"Who is this King, who ruins his own people and holds my friend captive? He sounds more demon than man."
Telascar looked about, making sure no servants were within earshot. "Watch what you say," he whispered. "Spies are everywhere and he could give the Ghelenai with their black knives a lesson in cruelty!" A moments pause and when he was sure no one else could hear them, Telascar told the tale. "Twelve years ago, Enmer-Galila was merely one royal cousin among many. Kedaj was in chaos - the Corsairs were ravaging the coasts of Hadaraj and this city was not spared their wrath. They even raided the harbor itself, burning many ships at anchor and holding the city ransom. A huge payment in gold, spices and slaves were given for the liberty of the city. Afterward the authority of the King was gravely weakened, especially among those who'd lost money and goods because of his weakness. There was intrigue, the King died in his baths...an accident it was said, though everyone assumed he had assistance. His sons died as well, as did many others with a claim to the throne, even as their supporters fought each other in the streets. Then Enmer-Galila bribed the captains of the fleet...where he got the money is a mystery to this day. They armed their sailors and marines and turned them loose on the streets. Two days later only Enmer-Galila remained standing and the city acclaimed him as King.
"The next year the Corsairs returned, raiding the coast lands north and south of Kedaj. It was soon noticed that the lands they pillaged all belonged to those lords and notables who opposed Enmer-Galila on the throne, that the estates of those who supported him, not to mention the King himself, were untouched."
"Which makes no sense," said Segovac. "I was a captive for three years on Tereg. Enkilash was quite public in his hatred of the Hadaraji cities Kedaj in particular. There were many envoys sent over the years, trying to buy him off. He always end them back missing various body parts."
"Somehow, Enmer-Galila succeeded. A merchant of my acquaintance claims he had it from a cousin whose wife is niece to a minor official in the Treasury that the King used an intermediary, some foreigner from lands unknown, who was also friends with Enkilash. No matter how it happened, the results were clear enough. The enemies of the King were in no condition to oppose him any further, especially after he loaned them money from his own coffers to recover from their losses. And to pay off their debts, he made them grow the shamma, and...well, you saw the results on your way into the city."
Segovac shook his head. "And that is the man who has my friend in his dungeons?"
"One among many, I assume. Saerec willing, he is still among the living."
"Oh, there is no doubt about that. He is very hard to kill." Segovac paused a moment. "Why do you stay, friend Telascar? You are Eburrean. Ganascorec is dead. Gwindec rules now and he will right the many wrongs of his uncle's reign. You could leave this cesspit of a city, return to your own folk."
"They may be my own folk, Segovac Rhennari. But my wife is of Kedaj. My sons, my daughter were born of this city and know nothing of Eburrea beyond the stories I tell them. Our tongue is foreign to their ears. I could leave, but would they follow? For all its faults, this city is their home. And that makes it mine as well."
"A man shouldn't be forced from his home a second time," Segovac agreed. "But now we must speak of my friend. He is still alive, I know it. But he won't remain so forever in that place. Will you help in me free him?"
Telascar held his hands out. "It's not a question of if I will help you," he said. "I am a humble merchant, whose coffers hold more dust than coin. I do not have the power to get into the Palace, let alone get someone out of it."
"Then tell me who in this city does!"
"Segovac Rhennari, the only men with the power to free your friend in the Palace are..."
"Yes?"
"Well...they are within the Palace. "
Segovac looked him in the eye. "Is that your last word? Is there nothing else you can say?"
"I am sorry..."
"Don't be. I have imposed on you enough. I cannot ask you for more. You honor the memory of your clan, Telascar. The blessings of Saerec on this house. I will be on my way then..."
Segovac stood and walked away from the table. He was perhaps three steps away when Telascar spoke. "Wait. I cannot help you. But I may know someone who can."
Segovac turned back towards him. "Go on."
"Well...it's just that this fellow will want something in return."
"I have gold."
"He has gold. It's something else he needs." Telascar looked him in the eye. "Tell me, does Heaven owe you any favors?"
A cup was thrust into Azaran's hand. "Wine?" said a voice speaking from ten thousand miles away, followed by the sloshing of liquid. "You should drink."
"Drink," Azaran said. "Yes..." He raised the cup to his lips, tasting the tart wine, then lowered it, shaking his head clear of the fog. "What are you doing?"
Zeyanna stood across from him, raising her own cup. "Drinking wine with you. For that is what friends do in this city. They drink wine...among other things."
"What other things..." He found himself staring at her dark purple eyes, which seemed to grow larger by the moment, becoming deep pools that drew him in and abolished all thought...
He stepped away, the wind trembling from his fingers. "What...are you doing to me?" He forced the fog from his mind. The runes burned , but only halfheartedly, as if something was holding them back. "What..."
