by Stuart Jaffe
Besides, what harm could there be in going to a wedding?
Chapter 6
Javery
You should have seen her.” Javery paced the worn wood in his room while Druzane, draped in a thin blue fabric with white trim, lay across his bed. “She moved like she knew every place to be before it happened. The boy, too. Wherever that wellspiker came down, the boy would escape. Before I could even understand what had happened, he had rushed off to a new spot.”
“I’m sure it was thrilling.” Druzane stretched her arms so that the moonlight caught the curve of her breast.
“And so effortless. I’ve never seen anybody fight like that.” He spun to face Druzane. “I think she might actually be an asset. I mean when I started this whole idea it had nothing to do with her. I just wanted to put Canto in a bad position, and I figured if I got this woman that the others think of as a god, well then, I’d be further along to getting Shual’s seat. But now —”
“Now, you need to come over here. Let me show you how a real woman can move.”
Javery stood motionless in the bedroom. The future unfolded in his mind. With Malja by his side, they could build a formidable army. She would lead them to victory over the Scarites, cutting them down as easily as she disposed of the wellspiker. Because the idea of using Malja came from him, the town — no, the entire country of Carsite would have no choice but to make him their ruler. Long before they completed the Waypoint system, he would be like a king. And when they did finish the Waypoint, it would usher in a peacetime prosperity never before seen amongst his people.
“What is going on in that brain of yours?” Druzane said, crawling to edge of the bed.
Javery noticed her for the first time. Her sultry beauty caused a pulse in him that he knew would be difficult to deny. But he had to show some restraint — at least until he had figured things out.
“I have a problem,” he said, speaking out loud to hear his own thoughts. “While Malja would be a fantastic weapon against the Scarites, she refuses to help us.”
“Then change her mind.”
“She doesn’t think like we do. Diplomacy, politics — they require that you understand your adversary. I don’t know what she values, what I can use to sway her.”
Sliding out of bed, Druzane allowed her robe to ride up her smooth legs. Javery’s eyes lingered on the lovely sight, his body hardening with thoughts he had to push away for a bit longer. She sauntered towards him, her shoulders rolling in a way that pulled his eyes from one luscious curve to another.
“Foolish boy,” she said. “A great man like you only succeeds with a great woman behind him.” With a simple motion, her robe dropped to the floor. She stepped behind him and pressed her naked body against him, kissing the back of his neck. Then she reached down, grabbed hold of him, and stroked him steady and sure.
“Oh. Please. I have to fix this first. Please, stop.”
She moved her hand faster. “Let me fix it all. I can get Malja on our side. Do you believe me?”
“Oh, yes. You can do so much.”
Druzane let go and walked around to face him. She lowered to her knees. “Think of how strong we could be together. You, a great mind. Me, a great woman. I’m exactly the kind of woman you need to become your fullest.” She licked him once.
“What will you do?” he asked though heavy breaths.
“You don’t have to worry about that. See, that’s how it would work. I get things done for you so that you can relax your mind from such worries and focus on the things you need to pay attention to.” She licked him again, and he moaned. “But,” she said, rising to look him in the eyes, “I cannot continue the way we’ve been going. If I do, then you won’t gain anything with me.”
Javery’s skin flushed with desire. “Don’t stop. You feel so good.”
“I may have taken too much blood from your brain. You’re not thinking anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Marriage, of course. The only way I can be the woman behind you, the one helping you succeed is if I am your wife. Otherwise, I’ll be seen as a mere whore, your plaything, a worthless trinket to be discarded when convenient. Nobody will care what I say or do. They won’t accept me with seriousness. And without that, I cannot get Malja to work for you.”
“But as my wife, you can?”
“Oh yes. And much more.” She lowered again and took him in her mouth for several seconds.
When she stopped and gazed up at him, he nodded. “You are more than I deserve. I should have asked for your hand long ago.”
“Then we’ll announce our engagement tomorrow night at the wedding.”
Javery paused. “But that’s my sister’s wedding.”
“It’s also Canto’s big moment. Do you really want him to shine any brighter? I don’t want to be mean to your sister, but if you want to rule these people, they need to start thinking of you instead of Canto.” She licked him more. “Trust me. I’ll take care of everything. Remember, that’s what a great woman is for.”
Javery wanted to understand what she meant by all of this, but he wanted her mouth more. Soon, his mind fell into carnal bliss, and the idea of having this incredibly lustful woman in his bed every night flooded over him. If marriage meant Druzane’s help in and out of the bedroom, then he had to agree. She was a great woman, and he needed her to gain enough power to save his people.
Later in the evening, after Druzane had left, Javery set out for the guest house. Though Malja acted set against helping him, her two companions seemed more open. Before he reached the guest house, however, he came upon them both walking along the street.
“How are you two doing?” Javery offered a slight bow. “Do you need anything?”
Fawbry said, “One of the girls who helped us settle in mentioned a place where you all gathered for food and drink and such.”
Javery smiled. “Right this way.” As they walked, he pointed to three dark spots gliding across the sky. “You ever see talionogs before?”
Tommy shook his head.
