The Belromanticum

Chapter 52

The Zuunkhorunia summarizes the two years of civil war after the tyrant Yerentei Wailor's death well. Thanks to our maneuvering, Nesugen was in the best position to seize power, which she did without hesitation. This part of my plan was necessarily vague, for I did not know what destruction would be visited upon Zuunkhorun. I hoped any misery would be passing.

Nesugen's cousins were fractured by differing ambitions. Many were perfectly fine with her ascendency, assuming nothing would change for them. Those who wanted the power themselves never managed a united front against us, allowing us to crush each in turn. The Zuunese were skilled warriors, but they were not prepared for stormwights.

Weather was the key. The nobles that swore loyalty to my patron were blessed with long growing seasons. Nesugen wanted those other provinces to be punished with tempest and drought, but I counseled against it. As I said, I had no wish to inflict pain upon the Zuunese. Some historians have claimed my mercy was cold pragmatism, others that it was my conscience. It was both. I am neither demon nor angel, though my path was one of death.

After her victory in the civil war and her ascension to the throne, I shared Nesugen's bed more and more infrequently. She was enthusiastic, but I do not believe this was thanks to my skill. She had denied herself too long and power had made her wanton. This would be her leash, though I had no wish to hold it so tightly.

"You should marry me, Master Wizard," she said once after one of our nights together. She was glowing, evidence of my passion drying in streaks over her pale golden back. I never once spilled inside her. In this I was scrupulous. "I will bear a dynasty for the two of us."

"My lady, it cannot be."

"Am I to be your whore, then?" she asked. Though her tone was light, I caught the hint of danger beneath. She had tasted true power. I knew that I had gripped a serpent and if I was not careful, it would sink its fangs into my flesh.

"I am your most loyal ally," I said carefully.

"And you could be my husband."

"I wish it could be so," I lied.

"I am Tyrant of Zuunkhorun. Whatever I wish is law."

"Law, yes. But law is not what governs the passions of the crowd. No matter what she wishes, the Tyrant of Zuunkhorun cannot be the second wife of an upjumped barbarian."

"You are no barbarian. You are a wizard. You are the Dreadstorm."

"I am lowborn from a provincial land."

"You're a noble." She moved closer, her expression kittenish. "Lord of Eirashtar."

"A title given me by my wife."

"I have no jealousy of them. Keep your wife, keep your menagerie of concubines." She reached between my legs, coaxing me to hardness once again. "You already perform husbandly duties for me."

"Which I will continue to do as long as you wish it. Your people...ourpeople would not want you with one such as me. They would want you with one truly worthy of you."

"What of my desires?"

"You have what you want already. You must think of what we have. You are Tyrant. A powerful woman. Marriageable. And to the world at large, you are pure and beautiful. With how desirable you are, we may dangle the prospect of marriage with you to cement alliances, to keep our enemies from uniting. As long as others believe you might marry them, you will be far more valuable alive than dead. Locking you to me takes away avenues of influence and power."

She pouted. "But..."

I silenced her with a kiss. "Fear not. As long as we remain discreet, we can continue our loveplay. We must keep you pure in the eyes of the public and potential suitors."

"I am not pure, not with what you have taught me to submit to," she said with a sly grin.

"True," I mused. "But I am still a Rhandonian. A stranger in these lands and unsuitable as a husband."

"I will grant you title."

"That I will accept, for I need a measure of legitimacy here. Now, l want you to submit to my savage lusts once more." I reached behind her, cupping the soft globe of her buttocks.

She grinned, turning over at my guidance. She whimpered sweetly as I pushed into her. She was as good as her word, granting me title. She had no need for her old fief, and so, for the next several decades, I was Halaak of Jihorut. Ironically, I saw far less of that place as its halaak than I ever did as a mere visitor.

***

***

Forgive me, for my memory of the following is somewhat hazy. I remember the event well, but I cannot recall if it was before or after I gained my initial Zuunese noble title. In any case, I had sent out my missives into the Turquoise and the Beryl for the next stage of the plan. I received responses some months later, which drew me to the port city of Uraraoi, the eastern gateway into Zuunkhorun.

The city was situated on the one bay on the craggy eastern coast of the kingdom, surrounded by the forbidding Keening Cliffs. The name comes from the way the wind rushes through ancient caves. In summer, it is like the walls are whispering. Storms produce the most unholy howling.

