A moment later the door was flung open and a torch flared into the room, dazzling them. The person holding the torch shouted an order. Guards spilled into the tiny space and snatched Kerr out of Elra's arms. Drawn weapons were at his throat. He shouted and scrambled for freedom.
Anger flashed through him when he heard Elra's muffled resistance to their captors behind him. Another of the guards had lifted her. He shouted his objection, and then a hand clamped over his mouth and he was hauled bodily from the room.
* * * *
Elishiba slept a shallow sleep at first that night. Then she slid deeper, and dreamt she was walking in a starlit sky. In the dream she was alone, and then she saw Amshazar seated on a throne in the midnight sky, as if he were a king or a god. He whispered her name, and offered her his hand. When she reached out for him, she realized she walked on a carpet of stars that showed the way, but as she walked, she seemed to grow no closer and a sense of fear stole into her heart.
She was growing restless with concern, when a sound startled her from her dreams. She blinked into the darkness and then noticed the door to the chamber was open and light spilled in from the outside corridor. Yoshi was pushing past the guards into the room, prodding one of their spears out of her way as she did so, nose in the air.
Puzzled, Elishiba sat up.
Yoshi trotted across the room, a blanket thrown around her shoulders, a self-satisfied smile on her face. The doors clanged shut behind her, leaving them in darkness.
"What happened?” Elishiba whispered when Yoshi settled back on the mattress beside her.
Yoshi plumped the pillows to hide the fact she was speaking, for even in the darkness they were both concerned about it. “A message from Kerr. He came to the door and told the guards to wake me. He insisted one of us come and speak with him, offering to change over with me. I didn't want to leave you, but he was insistent. He would not allow the guards to deny his request, stating I must surely be tired.” She paused to chuckle, clearly impressed by his resourcefulness. “He said he would be there to do your bidding so I could sleep."
"I missed all of this?” Elishiba thought she'd only been dozing, and then she remembered her strange dream about Amshazar.
"You were asleep.” Yoshi poked her with an accusing finger. “Don't look so appalled. You didn't sleep at all last night. I had to let you rest."
Elishiba hadn't meant to sleep. She'd stayed clothed in the close-fitting tunic and skirt she had slipped into when she had finally changed out of her Aleem guard's clothing. When she'd gone to rest, she stayed propped up, for she had wanted to stay aware of her surroundings. “Well, never mind that,” she replied, shrugging it off. “Don't keep me in the dark on the matter, what did Kerr want?"
Yoshi leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “He had a message from Amshazar."
Elishiba's blood quickened at the very sound of his name.
"Ah, your attention is grabbed when he is mentioned.” Yoshi put her mouth right beside Elishiba's ear, as if about to impart another secret. “I was right about him and you, wasn't I?"
Elishiba drew back and sighed. “What is the message, Yoshi?"
Even in the gloom, Elishiba could see that Yoshi lifted her eyebrows, waiting for the response.
"Yes, yes. You were right, now tell me!"
"You are to meet him on your balcony at dawn. Go as if to take some air. Don't be obvious."
Elishiba stayed still for a single moment while the message sank in, then she rose, pulling order into her clothing.
Yoshi chuckled. “It is not yet dawn, mistress."
"It will be, soon enough. I need to get some air."
Yoshi lay back on the bed. Elishiba could see her smiling into the gloom as she settled onto the pillows.
"You are clearly struck by love, empress,” she whispered.
Elishiba lifted one hand to stop her. “Yoshi,” she hissed under her breath. “Now is not the time to torture me with your pronouncements. We are in grave danger here. I hope that Amshazar comes to speak with me because he intends to bring helpful advice. Now hush and get some rest."
Yoshi yawned and nestled down to doze, her smile apparently fixed on her face.
Elishiba ran her fingers through her hair and then strolled toward the balcony. She glanced up at the decorative frieze on the wall as she went. They had seen a light moving there earlier that night, after they had blown out the candles. All was still and dark up there now. It didn't prove anything, and she tried to look as natural as possible as she stepped outside.
