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The Ceremony of Submission by Tegeli [Note: This story builds up from my stories 'The Phantasm in the Fog', 'A Self to Kill For' and 'The Warlock Tyrant'.] Bow to us, blunt brother of steel, heinous havoc here now repeal. Sew shut the flesh, restore the bone, heal your violence and then begone. -stave from a chant for mending musket wounds PART ONE - Patience of Primordial Mastery CHAPTER 1 The tall sorceress gave me a wide smile and squeezed my thigh, before she jumped out the rickety carriage. Deneisin had frequently pressed against me during the days of travel. My husband Reg had regarded us with blushed amusement from the opposite bench. Even though he had no visible wounds left, I hadn't allowed him to ride until his injuries were safe from sorcery, which might reopen them. "According to the proper mores," Deneisin said. "I will have to attend one of my father's friend here in Hamekar. Considering that this Mesamra is a sorcerer puissant enough to be my father's ally, you will want to seek lodging elsewhere." "This city should be a nice place to stay, even with the swarming sorcerers." Reg clasped my hand. I returned my husband's smile. "If nothing else, I'll enjoy having an official permission to not having to hide." The opulent fortress-city occupied the side of a clear turquoise lake. Instead of the region's typical sandy fields, lush forests covered the surrounding hills. In the heartlands of the despotate, preserving the woods --as game reserves for the relaxing magnates-- was another sign of wealth. It was said that Hamekar was close enough to Asikhatum that the oversize walls of the capital city were visible from the towers of Hamekar on a clear day. Sorcerers needed special permission to get any closer, and thus came to Hamekar take orders and show humility in front of the despotate. In a sense, Hamekar functioned as the capital of Peritian sorcery. Unless I was sentenced for treason and dragged there as a blind and mute heap of flesh, I wouldn't be going any where near the true capital. Me and my husband had only come this close, because Deneisin's father had insisted that we get our legal status confirmed. The opportunity was, in a sense, an honour. As sorcerers of rank, we'd receive a modicum of legal protection against other sorcerers. The other option, becoming vagabonds again, had almost gotten us killed. Because Deneisin was too young to have travelled to show submission to the despotate before, she had come with us. Her status and might had been a welcome protection on the road, and now I found myself reluctant to let go of it. She answered my hug. The streets were wide and clean, the houses sprawled without concerns of space. Guards strode behind their wards unarmoured and relaxed, as if their jobs didn't involve using the weapons in their hands. Despite the considerable time since the harvest, abundant cooking filled the air with magic to awaken hunger. The music was as varied as the languages. Save for the hurrying officials in their stately robes, the crowds were dressed to show that they belonged to distant places or nowhere in particular. My head was covered by a thick scarf to protect my hair and face from the dust of the road. What I was, could only be seen in the shapes of my body. Even though I was a bit pear-shaped under the flowing robes, plenty of the man, who I would have become without sorcery, remained in me. Being conscious of my form was like walking into prison bars, which let through everything except my chest. I pushed against Reg. He wrapped his arm around me, and I could breathe again. Spending the night in the public houses was inconvenient, because I wasn't comfortable undressing in the side of either sex. Instead, we got a small room above the shop of an idol maker. Though we had announced ourselves as sorcerers to the local officials, and thus had a certain dignity to uphold, wasting coin on my 'modesty' was regrettable. Yet privacy had its benefits. After we had washed, I kneeled in front of Reg. He had learned not to pretend he didn't desire such attention, but I could see in his expression that he wanted to claim otherwise. Reg brushed my hair with his hand. His hand was firm, yet I wished, he'd do more to pretend he was the assertive one. I swallowed his seed with its enchanted taste, and rinsed my mouth with water and a spell. "I don't want to leave you hanging again," my husband said. "Wouldn't you like, if I returned the favour?" "No!" I gasped. "I couldn't live with the memory of that. I have to kiss you." "Well, I didn't mean exactly quite... Wait, I have to kiss you!" "That's different." I sighed. "Can't you believe I'm content, even happy, with this? Besides I don't feel that needy. If you want to 'repay' me for doing what I want, keep the light up and hold me tight as I read." The darkness was deep, but in Reg's hand the vial of bottled light shone with the fire of a dozen candles. My pamphlet had had hard covers once. Even so, despite the damage and some missing pages, it was in decent condition. The work was about anatomy, mostly female. While the information was thoroughly researched --if densely delivered-- the true treasure was the exquisite drawings. So good were they that I had to consciously ignore the suspicion that the author had gone through quite a few cadavers to get all that detail. Reading the pamphlet again didn't change my unfortunate conclusion. Even if I had understood, what all the tissue was and did, the female organs were too complex to keep in mind during a transformative spell. I wouldn't be able to do it the same way I had made my breasts grow: by letting my body do the guidance. The tits had already existed, in a way, and only needed the push of the spell to develop. Changing my insides was completely different, and would require significantly more sophisticated magic. I knew a miracle from the gods could do it, but hoping for another was folly that would end in misery. Reg, lying behind me, did his own anatomic explorations. I couldn't but wonder what exactly he found attractive in me. In the dark moments, when all my research appeared futile, I thought he was purely attracted to what I was. Not to what I wanted to be. However, that wasn't fair. He had been considerate and supportive. And even at the moment, he was squeezing my small breasts in a way, which helped to alleviate my foolish doubts. The pleasure of being enjoyed was distracting, or would have been had I actually wanted to read more. I pushed my butt against Reg's hips, and found him ready again. I reached for a vial of prepared salve, handed it to him and pulled my legs against myself to allow for his entrance. The signs of Reg's imminent climax had become familiar to me, even though he kept his panting low out of habit of secrecy. "Don't make a mess inside me. Or on the bed." "Alright." He pulled out of my butt, and I made sure to sigh contently to show I had enjoyed it. Reg got up and over me and made his mess in the chamber pot at the other side of the room. He cleaned himself and got back to the bed. "Do you need anything?" he asked. "No, I'm satisfied." It was a lie. In truth I was quite bothered, even my lust rarely flared. But my needful dreams were often delightful. In them I could be a woman, all the way, and while I couldn't remember the details, when I woke up, I was sure it had been nice. CHAPTER 2 I was in middle of a forest of pillars, holding my belly. I didn't want to leave, but the dream faded around me. It was still dark, but I could sense the imminent dawn. With concentration, my eyes could see in the gloom. The man next to me had muscularly robust thighs. With the months of proper meals, the contours of his stomach had lost their emaciated appearance. The broad chest and thick arms were made to thrust with lances, draw war bows and hold lovers tight. The pleasing jawline was covered by a stubble. He seemed to want to grow a beard, perhaps to hide the scar that climbed up his neck to his chin. Still, I would ask him to shave it off, as I preferred him as youthful as he was. I lowered my eyes back downwards on Reg. It was a mystery why I liked his member, compared to how little I cared for mine. I wrapped my hand around his girth, enjoyed its warmth and gave it a few sharp jerks. Reg was startled awake. "Good morning, dear," I crooned. "Let's get up. I want to see the city before the throngs become stifling." Hamekar had plenty of diversions to waste a few days on. Though we had a decent pouch of silver and lead, the locals became considerably reluctant to accept any payment, if they figured out that we were sorcerers. I didn't like the idea that people gave us free food, merely because they were afraid we'd hurt them. Eventually Reg convinced me that it was in the interest of the locals to have amiable sorcerers around. To discourage real thieves. As if taking with the force of fear wasn't base banditry, regardless of how it was done. Anyhow, refusing generosity was an insult, and ultimately I accepted the low or non-existing costs without protest. Hamekar's great temples of the high gods were sprawling mountains of stone. Daring skywalks connected the sharp spires, and intricate sigils squirmed over its fortress walls. The forceful curses woven into the stone were apparent even without concentrating on the magic permeating the place. Of all places under the heaven, this must have been the most perilous. Despite its size and grandiosity, the complex was near devoid of crowds, save for the scurrying servants and chanting priests. Strict rules were to be obeyed by anyone let inside. No spitting, talking too loud or any other rude behaviour, which might upset the local spirits. No channelling or commanding any forces without higher authorisation. We couldn't wear our shoes, though going completely barefoot was also forbidden, so we were given thick socks. The warnings and admonitions of the priestess acting as our guide continued for a considerable length. The tree-like pillars of the cavernous hall rose until they disappeared into the gloom. The statues and carvings danced in the shadows cast by the faint flickering the thousand unending candles. "Well, isn't this an oppressive place," Deneisin said. In a flowing dress instead of her usual armour, she was noticeably spindly. Almost as if she was daring others to assume she was frail. "My father told that the Yurashews built these halls to trap the high gods, in an attempt to rule forever through their power. Of course, the high gods granted part of their wish, and the transgressors were squashed into the walls to power these nasty enchantments. Now they scream praises to the true masters of our souls." I frowned. "That's a fanciful tale, but doesn't align with any reputable writings." Deneisin shrugged. "Might be so. You must agree that it's more poignant than the traditional telling of Yurashews sacrificing herds of captured warriors to fuel these dingy candles." She smirked. "However, my father's version has a lesson." "'Don't challenge the gods'?" Reg ventured. While his new clothes weren't particularly ostentatious, which was fitting for a sorcerer, he managed to be striking in them. I should have gotten more enticing clothes for myself. The freshly dyed but practical robe-coat made me look boyish. "That, and 'don't fail'," Deneisin said. The waiting room was made less suffocating than the main halls by its smaller size and the daylight filtering from narrow windows. "About time you three deign to grace us with your presence," said one of the two tall men waiting on the solar mosaic of the floor. Their aquiline features were near-identical and pronounced to the point of almost losing their handsomeness. The speaker had a head full of bushy hair, while the other was bald up to half of his skull. "I'm Kawsetan and this is my life-partner Ravsitam." I introduced our names. The balding Ravsitam continued to stare at the carved ceiling and most likely didn't hear me, while a frown invaded Kawsetan's face. "I've heard about you, Deneisin," Kawsetan said. "I wouldn't have assumed you'd associate with the riffraff of the sort of these novices." Deneisin smiled. "And I haven't heard about you two, yet still I associate with your persons." "Fair point," Kawsetan said. "Your noble-blooded type is rare, and must have the exigency for this rare type of pets." Reg stepped forward. "If you want to continue with your insults, better back them up with sorcery." Kawsetan lifted a hand. "No one would dare to use spellcraft for harm in this place." "My point exactly," Reg snarled. While he was the same height as the twins, he had the frame of a warrior fed like an aristocrat. Kawsetan sneered but jerked backwards. I reached to take Reg's hand into mine. I didn't want him to lose himself into the battle fury. Not in that place. Not anywhere. Deneisin's laugh sliced the tension. "Now that would be an amusing start to this day. A bare-fisted brawl among sorcerers! But I reckon you'd end up short, dear Kawsetan." "She's right, Kaws," Ravsitam said. "You aren't much of a wrestler." He looked at us. "Let us all stop pretending we are here to fight each other." Kawsetan brushed his ruffled hair back and nodded. "Very well. I wouldn't want anyone's blood on my attire." CHAPTER 3 We performed a variety of obeisances to clerks and priest. They were adamant that the despot would suffer no disobedience towards their offices, despite none of them commanding sorcery. Nevertheless, the twins and Deneisin managed to show their immense distaste in their slight reluctances. The clerks themselves didn't show any glee from their dubious honour to annoy men and women of lethal spellcraft and tempers eroded by frequent yielding to whims. The only clerk completely unperturbed by the forced submission given to him was the first scribe of sorcerous affairs. The chair brought to the stately man was very much a throne. His subordinates spread massive tomes on the table to his unhurried reading pleasure. The first scribe listened and checked the information on all of us. Apparently the 'twins' weren't brothers at all. And both were older than even the first scribe could be, which explained Kawsetan's attitude. When asked why they only now came to submit to the despotate, Kawsetan directly insulted the despot and told they were only after funding from the palace treasury, for their planned exploration of the Dyed Sea. Records on Deneisin's life were already exhaustive, and she dismissed any further inquiries. The only knowledge about Regaseir came from the sloppy copies of the records from our hermitage. After ascertaining that Reg existed as a person, the first scribe moved on to me. "You two were trained in the same academy?" the first scribe asked after I told my name. "But there is no mention of any 'Adzasai' here." The truth shouldn't have been as uncomfortable as it was. "I used to be called Asailki." A servant placed another opened book in front of the first scribe, who looked the page through. He gazed at me with a lifted eyebrow. "I see. Any reason for this change? I should have it inscribed for posterity." I couldn't look at him. He wasn't likely to deliberately try to humiliating me, but the thought of leaving a permanent record of something so distasteful about my life was unpleasant. Ironically, such sentiments might have been why finding information about people like me had been so difficult. Reg took my hand into a tight grasp. "She took the name after marrying me." "Oh." The first scribe nodded sagaciously. "A marital name, then. Unusual but not unheard of. We will have to alter our copy of your marriage documentation, but it's not a notable bother." When the first scribe was sufficiently satisfied by the corrected records, we were guided to a dim waiting room. The opulent scent of the hot spiced wine filled the small space. I didn't mind the dulling of my thoughts, which the heady drink caused. There certainly was enough of it. As our wait stretched, all of us ended up drinking more than was wise. "Oh!" Kawsetan slurred. "Now I get why the first scribe looked askance at you, 'Asailki'. That's a man's name among... that hill-folk in... what ever the name of the region was you were from." I squeezed my fists and kept my tongue. No talk about the subject could be fruitful. I'd let the drunk sorcerer babble on. Reg did the best thing he could have: stayed silent and pulled me against him. Kawsetan chuckled. "If you weren't married, I'd assume you were trying to seduce the Tyrant. Those rumours about His taste for gown-wearing boys... Apparently He's here in Hamekar right now. Someone should kill him." The weary silence deepened. "Don't bother giving me that look," Kawsetan continued. "It's what everyone is thinking. The despot... He treats all his subjects like slaves, and makes even us sorcerers grovel at the feet of His army of rankless ink-fingers." Deneisin took a deep sip. "I'm sure he's here to goad fools to strike at Him. Saves Him the effort of looking for traitors. That's what my father tells the despot does. Goes walking about, looking like as vulnerable as any man and then--" She mashed her cup on the table, sending its contents all over the gilded wood. "--sorcery." Kawsetan nodded. His eyes were unfocused, and he turned to whisper to Ravsitam, who had been snoring in a sitting position for a good while. Deneisin curled up on the pillow-seats. I yawned, lowered my head on Reg's lap and shut my eyes. Despite the creeping hunger, a midday's nap would be welcome. CHAPTER 4 I woke with neither the curse of wine pounding inside my skull or the lingering dullness. That was odd. I had been more than little drunk, and should still be paying for it. My eyes needed several blinks to focus on my surroundings. I wasn't in the waiting room. Beams of light filtered through the intricately carved shutters on the windows. Behind and far below, the rolling fields and orchards stretched to the shadows of sprawling walls, which rose from the horizon. I couldn't have been drunk enough to end up climbing up to the top of a spire without remembering it. Daring the displeasure of the surrounding spirits, I shut my eyes and concentrated deep on the workings of my body. The effects of wine were subdued, and a faint numbness pointed towards to a sleeping poison. I had been drugged, and most likely the others had been too. In the typical arrogance of sorcerers, none of us had noticed anything. Though granted, the coursing energies screened our innate abilities. A tiny giggle left my mouth. Even I, who thought herself humble --at least for a sorceress--, had been easily tricked. A lesson had been taught, but one that hadn't been part of the stated plan. Hopefully the others were unhurt like me. Hard footsteps shuffled behind the door. I stood up from the divan and pushed my hair from my face. The door opened to reveal a tall man; almost a giant and still handsomely proportioned. He was dressed in a gaudy wealth of silvery silk and smoky jewels, yet he emanated unbridled sorcery. I took a step backwards and almost tripped on the divan. I obeyed the first lesson of the hermitage and did the gesture for unconditional surrender among Peritian sorcerers. The man chuckled though there was little mirth in his expression. "Whispers here claim that you are no sorceress." The rumbling words, enforced by casually powerful spellcraft, struck me in both body and soul. He hadn't merely denied my status as a sorcerer. I wasn't a woman or even a person to him. The sorcerer might have snuffed me like a candle, were I to challenge him. Yet denying myself would be a capitulation. Might as well die, if I couldn't be myself. I bowed. "Lord, I am very much what I am: a sorceress, even if not one nearly as magnificent in mastery as you." "Kneel in front of your betters, 'girl'." The pain pulsing through me would have made it impossible to disobey. I gasped with constricted lungs and sunk to my knees. The fury instilled into every Peritian sorcerer welled inside me. I could lash out, reinforce my worth. And implode into a pile of screaming viscera, as I triggered the curses around me. Not that anything I had could harm a sorcerer so much more powerful than me. "What do you want of me, lord?" A hint of strength remained in my voice. He towered over me even a good few steps away. I shuddered under the gaze of those glassy eyes, with their signs of rage eager for an excuse to be unleashed. "Harlots like you believe they can seduce the Tyrant by taking the guise of a woman," the sorcerer growled. Though the words were lies, I flinched from them. Was this another lesson? The world certainly expected everyone to submit to the capriciousness of those more powerful than them. But that was nothing novel. "You..." I breathed deep to fight the pain, but merely managed to gasp. The following words might have been the last I'd utter, so they needed to be at least a little poignant. "You injure me with false insinuations, lord. I am a sorceress, and as a wife already wedded I have no intention of seducing anyone." Though tears trickled on my cheek, the fury flared. I snarled: "For all I care, the despot can rot without mine, or anyone's, love." The force constricting my chest disappeared. The mellowing of the sorcerer's expression had altered his features, to be point that he appeared to be a different person. His face was gaunt, and his eyes weary enough to be lifeless. Though his frame must have been immensely strong, his stance gave the impression that he was ready to collapse from a breeze. He walked past me to sit on the divan. A notion formed in my mind and brought terror with it. But a man like Him couldn't have been broken so. Perhaps he had overtaxed his ability fighting against the forces of the surrounding enchantments to do his tricks of sorcery. "Please, sit." I was about to lower myself to the floor, but he motioned the divan. Fortunately it was long enough that I could sit, without being against the sorcerer. "I apologize," he rumbled. "During the climb up, my suspicions turned rancid, and I lost control to our mutual curse. This place --this festering boil on the face of the earth-- hasn't been good influence to me. Grief and frustration spoke with my unyoked tongue." He choked and remained silent for excruciating number of heartbeats. "I do not lack her body, but her. These persistent rumours, based on truth as they are, insult the memory of her." Attentive silence remained the most prudent course of action. Yet I was anxious to escape the man's presence by getting over with whatever was coming. "Why am I here, lord?" "Ah, now I must excuse my behaviour." His smile was faint but warm enough to promise clemency. "Incessant corruption simmers here, not only in the building itself, but in the residents. I'm merely guided by... an intuition I'm inclined to follow, so I do not know the details. Unfortunately, I have not many servants, who I could both spare and trust, with enough ability to be useful." He sighed. "My own attempts have failed. Whatever foul influence lingers here, it knows to avoid me. I am rather conspicuous, am I not? Even with sorcery to twist the perceptions of my face, I