A Question of Power (The Fire Chronicles Book 2)

by Susi Wright

  On the way, he crossed paths with a tipsy sailor on the street, dodging to avoid the drunk’s weaving passage on the pavement. With slight distaste he eyed the doorknocker, a hand-sized bronze figure of a nude woman, before taking hold to knock loudly. The door was opened by the gaudily-dressed and portly madam whose smile did not quite match her eyes. She showed him into the parlour where two other men were lounging on the far side of the richly-decorated room, waiting for their turn to visit the upstairs rooms. Xandor had a sudden anxious and strangely possessive thought that the girl might be otherwise engaged; he hoped fervently that the sum he offered would override any other.

  “What can we do for you m’lad,” asked the voluptuous madam, batting her enormous black eyelashes over kohl-rimmed, slightly bloodshot eyes; her smile, with overly full, red-painted lips, revealed a row of slightly yellow teeth. Xandor stared at the creature, wondering if many human women – he supposed she was human – looked like this. He had never seen one. However, his inexperience didn’t prevent him from recognising that this war-paint and frilly clothing was the uniform of the trade. Nevertheless, he was certain that he’d never seen anything quite so horrible, could not imagine anyone paying to be with this one. In contrast, recalling the stunning natural beauty of the girl he’d spoken to in the street, he understood why a visit to her fetched the reported high price.

  He realised with a start that he had not answered the painted lady when she demanded impatiently, “C’mon lad, don’t be shy, if that’s what you are – we haven’t got all night to wait for you!”

  “I want two hours with. . . the ‘angel’.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt, realising he didn’t even know her name. He met the madam’s eyes with a direct look, hoping the eye drops were still working.

  A burst of derisive laughter was the response. “Two hours? Are you sure? Most can only handle less than a half-hour with my angel, Serafina! You look a bit young and green, if I might say so. Do you know that will cost you six pieces of silver. . .or two gold?” She looked pointedly at him as if she was expecting him to back down. That was more than an ordinary man could earn in three months.

  Serafina. So that was her name! Xandor stood a little straighter, even though he was already a good head and shoulders above the height of most men, human or Gaian. The madam was straining her neck to look up at him. He knew the glossy long feather cloak and hood he wore was impressive. His physical bearing was powerful. At this moment he felt powerful. He hoped it all gave him an air of foreign nobility

  “Yes. Two hours.” He lowered his voice for her ears only. “I have the coin!” His hand hovered protectively over the small fortune in his pocket.

  The madam raised her pencil-defined eyebrows in surprise, then her eyes took on a glint of keen interest and she drew him aside into an alcove, eager to get her hands on the money. No one had come in yet this evening who could afford her ‘favourite’. Not like some nights when Serafina brought them in a tidy fortune. This business was always up and down. The other girls with lower fees had been busy with a constant stream of sailors and reivers, spending their last few pennies ashore.

  Apart from Serafina’s intrepid reputation, Madame Cerise could not help feeling puzzled why the man before her had any need in the known world to pay for a woman; she appraised the handsome well-built, young warrior, with a lingering sidelong glance. Breathing a small wistful sigh, she thought perhaps her favourite might not mind her work tonight with this one. She opened a hand, her eyes meeting Xandor’s gaze expectantly. He obliged by removing the coins one by one directly from the open pouch in his pocket. He recognised the numbers she’d mentioned. He also noticed earlier that the silver coins were larger than the gold, so he selected six of those by feel, which he placed in the woman’s palm with an accomplished grin.

  “Two hours, not a minute more! Our guard will knock!” said Madame Cerise sternly, as she led him upstairs to visit the sultry ‘angel’ in her domain.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Morvian

  Churian and his men observed the injured creature from a safe distance for a several minutes. It did not seem aggressive. Weakened by its injuries, it looked barely capable of moving, let alone attacking. Zenth credited Churian’s skill, at least in part. He looked to his mentor for direction, seeing him take a few slow steps forward, his eyes locked on the creature. Churian raised a hand, signalling the two younger men to stay back. Nonetheless, they were both poised, ready and able to nock and fire an arrow, in less than a heartbeat if necessary, to protect their elder if the creature decided to attack.

