The steward raised her eyebrows but gave no voice to her objections. She was a level-headed woman and knew, just as Konas knew, that pleasure slaves were terrible body slaves and cooks.
Finally, before returning to the Itenu house, Konas packed away his traveling statue of Abrexa, a third the size of the original, though cast as an exact copy of Faloth’s masterpiece. Again, pride filled Konas as he looked on the work of his own hands. He hoped Sillara liked it, and he hoped even more than she liked the pleasure he would give her before the goddess.
Chapter Eight
Sweat dripped into Sillara's eyes, and she wiped her brow. The sun was hotter than it ever got in Arinport, for here there were no sea breezes to soften the unbearable heat. She wished that Ileke were here to attend her. Her current body-slave was not very good at knowing when and how to see to her mistress's wants. At least, to her non-sexual wants. Sillara's mouth curved wryly. She remembered she had laughed when she had seen the two attendants Konas had chosen for her.
“Why, Lord Konas, have you replaced my body-slaves with pleasure-slaves from your household?” she had asked.
And Konas had winked at her. “These wurm-hunting expeditions can, or so I have heard, take several weeks. No one else planned ahead, Sillara.”
She recalled having been surprised, for a moment, that Konas had not given her any title at all, but she was rather glad than otherwise. Konas was always familiar with Soren, and she wished that he would be the same with her. “Planned ahead?”
“What happens when these sailors freshly come ashore grow … bored?” Konas had said. “I replaced your two body-slaves with female pleasure-slaves and my own attendants with male pleasure-slaves.”
Sillara took a sip of water from the flask at her saddle-horn. She had, of course, ridden camels on occasion but never for more than a day or so. They were now five days out of Arinport and had left all sight of the River two days earlier.
“I apologize, Sillara.” Konas was at her side, his own camel loping alongside hers. “Perhaps I should have left you one proper attendant.” He handed her a silk scarf, with which she wiped her brow and then used to tie back her hair.
“It is no matter.” Sillara smiled at her tutor. “The Tamari kept no servants at all, and if I am to lay claim to my royal birthright, ought I not to live as a Tamari Princess—keeping no servants and tending to all my own needs?”
Konas chuckled. “You are never out of sorts, are you?”
Sillara waved her hand at the assorted collection of people and animals making up their caravan. “Why should I be? Is this not sufficient company? What could I lack?”
Konas followed her gesturing hand. “There is nowhere I would rather be. And we can even keep up with your lessons.”
As Konas spoke to her of Tamari traditions that were still kept by the Tamari in Duildal, the new capital city of the Ausir, Sillara calculated the maximum distance it could be to the first oasis. Starting with the speed of the camels, factoring the rate of water consumption—and the four horses that the men would ride when once the wurms were sighted required a great deal—and the margin of error that Soren would have insisted upon for her sake, she figured that, at most, the oasis could be four days off, but she tended to think that Soren would not cut it so fine. Perhaps two days.
“So will you insist upon a Tamari nuptial?” Konas's voice was low.
Sillara's thoughts jerked back from her pleasant mathematical calculations to the man to whom she been promised the day she was born. She had no face to put with the name of Tivanel Seranimesti, and her face fell. “I have not thought of it,” she said truthfully.
Konas's eyes brightened, and she caught the ghost of a smile on his face.
“How could I think of it?” asked Sillara. “For I am to be wedded to a man whom I do not know, and not only that, but a man whom I have never even seen.” Sillara's eyes wandered along the column of riders. “His Grace has never sent me his likeness, though our betrothal has now lasted eighteen years.”
“And you have never asked for it.” Konas did not phrase it as a question.
Sillara watched Soren showing Nathen some intricacy of the winch he held in his lap. They were both laughing. “He was the one who sought this betrothal,” she said. “He sought my hand the day I was born. It should have been his place to make certain his bride-to-be knew his face.”
