“He is lustful and licentious,” the woman said grimly, “as greedy for our bodies as a miser for gold. Had he not lost his head in our embraces, he would have kept count of the days and departed in time to be safe. Indeed, if he had not indulged himself so freely with us, I have no doubt he would have had strength enough to run faster and make his escape.”
“No man but a trained athlete at his peak could outrun your young cheetahs,” the man groaned.
“Flattery may have served well you in the boudoir, but it will not aid you now! What of your wife, eh? What has she done these ten days while you dallied with us?”
“I am a bachelor,” the stranger moaned, “and a poor man.”
Balkis found herself wondering what sorts of men would avail themselves of the warrior women's invitation, and began to realize why they mistrusted males. “Many of your visitors may be cads and roues,” she said, “but not this one.”
“It is the law,” the officer grated. “He thought us worth his life—and the bill has come due. Women! Take him to Queen Harikot and let her judge!”
The man gave a moan of despair as the women dragged him away.
“Take the woman to a guest house,” the officer directed, and two women stepped up to either side of Balkis. “Go where they tell you,” the officer said, “or they shall have to bind and carry you.”
Balkis glared at her. “Poor treatment of a guest!”
“Few guests seek to argue the case of a reprobate,” the officer returned, and told the remaining two soldiers, “Escort the young man to the pleasure dome!”
Balkis gave an involuntary cry and started toward Anthony, but hard hands clasped her arms, holding her back. He gave her an uncertain smile and raised his arms to guard.
“You have nothing to fear,” the officer told him, “as long as you keep track of the days, and leave in time to be gone from this land before your nine days are up.”
“But I would need forty-two days to cross your land! I would have to come back here!”
“Do you truly object?” the officer asked with a cynical smile.
“I do indeed! I have come to travel north, not to dally and lose days!”
“You shall abide by the law of the land,” the officer said inexorably, “and even if you did naught but travel, you would still have to leave the Grand Feminie in nine days.” She turned to Balkis. “Come, little sister. You, at least, shall be treated with honor.”
“How can I, when I fear for my Anthony?”
Anthony's head whipped about, eyes staring at her.
“Is he yours, then?” The officer's gaze sharpened. “If he is true, you have nothing to fear—soldiers respect loyalty.”
“I… I cannot truly claim him.” Balkis' gaze faltered and dropped.
“Fear not, sweet one,” Anthony told her, though his voice shook. “I understand loyalty, too.”
“Think of St. Thomas, dear companion,” Balkis said. “We shall see him together!”
“We shall.” Anthony's tone was a promise; then he turned to follow his captors.
Still, as Balkis followed her escort, she wondered when Anthony had become “my Anthony” in her heart.
The guest house was clean and pleasant, fragrant with flowers and with curtained windows—but it was Spartan in its decoration. There were several chairs, two with arms, but none padded, a low table between them, and a low chest for linens and clothing. Against the wall stood a narrow bed which Balkis was sure was almost as hard as the chairs.
As they sat, a young girl came in with a tray containing a tea set. Balkis breathed in the aroma and began to think her spirits might revive—but she was desperately afraid for Anthony. She knew his goodness, but how could any man withstand temptation such as he was bound to confront?
The two soldiers with her sat down, taking off their helmets and shaking out long, lustrous hair with sighs of relief. Balkis was amazed—the one had a mane of rich chestnut, the other of red-gold, both long enough to cover their breastplates.
“It cushions the helmet,” one said, “when we wind it about our heads.”
Balkis realized she had been staring, and looked down at the tea set, but her heart shrank within her. Without the nose-guards to hide their features, and framed by the glory of their hair, their faces were quite beautiful, and judging from the proportions of their cuirasses, she guessed they both had spectacular figures. How could Anthony hold out, indeed!
“Will you pour?” the redhead asked. “For the few days of your sojourn, this is your house.”
Not that she had the option of choosing her guests, Balkis reflected sardonically. “I thank you, soldier, but it is more truly yours. Pour, if you will.”
“Call me Alantha.” The soldier bent forward and poured tea into three small cups without handles. “I trust you like the tea of China.”
“I'm sure that I shall.” Balkis had tasted Chinese tea before and preferred Indian, but she did not feel it would be diplomatic to say so. “I am called Balkis.”
“And I am Illior,” the brunette said. She accepted her cup and sipped. “Why do you travel toward the north?”
“Because I have been kidnapped from my home there and wish to return.”
“Indeed!” Alantha's gaze fairly snapped, her tone hard. “Who stole you away?”
“A sorcerer,” Balkis said.
The two soldiers stared, then frowned. “A man, of course,” said Illior.
“He was, yes—but I think he may have been a woman's pawn.”
“Why not?” Alantha gave her a hard smile. “They are so easy to manipulate, are they not? Or so we hear.”
“I have not tried it myself.” But Balkis thought of the way she had foisted herself onto the family of Queen Alisande and felt a trace of guilt.
“Why did he mark you for stealing?” Alantha asked.
Balkis shrugged. “I can only guess.”
“Then do.”
Balkis sighed. “Perhaps he, or the woman who sent him, feared that I might steal my cousin's inheritance.”
“Your cousin is the woman?”
“No, but there are several who plan to marry him.”
“Vanity!” Alantha snorted, and Illior said, “Would they not be better advised to make their own way to wealth?”
“That is a difficult undertaking, in our land,” Balkis said.
“In any!”
“True enough.” Balkis frowned at Alantha. “Is it so difficult, then, for a soldier to rise in rank?”
“There are many soldiers,” Illior said simply, “and few officers.”
Balkis nodded with sympathy. “Many soldiers, and all of you brave and valiant. I have heard rumors of you in my homeland—though I confess I did not believe them.”
“They are true enough, I suspect,” Illior said amused. “What do they say of us?”
“That you are furious in war—so courageous and so disciplined that none have ever beaten you.”
Alantha's smile was complacent. “That is true indeed.”
“None at all?” Balkis pressed. “Is not Prester John emperor over all these lands of Central Asia?”
“That he is,” Alantha said, “but even his armies could not defeat our champions in the trial of arms to which he invited them. Nonetheless, all three of the queens of the Grand Femi-nie have allied with him and boast of that alliance, for they found him to be a paragon of morality and integrity, of justice and fair treatment to all. It is even rumored that he has recently found his niece who was lost, and has set her equal to his own son.”
Balkis bit her lip, then said quickly, “Call it alliance though they may, the queens are still his tributaries, when all is said.”
“They are, and the tribute they send him is a score of warrior women to swell his bodyguard.”
So that was where the female bodyguards came from! Balkis knew from experience that they took orders from none but their own captain, scarcely spoke with any of the other soldiers, but were quick enough to talk with merchants and diplomats. She saw instantly that they might be helping to guard Prester John, but were also having an education in commerce, law, and statecraft. No wonder the three queens were willing to send a different score of women every year!