The Warrior King (Book 4) (8 page)

“What if the Balsalomians come searching for her?” Lassitus asked.

“They’ll be alerted soon enough. I’ve asked the sultan for more guards for the harem. There are four more men facing the castrators tonight.”

Lassitus winced at this.

Again, Faalam drank. The tea was two-thirds gone. Suddenly a frown passed over his face, and he looked into the cup. “Curious.”

“Too much sugar, Master?” Lassitus asked.

“Far too much—it is cloying. But that isn’t what I mean.”

Sofiana shrugged. “Nobody told me how much to put in. He told me lots, so I put in lots.” She held her finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Was this too much?”

The head eunuch didn’t answer. Instead, he dumped the rest of the tea onto the stone floor and peered into the bottom of the empty cup. For the first time Sofiana’s confidence weakened.

He knows!

“Shall I prepare new tea for you?” Lassitus said. He sounded nervous. “Or would you care for wine instead? We received a sweet vintage of apricot wine from the southern provinces and I removed two bottles for tasting before sending the rest to the sultan’s cellars.”

Faalam kept staring at the bottom of the cup. Lassitus took Sofiana’s wrist. “Hurry, girl, make him a fresh cup. And this time do not put in so much sugar.”

“No,” Faalam said. He looked up, first at the other eunuch, studying his face with a penetrating gaze, and then at Sofiana. She kept her features blank.

“You put something in my tea, girl. What was it?”

Chapter Eight

Darik had grown up in Balsalom, which he’d thought was on the edge of a vast desert compared to the impossible green of the Free Kingdoms on the other side of the mountains. But this land was drier still. Marrabat had no river to supply its water. What little fell in the monsoon season this far south was collected in cisterns, but according to Markal, the city’s main water supply flowed through an aqueduct that led from the mountains east of the city. It entered the palace in a big, gushing current, where a series of smaller, tile-lined channels siphoned water for the fountains, gardens, and baths, before carrying what was left into the city itself.

They found the servant baths at the end of one of these channels. They were comprised of two separate pools. The outer pool sat in an outside courtyard crossed by brick arches, these covered with leafy vines that provided some shade. This pool was empty of bathers, which was no surprise given the pounding sun. Its water came from a short clay channel that flowed out of the inner pool, which lay inside, with a roof overhead. Darik, Daria, and the two wizards walked past the outdoor pool, through an archway, and into the large room holding the inner pool.

Here a good twenty or more servants were taking their baths, both men and women. Some lay on flat benches while other, lower servants rubbed their bodies with olive oil, and then scraped off the oil and dirt with flat wooden scrapers. Others bathed in the water before emerging to be perfumed and dressed.

Daria was still feeble from the heat, and she stumbled as they entered the room. Darik and the two wizards caught her. This brought a few stares, but Narud whispered something and attentions suddenly turned elsewhere. Plenty of the bathers had seemed content to lounge about in their bathing or cleaning rituals, but now they all seemed to be in a hurry. Within a few minutes, the inner pool had emptied as completely as the outer.

“Unfortunately, it’s easier getting people out than keeping them away altogether,” Narud said. “Markal, set up a ward to discourage newcomers.”

While Markal turned to this purpose, the other wizard helped Daria out of her robes while Darik stood back, trying not to stare. Beneath the robe, she was impossibly fair, the dark curly hair on her head and between her thighs standing in contrast to her milky skin. Darik forced himself to look away. He was almost relieved when she entered the pool and sat on a stone bench. The water came to her shoulders, casting the rest of her body in shimmering light. She slumped as if she were going to slip beneath the surface, so Narud came around the pool to squat behind her and hold her shoulders.

“Do you have enough magic left to change back into a cat?” Markal asked Narud when he had returned from his spell casting.

“Of course. That is trivial.”

“And enough to change me too?” Markal asked. “I could manage, but the magic will be more obvious if I do it. You can disguise it better—I didn’t even recognize it was you and Daria at first.”

Narud didn’t seem quite as pleased with this request. “I suppose I could. But why?”

“I don’t trust Chantmer. I want to see what he’s up to.”

“Ah, so we change to cats and follow him through the palace? Yes, that would work.” Narud glanced at Daria. “One of us should stay with the girl.”

“I could stay with her,” Darik said quickly.

“Why, yes, I suppose you could. Let me do what I can for her first.” He reached around, touched his thumb to Daria’s forehead, and whispered some spell.

While he did this, Markal took Darik’s arm and led him away from the pool. “You’d be alone with her. Is that a good idea?”

Darik was annoyed by the insinuation. “What kind of man do you think I am? I’m not going to touch her.”

“Sure, you say that now. Wait until she’s feeling better. When that happens, I’d advise you to remember that you’re a knight of the Brotherhood.”

“I’m not going to forget! Anyway, it’s not like I took a vow of celibacy. You know how I feel about Daria—there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Markal shrugged. Darik knew his friend wanted him to train as a wizard, and of course Daria was a powerful distraction. But in practice the wizard mostly seemed amused, as if the mating habits of lesser beings was something to be studied with curiosity.

“There’s nothing wrong with lovemaking freely shared between two equals,” Markal said. “Not that you are Daria’s equal, as her mother would point out. But let’s assume you are.”

“Thank you for that,” Darik said. He was still embarrassed by the insinuation that he’d lose control the instant he was alone with the woman, and his sarcasm had a harder edge than was warranted.

“The point is, it would mean something different to Daria than it would to you.”

“I won’t do anything, I already told you.”

“You still don’t understand. I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I’m only saying to be absolutely sure you know what you’re doing before you do. And maybe now is not the time to press the issue.”

“Markal!”

