The Kharsoomian

A wedding is a joyous occasion, but it usually does not mark a great victory. Yet Kharsoom so often bucked convention. It was, for all its manifold faults, a stark land of heroes. A wedding in the Red Wastes must therefore require a heroic invocation of will. It would mark my true rebirth when I would embrace my status as a wizard, as a lord, and as the man who would cast the Heacharid Empire down.

I knew none of this when the scroll arrived at Azureview, delivered to us by Makgrumman, while my household breakfasted upon the balcony. We were an eclectic group, but we had found peace here. Makgrumman had prepared the meal, altering each of our portions to taste. While in most cases this was minor, making Tanyth and Sarakiel's spicier, Lysethe and the kids' blander, Maireili's had to be rotten. Makgrumman had seasoning box in the pantry, where he could store cuts until they spoiled enough for my ghoul bride to enjoy them.

Makgrumman handed Tanyth the scrollcase with a simple, "Delivery, madam."

Tanyth turned it over in her crimson hands. The case was fashioned in iron and onyx, the seal a scorpion pressed into purple wax. Tanyth's belly was great with the life inside her, and I couldn't imagine she could get much bigger. Her eyes widened as she recognized the scorpion sigil in the wax, the sigil of Clan Abibaal. She normally wore a golden scorpion in her navel, but with her pregnancy, she'd had to remove it. She opened the case and unfurled the scroll, her eyes widening as she read the Kharish words. We had all fallen silent as she read, desperately curious.

"Mama Tanyth?" asked Malycent. "What's on the paper?"

Tanyth looked at the little girl in surprise, then at the rest of us, realizing we were all staring.

"A letter from my father," she said, wonder in her violet eyes. "He is getting married."

"Married? I thought that he would never do that," I said. In fact, her father had been the most unusual of Kharsoomian men. Not only had he never remarried after Tanyth's mother died, but he had no concubines and only a single bedslave he never lay with.

Tanyth shook her head in amazement. "I believed so too. There is not much here. Her name is Rubati of Clan Adonyah."

"Is Clan Adonyah allied with Clan Abibaal?" asked Zhahllaia.

"No," Tanyth said. "They are not enemies either. Their lands are not especially close."

"Then this Rubati is an odd choice." I knew the expression on the djinn's lovely face. She had sniffed out intrigue, something she knew well from her time in the sultan's court.

"You're suspicious," Tanyth said.

"I am concerned. We will see if I have cause for suspicion."

We made arrangements to be away, leaving Azureview in the care of Makgrumman. Of the family, only Belazei chose to stay behind, having no wish to return to the arid wasteland of Kharsoom. We gathered up the rest of us, hitched the wagon to the team of qobads and set out from Castellandria one bright morning.

Shaluvia, Ujaala, and Tanyth's handmaids were most excited about the prospect of returning to Kharsoom. To them, even the two who weren't Kharsoomian by birth, the Red Wastes were home. Castellandria might be more pleasant, but it lacked the stark beauty of the decadent wasteland.

We took the same pathway we had used on the way home, traveling by way of standing stones to Sacasia, where we found a ship willing to bear us hence to Kharsoom. Travel was relatively swift, as the winds were in our favor, and before long we were riding into Eirashtar, the ruined city that gave me my title.

Eirashtar squatted on the edge of a dry lakebed, only a few trickling streams providing barely enough water to the diminished residents. Even for a Kharsoomian city, Eirashtar was depopulated, its peasants departing as Clan Abibaal's fortunes declined. We approached along the edge of the famed Forest Issatesh, a land where the death of the gods had turned the trees to black stone. It was in many ways the perfect symbol of the wastes, a pantomime of life transformed into a sigil of death itself.

We flew two banners. The first was the scorpion on purple of Clan Abibaal, and the second was my own banner, the feathered serpent on a field of blue. Tanyth had commissioned a finer one made, refining the design that had flown over our wedding. The original now hung upon the wall of Azureview, a treasured memento. The guards saw the scorpion and saluted us. Cheers followed as they recognized Tanyth. She was beloved in her homeland.

We rode through the gates of the city, following the main street that led to the bluff where the Abibaal's ancestral castle waited. After so long living in the incomparably vibrant metropolis of Castellandra, Kharsoom appeared hopelessly corrupt and provincial. Her people, though undeniably beautiful, existed in ruins well over a thousand years old, clinging to a grandeur that wasn't even a memory. Streets in Castellandria teemed with life. Eirashtar was populated mostly by ghosts.

"You lived here?" Sarakiel asked.

"For a time, I lived there," I said, gesturing to the castle.

"This is Eirashtar," Lysethe said.

"You are Lord of Eirashtar," Maireili said. She crouched behind Sarakiel in the wagon, the hood of her Widow's Cloak over her head.

"I am indeed."

"It was the title my clan had to give," Tanyth said, awkwardly sitting in the wagon. Her belly was unwieldy before we left, and it had only grown during our travels. "He needed an appropriate title if he was to wed a princess."

We made our way up the bluff, followed by the rejoicing over Tanyth's return. The gateway to castle was closed. "Who goes?" shouted a guard on the ramparts.

"Your princess!" Tanyth called back.

The guard peered over the walls, first at Tanyth, then at the scorpion banner, then again at Tanyth. "Your Highness?" he exclaimed, a smile exploding over his face. "Open the gates! Princess Tanyth is returned to us!"

The gates opened and guards filled the courtyard, disbelieving smiles stretching over their faces. I was accustomed to her charisma. I had watched her win the favor of her adopted city in a dark time. Yet this display still humbled me. These men, every one of them, loved her. They loved her as mother, sister, wife, and daughter. Any one of them would have happily died to spare her a moment's discomfort.

"Forgive me for not rising," she called to them. "My lord has seen fit to plant his seed, and it's growing rather more than I expected." We did not yet know that she was carrying twins, though we had begun to suspect.

"An heir! Clan Abibaal has an heir!" the guards exulted.

Prince Hadirseen, Tanyth's father, came out to meet us. He was nearly a decade older than we had last seen him, and it had cost him more hair, and what was left was now entirely gray. His limbs were skinny as ever, and his belly had gained more roundness. His skin was as crimson as his daughter's, and in the custom of the land, he wore only a leather harness, two blades hanging at his narrow hips. He wore the scorpion crown of Clan Abibaal, the twin to the one on my wife's brow.

"Light of my soul!" he said, a smile of pure joy on his face.

"Father!" she exclaimed. She struggled to get up. I dismounted my qobad to assist her, but Lysethe and Maireili took pity on her and helped her first rise and then get off the wagon. She waddled to him and they embraced.

"Look at you! Great with child! You will bear this little one soon."

"In Kharsoom," she said.

"As it should be. Oh, I look forward to meeting them. I will summon the midwife from Eirashtar. She will stay with us until you give birth." He turned to me. "Belromanazar, my son!"

"Your Highness," I said, offering a short bow.

"Father," he corrected, embracing me. "It is good to see you. Neither you nor she have aged a day."

"It's a kind of magic."

"Your serpent has grown," he said, eyeing Quiyahui warily as she slithered through the air. I had not noticed, as I saw her every day, but of course he was right. The coatl continued to grow, and she would grow a great deal larger. "Please, introduce me to your household."

"This is Zhahllaia, Sarakiel, Lysethe, and Maireili, Belromanazar's concubines," Tanyth said.

The prince greeted each in turn, surprised when he couldn't touch Zhahllaia. His gaze lingered on Lysethe. "Every one of you is exquisite," he said. The others understood his words, as Tanyth insisted they all learn Kharish.

"And these are the children. Arkohnus, Faustan, Malycent, and that is little Sabrael." Sabrael, my daughter with Sarakiel, had been born a few months earlier. A fat healthy little thing, she peacefully slept in her mother's arms, the rhythm of the wagon lulling her well.

