At length, we passed by a stable, and I whispered to Wazak. "What about stealing a few camels?"
"Camels?" he echoed.
"Oh, you know, these things," I said, pointing to one of them. "I don't know what you call them."
"Drayls," he said with disdain. "I would prefer to steal some hovercars."
"Yeah, well, I'd bet even hovercars would break down after a bit—and they're kind of noisy. These guys look like they were made for the desert." Looking up at Wazak, I knew he wouldn't have a bit of trouble crossing the desert, but I wasn't so sure about the rest of us. "I don't think I can make it across that desert on foot, and I'd be willing to bet the rest of these offworlders can't do it either."
The Edraitians who heard that exchange didn't seem averse to riding rather than walking, but I knew for a fact that a Darconian couldn't ride a drayl, because for one thing, they were nearly the same size. The ones I'd seen had been used as pack animals, rather than for personal transport. I'd have traded my glowstones for a good speeder, but during the limited tour of the city I'd been given upon my arrival, I hadn't seen one.
Wazak still seemed reluctant, but it was getting on toward morning by this time, and to be perfectly honest, I was just plain tired and wanted a camel to ride.
So I took one.
None of the drayls tried to bite me when I entered their pen, though one of them seemed to find me quite fascinating, sniffing at me as though trying to identify my scent.
"He must smell your desire," Tychar commented. "Well, he might if I was feeling any desire at the moment, but I'm not," I said frankly. "In fact, I don't think
I've ever felt less desire in my life." Which wasn't quite true; I'd felt less when I first met Wazak. Now that I was surrounded by males most of the time, my "desire" was probably automatic. Unfortunately, for the first time since I'd met him, I couldn't just look at Tychar's cock and know for certain.
"Guess I ought to pay something for him," I said reflectively. "Stealing a drayl probably isn't the best way to gain support among the locals." I had about decided to leave my pearls as payment when Tychar stopped me.
"No," he said as he began removing his collar. "I will leave them this. It's no more than a pretty trinket, but someone might value it, and I have no need of it now."
So, he did realize he was free! It seemed fitting to me that he get rid of his collar to symbolize that freedom, but Dragus was incredulous.
"You're trading that fox one drayl?" With a snicker, he added, "And I always thought you were fairly intelligent for an offworlder."
Tychar appeared somewhat bewildered. "What d'you mean?" he asked. "These aren't real jewels, are they?"
"I guess Scalia never told you," Dragus said, "but what the two of you have been wearing around your necks and cocks would just about buy a space cruiser. One stone for the whole herd would be too much."
"Hear that?" I said, giving Tychar a nudge. "Better hang on to your jewelry, big guy! It's a boy's best friend, you know."
Turning them over in his hand, Tychar stared at the sparkling stones in wonderment. "Why would a queen put something of such value on a slave?"
"Could be that she valued the slave even more than the stones," I said gently. "Scalia was very fond of you guys."
Tychar nodded absently, and I wondered if he realized that he now was not only free, but filthy rich on top of that.
In the end, Tychar left one of the smaller stones out of his cock ring, which he then decided to wear as a bracelet so he would be less apt to lose it. At least, that's what he said, but I had an idea he also thought it might be uncomfortable to wear it while riding a drayl. Trag wanted to know if Tychar's blue stones were worth more than his green ones, but Dragus wasn't sure.
"They are the same mineral and are therefore of equal value," Wazak said in a firm voice, obviously not wishing to hear any further discussion on the subject. "The only difference is in their color."
That said, the Edraitians were quick to follow my lead, and pretty soon we had quite a caravan. The Darconians helped us tack them up—I'd never even saddled a horse back home—and though they were on foot themselves, they seemed to have no trouble keeping up with those of us who were mounted. Much more mobile now and reasonably well-armed, we blew through the city like a sandstorm.
I rode double with Tychar—well, actually triple, because I had Uragus, too; he'd conked out a good while back and lay curled up in my arms. Nindala rode with Trag, but if he smelled any desire coming from her, it wasn't obvious. The tigers looked really cool in their flowing robes, but I did miss being able to see their dicks.
The streets were completely deserted, as if the entire city had gone into hiding. It was likely that the residents of Arconcia had heard about the government upheaval and were staying inside their homes—or had been warned to stay off the streets—but whatever the reason, we saw no one.
Reaching the fringes of the city with the dawn, we now faced the desert crossing by day. I was all for holing up somewhere to sleep until it got dark again, but Wazak insisted we push on. Riding a drayl was a lot easier than running, so I couldn't really complain, but I would have thought that even Wazak would have to rest now and then. I kept waiting for some of the younger ones to start grumbling, but they never did. Zealon and Racknay ran side by side, never slowing their pace for a moment. As marathon runners, they'd have beaten the pants off of anyone else—especially any humans—and they had their anger at Dobraton to sustain them.