"You are strong." Zeyaana set the class aside and touched the base of her throat. Again there was a rush of blood to the area, the faint hint of a glow. A loud ringing sounded in Azaran's ears. His balance seemed off. The woman filled his visions, he could not look away...voices, thousands of voices screamed in his head, but their sound turned to a featureless hiss. The walls were melting around him...the woman approached, swaying from side to slide like an apparition in smoke, like a snake advancing on a cornered mouse, closing in for the kill.
He stepped back. His heel tripping over a pillow and then he was floating...falling down in a cloud of gossamer and rose petals, falling, falling...the air exhaled from his body when he hit the floor, each second passing like a lifetime. His head snapped back, struck the ground and something shattered in his mind, a dark glass wall struck by an iron hammer, splinters flying past his inner eyes...
"Control. Without it there is nothing else." The voice spoke from behind. He did not dare look back, not did the six other men standing beside him, wearing nothing but breech clouts, holding out their arms, heavy weights clutched in each hand, kept level with their shoulders by sheer strength of will at this point.
"The body is the house of the mind, so the body is controlled by the mind. But the mind is the house of the will and is the servant of the will. The will is supreme. When it is strong, there is nothing that can't be overcome. When it is weak, it is the slave of the world. It is a muscle that grows through constant exertion. The will masters the mind, the mind masters the body. Thus is made the man. Who masters himself, masters the world..."
One of the men gasped, letting a weight drop a few inches. He groaned as a whip slashed down on his back. The arm quivered as it raised the weight high again.
"Weakness is death." The voice kept its same calm tone. "For that lapse, you shall all remain an additional quarter hour. Control is everything, Mastery is life. Without it, you are useless to us..."
He lay on his back. The tunic was gone. The woman was straddling him, hiking her skirt up about her hips. A part of his mind that was still somewhere near coherent wondered at this. He did not feel lust. Desires of the flesh were unknown to him, they were purged from his body and mind. A weakness, and he was strong...
Except he wasn't. Strange sensations were flowing through him, pushing through a door that for the moment was no longer locked. He felt...warm. Felt his body react in a strange way...not so strange to other men, but strange to him...
"Control is everything. Mastery is life. Without it you are useless to us..." The whip slashed down again, striking across t
heir backs. Cuts were made, blood dribbled down their flesh, but not a man wavered. Pain was nothing. It would be mastered. He would master it...master himself...master the world...
"Mastery..." he mumbled. The woman was grinding against him...he was inside her, his body reacting accordingly. She was making some strange noise...halfway between pain and pleasure. He looked up into her eyes, but they were closed.
They they opened. "I am your Master," she whispered, placing a hand over his mouth. "Say nothing else..."
"Mastery is everything..." A whip cut across his back...
His loins twisted as he reached a sexual climax, the woman thrashed about in a way that would have seemed ridiculous under different circumstances. He tried to rise, but his body would no obey. He had lost control...anger flared momentarily, but then was subsumed by that strange pink haze...
"Who master's himself, master's the world..."
She was off him now, leaning against a wall and coughing. A rag was pressed to her mouth. When she pulled it away, he saw spot spots blood.
He passed out.
Chapter Five
Segovac went through a door, which took him to small garden in the back of Telascar's house. A patch of dirt hard up against the wall surrounding the place, with vines crawling up the stone, from which large white flowers drooped. There was a hint of their perfume still in the air, though half of the blooms were wilting in the heat. A small reflecting pool stood at one end, empty from the drought. Most everyone else in the household avoided this part of the house - nothing grew on the ground despite the best efforts of Telascar's wife, who fancied herself something of a gardener. Had the master of the house possessed the funds, the spot would have been paved over and turned into a storage shed.
But for Segovac's purposes, it was perfect. He sat down crosslegged, holding a sliver of wood in one hand. His eyes closed, the Great Chant beginning in his head. Over and again, the words bouncing off the inside of his skull. The world faded away as he reached out to touch the divine, but found himself grasping only air.
Command me. What is your will?
Nothing. Stars wheeled overhead. He stood in a field, before a stone covered in lichen, pounded by wind and rain and ice, standing unchanged in winter and summer alike. Unchanging...patient.
Patience...
How long must I wait...
Flowers bloomed, withered and died. The land changed, turning green with life, barren with the coming of winter and green again. Over and again, a hundred times...until a man approached, holding a mighty hammer, raising it high and swinging down on the stone, shattering it into a thousand pieces...
His eyes flew open. As always, he looked down, saw the perfect spiral drawn into the dirt. He let the stick drop. "As long as necessary," he said. A week had passed. He would wait another, if needed, a year, a century, if Saerec willed it so. "I hear you."
Segovac then sensed eyes watching him. He looked over and saw two of Telascar's children standing in the doorway, watching him with wide eyes.
The boy pointed at the spiral drawn on the ground. "What is that?" he asked.
"A prayer," came Segovac's answer.
The girl walked toward. "Is is magic?" she asked.
"It might be."
"Mother says you're a sorcerer," said the boy, suspicion on his face. "She says we shouldn't talk to you."
"Then what are you doing here?" Segovac rose to his feet, wincing at the ache in his knees.