Hadirseen knelt and addressed Arkohnus. "You are the eldest, are you not?"

"Yes," Arkohnus said, then turned. "Mama Tanyth? What is the title?"

"Your Highness, dear."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You are a fine lad, I can tell. You will watch over your brothers and sisters, and convey to them any messages from me." The prince rose. "Where is his blade?"

"Father, he only recently turned seven years old."

"Precisely. He should have a blade by now."

"Madam Shaluvia is teaching me fencing," Arkohnus said gravely.

"As she should. We will find a proper blade for you, young man."

"Father," sighed Tanyth. "He is not a Kharsoomian."

"He is in Kharsoom, and he is an honored member of a princess's household."

"My son should not have a blade," hissed Sarakiel.

"Don't worry," Tanyth murmured. "My father will be too distracted to see it done."

"Zidon," the prince addressed his majrodomo, standing nearby. "Please show this party to their quarters."

"Right away, Your Highness." He came to Tanyth and bowed low. "It is good to have you home, Your Highness."

"I've missed you, Zidon," Tanyth said.

"Refresh yourselves," said Hadirseen. "Tonight, we will feast and you can meet my intended."

"Where is she? Did she not want to greet us?"

"She is nervous about meeting you, I think," Hadirseen said quietly. "She knows you are beloved and wants to make a good impression."

Tanyth chuckled. "I will be kind."

"Thank you, my daughter. Now go with Zidon."

We were given Tanyth's old chambers, spreading beyond her rooms to provide space for Ujaala, and the children. Myself, my wives, and our children gathered into Tanyth's old room before supper. Had I loved them less, the environs would be cramped. I considered them cozy.

We rested and prepared ourselves for dinner. I removed my robes, returning to my loincloth and boots, the same that I had worn in my travels through the Red Wastes. Tanyth shocked all when she emerged wearing nothing but her old harness, her jewelry and crown, and a half-skirt that billowed out behind her. It drew all eyes to her gravid belly, so gloriously round and full.

"Is nudity required?" Sarakiel asked.

"No," I said. "We are known to be barbarians. We are not expected to adhere fully to their customs."

"You should allow your beauty to be seen, Sarakiel," Tanyth said.

"I will abide by local customs," Lysethe said, stripping out of her clothing without hesitation.

"Lysethe?" Sarakiel asked.

"It is not that much less than I wore as a witchthrall of the Heacharid Empire." She stood before us wearing nothing more than her slave collar, a golden feathered serpent, its tail in its jaws. Her skymander perched on her shoulder. We were all momentarily stunned, as she was socially the most timid. It was easy to forget that she was a blooded warrior, and nudity was no fear of hers.

"You look lovely," I said.

More debate followed and eventually Sarakiel assented to a small loincloth and a cover for her breasts, while Maireili remained in her tight costume and cloak. I was surprised at her modesty, as she had a cultural lax attitude toward nudity. She explained later that she didn't mind when she was with those she trusted, but she was not yet comfortable around Prince Hadirseen's court. Over time, she would wear less, as the realities of the Kharsoomian climate became plain.

We joined Prince Hadirseen at his feasting table where I saw his intended for the first time. She looked perhaps a year or two older than Tanyth, which thanks to the age-arresting powers of my love, meant she was several years younger. Such a vast difference in age between bride and groom did not surprise me coming from an arranged marriage between nobles. I could only assume that Clan Abibaal's position had grown more tenuous and he had been forced to accept a mate.

Yet that was not what I saw in the way they looked at one another. Stolen glances, fleeting touches. All perfectly chaste, as befit a relationship that had not yet been sanctified. I saw in their eyes what I saw in Tanyth's when she looked at me, and what I felt in my heart when I looked at her. This was not arranged. This was a love match.

Rubati was lovely. Kharsoomian women, I have said many times, were the most beautiful on Thür. Her skin was a bright scarlet, her eyes a deep azure. She was tall and slender, with a youthful roundness to her features. Her hair was long and black, her adornment modest.

"Welcome to my table," said Hadirseen. "Tonight I have the honor of presenting my intended, Lady Rubati of Clan Adonyah."

"Princess Tanyth," said Lady Rubati, her smile turning nervous. "I am honored to meet you. And this must be your lord husband, the famous boldisar."

"The honor is mine," Tanyth said flashing her teeth. She introduced all of us, and I watched Rubati's lips move with each name as she memorized them. I had some sympathy with the sheer number of us.

"Tell me," Tanyth said, partway into our meal, "how did the two of you meet? Clan Adonyah's lands are far away."

Rubati smiled shyly. "I from a minor line in my clan. My family was not overly concerned with my match, so I traveled. I was not looking for a husband. I wanted to see the Forest Issatesh, so I came hither, and I met your father."

Hadirseen chuckled. "She thought I was a doddering old man."

"I did not!" protested Rubati. Then she shrugged. "I thought you were old. Never doddering."

"She came to me as a noble, and asked for hospitality. Honor demanded I grant her what she asked, though I would have been her faithful servant had she been a slave."

"I found that I enjoyed speaking with Hadirseen. He was comfortable, warm. I felt safe in this place, more at home than anywhere I had been in my travels."

"I felt myself falling in love. I could not deny it, no matter how much I wanted to. I knew she would leave me soon, for I am old, and she is still in the bloom of youth. When she did, it would hurt, but I no longer would be faced with this temptation to wed."

"When it came time to depart, I found that I couldn't. I went to him and I asked for his hand. Impertinent, I know, but I am adventurous."

"She asked and I could only say yes." Hadirseen looked to her, a softness coming into his eyes. "I still cannot believe it."

"Your happiness fills my heart," Tanyth said. "You will need a proper wedding, of course. Clan Abibaal still has its honored bloodline, and we will need to call upon our allies to bear witness."

"Yes, light of my soul," Hadirseen said, gazing at Rubati with love-addled eyes. Of course.

Later, as my wives and I were in our room and preparing for bed, Tanyth's expression was troubled.

"You are concerned now," Zhahllaia said.

"I am. Rubati is too young."

"And her arrival here too serendipitous," said the djinn.

I sighed, lying back in bed. "I suppose I was a fool to think we could be off our guard for the space of a single wedding."

"A wedding in Kharsoom," Tanyth said. "Kharsoom complicates everything."

Tanyth set about organizing the wedding. She would need wedding clothing for us, which in Kharsoom meant harnesses worked with our clan symbol. She would need to acquire enough food for the feast, always a challenge in the wasteland. And most importantly, she would need to hire additional guards.

In Kharsoom, as with any civilized land, one was responsible for the safety of one's guests. Unlike most other lands, this meant noble weddings were attractive targets. More than one war in Kharsoom began during a wedding. It was a minor miracle Tanyth and my wedding wasn't attacked. Whenever two nobles married, boldisars appeared like flies on a corpse. Some would be hired. Others would merely make trouble, drink, and fight duels as boldisars were wont to do. As with everything Kharsoomian, this only increased the possibility of violence.

Unlike our wedding, which had been done after we'd offended nearly every allied clan, this one would bring them back to the fold. Tanyth saw this as an opportunity to repair Clan Abibaal's reputation and secure a path to its future. She sent messengers to Clans Bazaya, Laqip, Jebel, Basha, Nikkel, and Ahinadab, asking for the honor of their presence. Tanyth had offended them when she chose me, a barbarian boldisar, and now she had to soothe hurt egos.

We had learned, when the midwife from Eirashtar examined her, that we were expecting twins. Tanyth smiled ruefully at that. She grew, and it was harder for her to get around. She of course could not travel, and so had to attempt to deploy her vaunted charisma in the written word. Tanyth slaved over her writing, only reluctantly sending the missives when she had no more time to revise.

"I need you to take this one," Tanyth said one morning, pressing a scroll into my hands, sealed with the purple scorpion. "It goes to Clan Bazaya."

"The clan of your first suitor?" I asked, remembering the callow young man.

