House of Lust

by Tony Roberts

  Lalaas rolled his eyes and caught Amne’s look. Her lips twitched for a moment. “So, Jorqel, how is life treating you? Going to have any more children? I’m catching you up, you know,” she rubbed her bulge.

  Jorqel sat in a chair presented for him. Gavan stood behind him, Lalaas took up a position behind Elas and Vosgaris decided Amne needed protection. She glanced up as he took up his place and smiled. He grinned back, then became more serious. Jorqel sighed. “The apothecary has recommended Sannia stops at four. The last one was pretty dangerous and she lost a lot of blood. She’s doing well now and little Amsel is a healthy little boy.”

  “That’s good to hear, sire,” Elas said seriously. “I am hopeful that Amne’s third birth will be without any cause for concern.” He reached out and took his wife’s hand in his. Amne squeezed his fingers.

  “As do we all,” Jorqel agreed. “I’m pleased to say that events in the Council went well for us – even if the Commander here had to slay Lord Kanzet.”

  “He what?” Elas turned to look at Vosgaris in amazement. Amne looked up and her eyes widened. Lalaas looked thoughtful.

  Jorqel retold the incident. “It should quell any dissent amongst the Houses for the time being, and allow us to proceed with the re-militarisation of all frontier provinces. Father has commenced the training up of three more companies of spearmen in Zofela and we’re sending Admiral Ermel off to blockade the Venn port of Irokon.”

  “Any news on Venn movements, sire?” Elas asked. “We have heard nothing here but we’re not on the frontier.”

  “Nothing from them, nor from the Tybar. In any event the commander here and myself have agreed on a policy of co-ordination from now on, so that we have a single unified structure. I would like to include you, Elas, in this. Your reserve force here would be a vital component in any reaction to a threat – should either my Army of the West or the Commander’s Army of Bathenia – let’s call it that from now on, shall we? – be called into action, the KIMM would be needed to fill the gap left behind.”

  “Certainly, sire, provided they are not needed elsewhere.”

  “Army of Bathenia,” Amne said slowly, and she looked up at Vosgaris. “Sounds good, doesn’t it, Vosgaris?”

  “Ma’am,” Vosgaris agreed, his hands behind his back.

  “Darling, best to address him by his rank,” Elas corrected her gently.

  Vosgaris looked surprised at the familiar term Elas spoke to Amne with. That was different!

  Amne bowed. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice that had Vosgaris’ toes curling. “Commander,” she smiled up at him. Vosgaris almost forgot Isbel.

  Lalaas eyed Vosgaris and he caught his friend’s look. Vosgaris took a deep breath and controlled himself. At least Amne had a conservative top on that didn’t reveal a sword’s length of cleavage. If it had he guessed he wouldn’t know where to look. Or rather, he thought to himself, I damned well would!

  Jorqel looked surprised at Amne’s meek acceptance of the gentle admonishment. Was she really mellowing now she was beyond thirty? In times gone by she would have exploded and caused an argument. “Well, sis, I’m happy for you,” he said, catching her amused look at the deliberate non correct mode of addressing her. Elas could hardly take him to task. “You and the good Prince here seem very settled at last. I for one am relieved.”

  Elas nodded in agreement. “My wife and I have sorted out some differences and we are much happier now, thank you, sire.”

  Amne smiled widely, but Jorqel wasn’t entirely convinced. He knew Amne too well and the broad smile often told him she was hiding something. He decided to change the subject. “We must have dinner together tonight before my party and I set off for Slenna in the morning. The Commander here will be going onwards to Niake so I think before we depart, a welcome meal.”

  “Already under way, Jorqel,” Amne said. “I’ve sent word to the kitchens and …. Ohh!”

  Elas leaned forward, concerned. “Is everything alright, Amne?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “Just kicked me. Big one!” she breathed out. “Oh!” she looked down and her hand rose from her stomach. An area the size of her palm suddenly twitched and the middle rose and fell in the blink of an eye.

  “You must have an equine in there, sis,” Jorqel grinned.

