World Gate: A Kethem Novel

by Dave Dickie

  “Karla Deighton,” said Daesal.

  The smell of blood vanished. “You know who it is,” said Tessa. “Good. As long as you found it on your own, I can discuss it.” Tessa nodded thoughtfully. “I can arrange a session with her. I need to know you will not harm her. That she has wandered down that path is not a surprise. She is one that focuses on…darker passions. But she is still a priestess of the temple, and we protect our own.”

  “You have my word she will not be harmed by me. When I am done, you may do what you need to do in order to rid her of this influence. I will only need one session.”

  Tessa looked at Daesal appraisingly. “You are confident. You know she may not even be consciously aware of what she is doing? You know I cannot allow you to use spells or devices, or to bring dangerous substances into the temple?”

  Daesal nodded. “I do.”

  Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to tell me how you are going to obtain whatever information you are after from her without any of those things?”

  Daesal colored. “I would prefer not to.”

  Tessa absorbed that. “Hidden talents, I presume.” Then Tessa drew her hands together and nodded slightly. “As you wish. When would you like this liaison to occur?”

  “The sooner the better. Now, if possible.”

  “Now is possible. There is the matter of payment.”

  Daesal was surprised, but replied quickly, “Jedia will cover any expenses.”

  Tessa smiled. “That is not the kind of payment I am looking for. You know your friend Gur took a geas from Sambhal during the business with the Maelstrom? A geas to prevent disclosing information that might reflect poorly on the temple?”

  Daesal paused, then said, “I guessed. He could not tell me, but I could sense something was preventing him from being open about what happened when he visited you.” Daesal had smelled the same tang of blood on Gur, but had not known what caused it at the time.

  “I am not asking you for that. We cannot hide that the temple offers services that some might find … distasteful, even if it is done with illusions and tricks. But we try to minimize the stories of such things. Likewise, people know Sambhal was a demon before he was a god, but we try to keep people focused on what he is, not what he was. I want you to promise me you will do your best to represent the temple in a positive light, or else not speak of it at all.”

  Daesal thought about Teinhaj and the KNI, what she would need to tell them and what she could hide. Finally, she nodded. “I swear I will share this information with no one. And I will share my prior visits, the music and food and conversation, all of which were wonderful. I believe the Sambhal temple does much good in Bythe. Is that sufficient?” Tessa nodded. Daesal stood and said, “Then let us be about it.”

  Tessa rose serenely. “Certainly. We need to return to the front desk. You will not be embarrassed if I make this appear to be a standard session with Karla, for her unique services?”

  That stopped Daesal. “I confess, I didn’t know she had a specialty.”

  One side of Tessa’s lip curled up in a half smile. “Karla is good with illusions. She can create tactile experiences to match her visual stimuli. She satisfies patrons that like to mix their pleasure with other sensations.”

  Daesal frowned. “I am not sure I understand,” she said.

  “Patrons that associate pleasure with pain.”

  “They like to hurt her during their… session?” asked Daesal doubtfully.

  Tessa shook her head no. “The opposite.”

  Daesal stumbled. “Oh. I see. No, that is fine. No one outside the temple will ever know?”

  Tessa nodded. “Only if you tell them.”

  “I think I will avoid that. Please, lead on.” Tessa led her back to the large room she’d been in when she first entered the temple, down one of two large staircases that curled down the walls. There was a solid wooden desk between the two staircases with two men behind it, one ruggedly handsome with dark hair and eyes, the other graceful, blond, and poised like a ballet dancer about to leap into action.

  “Grannon,” said Tessa to the darker one, “could you verify Karla is unoccupied and provide a pass to Daesal? Karla’s full services, no exceptions other than the standard clauses, for…let us say four hours.” She turned to Daesal. “Standard clauses include no damage that would leave scars or broken bones, no bruising that would take more than a day to heal with physicker’s spells. Do you want this to include lunch or dinner as part of your visit? Or both, if you want some before and after time. We can include a private room for dining, or can lend you a costume that will hide your features if you want to be seen in the main dining room.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Daesal.