  Churian put down his bow and approached slowly, hands outstretched, palm-up, showing he was unarmed. Within a couple of strides of it, he paused and crouched down level with the creature, which by now had slumped down to the ground with its back against the boulder. It watched him cautiously. Churian inched closer, stopping momentarily to cant his head and listen. Then, disregarding whatever he’d heard, he continued to approach, close enough to touch the upper arm that had lost the hand. The creature flinched but allowed the contact, visibly relaxing to accept Churian’s touch. Only then, did the elder utter a few gentle words in a tongue completely foreign to both younger men. The creature whimpered a series of unintelligible sounds and allowed Churian to examine the putrefying stump; the unpleasant odour could be smelled from paces away.

  Zenth and Troyan watched in fascination as their elder tended this victim of violence. From the satchel at his waist, Churian retrieved a pouch of Prian powder, tipping some into his palm, spitting a copious amount of saliva on top and working it into a paste with his fingers. Then, he gently applied the salve to the purple, pus-congealing stump, while murmuring encouragement – two particular words over and over again, ‘Melu, sol’. The creature whimpered but remained still, apparently trusting Churian’s ministrations. As the younger men observed his compassion and skills in action, their respect and admiration grew.

  Churian finished the dressing by tearing a piece of clean fabric from the lower part of his tunic, wrapping it around the stump and tying it with a length of leather thong from the lacing of his garment. He sat back against the rock next to the creature with a sigh. “Brothers, this is Melu. He is Morvian. He comes from beyond the edge of the Known World. My ancestors fought beside his. . .in ancient times. They were brave and fearless warriors. He was driven from his home by more recent invasions, but these injuries were caused two sennights ago by cruel and prejudiced humans – ” He smiled as three more forlorn-looking individuals similar to Melu emerged from the rocks. A female and two children shuffled a few steps, clinging to each other, and gazed at the Gaian warriors with expressions of hope in their big black eyes.

  “And this. . .is his family!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Those Eyes

  Madame Cerise called out through the closed door, “Serafina, my pet, this one has paid handsomely for the rest of the night with you. No more customers tonight. Be very nice to him!”

  The madam warned Xandor that her guards would haul him out bodily at the end of the visit if he did not (or could not) leave under his own steam; with a cheeky smirk and an exaggerated wink, she left him to knock on the door. She’d already told him that he had no more than four turns of the sand-timer positioned on the dressing-table in the room.

  Four turns of the sand to get Serafina out.

  Ready to meet the challenge, he knocked lightly. He could still feel the subtle, assuring presence of Sumar from a hiding spot on the roof, though a frisson of anticipation fluttered briefly in his gut. He was about to meet this beautiful and fascinating girl again.

  “Enter!” The lilting feminine voice spoke in human dialect.

  Xandor opened the door and entered the richly-appointed, but surprisingly small, chamber. His eyes were drawn towards the centre of the room. The flickering candlelight illuminated the heavy drapes of deep red velvet that hung on either side of the large, empty feather bed, dominating the space. His eyes searched her ou
t in the shadows as the glinting silver of her hair caught the light and reflected it.

  She stood motionless near the window, her back to him. Even so, those lustrous locks which flowed down her back past her hips had a glittering life of their own, a feature that was uniquely Gaian. She wore an off-the-shoulder green gossamer gown which hugged and accentuated her tall lithe form. She was truly beautiful. Xandor thought again, how different she was from the madam downstairs. How did she come to be in this place? As she turned, Xandor dropped his gaze cautiously, fearing the power in hers.

