House of Lust (26 page)

“I ask you again, Burnas, not to carry out your threats.  If you do, then the crowds in Niake will not only have one scandal to think about.  If you want a future anywhere in this empire, then my recommendation, as a friend, is to please shut it.”

“Friend?  Friend??  What sort of friend…..”

“The sort that does not tell of this; but if you are bent on destroying what I consider dear to me, then I shall have no option but to do so.  I know of your lifestyle and frankly am in admiration of what you do behind closed doors, but it’s not really for me to tell anyone.”  He looked at the four others in the room.  “I won’t be telling any of these esteemed gentlemen of course.  They can wonder, but the secret is safe with me, because, despite your lack of humour and rather insufferable sanctimonious attitude at times, I actually like you.”

Evas, Prelek and the two guards were motionless; they were agog at the exchange between the two.

Burnas’ lips trembled.  “You – you play a very dangerous game, merchant.  One of these days someone is going to kill you.”

“Oh, please, and deprive this place of the most colourful character of all?  How boring would all your lives be without me?  I’m not easy to kill, and have no wish to die for quite some time yet.  I intend making plenty of money for many years.”

Burnas shook his head slowly and mouthed something to himself.

Evas cleared his throat.  “Priest Burnas, are you going to incite the citizens of Niake with your sermon?”

Burnas stood still, his hands clenching and unclenching.  Finally, his face red, he seemed to snap out of his seizure.  “No!  Be assured, Governor, your safe little world here remains safe for a while longer.”  He gave Demtro one last long unfriendly stare.  “I do not regard you as a friend of mine, so do not continue that deluded opinion of yours that we are friends.  You and your wife are not welcome at my Temple.  Good day!” he shouted and slammed the door behind him.

Evas puffed out his cheeks.  “What in the name of Kastan does that parchment say?”

“Ah, Governor, that is a secret,” Demtro put a finger along the side of his nose.  “It’s on a need to know basis and – well, you don’t need to know.”

The Governor looked irritated.  “I can hardly accept secrets going round here without being involved.”

“Well just forget this one exists and all will be well.  Nothing that includes you, anyway, so worry not.  So, where’s my hot cup of klee?”

“Oh, coming, Demtro, stop fussing.”  Evas gave the clutter of papers on his desk a brief survey.  He looked up at the two guards.  “You may resume your positions outside now the crisis has passed.”  The two guards saluted and left.  The Governor now steepled his fingers.  “What is your overall view of trade in Bathenia, Demtro?  I’m keen to keep a finger on the pulse of trading in my province.”

Demtro waited, as the door opened and in came a servant with a tray of drinks.  She deposited it on the desk, curtseyed, then left.  Demtro watched her closely until the door closed.  “Nice arse.”

“Please, Demtro!  I’m interested in your opinion of trade, not the physical attributes of my residential staff.  Besides, you’re married!”

“Oh, how one-dimensional, Governor.  One can look as long as one doesn’t touch.”

“Hmph!  Be that as it may, please give me your opinion on trade in my province.”

Demtro took one of the cups of the hot drink and sipped it briefly.  “This isn’t Bathenian, Governor.”  He smacked his lips a few times, and looked thoughtful.  “Ganbadian?”

Evas inclined his head.  “One of our diminishing stock.  Best to use sooner rather than later before it rots away.”

“Ganbadian,” Demtro said in wonder.  “So long since I tasted such.  Old, and really isn’t at its best.  Best you use it now as you said.  Ah well, trade.  Hmm… we’re getting regular traffic from the east into Port Aconia.  Timber, marble, sulphur, food stuffs.  No longer subject to banditry which is good.  From the Tybar we’re also getting sulphur, plus good quality woolspun bales.  Say what you like about the Tybar, they have superior wool beasts and know how to make great tapestries and rugs.”

He eased his buttocks to a more comfortable position.  “Food isn’t an issue here anymore, and we’ve got a pretty good exchange with Lodria now that region has settled down.  We’re even getting some shipments of Romosian vine pressings which is a relief to those with civilised palates.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that, Demtro.  Anything else?”

“Hmmm…. Now Tobralus is Tybar, we’re getting wood from there, too, plus silver plates.  Tobralus has some pretty decent silver mines and they’re already exploiting them.  They work fast, those tribesmen.”

“No doubt with slave labour,” Evas commented.

“As do we with our sulphur and marble mines, may I remind you, Governor.  Slavery may be officially banned in Kastania but it does still go on.”

