Джеффри Лорд - The Temples Of Ayocan

Unfortunately, King Thambral did not. He did not accept garrisons for the temples of Ayocan, but he did stop watching them closely. For the moment the danger of war receded, but Hurakun, Mirasa, and their allies knew it would not be for long. To embroil the two kingdoms in a war and then use their network of temples to seize control of the ruins of both-that was the only game the priests of Ayocan could be playing. And they could play it best in the unwatched temples of Ayocan in Gonsara. Drugs, prostitutes, whole armies of the Death-Vowed-no one knew what lay in those temple mounds. And King Thambral no longer seemed to care.

«Doesn't Thambral think the priests are dangerous anymore?» asked Blade.

«Ask of Higher Powers for the workings of the minds of kings,» said Mirasa with a shrug. «Like Hurakun, Thambral has reigned long and has greatly loved peace. He would not see his forty years on the throne end with a futile war against Gonsara's great and honored neighbor.»

Blade sighed wearily. «I have known such rulers, too many of them.» In both Home Dimension and Dimension X, he added mentally. «Can he be moved to action?»

«He must be!» said Mirasa fiercely. «If he does nothing, he will wake one morning to find the Death-Vowed swarming through Gonsara and slaughtering his subjects before his eyes. Then his subjects will fight back and fall on the priests of Ayocan. The High Priests will call on Hurakun to march against Gonsara. He will refuse, and that will be the signal for his death-his and Kenas'. Piralu will rule in Chiribu, the two kingdoms will fall on each other, and Ayocan's priests will rule the ruins of both!»

«So I am to go down the river to Gonsara, and discover what the priests are doing there. What then?»

«Then you find some way of coming before King Thambral and persuading him to move against the temple mounds and the cult of Ayocan.»

Blade grinned. «You don't expect much of me, do you? What makes you think I can do that-or can even be trusted to try it?»

Mirasa shrugged. This gesture imparted a most interesting movement to her half-visible breasts. «I would like to believe that you will do it for the love of Chiribu and hatred of Ayocan. But you are not of our people, and I have lived with the deeds of power too long to believe that anyone's motives can be pure. So I will ask you. You are a marked and terrible enemy of Ayocan. How long do you think you can live here in either Chiribu or Gonsara, unless you help us destroy the temple mounds and their priests? It would not matter whether you fled or hid; the Holy Warriors would seek you out and the priests would drag you to the block of sacrifice. You will aid us not only because you love Chiribu, but also because you love your own life.»

Blade nodded. He liked Mirasa more and more. Perhaps she lived by and amid intrigue, but she could be honest-disarmingly honest-when she chose. He would have to be even more on guard because of that, however much he liked her.

Before he could think any farther along those lines, she rose and came around the table to stand behind him. Her hands came down and stroked his cheeks lightly. She smiled, this time with no bitterness in the smile. «And perhaps you will aid Chiribu against the priests of Ayocan for love of me also.»

Blade's erection, which had quietly expired during the long discussion of politics, came quickly to life again. Mirasa's hands on his face, her firm taut breasts against his back, her perfume in his nostrils-all combined to arouse him instantly, completely. He could have turned in his chair, thrown Mirasa down on the table, and taken her then and there.

But from his experience with women he sensed that Mirasa demanded deference from her lovers, as well as virility. He rose slowly from his chair, feeling Mirasa's fingers trailing down over his chest as he did so. He turned, gently took her by the wrists, then ran his hands up her arms under the sleeves of her robe. His touch was as light as hers, but he saw her mouth open and heard a little gasp. Lovers were few and far between for Mirasa, it seemed, and the fires burning in her were seldom quenched.

Before he could move again, she had seized his hand and was drawing him to the door that loomed beyond the table. Blade was hardly surprised when the room on the other side of the door turned out to be Mirasa's bedchamber. The great bed in the middle of the room was canopied, and hung round with gauzy red curtains.

Mirasa skimmed across the black rug on the floor soundlessly and so fast that her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. She jerked the bed curtains aside and turned to face Blade. «Ah, Blade,» she said, in a voice that was halfway between pleading and passion, «you must be as powerful here as you were fighting the Holy Warriors. Nothing but your best can be enough for me.»

A randy princess indeed, thought Blade. A type he knew well. But also a type he had never failed to satisfy. This was not a boast, it was merely a fact stemming from his own vigor.

Mirasa licked her lips. «Your garments, Blade, your garments-off with them! I want to see that magnificent man's-flesh of yours doing what is fit and proper. And I want to feel it.»

«You will,» said Blade. At least he was able to keep his arousal out of his voice.

He stripped off his kilt and let Mirasa's eyes take in his upstanding and engorged phallus. From the way her dark eyes widened, it seemed to pass inspection, and more. He stepped toward her, arms outstretched. She thrust him back, but there was no strength in her pushing. Blade sensed she wanted him to ignore her protests, to literally sweep her off her feet. The time for deference was over.

His powerful hands went down her body and clasped hard under her buttocks. She gasped again as he tightened his fingers, pinching and plucking flesh that was warm and pliant under the thin material of the gown. Then his hands drifted down farther, and suddenly he jerked them up under the gown, clasping her bare thighs.

Mirasa stiffened as though he had given her an electric shock, and gave a little whimper. Her hands rose to the back of his neck and tightened there so hard that for a moment he thought she was going to strangle him. He kept his own hands in place, moving them up the insides of her thighs until he felt her curly dark hair between his fingers. Curly dark hair that was already damp, and became not just damp but sopping wet as his fingers probed and pressed and squeezed. Now Mirasa's eyes were closed tight, her mouth wide open, and her breath coming in short, quick pants.

Then her body was jerking and her eyes rolling up in her head. Blade saw her nipples standing up so hard and far that they thrust out the fabric of the gown. On his still moving hands he felt the sudden outpouring of her spasm, and he heard her sob and whimper.

There was no romance in that kind of desperate hunger in a woman. But it took more than a little lack of romance to impair Blade's abilities in the presence of a woman so fiercely aroused. Much more. He was still solid and rigid as he stripped the gown over Mirasa's head. He ran his fingers over the graceful body now fully revealed, noting the firmness of the flesh, the incredibly few sags and wrinkles to suggest oncoming age, the enormous nipples, engorged almost to blackness and standing up an inch from the tips of her breasts. He raised a hand to one breast, lowered his lips to the other, heard Mirasa give a gasp that was almost a scream. She was going to reach another spasm soon if he kept up his work on her breasts much longer. But he alternated lips and fingers on her breasts until she was shaking like a sapling in a gale. Her hips were going through intricate motions of their own as he lifted her and laid her on the bed. And he was still as firm as ever as he plunged into her.