The Lotus Ascension (38 page)

“No, Merieke. I
am wedded to Lord Konas. I cannot couple with
anyone
else.” Sillara
detached herself from her one-time friend. “It is not the Ausir way.”

Merieke sighed.
“I wish you hadn't married that stuffy Ausir. You should have married Nathen.”

Sillara went
back to the vegetables. Soren was growing agitated, and she knew that soon
Nathen would be with him. Soon after, Nathen would be dead.

Sillara envied
Nathen. He would die, die by Soren's hand, but she had to live? Live for
centuries knowing that she was divided from her soul?

“I'll get the
root-vegetables.” Merieke stepped outside, but her footfalls were soft and
light as always.

Within a few
minutes, Sillara had the stew prepared, except for the root-vegetables. Merieke
had never brought them back, so Sillara got them herself and finished Soren's
supper. She was stirring the pot when she heard a loud knock at the door.

“Sillara!”
It was Konas's voice, and
Sillara opened the door to him.

“Come to my
house,” said Konas. He glanced at the door guards on either side of him. “I
want to talk to you privately.”

Sillara felt her
mouth go dry. She could not refuse Konas, but if he were quick enough and
crafty enough, he might be able to taste her body without the guards knowing.

“Yes.” Sillara
pulled on her cloak, the distinctive blue cloak she had been given after her
coronation. She walked with Konas, flanked by guards, the half a street's
distance to Konas's home.

She stepped
inside, and Konas closed the door behind her. The guards were present, but they
stood outside.

“Sillara, my wife.”
Konas took her in
his arms and kissed her. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Sillara wanted
to laugh hysterically. Everyone wanted to comfort her with sex, but the only
person whose sex she wanted, the only one whose embrace could comfort her, was
the only one whom she could not touch. But she resisted the urge and simply
said, “We cannot, for if the guards lose sight of me from the window, they will
break down the door.”

Konas smiled.
“Don't worry, my love. I have taken care of everything. They will see you leave
in a moment.”

“What?” Sillara
could not understand.

“
I
will
leave.” Merieke whispered the words from a dim corner of Konas's front room. “I
will wear your cloak, and you can throw your voice to speak as though you were
directing them to take me—that is, you—back to Soren's house. Then you and Lord
Konas can creep out. I'll get the balloon to you outside the city sometime
tomorrow.”

Sillara choked
on her horror. The plan could actually work, and, as Konas's wife, she was
bound to obey him in the attempt. This was far worse than she had feared, and
she thought she could not breathe.

“So, wife, do
it.” Konas had never actually given her a command before, but Sillara was not
surprised by it now. Konas had obtained her by deceit, and here he was packed
in with Merieke, past mistress of deceit.

“Yes, my lord.”
Sillara would not ever call Konas “husband” again. She stepped into the corner,
passing out of sight of the windows. The guards immediately began to knock, but
giving Merieke her cloak was the matter of a moment. Then Merieke, whose height
and build so closely resembled Sillara's that they could exchange clothes, put
on the cloak and pulled it up around her face, shrouding herself.

“Now speak.”
Konas covered Sillara's body with his own, keeping her hidden from the doorway
as Merieke opened it.

“Take me back to
the King's house,” said Sillara, speaking from within Merieke's cloak.

“Yes,
Your
Grace.” The Desertmasters accompanied Merieke back to
Soren's house, and Sillara despaired utterly.

“My Queen, my wife.”
Konas's kiss was
demanding, but though Sillara did not resist him, she could not respond either.

“What is your
plan, my lord?” Sillara spoke as soon as he released her lips.
“For though Merieke can deceive them long enough to get to my
brother's house, surely you cannot think that we will be able to walk through
the city without any of the Desertmasters noticing me?”
Sillara realized
bitterly that Konas had chosen his time perfectly, for at any other moment, any
other time than this one when Soren's own anxiety, dread, and sorrow at having
to kill Nathen were overwhelming both Soren and herself, her fear would have
been enough to alert Soren to her danger.

Danger.
Danger of being carried off
by her husband. Tears welled up in Sillara's eyes.

“Don't worry, my
love.” Konas wiped her tears, and his complete inability to understand her
stabbed Sillara to the quick. “I thought of everything. You don't have to worry
about me.”

Sillara bowed
her head. “Then do with me as seems good to you.”

Konas hugged her
close again, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her belly. “Oh, I
will, you little minx.
A proper orgy-master's wife.”
But Konas did not strip her clothes from her. Instead he simply kissed her once
more. “But we must wait until we are out of the city. Time is crucial.”

Sillara noticed,
of course, that Konas did not confide his plans to her. He did not fear her
treachery; she was sure of that. He loved her, with as much love as he was
capable of giving—
which
was far less than Soren could
give. No, it was that Konas considered her too high and fine a being to be
saddled with the ordinary affairs of life, even her own. Soren loved her far
more than Konas ever could, but Soren would never keep anything from her.

“I stand ready to obey.” Sillara
lifted her chin. Ajalira had gone to her death clear-eyed and unafraid. This
was worse than death, for it was separation from Soren, but Sillara would not
show fear.

“That's my brave wife.” Konas bent
his head down, sampling her lips. He dropped a kiss between her horns on the
top of her head, and Sillara bit her lip to keep from weeping. “But what I have
in mind will be difficult and frightening, and I am not sure you can endure
it.”

“You have no idea what I am capable
of,” said Sillara. “I am the daughter of Ajalira Tamar and Kamen Itenu. You saw
them die. You were their mountain. It was your sword that spilled their blood
in offering to Alaxton Battlebringer. What duty can you think I would fail in?”