Konas's smile faded. “I apologize for my brother's callousness.” There was a deeper feeling in Konas's voice than Sillara would have expected over something, to her, so trivial, and she reached over to lay her hand over his on his saddle-horn.
“You had nothing to do with it, Konas.” She smiled at him. “You have never behaved with anything other than kindness toward us.” She nodded toward Soren. “Thank you again for arranging the after-party.”
Konas's renewed cheer was obvious, and Sillara was relieved. She did not want her teacher and best friend, aside from Soren, to feel any guilt over his brother's behavior. Sillara did not expect the King to love her. How could he? They had never met. Their marriage was a political thing, a necessity for King Tivanel to cement his claim on the throne.
Before this dark train of thought could dampen her spirits, however, Nathen brought his camel up alongside hers on the opposite side from Konas's.
“How like you the desert?” Nathen's smile flashed brilliantly in his dark face, and Sillara glanced from him to where Soren now rode at Merieke's side.
“What is not to like?” Sillara laughed. “The air is fresh and clear, and at night the sky is so full of stars that it seems as if the gods had been playing at senet with them—”
“—and spilled the pieces.” Soren was nearer her than she had realized, and he finished her thought.
“Exactly.” Sillara disengaged her hand from where Konas still held it, and she looked over at Soren.
“And the dunes roll away, white in the sun, purple under the moons, smooth and soft like—”
“—like the snows of Icedeep, lost city of the Tamari.” Sillara finished Soren's sentence this time.
Konas shifted on his camel, and Sillara could not understand the flash of pain across his face. She did not speak of it, however, and Merieke broke the silence.
“Where are these famous wurms?”
The knot around Sillara broke up, too, and only Nathen remained beside her. He answered Merieke, though he did not leave his place. “We are still too near civilized lands, still too near the River.”
“We left the Sweetwater two days ago,” said Sillara.
“That is still too near. We have not reached the first oasis yet, and it is only after the second oasis we could hope to find wurms.”
“And how far is this oasis?” Merieke's next question was spoken lower, whispered really, to Soren who was beside her, but Sillara heard it.
“Two days,” said Soren.
****
The second oasis was a welcome sight to Sillara. A fortnight out of Arinport, she was farther than she had ever been from the city of her birth, and she found she did not miss it. She had grown accustomed to caring for herself, and it was easier than she had expected. Merieke, on the other hand, had brought a proper body-slave, her old nurse, in fact, and she seemed to be having a more difficult time. But no one, not even Merieke, was otherwise than delighted at the sight of the lush green of the oasis.
“It is like a jewel dropped from Abrexa's own crown,” murmured Sillara.
“And let us take it like the treasure it is!” Soren helped Sillara down from her camel. “As soon as we have watered the camels, we should bathe.”
Sillara nodded, but Merieke spoke.
“That is a wonderful idea. I cannot bear this chafing sand one more moment!” Merieke tossed her head, sending bits of sand scattering from her hair.
Sillara did not understand why Merieke's words, perfectly accurate and spoken with a levity that robbed them of any whining, should still irk her. She forced all irritation from her thoughts and moved to help w
ith the camels. Watering them, as well as the horses, was of primary importance. However, there were enough people, including the pleasure-slaves and Merieke's nurse, to have the tents set up by the time the animals were watered. There was a large tent for the noblemen, a smaller one for the noblewomen, and a third for the slaves. Merieke's nurse shared the tent with Sillara and Merieke, and she went to it as soon as it was set up. Sillara felt a twinge of concern for the older woman, who seemed overcome by the heat and the day's ride. It was growing close to sunset, but Sillara doubted that the nurse would want to stay awake at all.
Sillara filled a flask of water and brought it to the tent where she would be sleeping.
“Here,” said Sillara, kneeling by the pallet where the nurse was already lying down.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The nurse gratefully took the proffered water and drank half of it at once.
“Do you need anything more?” Sillara could hear the pleasure slaves making up their beds—the only beds that had been shared on this journey—and the sounds of Soren and the rest gathering by largest of the oasis pools.
