The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (11 page)

“When I sink to that point of self-pity, women are the last things on my mind. There is only revenge. And, I drink alone,” Eris said. His womanly voice was suddenly hard and scornful. “When one drinks alone, it’s not good to get inebriated. Too dangerous. Look what happened to me in Rennas Baye. I had one mug while waiting for the black beard and ended up being snared by you. Any more questions?”

“No,” Raga sighed. He decided to forego his previous curiosity on the subject of Riza’s familiarity with Eris. He was definitely on the mend. His sarcasm embellished at least every third word. As for himself, Raga was in no mood to fence jibes with him. He was sure that with trying to get Eris properly attired and taught to dance, the worst was yet to come.

Silence fell in the room. Midnight came and went and both of them slept until the wee hours of morning. Raga was startled awake as somewhere in the night-quiet city a bell tolled two. A faint whisper of a breeze came through the open doors leading to the balcony. The sheer draperies swayed as if touched by delicate fingers.

Raga sat up stiffly and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked to the bed and found it empty. A puzzled frown creased his forehead as he pushed himself up to his feet. He didn’t remember leaving the doors open and walked quietly toward them. On the balcony, he found Eris leaning on his elbows against the wrought-iron railing. He was wrapped in his emerald cloak and was staring into the palace gardens.

He had combed the luxuriant black hair and it lay in a wavy pattern down his back. The only other part of him that showed was his dainty, bare feet. One of which he moved slowly back and forth across the cool, marble tile.

If only it wasn’t Eris on the inside,
Raga thought again for a countless time. He didn’t understand what it was that made his desires rise consistently to such a level every time he looked at him. It wasn’t as if Eris was the only and last beautiful woman in the world. Reveling in his lusty thoughts, his foot bumped a table.

Instantly, Eris spun around. The cloak fell open to reveal the curvaceous body, and a length of sharp steel glinted in the moonlight.

“What are you doing sneaking up on me?” Eris snarled.

“I wasn’t—”

“Get that stupid look off of your face before I do it for you,” Eris snapped and pulled the cloak closed. He stalked back into the room and gave Raga an indignant glare that only his womanly face could make.

Raga closed the doors and followed Eris across the room to a basin where Eris had begun to splash cool water on his face.

“I thought I heard something and I only wanted to see where you were,” Raga explained innocently.

“What are you plotting now?”

“Nothing. Listen to me, Eris. You had better get used to men looking at you when you are like this. It’s not like I’m the first.”

“It’s unnatural.”

“You are the one who’s unnatural. When has a man not stared at a beautiful woman and especially at one more lovely than most? You had better start thinking of yourself as one until we’re out of this mess, or you’re going to be as mean and spiteful as a hellcat and the Sultan will throw you back into the street. It’s where you belong, but then where will we be?”

Eris wiped his face on the edge of his cloak. He wasn’t convinced.

“You’re making this harder on yourself than you have to. You enjoy it when a woman looks at you as a man, so think of it that way. Use what you’ve got so we can get the gem and be out of here,” Raga told him.

“How am I supposed to know what to do?” Eris argued and hugged the cloak tighter around. He didn’t like the little flickers he saw in the sorcerer’s eyes.

Raga almost answered him, but a broad smile appeared through his mass of red whiskers. He wagged a finger at Eris.

“You’re not going to get me to argue with you anymore tonight. You’ve been with plenty of women to know their ways and wiles. You’ve run out of arguments as far as I’m concerned.” Raga chuckled. He roared with laughter when Eris made an annoyed pout and looked at him mournfully from under long, dark lashes. “We’ll make a woman out of you yet.”

“Just don’t get carried away, or you’ll find yourself less of a man,” Eris said, pointedly, and slid his dagger back into his saddlebag.

Still snorting with laughter, Raga began waving his arms and mumbled something Eris didn’t understand. It was a language as old as time itself, and time had forgotten most of it.

“The Sultan is going to have his hands full with you, Erisa the Wench,” he said over his shoulder. Eris pelted him with a cushion from the nearest chair.

