“Are you ready?” Konas was tying off a line to the collapsible basket. The mystery of his overly-large luggage was now explained, and Sillara smiled.
“You planned ahead very thoroughly.” She waved vaguely behind her at the small encampment. The noblemen's tent was being converted into a proper orgy-pavilion, and the four pleasure slaves were busy within, setting everything up.
“Of course.” Konas lifted her into the basket. “What is it?” he asked.
Sillara shook her head and looked up at Konas. “I was just glad that Merieke's nurse is doing better.”
“She was ill?”
“Yes, but, though she is still tired and will probably sleep the whole day through, her fever broke last night.”
“Are you ready to go?” Konas adjusted yet another line, and Sillara wished that she had, like Soren, been allowed to fly more often. Soren had, of course, told her all about ballooning, and she had a theoretical knowledge of how to work one, but she had never actually done it.
“I am ready.” She waved at the camp as the Konas pulled a cord and rolled up the white silk that covered the black of the balloon. The balloon rose slowly into the air, and Sillara waved at Soren until a gust of wind took them up too high for even her eyes to make him out.
“I haven't been ballooning in years,” said Konas. He seemed more cheerful today than he had been last night, and Sillara was glad that he did not seem disappointed to miss the orgy. “It reminds me of home.”
“Of Duildal?” Sillara knew that Konas had been born in the Seranimesti city, now the capital of all the Silbrios.
“Yes. There is a balloon platform on the top of my family's castle, and I used to take off from it as a boy.”
“Where would you go?”
“Sometimes up to Norivea, sometimes west to the ruins of Kartalon.”
Sillara looked across the desert. They were moving more quickly than she had expected, and she amused herself with calculating the difference in how long it would take a rider, whether on camel or horse, to catch up to where they were. “I thought that no one ever went to Kartalon.”
“No one stays there, true.” Konas dropped her cloak around her shoulders. “But though the goddess Mirsa foils any attempt to rebuild it, she does not seem to mind if someone visits for a while. I used to sleep under the moons in what was once the royal garden. The double waterfall is still there, and now the whole place is overgrown with roses.”
Sillara's throat tightened. Could Kartalon be the place that haunted her waking dreams? “I wish I had seen it.”
“You will be able to see it, Sillara. Soon enough you will move to Duildal and accept your crown. You will be Queen of all the Ausir.”
Sillara could not help the sigh that escaped her. “I know.”
“Aren't you happy to be the Queen of the Ausir?”
Sillara paused, unsure how to answer. “What shall I say?”
“Answer me truthfully, as truthfully as if I—as if I were Soren,” said Konas, taking her hand in his.
Sillara bit her lip. She and Soren had not spoken of this before because he already knew her heart, so she had never had to find words to express these feelings. “I have no desire to be King Tivanel's Queen, but is it not my duty to my mother's people to secure their succession? And if I cannot live in Arinport with Soren and—and my mother and father, then is not Duildal better than anywhere else?”
Konas pressed her fingers. “Duildal is beautiful indeed, a very city of roses.”
Roses? Sillara bit her lip. Roses and roses. They had haunted her for her whole life, and it seemed that roses were her fate. She looked down. “I would rather be able to stay in Arinport if I could, but I know that is impossible. I have never met His Grace, but I am sure that he is a very proper man. He is your brother, after all.” She forced a smile to her lips, but the thought of leaving Arinport and Soren and all those she loved behind was too much. She could not keep the dampness from her eyes, so she spoke, to keep herself from weeping. “I know that it will be soon. His Grace will send for me soon. I was eighteen not three weeks ago. That was my Ausir coming-of-age.” Sillara had successfully spoken past the lump in her throat, and she kept going, blinking back any threatening tears.
“It is strange to me, you know. I had my Sunjaa coming-of-age four years ago, just like Merieke. Soren came of age two years ago.”