Then the sun came up, and the temperature began to rise. Fortunately, it wasn't as far to the mountains as I had imagined, and after I thought about it, I remembered that from the shore, you could only see about eighteen kilometers out to sea on Earth. Darconia was a much larger planet, which meant that its curvature was less and you could see farther, but still, the base of those mountains couldn't have been much more than thirty kilometers away. Even so, it was thirty kilometers across a very hot desert strewn with rocks and boulders.
From a distance, that is. Up close, there was a whole lot more to it, and I saw plenty of tough-looking plants and the occasional scuttling bit of wildlife. I'd also forgotten that there were mines in the mountains, and, consequently, there was a road of sorts leading in that direction with stone shelters built along the way. Of course, anyone looking for us would have checked those places first, but as the morning wore on, I began to wonder if anyone was looking for us at all. It was possible that our enemies would assume that we would disappear into the desert and die off, one by one, but I found that hard to believe, because the pursuit in the palace had been pretty determined.
If Wazak had heard anything over his comlink, he didn't mention it, but kept us moving, though we did have to stop twice to let the drayls have a rest. Riding had its obvious advantages, but the swaying gait of the drayl was rather hypnotic and, having been up all night, I kept nodding off and was afraid I'd drop Uragus, so I wound up handing him off to Racknay and Zealon again. Tychar, however, stayed awake and held me steady when I would have fallen. The journey would have been much more difficult without him, and his arms around me helped keep me strong. We spoke very little, and I was left to wonder how he felt about being free after so many years of slavery. It could have been that he hadn't come to grips with the idea enough to talk about it yet. Or perhaps he didn't consider being on the run much different from being a slave.
I kept those thoughts to myself, however, because talking would have made us that much more thirsty, and even while riding drayls and wearing our Bedouin garb, it was still hot as hell. I was sparing with my water, and I hated to think how quickly I would have wilted had this flight to the mountains taken place a few months previously.
The more we rode on without any pursuit or opposition, the more convinced I became that we had to be riding into a trap. Dobraton had to know we'd head for the mountains, but since the mountains were the chief source of the wealth of that region, she would undoubtedly have done her best to seize contro
l of them along with the city. Leaving the mines to us made little sense, though it was possible that she was just plain stupid and hadn't figured that out yet. Well, no, I decided. Closed-minded she might be, but she wasn't stupid—at least not altogether.
We were about halfway across the desert when this notion seemed to occur to Wazak, as well—either that, or he was finally getting tired, because he began slowing down.
I pushed my drayl to catch up to him.
"Getting tired?" I asked casually. "We could all use a break, you know."
"Perhaps," he replied. "I have been... thinking."
"Yeah, so have I, and I smell a rat."
"A rat?"
"Mm-hm, either that, or something's rotten in Denmark."
"Denmark?" he echoed. "Why is Denmark significant?"
"Oh, stop being so dense!" I said, becoming exasperated. "You know very well what I mean! Something's just not right about all of this! Someone should be coming after us, and they're not!"
"I concur."
"We got chased out of the palace, and now, nothing! It doesn't make any sense."
"This is true," he agreed. "It has been far too easy."
"So, do you think we're heading into a trap?" I inquired. "Or does Dobraton just not care what we do now?"
"I do not believe she considers us to be a threat to her any longer," he said.
"Possibly," I said hesitantly. "But is that true? Are we a threat? I mean, could we plan a counterattack and be successful?"
Wazak appeared puzzled by this notion, almost to the point that I thought he was only planning to get us to the mountains and stay there, hiding out for the rest of our lives.
"You are thinking about fighting back, aren't you?" I demanded. "Surely you're not just going to take this lying down!" When he didn't reply, I went on to ask, "Tell me something, Wazak, has there ever been an overthrow like this before?"
"Not for many centuries," he replied.
"Hmm, well, maybe Dobraton just doesn't know how to organize a decent coup. You know, killing off the royal family is usually a pretty effective means of destroying a monarchy, but she's left the job undone—or does she think the desert will do it for her?"
"For the offworlders, perhaps," he conceded. "But we Darconians would not perish in the desert."
"Well, maybe that's it, then. She's just waiting for the rest of us to die off, and then she'll strike again."
"She may be waiting for us to retaliate," Tychar suggested. "In an open battle, if their numbers were greater..."
"They could just mow us down," I finished for him. "Be a lot easier than chasing after us, I suppose."
"I think Wazak's right," Trag said. "I think she doesn't consider us to be a threat and isn't wasting any time on us."
"It wouldn't be the first time a small band of rebels was underestimated," I remarked.
"Meaning you think we should try to fight back?" asked Trag.
"Well," I said reasonably, "do you want to spend the rest of your life hiding out in the mountains?"
"Kyra, dear," Trag said sweetly. "I've spent most of my life doing light housekeeping in a palace full of lizards while wearing nothing but a collar and a cock ring and still didn't have sex for twenty years! Hanging out in the mountains sounds like a fucking vacation to me! At least I've got you and the redhead to make things interesting."
Nindala's spine stiffened visibly. "I would rather consort with one of the Darconians!" she said with evident disgust.
