Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Well it’s… and then it feels…” Nisim broke off suddenly red-faced and flustered. “Well it’s… nice,” he finished lamely.

  “Nice?”

  “Yes, it’s nice… warm and nice,” Nisim said. Unless he was with Mireya of course, then it was ghastly. “When I’m with someone I like, it makes me feel happy… like I was free.”

  Tanni thought about that for a long moment. “I wish Naida would let me… you know.”

  “Do you want to, you know, with Naida?”

  Tanni nodded.

  Nisim smiled and rubbed at a stubborn piece of crust on the pot. “All you have to do is ask her. She likes you.”

  “Not really,” Tanni said kicking the table leg like a child.

  “She does, but she doesn’t think you like her.”

  “But I do! I really, really do!”

  “Well tell her then.”

  “Just like that? Tell her?”

  “Certainly,” Nisim said with amusement. “When next you see her say this: I really like you, Naida, and if you like me, let me take you to bed.”

  “I couldn’t say that!” Tanni spluttered.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she would laugh!”

  “No she wouldn’t. She’s a kind person, Tanni. Just wait until you two are alone and say it. You’ll never know otherwise.”

  “I don’t know,” Tanni said frowning as he dried a plate.

  “That one’s done.”

  “What?”

  “The plate? It’s dry.”

  “Oh,” Tanni said and wandered away to a cupboard. “Do you think she will let me… you know?”

  Nisim laughed and flicked water at Tanni. “I think she will, but not unless you ask her nicely!”

  “I’ll do it!”

  “Well good! I’m glad that’s sorted out.”

  “What is?” Naida said as she came in carrying a tray. “What?” she said staring at Nisim and Tanni as they giggled together. “Men!” she said leaving the tray on the table and walking back the way she came. “Don’t understand them. Mutter, mutter, always doing silly things, mumble…”

  Tanni forgot about drying plates and chased after his friend.

  Later that night, Nisim watched Naida and Tanni slip away from the dinner table and smiled secretly. He was glad for Naida especially. She wasn’t allowed off the grounds and was alone too much. Slaves could not marry of course, but they could have children. Even that was denied Naida. She had been hurt when she was small and couldn’t have babies now. Another reason to hate Mireya and her guards.

  “The mistress is away for a tenday—” Adien was saying.

  Nisim nodded and used a piece of bread to clean his plate. That was one good thing. Mireya insisted on the best food, which meant the slaves ate well of her scraps. Adien was a good cook. She knew all there was to know about herbs and seasonings. Everyone looked forward to mealtimes here. She always made more than enough for everyone.

  “—and I was thinking…”

  “What?” Nisim said still stuffing himself.

  “Weeeell,” Adien said slyly. “Since she’s gone, that means you’re all alone.”

  Nisim swallowed and coughed. He took a sip of water to wash his food down. “Er well no—I mean yes I’m alone, but I don’t mind!”

  That was an understatement. The sick bitch used him so hard that he was sore for days after, and she never let him rest. It was agony. It was so bad, he was becoming dependent on the quelimane to rise in Mireya’s presence, and that was dangerous. He would much rather stick a knife in her than his manhood, less painful—for him anyway.

  “I really don’t mind… really… I like sleeping alone… truly I do,” he said looking for an escape. The others chuckled at his stammering.

  “Poor Nisim, nowhere to run—”

  “Who would run from that?”

  “Go get him, Adien!” someone called and more laughter arose.

  If only they knew, but he wouldn’t tell them. It was too much humiliation. Mireya and Tiberio did whatever they wanted to him whenever they felt like it, and there was nothing short of his or Mireya’s death he could do about it. He didn’t mind playing along with his friend’s jests, as long as they were jests, but he was starting to think that things were different this time. He was in no mood for games today. He shoved back from the table and stood to leave, but Adien followed him and pressed him into the corner.

  “I… really should be… ermmm… fetching the water! Yes, I have to fetch the water for—”

  “You like my pies, don’t you?” Naida said.

