"It’s this room here," she said.
He followed her into a sparse room, furnished only with a nightlamp on a small stand and a large bed.
No sooner had he entered the room when she closed the door behind him and pushed him, hard. Miro fell onto the bed, laughing and turning over. His laughter stopped dead when she began to untie the cords holding her bodice tied at the front. She loosed the strings one by one, and then untied the cords at the back.
Miro watched, transfixed. In one move Esmara slipped the garment up and over her head and was standing in front of him, wearing only a skirt. Her breasts were young and firm, smaller than he had thought because of the way the bodice had pressed them together. Her long brown hair curled down to spill over her rosy nipples. She cupped her hands under her breasts, smiling suggestively.
"Do you like them?" she said.
"Yes," Miro croaked. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Very much."
"I like it that you like them."
Esmara began to sway her hips to unheard music. Miro watched, mesmerized by the way the movement of her body emphasised the femaleness of her figure, her curves.
Esmara’s skirt fastened at the side, and Miro’s breath caught as she undid the buttons. She was obviously enjoying displaying her body, seeing his reaction.
The skirt fell to the floor. Esmara was left standing in nothing but her underwear, a flimsy piece of pink material. Miro’s eyes ran up her legs, above her knees, to the soft white thighs, the round curve of her hips, her flat stomach.
"You are the most beautiful girl in the world," he said.
Esmara simply smiled. She sat down next to him on the bed and quickly undressed him. Miro felt awkward and ungainly in her presence. He couldn’t hide his arousal.
"Sorry," he said, with a light chuckle.
"It’s a compliment," Esmara said.
Miro laid her down on her back and once more looked over her body, not leaving a single detail. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. At times she seemed so young, so fresh, and so fragile. Other times she seemed to be much wiser than him.
Miro slowly pulled down her silken undergarment. Esmara raised her hips, and finally she was completely naked. She blushed when she saw how intently he was looking at her.
"You’re just so beautiful," was his only response.
Miro ran his fingers over the infinitely soft hair under her belly, then down, over the mound and into her cleft. Her legs parted as he once more began to stroke her, this time watching as his fingers moved over and inside her.
Suddenly Miro could stand no more. She cried out as he lifted her knees and thrust himself into her. The moment stretched out, the pleasure absolute.
10
Do you have a permit for that tree? I’m sorry, but you can’t move it there without a permit.
— Veznan official, 476 Y.E.
MIRO frowned when Tuok started clapping. He couldn’t blame the man; he must look a sight — still in the last night’s clothing, arriving back to the market house after noon.
A few of the other men cheered too. Miro guessed Tuok hadn’t been reticent when asked about the whereabouts of the ‘young lord’. Miro only hoped Captain Sloan hadn’t found out about his disappearing act.
"Don’t worry, lad. I covered for you and the Captain was so caught up with worry about the Chorum that he never thought to ask why we were one man down at breakfast. Now come, why the black expression?"
"Sounds to me like you should have a smile on your face bigger than a Louan’s love for money!" one of the guards joked.
"So what’s the story?" said Tuok.
"Nothing."
Tuok glanced around the room. He tactfully led Miro into their quarters, looking like he had an idea what was going to happen next.
Miro sat on the bunk and put his head in his hands.
"She get a better offer, is that it?" said Tuok.
"No, nothing like that. Tuok, she took my money and left me."
Tuok looked confused for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Miro, she’s a whore!"
One minute Tuok was sitting on the bunk next to Miro, the next he was pressed up against the wall, Miro’s hand tight like a vice around his throat.
"She is not a whore," Miro said in a voice like ice.
Tuok struggled to get the words out, his breath wheezing. "Miro, you must have known..."
"She is not a whore!"
Tuok got the words out with the last of his breath. "Not... a... whore..."
Miro let go and Tuok fell to the floor gasping, his face purple. Tuok began to cough in fits.
The strength went out of Miro. He fell to the floor beside Tuok.
"Oh, Tuok. I’m sorry. I thought she loved me."
Tuok coughed for a moment, gathering his breath. Colour started to even out on his face. His breathing slowed. "Miro, only once before have I seen a man move faster. I saw two bladesingers at practice in the Pens." Tuok shook his head. "You move like they do."
Miro groaned.
Tuok’s tone softened. "Why don’t you tell me about it?"
Miro stared at the wall for a moment, desolate. Then he started to speak.
"We went to her room. It was... amazing. We talked afterwards. She asked me all about Altura; I asked her about Tingara. She said her father had been mutilated by the streetclans, his hands cut off, accused of stealing. Then we did it again. It was... different the second time. It lasted longer. We talked some more. She said she thought the Emperor was going to try to bring the houses together in friendship. That’s why he called the Chorum, she said. Then we did it again." Miro noticed a small smile creeping on Tuok’s face. "It was... special."
Tuok calmed. "And then what?"
"And then I woke in the morning with a head the size of a house. A house with a thousand prismatic orbs exploding inside it."
"Sounds something like my morning," said Tuok with a wry smile.
"She was gone. And so was all my money. She didn’t leave a note, nothing. Tuok that was all my money in the world. I went downstairs to the bar and asked about her. A big man came up to me and told me to leave. We had some words."
