K. B. Forrest - The Sorcerer's Secret

THE SORCERERS SECRET
By
KB Forrest
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The Sorcerers Secret
Copyright 2008 KB Forrest
ISBN: 978-1-55487-018-9
Cover art by Eiris
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reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in
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DEDICATION
To those sunny days at the Shed with Arshak and
Ramses.
Prologue
Persia, circa 550 BCE
he smell of burnt food hung thickly in the air
of the dilapidated one room hut. The child of
five drew his knees up to his chin as the heavy
footsteps thudded toward his mother. He watched
as she moaned, kicking herself back away from
the man looming above her. Her back hit the
rough, splintery wall of the hut and she could go
no further.
Get over here, bitch, the man said, crooking
his finger.
The young boy whimpered in fear for his
mother, but he knew from experience that he
could do nothing. He saw his mother tremble,
tears rolling out of eyes that were nearly swollen
shut.
I said get over here! The man screamed and
lunged at the small woman who sat crumpled in a
corner. He seized her by the hair and dragged the
kicking and screaming woman until he threw her
against the stone hearth.
KB Forrest
The boy watched as his mother lurched to her
feet, seeming to ignoring the pain. The mans head
rose from the pot containing a few burned
flatbreads.
What do you mean by this, woman? The man
snarled, his fury sizzling through the quavering
syllables.
The woman said nothing, but she met the boys
eyes for a second, as if begging him to remain
silent. When the man turned, she held a finger
over her lips and the boy clamped his small hand
over his mouth desperately. The child heard the
mans heavy steps as he walked away from his
mother, standing for a moment before the rough
wooden table. The scrape of the heavy clay oil jug
being removed from the shelf sliced through the
silent chamber. The womans head snapped up.
He turned to face her, removing the lid. She let out
a soundless scream. The sight of his mothers
expression in the flickering firelight caused the
child to wet himself.
The boy didnt understand the significance of
the mans actions at first. The cooking oil arced out
in a brilliant golden stream, landing on the
womans hair and clothing.
Please The boys mother whispered
hoarsely, her arms spread in supplication.
The man sneered and suddenly seized her in
his arms. Raising her slight, fear-stiffened form
2

above his head, he tossed the screaming woman
into the hearth fire.
The fire caught the woman at once, causing the
whole shack to light up. Her hair went up in a
brilliant burst. She rose from the fire, her voice a
horror to hear, and raced away from the fireplace,
running in tight, frantic circles. She was already
black with the searing heat of the flames. She
waved her arms, desperate to put out the flames,
slapping at her flesh, only to have it reignite with
as much vigor as before.
Watching the mad antics of the burning
woman, the man laughed, his contempt a poison
in the room. If they ask me, I will say that her
hair caught on fire while she was cooking and that
the stupid bitch just ran around like a panicky
chicken. Everyone knows how brainless and
dimwitted she is. The man laughed roughly
while she screamed, her life slipping away from
her.
The little boy trembled and heaved silently,
watching from deep in the shadows, terrified that
the man might see him. It was his fault, after all,
that the breads had burned. He had wandered off,
causing his mother to leave the food unattended.
The man waited until the woman collapsed in a
blackened heap. Bitch! Thats what you get! He
screamed at the stiff body that seemed to reach for
him. Im a great mage on my way up in the Royal
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Courtit would not do good for my reputation to
associate with a woman like you! I have my eyes
on the position of Head-Mage. Why did you have
to demand that I marry you? It was your fault that
you got pregnant and had that accursed boy child!
You sorceress! How dare you produce such a
monster? He gathered up his jacket and
sauntered out, his expensive boots clicking on the
cobbled streets. His footsteps faded from the
earshot of the little boy.
The boy didnt move for many hours, his
nostrils filled with the odor of burnt flesh. He
couldnt take his eyes away from his mothers
blackened, eyeless face. His muscles grew stiff,
and he listened as a horse clomped by the outside
of the house. The light in the hut grew dimmer
and dimmer as the sacred fire died. In his dreams,
the boy saw fire. He saw fire when he
remembered the manfire devouring everyone
who hated him and his mother, until it seemed
that he could burn up the world.
The rattling at the rickety door woke him and
he watched as the corpse handlers sent by the man
entered and looked about. The two four-eyed
black and tan dogs came sniffing eagerly into the
room. The boy wasnt frightened as the revered
creatures strained at the thin white cotton cord
that bound them to each other and to the two
corpse handlers. He felt their wet noses snuffle his
4

tear-streaked face.
Raylem, Raylo! Away from the child! one of
the corpse handlers ordered sharply.
The dogs drew away reluctantly and trotted to
the mothers body.
The child watched in round-eyed fascination as
the dogs stared at his mother. He thought he
heard the buzzing of the Demon of Death that the
myths describe, but he hid his eyes so that he
wouldnt see the flat-bottomed, fly-like creature
with its pendulous swinging abdomen as it fled
the body. Is she really dead?
The two men waited a minute longer to make
sure that the dogs had expelled the demon they
believed inhabited a dead body. Then they lifted
the small body out of the rundown hut and placed
it on a wagon. The blackened form had already
stiffened, frozen in the horrible pose of a burn
victim, its arms outstretched as if begging for
mercy. The little boy rose and walked to the door.
Outside, the rain poured down in steady sheets.
Shivering violently, he stepped out of the hut,
following his beloved mother. It was hard to see
very far ahead of him in the downpour. The water
that swept them away immediately obscured his
tiny footprints.
The boy screamed shrilly as he slipped in the
muddy streets then looked ahead into the gray
silhouettes as the wagon disappeared. Running
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KB Forrest
now, and desperate to keep up, the child splashed
through the muddy streets, heedless of the few
pedestrians. He ran barefoot, his body and hair
covered with mud as the tears streamed from his
eyes. There it is! Out of breath, he continued to trot
after the wagon through twisting streets for what
seemed like hours. The vision of a sacred burning
fire lit his way whenever he thought he was lost,
and he managed to keep up with the death wagon
carrying his mother.
The wagon stopped and he darted back behind
a building, weeping between great, gulping
breaths. Before him, in a clearing in the midst of
the city, was a great tower, the Daxma, the Tower
of Silencewhere the bodies of the faithful waited
for consumption by carrion-eating birds. The
pounding rain almost obscured the sounds of a
womans heartbroken sobs. An ornate carriage
waited at the base of the tower as another set of
corpse handlers carried a very small body up. At
the top of the dark structure, the enormous
vultures hulked along the outer edge, stark
against the gray sky.
As he watched, the corpse handlers
disappeared into the darkness of the wagon and
emerged, carrying his mother. The boys head
jerked up as the vultures screamed and fought
savagely among themselves as the small body of a
child was deposited on the platform. The womans
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sobs reached a crescendo as the birds fell upon the
body with loud cries and flapping wings. The men
carrying the boys mother waited until the other
corpse handlers descended.
Then they began to climb the steps. The little
boy stumbled forward into the muddy clearing,
dizzy from trauma and lack of food. As his tiny
foot hit the first ascending step, a firm hand took
hold of his arm.
You poor, poor angel, you cant go up there!
The woman spoke to him in a voice choked with
tears.
The boys eyes grew round as he took the
woman in. There were tears running down her
beautiful faceshe had been the one who was
crying for the dead child. A man behind her was
holding an oilskin canopy to keep the rain off the
exquisite white silk robe she wore. The boy tried
to shake her off in desperation, trying to get to his
mother.
No, the woman said simply and firmlyshe
looked at the child with an expression the boy
could not fathom. Her large, warm hand closed
over his trembling fist.
It was then that the little boy heard the
screeching vultures descend on his mother.
Mama! the boy screamed, heart pounding with
mind-numbing fear. He twisted and writhed
against the woman, desperate to save his mother
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KB Forrest
from the hungry birds.
Heerka, help me hold her! the woman
ordered her servant.
Desperately, the boy struggled against the
gentle, yet iron-strong hands that restrained him.
Above him in the Tower of Silence, he saw a
vulture hop to the outer rim with a strip of black
and red flesh dangling from its mouth. Mama!
he screamed again, fighting now with all of his
strength to get away. He looked desperately at the
woman restraining him. Please, I need to save
her! I want my Mama! The boy sobbed, his tiny
face crumpling with confusion and terror.
Lady Nizami! Dont touch that filthy
commoner child! The coach driver looked on,
horrified.
The womans face ran with fresh tears. You
have no father, no brothers or sisters?
The boy shook his head.
She nodded, the bright trails of her own
crystalline tears seemingly forgotten. You have
lost your mother, I have lost my child. She was all
I had, too. The boy blinked in confusion. It was
meant to be this way, the woman said in a soft,
trembling voice. Lord Ahura Mazda ordained it
so! Her voice now carried more strength.
Above them, the vultures fell to fighting once
more, recalling the grieving boy to his mission.
Struggling afresh, he screamed incoherently,
8

giving voice to his grief.
No, hush, hush. Nizami cradled the wet, cold
child in her arms. The child sobbed against her
breast, clutching at her fiercely. She walked back
to her gilded carriage and the manservant called
Heerka leapt to help hand the shivering, filthy
child into the red velvet carriage. Soon they were
traveling swiftly over the cobbled streets, the
matched horses up front pulling the carriage with
precision.
Are you
Youll be safe now, baby. Do not worry. I will
be your mother now, she said with perfect
confidence. You will be my daughter. The fresh
tears filled the childs eyes, but she rapped on the
roof of the carriage and the manservant Heerka
opened the door and looked down. Not a word
of this, Heerka. Not to anyone, do you
understand?
Yes, Maam, Heerka answered at once. I
didnt see a thing.
Isnt it amazing the way my daughter
Aryazate recovered from her illness? Im sure you
will be happy to spread the news among the
household staff! Nizami smiled weakly.
There was a pause then Heerka answered. It
will be my pleasure!
The door closed and she smiled at her new
child. Dear Aryazate, she cooed, you will feel
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better when you are safely back in your warm
bed! I am so happy you recovered from your
illness. You did not die! The gods have returned
my little girl.
****
It was too late for her to go back on her words
when Lady Nizami undressed the child in secret
and saw that it was a boy. He looked so much like
her beautiful dead daughter, his deep blue eyes
and golden hair so similar. It was too late so she
cared for her new daughter with her own hands,
helping him through the bad cold and fever he got
from the cold, wet weather of that day.
The boy never left Nizamis house for the next
two years. He was Aryazate nowinheriting the
name and identity of Nizamis little dead girl.
The raging fever that followed left the little boy
weak and thin, but it also erased the memory of
his terrible experience. His new mothers kindness
was never forgotten, but like the mists of morning
in the heat of day, Aryazates memories of that
horrible night and day faded. All that remained
was a vague pain and the dreams of fire. Never
leaving the safety of the estate, and his old life
forgotten, he became Aryazate, the daughter of
Lady Nizami.
10
Chapter 1
ill you marry me?

The incense curled around them and
hung low in the lush chamber now filled with the
golden light of the setting sun. Aryazate snorted
with contempt, his eyes languidly surveying the
view out onto his bright rolling fields, now heavy
with the fruits of autumn. A breeze from the open
terrace blew back his floor-length golden hair as
he absently stroked the head of one of the
wolfhounds nearest his feet. The dozen or so dogs
were scattered over the deep carpets, soaking up
the autumn sunshine. He took a sip of wine from
the jewel-encrusted cup in his hand.
Oh, is that a request? I was under the
impression that you are only used to issuing
orders. By the way, Varlan, your rival, requested
the same thing just yesterday. Aryazate sighed.
He cast a glance at the powerfully built man
reclining on the couch across from him.
Baraka shot out of the purple velvet couch.
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That little weasel asked you to marry him? How
dare he? Hes not half as rich as I am. You know
that, dont you? Well, never mind, I know youre
smarter than to be interested in him. Baraka
appeared to think. I could see how you could
refuse him, after all, he is losing his hair, but how
could you refuse me?
Aryazates lips curved into a smile, despite the
intense revulsion he felt.
Do you realize what I am offering you, my
silly fool? He continued, No, no of course not!
Let me explain this in other words. You will be
elevated into the Court circles! My uncle,
Monushir, is the Head-Mage to Emperor Cyrus
the Great himself! You cannot imagine the prestige
of my family. You will have my children and have
the privilege of being one of my honored wives. In
time, you will learn to be grateful. He gave
Aryazate a fond look as he nodded in agreement
with his own thoughts. A fly landed on his nose
and he struck it off violently and smiled again.
Aryazate looked at him through his long lashes,
still reclining on his couch with the grace of a
tiger. Your children he repeated without
expression, one of your wives?
Baraka took a step back. Y-yes, he stuttered
then in a quavering voice added, of course, you
will delight in being my wife! You need some
strong handling, being as spirited as you are, but I
12

am just the man to give it to you. His attractive
face broke into a pleasant smile and he clicked his
strong white teeth. Did I ever tell you that one of
our esteemed generals mentioned to me that it is
harder to break a spirited mare than a stallion?
Why, I find that fascinating, dont you? But Im
ever up to another challenge, my girl!
Aryazate swilled the wine in his goblet then
took a drink. Unbidden, the strange dream
flickered on the edges of his consciousness. A
dream of fire. He looked away then began to rise
from the couch. He knew the dangers that lurked
when he would lose his temper, but sometimes he
had no control. It would be safer to leave the
room. As Aryazate rose from his couch, the silky
folds of his bright, peacock-colored robe fell into
place.
Baraka smiled.
He realized the suitor misunderstood. The
mans hungry mouth lengthened into a satisfied,
wet smirk as he grabbed Aryazate by the wrists
and drew him close, so that the tips of his padded
breasts were grazing Barakas chest. Aryazate was
strong, but he knew he must not show it, for he
was a womanor at least that is what people
thought.
Oh yes! Baraka exclaimed raggedly and
crushed him clumsily against his chest. He cupped
Aryazates head and drew it to his with a lurch,
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bruising his mouth in a crushing kiss.
Daman, the head of the pack of wolfhounds,
cocked her head with interest at her masters
activity, as if wondering if he were in need of
assistance.
Barakas hand slid across his back and started
to explore the roundness of his buttocks. Red filled
Aryazates vision. He saw the red of fire as
something burst from him and the man pulled
away, doubling over. The screams of pain and
rage brought the servants running. Aryazate
sauntered back to his couch, dabbing at the mans
drool on his face with a silk handkerchief.
Raust, the head manservant, burst through the
curtained doorway. His eyes took in the retching
man on the floor with the dogs licking his face in
predatory interest and his mistress sitting on the
couch, her eyes glowing sinisterly.
Oh, no, mistress Aryazate! Not again! This is
behavior unbefitting auhmaiden. I thought
we agreed after Jeramal
Oh Raust, he made me do it! He tried to take
advantage of a weak, innocent maiden! His gaze
was still savage, but his voice soft.
Incorrigible, the manservant muttered as he
rushed over to the retching man.
You have ruined my carpet, Baraka. I expect
you to have it cleaned. This one was made by the
great Gayozar himself. Aryazate frowned as the
14

man on the floor moaned and retched again.
Not too fast there, take it easy. Raust gently
coaxed the arrogant man to his trembling feet.
Ill make you pay for this, you nasty girl! You
kicked my private parts and made me feel as if I
had been burned! Baraka squeaked. You are as
rough and crude as a man!
Although he sounded ridiculous, there was an
unmistakable note of deep violence in his voice
that was utterly alien to his usual cheerful tone.
One of the dogs jumped up excitedly and knocked
him to the floor again with his massive paws,
wagging his tail wildly.
Aryazate roared with unladylike laughter,
despising Baraka as much as the man surely
despised him. He had not kicked the manof that
he was sure, but he still didnt know exactly what
he did to inflict the pain. It came naturally. If you
ever thought for a moment that I would let myself
be used by a man like you, you are no smarter
than a donkey. I am no mans chattel. I deserve
respect, honor and he paused, love.
Ill make you pay, demon woman. I have
heard the stories about you! I know more than you
think! He caught his breath and spat, Get these
filthy animals off me! He now spoke in tones that
were more in his normal range.
The wolfhounds had encircled him and were
beginning a low chorus of growls.
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KB Forrest
The only filthy creature in this room is you.
Get out! Aryazate growled. He silently looked at
the tall, handsome, muscular man before him and
felt hatred and a twinge of pain, wondering if he
would ever find someone to love. Could he ever
find a man who could accept his littleproblem?
Out, he ordered again, dismissing him as if he
were a servant.
Youyouyoull regret this, sorceress! I
promise you! When I make you my wifeIll have
to keep you in line. I will not allow you to behave
like this! The growling increased in volume and
Baraka became pale.
Aryazate felt a quick bolt of fear. Sorceress? This
was not the first time he had heard that. People
were talking, but they really knew very little. Even
his mother knew almost nothing of the secrets he
hid in his frightened, and often furious, heart.
Why did he secretly return to the Towers of
Silence to gaze at their awful heights? Why did he
feel drawn to the ugly birds that flew over them,
waiting for a bit of human flesh? He shivered and
thought about how things were changing,
especially now with the anti-demon campaign
about to be launched by the royal mages.
Aryazate gave him a lazy look and smiled the
smile of a predator. Go, he growled softly,
looking like a lazy tiger without a care, although
his heart was in turmoil.
16

Baraka dusted off his silk shirt, smiled and gave
him an exasperated grin. I understand now. He
nodded his head. You were overcome with
passion, obviously. I will be able to satisfy you in
that regard soon enough, but did you not know
that men are tender in that area? Poor silly girl!
Laughter accompanied his stare as he gazed at
Aryazates skillfully padded breasts with renewed
interest.
Could I get away with killing the bastard? I could
bury the body somewhereor burn it
Dont worry, Im fine, it doesnt really hurt
anymore. Baraka brushed himself off. He smiled
when Aryazate said nothing. No need to be coy,
my dear, soon you and I shall be joined as man
and wife. Wife He spoke as if savoring his
future possession of Aryazate. A woman ought
to be married, child. But I suppose my wooing has
been a bit strong today. Ill see myself out, dont
bother to get up. He looked toward the door, but
the hounds stared hotly, some with saliva
dripping from their menacing jaws. Well, call
them off!
Aryazate ordered the wolfhounds to leave him.
Baraka began to limp away, smiling and
shaking his head like an indulgent parent. Well
have to talk about your awful habits. Animals do
belong outside! Andwomen must act like decent
women! A wolfhound suddenly approached him
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and shoved its eager snout into his already
wounded crotch. A howl of pain filled the hall as
he scuttled out of the room swearing.
The silence that descended after Raust escorted
Baraka out had the quality of a tomb. Aryazate
sensed his mothers presence. The gossamer
curtain twitched. His mothers silent feet padded
over the thick Persian carpet to her distraught
child.
Nizami settled in the couch in which Baraka
had been reclining. What is it, my child? she
asked in a soothing voice.
He looked up, not at all startled by his mothers
sudden appearance. When he was little, he
thought that his mother transported herself
through thin air. Oh Nizami! I have just sent that
lecher, Baraka, away again!
And the screams? You did it again?
He didnt answer this, but looked down into his
wine cup. Nizami, he called me a sorceress just
before he left and he said something about
knowing where I came from and knowing what I
am. A faint memory tried to surface from the
depths of his soul.
Nizami frowned, picking up a golden goblet of
wine that a discreet servant offered. How
ridiculous! I suppose he demanded you marry
him so that he could announce the engagement at
the announcement feast tonight?
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Aryazate nodded, but did not want to change
the subject. He looked out over the fields and
sighed. How much do you suppose they are
talking? Do they knowoh Mother, why am I
different? Why did you not tell me before that II
amI am
It doesnt matter! Nizami set her goblet down
forcefully on the low marble table. Dont worry.
They cant touch us with our economic influence.
Talk is only talk. Even with Monushir the HeadMage on his anti-demon worshipper campaign,
they are powerless against us. She pushed her
thick hair back over her shoulders and looked off.
He frowned. I suppose, but Monushir is
Barakas uncle. What will happen if I refuse to
marry? I cannot marry, if what you say is
truethat I am a man. How could you have kept
it from me for so long? What will happen when
time goes on and I remain unmarried?
We are great supporters of the court, she said
with certainty. Even Cyrus the Great is aware of
our power. Arent we going to the announcement
feast this very night? How much more could we
flaunt our confidence and confound the rumors
than by going to the feast tonight where the HeadMage announces his new plan to eradicate the
sorcerers and sorceresses?
Aryazate grinned, breathed in a sigh of relief
and realized the truth of his mothers words, but
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KB Forrest
still felt troubled. Lord and Lady Chutka hate us
though, and they also have some degree of
influence.
Yes, and that is another reason why you must
restrain yourself. A fine noble woman does not
attack her suitors, no matter how they disgust
her. Nizami seemed worried now. I imagine
that Lord and Lady Chutka, along with many
others, will be wearing their holy kusti ropes
around their waists in an ostentatious show of
religion. They think that can ward off demons,
you know. There are many stories about us, but
that is unavoidable, for we are both unmarried.
The vicious rumor-starters! I swear, if I could
really do sorcery, Id kill them. He made a fist
and held it to his chest.
She put a trembling hand to her lips. Dont
talk like thatplease!
Lets go into town and see what is new,
Aryazate suggested. He wanted to ride out his
frustration. Then we can get ready for the
announcement feast at the royal palace. Lady
Rutkeera told me that theres a new shipment of
brocade from the Five Rivers Kingdom. Will you
come with me? He surged up from the couch.
Of course!
In no time, they were galloping along the welltraveled road to town through the golden sunset
light. Behind them, two menservants trailed on
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their own horses, struggling to keep up with the
half Scythian stallions Aryazate and his mother
rode. Aryazate had paid enormously for the sleek
creatures because the seller had been certain that
they actually came from the legendary Paralatae
tribe of nomads.
The misty horizon fanned out before them and
the autumn wind that caressed their faces was
pungent with the succulence of ripe fruits. They
waved at their workers as they sped by,
resplendent in flowing, silken finery. Aryazate
looked back at Heerka and Sheerka, the two
servants whom they had taken with them since
Aryazate was old enough to remember. The two
brothers hated these excursions, but they never
failed to accompany them.
Heya! Aryazate cried, urging his sensitive
steed into a thrilling gallop. His long hair whipped
out behind him as the silk of his bright sapphire
robe rippled on his skin. The wind now smelled of
the freshly cut hay that was curing in their
pastures. His mother pulled alongside him and
together they thundered down the winding trail
that led through their lands. All about them was
the scent, the look and the taste of the most
sensual season of the year.
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KB Forrest
Chapter 2
hat do you mean? This is my house! I wont