Narud asked Daria a question, and when she nodded, he cautiously released her shoulders. When she continued to hold herself up, he rose and approached Markal and Darik. Narud soon proved as oblivious to human desires as Markal had been perceptive.

“Darik, if she goes into deeper water, take off your clothes and go in with her,” Narud said. “I don’t want to risk her slipping and drowning. When she’s all the way cooled down, bring her out and rub her down with olive oil until she’s clean.”

Markal shot Darik a raised eyebrow and the young man turned away, embarrassed.

Narud frowned. “Do you find it demeaning to rub her with oil?” He looked at Markal. “You said these two were friends. Or is that some Balsalomian custom, that only slaves do that task?”

“I’m not sure the oil rubbing is a good idea,” Markal said. “We’re trying to cool these two down, not heat them up.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Narud said. “She’ll warm up as soon as she gets out of the water. In that case, she’d better stay in the pool until it’s dark. Then Markal can retrieve her to go look for the griffin.”

This time Markal actually laughed, and Narud seemed more bewildered than ever.

#

When the two wizards had retreated outside, Darik found himself pacing back and forth around the edge of the pool. He was agitated, mainly through worry about Daria’s heat exhaustion, but also thinking about Whelan’s daughter, who needed to be smuggled out of the palace, as well as Chantmer the Tall, lurking about scheming who knew what. Maybe Narud could handle Chantmer, assuming he could stay focused on the task and not turn into an owl and fly off looking for mice.

Darik was relieved when Daria began to act more alert and lively. She dunked her head under the water and slicked back her wet hair, splashed water in her face, and occasionally glanced at Darik to give him shy smiles. A little later she beckoned him over. He came and squatted near the edge of the water about ten feet away. He gave her glances out of the side of his eye, trying not to stare at her naked figure rippling beneath the water. She looked back, smiling openly.

“It was almost worth it,” she said.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t. Anyway, it’s no different than the other dangers we face. Like the dragons. I fought another one since we met last. It almost killed me.”

She said it casually, not in any way boastful, but in that open manner of hers. Narud had mentioned the fight, and now Darik wanted to know more. She explained how she’d been in the mountains looking for dragons when she decided to tame a golden griffin. That story was impressive enough, but she dismissed his praise with a shrug. Then she told how one dragon had consumed another, and she’d led the griffin riders in battle against the survivor, by then grown to immense proportions. She’d battled the dragon in the skies over the high mountain peaks of the Dragon’s Spine, had landed on its back, and finally driven her sword deep into the soft flesh where its wing met its armored body. The dragon pitched her off, and she’d fallen from the sky as the monster fled, crippled and bellowing in pain. Daria’s golden griffin caught her in its talons before she hit the ground and was killed.

The story made Darik catch his breath, but Daria seemed to think the entire thing of only mild interest and certainly unheroic. She’d only been doing her duty, after all.

“Anyway, it’s all worth it, because now we’re together, at least for a few hours. I only wish you could come with me tonight.” She sighed. “But I know it’s important for Markal to hunt for the ravagers, so I must carry him north. How long will you stay in Marrabat?”

“Not long, I hope. Where will you go after you’ve carried Markal? How will I find you? I want to fly with you again.”

“Go to the mountains by Montcrag. I’ll look for you every day. And then we’ll fly together, I promise.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

She smiled, then looked down, suddenly seeming shy.

It felt bold and reckless to be so blunt in his desires, an openness so different from the little dance would-be partners performed in Balsalom. Everything there was coded, gestures, perfect to withdraw and claim that your overtures had been misunderstood. But Daria was so open herself. He didn’t know what would happen if he turned her down, if she would simply smile and shrug and go on with her life without a backward glance, or if she would be devastated. He had no intention of testing her feelings.

Daria had charmed him from the first moment they’d met. The dark wizard had been assaulting the castle gates at Montcrag when Daria and her father led a flock of screaming griffins and their riders into the castle to rescue its defenders. Darik’s first flight had been terrifying and exhilarating in turns. His arms wrapped around this beautiful, carefree girl as they hurtled over the mountainside atop six hundred pounds of muscle, claw, wing, and beak. Her long dark hair had swung free in the wind, brushing his face like a horse’s mane. By the time they landed, he was smitten, and no warning from Whelan or Markal about taking advantage of this sheltered mountain girl could turn him away. Markal had been right about one thing: Darik was in no way the equal of the young head of the griffin riders.

But in another way, the wizard was wrong. If Daria was strong enough to fight off dragon wasps and their riders, even face down a full-grown dragon, then she was strong enough to make her own decisions about who she would love. And Darik didn’t much care if part of that reason was that he was one of the few young men she’d met in her sheltered life.

“It’s very hot water,” Daria said, “but still cooler than walking around up there. Go on, put your feet in.”

Darik slipped off his sandals and dipped his feet in. The water certainly wasn’t as cool as a mountain stream, but it wasn’t exactly hot either. More like tepid. But to a griffin rider of the high mountains like Daria, it must feel uncomfortably warm.

“Now come over here,” she said.

He edged along the side of the pool until he was next to her. She touched his hand. He squeezed her fingers.

“How do people live in this heat?” she asked.

“They’re used to it. If you took these desert people up to the mountains, most of them would freeze to death.”

“And there are so many of them. Dozens and dozens and dozens. All pressing against each other, rubbing together in the streets. I think hundreds, maybe even
thousands.”
 

“Tens of thousands,” he said.

“So many! We flew high above the city near the clouds so we wouldn’t be spotted. Narud says their eyes aren’t very good, but I could see them fine. I’m glad we stayed high. I would have been scared to come lower and have all of those people spot me.”