I traveled hence on the back of my loyal qobad Ksenaëe, with my daughter Malycent at my side. She had insisted on accompanying me and I thought the errand would be useful for her education. I saw in her the same wanderlust that had gripped me in my youth. I knew she would not stay with me for long, but I did not dream that she was already on the precipice of departing.

Malycent was growing well. Her elvish and orcish heritage were not immediately obvious, though her skin carried a slight gray cast and her ears a subtle point. Her eyes were a subtle shade of burgundy and her lower canines were a bit heavy. She was tall for her years, and she carried on her hip a straight Kharsoomian blade, a gift from Tanyth's father Hadirseen. He doted on my children whether they sprang from his daughter or not, and insisted they all consider him a grandfather. When Tanyth named our newborn son for him, I had no objections.

We paused on the road into Uraraoi, looking down on the bustling port city. "It reminds me of home," Malycent said.

"Tagariaganuur?"

"Castellandria."

"You miss it?"

She nodded. Then shook her head. "Yes and no. It's hard to say."

"I know what you mean. I used to think of Thunderhead the same way. I loved it, I wanted to go back to it, but the place I was going back to wasn't what was in my mind."

"Thunderhead was tiny," she said.

"And Castellandria is the Great City, but believe me, the principle is the same."

"I used to imagine being a sailor," she said, her young mind already flitting off to another topic.

"I always knew you liked boats. I didn't know it went that far."

"I talked to Mama about it from time to time." For Malycent,Mamawas Tanyth. Though Mal did not spring from Tanyth's loins, my Kharsoomian bride had always taken the lead in caring for her.

"It's a fine thing to be. You chose an excellent errand to accompany me on, for we are about to meet some real mariners."

"I know," she said and in her too-innocent mien, I should have detected her true purpose.

Zuunese cities lacked gates, for they didn't need them. There were only the defenses at the harbor of Uraraoi, what were later called the Arkohnum Gate in Ironmotte, the forts guarding the few passes through the Zuunkhor mountains, and a single blockhouse by each noble manor. As such, the two of us rode into the port city without incident. We attracted attention, what with the fact that we were two non-Zuunese on the backs of Kharsoomian riding birds accompanied by a feathered serpent from the highlands of Uazica. We were a curiosity, even in the most cosmopolitan of Zuunkhorun's cities.

I was reasonably well-known in this place as during the civil war, it had been my priority to maintain good relations with the people of Yamanai, the halaakun that contained Uraraoi. This was the primary point of trade, the one place where non-Heacharids could access the kingdom. Uraraoi had been spared my wrath and Jodai Yargai, the Halaak of Yamanai, was one of Nesugen's closest allies.

The bay was deep at its center, but grew treacherously shallow at its edges. This, in addition to the numerous seawalls and defenses, made it a daunting target. Even the parts of Zuunkhorun open to the world were forbidding. At the edge of the farthest seawall, scraps of fog clung to a distant lighthouse, its flame an unearthly glow in the mist. Malycent drew her cloak closer about her, shivering in the cold. Our qobads picked their way over the cobbled streets as we headed down to the shore.

Timing this meeting had been a challenge, but as a wizard, I would pretend it was a trifle. That is truly our greatest secret.Treat a great expenditure of effort as a trifle and a trifle as a grand mystery,as the old man had counseled me. I knew not what he meant when he first said it to a provincial foundling, but after my time as a political animal, I understood it in my bones.

The tavern was one of many by the wharf, a place frequented by the mariners who made port here. It was a two-story structure of dark, salt-scarred wood, its merry hearth fighting its many drafts, and smelling of equal parts sweat and drink. Malycent and I hitched our riding birds outside and we entered.

"Received your message, my lord," said the barkeep upon our entry, giving me a casual Zuunese salute, barely a wave over his shoulder. "Prepared a room upstairs as requested." He escorted us up the narrow staircase to a small room with windows overlooking the foggy bay. A table dominated the center of the room, four chairs about it.

"This will serve well," I assured him as I took a seat while Malycent lingered by the windows. Quiyahui coiled by my chair. "We will need some food and a bottle of oghul. Cider for my daughter."

"Papa," Malycent protested. "I am nearly thirteen."

It was not unusual for Zuunese children as young as eight to drink oghul, albeit heavily watered. "Cider," I said more firmly. Perhaps I was being overprotective. Perhaps I felt guilty for the way her mother left and never returned, or perhaps I sensed what was on the horizon and hoped she would remain a child for a little longer. Mal was always special to me. I handed the barkeep more money. "When my guests arrive, show them right in."