leave! Kavada bellowed, the rage within
making him forget with whom he spoke. He was
clad only in a loincloth and still held heavy tongs
in his hand, but he began to sweat as he realized
that his worst nightmare was coming true. He felt
himself trembling as one of the tax collectors
assistants rushed past him carrying his household
goods.
Grumio the head tax collector, frowned, his
angular face grimacing as he peered at the wax
tablet in his hands. Dont forget his scrolls, if he
has any! he shouted at one of his slaves. He may
have a collection of rare coins according to the
neighbors. Be sure to check it out.
Dont touch them! Get out of my house! Out!
Out! Kavada roared. No one paid him the
slightest heed. His blacksmiths shoulders heaved
with repressed sobs of mingled rage and fear. The
tool he was holding fell as he covered his face with
22

his big hands.
You are the one who needs to get out!
Grumio snarled, checking off items on the tablet.
I am conducting the business of the Empire here.
You are an obstruction to the He trailed off as
the blacksmith took a menacing step forward. The
tax collector stepped back, but was still unable to
put himself out of the shadow the mans powerful
frame cast over him.
A forelock of his black hair curled over his
sweating brow, as Kavada, trembling with the
force of his emotions, glared. A bright trail of tears
trickled out of his eyes and down the smoothness
of his face.
Muscles bunched under his skin as he lunged,
snarling at the tax collector. He seized the official
with one fist and hoisted him off his feet easily.
Son of a one-balled camel! Kavada roared,
dragging the man bodily, thump, thump, thump,
down the splintery stairs. He flung the door of his
smithy open and shouted with alarm as he took in
his empty workshop. Four men were attempting,
without success, to haul away his heavy anvil, the
last thing in the shop, to a waiting wagon. The
shop was open onto the street for ventilation and
customer access. The evening shoppers turned
curiously at the ruckus.
Out! he roared, baring his white teeth in a
mask of savage fury. He stormed over the rough
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KB Forrest
planks of the floor, his long legs closing the
distance between him and the men with terrifying
speed, the tax collector dragged along as Kavada
forgot that he held him. He heard their shouts of
alarm as he raised the shrieking tax collector over
his head and threw him into the busy street,
overturning a stall of green vegetables with a
tremendous crash. The angry wail of the stall
owner rose above the racket of the fleeing wagon.
He was in a rage, his bare chest heaving with great
gulps of air. His glistening eyes darted to the
disappearing wagon as the woman who owned
the stall stood before him, shrieking obscenities
and beating him with her balled old fists.
No! he screamed, his voice breaking with
despair. They had taken it all. He had no
possessions now, and he had even lost his means
of livelihood! He turned, no longer heeding the
old womans vicious blows on his body. He sat
numbly on his anvil for a moment, heedless of the
stares, and gave into the despair welling up in his
soul. He hid his face in work-roughened hands as
his frame shook with silent sobs of despondency
and bleak foreboding.
****
Aryazate grinned as he and his mother watched
the magnificently angry man. He looked like the
24

sun god, Mithra, weeping in rage as he rose
brilliant in the eastern sky. Damn! he swore
under his breath, as the blacksmith hurled the tax
collector into a stall of leafy vegetables. The
splintering crash the man made upon impact
drowned out his curse of appreciation. His
amusement evaporated however, as the man
turned his face toward them. Staring right through
them, the blacksmith gazed forlornly at the wagon
that had just rushed past them. Aryazate made the
quick connection. He urged Ishrashir, his stallion,
forward through the crowd and confirmed his
suspicions as he took in the empty smithy and the
weeping man seated on the anvil. Dismounting,
he threw his reigns carelessly over his shoulder.
Heerka stumbled forward to catch them, a bolt
of gossamer golden fabric waving precariously
atop the pile of purchases he was holding.
Striding forward with his usual confident step,
Aryazate entered the smithy.
****
Kavada started at the light touch on his shoulder.
When he opened his eyes, he beheld the most
beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her skin was
whiter than the whitest cloud and her golden hair
hung thickly down her back. She was clad like a
goddess. Had a goddess beheld his distress and
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KB Forrest
come to save him? He glanced at her luminous
gown and thought it might be made of some
celestial fabric.
Whats wrong? she asked, staring into his
pained eyes.
Uhh he stared, mouth agape. Behind the
beautiful woman, the tax collector was flailing his
way out of the vegetable leaves as the stall owner
cursed him through the sixteen hells. His panicked
eyes darted back to the woman and he saw with
shocked surprise that she smiled encouragingly.
Im destitute. He looked away from her deep
eyes. He could not bear her sympathy.
This will not be tolerated! The nasal shriek of
Grumio, the tax collector, echoed out into the
street, nearly swallowed up by the noise of the
busy marketplace chatter.
Destitute? the young woman asked. She wet
her lips, watching him.
Its uhits been coming, Kavada rumbled
softly, closing his eyes. Even through the
numbness of his grief, he was stunned that a
woman such as this was near him. He could smell
the fragrance of rose water that wafted to him
from her hair. The heat of her life force pulled at
his attention.
I am a servant of Cyrus the Great, the King of
Kings! Do you hear me? Grumio screamed,
storming back into the smithy. The words
26

bounced off the empty walls eerily. The man
advanced, shaking with rage. A large green leaf
rested on his graying, greasy hair and green stains
smirched the perfect white of his robe. Youll
answer for this, you will! You lowborn tradesman!
How dare you lay hands on your betters, you
filthy ox! You, Kavada, shall pay for this, mark my
words!
Kavada straightened on his anvil and bared his
teeth, a low growl starting from his throat. The
young woman turned to the tax collector who was
sucking in breath to continue his tirade. Grumio
seemed to notice the stately lady for the first time.
Do not raise your voice again, you offend the
ear. The woman spoke in mellow accents so
noble she made the tax collector stare. And do
leave, I have business with the smith, she spat.
Grumio stumbled back, casting a baleful eye at
the blacksmith as he gripped his holy kusti in
superstitious terror.
Kavada heard whispering.
Grumio cried out. Yes, that is the woman they
say is a sorceress!
Now then, you are out of work, Kavada? the
young woman asked in a brisk, businesslike tone,
blocking out the tax collector entirely.
The lady pronounced his name differently than
mostit thrilled him to hear his name on her lips.
But then the content of her question registered and
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KB Forrest
he fell back to his predicament. Out of work, lost
my home, Ive lost it all! He whispered the
words, deeply shamed. It was bad enough to lose
everything because of those damned new laws,
but to have to admit it in the presence of such a
lady was tenfold more odious.
The lady nodded sympathetically, a speculative
gleam coming into her eyes. How did you lose it
all? Something tells me lack of industry was not
the cause. She placed a hand on one impressively
muscled arm.
For a moment, reason fled from Kavadas mind
as a wave of passion darkened his eyes. No! he
almost shouted. They did this to me! They just
came here andand Oh Ahura, let me start
from the beginning. I received a scroll from some
city official saying that my father was under an
inquest for being a demon worshipper. Hes been
dead for seven yearshe was killed in battle. He
was a good and faithful man. How could he be a
demon worshipper when he isnt even alive? They
threatened me and I tried to explain it to them, but
they wouldnt listen. Thenthen this happened.
Thats ridiculous! the young woman intoned
in her mellow, deep purr. It was as if she felt true
anger at his predicament.
Now Ive got nothing! Kavada hid his face
behind calloused hands. My contract with the
Palace Guard ran out yesterday. I have always
28

made and repaired the royal armaments!
Why dont you invite him to our estate? the
older woman asked. The old smithy has been
unoccupied for years nowits high time we
employed a blacksmith.
Good idea! You can take care of the repairs on
the estate. In fact, it makes good business sense
too, the young woman agreed.
His jaw hung open. How can I ever repay
you? May Ahura Mazda bless your hearth!
Kavada was nearly incoherent with the total
reversal of his fortunes. He rose from the anvil.
Let me see if they left anything upstairs. He was
halfway up the stairs when he ran back down to
where the women stood. Pleaseplease dont
leave. He looked earnestly from one woman to
another.
Take all the time you need, the older one
assured.
Kavada was up the stairs in a flash, crashing
into the upper floor like a raging elephant. Still not
convinced that they would stay, with shaking
fingers, he jerked up the loose floorboard by the
area where his bed had been. His heart leapt as he
saw the package tucked safe beneath. Grabbing it,
he darted back downstairs and gasped with real
terror as he took in the empty smithy again. Then
he saw the beautiful woman standing next to her
horse.
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KB Forrest
She turned to him with a smile. Youll have to
ride with me. We cant buy you a horse just now
because we need to get home soon.
SureIis thata Paralatae horse? He
gasped as he got a better look at her black stallion.
As he approached, the beast lowered his head and
snorted into Kavadas hair. He turned to look at
the beautiful young woman, but his bedazzled
expression and mussed hair must have been too
much for her and she burst out laughing. He
grinned at the beautiful woman, loving the sound
of her laugh. It wasnt artificial, like the gentle
tinkling that some women affected. The raucous,
deep and jolly sound was as genuine as summer
rain.
Stand on your anvil and mount behind me,
she ordered, gracefully swinging herself into her
saddle.
Oh, no! Ill follow behind! Kavada looked to
the ground humbly.
Nonsense. You will ride with me. Dont worry
about your anvil, we will send someone tomorrow
with a team of oxen to pull it to our estates. For
now, use it as a mounting block. She maneuvered
her stallion into position with ease.
Kavada stood on the anvil then tentatively
lowered himself into the saddle behind the
beautiful young woman, whose body seemed
exceedingly hard.
30

The stallion snorted in complaint at the added
weight, but let himself be directed out of the
smithy and onto the crowded street.
Kavada breathed in deeply as the Scythian
stallion fairly floated through the market. He had
ridden before when his father had taught him to
fight on horseback, but it had never been like this.
As his chest brushed against the womans back, he
heard the tax collectors nasal whine ring in his
ears. How dare you lay hands on your betters, you
filthy tradesman! He tried to inch back from the
noblewoman.
Kavada tried not to think as the fragrance of the
womans long hair wafted up to his nostrils. He
was still worried about his anvil, but he
straightened away from her as much as his
straining muscles could. The journey into the
darkness was a blur as their musical voices
blended in laughter and animated conversation,
but his mind was a blank. He was concentrating
too hard on not embarrassing himself by
becoming aroused against the smooth curve of her
rear. She was sure to feel it.
He knew that she would feel it. He scrunched
himself away, burning with embarrassment yet
thrilling with the exhilaration of the ride and the
night wind that was flavored with the scent of
autumn fruits. Knowing that it was improper for
him to desire such a woman, he tried to force
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himself to forget her lovely scent and to deny the
heat of his loins.
32
Chapter 3
ll be there soon Nizami! The young woman

called out as the older woman rode ahead
into the warm velvet night and down the winding
road to the sprawling main house.
Aryazate! Let me know everything in the
morning, you hear! Perhaps we can help.
In the distance, wolfhounds howled a greeting
that cut through the night chillingly. The moon
was high in the sky and Kavada was glad to stop.
The emotional upheaval his life had undergone
sapped his strength. He nearly fell out of the
saddle when she drew her horse to a stop. Around
them, the autumn insects called out lustily into the
night. The rattling of the servants Heerka and
Sheerka, straggling their way up the path behind
them, made Kavada turn his head from the cluster
of huts illuminated by moonlight.
Take Ishrashir to the stables, will you?
Aryazate ordered the menservants, dismounting
as the men drew near.
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KB Forrest
Kavada saw a quick flash of pale, smooth, skin
before the fabric of her robe resettled itself. His
blood, heated all this time while riding, suddenly
flared into a roiling boil.
Come, Kavada. She touched his arm lightly
as she started out to one of the huts.
Her touch was electrifying. Well-made huts
were spaced well apart from each other, each
having the feel of relative seclusion. Kavada
shivered in the cold night air as he followed the
lovely form, outlined in moonlight, into one of the
huts.
She entered the dark room with confidence,
lighting an oil lamp with the assistance of the
moonlight that filtered in through a gauze-covered
opening that served as a window.
Her hands looked strong for a woman, yet so
finely shaped, he thought wistfully, wishing that
he could banish the aching longing she evoked.
Such a passion was as unsuitable, as it was
downright wicked. She had saved him, but that
was for purely economic reasons, he thought. If
she knew of the burning erection that strained
against his loincloth, she would throw him out
into the streets again. She was a noblewoman,
wealthy and sophisticated beyond his wildest
dreams. He was the impoverished son of a soldier
and a potter. He could never aspire for such a
woman, despite what his body now demanded.
34

She straightened from her task and looked up
to where he stood, silhouetted in the doorway. His
head nearly grazed the top of the door, but he
bowed it and entered. He pulled the door shut
behind him and was suddenly, painfully aware of
the strength of his feelings. He stepped closer into
the flickering light, turned his head toward her
and struggled not to look directly at her, as his
gaze roved the room. It contained a simple hearth
with a few cooking implements laid out, a bed and
few low cushions that circled the fireplace.
He was now only three or four feet from the
lovely woman. He felt his heart begin to pound as
the beauty of the woman sent a shiver down his
belly. His eyes finally locked with her vivid blue
ones and he was shocked with the hungry need he
thought he saw burning in those eyes. He doubted
very much that she had any idea that her thoughts
were so readable. Or was it his imagination? No!
Ridiculous! She could never desire him!
Suddenly she sat down on the bed, casually
crossing her legs. For a moment, her eyes seemed
to blaze against the dark frame of her lashes with a
look of wariness and cunning. In the flickering
light, her long hair glowed in golden curls. He
longed to tug the silk ribbon out of her hair and
feel it flow free down her back so he could twist
his fingers into its silkiness. He longed to feel
those soft arms slide around him and he would lift
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KB Forrest
her up into his passionate kiss as she crushed
herself against his chest.
Her eyes fell to his parted lips then slid away as
she finally stood and took a step back. Well then,
thats settled. She moved toward the door
briskly. Youll tell my steward what supplies
youll need and you can get started in the old
smithy as soon as you can. Goodnight.
He stared at her as she paused on the threshold,
his lips parted. G-good night, he managed to
croak. Kavada hoped the flush that burned on his
face remained masked by the shadows, but knew
his foolish expression was impossible to conceal.
He fervently wished that he could think of some
suave words that could impress her, but he knew
that she was a noblesomeone far above him. I
dont know how to thank youLadyLady
Aryazate! Feeling suddenly flustered, he was still
thankful that he could keep her just a little longer.
Lady Aryazate of Fortiviar is my name.
Kavada couldnt seem to tear his eyes away
from her gaze. She lingered a moment too long
then closed the door softly. Her steps hurried off
into the night and Kavada fell back against the
pillows. Oh, Aryazate! His moan muffled, he
buried his face against the pillows. He got up and
latched the door, leaning against it as the sweat
rolled down his face. In his mind, he replayed the
scene, hearing her, smelling the fragrance of her
36

hair. Was it his imagination, or did her scent linger
in the air? As he pulled down the cover on the
bed, he tried to ignore his throbbing cock, but he
saw her eyes. Hed never seen such powerful eyes.
They seemed to pull him under like the undertow
of an ocean. Sorceresses were said to have eyes
like that, but he didnt care. There was nothing
evil in the purity that was Aryazate. Maybe he was
the evil one, so boldly desiring what was not his
and what he could never have.
A flash of silky leg.
Kavada shut his eyes as he pictured a forbidden
scene. The rising urgency, the passionate need! He
could imagine her hands, such perfect, yet strong
hands, drawing him closer to her heated kiss. He
moaned her beautiful name then clenched his fists.
No! It would not do to think of her anymore.
Kavada blushed with shame. He barely knew
her, yet was dazzled by her kindness, her
intelligence and her sorceress eyes. But it was
wicked of a tradesman to desire a woman such as
her, he thought, as the deep guilt returned. She
could be married. Yes, she probably is!
He sat on the edge of his bed, his head whirling
with emotions and confused thoughts. Sleep
eluded him and finally he stepped out into the
warm autumn night. The scent of ripe fruit wafted
to him on the light wind and insects were loud
here in the country. There was no drunken
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KB Forrest
singing, no screeching obscenities or howling
young people out on the prowl. He stared at the
harvest moon, not yet fulland thought about his
future.
Will there ever be a woman for me? Will I die like
old Edree the cobbler, alone, never having had the touch
of a woman? He never had enough money to pay
for a womans dowry before, and now he had
nothing at all! At one point, he had thought that
remaining single was not an entirely unappealing
prospect. Now, his heart burned for a woman
Aryazate. Aryazate the forbidden love.
He had never met anyone whom he wanted to
protect and serve more than her, but she was off
limits. Her husband would kill him if he ever
discovered his feelings. But now he would never
know the joys of a woman, for he would have no
other than her. As he took in the beauty of the
night, he felt the pain of despair creep back into
his heart.
The carriage rounded the curve, causing
Kavada to gasp and withdraw into the shadows.
A matched team of white horses, different from
the ones they had ridden that day, drew an open
carriage with Nizami and Aryazate in the back
seat. Moonlight haloed her hair and shone on
diamonds that rested on her throat and dangled
from her ears. Her glimmering gown and
elaborate coif made her look like a goddess. Not
38

that she didnt look like a goddess before, but this
creature
She turned her head and seemed to be staring
right at him. He pressed his back against the
rough door of the hut, suddenly sure that she
could see himsure that she knew his thoughts.
For a moment, her eyes flashed like those of a wild
animal reflecting the light of a lantern. His heart
pounded, but her eyes slid over him sightlessly.
The carriage rattled by and he breathed in deeply
of the night air.
An image of her was burning in his mind. But
where is her husband? Why is she going out without
her man?
Hope flickered for a moment in his heart before
he pushed it down brutally. He slunk back to the
hut and lay on the bed dreaming of her. His hand
moved down and stroked his abdomen. The
erection that pushed against it ached sweetlyit
ached for her, the forbidden angel. He ran one
hand from his balls to the tip of his cock and
pulled on the foreskin. Precum oozed from the
head and he squeezed it between his fingers
fantasizing. He was a lord in this fantasy and she
was his blushing bride. Gently he would caress
her and move her shy hand to his place of
desperate need. She would shyly hold his cock
and stroke it. He would show her how.
His calloused hand moved over his cock,
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KB Forrest
stroking it roughly. Finally, frustrated, he worked
his hand forcefully over it, his mind a whirl of lust
for his unattainable love. He finally cried out
gruffly as he came. He decided then and there,
that he would never love anyone but Aryazate. If
he could not have her, he would remain a monk,
celibate forever.
40
Chapter 4
s they entered the wealthy section of the great

city, they could see the glowing lights of the
castle ahead. Other fine carriages passed them as
they headed toward the castle of Cyrus the Great,
the King of Kingsthe emperor of Persia. Tonight
was the long anticipated great announcement
feast. On the warm breeze, the autumn roses
bloomed with passionate glorythe heady
fragrance floated out onto the streets over the high
walls of the private gardens.
He fished out his gold-backed mirror and gave
himself one last glance, but his eyes were not the
ones he saw reflected in the mirror. The
blacksmith had obviously fallen into an exhausted
sleep after he had left him, Aryazate thought,
picturing his calm, sleeping face soft against his
pillow.
Wed better be on our best behavior tonight,
my dear.
Nizamis voice started him out of his reverie.
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KB Forrest
What? Oh, of course, they will all be watching,
Aryazate noted bitterly. Its all so ridiculous to
imagine me, of all people, as a sorceress. He
wanted to calm his mother, but his own heart
trembled in uncertainty.
Nizami said nothing, but he saw the worried
line that creased his mothers smooth brow for a
moment. Aryazate felt a chill that had nothing to
do with the night air. He shook the odd feeling off
and looked up at the bright night stars,
remembering how the rumors had started. As a
child, he had never questioned why he was never
allowed to leave the estate. He was a girl of seven
years when hed first seen the outside world. Now
he knew why Nizami had kept him isolated. In his
heart, he knew that the rumors were truethey
had to be.
He remembered the day clearly.
Aryazate was only seven years old, all bouncing
hair and bright eyes. His laughter trailed out of the
carriage, causing the young brothers Heerka and
Sheerka to grin at each other as they rode on their
horses outside the carriage. On this spring day,
Aryazates laughter was particularly excited, his
chatter ringing and falling over the noise of bustling
noblemen and women rushing to claim the best seats at
the Kloraportvar, the tournament arena.
Aryazate pressed his face to the carriage window. I
see one! he shrieked, hopping up and down. It was his
first day away from the sprawling estate.
42

