Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) (85 page)

I’m just glad we got most of the kids out of here before she arrived.  
Pentandra stifled that mental image before it could take root.  No telling where this party might end up, she reminded herself.

She hasn’t indulged in that level of vice yet,
she answered, frustrated.  
But the longer she goes, the more depraved things get at her bordello.  Not everyone has Arborn’s moral strength to resist their darker urges.

No one
has Arborn’s moral strength,
Minalan agreed, philosophically.  
All right.  I’ll speak to her.  Not that I think I can actually do anything, but I’ll try.  Just as soon as she’s done . . . enticing everyone.

Before he could find her, Lady Pleasure had the minstrels cue up a new piece while she went to the center of the hall.  With her tarts taking positions around her, the music encouraged them to spin and twirl.  That was just a warm-up for the intricately choreographed dance.  Whatever lessons Pleasure had managed to teach the girls had paid off handsomely.  They moved with little effort and a great deal of grace.   And they never lost their smiles throughout the performance.  

Lady Pleasure finished her performance by having her Maidens surround the duke, cooing and fawning over him.  Anguin was clearly enjoying the outpouring of feminine attention, and ended up kissing several of the girls.  After some huddled whispers they continued to amuse the court when the girls scattered in all directions, and the bold “fox duke” chased after their fluttering skirts with obvious intent, all while the girls squealed and laughed.

It was, Pentandra was loath to admit, not only a highly effective performance for the court, but a classic method of boosting a young man’s self confidence cloud-high.  

Female attention was potent magic to a young man.  It provided confidence in bucketfuls, inspired envy from other men and longing and attraction from women.  Female attention could have an amazingly transformative power over a boy, if carefully applied.  She’d seen that repeatedly, thanks to her own research  . . . including with Minalan’s apprentice, Tyndal, a few years ago.  Tyndal had never been quite the same awkward lad after that night.  

What Lady Pleasure was doing here was similar, but instead of using her own body to honor the duke, she was using the multiple bodies of her girls to seduce him from afar with a dazzling array of female attention.  Lady Pleasure never did more than offer the boy a chaste embrace, herself.  But there was never a doubt in Pentandra’s mind who was really in control of the public flirtation as one pretty maiden after another vied for the handsome young duke’s attention.  

Though she was his senior by a lifetime, Lady Pleasure was pleasuring their lad as blatantly as any whore pleased a client in an alley.  And the court was
devouring
the sight hungrily, with great enthusiasm.  The public display of feminine attention - nay, she corrected, feminine
adoration
- served to elevate Anguin’s status among his subjects who witnessed it.  

As she watched the spectacle unfold with an academic eye, Pentandra could almost see the esteem in the eyes of the men in the room, and the desire of the women.  That was only natural, she realized: when social status was reduced to its essence, she knew, it was a measure of sexual potency through social domination.  Putting a virile young lad in front of a crowd of his subjects, and then having him so lavishly fawned over, elicited a fundamental response in those who witnessed it.  It was a display calculated to not only portray the lad as a man in his own right, but one to be envied and desired by those he led.  

Damn Ishi.
 

Despite her anger and frustration, Pentandra could see that she really
had
helped cement the loyalties of the court and his vassals to Anguin.  This was not the timid little Orphan Duke, under the thumb of his advisors . . . this was the
Fox Duke,
clever and canny, bold and arrogant, independent and potent, ready to lead his people into new prosperity and fresh adventures.  A man in his own right . . . according to Ishi.  Lady Pleasure.  
Ishi.

Not everyone was pleased, of course.  There were plenty of courtiers, particularly the older ladies, who were staring circumspectly at the display, slight frowns on their face even as they laughed at the antics of their sovereign.  The twisting and turning limbs of the maidens reminded them of younger days and lighter steps, and the girls’ fresh smiles recalled less complicated, less desperate times in their youth.  Pentandra could feel a palpable resentment beginning to arise among them even as they looked upon their young duke with desire.  