“But they are criminals.”

“Criminals are people who fall foul of laws, and it doesn’t take too much to make it easy for anyone to become a criminal or outlaw.”

“Are you saying we make it easy to make people outlaws?”

“No – I was actually referring to the Tybar.  To resist their invasion is a crime.  Anyone taken captive in battle is a criminal as are their families by association.  A soldier of our armies can be captured, enslaved, and his wife and children enslaved automatically.  Usually the wife ends up as a slave of some Tybar chieftain to serve him in his bedroom and the children are separated – the boys inducted into their army and taught to be good soldiers and to worship their god above all else, while the girls are taught to be pleasure slaves from an early age and by the time they get to adulthood are experts.  They fetch a high price in the market place, so I hear.”

“Despicable,” Evas pulled a face.

“So let me give you a hypothetical situation.  The Tybar declare war on us, invade and surround Niake.  They order you to surrender.  You refuse.  They storm the city, take all captive.  You would be enslaved, as would all your soldiers.  Their wives would be shared out amongst the soldiers, and their children made soldiers or pleasure slaves as I have described.”

“But if I surrendered it wouldn’t happen.”

“No it wouldn’t.  You’d have an occupying garrison, and a Tybar advisor to guide you in the ways of the new regime.  All the temples would be forcibly converted to their ways, a levy put on the male population to join the local militia, and no doubt you’d join in the attack on the remaining Kastanian territories – or else.”

“Well, let us hope that doesn’t happen,” Evas said, his face pale.

“Not likely the way things stand.  Trade is flowing back and forth and there’s no sign of any invasion army.  I think they’ve expended their strength in subduing Tobralus and Amria.  There’s something else further west that’s keeping much of their armies there, but I don’t know what. Nobody’s saying a word, but it’s something that worries them.”

Evas shrugged.  “No doubt we’ll hear of it in due course.  What of illicit goods?”

“Ah, Governor, I think that’s what you’re really concerned about, aren’t you?  The Leaf, if I guess correctly?”

Evas sighed.  “Yes, yes, you’re correct as usual.”  He looked piqued.

“Oh, Governor, if you’re going to test me properly, do so less obviously.  The Leaf…. Supplies have dried up, from what I can tell.  Addicts are going crazy; the price has gone through the roof following the clumsy attempt by the Duras to flood the market and ruin us all here.  The Tybar over harvested the plant, mostly due to them not being expert in nurturing it.  I believe – and this is hearsay – that the plant can’t be pruned back to the woody parts or you kill that part of the plant.  The Tybar must have chopped the lot up, thinking it’d grow back, and it hasn’t.  Shame.”

Evas was going to admonish the merchant, but then he saw the smile and realised Demtro had been facetious.  “So we’re safe from the Leaf?”

“For the moment; I suspect there are some plants left but it’ll take time to develop them and nurture them.  Amria is some distance away, after all.”

“Quite so, quite so.”  Evas looked at Prelek who shrugged.  “Well, that seems to be all for the moment, then, Demtro.  Thank you for – ah – taking care of the tricky situation with the priest.  It seems you have a hold over him, thankfully.”

“Oh, it’ll work once or twice, but I wouldn’t rely on this keeping him quiet forever.  Best to get him soothed and placated.  An annoyed priest in your city isn’t a good thing, you know.  Piss off the priests and you’re in trouble.”  

Evas nodded and smiled.  He interlaced his fingers and looked at Demtro.  The merchant took another sip of his drink and raised an eyebrow.  “Governor, are you in a hurry to get rid of me?  You wish to discuss some secret matter with your advisor here?  Am I in the way?”

“Ah, Demtro, I’m sure that you have some other appointment, so don’t let us keep you.”

Demtro settled in his seat more comfortably.  “Well, don’t worry about that as it’s a rare off-day for me, and I was rudely hauled out of bed this morning by a somewhat peremptory message.  Therefore I cannot see why suddenly I’m not required here.  I’ve put myself out for you today, quite a lot in fact, and it would be rude and churlish to now dismiss me like some discarded play-thing.”

Evas cleared his throat.  “Quite, quite, Demtro.  My apologies, but Prelek and I do have matters to discuss now that this situation has been cleared up.  With thanks to you, naturally.”