There was a distant haze at the very edge of the sky, and the smell of dawn was in the air, as if the atmosphere was already changing the state of the earth with the rising sun. She walked to the edge of the balcony. As she'd noticed earlier, there was no balcony to right or left, or above. The one below was closed and shuttered. The wall behind her ran up to a decorative top, as if that were the roof.
Their meeting was arranged; yet now she felt its impossibility—as well as the danger closing in on them. She'd been denied more than one visitor of her own kind, surely the mysterious nomad would not be allowed access. And if he somehow made his way through the labyrinthine passages of the palace to her, what chance would they have to speak before Mehmet's people discovered him and tore them apart?
How would he reach her? Through sorcery?
Believe and it will be possible, she told herself, remembering their time together in the desert, the fantastic feats he had shown her she could achieve.
She stood at the edge of the balcony and put her faith in Sevita, the goddess who had led her to an understanding of herself. Pleading with her inner image of the love goddess, she asked Sevita to give their meeting her blessing and shelter it; silently chanting a mantra of devotions.
After a few moments the sky lightened. She heard her name being whispered and looked up toward the sound. In the pale dawn light, she saw that Amshazar was leaning over the decorative wall above. She broke into a relieved smile.
"You did well to insist upon a balcony, empress.” He smiled back at her, and then rolled a rope ladder over the precipice. It unfurled down to her, and he gestured for her to climb up to him.
She grasped it, climbing up to him as quickly as she could. It made her think of her strange dream, and yet this time she closed on him quickly and readily took his offered hand when he reached over to her. “I thought you might have to use sorcery to reach me,” she commented.
"A rope ladder sufficed in this case. We must always use our skills judiciously, asking ourselves if the gods would approve.” As he helped her over the edge, he added: “And where you are concerned I fear I grow selfish in my need to see you.” There was a jest in his tone, but truth too.
She felt her face heat with pleasure at his remark, and glanced around to distract herself from the self-awareness and arousal he caused in her. She saw that the roof was staggered and there was indeed a room above theirs. She peered into it, trying to see where they were. Heavy curtains had been pushed open at the shutters. There were dusty and threadbare. Beyond that, she could see an old armchair, its leather skin torn, horsehair stuffing seeping out.
"Will we be discovered together here?” she asked.
"Don't worry, there is no one around. The room is an attic where ancient scrolls are kept. They are not used often,” he said wryly. “Hanrah's father collected them from the lands he raided. He kept them for their value, but the Karseedians are more inclined to instinct than intellect, as you might have noticed."
His words amused her. “Yes, indeed. There was little thought put into our initial meeting with the emperor.” She smiled. It was good to see him, to be this close to him again. “I'm sorry I could not speak with you yesterday,” she added, because guilt had stolen into her heart. “That I doubted..."
"You needed time, I understood that.” He looked into her eyes, searchingly. He had not removed his hand from her waist, where he steadied her. “How are you now?"
She gave a soft lau
gh. “Surprisingly level-headed, given the circumstances. It is not how I expected to feel. At home, in Suzin, I was so confused by all of this. I thought I might be more easily swayed, and yet it is now that I feel I see most clearly."
"Looking into the enemy's eyes can do that to a person."
"She is an enemy, isn't she? Of the most despicable kind ... Mehmet is the one controlling all of this, isn't she?"
"Yes, but you needed to see that yourself to understand it. I don't want you to be here, to do this, but it had to be so."
She understood. “I know. But I cannot agree to these terms. I cannot marry Hanrah without fair negotiation. It is what we were promised in my coming here, and yet I feel as if I have been very foolish and have led those closest to me into a dreadful trap.” She glanced at him to see his reaction to this most dreadful of her fears.
He put his hand behind her shoulder and ushered her toward the shelter of the room. “A battle or war can take many forms. If you had refused to compromise in any way, Karseedia would have attacked without warning. You took this step to avoid your people being subjected to such a battle. Sometimes it is necessary to walk into a trap to push things along. You have taken a leading step, that means you have some control in the situation."