  “It was delicious!” he said back on safer ground.

  “Want some more?”

  “Er… yes?”

  “You can have as much as you like, Nisim, for a price.”

  “What price?” he said warily.

  “I want to see what you do for Mireya that’s so good!” Adien said with a grin that began to wilt as soon as she saw the effect on him. She gasped, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it Nisim, I—”

  His face was granite. “Never. I will never show you, or anyone. Leave me alone!” he shouted and stormed outside.

  “I’m sorry!” Adien cried after him.

  He stumbled outside and ran to a corner of the yard. He knew he was being watched by the guards but he didn’t care. He hammered his fists against the stone of the wall in pent up rage and frustration.

  I want out of here!

  Nisim came back to himself with his fists throbbing and bruised. He sighed. It was a good thing Mireya wasn’t here. The way he felt now, he would kill her the moment he saw her and damn the consequences.

  “Nisim?” Adien said hesitantly from out of the shadows. “Are you all right now?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I’m sorry about… you don’t have to…”

  “You don’t know what she—” he shut that part of his life away refusing to think about it. “I promise you, you wouldn’t like what the mistress likes.”

  “I believe you,” Adien said and turned sadly away.

  “Adien?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you want—” he hesitated. Did he really want to do this? No, he didn’t, but he missed Trista and the others. He even missed mistress Lakshmi! He had friends here in Mireya’s house, but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t whores like him. He missed the feeling of family they shared and especially the sound of their breathing in the slave quarters when he couldn’t sleep. He missed talking to Nona and the others when he felt depressed. He wanted… needed, someone to talk to again. He took a deep steadying breath. “If you want, I could show you what I like.”

  “I would like that.”

  He stepped forward and hugged her to his side. “I know a place,” he said and led her there.

  And show her he did, all night without pain or drugs. It was like rediscovering himself. Mireya hadn’t destroyed his old self. She had simply buried him with her brutality. Adien brought him back, and the world became a better place. He was so very thankful, but it was she who thanked him.

  “That was wonderful, Nisim. Did the Matriarch…?”

  “No, Jarek supplied my teachers so I would please her.”

  “They were very good!” Adien said chuckling.

  “Yes,” he grinned.

  “Can we?”

  He smiled. Rather than answer her with words, he made his body answer for him. The next day found them still entwined naked together, but the others covered for them. They were all good people, but still Nisim wished himself back with Trista and the others.

  * * *

  9 ~ Conspiracies

  Julia was sitting with her friends in her private suite within the women’s quarter of the palace. Mathius was resplendent in his best yellow robe and looked very stern and powerful just as they had planned. Lucius had decided to play his forbidding wizard routine and it had worked better than even he had expected. The image of his piercing eyes and strong jaw was firmly branded upon L
ord and Lady alike. His quiet presence had rattled more than a few of them, the latest of which had been Lord Horton who had just left.

  “That didn’t go at all well,” Julia said with a sigh. “I could have handled that better.”

  Jihan finished folding the letters addressed to his father from Horton. “Perhaps you could have, but no harm was done.”

  “How can you say that? I botched the entire thing!”

  “I would wager that Horton came here out of curiosity. He never had any intention of being swayed by anything we said. He is a strong supporter of Meagan—his presence at Herstal suggests it at least.”

  “Of Meagan, my lord?” Lucius said. “Are we sure it will be Meagan?”

  Jihan nodded. “I think it’s quite likely.”

  “I’m not sure I agree,” Julia said with a frown. “If I were to choose between Horton and Meagan, I’d choose Horton—no question.”

  “So would I,” Jihan said. “But the choice isn’t ours, nor is it between those two alone.”

  She nodded, he was right about that. Jihan’s father, then Lord Malcor, had sent messengers all over Deva with proposals tantamount to treason. Athlone died for his crimes at Jihan’s hand, but his co-conspirators were very much alive and thus able to influence the vote on who would become the next King of Deva.

