Breathe.
IziLomo growled, deep and low in his canine throat. His brown eyes were hooded and murderous. He paused, and then charged Kai, snapping. This time Kai hit him a crushing blow directly on the nose, meeting the charge head-on with hairline precision.
This time, IziLomo felt it. He backed up, shaking his head as if trying to dry himself, and then came in again.
But now Kai knew his adversary. The dog was fast, powerful, fearless—but his tactics had been chosen by nature, and ingrained by a thousand generations of breeding. IziLomo could not change them, no matter how strange an adversary he faced.
Kai stood still, eyes closed. IziLomo padded in a circle, flanking him, moving to the rear, perhaps surprised that Kai let him do so.
He knew that such dogs were trained to operate in packs, with each animal fulfilling a very specific role in the attack. IziLomo had tried front and side: perhaps he would have more luck from the rear.
Focus. Eyes closed, he had nothing but hearing, but his ears were acute. And more than hearing: stripping off his clothes, confronting the animal as one naked beast to another, had done something, taken away some civilized barrier, forced him to rely more on instinct.
Here it comes. Kai sidestepped a charge, and as IziLomo came in he pivoted, striking into the same spot on IziLomo’s neck he had first attacked. This time he put more hip into it, so that the dog was driven sideways and backward, skidding a bit, paws scrabbling on the straw for purchase.
This time it looked at him with something different in its eyes. Not respect. Not fear … but awareness. The dog coughed, and when it took a step, its front leg quivered … just a bit, but Kai saw it. He crouched. Time to end this before one of them was hurt. Hopefully, he had made his point.
Kai snarled, showing his teeth. He spread his arms wide, exposing his belly.
IziLomo lunged, faster this time, and the teeth actually tore Kai’s shin before snapping on air. Kai pivoted, snaking his right arm around the dog’s neck, falling to the ground and using his weight as a weapon to pin it.
IziLomo thrashed madly, foaming and snapping and howling. Kai struck it in the ribs with hammer blows: once, twice, three times before feeling the slight give that told him that tendons had surrendered, muscle traumatized, bone bruised.
End this. He felt his own carefully maintained structure begin to disintegrate as his bloodlust began to surge. The moment was upon him, and he felt his breathing spiral out of control, his vision tinge with crimson.
Now, now, before it is too late. He wrestled IziLomo onto his back, his hand gripping the dog’s muzzle. Its claws scratched at him, raking skin from his legs and side, but he clamped the cold hand of control onto his emotions, refusing either to retreat or kill.
He pulled IziLomo’s muzzle back, and clamped his teeth on the dog’s throat. IziLomo went rigid, eyes wide and staring. Kai could taste the hound’s pulse.
For a long moment they remained in that posture, then Kai opened his mouth, finding the taste of dog not at all to his liking. He rolled back, releasing IziLomo’s muzzle and taking a safe measure.
The dog rolled over onto its feet, and Kai noticed that one of its legs was a little loose. Those same blows would have stopped a man’s heart, but evidently the ridgeback was crafted of sterner stuff.
Still, IziLomo whined as he stood, listing, and now he had a problem meeting Kai’s eyes. It was clear that IziLomo wanted nothing better but to limp off and lick his wounds.
“Look at me!” Kai commanded. IziLomo turned his head slightly to the side, but Kai knew he was watching. “I am the master of this house,” he said. “Your mistress is my mate.” Kai rubbed his hand along his side, and it came away red.
“You wanted my blood?” he asked. “Here it is.” He held his hand out toward the dog. IziLomo whined again.
And then the ridgeback crawled across the ground, belly brushing the straw, toward Kai. At first Kai was surprised, thought that it was some kind of trick, but IziLomo put his head on Kai’s naked foot and closed his eyes.
Kai stood, breathing heavily, feeling the rush of adrenaline as he finally allowed himself to feel his fear. What an animal! Never had he seen its like. And without thinking Kai knelt, touching its head, looking into its eyes.