can only pretend to be another puissant sorcerer. "I must leave. Return to my nest, before I lose myself. I have shirked such responsibilities for too long." He looked at me. "Would you act as my eyes here? You are too new and insignificant to be part of what I seek, and you appear awfully trustworthy for a sorceress." "What could I do?" "Very little, I assume. But as the chief servant of our gods, I can bestow a little authority in you. With it, the forces here should tolerate your sorcery, to an extend. Do you have a coin? Silver, preferably." I took out a purse and with dread examined the haughty solar-crowned visage of the despot in it. The man took it, uttered a stave and smashed it between his palms. He revealed the now smooth circle. With his finger, he carved a crude symbol of the Sun on one side, and the sigil of rebirth on the other. "You have served the Dawn, that is apparent. You know the words of its secrets and its beginning. Now you will be its priestess." He handed the amulet to me. "Keep this vestment secret. Only surprise will be your weapon, if you need one." My touch found the silver cold, and coursing with prickling power. I hid the amulet in a pocket next to my chest. "Erm... Thank you, Brilliance." His smile widened a bit. "I'm thrusting you into danger, which I do not properly understand, yet you thank me." He boomed a laugh. "Ask for a boon to ease my conscience." If this wasn't a nasty dream, I was in the presence of a paramount Peritian sorcerer. I had to ask it. "Could you turn me... rest of the way into a woman?" He frowned. "No. I haven't studied such magic. Even my... She wasn't a sorceress, and wouldn't have survived anything I could have done, in any case." My eyes fell, and breath got stuck in my lungs. The day truly was all a nightmare. "Do not give up hope." He placed a hand over mine. "You alone have true awareness of your own body. And as a sorceress, you can survive mistakes during transformation. Such a thing shouldn't be impossible for you." He patted my hand. "As amends and initial payment for the service, I will have my libraries scoured for relevant information for you. I'll also ask a friend, who might be knowledgeable on the subject." The libraries of Asikhatum would have been a wonder to browse by myself, but perhaps having their keepers work for me was more useful. Either way, embracing the tiny hope was more palatable than the despair a moment before. I nodded and tried not to frown. "I'm mostly concerned about is the disappearance of sorcerers fresh from their ceremony here," the man said. "It's perfectly possible that some of them merely choose to stay out of sight, or have died without making much noise. Still, I suspect they are coerced into a conspiracy of sorts. If possible, try to get yourself recruited." Pushing on me such a mission, if it actually existed, supported my suspicion that he was raving. Nevertheless, it wasn't safe for me to directly decline. "What if I agree with the goals of this.. conspiracy?" "If that was the case, I would do nothing to hamper such a group." "Even if the goal was the death of the despot?" "Especially then." I frowned. Such trust was a bond in itself. "I will try my best, Brilliance. Can I tell about this to my husband?" "If you can trust him, yes. But keep your vestment or my involved unmentioned, unless necessary." I nodded. He continued: "According to the ceremony, you and the others were separated, so that your resolve could tested by a senior sorcerer. I inserted myself to take care of your examination. Safe to say, I did not find your will wanting. Most peculiarly, you managed to speak even after I squashed your lungs." "Huh." I hadn't paid attention, but that was indeed strange. "Before I let you go, could we rest for a bit? Unlike the others, you remind me of her. I... I need to fortify the pleasant memories in order to tolerate the most bitter one." The sorcerer didn't touch me or even more closer. He merely closed his eyes. Water on his cheeks gleamed in the evening sun. CHAPTER 5 My husband's face was drawn, and his arms shook as he opened them for me. Reg pulled me against him, into an intense embrace. "Are you alright?" I asked. "I love you, Asai." "So I do you." I leaned back. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. I'm just glad you are safe." Deneisin walked into the room. Her white clothes were stained with crimson. She smirked. "Don't worry. The blood's not mine." I went to her. "What happened?" "Oh, the examiner tried to curb my insolence, so I broke him." "How did you manage to avoid the curses?" Reg asked. "By doing it fast--" Her leg failed under her step. Reg caught and gently lowered her to the stone floor. She coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "I didn't quite escape the retribution." She struggled to swallow. "Help me up." My husband hesitated before obeying. Deneisin could stay on her feet, but kept her hand on Reg's shoulder for support. Ravsitam was unperturbed on his return, yet Kawsetan trembled and cursed under his breath. Neither bothered to speak to us. Without a warning, or even chance for Deneisin to clean herself, we were ushered to a reception hall. A mixed crowd of priests, novices and lay nobility was waiting inside, more to gawk at us than to participate in the ceremony. On the dais, in the place of the ruler, was only a huge painting of the despot. He was depicted serene in his power, radiantly surrounded by leaf gold and silver vines dotted with gemstones. To this image we performed the seventeen genuflections and three prostrations, before one by one we swore to serve the spirit of the despotate to our dying breaths. Only Reg managed to utter the vow with any conviction, though Deneisin's delivery was poignant in its overt theatrics. I merely stated the words, but made sure to think the subjects of the despotate instead of its ruler. A man emerged to the dais. He wore the robes of a senior priest, but lacked both the jewellery and tiara of office. He clapped his hands, and the onlookers removed themselves from the hall. Deneisin broke our row and walked to the dais. "Mesamra!" I followed her, and the others came after us. The priest-sorcerer smiled. He was only about my height, so short for sorcerer. Under his robes he was wiry like an ascetic. "The obligatory parts of the ceremony is done, so I figured that it would prudent to end the pageantry before it started." "Oh, thank you," Deneisin said. "The pomposity was giving me a headache." "Is it over?" Kawsetan asked. "Are we free to go?" "As always, yes," Mesamra said. "The necessary documentation will be delivered to you by tomorrow. Still, I have a topic to discuss. One of further schooling. You are all welcome to remain as guests here for specialized cultivation for fresh sorcerers." Kawsetan snorted. "You jest. I'm about as fresh as last summer's dung. Schooling." He spun on his heels. "Ravs, let's leave these children to their teacher. And Mesamra, we'll be staying in the city only as long as it takes the despot to respond, so hurry up with your investment to our venture." Mesamra nodded, and the pair disappeared into the deepening twilight of the complex. Following them out of the spell-infested halls was a tempting idea, but I could feel the unnatural weight of the amulet against my chest. If I were to obey the despot, I needed an excuse for staying in the temples. "I'd like to participate, lord." Reg looked at me eyes wide. "What--" "We could use more formal training, Reg. Ours was cut short." "But..." I tried communicate with my expression that this was important and that he should trust me. He didn't take long to nod. "Alright," Reg said. "That is reasonable." "I'd like to participate too." Now it was my turn to gape. Deneisin smirked back at me. "I could use some 'cultivation' too. And did you think it would be this easy to get rid of me? In any case, this is an excuse for me to tarry returning home." CHAPTER 6 Mesamra explained that the general purpose of the training was to perfect Peritian meditative states. According to him, whole Peritland would benefit, if its sorcerers were better disciplined. Such training was perfect for us. My husband needed help to temper his unpractised battle trance. I needed to deepen my ability to push beyond the abilities of my body, in order to survive the transformation I desired. And while I didn't know Deneisin's aim, her presence was welcome in the gloom of the Hamekar temple complex. Servants were dispatches to get our belongings, and us three were guided to our new accommodations. To my relief, the small and austere apartment wasn't quite connected to the main temples, even if it was still firmly inside the enchanted walls of the compound. Deneisin could have demanded a fancier apartment just for herself, but she insisted to come lodge with me and Reg. Our three rooms were more than enough, after all. The sorceress shooed away the thralls, who had been offered to serve as our attendants, and arranged the schedule for deliveries of meals and water. When we were alone, Deneisin approached me with a gleeful smile. "So, what's this about? You are up to something." I motioned Reg to come closer and said: "Alright. I received... a mission, which requires me to stay here and observe for a while. Perhaps snoop around a bit." "What?" Reg asked. "Who commands you?" "Oh!" Deneisin yelped. "Was it the despot?" My mouth twitched as I tried to come up with a convincing evasion. "You'd obey nobody else." Deneisin smirked. "And considering his rumoured lusts, he would be inclined to approach you all alone in the spire." I sighed. "That sorcerer might have been the despot, but... he didn't quite behave in the way I would have expected. In fact, he was incoherent, delirious even." I looked at Reg. "Nothing indecent happened up there." He took my hand. "I wouldn't even have suspected it." That warm tension, which always had filled me when he smiled, was again inside my chest. We checked through our belongings to make sure nothing had got stuck in the fingers of the porters, and placed our own wards around the apartment. After a slight evening meal, my husband and I retired to our room. Reg needed to be assured of how much I loved him, so I pretended be more needy than I was. I let my hands enjoy touching him all over. Yet, despite the ready hardness of his pillar, he detached from me and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. I pouted. "What's on your mind, husband?" "Do you honestly enjoy my intrusions into you?" "Wha-- Why wouldn't I?" Reg didn't speak, so I placed my hand on his chest and continued: "Please, do tell me, what bothers you." His sigh was almost a sob. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you feel obliged to it." "What are you talking about? Reg... Tell me." He took a deep breath. "That damned 'test of resolve'. The sorcerer's spells were like lascivious songs. In them, he claimed that even a 'big burly man' can be made into a 'bitch' just as easily as anyone else. His spell... It was the pain, which I've been subjecting you to. I'm sorry, Asai." When I understood, what 'pain' he was talking about, a shudder went through me. "That was not real! Your touch doesn't hurt me." "Is that true?" Reg asked. "Would you admit, if my pleasure was painful to you? You never reach your own climax, despite claiming you are satisfied." "Why won't you believe me?" He was wrong. Sometimes I came, even if faintly. And besides, it didn't matter at all. His pleasure was my marital duty. We'd make proper love, when I became what I wanted to be. "Couldn't... Couldn't I touch you?" Reg's voice was thin. "I know your body still enjoys it even down there, just as I enjoy your hand on mine." I gritted my teeth. So he wanted to fondle the thing I wanted to get rid off. He moved against me and moved his hand over my belly. "No!" I pulled away from him. "That's not a proper part of me! I don't want to remember it, when it's gone. I don't even want to remember it right now!" The fury hidden in me lit, and I stood up in the bed. "Or maybe you'd prefer I kept it, so you'd get to touch it all of our lives. Would you enjoy having a boy for a wife?" He stayed still, his expression inscrutable in the gloom. He let out a stifled sob, and turned away from me. The sizzle in the air reminded me that I was about to be punished by the curses, for preparing to channel magic. But only that pitiful sound was what dropped me from my rage. I sunk to my knees and swallowed the lump in my throat. I was angry at my husband, but for what? Warmth inside my skull turned into a flamy ache. It wasn't my fault that he didn't believe me. "Fine," I snapped and stepped off the bed. "Don't talk. I'll sleep in the common room." CHAPTER 7 I nursed the burning headache, which had troubled me through the morning, over a cup of hot drink. Because the pain had turned my morning meditations unfruitful, I had wandered around the complex. Instead of sensing any malign presences, my kept sinking into my own thoughts. Reg had been outdoors all day maintaining his physical prowess, so I was alone with Deneisin. She was indulging on sweetmeats she had fetched from the city. "Take one." She offered a particularly intricate confection with an appealing pale red colour. "They are great; a cure for all ails." "I'm not hungry." "These aren't for hunger." Her smirk turned into a frown. "Are you upset about the fight from last night?" "You heard us." "There's only two doors between our bedrooms. I didn't eavesdrop, but I did hear you scream." "I... I don't know what got into me." I sipped from my cup and reached for the sweetmeat. It was unbearably moist with honey, but I stuffed it in my mouth. "Would you lay with Reg?" Deneisin looked odd when startled, but she swiftly regained her smirk. "He is big and rugged, and all that. But I am quite sure he's taken. And protecting my virtue until marriage is one of the few things father is adamant about. So no." Though embarrassing, the mulling suspicions wouldn't leave my mind. "Would try to see, if he'd want to lay with you?" "Do you suspect he's cheating on you?" "No..." I chocked. "I think he might like me the way I am now." "Of cour-- Oh." She fumbled with one of the sweetmeats. "I'm not the right person to talk about this. In any case, you should speak to him, not anyone else." "I couldn't! He might take it the wrong way. I already insulted him last night. But if he preferred me to stay like this... I would, for him." "Asai. Talk to him." When Reg returned, bare torso glistening with sweat, I dragged him into our room. I had him sit next to me and clasped his hand. He couldn't look me in the eye. "Reg... I'm going to ask you something, and you will have to be perfectly honest." "Very well." He turned to me. His expression was pained. "Just ignore everything about me, everything except my body. Would you prefer me to stay this way?" He frowned. "Look, Asai, I love--" "Please. Answer." Reg sighed. "I don't mind... it. But would prefer, if you were..." He thought for a moment. "Like you were under the spell in the Khaask town." I was such a fool. Moisture filled my eyes, and I hugged him. He helped me to sit on his lap. "I'm sor--" "No, it's not your fault." My voice thickened, and I took his hand. "I'm so sorry. I've been a wreck. Ever since that waking dream at the border, tolerating myself has been impossible. Any reminder, of how it was to be what I want to be, is a burning lance through my heart." I paused to calm my breathing. "Your attention becomes all the more unbearable, because I still love your touch. I shouldn't have gotten angry last night. You... You were hurt during the trial." Reg squeezed my hand. "I could have withstood the pain." His voice was weak and thick. "But the indignity was unbearable, even though I realized how I had subjected you to it so many times. I broke and cried for mercy. The sorcerer made sure to show I was a fool to believe mere pleas worked on him." "It was merely a twisted illusion, and you couldn't fight back due to this plighted place." I moved to kiss his cheek. It tasted of salt. "You are my love, my husband, the granite on which I rely on. Without you I would be a charred corpse in the ruins of the hermitage. Or if by miracle I had survived, thoroughly miserable and lost." Reg crushed me against his chest. His arms were just as strong as always, and his heart's urgent thump had all the words I needed to hear. CHAPTER 8 As a teacher, Mesamra reminded me of the wizened tutor back in the hermitage. He knew the problems we had with our exercises, and their solutions, before we so much as mentioned them. In only a few days, Reg claimed considerable improvement in his conditioning. I didn't notice any in myself. If anything, I consistently failed at maintaining my basic awareness. The coursing energies of the temples, which should have worked how weights improved an athlete's performance, merely distracted me. I wasted a lot of time wandering the twisting corridors and cavernous halls, trying to figure out what exactly I was searching. Many of the areas were nearly abandoned; some were even cut off by rubble and piles of refuse. Others retained their time-defying grace. Obscure deities and nameless sovereigns judged me with their carved eyes, and found me wanting. The temples --like the faraway mountains-- had stood long before us, and would still rise towards the heavens, after we were as forgotten as the hands, which had worked them. Over the three weeks odd rumours filtered to Hamekar. The despot had reappeared to meet an envoy from a neighbouring savage land, only to disappear again. That in itself wasn't surprising from the flighty Tyrant. However, this time the gossip knew what had happened to him, though what it exactly knew varied. The Tyrant had been murdered by the envoy. Or captured by them. Or eloped with the leader of the savages, a nubile princess or a wanton priestess. None of the explanations fit to the sorcerer I had met in the spire. Was I following the request of a mere intruding madman? A false mission might have been part of the test, one I wasn't clever enough to understand. The flames didn't leave my skull. When a reasonable amount of poppy tea didn't help, I consulted a healer. She examined me, and concluded that I was merely trying too hard. That wasn't true. I hadn't tried hard enough. My awareness was unimproved, and I had found nothing to report, should the Tyrant wish to question me. He hadn't send me the guidance He had promised. I could have used more droplets of hope, because the vast libraries of the temple complex offered no succour in my search. I was indeed hoping for another miracle. The painful truth was, that no easy trick would force nature off its course. I was ready to try and see, if I could make it through the transformation, alive or not. I'd risk the unguided magic, and the internal bleeding and deformed tissue that would come with it. Deep in the trance I might survive. If I was weak enough to fail, Reg would be free to find a proper woman. No matter the outcome, my husband wouldn't be tied to a mistake like me for the rest of his life. I had spent the night making preparations for my haphazard ritual, when at dawn I was called along with Reg and Deneisin to meet Mesamra. Reg had accepted my excuse, that I needed to certain tests under starlight. I couldn't look at him in the eye, when he lowered an arm on my shoulders. "You look tired," he said. His hand petted my shoulder. My husband deserved to know that I was preparing a ritual, which might end with my death. But he'd never forgive himself, if he knew, what I planned. I yawned and pushed the matter from my mind. There'd be time to reconsider after the audience. "Yes, I am bit weary. I only slept a little between the experiments." I pushed against Reg, and he tightened his hold of me. Mesamra's office was near the top of the complex: high enough to have an opening to the sky instead of more tall walls. The warmth of the morning sun on my clothes enhanced cold of my amulet. The temple guards usually strove to be inconspicuous, and the priest- sorcerer was rarely seen accompanied by more than one. Now there were six with us in the relatively small room. "You have advanced far in such a short time," Mesamra said. "Yet, unfortunately your training must come to its end." "And why is that?" Deneisin asked. "Ushadziar, it's time," Mesamra said. "The plan is in motion." Deneisin screamed. She reeled, but stood back upright with a grin on her face. She spoke in a dialect of Court Peritian so archaic that I couldn't understand it. Mesamra answered in the same tongue. The guards had changed to more belligerent grips on their weapons and stepped to block the exit. Reg moved between me and the guard closest to us, and growled: "What's the meaning of this?" Mesamra and Deneisin traded more barely comprehensible words. "Fine," Deneisin said. "I'll speak in this slang off these youngsters." She laughed. "Oh, the potential in this body! Now it's in more able hands, so to speak. Too bad it had to be female." "What did you do to Deneisin?" I demanded. Mesamra made a grandiose motion with his arm. "She has been given the honour of hosting the archon Ushadziar, a Yurashew dynast." The heat, which tortured my head, made it difficult to sparse out, what he had said. Yurashews were dead. Deposed, tortured, cut to pieces and fed to cats. "We are hastening our plan," Mesamra continued. "The despot's abdication grants us an opening we can't squander. You are lucky, Regaseir and Adzasai. You will be the last to have the chance to join us, out of your own will." "What would that entail?" Reg asked. Deneisin grinned. "Granting the use of your bodies to more deserving personages, of course." "Worry not, children," Mesamra said. "You wouldn't die. If you accept your new masters willingly, we can make sure they will be lovers. You would remain together. After a paltry years of service, a few decades or so, they will move on to new bodies and you will be granted great esteem in the renewed autocracy. The secret to true immortality would then be yours, of course." I glanced out of the window. "What do we have to do?" "Sink deep into the trance you so proudly call your 'Peritian fury', though it's not truly yours," Mesamra said. "Your friend entered it while murdering her examiner, unaware of the vulnerability built into the method." He chuckled. "You Peritians are children meddling with toys we left behind. It's the fount of the mastery of your order, but to us it's merely a clumsy gateway to the soul and its power. Open yourselves, and your new life of joyous servitude will commence." Deneisin chortled. "Reject us, and you will be 'coerced', until you enter the state involuntarily." I concentrated on the flames scorching my brain. Behind the pain was a soul, stripped of its power and nature. A pitiful ghost, which should have faded into the winds without the enchantments of the temple. The soul noticed my attention and pushed its thoughts into my mind as desperate gasps. "Give in... Insolent brat... Your autokrateira commands it." "Reg, close you eyes," I said. He obeyed. I clasped the amulet and ,with my other hand, lifted high