  Just then, there came a knock upon the door. Mathius rose to see who had come calling. He stepped back and allowed their visitor to enter. “Lady Julia, may I present Lord Robsort?” Mathius intoned formally. “Lord Robsort, this is Lady Julia—Sorceress of Athione.”

  Robsort bowed stiffly. “Honoured.”

  The poor man was pale and visibly uneasy. Julia rose and clasped Robsort’s hands. They were shaking.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Lord Robsort. Please have a seat. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

  Robsort flicked a nervous glance at the red robed figure sitting silently in the corner.

  “Forgive me, Robsort,” Julia said. “Allow me to introduce my dear friend Lucius. You’ve met Mathius of course, and Lord Malcor.”

  Robsort inclined his head uneasily to Lucius. “Honoured, sir” he said and turned to incline his head to Jihan. “I already know Jihan of course. I will take some wine, thank you, Lady.”

  Mathius sat next to Lucius and Robsort took a seat across the room. He was nervous. His eyes kept flicking back to the mages every few moments as if he were afraid they would change him into a toad or something. Julia smiled at the thought of Robsort sitting there croaking. He was a very minor noble, but according to Jihan’s letters, he had one important resource—wood. Robsort owned a large tract of forested land in the south. Wood had always been important, but it was especially so to the foundries in Chulym. Apparently, the master smiths had once used charcoal and clay pots in a special process to make fine steel. Those days were gone now. Chulym was a mere shadow of what it had been, but Athlone had been no fool. He had known, as Julia did, that Chulym would have an important part to play in Deva’s recovery.

  Julia handed a glass of wine to Robsort and sat next to Jihan. “I expect you’re wondering why I asked to see you, my dear Robsort.”

  Robsort didn’t touch his wine. Maybe he thought it was poisoned. She didn’t need to resort to that kind of thing. If she wanted him dead, he would be ash already, and he should know that. She saw the worry and the fear in his eyes and decided to go easy on him. He wasn’t really her enemy, and he certainly wasn’t the worst lord she had ever met. There was Scalderon and Meagan after all.

  “Could I have the letters please, Jihan?”

  Jihan sorted through a large leather satchel allowing Robsort to catch glimpses of the other letters until he found those he was looking for. He pulled out a bundle and gave them into her waiting hand.

  “Thanks.”

  Julia absently flicked through the letters then glanced up. “I have thirteen letters here that you sent to Jihan’s father. I’m sure you already know the contents, so there’s no need to read them out. I hope you will take this as it’s meant, Lord Robsort, but I think you have been very silly. Don’t you?”

  Robsort licked his lips. “Wha… what do you want?” he asked desperately.

  “Nothing too difficult. I simply want you to be my friend. I’m always looking for new friends. When my good friend Gylaren becomes King, I’m sure he will be delighted when I mention your help with the voting to him.”

  Robsort glanced at Lucius. “Gylaren you say? He’s a good man. When our friend is crowned, we should have a banquet to celebrate his good fortune.” Robsort swallowed and dabbed at his sweaty brow with a piece of lace. He made to drink his wine, but then he hesitated with a look of horror forming upon his face. He lowered the glass untouched.

  Julia was feeling dreadfully guilty, but she pushed on. “That would be very nice, Robsort. If it’s all right with you, I’ll look after your letters until after the coronation.”

  Robsort made to protest, but Lucius shifted just a little in his seat. He didn’t do anything more, but it was enough to shut Robsort’s mouth with an audible click as his teeth came together.

  She smiled. “Drink your wine. It’s a very good vintage. I promise.”

  Robsort hesitated, but then he gulped the wine in one go. He carefully placed the empty glass on the table beside his chair and stood to leave. “I have to go… the others… I should go…” he said almost bolting out of the room in his haste to be gone.

  Julia sat sadly looking at the closed door for a long brooding moment, and wondered if she would be able to live with herself by the time they reached the bottom of the list. Lucius pushed back the hood of his robe and sat on her other side to sandwiched her between him and Jihan.