An elephant? Nizami asked.
Yes! Yes! Hurry! he insisted, feeling the carriage
slow down. He had only caught a glimpse of the
massive creatures in their gold brocade saddles,
practicing on Mithras field and his curiosity bloomed.
The carriage finally moved forward through the
throngs of horses, scurrying servants and other
carriages. The sounds of all this activity, the barking of
dogs, the howling of an infant, the clomping of horses
hooves against the cobbled streets filled the excited air.
On the next stop, the coachman opened the carriage
door and they stepped out into the roiling river of
people and animals. Two burly male servants made a
path for Nizami and her daughter, heaving people
bodily out of the way.
Aryazate bounced along, often on his tiptoes as he
eagerly tried to see. They entered the Kloraportvar, a
huge natural half-bowl in the earth. The Kloraportvar
was an ideal place for viewing the mock battles and
special performances such as this. He took in the bright
tents and awnings erected all around them, his
excitement growing to a fevered pitch.
Pick me up! Pick me up! Aryazate cried as he
threw his arms up in front of Heerka, one of the
familys close servants.
He smiled and lifted Aryazate onto his shoulders as
other nobles looked on in disapproval. The servant
brothers, Heerka and Sheerka, were proud of the way
Nizami allowed Aryazate to treat them like uncles.
They doted on him and were there to sooth any skinned
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KB Forrest
knee or bee sting when he cried for them. Heerka
adjusted the wide jeweled dagger sash that he wore over
his shoulder and pointed to the elephant enclosure
Aryazate squealed with delight and waved to them.
Now let Uncle Heerka work. Uncle Sheerka also
needs help with the tent, Nizami commanded, a smile
set on her lips.
Beyond the sturdy six-foot fence that separated the
viewers from the action, the dirt floor in the arena was
smooth and newly tilled, unmarred as of yet, by the
great feet of the elephants and the whirling feet of the
dancers. Looming above the melee was the Kings box,
empty except for a half a dozen servants making hasty
last minute adjustments. Cyruss throne, erected on top
of a huge, stout wooden platform, intricately gilded in
gold, remained shielded from the sun by the deep purple
awning that stretched over the glittering supporting
framework of wrought gold. From his seat, he could
view the grand entrance of the charging Lords on their
frothing warhorses and the glorious elephants bearing
gifts from the Five Rivers Kingdom, better than anyone
else.
Can I go to the gate? Aryazate asked eagerly,
wanting to get a closer look at the smooth dirt soon to
be crushed by massive feet and charging warhorses.
Nizami turned from overseeing the servants as they
erected their awning that sported the bold crest of the
house of Fortiviar. She frowned uncertainly, as if
distracted, but seeing the vigilant attendants and a
group of other girls of Aryazates age clustered together
44

whispering not far off, she agreed.
Okay, but come back soon, she called.
Aryazate scampered happily off. He moved toward a
group of girls and smiled shyly. Like an exotic bird that
has never felt the sting of human arrows or seen the
threat that they present, he did not feel fear as they
approached him. He smiled in welcome. Isnt this
exciting? I cant believe this! I cant wait to see the
elephants again! He gushed excitedly as they drew
near.
A chubby girl, who seemed to be their leader, leaned
close as if to examine him. What, is this your first trip
out of the house? Who are you, anyway? My name is
Snatia. My parents are the noble Lord and Lady
Chutka.
My name is Aryazate, and yes it is my first trip out
of the house.
Indeed Aryazate, you cant be serious! Young
ladies of society are socialized much earlier. I mean,
unless your parents have recently come upon wealth.
My parents? Aryazate asked, making a face of his
own. I have a mother. She is Lady Nizami of the
House of Fortiviar. I think she has much wealth!
This prompted another burst of the odd laughter
from the girls. Oh her, Snatia sighed. She is a
widow. And according to what I have heard, she is no
longer rich. Her husband, your dead father, left her
with many debts. I wonder how she could afford your
dress.
Aryazates brow cleared. Oh, you think we are
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poor? Well, I expect my mother is richer than all of
yours. He spoke with no malice. She is the best and
most beautiful mother in the world!
Oh the gods, how rude! Snatia went red. The girls
turned away from him, blocking him out entirely,
talking in a low, angry drone. Suddenly they giggled.
Just as Aryazate started back for his mothers tent,
they called after him and ran up the steep incline to
surround him once again. He looked from one face to
the other, confused.
Look, perhaps we were rude. Snatia held out a
hand. I know a way to see the elephants up close,
would you like to come?
Aryazate began to grin. Really? he squeaked
delightedly.
Come on! The girls ran over to the gate and
wiggled through, their small feet sinking lightly into
the soft earth of the arena.
Come on, do you want to see them or not? Snatia
demanded querulously, seeing him hesitate. Its not
like we arent allowed to go here! Her voice was thick
with contempt at his cowardice. The man over there
said we could! She gestured to one of the circus
attendants.
Okay, Aryazate said uncertainly. I guess if that
man said so, it must be okay.
He did say so, trust me. Snatia smirked and
waved an embroidered handkerchief at a fly. My father
pays all of the men in this stupid place.
No one saw the tiny figures on their illicit journey
46

until it was too late.
A commotion from Mithras field floated to them,
muffled and distant. A hysterical shout of one of the
dark-skinned people of the Five Rivers Kingdom rent
the air. Aryazate turned to look at the girls behind him,
but found that they had left him, and were already
running for the gate. He froze momentarily then
instinct whipped his head back the way he had been
facing.
Thunder. Thunder from the dark archway.
Then it was charging at him, closing the gap, trunk,
rising tusks, the flash of a wild, rolling eye, the advance
of the enormous feet pounding, pounding, pounding,
deep into the soft earth. The raging elephant was
charging toward him, head whipping as its enormous
ears slapped it.
Aryazate screamed shrilly. He knew that there was
nowhere to run, and now he felt an alien anger rising
in him. The distant screams of the girls and the shouts
of dismay and excitement that rang around the
Kloraportvar made him dizzy. It was all happening so
fast. The great elephant was coming, coming, his tiny
black eyes shining with madness. Now the beast was no
more than ten yards away, every hoary hair, every deep
crease was visible as it loomed above him fourteen feet
in the air. He could smell the foul fermented grass on
his breath with his heightened senses.
No! Aryazate shouted, instinctively pointing at
the enormous creature. Heat rose from deep in his gut
and seemed to concentrate in his chest, making him feel
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as if he would burst into flames. The fire traveled to his
hand and burst out through his pointing finger in a
blinding flash.
The great beast froze. Startled exclamations and
screams from the crowd seemed muffled. Shuddering
violently, the great elephant stumbled backwards as the
great sinews under the gray skin twitched like mad
rats. It roared, extending its fearful trunk as it fell
heavily to its knees. Aryazate felt the ground absorb the
impact, but he stood frozen as the elephant fell heavily
to his side. Tossing its head, the creature bellowed once
more in an attempt to get up, its enormous, glistening
tongue flailing out of its mouth as if seeking escape. It
was shuddering and twitching as its thick legs pumped,
churning the dirt into the air. The air was permeated
with the odor of singed hair. Aryazate continued to
point his tiny finger at the beast, too shocked to move.
The attendants swarmed onto the field and he felt
Heerka swing him off his feet and deliver him to
Nizamis anxious arms.
My child! she screamed, scooping Aryazate into a
fierce embrace. The elephant moaned behind them and
began to get unsteadily to its feet as soon as he stopped
pointing at it, but blood ran from its mouth. A
crystalline tear streaked down her face, smudging the
kohl that outlined her eyes. You poor, poor, baby!
Nizami whispered.
Aryazate clung to his mother, finally giving in to his
tears.
That girl said that the man said it was okay to go
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there! They heard Snatia sobbing against her mothers
ample bosom as she pointed an accusing finger at
Aryazate.
Did you hear that? Lady Chutka screamed at her
husband as the man came puffing up behind her.
Lying to my little girl! She almost got my child killed!
My little angel! Oh! Oh! What a devil that girl is!
Snatia smiled over her mothers shoulder and shoved
her thumb into her mouth.
There were people all around them now and the
chatter of the elephant handlers from the Five Rivers
Kingdom was a cacophony that reminded Aryazate
vaguely of angry, barking squirrels. Every once in
awhile, one of them would stare at Aryazate in wonder
and fear. Some of them had little brass amulets tied to
their upper arms with black string. They rubbed their
fingers over these while they chanted in their foreign
tongues, their black eyes darting around as they looked
from Aryazate to the fallen bull-elephant.
She was the one who said that it was okay!
Aryazate cried to his mother as he pointed back at the
pudgy girl embraced by her furious mother.
Nizami glared at Lady Chutka.
My child doesnt lie, Lady Chutka insisted. Your
little brat nearly got my angel killed!
And my child does lie? Nizami asked, her eyes
brilliant with a protective fury that made her hands
shake.
At least my child isnt a sorceress! she snapped,
casting a knowing glance about her. How else could
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she have done that? She ground her teeth with a
screech, attracting even more attention. She staged
that scene, she wanted all these people to see her wicked
power!
Dead silence descended upon the Persian watchers,
and all movement seemed to cease except for the frantic
elephant handlers surrounding the weak and dazed
form of the elephant, now led back to his stall.
What did you say? Upon my honor, you had better
take that mortal insult back, Nizami hissed.
Lord Chutka squeezed his wifes chubby arm in
warning, looking at Heerka and Sheerka, both of who
had their hands on their short daggers.
II take it back, she muttered and turned away
swiftly. The murmurs began to make their rounds. The
performers didnt get the applause that they deserved
that day because the spectators were too busy with the
hottest new scandal.
Aryazate had never been free from their
malicious gossip since that day. He knew that
Lady Chutka had never given up hope that she
would repay them for the insult. Brought back to
the present when the carriage jolted over a
pothole, he realized that he was sweating and
clutching the mirror with a vise-like grip. He tried
to relax as he stared up at the night stars. The
harvest moon would be full and golden in the sky
in a few nights.
Here, let me hold that mirror for you! Nizami
suggested suddenly, as if noticing his deep
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thought.
Aryazate smiled. Already soft hair was
appearing on his delicate face. Soon they would be
unable to hide the fact that he was a man. The
rumors would then find their proof. The carriage
lurched to a stop. The announcement feast was an
important enough occasion to warrant a display of
finery. The jewels that glowed at Aryazates throat
were exquisite and the sparkling drops at his ears
emphasized the brightness of his blue eyes.
The carriage doors opened and Heerka gasped
as usual when he looked at Nizamis beautiful
neck. It was no secret that he loved her, although
he was a servant. He and Sheerka were dressed
more like gentlemen attending the feast, rather
than servants. Aryazate knew that they were both
aware of the jealous looks the servants from other
houses shot them. Sheerkas eyes were dreamy as
he looked at Aryazate. Both Nizami and Aryazate
had their hair done up in elaborate, bejeweled
coifsthe overall effect was stunning. As they
stepped out of the carriage and into the moonlit
courtyard of the castle, they walked hand in hand
as was custom for good friends, then entered the
courtyard, already filled with the swirl of finely
dressed nobles.
Oh, humph! A man looked indignant as he
bumped into Nizami. Excuse me, the man said
grudgingly, edging away from them. After he
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turned away, he made the sign to ward off the evil
eye.
The huge doors to the Great Hall stood open.
From there, Aryazate caught glimpses of the rows
and rows of sparkling candles that lit the great
chamber as if it were day. The scattered rugs,
plush cushions, and low tables were occupied
now only by the crass. It was poor form to look
too eager for the food ahead. Aryazate smiled
enchanted by the sight of the moonlight on the
water of the fountain. One of Nizamis suitors was
already approaching.
Good evening, Lady Nizami, Lord Seera said
somewhat dreamily, stroking his curled black
beard nervously. Aand you Lady Aryazate,
he added hastily. The flush that crept over his face
was visible even in the moonlight. Lord Seera was
particularly fair skinned, and this did little to
conceal his infatuation with Nizami. He nervously
fingered his buttons as he unconsciously stared at
her fair breasts.
There you are! A woman cried out brightly
from behind them.
Aryazate recognized the grating voice of Lady
Chutka. She and her husband were wearing their
large holy kustis for warding off evil, just as he had
predicted.
We have been looking everywhere for you
Lord Seera! Lady Chutka gushed, making a point
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of ignoring Nizami and Aryazate by turning her
back on them. The lamp soot she had used to
darken her graying hair was uneven along the
crown of her head and it sprinkled onto the
shoulders of her light gown tellingly.
Lady Chutka stepped in the place between the
benches and bent over to kiss Seera on the cheek.
Lord Chutka, husband of Lady Chutka and
another of Nizamis suitors, hung back, his arms
crossed over his chest, trying to conceal his anger.
Finally, Chutkas gaze slid to Nizami and he
looked away.
Aryazate wondered if his memory of Nizamis
flat rejection of his offer to make her his second
wife was flaring up furiously once more. After
Nizamis husband had died, Lord Chutka had
tried to convince her that she would be happy in
his embraces. If she had accepted his offer to
become his second wife with favorite status, he
would have been the richest man here. She had
boldly informed him that he could never hope to
measure up to her late husband. Aryazate knew
that Nizami wasnt only referring to the fact that
her husband had owned a fleet of ships. Lord
Chutka thought his wife never suspected that he
had always wanted Nizami, but he was wrong.
This gave Lady Chutka another reason to hate
Nizami.
Aryazate felt a hot flash of pure rage as he
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stared at Lady Chutkas posterior, but he
reminded himself that his anger was dangerous,
particularly in this public place. He looked away,
but in his mind, he saw the womans large rear
end turned toward them as if to deliver an insult.
He felt a dart of hate like a small spark leave a
strand of his golden hair. The woman screamed
shrilly, and looked about her in confusion, before
her attention turned toward him.
Desperately, the woman clutched at her kusti,
the sacred cord, but didnt have the audacity to
shake it at them, the customary way of warding
off sorceresses, kawis and karapans. You! she
bellowed, turning plum. Conversations died as all
heads turned.
Do you see what I mean, Uncle?
Aryazate heard Lord Baraka hissing from not
far away as he clutched at the Head-Mages robed
sleeve. They stared with the rest of the crowd as
the scene unfolded before them. The Head-Mage
Monushir was looking with feverish intensity at
Aryazate who was shocked at his own unintended
act.
I tell you, she is in need of the purifying
influence of man! Lord Baraka spoke loudly.
Look how she flaunts her power and her wealth!
One might almost think audacity like that is a sign
of somethingsinister. And when one considers
their wealth, one wonders how mere women
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could have possibly gained it. She needs someone
to keep a close eye on her. He nodded vigorously
in agreement with his own words.
Aryazate turned and listened closely as Baraka
drew a breath to continue, but the mage shook his
head to silence him. Lady Chutka turned and
stormed away into the great hall, her husband
trailing behind. Conversation began to pick up
slowly, the nervous titters and chuckles sounding
flat and contrived in the strained atmosphere.
Lord Seera looked dazed and befuddled.
You had better go after them, Nizami
suggested kindly.
Uhuh, yes, at once, he mumbled, taking
one last, longing look at Nizami.
Aryazate, please take care, Nizami warned
after Seera left.
I didnt mean for it to happen! Aryazate
knew that slowly, his power was beginning to
assert itself.
Nizami hissed a curse, feeling for the rare
necklace she had worn. It was gone. Aryazate,
Ive lost my necklace! I must find it, but
I will go, Aryazate offered.
Nizami shook her head. Try to calm yourself.
She eyed him sharply.
Dont worry. He knew that she was
protecting him, but it galled him nonetheless. As
she walked away, he got up and followed without
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her noticing. He would protect his mother even if
she became angry with him. It was unsafe for a
woman to wander alone, even in this place.
Nizami was scanning the ground when a very
large man dressed in the uniform of the palace
guard approached her. Aryazate stiffened,
wondering if he meant her harm, but the man was
wearing a befuddled smile. Quiet in his approach,
he hid behind a bush to listen.
The man held Nizamis fine necklace in his
large, sword-calloused hand. UhMaam, said
a deep voice from behind her. Th-this is yours,
II think.
Nizami looked up and up until she met his
eyes. Why, thank you, kind sir! You have saved
my evening! She sounded truly grateful. She
frowned slightly as he stood there in the shadows.
Uh, would you care to escort me to the feast?
she asked after he was unresponsive.
It would be an honor. He handed her the
necklace. I noticed that a man bumped into you
and he thought his theft of the necklace went
unnoticed. I was looking for you.
Aryazate smiled. His mother seemed to like the
big man, although he had a jagged scar that
marked the left side of his face from eye to jaw.
Captain Tripura! another officer called out.
Excuse me a moment, Maam. After a
moment, the man turned back to Nizami.
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Youre a Captain? I see. Nizami smiled in
appreciation.
Im not just a Captain. He was unable to keep
the pride out of his voice. Im the Captain of the
Palace Guards.
Aryazate saw him offer his arm to Nizami and
he quickly melted into the crowd. He had
returned to the fountain area when he heard the
awful voice of Varlan.
Is everything all right with my lovely lady? A
voice drawled condescendingly in imitation of the
Head-Mages way of speaking.
Aryazate turned away from where Nizami had
disappeared as Lord Varlan, Barakas rival suitor,
sat down next to him. He was a balding little man
with lecherous eyes, but he was wealthy enough
to fit in nicely among the highest rungs of the
court circles. This was why his solicitous
attentions were particularly disturbing. Just fine
thank you. He gave him a tight smile. Hows
your wife?
Shes been after me to get a second wife, as a
matter of fact. Varlan honked.
Aryazate gave him his imitation of a smile.
Well I do wish you luck in finding one. I know
how hard it can be for an older man to find a wife,
particularly a second wife. He spoke deliberately,
watching the hot anger bloom under his hooded
eyes.
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He unconsciously passed his hand over his
balding pate and sighed. Women like
experienced men who know how to handle them.
Do you know that the body of a man is even more
vigorous at my age?
Aryazate was too disgusted to answer. The
slimy man was too odious to bear. His mind
traveled to Kavada instead. He wet his lips, the
intensity in his eyes sharpening as he stared into
the fountain.
Lord Varlan seemed to take this as an invitation
and leaned in closer. Excellent, come, why dont
we find a seat?
A proprietary hand settled on his arm.
Aryazate glared, his eyes flashing. He knew that
there was no graceful way to back out of the
arrogant mans suggestion. Nonetheless, Varlans
manner and the fact that he wanted to show him
off to his high society friends annoyed him.
Certainly. Aryazate yanked his arm out of the
mans grasp with a ferocity that drew a dry
chuckle from Varlan. Determined not to cause
another stir, he avoided angerhe had to,
especially here. As he rose, his eyes drew level
with the lecherous eyes of Lord Varlan. Unbidden,
an image of Kavada silhouetted in moonlight,
filling the doorway of the hut entered his mind.
This little old balding man was a far cry from that
noble blacksmith.
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Varlan saw the look in his eyes and mistook it
for eagerness.
Aryazate looked on in disgust as his erection
became visible through the fine silk of his tunic,
but it suddenly deflated and he grinned. It was
common knowledge that Lord Varlan had
problems in his man parts. Rumors said he
approached the mages for help, but they have not
been able to solve his problem. In the end, he had
tried to save face by blaming his wife.
They entered the Great Hall, the incense
burning in discreet places, flavoring the air with
sweet, tangy camphor. The gold inset in the ornate
floor and on the colorful wall panels caught the
yellow candlelight and threw it back. The guests
glittered with precious gems and glowing
fabricstheir conversations swirled and ebbed
like an ocean tide. Above this, gentle flutes trilled
sweetly, blocked out occasionally by bursts of
laughter.
Varlan made to grab Aryazates arm again and
he turned, looking at the balding man with furious
eyes. I find it insulting that you have such an
irreverent attitude toward my person. He spoke
coolly, but his eyes flashed with anger.
Iuh, I Varlan cleared his throat and
began again. Please forgive me. I must be more
careful with my enormous strength. I forget how
delicate you are.
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Aryazate nearly snorted with contempt. His
remark made him think of Kavada, asleep in one
of his huts. Now there was a man with strength.
I believe I was showing you to my area.
Varlan continued after a moment.
Almost blinded with anger, Aryazate decided
against drawing more attention by refusing.
They made their way across the richly tiled
floor decorated with plush, scattered carpets of
indescribable beauty, to a spot not far from the
area designated for the King of Kings, Cyrus the
Great. The deep purple and gold cushions were
yet unoccupied. Aryazate felt a little giddy and
settled himself onto one of the luxuriant red
cushions not five yards away from the royal
dining area. Varlan was apparently in favor with
the court circles.
Oh no! Aryazate moaned softly as Monushir
the Head-Mage and his nephew, Baraka settled
down in the circle of deep purple and gold
cushions. Over Varlans head, Aryazate met
Barakas lecherous glare with an icy stare of his
own. He didnt look away so Aryazate did, but he
could feel his eyes on him, burning through the
silk of his gown.
Varlan was busy piling delicacies on his plate as
the servants made their rounds with platters piled
high with food. It was obvious that he wanted to
eat as much of the fine food as possible, not being
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quite wealthy enough that he could be jaded with
the rich food.
Aryazate was disgusted. In his mind, he
imagined the man choking to death and it amused
him as Varlan took in his food noisily. Suddenly
the suitor choked on a clam he shoved into his
mouth. His eyes popped out as his face reddened
alarmingly and his tongue thrust out of his mouth.
Staccato sounds of his gagging, breathless cough
made people turn with predatory interest. Some
women held delicate hands to their mouths while
Baraka smiled in intense amusement as if he
hoped his rival would drop dead.
Aryazate absently patted Varlans back,
noticing with some alarm that Baraka was wearing
a kusti. What was he planning? An attendant
rushed over, noticing that the choking man had
turned purple. Aryazate looked away politely as
the attendant deftly plucked the offending clam
out of Varlans throat.
Those are rather slippery, arent they?
Aryazate looked at him with cold eyes. He
realized now that he might have other skills of
which he was unaware. Not too surprised by this,
and although it frightened him, he smiled. It
would certainly be a way to dispose of people he
hated. He decided to imagine other scenarios. It
would be fun to see Varlan dragged by a horse
until the rest of his thin hair was torn off. As for
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Baraka, hed be dashing with one of his eyes
poked out and dripping down his face.
He tried to amuse himself with such thoughts,
but Varlans gagging really did sound terrible.
Annoyed the flute players talented music blocked
out by the mans retching, his gaze fell to the
ornate goblet in his hands as he settled into deep
concentration. The goblet was cleverly made of
beaten gold in the shape of a griffonthe wings
flaring back to support the cup. The eyes of the
griffon were a glimmering ruby red.
Varlan gasped in air between fits of coughing.
Aryazate glanced at him and smiled, seeing that
he was regaining his normal color, but wishing
that he had dropped dead instead. It would have
been amusing to see Varlan with his purple
tongue jutting out of a grey death mask.
Nevertheless, Aryazate thanked the gods that
Varlan had come on so stronglynow they would
be seen by all, nearly next to the Head-Mage
himself. What more would it take to prove to them
that he thought their gossip about him being a
sorceress was nonsense? Of course, if they found
out that he was really a man he would surely be
condemned as a sorcerer.
A hush fell over the assembled as the opening
cords of the announcement of the King of Kings
bounced off the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall.
The assembled stood in reverence. Aryazate
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craned his neck with the others as the great man
emerged. Cyrus the Great himself, with his
advisor, the young Mihr, son of Rustem, advanced
onto glittering scene, walking in the deliberate,
unhurried pace of a monarch. When he settled
into the gold and purple cushions, the crowd
lowered themselves to eat in reclining comfort.
Aryazate? Varlan asked as the servants began
to serve the dainties in earnest.
Aryazate realized that he was speaking to him,
but his attention fixed on the Kings circle.
I asked about your peach harvest, dear. His
plate again piled with savories of every
description, Varlan leaned over it, regaining his
former enthusiasm.
Quite wonderful. His lips curved slightly as
Nizami and the very large, very handsome soldier
settled in the remaining seats near them. Did you
find it? Aryazate whispered, gazing curiously at
the man his mother brought with her.
Yes, Captain Tripura was kind enough to
locate it.
Lord Varlan sniffed disapprovingly, but they
ignored him. He used a puffy piece of pastry to
mop at a juicy tidbit on his plate then motioned
for a servant to bring more. He kept his eyes on
Aryazate as he continued to plunge his hand into
the food on his plate.
Yes sir, very important! Monushir spoke in
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his reedy voice from his place across from the
King. Aryazates ears pricked as he strained to
hear more of the distant conversation. The
demon worshippers, sir, are everywhere!
Swarming over your land and infiltrating our
homes, whispering to our upright young men. It is
absolutely imperative that each and every one of
the filthy ones be destroyed!
He saw the Kings head thrust up in irritation
and only heard parts of sentences. Are you
ordering
Aryazate shivered as the manic, insistent tone
of the Head-Mage crept into his head and the hairs
rose on the back of his neck.
So youll be coming to the autumn feast this
year? Lord Varlan asked, blocking out King
Cyruss reply. I do hope you will, because Ill be
among the powerful Lords performing, he said
proudly, seemingly recovered from his near-death
experience. Yes, you will want to see me win in
the competitions. You will then see how those socalled younger men pale before me. He tried to
flex his bicep.
Aryazate looked away and made a
noncommittal sound, carefully keeping the anger
out of his face. He caught the tail end of Cyruss
reply.
sounds necessary. I think such a campaign
would certainly strengthen the position of the
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Magi, if that is your concern.
Lord Varlan chuckled and leaned toward
Aryazate, speaking once more over the distant
conversation. When the man bent close to hear his
reply, the grizzled hair of the suitors head
brushed his cheek and the disgusting faint smell
of mustard oil filled his nose. As the delectable
dishes were set before them, the moron kept up a
running commentary, forcing him to devote all of
his attention to the mans inane questions. He
spoke with his mouth brimming with food or
between swallows. A quantity of crumbs was
beginning to collect at the base of his carefully
groomed beard. Whenever Aryazate looked up, he
saw Barakas heated stare and felt himself stiffen
with rage.
Aryazate tried to turn his attention to
something different. His gaze fell upon his smiling
mother. She seemed radiant as she sat close to the
large man she had come back with. They looked
happy. He was fascinated at how the Captain of
the Guards treated Nizami, but Varlans nasal
drawl drowned out what they were saying as
well. The last course before dessert was about to
be served.
May I have your attention, please? Monushir,
the Head-Mage stood before them. He put his
hand to his mouth and seemed to be suppressing a
belch. He screwed up his face for a moment then
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began to speak. All heads turned to see one of the
most powerful men in Persia make his speech.
Cyrus the Great, the King of Kings, seemed to
be suppressing a yawn behind a ringed hand.
It has come to my attention and to the
attention of the Royal Magi that there is a grave
evil sweeping over this sacred land. This menace
has been ignored for too long! Monushir shouted,
the fervor of his voice sending a chill down
Aryazates spine. This was bad. This was very
bad. The mage began again and the Great Hall
was utterly hushed. They grow in the hills, eating
corpses and frolicking in excrement with the Evil
Spirit himself! He paused for effect, seeming to
revel in the gasps of horror.
As you know, we Magi are masters of magic.
The demon worshippers use magic illicitly and for
evil alone. They are an abomination and they are
here among us! He paused as people looked
anxiously at their neighbors. These demon
worshippers, sorceresses, kawis and karapans can
no longer be left to wreak havoc on our fortunes! I
ask you, the greatest and best citizens of this land
for your help in ferreting these demons out.
Financial help, information from your sources, any
men you can spare to hunt these vile creatures and
fling them out of our society will be greatly
appreciated. Thank you all for coming,
andbeware! Beware, for they may even lurk in
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this fine hall! Monushir looked around in
satisfaction as people began to glance about and
murmur. He turned with a flourish and seemed to
totter before sitting heavily next to his nephew
Baraka, who extended his hand to steady him.
Aryazate shot his mother a look and saw that
she was ever so slightly pale around the mouth.
He hastily lowered his eyes, his mind racing. He
had no idea that Monushirs campaign was so
serious, if he had, he wondered if he would have
had the courage to come to this feast. Gifted men
were considered holy and if a man were powerful
enough, he would be invited to the court to serve
the Empire. Some wicked men, and even some
men who hated the confines of the court-approved
Magian faith, chose from among a huge variety of
the so-called demon worshipping cults to fulfill
their needs for religion. When it came down to it,
demon worshippers were usually only ordinary
men and women. The Magi were not free from
fault, however, some wicked men also joined the
ranks of the Magi, but this fact was seldom
addressed. Aryazate pondered this as he looked
down anxiously.
Women were considered polluted because of
menstruation and were excluded from all of the
religious practices of the Magi, but they were
encouraged to worship at home and cultivate the
pious, humble attitude that was believed to be
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suited to their sex. Belief held that women could
have no power at all without turning to the Evil
Spirit. For this reason, many women belonged to
the so-called demon worshipping sects.
Ever since Aryazate could remember, there had
been rumors about him being a sorceress. Now his
position was more precarious than ever before in
his life. His shoulders were becoming stout and
the padded bodices couldnt completely hide the
fact that he was becoming muscular. Nizami
carefully waxed his face and arms, but the hair
thickened each year. His situation would have
been revealed by now, had it not been for the
fairness of his hair and its fine texture, which
made his beard easy to wax off.
Besides the problem of his manhood, he
realized that by insulting Baraka, he had set the
scene for his retaliation. Perhaps he should have
refused him more graciously. It didnt matter
though. Refusing to wed would be suspicious
anyway. Aryazate shuddered, feeling Barakas
hot, staring eyes on his back. The feast continued
for another few minutes through dessert. All
around him, conversations buzzed like black flies
devouring a corpse.
Witch, yes, thats what I heard
Karapans in the eastern district
May I escort you out? Lord Varlan asked.
Oh, no, its not necessary
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I insist!
The suitor stared deeply into Aryazates eyes in
a manner he must have imagined was very
masterful. Not wishing to draw attention of any
kind to himself, he reluctantly acquiesced.
Nizami rose as well, Tripura unnecessarily, but
charmingly assisting her to her feet. As they
emerged into the crowded moonlit courtyard,
Aryazate felt Varlan close behind him. Too close.
Varlan grabbed Aryazates arm to escort him.
Before he could turn and snarl at him, he felt
Varlan suddenly press himself against his back,
probably counting on the crowd and the shadows
of the courtyard to cover his movements.
Disgusted by the wetness his sweating cheek left
on his shoulder as the man leaned into him, he
thought the wretch might be drooling and he felt
ill.
He could now feel the pathetic thrust of his
erection momentarily against his rear. He ground
his teeth in an ecstasy of pure bloodlust as Varlan
continued to make suggestive movements with his
pelvis, although his erection seemed to be gone
now. Aryazate turned quickly and twisted the
mans arm behind him. His face paled and he
screeched in horror as he fell to his knees. He took
him by the neck with one of his strong hands and
squeezed it until the man was blue.
Captain Tripura was at his side at once, as was
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Nizami, whose eyes warned him to stop.
A few people turned at the scuffle, but they had
the decency to turn away as Aryazate gave a
nervous, self-deprecating laugh. Oh my, Im
sorry Varlan. I thought you were a lowborn
attacker. I thought I felt someone grab my rear,
but he must have gotten away!
Strong! Too strong for a woman! Varlan held
a hand to his neck.
Oh dear, you must be used to women who do
not exercise. I ride a warhorse. Of course, I am
strong! Aryazate did not look at Lord Varlan as he
gave his mothers hand a hard squeeze. They
hurried out to their waiting carriage, Nizami
shooting the Captain one last glance over her
shoulder.
You must behave in public! Nizami
whispered urgently as they entered the carriage. I
hear that Varlan is really quite vicious lately. Its
rumored he has troubles withthat is, keeping an
erection. He blames his wife and some say he
beats her in frustration.
I am sorry, Aryazate moaned. I forget
myself. He tried to touch me! How could I let him
get away with it?
You cannot act like that. Only a man could do
that. Everyone knows that Varlan is a strong
fighter. We must be carefulespecially now!
Nizami stroked his fisted hands.
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Chapter 5
he vase hit the side of a stone wall with a