"The same. I believe that my words alone won't draw them here. They will require a more obvious show of respect. Thus, I send my husband, the brave boldisar to personally petition their presence. We need Clan Bazaya. They are traditional allies, but our marriage hurt our relationship. My father's position depends on friendship with Clan Bazaya."

"I will leave at once."

"Take Ujaala and Lysethe."

"I understand the need for Ujaala, but Lysethe?"

"A concubine will give you status, and her wearing a collar will be understandable to Bazaya."

"Do you not wish she were here?"

"We're safe in the castle of my father, Bel. I have Shaluvia in the next chamber, and I sleep beside Maireili. I will be fine. You will be crossing the wastes and could use your most fearsome wife."

"You are my most fearsome wife," I said, kissing her gently.

"Flatterer," she said, smiling. "Now go."

Within the hour, I rode from the gates on the back of my old qobad, Ksenaëe. Lysethe and Ujaala flanked me, on qobads of their own, Quiyahui swimming through the air above us.

I had grown used to traveling via standing stones. The ride across the wastes brought back a harsher time in my life, and it called to me with seductive memories, telling me I could be the savage boldisar of Kharsoom once again. By day we traveled over the wasteland. By night, we wrapped ourselves in furs and rutted like beasts.

One thing troubled me. Lysethe, with her stark white flesh, never burned. I asked her about it, and she said, without concern, "The sun would never harm its favored daughter." Those words brought a surge of love into my heart for her.

We encountered only a single gang of bandits on our way, and two wizards working in concert was far more dangerous prey than they had bargained for. We sent them fleeing with bolts of lightning and the finger of the sun. Magic was almost unknown in Kharsoom in those days. I did not even need to bring Ur-Anu from the aether.

Some weeks later, we found the edges of the Plateau of El-For. We followed the road to its top, where the city of Ravia spread out around the ancestral castle of Clan Bazaya. This city was teeming with life by Kharsoomian standards, a hale metropolis in the middle of the wasteland. Clan Bazaya's banner, a stylized sun on a field of blue, flapped from the ramparts. The guards let us through the gates without incident, though the fact that none of us were Kharsoomian and we traveled with a feathered serpent drew attention. They understood me as a boldisar, and thanks to the customs around that social class, we were allowed to make our way to the castle gates.

There a guard called down. "Hail boldisar."

"Hail," I called back. "I bring a message from Clan Abibaal for your noble prince."

The gates opened and I rode in at the head of my little band. The captain of the guard met me in the courtyard. His eyes lingered on my companions before he turned his attention to me. "You say you have a message for the prince?" I handed the scroll case to him. "You are a lucky man. Traveling the wastes with two comely lasses and without a weapon between you."

"I assure you, we're armed," I said.

"You would have to be. Wait here until I return. You may fill your skins at the well if you wish." He meandered into the castle's living quarters, showing no real urgency.

The three of us settled into the shade by the well. Heat shimmered over the cracked red earth. Kharsoom, even in civilized places, held its stark and terrible beauty.

Lysethe looked about in wonder. "Kharsoom is so strange," she said finally.

"It is my home," Ujaala said. "Far more elegant than anywhere else. A land of adventure and honor and chivalry."

"It makes more sense to me in that way," Lysethe said. "It seems like it is what the Heacharids pretend their lands to be."

"There is some truth to that," I said. "Kharsoom is isolationist, but they still do slave."

"They took me from across the world," Ujaala said.

"You may return. I will take you to Tabiyya myself, a free woman."

"No, my lord. I would be a stranger there. I understand Kharsoom, I understand your household, and I understand Castellandria well enough. I am safer now than I have ever been." She leaned into me, her warm flesh against mine. "Besides, you would miss me."

The two of them drew much attention from the guards. They were both beautiful, but I knew it was their exoticism that truly spurred the predominantly Kharsoomian guards. Specifically, it was the fleece between their legs. Kharsoomians do not grow body hair, and so find it terribly alluring on outlanders. Ujaala grew a lovely dark pelt, while Lysethe's was white and nearly invisible. To a Kharsoomian, this was a glory to be treasured.

The captain emerged from the castle sometime later. "Boldisar, Prince Sharbat requests your presence." He gestured, and guards took our riding birds be tied up in the shade. The three of us followed him into the main hall, where the prince and his household waited. I had seen Prince Sharbat nearly a decade earlier when he had been Tanyth's suitor. He had aged, but was still hale and handsome. He sat next to a trio of women, two in collars. He was surrounded by men. I saw no sign of his parents, who had been the leaders of his clan.

"Your Highness," I said, bowing.

"You," he said to me. "I know you."

"We have met, Your Highness."

"I heard Tanyth wedded you."

"You heard correctly."

He shook his head in mock confusion. "Reject a prince of their loyal friends for a landless boldisar. A barbarian, no less. I am surprised Clan Abibaal thought to request my presence at anything after besmirching my honor so." As an aside to his wife and concubines, he said, "Tanyth's handmaids claimed that I had failed the Gauntlet of Silk."

"Absurd," said the wife.

I nearly corrected him on my wife's title, but I held my tongue. I knew she would much rather have a chance to make peace with Clan Bazaya than insist on protocol when she was not even present. "I believe Her Highness wishes to make amends," I said carefully, "by honoring Clan Bazaya as your station demands. I hoped to speak to your honored parents."

"They are dead, killed when Clan Sesamhat thought to attack me."

"I am sorry to hear that, Your Highness."

"Yes, well. They died with honor and Clan Bazaya remains intact." He shifted in his seat. "Make amends?"

"This is why she sent me personally. She wished to honor you by sending her husband on this errand."

"You speak well for a boldisar." He was silent, a frown creasing his features. Then he spoke again, "You will dine with me tonight as my guest, and you will have an answer for your wife tomorrow."

"I would be honored to offer you the services of my bedslave Ujaala this night," I said.

She stepped forward and bowed, her dark eyes glittering.

"Yes, I think I will accept your generous offer," he said, his eyes lingering between her legs. "And I will of course send one of my bedslaves to your chambers."

I did not find Prince Sharbat as objectionable that evening as I had before. Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that I had won fair Tanyth, not he. At supper, we spoke of nothing of consequence, and though I probed for more details on his battle with Clan Sesamhat, he was not forthcoming. He might have disclosed more had I told him my personal enmity with the clan, that they were my enslavers, but I did not want to give Sharbat the power of that information. I no longer disliked him, but I did not trust him.

The bedslave he sent was a fetching Kharsoomian beauty named Ra-Hal, and I took her before the fire while she performed a passionate knight's kiss upon Lysethe. She was an eager thing, and did not appear to be mistreated. When we had finished our loveplay, she settled into bed with us pillowing her head on my chest as we slept, only taking her leave in the early hours of morning.

Ujaala joined us at breakfast, kissing me on the cheek. "I believe I pled our case well, my lord."

"Ujaala, you didn't..."

"My lord, I promise you. I saw opportunity and I seized it."

Fear coiled in my belly. It should not have. Ujaala was a clever woman, something I would grow to rely on in the early years of the Deadwall before she finally accepted the reward I had been trying to give her since we met. Here, I was concerned that she had spoiled Tanyth's plan, and I would return to my wife having failed my mission.

Prince Sharbat entered the feasting hall with his wife and concubines, greeting us without betraying his intentions. He sat, his servants giving him food and water. My heart thundered in my ears, and I did my best to hide my impatience. Quiyahui would not be so circumspect, coiling and recoiling as though she could not get comfortable.

"I have chosen to accept your wife's invitation," Prince Sharbat said finally.

I let out a long breath. "You do Clan Abibaal honor, Your Highness."

"You will see that Clan Bazaya holds its rightful place."

"That I will, Your Highness." And I did not mean it as a threat.

