“No, Majesty. Only what you already know—that Warlock Olybino named her husband as leader of the opposition to the Covin. That does suggest she may have been sent with a message.”
“How about her emotional state?”
“Yes, that is curious. Agitated. She is understandably frightened, but hiding it better than I should have believed possible. A tentative diagnosis, that is.”
Azak sighed. That sounded like Inosolan. “Well, we shall see. I shall expect you to watch our encounter, of course.” Furkar inclined his head respectfully and walked away. Azak shivered, and went back to work.
The work kept coming to Azak. Forage, water skins, arrows, horseshoes, bandages, medicines . . . He was surrounded by morons. Any detail he did not check himself would inevitably explode into a problem during the campaign. He owed his success to his infinite capacity for taking pains.
He had always done his best work by night. He revived after the sunset meal and a new phalanx of secretaries arrived to help, but it was well past midnight before he felt able to send for Inosolan: By then he was bone weary, aware that he must snatch a few hours’ sleep before he led out the army at dawn. Still, if the woman had been nervous before, then the long wait would not have calmed her fears.
He had dismissed the beetles, although their tables were still loaded with documents. His desk was lit by lanterns hanging from the high ceiling, but otherwise the room was dark. Furkar sat like a graven replica of himself in the far corner, a disembodied face, and even that invisible unless one knew where to look.
She stepped in through one flap of the double doors, and it closed behind her. Then she began to walk across the wide expanse of barren stone toward the desk. She was not as tall as he remembered, but of course there was imp blood in her. She had been garbed in plain white, the all-enveloping chaddar of Zark. As she drew close he saw the green of her eyes and he remembered their wedding night, the one time he had seen her unclothed.
Ransom? She had been stolen away from him by the imperor himself, all those long years ago. Was it possible that she had been sent back as a peace offering? Did they really think he would call off his war now, for this?
And yet . . . He had possessed hundreds of women, probably thousands. Why then must his heart labor so shamefully at the sight of this one?
He spread his hands before him on the desk.
She did not prostrate herself or even curtsey. She dropped the veil from her face and pulled off her head cloth, spilling honey hair loose about her shoulders.
“Hello, Azak,” she said airily. “Been a long time, hasn’t it?”
She sat down on the chair unbidden and smiled at him. Her face was no longer that of a girl, but he would have guessed ten years short of her age. Northern sun was kinder, perhaps. The lines on her face were faint, certainly not to be classed as wrinkles. Her eyes were still as green and bright as the emeralds in his baldric.
“I was not expecting you.”
She chuckled. “I don’t suppose you were! The years have been kind to you, Big Man. More weight? Quite a lot more weight! But you have the bones for it. You look good.”
She was lying, of course—he had proof of that—but the words raised his chin anyway.
“They have been kind to you, also,” he said huskily. ”Flattery! I have bome four children.”
“I have bred a hundred sons.”
“It’s easier for you.”
Had not Furkar himself told him she was frightened, he would not have believed it. He would have sworn that she was the only person in Zark, apart from the sorcerer, who was not afraid of him-how unlike the fawning, shivering maidens who served his needs in the seraglio! She seemed totally at ease, her smile was perfectly composed. He had seen,that smile before somewhere . . . Oh, yes, her aunt.
“Princess Kadolan?”
A shadow darkened that golden face. “She passed away a few years ago. Very peacefully. How about Prince Kar?”
“He developed ambitions.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
Again the pearl on his index forger darkened momentarily. “Zark is the only place I know,” Inosolan said gaily, “where ambition is so swiftly fatal. And Mistress Zana?”
“She, also, has been weighed by the Gods.”
“I am truly sorry to hear that.”
The pearl stayed white.
This was women’s chatter. She could keep this up all night! What would it take to make her show her fear?
“And what dread purpose brings you to our domain, Inos?”
She raised a golden eyebrow. “I do not think you should describe your eldest son as a `dread purpose,’ Azak! I had no intention of violating your borders until he insisted. I was on my way to Thume.”
White, still—but Azak’s heart chilled. “Why? What is there in Thume?”
“You don’t know?” the queen said coyly. “You mean you will just march in without knowing?”
“We embark tomorrow to sail to Ollion.”
The old familiar grin. “Azak! Really! Those ships in the harbor are deserted. The hills are thick with soldiers and livestock. If you were planning to embark all of them tomorrow, the harbor would be a madhouse. It’s not. It’s a morgue. Your shipping may fool the imps, but it doesn’t fool me.”
He had forgotten the root of her appeal—the deadly combination of beauty and brains. To match wits with a woman was a stunningly unfamiliar sensation for him, and it aroused him as he would not have believed possible.
She seemed to guess his thought, because she grinned mischievously at him. ”I’m not one of your broodmares, Azak. I never was.”
“No. You never were. After what happened the last time, I do not know why you should wish to return to Thume.” She frowned, and white silk rustled as she crossed her legs. God of Lust! He remembered those hard, slim legs, the honeycolored down where they met, the skin more fair than any in Zark, the firm breasts and rose-pink nipples. Never had he laid a hand on her!
“We know,” she said, “you and I know that there is some unfathomed power in Thume, even now. It seems to be unpredictable, and it is apparently masked by some sort of inattention spell that selectively discourages sorcerers. But it exists.” He nodded. The pearl in his ring remained white.
“I hope to enlist that power in my husband’s war.” Furkar’s voice whispered in his ear for him alone: “She is talking nonsense, Majesty!”
But the pearl had stayed white. What she said might be wrong, but she believed it to be true.
“I love you,” Inos said.
“What?”
“It’s the pearl? I wondered why you kept staring at your hands. It changed color then, didn’t it?”
He glared at her and she smiled. “Not a broodmare, Azak!”
He raised his hand, crooking his fingers to display the pearl. “I think I still love you!” he said thickly.
The pearl darkened.
Lust after you,” he corrected. The pearl turned white again.
Color poured into her face and she dropped her eyes to her own hands, clasped upon her lap. Yes, now she understood her danger. Better!
He waited, and waited, until finally she broke the silence. “Our adventure in Thume was an ordeal. It was hateful. And yet . . . I admit . . . Those were the days of our youth, Azak. The horror has faded. The joy has not!” She looked up appealingly. “Do you remember how we rode through that romantic forest, so full of enchantment, and you lectured me on dog scats? I am grateful for the help you gave me then, Azak. I am grateful that you came to say good-bye to me in Hub, and sorry I was not there to receive your farewell. Let us cherish those memories, forget the harsh words, and go forward as allies.”
Still he did not speak. The big room was silent, except for the buzz of mosquitoes. Moths whirled crazily around the lanterns.
Now her apprehension was obvious. No color in her face now. “Am I still your wife, here in Zark?”
He shook his head. “I signed a decree of divorce as soon as I returned.”
She nodded gratefully. “It must have been a difficult time for you.”
“The court was amused that I had lost my foreign bride. The imperor’s treaty I brought back with me helped. And I declared war on Shuggaran right away.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Then I was responsible for what you began then? That was the start of it?”
“It was. A scorned sultan does not rule long, but a war will bind the factions, at least temporarily.”
Golden fireflies played over her hair as she shook her head. “I am glad you managed to survive, but I dislike the means you employed. And now you carry the war to the Impire? You realize that you are walking into a trap?”
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