Chapter 51

"That is her, my love," Maireili murmured in my ear. My bride wore the hood up on her Widow's Cloak, rendering her a dimly-remembered afterthought for any who saw her. Important, as Maireili was a ghoul and other races held no love for the twilight people. I found Maireili's inhuman traits, from her black-in-black eyes to her razor-sharp teeth, integral to her stunning beauty.

The woman she indicated was in her early middle age, one of the Jegu people of Zuunkhorun. She was of middling height and slender, her silky black hair piled high on her head in a complex web of braids and jeweled combs. Her gown hugged her figure to her waist before it bloomed in white skirts. It was covered in detailed jade and gold embroidery, echoed in the fine jewelry over her body. Her face was aristocratic, oval-shaped, and covered in the detailed makeup common among the aristocracy here. Her almond-shaped eyes were imperious, though I detected a sense of nervousness within.

"You should have no trouble with her," said Tanyth, holding my arm. As was our custom, she had taken the role of my public-facing wife. Her natural charisma and impeccable manners made her an excellent diplomat. Tanyth was radiant as always, her crimson skin contrasting against the iridescent white of her gown. The amethyst in her diadem and at her throat complimented her wide violet eyes.

"You have great confidence in my skills," I remarked. The three of us spoke Abbih, a dead language everywhere but my household.

"You seduced the great beauty of Kharsoom and then the great beauty of the ghouls."

Maireili blushed prettily, blue rising to her cheeks. "Tanyth..."

"I speak only the truth," Tanyth said archly.

"I should keep the shadows company," whispered the ghoul, and she vanished, uncomfortable with Tanyth's genuine praise. The magic of her cloak and prodigious skills in the stealthy arts meant even I had a hard time finding her. Now it was myself and my Kharsoomian bride.

"She is at once skilled and sweet," Tanyth sighed. "I love her so."

"As do I," I said. The others, Zhahllaia, Sarakiel, and Lysethe, had remained at the inn.

"You are the Castellandrian wizard," said a voice. He spoke Zuunese. Thanks to lessons from Zhahllaia and the fact that I had been living in Zuunkhorun for half a year had given me some proficiency in the language.

I turned to find a man wearing ceremonial robes. His features were mostly Jegu, I saw hints of Besh in the lines of his nose and the shade of his complexion. The Besh people looked far more like the rest of Aucor, with their olive skins, and dark, curly hair. He made a gesture I learned from the pirate Daijirai back in my time with the Shattered Reavers of Kharsoom, a lift of the right arm and a turn of the wrist, a stylized representation of a man returning an unshot arrow into a quiver. A respectful Zuunese salute.

"Belromanazar," I said, returning his gesture. I did not think to correct him on the subject of my origins. The metropolis of Castellandria was a more impressive place to hail from than the rural backwater of Rhandonia.

"Lord of Eirashtar," Tanyth hastily amended. "I am Princess Tanyth of Clan Abibaal, his lordship's wife."

"His lordship is a wealthy man to possess such a treasure," said the man, bowing to both of us. "Forgive my familiarity, my lord. I am Shindeger, Master of Birds."

"Your Excellency," I said, returning his bow.

"I was curious to meet the man who our patrons in Heacharium seem to regard with such terror. This Dreadstorm."

I gave a polite laugh. "I seek to leave that name behind."

His eyes probed my defenses. "I suppose you have," he said, with the tone of a man who heard the lie but did not see fit to call it out. "Heacharium will hear of your presence, and should they wish to have you face the justice of Xomera, there is nought our beloved Tyrant may do about it."

He nodded to the elderly man on his throne, surrounded by his wives and concubines, most almost as old as he. Yerentei was a skeleton in brocade, and if he died in that moment, I would not have been surprised in the least. He was surrounded by his court and every noble at that fete struggled for his ear, though it was clear the old man was barely aware of any of them.

"I would not ask His Majesty for such a boon. Nor would I trouble my hosts with any display of magic."

"Other than that one," Shindeger nodded to the ceiling, where Quiyahui waited in the rafters with shadows dancing over her iridescent form. She was now several times longer than a human being and showed no signs of stopping her growth.

"I am afraid there is little I can do about my familiar."

"I believed familiars to be quite small. Not a great beast such as that."

"I have been fortunate."

"So you have. Welcome to Zuunkhorun, Lord Belromanazar." He bowed again, and began to circulate among the other guests.

Tanyth encircled my arm. "I hope I don't have to explain what that was all about," she muttered.

"No, I understood him quite well."

"Master of Birds is a silly name for the lord of assassins."

"His purview is more spies than assassins."

"A spy is just a cowardly assassin," said my Kharsoomian bride. "Now go over there and begin your seduction."

"Yes, my love. I wish this were easier."

"If it were, everyone would do it."

I made my way over to the woman I had seen earlier. She watched the tyrant as she sipped from her goblet, a thoughtful expression on her face. As I approached, her bodyguards made note of me but did not move to intercept. She saw me coming, and fixed me with the same imperious gaze with which she regarded everyone. There was a time when she would have intimidated me.

"My lady," I said. "I wanted to make my introduction."