  The two men were looking at her strangely. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a woman asking for Karla before,” said the blond one, who then immediately turned bright pink.

  Tessa, with a disapproving frown, said, “Benra, we do not pass judgement on our client’s tastes, nor do we imply there is anything surprising about their behavior. Ever.” She turned to Daesal. “My apologies, Daesal. I will do something to make that up to you.”

  “My apologies also, my lady. I did not mean anything by my statement,” said Benra. He was still bright pink.

  “No offense taken,” said Daesal gravely. “No dinner, thank you. Let’s just get this over with.” Which was probably the wrong thing to say, because the two men looked at her strangely and Tessa’s eyes widened a bit to let Daesal know she was on thin ice. “I mean, just… the basic service,” Daesal said, stumbling a bit.

  The rugged, darker man took out a Sambhal invitation that was blank other than the glyph and wrote Karla’s name on it. “Karla is available,” he said, then wrote the current time and a time four hours in the future on it. “Good for the entire time.” He wrote ‘private bedroom’ under the times. He handed it to her. After a moment, the blank area beneath the words filled in with the text, “third floor, east block, blue section, room C8, window and balcony.”

  Tessa said, “The best fit for your taste in rooms. Grannon can guide you there, or the invitation will guide you if you want to go alone. Karla will meet you there.”

  Daesal looked up from the invitation with a frown. “You allow guests to wander unsupervised?” she asked, surprised.

  Tessa laughed. “Not really. If you deviate from the directions on the invitation, someone will be at your side in seconds to help you find your way.”

  “I see,” said Daesal. “I will use the invitation to guide me. No need to trouble yourself,” she said, nodding to Grannon.

  “It would be a privilege to guide someone as beautiful and charming as yourself, but I am your helpless servant, intent only on fulfilling your every whim,” said Grannon, which Daesal thought was laying it on a little thick.

  Tessa bowed gracefully. “Until next we meet. It has been a pleasure, Daesal.”

  “For me as well,” said Daesal, nodding back.

  “Just follow the map on the invitation,” said Grannon. When Daesal looked at it, there was a small map in the corner. The desk and stairs were indicated, along with a red dot, which she assumed was her, and three black dots, which she assumed where Grannon, Benra and Tessa. There was a dotted line leading from the red dot up the stairs. “The map will use a path that will avoid other people,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Daesal said, then, focusing on the small map, started for the staircase. The red dot moved as she did, and the map shifted to show more of the path, keeping the red dot in the center. At the top of the staircase, the map led her down a corridor, then made a right turn into a wall. She stood still for a moment. The wall suddenly showed a seam, and a door opened in front of her. She stepped through into another corridor. Guided by the map, she went to the end, up another staircase, then through several corridors, two via the invisible doors that opened after the map guided her to them. Even if the map didn’t alert the temple if you were off track, she doubted
you could get far without the invitation opening secret ways for you.

  Eventually, the map lead to a door and stopped. On the door was a brass plaque with the number C8 on it. Daesal listened for a moment, and hearing nothing, went to knock. The door swung open before she could touch it. There was no one in the doorway, and a short passageway lined in dark wood panels opened into a larger room. Daesal took a few steps into the room. The door shut behind her.

  The room was brightly lit by the sun streaming in through large glass doors that opened out onto a balcony on the right hand side of the room. On the left hand side was a large bed on a simple wooden frame, covered with cotton sheets and partially buried in pillows. There were other pieces of furniture, night stands and things, all wood with simple, clean lines. At the foot of the bed was a woman, a few inches short of five feet tall, with long, straight blond hair, clear blue eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky, porcelain white skin, and dark eyebrows that were startling in comparison to her complexion and hair. She was dressed in a full-length, relatively modest dress with a leather belt reminiscent of Tessa’s, but with less of the ornate gold thread worked into it. The dress and belt were tight enough that Daesal could tell she was thin, although from what Daesal could see of the woman’s arms she was more wiry than malnourished. She had pouty lips with thick red lipstick, and impractical high-heeled sandals. She had an amused expression on her face, the source of which was not obvious to Daesal.