"Words?"
Miro held up a fist, the knuckles scratched.
Tuok chuckled. "I’m guessing the man won’t be having words with you again any time soon? Be careful boy, the streetclans don’t mess about, and the whores... I mean, some of the girls... they belong to the clans."
Miro sighed. "I guessed something like that."
"I’m sorry, lad. Seranthia’s a tough city. You either leave out the gate with nothing but the shirt on your back, or you leave over the gate with only your shirt to cushion your fall."
Miro nodded.
One of the soldiers poked his head around the wall. "The Chorum’s over," he said.
Exchanging glances, Miro and Tuok followed him out.
~
HIGH Lord Tessolar and the other Alturan lords had quickly sequestered themselves in their quarters. The market house was rife with rumour. The Chorum had not gone well.
Miro asked around but different soldiers knew different things. Many said it was something to do with Raj Torakon. Others said it was the Halrana who were angry about something. No one knew for certain.
Then Captain Sloan moved from group to group, gathering the men. "The High Lord has requested a gathering of everyone in the market house. Assemble immediately."
Whispering to one another they followed the captain. Everyone in the market house had gathered — it was a surprising number of people. Merchants with emerald earrings stood side by side with soldiers in green tabards. Page boys and couriers vied for space with administrators and emissaries.
High Lord Tessolar stood on a podium, deep in discussion with Lord Marshal Devon. He nodded in response to something Devon said, and then gazed about the room.
Miro looked around him, there must have been two thousand people in the room, crowded up against the podium and looking at the High Lord expectantly.
> "Raj Altura overcomes!" the High Lord began. He stood stiffly, one hand over his heart. His other hand touched first his lips, and then his forehead.
Everyone in the room followed suit.
"Raj Altura overcomes!" Miro shouted it along with the rest of them. He felt a surge of kinship with his fellow countrymen. Momentous events were taking place, he felt proud to be here sharing them with these people.
"Greetings, my countrymen, members of my House. Many of you are wondering what has transpired at the Chorum. I wish to inform you — you are my people and you have a right to know. However the tidings are grave, and a sign of dark days to come."
High Lord Tessolar paused, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the room. As he passed where Miro stood with Tuok, Miro was sure he was looking right at him.
"Firstly, let me tell you something you will soon hear from others. Raj Torakon is no more. The builders as we know them are no more."
A sense of shock flowed through the room. Confusion.
"How, you are wondering? No, they weren’t killed or conquered. They have volunteered to join Raj Tingara. They have surrendered their identity as a house and given their Lexicon over to the Emperor."
The confusion grew stronger, tainted with anger.
"I know," said Tessolar simply. "I know." He took a deep breath. "I saw High Lord Koraku with my own eyes as he gave his assurances that he was voluntarily joining his house to the Emperor’s. If he was acting, it was an excellent performance."
"What does this mean?" someone called.
Lord Devon frowned but High Lord Tessolar regarded the man gravely. "What does it mean? It means a great increase in the Emperor’s power, both economic and military." Tessolar did little to disguise his anger. "It will be impossible for any house to improve their fortifications or build new ones without the express permission of the Emperor. The Toraks will now take on imperial purple and the sun and star raj hada of Raj Tingara. Torakon will just be a land within Xenovere’s borders."
"What about the Primate? Surely he must have said something."
"What could he say?" Lord Devon replied for the High Lord. "High Lord Koraku’s move was voluntary. The Primate said he can only interfere if there is a threat to the peace. He says there is currently no threat to the peace."
Everyone started to speak at once. High Lord Tessolar held up his hand. "I go now to consult with our allies, Raj Halaran. Perhaps they can shed some light on this. Be wary of who you speak to, Altura has few friends here. Go in peace."
Once more the High Lord touched his fingers to his lips and forehead, and then stepped off the podium.
~
MIRO was as shocked as anyone. It was such an unexpected move, coming from nowhere. What house would voluntarily give up its traditions, its colour, its lore, its raj hada? The very idea was repugnant.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. It was Tuok.
"Guard duty. Your head still troubling you?"
Miro shook his head. "No."
"Come on."
Once more the Alturans paid a visit to the Halrana market house. Miro wondered if there was some subtle political nuance here, why High Lord Tessolar was always visiting Halrana home territory.
He entered the strange room and again lined up against the far wall with the other Alturan soldiers. The tension was higher than ever before. Without fanfare the lords took their seats.
"Firstly, so I know. Have you found your Lexicon?" High Lord Tessolar began.
High Lord Legasa sighed. He looked older. The Halrana High Lord wiped a hand over his forehead. "No. The High Animator says he has made some small progress. That is all I know."
"I am sorry," said Tessolar.
Legasa spoke, "This makes it even more imperative that we plot a course of action. The Emperor is moving. He consolidates his power as we speak. Lord of the Earth, what was Koraku thinking? They have always been fiercely independent. Allies of the Emperor, yes. It would be hard not to be when they share such a large border. But merging with Raj Tingara? It’s unthinkable!"
"Well the unthinkable has happened," Lord Marshal Devon said.