I knew something was wrong as we rode through Clan Abibaal's gates. I did not expect the unmitigated joy that greeted Tanyth, but I also did not expect such grim faces. As we entered the courtyard, Samas-sum, the outrider captain, approached. "My lord. Princess Tanyth is well."

"You would not say that if there was not cause for concern."

"An assassin came in the night. Last night. Your concubine, the ghoul, slew him."

"What? Where are they now?"

"In their chambers, under guard."

I swung off my qobad, sprinting into the living quarters with Lysethe and Ujaala at my heels. Guards stood sentry at her door, and they stood aside as I entered. I found my wives and children in the chamber. A slave cleaned blood from the wall.

I ran to Tanyth and embraced her, kissing her face.

"I am fine," she soothed. "Maireili had him choking on his own blood before he could swing."

I embraced my ghoul bride. "Thank you, my love."

"It was nothing. He was clumsy and stupid. I saw him the instant he came in through the window and was behind him before he knew I was there."

Tanyth smiled at Maireili, who blushed a soft blue. "She was magnificent, Bel. Brave and swift."

"Who sent him?" I asked.

"That we do not know. He was dead too quickly."

"Did anyone recognize his face? Surely Maireili left that intact?"

"Zidon is bringing everyone in one at a time to see the corpse. I did not recognize him."

I cursed. "Only one person could be behind this."

"Rubati," Tanyth said. "I had the same thought.

"Rubati?" asked Lysethe.

"Tanyth is the heir to Clan Abibaal, named by her father. Thus, the children in her belly will be next in line," I explained.

"Does she have no position?"

"She will be honored as a princess of the clan," Tanyth said. "When my father dies, she will have status and a home as dowager."

"What of her line?"

"Any children she bears for my father will be an important line. They will be full Kharsoomian, and have certain unspoken esteem that mine might lack. However, officially, my line inherits. To change that, she would need to eliminate me."

"Have you spoken to her?" I asked.

"Not yet."

"We should have words with her," Lysethe growled.

"You are not going to kill Hadirseen's intended," Sarakiel said.

"She tried to have Tanyth killed," I said.

"Sarakiel is right," Zhahllaia said. "Most importantly, we do not know she did it."

"You are as suspicious as we."

"Suspicions are hardly proof," said my wazira.

I sighed. She was right, of course. "What is the other thing?"

"Even if she is guilty, we cannot mete out justice here. I am not intimately familiar with Kharsoomian customs, but she is a noble lady. No culture allows them to be executed without some ceremony."

"She is right," Tanyth said. "Rubati has status in her clan. If she confesses, we can call off the wedding and expel her from Abibaal land. If she lingers, then we may hunt her according to our laws. Regardless, it means war with Clan Adonyah."

"We will speak with her," I said. Sarakiel and Maireili remained with the children, while Lysethe, Zhahllaia, Shaluvia, and Tanyth came with me to talk to Rubati. My hands trembled with the desire to summon Ur-Anu.

"My love, what did Prince Sharbat say?" Tanyth asked.

"What?" My mind took a moment to grasp the thread, my recent errand all but forgotten in the face of this new crisis. "Oh. He said he would come."

"You succeeded."

"Prince Sharbat isn't so bad. He would have made a good husband."

"Why would I want a good husband when I have a great one?"

We found Princess Rubati's chambers and entered without ceremony. She sat with her handmaids. Her warmaid, a lithe Kharsoomian fencer, stood nearby. She tensed as she saw the looks upon our faces, and flinched when Quiyahui slithered through the doorway above us.

"Your Highness, what is--" Rubati started.

Tanyth cut her off. "We have questions for you."

Quiyahui landed, coiling up before Rubati. The serpent reared up, her hood of feathers opening as she softly hissed. Rubati's warmaid's hands went to her weapons, but Shaluvia was quicker, bringing her blade up.

"Stand fast," I warned.

The handmaids screamed.

"Silence!" Tanyth barked. "We have questions. If you answer them, we will not hurt you. But if you resist, you will be slain and we will crush your clan, do you understand?"

"Your Highness," protested Rubati. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You sent the assassin."

Rubati's eyes grew wide. "No! Your Highness, why would I do such a thing?"

"Succession," I said. "With Tanyth gone, with our children gone, you would have the strongest claim to Clan Abibaal."

"Boldisar, I would not do this. I love Prince Hadirseen. I hoped to meet his daughter, and I knew I would not be a mother to her, but I hoped, perhaps, a sister of sorts. I would never harm her!"

"What?" Tanyth faltered.

Rubati turned to my wife. "Do you know how the people speak of you? You are legendary here. And you married a boldisar and a wizard and traveled out of the wastes. He keeps concubines of incredible beauty and power. The children of this family are fat and strong and many in number. And I meet you and you are beautiful beyond description, wise and kind beyond measure. How could I not want to find your favor?"

To non-Kharsoomian ears, her words might sound overwrought and insincere, but such was the way of the Red Wastes. No lie passed her lips. We all realized it. Quiyahui's hood flattened over her neck and she closed her mouth, only the lightning-blue of her tongue flicking into the air.

"You did not do it," Tanyth said.

"By the honor of my clan, I did not. I would never!"

Tanyth was silent for a few heartbeats. "Then I must ask your forgiveness."

Rubati took Tanyth's hands in hers. "No, Your Highness. You are right. I am the obvious culprit, but I would never betray your father. I love him."

"I understand that now."

"Will you try to uncover the villain?"

"We must," I said. "I will not countenance a threat to Tanyth's life."

"Please, if I may assist, I beg to you allow me. Let me prove my friendship, Your Highness."

"You were not behind it," Zhahllaia said. "But those who are might look upon you as a natural ally. If they contact you, make them believe you have common cause. Then tell Princess Tanyth."

"At once," Rubati said.

We left Rubati's room, and I suspect all of us felt the same shame at our mistake. "It really is a love match," I mused.

"So? Ours was as well," Tanyth said.

"Yes, of course but... did your father navigate the Gauntlet of Silk?"

"Bel!" Tanyth managed, horrified.

Lysethe and Zhahllaia, who both had heard the story of my courtship with the Kharsoomian princess, stifled laughter. "I got a look at her handmaids," I said. "Fetching creatures. I can't imagine how man his age could--"

"Bel, please stop!" Tanyth laughed. "I don't want to think of my father that way."

"The Gauntlet tested me," I said. "It probably nearly killed him." All three of us broke into laughter as Tanyth plugged her ears.

The assassin remained a mystery. Plenty of slaves and servants had gotten good looks at his body after Maireili was finished with him, and no one in the castle remembered him. We were left to assume he came in through Eirashtar, and sneaked into the castle itself. Sadly, this was far from impossible.

Tanyth was exhausted. She was due to give birth any day now, and her unwieldy belly weighed her down. I wanted her to slow down, to rest, but Tanyth would not do that while she had something to do. She was the heir of Clan Abibaal, but she might as well have been the leader already.

One evening after a long day, Tanyth came into the bedchamber, looking enervated. The children had been put to bed. A fire burned in the hearth. I lay in the bed, Maireili was pillowed on me, and I stroked her bald head softly, from time to time toying with the points of her ears. Sarakiel knelt on the fur by the fire, orange light playing over her bountiful azure curves. Lysethe massaged her shoulders, an easy intimacy to their touch that had grown during my exile.

Tanyth sighed, sitting on the bed. Kharsoomian beds were more like altars, covered in great piles of furs for comfort. She rubbed her legs. "I wish I were not my father's only child."

"Lysethe?" Sarakiel said, nodding to Tanyth.

"Would you like me to rub your legs, my lady?" asked the witchthrall.

"Please," Tanyth said.

Lysethe knelt on the bed and began to work, her strong fingers kneading Tanyth's muscles. She was the most submissive of my brides, and liked to take such a role in our loveplay. Serving Tanyth in this way was a thrill for her. I watched the attention she paid to the Kharsoomian, every muscle and joint, caressing the hurt and fatigue from her. Lysethe's hands were strong, her touch skilled because she was so eager to bring pleasure in others.