the vial of bottled light. The guard closest us struck with his spear, but Reg --without looking-- grasped the shaft and ripped the weapon out of the soldier's hands. I called to the Dawn, and pleaded it to drive away the dead things, still lingering. Light flooded from the windows, but it didn't blind me. Deneisin screamed curses, which turned into fire around her. The guards held their eyes. Reg threw the spear at Mesamra, who dodged and ran away from sunlight and out of the side door. Ravenous flames ate the rich furniture, as blinded Deneisin spread her sorcerous fury. Reg pulled my hand. "We need to go!" "We can't leave Deneisin." A quick glance between us, and Reg nodded. He picked up a dropped spear, ran to the blinded sorcerer and whacked her with the shaft. The wood- shattering blow would have broken a bull's neck, but only made Deneisin stagger drunkenly. Reg lifted her up, and we ran from the room, which had turned into a furnace. On our way out, we stopped to blindfold, tie up and gag Deneisin. The stone floor shook. Above us, the endless multitudes of candles began to flicker out with an avalanche of foul sorcery, more unbearable than any unhallowed mass grave. A scream rose all around us. Outside the temple, townspeople were running, struggling on the ground in pain, looting and brawling. Many had gathered into disciplined battle formations. Despite being armed with only tools and light weapons, the organized groups mowed down those who resisted their passage. The stables downhill were in uproar, but Reg fought off the crazed labourers. The pair of horses, which trusted us from before, were still there, so we managed to ride out in timely manner. Hamekar was a chaos of blood-set and strange coordination. Several of the crazed ones were willing to run under the galloping hooves to stop us. We had to slow down in order not to get our steeds tripped, but I sang up a dust storm to hide our escape. With a show sure horsemanship, Reg snatched a spear thrust at him and used its shaft to clear our way. "We need to ride to the capital!" I shouted over the din. "Nobody besides us can deliver the message and tell what is happening." The dazed Deneisin drooped in front of Reg in the saddle. He winced. "You are right." PART TWO - Lady of Limitless Plains CHAPTER 9 I agitated the spirits in a small cask of wine, until large part of the water steamed out. Deneisin was struggling against her bonds, and we didn't want Reg to continue to trash her into submission. I forced the poor woman to drink the spell-distilled wine. "I'm so sorry, Deneisin," I whispered, hoping she was still somewhere in that body. When she was about to vomit, I forced her mouth shut until she swallowed again. A thunderous roar filled the air and shook the earth. The hoary spires of the Hamekar temples were gone, save for one. In their place rose dust and smoke, which flashed like storm clouds. Reg lifted Deneisin on the fresh horse, which the postal fort had given him, and nodded to Hamekar. "That can't be good." We were forced to stop at a caravanserai, when the clouded evening became too dark for the horses. The next dawn was greeted by a clear sky, and by noon we were at the gilded gates of the capital. They were closed. "The gates are barred," the chief guard told. "Due to the unrest in the city. And whatever is going on at Hamekar." I lifted the amulet like it was a badge of office and made it reflect the Sun. "We come from there, with grave news. I need to see the new despot." "What do you mean by 'new'?" "Didn't He give up the throne?" "Of course not." The chief guard shook his head with amusement. "Do you mean that talk about Him disappearing? He tends to do that. I reckon He's already working to fix this mess." "Who holds the reins at the moment?" Reg asked. "The mistress of the palace; Nunim the chamberlain." "Take us to her," I said as much as a command I could. According to the chief guard, we would need his authority to get through the gates to citadel and its palace. An escort of cavalry surrounded us, as we rode to the streets. The unrest of Asikhatum wasn't the havoc of Hamekar. The smoke of large fires swirled up all around the city, and signs of looting were apparent, but the streets were now largely abandoned. Most people outside were absorbed with cleaning up the streets and facades. "What happened here?" I asked. "We don't know, lady. There's talk about witches. But the guard must have smashed them real good, because there hasn't been any report about hostile sorcery since midnight." The chief guard raised his voice into a bellow: "The enemy underestimated the prowess of the despot's soldiers!" The horsemen answered their leader with a wild howl. We picked up speed, as the people gave way to the thunder of hooves. Our group passed domed temples and plazas of polished stone. Below us sprawled public gardens, above us the aqueducts fed waterfalls. We entered a canyon of resplendent mansions and emerged to the gathering field in front of the central fortress. The low walls of the citadel were covered in pearly plaster. Above the them and against the blue sky rose the palace with its silvered roofs, which shimmered in the Daylord's grace. The gates opened to the horn calls of the guards, and we rode straight to the inner courtyard. Servants, who didn't lift their eyes to look at us, took our horses and ushered us inside. We didn't have much time to admire the intricate stucco-works and mosaics, before commotion poured into the reception hall. The tall sinewy woman was manifestly in charge, despite wearing no symbols of office on her modest riding coat. She radiated uninhibited sorcery. In her wake, grovelled a herd of scholar-bureaucrats in their robes of rank, court ladies draped in daring gowns of lace and silk, and servants carrying everything from fans to a writing table. Her cruel, mirthful expression forced out of me the instinctive gesture for unconditional surrender, which Reg followed. So sunk in her cold gaze I was, that I barely heard the herald declaring the names and rank of us and her. "You are brave to come here, sorcerers." Nunim's voice was melodious, deep and mocking. I explained, what I had seen, and how I was in service of the despot. Nunim's expression turned first into a incredulous grin and then into a deep frown. She walked to Deneisin, who was causing endless grief to the cleaning servants by retching on the marble floor. "You managed to capture one of them," Nunim said. "Admirable work." Her hand touched Deneisin's head and recoiled. "Something's definitely in there." "Can you help her?" I asked. Nunim ignored me and turned to a guard. "Go fetch a prisoner. As wretched and weak-willed as you can find." The man they brought was little more than a pile of lice-riddled beard, skin and bone. Manacle-wounds screamed red on his wrists and ankles. He sunk to his knees the moment the guard let go of him. "You are pardoned, if you agree to participate in an experiment," Nunim said. "However, you might die." "Anything, Radiance!" the prisoner cried. "Mercy! I regret ev??" "Silence. Get on the floor, shut your eyes and lie still." Nunim crouched between Deneisin and the prisoner. The chamberlain muttered a chant that was interrupted by pained grunts. The dazed Deneisin moaned and wriggled. Nunim gasped and collapsed backwards. Her expression was twisted by barely suppressed pain. The prisoner howled curses in the ancient dialect. He tried to stand but collapsed from the weakness of his limbs. "You... You wretch. You would dare to humiliate an archon of Yurashews so?" Nunim laughed and stood up. She lifted her hands, and a servant hurried to wash them. "Are you truly a Yurashew?" Nunim asked with smirk on her face. The prisoner snarled. "Of course." The chamberlain's laugh was a roar. "Oh, were I to have more than one of you. My grimalkin could use such treats." The prisoner screamed in impotent fury. Nunim nodded to a guard, who gave the Yurashew archon a kick in the ribs. "Take him away," Nunim said. "Make sure he doesn't die. I'm not finished with him yet." Deneisin was still lying on the floor. She breathed, but thinly. "Is she going to be alright?" I asked. Nunim smiled almost warmly. "Her soul was... shredded as the Yurashew fought back, but she'll recover. Now, you said you worked for the despot." I explained the odd meeting at the spire. "Oh, you are that girl. I wouldn't have guessed from your appearance." The chamberlain paused. "That was a compliment. You should thank me." I made a hurried bow. "Thank you, Radiance." She chuckled. "But honestly, I am impressed. Did you do all that yourself?" "Y-yes..." "Alright. You two seem competent enough. Do you want to serve your despot further?" I looked at Reg. His expression was grim but determined. He nodded. Even if we had wanted to avoid the despotate as well as we could, the catastrophe at Hamekar wouldn't ignore us. Putrid sorcery had been released on the world, and many would die to stop it. I nodded. "Yes, we would, Radiance." "Good. Then I don't have to kill you." She grinned. "I merely joke. We do not punish service." The chamberlain commanded servants to take care of Deneisin, had her attendants disperse and took us to a side room. Nunim rubbed her temple. "I need you two to go fetch the despot. He left the city two weeks ago." "Where did he go?" Reg asked. She waived her hand. "Oh, a place called Rtein." I yelped. "But that is deep into the steppes! Far beyond Peritian frontier. What would he need to do there?" "To get married, of course." The chamberlain smiled. "I'm sending you two, because you have shown yourself to be decently resourceful and overtly eager to please. And I can't spare any of the other sorcerers I can trust. Stars-damned witches have appeared from seemingly nowhere, in middle of my city. Rooting them out for butchering is hard work. "Still, I need to send sorcerers. The despot could easily avoid mundane trackers, if he wanted to. But if he sensed you, girl, he'd realize something was wrong." CHAPTER 10 Three men of the despot's bodyguard were assigned to accompany us. They wore their heavy armour almost constantly, fussed over their nimble horses like they were sickly children and rarely uttered anything but stoic and polite remarks. Despite their status as chosen men of the despot, they didn't show reluctance for acting as attendants to me and Reg. My husband was obviously pleased to have the command of such fine horsemen, but he didn't abuse his position. If anything, Reg must have been slightly intimidated by such consummate veterans of bloodshed. The senior bodyguard, who was our guide, told that he ??as a 'fresh lad barely worth the argent banner'?? had accompanied the despot to the land of the Vatins. He was eager to sing about what he called 'the battle of the Cairnmarsh'. About his tales, I was more interested in the bride. According to the bodyguard, the rumours that she had been a boy were absolutely false. "Nobody who saw the grace and beauty of that spunky lass would have spouted such slander," the bodyguard said. "Such a shame, that assassination. We thought the despot was about to turn the endless grassland into a scorched waste. The lads were ready to see how many thousands of Vatins it would take to stop us. But then we left, and that was that." He nodded sagely. Towards the steppes, the nightly frost still kept the roads from getting muddy. By changing horses at outposts, we rode through as much daylight as we could. My hurting thighs and back avenged our speed each evening. The land of the Vatins was dreary and desolate, at least until we sighted the mountains. They were sharp as blades of ice. At first I thought we were nearing our destination, but for the whole day, the mountain range barely appeared any closer. Days went past with only a few encounters with local herders to break the monotony. A gallop approached us. I crawled out of our tent and peered through the darkness. A rider jumped from his horse and walked in middle of our little camp, barking in the language we had heard the Vatins used. The senior bodyguard got up from under his heavy cloak, and spoke to the Vatin. The rider's tone turned elated, and he and the bodyguard clasped hands. "He's an outrider in the party of our despot and His new wife," the bodyguard translated. "He's happy that we weren't bandits, so he didn't have to show is courage by getting killed." "Dawn is near," Reg said. "We should prepare to ride to the despot." The outrider's steed was like wind under him, and we barely managed to keep up with his lead. We crossed a hill, and I gasped. The herds filled the low valley. Never had I seen so many horses before. I might not have been aware that there were so many in the world. Even their relaxed gait was enough to lift a huge dust cloud. The despot wore nothing but dirty rider's garb, and was difficult to recognize due to how much more lively his face was than in the spire. But the leader of the Vatins was impossible to miss. The small woman rode a horse of monstrous size, though she controlled it without any noticeable movements. Her saddle was a mess of colourful sequins and ribbons, and her disproportionately large headdress spread like the triumphant wings of a storm eagle. "What are you two doing here?" The despot was furious, but listened to what we had to say. His frown turned worried. "If what you say is true, witchcraft is turning my subjects into a hostile army, in the centre of my realm no less. That I cannot allow." He reached from his saddle to kiss the Vatin leader. They whispered among themselves in the local language. The despot stood upright and declared: "Will the Vatins come to our aid, my love?" Though the woman smiled demurely, like the young girl she was, she spoke with gravitas: "Of course, life of my heart. We Vatins honour our alliances." "I'll send word on about the situation as soon as I can." The despot turned to us. "You two. Protect my wife with your lives. Rest assured, you will be beyond richly compensated." The despot didn't bother to acknowledge our acceptance. Only in a few moments the despot was galloping towards Peritland with his bodyguards. Me and my husband followed the Vatin leader, who was called Kir-Madeise the skyspeaker, all day, as she rode around giving commands and sending messages. Most of the herds and riders disappeared to the winds, until there was only a handful left in the entourage. The retinue didn't move far before stopping for the evening. When we had made camp only a few leagues closer to Peritland, Kir-Madeise invited us to her large tent. We sat on the cushions around the tiny fireplace, and odd-smelling food and drink was brought to us. "Do relax, my friends," she said. "There's no reason to hurry. We'll take at least week to gather and prepare even a small force. Along the way, I will have to discuss the matter with my lords, and if they are disinclined, I can lead only volunteers into your land." While she was confident and evidently freshly nubile, she lacked the kind of transcendent beauty, which I would have assumed from a woman, who had in a moment seduced the despot. I had been cursorily interested in the Vatins. Especially in the 'incident with the savages', as the chronicles called it; a short war had ended with the capture of the enemy commander. According to the most persistent rumours, the despot had tried to marry that leader. But practically all texts agreed that the enemy had been led by a prince, and that the despot had been trying to marry a priestess. After trying to make sense of the incongruity, I had ultimately concluded that I was reading too much into it due to my own condition. In front of the skyspeaker, I wasn't so sure any more. "Were you the one who led the siege of Asikhatum two decades ago?" I had barely been old enough to walk, when that had happened. The girl next to me must have been years younger than me, but the Vatins professed strange magics. Kir-Madeise smiled. "It was more of an assault, but yes. As the skyspeaker, I reincarnate. I am all my lives, man and woman." She shut her eyes, still smiling. "In my last life I was born with the body of a man, but I found that I would have preferred to live as a woman. As it happened, I ended up dying soon after. Usually I forget my previous lives, but this rebirth I retained my memory. I am not quite sure why." That was convenient. Not that dying would have been pleasant, but a rebirth as a woman would have solved my problem. Without the circumstance of Yurashew re-emerge, and the mission as a messenger of the despotate occupying my time, I would most likely have been dead already. A lump in throat was difficult to swallow. I leaned against Reg, who took my hand in his. "What's wrong?" Kir-Madeise asked. I was embarrassing myself in front of a foreign dignitary. On the other hand, she would likely be the last person to mock me. "I..." Deep breath calmed my voice. "I have a similar... ailment, as you had in your last life." The Vatin leader stared at me. Her large eyes darted to check me all over. She twisted her mouth into an embarrassed wince. "I apologise, if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't realise. You are a sorceress, but my husband told me the transformation wasn't easy." She sighed. "You must think that your circumstances compared to mine are unfair." "No! Not at all. I couldn't begrudge others. In any case, I'm still lucky, being a sorceress. I couldn't even imagine, how it would be like..." The fire was allowed to crackle without interruption in the ensuing silence. What would have happened to me, if I hadn't shown the affinity for sorcery? If I had never been sent to the hermitage? I would have remained home, eventually taking up my part of the fields. I would have ended up married, if for no other reason than to have children for help, when age wore me down. Would I have remained miserable without understanding the cause, or have learned to accept being a husband and a father? Such things were impossible to know for certain. Though becoming a mother seemed an ever more remote possibility, at least I now was happily a wife. I glanced at Reg, who answered my smile. I said: "In any case, I'm fortunate enough to have my husband." He rubbed my shoulder possessively; just the way he should. Kir-Madeise looked down and smiled. "I have experienced that joy only for a few days. And still in a way, it has been almost two decades." She looked at me. "Could you examine me with your magic?" Her smile turned excited. "I could ask the priests, but I don't want to start any gossip. Not yet. It's only been mere days, but I drank potions, and prayed and performed tiny spells, and made sure the act itself would be done correctly... I mean, could you see, if I'm already pregnant?" I recoiled, but recovered myself, as a smile spread on my face. "I've haven't done anything like that, but of course I can try." I moved to sit next to her. "I'll have to touch your skin." "Oh!" She opened her coat and lifted her under-shirt to reveal a belly noticeably paler than her heavily tanned face. "You could only be at the start of the process, so I'll try to see if anything has started to gather a soul for themself." The touch of my fingers sent a shiver through the skyspeaker. It didn't take much concentration to notice the tiny kernel of a soul inside her belly. Closer inspection revealed two of them. "Twins." She bit her lip. "Gods, really?" "I think so." She hugged me. Her laughter was like music. Reg was already standing, before I realized that the sound from outside had been a muffled scream. A tall thin man burst into the tent. In the flickering light of the stove, the sorcerer's grinning feature's were hard to recognize. "Ravsitam!" I shouted, even though I knew it was neither him or his twin. A potent verse poured out of the sorcerer's mouth, in the language of the ancients. He flicked the short blade in his hand towards the skyspeaker. I hurled myself in front of her. Cold agony ripped down from my forehead all the way down through my torso. Darkness filled my right eyes, and I tasted blood from my slit lip. Reg dashed, pulled out his sword and roused the steel with a cry. Ravsitam stepped away and swung his blade in the air. A stripe of blood appeared in Reg's body, but his rush didn't slow down. A deft strike cut through Ravsitam's blade arm and continued to cut deep into his belly. I stumbled up on my legs. "Stop??" Ravsitam swayed on for a moment, before my husband's sword cut half way into his neck. Another man, covered in gore, strode into the tent. "Look out!" I yelped and rushed forward. Reg spun to face Kawsetan's sneer and lifted hand. A pale light flashed in the between the two men, and Reg was flung across the tent. I hesitated a moment glancing at Reg. A hammer of air smashed my knee. The scream that escaped my throat ignited my fury. A chant danced from Kawsetan's lips. A torrent of air, reeking of miasma, poured into the tent. Invisible but iron strong hands gripped on my limbs and pushed me down. A grave-cold hand, which I couldn't see, forced itself into my mouth. I retched and gurgled from the taste of it alone. Kawsetan glanced his blood-gurgling twin and laughed. "When I heard the despot was here, I expected a challenge. Seems he's not around. Oh well. At least one failure was been weeded out." His grin twisted. Kawsetan howled and doubled over. A pain groan escaped his lips: "Kill me..." I struggled to get but, the spectral hands still held me. Their claws sank into my flesh, and scraped at my soul with the hunger of the dead, sapping strength from my inner nature. A bow twanged outside my sight, and an arrow sunk into the skull of Kawsetan. He looked bewildered over me. "More, you bitch. I am a Peri??" He screamed. "??Peritian sorcerer. We don't die easy." Kir-Madeise walked past me. She lifted Reg's sword from the ground and placed its point under Kawsetan's jaw. She said: "May you find peace with your gods." "Yes..." Kawsetan shut his eyes. The blade sunk through his jaw. He collapsed on the ground, but Kir-Madeise continued to push the blade until it smashed through the sorcerer's skull. My formless shackles disappeared, but so did my rage. I could barely move from the pain. I crawled to my husband, but he stood up. Though his clothes and face were singed, Reg was alright. "That was odd." He looked around. His eyes flared open, when he saw me. "Asai!" I let myself fall unconscious, when the Vatin warriors burst into the tent. CHAPTER 11 My knee could be fixed, but I had to ride a cart all the way to the Vatin war camp at the frontier. Reg and I failed to figure out, how the Yurashew attacker had knocked him out from his battle rage. But at least it hadn't been effortless enough to be also used on me, though the magic he had used on me was no less disturbing. Unfortunately the defeat of the attackers had come at cost of the lives of both twins. They might have had a chance to be saved. However, Reg noted that neither of us knew the magic Nunim had used to transfer an occupying soul. It was quite possible that we weren't even potent enough to do it. The Vatin lords were incensed by the assassination attempt. Especially by how the attackers