“They’re big creatures. Amazing flying beasts you can actually ride. But they’re tough to tame, and they eat a lot. Not good for us farmers. Go back enough in our history, though, and we supposedly had armies of the creatures helping to defend us.”
Neither Fawbry or Tommy said anything. Javery let the silence hang, hoping to entice one of them into a conversation that he could lead to his point, but they simply nodded and walked on. He escorted them straight into the Brewhouse and right to a table. He ordered three mugs of distilled grain, and once served, he placed his hand over the frothing mug. They looked at him oddly. “A toast?”
“Sorry. We do it different where we’re from.” Fawbry and Tommy placed their hands over their mugs.
“To Malja and her men,” Javery said. “Saviors of our humble town.” He raised his hand in the air, the froth from the drink coating his hand. When Fawbry and Tommy mimicked him, Javery met their hands, causing the froth to splatter in the air. They all laughed and drank.
Javery watched them closely, waiting for some sign of how to proceed. Then he caught Fawbry’s wandering eye. “You like her?” he asked.
Fawbry spluttered his drink. “I-I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”
“Why should I be offended? Windelly is a beautiful woman. And she’s not married, too. I could introduce you, if you’d like.”
“I might just like that.”
“I bet you would.” They both laughed with gusto, but Tommy seemed hesitant. “What about you?” Javery asked him. “Anybody catch your eye?”
Fawbry said, “He doesn’t talk. But he’ll let you know. Don’t worry.”
An uncomfortable silence settled on them as they nursed their drinks. Javery chastised himself for not thinking through his approach sooner. He knew how to be smooth when it came to politics, but it helped to have a plan. Think, think. Small talk clearly had failed. So, Javery decided to be direct.
“We can’t thank you en
ough for saving us. You have no idea how much these people have suffered from the Scarites. To have lost more due to a wellspiker would have been too painful.”
“Glad to help.”
“I only wish I could convince your leader to stay with us. She is an incredible fighter. I know she could dispatch our enemy with ease.”
A darkness passed over Fawbry’s eyes. “Killing is never easy. Not for her. Finding that line to walk on can be difficult.”
“That line?”
“Between murder and justice. Where we came from, we saw a lot of killing. Malja’s probably seen more than most. But I suspect all of her kills were justified in one way or another. Though she might not see it that way.”
“Helping us wouldn’t be justified?”
“That depends. I’m sure it’s justified for you. But for us, how we come into it matters. If we’re no better than hired swords, we’re murderers. If we’re saving lives, maybe we’re not.”
“Why else do we ask for you, if not to help save our lives?”
“Like I said — it’s a difficult line to find.”
“Well, I can only pray to Carsite that she chooses for you to help us. If not, perhaps you could convince her to leave us with some of her magic.”
“Malja doesn’t have any magic.”
“When Harskill came, he left the Scarites with enough magic to cause all our troubles. Surely, you have magic with you that can help us defend ourselves.”
Javery caught a look between Fawbry and Tommy. Before things went in the wrong direction, he waved his hand at them. “Please, I’m sorry. Ignore me. This is a time to relax and drink. I shouldn’t be pestering you with this kind of thing.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Forget my ramblings. Drink yourself full, and I’ll introduce you to Windelly.” He stood, and with a move he hoped didn’t appear choreographed, he turned back and said, “Whatever magic Malja does or doesn’t have, please let her know she should not flash it about. People here can be touchy about magic.”
Again, he caught the men sharing a look. Fawbry said, “Touchy?”
Javery returned to his seat and leaned in. “We use magic, but we’ve had it used against us. And we get our magic from the Well. Only the gods like Harskill create magic of their own. Unless you believe in yorqs.”
“Just an old myth. Horrible creatures made of horns that protect the island of Pali. Back in the old days, men would travel out with the hope of gaining great power. But nobody ever returned. That last part is very true. Even in my lifetime, I’ve seen two men attempt to find the Pali Witch. They leave, but never come back. So, you have to be beyond desperation to go. Maybe if Malja rejects us, we’ll reach that point. For now, we hope to fight the Scarites without the hand of a witch.”
He couldn’t be sure how effective this talk had been, but he had learned long ago that good politics often were achieved by sowing seeds early. And when the decision would come in one day, the night before was as early as he could manage. Tapping his hands on the table, he said, “Come. Let’s go meet that fine girl.”
Chapter 7
Malja
Javery had arranged for Malja to enjoy a private room and for Fawbry and Tommy to share one down the hall. Malja’s accommodations included a wide bed that floated a foot off the floor, a circular table made of wood, and two candles that hovered high enough to spread light everywhere one needed. On the table, Malja saw a basket filled with fruit — at least, Malja thought it was fruit because she recognized an apple. It might have been a backhanded slight, but she didn’t care. It looked delicious.
At first, she had been unable to move in the room. It was too refined for her. She wanted a tent and a campfire. But it was more than that. She couldn’t stop thinking about the wellspiker and how it had fixated on Tommy. Javery had assured her that wellspikers were loners, and the likelihood that another would be in the area anytime soon was remote. But remote didn’t mean impossible.