  “Feels like it at times! This is so different to the two girls. Oh, it must be a boy! Was Sannia the same with Amsel?”

  “Oh, I – ah – didn’t notice.”

  “Men,” Amne said acidly. “This one certainly lets me know it’s in there! As I was saying, dinner will be served tonight at the start of the first watch after dark. Best dress,” she smirked to the men.

  “That includes you, Gavan,” Jorqel said without looking round at his bodyguard.

  “Sire,” Gavan said heavily. The whole prospect of sitting at dinner with two princes, a pregnant princess, two small girls and two minor nobles appealed to him not at all. Especially when he had to dress up. Could he muck out the equines?

  Dinner had come and gone, and despite Gavan’s worst fears it had gone reasonably smoothly, if one took into account one of the girls dropping a particularly messy spoonful of vegetable soup over what had been a pristine white dress. That had caused an initial amount of distress but it had been sorted out soon enough by Amne.

  Elas had been formal and correct, living up to his reputation. Lalaas and Vosgaris had sat together, deep in conversation, and Gavan had found he had been out on a limb, having to listen in on the two princes and the princess. The two girls had ignored the adults, spending time on eating, and when they had finished, had been sent to bed. Amne had waddled off to tuck them in, then had returned and spoken to Captain Lalaas. Lalaas had excused himself and left, his duty period having begun that evening and he was late.

  Gavan had excused himself shortly afterwards, saying he had to check on the men and make sure all were ready for the morning’s departure. Vosgaris had decided his turn to go had come. He was tired and needed his bed. Elas and Jorqel were deep in conversation so Amne excused herself and escorted Vosgaris out into the corridor.

  Outside, she slid her arm into his and pressed close to the commander. “You’ve been very naughty, Vos. I’m in admiration, you know.”

  “What do you mean, ma’am?”

  Amne smiled wickedly, her tongue playing on her lips. “Allow me to show you your quarters.”

  “But – I know where…..oh.”

  They remained silent until they got to his rooms and she waved the two guards to relax. She followed him in and closed the door.

  “Won’t someone think this is inappropriate, Amne?” Vosgaris asked softly, moving away from the door.

  “What, me in this condition?” Amne rubbed her belly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Yes, fancy you and mother doing it. Well, Vos, that’s a turn up isn’t it?”

  “H-How do you know that?” Vosgaris turned white.

  Amne giggled and hugged his arm. “Oh, relax, silly. I’m telling nobody. Want my favourite Commander to be put under the executioner? Especially one who’s had me too? Mmmm… mother has some taste I must say.”

  “Amne…oh by the gods, I’m in the shit.” He sat down, shaking his head. “Does she know you know?”

  “Yes. We talked about it when I was in Zofela. She was so torn about things. Father’s temporary madness really messed things up, didn’t it?”

  “You and Isbel talked about it?”

  “Yes. We’ve – sort of grown close of late. Things have all changed, haven’t they? You have too. You’re far more serious of late. Still gorgeous but just a little more serious. I suppose you had a bad time with Alenna’s death and what have you. I so wanted to be there for you. Hope my letters helped.”

  “Yes, they did, thanks. Yes I did do through a bad time, and it was Isbel who helped me through it all – and I suppose it was that more than anything else which brought us together. When your father went mad it pushed her into my arms and – well – you know what happened nex
t.”

  Amne nodded. “Don’t worry about it! She made me swear to utter secrecy and I was more than happy to do so. She’s in a cleft stick, the poor woman, but I helped her when she needed a shoulder. She loves you but knows she’s got to stick with her husband. I did try to tempt her to come here for a little while when I give birth and maybe you might – ah – find your way over here?”

  “You’re happy for her and me to…. do it?”

  “Of course, you silly thing! I love you too Vos, but I’ve changed too. No more chasing after the next pair of trousers that walks my way. I’m a faithful wife now, haven’t you noticed?”

  “I did and I was wondering about Elas being so much more attentive to you. You’re like a proper loving couple. How did you tame The Corpse?”

  Amne threw her head back and laughed out loud. “Oh, Vos, that’s good! The Corpse thinks he’s tamed me, but I’m bottling it up all for one certain person.”