"Father says you are a holy man. But you don't look like a priest to me."
"And what does a priest look like, son of Telascar?"
"Like the men at the temple. They have big beards and golden robes and carry big staffs of silver."
"I don't like the temple," said the girl. "They kill sheep there. It scares me..."
"I imagine it would," said Segovac. "They do make a lot of noise."
"Do you have golden robes?" asked the boy.
"No. They would be awfully heavy, wouldn't you say?"
The boy frowned. "You are from our father's country, are you not?"
"I am."
"You serve his god? The same one he always calls out too? Shayrack?" He mangled the name.
Segovac winced. "Saerec, yes. The god of our people. And since you are Telascar's children, he is your god as well."
"Mother takes us to the temple of Sagosh," said the boy. "She says we are of Kedaj, not Eburrea."
"And what does Sagosh teach his people?" Segovac looked the boy in the eye. "Especially when it comes to treating a guest in your house?"
"Um..." The boy reddened with embarrassment.
Segovac leaned down, looking at the both of them. "Something I've learned over the years. All lands have their gods. Some are big, some are small. Some look like men, others like beasts, others a mix between the two. In some places the gods do not have any shape at all. But in all places the gods teach these two lessons - treat guests under your roof with respect and always be polite to your elders. Does Sagosh say otherwise?"
Before either child could answer, their father appeared at door. "Go inside," he told them both. The song and daughter scampered back through the door.
"Were they bothering you?" he asked Segovac.
"Not at all. The boy merely had some questions about his fathers homeland."
"Really?" Telascar sounded skeptical. "He never asked me about it. His mother discourages such talk."
"She finds the subject distasteful?"
"More like she wants our children to be more Kedaji than the Kedaji. Having a foreigner for a father can be an impediment here, especially where the aristocracy is concerned." He shook his head. "What does Heaven show you?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Many things. Why do you ask?"
"A week ago, I said there was a man who might be able to help you. I've made certain inquiries and finally received a reply. He wants to meet with you. But you had best bring him something worth his time."
"What can I offer this worthy fellow? I haven't much in terms of gold..."
"He has gold in plenty. What he wants is knowledge. I've told him you are a fortune teller of sorts..."
"A fortune teller!" Segovac reddened at the comparison.
"Apologies, but Rhennari doesn't translate into Hadaraji! This man has a weakness for such and I have told him that you are a holy man from my homeland, who has been gifted with divine foresight...it's not an actual lie, is it?"
"I don't have such powers, friend Telascar. I give prayers to Saerec and if the Lord of Heaven is pleased, he may sometimes give an answer."
"And is it not the will of Saerec that brings you here? Perhaps he will help you in this matter? There is no other way, I'm afraid."
Segovac pinched the bridge of his nose. That was the bitter truth. "What is this fellow's name?"
"He is called Shapurashi," Telascar answered. "He is a man of some influence in this city?"
"Another merchant?"
"Among other things. We meet with him tonight, an hour after sundown."
"I see." Segovac sighed and sat back down on the ground. He picked up the sliver of wood. "Would you mind giving me some privacy..."
"Of course!" Telascar backed away through the door. "I'll come fetch you then?"
"I'll be waiting. Close the door behind you."
Segovac closed his eyes, clearing his mind, The Great Chant sounded in his head again as the spiral began to trace in the dirt. Shapurashi, he said to the void, repeating the name several times over. Shapurashi...
The smell of some ripe fruit filled his nostrils, like oranges but with a bitter after taste. He looked about, found himself standing on a rock in a churning sea, watching three great ships disappear beneath the waves. A reddish stain appeared on the water as they went down, like blood but smelling far sweeter. Bobbing in the water about him were red-color fruits, oval shaped, the size of a child's fist, the waves dashing them to pieces...
Segovac's eyes flew open. He looked up at the sky and saw it was near
ing dusk. He looked down and saw the perfect spiral. And he smiled with understanding.
The streets were not safe after dark. Which was why four of Telascar's porters were escorting them, all armed with heavy clubs, while Telascar himself had a sword strapped to his waist. They traveled quickly through streets emptied of all but the desperate and the dangerous. Segovac could sense them looking out from alleyways and other dark places, eyes in the night looking for prey, noting the size of this particular group and holding off for something weaker. Wolves in the forest, dogs in the street...in the end they both fed on the weak.
"This way," Telascar said to him as they reached an intersection of three streets. He went towards the path on the left, but then at the last moment turned down a small alley that branched off between two large windowless buildings. Men stood on the roof of both, armed with bows and watching them head down the alley single file. Segovac realized this was intentional, almost like the entrance to a fortress.
The alley ended twenty feet in, where the walls on both sides converged. Not an alley, but a passage, the two buildings part of a larger structure. At the end was an ironbound wooden door, and judging from the scars and scorch marks on its face the subject of more than one attempt at forced entry.
Fires of Mastery (The Tale of Azaran Book 3) Page 9