had managed to slaughter several of their finest warriors, only to be stopped by 'a pair of warlocks'. Kir-Madeise didn't have to speak long, before receiving a roar of full support, even though nobody truly knew, what we were against. While I remained as the skyspeaker's close bodyguard, Reg drifted into the company of Kir-Madeise's personal troops. He had already won renown from his role in protecting the skyspeaker. Even though he didn't speak the Vatin tongue, he found a common language in shows of horsemanship and skill with the bow. Of course, he was never in danger of breaking his neck when he fell of his horse. Kir-Madeise had to dissuade her warriors, who were mostly young men eager to prove themselves, from trying to match the feats of the warlock. Reg also got well the along with the Vatin warrior-priest's, whose abilities his own mirrored. After I divulged my status as an untrained priestess of the Dawn, I couldn't avoid getting into amiable debates with the less martially inclined priests. They appeared to be more familiar with the Peritian faith than I was myself. The wound over my body had stopped aching. The skyspeaker had tried to soothe me by saying that her best healers had worked on my injuries straight away. Still, I feared I'd end up with scar across my face. On top of everything, Reg didn't deserve a mutilated wife. His scars made him look tough and helped to accentuated his tender side. Yet I myself was barely good-looking enough as I was. When I took my bandages off, I was shocked by the raw streak going over my eye and mouth. Kir-Madeise said that the fresh skin was just untanned and swollen. I wasn't convinced. Reg didn't recoil from the sight, but only asked if the scar still hurt, before tracing his finger down on it. "No, but the eye doesn't see," I said. "It never might." "It's no ordinary injury. Give it time." Reg brushed my cheek. "If it doesn't get better, we'll figure out how to fix it." The warmth of his smile stopped me from pouting and uttering a petulant remark, which would have only made us both morose. The war camp became a sea of vivid banners. Armour glittered in silver and gold. The men were gallant and strong, and their horses beautiful and nimble. How striking the sight of them was, magnified the pity of that many wouldn't return to the open plains they belonged to. Women sang laments and prayers, though some of the highborn ones polished their own iron coats and tested strings for their bows. When the vanguard departed to Peritland, I was surprised that the skyspeaker was in its lead. I thought it unwise to send their leader, who was by no means a sorceress, first into unknown danger. One of her chosen warriors explained to me that Kir-Madeise had no reason to fear death, and besides, she had her years as experience in warfare. And if courage didn't make the rest of the Vatins follow, shame would force the issue. What man could stand back, when young women went to war? Of course, the Vatins never treated Kir-Madeise as a mere girl. A messenger spitting dust brought a letter with the broken seal of the chamberlain and the intact seal of the despot. The enemy had formed armies in Hamekar and raided the countryside around it. They had besieged and captured castles, fortified manors and a smaller towns in the vicinity. Only the superior cavalry of Peritians had kept the enemy's movements in check. Nunim had given battle with any troops she could scrounge from the capital. The enemy host, despite including large numbers of women, elderly and even children, hadn't faltered even at the face of superior arms. Nunim's forces had emerged victorious, but not before sustaining heavy casualties. The enemy hadn't given up until every one them had been cut down. Nunim herself had been badly injured while 'expunging a flock of renegade sorcerers'. The enemy, despite their often feeble bodies, had fought with the skill and valour of hardened veterans. Peritians weren't facing a peasant rebellion. The Yurashew archon we had captured inside Deneisin, had proven to be a valuable source of information, after 'carefully administered coercion'. According to him, the Yurashews had stored into the Hamekar temples an immense number of souls belonging to experienced and loyal soldiers. There they had waited, uncaring that the plan had been postponed for centuries by 'the uprising of ungrateful serfs'. The archon had tried to get himself killed, but Nunim had 'helped him reconsider the value of his life'. As 'a repayment for neighbourly kindness' the archon had divulged what the true mastery of their spell was. No matter where the bound souls died, they'd return to the temple complex, ready to take another body to live again. A host on horses hailed us, as the Vatins were breaking camp. They told they were Peritian reinforcements. When they got closer, they charged straight into the unprepared steppe-folk. The Vatins retreated in disarray. But when the enemy's cohesion broke, as they dispersed to pursue the fleeing Vatins, the steppe warriors wheeled into a counter- attack. The Vatins eradicated the separated enemy groups without significant losses to themselves. Reg won glory with his daring, though the honour was diminished by how the defeated army had the appearance of slaughtered peasantry. No trophies were collected from that battlefield. We sent word to the neighbouring villages, asking them to come bury their fellow subjects if they could. The Vatins had to push onward. Confused reports arrived several times a day from Peritian commanders, who had been told to keep their approaching ally informed. We suspected deliberate misdirection among the missives. Many regiments were claimed to have joined on the side of the rebels, while mercenary bands hurried to join both sides. Every and all of the neighbouring countries were claimed to have broken their treaties and attacked Peritland. The despot, the chamberlain, the leading border lords and even the skyspeaker reading the reports herself had been confirmed dead dozen times over. What could be gathered from the mess was that the enemy utilized infiltrators and spies expertly. The despot was trying to make sense of the situation, and had commanded means to contain the Yurashew forces without large battles, until order could be restored. Considering the enemy was made of his own subjects, to avoid killing them was only prudent. CHAPTER 12 The Vatins spread out their war camps around Asikhatum in order to avoid another potentially devastating surprise attack. Because of that, arranging basic supplies and even palatable water required great deal of back-and-forth between the Vatins themselves and the local liaisons. Though she was desperate to finish the arrangements, Kir-Madeise personally saw through that her soldiers were camped in good order and under the disciplined protection of sentinels. When she could feasibly take her leave, she gathered a tiny entourage ??me and Reg included?? and galloped to the gates of Asikhatum. The skyspeaker's gaze wandered on the mighty walls, while the gate guard explained that the arrangements for proper reception just weren't ready. The civil officials, the temples and the fraternities of tradesmen were loathe let a foreign ruler, and a grand ally no less, enter without sufficient spectacle. "I appreciate the honour the leaders of your fine city wish to grant me." Kir-Madeise took off her headdress. "But the skyspeaker of the Vatins is not here. At the moment, I'm merely a woman looking for her husband. Now, please let us in." The guard obeyed the skyspeaker's authority by opening the gates, which had been barred for the night, and granted her request to pretend she wasn't there. The streets were night-black save for the few witch-lamps. A giant on a huge steed appeared from behind a corner and galloped towards us. Reg, who had ridden in front of Kir-Madeise, moved aside. The skyspeaker giggled as the despot lifted her from her saddle and place her in front of him. Their whisperers and kisses were loud in the darkness. "You two," the despot growled. "Good work. A room has been arranged for you in the palace. Get going." The happiness of the girl, who I had followed for days like a shadow, lingered in my mind like a cloud of pointless jealousy. Yet acknowledging my envy didn't make it fade. Our missions were done, and soon I'd get to enjoy the complete unhelpfulness of the despot's libraries. I barked at the servants attending us. They skittered away from the room, leaving puzzled Reg to stare at me in the light of the phosphorous crystals. He move to me, but I brushed him aside and fell on the bed. The soft mattress was scented with pungently fruity perfumes. Large weight dropped next to me, and strong hand brushed my hair. "What's wrong?" I glanced at him. Reg smiled, as if he enjoyed the sight of a messed up eye and an inflamed scar. "Talk," he said. "It'll help. Say anything you want. I'd even listen you bleat, just to hear your voice." I pouted. "I'm losing my mind. Even now I'm ready to assume you are mocking me." He kissed my neck. "I'm not." "Yes, I know." I sighed. "I'm also furious that you don't seem to mind my... face. It's foolish of me, but I can't help it." Reg smirked. "This might insult you, but I find that scar rather dashing." "Now you are mocking me." "I'm not. I want your eye healed for your sake, but I don't mind that scar. And besides, it will fade until it's barely visible." Reg's hand roamed up from my belly to my breasts. "A reminder that you were willing to put yourself in front of unknown witchcraft." I bit my jaws together. I wouldn't allow myself to get worked up into anger for no reason. With a deep breath, I managed to expel part of my tension. "Reg, you know, why I'm upset." "Yes." His hand started unlacing my undershirt. "Still, it doesn't help to be upset about it. We aren't in a hurry, are we?" "I want a family, Reg." I helped him bare my upper body. "I've been claiming ??to myself foremost?? that I don't, but it's a miserable lie." Reg pulled off my baggy trousers. "If you are worrying about me, don't. I too want children, but they will have to be with you." He took off his shirt and trousers and threw them from the bed. The sight of his ready member reminded me that my affairs weren't nearly as awful as I pretended. His smile widened in response to my smirk. "See, there are things you like in the world. We'll enjoy them together, and eventually figure out the hard parts." Infiltration by Yurashew witches was a distinct possibility, so the despot wanted to keep me and Reg as part of the palace garrison, in case he needed trustworthy sorcerers. Our stay in the palace meant I had access to its libraries. The material wasn't the complete disappointment I had feared. Even with the ample lighting available in the palace, my working eye ached from the going through all, which might be connect to my circumstances. I wasted days reading manuscripts that turned out to be fanciful retellings of baseless folklore or intricate slander about long dead dignitaries. Eventually a librarian brought me a stained collection of thick pages tied together with cheap yarn. It was a copy of a journal, which detailed a similar case to mine. Unfortunately the text had been translated poorly from an original language, which I couldn't discern. For the text I had, the copier had paid minimal attention to details of spelling. I could make certain sense of it, though. The main point was simple: use a soul intimately familiar with the target body for guidance. The original author detailed what to do with such a soul, but not how to gain one. Presumably because the described sorceress had been the victim of strong soul-shifting magic, and so had been all the needed guidance herself. Cursory testing on my soul revealed that it hadn't picked up the necessary information from the all too brief miracle in the Khaask town. My mind turned to an obvious but harrowing source of advice. Though my instincts screamed against going anywhere near her, I asked for an audience with the chamberlain. Nunim invited me to breakfast in the women's house of the palace. Even with hair still under the care of attendants and wearing a pillowing nightgown, her coldly amused expression and flexing sorcery showed the readiness to snuff out lives. The fawning court ladies and the subdued decorations enhanced the impression of casual power. When I started to nervously describe my tentative idea, the chamberlain tapped her hands together. The attendants and courtiers hurried out. "Thank you, Radiance." She smiled and nodded me to continue. I explained what I had in mind. "It might work," she said. "But you'd have to get a hold of a woman's soul. Only reason, why I could shift that Yurashew louse around, was the enchantments already on him. And that his soul is barely a shadow the real thing. Besides, ripping a soul out of a human would leave them dead in short order. But there might be a way." She grinned. "Would you be willing to risk getting a Yurashew into you?" "How would that help?" "Answer: yes or no?" She had something planned. Even if she hadn't, the answer was obvious. "Yes. Yes, I would risk it, if it had even a chance of being useful." "Good. You'll be given the opportunity volunteered to an important errant." CHAPTER 13 The woman was tiny on the man's lap. If the despot was proportional in every aspect, how would it fit? I shook my head to get the indecent thought out from it. The reception room was small, and its walls were infused with concealing magic. Only people present were the skyspeaker, the chamberlain and the despot. Despite such eminences, I hadn't been made to kneel. Just to be safe, I bowed deep. "I apologize for not having presented you and your husband with my formal gratitude. As you might guess, I have been busy," the despot rumbled. "My wife tells you lost your eye protecting her life." 'Lost' was all too final for my liking, but I made a sharp bow. "Nevertheless, I ask you to continue your service." The despot nodded at Nunim. "By studying our Yurashew guest, I think I've figured out the trick in their spell," Nunim said. "It should be easy enough to replicate by the victim. At least if they have been trained as a sorcerer. As the original owner of the body has a deeper connection to it, they should easily prevail in any ensuing struggle of wills and push the spectre into the back of one's mind, thus regaining control." "'Should?'" Kir-Madeise asked. Nunim shook her head. "Due to the lack of material, I haven't tested the method." "It's a long shot," the despot said. "But you might be able to infiltrate Hamekar. We sorely need information on what is going on there. And if you made it back, with a female Yurashew soul on tow, we might be able to help with your... situation." The chamberlain nodded. "Based on what that twice-cursed renegade Mesamra said, you have been picked as the host of this 'autokrateira', as she referred to herself." Even if it worked, I'd rely on the help of a hostile half-faded ghost. But it was best option I had. Even if it didn't work, I would help. The despotate was far from faultless, but it didn't steal the bodies of commoners to grind into bloody pulp at the blades of its enemies. I had sworn an oath of duty, not to the despot, but to the spirit of the despotate. That was ultimately formed by the thoughts and deeds of every one of its subjects. I had the ability to do my tiny part to make that spirit a better one. I had already been ready to risk my own life for a tiny chance at personal satisfaction. Now I could do something just as foolhardy, and have the possibility of helping to save thousands of lives in the process. "Very well," I said. "How is the trick done?" My visit to the Deneisin was a goodbye, though I didn't mention my mission to her. She wasn't yet in good enough condition to be encouraged to come along. Deceiving Reg was harder to bear. I should have told him, but there was no reason for us both to die. He understandably wouldn't allow me to do venture into the enemy's hands alone, if I gave him the chance to insist joining me. The journey to Hamekar would only take a few days at most, depending on how much I had to veer from the roads to avoid raiders. I needed to pack only some spare clothes and a blanket. But I had to leave a letter. The tiny writing table had no ready ink. After grounding a little soot and gum into water, I dipped my quill and stared at the empty paper. In a sense, I was fulfilling my marital duties: to love my husband, and keep him from harm. Yet, I wasn't allowing Reg to do his duties to me. He'd help me, if I asked. "What are you writing?" I turned around to face Reg. The saddle bag lay at my feet. My mouth twitched. His frown was dull with a trace of pain under the surface. "The skyspeaker came to talk to me. Asai... I know certain things are painful for you to say, but you wouldn't truly lie to me, right?" My gaze fell. A lump formed in my throat. "I would. I'm sorry, Reg." He kneeled in front of me. I looked into his face and found a wistful smirk. "Your plan is unsound," Reg said. "That Yurashew talked about us as a pair. They'd quickly smell deceit, the moment you came to them alone." "Oh, Reg..." I hugged him. "Please forgive me." A shiver went through Reg. "Do you trust me, truly?" "Yes, I do." I let out a whimper. "The one I don't trust is myself." He clasped my hand. "Asai, my sunstone. I don't begrudge you of not telling me, but it still stung." "I... I didn't want you to get hurt." "I know. But please, never assume that any earthly pain could be worse than losing you, especially if I did nothing." His gaze was expectant, while I mulled on with my response. My actions had their roots in destructive selfishness. Reg deserved better, so I had to be that. "I promise, I won't." He smiled. "And I renew my wedding vow to you, that I will never leave you. Not unless you explicitly ask me to." My gaze fell. I had sworn the same, and almost broken it. Yet among the vows, I had promised to grant my husband a family. "Did the skyspeaker tell, why I volunteered?" "I didn't need her word to know you." He placed grabbed my waist and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him. He continued: "All the more reason, why I want to help." Our reconciliation and kisses had to be cut short, for there was only little light left. We needed to be far away from the patrolled outskirts before it became too dark to travel. A route out of the city had been prepared for us by carefully fumbled orders. To any spy observing, our escape would have seemed well-planned but lucky. Fields had been left to fallow, and whole villages had burned to the ground in the area between Asikhatum and Hamekar. Before stopping for the night, we passed several lines of unburied bodies, where two forces had clashed. Cannon roared in the distance, as I taught the chamberlain's method to my husband. It was simple, and I feared it might turn to be deceptively so. Nunim had assured that her trick would work significantly better than wresting control with pure willpower alone. Kawsetan, a potent sorcerer with several times my age in experience, had managed to take back his body for only a moment. The abandoned crofter's hut was secluded, and the sounds of fighting distant. I should have slept, while I still could. Reg's breathing wasn't calm enough for him to be sleeping either. "Do you think the despot can win this war?" I asked. "No. Not without something altering with the enchantment of Hamekar." Reg turned to me and fumbled for my hand. "Hopefully, we are only one of His many attempts at finding an advantage." "He might not have many choices left." I shut my eyes, squeezed Reg's hand and let myself fall asleep. PART THREE - Shadows of Surpassing Magnificence CHAPTER 14 Among the devastation, many locals still did their best to get their fields cultivated. Most still ran and hid, when they heard our hooves. Yet some were so desperate that they continued to work the plough and turn the soil despite us, or altogether more dangerous riders, storming by. Later in the year, famine would reap the richest harvest, even if the war was ended swiftly. The haphazard Peritian siege camp was reportedly itself under constant attack. We steered clear of it, which was made easy by the heavy stench of sorcery and constant thunder of cannon fire. Near Hamekar, avoiding patrols became ever more difficult and slowed our progress. We decided to give ourselves up to the first enemy patrol we sighted. Fortunately the stunned and noticeably dizzy sentinels realized that trying to kill us would have been too much of a risk. After explaining our intention to surrender, we were taken to the edge of Hamekar. The fortifications had been reinforced with ditches and palisades, for which the hills had been shaven bare of trees. Throngs of slaves toiled shifting earth or languished in pits to deep to climb out of. The soldiers on guard either barked orders in the ancient tongue or absently stood in place, as if they were lost and too shy to ask for directions. We were forced to wait in a fortified outpost, with spearheads pressed against our backs. After a considerable wait, a woman, rippling with casual sorcery, strode to meet us. While her features were a stranger's, her amused sneer was familiar. "You. You attacked us in the tent," I said. Kawsetan had died well, and for nothing. Her grin flickered. "That is true. An unfortunate incident. A memory I'd wish to erase." I dropped to my knee, and Reg understood to follow. I pleaded: "Forgive us, lord. We surrender, so we might be spared in the coming rule. The faltering Tyrant deserves not our loyalty. He had only cruelty to offer in payment for our foolish service to him. With you, we might attain immortality." "If you deserved it." The Yurashew kicked me into my jaw. The impact threw me on my back and sent my head ringing. Reg jerked forward, but I gestured him to stay still. I got back to my knees and pressed my forehead into the dust. "Forgive me, lord." I braced myself as the boot pressed my head against the ground. The mere pain wouldn't break my skull. The boot moved away. "Stand up, scum. It doesn't matter, how genuinely you submit. You will made to serve your betters, all the same." Our hands were tied behind our backs, and our mouths gagged. I saw only determination in Reg's eyes, as a bag was put on my head. The city was the stench of smoke, pitiful wails, barked orders and marching feet. Iron clicked, fires roared. Dull laughter was accompanied by screams. The air was overripe with sorcery. It's tendrils whipped at me, but found no opening to force itself inside. The prickling pain heightened as we were dragged deeper into Hamekar and up the hill. We walked from the dirt road to rough stone and finally polished marble. A faint heat grew, until it supplanted other sorcery assaulting my mind with its burning embrace. Whimper left my mouth. Reg began to speak, but it was cut short by a loud smack. A shaft smashed into the backs of my knees. I fell. Another hit struck my neck. The pain from blows was enough to lit the Peritian curse. Only a nudge from me, and I'd succumb to the rage. The whispers inside my ears gathered into a cascade. "You... will pay. Give in..." A low chant echoed in the cavernous space around me. I stoked my anger, and it was gone. After aeons of waiting, I was free. Burning the rope around my wrists was easy with the power of the new soul at my disposal. I ripped off the bag and the gag and laughed. Around me, soldiers knelt, like they should, and dignitaries of sorcerous might bowed in respect. "Welcome back, autokrateira Ixrya," a woman of sorcerous ability said. Living, truly living, was exhilarating. I was inside a body of flesh and coursing blood, not cold lifeless stone. My body stirred against the cloth in front of my crotch. Such sensations were foreign to me. "Oh no!" I yelped and fumbled my groin. I thought: 'This body's not a woman's at all!' I ??the real Adzasai?? trapped inside my own head, thought: 'How didn't you know?' Me, the sovereign Yurashew, autokrateira Ixrya the First and Last, muttered inside my mind: 'Ghosts don't exactly have eyes, dear. Only thing I noticed was a suitable plump womanly soul to appropriate. But you had to be a freak. Oh well, I can change my body. Maybe I first try out, what having a manhood is like, but seems you have already broken yours.' Reg, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, walked to me. He took my hand and asked in the ancient tongue: "Is something wrong, my eternal beloved?" "Yes. No. Nothing to discuss at the moment." I gestured with my hand, and Reg kneeled so I could kiss him on his forehead. "Again, I can love you with my body and soul, both." I glanced up. The ceiling and parts of the walls of the beautiful temple hall were gone. "What happened here?" The sorceress grinned. "You happened. Our chief servant panicked, when these two managed to escape. Fearing that our plan would soon be revealed, he forced the ritual through without proper preparation. Thousands of our thralls were lost, but we retain more than enough for our needs." "I take the servant has been dealt with?" "Oh, yes. He regrets every breath he takes." "Good. I want a room for myself and my consort. Arrange it. Now." The sorceress bowed and let us out of the defaced temple hall. I remained quiet on my way to an apartment, which was in the upper part of the complex. As the door closed, I had had enough. I want to make love to my consort, regardless of the mismatch of equipment?? No, I had to throw this parasite into the back of my mind. I channelled my own power according to the patterns taught by Nunim. My fingers and toes obeyed my will. A fire lit in my head, and the pain stole my focus. I shrieked. Sight disappeared from my working eye. Sounds faded into silence. I had no corporeal existence. 