A few of the men shared their disapproval, particularly some of the more conservative clergymen, but the majority were enthusiastically watching the graceful dancers with undisguised arousal and enthusiasm.  Their animalistic desires were working their way to the surface with every flash of ankle or bounce of boob, and the filmy fiction of social propriety was dashed as far older, more primal emotions took hold.  Young, old, noble or common, the masculine reaction to such raw beauty and graceful movement was entirely predictable.  

As the music worked its way into a climax of rhythm and melody, the girls surrounding the Fox Duke managed to use their combined strength to lift him up and carry him in unison to his throne, then kissed the nose of his mask as if he were a cherished pet before bowing and moving away, wistfully looking back over their shoulders.  

The entire court cheered wildly when the music stopped, and Pentandra felt compelled to join them.  The dance had been beautiful, and Anguin’s participation in it was politically masterful.  She might have hated what Ishi was doing here, but she had to admire the way she did it.

“Thus shall even the wildflowers of the Wilderlands’ fields offer their fealty to the Fox Duke!” announced the self-important bitch, formally.  She fawned over the lad like a favorite aunt with unhealthy desires, but Anguin seemed immune to the subtleties of the display. “Let us all support him so as he labors at the challenge of bringing our flaccid realm back to its full and potent form!” she said, eliciting a wildly enthusiastic response from the crowd with her blatant innuendo.

After the musicians turned to more sedate tunes and stately pavannes again ruled the hall, the Maidens broke apart from their mistress and mingled with the guests, bringing their cheer and good nature to each group.  If the Duke’s exposure to the attentions of a comely young girl elevated him, the Maidens now shared a taste of that heady spirit with the spectators with their smiles and flirtations.

It was skillfully done, for though the entire court knew they were merely whores, they were treated as honored and respected guests . . . much to the dismay of a vocal minority.  The Countess Shirlin, in particular, made a point to criticize as many points about the girls as she could, even if she had to make them up.  

While Pentandra earnestly wanted to agree with the conservative old bat and commiserate about Baroness Amandice’s temerity, the more she thought about it the more she wanted to avoid the horrid woman entirely.  And she
had
to keep her away from the Spellmonger.  As moody as Min was being, she figured, the likelihood he’d say or do something stupid and start a conflict between Alshar and the Queen was too great.   He had barely watched the dance, and that just wasn’t like him.

Minalan surprised Pentandra by studiously ignoring Ishi after the dance, while other admirers mobbed Lady Pleasure with acclaim and praise for the successful Wildflower festival.  Instead, practicing a studied indifference, he helped himself to food and wine and caught up with a few old acquaintances.  Of course, Ishi could not
stand
to be ignored, Pentandra saw.  In a short time she sought him out and was soon leading Minalan toward the back of the hall where “lover’s alcoves” were available for intimate conversation.  You had to give the Sealords who had built the palace some credit for practicality.

Once they were out of sight, Pentandra’s real worries began.  She tried to stifle them, tried to distract herself by talking to Alya (who was enchanted) and Arborn (who was laconic, and uneasy in such occasions despite appearing relaxed) but it did little to reduce her anxiety.  The longer Minalan and Lady Pleasure – Ishi – were alone, the more convinced Pentandra was that things were going horribly wrong.  She was seriously considering summoning Everkeen and going to track them down when they finally emerged.

Minalan didn’t look particularly pleased, but neither did Ishi.  He certainly was under no spell of hers, and if her charms had affected his lusty nature, he didn’t show it much.  Instead he continued to ignore Ishi and chat with a few courtiers around the room before he sauntered back over to Pentandra.

“All right, it’s done,” he said, quietly.  He looked terribly tired.

“
What
is?” Pentandra demanded.  “What did you agree to?”

“She’s going to stop screwing with you—poor choice of words – and try to honestly help you.”

Pentandra looked at him in disbelief.  “Really?  You
trust
her?”

Minalan looked a little offended.  “No.  But I
threatened
her.”