"You are the wizard from Castellandria. News of your arrival has made quite the stir in court."

"Halaak Nesugen Wailor," I said, bowing. Halaak was something like a duke or duchess, appropriate for a minor member of the Tyrant's own noble house. "I am Belromanazar, Lord of Eirashtar."

"Is that part of Castellandria?"

"No, Your Grace, it's a Kharsoomian title. It was granted me when I married."

"My apologies."

"Think nothing of it. I would expect a Zuun noble to care about a Kharsoomian honorific as much as the tides of the Emerald Sea."

"Why introduce yourself to me?" she asked. "You are in a room with a great many hals and halaaks. Ones with grander fiefs far closer to our capital."

"And have all of them been as tireless patrons of the arts?"

"You know of our art?" she asked, suddenly intrigued.

"I know of Kharachar's work, and that you have been his unflagging patron."

Her eyebrows raised. "You appreciate Kharachar?"

"I am no expert, but to my eye his craftsmanship is second to none."

Her gaze softened, and she regarded me for the first time. "Tell me, what brings you to Zuunkhorun?"

"I am a traveler by inclination and I thought to show my family more of the world."

"The Heacharid Empire seems to be a strange place for one who has been an enemy."

"I'm no one's enemy. I merely defended my adopted city during a siege, something I would do for anywhere I lived. And I was told this isn't the Heacharid Empire."

She shrugged. "There are those who say it is and those who say it isn't. We pay them tribute, in gold and men, so that the affairs of the Zuun Valley stay within the Zuun Valley."

"I have no intention of upsetting that order," I lied.

She looked me over once again, her attention pausing at my chest. "Tell me, would you like to see Kharachar's workshop?"

"It would be a dream."

"You will come to Jihorut as my guest," she decided.

"Where is that?" I asked with a frown, though I knew precisely where it was. I could picture it in my mind on the map at the Order of Owls. It was in the south of the kingdom, in a bowl carved out from the mountains, closer to the coast than the interior.

"A resourceful man like you should be able to find your way there."

"I am in your debt, Your Grace."

"What a lovely way you have of looking at things," she said with a smile.

Tanyth, Maireili and I left the gathering soon after and returned to the inn. It was the finest one in the capital city of Tagariaganuur, located in the heights with a commanding view of Lake Sutou. I would learn much later, from my son Miloz of all people, that what we see of Sutou is a mere fraction of its vastness, with most below ground. I have since witnessed the subterranean waterfalls that feed this incredible body. Some of the world's wonders are invisible to those who do not seek them.

I found my family in our rooms. The children were long abed. Sarakiel and Lysethe had waited for us, Lysethe cradling the sickly form of little Euvorio. I embraced my wives and kissed my son's sleeping head. Sometimes I wonder if his formidable artistic prowess was related to his weak constitution, or perhaps I look for a reason for his infirmity when there was none.

"You were right," I murmured to Sarakiel.

She smiled, flashing her fangs. "Kharachar?"

I nodded, kissing her. "She has invited us to Jihorut to see his workshop."

"And that will provide the closeness for what you need," Zhahllaia said.

"You are certain she's ambitious?" I asked.

"We are," Zhahllaia said.

Maireili looked to the djinn. "She has acquired weapons from the dwarves and calls up her forces to drill in the spring. She is preparing for war."

"Could she be preparing for some threat within the mountains?" I asked.

"You are concerned with the Rising Shadow," Maireili said. "I saw no evidence of their presence, though I didn't delve into the caves."

"It seems the humans and dwarves have little contact other than the taxes levied and some minor trade," Zhahllaia said. "In answer to your question, no. Her eye is fixed on the capital. I believe she has the ambition, but perhaps not the courage, to see it through."

I settled into bed, and Sarakiel cradled my head, stroking my hair. "And what could give anyone more courage than a wizard?" she mused.

***

We quit the capital two weeks later to travel along the meandering path southeast to Jihorut. The weather turned cold as we neared the forbidding peaks of the southern reach of the Zuunkhor Mountains. On the other side was the stark tundra of Jaggurzar and the wind that snaked through the peaks had teeth.

Jihorut was a small but wealthy fief, or halaakun in the native Zuunese. It was tucked away in an unassuming corner of the Zuun Valley, bordered by peaks and foothills. Its growing season was short, but the soil was fertile, and it was located near a dwarven town within the mountain it had limited but friendly relations with. Nesugen's estate was the center of the fief, while the biggest settlement was Jihor, a bustling town situated on the swiftly flowing river Bhan.

We found Nesugen's estate in the foothills overlooking a particularly fertile section of valley. She cultivated apples here, a different breed than I was used to in Rhandonia. These had a lip-curling tartness to them, and I grew to appreciate the subtle flavors beneath, which lent a wonderful body of flavor to oghul, the apple liquor the locals distilled in abundance.

I noted the blockhouse on the road to the south, and would later learn this was there to protect against an incursion of the dwarves. Dwarves who were loyal subjects of the Tyrant. Foolish nonsense, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Nesugen welcomed us into her home, and she was surprised at the size of my family with my five wives and nine children, from the eldest Faustan, to little Miloz who still needed his mother to chew his meat for him. Over Tanyth's objections, we had traveled without servants or slaves. We would summon them later, when we had a home.