Demtro sighed, stood up, and slowly upturned his half-empty cup.  The still hot liquid spilled onto the rug with a splattering sound.  “Then I shall take my leave, returning your ‘hospitality’ with a suitable gesture.”  He dropped the empty cup onto the rug carelessly.  “I’ll show myself out, I wouldn’t like to think you’d go to any effort to show me that courtesy.  Good day.”

Evas sat rigidly still, his mouth open.  After Demtro had left, Prelek walked over to the dark stain and tutted.  “That will take some cleaning, sire.  Best get some of the domestics to see to it before it stains too much to clean up.”

“Arrange it,” Evas said tightly.  “He’s becoming too much, that man.”

“I could look into his tax affairs.  Rich people like him always have something to hide.”

Evas scratched his chin slowly.  “Hmm, yes, get the clerks to investigate his financial affairs.  I desperately need to take that man down from his lofty position.  A bit of humility would go a long way.”

Prelek grinned.

Vosgaris arrived breathlessly at the castle, leaping from his saddle and pounding up the stairs to the entryway.  Hendros stayed in the courtyard to oversee the care of both equines, having ridden hard since they had met the messenger from Zofela who had brought the bad news.

“Where is she?” Vosgaris shouted, taking the last two steps in one huge bound.  Guards all stared as he raced past, uncertain as to what to do.

Isbel heard him and came out of her room and held out a hand.  “Vosgaris – I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

“Where is she, ma’am?” he said, his voice just under control.  His hand clenched and unclenched.  He was bathed in sweat and his eyes were wild.  “My wife – I must see her!”

“In your room, Vosgaris – be warned….” she was about to say the sight was not pretty but he was already gone, leaving the empress to shake her head sadly alone.

He reached the door, guarded by two men.  They stepped aside hurriedly and allowed their captain to wrench the door open and pass into the room.  The still form of Alenna was lying, covered by a sheet, in the middle of the floor.  With a sob he reached her, bent down and pulled the covering away from her face.

One look was enough.  Death had begun to ravage her face.  She would need to be buried very soon.  He dropped the sheet and sat back, shaking.  Alenna!  He didn’t know what he ought to do.  His mind was empty, yet whirling at the same time.  His wife.  Dead.  Suddenly he snapped into action.  He knew who had done it and why.

He strode out, his face a mask of hate.  He went along the corridor to the administration rooms.  Isbel was still in the passageway and saw the look on his face.  “Vosgaris…..”

He wasn’t listening.  He hardly paused in his stride as he barrelled into the day room used for the running of the province.  Frendicus and Pepil looked up irritably at the intrusion.  Vosgaris ignored the two as they were irrelevant.  The other two, Fostan Anglis and Goltan Mirrodan, were at their seats going through paperwork.

“You bastard,” Vosgaris breathed, standing in the doorway.  “You’ll die for this.”

“What is all this about?” Pepil demanded, taking two steps towards the fuming officer.  “This is the administration office, not a barracks!”

“Shut up,” Vosgaris snapped and brushed past the outraged major domo.  He stood over Mirrodan.  “You murdered her, just because I refused to obey your family’s demands that I stop the investigations into blacking the emperor’s reputation.”

“You’re overwrought with grief,” Mirrodan said.  “My commiserations.”

It wasn’t so much the words, but the smirk that came with it.  Vosgaris saw red.  He swung a fist and sent the biographer up and out of his chair, arcing through the air to land heavily on his back at the feet of a shocked Frendicus, who stepped back in alarm.

Vosgaris slowly walked over the upturned chair and closed in on the dazed biographer.  “Now you filthy traitor, you’re going to die.”  He pulled out his sword.

“Vosgaris!” Isbel shouted from the doorway.  “Stop!  I command you, as empress, to stop!”

Vosgaris clenched his teeth and turned to face the white-faced Isbel.  “But ma’am, he is the one who has done all this, him and his unspeakable family.  I have sworn witness statements.”

“I believe you, but I do not want my rooms turned into a charnel house.  He will be dealt with properly, and I do not want the Taboz family plunged into a blood feud with the Mirrodan.  Please, step aside.”

Vosgaris sobbed.  “But he killed my wife!  The blood feud already exists!”

Goltan chuckled at Vosgaris’ feet.  “You clumsy fool.  What proof do you have I actually put the poison in her food and drink?  I may well have ordered an agent to do so, not wishing to carry out the act personally.”  His voice was thick, his lips already swelling up and bloodied. 

Vosgaris raised his sword high above the prone Goltan.  Isbel stepped aside and waved the two guards with her to intervene.  “Captain Taboz!  Stand to attention!”