'You are an insect.' She was pressing me down into the darkness, from which nothing returned. Nunim had told this might happen. I continued on weaving the intricate pattern into the connection between my soul and my lost body. A song without sound, a tapestry without threads. Pure spellcraft. 'If you do not stop, you will die. I will merely seek another host.' Her words took effort. Every wrathful syllable was a slip from the reins. 'Why me?' 'Yes! Why? I thought you were a perfect fit. A soul not swollen with uncontrolled power, but restrained and radiant like the dawn! One fit for an autokrateira. But you are an abomination. How can you live with this mismatch between body and soul? Why not die? Let me live for you. I will fix everything. Give in. Fade. Obey!' The spell slipped through her and found my body. Empowered by the renewed connection, I surged towards my own vessel. It welcomed me and evicted the unlawful intrusion. My souls shifted, and I screamed. 'No. No. No! How? How!' whined the ghosts of an autokrateira. She became a tamed headache in the back of my head, but there was no real barrier between Adzasai and Ixrya. I knew two lives. I was ancient yet a fickle thing. I hated my own childish insolence. I abhorred my foul depravity in seeking life by stealing it from others. I feared losing control, to myself foremost. I gasped for breath. "Reg?" He smiled and spoke in the ancient language: "I already did it, Asai." He continued in Peritian: "Weird, how easily that tongue comes with this spectre whining in my head." 'Please. Please. Please. Let me back.' 'Shut up.' 'You uppity sow!' The burning in my skull flared. 'You do not understand how long I have suffered, separated from my beloved! Let me back, to make love once more. I'll help you change your body. I can see that is what you desire. That is also what I want. It'd be a mere cantrip to a Yurashew sovereign.' Desperate as I had been, I wasn't foolish enough to believe her. I pushed the sensation of her as far as I could. The pain disappeared. She was trapped inside me. Separated from the enchantments of the temple, she was powerless. She was nothing but a mind and faded memories. "This is fortunate," I said in the ancient language. "The Yurashews might not immediately out us as impostors." 'Yes, we will! Give up. I'll be merciful.' Reg hugged me. "I feared I lost you." He drew back. "Now. They will assume that 'we' will do some catching up, so to speak. It would be wise to wait here. What would you say if we..." The heat in me sunk downwards. 'Yes! Oh, my love. So close yet so far. Adzasai, let me back in control. I'll transfigure us. Grant me one moment with my beloved, and I will relinquish control again.' 'I can't trust you.' 'You already defeated me. Humiliated me. I will be your humblest servant.' I bit my lip. "What's wrong?" Reg asked. "The ghost is talking to me. She says she could perform the transformation I need." "It has a rather good reason to lie, don't you think?" "Yes... But what if she's honest? She was a masterful sorceress in life." "And would promise anything to live again." Reg placed his hand on my arm. "Asai, this is hardly the situation for heedless risks." "You are right." Both of me sighed. "Let's just rest." CHAPTER 15 Our cuddling with my husband was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who's there?" Reg growled. "Water for your baths, eminences. And the attendants to help you dress for the celebration." 'You can't send them away. They'd figure something was off if an autokrateira didn't want to look good.' "We need to let them inside," I whispered. "Alright." Reg brushed my cheek. "Let me do the talking. You just pretend you are too important to speak to the servantry, being an autokrateira after all." 'An autokrateira? The autokrateira! I was the only woman to ever rule as the Yurashew sovereign. By my own right I was the master of the known world!' Over a dozen servants filed into the room. They were dressed well, and lacked any obvious signs of abuse, yet their gazes barely reached beyond their toes. The ones with buckets filled the tub and hurried away, while the others stood against the wall. I gave Reg a look. The servant appeared to waiting to start washing me. "The bared form of the autokrateira cannot be seen by lesser eyes," Reg bellowed. "Put a screen in front of tub and place her undergarments nearby." I sat on the tub. Reg washed my hair, relishing the chance to rub my scalp. He hadn't done anything like that before, though granted I hadn't asked. Reg dried me and helped me put on the short undertrousers and billowy white gown. Though the fabric was thin, the garments kept my groin from being noticeable. "You may proceed," Reg commanded. Three servants dashed to me. I was startled, when they began to retie my gown, but they merely secured a wide girdle to hold the waist tighter. After another thin gown, they wrapped a fiery-orange overlong robe on me, and tied on top of it a short cape, which was cut like the wings of a bird. On top of it all they placed a huge gauzy shawl, which I had to hold in my arms, so it wouldn't droop on the floor. By barely touching me they guided me to sit. Two of them began to work on my hair, while another pair took out an array of cosmetics, which they applied on my face with tiny brushes. 'Heavenly, isn't it?' 'Inconvenient, more like.' 'Do not lie. You like being beautiful.' 'Not like this. I'm wasting other people's time.' 'They are slaves and wouldn't have anything better to do than to please their mistress. Besides, inconveniencing others is the root of power. Everything in rulership grows from making others to do as you see fit. That one miscreant is tucking our hair too hard. Reprimand her.' 'No.' Yet it did hurt. I said: "Please??" Every servant in the room gasped. I was too startled to speak, so the pampering continued, more carefully this time. My hair was imposing, lifted into an intricate coiffure, skewered with gold and jewellery. The tan of my face had disappeared below white paint and scarlet blush. Enhanced by black antimony and flowery pink my eyes were huge. Blotches of crimson paint made my lips into cherries. I looked like an autokrateira should, at least at an informal reception. A servant kneeled and lifted the overly long hem of my robe and gowns. Instinctively I kicked her away. 'If they see our groin, they'll talk. That would be suspicious, because I wouldn't suffer that without changing it.' "Autokrateira," Reg said. He had changed into a resplendent robe, been given a fresh shave and his hair had been cut and combed. "Your shoes will need to be laced properly." "You do it," I commanded. "Send the servants away. They have finished." Reg clapped his hands together, and the servants scurried away. I sighed. "Thanked be the gods, for that is over." Reg smiled. "You do look beautiful." He showed me the shoes. "I can't walk in those!" Though the embroidery was quite pretty, the platform under the sole was the length of my hand. 'I can, and so can you, while I'm here.' "But I'll manage," I admitted. "It would be suspicious, if I didn't wear them.' Reg smirked and lifted my hems. Instead of just tying the shoes, he dived his head under the skirt. My toes curled as his kisses travelled up my shin to my thigh. He stopped, and I realized what I was. He began to put the shoes on. 'If your transformation was finished, he could have kissed you all the way up.' 'That doesn't sound appealing.' 'Wrong. It is delightful. My consort loved to do it for me. And I made him perform the deed frequently. Every woman of worth should have a lover eager to please her with his tongue and lips.' Reg helped me to stand up. I took a step and expected to teeter and fall over. Yet balance came easy. I walked some more. My steps were graceful and sure. In the mirror, I was almost as tall as Reg. My height was mostly flowing skirt, which gathered in heaps on the floor and trailed behind me. She of the reflection couldn't... She wouldn't bow to anyone. I was gorgeous and imposing, for once in my life. 'Why bother with all this? A sorceress is a sorceress, regardless of how much she wastes cloth and time.' 'You are a serf at heart, Adzasai. Looking through your mind, all you Peritians are. Even your despot makes himself tall instead of forcing everyone else to be short. At least he is humble enough not to claim the autocratic dignity he so sorely lacks.' Reg held my hand aloft, as we followed the guide to the great hall. Incense fumed over the scent of the endless rows of delicacies. Bleary- eyed servants weaved their way through the groups of intricately dressed men and women. The odd music was slow and delicate, hanging in the air just above the restrained murmurs. The sorceress, who had welcome us, slid to me. Her gown was almost as pretty as mine, though the style of her hair was noticeably simpler. She gave me a tiny curtsey. "Delightful that you managed to join us, autokrateira. I don't think I've introduced myself. I am the archontissa Tirashi." 'I don't know her, therefore she's insignificant. Give her a sneer and send her to bother someone else.' I smirked at the archontissa. "I thank you for your welcome. Now, what are we celebrating?" "Oh yes. Pardon me. As you are so freshly among us, you haven't been informed. I was supposed to tell you about the grand attack. Might as well do so now. Follow me to a more private place, where you can deign to sit and have refreshments." We ended up in a gallery overlooking the celebrations. Servants brought me a tall throne, so I could sit down without risking being unable to get back up. Reg took a place at my feet. "Who is in charge now?" I asked. "There must many autokrators now among us." "Only one, along with you. We still hold to the agreement and are ruled my council and the plan. The chiefest among us, the great autokrator Iradziar the Second, holds on to mere ceremonial primacy." 'Iradziar is my grandfather's father. I don't know much about him, save that he was particularly potent. A true sovereign.' The archontissa leaned forward. "Autokrateira, pardon my insolence, but I seem to notice that your right eye remains blind." 'Could you have fixed that?' 'Yes. Let me back in control, and I'll heal it.' 'You'd just alert her!' 'Not at all. She needs to be taken down a peg or five. I doubt she suspects deception, and instead just wants to imply I lack the proper mastery fitting the autokrateira. Regardless, I wouldn't dare to try taking over. Imagine my mortification, if it was known that I was bested by a peasant girl. I swear I'll behave.' If the autokrateira turned out to be trustworthy, she'd be an immense asset to me, even if she merely healed my eye. On the other hand, rousing the suspicion of the archontissa would quickly lead to our discovery. I sighed and relinquished control. "You make accusations well beyond your station," I said. A few short but potent utterances, and the insolent archontissa screamed. My broken eye tingled as it used the stolen nature to heal itself. I opened my eyes and saw properly again. "You... You..." The archontissa snarled, holding her right eye. I grinned. "Oh, do continue that thought. We'll see what else I can take away." The archontissa forced her hands on her lap. Her right eye was a glazed mess. "I beg your forgiveness, autokrateira." 'How did I do that? I'm not that powerful!' 'It's not the matter of power, but mastery. Now I fade back, just as I promised.' I was again the upstart serf Adzasai. I had become so used to seeing with only my left eye, that now everything appeared overly bright and colourful with my right one. 'No need to thank me.' The archontissa had participated deeply in the planning of the 'decisive attack', and was eager to speak of it in length. "We have enough captives and arms to refit a full army," Tirashi said. "Should any of our troops survive their attacks on the surrounding camps, forts and towns, they will commit suicide and join the main army assembled here. The rebels will experience drastic blows everywhere, yet we will be ready to strike at their heart. You know these 'cannon'?" I waved my hand. "Yes, I looked through my hosts mind. Cannon are clumsy weapons and scarcely match for sorcery." "Yet they need no sorcerer to man," the archontissa said. "We have captured and cast plenty of pieces. They will threaten the walls of Asikhatum, while leaving more important tasks to our sorcerers. We will directly attack the queen of the steppe savages. The rebel despot has shown himself hopelessly infatuated by the girl. While he tries to save his young wife, he will be easy to surround. Due to the complete lack of civilized system of succession, the rebel despotate will unravel at its ruler's death, like any band of robbers." "What if we fail?" The archontissa guffawed. "We'll just try again." CHAPTER 16 The autokrateira helped me navigate among the celebrants, as I tried to gather as much information as I could. Fortunately I had an excuse to be nosy and impolite. As the spoke around which the celebration circled, was the great autokrator Iradziar. The autokrateira in my head had to screech to stop me from bowing to the man. His host was been the failed Mesamra, though now his form was almost unrecognizable. He was tall, paunchy and yet bull-muscular. He lounged on a divan, surrounded by fresh delicacies of food, drink, men and women. The power of his host was completely reined, and yet it radiated from Iradziar, touching everyone like tendrils ready to snuff out anything that displeased him. Nobody looked him into the fire in his eyes, yet I had to. While the autokrator's mouth smiled most jovially, his gaze pierced into me. I was naked under his evaluation, but he didn't comment, how it wasn't the autokrateira riding my body. "You are my grandson's daughter," the autokrator said. Mesamra was still visible in his feature. "Yes." At least I couldn't fidget much on top of my high shoes. Iradziar guffawed. "It is good that at least two of our auspicious line have dared to venture back to the existence in flesh." "Perhaps they wait for more powerful hosts. You decided to settle with that failure." "This 'Mesamra' was puissant but foolish. I have derived much enjoyment in introducing him to the pleasures of old, but they might have been too much for him. Recently he has fallen silent. Catatonic even." The autokrator swung his hand. "No matter. After this war is over, I will figure a way to excise him." I nodded. "As will I for with my unneeded 'companion'." "That is well. Now, enjoy the taste of living again, my dear daughter." The ghost in my head had a good idea, what she would have done, if she had a body again. I followed her advice. She enjoyed tasting foods with me, dancing with Reg, listening to the music and the slight inebriation from various substances. Though the pleasures were aplenty, the mood was ruined by the dazed officers, the haughty Yurashews and the unwillingness of their servants and partners. As soon as politely possible, I excused myself and 'my consort' back to our rooms. When I was finally alone with Reg, I let out a deep sigh. 'Why are you helping me?' 'Good question. Perhaps I don't like my fellow Yurashews all that much. Do you know what will happen, after we win this war?' 'You'll fight between yourselves.' 'Exactly. That would be highly bothersome. From what I sensed, I don't think I'm a match for that Iradziar. And besides, I like you, which is understandable, because I very much love myself, and you are me are us.' 'I wonder if something similar has happened to Reg. He has acted his role quite well.' 'He has a lot of my beloved consort in him. He knows that his place is at the feet of his mistress.' "Are you talking to the autokrateira again?" Reg asked. "Yes. She's trying to convince me to lower my guard concerning her. Is her consort still in your mind?" Reg blushed. "Yes." "What does he do?" "Mostly gives me advice on how to please 'my autokrateira'. Asai, that kissing your inner thighs was his idea. But obviously he didn't force me, so I'm sorry." 'Oh gods. Don't you dare pretend you didn't love it, Adzasai. Let me alter our form!' The heat grew in my lower half and like a storm cloud sent flashes of sultry thoughts. I collapsed on the bed. "She's trying to make me give up control, so she can change me." "About that. Did you allow her to fix your eye?" "Yes." "That was reckless. But apparently it worked." He tilted his head. "Are you alright?" I squeezed my hands into fists. A need, of a kind I hadn't experienced, made my thoughts a haze. I panted, and moaned: "Reg..." 'Stop it!' 'No. But don't you dare let him poke us in the butt! That is altogether undignified. And you don't even like it all that much. Let me transform us!' 'You'd just kill Reg! You were monster in life, and now you are a damned spectre.' 'I can't even remember what I was! All remember is..." I gasped as the heat abated. 'Looking through your memories of this war... This is not what I was. Yes, I was callous, often even cruel. I don't regret it. But I didn't send serfs to be slaughtered by my enemies. I didn't ride the minds of others like they were donkeys. 'This whining ghost, which I now am, is not the autokrateira Ixrya the First and the Last. She wouldn't have bowed to my fellow Yurashews, so I won't either. Maybe I have become only a figment of your mind, but I want to help you. And also get ploughed by that large man, who is also my beloved consort.' "Reg... I'm going to let the autokrateira to the surface." "Don?? Are you sure? If she takes over completely, I wouldn't be able to stop her, even if I somehow could make myself hurt you. You'll end up a prisoner in your own mind." "We might end up dead before the next dawn. This might be my?? our only chance. If I could, I'd only risk myself." Reg frowned. "First, we should deliver the information about the attack to the despot." 'If I helped you, you could find something more useful than "the enemy is going to attack." The plan isn't even particularly complex. I'm sure your despot has figured it out already.' 'Can you make it fully functional? All the way to the womb?' 'Of course. I gave several children to my beloved. There's nothing alike to the emotion, which engulfs a mother as she holds in her arms a living creature she has carried inside her for so long.' That was worth the risk. With a sigh, I let the autokrateira to the surface. I stood up. "Now, Regaseir." "You are the autokrateira." I nodded. "Be a dear and obey. Call for a servant. I need a large bowl blood; any type will do, except human. Also, tell them to prepare me another bath and a more practical outfit." With the help of the man, I took off my clothes. The ritual was likely to end up messy with blood and other effluvia, and those garments were too beautiful to be ruined. "Regaseir. I will most likely scream. Still, don't look over the screen until I give you the permission. The sight would surely kill your desire for the fairer sex." It was a rare chance, so I tentatively touched the limp penis on my crotch. The experience was altogether disappointing. The little piece of meat didn't even stir properly. The tiny testicles were fun to shift around, though. 'Stop trying to masturbate!' 'Oh, fine. Barely did anything for me.' I took the bowl of ox blood and poured it into my mouth. The taste was vile, but I had to fill my stomach with spare material, in case I bled too much. After forcing myself to swallow several times, I put my hand on my mouth and fought against retching. I sat on the floor and began the initial incantations. The true inner nature of my soul was long dead. Yet rest of it remembered my old form as a resplendent woman. I forced the memory on my new body. It was easy, as Adzasai's soul readily welcomed the change. For her it wasn't an intrusion, but relief. My groin shifted and pushed inwards. The pain forced a wail out of my throat. The Peritian fury permeating Adzasai was an amusing ??impotent?? flicker. I myself could handle agony without pushing it away. I was a Yurashew sovereign. I was the autokrateira. Countless multitudes prostrated themselves for me and died at my will. A small alterations to my body was nothing to my mastery. A slit opened in my groin and gushed blood. Forcing the flesh to grow into proper form took several tortuous moments. The serf girl wailed at the back of my head. She was strong, yet also so weak. I didn't want her to lose her mind, so I dulled the pain. Rest of the changes inside me were mostly strange pressures, though the constantly restarting bleeding was hard to keep at bay. I made sure everything worked. The little nub of joy was just as sensitive as it should. The tunnel was firm. The womb was strong enough to hold gestating warriors. And the sources of eggs were more than fertile. The dizzy soul of Adzasai was a bundle of delirious elation. The strength of my body was all but gone from the blood loss and strain of high sorcery. The floor was slick with the sprawling puddle of blood. I forced some of the animal blood in my stomach to seep through into me and turn into the proper human variety. I took a deep breath. The process had been harder than I had expected. I stood up and examined my form. It wasn't quite as perfect as an autokrateira should have been. I placed my hands on my hips and forced the bone widen and my soft flesh grow. 