"You should choose first, Coralean said to Iraj. After all, you saved my life."
Safar looked at Iraj. His friend's face was red with lust. Then he saw Safar and smiled. The redness vanished to be replaced with feigned bored interest. Iraj's eyes returned to the courtesans. He looked each one over slowly, shook his head, then passed on to another. Sudden realization clotted in Safar's belly then rose to become a lump in his throat. He knew what Iraj was up to. And then he became angry, certain that for some reason Iraj was about to cheat him of what he desired above all things.
"There seems to be one missing, Iraj said to Coralean. A dark-haired wench."
Those last four words fell like weighty stones into Safar's well of despair.
Coralean frowned. You mean Astarias? he said.
Iraj covered his mouth, hiding an elaborate yawn. Is that her name? he said. Very pretty."
Coralean shifted in his pillows, disturbedand a bit embarrassed. I held her back, he said, because she is still a virgin. I have a dear frienda very rich dear friendI was keeping her for."
Iraj raised his eyebrows as if surprised. Then he shrugged. Well, I suppose that's too much to ask, he said. I wouldn't want to lessen your profit. He gazed at Coralean, his face mild. However it was sheAstarias, you say?I really wanted. But… if it's too much trouble for you… He rose as if to go.
Coralean grabbed Iraj by the arm and drew him back down. Is it not known to all that Coralean is the most generous of men? he said. Especially to one who preserved his most precious possession, his very life? If it is Astarias you desire most, my good friend, then Astarias you shall have. And he clapped his hands and called her name, commanding her presence.
Astarias came into the room, seeming to float through the curtain. Her dark hair was tied back with a white silk band. Unlike the others she wore a robe that covered her from slender neck to ankle. It was also made of white silk and as she walked it flowed over her bodychaste, but still highlighting all the delicate parts of her. She looked at Safar and the most delightful smile graced her features. She took a step forward, thinking she was meant for him.
"No, no, Coralean barked. Not Safar! It's Iraj I promised you to."
Her face fell for an instant and in that moment Safar hated Iraj so much he would have gladly killed him. Then her smile returned, although Safar didn't think it was as bright as before… and she went to Iraj. He laughed and clasped her around the waist, roughly pulling her down.
The caravan master got up. He grinned hugely at the young men. Coralean must attend to his duties as host, he said. Take who you like, Safar. And if you can't make up your mind, let me suggest these two. He pointed at a pair of dark-skinned twins. They've given me more pleasure, I'll warrant, then any other woman here. He clapped Safar on the back and exited.
The twins moved toward the young potter, expectantly. Safar started to turn away, so full of hateful thoughts that he wanted nothing more than to escape.
"Wait, Iraj said.
Safar swiveled, anger plain on his face. Iraj ignored it, pulling away from Astarias shy embrace.
"Go to him, he ordered.
Safar was bewildered. But, I thought…"
Iraj laughed. I know what you thought, he said. I was testing you, don't you see? He grinned at Safar. You didn't do too well with that test, my friend, he said. But maybe it was unfair. So I forgive you for it."
He gave Astarias a gentle push. Go, on, he said. If you stay much longer I'll be helpless to let you leave."
Astarias pealed glad laughter and scurried over to leap into Safar's arms. All his noble intentions vanished as he crushed her to him. Then Safar heard Iraj call his name and broke away, gasping. His friend was standing at the curtain opening, arms around the dark twins.
"Thank you, Safar husked. Coralean might not have agreed if I had asked."
Iraj shrugged. No thanks needed, he said. After all, we both know who the true hero of this night is. He started to exit, pulling the twins with him. Then he stopped. Know this, Safar, he said. From this day forward, all I have is yours."
Safar grinned. And all that is mine, and all that shall be mine, he said, will be yours for the asking."
Iraj grew quite solemn. Do you mean that?"
"I swear it, Safar answered.
Iraj nodded. Remember this night well, Safar, he said. For someday I may come to ask an equal favor."
"And you shall have it, Safar vowed.
"No matter what it is? Iraj asked, his eyes suddenly hard and probing.
"Yes, Safar said. No matter what. And if you should ever test me again, I will not fail you."
And with that covenant he sealed his fate.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sarn was wrongKing Manacia hadn't lied. If the gods had still been watching they'd have been highly entertained by his error. Sarn's final torment, when he believed himself undone by royal betrayal, was a heady-enough brew of misery to satisfy any god's tastes.
In truth, King Manacia waited many anxious months for news of the bandit chief's return. As time dragged on the king became increasingly impatient, paying little attention to the business of state. He even ignored his harem and his wives and courtesans became fearful their master had wearied of them. To combat this they sought out the most beautiful and seductive demon maids to stir his lust. It was to no avail, for the king remained in his throne room until late every night wondering what had become of Sarn and drinking himself into a stupor.
It was difficult for King Manacia to admit failurea condition he'd rarely experienced in his long reign. From the beginning he'd worked patiently, gradually extending his borders until all but a few of the wildest regions had been subjugated. The others had been forced into alliances weighted so heavily on Manacia's side it meant the same thing. Soon all would recognize him as supreme monarch of the demon lands. But this was not enough. The king wanted more.
"It's not as if I do these things for myself, Fari, the king liked to say to his Grand Wazier. The future of all demonkind rests upon my shoulders."
And Lord Fari, who never reminded the king he'd heard these words before, always answered, I thank the gods each eventide, Majesty, they made your shoulders wide and strong enough to bear that holy burden."
The Grand Wazier was a wise old demon of nearly two hundred feastings. Skillful flattery and ruthless intrigue had allowed him to keep his head through four bloody successions to the Zanzair throne.
The king took heart from Fari's reassuring display of fealty, greeting the oft-repeated praise as if it were freshly coined. Then he'd frown, as if overtaken by yet another bleak thought. And he'd sigh, saying, Still, Fari, I'm sure there are some misguided ones in my kingdom who disagree. A few might even think me insane."
He'd sigh again, stroking his long curved horn. And shake his mighty head in sorrow.
"Only speak the names of these heretics, Majesty, was Fari's routine answer, and I shall have their lying tongues plucked from their mouths and their throats filled with hot sand."