Kai felt a rush of unexpected emotions: shame, pride, hope. There was something in IziLomo’s expression…. Perhaps it was just the urge to project human emotions on a lesser beast, but Kai didn’t think so. It was something else.
Kai scratched IziLomo behind the ear, and the dog whined, head still down, but now its eyes were open and watching him. Kai ran his hands over its body, feeling the strength, marveling at the speed that had almost undone him, and feeling something else—an emotion for which he had no certain label.
IziLomo had just accepted Kai as the leader of his pack. But what had Kai accepted in turn? “Easy, boy,” he asked, feeling the places where his blows and kicks had landed. IziLomo winced when the wounds were touched, but did not pull away. Kai examined him as he might have a horse. Bruises, but he thought nothing was broken.
Then he stood. IziLomo trembled as Kai dressed, watching him without moving. Kai went to the barn door. The dog remained crouched in the straw.
“IziLomo,” Kai said, and the dog’s ears perked up. He stood, and trotted over to Kai, and lowered his head. In spite of himself, Kai smiled.
“Allah preserve me,” Kai murmured. “I think I have a dog.”
Two minutes after they left, there was a rustle in the straw of the loft. Aidan rolled out and sat on the edge, feet dangling, shaking his head.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that, convinced Kai that the only way to earn IziLomo’s respect was to meet him as one animal to another. It had been damned risky—the dog might have savaged his old friend.
Well, that was another might that hadn’t come to pass. Life was full of mights. And Aidan had to admit that it was fascinating to witness his old friend in action. Watching Kai was like watching a shadow passing over water—never there, never within reach, but always in striking distance. His speed and power were incredible. Not since the duel with Malik had Aidan seen its like … and perhaps not even then. Incredibly, his friend was faster, somehow cleaner. Babatunde, while no martial artist, had tapped some deeper well in Kai, and Aidan was now quite happy that Kai had not accepted his implicit challenge.
Well, so what if Kai had a few scratches he hadn’t awakened with? Served him right for listening to a mere pigbelly.
And humming to himself, Aidan found his way out of the barn and wandered back to the training dome for another dose of measured masochism.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
20 Dhu’l-Qa’dah A.H. 1294
(Monday, November 26, 1877)
As the sun kissed the western horizon, the air was finally beginning to cool. Aidan, who had spent another agonizing day battering his body, gave a silent gasp of thanks as the breeze dried the sweat on his back. He bent, lifted a cast iron cannonbell, and heaved it as four of Kai’s orphans cheered him on. Not “cannonball”—no battlefield implements were these. Although the cannonbells were of cast iron and about the right size and shape as those deadly projectiles, they also had thick looping iron handles jutting from their sides. The one that currently deviled him weighed about five sep, and he was utilizing it in a curious ritual: throwing it as far as he could, then immediately sprinting to the spot where it landed, picking it up with a bend and dip, then heaving it again to begin the pattern anew.
Kai rode by. “Ho there, the warrior,” he called.
“Ho there, the lazy noble,” Aidan panted in ritual response. Kai’s charges had been alarmed by Aidan’s familiarity at first, but taking their cue from the lord of the house, had swiftly learned to giggle instead of wince.
Kai climbed down off the horse. “Not so lazy,” he said.
“Oh. No? Well, your orphans have me heaving these great bloody chunks of iron. Have you ever lifted one of these damned things?”
&nb
sp; Kai cocked an eye at the iron ball. “Upon occasion.”
“Favor us,” said Aidan. “I have ten deben on you, so I don’t expect you to hit my mark, but still—it would do my soul good to watch you flail about.”
Kai grinned. “Guests first.”
Aidan selected a heavier ball from the selection afforded him: this one, a nine-sep monstrosity, seemed appropriate to the task at hand. He bent, levered it to his shoulder, then torqued his hips and heaved the cannonbell about five cubits. His orphan audience applauded. “Beat that?”
“Doubtful,” Kai said. “Very—” He bent his knees and swayed gracefully, almost like a woman dancing. The bell floated back, and then he snapped his hips and it sailed a dozen cubits, thudding into the earth. Aidan gawked.