  Daesal glanced behind her. The entryway had been constructed of thin wooden walls intended to leave two large nooks to either side. One had a large tub, big enough for two people. The other had a thin, padded table with a round cushion with a hole in the center on one end. Daesal looked back at the woman.

  She nodded, still wearing that faintly amused smile. “My name is Karla. Fullfilling your needs is my only goal, and there is nothing you can ask me to do to you that I will not do with pleasure. There are no boundaries between us. Please, let your desires guide you, no matter what they are.” Daesal picked up her scent, vanilla and lavender, and under that something a little musky. This woman enjoyed what she did, enjoyed abandoning caution and propriety, secure in the knowledge that her god’s power would keep her from paying the price normally associated with that kind of carnal release. Then Daesal caught something else, something a little more distasteful, something left out in the sun too long. This woman liked seeing her clients lose control as well, revel in things they were ashamed off. Liked having the power to make people debase themselves.

  “You seemed amused about something,” said Daesal.

  Karla’s smile widened. “I am sorry. I think this is your first time doing this, and I think you are holding yourself back, and there is no need. I will be what you want me to be, and I will enjoy it.”

  Daesal was curious despite herself. She was not sure if Karla meant it was her first time taking advantage of Karla’s specialty or using the Sambhal temple services at all. “What makes you think it is my first time?” she asked.

  Karla waved a hand down her dress. “This is what you are most comfortable with, modest clothes, empty hands. That’s not unusual for people that are afraid to let themselves go. After a session or two, I promise you that reticence will be gone. I like being what you want me to be. I want to own you. I want to punish you.” Karla walked toward Daesal, and as she did, her clothes changed, morphing a little with each step she took. The dress darkened and shrank, becoming a form-fitting black leather bodice, laced in front with black ties that did little to hide the breasts underneath. The sandals turned dark as well, the heels higher, black stilettos with a sharp tip. When she was directly in front of Daesal, a short riding crop appeared in her hand, a eighteen inch leather wrapped stick ending in thin black leather straps with small metal balls on the ends. Karla smiled and smacked one end of the crop into the palm of her other hand with a loud slap. “It will leave no mark, but it will hurt. I will keep the pain manageable for our first session. When you let your desires rule you, when you know the pain will stay here, in this room, between us… then I will take you to the depths of agony and the peaks of pleasure and everywhere in between, and you will beg me for more of each.”

  Daesal frowned. “Is this what your regular clients like?” she asked, baffled. Daesal had never understood the mating rituals and rules of attraction exhibited by her peers growing up, but she had studied it and tried to fit in. Everything she had learned, however, suggested that this was not what boys, or men, found appealing.

  Karla was looking at her a little open mouthed. “Well, yes, although I have never had a woman client before. Not that there is anything wrong with that,” she added quickly. “It doesn’t matter to me. But if you asked for me I thought…” Karla trailed off. “Why did you ask for me?”

  Daesal said, “Why does not matter. I would rather you lost the riding crop, please.” Karla looked doubtful, but crop vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “Better, mistress?” she asked, a little off balance, and Daesal could see the confusion in Karla’s eyes, could catch it in her scent. But it was just confusion, not suspicion.

  “It is,” said Daesal. “Are you more comfortable dressed like …” and she waved her hands at Karla’s minimalist outfit, “than in a regular dress?”

  Karla blinked. “It is not about what I am comfortable with, mistress, it is what you want. But, I suppose the answer is, this is more normal for me when I am serving a client.”

  Daesal nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, then looked down into Karla’s eyes. “Kiss me,” said Daesal.