Vosgaris shook, his blade ready to plunge down onto the man at his feet.  The guards took hold of his arms and pulled him back.  Vosgaris struggled but the guards were too determined.  He was turned round to face the empress.  She put a hand out to his shoulder.  “Hold, Vosgaris,” she said gently.  “He won’t be going anywhere.  Sheath your blade.”

The guard captain looked into her eyes, then crumpled.  He broke down, dropping his sword with a clatter.  Isbel took his head in her hands.  “Go to a spare room on this corridor.  Rest.  Sleep.  I will arrange for everything.  Go,” she nodded to him.

Weeping, Vosgaris stumbled from the room, leaving Goltan to scramble to his feet.  “That man should be thrown out of Zofela,” he slurred.

Isbel regarded him coldly.  “You, Mirrodan, are to be sent to the dungeons.  Your future will be determined shortly.  You can be assured that you will never be permitted to hold any position anywhere in the empire ever again.  Your family is finished.  Your dirty little schemes have failed.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Goltan tried to struggle out of the grip of the two guards but it was futile.  “We Mirrodan have powerful friends on the Council.”

“I doubt that.  The Duras?  They’re finished.”

“The Duras still have influence, even if they are no longer permitted to sit on your precious councils.  They will arrange for other Houses to condemn this act of barbarity.”

Isbel shook her head.  “You have condemned your family to ignominious defeat; Alenna was the daughter of Lord Duras – you’ve murdered one of the Duras family.”

“What – you lie!”

“I can prove it.  I shall arrange for whatever Duras still skulks in the empire to pick her up and have her buried wherever they wish.  Once word gets out a Mirrodan killed her, I doubt you and your kin will enjoy many days alive.  We will not lift a finger to stop them.”

Goltan swore.  He tugged and writhed, but he was held fast.  The guards dragged him away, leaving the room relatively calmer.  Isbel waved to Lieutenant Bevil who had appeared to pick up the fallen furniture. 

“Everyone return to your duties.  This matter is ended.”  She addressed Bevil next.  “I want the Captain’s belongings brought up to his temporary quarters, and Alenna’s body to be moved to the temple here.  Have her prepared for burial.”

“Ma’am.”  Bevil left. 

Isbel next spoke to Pepil.  “Send notice to the Duras family – I don’t know how they are contactable but someone will know.  They can pick Alenna’s body up from the temple here, under Truce.  Sign it from me.”

Pepil bowed.  Isbel left.  She had to speak to Vosgaris.  He was in one of the guest chambers three doors down.  His sobs could be heard coming from the other side of the door.  She knocked gently, waited, then slowly entered the room.

Vosgaris was face-down on the bed, shaking with grief.  She sat next to him and stroked his hair.  “I’m really so sorry, Vosgaris, it happened so quickly.”

He took a deep breath and half-turned.  His face was red and puffy, and tears glistened down his cheeks.  “I did love her,” he said in a choked voice.  “But I-I let her down.”  He wiped the tears from his face.  “I had sex with Metila.”

Isbel closed her eyes.  “Oh, Vosgaris.”

“I couldn’t help myself, and I hate myself for it!”  He broke down again.

Isbel waited until he composed himself again.  “What happened?”

Vosgaris told of the incidents in Turslenka.  “I just couldn’t stop it – she had some hold over me.  I was a man possessed….. and my poor Alenna was dying here!”

“Vosgaris,” Isbel held his hands.  “It seems that witch can cast a spell to snare any man she chooses.”  She thought of Astiras.  “It probably was useless to try to prevent it.  If she’s as adept as she seems, you had no chance of avoiding it.  Don’t go blaming yourself; you did what you could do.  Alenna was a good woman, and I only began to understand that the last few days.  I should have made her more welcome, but my attitude towards the Duras blinded me.  I have a huge apology to make to her – and now I can never do that.”

“But you didn’t betray your marriage – I did!  And you must hate me for doing so, since the emperor did exactly the same.”

Isbel sighed.  “I think I have to forgive my husband – it may well be he stood as much chance as you did with Metila.  If I forgive you, then I have to forgive Astiras.”

Vosgaris hung his head.  Isbel stroked his hair.  “You need rest, comfort, and recovery.  I shall put a guard outside.  Please come to dinner, even if you don’t feel like eating.  I would hate the thought of you alone here, punishing yourself.”

“If you insist, ma’am,” he said dully.