“That’s good. See, you know very well how they are,” Raga encouraged, and then mumbled another string of strange words, while Eris sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

In the center of the room a red mist seeped from the floor and ceiling as two coiling, vaporous vipers. They met mid-way between floor and ceiling and twined together. Golden sparks crackled in the swirling mass where they touched. Slowly, the vapors coalesced becoming solid in the center, while two wispy tendrils snaked out to three chairs Raga had quickly placed in a row. Sparks flashed on the chairs’ cushions where multicolored garments and a ransom in brilliant jewels flared into existence.

Eris shivered and forced himself not to tremble in the presence of Raga’s magic. He knew this display was but child’s play for this particular type of sorcerer. Elementals were the force of all creation.

Never in his life was Eris Pann called a coward. Not even when confronted with overwhelming odds and running was the only option. It goaded him to have such an unrestrained fear of such a harmless display.
Harmless. What god in any universe would do this for a man, on a whim, on the chance of this crazy plan?

He knew that some magics were merely illusion, while other conjurations could be killed with sword or amulet in hand. But he also knew there was a great difference between those magics and those of a Red Vale sorcerer.

He wondered if the gods themselves feared this group of elemental sorcerers, who were the embodiment of every form of raw elemental power that existed in the world; at least as far as he knew and understood these things. There was no telling what other forms might exist within the boundaries of the Red Vale and he hoped never to find out.

Several days ago he stopped doubting that Raga-Tor was the fire elemental; so useful, yet so deadly. And now, after the events of the evening, there was no forgetting their mutual nemesis, Charra-Tir, who was the essence of an ocean’s tempest.

Eris would never forget the chillness of her touch, nor her deep, haunting blue eyes that spoke of unknown horrors that dwelled in the depths of the seas.

Though the room was growing warm by the working of Raga’s magic, Eris shivered yet again.

Pulling himself up proud and tall, he forced himself to be unafraid. What was there to fear anyway? The worst thing that could happen was that he might be killed. And what was that? Nothing he hadn’t faced before on countless occasions. It was only a brief, though perhaps painful, transitory state that wouldn’t last indefinitely before the embrace of everlasting blackness and unknowing consciousness.

Eris believed little in the gods, whether that of his own people or those he had learned about during his travels. Rather, he thought of them only as he cursed by their names. Of course, there was always the possibility of finding one’s self hurled into the seventh level of Riza’s hellish dominion. That particular thought crossed his mind more often than did the promises of a gentle paradise as foretold by the religions of more civilized men.

“Your pensiveness is unbecoming, Eris,” Raga said as he finished his work. “You’ll crease your face like that. We must have you as flawless as possible.”

Eris woke from his thoughts and stared at the center of the room where an ornate, gold frame held a large piece of silvered glass.

“It’s time for you to see yourself and choose a costume. Are you ready?” Raga asked and stepped back from the glass.

Eris took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be an easy task. Slowly, he rose from the bed and walked to stand in front of Raga, but with his back to the glass. He untied the cloak and handed it to the sorcerer.

He didn’t want to see himself. To see the mockery of the man he was. To see the revulsion he felt when he was so changed. Would he find in his appearance the weakness he felt? Would he have a sense of shame standing there thus changed with the huge vitality of Raga only a step behind? He closed his eyes and heard the echoing voice of Charra-Tir as she pronounced his fate those terrible months ago.

“For the violation of my temple, and your interference with my altar maiden, you shall know her shame and despair. You will know what it’s like to be chattel in the world of men.”

Eris felt Raga’s hands rest gently on his shoulders as he was turned around.

“Open your eyes. Become the woman you see,” Raga said, kindly, without malice or insinuation as if he had read his thoughts.

Eris opened his eyes slowly. At first he felt the clutch of revulsion as the shape was so alien and unfamiliar, yet his eyes considered what they saw with a masculine perspective and he appreciated the beauty he beheld. Slowly, timidly, as though he was looking at something he shouldn’t, he looked himself up and down. When he opened his mouth to speak, no words came. What was there to say?

He was as Raga had said—simply, overwhelmingly beautiful. And what eyes, Eris thought, and leaned a bit closer to the mirror. The most incredible green eyes looked back at him. Like flawless jade, they gave his face a sensuous, feline appearance. Thinking as a man, he knew he could never resist them.