Sarakiel did not wear her amulet and Maireili kept the hood of her cloak down. While they could perhaps hide, Sabrael, Zazel, and Miloz could not, and none of us would deny our own children. Nesugen accepted them with equanimity, though I detected a hint of distaste especially for little Miloz.

She gave us a cottage on her estate which was small for a brood of my size but pleasant enough. She took us to Kharachar that first week and though I had lied about my admiration for his work, I grew to appreciate him. The man was a master weaver, and his work was undeniably evocative. I insisted on buying a few of his tapestries. One still hangs in Stormspoint to this day.

With us installed in Jihorut, the next step of the plan could be undertaken. We took that step some weeks into our stay, on a night that was not as chilly as most. The six of us were in our cozy bedroom while the children were abed in the next room with Quiyahui watching over them.

"I don't see why it has to be me," Tanyth complained. She was wrapped in her fur-lined cloak, shivering in the Zuunese cold. After the mild Castellandrian climate, it would take all of us some time to adjust.

Zhahllaia sighed. "We discussed this. It needs to be humans."

Lysethe touched the Kharsoomian's arm. "I will help you forget the cold."

Tanyth covered the former witchthrall's snowy white fingers with crimson ones. "You say that now."

"Kharsoomian nights are at least as bitter as this," Sarakiel pointed out.

"Which we spend wrapped in furs, by a fire."

I embraced Tanyth and Lysethe. "Come, my loves. It won't be as bad as all that."

"Oh, I'm just complaining," Tanyth sighed as she stood.

Lysethe, a wicked glint in her eye, handed Tanyth the slave collar. It was of Kharsoomian design, unadorned, the kind given to the lowliest of the low. "Put this on, slattern."

Tanyth shivered in delight, putting the collar about her neck. "Yes, mistress," she said, embracing Lysethe. I hardened beneath my robes, anticipating the delirious loveplay between my brides.

The three of us went out onto the grounds of the estate. Of the halaakun's lands, only the keep was truly fortified as a place to fall back to in the event the dwarves grew unruly or something more sinister found its way out of the mountains. This was a single tower, covered in loopholes, placed on the highest hill. I had encountered only one Zuunese archer outside of this kingdom, and he was a marksman without peer. With enough arrows and a high enough vantage, there was little that ranked Zuunese archers couldn't fend off.

The main house opened up into a pleasure garden which was heavy with the scent of apple and pine. Thorny hedges blooming with bright yellow flowers made meandering pathways. These wound past the estate's orchards, eventually joining Nesugen's personal farmland. A wall separated the border of the estate from the road that led, a few leagues down the road, to the town of Jihor.

Lit braziers burned from the main house's terraces, their flickering golden fingers reaching into the garden. Here and there, lanterns hung on hooks, adding some illumination. Lysethe and Tanyth were both wrapped in long, fur-lined cloaks, only their boots peeking out with every stride. I wore my elven robes, the remarkable fabric warming me.

The chill in the air was invigorating, reminding me a bit of the cold of the Rhandonian coast. We were not the only ones out, as we knew would be the case. Nesugen ambled up the path. She had only a single bodyguard with her, as nothing more would be needed so far in the Zuunese hinterlands.

"Lord Belromanazar," she said in surprise as we closed. "What brings you out here?"

"I thought I might enjoy a walk before bed and my wives wished to join me."

"Your Highness," Nesugen acknowledged Tanyth. My Kharsoomian bride's status made her easy for other nobles to relate to. Nesguen was far more awkward around Sarakiel, Lysethe, and Maireili, all of whom were commoners, and none of whom held official title. I had been born a commoner, but the title Clan Abibaal gave me was a key into the rarefied culture of the aristocracy. "Do you find the climate to your liking?"

"It is chilly," Tanyth said diplomatically.

"I hardly notice anymore. I have lived my entire life in Jihorut and I suppose I will live the rest here as well."

"You would not move to the capital?" I asked.

"There would be no reason to. I will visit when the next Tyrant is crowned."

"That looks to be soon," I said, then blanched. "Forgive me."

"No, you are correct. My cousin's health is failing, and he has attained far more years than any would have expected."

"I understand he has no heir?"

"He never named one."

"In Rhandonia, the heir is always the eldest child."

"Perhaps we have something to learn from your people, then. If he does not name an heir soon, there will be a struggle."

"And who will you support?"

"I don't like to think of such things," she lied.

"I speak out of turn."

"There is nothing to forgive, my lord," she said with a smile.

"Your Grace," said Tanyth, "the orchards looked like a pleasant place to walk."

"They can be," Nesugen said. "At night, they can be rather dark."

Tanyth shot a sly smile at me. "Oh, that isn't a problem. Thank you."

"Good night to you, Your Grace," I said, and both Tanyth and Lysethe offered small bows.

My Kharsoomian bride held me and Lysethe by the arm as we followed the path into the orchard. We walked in silence, a shiver working its way through my spine.

"Is she following?" Lysethe murmured.