resounding and satisfying crash. Aryazate
spat out another obscenity and stalked to his
bedside table. Withdrawing his knife, he twirled it
in his hands, shaking with rage at the memory.
That wicked Varlan had tried his patience too
much.
More than just the pathetic idiots groping
hands and flaccid dick vexed him. His anger was a
manifestation of his deep fear. How far would
they take the vicious gossip about him and his
mother? How much protection did their vast
wealth truly provide them if that nasal, whining,
son of a corpse handler, Monushir, got the people
in a fearful outrage?
Damn it, I dont care! In a blaze of mindless fury,
he drove the steel shaft of his dagger into the wall.
A blue-white spark bounced off the blade as it slid
across the wall. Damn it! Look what my senseless
anger has done!
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He stared disconsolately at the bent and twisted
blade, feeling very foolish. That had been his
favorite knife. He was about to toss the blade to
the ground when a clanging sound floated in
through the open window that led out onto the
balcony.
A slow smile curved his lips and all thoughts of
Lord Varlan, Lord and Lady Chutka, and all of the
other unpleasant nobles flew from his mind. He
went to his dressing table and looked briefly at his
reflection in a looking glass with an ornate golden
frame. This is ridiculous, he told himself sternly,
but he couldnt deny the lightness in his heart. If
only I were a woman! But then he thought again. If
only he would love me, although I am a man!
Humming softly, he abandoned his room,
littered with account scrolls and tallies, and
stepped out into the corridor. As he exited the
main house, a combination of the sunlight, fresh
autumn air, and gay songs of birds lightened his
heart even more.
Aryazates wolfhounds lounged in the shade.
They were his pride. Some came from foreign
lands and people came from distant places to beg
stock from the Fortiviar ladies. People marveled at
how women knew such arts, but for Aryazate it
came naturally. The dogs leapt up and cavorted
when they saw him, their antics belying the
powerful fangs that hid behind their slapping pink
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tongues. He took a moment to greet each pet in
turn then ushered the dogs inside the large house,
where they had rooms devoted to their needs. He
knew from experience that they would follow him
out in a grand procession of waving tails and
prancing paws unless he locked them indoors.
Aryazate wondered if the alpha members
would frighten the servants and end up lounging
on his bed when he returned. He strode down the
path toward the old smithy, still humming softly.
As he approached, the clanging grew louder and
he saw the smoke billow up from the smithys
fires. He rounded the bend and paused, watching
him work from a distance.
Kavadas hair was pulled back from the flying
bright sparks with the same leather strap he had
used yesterday. One rogue curl rested against his
sweating forehead. His nearly naked body glowed
in the light of the fires. Aryazate couldnt help
himself as he admired the beauty of his wellmuscled body, comparing it to that of a fine horse.
Every detail, every inch of that beautiful body was
perfect, he thought, as a sigh escaped him.
He walked over to him, but the blacksmith
remained unaware of his presence.
Hissss.
He dunked the finished shovelhead into a pail
of water. Steam rose up in a great cloud. Through
the mist, Kavada saw him and gave a little start of
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surprise.
Ive uhruined my knife. I was wondering if
you could fix it for me?
Only now did Aryazate realize how peculiar it
must seem to anyone for him to personally deliver
the knife. He stepped into the smithy anyway and
looked around.
Kavada gingerly accepted the knife. This will
be easy. I can have it done in a minute if youve
the time to wait.
Sure, take all the time you need. Youve
certainly been hard at work! Aryazate gazed at
the now shiny tools approvingly.
Kavada worked the bellows until the blaze
roared up again.
His manner toward him in his guise as a
woman was so different from the way most men
treated women. There was nothing of the
cocksure, arrogant, domineering male of the
Baraka sort in his attitude. Perhaps it was the
difference in their social classes, but then perhaps
the blacksmith had a genuine regard for women.
He seemed shy and avoided direct eye contact
most of the time. Wondering what it would take to
coax the big man out, he also wondered what the
blacksmith would think.
He stepped back, watching as Kavada restored
the heated metal with deft blows. His eyes strayed
to the rippling muscles on his arms and chest.
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Aryazate was very, very glad to have him as his
smith, tucked safely away in his estate. He felt a
sudden rush of heat accompanied by a wild joy he
had never before felt. He wanted to put his arms
around Kavada.
****
Kavada was so aware of her that he could barely
concentrate on his work. Thankful for the heavy
leather apron that covered his bottom half, he
feared she could still see it. Could she sense his
rude and unseemly attraction to her? He
ruthlessly focused on straightening the blade
perfectly, hoping to impress her with his skill. The
sweat rolled down his back.
After letting the metal cool a moment, he
dunked the finished blade into another bucket of
cool water. Carefully examining the blade, he
finally looked up at her. The steamy atmosphere
in the forge flushed the lovely ladys face and her
sorceress eyes glittered mysteriously.
Excellent! She reached out for the knife. Her
smooth hand touched his and there was a moment
in which they just stood there in the searing heat
of the forge. Kavada looked into those eyes and
felt that he had finally fulfilled his desires and
even if death came now, he would die with a
smile.
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She looked at him with languid eyes and he
looked away. There was no way he could ever be
attractive to a woman like her, yet he imagined
desire in her eyes.
Kavada, why dont you wash and meet me in
your quarters. I would like to speak with you.
Her voice was mellow and steady. His knees
weakened.
Y-yes Lady Aryazate. It was all he could
manage. It could not be as he thought. He was
nowhere near her equal, and even as her servant,
he felt lacking. His hands shook, but he wasnt
going to let her see that part of him.
She turned and left.
What will I do without my apron? Shell see it!
Shell see my desire!
He steeled himself and headed for his hut. As
he bathed and washed his long hair he thought his
good luck would be over soon. When Lady
Aryazate saw him make a fool of himself, she
would throw him out into the street. As it was, he
had an uncontrollable erection. The simple clothes
he had on failed to hide it, and it refused to go
away, throbbing wickedly and painfully.
Soon she knocked and entered. Kavada stood to
greet her, his hands folded at the necessary height,
but he knew instantly that she noticed. He looked
down blushing.
Well, I thought we could talk for a while.
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Perhaps about your future here. We have a lot of
workso much to do She moved closer to him.
Thank you for your kind help. I am so
grateful. He managed to look into her bewitching
amethyst eyeswerent they rich, ocean blue the
other day? She was shorter than he was, but still
taller than most women. That stance could only be
described as regal. He licked his lips. If only
She touched his chest. Her hand ran down his
body, making his cock twitch in desperation. He
wanted her more than hed ever wanted anything.
If he could love her just once, the gods could rip
out his heart or do whatever they wished. He
would be happy.
Her hand moved his shy hands aside and
slowly felt the lump. She sighed deeply and he
could feel her eyes on him. He felt her delicate
hands tracing the hard thing, which by now was
hopelessly inflamed.
Mymy Ladyplease, your husband
I am not married. But I am not what you think
either. Kavada, I have never seen a man like you. I
have never had such feelings before. I know we
have only recently met, but I feel our connection
somehow.
He gasped and was unable to speak. He felt
that if he allowed himself to burst right then and
there, he would die of the humiliation.
If only she murmured, as if reading his
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thoughts.
Yes, I wish I were not a commoner, he
struggled to say.
NoI care nothing for that. I mean to sayI
just cannot say it. I dont care if you are a
commoner. You are uncommon indeed. Only I
wish Her eyes were sad.
If you would have me, I would be your slave!
Kavada blurted. I would do anything
anything!
Anything? Do you really mean that? I think
not, Aryazate said in a moan.
I swear to the gods! II love you!
She hesitated and he saw a look pass over her.
It was a look of uncertainly and maybe fear. Yet,
she was there. His own angel.
A shadow passed over that beautiful face. Is
there something Hurry! I feel horses
approaching!
Ho there! An oddly familiar shout came from
outside. Kavada was jolted violently and felt
himself swell when he saw the soldiers. The dogs
in the main house, hearing the unfamiliar shout,
began to bark ferociously. Aryazate turned,
frowning. The party headed toward the smithy.
What is the meaning of this trespassing? The
lady shouted in a mellow, authoritative voice
above the rattle of harnesses and the snorting of
horses. She received no reply. With a gasp of
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surprise, Kavada recognized the tax collector,
Grumio, the same man whom he had humiliated
yesterday. Eight soldiers on horseback suddenly
stormed up to the smithy. A group of them threw
a rope around his chest and they brutally hauled
him out into the sunshine while he bellowed in
alarm. He dragged several of them off their feet.
Stop this at once or I will have my men slay
you all! Aryazate shouted. What is the meaning
of this? She yelled again as the men swarmed off
their horses and began to beat Kavada viciously.
The slap of their punches on his flesh drove him
nearly wild. He was being humiliated before his
love. Behind Aryazate, the forge fires swelled out
of the confines of the stone hearth. He suddenly
realized that the heat was not the heat of an
ordinary fire. The searing flames leapt up bluewhite, to lick the wooden boards of the smithy.
He is being charged for the brutal assault of an
officer of the Empire, Grumio the tax collector
screamed with malicious glee, sitting high on his
horse as Kavada was bound hand and foot. He
urged his horse forward as if to frighten the
noblewoman and see her scurry, but Aryazate
held her ground.
No! I will not allow this! Stop this at once!
She ordered. The sunlight now seemed harsh and
unreal, highlighting the horrific scene with
obscene clarity. It was a nightmare. This was all
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happening too fast. Behind Aryazate the fire
exploded, the blue flames laced with red, the black
smoke billowing high into the sky. Her form was
black against the searing, uncontrolled flames
behind her.
The soldiers screamed and bellowed, working
double time in their abject terror.
Sorceress! Grumio shouted, his voice rising
into a squeak of fear.
Kavada was lifted bodily. The men holding
him, staggered and groaned under his weight, but
fear propelled them. He rolled his eyes at
Aryazate, meeting her horror-filled gaze for a
second with a fearful one of his own. Then he was
thrown over a horse by vicious, relentless hands.
What is the meaning of this? she screamed
again. How dare you trespass on my land, take
my servant right before my eyes and not even give
an explanation? Kavada heard the crackle of
flames behind him, but Aryazate seemed unaware
that the entire building had gone up in angry
flames.
Grumio backed his spooked horse away from
her. Ride! Ride! Ride! Hurry! Thethe
sorceress!
The soldiers circled, seemingly frozen in terror
as Kavada watched. Grumio finally tried to make
good his exit, but he threw Aryazate a look over
his shoulder. Despite his terror, he seemed unable
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to move. He shouted in a desperate, cracking
voice. He will be executed at the autumn feast
Your servant he
Grumio screamed, his speech cut off abruptly
as his hair suddenly became a furious mane of
blue flames licking wildly at the flesh of his head
like mad snakes. His arms waved against the
flames as he screamed in terror. One of his men
threw a saddle blanket over the screaming man
and the flames died.
Kavadas jaw dropped. The gods had spoken!
Never in all the years of his life had he ever seen a
manifestation of the god Ahura Mazdas power!
Yes, the god had punished evil Grumio by setting
his head on fire! Oror was it Aryazate? The
sorceress Aryazate?
She screamed a bloodcurdling cry of savage
victory that carried above the horrid cries of the
tortured tax collectors diminishing wail. Kavada
struggled against the chains that bound him, the
world blurring as the horse took off in a cloud of
autumn dust. The spots behind his eyes from the
eerie blue fire were the only steady things he saw.
He lifted his head from the heaving flank of the
horse, but was viciously cudgeled for his efforts.
He gave an involuntary grunt of pain and settled
back. His wounds throbbed with a deep pain that
nauseated him as the smelly horse jounced
painfully along. The chains bit into his skin,
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rubbing it raw.
What had he done? His foolishness was
inexcusable and now look where it had landed
him! He must have lost consciousness then, for he
came to when they hurled him against a stone
wall of a dark dungeon.
Son of bitch is heavy!
Kavada heard one of the soldiers say as the iron
door of the prison cell clanged shut. He groaned,
his head lolling back against his shoulders. It was
then that he became conscious of the whispers all
around him. He opened his eyes a crack and saw
the dim outlines of many shapes illuminated by
the flickering orange light of a meager torch hung
on the corridor outside.
The stench of excrement and unwashed bodies
hung thick in the air of the chill cell. He closed his
eyes and the stench intensified, triggering an
instinctive gag reflex that caused his great chest to
heave and contract.
Laughter and snide comments from the other
prisoners made Kavada open his eyes. Standing to
his full height, he looked around and the
snickering died as they took in his massive frame.
The chains that bound him pulled on his arms.
Their cold weight somehow shocking the fear into
him more than the scent of excrement or the
presence of the iron bars.
His teeth began to chatter.
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Chapter 6
ryazate stormed into the stables in a black