  Lucius cocked his head at her. “That was hard for you, I know, but it was necessary. The Protectorate will never stop trying to conquer Deva. Without a strong King, and some kind of permanent fighting force that can take on the legions and win, Deva will be just another province in a few years.”

  “I know you’re right, Lucius, but I’ve seen the future. Would it really be so bad if the sorcerers won?”

  Lucius glanced at Mathius who shrugged letting him answer. “You saw a possible future, but that one is bad enough to my mind. Is it right that people steal children and torture them? Is it right they kill some of them and make others into sadists themselves? Is it right a minority suffers to support the majority?”

  Julia squirmed with each point Lucius made, but the last one made her sit up straight. “The first two are wrong, I grant you that, but the last one is basically what my guardsmen do isn’t it?”

  “No it’s not!” Lucius said hotly. “Soldiers choose to sacrifice themselves, the children do not. That’s the difference. Heroes have a choice to be what they are. Who ever gave me or people like me a choice?”

  She took her friend’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’re right,” she said quietly. Then a little louder, “How come you always have the right answer?”

  Lucius grinned. “I’m a genius of course. I’m sure I told you.”

  She laughed and nudged his shoulder with hers. “What you are is a nice man trying to cheer me up, and it’s working.” She set herself for the task ahead. “Who’s next on the list, Mathius?”

  Mathius paced back and forth reading a list of names. “Hmmm, the next lord hasn’t arrived yet. Nor has the next or the next. Ah! Lord Rowton has arrived. He’s influential and won’t be as easy as poor Robsort. He’s the Lord of Ascol.”

  Julia frowned, thinking back over her time with Keverin. She couldn’t remember Lord Ascol ever coming up in conversation… or did she? Wasn’t he the one who still used peonage?

  “Where does Rowton fit within Deva?” Julia asked. Mathius knew everything. Well, he knew everything she had ever thought to ask about anyway.

  Mathius didn’t disappoint her. “His castle is to the south of Devarr on the east bank of the Ascoli River. It’s right on the confluence of the Aboso and Ascoli Rivers, which is proba
bly one reason why he’s so heavily into shipping.” Mathius tilted his head. “His boats transport all sorts of things along our rivers. His banner is a little strange for a lord.”

  “What’s strange about it?” Lucius asked.

  Julia was thinking about boats, and not listening to Mathius as he spoke of the significance of this banner or that. In a world using horses for transport, speed would be something dreamed of but seldom attained. Caravans carrying trade goods would take ages to transport things along poor roads to their destinations. Boats would be cheaper than horses or mules and quicker too. She doubted that Athlone had been thinking of trade when he sent his letters to Rowton. Moving troops quickly could be important in war, perhaps even more important than numbers. That must have been part of Athlone’s thinking.

  “Sounds more like a merchant house than a lord. What do you think?” Lucius said.

  Jihan shrugged. “I’ve heard of worse banners. I always thought mine better suited to a blacksmith!”

  “Why a blacksmith?” Julia asked in puzzlement.

  “You know, because of the hammers.”

  “Oh right,” she said with a slight nod.

  On the journey to Devarr, Jihan and Keverin had flown the Devan banner of white crescent moon on black, as well as their own banners. Jihan’s banner consisted of two crossed war hammers over a black keep. Keverin’s banner had two mailed fists crossed on a solid green circle, just like the pattern on the floor of Athione’s great hall.

  Julia shook herself back to important matters. “So lord Ascol is influential, he’s into boats, his banner is a silver fish, and he arrived yesterday. What else do we know?”

  Jihan gritted his teeth in anger. “We know he’s a cursed traitor!” Then more calmly, “And his banner is not a Silver Fish. They’re bigger, and look completely different. His banner has a black tailed Barranka leaping on a field of red.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean the type of fish, Jihan. I meant the colour!”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  They laughed at Jihan’s embarrassment.

  Julia pursed her lips. “You’re right about him being a traitor, but then all the lords on the list could be classed that way couldn’t they? Even poor Robsort?” she said looking to Mathius.