Tanyth turned, disguising the motion by kissing Lysethe. "Yes, I can see her at the edge of the trees. She's holding back."

"This way," I said. "There's a press and a distillery in the middle. Faustan and Mal found it the other day."

As we moved through the orchard, giddiness took over. Though this was a calculated part of the plan, the chance to be with my wives was never anything less than thrilling. The heavy scent of apples on the edge of decay, covered us. The collection of wooden buildings in the center of the orchard were shadows in the moonlight. I balled my fist, brought it to my lips, murmured a few words, and blew gently. I opened my hand and cast a light into the air, where it rose above us and hung, bathing us in a silvery glow.

The three of us melted into one another's arms, our mouths ranging over each other. Here another set of lips, another tongue, a neck pounding with the excited pulse of arousal. Though the air about us was cold, the heat of our bodies warmed us, mingled, becoming a fire.

I concentrated, difficult while Lysethe nibbled my ears and Tanyth's clever hands roamed over me. I murmured another incantation, swallowed by Tanyth's hungry mouth. A rumble sounded through the orchard. Clouds formed not far overhead, wreathing the light I had made, reaching down with their gray tendrils. They closed around each of us. Tanyth opened Lysethe's cloak, revealing the former witchthrall's nude body. Taut muscles danced beneath snowy white skin. Dew collected on the wispy threads between her legs. Lysethe's scent, sharp at first, then blooming with complexity, enfolded us.

Tanyth explored Lysethe with lips and fingers, covering her body in licks, nibbles, and kisses. I took Lysethe's mouth, my sweet concubine's ardor growing as the Kharsoomian worked her magic. Then I felt Tanyth's hands on me, moving aside the elven cloth of my robe. It knew what I wanted, that incredible fabric unraveling enough to give Tanyth what she sought. I was exposed then, my chest, belly, and my staff, swollen with lust.

Tanyth, without hesitation, dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth. Lysthe gripped the slave collar and pulled, forcing the Kharsoomian noblewoman to take me deeply. She whimpered happily, her crimson mouth straining, her throat desperately opening to accept me. Tears wobbled at the corners of her violet eyes.

"Take all of my husband, whore," Lysethe said, playing the role Tanyth loved.

"You wear a collar too," I murmured, stroking the golden circlet, fashioned as a feathered serpent, that wound about Lysethe's neck.

"Because I am your slave too, my love," she said. She sucked in a shuddery breath. "Will you fuck your slave? Fuck her hard and show her how much you love her?"

I kissed Lysethe hard, and she squealed into my mouth, as at that moment Tanyth shifted her attentions from me to the witchthrall's pale orchid. Tanyth expertly teased Lysethe before returning to me, and I groaned happily. She slurped at me for a time, then went back to Lysethe, then back again to me.

I gripped my concentration, forcing my will to work even as Tanyth's ravenous tongue washed over me. The clouds lifted Lysethe from the ground, away from the Kharsoomian's attentions. Tanyth turned before me then, her head bobbing as she stoked the fires within my belly. A white pulse ran through the clouds, chased by a soft rumble. The clouds formed a web, wrapping about Lysethe's wrists and ankles, bearing her up in a rack. Her sex, shining with Tanyth's saliva and her own juices, was presented to me.

I reached into Tanyth's thick, black hair, pulling gently. She gave me one final slurp and released me. I felt her hand then, guiding me to Lysethe. I felt her teasing the witchthrall's folds with the head of me. I slid into my concubine easily, the two of us joining together in delirious union. I hooked my arms beneath her knees, bearing her up and driving myself into her. I hit the back of her and she gave a happy cry, her crimson eyes going smoky as I fucked.

The clouds bore the three of us into the air. Tanyth threw her cloak open, displaying her perfect body. Just as Lysethe, she too wore only boots and her collar. She kissed Lysethe's prostrate form, taking her pale nipples in her mouth. The former witchthrall's flower clutched at me with every thrust, milking the pleasure from me.

My bliss thundered down upon me, and Lysethe was still far away from finding her own. I straightened up, ready to pull from her, and have Tanyth tease her. Lysethe broke into a breathless smile, her legs wrapping about me. Every taut muscle stood out against her snowy flesh.

"No, my love. You're spilling in me."

"Lysethe!"

I felt her churning about me, her muscles massaging me as her hips worked in a slow circle. I broke swiftly, hot gouts of my seed filling her womb. She moaned, smiling proudly at what she had achieved. Only then did she release me, and the clouds drew me away. I was treated to the obscene sight of her sex drooling sticky strands of pearl.

"Clean me, slave," Lysethe commanded.

"Yes, mistress," Tanyth said. She crouched between Lysethe's spread thighs, and she began to eat. I took the cloak from her shoulders so I could watch. She would not notice the cold anymore. I was treated to the view of Tanyth's lovely hindquarters, her slit glistening invitingly below.

I slapped one buttock. "Eat well," I ordered her.

She turned, her face shiny, a thread of white on her lip. "Yes, master."