Not long after he had provided the refreshment, the door opened again. It had been years since I had seen her, and longer still since we sailed together, but the warm feelings returned as though not a moment had passed. The Amazon captain Kucyone strolled in. She was a wizened gnome of a woman now, tough as a windburned treestump, her pipe clenched between her teeth. She had not aged so much as pickled. She broke into a broad smile as she saw me.

"Belromanazar, my boy."

I sprang from my seat and embraced her. "Thank you for coming, old friend."

"I was intrigued. Not every day a wizard sends a magic bird for you."

"I suppose not. Sit, eat. Have some oghul. We're waiting on one more."

I introduced Kucyone to Malycent and the old salt was on her second mug of oghul when the door opened once again. This time it revealed Arishat, Princess of the Shattered Reavers. She too was older, though her beauty had not dimmed. What fat on her was gone. Tigerish muscle writhed beneath her crimson skin and her turquoise eyes were as bright as ever. In begrudging adaptation to the climate, she wore a furred cloak, and from what I saw when her limbs peeked out, not much else.

"Belromanazar," she said, a hint of sadness in her eyes. We embraced and shared a kiss halfway between one of friends and one of lovers.

"Welcome Arishat. Allow me to present Kucyone, a fellow pirate." I spoke Eomet, the language of Castellandria, and the one tongue we all had in common.

"Oh?"

"Different seas, I expect," Kucyone said, saluting the other woman with the stem of her pipe. Kucyone's Eomet was easy, carrying only a slight touch of her native Akleona.

"Kucyone plies the Turquoise, Arishat the Beryl," I explained.

"And who is this?" Arishat asked, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated Malycent. Arishat's accent was thick, and I was far from the only one who found the Kharsoomian accent lovely. Many could not tell Tanyth's aristocratic Kharish from Arishat's rougher dialect, for one needed time in the Red Wastes to learn the difference.

"I am Malycent Tazo, daughter of Belromanazar," said my daughter, her chin high.

"Oh, are you?" Arishat turned to me "Ithasbeen some time. A daughteranda serpent."

"Too long. Please, sit down, eat, drink." I introduced them to Quiyahui, who regarded them with her storm-blue eyes.

Arishat sat, regarding Kucyone with guarded interest. "You summoned us here, wizard. I assume it wasn't for a tryst."

"We'll begin, then," I said. I looked from one of my old friends to the other. "First, I want to make proper introductions for the two of you. Kucyone is a veteran of the Turquoise Conquest. She captained the ship on which I served and together we assembled a fleet of captured Heacharid ships. After the war she turned to piracy. Arishat is the princess of a pirate fleet off the western coast of Kharsoom. During my exile I was one of her marines. There is no greater pirate in that area of the world. I love the two of you as my dear friends, and I have the utmost respect for the both of you as leaders, mariners, and warriors."

They were silent as they absorbed the biography of the other and the depth of my esteem. Finally, Kucyone smirked. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arishat."

"Likewise," said the Kharsoomian. She looked to me. "It's pirates you want then."

"Pirates I can trust."

"For what?" Kucyone asked.

"I have an offer." I produced a pair of letters from my valise.

"Marque?" Arishat passed a crimson finger over the seal, my feathered serpent in blue wax. "This is not the Tyrant's sigil."

"It is mine," I said. "Those are not true letters of marque. They are letters of passage through the Castelpont. Hold those and no authority in Castellandria will hinder you. You may go from Turquoise to Azure unmolested."

"Passage is useful," Kucyone said, "but we'll still be hanged as pirates without marque."

"If we're caught," Arishat said.

"If we're caught," Kucyone agreed. "Still don't know who I'm to be hunting, though I have my suspicions."

I grinned at Kucyone's deduction. "Another reason I came to the two of you. All you have is my word." I would not tell them that Nesugen knew nothing of this errand, nor my next one. I was participating in treason against one who trusted me. I would betray her, but not these two. I had no way to offer marque. Stealing the Tyrant's sigil was a step too far. I would use it when it truly belonged to me.

"What do you want for these letters?" Arishat asked.