She gave an uneasy sigh. “I do not feel as if I have any control in the situation."
He lifted the curtains so that she could go into the room. “Many years ago, Mehmet arrived here in exactly the same way, with the same fears. She has rearranged the circumstances to suit herself, as can you. Although I suspect you will handle it very differently.” He smiled.
"I would despise myself if I were to stifle my people as she does.” She looked around the room, peering into the gloomy corners at the large pottery urns where the parchments were stored for protection. “At the same time I hope we don't end up like this.” She gestured at the long-forgotten parchments that had once been loved by their creators.
"Don't doubt yourself now, Empress. It may sound strange, but Hanrah may be your ally in this, for his heart is betrothed to another."
His comment surprised her, but if it were so, he might be right.
He tipped her face up with one finger beneath her chin. “You came here to negotiate, did you not?"
He was so close. She ached for him to kiss her as he had before. It was so hard to concentrate with the yearning that built inside her, but she had to ask him the questions that flitted endlessly through her mind. “Yes, but she refused to speak with me, and apparently Hanrah has no voice of his own. She wants only the fruits of the marriage."
A wry look crossed over Amshazar's face. “I suspect that's not all she wants."
"True ... and what about the jinneyah that she has in her possession?"
"The jinneyah?"
Yes, he knew about it, she could see that, but he was also startled by her remark. “It wasn't me,” she added, “Yoshi recognized what it was."
"It is no small thing.” He grew thoughtful. “Mehmet has owned it for many years. She can be irrational, and she yearns to behold the power of this thing that she owns."
"Your words are not encouraging me,” Elishiba breathed, unable to help herself.
"You have more wit than she, Elishiba.” He broke into a grin, which helped to ease her tension.
"Your remark is very flattering, Amshazar. However, that is not what I need most at this time."
Admiration shone in his eyes. He stroked his fingers through her hair, his hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder, making her waver under the enclosing touch of his warm palm.
"The jinneyah is a particularly malevolent being, but it functions under the most basic of rules—that is what we must remember, whatever happens. By granting three wishes to the owner, the jinneyah wins her freedom. The most important thing for the owner to keep in mind is to use the third wish to once again imprison the jinneyah. Cautious owners—owners who take only two wishes—have used the immense power of the jinns successfully. But it is a dangerous undertaking. If Mehmet does resort to using it, I fear she will forget that in her lust for power."
A frown gathered on his forehead. “The conflict between Karseedia and Aleem will be nothing compared to the clouds we would live under should this jinneyah be set permanently free."
A shiver ran through Elishiba as she listened to his words.
"Remember your newfound strengths,” he said, “your fledgling sorcery. The simplest of spells can trip up your enemies if used cleverly."
He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke, and she felt her will strengthen. She remembered his healing power with the sick boy in Suzin. Was he using his sorcery on her, to help her be strong? Or was it something else?
His eyes were drinking in her face. It had an astonishing effect, as if she were turning to liquid at her center. Desire had never affected her this way, not so powerfully. She lifted her fingers to his lips and touched them lightly. “Amshazar, you fire my spirit,” she murmured, desire surging up inside her.
He took her fingers and kissed their tips, looking deep into her eyes. She tilted her head back, asking for his kiss. He offered her one—long and gentle—first brushing her lips with deft movements then reaching into her, drawing her to him.
She offered, she gave; she met his kiss with every part of her, declaring her desire for him openly. They had both waited for that kiss, that naked kiss, wherein the two of them admitted this thing between them, the power if it, its undeniable grip on them.
Her hands clutched his shoulders as their kiss grew more passionate, and his hands roved her waist and hips, his body pressed more fully against hers. He backed her toward the wall and when she felt it at her back, she gasped and his head dropped kiss her neck.