I was fully hard once again, the sight of my two loves banishing whatever fatigue I may have felt. I gripped Tanyth's haunches and drove myself into her. She moaned into Lysethe. The former witchthrall's body was sheathed in a sheen of sweat as she undulated into Tanyth's face. The three of us were united in a single purpose, all artifice forgotten. We all wished to escort the others to the heights of passion. We stayed united in this delirious chain until we broke as one, joining one another in happy bliss.

We lay upon the clouds wrapped in the heat of our exertion and one another's bodies as the silvery light of my spell watched over us. Tanyth surreptitiously glanced over to one side.

"She's touching herself," murmured Tanyth. Then, a quick hiss, "Don't look!"

The admonition came too late to stop me completely, but I glimpsed a shadow in the orchard. I could not tell exactly what Nesugen was up to, but pleasuring herself was definitely a possibility. I should hope we put on a good enough show.

"I forgot she was there," Lysethe muttered, then giggled, pressing her face into my neck.

"I should take that as a compliment," Tanyth said.

"I would not mind returning the favor," Lysethe said, her eyes flashing.

"Come here, you beautiful creature," Tanyth said. "If no one takes me soon, I'm liable to get cold."

***

Nesugen did not mention what she had seen that night, though the next day when we joined her for breakfast, she struggled to meet the eyes of the three of us.

"Tell me, Belromanazar. How do you like Zuunkhorun?" she asked, her gaze studiously upon her plate.

"It is lovely. I should like to see more of it."

"Does that mean you plan to leave soon?" she asked, abruptly nervous, her eyes now on me.

"We've troubled you for long enough."

"You are no trouble," she said.

"You are certain?"

"No trouble at all! It is a blessing to have you. Besides, you must stay for the harvest festival."

"Then we will stay."

After the harvest festival, Nesugen promptly informed us that we couldn't travel in the winter. I knew she would come up with another excuse for why we could not depart in the spring. We kept to our plan, allowing our lovemaking to be observed. The more it happened, the more we saw what we had hoped to spark, which was her lingering gaze upon me.

One evening in the dead of winter, snow blanketing the estate, Nesugen and I sat on the high terrace that stretched over much of the rear of her manor. We were wrapped in furs, a brazier burning between us, drinking warm mugs of watered oghul. I was feeling pleasantly light, my staff stirring in my robes. I was already thinking of joining my wives, wondering which of them I would take.

"Tell me, Belromanazar, who rules Castellandria?" Nesugen asked.

"They would say no one," I said. "But the true answer is the Doge. He leads the Church of Holios. The last I heard, his position was in danger from a rival."

"Oh? What would the rival do?"

I shrugged. "Poison him, perhaps? I don't trouble myself with politics."

She laughed. "You claim not to care about politics, but you fight in wars."

"Politics get people into wars."

"I suppose that's true. They can also keep people out of them."

"These are questions for rulers," I said.

"You have no wish to rule?"

"If I wanted to, I would take it for myself. Initiative. There is nothing more important." I smiled thinly. "But no, I have no ambitions in that regard."

"What do you want?"

I shivered. "I am cold. I want company."

"You could summon one of your wives?"

I sighed. "They are all abed." I let that hang in the air, for I knew she was picturing them cavorting with one another. "Come, I see you shivering there too."

"It is improper."

"Do you only do proper things?"

She blushed. "No."

"Then come here. I pledge that nothing improper will happen between two friends."

"You consider us friends?"

"I would hope so. I have been your houseguest for long enough."

She looked about. We were alone. Even the guards were at least a room away. She sighed and rose, bringing her furs and joined me on my chair. After some adjustments, I ensured she was atop my lap, the two of us cocooned in furs.

"You smiled just now, as though you were remembering something," she said.

"I was thinking of my time in Kharsoom. The days there are sweltering but the nights are frigid. They are spent wrapped in furs and if there are others with you, one shares the heat of the other."

"Is that how you met your wife?"

"Not how I met her, but before we were married, we shared a fur in the wastes more than once."

"How was that proper?"

"Her warmaid was between us. A Kharsoomian bodyguard for a noble lady."

"I see," she said, her eyes going distant as she pictured it.

I chuckled. "I lay with the warmaid at the time."

Nesugen gasped, then broke into a musical giggle. "You cad. You took your wife's bodyguard while the three of you shared a fur?"

"She wasn't my wife then. Shaluvia and I had been laying together for a time before that anyway."

She laughed again. "You are remarkably free."

"It is, at least partly, that I am far more useful alive than dead."

Her eyes searched mine. "And are you? Useful?"

"I certainly can be."

"You are not like the stories."

"How much is known of me in Zuunkhorun?"

"We keep to ourselves. Most trade and communication comes through our patrons in the Heacharid Empire. We knew the empire had turned its eye to Castellandria, to gain a foothold upon Chassudor. We heard that it would have been done, were it not for a necromancer they first faced in the lands of the Amazons."

"That is...somewhat true. I believe their siege would have also failed had I not been there, though it would have lasted far longer."

"This is why you do not worry that they might attack again now that you are gone."

I smiled thinly. "Yes, that's it."

"You are quite a weapon."

"I don't want to be a weapon."

"Nonetheless," she said, "you are one. And a weapon does not have to be used to be effective, does it?"