  “Oh, Lalaas. You always had a special place for him in your heart, didn’t you? He’s still saying no to you?”

  “Mm-mm,” she nodded. “But come the day Elas and I part for whatever reason it may be, he’s in trouble. Keep this secret, mind you. It’s another secret we have that we share, see? You’re not the only one with a guilty one.”

  Vosgaris grinned. “You’re a terrible influence, you know? You’re still staggeringly attractive – and in another life we would have….oh it’s all pointless to say that now, isn’t it? what a pair we are,” he said and looped his arm round hers.

  “Yes – you’re pining for the empress, I’m pining for a captain. Think your aim is loftier than mine.”

  He looked at her, remembering how she had been when they had made love all those times. “Before you go Amne, may I just have this one kiss, one for old times?”

  She slowly broke into a huge smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  They slipped their arms round each other’s shoulders and kissed long and lovingly, tongues meeting and entwining. It went on and on, and eventually, and with some regret, they parted. She was flushed and ran a hand down his tunic. “What is it about men in uniforms?”

  They laughed together.

  “I know what it is about you – you’re just a fabulously attractive woman.”

  “With this?” she patted her bump.

  “With whatever,” Vosgaris said. He ran a hand down her face, looking at her features. “Stunning, absolutely stunning. You always will be.”

  Amne lowered her eyes, actually abashed. “Vos…”

  “And someone who from now on I shall be delighted to call a close friend. Both you and I have other loves, and we are right not to pursue one another, but I wanted to tell you how I still feel about you.”

  She looked up, her blue eyes big. “People would judge us as being bad for what we’ve done, and what we are doing, but I don’t care. I’m married and with child, but that doesn’t shut off my feelings. If I could make laws in this empire, I’d bring in polygamy, then I’d have you and Lalaas, and you could have mother and…. oh my…. It’d be a constant orgy!”

  “We’d get nothing done. Anyway, want to bring your kids up in that sort of environment?”

  Amne nodded slowly. “Mmm, you’re right. Yes, you stick with mother and I’ll stick with Lalaas. At least we can share that kind of pain.”

  “Oh you’re so right, Amne. Yes, we can understand one another.” They stood up. “I’ll be leaving early tomorrow, so I doubt I’ll see you. We’ll write, though.”

  “Absolutely! Don’t you dare not write. I’ll want to hear all about Niake, Bathenia, the heat, the insects, that idiot governor over there, and charming Clora and that terribly naughty husband of hers.”

  “Oh, Demtro. Yes he’s a bit of a wicked soul. Makes you look innocent and virginal.”

  Amne collapsed into fits of laughter. “Oh don’t! I might give birth early doing this!”

  Vosgaris grinned and helped her up to regain an upright stance. “Are you alright?”

  Amne nodded. “Oh, my back! I’ll be so glad when this is all over. Hurry up the winter. At least I won’t be cold for the first part of it, anyway.”

  They kissed briefly and she made her way stiffly over to the door. “Sweet dreams, Vos.”

  “Maybe I’ll dream of you and the empress, mm?”

  She giggled. “Oh you naughty, naughty man!” She winked and left, leaving Vosgaris to fall back onto the bed and lie there, arms folded under his head, staring up at the ceiling, wondering on the future.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Argan sat next to Metila, Thetos on the other side of her. Darkness had fallen and it was only then that the witch had awoken. She had called for the two of them and Argan had answered the summons. She was sat up in bed, still naked. Argan took little notice of that, holding one of her hands. Thetos was on the other side of her, stroking her hair and holding her other hand.

  Metila looked at the blankets before her. Only her top half was visible. “There was one thing felt,” she said huskily. “On way back here. One man. Evil thoughts. Wanted kill you, Thetos,” she looked at him.

  “Where, Metila?”

  “Market hall. Not sure if he was trader or visitor. Sorry. Was hurrying. Left it too late.”

  “Left what too late, Metila?” Argan asked.

  “Out of body too long. I run out of air. No breathe.”

  “Suffocate?”