"Thank you, Lysethe," Tanyth said. "I am so tired of responsibility."

"You have chosen the wrong household," Zhahllaia said.

"I know. I wish, just for a moment, I had nothing."

"You have no responsibilities in this room," I said.

Something sparked in her violet eyes. "Do I truly?"

"Nothing at all," Lysethe confirmed. "My lady."

"What if I were not your lady?"

Lysethe frowned. "I don't understand."

"What if I were your slave?"

"What?" I asked. I felt myself hardening.

Tanyth turned to me. "What if I was your bedslave? What would you do with me?"

"If you were Ujaala?"

"No, if you were a crueler sort of master? What would you do to me then?" The room had gone silent. "What would you do to me if I had something?"

"Done what?"

Her eyes flashed. "I was impertinent. In front of a guest. I need to be taught my place." She searched my face. "How would you punish me?"

I was painfully hard now. I wanted to take her, but I also wanted to play this game. For her and for me. My mouth was suddenly dry as I sat up.

"I would make you kneel. On the floor."

Tanyth struggled, her pregnant belly slowing her. Lysethe assisted her, getting her from the bed to kneel on the floor. I believe she wanted this as much as Tanyth and I did. "I am sorry, my lord," Tanyth said.

I pushed the furs aside, my turgid staff springing into view. I stepped out of bed, putting myself in front of her face. "You will need to prove it to me."

"You want my mouth?" She licked her lips, showing me just how delightful that would be. I envisioned myself pushing between her eager lips, her tongue bathing me in exquisite lashes.

"I do," I said, my voice suddenly rusty. "But I want it for my wife. Maireili, spread your legs for Tanyth."

The ghoul broke into a sharp-toothed grin. She moved to the edge of the bed, her lithe, muscled form a delicious contrast to Tanyth's pregnant curves. Maireili spread her long, smooth legs. The lips of her orchid were open, the blue petals of her sex on display, shining with her juices. Her autumnal scent danced through the air.

"Your wife?" Tanyth said, her violet eyes wide.

"Pleasure my bride. I want to hear her scream."

"As you wish, my lord."

Tanyth went to Maireili on her knees. She placed her hands on the ghoul's knees, running them up her thighs. She leaned in, ready to explore, then paused, her breath close enough to tickle Maireili's wet folds. She looked into the ghoul's eyes, a coquettish expression on her lovely face. "My lady, may I?"

Maireili sucked in a shivery breath. Though she had the teeth of a predator, and her black-in-black eyes could be uncanny, her expression was sweetly innocent, filled with a smoky desire. "You may," she managed. Then, quietly, "Slave."

Tanyth trembled at the epithet. She licked her lips once more, then leaned in. Maireili was silent in her pleasure, rocking her hips forward into Tanyth's explorations. They were a lovely contrast, Tanyth with her crimson skin and glossy black hair, Maireili hairless, gray-skinned, with a blush of blue. I was momentarily surprised by Tanyth's obvious skill before I was reminded of the fact that for the first nineteen years of her life, Tanyth's loveplay had been exclusively with women, first her handmaids and then her warmaid.

Her skill was undeniable, as Maireili's lovely face was locked in a mask of bliss, her body undulating. Her claws tangled in Tanyth's hair, her smooth flesh shone with fresh perspiration, her eyes shut. Zhahllaia, Lysethe, Sarakiel, and I watched their display. Sarakiel toyed with a nipple, Zhahllaia's fingers dipped between her golden petals.

Tanyth did not play for long. She slid a hand between Maireili's legs, and the ghoul gasped as she was penetrated. Tanyth's lips found Maireili's hard pearl and soon the ghoul's body surrendered to quakes as the bliss tore through her.

Tanyth sat up, wiping her face. "My lord? May I have your staff? I wish to show you how sorry I am."

"I have more than one wife," I said.

Sarakiel did not look at me. Her time with Lysethe had taught her to find joy in dominance, and despite her retiring demeanor, in the bedchamber she was the most controlling of my wives. She needed no encouragement for this game. "Lay on your back, slave," she said.

Tanyth sighed happily as she lay back. Her belly was a great hemisphere. Below, her sex was shiny with her juices, lines of wetness dripping down her thighs.

"Now beg me," Sarakiel said. "Beg for a taste of my flower."

Tanyth broke into a wide smile. "Please, mistress. Grant me one boon. Grant me the taste of you. And if you want to smother me, let me die happy."

"Good girl," Sarakiel said, her indigo eyes flashing with desire. She knelt over Tanyth's face, and soon the Kharsoomian's lovely features were buried beneath the darkling's curves. Sarakiel's rolling of her hips was brutal, her tail raised, flicking back and forth in arousal. She paused, lifting her sex from Tanyth's face for a moment to say, "Are your fingers broken, girl?"

"No, mist--" the rest was cut off as Sarakiel sat down again. Tanyth brought her hands up, and I was greeted to the decadent sight of a crimson finger probing Sarakiel's puckered rosebud. It popped in to the first knuckle, and Sarakiel whimpered happily. She gyrated over Tanyth's face, her hands at her breasts. Bliss would come to her soon, and I was not sure how long I could hold off my own pleasure.

At that moment, a child's cry split the air. Everyone froze. "Carry on," I sighed, getting up and donning my loincloth. "I will return as soon as I can."

I checked on the children to find that little Sabrael had awakened in the night. I cleaned her with a spell, calmed her, and sang the song that had never failed to get the others to sleep, The Blind Knight and the Dragons Three. After three renditions, she fell asleep again. I kissed her, replaced her in bed, checked on the other three, and returned to the bedchamber.

Sarakiel and Maireili lay in bed, entwined, both with satisfied expressions on their lovely features. Across from them, Lysethe was on all fours, her haunches lifted high, her cheek pressed into the bed. Tanyth was behind her, spreading the snowy buttocks, her tongue buried in the witchthrall's rosebud. Zhahllaia watched, her gold-flecked eyes wide with desire, her agile fingers between her legs.

"I gave the order," Sarakiel said. "I understand the game."

I dropped my loincloth once again, hardness returning to my staff, and joined her and Maireili, kissing first darkling, then ghoul. "I think you might understand the game better than I."

"You have not yet finished, husband," Maireili's silken grasp upon my staff.

"I know, love. I'm saving something for fair Tanyth."

"Who?" Sarakiel asked sternly.

"For our disobedient bedslave."

Lysethe's frow furrowed as Tanyth's tongue found some new and wonderful place. The Kharsoomian's slender fingers worked between Lystehe's ghostly folds, in counterpoint to the undeniable skill of her mouth. Lysethe broke with a ragged cry, biting the furs beneath her to keep from screaming again. Tanyth stood back, a triumphant grin on her face. A shadow passed over her features, but was swiftly gone.

I stood from the bed, joining Tanyth at its foot. My staff strained against all arousal. I needed her like I never had before. I caressed her face, my hand creeping into her hair. My fingers curled around the glossy black and I forced her to her knees. I admit, I enjoyed this new game of hers. By the light in her eyes and her scent hanging heavily over the room, it was obvious she liked it as much as I.

"Open your mouth, slave."

She complied without discussion. I placed the turgid head of my staff at her lips. Her tongue flicked out, collecting the bead of moisture at the head of me. Her breath caressed me, her lips brushing my sensitive flesh. Her violet eyes met mine, and we were locked together.

I entered her slowly, inexorably. I fed her inch by inch of me, never pausing to let her grow accustomed to me. Her mouth opened, her lips wrapping around my thick shaft, her tongue pinned to the bottom of her mouth. This was not about the subtlety of sensation. This was about taking her, of giving both of us the fantasy I never knew I wanted.