'Hey! What are you doing?' I ignored the whine. In a moment my hips were sufficiently womanly. I cupped my breasts and let them turn my blood into their tissue. Now the reflection showed a visage I could love. Slightly wide shoulders merely made me look more robust. The large breasts, curvy waist, plump thighs and voluptuous hips were enough to scream the sumptuous womanhood, which the mother of nations embodied. My legs and all my hands had touched were covered in blood, as I walked to the other side screen. 'Let me back into control!' 'No. Did you honestly believe that whining plea of mine? You are witless and rash.' She tried the same trick as earlier, but now that knew it, the method was completely powerless against me. 'That won't work on me twice. And besides, after those changes, this body is tied to my soul just as much it is to yours.' I pushed her away and ignored her wails. "Regaseir, how do I look?" The man gazed at me, with dumb weary eyes. I flicked my fingers; a spell I had thoroughly practised. Blood coursed into the man's already ready member until it was ready to burst. The man winced and gasped. "You... aren't Asai." I smirked at the big fool. "I'm just practising my prerogative to the first night. Don't worry, she will feel everything." I slashed the air with my arm. "Call the servants. I want a bath, before I relieve you of your new predicament." The slaves stared at my spectacular naked form as they prepared my bath. The transgression was grave, but I let is pass. There would be no further doubt that I was in control of my body. The man didn't come to wash my hair, after I sat in the tub. He must have been gathering strength for the coming challenge. It was useless for him to pretend he didn't want me. One thing would make it all more interesting. I placed my hand on my belly. The womanly apparatus was fresh and hadn't started to work yet. 'What are you doing?' 'I'll turn us fecund.' 'Please let me back!' 'Oh, shut up. You should be glad that your first time will be done with the expertise the occasion calls for.' The man was sitting at the edge the bed, with his face hidden in his hands. I sat next to him and pushed myself against him. I unlaced his trousers and took out the swollen manhood. "Don't do this." "Why?" I grinned. "Are you going to stop me?" He looked at me. A desperate grimace flashed in his expression. "I can't stop you. But I won't participate either. You are not my wife." I pouted. The man crying stoked my fire about as much a bucketful of cold water. "Fine. You'd do anything for your beloved, yes? Let my consort to the surface, and I will consider releasing this body." He looked at me. "I'm sorry Asai... But I can't do anything else." Regaseir's frown turned into the smugness I loved. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed away the aeons of yearning. Warms tears filled my eyes. "My beloved. Oh, it's you!" He pulled back. His smile turned wistful. "You can't do this, my little Ixrya." "What are you talking about?" "Do you remember our first time?" "Yes! The memory is sacred." "So it would be for these two, but you... we are tainting it." He sighed, flicked the magic away from his penis and took my hand into tight hold. "We were old before we even died. These two are young, even if they weren't sorcerers. Ixrya... I love you, yet our love almost turned bitter, trapped in these temples." I my teeth. I was about to scream, but this was my beloved. And he was right. "H-hold me." We fell to the bed and stayed entwined. When I began to sob, I couldn't stop, even though it wasn't fitting to the dignity of the autokrateira. He kissed my forehead, both of my cheeks, my nose, my chin and finally my lips. "You will remain my eternal beloved. Yet this man, a mere boy to be frank, deserves his life more than I. Goodbye, my Ixrya." I swallowed a sob. "Goodbye, my beloved." The whole enchantment had been a mistake. We could have reborn a hundred times. Even if we had found each other only once, it would have been more fulfilling that this hollow existence as a mental tapeworm. I slapped myself in the face, and let myself sink into back of my mind. My face hurt. The damned bitch had hit me hard. But she had given up. Given me my life back. 'I'm not gone, so be grateful.' 'Here I dared to hope.' Reg's eyes were filled with tears. I pushed myself onto top of him and kissed him until I had to gasp for breath. He smiled. "It worked." "Yes. And I'd love to test myself, but I don't much care for the audience." "'The consort' is still here with me, but he is content to just observe and ponder about his beloved." 'Oh... He's so sweet. Unfortunately, I don't think we can leave these bodies.' Body. My hand shot down to my groin. The new flesh ached, and was shockingly sensitive. I slid my finger around and in it. 'Now who's masturbating.' 'Shut up.' I pulled my hand away and wrapped it Reg's palm, before noticing the wetness in my fingers. Reg didn't mind, but kissed me. "I'd love to repay all the pleasure you have selflessly given me," Reg whispered. "I think we both would be comfortable with it, despite the circumstances." "Do you mean...?" Reg moved down on the bed and stopped between my knees. He kissed my thigh. "Tell me, if you find this uncomfortable." My legs made tiny jerks from the excitement. The need that had never been in me due to my condition, had been lit like a furnace. Strange twitches stirred inside my crotch. I gasped. "A-are you sure you want to that?" He kissed my leg higher. I yelped from the jolt his touch sent to groin. The moisture of arousal leaked embarrassingly out of me. Reg continued move his kisses upwards until his lips touched my nether ones. A strangled moan left my mouth. 'Please don't be a dream...' 'This is no fancy. You'll love it, girl.' I was too preoccupied to pay the ghost any attention. Reg's teeth touched the nub that was pure nerve, his tongue ventured the maiden depths. Every sensation was odd, delightful and entirely correct. I tried to keep my sobs quiet, so he wouldn't stop. Reg lifted his gaze. "Are you alright?" I made a smile. "Yes. Just overwhelmed. Please continue." He obeyed, and with movements that were much too skilled for him, Reg built pressure into me. I lost the control of my breathing and then my voice. I panted, until I groaned. I cried out. The tension shattered and radiated through my thighs and belly. It barely resembled my earlier faint and disappointing orgasms. My mind became a void of thought. Only fear of losing control remained. The autokrateira could use the opportunity to push back to surface. I must have fainted, as Regaseir was already on top of me. His expression was worried. The silly lovely man thought a girl's explosive orgasm was dangerous. I had experienced similar many a time. No, I hadn't. I had been fully a woman only for a few moments. Yet, I was the autokrateira. The Yurashew autokrateira... Adzasai. I sat up. "Something's wrong, beloved." The ghost in the back of my mind was gone. The memories of the ancient courts and the glory given to me were faint and shredded, yet mine. "Oh gods. Our souls must have been stirred by the rapid shifts of prominence. The release you gave me must have loosened the walls between my souls. Now it's just me in here." "Who?" "The autokrateira..." I closed my eyes and placed fingers on my temples. "Yet I'm not... What was her name? Ixrya. She's gone." Reg's face twisted with fright. "Are you still Asai?" I smirked. "Yes, beloved. I'm Adzasai. Noticeably more than I'm the autokrateira. I am perfectly aware that those memories belong to a long dead woman. There was not much left of her in the phantom that was in my mind. Is my?? her consort still inside yours?" "Yes. He says he believes her beloved managed to move on, and merely left a piece of herself behind. He'll try to do it to himself." "I'll help him leave." I took hold of Regaseir's head. "She loved you, yet I am not her." I chanted by the light of Dawn, which carries away dead lingering things. As soon as my power touched the consort, he clung to it. The mangled remains of a soul emerged from Regaseir and faded away. My husband's smile was tired. "He's gone." CHAPTER 17 After relieving Regaseir's tension with my mouth ??the temples were too vile a place for our true love??, I concentrated on rebuilding my own awareness. Only scraps of memories from the autokrateira remained, but the nature of my soul had shifted. Nevertheless, I was myself. That had to do. "I don't think there's notable utility in the information we have gathered," I said. Regaseir nodded. "The numbers of the enemy more than match ours, even without half-decent stratagems. And Peritians are mere mortal humans. Our wills can be broken, unlike these thralls of the Yurashews." "Yes. We will have to do more than run away. Unless we want to do that for the rest of our lives. I won't become a fugitive from my own land, and I won't abandon my people." "'Your' land?" I clutched Regaseir's hand. "Ours. You know what I mean." He frowned. "I guess I do. Are you alright, Asai? You keep talking to me in the Yurashew tongue." I gulped. "It's an elegant language." I forced myself to talk in my own tongue. "And I can speak Peritian still." The sounds were odd. My mouth twitched. "Oh gods, Regaseir! I'm... She messed me up." His arms were strong and protective around me. "Now, now. It's just some dye through cloth. It will fade eventually. You are still yourself, Asai, merely with additional spice." I drew back and pouted. "Your metaphors are flattering. To the autokrateira." A deep breath calmed me. "Whether or not you are right, we don't have time for me to be upset." Heavy antimony around my eyes, some dark purple on the eyelids. Light red tint on my lips. A wrapped robe with intricate embroidery but pragmatic shape. Riding boots with heels instead of shoes with ungainly platforms. A headscarf and a large hat with a beaked brim to hide my poorly done hair. I wasn't obviously underdressed. "You look autocratic enough, though not too much," Regaseir said. "If they pay attention to us, they might notice the distinct lack of additional souls." I pulled a lock of hair out of the scarf. "I can play the part, if I have to. But what are we going to do?" Regaseir rubbed his freshly shaved jaw. "The consort knew more than a bit about the enchantment that gathers the souls. The spires were integral to it. If we could disrupt that, Peritian troops would have a chance to push into Hamekar." "How would we do that? Did the consort know magic for counteracting the enchantment?" Regaseir shook his head. "Then what are we going to do?" He grinned. "Gunpowder." We couldn't just purloin a keg of the volatile stuff and carry it up in to the spire. My status as the apparent autokrateira could only withstand so much scrutiny. The servants had appeared to be largely in control of themselves, so we decided to seek their help. It was a risky proposition; as there was no way to know, how the mistreated women would react. Any show of surprise, or even jittery behaviour, would draw suspicion to us. And that was only if they could trust us. Before the attack, the servants had been housed in a large wing of barracks, warehouses and kitchens. I kept my back straight and my expression annoyed on our way there. "Oh, there you are, autokrateira." The archontissa Tirashi hurried to me in an unseemly jog, followed by with a cadre of fidgety thralls. I had to be the autokrateira. "How's your eyes? Here to have them evened out?" She bowed like she should have. Regaseir stepped forward to be half in between me and the archontissa. "What do you want?" I demanded. She gave me a sharp look. "I'm supposed to be your guide to the current situation, though it seems I continuously fail to please you." I sneered. "Through no error of yours, presumably." "Oh, no, not at all. I fully acknowledge the existence of my faults, even if their specifics completely elude me." Such arrogance should have warranted death. Yet the attacker into Kir- Madeise's tent could have easily killed both me and Regaseir. And she was at moment inhabiting the body of someone as innocent as a Peritian sorceress could be. Even if he had gotten away with killing her, I couldn't do it. "What do you want, Tirashi?" She kneeled. I barely managed not to jerk back. "To serve you. This war is succeeding to its end rapidly. In the end there will only one Yurashew autokrator... or autokrateira. The 'great' Iradziar is an indolent lecher, and the rest dally as spectres instead of assuming a host. Presumably they all tried to take over the rebel despot, and thus he remained unconquered. You on the other hand are willing to take a lesser body in order to get to work. Yet your high mastery is apparent. I sense that you already subsumed the other soul in your body." Tirashi lifted her gaze with a smirk on her face. "Already you scheme. But what, I do not know." I lifted my nose and forced my clenched jaw loose. "I'm merely tentatively adjusting my position. I must know more, before deciding my course. If you want to be of use to me, ingratiate yourself to the great autokrator. Seduce him, if need be. Gain his trust and report to me his plans, if he's capable of such." "Very well, autokrateira." I let out a strained breath, after the archontissa disappeared into the corridors. "She suspects deception," my husband said. "Good thing the autokrateira showed the archontissa her place." "We should hurry. I can't repeat Yurashew tricks." The warmth of the servant's wing was stifling even in the corridor. Beyond the door, the common room was filled with slaves hurrying with tasks that had no dedicated place. After the whispers had spread across the room, the eyes of the women and children were filled with terror, when they glanced at me. We couldn't tell them that we weren't Yurashews. Someone might, in desperation or even greed, inform the guards. "The autokrateira needs four sturdy servants," Regaseir bellowed. Four resolute women volunteered immediately and hurried into the corridor. I winced, when I recognized one of them as a servant, who had seen me naked and my legs covered in blood. We strode out of the servant's wing and swerved into the first unoccupied room. Regaseir nodded and remained to watch outside the door. "I'm not a Yurashew," I said. Surprise and perhaps hope flickered on the grim faces. "I'm a Peritian sorceress. I'd help you all, but I can't. Instead, I ask your help." The women looked between themselves, unsure. One of them whispered: "I said, the despot wouldn't abandon us." "What do you need, lady?" It was the woman, who had seen me undressed. "Obey my husband and pretend you are deathly afraid of us." I smiled as warmly as I could. "I hope you only have to pretend." On our way up to the temple complex, Regaseir had smelled the stench of burnt powder, and placed it to a field outside the temple complex. The sound of shots showed him correct, before we found the camp of gunners, practising and maintaining their equipment. They loaded their firearms with sure and disciplined hands, and lacked the harebrained air of ancient warriors. They must have been renegades, siding with the undead. Their commander was perfectly coherent, unlike most of the officers of the enemy. He bowed to us, and bowed deeper again, after Regaseir introduced me. "What grants me this honour?" the commander asked. "The autokrateira wants to try your guns." "Oh yes. I have heard they didn't have thunder salts in her time. She is free to observe or even try herself." "Not here." Regaseir waved his hand. "The miasma is objectionable." I kept a handkerchief on my nose. The commander bowed. "Very well." Regaseir nodded at a keg, and one of the servants lifted it with some effort. "Hey!" The commander cleared his throat. "Wait a moment. That keg is worth a thousand shots, at least." "The autokrateira is never not meticulous." The commander sneered, but instead of saying anything, he made a bow. "We will need two guns," Regaseir continued. "And presumably thousand balls, also." "This is outrageous!" The commander's sun-darkened skin turned deep red. "As outrageous as your disobedience?" I asked. Despite pushing into antique years, the commander was quick to drop on to his knee. Guards stared at us, but didn't dare to interfere, as we walked into the temples with servants carrying a regiment's worth of gunpowder. Only when we were nearing the stairs to the spire, were we stopped by a guard captain. "Autokrateira, I must ask what you are doing." The captain's accent was firm and faultless. He must have been a proper Yurashew. "I want to see these odd weapons used, but I can't stand the smell of it. So we will shoot them up there, where winds blow sufficiently." "Do you know, how to use them, autokrateira?" "My consort's host was an expert of arms." The captain left, but without the clear signs of disbelief. I nodded to Regaseir to take the powder keg and turned to the servants. "Hurry now. If you can, try to hide. But if you must stay in the open, continue on with your tasks." The women hesitated, so I continued with reluctance, echoing what I had read priests say to bolster faltering hearts: "May our despot deliver us all from the Yurashew yoke." I showed them my silver amulet. "The gods bless you and your kin." My gut wrenched, when the expression of the women became hopeful. Regaseir carried the shot and the long firearms, while I carried the keg, up the stairs. The walls radiated surging magic, which pulsed with enough power to hurt my bones. According to my husband's direction, I lowered the keg into an alcove next to the stairs. He said: "The enchantments in this structure can resist any sorcery I know of. Yet, the stone itself is just stone. With some sorcery to make the powder burn faster, the force of the explosion should break this tower in half." Shudder went through me with the sudden understanding. "But you'd need to be next to the keg!" "I can handle it, with your help." He kissed me. "Stay behind me, and lend me your strength. Do you trust me?" "I do." I placed my hand on his broad back and opened my nature to his. If he died, I too would be extinguished. Not that my life had any reason to continue in such a case. Regaseir chanted a stave about the fire hidden in vile brimstone and most brutal of salts. I murmured a plea to the air around us to protect us from burning heat. My husband's words struck a spark. The pain in my ears was enough to push me into the fighting trance. Ancient stone cracked and expanded into the open air as lethal splinters. Flames danced as maelstrom shorter than a blink. The screams of the trapped souls gushed from the wounded enchantments. The sky shone above, and a view to the city and the desolated countryside opened around us. I forced myself out of my fury to escape the blaze pushing into my skull. My husband reeled and gasped for breath. I helped him sit on the remains of the stair, and sang ??despite barely hearing it with my ears ringing?? to mend his burns and the crushed muscle. "Kill them!" Tirashi was running up the stairs with a squad of guards. "Fire!" The match hit the pan of a firearm, and an explosion propelled agony into my chest. Tirashi laughed a song that clawed at my right eye. I was in the trance again, and all the souls we had displaced by the smashed sigils tried to rush into me. A wild howl rose from my lungs. My body was spoken for. I was their autokrateira. No vagrant spectres had any right over me. The bullet had pierced through the soft silver of the amulet. Its cold energy bled into me. The sun was setting, yet the Dawn was with me. Regaseir's battle chant dulled the enemy blade, which he grasped with bare hand. He flung the foeman against the others and slashed through a spear thrust at him. Tirashi tried to steal my eye. I let her touch the of nature it, and through that bridge, guided the swarming souls into her. She screamed and fell backwards of her feet. I grabbed Regaseir's arm and pulled him with me over the precipice. Wind answered my shout, but the coursing air didn't slow our fall. Regaseir grappled me and twisted himself under us. He crashed into the roof, and I into him, with enough force to rebound. We slid along the steep roof. I was barely conscious enough to keep myself from sliding back into the fighting fury. Regaseir caught me as we dropped from the roof. He landed on a lower structure, heavily enough to crush his foot through the roof tiles. He managed to clamber back on top and jump to the ground, holding me in his arms. I strove to staunch my bleeding. Last time my lung had been pierced, I had lost consciousness quickly from the blood loss. Now my chest was caved in. Spreading scarlet ruined my robe and stained even Regaseir. His run was unevenly loping strides. People stopped and stared. Armed ones shouted in surprise or aggravation. When we were beyond the courtyard, I let myself sink into the trance. Deeper awareness revealed the damage. One of my ribs was shattered, and the lung underneath was mashed around the lead ball. Fortunately my trance worked, and I closed all the veins I could around the wound. We arrived to the root of the sturdy wall. No stairs up were in vicinity. "Let me down, please." My husband hesitated, so I wiggled out of his hold. Even with a working body, I couldn't have jumped to reach the edge. "Help me up." I stepped on his hands, and he threw me high enough for me to clamber over the wall. He followed soon after and helped me down the wall, which wasn't high at the spot due to almost impassable terrain below it. We slid and stumbled down the craggy cliff. Explosions rang behind, and arrows mashed apart against the stones around us. I had to keep myself in the trance, so I could keep on running towards the frayed outskirts, which were a patchwork of demolished houses and unsown fields. Regaseir limped, yet easily ran faster than me in the uneven ground. My breathing was a painful gurgle. He glanced at me, and without a word lifted me up. I didn't resist. My wound barely held together. I imitated the magic, which the autokrateira had used, but altering the remaining blood in my stomach to course in my veins eased my state a little. And using such difficult magic was straining to my soul. Out of the crags and in the open ground, we were visible and vulnerable. Regaseir hid us into a dense copse of willows next