“True enough.” Konas's low laugh
rumbled with desire, but Sillara did not flinch. She was her parents' daughter.
She was Soren's sister. She would not disgrace him, even if it broke her heart
to splinters.

“You must crawl into my pack.”
Konas rolled out a leather pack onto the floor. It was large, reinforced on the
inside with thick rope, and it could hold Sillara if she curled up into a ball
and bent her head between her knees. “I will carry you out of the city, and we
will be able to return to Arinport.”

Sillara could almost believe it.
This plan was daring, bold, and devious, very like Konas's plan to have an orgy
and keep her out of the way in a balloon, only to purposely crash it. Hate
filled her heart, but she crawled into the pack and curled up. It was an
uncomfortable position, and Sillara was not sure how long she could hold it.

“Now, I know that this will be
hard, but remember, once we are out of the city, I will be able to discipline
you just the way you like.” Konas tilted her face up once more, lifting her
head above the edge of the pack for a moment. “It might be too hard to keep
silent, so I will bind your mouth.” His eyes glittered, and Sillara knew that
he thought this would please her, arouse her. But there was a touch of fear in
his eyes, and she wished him dead in that instant. He distrusted her. But she
said nothing, for had she not sworn herself his? So Konas gagged her, and then
he pushed her face back down between her knees, back below the edge of the
pack. He pressed his lips to the back of Sillara's head, all that he could see
from her position, and then the lid of the pack closed over her.

Sillara was in darkness, and she
felt Konas picking up the bag and strapping it to his back. Sillara was, she
knew, small and slender, and carrying her on his back should not be difficult
for Konas. Of course, if the weight of her broken heart were added, no force in
Gilalion could lift her.

Sillara had already spent most of
the day weeping for the loss of her parents, and now she had no tears left. She
heard Konas opening the door, and she felt the sway of his hips against her
through the leather of the bag. The irony of what was happening was not lost on
her. Konas was about to leave the Desertmasters' city, carrying away their
Queen, and she was gagged and unable to call for the help any Desertmaster
would give.

Soren, my love, my brother, my
soul.

Konas was humming an Ausir love
song, and Sillara wished she were dead. But his plan was too good, and with
Merieke's aid, he would soon have her out of the city.

Merieke's aid?
But she wanted me to be
married to Nathen, to be her lover, to be her advocate with Soren—why would she
help Konas?

And then Sillara understood,
understood what Konas, blinded by his jealousy and love could not grasp.

At that very moment Sillara heard
the cries of the Desertmasters.

“There he is! Just as the lady
said!”

She felt Konas pick up his pace. He
must be running now, and then suddenly all was tumbling confusion. Sillara hit
the ground hard, but though she knew she would have bruises along her right
side, she did not feel any broken bones.

“Sillara!”
Konas's cry was half a
groan, and she felt dampness along her left side.

Blood.

“Treason!”
Sillara knew that,
though Konas probably did not know the word, he would understand the
Desertmasters' animosity.

Then she heard Merieke's voice.
“Konas steal Queen!”

Merieke had been here quite long
enough to have learned a good bit of the Desertmaster vocabulary. Lotuses were
always trained in languages, and doubtless Merieke had heard the word “Queen”
often enough to remember it.

Sillara felt hands jerking on the
bag, felt
herself
being lifted and pulled, and then
the purple moonslight poured in on her.

“
Your
Grace!” She saw the horrified face of one of the Desertmasters, and she
remembered him, remembered touching him at Vaelus's request. He had then been
fevered and near to death with the water-sickness. Now he was patrolling the
city, well, strong—and furious.

Then everything was a blur. Before
Sillara could take another breath, blood splattered all over her. She saw
Merieke running toward her, felt the Desertmasters trying to free her from the
bag, and she saw Konas, falling, bloody and battered, to the sand.

Splattered with the blood of her
husband, Sillara stood at the edge of her city, and she looked on Merieke with
revulsion. Treachery and deceit and lies—Merieke was a true Lotus. Konas had
obviously believed that Merieke was jealous of Sillara and wanted her out of
the way. It made sense from an Ausir point of view.

But Merieke was not an Ausir. She
was the Sunjaa daughter of a Lotus, and though she loved Soren obsessively, she
wanted to have him in conjunction with Nathen and Sillara. She wanted Konas
dead for Nathen's sake more than she wanted Sillara gone, if she even wanted
that at all.

“Sister!”
Merieke threw her arms
around Sillara. “Thank the gods!”

Sillara stared at Merieke. “You
betrayed him.” Sillara could not seem to think. She was surrounded by lies on
every side, and suddenly she was glad that Soren was here among the
Desertmasters. They were a wild, savage people, but they were at least honest.

“How could you think I would betray
you
by letting that monster carry you off?” Sillara heard just the
faintest hint of Lotus-trickery in Merieke's voice. She was not as skilled as
Nathen.

Sillara pulled away from her
brother's concubine, turning to order Konas's body taken up and treated with
respect.

But there was nothing left of it.
The Desertmasters had hacked him to pieces, and even his horns were broken.

Sillara sank down to the bloody
sand.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Soren?”
Nathen's voice called across
the room.

Soren had his
back to the door and had not heard him come in. He stared at the wall as he lay
on his stomach hugging his pillow. Nathen was here; the moment was at hand.
Sorrows revolved around Soren. His parents were dead, murdered by his friend,
and his sister was forever lost to him, tricked by a devious Seranimesti.

“I heard you
wanted to see me.”

“Come in.”
Soren did not roll over to look at his erstwhile friend.