Under other circumstances, she would have asked for rooms on one of the floating farms, but with all that had happened — especially Fawbry and Tommy’s theft — she thought such a request would be a bad move. Instead, she’d have to be vigilant on Tommy’s behalf.
From the fruit basket, she snatched the apple and sat on the edge of the bed. The air cushioning the hay-filled mattress made Malja think of clouds. No way could she sleep on that. The wood floor would serve her much better.
A single bite of the apple electrified her taste buds and flooded her mind with images of long ago. She saw Uncle Gregor, the man who had saved her from dying in the woods and raised her as his own, and she recalled how they would pick apples together — eating them, baking them, even fermenting them. But she also pictured Harskill — for he had introduced her to the people she had come from. Well, the idea of the people, at least. Other than Harskill, Malja had yet to meet another Gate, but she expected to do so soon enough. If even half of what he had told her contained any truth, her people would take notice of the flagrant meddling Harskill had done here, and they would not let it go.
Someone knocked on the door. “Malja? It’s Fawbry and Tommy.”
“Come in.”
They burst into the room, harried and bearing red marks on their necks. Fawbry looked about to launch into a long tale when he halted and stared at the room. “This place is huge. And that bed! They gave us a couple cots and a closet.”
“What do you want?”
Fawbry cleared his head. “Tommy and I were out ... walking.”
“I’m sure.” Malja knew love bites when she saw them. She avoided looking at Tommy. Just the thought of that sweet boy in the arms of some slut rankled her.
“We heard something odd, something we’ve got to go look into right now.” Fawbry spoke in a hushed tone and kept glancing at the door as if he thought somebody might sneak in to overhear.
Malja threw her apple core at him. “I’m sure he heard plenty of odd things watching you rut with the first girls you met. He’s still a boy in many ways and doesn’t need such a corrupt influence —”
“The Book of Kryssta says —”
“How can you bring up religion now? How can you even believe in Kryssta anymore after all we’ve heard?”
Fawbry crossed his arms and cocked his head. “What have we heard that would stop me believing in the Brother God?”
“You don’t think that story of Carsite and Scarite, two brothers fighting over the beautiful Pali, you don’t think that bears a resemblance to the story of the brother gods, Kryssta and Korstra, fighting over the beautiful Elatria?”
“Not at all. One is a true religion concerning the real past and the real brother gods. The other is a story told by these backwards people who wanted to kill me and Tommy for eating an apple.”
“And what do you think they’ll do to you two if they find out you’re seducing their girls.”
“They’re grown women. I’m a grown man.”
“Tommy’s not.”
“According to the true religion, the one forged by and for the great Brother God, he is. The Book of Kryssta says, ‘Five years to grow, five years to play, five years to learn, then a man is born.’ Tommy’s at least sixteen, probably more.”
“Age doesn’t make him a man and neither does screwing.”
Fawbry stepped up close to Malja. “Neither does killing.”
Malja’s eyes burned. “You don’t have to push the boy.”
“He’s a man, and you’re not his mother.”
“You’re getting awfully bold in the way you speak to me.”
Tommy wedged his way between them and pushed them apart. He pointed at Malja, shook his head, and then motioned his hands as if rubbing away her thoughts. He cupped his ear, pointed at it, and then pointed at Fawbry.
Though still glowering, Malja opened her mouth enough to make a few words. “Fine. What did you hear that was so out of place that you had to barge in here and ruin my evening?”
Fawbry checked the
room’s door once more. Then he said, “Secretive whispering. And your name.”
Malja grimaced. She grabbed her coat and Viper. “Come on. Show me.”
Outside the building, they walked around the perimeter — listening and searching. Warm air gusted through, kicking up dirt that sprinkled against the leaves of low plants and the walls of the low buildings. A few windows glowed with candlelight, but otherwise, nothing turned up.
Fawbry threw a stick into the darkness. “You took too long arguing with me. Whoever was out here talking about you is gone.”
Watching the darkness for movement, Malja said, “If you keep yelling at me, you’ll scare off anybody still hiding out there.”
Leaning his back against the nearest building, Fawbry quieted down. Malja searched for any differences in the shadows, any sign of a person trying not to be seen. In the end, she shook her head and looked to Fawbry. But he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were on Tommy.
Tommy sat near the building’s corner, his focus on his blank forearm. He looked at his arm with such intensity that Malja thought of the way magicians studied their tattoos in order to cast a spell. But his skin had lost its tattoos — most of them, anyway — and the few that remained were located on his chest and stomach.
The muscles in her chest squeezed as horrible ideas formed in her head. Then she saw a thin light appear on Tommy’s arm. The light held the shape of an old tattoo — wavy lines surrounding a short spiral — and then it disappeared.
Tommy stood and pointed into the dark.
Grabbing his arm, Malja looked over his skin. Not a single mark. “How did you do that?”
Fawbry walked over. “Is that what you’ve been practicing at each morning?”
“What?” Malja asked.
“Every morning when you went hunting for food, Tommy would sit calm and stare at his arms. I thought he was mourning the loss of his spell tattoos, or maybe he was meditating. I didn’t think he was practicing his magic.”