"Indeed not, Your Grace."

She nodded to herself. "There is a tract of land at the western edge of my estate. I would like to gift it to you."

"Your Grace, that is too kind."

"You should have a place of your own. A place to establish a proper household, where your children can run and play. When spring comes, we will begin construction on a proper house, I think."

"And what will I do to deserve such things?"

"A noble has need for advisors, does she not? I cannot think of a better advisor than a wizard."

She settled into me then, and I held her for a time, warmed by the fire. I knew she was aware of how close my touch was, and I let her stay there, imagining what could be.

***

Nesugen was as good as her word. When spring came, she granted me the land and commissioned craftsmen to work on the house. A small stipend came with the grant, though such things did not matter overmuch. Thanks to Sarakiel's cleverness, our coffers overflowed.

Over the winter, Nesugen and I had continued our practice of cuddling by the fire, and as the weather turned warm, I believe I sensed some disappointment in her. She returned to surreptitiously watching as I lay with my wives, and I began to drop hints that I was aware of her voyeurism.

That spring, she bade me come with her to an official function at the capital of Tagariaganuur. I would be officially part of her entourage then. My family wanted to accompany me, but I took only Tanyth, Faustan, and Malycent. As useful as they would be, I wanted Lysethe and Maireili to stay behind and protect the rest of my family. I brought the two eldest children with me to give them more exposure to court, perhaps understand some of what we did, and I always needed Tanyth in matters of diplomacy.

This was our second visit to the capital. Tagariagannur was located roughly in the center of the kingdom, on the shore of a lake fed by the various rivers that came from the mountains surrounding the land. Though it was at the lowest point of the Zuun Valley, the city had existed so long that it was in essence built atop itself. An artificial hill rose in the middle of the city, the intricate Zuunese architecture of the tyrant's palace adorning it like a jewel.

I have said many times that this volume is not intended as a comprehensive history. Unlike my exile, this period of my life has been extensively documented, with histories written from every perspective, calling me everything from hero to fiend. Most such volumes point to this as the moment I was presented to court. This ignores my first visit to the capital, which I have described, though I suppose I was not technically presented to the court then. This visit, however, I arrived bearing my petty title as part of Nesugen's court.

I found my presentation to be somewhat amusing. I was, after all, the Dreadstorm, a wizard from a faraway land most in Zuunkhorun knew only as the man who had slaughtered so many of their patron empire. Many asked Nesugen the wisdom of keeping me as a retainer, and I must admit, she played it well. She described me as wanting only a place to raise my family in peace after so long at war, which she was only too pleased to supply.

We all played deeper games. The Tyrant's cousins were swarming over a corpse not yet cold. I served as the weapon Nesugen brandished without making any threats. Tanyth was the charismatic ambassador of my family, forging us a place in the social hierarchy that I could not. While Nesugen intimated what terrible foes we were, Tanyth ensured the court understood that we could also be wonderful friends. She kept Faustan and Malycent close, the former possessed of wonderful control thanks to his training, and the latter respectful of Tanyth over all. Though Malycent did not come from Tanyth, she called her merely "Mama," when my other wives would have their names appended to the end.

We played politics in the capital for a month. I found more chaos than even I could have hoped for. When the Tyrant died, which could be at any moment, there were a half-dozen claimants to the throne. The more there were, the easier it would be to keep them from uniting against us.

When we rode from the capital, I made certain to install myself in Nesugen's carriage, while Tanyth and the children were in another. She watched the countryside around the city pass by as we followed the Bhan south.

I knew I had to broach the subject carefully, but also that this was the correct time. She needed to have her cousins in her mind. "I did not think there would be so many claimants."

"No? Zuunkhorun is a prize. We are wealthy enough, and the Heacharids leave us alone."

"Which do you support?"

"I suppose my cousin Khaidu."

"You have been gathering arms and fighting men. I suppose he could use that for a claim."

"Noticed, did you?"

"I would not be much of an advisor if I didn't. The dwarves seem to pose no threat, thus you could only want weapons for one thing."

"The dwarves are good neighbors, but they provide a convenient excuse. Build an army for nothing, and soon the peasants suspect it will be used on them. Tell them it's for another, and you may build as much as you want."

"You have an army and now a wizard. It would seem to me that whoever you back would have an excellent chance at the throne."

She looked at me speculatively. "Are you telling me you would fight for who I would choose?"

"I would rather fight for you, but absent that option, yes."

"I see," she said, turning her attention out the window. I too fell silent, for I knew I'd made my point.

***

By early summer we had moved into our new home. We sent for Tanyth's handmaids, our warmaids, and my bedslaves. Only Makgrumman stayed in Azureview as caretaker. The last delivery were the crates containing the slumbering forms of my old hetairoi. They would sleep for some time longer.

Campaigning season came and went, and the Tyrant continued to decay on his throne. I spent my days advising, whispering poison into Nesugen's ears. Yes, I pushed her, but she did not need much pushing. She had her eye on the throne. She merely needed to trust that I would serve her well in the coming civil war and see how clear her path truly was.