“You . . .
threatened
the goddess of love, sex, and beauty?” Pentandra laughed, despite her horror.  Pissing Ishi off was rarely a certain way to a successful future.  The mythology was replete with examples.  “With what?
 Pimples?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minalan dismissed, stiffly.  “I know her weakness and how to exploit it.”

“And remain strangely unaffected,” Pentandra observed.  “What’s gotten into you, Min?  You’re alone with a beautiful and horny sex goddess, and you don’t exploit it?”

“Who would have thought?” he shrugged, tiredly.  “The fact is, I’m a little fed up with women at the moment.  Present company excepted,” he added.  “You and Alya are about the only two I don’t mind at the moment.  Don’t ask me why.”

“I won’t . . . I’m just impressed that you were
able
to stand up to her,” she said, honestly.

“Well, don’t be that impressed.  I’m on the hook to build a temple to her, here in Vorone.  And probably one in Sevendor.”

“Oh.  Well, I suppose that’s a small concession,” she agreed.

“In return, after the festival is over she
will
defer to your judgment and leadership, and do what she can to lend you aid,” he promised.  “I’ve done what I can.  The rest is up to you two to work out.  But if she gets troublesome, let me know and I’ll . . . take care of it.”

Pentandra didn’t want to let the matter drop, but despite her better judgment, she did.  Minalan looked tired.  She saw that despite the formal affair, the costume, the mask, and being locked in intense debate with a wayward goddess – not to mention discovering his wife was under a spell – the night had taken a toll.  

“You should probably get back to Sevendor,” she proposed, slowly.  “You and Alya.  You’ve done your duty here, and done Alshar a great service in doing so.  Thank you for making the appearance.”

“Anything to help,” he promised, though he looked grateful at the thought of escape.  “I really did have a good time,” he added.  “When I’m off of house arrest, I’d like to come back and see more of what you are doing here.”

“What about Alya?” Pentandra asked, nodding toward where the baroness was simply standing and staring into space.

“Oh.  Ishi – Lady Pleasure said she’d take care of it.  She can do that sort of thing, apparently.”

“That’s the least of her powers,” nodded Pentandra.  “Let us pray that she doesn’t decide to use her primal nature.”

Min smiled.  “And just to whom should we pray for that?”

“Good point.  Good night, Min,” she said, as she saw he was preparing to leave.  “You might want to use my chambers for your transportation.  It might be, um, a little showy if you did that sort of thing here.”

He looked around at the gaily colored floral costumes and a matron dressed like an enormous turkey.  “Yes, we wouldn’t want to do anything to attract attention.  Farewell, Penny.  See you at the Conclave.”

After he was gone, Pentandra relaxed through three more cups of wine, until she could look at Ishi’s smiling face without wanting to vomit.  She was aware of how wine could make her belligerent.  Right now, she was embracing that.

But it wasn’t Lady Pleasure who bore the brunt of her ire.  She was angry over what Isily of Greenflower was somehow doing to Minalan . . . whatever that was.  Pentandra just knew Isily
had
to be the culprit, the one making Minalan so melancholy.  With all of his troubles in Sevendor of late, she seemed to be the one most likely behind the plots he faced.  

Pentandra hated that – she’d always been wary of Isily of Bronwyn, even before she knew she was a trained assassin.  She was the kind of woman other women learned to fear, if they were wise.  Her ambitions were high, but murky.  Now that she’d married Baron Dunselen, and was Isily of Greenflower, now, she had secular power as well as arcane power.  Considering Prince Tavard’s dislike of Minalan and magi in general, Pentandra had no doubt that Isily would use that as leverage to get what she wanted.  Whatever that might be.

The disturbing thing was, Pentandra suspected that what she wanted –
who
she wanted – was Minalan.  She’d always been ambitious, but her recent successes had clearly fueled those ambitions beyond reason.  With the protection of the Queen in addition to her personal resources, Pentandra could foresee Isily becoming a powerful force in the politics of both the Kingdom and the Arcane Orders . . . and a potentially deadly enemy.