rage. Saddle Ishrashir! he snapped at one of
the grooms.
Whats wrong? Nizami asked from behind
him. Aryazate turned sharply and told his mother
what had happened, watching with satisfaction as
an angry light filled her eyes as well. This cannot
be allowed, she declared. Saddle Rayashir as
well!
****
The party had a considerable lead on them, but
their swift Scythian stallions were soon
thundering down the lands. The workers cheerful
waves went unacknowledged as the two raced by.
Look there! Aryazate called out, a little
breathless. They had almost reached the city.
Below them, the sprawl of buildings spread out
into the misty horizon. They could barely make
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out the party moving deeper into the city, and as
one, they urged their horses into pursuit.
****
Im sorry, my ladies, but this has been decreed by
powers above me, the portly clerk said
implacably. In the city of Pasargade, if you insist
on seeing the charges, you have to get a signed
parchment of permission from the Palace Offices.
Hissing in breath through his clenched teeth,
Aryazate barely managed to hold back the vile
oaths that threatened to burst from him. He also
feared that he might be unable to restrain himself.
The memory of the incident made him shiver. It
had happened without him willing itthe fire in
the smithy, the burning of the tax collectors
headhe hadnt done it consciously! How was he
to control himself?
Utterly disgusted with the clerks unwillingness
to help, he grabbed for Nizamis hand and they
swept out of the common dungeons. Aryazate was
seeing red by the time he strode into the Palace
Offices. He passed by the usual clusters of brightly
clad dilatants without slowing down or looking at
them, but he could hear their snickers.
One of the ladies gave her friends a look and
the others began to nod slowly. They fell into a
whispered conversation that hissed around the
84

edges of their fans like boiling oil.
Aryazate tasted blood as his teeth finally cut
into his lip. He took a deep breath. Keeping a tight
reign on his temper, he finally got his hands on the
charges that had been filed against Kavada.
I have to go, Nizami said suddenly, her eyes
tracking a figure out in the courtyard below.
Aryazate mumbled a response. The words
jumped out at him and seemed to smack him in
the face. The prisoner will be held until the
autumn feast whereupon he may choose to die by
the executioner, or die amusing the court in the
mock battles
Aryazate threw the clay tablet onto the clerks
wooden platform, startling the aged man, who
was now half-asleep. He quickly followed his
mother, leaving the clerk cursing.
Captain Tripura! Nizami called.
Abandoning his job with alacrity, he hurried
over to Nizami.
Captain, Im so, so glad to see you, she said in
an urgent undertone, as Aryazate joined her. He
listened as she spoke in hushed tones.
****
Aryazate held the knife in one sweating hand,
imagining how good it would feel to twist it in
Barakas gut. Next would be Grumio. The days
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events whirled through his mind. First, the ecstasy
of hearing him say itthat he would do anything.
The feel of his body, so desiring him. Even if
Kavada didnt know the truth, the way he had
declared his love was something he had never
before experienced. And it was the first time hed
ever wanted someone that badly. Now it was all
gone in a flash.
In his mind, he saw Grumio, the tax collector,
smile insolently at him. He saw the sneering face
of Lord Baraka then the face of the clerk with all of
his clay tablets at the dungeons. He heard the
laughing women ridiculing him behind his back.
Fireit made him think of fire.
He would kill them all one by one. He would
learn to use those powers if he had to. To hell with
being called a sorceress! Maybe, just maybe, I might try
my hand at it. I can just imagine them all bursting into
flames. Ill destroy them all if they kill Kavada!
Somehow, Ill find a way. Who knows? Sorcery might
not be all that bad. Ill develop my sorcery and then kill
them all! He had thought that hed never find love,
but then Kavada showed up. Nobody would take
him away!
Damn it! He whispered vehemently into the
darkness of his chamber. Sleep seemed to be
impossible. He got out of bed and slipped into his
comfortable fur-lined slippers. After pouring
himself a cup of wine, he crossed the distance to
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his balcony and stepped out into the vibrant scent
of the night. He thought of poor Kavada in the
stinking, cold prison and he had to force down the
lump in his throat.
Aryazate took another sip of wine and tried to
block out the images in his head as he stared out at
the view of his rich, rolling fields. He imagined
Kavada crumpled in the meager orange light of
one solitary torch that flickered fitfully with the
draft. His muscular frame stood out from the
bodies that crowded the foul smelling prison cell.
The wayward, lustrous blue-black curl lay
forgotten on his bruised and bloody forehead. His
great muscles quivered with fear as the realization
of the desperation of his situation set in. And he
had good cause to fear, too.
In all the years Aryazate attended the autumn
feast and the mock battles, he never actually saw
one slated to die, to fight his way to freedom. The
lords on their stamping warhorses charged and
killed the prisoners armed only with flimsy
shields and rusty, notched, army-issue swords. It
got the lords into the bloodthirsty mood for the
real fights with each other that sometimes ended
fatally.
Would he choose to fight, or would he end his
life quickly at the hands of the executioner? How
could he save Kavada without endangering his
mother? He was prepared to die for Kavada, but
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he knew it was unfair to hurt his dear mother
otherwise, hed kill them one by one.
****
No, sir, these are direct orders from Captain
Tripura himself. The gruff soldier spoke over the
rattle of keys that woke Kavada. The screech of the
barred iron door made him sit up, his head
spinning with dizziness.
It is the big one back there with the black
hair.
Kavada scrambled to his feet, his chains
clanging together as a cold trickle of fear ran down
his spine. Surely, it wouldnt be time he thought,
as his vision went slightly white from his abrupt
rise to his feet. Two guards seized his arms and he
briefly debated resisting, knowing that he still had
the strength to do so. The other prisoners in the
cell began to cackle insanely and howl their
insults.
Kavada felt his heart beating double time as
they directed him out of the crowded cell and
down a dim corridor with walls that were slick
with unnamed filth in the weak orange light of the
torches spaced out on the wall. He stumbled on
the uneven stone floor, catching his foot painfully
as the chilling screams and jeers of the other
prisoners erupted as they walked by.
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The realization that he was living out the last
few moments of his life made him stop dead in his
tracks. The angry words of the impatient guards
fell on ears that rung. He was moving again, the
torches passing him by as he floated along in a
daze. His lips were numb, as all blood drained
from them.
His life, his very existence was about to end!
The raw hunger that gnawed at his belly, the
exquisite pain in his foot, the throbbing of blood in
his temple all seemed to drive home how very
alive he was.
An image of Aryazate burned into his mind. Is
this how it would end? Did all the suffering he
had endured in his short life mean nothing?
Would it all come to this worthless, ignoble death?
If he could only see Aryazate one last time, he
thought bitterly. She was the light of hope for him.
In a world that had never given him anything,
Aryazate had lifted him up and given him a home
and a purpose when he thought that there was
nothing left. How cruel of the gods to strip him of
everything then tease him by giving him the angel
Aryazate, only to take away everything again.
Losing his possessions was bad, but losing his love
was a curse so harsh that it hurt worse than the
thought of his impending death.
Kavada opened his eyes when he halted . There
was another rattle of keys and the screech of an
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opened door. The push from behind him sent him
stumbling into the chamber. Losing his footing, he
stumbled to his knees.
Easy there. Is he alright?
The question was so startling that Kavada
snapped out of his haze of fear. His knees rested
on a dry stone floor. Weak sunlight filtered in
from a tiny window high up on one wall. He
could hear the muted sound of a busy marketplace
above, and the relatively fresh breeze that drifted
in smelled like heaven to him. On one side of the
wall was a straw mattress and on the far wall,
there was even a plain chamber pot.
Hes fine, lets get those chains off.
Kavada sighed with relief as the heavy chains
fell to the floor. The soldiers hastily backed out of
the chambers and slammed the door. He turned to
look at them as they walked away.
Ill never understand our Captain Tripura.
Then, turning back, the gruff soldier called out to
Kavada. Captain Tripura says youd better rest
up and eat the double shares of food we give you.
The fights will be two days from now.
Kavadas jaw dropped. Fights? What fights? His
head was whirling. The new freedom of his arms
and legs felt wonderful. The cell was blessedly
free of the stench of excrement. He fell onto the
straw bed, wondering hard at the change of his
cell. Could Aryazate have had anything to do with
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this?
That thought had him out of bed pacing. Of
course, she had done this for him! She was the only
influential person Kavada knew! Desperately, he
tried to put the pieces together, wondering at the
soldiers reference to a fight. If he had to fight then
by the gods, he would fightfor Aryazate.
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Chapter 7
araka let out a primal scream of rage. Dead?

He looked across the dancing candle flame to
the motionless dark figure. The candle was all that
illuminated the dingy storeroom in the deepest
part of Barakas cellars. Deep shadows in the
corners of the room seemed to writhe with unseen
ghosts.
We can never be sure, the hooded man said.
Only the tip of the Master Hunters nose was
visible.
Explain! He snapped impatiently.
Ezor cleared his throat. I believe he is dead,
but no body matching his description has been
found
Youre saying that she killed him? Baraka
yelled, jumping out of his seat so fast that the chair
turned over. The crash was huge in the confines of
the storeroom and the force of his movements
caused the candle to leap with manic desperation.
You sent a man out to kill her and she killed him
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without a trace? His voice now trembled with
unacknowledged fear. His chest rose and fell too
rapidly.
That is what I believe happened. But then,
many things could have happened, he could have
abandoned
Be silent! He shouted, interrupting the
hooded figure again, his voice now cool and
controlled. He set his chair upright and sat down.
If I cant count on the job being done by you and
your associates then I guess Ill just have to seek
professional assistance elsewhere.
Ezor, the Master Hunter sat perfectly still. He
had never failed to carry out a request before. This
was a foreign sensation to him. Nevertheless, his
hands twitched with the desire to crush this
screeching man. Lord Baraka, the intended
victim is a very rich and influential lady. I never
promised to murder her overnight, but make no
mistake, my associates and I can, and will do so.
This is a minor setback hardly worth reporting to
you, in fact. There is no question about the
eventual outcome of this mission. Ezor, the
Hunter could tell by the set of his shoulders that
the priggish lord was mollified.
Baraka frowned, sneered and settled back
against the chair, tapping his fingers. If Uncle
Monushir didnt recommend you and your
associates so highly, I would have nothing more to
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do with you. But considering that my uncle is one
of your clients, I will permit you to continue
working.
Hatred for this man bubbled up within Ezors
dark heart, but a more intense hatred spouted for
the person he was ordered to kill.
I understand youve been doing some very
fine work routing out other demon worshippers?
Yes, Ezor said flatly.
Perhaps too well? Perhaps the reason why you
neglect the job I assigned you is because of lack of
respect? Baraka was working himself into a rage
again.
Weve been very busy, Ezor said simply.
Very, very busy
****
The soldiers rode into the small village at midday.
Everyone in the village peered out of doors and
windows at the newcomers. All marked the
appearance of the strangers, except the occupants
of the lone, tiny hut on the outskirts of town. From
there, a childs laughter rang. A mysterious figure
clad in a dark hooded cloak rode at the head of the
procession as the party made their way to the lone
inn in town. The men dismounted and filed into
the bar. Many curious villagers followed.
The innkeeper scurried around his humble
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establishment, blushing. II didnt expect such
illustrious company. He welcomed the men as
they seated themselves. He poured them all
generous servings of his best beer. The bar was
dark and, as the room filled, the smell of cow
manure and sweat thickened the air.
What can we do for you? The mayor of the
town addressed the soldiers as he pushed himself
into the forefront of the crowd.
There was a short silence then the hooded one
rose. We are here acting as servants of the
empire. As you all have heard, the great HeadMage Monushir is at war with the witches,
sorceresses, kawis and karapans that have been
growing rampant in recent years. The hooded
man reached under his cloak and drew out a
heavy bag of gold.
The sound of the gold clinking into place as it
settled onto the splintery table enchanted the poor
villagers.
As upright and faithful citizens, I am sure you
will be glad to be rid of the wicked ones that
reside in your town. It is our mission to purify the
land. Will you help us? This gold will go to
anyone who can point us to the evil ones in your
town.
There was a long silence, during which many of
the townspeople pictured the small hut hovering
on the edge of town. A man stepped forward,
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clearing his throat, shrugging off the restraining
hand his wife placed on his shoulder. I know of a
sorceress, well perhaps she is only a witch. I am
ashamed to report this in the presence of my
beloved wife. The womanuhthe witch forced
me into her bed, II tried to stop her, but she was
too powerful. II am only now able to admit my
shame. She took my seed and spawned a demon.
We saw her sins as she swelled with the
abomination, and she was forced out of town. But
she still lives at the outskirts.
There was a small uproar at the mans
admission. I knew it was him! one woman cried.
How sly of him to accuse her and get the gold!
Yes, very good. Excellent, the hooded man
whispered, ignoring the protest. He settled back
and his soldiers followed suit as a huge feast was
prepared for them. Beer was distributed at their
expense. Soon the villagers were enjoying
themselves.
****
The woman cautiously opened the door and
looked out at the moonlit landscape. Being reviled
by the townspeople and run off, she had turned
away from them and found solace in the witches
who lived in the forest. They had provided her
and her daughter with food for all of these years.
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Now it was time. She had finally decided. Their
simple canvas bags stood packed and tonight they
would join their sisters deep in the woods. She
stepped out into the night, holding her childs
small hand.
The little girl followed her mother as they
stealthily made their way deeper and deeper into
the wilderness outside the village. Her eyes were
wide with barely concealed excitement.
Yes, my child. Tonight we will be initiated and
never come back here again!
The girl and her mother traveled well into the
night, following a winding, secret path until they
broke out into a wide, circular clearing in the
middle of the forest. The witches were there,
waiting for them, bathed in silver moonlight.
Welcome! Welcome! The women cried as
they embraced the mother and daughter. Great
sobs of relief tore at her chest. The nightmare was
finally over and she had come home.
A blind witch walked out of a rough hut and
everyone turned to her. You have been followed
my child. The evil ones have followed you to this
secret place.
Hardly had the words come out of her mouth
when a cry rose.
Attack! the hooded figure cried.
The soldiers crashed through the underbrush as
they rushed on the women with naked weapons.
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The witches screamed as they ran in all
directions, fleeing the soldiers. The woman did not
actually believe this was happening until one of
the men grabbed her little girl away and savagely
tore at her clothes. The woman threw herself at the
man, plunging her thumbs deep into his eye
sockets.
He screamed, releasing the child and attacked
the woman blindly. He grabbed her, opened his
one remaining eye and tore her thin clothes off.
They fluttered to the ground.
****
A great stirring woke a small coastal town from
their nightly rest. As people began to go about
their morning activities, the word spread that a
group of soldiers had come to town. Quickly, the
people gathered in the stone marketplace, curious
at the strangers arrival. A different hunter
scanned the crowd with small, black eyes before
he began his tempting speech.
A woman stepped forward when the hunter
finished. I have noticed not one, but two demons.
They live in this very town in all their unnatural
horror. I have never seen them eat the dead, but I
know that they do. They are wicked!
****
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The little dog yipped excitedly as the man and