"I want the two of you to prey on Heacharid shipping. Prizes are of course yours to keep. Any cargo you take can be sold here, at this port. I will pay handsomely for it. Those letters of passage will make it much easier to get here and any pursuers will be shed."

"I'm already preying on Heacharids," Kucyone said. "Why do it for you?"

"Why not do it for me? I'm handing you passage through the Castelpont and giving you a port you can trust and a ready market for plunder. That is not all. When you're finished, I'll see to it that you're given land. A place to retire in peace. No one else will offer that to a pirate."

"I have a place," Arishat said.

"In the Red Wastes," I agreed. "Here you would have another. All I am asking of you is that you target your depredations and reap the rewards."

Kucyone watched me keenly. "You know that the Heacharids will learn that we're selling our plunder to you. They will come calling."

"I know."

"You are certain you're ready for this?"

"Do you have one more campaign in you, old friend?"

Kucyone sucked a great lungful of smoke. "One more, I think."

I turned to Arishat. "And what of you?"

She smiled at me. "You know I cannot refuse you."

"And I want to be on your ship," Malycent blurted.

"What?" I turned to my daughter. Her burgundy eyes were alight.

"Papa, I want to go to sea. I'm old enough."

I was about to protest when Arishat spoke. "I could use a steward. I will train her."

"Please, Papa," Malycent begged.

"You will look after her?" I asked Arishat.

"As though she were my own. I'll make a fine pirate of her."

I could not refuse Malycent. This was a good vocation for her and I could trust Arishat. "Then let it be so." Malycent embraced me and I felt such pride and pain.

We celebrated the accord for the balance of the evening. Over the next week, we prepared their ships for departure while Malycent began her training as a sailor. I spent nights in Arishat's cabin. Though we knew each others' bodies well, time had passed and our passion was dimmed. This was an act of friendship.

One evening after we had finished, we lay in her hammock, her head pillowed on my chest. She traced the scars on my shoulders, where long ago a nereid had cut me in her passion. "You have done well for yourself," she murmured.

"As have you."

"There is a part of me that wishes you had not," she chuckled. "That leaving me was a terrible blunder."

"It was hard and it hurt, but I think it was for the best."

"Yes," she sighed. "And now I am older and you are not. You should have stayed, fucked eternity into me."

Now I chuckled. "Now I have regrets of my own."

When the week was over, I bid them all farewell. I hugged Malycent tightly and made her promise to take care of herself. As I left Uraraoi, leading her qobad, I stopped once at the crest of the hill to watch the departing ships. Arishat's fleet made its way into the Azure, her banners flapping in the wind. I fancied I could see my daughter on the deck. The tears on my cheek were chilly in the salt wind.

***

***

Our household was in upheaval. We had recently moved from our home in Jihorut, which Sarakiel had named Southwind, to Zuun Khatai, the palace in the capital. While I was concerned that I was placing my family in danger, I needed them close by. My brides are dangerous, skilled, and formidable women, and I would not succeed without them.

Zuun Khatai was opulent, though it had begun to show its age. Unlike so many other structures of its ilk, it was never intended to withstand a siege and no enemy army had ever seen its spires. The vulnerability of Zuun Khatai had begun to trouble me more as I truly began executing my plan.

The year had brought three new lives into the family. Tanyth had produced little Hadirseen, Sarakiel had borne my daughter Sophiel, and Maireili my son Tobar. I believe it was Sophiel who would grow to the most fame, though Kharsoomians would know Hadirseen for his embodiment of the chivalry of the Red Wastes.

We had manumitted Tanyth's handmaids and my bedslave Ku-Tala, for we had greater plans for them. They were given charge of the two hospitality houses we had constructed, one in Ironmotte and one in Uraraoi. They were gambling halls and brothels, the kinds of places pirates and bandits could not help but patronize. I would purchase their plunder and give them the perfect place to hand the money right back. Sarakiel's idea, as if there could be any doubt.

Tanyth and Lysethe had journeyed to Kharsoom to purchase workers for the brothel. We'd even managed a few trained in the Silken Labyrinth, and damn the expense. Tanyth had wanted to purchase new handmaids and bedslaves, but I counseled her against it, saying we should cleave to Zuunese customs. She employed her handmaids from local Jegu women and I would go without bedslaves. Only Ujaala remained enslaved, for I had another plan for her.

Nesugen was delighted by another purchase my wives had made. I presented her with a handsome Kharsoomian man clad only in a simple collar. "For when I am away," I said.