“Please.” The older woman fixed Sillara with fever-bright eyes. “Touch me.”
A chill settled on Sillara's breast, but she smiled. “Of course.” She pressed her lips to the nurse's brow, and the flesh was hot to the touch.
“Thank you.” The nurse sipped some more water, and then she lay down to sleep. Sillara stood, waiting, until sleep had claimed the older woman. It was only moments, and the rise and fall of the nurse's breast was even and steady.
“Sillara!” Konas's voice called her, but it was Soren who stood at the edge of the tent and beckoned her silently.
“She is ill?” he asked.
“Yes.” Sillara stepped out into the reddening light of a setting sun. “But she is doing better now.”
“Then you can come with us?” Soren dropped a kiss on the top of her head between her horns. “If not, I will wait for you.”
“I can come now.” Sillara loved that Soren knew she would not—could not—leave someone who had needed her, knew without having to be told.
“The boys are off to the eastern side, and you and Merieke get the western side.” Soren dropped Sillara off at the side of the pool and ran off to join Nathen, Orien, and Konas, all three already naked and waist-deep in the water.
Sillara stripped off her linen gown, and Merieke laughingly splashed water up at Sillara.
Jumping into the water, Sillara swam to where Merieke was now floating on her back. “It's heavenly here,” said Merieke.
“Yes.” Sillara, too, kicked off the bottom of the pool and lay back, looking up at the swiftly-darkening sky. “I could stay here forever.”
She heard Konas and Soren laughing, and Orien's quick voice, telling some bawdy joke, was obviously the cause. But she could not hear Nathen anywhere, and for that she was grateful. The water lapped at Sillara's pussy, and she could almost have wished Merieke would offer to lick her again. She and Merieke had shared a tent for a fortnight, but though Merieke nightly used one of Konas's vibrating eggs on herself, she and Sillara had not touched again. And Sillara did not want to, not really. Beautiful though Merieke was, with her creamy skin the color of coffee and milk and her masses of black hair, Sillara did not desire Merieke. If she wanted to touch breasts or a pussy, she had her own. No, what Sillara wanted, needed, was to be touched. She wanted to feel hands caressing her breasts, to feel lips kissing her dripping pussy, to feel more, things for which she had no physical reference.
Sillara closed her eyes, floating on the water, and the rose-filled bower took over her thoughts. This time, though, there was another scent in the garden, one that was as strong as the roses' own. She did not know the name of it, but she had smelled it before, smelled it on Soren when he had come back from Konas's orgy.
The water beside her was too still, and Sillara flipped to her feet in time to see Merieke, a cheeky smile on her face, drop beneath the water. For several moments Merieke was nowhere to be seen, and Sillara looked at the far shore where Soren, Konas, and Orien stood. Suddenly Soren gasped, and he smiled. His hands went beneath the surface of the water, to where Sillara knew Merieke's head would be.
After several seconds, Merieke came up for air, only to disappear once more, to the laughter of all three men.
Sillara narrowed her eyes. Merieke was a beautiful girl, obviously in love with Soren, but she simply did not deserve him.
“Sillara.” The word was a whisper, and Sillara whirled to see Nathen standing beside her.
“Nathen!” Sillara covered her breasts and spoke loudly, purposely sending her voice to carry across the distance of the pool. “What are you doing here?”
Soren's eyes darted at once to her face, and he reached beneath water again, detaching Merieke. “Sister?”
Sillara saw the darkness in Nathen's eyes, and she knew he had hoped for a chance to woo her. But Konas and Soren were already half-way across the pool, and Nathen had no choice but to step back from her. “I am just looking for Merieke,” said Nathen. “Wasn't she with you?”
Konas was out of the pool now, fetching Sillara's cloak, and Soren stood beside her. “Merieke was with me,” he said.
Nathen's laughter seemed genuine, and were it not for the heat of the glance he darted at her, Sillara could almost have believed in his words. “Well, I can't blame her for that.”