“Very doubtful indeed.”
Aidan glared at him. “Well. I’d heard that sexual frustration increases power.”
“Is that why you heaved your stone so heroically? Or should I inform Sophia that you’ve found a softer bed in Ghost Town among your old friends?”
“Ouch,” Aidan said, and then sidled closer. “Honestly, Kai … how long will Nandi make you wait?”
Kai shrugged. “Tonight is the ninth night. Tomorrow the tenth.”
“Ah … and then the gates of heaven open?”
“It would be indiscreet—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Aidan agreed. Then he whispered, “But you will tell me about it?”
“Of course,” Kai whispered in return, and they both laughed uproariously.
Aidan wiped his hands on his pants. “The bells await.”
“They are a jealous mistress,” said Kai.
Both turned as the sound of racing feet grew louder. They turned to see a boy, perhaps twelve years old dashing out from the main house. His name was Conair and his father had died raiding the Aztec encampment. “Master Kai? The mistress asks ye to come.”
“Lamiya?”
“The new mistress. Missus Nandi.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there,” he said. Then to Aidan: “Enjoy your torture.”
Kai freshened himself before walking the long hall to his wife’s room. By the time he reached it, the evening shadows had grown long. The door was open a digit, and he pushed it until he could see her. “You called me?”
Nandi lay in her bed, and by the modifications she and her ladies had wrought, a gauzy, incense-misted wonder it was. All about her, beeswax candles burned as if she were a goddess of creation surrounded by newborn nebulae. “Yes, my husband.”
He scanned the room. “IziLomo has abandoned you?”
“He is with my mother this evening.” She paused, watching him carefully. “She is good with dogs, and IziLomo seems somehow to have acquired a limp.”
“Yes,” Kai said. “I noticed. I trust it will heal soon.” He came closer. “Is something amiss?”
“Yes, I think so,” she said, as if half asleep. She stirred lazily in bed, body moving as if possessed of a sensual will of its own. “I am having trouble remembering.”
“Remembering?”
“The day of the week. Of the month.”
Kai closed the door behind him and slid a cautious step closer. “And this troubles you, my love?”
“Yes,” she said. “Because I think that tomorrow it will be ten days since we wed, but I feel that tonight may be the significant night. Tell me, husband: which is correct, my head, or my heart?”
He touched her shoulder. Her nightgown, a sheerest breath of silk, slid off at his caress. “What does your body say?”
“It says that I am yours, and have been for three years.”
There was something different in her face, something just a little frightened … but simultaneously proud.
“Yes,” Kai said.
“Tell me. Now,” Nandi whispered. “Did you miss me?”
“With my whole heart,” he said, knowing that he meant every word.
“Do you want me?”
“I feel … that my father was a wiser man than ever I knew. That if what … happened to my family had not happened, that you would have made me the happiest man in the world.”
“And now?”
“Now … I am certain no mortal man has ever been more fortunate than I.” He bent, brushing her naked belly with his lips. “That no earthly flower,” he murmured, “has ever rendered so exquisite a perfume.”
Kai slid the covers back, and nosed his way up her body, stopping to blow a puff of warm air every few digits.
Nandi smiled mischievously, with just a hint of nervousness. “And … will you pluck me?”
“No,” he said. “I will help your roots grow deep, brush the clouds away that you might grow drunk with sunlight. Water and nurture you, and urge you to give seed, that your beauty and power might increase.”
“And you will take…?”
“Everything that is mine.”
“And nothing more?”
“Nothing that is not offered.”
She embraced him, and they sank together into the bed. A sudden gust of wind blew out a candle, and the first night of their marriage began.
With his hands, he read her, like a blind man reading his lover’s face. With his tongue and lips he traced her body’s contours, textures, and tastes.
And when he found that place where her perfume was most exquisite, the uppermost spot where her folds drew together, he there traced his tongue in tiny circles and patterns, working his way through the alphabet, as another man’s wife had once taught him.
