Dave Duncan - Children of Chaos

"Plenty." He kissed her again and again she melted like a dewy maiden at her betrothal. Oh, it had been so long!

"Don't get yourself killed, love!" she said, but he had gone.

♦

Never had the sky turned slower. Ingeld fidgeted and fretted, paced, tried to pray. She could see nothing in the embers, which was hardly surprising in her jittery state. There was no real danger, she told herself over and over—no real danger as long as Benard had remembered to dispose of the dagger. If the guards heard the bell and went to investigate, they would merely arrest him and shut him up in a dungeon overnight—as long as he didn't try anything stupid, like trying to knife a Werist. It was her palace, so when the prisoner was brought before her, she would just pardon him.

The stars had frozen in place. She went to kneel before the embers. She was tempted to make a vow that she would not move from there until Veslih showed her it was time to go, but threatening goddesses was never wise. And then, as if her goddess had taken pity on her, she saw him. He was kneeling by a door, patiently working on the lowermost seal on the crisscrossed ropes. He had ajar, a lamp, and a cloth—and the dagger! He was gently loosening the clay on the back of the seal. The other two seemed to have gone already. She watched in terror. The guards were supposed to patrol the palace all night long, but she knew they rarely bothered to visit the cellars, and with Horold out of town they would be even less vigilant than usual.

Benard lifted away the third seal and set it down a safe distance from the door. He began untying the ropes. All he had to do now was pull the bolt and haul the door open. He must be confident that the bell cord on the other side had come untied. Or perhaps mice had already chewed through it, because holy Veslih must be cooperating in this, two goddesses combining to foil the god of war.

Ingeld jumped to her feet, snatched up a dark gown, and ran out into the anteroom. The palace was dark and silent. Steering mostly by memory and fingers trailing on the wall, she hastened to the Daughters' chapel. Tene and an acolyte were on duty there. Their alarm and guilt as they sprang up suggested that they had been very close to asleep, but that was good news, for it meant that there had been no alarming sightings.

"I shall keep the vigil for a time," Ingeld said, and swept on into the adytum. No one argued, especially the mousy little acolyte keeping watch over the sacred fire. Ingeld chased her out also. Let them wonder! A city dynast need not explain her decisions to anyone.

She closed the heavy, bronze-scrolled door, locking it with bolts hidden within the tracery. She dropped her cloak around her and knelt to offer a wordless prayer. No calm needed now. Calm would be out of place, and the flames were full of joy—showing Benard also, of course, but mostly joy and celebration. So she had read the auguries correctly and divined why Benard Celebre was so important to Kosord. What would happen after tonight she could not see. No boats. No dead bodies, either, but no promises that her lover would live even until dawn. He was about to fulfill his destiny. He might hold no interest for the gods after that.

The Holy Keeper had made Her will known, and Her light must obey.

Ingeld rose and crossed to the secret panel. The little hatch was heavier than she remembered it on the day her mother had shown it to her. She pressed on one side, pushing hard, sinking her bare feet into the rugs. When it had turned on its central pivot far enough to show a crack along either edge, Benard's thick fingers appeared beside hers, and hauled.

The floor of the treasury was lower, so he was looking up at her. His eyes went wide with astonishment, black crystal with the sacred flames dancing in them. He stared at the central hearth and the five dark-tiled walls rising into mystery.

"Where?"

"It is the adytum of Veslih, Her holy of holies."

He bit his lip. "I may not enter such a place. It is forbidden to me."

"That is possible," she admitted. "But did not your goddess open the treasury door for you?"

"So She did!" He smiled the huge grin she always associated with young Bena, softening his blocky face back to boyishness.

When he started to move, she put out a hand to stop him.

"Wait! Benard, only once in a generation may a man enter this room, and for only one purpose. You must enter unclothed and here give your seed to Veslih, renouncing all claim on the child you will sire. Do you accept those terms?"

He stared at her in disbelief, working it out, then nodded. Then his eyes narrowed. "You will use me to block Horold. I don't mind that, but you promised we would go away."

"So we shall. This must come first."

His smile twisted with a young man's lechery, so that he was again the adolescent lover she remembered. He fumbled at his waist. "Can I try for twins?"

How typical! Despite the solemnity of the moment, she laughed. "You have all night. Go for triplets if you're man enough."

She shed her robe and returned to the brazier. By then he had stripped and clambered up; he closed the panel with no obvious effort. He knelt beside her, unashamedly aroused.

"You're sure I'm not too old to interest you?" she said.

"Do I look as if I had doubts? Oh, Ingeld! This time forever?"

"Forever," she promised. "As long as the gods allow."

Arms embraced, lips met, she closed her eyes.

There was a little more lovers' babble: "You make me feel like a girl again."

"You taught me how to be a man."

"All these years? All those women?—and don't deny them—and yet you want me again?"

"I never stopped wanting you. They were all you. And none of them was."

Then no more words.

♦

Horold's savagery had left her sore, but even as a youth, Benard had always been a careful lover. And a playful one. No doubt all previous impregnations performed in this chamber had been cold-blooded ritual, dour state consorts doing their duty, but Benard as lover could never be anything but joyful. He teased and tickled and tongued her until he had her helplessly aroused, gasping and pleading for release. And perhaps the goddess added Her approval, for when the ecstasy came, it was inexpressibly prolonged and sweet, as if all the years of denial were being rewarded in one single, overpowering passion.

♦

Later, while he was leaning on an elbow, studying her body by firelight and tracing out its contours with fingertips, he said, "Holy Veslih must have kept you young for this. You haven't changed at all! If you had gained one wrinkle I would notice."

"I enjoy flattery more than I used to. You've changed, though. You're bigger and cuddlier and a lot hairier."

"And I have more stamina."

"I doubt that," she said. "But I'm willing to be persuaded."

"In a moment. Explain why this was necessary."

"I think you know. What was your mother's name?"

"Oliva. Why?"

"Part of the ritual. And now I can leave Kosord, because Horold will kill Oliva if he finds out she's yours, and obviously she cannot flee without taking me with her."

He touched tongue to nipple. "What absurd logic! But I'm not complaining." He nibbled, sucked, inspected his handiwork. "I think we can start work on the second triplet now."

twenty-eight

FABIA CELEBRE

said softly, "In Kosord, Father, you must visit the Jade Bowl."

For days she had been seeking a chance to pass on the Witness's advice. Now the two of them were leaning on the gunwale, in the bows where the wind would carry her whisper away, and no one was watching them except a snoopy white bird on the fore post. All other eyes were on the landing ahead as Beloved of Hrada eased in toward the bustling waterfront of Kosord.