Sillara saw the look that passed between Nathen and Merieke, still several feet away, and she bit her lip. Something was afoot, and she did not know what. Nathen made off for his brother on the opposite side of the pool, and Merieke, left alone in the center, began to float again.
Konas dropped Sillara's cloak around her shoulders and, once she was covered, helped her out of the pool. “We will be here for at least three days,” said Konas, and Sillara knew he was looking at Soren over her head.
Soren followed them out of the pool, and the three, Soren and Konas both still splendidly naked and wet, walked toward Sillara's tent.
“That is so.” Soren put one arm around Sillara's shoulder protectively.
“And Nathen hasn't been fucked for two weeks,” said Konas.
Sillara glanced at Soren, and she knew he understood. They neither of them saw lust, or not purely lust, in Nathen's looks.
“And?”
“I suggest we have an orgy,” said Konas. “That is, after all, why I brought the pleasure slaves.”
Sillara could not believe her ears. An orgy? And she would get to be present? Her nipples budded at the thought of being touched, but she knew that she did not want just any lover. From Soren's tales, she knew that at orgies, everyone was fair game.
“Not with Sillara.” Soren's arm around her shoulder tightened.
“Of course not.” Konas's smile was sweet. “I have a balloon, and I will take Sillara up for the day. You and the others can fuck until no one can stand, and by the time your sister and I return, all will be well.”
Soren leaned Sillara's head on his shoulder. “Do you like the idea, sister?”
Sillara hesitated. She knew, of course, that she should not be present, nor was that exactly what she wanted. She looked up into Soren's eyes, and he laughed.
“Yes, of course.”
Sillara knew he understood her desire and would tell her all about it afterward, but there was no need for words.
Konas sighed.
“I am sorry,” said Sillara, turning to her tutor. “If it were not for me, you would be able to stay, too.”
“I wouldn't want—” Konas interrupted himself. “That isn't what I meant. I—”
“I will go to tell the others,” said Soren. “Tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun is up, you two can take to the air.” He pressed Sillara's hand and loped off toward the pool.
Sillara looked back after him, and she was glad to see that Merieke was already out of the water.
“I don't want you to think, Sillara, that I would rather be at this orgy—at any orgy—than pa
ss that time with you.” He had his hands on her shoulders, and Sillara smiled. He was naked, but he seemed to have forgotten the fact.
“You are kind to say so,” said Sillara, “but I have heard of your reputation since before I was old enough to know what it meant. You are the premier orgy-master in Arinport, and you do not get to be that way without enjoying it.”
Konas leaned his face down to press his brow against Sillara's, and the high, black branches of his horns caught the moonslight. “I swear that I would not prefer anywhere else to being in your company.”
“Are you coming to bed?” Merieke passed Konas and Sillara, entering the tent.
“Yes.” Sillara leaned up and kissed Konas on the cheek. “Thank you for arranging this. You were right to 'plan ahead', as you call it.” Then she went back inside her tent. Merieke was chuckling.
“Did you see Orien's face? He thought for certain I was heading for Nathen, but Soren's cock looked so tempting.” Sillara could hear the vibrating egg being wound up, and she almost wished she had one of her own.
“Not that Nathen isn't worth sucking.” Merieke's voice was low, so as not to disturb the sleeping nurse. “He's amazing.”
But Soren is more beautiful. Sillara knew perfectly well that Merieke would not have been able to resist Soren. No one could.
As she heard Merieke's smothered moan of climax, Sillara definitely wished she had an egg of her own. They were Konas's invention, but she would be too embarrassed to ask him for one.
****
“Good-bye, sister.” Soren pressed his lips to Sillara's brow. “See you tonight.”
“Remember everything,” Sillara whispered in his ear. “Tell me everything when I get back.”
Soren winked at her as she followed Konas to the balloon. Sillara had seen an Ausir balloon before, had even ridden in one for an hour or two, but she had not been allowed to go anywhere.
The Lotus Ascension Page 9