Saliva flooded into her sweet mouth, washing over me, dripping from her lips and slathering over my length. She was hungry that night. I felt the petal-like caress at the back of her throat and pushed past without ceremony. She shuddered once, gagging on me, but game was more powerful. Her throat opened for me, and I took it. Tears sprang to her eyes but they could not douse the fire within them.

I pulled myself from her and she coughed, sticky strings of saliva falling from her lips. She opened her mouth, ready for me to take her again. Yet this was not my aim. This was her game, but it had spiraled past her control. I had my own aims that would no longer be denied.

I pulled her to her feet, letting her steady herself. The immanent birth of our twins robbed her of her grace. I might have been rougher if not for that, and as this became part of our loveplay, I would.

"On the bed," I said. "On all fours, slave."

"Yes, my lord," she said, climbing up onto the bed. Sarakiel, Lysethe, and Maireili were all entangled there now, watching with bright eyes. I gave Tanyth a slap. She squealed, looking at me in disbelief. Fire danced in her violet gaze. "Was I bad?"

"You were not fast enough."

"My lord, if I displease you, you should not hesitate. I am a disobedient slave and only such harsh measures will teach me respect."

I moved up behind her. She raised her haunches as much as her pregnant belly would allow. Her folds were shiny, calling to me. Her musk was heavy in the air between us. But that was not my goal. My gaze was drawn to the burgundy ring staring at me from between the hemispheres of her buttocks. Because she and I had been trying to conceive a child for so long, the Arthan pleasures had been unavailable to me. Tonight, I would take them. My staff dripped with her spit. I took mercy on her and whispered an incantation, covering myself with grease.

"My lord?" she murmured, hearing the soft words of magic I spoke.

I slapped her buttocks hard, leaving my handprint on the crimson flesh. She squealed again, that turned into a purr as I caressed the hurt. "There is but one way for a disobedient slave to please her master," I said.

I pushed into her. She uttered a low moan, animalistic in its need, as I filled her. As with her mouth, I did not hesitate. She clenched, stopping me for moments, but I heard her breathing deeply, and she would loosen just enough for me to take a little more of her. She ignited me, impossibly tight, milking me without even moving.

I was buried halfway. The sight of my spear impaling her most secret part inflamed me. I slapped her again, hard. The force of the strike vibrated through her body, tingling over my sex, through her supplicant form. It loosened her again, and I fell in. She whimpered, turning her head. Her eyes were shut, tears at their corners, her teeth worrying her lip. I hit her again, and it freed another ragged moan from her throat.

She took every last inch of me, holding me tightly in a decadent embrace. I pushed my hand into her hair, taking a handful and pulling as I thrust. Already at my hilt, she whimpered again as I pushed deeper into her bowels.

I slapped her again, and then I began to rock. She began to shiver. The tremor started in the tight ring holding me, then radiating outward, like the ripples in a pond. They rebounded through her, joining, echoing, growing. Each one of my thrusts, taking her fully. Her shivers were tremors then they were quakes. The sounds she made, the sweet, decadent sounds, were music. Whimpers, whines, moans, grunts, a symphony of animal pleasure wrung from my taking of her.

I hit her every time she slowed, and every time, it started the cascade once again. She had found her bliss, again and again, taken to a place beyond thought. Her beauty was too much for me. Tanyth was always a vision, but something about her haggard and humbled, broken and blissful, ignited the fire in me like nothing else could. I pushed into her brutally, lifting her with my power. The pleasure caught.

And then broke. I filled her. The bliss that had been brewing in me since watching her pleasure Maireili, tore through me like a cyclone. Every part of me screamed in white hot ecstasy. I felt like the thunderhead of a vast storm, rain flowing from me in endless gouts. She thrashed and moaned, the bliss refusing to let her go.

Finally, I came back to myself, my breath heavy in my lungs, holding onto her hips. I softened, still inside her, coming free with a thick drip of pearl. Tanyth's body shook, and she kept crying out. I was momentarily concerned, that our loveplay had broken something inside her. Her fists balled in the furs, her haunches up. Her burgundy hole drooled a thick stream of white.

"Tanyth?" I asked.

In a tiny voice, she managed in Eomet, gasping, "Fetch the midwife."

"What?"

"The midwife! I think the babies are coming!"

I cursed, a far more prosaic invocation to the gods who no doubt found this funny. I sprinted from the room, not bothering with clothing. It was, after all, Kharsoom and I had no time to waste. I pounded at the door of the guest chamber where the midwife was staying. She opened it, her wizened face puffy with sleep.

"It's happening, isn't it?"

"Yes, madam. The babies are coming."

"I'll get my things," she said. A moment later, she emerged with a basket and pressed it into my arms. "You carry. What happened?"

"We were finishing our loveplay," I said, "and she told me she was giving birth."

"That is known to happen. A woman who finds her bliss will often enter labor. Seems to be the kick the body needs sometimes. She is more than ready. Your children will be fine."

The midwife bustled into the room to find Tanyth on the bed, being attended to by my other wives. I had a momentary surge of embarrassment, as the miasma of our love hung low in the room. The midwife never reacted, immediately taking the basket from me and going to Tanyth's side.

"You," she said to me, "the father's task is the ones who are already born."

"I will join you, Bel," said Sarakiel.

The two of us quickly donned loincloths and went into the children's room. Malycent sensed our presence, as she awakened and crawled into my lap. "Why are you here, Papa?"

"Mama Tanyth is bearing your new brothers or sisters."

"I want sisters. Somebody I can play with. Belazei almost never wants to play."

"We will soon see." I thought I would stay awake, but I was exhausted, and the peaceful breathing of my daughter soon lulled me to sleep.

Tanyth bore the twins, Abilyth and Belyth the following midday. The midwife performed her task admirably, and both Lysethe and Maireili provided assistance. Zhahllaia emerged from time to time to keep Sarakiel and me updated as we played with the children.

"Your children are healthy," the midwife announced.

"Thank all the gods, living and dead," I breathed, embracing Sarakiel.

"Princess Tanyth is strong."

I found my exhausted bride cradling the twins. Clan Abibaal's healer tended to her. "I need to get up," she said. "There is wedding business to be done."

"You will rest, my love. I will slay any who attempt to get you to do anything. Zhahllaia, speak to Hadirseen and Rubati and tell them that Tanyth is well, but needs rest. Lysethe, please perform what physical tasks she needs done. Maireili and Sarakiel, if you could help me with the children? And Tanyth, go to sleep."

"You are not my master anymore," Tanyth said, and then she yawned. "They are beautiful, aren't they?"

"As perfect as their mother," I said, kissing Tanyth's clammy forehead.

Tanyth recovered over the following days. She was out of bed sooner than I would have liked, but far later than she wanted. I called that a victory. Messengers began to arrive, bearing letters. Every clan she had called upon had agreed to attend the wedding, and would be arriving within the month.

With the diplomatic arrangements made and her body healed enough to travel, Tanyth made another announcement to us one morning. "I need to go to Deszu."

There was only one reason to go there. "Tanyth, you're not buying more slaves," I said.

"I most certainly am. After the assassination attempt, every one of us needs a warmaid."

Sarakiel and I argued against, while Zhahllaia, Lysethe, and of course Tanyth were strongly in favor. Maireili, as was her wont, had no strong opinion either way. Sarakiel made the case that she had Fidget, the tiny bird-creature figurine that I had left her with before going to war. Tanyth argued that there was no substitute for a warmaid, and Zhahllaia pointed out that Fidget needed to be activated, which took time.

Eventually, we settled on a compromise. Tanyth, Zhahllaia, Sarakiel, and the children would have warmaids. Lysethe and Maireili didn't need them. I didn't like the idea of owning yet more people, but the Red Wastes were cruel. I wanted the more vulnerable members of my family receiving guards before Eirashtar was filled with rival clans, one of whom had already made an attempt on Tanyth.

Tanyth informed Shaluvia that she would be purchasing a new warmaid.

"I understand, Your Highness. I have grown old. I am no longer what I was."