  Karla’s confusion abated a bit, the play suddenly going more according to script. Karla ran her hands along Daesal’s longer, formal dress. “Would you like to take this off first?” Karla asked. In answer, Daesal put her hands around Karla’s face and pulled Karla’s lips to hers. Karla leaned into it, and Daesal let her lips part and felt her and Karla’s tongue wrap around each other. That lasted for a moment, then Daesal felt Karla stiffen and pull back.

  Karla looked up into Daesal’s face. Her clear blue eyes were suddenly muddy and unfocused, and as Daesal watched, her pupils were widening. “What… what was that?” Karla asked.

  “Kiss me,” said Daesal again, and pulled Karla to her. There was a bit of half-hearted resistance, but when their lips met again Karla was already opening her mouth, and this time they stood there for a long time. Karla slowly relaxed, body pressing against Daesal’s.

  When Daesal pulled back, Karla said, “What--,” but the sentence drifted to a stop. Her pupils were almost as large as her irises, dark black holes with a small rim of blue around them.

  Daesal took her by the hands. “Come,” she said, pulling. Karla moved with her to the side of the bed. “Lie down, said Daesal, gently pushing her back on the bed. Karla did as she asked. Daesal stood over her. “Karla, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” said Karla, sounding dreamy and distant, staring at the ceiling.

  “There is someone with you, Karla, isn’t there? Someone in your head?” Karla frowned for a just a moment, then relaxed back into a placid expression, but didn’t say anything. “Karla, the person with you. I want to talk to them.”

  Karla frowned. “He doesn’t like that,” she said dreamily. Then, after a moment, “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

  “I know, Karla, but it’s important. Let him speak. Please.” Karla tensed for a moment. Daesal stroked her hair. “Let him speak, Karla.”

  Karla’s face turned to Daesal, her face suddenly tighter, but her eyes remained unfocused. “Who are you?” asked Karla, but her voice had sharp edges and a gravelly undertone that hadn’t been there before.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Daesal. “What matters is that I have what you want. I have access to a high-level Hasamelis priest.”

  There was silence from Karla for a moment. Then she said, “What do you want?”

  “Money. Power. Guarantees that I keep them when this plays out.”

&nbs
p; Karla was silent again. Finally, the demon said through Karla, “That can be arranged, if I believe you. How did you find out about this vessel, and what we were trying to accomplish with it?”

  It took Daesal a second to realize the vessel it was talking about was Karla and not some physical container. Referring to a human that way bothered Daesal. She said, “I was on the expedition to Tawhiem.” Daesal took a guess and said, “Were you the one in the cave?”

  Another moment of silence. Finally, sounding cautious, it said, “Yes.”

  Daesal nodded. “You left marks, footprints, enough that I made the connection to Sambhal. The priest didn’t.” She paused, trying to think of a way to get it to reveal whether it left because of Padan’s spying magic or because of the wolves. It would be easier if it didn’t know that the Hasamelis priests were already suspicious. But there wasn’t any easy way to do that, and it was better to assume it knew. “The priest told me that the expedition was a ruse, but he wasn’t sure who was behind it or what they were after. I know that demons can possess Sambhal clergy, and I guessed there might be some connection to the temple. I found out that the priest whose vision had caused the trip in the first place was seeing Karla. It was enough for me to try to contact you.”

  Karla did not nod, but Daesal had a sense of understanding that was just as good. The demon said, “And how exactly are you going to deliver this priest to me? I must have him for several days, and the temple cannot know. The god Hasamelis can be woken enough to find his envoys, and if it discovers we are corrupting one, it will take action.”

  “The same way I have taken control of your vessel. I have unique capabilities. Things not normally available in Kethem. I can use it to control the Priest, to make him concoct a story to cover his absence. A story he will believe until he comes to me.”

  “Yes,” said the demon. “How did you corrupt my vessel? That should be impossible for anyone who is not a Sambhal priest or priestess.” There was a pause. “Interesting. The vessel is...” and then there was silence again. “Very well. I accept your terms.”