This was a rather tactless thing for her to say, seeing as how Dragus and Wazak were both walking alongside us. I was thankful that the younger ones had fallen back into their own little pack and probably couldn't hear what we were saying. "I could arrange that," I said promptly. "I know Dragus would be interested. He'd probably kill you, though. If his dick is anything like the rest of him, it's probably huge."
"Aw, Dragus is a slut," Trag said dismissively. "You should try me. You might even like me."
"I thought you didn't like blue," I reminded him.
"I don't," said Trag. "It's just that now we're out and about, I've got more options, and Ty never did like the idea of sharing you, anyway."
"You shared'her?" Nindala was clearly aghast at such wanton behavior on my part. "Kyra?"
"Things have changed quite a bit since I saw you last," I admitted. "These guys belonged to the Queen, but she assigned Tychar to me as my personal..."
"Slave," Tychar said bluntly. "We were slaves."
Trag gave Nindala a nudge, and she jumped as though he'd bitten her. "Sex slaves, actually. Only we never had any sex. Reptiles just don't smell right to us."
"Does she?" I asked curiously.
Trag leaned forward and sniffed at Nindala. "Nope," he replied. "Not getting a thing."
"If you don't smell of 'desire,' they can't get it up," I informed Nindala. "Now, Dragus likes humans very well, and the way you smell probably wouldn't matter to him. Don't know how he feels about blue, though."
Dragus looked up at me and grinned. "I like blue just fine.
"You see!" Trag said. "What did I tell you? He's a fuckin' slut! You can insult him all day long, and he'll still fuck you."
"Or get himself off," I chuckled. "At least, I think that was what was all over the floor in the corridor yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Wazak said, pouncing on that pertinent detail. " That is how Jataka slipped and fell?"
"Well, I did tell Dragus to clean it up," I said, "but he must have missed a spot."
Wazak actually stopped and pulled my drayl to a halt. Looking me right in the eye, he said, "Do you mean to say that we escaped from the palace only because there was semen on the floor outside The Shrine?"
"Well, I hadn't thought about it that way," I admitted, "but now that you mention it, yes, I suppose that's true."
I had never heard Wazak laugh before—and it took a moment for the humor of the situation to sink in— but his serious mask of a face finally cracked, and he doubled over, laughing hysterically.
Trag was cackling too. "We're all alive because Dragus is a slut!"
Dragus just shrugged his big shoulders and grinned in a completely unapologetic fashion.
Tychar was laughing too. "We must have been better than I thought," he whispered in my ear.
"We were better than all three of us put together, actually," I whispered back. "I know I made plenty of noise, but still, he must have really good ears to be able to hear through the door like that."
Dragus glanced up at me with a guilty expression— the acuity of his hearing becoming even more evident.
Tychar saw it, too. "What was that look for, Dragus?" Tychar demanded. "Is there something you aren't tell-ing us?
"I promise not to use it again," Dragus said quickly.
"Use what?" Tychar asked, sounding quite dangerous. So, my charming rogue could be a tough guy when the need arose. Interesting...
"The comstone," Dragus replied reluctantly. "There's one in the necklace."
"Do you mean to say you've been listening in on us?" Tychar demanded.
"Well, not a/7 the time," Dragus said, hedging just a bit. "Just... sometimes."
Growling, Tychar plucked my necklace from around my neck and inspected it closely. "Which one?"
"The green stone," Dragus replied in a sulky voice.
Twisting the link, Tychar removed the stone and threw it at Dragus. "You may keep that and be thankful that I am not one to hold a grudge." Tychar may have been a slave, but his commanding tone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing him—even a Darconian.
"Good thing he doesn't hold a grudge," Trag said meekly. "He'd probably kill me for doing what I did with you. Glad I decided to quit bugging you before we wound up being freed."
"No kidding!" I agreed. "But remember, you're out and about now and have more options."
"Well, I may be out and about," he admitted, "but I don't think it'll do me much good, because Miss Blue-butt doesn't like me—and I'm n
ot so sure I like her, either. She smells all... blue."
"Well, who knows what we'll find in the mountains," I said in an effort to cheer him up a bit. "Maybe there'll be some other offworld refugees who smell even better than I do."
"Not unless there's a Zetithian woman hiding out there—or another Terran," Trag grumbled. "And somehow, I doubt that."
"Well, just give her a little time," I suggested, with a gesture toward Nindala. "She might warm up to you, and then you'll be able to smell her desire."
Trag mumbled something I didn't quite catch, but the gist of it was that he was expecting hell to freeze over before that happened, and Nindala's expression did nothing to suggest otherwise. Then I remembered that Nindala only liked rich men, and thought perhaps that Trag ought to remind her that he was wearing the value of half a space cruiser. I didn't suggest it, though, because I've always been of the opinion that women who required pretty baubles to stimulate their interest in a man weren't worth having, and a man who had to resort to bribery wasn't worth much, either. Trag shouldn't have to stoop to buying a woman's favors; he deserved much better than that.
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