"You are young enough," Tanyth said. "Give me your collar."

"Mistress," she protested.

"Shaluvia."

The warmaid hesitated, then took the collar from her neck. A faint scar remained where the collar had rested all these years.

"You are free, Shaluvia. And now, I beg you to remain with us, to be our captain of the guard. Our family is growing, and we need a wise and clever warrior to lead our forces."

A relieved smile lit Shaluvia's face. She dropped to one knee. "I will serve you until my death, Your Highness."

"Good. Now you will come with us to Deszu. I value your counsel when it comes to buying warriors."

I insisted Tanyth travel with Lysethe this time as a bodyguard, and she agreed. Tanyth also insisted on taking Arkohnus, Faustan, and Malycent with her, and I agreed to that, as I would not have time to tutor the boy, and Lysethe would. Leaving the twins was difficult for the Kharsoomian, but Sarakiel took over as wet nurse for the time she would be away. Poor Sarakiel would have to feed three nursing babies for the duration of the trip to Deszu.

I spent all my time with my younger children. My three little daughters. There was little to do with them, other than walk them about, feed them, and change them. They took to sleeping in Quiyahui's coils, the feathered serpent watching over them protectively. "I'm glad they will grow up so close in age," I mused one day while they were napping.

An exhausted Sarakiel said, "Indeed. And I'm glad Tanyth won't be gone forever."

"They are sleeping," I pointed out, caressing her thigh.

She yawned. "Find Maireili then. And for the love of whatever gods you hold dear, don't put a child in her."

The first of the clans arrived while Tanyth was still away. Clan Basha entered the gates one morning with Clan Laqip at their heels. Their leaders, Nindintu and Halzuu had been among Tanyth's failed suitors, but their clans had not the status of Clan Bazaya. They were more eager to let bygones be bygones and once again affirm the friendship between clans.

I watched them, wondering if they had sent the assassin, but I saw no evidence of it. They greeted me with the proper respect, with only Halzuu inquiring if I had once been known as Farmer. A confused Maireili asked me about the name, and I had to tell that story. She was no less confused at the end.

Tanyth returned from Dezsu just ahead of the arrival of Clan Jebel. I joined her down in the courtyard, embracing her. She swept the twins into her arms, vowing to never leave them again. Malycent demanded to be picked up as well, and after many kisses and juggling of children, she was ready to show the results of her trip.

First came the three warmaids, disembarking from the wagon. Lash, a half-orc, would guard the children. Kiatet, a Kharsoomian fencer, would be Tanyth's. Astar, another Kharsoomian, would guard Zhahllaia's lamp, and indeed took to wearing it upon her belt. Lastly, Tlotl, a woman from the Ocaital, would serve Sarakiel. If she had issue with protecting a darkling, she gave no sign.

"They are still wearing their collars from the market," Tanyth said. "We will need to get proper feathered serpent ones."

I sighed. "As you wish."

"I had harnesses made for everyone, as proper attire for the wedding." Itzamatul produced one of the leather harnesses at her mistress's command. Feathered serpents and scorpions had been worked into the leather. "The others need some kind of symbol. Zhahllaia's lamp is obvious, but I will need to discuss with them. Heraldry is important." A quintet of comely women in collars disembarked, Ku-Aya in the lead. "Ku-Aya, take them to chambers. They likely have tasks immediately."

"Who were they?" I asked.

"We are about to have many guests. My father has but one bedslave. I had to get him a proper harem."

"He does not use them."

"For hospitality's sake he must have them. After this? They can entertain one another."

"You must be tired from your trip."

"I am, but I have someone else I want you to meet. Ku-Tala?"

A petite Kharsoomian woman that could not have been older than Tanyth was when she met, stepped from the carriage. She was absolutely lovely, clad only in her collar. "Who is this?" I asked.

"Her name is Ku-Tala. She is your new bedslave."

"Tanyth, I didn't ask for a bedslave."

"Nor would you. One bedslave is perfectly fine for a boldisar, but you're a lord. Besides, Ujaala could use the company. This evening, I want you to try her."

"Tanyth, you and Lysethe..."

"Are both tired from the journey. Ku-Tala will slake your lusts."

I looked over at the young woman. She smiled demurely at me. I could not deny that I wanted her. "Ujaala? Would you see to Ku-Tala please?"

"Right away, my lord. I'll prepare her for you?"

"Yourself as well."

Ujaala's smile grew. "At once, my lord." She held a hand to Ku-Tala. "Come this way, my dear."

Sarakiel watched me. "You say you don't like this, but I saw how you looked at her."

"I am a fool first."

"That you are." She sighed. "At least you won't be siring a child on her. I cannot nurse any more of them."

"There is one more thing," Tanyth said, moving close to Sarakiel and I. "I bought something else."

"Is a cyclops about to emerge from that carriage?"

She laughed. "Lysethe wanted to buy a cyclops for you, Sarakiel. I had to remind her that one would not fit." A blush crept into her cheeks. "No, it is something else."

"What, my love?" I asked.

"This." She held up a simple slave collar, iron, the kind one slave of many might wear.

"What is that for?"

"Me," she said, her eyes flashing.

Sarakiel broke into a smile. "Get your rest. We'll want to use that soon."

Tanyth kissed her on the cheek, then me. "Good," she said, going inside, leaving a faint waft of her musk behind.

The other clans arrived one by one soon after that. Tanyth had hired a few boldisars, as well as purchased more guards in Deszu. She was spending liberally, and I knew Sarakiel had been assisting her family's finances, but not this much. Tanyth clearly believed that this wedding was more of an investment than anything else.

We returned to our investigations, trying to ferret out a motive from our guests. Though there were some minor diplomatic hurts, Tanyth was able to assuage them. I believe it helped that she had borne heirs to the clan. The marriage was fruitful, and I had the appearance of success by Kharsoomian measures. A wife, four lovely if strange concubines, two bedslaves, a noble title, a boldisar past, a fine weapon, and a companion beast all pointed to my status. They could not argue with a match like me, and so forgave the past.

Some of the guests recognized me as Farmer the Blackspear. Some knew me only as the outlander husband of the fair Tanyth. I played my role well, advised by Zhahllaia. I was the barbarian, only controllable by my wife. I was an exotic, potentially dangerous, but well-mannered enough to respect. Tanyth was our family's face, our voice.

Clan Bazaya's arrival was tense, but Tanyth smoothed things over. She complimented Sharbat's bride extravagantly, and quietly hid her handmaids from the prince's eyes. Sharbat greeted me, and I paid him his due. The irony was that in everything going smoothly, we were no closer to learning who sent the assassin.

The day of the wedding came and we assembled early, making our way up the tower in the frigid dark of night. Tanyth, as heir to the clan, would be at her father's back. Hadirseen honored our family by inviting not only Tanyth's husband, but my concubines and children to join him at the top of the tower. That day all of us wore our harnesses. We would have to be Kharsoomians. Sarakiel was unsure, but her beauty was undeniable, and the others all praised her. I carried Ur-Anu, the Blackspear, called Fate. In my other hand, I held Belyth, my baby. The two roles I played in Kharsoom, boldisar and patriarch.

We waited at the top of the tower, under the banner of the purple scorpion. Hadirseen shifted his weight from foot to foot, excited about his impending nuptials. He was nude, lacking even the meager harness we wore. Other than my household, he was surrounded by the elites of his house.

As the sun rose, the tread of Rubati's entourage echoed up the stairs. Unlike mine had been, this was full, the true show of force of a Kharsoomian clan. They emerged onto the top floor, Rubati at the head. She was as naked as Hadirseen, the Kharsoomian tradition finding its purest expression. One must meet one's mate without artifice.

Rubati was beautiful. A Kharsoomian princess could be no less, though she paled before the loveliness of Tanyth. But I am, as always, a fool.