I was truly unique. Though Zuunkhorun was not wholly owned by the Heacharids and were thus not compelled to surrender their wizards, that did not make it a welcoming place for my kind. Most fled Aucor and those who stayed limited themselves to the lives of simple hedge wizards.

Nesugen and I were on one of our many walks through the grounds when she spoke. "My cousin Khaidu sent his militia to their homes."

"Campaigning season is over. Any attack will wait until spring."

"And what do you think?"

"I think if you have to march upon the capital, you've already lost."

"You think I need to be in the capital. Would they not notice if I moved my men there?"

"You have an advantage they do not. You have a wizard."

A smile spread over her face, and the sparks of avarice danced in her eyes. I had her. Almost. There was one more thing. One more thing that would make me more than a mere tool to be discarded when she saw traitors in every shadow. The usurper sees only other usurpers, Zhahllaia had told me when we began to plan.

"We should leave as soon as we can." She paused, looking me over. "What of your family?"

"I would rather they remain here, far away from danger. Lysethe is more than capable of protecting them. We should go to the capital along with a cadre of your most loyal men. Only enough that you can pass off as a bodyguard. We will need a pretense, but I suspect you've thought of one."

"I have." She nodded. "I mislike traveling in the winter, but such things cannot be helped."

My wives were of mixed feelings when I informed them of the plan. They comforted themselves in the fact that I would have Quiyahui watching over me. I departed with Nesugen and thirty stout men about a week later.

The Tyrant's Master of Keys was nonplussed by our arrival, but granted us quarters in the palace. There Nesugen attended her cousin on his Tyrant's throne while I adjusted to court life. Navigating it wasn't difficult after the nest of vipers that was Castellandria or the strange rules of etiquette in far Kharsoom. My reputation helped, as no one wanted to anger the Dreadstorm, but I knew it would not be a shield forever. Anyone who wanted the throne would either have to woo Nesugen to their side or dispose of me. Not for the first time did I wish I had brought Maireili with me. The shadows were her bridegroom as much as I.

Those who have read the Zuunkhorunia know that the Tyrant did not die that winter. I cursed his recalcitrance, for the longer I stayed, the more danger I was in. Yet I could show no fear. The moment I did, I would be more vulnerable than ever. Better to play the mysterious and possibly murderous foreigner and trust Quiyahui to watch over me.

The Tyrant fell ill near the end of the following autumn, and the entire court was prepared for the bloodshed to come. The question was not if there would be conflict: it was if Nesugen's cousins could get their men into the capital before Yerentei died. The opening chapters of the Zuunkhorunia outline this time well, and though I was forced to condemn the book while I was Tyrant, now I can say the story presented is largely accurate. Its author interviewed me personally, after all. It is somewhat better than the same account in The Bel-Rom, although that draws more clearly the skein of my hatred.

I mention these works by way of apology for skimming over the intrigue of the time, for my purpose in this chronicle is not the discussion of the historical record. It is a chronicle of my loves, my dalliances, my nights of passion. In some cases, my motives were pure, for what is more pure than love? In this case, I was motivated by pragmatism with a dash of lust. I would not have seduced Nesugen without my larger plan, but I did not regret the pleasures I found between her thighs.

This is what I shall discuss now. The important context is the Tyrant's illness, and the diminishing time we had to enact our plan. The two of us were on the balcony in her quarters, the spring air humming with night insects, a distant chill from a highland breeze putting a delicious shiver into our bodies. I knew what must be done, but it would have to be her hand that moved the wheel.

"How is our beloved Tyrant?" I asked.

"He does not recover and he does not worsen. My cousins will begin to arrive soon."

She saw the step before her, the one I needed her to take. She needed permission. She was asking me, her advisor. This was a delicate dance. I could not blurt it out, not least because the Master of Birds had eyes everywhere. I knew then that the time was upon me. I rose from my chair. Outside, the nightbirds purred. I would grow to love that sound, those strange creatures that only live in the Zuun Valley. Quiyahui felt my desires, threading her sinuous form through the rafters overhead.

"Belromanazar?" Nesugen asked, cocking her head. She was dressed in a simple gown, and wrapped in a fur. Her makeup was fascinating, pure white, with geometric designs of orange-red across her forehead and cheeks. Oghul hummed in my veins and warmed my belly. "What are you doing?"

I knelt before her. Behind her, Quiyahui slithered down from the ceiling, gathering herself into a coil, and then rearing up. For those unused to the coatl, it might have appeared she was ready to feed. I alone felt the lust through our connection, and recognized the desire in her blue-white eyes.

"Come now," I said. "You know."

"Do I?" she shivered.

"I have seen your stolen looks. I have seen you watch me with my wives. Tonight, it's time I take you. To bind our alliance in ties of flesh." I opened her furs, revealing her slender body in its diaphanous gown.

"You would take me?" she challenged, though the spark in her eye said there would be no challenge here.

"Indeed." I slid my hands up her legs, pushing her gown up. Her legs were pale, but shapely, her skin a subtle gold. I began to smell her, the delicate musk of arousal. "You have wanted me for some time. I have wanted you as well."

"You forget yourself, Master Wizard," she said, her voice shivery.