“It is Sunjaa wisdom to realize that women mature more quickly than men.” Konas released her hand and tugged on another cord, pulling up yet another white panel. The balloon rose higher in response, and they caught a fresh current of air, one going more directly west than the previous one.
“Yes, everyone considered Merieke a woman then.” Sillara looked out over the ground beneath them. It was dune upon dune, white sand for as far as even her eyes could see. “But no one considered me a woman until now. I was treated as an Ausir, and Soren was treated as a Sunjaa. But we are neither of us either one.”
“Yes, you are.” Konas's response was vehement. “You are Ausir. You are Tamari, even.”
“You say so because you do not see me as others do.” Sillara smiled. “You see me as your pupil, so of course you see me as Ausir.”
“And the Sunjaa of the city see you—and Soren—as Sunjaa. You are better than either alone, for you have the best of both.”
“No one sees us as Sunjaa. They never see me at all, and Soren, oh, you should know!” Sillara felt afresh what Soren had felt the first time he had been to an orgy. “All the Sunjaa of Arinport desire my brother, think him more beautiful than any other—as indeed he is—but they do not look at him as Sunjaa. They want to—to fuck him in the same way they would want to fuck a prized gladiator.”
Konas shook his head. “You think they do not recognize him, recognize you, for what you are?”
“They do not.”
“And what does that mean for you?” asked Konas.
“For me, nothing.” Sillara pulled the cloak more tightly around her. The air was cold up here. “I am promised to His Grace, and that is the end of it. He does not love me, nor do I expect it. He needs me, and I have been promised to him. But for my poor brother—he has no hope.”
“No hope?” Konas pulled her close against him, putting his arms around her, warming her.
“Merieke is the most beautiful woman in Arinport, and she desires my brother. Because she was our childhood playmate and the child of Darien and Saerileth she does not quite see my brother as a prize stallion and no more. But she cannot deserve him.” Sillara sighed. What woman could be worthy of him?
“I could say the same things about you, Sillara.” Konas tilted her face to look up into his eyes. “You have no equal, and when the gods made you, they broke the mold afterward.”
Sillara did not know what to say, but a sudden jerk of the line behind her prevented her from speaking at all. They were falling, falling out of the sky, and the sands rushed up to meet them.
Chapter Nine
Soren pushed his thumb against the senet box and popped its drawer out. When he tipped the case over, the pieces fell onto the blanket where he sat crosslegged waiting for Nathen. He picked up his five pawns and arranged them on his side of the board, but his mind was not on the game. It was on Sillara. He missed her already, and he still felt the pain that had stabbed him when the wind had whisked her from his sight.
“What's taking you so long?” Soren called out. He was generally irritable. Not only was Sillara gone up in a balloon out into the wilds of the desert, but Soren had been several days on this journey without a good fuck. He was horny. He knew the slaves were working as fast as they could, but that did not offset his impatience.
Nathen appeared from the tent. “I'm right here.” He carried two earthenware jugs. “Water?” He set the jugs in the sand as he held a small wax tablet in the crook of his arm.
Shade sheltered the pair, but Soren could still feel the desert heat. Nathen, Orien, Soren, and Merieke all being half-bloods could not take the blisterin
g sun as long as other Sunjaa could. Soren chuckled to himself to think of how thoroughly Konas had to wrap his fair face in cloths to keep from burning. He looked like some tall, horned mummy.
Thinking of Konas brought Soren's mind back to his sister. He hoped Sillara enjoyed her balloon ride. Soren had ridden before—he had directed his own voyage once—and it had thrilled him to see the world from so high up. In the desert, he could only imagine how fast and how high they could go, what with the unusual intensity of the sun.
“It'll be nice to play this without the rocking of the deck.” Soren examined the setup of his board.
Nathen handed the wax tablet and stylus over to him. “Here. You keep score.”
Soren shrugged and, while Nathen set up his own starting position, scratched his and his friend's names into the soft wax. When Soren looked up from writing, he noticed how Nathen's gaze snapped away from him. Nathen had been watching him intently.
