Robert Vardeman - Istu awakened

He lifted her hand, kissed it. His lips were dry but surprisingly soft. He then turned and offered his taloned hand to Darl, who got to his feet and gripped forearms heartily with the Instrumentality. Moriana gulped her wine. The imprint of Khirshagk's kiss burned on the back of her right hand.

They passed the evening in inconsequential talk. Khirshagk spoke with animation and wit, and displayed a surprising knowledge of the affairs of the outside world. Moriana guessed that the Hissers had some intercourse with true men (this made her feel better somehow), though the latter took pains to keep this a secret.

Professing a love for human music, the Instrumentality prevailed on Darl to sing, which the Count-Duke then did in a lovely mellow baritone. It was the lay of a rootless wanderer who beholds a wondrous lady and consecrates his life to her. He cannot possess her, for she is pledged to another. In the end he gives his life for her and dies with a smile on his lips. It was a common enough theme, but phrased with a bittersweet poignancy that brought tears to her eyes. Her reaction was odd in its way; the princess had no ear for music and cared little for it as a rule.

'Your own composition, I believe,' said Khirshagk when the song was done. Blushing slightly, Darl nodded.

Moriana bit her lip. At once she understood. He had written the song for her. Darl confirmed it by avoiding her eyes.

'Well,' Darl said, rising and stifling a yawn with the back of his fist. 'I'm worn down with travelling, I don't mind admitting. I think I'll retire. Your Highness?'

'I'll wait a while,' said Moriana before she could stop herself. She wondered why she'd said that. It wasn't just pique at him for performing such a song in front of the lizard man. Her motives went deeper – and Moriana didn't wish to examine them too closely.

He looked at her for a long moment. Then with a wan smile, he nodded.

'I wish you a good rest, my Lady. Your, uh, Instrumentality, I thank you for your gracious hosting.'

'You've more than repaid me with your song, Lord Darl.' He hissed flat syllables to a Zr'gsz female, who wordlessly lifted a torch from its bracket. 'Rissuu will show you to your quarters.' The tall man bowed and departed.

Moriana lay back. Her lips were dry, but she had no desire for the wine. Nervously the princess ran her hand along the black and silver fur beneath her.

'It's the hide of the greater weasel of Nevrym,' said Khirshagk. 'A cunning, deadly beast. We trade for them with the foresters.'

Moriana nodded. The men of the Great Nevrym were known to be reckless, enamored of danger. Of all the folk of the Realm it was easiest for her to imagine the Nevrym foresters trading with the shunned and dreaded Hissers, not through any love of them or for the Dark, but because of the essential lawlessness of their natures. It occurred to her that most of the footmen who remained with her were Nevrym men. She had thought it because of the toughness of the breed. Perhaps it was also because the keep of the Fallen Ones was not such a mystery to them.

Khirshagk walked to the wall as gracefully as a hunting beast. He reached a hand to the single torch burning beside the curtained doorway and snuffed it as a human might snuff a candle flame between thumb and forefinger. Moriana winced in sympathy, but he displayed no sign of pain.

'What you are about to see,' he said quietly, 'has been seen before by only one of your kind. And she was of your kind indeed.'

Hsst! went another torch. The room descended another step toward utter darkness.

'She?' asked Moriana. The word came out huskier than she intended. She watched him move. In motion, Khirshagk had the stop-and-go rhythm of a lizard, she noted. It was exotic and not at all repellent to her. Deliberately, he doused the remaining torches in the same way. She gave a little gasp as the jaws of blackness closed. 'Wait,' he bade her. She waited. Gradually, she became aware that the chamber did not lie in total night. As her pupils expanded she began to discern the details of the room's spare furnishings once more, this time illuminated by a suffused green glow that seemed to come from all around.

'Thirty thousand years ago my folk came to this continent. Of all the vastness of this land you call the Sundered Realm, this was the place they chose as their first home. And they grew themselves a keep, nurturing crystals by arcane means until they formed the vast blocks and protrusions that are the Thendrun you see all about you. Crystals of emerald, Princess, such as the giant single crystal that is your Beryl Throne.' She saw the white gleam of his smile. 'You can see why we don't value what the Pale Ones call riches.' A suspicion formed in her mind. 'And the City in the Sky…?'

'You are perceptive. It is no more than to be expected.' Before she questioned the cryptic remark, he went on. 'Yes, we grew the Sky City in much the same way from a bed of skystone. It's of a different substance, of course. It grew vertically in spire and towers instead of the angular shapes of our keep. And you're aware that it's not made of emerald. Nor does it glow with its own light, as do the walls of our dwellings.'

'It's beautiful,' she said. It was the literal truth, but it was a soul-disturbing beauty, a beauty redolent of the Dark Ones.

He came toward her. She stood, arms limp at her sides. Moriana forced her mind into the calm necessary to form the thought to the nun: Ziore, what does he intend? You need me to tell you that?

Khirshagk put out his hand till his forefinger touched the untied lacings of her tunic. Her breath came shallow and rapid as the finger pulled down, drawing forth the leather thong. His claws touched the place where the garment came together below her breasts, and continued downward. The leather parted as if he used a knife.

'You are not the first Moriana to visit Thendrun,' he said in a rich, low voice. 'Nor the first Etuul.' She blinked.

'A Moriana Etuul aided shai-Gallri, it's true,' she said. Her voice was almost as breathy as a Zr'gsz's now. 'I am descended from her. I'm the first of my clan to bear the name Moriana since…'

Her words trailed away as he lifted his finger to her breast. The finger stroked. Moriana stiffened, remembering the black talon had sliced her tunic. But the touch on her nipple was gentle. She shuddered with surprised pleasure as the nipple grew erect.

'Since that Moriana came to Thendrun to gain the secret of true magic,' he said. He took his hand from her breast, dropped it. Her swordbelt fell to the furs with a muffled clatter. A moment later her breeches joined it, pared from her like the peel from a fruit. The razor claw didn't so much as touch the skin beneath.

She started to reach for Khirshagk. She had early guessed how the evening would end and had been steeling herself for it. Now there was no need for her fortitude. She had not lain with Darl since before Chanobit. Desire was a keen edge in her loins. Khirshagk stepped back.

'In those days the Pale Ones had little magic besides that of Athalau, which is no real magic at all, merely the exercise of mental powers.'

'And what is true magic?' She felt the coldness of the Amulet between her breasts but did not look down. A cool breeze fondled her nakedness. His hands went to his robe.

'Power. The ability to manipulate the beings of this world and the Dark beyond. That gift was given to the People alone. The earlier Moriana came to purchase that gift, and so she did.' 'And how did she pay for it?' Moriana almost whispered. He laughed. 'She found the paying no ordeal,' he said, and parted his robe.

Moriana stared. Not one but two great penises jutted from his groin, one above the other, each one swollen-headed and wrapped with veins like a vine-wrapped column.

'We are similar, your kindred and mine,' said Khirshagk. 'But my folk are the greater breed.'