  “Yes, suffocate,” she nodded. “Magic always danger. Danger to user as well as others.”

  Argan looked at Thetos. “You should stop her doing this, Governor; she’s putting herself in danger – putting her life at risk every time she uses magic.”

  Thetos grinned humourlessly. “You want to try stopping her, sire? Be my guest.”

  Argan looked at Metila who held his gaze. “I suppose it would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?” the prince said. He smiled. “Metila, I think it might be difficult to change your mind.”

  She nodded, squeezing his hand. “I know danger, I know risk. I trust you two. Nobody else. They fools.”

  “Then I’m privileged,” Argan said lightly.

  Metila looked a little confused but Thetos chuckled. “It’s alright, Metila,” he said, “Kastanian humour. He’s really honoured.”

  “Ah. Humour hard. Yes, good I trust you.” She shuddered. “I recover now. I saw man with evil in heart. Short, wide shoulders, brown hair cut to neck, black vestment, blue leggings, black long boots. Not trader,” she concentrated. “Worker. Market hall.”

  “Good girl,” Thetos kissed her. “I’ll set up spies there to watch him. Hopefully he’ll lead us to others.”

  “I get up now,” Metila said. “I hungry.”

  Thetos moved to the door. “I’ll get something for you.” He left.

  Argan found Metila was holding onto his hand tightly. “Metila?”

  “You’re a good man, Prince Argan. Never change, you understand?”

  “I’ll have a good Bragalese woman to make sure I don’t,” he replied.

  “Yes, I’m training her hard. I’ll make sure she looks after you.”

  “She will. And you were right, Metila. She does love me.”

  She smiled. “I tried to tell you that you silly Kastanian. You’re a lucky man, having a Bragalese love slave. There’s no love stronger than that, as long as you treat her properly – and by that I mean in the Bragalese way. Forget all these weak Kastanian ways. Bragalese. She is Bragalese, and in her blood she’ll always be.”

  “I will remember.” Argan stood. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.” He left, leaving Metila to wash and dress by herself, a smile playing around her lips.

  Thetos was a man transformed into action. Roaring for his subordinates, he slammed into his chair and began scribbling on a blank sheet of parchment. Argan wandered in and stood uncertainly by his side. “Stay by my side, sire, your presence will give weight to what I’m about to order. Learn and listen well, Prince Argan, this i
s how you deal with sedition and rebellion.”

  The squad officers came in one by one, alarmed. Some had been relaxing after their dinner and had been roused from their rooms by messengers. One or two had even been entertaining and had not been best pleased to be curtly summoned. Kastanian custom was that many of these junior officers were noblemen learning their job rather than men who had been promoted from the ranks. Wartime increased the possibility of the latter, so men of merit rose faster, which was why in Kastania’s long history any long periods of peace had generally resulted in a lower quality of officers.

  The Bragalese war had culled many useless officers and consequently there was a hard core of good men running matters, but now they could see the new ones coming through weren’t the same. Thetos was of the opinion that they needed a few good battles to thin out the trash so he could promote those who conducted themselves competently. He could hardly overlook some rich man’s darling pampered son for some hard-bitten backstreet brawler in peacetime. He also knew these minor noblemen looked down on him as he did not have a title. His reply to that was unrepeatable. Having Argan by his side would quell any social prejudice they may have felt.

  Kerrin hurried in, the commotion having alerted him, and a messenger had asked him to stand by Argan while the governor spoke. Now he pushed past two officers who refused to budge when he wanted to pass. They shot him a dirty look but he was oblivious – he had to be by his friend and master’s side. Argan noticed, however, and made a mental note of who they were.

  Metila came out of her room, yawning, half dressed. She continued dressing in front of everyone, quite aware of the disgusted looks she was getting. She was totally contemptuous of these prim and proper dolls, as she thought of them. They were not real men. She sat on her chair, her legs bare up to the top of her inner thighs, and she flexed them as she slipped on her sandals, carefully avoiding looking up. If these fools wished to stare at the inside of her legs then that was their decision. She would rather slit their throats than let them touch her.