“I do – but only because it will be better for you.  Now, rest.  I shall see you later.  We will arrange for Alenna to be taken by the Duras to a family tomb.  You will be permitted to accompany her if you wish.”

Vosgaris said nothing; he merely buried his face in the sheets and cried.  Isbel stood for a moment, torn between her duties as empress, and a desire to comfort the stricken man.  Finally she silently left, shutting the door slowly.  “Nobody is to see the Captain,” she said to the guard.  “Except on my express order.”

The guard bowed.

She returned to her office and found that Vosgaris’ report had been left on her desk.  She took her time to read it, then summoned Lieutenant Bevil once more.  Bevil looked harassed; Isbel was running him ragged on errands here and there.

“Sit down, Lieutenant,” she said absently, still reading the parchment.  “It’s all here,” she said, not only to Bevil, but to Pepil who was standing attentively by her shoulder.  “The Mirrodan’s rapid rise to power, using funds they gained by chance.  Ambition, greed, it brought them to Turslenka.  They broke into the wood merchant’s market and used their rough and underhand tactics to force rivals out.”

She put the document down and shook her head.  “They saw us as an obstacle to their ambitions and teamed up with dissident Houses to undermine us.  The other Houses – Duras and Fokis to name but two – were clever.  They never actually took any action themselves, but paid the Mirrodan to do so.  The Houses provided the money and information, the Mirrodan the muscle.”

“No clear connection to the other Houses, ma’am?” Fostan Anglis asked from his desk.

“No, Fostan, but I’m disappointed in your lack of detecting this.  You should have, since this is in your area of responsibility.  I may yet have to reconsider your position here.”

“Ma’am, I apologise – I shall not let you down again.”

Isbel eyed him sharply.  Were the Anglis implicit in this scheme?  There was no mention, but who knows how far the rot had set?  She leaned back.  Who, indeed, could she really trust?  Vosgaris, but he was out of it for the moment.  “Lieutenant – your investigations here have come up against a wall of silence, yes?  So we do not know who Goltan Mirrodan’s accomplice or accomplices are – or were – here?”

“No, ma’am.  I am sorry, but nobody is saying anything.”

“Then you must try to get the name or names out of Goltan Mirrodan.”

“Ma’am,” Fostan Anglis rose to his feet, a warning frown on his face.  “He is a member of a House, yes a minor House to be sure, but one all the same.  Torturing him is not going to go down well with the Council.  You may end up being censured, ma’am.”

“So how else do you suggest we get that information from him?  He is hardly likely to volunteer it, is he now?”

“Nonetheless, I must protest!  Torturing one of the members of a House is forbidden by law unless the Council agrees it!”

Isbel glanced at Pepil.  The major domo nodded slowly.  “I’m afraid he is right, ma’am.  The Council may rule against you.”

Isbel scowled.  She couldn’t risk alienating the Council.  It could feasibly cause a civil war.  “Very well; Bevil, hold him until the Council’s decision.”

Fostan Anglis breathed out and sat down.  “Thank you, ma’am.  It shall be discussed at the next Council.  So, the Mirrodan found out about the emperor’s indiscretion – but how?”

“Goltan Mirrodan did himself.  Poor General Teduskis told him one day, the man was losing his mind and forgot he had been sworn to secrecy.  It slipped out and Goltan sent the news to his father in Turslenka.  That started a plan to discredit the Koros with the other Houses, and their allies helped by spreading the news to their agents in other places.  It spread very quickly as a result.  Then the emperor sent Captain Vosgaris down to Turslenka to find out who was spreading the gossip and whether the source had come from that city.  He upset a few people and was assaulted for it but found out one of the men who did know and had him interrogated.  It’s from him we know what we now know.”

“What were the Mirrodan after, ma’am?” Bevil asked.  “What was their goal?”

“A higher place in the Council, of course.  For doing the dirty work they expected to get support from their un-named allies on the Council, rising to a higher level of importance.  A marriage or two, perhaps?  Land?  Trade concessions.  The usual.   Of course, their expertise in wood put them in conflict with us, as you all know we Koros have built our wealth on wood and timber.  For the Mirrodan to grow we had to be destroyed.”

“Are they all under arrest, ma’am?” Fostan Anglis asked.

“The ones in Turslenka are, yes.  Some elsewhere are not, and it’s hard to prove they are involved in this conspiracy, but the main branch is all under guard.  We still do not know however who they used here as their agents, and they are still amongst us, almost certainly.”