His mouth on her skin seemed to brand her, and she flamed in response, wanting him to claim her. She needed this, she needed to couple with this man who gave of himself to help her win her battle, this man who set her alight with passion.
"Make love to me, Amshazar,” she whispered. “I need it. I need you."
* * * *
It took four of Mehmet's strongest men to restrain the handsome Aleemite warrior with the shaved head. Despite the number and stature of his adversaries, he struggled and fought them with zeal. He lashed out with his fists, even though they were shackled together at the wrists. The loose chains that hung from the shackles whipped out across the stone floor of the servants’ quarters as he struggled.
Mehmet watched, amused. Her servants had long since backed away and run from the sight, cleverly hiding themselves to stay out of trouble.
As the Aleem warriors and servants were picked up, one by one, and brought to her, the shaved-head leader glowered and cursed. “You will never subject the Empress Elishiba to your will,” he spat at Mehmet and Sibias.
"What a loyal, devoted slave you are,” Mehmet commented. “However, you are somewhat outnumbered, as you may have noticed."
He ignored her remark.
She gestured to the four massive warriors, who proceeded to lift the chains that hung from his shackled wrists, looping them across his back, tying them in place, so that the chains ran along the outside of his arms and across his shoulder blades to latch together at his spine. Metal poles were inserted into slots in the chains at his shoulders and elbows, so that the four men could move the Aleemite between them and keep him at arm's length. It was a clever gadget, one her late husband had brought home from his travels, where he had seen enormous creatures kept as pets this way.
With the shaved-head warrior eventually under their control, they pushed him down on to his knees, before her.
Mehmet stroked her riding crop through the palm of her hand as she observed him bucking against them. “I like your spirit. What is your name?"
He ignored her question, a growl in his throat as he flashed menacing glances at his captors.
She strolled over to him, lifting his glowering face with the tip of her crop beneath his chin.
He jerked his head away. She c
ouldn't help pausing to admire the view. The taut lines of his neck tapered into powerful shoulders, the muscles in his upper arms flexing as he tried to break free of the shackles. For a moment she thought he might manage it. His arms were rigid with effort, and the edge of the shackles bent and lifted as he twisted his wrists within them.
"They call him Xerxes,” interrupted Sibias. Jealousy flickered in his eyes.
Mehmet smiled.
She returned her attention to the man on his knees. “Xerxes, is it?"
He glared at her, but did not speak. Her grip on the crop tightened. She lashed out with the crop, scoring his face across his cheekbone, blood smarting from the wound. He did not flinch under the blow, staring at her all the while. She gave a wry smile. She couldn't be sure her own warriors would behave so well.
In the background, a pair of Karseedian guards brought in two more of the Aleemite party, a young woman and a fair-haired youth. They stared aghast at the sight of Xerxes bound at her feet.
"Elishiba's servants,” Sibias commented.
She was still annoyed that she'd been unable to force the man on his knees to acknowledge her, but she had what she wanted—bargaining power with Elishiba. Sibias had told her this man was a favorite, Elishiba's most trusted warrior.
"Take these prisoners to the temple,” she instructed. “Who is left?"
Sibias's eyes glinted. “One woman servant who is with her in her chamber.” He paused, a look of relish passing over his expression. “And Amshazar."
"Ah yes, Amshazar. The nomad."
Sibias had bided his time well. They both had. But they had suffered her son's strange friend for long enough. She had good reason to punish Hanrah now. He had disobeyed her wishes by keeping his forbidden lover in the city secretly, against her will. Her men had already hunted down Hanrah's lover and taken him to the temple, where he would be offered as a sacrifice to the god of war. A fitting tribute, she mused, with relish.
She felt no remorse for Hanrah over the loss of his chosen courtesan. He'd gone against her wishes for the slave's fate. That payment in death had already been promised, many moons ago. The death of Amshazar would be Hanrah's punishment for going against her will secretly. Then, with the fruits of the marriage harvested, her most powerful time would truly begin.
Unveiling the Sorceress Page 18