to the bombarded ruins of a village. "How bad is it?" he asked. His voice was a growl, and his eyes had the wildness of the battle trance. Speaking made my chest beyond uncomfortable. "Bad... Shattered bone inside..." Regaseir frowned. "We can't keep it from bleeding on the run. We'll have to close it." That meant my chest would have to be reopened later to get the bone splinters and the bullet out. Any lung tissue around the foreign pieces would deform, requiring a skilled healer to fix. I nodded, and sang with Regaseir to demand the vicious lead and fell powder to undo their violence. The pain deepened, as my flesh tried to close around sharp slivers. I did my best to hide my grimace and said: "How's... your leg?" "The calf bone is broken. I can force my leg, but you can't run far with that lung and blood loss." He was right. We didn't have the time to let me recover. Any enemy sorcerer would quickly sense us out. I let him lift me up on his shoulders, and smothered a wail from the discomfort. Despite his speed, Regaseir couldn't outrun a horse. In the distance, a dust cloud stormed towards us with the swell of galloping. Regaseir stopped. More thunder of horses rose from beyond the vineyard hill in front of us. "They have cut us off," my husband said. He lowered me to my feet at the edge of the vines. "We have to fight them and hope we can steal a horse and find an opening for escape." He lifted me up for a deep kiss. "Or at least sell our lives dearly." My head swam, as my soul burned through itself to keep me conscious. Little glory was found in death among rotten grapevines. Facing overwhelming odds was the consequences of failed strategy, not courage. Killing didn't elevate the soul, and would be less than futile against an enemy, which couldn't die. My last moment with Reg couldn't be witnessing him murder those, who were trapped by spectres, just like we had been. Strength left my legs, but I didn't fall on the ground. Strong hands lifted me up, and carried me up the hill Among the rushing cavalry on the other side, raged a spirit of a sorcerer. A rider on a nimble horse appeared as a shadow against the setting sun. The lance glimmered with enchanted wrath. The white plumes of her helmet shone in the sunlight. "You?" Deneisin shouted. "I dared to hope. Can you ride?" Regaseir nodded, and she barked to the horsemen following her. A spare horse was brought to us. Regaseir lifted me on it and followed to sit behind me. At the distance on the road to Hamekar, a group of scouts had stopped. "Let's melt away before they get reinforcements," Deneisin commanded her dozen outriders. The galloping shook me like a rag doll. After a while, we slowed down. "What were you doing here?" Regaseir asked. "Weren't you still recovering?" Deneisin snorted. "When I heard you had left, I had to get up to do my part. Make them pay for what they tried to do to me. I thank you both, for saving me from... that fate. We were raiding around here, when the tower exploded. You did that, right?" "Yes. Almost paid with our lives for it," my husband said. "Asai is injured. She'll need a proper physician, soon." "There's a vanguard regiment holding a fort, only a quarter of a day's ride away. If we hurry, we'll get there before midnight." PART FOUR - Uprising of Ungrateful Serfs CHAPTER 18 I didn't understand much of the ride over the devastated country. My trance faded. I dipped in and out of unconsciousness. My veins we cold as ice, and the horse's movements rattled my limp body like a sack of bones. "Hold me..." I whimpered barely loud enough for myself to hear. Regaseir's grip of my waist became firm enough for me to feel it over my numbness. I was carried into a room of bloodied sheets and wailing soldiers. Before the extracts of poppy smashed me into the deepest dreams, sorcerer's awareness notified me of the sharp knife that reopened my chest. The throne room was large and densely decorated, yet all colours were faded. The autokrateira was there with me. She was beautiful, magnificent and trapped inside her ornate clothes, which where too heavy to allow her to stand up from the throne. I stood up, and left the hall. A man cried. The smell of wounds was overwhelming. I lifted my head and winced from the pain in my chest. Yet, despite the aching, I could breathe properly. I calmed myself, before forcing myself to sit on the side of the bed. "No, lady!" The voice belonged to a boy struggling with a basket of rusty brown bandaged, with eyes frantic from having seen too much for his young age. "The high physician said you must rest." "I'm fine." That wasn't quite a lie. At least compared to the other patients, who hadn't the benefit of a sorcerer's sturdy nature. The boy hurried away. He returned with a sorcerer in bloodied robe, before I had managed to build up the courage to stand on my shaky legs. "You should know, Adzasai, I'm not supposed to let you risk your health," the high physician said. "The despot insisted that you should be given the chance to recuperate." "The despot? Never mind Him. Where's my husband?" "He rode with the despot's army as they marched past here." "When?" "About a week ago. I've kept you in a stupor to allow your rib and lung to regrow in peace." I closed my eyes and concentrated on my body. An enchantment was keeping my limbs numb. The magic wasn't clingy or hostile, so it was easy to dispel. The high physician answered my impatient questions. The despot was using all available strength to strike into the opening, which I and Reg had created by disturbing the Hamekar enchantment. Yurashews hadn't sent an army to meet him, yet Peritians wouldn't have the time to wait out their enemy through a siege. I didn't need an education in military matters to know that an assault against a fortified city could only end in butchery on both sides. My Reg would be there. Though my heart screamed that he should have been with me, I couldn't fault him. I stood up. My body wasn't weak. "Now, I won't stop you from leaving," the high physician said. "Just don't go coughing up blood in the sight of the despot." The smoke rose into storm cloud, and flashed with lightning. Thunder roared along with cannon fire. Distant songs of power and mastery unleashed magical currents that whipped the terrain and air. When the earth shook, it was accompanied by the rumble of collapsing buildings. My horse had more sense than me, and refused to get any closer to the raging maelstrom of Hamekar. I jumped down, took off the bridle and saddle and let the horse run to a more pleasant place. Folk with barely even clothes on their back fled from the city. I should have helped them, yet I pushed on. A group of Vatins stormed by on their dauntless steeds, but had little to tell me. The Hamekar temples were black mountains against the flames, which engulfed the city. I came to a group of exhausted soldiers trying to fix the smashed frame of their bombard. They had been shooting at the hilltop temples a day and a night, and so barely heard my demands for information. The battle lines had lost their cohesion, when the despot himself had stepped into the fray to challenge the 'fiend autokrator'. This 'monster', as the soldiers called him, had single-handedly held back cadres of Peritian sorcerers. I commanded the cannoneers to abandon their inoperable weapons and flee out of the range of the Yurashew guns, which spewed death to around us. The soldiers hesitated only enough to pretend bravery. They ultimately obeyed the woman, who defied the flying fragments of stone and metal in only a coat of fine iron. They didn't sense the wildly flailing sorcery that might have squashed my soul at any moment. If my ancestors withdrew their protection, I would have been dead regardless of what I did. The vivid tents of the main siege camp were covered with dark soot. A fiery whirlwind had left most of the camp a charred mess. "What is going on?" I demanded from the man, who seemed to be in charge. "Do you know, where the sorcerer Regaseir is?" The man flinched and stooped. "You're..." His open mouth wavered. "You are a sorceress?" "Yes." The man's head twitched. He rightened his back and cleared his throat. "I don't know about sorcerers, I'm afraid. That is why I need your help. The wounded... It would be so easy for you to save them. Could you...?" I set my jaw, and nodded. Mending the mauled, the pierced, the burned and the slashed wasn't easy. It wouldn't have been trivial, even without the malign energies that twisted all attempts to channel my inner nature. My work might have given the patients another chance, but no more. The wounded kept coming. A few managed to walk to the makeshift shelter on their own, only to collapse when they assumed they were saved. Most had friends, who dragged them to what they hoped would be a healer, even if the injured soldiers had gasped his last a while ago. Their bodies were so fragile. I knew how to keep a sorcerer alive, but those mundane men died so easily. They needed their blood. They needed every one of their peculiar organs. They needed to be able to breathe. Foul spirits of disease entered their bodies without any resistance. I had to make choices; to help the ones already better off. They might survive. I screamed until the servants understood to get all the poppy and wine they could find. The mixture of those two cured the worst ailment of the hopeless: the pain of living. When the forlorn found peace, I could concentrate on those, who had a chance. The channelled energies of sorcery tore my flesh and strained my bones. While the method of maintaining vital functions under such stress was instinctive for a Peritian sorcerer, the prolonged effort burned through the resolve of my spirit. If my will broke, my body would soon follow. As the fire in me waned, the sorcery from the battle filled my unprotected mind. My senses stretched into twisted view over the battle. The malfunctioning Yurashew enchantments grappled and hurled the souls set free from the countless dead. Shutting my eyes did not stop the visions. My exhaustion turned into delirium. Among the din, I discerned individual voices. The rampant savagery of the despot. The easy mastery of the true autokrator Iradziar. Numerous voices of the lesser sorcerers. Defiant songs to bolster the valour and brawn of soldiers. Blind rage of the elements. Strangled gasps of extinguished souls. Reg was there, drenched in the fighting trance. He was injured. Yet I didn't have the strength left in me to go to my husband. If I hadn't been so weak, I could have been with him. If I hadn't been broken at birth, we would never have had to tie ourself to that war. My legs gave, and I stumbled into the mud. I whined a plea, which turned into a prayer. I asked for the end of the battle, for gods and spirits to save the soldiers I couldn't help. I begged for Reg's safety. Though most of my words were incoherent, they relieved the weight crushing my heart. The sound of movement made me lift my gaze. Soldiers in their bandages, servants covered in dirt and gore, and camp women in both rags and rich gowns had gathered around me. All were on their knees. They looked at me expectantly, as if I had been leading worship. I had no right to offer such solace. Still, I needed it myself. I repeated words, which had more meaning than I knew. My back hurt, slightly more than my joints. I lay in an awkward position, still wearing the heavy armoured coat. The sky was covered by thin layer of pristine clouds. In the air, the stench of brimstone was faint. The currents of air, earth and magic were calm. I looked around me. Instead of somewhere far away from the battle, I was in the shelter for the wounded. Nearby, the high physician was supervising the loading of the injured into wagons and stretcher. I forced myself up on my feet, and went to the physician. "Is it over?" I asked. The high physician smiled. "Seems so. I heard you helped here." My eyes shifted away from him. "I tried." He nodded. I rubbed my sore palm. "Do you need help?" "No. Everyone still alive will continue to do so, I reckon. Not in small part thanks to you. Apparently you continued until you passed out. They thought you had died, when you stopped breathing." "Luckily they didn't move me to among the cadavers." I was startled from my weary daze. I had to find my Reg. Cleansing rain poured from the heavens, as I made my way to the city through the main avenue of the assault. Weary men, women and children dragged corpses into more dignified position. Anything valuable disappeared into hands more needy than the dead. A lone explosion shook the earth, and in the distance, part of the temple complex lurched and sunk. The sounds of fighting were muffled and sparse. The mighty main gatehouse of Hamekar was a ruin of splintered stone and molten bronze. Beyond, the wrecked buildings swarmed with scavengers, either wailing or too stunned to make any noise. A brawl broke out between two men in rags over the charred remains of a small animal, but patrolling soldiers were quick to club the fight out of them. A child rand past me, caught a cat and cheered. Rather than killing it for its meat, she held the startled animal gently and ran away with it. Further into the city, other people were also gathering cats. When I asked about it, they told the animals were for disposing the enemy corpses 'in the suitable manner degreed by the sorcerers'. I didn't have the stomach for watching corpses being fed to felines. Instead, I followed the biggest stream of people, until I was stopped by a servant in court dress. Though I had no idea who she was, the woman recognized me. She claimed that the despot had requested my presence, should I be seen. I cared little about the Tyrant's wishes, but when I asked about my Reg, the court servant became insisted. I ended up following her. The despot was holding court in an immense Vatin tent. His huge body lay limply on a divan, with his head in the skyspeaker's lap. The officials, nobles and commanders split away from the way of my scowl. "Ah... Adzasai," the despot rumbled. "I apologize that I do not show respect by sitting up. My spine, and other less crucial parts, are broken for the time being." "Where's my husband?" I asked. The despot frowned. "He was leading a detachment deeper into the city. Towards the Redsmith Hill, I presume." He nodded towards a nobleman in military dress. "No word has come from that direction." The nobleman shook his head. "The enemy is still fighting fiercely, despite being surrounded and outnumbered." I bowed as impertinently as I could. "He's hurt. I have to find him." The despot sighed. "Come back as soon as you can. We need help clean??" Kir-Madeise moved the hand brushing the despot's hair to his mouth and said: "Please go, and rest afterwards. You are dismissed." An unasked-for escort of three soldiers jogged after me, as I ventured into the devastated lich of a beautiful city. Mansions yawned as heaps of once expensive stone and blackened timber. Houses of commoners were nothing but heaps of bricks. In the air oozed the stench of brimstone and burned flesh. Among the debris that blocked streets, lay the multitudes of the shattered corpses. Redsmith Hill was commanded by a fortified palace. Smoke pillowed above its walls, with sporadic crack of firearms. Uncaring of the sharpshooters, I walked to the Peritian position behind a crumbled barricade. "Is the sorcerer Regaseir here?" I asked. The commander's face was grave. "He... The sorcerer was shot. He is res??" I didn't hear any further words, but strode to the direction the commander had indicated. In a corner on a pile of bedding, my Reg lay. His helmet was caved in, and blood covered his face. Rusty red stained his armoured coat. The metal had been broken through over his stomach, yet the wound didn't bleed. His eyes didn't open to my call. My knees lost their strength next to Reg. Last shreds of my dignity melted into my tears. "You promised... You vowed you'd stay with me." But so had I vowed to stay with him. If I had pushed on into the firestorm, I could have saved him. If I hadn't insisted on infiltrating Hamekar, we could have left to live together. I took off his glove. Though the hand was warm, no pulse touched my fingers. I pressed the palm against my cheek and whispered: "I'm sorry..." "I had to go." The gasp was terrible. Yet, when I opened my eyes, Reg smiled at me. I had been foolish. Enough to forget that I myself had just woken from the torpor of exhausting my soul with reckless sorcery. Blood bubbled lazily from his stomach wound. I squeezed his hand hard enough to make sure it hurt. Even though it hurt, I sang to stop the bleeding. Reg's body pushed out the bullet, as it had sunk barely knuckle deep. "I thought you died." The words wrenched my heart. Reg pushed out a pained sigh. "I'm sturdier than you, my love." "Can we leave? Please?" "Hey!" Reg yelled. "Captain Sadifi, do you need a sorcerer?" Reg grinned at me. "Or two?" The commander shook his head. "Those dogs will lose their mettle with their powder and arrows. We'll wait them out." CHAPTER 19 "I can walk," Reg said. I had insisted on humbling him, by making him leave the battlefield on a stretcher despite him being perfectly conscious. "Maybe," I said. "But you won't." "These men could use their time better," he crumbled. The soldier carrying the head of the stretcher gave a weary grin. "No at all, lord. We are fine with this assignment." We steered clear of the despot's temporary court, yet servants managed to waylay us. Soon Reg was shifted to a litter carried by locals eager for even meagre pay. When we headed straight out of the city, the carriers were overjoyed. "The despot expects us to report to Him," Reg said. "I have the permission from His wife to tarry with that." "Oh good." Reg leaned back and sighed. "In a way, I'm glad that He was here. We would surely have perished otherwise. If a man can be a god, the Yurashew autokrator was one." I squeezed Reg's hand. "Let's not talk about such blasphemy." A sturdy horse cantered to us. Its familiar rider had a wide smile on her face, despite the nasty gash across her cheek. "Hail, friends, and Day's blessings!" Deneisin yelled and stopped next to us. "Blessings," I said. "I'm glad you are alright." "Oh, I'd lie if I claimed I was better than ever. Yet that is not far from the truth. Since you are not staying here, I'm supposed to accompany you back to Asikhatum." She nodded at Reg. "Can he ride?" "Ye??? "No," I spoke on top of Reg. "He needs rest." So did I, but one of us had to stay on their feet. Deneisin waved her hand. "Then we'll get a horse-litter." The householder, still lingering at his farmstead a day's leisurely ride away from Hamekar, welcomed us three sorcerers generously. Our presence would certainly deter the roving groups of desperate refugees and barefaced bandits. We were given a sparse meal, which was still too opulent for the circumstances. "You look different, Asai." Deneisin pointed at me with a dainty food knife. I swallowed the piece of dry bread. "In what way?" Deneisin moved her hands over her chest in a cupping motion. I had ditched my armoured coat at the first opportunity, but I had assumed the padded vest would have obfuscated the shape of my body. I hadn't made up my mind yet about the other changes to my body by the autokrateira. Eventually, I would have turned my breasts bigger, but not actually large. However, they balanced my now wider hips and made my shoulders more proportional. That combination must have made me short and stocky. Inelegant, at least for a sorceress. A weird shape for a ruler, but a fitting form for me. That was how I had been in the Khaask god's dream. "Due to... Yurashew magic, I managed to gain the transformations I sought. Even the difficult ones." Deneisin's mouth opened for moment, before widening into a smile. "That's great to hear. At least something good came from those fiends." My and Reg's bed up in the rafter was nothing but a thick blanket strapped on to the planks. Still, it was comfortable enough for the first proper rest since the flight from Asikhatum. Reg brushed my hair. "I noticed how upset you were today. Can you forgive me for leaving you?" "I understand, why you did it. During the battle I sensed your injury. I wanted to come to you, but..." "You were at Hamekar?" I choked on my response. I told him of what I had tried to do at the shelter for the wounded. The words gushed out as sobs, which I had to stifle before they turned into bawling. Reg's eyes filled with tears, and he forced a frown in order not to cry himself. After I calmed down, he whispered of things, which shouldn't be dammed inside one's heart. Between the glimpses of senseless suffering, were tales of courage and sacrifice. Not only his, but of the Peritian soldiers. They had found the valour to fight, despite being so vulnerable to danger a sorcerer could brush off. Like me, Reg hadn't been able to help those, who had relied on him. The words that brought the anguish back to surface, also took its weight away from my heart. He pressed his forehead against mine, and breathed again calmly. "Thank you for telling me that," I whispered and closed my eyes. "Are you awake?" Reg murmured. My weary mind had been a whirl of confused thoughts. "What is it, love?" A strong hand slid down my side. "I can't sleep. Not with you here. This is the first time we are together since escaping those cursed temples..." "Do you me?? Reg... There's plenty people in this house." "Everyone knows what a wife and a husband do together. Darkness and planks are enough privacy for me." "Do you want our first time to be on the rafters of a stranger? Besides, we haven't properly washed ourselves." "In this dark, I can't see the dirt on you." "You can smell it." My breath clutched. The thoughts, which had troubled me, coalesced into a need. My desire had been embers merely waiting for the fuel. The cloth of my undergown clung to the moisture seeping from my groin. The sensation was odd, yet it was merely the sign of my body preparing itself. He sniffed my hair. "Smells wonderful. Ash, earth and the woman I love." I pushed my hips against his groin. The manhood inside the trousers was climbing into readiness. I unlaced the top my of gown, and guided Reg's hand to my breast. He hadn't had the chance to enjoy those either. Reg pushed his lips on mine, and his fingers sank into my breast hard enough to hurt. I moaned a protest. The groping became tender, a steady motion driving more fire into me. My fingers fumbled with his trousers and took out his prick. I wrapped my hand around it, and gave it a retaliatory squeeze. That merely made the rod harder. I pulled from his kiss. "Wait, Reg... The autokrateira claimed she made me fecund. That was over a week ago, but I could still end up with a child. Are we ready?" "Erhm... I don't see how we'd manage to abstain from... this. Unless you strike yourself barren, you'll end up pregnant eventually. If you don't want it to happ??" "I do want it." His hand gathered the hem of my undergown over my hips. He kissed me. "So do I." I lifted my leg on Reg, and he helped me on top of him. I enhanced my vision, so I could Reg in the gloom. With