"You would stop me?"

"I could call for my guards."

"The next time you cry out, it will be to your gods."

Her eyes widened prettily. I had her. There could be no doubt. She reached back to grasp the top of her chair, but Quiyahui struck. Nesugen yelped as the coatl wrapped her in coils, pinning her to the chair. The noblewoman went rigid, watching me with an excited fear I found intoxicating. Seducing her was not an act of passion, but I found that I longed to be inside her.

"How will you take me?" she asked.

"How long has it been?"

"I am unmarried," she said, trying to affect offense she did not feel.

I smirked. "You have been touched before. Tell me of the last time."

She blushed prettily. "A cousin some years ago. He and I thought we might marry someday, but he was wed to a Heacharid to keep our ties with the empire strong."

"Why have you not married?"

"There was never a suitable match. Jihorut is no great prize. I am a Wailor, yes, but a minor one."

"It has been years since a man has had you?"

Her blushed deepened. "Yes."

"Tell me of this cousin."

"He was sweet. I did not know how badly I needed a man's touch." I slid her gown up to the tops of her thighs. Her scent was strong now. "We had gathered in the capital. We were drunk on oghul and..."

I pushed her gown up further. Her scent grew thicker. My fingers dimpled her thighs. "And then?"

"He kissed me. He...he used his hand on me. Then I let him..."

I pushed the gown up, revealing the pouting edges of her lips, covered in silky black hair, glistening with dew. "You let him do whatever he wanted."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yes."

I pushed her knees apart. Now she was splayed lewdly before me. "Good. Because I'm going to do the same."

I turned to her thighs, gently lifting them, hooking her knees over my shoulders. I teased her sensitive flesh, finding the pulse that ran to her glory. She called to me, with her hot scent, demanding I take my taste. I held off, for I knew the importance of this act. This would be our first time together, and I knew I would have to break her on the altar of lust. I would have to enslave her to my sex.

I brought my skills honed over my years to the goal of her pleasure. I licked and nibbled, sparking along her flesh until she was squirming and whimpering, desperately pushing her orchid to my lips. When I parted her to run my tongue between her petals, she cried out for the first time. She struggled against Quiyahui's coils, but she could not move.

Her taste was stronger than I expected, and contained a tartness that reminded me of the apples she cultivated. I explored her, licking and sucking. I pressed my fingers into her and she squealed as I pressed into her hot insides. Beckoning, I redoubled my efforts, bringing her to the edge, and then retreating. I played her like a harp, dancing with her, never letting her find release.

"Master Wizard!" she cried out.

"What?" I asked, easing my fingers deep in, then out, then in again.

"Please! Finish me!" I erased her words with another lick, but would not let her.

I stood, holding her legs straight against my chest. My robes unraveled, my hard staff now straining to be sheathed within her. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she uttered a soft prayer.

"Please, Master Wizard," she begged.

I licked the backs of her ankles. I felt the head of my staff touching her sodden lips. She tried to move against me, but I relented. I concentrated, speaking a few words. Clouds bloomed above us, snaking down to hold Nesugen.

Quiyahui unraveled, her body shimmering. The clouds snaked over Nesugen, brushing over her nipples, finding the openings to her body. They nosed into her like curious serpents, and she squealed, a heavy shudder working through her body.

I slid into her. She clenched about me, her body going rigid, her back bowing. She opened her mouth in a silent cry. Thunder ran up the clouds and into her. A scream was torn from her throat then, a ragged, joyful sound. She loosened enough for me to take the rest of her, and my staff reached her innermost parts. She quaked again as the clouds roiled about her.

The clouds tore her gown from her, leaving her nude before me. Her flesh was covered in jewels of moisture. A jeweled necklace adorned her chest between her breasts, which heaved with each powerful thrust I buried into her. I held her hips roughly, hauling her over my staff. The clouds caressed her, took her.

She descended into a fresh cascade of quakes. She was no longer between bliss. It was one long, wracking ecstasy. Watching her thrash about on the end of me boiled the pleasure within me as well. Her exquisite noblewoman's makeup rendered her face into a lovely mask. She was at once a noble and a whore, and both belonged to me.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I pulled myself from her, but she was filled instantly with clouds and thunder. My staff bucked, and I threw threads of pearl over her breasts and belly. I released her from my spell and she shuddered helplessly, curling up as the pleasure continued to spider through her like lightning.

I watched the last of the bliss work its way through her, then gently, I lifted her. Her eyes were heavily lidded. She was exhausted, drunk on the loveplay I had subjected her to. That had been the plan. Give her bliss like no other man could.

I carried her to bed, putting her beneath her covers. After a moment's consideration, I removed the rest of my clothing and slid in behind her. Quiyahui slithered in after us.

When we awakened the next morning, she looked at me, a strange hardness in her eyes. "Will you stay with me tonight?" They were the first words from her mouth and there was but a single answer she would accept.

"Of course. I will stay with you in the morning as well."

"No," she said. "I have something to do this morning. And soon, we will have time in plenty." The Tyrant died two days later. Some suspected poison, but nothing was ever proven. And then the civil war began. I spent that time at her side. And in her bed.