He saw no weakness of limb and for that he was pleased. There was only the graceful suppleness of a dancer, or even better, he thought, the fluid strength of the few swordswomen he had come across, but their skin in no way compared to the flawless olive complexion of his.

“You see, you are quite lovely,” Raga said, quietly. “The Sultan would have to be blind not to choose you.”

From one of the chairs Raga picked up a golden circlet. It was hung around the back with a fine, golden mesh studded with diamonds that would hang down just to the nape of the neck.

“You never said my eyes changed colors,” Eris finally managed to say. He found himself quite intrigued by the way the corners were drawn in a slight, upward slant.

“I didn’t want to spoil it for you. Besides, by looking down you can see some of your other comely endowments,” Raga said with a wink. Eris flushed involuntarily and felt an inkling of understanding the words spoken by the sorceress.

“What is that you have?” Eris asked quickly to change the subject.

“It’s a headpiece. I thought it would look nice, and keep your hair out of your face during the dance. Shall I put it on for you?” Raga offered.

“I’d almost forgotten about that asinine dance,” Eris said glumly. Seeing Raga about to speak, he added quickly, “I know, I know. What choice do I have? Put it on. We’ll be here till the sun rises if I try to do it.’

“There. Now won’t you make an impression,” Raga said and smoothed the ebony locks. The gold and diamonds sparkled against the blackness like stars in a midnight sky.

“Now, we need to see which color of costume suits you best. Here is a green one, and a red. Which do you like best?”

Eris suddenly felt very silly and awkward. He laughed, but it came out as a lilting giggle, which only heightened his embarrassment. Once more he felt the heat rise in his cheeks and was sure they flushed.

“Very good,” Raga complimented. “I didn’t know you had it in you to laugh without that obnoxious sarcasm. What’s so humorous?”

“This,” Eris said and turned around to take hold of a piece of cloth with each hand, “an all-powerful sorcerer and the hero of Rennas Baye discussing colors of cloth instead of polishing swords and singing tavern ballads. What fools we are.”

“You’re still drunk. When you’re as old as I and have many sons, then you may laugh at all of this. But for tonight, turn around and pay attention. We’ve still to teach you how to dance,” Raga said.

Eris gave him an amused smirk and turned back around with something akin to a swagger. Raga ignored Eris’ orneriness and draped the green cloth over his right shoulder and the red over the left.

“I don’t like the green one,” Eris said, as he studied himself in the glass. Whether it was the masculine or feminine side of him that chose the color, he couldn’t tell. “No, it has to be the red.”

“Good. I don’t care for the green one either,” Raga agreed and the green garment dissolved from Eris’ shoulder into a mist of red vapor.

Eris nearly jumped into the next room as the warm redness touched his bare skin. He glared at Raga for touching him with his magic and snatched the costume from him.

“Sorry,” Raga apologized quickly and tried to look contrite, but Eris was already absorbed with the problem of trying to figure out the ins and outs of the costume.

Eris handed Raga part of the costume as he pulled on a pair of very full pantaloons of the sheerest and finest red fabric he had ever seen. Fine golden threads woven through the fabric made it shimmer in the light. The pantaloons’ soft folds were gathered at the ankles by wide bands of gold and blue brocade ribbons. He fastened a metal belt of golden links, tinkling coins and sparkling diamonds and rubies low around his hips.

The bodice was red like the pantaloons and it seemed there was barely enough fabric to cover his ample bosom. It was held in place by a string of pearls passing around his neck and several around his back. Five more strands of pearls were attached to the sides of the bodice and caught up between the breasts with a brilliant diamond pendant.

The cascading rows of precious gems tickled Eris’ stomach as he bent down to tie on elegant, gold sandals. He pushed two bracelets in the shape of uncoiling serpents securely onto each upper arm, and then slipped on a handful of bangles that Raga handed him. Finally, Raga fastened a sparkling diamond choker around his neck.

“Well,” Eris said as he adjusted one snake band, “if we can’t convince the Sultan one way, the wealth of jewels I have on will be more than enough to buy him, or any ruler for that matter.”