The Lotus Ascension (22 page)

No. Not
Ausir.
Half-blood.
A half-Ausir?
But there was no Sunjaa blood in the man whose image she saw.

“
This is Tambril,” said Vaelus, and Sillara understood him.

She bowed her
head and touched her fingers to her forehead in the gesture of Sunjaa respect.
As she stood back up, the hood of her cloak, loosened by her motions, fell
back, revealing her black hair and golden horns.

“
Our Queen!”
Vaelus dropped to his knees and took Sillara's hand. He raised it
to his lips, and Sillara heard Konas growl low in his throat.

“
What does he say?”

Sillara turned
wide, perplexed eyes on her husband. “He calls me 'Queen'.”

“Yes, you are
our Queen, the one promised us by the goddess Abrexa, the one
whose
King shall come down from the sky.” Vaelus kissed the
floor before Sillara's feet and then rose to face the gathered crowd.
“Our Queen!”

****

Konas paced in
front of the window. “So you say they speak some mixture of ancient Sunjaa and
ancient Fihdal?”

Sillara nodded.
It was not lost on her that she and Konas, though they were assigned a single
bedchamber, had been given separate beds. She suspected they thought him her
father. “It is not precisely the same, of course, but it is very much a
combination of the two, almost equally intermixed.”

“
And their founder, or at least the man for whom they named their
city, was a half-Ausir named Tambril.” Konas shook his head. “And they named
you Queen as soon as they saw you.”

“
As soon as they saw that I was half Ausir,” said Sillara gently. She
did not think it hurt, either, that she was half-Sunjaa. “They say that I am
the fulfillment of a prophecy as old as divination, and that within the week
the house they built for me—or for their Queen whenever she should come—will be
opened and furnished.” She sat down on the bed, and its softness was like a
lullaby. She wanted so much to sleep, but she could not sleep without fucking
first.

“
I am glad that we are safe,” said Konas. “But these people worry me.
You say they call themselves the 'Desertmasters'?”

“
They do, but why should that worry you?” Sillara was grateful for
the fresh clothes the Desertmasters had brought her. “The Fihdal and Vadal call
themselves '
empires',
and the Sunjaa have never cared.”

Konas stopped
his pacing and came to sit beside her. “My love, you think too much like a
Sunjaa.”

Sillara sighed
inwardly. Though Konas did not view her as most people did, that is, as a
curiosity rather than a person, he never saw her as anything but an Ausir. She
was not an Ausir any more—or less—than she was a Sunjaa. “And you mean by this
that I do not take sufficient consideration of what other nations calling
themselves means for me and mine.”

Konas laughed,
embarrassed. “Something
like
that. If these people
call themselves the Desertmasters, then they might—”

“
Might set upon the Sunjaa of Arinport? I doubt it.”

“
No, Sillara, my wife. I mean they might think that they have the
right to do as they please—with anyone.”

Sillara narrowed
her eyes. Surely Konas was not implying that these people, who treated her
with every deference
, might try to assault or rape her?

“
Not that, Sillara. But they seem to want to worship you.”

Sillara
shuddered. It reminded her too forcibly of her supplicants in Arinport. She did
not think Konas knew of them, but Soren did. He understood her discomfort,
though, unlike her parents, he was not afraid of the people's feelings.

“
You don't seem shocked,” said Konas.

“
I am not.” Sillara smiled wearily. “But it is of no matter. If they
call me 'Queen', then surely they will see to it that we are properly cared for
until we are well enough to go back to Arinport.”

Konas sat beside
her and put his arms around her. “I hope you are right, my love.” He kissed her
brow. “And I intend to spend our time here, however long or short, enjoying
you.”

But Sillara knew
that, however much he might desire her, he was in no condition to give her the
fucking she needed.
“Perhaps tomorrow night, Konas.”

She caught the
slight relaxing of his shoulders and knew she had been right.

“
When you have recovered then.”
Konas kissed her brow and pulled her down to lie beside him. His
hands cupped her breasts as he drifted off to sleep, and Sillara could have
cried from frustration. She had denied him only to protect his own pride, for
she herself was aching to be fucked. His skillful hands on her breasts were a
tantalization worse than nothing at all.

As soon as the
evenness of Konas's breathing told her he slept, Sillara licked her fingers and
began to rub her pussy. She closed her eyes, thinking of a long, thick cock
beneath a short, Sunjaa skirt. She imagined that cock slipping inside her,
filling her, stretching her.

She slid two
fingers inside herself and resolved to ask Konas to make her one of those eggs.
As she continued to massage her clit and to finger herself, Sillara wondered
how much longer it would be before Soren found her. Now she was in no danger
any longer, and she could wait.

Chapter Fourteen

Nathen did not even cross Soren’s
mind. Soren just hopped on his horse, still bareback, grabbed his sword, and
galloped away. The blood thundered in his ears like the frantic sprinting of
his mount, and Sillara’s anguish coursed through the natural channels of his
body like poison. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Soren gave no thought
for water, no thought for food, no thought for the care of his horse—the only
horse they had left, the only way they could hope to return to civilization.
When it came to Sillara, Soren, who was at
other
times
a level-headed young man, abandoned reason. Soren did not think; he just rode,
and his tears blinded him.

For nearly an hour Soren worked his
horse past endurance, and if Sillara’s terror had continued, he would have
ridden the beast to death. But suddenly Sillara was fine. Whatever had
happened, the danger was past, and relief flooded Soren’s mind. He pulled his
mount to a stop, and for the first time, he saw his animal with white-frothed
mouth, panting, its coat a sheen of sweat. Pity stabbed him, for he had used his
horse ill.

