“Of course, if Kalianah was up to something while you’re at the Citadel making certain the demon child has a spine, you’re not going to know about it until she’s standing over you, smiling that annoying little smile, asking you if you love her.”
“Kalianah would not dare interfere. She knows what is at stake.”
“She made R’shiel and Tarja fall in love. That’s interference where I come from. If Kalianah gets the better of you, R’shiel won’t be tempered, she’ll be mooning about like a lovesick cow.”
One of the advantages of trying to manipulate a god was their total inability to comprehend anything other than their own natures. Zegarnald knew what love was in a theoretical sort of way, he even tolerated it, but he didn’t understand it. Brak’s prediction sounded quite plausible to him.
“I will put a stop to her interference at once!”
“You do that, Divine One. In the meantime, let me out of here and I’ll make certain R’shiel doesn’t fall for Xaphista’s devious —”
“Don’t push me, Brakandaran. You will stay here until I have dealt with Kalianah. And don’t bother to call any of my brothers or sisters. They will not hear you unless I will it.”
The War God vanished, leaving Brak alone in the half-world between reality and dreams. He looked down on R’shiel and found her sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up and her head resting on them, her whole posture radiating abject misery. He tried reaching out to her again, but he knew it was useless. Until Zegarnald released him there was nothing he could do to help her.
The demon child was on her own.
Chapter 51
Loclon stood before the full-length mirror in the First Sister’s apartments and studied Joyhinia’s naked body curiously. It was a pity she was so old, he mused, although he supposed the body was quite well preserved for a woman approaching late middle age. The once full breasts sagged disappointingly. The hips and thighs were thickened by age, and her skin was showing signs of decay.
There was little joy to be had from this body in any case. Pleasures that normally had him stiff with anticipation seemed like far-away memories. He recalled the desire but did not really feel it. The woman’s body he inhabited seemed to dampen his maleness. It was as if such thoughts could not thrive in this female form.
But if sexual pleasure was denied him, there were other compensations. The power he wielded as First Sister left him breathless. Of course, there was a limit to what he could achieve at the moment. Lord Terbolt and his priests hovered around him like vultures over a fresh corpse, but that would end soon. He would toe the line for now, but once the Kariens left the Citadel, he would be in control. Loclon smiled coldly. If they thought the old Joyhinia had been a tyrant, the citizens of Medalon would lack the words to describe the new one.
He had a long list of victims who would suffer at the First Sister’s hands once he had a free rein. Men who had slighted him; women who had scorned him; all of them would pay.
He would start with Tarja Tenragan.
Fortunately, this coincided with the Kariens’plans and the order would be issued today, under the First Sister’s seal. A courier would take it to Lord Jenga in the north as soon as the ink was dry. It would demand that Tarja Tenragan be arrested immediately and handed over to the Kariens to stand trial for the murders of Lord Pieter and the priest Elfron. Loclon would have preferred to take a more personal hand in Tarja’s demise, but the Kariens were planning to burn him alive. It was a very satisfying thought; his pleasure diminished only slightly by being unable to witness the event.
There were others too, who would feel his wrath, but they could wait. With Tarja accounted for, he must take care of R’shiel. Unfortunately, his chance at her had a deadline.
When Terbolt left the Citadel, R’shiel would go with him, willingly or not. He felt betrayed by the Kariens’plans for R’shiel. They had promised him revenge and then denied him. R’shiel was a prisoner, granted, but she was hardly suffering. She was fed regularly and well, and treated with cautious respect by Terbolt and his priests. The collar that circled her neck caused her pain only if she tried to touch her Harshini power, and she appeared to have learnt that lesson very quickly. All in all, her incarceration was remarkably comfortable and not at all what Loclon had in mind. If he was going to do something about the bitch, he would have to do it soon.
Conveniently, the Kariens were creatures of habit. Xaphista was a demanding god, and every day at sunset, when the mysterious Dimming began in the Citadel, they would gather in the apartments Lord Terbolt had seconded and pray for at least an hour. For that hour, R’shiel was guarded by only two Defenders and as First Sister, he could order them about with impunity. He sighed contentedly. It was almost sundown. By the time he was dressed Terbolt, Garanus and their companions would be on their knees at their devotions. He knew the folly of killing R’shiel, but for an hour at least, he could take the revenge he felt he so richly deserved.
She was standing by the window when he arrived, her exquisite profile limned by the sunset. Her glorious dark red hair was loose. It hung past her waist and had obviously been brushed until it shone – she had little else to fill her days. She wore dark, supple leathers that hugged her lithe body. Had he still been a man, the very sight of her would have aroused him. That had always been his mistake in the past. He had let his lust for this woman rule his head. But not this time. This time he inhabited a woman’s body and the desire that had betrayed him in the past was nothing more than a shallow echo.
R’shiel turned at the sound of the door and stiffened at the sight of him.
“What do you want?” She sounded annoyed rather than fearful. That would have to change.
“I’ve come to ask you some questions,” he said, placing the large covered birdcage he carried on the floor beside him.
“Ask them from there,” she said, crossing her arms defensively.
“You’re hardly in a position to be giving me orders, R’shiel.”
“And you’re hardly in a position to defy your Karien masters. Does Terbolt know that you’re here? No, of course he doesn’t. He’s at prayer, isn’t he? You’re too craven to dare anything if you thought he might catch you at it.”
Loclon bit back his fury at her scorn. “I’ve no care for what Terbolt thinks.”
“You should have. Have you been to check on your body Loclon? Are you sure it’s well? Are they feeding it? Turning it frequently so you don’t get bedsores? Do you really trust them that much?”
“Stop it!”
She smiled, which was a big mistake. Loclon did not take well to being laughed at. But he would have his fun. Instead of responding to her taunts he pulled the cover from the cage.
R’shiel gasped in horror. The little demon cowered in the centre of the cage, crouched into a tangle of arms and legs, her large black eyes filled with terror.
Loclon saw R’shiel’s expression and knew he had found the perfect way to torment her.
“Funny little creature, isn’t it?”
“Let her go.”
“You know I can’t do that. Aren’t you going to ask how we caught it?”
“I know how you caught it. How are you keeping her there?”
Loclon shrugged. “I’ve no idea. The priests tied the top of one of those staffs to the top of the cage, here... you see... and it does something to the bars. Did you want to see?”
“No.”
“Oh, but you must,” he insisted with a malicious smile.
He poked the creature and it jerked away from him instinctively, but the cage was too small and the movement pushed it back against the metal bars. The creature cried out with pain and jerked back from the bars, only to come up against the bars on the other side, where the agony was waiting for it. The high-pitched screams were most gratifying. It took the creature two or three attempts to curl back up into the ball that kept it away from the bars. When it finally settled down, it was trembling uncontrollably with tears spilling silently from its liquid black eyes.