woman removed the rather spindly chicken from
the modest brick oven in which they had cooked
it. Scents of savory herbs from the basted bird
mingled with that of fresh yeast breads and fried
curds throughout the hut. A warm fire blazed and
three precious lit candles sat on the low wooden
table that stood near the hearth. Each candle was
symbolic of one decade of their marriage. In the
middle of the candles was an earthen bowl of
curds.
Although the townspeople thought them
strange, the couple did not have children. They
were too dedicated to each other to notice their
supposed lack or to notice the pity of the
townspeople. Besides, the little dog acted so much
like a child that the couple had treated him as one.
Together they had carved out a life for themselves
at the edge of the coastal town.
The man set the hot bird onto the table and the
little dog jumped on his hind feet in his
excitement. As the woman set out the hot bread,
the man arranged the broad leaves that they
intended to eat the chicken on. The tin cups
brimmed with dark wine completing the
anniversary feast of true soul mates.
Before they began to eat, both of them offered a
silent prayer of thanks to Ahura Mazda, their god,
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being devoutly faithful. After a moment, they
looked at each other, their smiles genuine bliss
and gratitude.
You have been my life, the man said. I love
you so much. He looked down as tears brimmed
in his eyes at the sincerity of his emotions.
The woman saw his tears and could not stop
her own from falling. And I love you. Then she
laughed. Do you remember the first kiss we
shared?
How could I forget? To this day I dont know
how I did that in front of your parents!
Yes and at dinner, she cried in delight. I had
a mouth full of curds!
Ill never forget the taste.
She scooped up two curds and put them in her
mouth. The man leaned across the table and
placed his lips on hers just as he has done as a
young man. It was a silly thing to do, but it had
been the beginning of a glorious love, and such
was their tribute to that love, which had grown
with the years.
The little dog yipped impatiently, his sparkling
eyes on the roasted bird. Suddenly excited yips
changed to a bark of alarm. The couple heard it
then, toothe tramp of marching feet
approaching the little hut.
The man sighed in anger and threw his napkin
onto the seat. Let me get that. Ill give them a
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welcome that will send them flying, he promised.
As he approached, the door flew open.
Before the man could say anything, the soldier
in front stabbed a knife deep into his throat. His
hot red life-blood arched up and out of his body.
The woman screamed, overturning the threedecade old candles and rushed forward. The little
dog courageously lunged at his masters killer, but
he was no match for the mans heavy boot. He hit
the far wall without a sound and crumpled in a
boneless, furry heap. Another man grabbed the
woman by the hair as another swept the contents
of the table to the floor. They threw the woman
over the table, face down. As the pain began, her
eyes fell upon the bowl of scattered curds.
****
Weve been making excellent progress, Ezor
said to Monushir. The two men were sitting in
Monushirs opulent room in the Mage Hall of the
Palace. Nearly one quarter of the land area the
hunter pointed to a wall map, has been covered
successfully. I anticipate a few problems
however. He took a deliberate sip of the fine
wine.
Problems? Monushir asked, his nasal voice
making the man wince slightly.
Yes, he responded. Suddenly he seemed
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cloaked in shadows. As we move up in the social
ranks, toward those you want removed, there will
be resistance.
Dont you think I know that? he whined,
exasperated.
Ezor nodded almost imperceptibly. I advise
caution, Mage. These people have an odd way of
using tactics we cannot always anticipate. Some of
them are easy to eliminate, but some of them are
downright dangerous.
I am prepared to deal with that, Monushir
said impatiently. He got up and paced. Was there
someone in particular you were hinting at?
He was silent for a long moment. He would
rather be tortured to death by his comrades than
to admit fear. He had his reputation to consider.
Finally, he said, Caution, Mage. You must have
caution.
His assistant approached him with a note. Ah,
from Varlan, a minor noble my nephew complains
about. You know, this man is fool enough to fancy
that he can be Barakas rival. Well, I suppose I can
give the man an audience. Im rather curious.
Show the man in!
Ezor slunk into a corner to watch the exchange.
Varlan entered the room, his balding head
shiny like a copper pot. Monushir swallowed
down a belch and sat straighter on his cushion.
Ezor noticed that Varlan seemed furtive and
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jumpy. He decided he didnt like the man.
For what reason do you disturb my busy
schedule, Lord Varlan?
Ithis isnt easyIm still debating. Varlan
glanced about him as if he were looking for
something to hold his flickering eyes.
Well out with it. I dont have all day,
Monushir warned, his reedy voice rising an octave
as his face reddened.
Tears suddenly ran down his face and he
heaved in a great sigh. Its my wife, sir. I think
shes a witch, but what do I know? I just thought
Id speak with you and maybe you could clear it
up for me. He sniffled and wiped his nose with
the back of his hand.
Why do you suspect her? he asked, his face
enlivened.
I may be wrong, Varlan hesitated. II hope
I am wrong, because I love her with all my heart.
He held his hand to his heart and sighed. Well it
began about six months ago. I was fast asleep, but
I was awakened by a furtive sound. I made to grab
my sword and it was then that I noticed my wife
was gone. To tell you the truth, after checking the
house and grounds, I decided that she was seeing
another man. I was generous enough to set my
suspicions aside and I waited until the next night.
That night she rose quietly, but I followed her. She
walked for quite a distance until she came to a
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clearing where other women came out and
greeted her. They were all naked. He paused for
a moment, eyes on Monushirs shocked reaction.
Yes, they were naked then she joined them in
their nakedness. Theythey began to doI cant
say these things before a priest. He squirmed as if
uncomfortable.
Go on, sometimes we have to hear these things
just to be able to make our decisions. Monushirs
eyes were now beady with avid interest.
They touched themselves in their womanly
places and they caused each other to feel pleasure
of an evil sort. After they were done, they lifted
the tiny body of a screaming infant and chanted
incantations before they plunged it into a vat of
boiling oil. When they had fried the poor thing
alive, they pulled strips of flesh from its cooked
body and consumed the entire thing. Then I
passed out from the horror. When I awoke, they
were all gone, and although I hoped I had
dreamed it all, when I checked the spot where the
evil fire had been, there were ashes. I can even
show it to you, if you wish. Now I am afraid for
my life.
Have there been any changes in her desire for
you as a man? he asked, wishing to hear more
tantalizing details.
Varlan appeared to look embarrassed. We no
longer have normal sex. She wont let me
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approach her, probably because she prefers those
of her own sex. If I do approach her, she saps the
manly strength from that part of me and I am left
hopeless. He began to blubber.
The mage put a hand on his shoulder. I will
deal with her in a discrete manner, for I know this
kind of news would ruin your reputation. We will
allow you to bring her to the palace and from here,
she shall be escorted to the dungeon. You will tell
your friends and neighbors that she lost her
footing and fell into the royal cistern while it was
uncovered for cleaning. I wish more people were
as selfless as you are. It will be better, as you
know, to start with another wife. Everyone always
wondered why you had no children. Imagine, a
woman who looks for sex among her
ownhorrible!
Ezor smiled and slunk out of the room. There
would be much work for him if this kept up.
****
Varlan left the palace in ecstasy. Once rid of his
wife Aryazate would want him. He was sure that
such a spirited woman would insist on being the
head wife. She wouldnt be under any other
woman. He couldnt believe that he hadnt seen it
before. Aryazate had refused him because he was
already married! He whistled as he imagined that
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he had the upper hand on his rival Baraka, who
was also married.
Nandi, Varlans wife, smiled with delight when
he told her his news.
Lord, I will get ready to leave at once, she
said softly.
Yes, wife, we have been invited to dine with
Monushir himself!
It wont be necessary to prepare extensively,
wife. Come, he said curtly then grabbed her arm
and steered her none too gently toward the door.
He knew nobody would notice her absence for he
had made her relinquish all ties with her family.
The carriage door closed and the two of them sat
in silence. He glared at her, but then began to
imagine what his first night with Aryazate would
be like.
Varlan sniggered. His cow of a wife had
actually welcomed the idea of having a co-wife.
She said she would have a friend. How stupid! His
wife was the one standing in the way of his
marrying the young and lovely Aryazate. Surely,
she would want him when that old bag was dead!
He had tried to extort more dowry money from
her relatives, citing her infertility, but their refusal
infuriated him.
That fool woman seemed to have few pleasures
in life, besides trying to please him, but he made
sure she was never happy, for he wasnt. Nandi
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cleaned the house and had good meals cooked.
She tried to make herself attractive, but that didnt
help with the problem he developed. He was just
sick of her, and that was the reason his cock was
weakened. The carriage drew to a halt outside the
palace.
Varlan and his wife approached the inner
rooms of the palace.
A matronly woman stepped out of the
shadows. Follow me, dear. She held out a stout
arm toward Varlans wife.
Nandi looked back at her husband and seemed
confused, but he nodded encouragingly. He
watched as she was led to a deep room. It didnt
take long before her muffled screams oozed out of
the room like the liquid from a decaying corpse.
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Chapter 8
thought you werent coming, dear, Lady

Rutkeera said in an odd tone of voice from
deep within a mauve awning. Although the air
was pleasantly cool, a servant vigorously fanned
his buxom mistress with a peacock feather fan. All
about them, frilly, flashy, brightly colored tent-like
structures were erected in the natural bowl of the
Kloraportvar. The sounds of revelry and shouts of
laughter added to the excited atmosphere. The
woman next to Lady Rutkeera did not look up
from the deep carpet spread on the floor inside the
awning, instead, she put a discreet hand over her
waist where the holy kusti rested against her skin.
Aryazate smiled tightly and didnt slow down.
I changed my mind.
As their servants looked for a place to erect
their own awning, he noticed the nobles shot looks
at them and whispered comments hissed in
malicious undertones. There was no physical
evidence to show that Aryazate slept very little for
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the past two nights, but he was exhausted and
anxious.
Look, Nizami said now, excitement creeping
into her tone, see there by the Kings box? They
hurried to claim the choice spot and she squeezed
his hand now as they settled on the cushions
Heerka and Sheerka hastily set down for them.
From this position, they could see easily over the
six-foot fence that served as a border between the
spectators and the fighters.
As the servants busily erected their own
awning, Aryazate looked up at the Kings box
curiously. Decked in cloth of gold that seemed to
burn in the sunlight, the framework of Cyruss box
glittered.
Distantly, the thrilling sound of iron clashing
on iron floated in above the hum of conversations,
carried on the breeze from Mithras field where
the Lords warmed up. Aryazates eyes remained
fixed on the dark archway that connected Mithras
field to the Kloraportvar. From somewhere not far
off, the scent of sweet frankincense wafted to him
on the breeze. Time seemed to stagnate.
****
Kavada woke with a stifled scream. He sat up in
bed, straw clinging to his disheveled hair, and
stared with alarm at the guards that crowded into
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the doorway.
I dont know if this will fit him. Shit! an
officer of the guards said. A pimple-faced young
soldier shuffled over to him and started to hand
him a bundle.
No you idiot! the officer snapped, snatching
the boy back with unnecessary force. You must
not have gotten enough of your mothers titty!
The officer roared with anger. Turning to the
others he said, Imagine the stupidity of arming a
prisoner like that before we throw him onto the
field?
Kavada found that his mouth was
unaccountably dry. He blinked rapidly, trying to
clear his head as his heart began to beat frantically.
Hurry up and eat! the officer ordered,
thrusting a pot of mush under his nose. I dont
know why he gets to eat! None of the other
prisoners can eat before the fights. And why does
he have better armor and weapons than the other
prisoners? Even if they are rejects, I cant believe
Captain Tripura ordered this!
Kavada attacked the food, barely feeling it go
down as the men securely buckled the armor on
him. As they dressed him, they projected an air of
hasty secrecy that puzzled Kavada. They ushered
him out of the cell and down the slime-slicked
corridor. When thrust into the dark waiting room,
he felt a wave of fear. Through the musty gloom
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he saw them, about sixty or seventy other
prisoners seated on benches in the dank dungeon
room. He sat down on a splintery bench next to a
man half his size.
The man had a sword that was chipped and
rusted. It looked like it could cut butter, but only if
it warmed first. For armor, the man wore a bloodstiffened leather jerkin and shin guards that did
little to hide the trembling in his skinny legs. His
eyes slid to the other prisoners and he saw that
none of them were armed or protected as he was.
Suddenly he understood the guards secretive
mood. He received special attention, but why
who would do such a thing?
Aryazate would have. She must have! This
knowledge filled him with such a complex
mixture of emotions that he had no idea how to
sort them. One of the prisoners sobbed quietly
somewhere near Kavada. The sound was
heartrending. It was a perfect expression of soulkilling terror. He felt the control he had over his
mind slip a little more and turned away, his mind
blank. Totally blank, so much so that he could no
longer form coherent thoughts as they were
ushered like cattle into the wagons that waited for
them outside in the brilliant morning sunshine.
****
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Aryazate stood with the rest of the crowd when
the rams horns blew the announcement of the
King of Kings. Cyrus the Great rode in at the head
of his honor guard, basking in the applause that
vibrated in the air. Captain Tripura rode at the
head of the Kings honor guard. Aryazate could
see his gaze scanning for Nizami. Their eyes
locked over the distance. The wind blew back
Aryazates hair as he stood there. The soft silk of
his robe pressed tightly against the warmth of his
skin in the gentle pressure of the breeze.
Trailing in the back of the Kings entourage,
Lord Baraka leered at Aryazate and licked his lips.
With much pomp and ceremony, King Cyrus and
his entourage ascended to the platform.
Aryazate scanned the prisoners filing in. There
was no fanfare for their entrance. His gaze fell on
one large frame and he leaned forward.
****
Kavada knew that he was inside the wagon, but
he couldnt remember any of the trip. He emerged
onto Mithras field, stumbling dazedly and
squinting with the rest of the prisoners, but not as
bad as most. The window on his cell had kept his
eyes used to the light. Ushered like cattle into the
long dark archway and hurried along to the end of
the arena, they stopped at the Kings Box.
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Come on! Hurry, hurry! The overseer
shouted, roughly shoving them into a ragged line.
Kavada scanned the bright awnings, narrowing
his eyes against the glare of sunlight on gold and
cloth of gold that shone from the glittering
spectators. There was an expectant silence in the
Kloraportvar then the triumphant rams horns
blasted out their death call. Thunder echoed in the
archway as the dark shapes of the lords darted
forward, bursting into the sunlight with a stirring,
wild war cry.
The wild rolling eyes of horses accompanied
the flash of a blade edge coming at him!
Kavada roared, lunging forward as most of the
other prisoners cowered back screaming. Blood
sprayed up into the morning air and scattered,
sinking into the freshly plowed dirt. Someone
screamed near him, he heard the slosh as the lord
on a chestnut stallion withdrew his deadly sword
from a mans broken skull. Kavada was ready. His
face was a mask of pure, savage rage as his sword
locked together with the hapless lord. His actions
were so startling that every gaze in the
Kloraportvar turned on him. People half-stood,
gaping, murmuring and some laughing nervously.
The prisoners were not supposed to fight back.
They were just a warm up for the lords!
Kavada brought the lord down off his horse
and slew him quickly. Grabbing the reins, he
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swung himself onto the saddle, his back erect and
proud as the stallion reared and plunged into the
fray.
He turned at the faint sound of Aryazates voice
and saw her cheering. His heart swelled with
intensity, at the knowledge that he still had a
reason to live. He would fight for Aryazate! His
stallion reared, neighing aggressively and Kavada
raised his bloody sword in salute and roared back
to her. The sunlight glowed down the length of his
blade and shone on his armor.
He plunged fearlessly into the fray, knocking
the lords off their horses with his awesome
Mithra-like strength. He was a terror swinging his
heavy sword with lethal accuracy. Kavada saw a
balding noble barreling toward him. He reached
out and pulled the smaller man off his horse, but
the mans foot caught in the stirrup. He saw the
crowd stand up to get a better view, their laughter
bouncing merrily through the air.
Kavada whirled. Crack! Their swords met with
jarring force. Now here is an opponent. With savage
calculation, he assessed the huge lord on his
snorting destrier. Their swords slid apart with a
deadly swish of metal and the man was on him
again. To his horror, he felt the ground rising up
to meet him.
A scream of warning rent the air and Kavada
rolled instinctively just as the deadly hooves of the
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lords warhorse missed his head by inches. He
surged to his feet and whirled, baring his teeth
and roaring as the lord charged him again. Using
own momentum, he seized the lords sword arm
and hauled him off his horse. A cheer rang up as
the man hit the dust.
The lord screamed with outrage, seized the
prisoners ankle and pulled hard, causing him to
fall heavily to the dirt. On the man in an instant,
his hands locked around his throat, the lord
squeezed.
Kavada desperately tried to draw in breath. The
world dimmed as he struggled against the mans
death grip. He slammed his elbow into the lords
groin. The man let go, clutching his privates and
howling while Kavada lay in the dirt gasping for
breath for a moment.
Kavada! Aryazate screamed, galvanizing
him. The sword buried itself in the ground where
his head had been an instant before. He rolled to
his knees in one swift, cat-like motion and saw the
weapon upon him again. He barely had enough
time to thrust his sword up into the deadly path of
his opponents weapon.
Their swords smacked into each other. With a
squeal of metal and a roar from Kavada, the man
lost his balance. Kavada surged to his feet, the
great muscles in his legs bunching with iron-hard
power. He pressed his attack and the man
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stumbled backward, his arms flailing for balance.
With a lunge, he knocked the sword out of his
hands and sent him flying through the air to end
with a mighty crack on his head.
The sword came slashing down upon Kavada
from behind, slicing deeply into his neck. He
turned and stared at the cowardly noble covered
in blood and smeared horse manure. He was the
one dragged by his horse.
The man opened the pale slit of his mouth in
victory.
As his arterial blood spilled out in a hot, red
flood into the earth there was a hiss of disapproval
from the crowd, for Kavada had endeared himself
with his brave fighting. He staggered and fell to
the soft earth.
The man stood over him, poised to strike off his
head. Suddenly another lord came up from behind
and pushed the coward over. He barely missed
skewering himself with his own sword. When he
looked at the lord who pushed him, his face told
him that he had better move on in a hurry.
****
Aryazates face lost all color, the smile and whoop
of victory trailed off in a wordless moan. The
hated Varlan had attacked Kavada from behind!
He was running, hit the six-foot fence and was
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over it, forgetting that he must act like a woman.
He landed, already running as the world grew
white and blurryall except for the man lying in a
pool of his own blood. Kavadas helmet had rolled
aside, revealing that lustrous blue-black hair. The
downward sweep of his dark lashes grazed cheeks
that were too pale.
Oh the gods! No! he screamed, his voice thick
with unshed tears. Taking Kavadas head onto his
lap, he smoothed the hair back from his brow.
Aryazates vision of him grew blurry and he
hastily blinked the tears away. He would have
only this moment.
Kavada opened his eyes and his white lips
curved faintly. Aryazate he whispered.
Im here, Im he could not go on. Bitter
tears coursed freely down his cheeks, landing
hotly on Kavadas face. More than anything, he
did not want this bright soul to slip away from
him. This guileless, pure-hearted man with the
courage of a lion did not deserve to die. He
deserved to have a place in the sun of this mortal
world a while longer. The world disappeared as a
blinding heat rushed to Aryazates hands.
****
Aryazate was fading from Kavadas view, her sobs
softening like clouds in a blue summer sky. The
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clouds were all around him. The light had the
liquid golden cast of a sunset on the purest air he
had ever tasted. Eagerly, he looked through the
clouds, his eyes tearing slightly at the beauty of it
all and at the most intense sense of lightness and
carefree abandon. He had had this feeling
fleetingly at other times, on dewy spring mornings
when the whole world was awakening to
something mysterious and infinitely wonderful. It
had been maddeningly elusive, not because it
wasnt there all around him, but because he lacked
the mind to understand it.
It seemed that the feeling now touched him
fully. Realizations slumbering in his soul clicked
into place. He knew that in his mortal form, he
would never be able grasp the things he now
understood. Indeed, it was a blessing he did not
understand, for in his mortal form he would have
lost his mind under the onslaught of utter
simplicity that nonetheless was as complicated as
the intricate veins in one single oak leaf.
The clouds parted and he saw a bridge before
him covered in a riot of blooming flowers. Two
fierce dogs wagged their tails insanely at the sight
of him and a tall man by the bridge smiled. The
mans features were perfectly clear, as were the
details of his person, but when Kavada looked at
the bridge again, he totally forgot what the man
looked like. He glanced back at the man then at
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the bridge, forgetting once more.
The bridge held a secret promise more intense
than anything he had ever experienced. It seemed
that in addition to his five senses, there were so
many more now, but to explain them would be
like trying to explain the play of light on clear
waters to a person who has never been able to see.
Eagerly, he stepped forward, but the dogs stood
as if to block him. Their tails still wagged, but their
refusal was clear. A powerful, hot force behind
him touched his neck. It didnt manifest itself in
human form, but it was a being that parted the
clouds. There was the taste of Aryazate in the
wind around him, but he quailed at the thought of
plunging into the blackness on the other side.
Kavada
His brows knit, the tears of confusion falling.
What should he do? The pull of Aryazates
demand was heavy on him now. It was an
irresistible heat. He closed his eyes and saw a fire.
Earth sounds rushed back to him. He opened his
eyes and saw his beloveds tear-streaked face. His
body throbbed with the strong pulse of his blood.
He could feel the pumping of his heart with
unusual acuteness, as if his body were celebrating
its return to life. He sat up, feeling more vitalized
than ever before in his life. Aryazates allencompassing essence was now in his blood,
powerful and undeniable.
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Kavada? she said again, her voice now filled
with incredulous joy. She took his hands in hers
and their fingers tightened as they both rose to
their feet. The crowd also stood, but to the two
figures, their exclamations remained muffled.
Their eyes met and he felt the beat of his heart
growing even stronger. Is this a dream? Is it this
beautiful noblewoman who ordered me to return from
death? Yes, surely she had. He felt his defenses
crumble as the need to be possessed by her rose
up to cloud rational thought. He saw love
glimmering in her blue eyes and wished he could
claim her mouth with his ownonly the cheering
crowd brought him to his senses. They hugged
quickly and the crowd erupted into cheers,
standing up and looking over tents to get a better
view of them. They swung over the fence and out
of the crowds view.
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Chapter 9
avada couldnt seem to tear his eyes away