"Hail Rubati of Clan Adonyah," Hadirseen said, his voice filled with an eager love that touched my heart.

"Hail Hadirseen of Clan Abibaal," Rubati responded, her voice a mirror of his. "I come to take you as my husband." Her delegation marched to the other side of the tower, standing with their backs to the west.

"Will you take my clan as your own? Will you take up arms for me? Will you bear my bloodline?"

"Joyously. Will you take my family as your own? Will you take up arms for me? Will you sire my bloodline?"

"Proudly," Hadirseen said. "Come to me, my lady wife. Kneel a noble of Clan Adonyah."

Rubati obediently strode forward. In her eyes I saw love, and every woman, every person, is beautiful when they are in love. She knelt, her face level with her lord husband's staff. I knew that they had not lain together, and I wondered how badly they wanted to. I would not mention that to Tanyth. I found her squeamishness amusing. Kharsoomian society is so pervasively sexual, it was easy to forget their often conservative mores.

Tanyth handed her father a diadem. A scorpion sat on the brow, its tail encircling an amethyst. He set it on her brow. "Rise a Princess of Clan Abibaal, the bearer of an ancient bloodline."

She rose, then intoned. "Kneel a son of Kharsoom, a lord of ancient blood and glorious lineage."

He knelt. She produced his crown, one that matched not only hers but the one Tanyth wore as well. She placed it upon his brow. "Rise a Prince of Kharsoom, joined to a woman who will kill and die for him."

He rose, smiling. "We were two. Now we are one. Kiss me, my wife."

They kissed, and a cheer erupted from the assemblage. This union was perhaps a strange one, but it was joyous. Love could be nothing else. As the cheers died, a distant clamor lingered on, like an echo that had not died. We looked about, confused.

"Beyond the wall," said Zhahllaia, pointing.

I followed her finger. In the delicate morning light, I saw an army.

The dry lakebed at the edge of Eirashtar was filled with a host marching upon us. Even standing in the distant tower, I glimpsed their banner flapping in the breeze. Suddenly, I knew who had sent the assassin and why they had been impossible to find.

"Clan El comes to make war on Clan Abibaal," I said.

"Clan El?" Prince Hadirseen asked, holding his wife. I saw no fear in her azure eyes. She was a lady of Kharsoom, likely as handy with a blade as he.

"Their hawk flutters over the lakebed. I see others as well. Their allies. Muster your forces and meet me on the walls. The Dreadstorm will greet them."

I handed Belyth to Tanyth and kissed her. "Show them their folly, my love," murmured my bride.

I went to the edge of the tower, where the arches opened out into oblivion. Below, soldiers had begun to move about the courtyard. For all his faults, Prince Enlilbanipal of Clan El was a clever man. He had masked his approach with the night and was upon us before we could send our outriders to pick away at his forces.

With a soft word, I summoned a wind. It picked me up, carrying me from the tower, over the castle and city, down to the wall. I was still learning this particular spell. I could only go largely down, and relatively slowly and clumsily. Yet it retained the power to impress, especially with my serpent flowing about me and the spear Ur-Anu in my hand.

I alighted next to the city guards already massing on the ramparts. The force was a small one, not the equal to the host outside.

"Don't be frightened, brave warriors of Eirashtar. These curs have never faced a wizard," I said.

A murmur swept along the ramparts. My name, "Lord Belromanazar," repeated like an invocation.

"Today, lads, I am the Dreadstorm, here to visit terror and death upon the enemies of Clan Abibaal."

Other banners flapped among the crimson hawks of Clan El. Allied clans. My eyes found one in particular, a bronze urok on a field of green. The sigil of Clan Sesamhat, my former enslavers. I gripped Ur-Anu, my rage turning as cold as a sudden storm. Quiyahui curled about me, her elegant form a ribbon of iridescent feathers. She opened her hood and hissed, her lightning blue eyes flashing.

The host was a grand one for the Red Wastes. The bulk were the fighting men of Kharsoom, lightly armored, carrying spears and shields. Outriders on qobads guarded the flanks. Cylcopes shock troops, marching beneath the hawk of El, made up the center. This was the most impressive army I had ever seen assembled in Kharsoom.

It was nothing against the endless might of the Heacharids. I stood before them, clad in nothing but the harness that was a gift from my lady wife and my familiar. The heat of the sun had only just begun to banish the frigid night. I thought we could use a breeze.

I spoke the words of magic, words that had no meaning to me when I was last in the Red Wastes. Now they were once again a part of me. They hummed through me like blood, turning to cloud, blooming with thunder. My spine ignited like lightning. The wind rose, brushing the long, greasy black hair of the Kharsoomians about their shoulders.

"Farmer!" called a voice from the host. It belonged to Prince Enlilbanipal. I found him at the vanguard. Next to him was Prince Zahudmammu, my old master. I loathed both men and knew that they would be dead before the sun hit its zenith. Cornering a wizard is like catching a jagkru by its frill. A momentary victory that would only end in pain.

"Your Highness," I called back. "Welcome to Eirashtar. If you leave now, I will forget that we are enemies. I will forget you sent an assassin for my wife. I will forget you. This I vow. Stay, and you will be remembered only in a tally of the dead."

"You are a fool, Farmer. Look at the host I have assembled. I have ten times the men you have inside. And I brought your master here too. He wishes to see you suffer for the humiliation you visited on his clan."

"He can join you in death."

"There are but two endings to this, Farmer. You will surrender Princess Tanyth to me and yourself to my cousin. We will quit this place. We will leave Clan Abibaal intact and take none of its lands. Or you can oppose us. We will rape Eirashtar. We will slaughter every adult and enslave every child. We will take you and Princess Tanyth and you will end your lives in unspeakable agony at the end of a lash. Now, fetch my cousin, Prince Hadirseen, and let me convey these terms to him."

Rain fell. It was a hot, Kharsoomian rain, turning the red dirt into a gummy, crimson mud. Thunder rolled over the lakebed. My storm roiled within me, my flesh growing light like cloud, my heartbeat crackling with lightning. Murmurs passed through both forces. A rainstorm in the Red Wastes was a rare thing, and the first water fell from clear, flat blue Kharsoomian sky.

I watched Enlilbanipal and Zahudmammu looking at the sky in confusion. They had forgotten an important thing. They came to hunt a boldisar, but they had found a wizard.

I raised Ur-Anu aloft, calling in the eldritch language of magic. Lightning stabbed from the sky, lancing into Fate's obsidian blade. I flung my hand outward, the lighting lancing into the advancing army.

I will not bore you with the tale of that battle. It was a minor one, all told. All battles were minor in the waning days of Kharsoom. What mattered was that both Clan El and Clan Sesamhat lost their princes that day and each resorted to a bloody struggle to choose an heir. They were irrevocably weakened.

Meanwhile, Clan Abibaal had routed its enemies on the field of battle, and had great cisterns of water to trade. Unimaginable wealth in the wastes. I called it a wedding gift to my father-in-law. He showered me in praise, though after that, his bride was wary of me.

The other clans now saw what the man who had wooed the incomparable Princess Tanyth was capable of, and were eager to align themselves with Clan Abibaal. I had given the old man a wedding present deserving of the esteem I held for his daughter.

In the fullness of time, Hadirseen and Rubati had several children, founding the Rubatian line of Clan Abibaal. They would never take leadership from the Tanythian line, and to Rubati's credit, she never tried. In the fullness of time, when my daughter Abilyth returned to Kharsoom to take leadership of the clan, her cousins would be her most loyal aides.

We stayed in Kharsoom until the twins were big enough to travel, and only then did we return to Castellandria. It felt strange, to have defeated the two great enemies of my time in Kharsoom in so easy a fashion. I looked at it as a sign. I was no longer a wanderer, no longer a mere warrior. I was a wizard now, with the power to change the course of wars. The idea of the Deadwall had germinated. Now I knew it could succeed, had I the will.

I would soon find out.