  A quickly-drawn breath gave away her surprise at seeing the stranger who had accosted her in the street the previous day, even though she had thought of nothing else since. She had wanted it, almost expected it. It had puzzled and disturbed her. But now he was here, she suddenly resented that he had paid for time with her, feeling an inexplicable rush of shame. Assuming her usual shield of resentment with a jaded lack of emotion, she began to draw on her familiar inner power, resolving to give him a good dose of what it seemed every man in Existence wanted.

  After a few heartbeats, even with his gaze downcast, Xandor felt the pull of her eyes; he was powerless to resist raising his, youthfully curious to meet and feel the same scorching intensity, the illicit pleasure and pain he had experienced the day before. He knew this was the stirring of desire, a natural physical reaction and not in itself forbidden; his baser thoughts tempted him with a dubious truth. I am a warrior – not a monk! His higher nature argued that this was neither the time nor the place for such exploration. Remember the rescue! When he looked into her golden eyes, now burning with inner fire and promise, he felt as if he teetered on a precipice looking into an inferno that was about to consume him. It beckoned for him to submit, to allow its flames to embrace him and die in ecstasy. The initial jolt of heat began to suffuse his entire body and pool in his loins. Abruptly, the danger of the onslaught sparked a defensive reaction born from years of combat training, kicking his self-discipline back to life, and he drew on sheer physical strength to wrest his eyes from her trap. “No! Stop!” He doubled over, panting from the effort, but felt a glimmer of hope that his mental strength was improving. He knew Elite tutors could shield their minds from another’s mental intrusion, Projection. Of course, he also had Sumar’s protection. Ironically, he felt both relieved and disappointed that he had not succumbed. He couldn’t resist smiling. It was a significant victory!

  Unaccustomed to such an interruption in her focus, Serafina was in shock for long moments. Slowly, her eyes returned to their normal glow as she returned from some far off place; she began to study Xandor as if he was some strange creature she had never seen before. Indeed, she never had seen one with similar features to her own. Now his hood had been thrown off, she could see the hair was almost identical to hers, though tonight, she thought his eyes looked much duller than when they had met in the street.

  Confident that he had been able, by whatever means, to force her magic to a safe level, a little weak at the knees for his effort, Xandor slumped on a chair. He breathed an urgent whisper. “I am not here for that! I am here to rescue you!” He chanced a look, hoping she liked the idea. “We do not have much time. . .”

  Beautiful! So beautiful! Nothing changes that, he thought, feeling strangely separate from his body, observing the tingling waves of unfulfilled desire slowly dissipating.

  “Who are you? How do you know me?” she whispered, seeming to accept his intention to rescue her with surprising ease, more interested in his identity.

  “I am Xandor. I am Gaian and I am entrusted with a quest to find others like myself who are lost. Take them to a safe place. We can understand things. . .” He decided to include himself in the percipient group, because he almost was. “I heard of you in Siva and I knew you needed my help!” In hindsight, he had known. “You don’t know that you are Gaian. . .do you?” He searched her golden eyes for an inkling of that knowledge and found none. The effect of her gaze, even when she was not using magic, was extremely unsettling. He looked away. He already knew the answer because Sumar had told him.

  Serafina frowned. “I never knew my parents. Raiders took me as a baby. When I was older, I lived here. I’m never allowed further than the marketplace!” Her eyes flashed with rebellion. “I don’t like it! I never have. I think I hate myself! I feel so strange and alone. I thought I was going mad, because for a while I enjoyed. . .my power.” Her sharp, in-drawn breath impelled him to meet her eyes. They were bright, glistening with unshed tears that seemed about to spill over. She looked away. “Now you are here. . .why do I feel shame?”

  Xandor felt inclined to comfort her, hold her, but thought better of making physical contact. Instead, he spoke very gently, realising her confusion. “You had no choice. But this life is not for you and there is much you need to know. . . For now, you must get away from this place! I can help you!”

  “But how? All the windows are barred!” She glanced hopelessly at her open window and the iron bars that prevented the escape she had so often contemplated, even if it had meant simply leaping to her death from the high casement.