from Aryazate, who met his gaze again and
looked away out at the dancers that now cavorted
onto the arena. Heat that rose to his face when he
looked into her glittering eyes, stained his cheeks.
His mind whirled with all that had just happened.
He was free nowfree by the order of the King of
Kings himself!
It seemed that only a moment passed before the
crowd packed to leave. They hurried out, trusting
Heerka and Sheerka to follow later with their
belongings. Aryazate slipped her hand around
Kavadas arm as they moved out. Most of the
people headed toward the Great Hall for the
autumn feast, but the group cut away from the
mass of people and hurried onto a side street
where they saw the huge form of Captain Tripura
waiting for them.
When they reached him, Tripura took Nizamis
hand in his and kissed it then looked adoringly
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into her eyes.
Lets rent a carriage, she suggested to him.
There wont be enough room for us all and I
intend to take you home. Let Aryazate and
Kavada ride in this one. Uncertain, Kavada
hoisted himself into the carriage. The door closed
behind them after he settled in and they were
alone in the carriage. The conveyance began to
move and she settled back against the cushions.
As before, in the darkness of his hut, there was a
thick silence between them. He looked at her soft
lips remembering. He would cherish the feel of
her heat forever.
He felt like he belonged in her arms, as if he
could spend his entire life as her slave. Forcefully
reminded of her noble birth as he gazed at her
porcelain face and fine features. He remembered
he was a simple tradesman. A wave of guilt
washed over him and he knew once more that he
had gotten himself into his own predicament. He
wanted her, yet he was afraid. Afraid of her high
station, but also afraid of her power. It hadnt felt
evil. She saved his life with her sorceryor was it
good magic? Surely, she must be a goddess in
disguise and not a sorceress.
IIm sorry. I dont know what came over me.
It wont happen again, he said, not looking at her.
I am sorry for what I did before. I should not
have touched you in front of the crowd. Will you
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forgive me? I am a lewd man.
No. I cannot, she said, a slow smile spreading
across her face. The smile lit her eyes and made
him want to reach across the distance of the
carriage and kiss her. Youd better make no such
declaration while under my employ, Kavada.
Youve got nothing to be sorry about. Where did
you learn to fight like that?
Her question startled him out of a worshipful
reverie. Imy father. He was a soldier. He
taught me a lot before he died in battle. You have
to know how to wield the weapons first before
you can try to make them in a smithy.
I see. Was that the only family you had?
No, there was my mother. She He
swallowed hard and blinked fast. She was taken
by a winter demon. Besides that, Im not really
sure. Anyway, whatever family I might have,
makes no effort to get to know a poor blacksmith
whom they have very little chance of wheedling
money out of. And now look at me! Im even
poorer than before.
Aryazate tossed her head back and laughed.
Too true about the relatives! You should see how
the cousins, aunts and uncles crawl out of the
woodwork to our step. If they were honest
beggars with a frank need, I would see to it, but
they couch their outrageous demands as if it were
their right!
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He loved the sound of her mellow, deep voice,
but he hoped he wasnt staring like a gauche lad
of twelve.
She had no such reservations, she stared at him
with frank approval, a considering light in her
eyes. The world suddenly seemed like a very
interesting place for her. I hope you wont be
bored, Kavada, the old smithy burned down. I
guess the fire must have caught onto something.
Kavadas brows knit. I saw the flames, but
how
It was incredible, she continued and leaned
forward, her eyes intense. It was a sign from the
gods. No natural fire can just burst out of a place
like that! It was meant to rescue you. I am only
sorry you had to stay in the dungeon for so long.
From the gods? I meanwere you the one
who changed my cell?
Of course, I couldnt have you weakening.
Captain Tripura is rather close to my mother. She
smiled fondly.
A smile quivered on the corner of his mouth as
Kavada stared into Aryazates eyes, but he
dropped his gaze quickly as understanding finally
dawned on him. Thank you. He knit his brow as
a suspicion fluttered in his heart. Blue flames, his
lifeblood spilling into the freshly plowed earth, it
all added up. And those eyes! He shivered, but it
wasnt entirely fear that caused it.
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Theres no need to thank me, I am very, very
glad to have you back.
Kavada shot her a quick glance, catching her
strange gaze. But how could she be a sorceress? He
shook his head, forcefully denying the idea.
Sorceresses were wicked, dirty, evil creatures,
shunned by all who did not wish to defile
themselves permanently. It was impossible that
Aryazate was one of them! Impossible! He could
never see this woman as anything but good. She
was as utterly inviolate and as mysterious as the
moon. But the tingling in his neck where the fatal
sword wound had only recently gaped open was
now healed. The mane of blue flames eating at the
tax collectors head had appeared out of nowhere.
No, she had sent it! Is it possible that I am bewitched?
He could not deny the sight of the eerie flames
leaping from the smithy. He could not say that her
eyes were normal either. Nobody could deny the
power and menace lurking beneath the surface of
her gaze. He was both thrilled and filled with
terror. He knew that he had no control over his
desires now, for he would be her slave even if she
were a sorceress. Even though he thought he was
willing, was he really under her spell? Was he able
to choose? He could think of nothing but waiting
in his hutwaiting for her to come to him. He
would press his lips against hers as their bodies
melted together. The spell was heavy on him, he
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thought. Even through the sudden fear, his desire
was grabbing him. His cock stiffened.
Kavada watched covertly as Aryazates fists
unconsciously clenched. A delightful heat began
to stir within him as he thought of the erotic way
she had looked at him. His emotions swirled.
Fearlustlove He knew that this was a
dangerous combination for him to feel, and he
knew that he was in trouble. But this danger
seemed to light his insides on fire. Howhow
did you heal me like that?
What do you mean? How could I have been so
careless as to not even ask about the flesh
wound? Aryazate looked troubled, even though
she was obviously trying to hide it with her happy
voice.
It wasnt a flesh wound, Lady Aryazate, he
said and paused. I was on the point of death in
fact, I believe I died.
Youre sure? I dont understand, she
whispered, looking frightened. You think I
healed you?
Im sure of it, no he said, taking her hand
as she averted her face. Are you somehow
touched by the gods? How, indeed, did you burn
the tax collector and the smithy? he asked
passionately.
Aryazate turned to him, with her brows drawn
together. What madness is this? I dont know
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what you mean! Are you accusing me of sorcery?
Her color was beginning to rise to her cheeks.
No! I wouldnt everI meanI
She jerked her hands out of his and folded them
on her lap. What is happening to me? she asked,
looking out of the window.
Im sorry. Kavada spoke sincerely. That all
came out wrong! I just was trying to say that there
is something about you, something in your eyes
that He stopped mid-sentence as she turned,
and to his horror, he saw tears making her eyes
bright, but not spilling over just yet.
Eyes that what? Aryazate demanded, her
voice altered by anger.
Eyes thatthat draw out a mans soul, he
sputtered then wished he could bite his tongue off.
Oh the gods, Im sorry, I didnt mean to
presume Her eyes looked very dangerous now
and he knew hed made a serious mistake. They
seemed to turn from a bright blue to a striking and
frightening violet. He almost thought he could see
flames behind those eyes.
Kavada, are you no better than the others who
spread lies about me? Do you dare call me a
sorceress?
I would never do that! he cried. How dare
they spread such filth about my Lady! He knew
he didnt lie well, and yet he didnt really think
she was evil. She maybe used good magic. He
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frantically tried to assure his quaking mind. It was
good magicbut was it really? Please, excuse me,
Lady Aryazate! I am a crude clod with no
knowledge of etiquette! Please forgive me!
She stared out of the window. I dont know
what you are talking about. I didnt cure you and I
didnt set anything on fire. Her knuckles
whitened as she fisted her hands.
They were big hands for a lady. Kavada noticed
that the wrist bone was large, although graceful.
She straightened and looked over at him.
What are you looking at? Do I look strange to
you? Do you see signs of sorcery?
In her unguarded moment, her angry voice
sounded almost like a mans. Was it possible that
this was her normal voice? Kavadas mouth went
dry and he looked away. This woman had saved
him, yet he was suspicious, just like the rest of
them. No, my lady. I am deeply grateful for all
you have done for me. Her eyes took on an
intense sadness as her cheeks turned a pallid tint.
Ashamed of his thoughts, silence fell between
them.
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Chapter 10
he candle flame in the tiny storeroom fluttered

with movement at Barakas deep sigh, making
the shadows gibber in the far corners of the room.
So? What have you done? he snapped at Ezor
the hunter. As always, the hunters face wasnt
visible.
We have a plan. I know you were profoundly
disturbed by this mornings events, but still there
is no reason to be hasty. Hurrying things now
would be disastrous I
God damn it! Dont tell me what to do, you
lowborn scum! You are my servant for the time I
pay you and you will take orders from me!
Baraka shouted.
The hunter said nothing. The silence in the
small room after the shouting was profound and
held a heavy threat. Very well, Ezor said finally,
his voice dark. Let me tell you of a recent
development, which I trust shall soothe your
temper somewhat. We shall not make the same
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mistake as on our first attempt. Weve managed to
turn one of the servants in her household.
What? Baraka asked incredulously, the scowl
vanishing.
A light tap on the door made him jump.
You have a visitor waiting for you sir, the
muffled voice behind the door said.
Baraka turned around worriedly, but the
hunter was gone! He gaped for a second then
pulled the latch and drew the door open. Who?
he demanded.
The maidservant jumped back and cowered
against a stone wall of the corridor, the lamp
casting a wavering light from her shaking hand.
He wasnt surprised. He had flogged three
other servants for minor offenses ever since he had
gotten back from the autumn feast. He had stalked
up and down the halls of his home, breaking pots
and glass and screaming at whoever got in his
way.
Lllord Varlan, sssir, the maid
answered in a small, quavering voice. Hes in the
sitting room.
Baraka grabbed the lamp from the girl and
walked toward the staircase at the end of the line
of storerooms. What could Varlan possibly want
with me? Looking at himself carefully in a mirror
hung on the cellar door, he walked on toward his
sitting room, puzzled, but still cheerful from
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Ezors news. Does that little lord intend to scare
me off my suit of Lady Aryazate? He
remembered that Varlan had just lost his wife to
an unfortunate accident. Maybe hes desperate.
He ruthlessly suppressed a smirk as he took
Varlan in with his hooded gaze. Remembering the
little mans flailing drag around the arena was so
hilarious that the last of his foul mood vanished.
While half of Varlans face was shielded from
view with gauze, the other half was twisted in a
hateful expression. What precious little gray hair
he had had was mostly stripped away. By the stiff
way he reclined, Baraka knew his wounds must be
extensive and painful. All in all, he looked like
something that dogs would be greatly attracted to
take to their lairs.
Well, well, what have we here my friend? To
what do I owe your honored visit? Does this have
something to do with our Lady? he asked
merrily. He leaned his long, muscular frame
against the doorjamb of the wide double doors.
The room was dark and smoky with incense. The
glitter of rich brocade and golden statues gleamed
in the light of a few scattered oil lamps. Lord
Varlan gazed at him and Baraka could almost see
a snake of jealously flailing in his heart then
slithering across his face.
Varlan looked away from his clear gaze and
thick hair then glanced down at his bandaged
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hands. As you know, I am in deep mourning for
my poor lost wife, and for that reason alone, you
need not worry about me taking Aryazate from
you, but now I have more compelling reasons to
forsake her. I was hoping to have an audience
with you, Lord Baraka, because I have been given
to understand that youve been working closely
with your most esteemed uncle in the matter of
clearing up the filth from the land.
Yes, you could say that. Baraka moved into
the room. But as for your being my rival in any
way, well He let his statement hang. By the
way, you have my sincere condolences for the
death of your wife and for, well, recent events.
He chuckled dryly, looked at the ceiling and
stretched luxuriantly. Reclining on the divan
across from the bandaged man, he yawned and
stretched again, his muscles rippling under the
simple brocaded vest he wore.
Varlans lip curled up and he took a sip of wine
from a cup he found by his elbow. Well, I have
heard that, uh, you and your uncle have employed
a number ofprofessionals shall we say, to assist
you in tracking down these undesirables.
Baraka studied his manicured nails. It didnt
surprise him that Lord Varlan had heard of the
Hunters. He was just high enough in the court
circles to hear of such things. Who is it that you
need eliminated? he asked curiously. You
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already took care of your dear wife, eh? he
smiled ghoulishly.
He looked shocked. The woman I am
referring to is very powerful, I hesitate to say. My
main purpose was to procure the service of the
hunters and proceed from there.
Its Lady Aryazate isnt it? he asked in a
sudden burst of understanding. You do not wish
to continue your suit of her? I thought maybe you
eliminated your wife so as to make yourself more
appealing. What a waste!
Varlan looked furious. I cannot seek the
companionship of a sorceress!
Baraka felt a thrill of victory. Here, have a red
fruit. Its good for regularity. Ah, yes, Aryazate.
He took a richly embroidered pillow and propped
an arm over it. She is the top person on our list.
Your perception of her evil merely goes to show
that you, Lord Varlan, are a perceptive and
upright man who would spare no discomfort in
the service of the empire. I can see that you did
sacrifice much already.
The sarcasm in his voice darkened Varlans face
so that for a moment, he did not react then he
bowed his head. It was my duty, and I wouldnt
feel right in doing less. But I fear that justice
against her foul witchcraft will never come, as it
did for my wife.
Take heart, my friend, he said springing to
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his feet to pace. Impatiently, he drew back the
heavy drapes before one of his windows, flooding
the chamber with late afternoon light. I am well
on my way to taking the woman down. I dare say,
once this affair comes to light, we shall have wide
support.
But how can you bring her vile practices to
light? It has been whispered that she fornicates
with the Evil Spirit, being the vile sorceress that
she is. She is wicked! There are scores of stories
and eyewitness accounts of her evil. In fact, I have
even felt her charms as she tried to tempt me into
her bed. But whispers will remain whispers unless
there is proof! I dont care how good your Hunters
are, theres just no way to get at her, Lord Varlan
snapped.
Lord Varlan, my friend! He chuckled and
rubbed his hands together. Its better than you
make it out to be. I feel weve got no cause to
worry at all. Weve gotten inside her own
household now. Baraka let out a rich laugh.
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Chapter 11
avada looked at the tiny image of himself in