At every instant he noted her body’s response. When she heaved, when she turned, when the textures and heat changed, he remembered the letter that had caused it, each representing a different pattern and pressure. And when he strung those letters together into a word, in writing that word again and again with tongue-tip he brought her to heat, and then to flame, again and again so that she begged for him.
And the word was seneddu. Ready.
And so she was.
And later, after the night had deepened, she cried out in the darkness, and clung to him with strength that might have shamed a warrior. The tears that coursed her cheeks moistened his, so that in that timeless moment, it would have been most difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began.
And in the greater scheme of things, that mattered not at all….
Kai drifted toward awareness only to find Nandi already awake, lying on her side, smiling at him. “Good morning, Wife.”
“And to you, Husband.”
He yawned himself more awake. “What are you smiling about?”
“The splendid sight before me, and my memories of the night.” She stretched luxuriantly.
“Was it dream, or fact?”
“I am not certain,” she said. “I may require additional evidence.” She reached below the covers, grasping him firmly. He started a bit.
“Ah …”
“So…,” she purred. “One part of my dream has proven real. What other aspects may as well?”
Her eyes locked with his, face so close that her exhalations were his inhalations, and vice versa. “Last night,” she whispered, “you carried me to womanhood. This morning, in thanks, I would take you to the clouds.”
She licked her hand, and again grasped him, running her thumb and fingers slowly, luxuriantly, up and down his shaft, so that he arched his back and groaned with pleasure. Whenever he opened his eyes, hers were locked on him, as her palm and fingers continued to caress. Again and again she massaged him until he nearly lost control, and then would stop, purring, playing, until his breathing once more steadied itself. She seemed to sense his response almost as if every nerve in his body was linked to hers: his breathing, heartbeat, perhaps even the dilation of his eyes telling her all she needed to know to slowly, steadily move him to a place where his mind seemed not to operate at all, where every warm, slick motion of her hand educed another groan, and he produced fluid of his own, such that when she paused to lick her hand again, he knew that she cou
ld taste him.
At last she took him over that crest, caused him to shudder and cry out, his muscle locking and mind cleared of all thought save a long, long exclamation of delight; when at last he calmed again she wiped him carefully clean with the sheet and then nestled against him, kissing and stroking for delicious minutes until he was ready once again.
She rolled atop him, adjusted him, and then settled down with a slow, deep exhalation.
“Indeed…,” gasped Kai, “You are the horsewoman I remembered.”
“Last night was a canter,” she said. “I favor a gallop this morning.”
“I am at your command.”
Her eyes were half-lidded. Lazy. Dangerous. “Be careful what appetites you awaken, Husband.”
“You’ll find my pantry full.”
She dropped lower, closer, gazed into his eyes. “Feed me,” she said.
And he did, until the sun stood at its zenith. Then, limbs entwined, both fell into a drowse as deep as a bottomless well, the sweet smiles of satiation curling lips that touched even as they slept.
When Nandi awakened again, Kai was gone. She allowed all of the memories and sensations to flood back through her, selecting among them, shuddering when a memory grew too visceral. Then taking a deep breath she pulled the covers back to reveal an Alexander-sized dampness on the sheets. There blood and semen mingled, the fluids of their bodies joined in a single glistening patch. She scraped at it with a knife, and then wiped the fluid off into a little glass jar, and sealed it.
She smiled, that twist of her lips cool and remote. “And now, Lamiya Mesgana,” she said, “we will see who is dearest in our husband’s affections.”
Later that day, after sober inspection of the bloodied sheets, Munji smiled sadly. “It is time I went home.”
“When will I see you again, Mother?” Nandi asked, doing everything in her power to stand straight and tall. It was vital that she show strength now, despite the fact that her knees felt weak, and she wanted to cry.
The older woman kissed Nandi’s forehead, smiling fondly. “You have a new home, my daughter,” Munji said. “And now I give you my last piece of advice. Never forget your past, your people. But keep your eyes on your future. This is a good man you have married. I believe he actually loves you, which is more than your father did when we were wed.”
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