  At that moment, she was startled by the sight of a face at the window. Xandor rushed over, greeting the man in Gaian. The visitor spoke a few words which Serafina did not understand and then he disappeared. Strange, because the window of her room was three levels up from the street.

  “That was Sumar, my friend. He’s found a way for us to get onto the roof! First, I must explain how we will leave from there. . .You need not be afraid.” He threw his cloak around his shoulders with a flourish. “All Gaians have powers of one kind or another. . .you must have felt something in yourself. I know you have used it – were using it on me a few minutes ago! We all usually have one of these – ” he picked up the edge of his cloak. “With it, we can fly! And I am going to carry you to a ship that awaits us in the bay.” He gave her a proud grin.

  Serafina continued to stare at him silently, processing his ability to answer some of her burning questions and his confident promise to rescue her. Unaccustomed to looking upon a man with anything but a feeling of cold derision and detachment, even while she worked her fiery magic on their bodies, she found it difficult to view the young man standing before her in a new light, despite the fact that she had long-wished for this very thing.

  Xandor watched in fascination as one emotion chased another in the depths of her gaze and the sad tears that had been poised a moment ago brimmed over, slipping unchecked down her cheeks, but with the opposite emotion. A new sparkle of hope lit her eyes as she exclaimed in breathy excitement, “I dreamed of this! My dream is coming true! You really are here – my angel – come to fly me away!”

  In his early travels and in banter with his comrades he had been called many things, but ‘angel’ had definitely not been one of them! Her sudden smile, which Xandor hadn’t yet seen, was devastating in its brilliance. The jolt of pure warmth it sent through to his core was even more unsettling than when she had been trying to seduce him. But with a restraint that was becoming easier to draw upon, he regained his equilibrium to concentrate on the urgency of their escape.

  Xandor felt relieved at her acceptance of the plan, but wasn’t really surprised. He understood that Serafina’s Gaian psyche, so long denied its rightful heritage, would have been crying out for recognition. All that remained was to prepare for a hasty departure. He noted Serafina regarded him now with an almost adoring expression, obviously attentive and awaiting instructions.

  “You can’t take much.” He smiled apologetically. “Just a small bag, a few items. You should wear – ” He appraised the vision she was in the gossamer gown, with no small amount of male admiration, “ – practical clothes.” As an afterthought he asked, “Do you have any?”

  She rummaged in her clothes-box, holding up one garment after another for his approval. Xandor noticed an overabundance of frilly, colourful gowns and a distinct lack of sturdy travelling clothes, but he finally approved one of the simple
r garments, a heavy dark-green frock, over which she could slip a linen tunic, and the woollen cloak that she had worn in the street. Xandor politely turned his back while she changed her clothing, only just resisting the urge to peep. She had no boots, so they chose the sturdiest of her slippers, a subdued shade of brown.

  Xandor suggested that it would be safer to have some kind of disguise, as she was to pose as a sick friend whom they were taking to Siva to get medical treatment. She allowed his help to restrain her long distinctive hair into a braid at the back and cover her head, nose and mouth with a scarf. To board the ship, they would apply the same herbal drops to her eyes that Xandor had used this night and again whenever necessary to pass her as human. For two days and nights aboard the ship, she would have to remain cloistered in a cabin, avoiding the prying eyes of the crew, several of whom including Skrim would recognise her if they got a good look at her eyes. A complication to avoid at all costs.

  Since Xandor had paid handsomely to be Serafina’s only customer for the night, no-one would miss her until late morning the next day when all the girls were expected to rise for breakfast. He had to be seen leaving the establishment by the front door, not a minute after the agreed two hours. According to Serafina, every night after all patrons had been cleared from the building, the guards went around locking the girls’ rooms from the outside, leaving them to sleep and ensuring none of them attempted to run away in the night. On his way in, Xandor had noticed the voices of those same guards coming from one of the downstairs sitting rooms where they were obviously drinking and playing cards; they would not leave until time for their late night rounds.