way no one will see you until we want them to. When the music starts, I want you to relax and simply listen to the music. The spell will do the rest. These packets will make a smoke cloud when you throw them to the floor. That’s when you’ll toss aside your cloak and appear as a goddess from the mist,” Raga explained with a theatrical flourish of arms.
“How are you going to explain floating instruments to the Sultan? Obviously, his musicians won’t be able to play the music you have in mind.”
“Need you ask,” Raga said as a full complement of instruments appeared floating in the air in one corner of the room. “I’m going to use a few illusions.”
“I should never have agreed to this,” Eris mumbled. Nervously, he wondered just what sort of dance this was going to be.
“Ready?”
Eris shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Remember, relax and concentrate on the music. It will do the work for you,” Raga reminded as the slow, rhythmic music began.
Forcing himself to relax, Eris listened to the first few measures of the music before he felt compelled to throw down the magical powder. A white cloud rose up from his feet filling the space inside the cloak and roiling gently out of the opening in the front. He tossed the cloak aside as his head dropped back and his arms raised up over his head, over the white mist to offer a glimpse of what was to come.
The music ebbed and flowed around him as if gentle hands guided his first hesitant steps. The melody soothed and relaxed him as alien emotions filled him. He felt a desire to be admired for his grace, for the strength in his moves and a strange desire to please and Eris Pann never went out of his way to please anyone. Soon he had absolutely no control over the movements of his body as it skipped and whirled in graceful time to the fiery, haunting melody.
“Good, Eris, you’re doing fine,” Raga encouraged.
Eris barely heard him in his trance-like state, but again he was oddly pleased by the words and gave himself to the powerful rhythms pulsing around him, to the unseen hands that guided his quick steps. He reveled in the flowing, graceful strength of his body. Maybe it had its uses after all.
It wa
s an intoxicating feeling as his breath came fully into his lungs, and a long-buried joy in his spirit twined and whirled with the strains of the music. He found great pleasure in what he was doing, and that puzzled the barely conscious masculine side of him immensely.
The music began to slow. The drums faded and the airy sounds of the flute made fluttery sounds that matched the movement of his undulating torso. Eris knew the dance was coming to an end.
He spun slowly once, twice and sank down into a shimmering red puddle on the floor. One leg bent beneath him and the other stretched sinuously forward. Slowly, he bent forward and finished the dance with crossed wrists lying on top of his outstretched ankle. With a last glance and but a whisper of a smile his head bowed down to the knee.
After an intensely silent moment, Raga exclaimed, “That was beautiful!”
It was so much better than he had hoped for especially on the first try. Obviously, there was no need for a second. He hurried across the room to help Eris to his feet.
Raga bent down and took Eris by the hands, helped him to stand and then took an involuntary step backward as Eris raised his face to him. Raga was stunned by the aroused look in those brilliant green eyes.
“Did you enjoy it, sorcerer?” Eris asked, in a voice as dusky as a violet sunset. He pressed a soft hand to Raga’s furry face. The large diamond on the bodice twinkled encouragingly as Eris strove to catch his breath.
Raga was stupefied. Eris felt vaguely puzzled by what he did, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter, it seemed almost…natural.
“Are you feeling all right?” Raga asked.
Eris smiled, almost sweetly, as he walked passed Raga. The scent of orange blossom bloomed with the heat of Eris’ body. Raga watched in amazement as Eris sank slowly down on the edge of the bed and stretched out seductively. With slow, feline movements, he rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin in his cupped hands.