Legasa put his head in his hands, and then looked up. "Tessolar — let me speak plainly."
Miro was surprised to hear the High Lord addressed by his first name.
"Our every bone screams against this move of the Emperor’s, but we are weak. We need to combine our forces, for Altura to send her men to stand by our side. Together we will be stronger. We have the Ring Forts, but we need your men. He is going to attack, I can feel it."
Miro’s blood went cold. Two rulers were here in front of him, plainly discussing war. War between his nation and the nation he was presently in.
"I agree with you," Tessolar said. He licked his lips. "Something is happening here that we’re only just coming to terms with. This is the biggest threat we’ve faced since the Rebellion."
"I agree, so let us be ready! Let us make the first move! We cannot take the defensive like we did last time. With Torakon lands at his disposal Xenovere will simply continue to build his forces on the Azure Plains until we are forced to surrender due to lack of supplies, lack of essence, and lack of men."
"We need time!"
"We cannot afford it!" said High Lord Legasa.
"As old as our alliance is, you must give us time. In the name of the men who died in the Rebellion, Alturan and Halrana, you must give us time. If we provoke the Emperor now, we don’t have a chance."
"Think about what you are saying, Tessolar. The Emperor will attack, you agree, but you don’t want to deploy your men to the Ring Forts because you think it will provoke him. We need to take the initiative! Honour our alliance, Tessolar."
Captain Sloan spoke up, "High Lord, I believe…"
"Silence," Tessolar snapped.
Devon took a breath. "High Lord Tessolar, the Halrana speak sense."
Tessolar sighed. For the first time, Miro thought long and hard about how old the High Lord was. He looked every day of his age. "So be it. We will honour the alliance. We will send our men to the Ring Forts. We will send our enchanters to help arm them. We will send our bladesingers to combat the imperial legion. We will bring down this tyrant, once and for all."
High Lord Legasa stood and placed his hand over his heart. "Raj Halaran thanks you for honouring the alliance."
The Alturan High Lord nodded. "What of your border with Loua Louna?"
"The one place Xenovere would never dare attack. Without artificers his war machine grinds to a halt — no one to repair his dirigibles, replace his mortars, or supply him with prismatic orbs."
"These days are uncertain."
"Not one house has ever survived an attack on the artificers. ‘Those who hold the tools of war hold the keys to victory’, as my father used to say. No, they stand to make too much profit, as always, supplying both sides."
High Lord Tessolar nodded, "We will send our men to the Ring Forts, and we will get back your Lexicon."
11
I wonder how many houses vanished from Merralya, simply because their Lexicons were lost and the magic was never renewed.
— Diary of High Enchantress Maya Pallandor, Page 514, 411 Y.E.
MIRO retired early, but couldn’t quiet his mind. His thoughts kept turning to Esmara. She’d liked him, hadn’t she? Why had she left? Would his house and hers be at war soon? Was this how the Emperor promised his people lower prices from the other houses?
Miro slept fitfully. The dream came to him again. An old man held a shining knife close to Miro’s eye. He was powerless, there was no strength in his arms, like when he was a young child. At first when he heard the screams he thought they were part of his dreams. His eyelids fluttered and a low sound escaped his lips.
A commotion woke everyone in the chamber at the same time. A thudding boom.
Miro leapt out of bed, reaching for his sword. Men were yelling and calling to one another. A woman screamed. Miro realised the noise was coming from somewhere outside.
Bare-chested and wearing only coarse trousers, Miro ran into the street.
He stopped and stared at the Halrana market house. Flames were pouring from the side of the building. Black billowing smoke clouded the night sky.
Soldiers in Halrana brown were running and calling out. In the distance Miro saw an iron golem leap out of a window, barely pausing as it landed with surprising agility and scanned the street, searching, its skin glowing silver.
"The loremaster! The High Animator has been assassinated!" a Halrana soldier cried. Other soldiers took up the call.
A warrior in brown came bursting out of the shadows, crashing into Miro. They both fell down in a tangle.
"Sorry," Miro said, standing and extending his hand.
The soldier glared up at Miro. His head was shaved, and Miro drew back as he recognised the round features of a Tingaran.
"Over here!" he yelled.
Something dropped into the impostor’s hand.
"Shekular!" the man named an activation sequence and lunged at Miro, who barely leapt out of the way. Miro saw it was a small knife.
The assassin’s lunge hit the wall behind Miro instead. Sparks instantly shot in a fountain, as the small knife tore a deep gouge into the solid stone. An enchanted knife!
The assassin lunged at Miro again, his body twisting with the movement. Remembering his training, Miro slipped deftly around the assassin’s body. The knife glowed intensely, brighter than the brightest nightlamp. Once again the assassin swung, this time directly at Miro’s face. Miro saw the deadly point, bursting with energy, coming towards his eyes. It blinded him as he tried to duck. Too late! Miro sensed the blade making contact with his hair, felt the breath of its passage, heard the buzz and hum as its runes seethed.
Another Alturan soldier burst out of the market house. He instantly grasped the situation and drew his sword, hanging back, looking for an opening. Miro moved his body around, allowing the soldier to come forward.
The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress Page 10