“What is it?” Soren asked.
Nathen looked up, puzzlement in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Soren smiled. Nathen was playing coy. “Something on your mind?”
Nathen straightened his back and cast his gaze around. Sounds of preparation came from the largest tent. “I just can't wait for the orgy.”
Soren nodded and made his first move, moving his pawn up in a classic opening. Nathen countered just as he thought he would. Movement caught Soren's eye, and he glanced over to see Merieke approaching. She crouched down next to the sleeping Orien and kissed his cheek. Then she stepped over him, smiled at Soren with one of her little funny, twisted smiles, and came closer. She kicked up sand with her bare toes, and her thin, white Sunjaa gown clung to her skin with sweat.
Soren watched her with appreciation and rising desire. Her nipples poked through the fabric, and her dress hugged the curve of her flat stomach as it fell toward her pussy. Merieke wore no undergarments, a boldness Soren liked to see in her.
Merieke came to stand on the blanket. She crossed her arms across her breasts and watched the game, but senet did not hold Soren's attention. He wanted Merieke.
“Stop fidgeting.” Nathen reached across and stopped Soren's knee from shaking. “It's worse than being at sea, isn't it?”
“What?” Soren's gaze started at Merieke's foot, traveled up her legs to her pussy, and then up farther to the swelling of her breasts.
“Wurm-hunting. No common quarters out here in the burning sands.”
Soren tore his gaze from Merieke, who also seemed to be appraising him. “There'd be no one to fuck if Konas hadn't brought some entertainment.”
“That's not precisely correct,” Merieke said.
Soren glanced back up. The sun beamed through the branches just above Merieke's head, and he had to shield his eyes from the glare. “How so?”
Merieke cocked her head and pursed her lips. “Pleasure slaves aren't the only people in Arinport who know their way around a bed.”
Nathen laughed. “To that I can give most reliable testimony.”
Soren abandoned his game and stood. “Are you offering yourself?” He took Merieke's body and pressed it against himself, bringing his mouth near her brow. His lips brushed her forehead. “I thought you'd monopolize Nathen.”
Merieke responded in kind, pushing her crotch into Soren's and reaching around to pat the taut muscles of his ass. “I can have him anytime. Today I look for new sport. We are, after all, on a hunt, are we not?”
Nathen stood, too. “That slutty Ausir really knows how to keep a group of friends engaged.” To Soren he said, “You take her today, Soren. I noticed one of those slave girls giving me the eye these past few days.”
Merieke slapped Soren's ass once more and disengaged herself. “See you at the party.” She retreated to her own tent, though she went slowly, deliberately, in a way to showcase every sexy move and curve she had. Soren watched her until she disappeared inside.
“I shall have to thank Konas for this,” Soren said to himself, though the comment summoned Nathen closer.
“Yes.” Nathen sighed. “Though he's not suffering, I wager. He's got Sillara with him.”
As Nathen gathered up the senet pieces and snapped the wax tablet shut, Soren dwelt on his friend's words. Sillara was with Konas. Alone. That was the unspoken meaning he had gleaned from Nathen. He was worried, but what could be done? It would be inappropriate for Sillara, as future Queen of the Ausir, to have her honor later questioned by having attended an orgy. Even if she did not take part.
But she was alone with Konas. Alone in a balloon sailing high over the earth. Could not her honor be doubted simply by this day-trip?
Soren had no more time to pursue this line of thought, for the shaking of the tambourines summoned everyone to the main tent. A male and female pleasure slave, clad in near-nothingness, stood at the entrance and greeted the revelers. Nathen gave Orien a light kick.
“Get up, sleepyhead. Delight calls.”
Orien groaned, squinted against the light, and rolled over. He rose, shook the sand from his massive, muscular frame, and stretched. His face broke into a wide grin. “Is it time to travel the marshes already?”
Soren nodded.
“Merieke brought plenty of herbs, so no one has to worry about bastards, so I am going to take one of the girls for myself. You all can fight it out over whoever's left.”