little positioning, Reg's member found my wet lower lips. A yelp escaped my upper ones. Reg let me take my time. When I finally lowered myself, he slid into me with little resistance. The discomfort I had feared was barely there. My mind interpreted the invasion as impossible push into my sensitive skin. The flesh still remembered its old shape. A shiver went through me, as I took in the sensation of being gently stretched and filled. I collapsed on top of Reg, and huddled against his torso. After I didn't move for a while, Reg petted my head and whispered: "Are you well?" "Yes. Just taking it slowly." I made tentative movements with my hips. Regardless of direction, his manhood pushing into me was wonderful. I explored until I found the slightest movement, which I could enjoy, and repeated it slowly, over and over again. Reg's took a deep breath. My humps became accompanied by liquid movement inside me. The invasion into me lost its rigidity. Yet I was still only building up my orgasm. "Oh... You came." "You are still unsatisfied?" Reg grunted. "I'm sorry. I was so on edge, that I almost came from the touch of your hand." "It's fine." Reg lifted me to lay next to him and pulled me against his body. His hand reached down to my groin. A thumb and finger stumbled over my flesh, until they found a strong grip on the nub. That touch was so familiar, yet turned bizarre, when a finger pushed into the tender crevice. I gasped, as the nerves in my crotch became taut, only release their pressure through my groin and the sinews of my thighs. My body shuddered, and I failed to see through the darkness. I had to bite my lip to stifle my moan, though the sound was still too loud for the silence around us. Reg continued to fondle me, now more gently. I might have built into another climax, yet now that my lust was abated, an uncomfortable strain weighed my body. "Please, Reg. I'm tired." Soon he was snoring, but I sunk into sleep before I could be annoyed by that. Deneisin beamed, as we broke our fast. "Sleep well?" "Very," I said. "Oh, good." She grinned. "I thought that squeals might have been from bedbug bites." My face was warm, but I had no reason to be embarrassed. "There was nothing wrong with our bed." I pushed against Reg, who wrapped his arm around my waist. Deneisin smirked. I said: "Why are you going to Asikhatum? Do you have any plans?" "I'm to work with the chamberlain on weeding out the malcontent in the capital region. I'll be leading outriders, presumably." She lifted her nose and smiled wide. "I admit I'm pleased. I'm moving in the world independently from my father. How about you?" I looked at Reg. "There will be work for us here." Hopefully not involving killing anything. My husband rubbed my belly through my clothes and said: "We'll see, where we end up." CHAPTER 20 - EPILOGUE The oversized wagon creaked and wobbled, despite my husband driving it at sluggish speed. He was being careful. There was two of us with him, after all. Reg feared I'd fall off from the front bench, so I rode inside the compartment. That was well, as even the thick blankets didn't keep out all of the cold. I held my hands on my distended belly, as I lay on the wagon's bed, and sunk into a trance to examine my body. Small but strong heart beat along with mine. Our son was nearly ready to enter the world of cold air, though I'd get to keep him for a little while more. Most of the time I enjoyed that state, even if the needs of my womb had harnessed the rest of my body. I was fortunate that Reg was so overly protective of me. Even when I was grumpy and difficult, he made sure to make me as comfortable as he could. "Is this terrain getting familiar?" Reg shouted. I lifted my head to look out of the small window. The surrounding hills were barren of anything but leafless trees and thin covering of snow. Thin smoke rose from the sparse cottages. Nothing, except the crumbled ruin of a castle on a hilltop, fit my memory. I should have come earlier. But when I finally could, I didn't dare. And in the last months I had been busy in the service of the despotate. I had always made sure to follow my vow to the letter, and serve the subjects instead of the ruler. Nevertheless, the despot had approved our methods for dissuading anyone from aiding renegades and Yurashew stragglers. Our help had reminded the people that the despotate cared about their problems, even if it was for its own reasons. Overall, I didn't have to be ashamed of our work. The wagon rattled into the village. I gritted my teeth. We had visited Reg's family, but unfortunately only his sister was left. His mother had died soon after his birth, and his father had been old even before Reg had been taken. When the wagon stopped, I pressed my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. Reg talked to someone outside, but I couldn't hear the words over the coursing river in my ears. Reg opened the wagon's door, and helped me up and out. A crowd with steaming breaths stared at us from a safe distance. Though our clothes were modest, as was fitting for sorcerers, they were relatively new and freshly dyed. It marked us as wealthy, even without the wagon and our two horses. Reg closed the door, and I flicked my hand to bend light into vivid colours, so the locals would be reluctant to purloin our belongings. Half of the children screamed away, shouting 'witchcraft' more out of excitement than fear. I and Reg walked to the low wicker fence. The house had been repainted with earthy red, and a wing had been added. My family had been decently well-off for the two decades. Reg had to push the small of my back for me to walk through the open gate. A man stood in the open doorway. He looked like how I remembered father, though perhaps a bit younger. The similarities in build and features to my Reg must have told something about me. "Greetings, lord and lady," the man, who must had to be my brother Ksame, said. "Wait... Are you... No, you aren't Ayinne." I stopped in front of him. "I'm Asai, brother." His eyes spread wide and moved up and down my body. "But?? Were you cursed?" "What? No! I did this to myself. Mostly." I shrank under his gaze. A sorceress, who had dined with the despot himself, feared the words of a mere peasant. But that peasant's opinion was more important to me than the whims of the Tyrant. Ksame took step forward. His arms spread wide, and I flinched. Yet he took me into an embrace. "Cursed or not, I'm beyond glad." He pulled back. "We thought you had perished in the hermitage." "How are our sisters?" "Ayinne is married into the Gara family in the next village over." Ksame's smile disappeared. "Ataga... She died soon after you were taken. Ahodask died giving birth a few winters back." "Oh... How's father and mother?" "Alive and well." Ksame nodded at Reg. "Who's this?" "My husband Regaseir." Ksame hesitated only a moment. "Makes sense. Unlikely that even a sorcerer?? sorceress??" He nodded at my belly "??could do that to herself. But do come inside." The main room was much smaller than I remembered. It wasn't much compared to the halls of the capital, or even to the cold caverns of stone at the hermitage. But it was still home. Dim, smoky home. An older pair slept sitting on a bench next to the tiny fireplace. My parents didn't look as old as I had feared. Ksame gestured towards to a thin but wide-hipped woman with a toddler in her arms. "This is my wife, and our daughter." After the greetings and introductions, Ksame said: "Would you like something to drink?" "Yes, but nothing special," I said. "Preferably something warm. Reg, could you help so they don't have to waste fuel?" Reg nodded, and went with Ksame into the tiny kitchen connected to the main room. I walked to my parents. Nothing came out of my throat. I looked at the pair, until my mother opened her eyes. "Oh, Ayinne. You came for a visit. How wonderful!" She squinted her eyes. "Where did you get those clothes?" "Mother..." I swallowed. "I'm Asai." She jumped to her feet, startling my father into a groggy daze. "Asai? Is this a joke?" Again my form was thoroughly examined. "You must be my Asai. Yet you are... a woman more than obviously ripe. Did you become sorcerer?" "Yes. I'm a sorceress." She nodded. "That explains it." Her expression turned into a grimace. "We thought you were dead! Why didn't you come earlier?" "I wanted to. But two years ago... I wasn't quite ready." My mother dragged my father to his feet. "Look, dear, it's our little Asailki. All grown up, and some." "That's not Ayinne?" My father asked. "What?? Were you cursed?" "No..." I swallowed. "I made myself into this, because... this is how I am." My father gave a breathless stare, turned on his heels and strode out into the side room. I couldn't breathe, and my mouth twisted open. I would have began to sob, if the woman ??now much smaller than I remembered? hadn't wrapped her arms around me. "Don't cry, my child," she whispered and guided me to sit next to her on the bench. "This is a surprise for all of us. I don't understand it, but I know you are mine." I gulped and dried my eyes with my sleeve. "I can't explain it in a way, which would make sense. Will father??" "The old fool doesn't want to show is shock." My mother clasped my hand. "We'll explain it to him after he recovers." Ksame walked to us and gave me a steaming cup of spiced herb drink. "So, you really are my br?? sister." "Yes." I took a sip and nodded to Reg, who was particularly intimidating in the gloom with his height, scarred face and blades on his waist. Yet, I knew his silence was from pure unease. "Mother, this is my husband Regaseir." "Oh!" She jumped back up. "I feared you were gravid out of wedlock. You know, being a girl without her mother's guidance. Is he as good a husband as he seems?" I smiled. "Better." Reg shifted his weight to another foot. "Pleasure to meet you, mother- in-law." "Are you a sorcerer yourself, lord?" my mother asked. "Were you then a girl before?" I chocked on the hot liquid. Reg's frown was awkward. "I am a Peritian sorcerer, but not??" My mother chuckled. "It was a joke, lord." Ksame slapped Reg's back. "Be welcome, lord brother-in-law." Reg nodded, and they shook hands. Door to the side room opened, and my father walked out. I stood up and forced myself to look at him. His face was expressionless, as he walked to me. "So. You really are Asai?" "Yes, father." His lips quivered, and his arms propelled outwards, only to catch me into a strong embrace, which was still careful not crush my belly. I hugged him back, which helped me stay on my feet as he rocked me. A tender smile was on my father's face, when he let go off me. "Is that belly what it looks like, or more odd witchcraft?" "I'm heavy with a child, yes. Your grandson." My father was the first to cry, though rest of my family was quick to follow. I had to grieve for my sisters, even if I barely remembered them, yet I bawled out of relief and joy. Peritian sorcerers couldn't be stopped from being what they wanted to be, but they couldn't force others to accept them. My family hadn't rejected me, and had tried their best to understand. That was all I had wished. Reg must have been uncomfortable witnessing a teary reunion, but his hug from behind me was more than welcome. Ksame's wife had prepared a small meal for us all. Like a spoiled-rotten scion of an elevated house, I found the food simple and bland, even though it must have been rich for house and the time of the year. "So, what are you doing here?" Ksame asked. "Merely passing by?" "For the services we have done to the despot, we have been commissioned to represent him here for a few years," I said. "In this village?" my father asked. "No, this region." The ensuing silence was broken by Ksame: "We were wondering what would happen, after the local magnate disappeared along with his family." "That lord died in the war... in rather ignominious circumstances," Reg said. "His family was called to the capital. We are here in his place." "Couldn't be a better replacement," my mother said. "At least I hope so, Asai dear. Wouldn't be proper, if our neighbours suffered from unjust rents from our daughter." I smiled. "Don't fear; we won't oppress our kin. Reg's a local too, born only a day's swift ride away. And speaking of rents..." I explained the land reform the despot has tasked us to implement. What was generosity by the locals, was for the despot merely strategy to crush large landowners. At least we were in a position to do our part to keep the process fair. After farewells and explaining that they could visit us any time they wanted without being harassed by soldiers, we left towards our new home. The dreamy town of E?spir hugged the sides of a valley around a lazy river. The walls of its tiny citadel were in poor repair, yet the mansion overlooking it all was immaculate. After Reg had announced to the permanent garrison that he was taking over command, we drove up the hill to the mansion. The building wasn't notably large, which was fortunate enough. I'd been uncomfortable residing in a proper palace after visiting my childhood home. The servants managed not to show any aversion to having masters again. We gave them small gifts from the capital. As sorcerers, we wouldn't have to boss them around to maintain their respect, and I much preferred not to be feared by my servants. We toured the grounds and the main building, and met with the local officials, who had hurried to make a good impression before the night. When our new responsibilities finally let us go, we retreated to the main bedroom. Its furniture was gorgeous but reasonably modest. The previous ruler had been blessed with a refined taste, despite being no sorcerer. I took my turn bathing first, and let Reg wash my hair and massage away my headache. The fireplace was crackling merrily, so I left Reg to wash himself and went to relax on a divan close to the warm flames. My husband came to me undressed. The fire shone on his still wet skin, showing that despite the recent ample diet, his robust muscles remained under the layer of cuddly softness. He knelt in front of me and opened the wispy robe I wore to kiss me below my breasts. His arousal was apparent, and I wondered, how much of his dedication to me was from duty. I hadn't restrained myself in filling my new hunger, and not all of the delicacies had went to grow my child. It was impossible to pretend I wasn't now unfashionably plump. A sorceress could have easily burned all the excess fat off, but I couldn't risk anything happening to my child. Reg petted my side and belly. "Do you still find me pretty?" Reg looked at me. "No. Gods. You are such a bloated sow." While I stared at him my mouth open, his smirk widened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that even as a joke." He clasped my hand. "But this self- pity of yours gets perplexing. You are still beautiful, merely in a slightly different way than previously." "It's fine." Moisture gathered in my eyes. "My body must be strangling my mind, because for a moment I thought you were serious." Reg frowned. "Anything I could do to apologize?" I smiled. The sight of his naked form had lit the fire in me. "We could play the insult up a bit. To enforce that it's just a game between lovers." "What do you mean?" "Pretend that I truly am a 'sow' to you, good only for relieving your lusts." He sighed but gave me smile. "One might assume a woman that heavily pregnant would be beyond those needs." "Reg. Pretend," I commanded. "Or I'll get angry with you." "Alright." He stood up. "Oh, no. A virile male such as I, and no maidens in sight to quench my lust. This lump of lascivious flesh must do." I giggled. Reg wasn't much of an actor, but then again, actors were poor husband material. He made lifting me up seem easy. A great part of having a sorcerer for a husband was that he could use magic to pretend I didn't weight anything. Reg carried me to the bed, and lowered me down much too gently for our pretension, but I didn't mind. "Take the robe off." Reg's voice had a hint of the gravitas he used when barking orders. "Your kind doesn't need clothes." I obeyed, but I couldn't wipe the grin off my face in order to pretend I was reluctant. We both gave each other a lengthy visual evaluation. His manhood made it clear that he didn't find the sight of me repulsive. "Get on all fours, sow." My clumsiness was apparent, as I turned and shifted my legs under myself. I presented my rear to my conqueror. My breasts hung heavily underneath me, and the pressure against the flesh of my belly made obvious the weight inside. A hand slapped my rump, though it was gentle enough to be barely more than a pat. "The size of these hams! But being mostly fat, I reckon half of them would melt in the oven." I stifled a giggle. "Getting excited?" His finger slid along my damp entrance, which sent a shudder up my spine. "Stupid beast, can't understand she has no use for breeding at the moment." Reg sighed and collapsed to lay next to me. "Sorry, love. I can't keep this up. Being mean to you isn't amusing for me." I lowered myself lay on my side. Reg turned to place his arm on me. I crooned: "It's fine. That was already enough to enkindle me for the rest of your apology." Reg positioned himself so he could enter me while lying on his side. I made sure to show my pleasure my moaning, when his member eased into me. Reg had discovered a cantrip to make sure his 'endurance' wouldn't run out, before I too had been satisfied. He worked his thrusts slowly and came only, after I was a panting mess from the two shuddering orgasms. He pulled out and moved himself next to me so he could hold me again. "Do you feel appreciated yet?" Reg brushed my cheek. "Yes." Because I had a reason for it, didn't want to apologize for my temper, but Reg deserved it. "I'm sorry that I needed the propitiation." "Don't be. Your load is the heavy one, and you can't even make it easier by sorcery. I can handle a moody girl." "Honestly, Reg. I need to constantly check myself, so I don't end up spoiled by you. But, speaking of that, could you massage my back? I'll be... reciprocal afterwards." The pain of the labour pushed me into the battle trance. My agonized groans ceased. Such sudden silent concentration spooked the servants helping the midwife. She ??herself a mother of several and a healer of small magical ability?? remained unfazed, even when the oil lamp changed colour to spirit-infested green, and the breeze from the window turned into a gale. I forced myself to stop the outpouring of my sorcery from bewildering the surrounding spirits, and concentrated to my insides. The closest link, which I could ever have to a person, was severed, and the child was stretching me to the point of breaking. My legs trembled, but the servants helped me stay on my feet. I wasn't used to lengthy squatting, but the midwife insisted that it was the most proper position. The cheers of the servants sounded distant. Apparently the child's sex was a cause for celebration. Of course a lord like Regaseir would be glad to have a son. I hadn't told them that I already knew. The women helped me lay on a divan, and after the midwife had examined the infant, they gave him to me. The red helpless creature was not quite what I had expected. The midwife had to reassure me that there was nothing wrong with him. I sang to him his first lullaby; minor staves to mend the damage my body had sustained. When I had finished with the first feeding, Reg's voice carried from outside the room. He was talking with the midwife, over whether or not he should be allowed near me. He successfully argued that sorcerers were immune the typical pollution, and no seclusion was necessary for me. My husband strode into the room, took a step towards me and turned to ask for a bowl of clean water. The servants obeyed swiftly. Reg placed his hands in the water and made it boil with a spell. He took his hands out, and with a grimace on his face, shook them. The midwife pouted. "I know that spirits of disease are drawn to even unseen filth, but no need to be so dramatic about cleaning your hands, lord." Reg chuckled. "I'm not showing off to disrespect you. Still, I ask that you'd give us a little privacy." The midwife bowed, and herded out the cackle of wide-eyed servant girls. Reg knelt next to us. "Are you well?" "I'm alright." I didn't sound like it. "Though I needed a bit of sorcery to stop the bleeding inside. It seems the autokrateira couldn't create 'equipment' completely without faults." Reg nodded at the child. "Is he alright? He's rather calm." "Oh, he's fine. Can't you sense his soul? Strong and bright. He might very well become a sorcerer." Reg shuddered, and a wide smile spread on his face. "Firstborn and a sorcerer. That will be unfair to his siblings." "If he gets any siblings..." I smile. "Then I guess he will need several, so those have each other to draw strength from." Reg touched the infant's head like it was thin brittle ice. "How many are talking about exactly?" "Two, three." I grinned. "If we have one each year, we'll soon have fifty." "Let's first see, how we handle this one." THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you for reading. Also, thanks for the comments on my previous stories. All feedback is appreciated, though for this story, I'd be already interested to hear, if anyone actually read it. This stuff is getting rather niche, and it's rather self-indulgent to write for my own enjoyment alone, when some of my stories clearly have a little wider appeal. Writing this (probably last) instalment of Asai's story was fun, but difficult at start. I had trouble coming up with a story that would include all the elements I wanted. Eventually I got the idea to combine this with my failed plan for a sequel to 'The Warlock Tyrant'. As a bonus, I could write about Kir-Madeise actually having a job, instead being merely the cheerleader she seemed to be in 'The Warlock Tyrant'. I actually felt bad for struggling to write continuation to Asai and Reg's story. If I didn't finish this, in a sense I was torturing Asai by trapping her in a miserable situation, created by arbitrarily limiting her magical powers. Here's a tiny lexicon, in case some terms are used in a confusing way: archon - a ruler, used here to denote ranking non-sovereign Yurashews. In first draft this was a 'ruling prince' archontissa - a female archon. In first draft this was a 'ruling princess' (an easily confusing concept) autokrator - imperial title. The joke is the same as with 'despot': a title that was legitimate in the past, but now has tyrannical connotations. In first draft this was emperor, in the second basileus autokrateira - feminine version of autokrator. In the first draft this was empress, in the second basileia (kinda used that one up earlier) sorcerer - anyone who used the natural power of their soul to empower magic warlock - what some non-Peritians call Peritian sorcerers. Implies Peritians worship unseemly gods, are generally untrustworthy and abuse their pacts with spirits witch - an enemy sorcerer, used gender neutrally. Sorcerers could take 'witch' and 'witchcraft' as insults, but usually don't Thanks again. All rights are waived on this text, CC0.