“
I’m sorry.” Soren
stroked its mane. “You can’t blame me for being worried. I just miss her so
much.”

The horse whinnied, and Soren
laughed. He dismounted, grabbed his water flask, and put it to the beast’s
lips. He tipped it up and poured the contents into the horse’s mouth. It was
not much, but it would keep the horse on its feet until Soren could get it back
to the oasis and water it properly. The sun beat down on Soren’s brow and neck,
so he pulled his cloak up closer. If he closed his mouth and breathed only
through his nose, he would have no trouble making it back to the oasis.

And what about Nathen?
What had he tried to
do? Why would he abandon Soren and go off on his own? Did he love Sillara that
much that he would betray his best friend? Sillara’s song must have driven him
from his wits. And what of this secret civilization, as Nathen called it, out
in the desert? Could Sillara have found it and be safe there? Had Konas
survived whatever danger they had just passed through?

That danger made itself evident to
Soren just at that moment. The western horizon grew obscured, and with his far
Ausir vision, Soren could make out a wall of blowing sand. A sandstorm, larger
than any he had ever seen, blew west and south as it turned back east. Soren watched
with amazement as the storm shifted direction and was actually racing toward
him, completing the wide arc that many sandstorms took. Sillara’s balloon must
have gotten caught in the storm and been blown gods-know-where. Soren hopped on
his horse’s back and turned back east. He would have to ride on his return as
fast as he had come out. If that storm hit him without shelter, it would rip
the skin from his flesh.

When Soren was in sight of the
oasis again, the wall of whirling, biting sands bore down on him. The horse ran
faster, its fright giving it a burst of speed. Soren saw Nathen waiting and
waving his arms. He was scared, too, but he had the blankets and spikes ready.
Nathen might have been a fool when it came to Sillara, but he was a capable hunter
who knew how to survive the dangers of the desert.

Soren glanced over his shoulder.
The storm rushed up on him. The outer tendrils of the maelstrom brushed the
rear of his horse. They would have to move quickly; every second counted. Soren
rode into their small encampment, pulled his horse from a full gallop to a
complete stop, and leaped from its back. In the same movement, he grabbed the
horse by its mane with both hands and let his body weight pull it down to the
ground. Once the horse was flat on its side, Soren scrambled for one edge of
the blanket. Nathen took the other side, and they both drove long stakes
through the fabric and into hard oasis soil. Then they covered the horse,
pinned down the other side, and crawled under. The storm blew over them and
threatened to rip the blanket from its moorings. The horse whinnied and tried
to stand. Soren lay on top of it and soothed it with clicks of his tongue,
cooing, and whispers. Nathen did his part by grabbing the underside of the
blanket and holding it fast.

For an hour the storm buffeted them
in darkness and biting sand, but in time it passed, and they laughed in their
joy. Nathen’s forearms bled from where they had been partially exposed to the
storm. The horse and Soren were uninjured. Soren rose and looked to the east as
he watched with wonder the retreating storm. It looked like a wall of smoke and
ash that rose to the sky. It was a force of nature no man could avoid or tame.
The encounter with the sandwurm was dangerous, but there was a chance of survival.
Against the storm there was no victory. Soren breathed a prayer to Chiel that
Sillara, too, had safely passed through the storm.

“
What now?” Nathen
gathered up the blanket in his arms.

Soren led his horse to the water.
“We turn back.”

“
But what about Sillara?”

“
The horses were only
enough to get us this far, to the outer oases we knew. Any farther and we’d
need camels or balloons.” Soren was able to speak calmly and rationally now,
for Sillara was safe. “My sister is beyond the reach of horses.”

Nathen nodded. “Besides, two riders
on one horse wouldn’t get us far.”

Soren’s anger rose at the thought
of Nathen getting his horse killed. What a fool he was, trying to ride off by
himself. “Yes. You of all people should’ve known the danger of riding off by
yourself. You’ve hunted the wurms before.”

Nathen shrugged. “I was just
worried about that strange town out there.”

Another lie.
Nathen wanted to find
Sillara himself. He could not hide his obsession from Soren. Soren, however,
said nothing. He would not wring the truth from Nathen this way.

“
Let’s pack up,” Soren
said. “It’s a long ride back to Orien and Merieke.”

****

Soren found the camp just as he had
left it, quite and subdued. The normalcy of the surroundings made his memory of
the storm and the wurm attack all the more bizarre to think that Orien and
Merieke had sat here in safety with the pleasure slaves while Nathen and Soren
fought for their lives. It was evening when they entered the camp, and Merieke
ran out of her tent to greet Soren. She wore a translucent gown under her open
cloak, and she stood in such a way as not to hide her charms.

“
What news?” Merieke’s
perfumed scent carried on the crisp air.

Nathen looked around from atop the
horse. “Did the storm hit you?”

“
No, but we saw it far
off. Luckily we escaped its path.” Merieke put one hand on her hip and pulled
her head back. “What happened to the other horse?”

Nathen glanced back at Soren, but
Soren said nothing. He just nodded toward Merieke, indicating that if anyone
was going to explain, it was going to be the fool who got the horse killed.

“
We lost it,” Nathen
said.

“
Yes, that’s obvious.”
Merieke came forward and took the reins of the horse, leading it toward her
tent. “What happened, brother?” Merieke was quick-witted and clearly wanted to
hear the story from
Nathen
, who, she gathered, was to
blame to the loss.

“
It got eaten by a
sandwurm.”

Merieke gasped, and she came around
the side of the horse, touching Soren’s thighs. “Are you two all right?”

Soren placed his hand on top of
hers. “We’re fine.”