Orien, Nathen, and Soren entered the tent and were carried along on waves of music, incense, and herbs. Soren watched as a slave crushed the petals of a purple flower in his hand and threw it into the brazier. Immediately he felt his mind slipping away to that thrilling realm of supreme carnal gratification. The slaves had some touch of their master, and though Konas was not here, his influence remained. Soren knew he was in for another unforgettable orgy.
Merieke came, too, and her natural beauty shamed the crafted appearances of the pleasure slaves. She wore nothing save her jewelry, and even her brothers turned and gasped at her arrival. Gold and malachite earrings dangled from her lovely earlobes, and a wide necklace of gold and silver fashioned in the likeness of two birds' heads looking in opposite directions lay across the upper half of her breasts. Her lips were red as the ripest apples, and black wings of kohl rose from her eyes, giving her a cat-like look. Soren was almost convinced that she was purring. A belt of thin gold coins linked together hung on her hips, drawing his attention to her exposed and beautiful pussy. Clean. No hair. Just the way the Sunjaa liked it. But most magnificent of all was Merieke's headpiece, an ornate black wig decorated with cold-worked glass of varying colors.
“Hello, boys,” she said.
No one responded, so stunned were the men by the sudden revelation of her charms.
Soren noticed that she held something in her hand, but whatever it was, it was small enough to be concealed in her closed fist. The only thing he could see was the long ribbon of silk that hung from her hand. It put him in mind of something fun, and with a grin, he walked over to a nearby casket and rummaged through its contents of toys in search of a blindfold.
Orien took one of the slave-girls and commandeered her. Due to Orien's unpleasantly oversized cock, that was no more than Soren expected. That left two male pleasure slaves, one female, and Merieke.
Merieke walked over to Soren, reached up inside his skirt without breaking eye contact with him, and grabbed his cock. “It's about time, don't you think? We've known each other all our lives, and still we haven't fucked?”
Soren untied his skirt and let it fall. “Well, I've been at sea.” He liked bantering with her.
Merieke's eyes glowed. “From what I hear about what you sailors do to each other at sea, I'd say you're more than ready to take what I'm offering.”
Soren grinned and ran his hands through his long hair, freeing any small tangles from his horns. “I'll make your first time with an Ausir something to remember.”
Merieke went up on her tiptoes and kissed Soren's mouth. “And I'll make your first time with me unforgettable.”
The part of Soren that was the attentive lover wished he had asked Nathen what kind of lover Merieke was, what she liked and disliked, and what she liked even if she did not know she liked it or just would not admit it to herself. But the other side of Soren, that adventurous side that liked a bit of a surprise, was glad to be sailing into uncharted waters. The sea had never looked more inviting.
Soren sensed that Merieke, in her excitement, wanted to lead, and he obliged her. He knew that some people dealt with their nervousness by overcompensating in matters of control. Soren could wait to assert himself; besides, he was happy to see what Merieke would do.
Merieke laid Soren down on a pile of soft pillows and leaned over him, arching her fingers in order to press her nails into his chest. Her hands played with Soren's body, traveling over his shoulders, and down his muscular arms. She traced the wide wings of the proud falcon tattooed beautifully across his chest. She leaned in closer to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and as she tousled his locks, she kissed his throat. Soren moaned and relaxed into the pillows. Merieke only used her left hand. Her right hand still held her secret.
The passion of Merieke's kisses increased, and she, too, moaned as she rubbed her tits against Soren's skin. Soren kneaded her breasts, ending each long caress in a pinch of her nipples. He breathed deep of the spices in the fibers of her wig, and his cock surged to life. In moments it was achingly hard. Merieke trailed her kisses across his collarbone and down his chest. She stopped at his nipple for a nibble, and Soren thrust his cock up into her stomach. The hard shaft slapped against her skin, and she looked up into his eyes and smiled.
The Lotus Ascension Page 10