the polished tin square he had taken from the
smithy. It was one of the first times he attempted
to regard his image in a mirror, but this one
seemed to hate him. His distorted features in the
tin earned his frown and convinced him his face
actually did ripple if he made a sudden
movement. Propping the square against the
headboard of his bed, he studied his features,
swiping back an errant black curl that rested
against his pale forehead.
Is my nose really so big? It looked about as long
as a stallions member stuck onto his face. He
moved inadvertently and saw with satisfaction
that his nose shrank, but the space between his
eyes also shrank down to nearly nothing. Was this
some kind of trick? Perhaps only women knew the art of
using a mirror!
A light tap at the door made him jump guiltily.
Dashing the metal square under the pillow, careful
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not to disturb the sheets of paper on the bed, he
hastened to open the door. To his complete
surprise, Aryazate stood in the doorway with a
smile that was almost shy. They had exchanged
few words since hed been freed, but it seemed
that she might forgive him. His worries about her
sorcery seemed silly now. Come in, he said a
little too quickly.
Aryazate stepped over the threshold. Im sorry
Ive only got a minute. I was wonderingwhats
this? She looked around the room and her gaze
settled on the bed.
He felt a bolt of shamethe mirror! I must have
left it out!
She stepped around him to the bed looking
down at the carefully painted pictures wrought in
exquisite detail. These are beautiful!
Kavada hurried over, turning bright red.
These areumprivate. He tried to scoop them
up before she looked any further.
This is what you went back for the day you
came home with me, wasnt it? She caught his
hands to prevent him from hiding any more of the
pictures. Where did you learn to paint like that? I
thought only master painters knew how to create
miniatures. Did you have an apprenticeship? She
sounded incredulous.
Uhno. My mother, as I said, was a potter.
She married a master painter before she met my
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father and learned all he knew. When the painter
died, she had to support herself with her pottery,
which she painted beautifully. She met my father
when he broke her best vase. They settled on a
payment. He smiled as he remembered. When I
was a child, she taught me her art. When Father
died, I helped support the pottery shop by
painting her artwork. I was never as good as she
was, though.
Nevertheless, this is fantastic! Aryazate
looked at one after another of the tiny works of
art. Ah! The story of Gayomard! She picked up a
painting that showed a man clad in a leopard skin.
This is the story of Iraj. Kavada proudly
pulled a larger sheet from the stack he was
clutching.
She narrowed her eyes, taking in the detail.
It used to be brighter, but I cant aff he
stopped himself just in time, but still blushed.
I really think they are gorgeous. She stared at
a particularly stunning picture of Prince Zal
staring up at a peri-faced princess in her tower.
You can have it. Kavada blushed. Iif you
want it.
Its an honor. Ill have it framed. She accepted
the paper with a touching amount of reverence,
her gaze devouring the details he had captured on
the page.
Was it his imagination or did she really mean
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it? He felt a great burst of warmth in his heart.
Maybe things would get better between them.
Aryazate looked up finally with a twinkle in
her eye. I came here because I need a manservant
to lift heavy things in the house. I want to
rearrange my library.
I would love to be useful. She smiled back at
him and he thought hed never seen a more
delicious sight. Aryazates eyes held a light in
them that enchanted him. His lips remembered
the dreams he dreamed latelythe taste of her
silken mouth, her body pressed against his. He felt
enchanted, but even though he still sometimes had
a flash of fear when thinking of her, he mostly just
wanted her now.
I want to apologize for before. What I was
trying to say was that I am deeply grateful to be
alive and you are the one who made this
possible. He shuffled nervously, but he could see
that she smiled and the deep worry in her eyes
dissipated. I dont deserve to be here. PleaseI
have been tortured with the thought that you hate
me now. Kavada hoped that he wasnt hurting
her with his words again and looked at her
anxiously.
She looked at him and smiled weakly. My
feelings for you are real, Kavada, but maybe we
are too different. Not social status. I care nothing
for that, but you deserve a real womana woman
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who can make you happy.
Hope bloomed in his chest and he stood with
shaking hands. YouI meanI love you! How
can any woman come close to you in beauty and
kindness? I am the one who is unworthy. If
onlyif only I could become worthy! If only I
hadnt been born as a lowly
If only I hadnt been born as what I am!
Her eyes brimmed with tears and he stepped
forward.
II reallyno I cant. She took in a
shuddering breath, but even as she spoke, she
held the picture gingerly in one hand, and used
the other to slide up his back. She leaned against
him .
He groaned as she kissed his chest and the heat
of her mouth ran straight to his heart. The sound
was one of surrender, and taking a ragged breath,
he leaned down to kiss her. The silk of her fine
robe was smooth against his skin. It was a forceful
reminder of his station and of his lowly birth. He
inhaled the fragrance of that shining hair and felt a
fierce need rising inside him. Forbidden passion.
The sharp knock at the door had them out of
each others arms in a heartbeat. Smoothing down
her hair, Aryazate strode to the door and opened
it. Heerka and Sheerka were at the door. They
lived in the nearest hut. Oh! Heerka, she
exclaimed. What a surprise. There was an
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awkward silence. Did you have business with
Kavada?
Um, yes, Iwe were going to ask him if he
wanted to help us out until the new smithy is
built, Heerka replied in a huff.
Kavada will be working in the main house.
She looked from one brother to the other. Ill be
taking him to town today to get supplies.
Who will be with the dogs then? Heerka
asked as if to find some excuse to annoy her.
Aryazate frowned. They will be in Nizamis
wing. Theyll be inside the house.
Shouldnt he be working on building the new
smithy? Heerka sounded petulant as he pointed
to Kavada with his chin.
Hes a smith, not a carpenter. She eyed him
angrily now.
He really should be involved anyway.
Heerka continued doggedly. He may have his
own ideas as to how he wants it set up.
Heerka, I appreciate your interest in the
matter, she responded in a formal voice. But
please dont bother with the management of the
servants, my friend. I am able to handle these
affairs myself.
Her voice held enough menace to make Heerka
look down and quickly make his leave. Sheerka
hurried after him.
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****
Aryazate closed the door very softly and sighed as
he wondered just how far this would go before his
secret was out. Then he would hate him for sure.
The feel of Kavadas body against his made him
light up with passion. Would Kavada be disgusted
and hate him when he found out? Would he run
away and never come back? Or would they join in
loveNo! Impossible!
Ill be taking my leave now. His eyes glittered
with anger at the lost opportunity. Come to the
main house in a few minutes. He left, still
holding Kavadas picture carefully, and strode
down the winding path to the main house. He was
still angry as he snatched up the pile of scrolls just
inside the doorway. The dogs came tumbling
down the stairs, yapping and howling in joyous
greeting. His foul mood evaporated as they licked
his face and hands hysterically and cavorted over
each other in ungraceful dances of love.
He took the stairs two at a time, happy now.
What did he care if the servants talked? He
laughed out loud at the idea of that! He was a
ladywell of sorts! After putting the painting on a
shelf, he fell into his huge, soft canopy bed and
read the scrolls left for him on a low table as the
dogs made themselves comfortable. There was the
usual growling and snapping, because only the
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highest-ranking hounds could fit on the bed. The
honor was much coveted.
He tossed three scrolls to the floor in distain
then opened the last one. It was an invitation to
the great boar hunt held every autumn. He
scanned it quickly, a mixture of feelings fighting
for dominance in his head. The autumn hunt was
a great event that he had attended with his mother
since the time he could sit on a horse. But did he
dare go after all that happened in the royal court
recently? He remembered Baraka and the group of
ladies laughing at him. Then again, to not go
would seem even more suspicious.
But the most important thing, he supposed, was
that he would not tolerate other people trying to
control his life. They could snort and snicker all
they wantedhe was going to have himself a
good time.
With this cheerful thought, he walked out of his
room and down the corridor to the back entrance
of the gardens. The dogs followed him, ranging
ahead and behind him, marking their territory.
The autumn roses filled the air with fragrance
mixing with the scent of sunlight on warm earth.
The fruit trees were laden with succulent sunripened fruit. Aryazate picked an apple from one
of the trees as he strolled down the sun-dappled
stone path that wound through the beautiful
gardens. He shoved thoughts of his work aside as
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he bit into the sweet apple.
Thats why the gods made afternoons. Who could
work when it was so beautiful out? The insects
were still out in full force. A dragonfly slipped
past his face. On the way to the stream. There were
several streams, ponds and two springs on their
land. He felt complacent as he sat down in one of
his favorite spots in the shade of a flowering bush.
As long as Kavada was around, it didnt matter so
much that they couldnt make love. And Kavada
said he loved him.
****
Kavada stepped into the gardens, looking around
in wonder and feeling intensely awkward. Nizami
had said that Aryazate was in the garden, but
what if she had already left? What if someone
caught him walking around alone and accused
him of stealing? Or worse! He glanced around
nervously and opened his mouth to call out to
Aryazate. But it seemed wrong to shout in a place
like this.
As he progressed into the garden, the magic of
the midmorning sun began to work upon him. He
felt himself beginning to relax. A deep sigh of
contentment escaped him and he wondered how
hard Aryazate and Nizami had had to work over
the years in order to have a place like this. It was a
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feat worthy of respect, he thought as he gazed at
the flower arrangements.
He sat down on a stone bench and watched
four large goldfish swim in lazy patterns in a clear
pool of water. He closed his eyes, feeling the
sunlight on his face, although he knew he ought to
get up immediately and search for Aryazate. His
hurry didnt seem to make as much sense as it had
just a few moments before.
He felt all his senses humming with danger. He
turned his head to the left, very, very slowly.
Daman, the head bitch, was glowering at
himher yellow golden eyes filled with bloodlust
and menace. She growled and the wolfhounds
behind her fanned out.
Quickly, Kavada dropped his gaze and emitted
a high puppy-like whine of surrender.
Damans growl faltered somewhat.
Kavada tried to look small with minimal
success. His heart beat triple time with fear, but he
sat still and continued to mewl like a lost pup.
The bitch approached cautiously, her sensitive
snout testing him.
Even in his mortal terror, he felt a little stunned
by the beauty of the hound. The Avesta, the holy
words, said that dogs were holy, that they could
see into the souls of men with the extra set of eyes
above the ones they showed us every day.
Daman sniffed his hands and, as she did so, the
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others closed in.
He felt their inquisitive snouts checking his
rear and his groin. The bitch licked his face, it was
a small lick, but it filled him with relief. One of the
youngest members of the pack wagged his tail
briefly. The sniffing was still intense, but
unbelievably, the fierce creatures had accepted
him.
One of the wolfhounds parted from the pack
and trotted down the stone path.
****
Aryazate heard an unfamiliar sound from
somewhere beyond his position in the shade. He
felt a quick bolt of fear. An intruder! He waited,
heart pounding as the time dragged out. Then
Zadspram was coming toward him, tail wagging
in his usual enthusiastic way. With a start, he
remembered that he had told Kavada to come to
the house! What if he had come into the garden
unescorted? A picture of his beloved lying torn
and bleeding under the dappled shade of a fruit
tree filled his mind. He followed Zadspram at a
run to where the dogs had the man surrounded.
Off! he ordered at once, heart pounding with
residual fear and relief. Ears went back, heads
lowered in apology and the dogs backed away
from Kavada. Damans tail thumped the earth in
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puzzlement and Aryazate felt so guilty that he had
to sooth the noble beast. You did a good job, he
whispered. He looked at Kavada with eyes that
were huge with fear. You could have gotten
killed! I didnt tell Nizami that I had the dogs out.
Thank Ahura you knew how to handle yourself.
Kavada was slightly pale, but he gave him a
weak smile.
Stay here. Aryazate whistled for the
wolfhounds to follow him, but he stopped him.
I want to meet them. Theyve got more of a
right to be here anyway.
Aryazate grinned, hesitating. He must be either
fearless or stupid! Then he sat down on a stone
bench across from Kavada. The wolfhounds
relaxed around them, the younger pack members
looking around for mischief. Kavadas feet were
crushing some pretty blue flowers, but Aryazate
didnt have the heart to point this out after his
ordeal.
Zadspram and Tigran began to wrestle, the
awful click of their teeth and their bear-like roars
sounding perfectly at home in the lush garden.
Kavada looked at him. That looks like so
much fun, he said rather shyly. I almost want to
join in.
Do you? Aryazate grinned. It was such a
startling statement, but it was so like him to make
such an innocent suggestion. I do all the time!
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Aryazate admitted with a careless laugh, slipping
off the stone bench and kneeling down on the
damp earth. He pulled his lips back from his teeth
and emitted a low growl. He smacked the earth
with his hands and Daman pounced on the earth
in front of him, her tail held high in joy. He threw
an arm over Damans neck and wrestled the head
bitch to the floor. Damans jaws closed gently
around his wrist and arm. She knew her master
did not like being bitten.
Kavada got of his bench smiling and got down
on all fours.
Im afraid they wont play with you,
Aryazate warned. Theyll be wary until they
really get to know you. Daman took advantage of
his distraction to land a big wet kiss on Aryazates
face.
Zadspram grinned at Kavada, canting his head
to one side, he sniffed the air in Kavadas
direction. He seemed to smell something he liked,
because his tail wagged slightly and there was an
inquisitive glint in his eyes. But he hung back,
unsure until he hit the ground with his hands in
imitation of Aryazate.
The blacksmith must have looked huge to the
dogs, but Zadspram bounded forward yipping.
Aryazate was stunned. The young dog sniffed
Kavadas rear, making him blush violently. He sat
down quickly, but the dog was undeterred.
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Zadspram came around to Kavadas front and
playfully nipped his face like the bad dog he was.
Trained as a soldier, it seemed he could handle a
little pain. Kavada growled and reached out one
massive muscled arm. Before Aryazate could
blink, the man and wolfhound were wrestling.
Kavada howled once, but before Aryazate could
rebuke the wolfhound, they were tumbling again,
rolling over the green dappled grass as the other
dogs watched or looked away in boredom. The
man had size and better reach, but the hound had
cunning and sharp teeth.
Aryazate sat back stunned. He felt a little short
of breath, even though the air was cool and
smelled sweet. These wolfhounds were estate
dogs and the only people they ever saw were
visitors or servants allowed to enter the house.
Even then, sometimes they needed to lock them in
a wing of the house if they seemed too aggressive.
Moreover, in certain areas, the dogs were trained
to attack any intruder. They were not socialized or
timid, and living as they did in the pack, their wolf
spirit was intensified.
For the wolfhounds to not only tolerate Kavada,
but to accept him, was so strange that he had no
idea what to think. Were his protectors going soft
on him or did they sense the honesty and nobility
of Kavadas character as he did? He realized he
was laughing.
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Kavada looked over at him, his tousled hair
wild, his eyes sharp from the fight.
A rustling that was almost inaudible to the
human ear made the dogs snap to attention. They
ran off silently, but moments later, furious
snarling and barking shot Aryazate to his feet.
Come, let us go quickly and see what that is!
Kavada scrambled to his feet, right behind him.
They ran all the way to the high stone gate on the
far side of the garden. In the center of the pack of
snarling dogs, someone huddled, whimpering
piteously. The sobbing was barely audible above
the cacophony of barks.
Off! Aryazate called. The barking stilled at
once and the pack made way for him. Heerka was
in hysterics. Aryazate didnt recognize him at first
because he refused to uncurl from the tight
protective ball he had instinctively made.
Heerka! Heerka can you hear me? he asked,
shaking him.
Heerka continued to mewl hysterically and did
not look up.
Go quickly, Kavada, and get Heerkas brother
Sheerka. Send him to the garden then alert Nizami
to what has happened.
He was off in a flash, moving faster than
Aryazate would have thought possible for a man
of his impressive size. Aryazate ordered the dogs
to stand off some distance, but they had trouble
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obeying. Aryazate couldnt understand why they
attacked Heerka as if he were a stranger.
Aryazate spoke softly to Heerka until Sheerka
and Nizami arrived. By that time, he returned to
his original thought. Why was Heerka in the
garden in the first place? Had he scaled the wall?
Why? Something didnt make sense. He could
have asked to come in if he needed something.
Had the dogs sensed something in his demeanor?
He had been acting strange lately.
Sheerka knelt by his brother and pressed a flask
of whiskey to Heerkas lips. At the sound of his
brothers voice, Heerka uncurled his body
somewhat. He drank a little whiskey and the color
returned to his pale face. Aryazate shot Nizami a
look over the heads of the brothers. He felt a chill
run up his spine and he looked at Heerka closely.
His face was as familiar to her as an uncles would
have been. He had been around all his life. But
why had he been sneaking around in their private
garden? He knew it was off-limits except for
certain times when the gardeners did their work.
The dogs were never out then.
Sheerka escorted Heerka to their hut.
Aryazate put a hand on Kavadas arm and
gestured for him to follow. Shaking his head to
dismiss the disturbing, inexplicable events, he
turned his mind to other things. Remembering the
invitation to the hunt, he abruptly stopped and
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faced Kavada. Will you come with me to a
hunt?
He seemed rather startled by the request. Id
be glad to.
But first thing first, Aryazate said a little
breathlessly. Those things that needed to be
moved
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Chapter 12
he day of the Royal Hunt dawned fair and

lovely. The dew misted up from the ground as
Nizami, Aryazate and Kavada rode through King
Cyruss forest, armed and ready for the hunt.
Their conversation was lively and comfortable as
they rode along. Aryazate had purchased a huge
mount for Kavada, but he simply couldnt find
one with the fine qualities of their two Scythian
stallions. He rode on this horse now, smiling as
Nizami recounted a tale of her younger days. The
most experienced of the hunting wolfhounds,
Tigran, Daman and Zadspram trotted eagerly by
the horses, ready for orders.
So here I was in the middle of the autumn
hunt and Lord Chutka shouts at me, asking how I
would like the house redecorated for my arrival as
his new wife! Nizami glanced at Kavada.
The two burst out laughing. What did you
say? Aryazate realized that he was having
trouble concentrating.
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Well, I said I couldnt hear him, but I was so
distracted that by that time, that I missed all of the
action. Lord Flora and his father slew the beast
that year. It was a tremendous honor for the lad.
He was so nervous sitting with King Cyrus that he
barely ate at all! It was really too much attention
for the poor lad, but it sure launched him into
society! He was only nineteen, can you imagine!
Nizami slanted a look of amazement at the others.
Now Aryazate, you are eighteen. Why dont you
break that record?
Kavada didnt seem to hear her last comment,
but he nodded. Yes, I can imagine it, if he was a
good shot. Accuracy is sometimes more deadly
than brute force, especially against a creature with
such thick skin. If you pierce a muscle, the arrow
or spear can often be dislodged if the boar is
running.
That happened last year with Lord Varlans
spear! Aryazate rolled his eyes, but he gripped
his bow in anticipation for the action ahead. I was
intensely glad, but this year hes hot for the honor,
even doubly so, after his humiliation at the arena.
He flashed a bright grin at Kavada, who blushed
and stared down at the pommel of his new saddle.
The idea of actually killing the boar made
Aryazate tingle with anticipation.
They rode into a clearing on the distant side of
the spot where most of the nobles gathered in their
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bright silks and elaborate jewelry.
They spotted Captain Tripura and called for
him. Aryazate smiled at the way Tripuras eyes
found Nizami immediately. The barking of the
dogs mingled in the air with the sounds of genteel
conversation and ragged boasts of the younger
men. The serious hunters were dressed in leather
and cotton as were Aryazate, Nizami and Kavada,
but the others made a nice show. It was a huge
social event, possibly even as big as the winter
solstice.
Tripura cantered over to them, parting from
the kings circle and grinning. Will you ride with
me today, my lady? he asked Nizami.
Of course, of course! Nizami gave him a
special smile. We shall also have the assistance of
Kavada, our blacksmith. His father was a soldier,
so he should be quite useful.
Ah. Captain Tripura eyed Kavada with
interest. What regimen? Where did your father
serve?
The flush rose to Kavadas cheeks and his eyes
roved over the gold on the Captains chest. He sat
up straighter and looked ahead of him, as alert as
a soldier. The forty-second, sir, under
Commander General Keyomart. A hint of pride
was evident in his voice.
Tripura nodded, slowly. Did he serve at
Ecbatana?
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Yes, thats where he died. Kavada looked
forward, face immobile.
Tripura bowed his head slightly in respect and
slanted a look at Nizami. Thats a good way for a
man to die, honorable. I trust you got the stipend
entitled to the soldiers families?
Yes, I started a business with it, but the Magi
shut me down because they said my father was a
sorcerer.
What? Tripuras voice was too loud in his
indignation. Heads turned, but he seemed so
outraged that he did not lower his voice. How
could that be your fault? How could they accuse a
soldier of such nonsense?
The others were silent, respectful of his anger.
Finally, Aryazate said in an undertone, They take
these things too far. There are rumors that the
soldiers have done some awful things to
innocents.
Tripura looked away, nodding. None of my
soldiers would get away with that, but they are
Place Guards, the elite. Those others revel in the
power of the uniform of this mighty empire. They
think that they are gods. And with these Hunters
directing their every move
And just what are we talking about? Baraka
rode up to the group looking cheerful. Lord
Varlan was at his side, with half of his face still in
bandages.
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Aryazate was surprised to see both of them
together. He suppressed a little shiver of
apprehension and wondered pitilessly how horrid
Varlan would look after the scar tissue set in. He
remembered the terrible news of his wifes death
and felt sorry for her.
Yes, do tell us. Varlans voice was more nasal
than usual because of the bandages.
What a pleasure to see my two favorite men,
Aryazate gushed in a falsetto voice.
Nizami suppressed a guffaw with a genteel
cough, but Kavada and Tripura were less
successful.
I am so excited to see if you can stay on your
horse throughout the festivities this time, Varlan.
Aryazate turned his horse effortlessly, blocking
the man out of their circle. He turned back to see
that the visible half of Varlans face turned purple
with rage and he emitted a loud fart.
Barakas brows knit with concern as he looked
at his cohort. Let the wind pass, Varlan, the
ladies are well-bred enough to ignore it. The Magi
say that if you dont pass wind, some of your
internal organs may begin to leak. He nodded in
encouragement and in agreement with his own
words. Varlan looked like he was about to draw
upon Baraka on the spot.
A rams horn blew and all conversation died as
the tension in the air grew. The serious hunters
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watched in breathless anticipation as the dogs
sprang upon their release. Aryazate kept his
hounds at heel, waiting for the perfect chance. The
royal hounds ranged aimlessly for a minute trying
to pick up the scent. Kavada met his eyes and
smiled back at him, as the ancients must have
smiled at their mates at a time like this. It was
them against the world. One hound froze and
frantically sniffed one spot. Aryazate knew that it
was about to bay and she urged her Scythian
mount forward just as the beast howled. His
hounds were about to take off, but he made them
stay, allowing the other hunters to follow close
behind the royal hounds. They disappeared into
the trees, but he waited to see which direction his
hounds would decide on once they calmed down.
They turned their heads away from the other
baying hounds and Aryazate leaned forward into
Ishrashirs whipping mane, giving him his head so
that he could make his own way around the trees
they sped past. Quickly, their party was up front
with the King and his best men. He saw the King
ahead of him and could scarcely believe that he
was this close to the great man.
A shove from behind nearly unseated him, but
Aryazate shifted his weight desperately and clung
to the saddle.
Kavada bellowed in alarm as he saw him
teetering on the edge, about to go under the
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thundering, deadly hooves of the intent hunters.
The branches whipped past in a blur of green
and golden sunlight. Then he righted himself,
thanking Ahura for all the years his mother had
trained him. He glared at the man beside him
Varlan! The villain reached for him again, murder
clear in his eyes. No one was watching, Aryazate
realized. Everyone was too intent on the hunt.
Suddenly Daman, the head wolfhound, leapt
up and grabbed a mouthful of Varlans calf and
the man screamed hysterically.
Kavada shoved his horse into the gap between
Aryazate and Varlan and raised his spear
menacingly. The murder in his eyes was so clear
and intimidating that the coward gave a muffled
shriek and swerved away.
Aryazate called his hound off. He met
Kavadas eyes for a fraction of a second, long
enough for him to see the grin then he howled a
victory cry and sped forward into the trees. Anger
burned Aryazate now because they split away
from the main party who were now out of sight.
Distantly, from behind, he heard the dilatants and
he slowed his horse, sweating despite the morning
chill. The other three drew up beside him.
What the hell did that miserable scoundrel
do? Nizami was furious as she stared at the
retreating form. Did he hurt you?
He pushed her from behind, but she was too
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good a horsemanum that is woman, to fall like
he did. Kavadas face was lit up with excitement.
Tripura gaped in shock.
Its not the time for this! Aryazate was
doubly angry with Varlan because they were now
alone and far from the group of hunters. We need
to catch up! He imagined Varlan at the victory
feast, boasting and gritted his teeth. A rattle of
bushes behind them made him turn.
The wolfhounds whirled and began to bark
furiously. About ten yards off, a beast emerged,
snorting. It was only about as high as a mans
thigh, but it looked at least three times heavier
than a man. Two wicked tusks curved up from the
mouth.
Aryazate saw the black eyes meet his,
sparkling with menace. Perhaps the most
frightening thing about the beast was the
unearthly spiked pelt. It charged him. His arrow
was in his hand in an instant. He drew and fired,
sending the shaft deep into the creatures right
eye. It squealed with pain and tossed its head up,
shaking uncontrollably. The dogs were on it in an
instant, but he called them off. He wanted the
King to see that huge body intact.
Aryazate held up his arms and shouted with
victory, just as the royal dogs came howling up to
the spot. King Cyrus and his men charged into the
area and saw the dead boar. Kavada and Tripura
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grinned at Aryazate in victory and he sopped up
their praise. He looked over at Kavada and met his
eyes as the Kings men tried to understand what
had happened.
Sorcery! Varlan snarled, purple once again
with rage. My Lord King Cyrus this woman
woman, by Ahura and all the holy fires, claims to
have killed the beast! Impossible!
King Cyrus dismounted and joined Aryazate
and the others crowded around the beast. Maybe
you are just a little jealous, Varlan? The King
smirked with satisfaction. He looked at Aryazate
with avid curiosity, seemingly devouring the lines
of his flushed face.
This is Lady Aryazate, Your Majesty, Captain
Tripura said hastily. She is only eighteen-years of
age!
Ah, youre the one weve been hearing so
much about, congratulations! Tell me everything.
How did you get so far ahead?
Aryazate forgot his inhibitions and reveled in
the opportunity to brag. I shot my arrow into its
right eye and my wolfhounds
Wait a minute! Cyrus interrupted, eying the
Scythian stallion suspiciously. How did you get
off the main path again? Theres no way those
horses could have fallen behind as you said!
There was an awkward silence, which was heavy
with feelings that puzzled the king.
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Aryazate shot Varlan a look of pure venom and
bared his teeth in a smirk. Lord Varlan seems to
have accidentally pushed me, Your Majesty.
There was an intake of breath from all around,
but the surprise turned almost instantly into
hostility as the jealous man sized her up. You
take her word! A wench? Lord Varlan snarled,
now frightened of the kings wrath. He had made
his need to kill the boar too public. Everyone knew
he would gladly sell his grandmother into slavery
to win the hunt this year. Hed talked too much
about Aryazate, making it clear he was no longer
Barakas rival.
I saw it with my own eyes! Kavada spoke
hotly, standing to his full height, his face flushed
with a killing rage. He took a menacing step closer
to Varlan who stepped back.
This slave is under her spell! Bastard! Learn
your place! Varlan snarled at him. I merely saw
that she was about to fall off her horse so I assisted
her! For my trouble, she called her hellhounds on
me and I lost speed fighting them off. She did this
so that she could kill the boar with sorcery when I
was distracted with pain. He reached down and
indeed, his calf was bloody.
How dare you make such claims against a
noblewoman! And as far as this man Kavada is
concerned, he is no bastard, Lord Varlan. Captain
Tripuras voice was taut with fury. His father
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was a soldier who died honorably at Ecbatana for
the benefit of this empire. As for his word, you
will have to doubt mine as well, for I too, saw
your abominable behavior. The dogs were merely
protecting their mistress.
Cyrus laughed out loud at this, seemingly
amused with the conflict. Come, come, let us
feast and fight this out over a table so we can have
a bigger audience! How amusing! I cant wait to
hear what our dear Monushir has to say about
this. I do declare, this has been the best hunt in
years. Look at the size of that monster!
Aryazate and the three continued to glare at
Lord Varlan until he turned away. King Cyrus
laughed and clapped Kavada on the back, leading
them to their horses.
****
The feasting was a grand affair, held under the
bright afternoon sky in the midst of the forest. An
army of servants who kept glasses full and plates
heavy with food patrolled the hundreds of rugs
and cushions scattered under the trees. Quail,
roasted in large leaves and basted in onion and
parsley sauce, were served with tangy autumn
rosehips and Persian limes. Roasted venison,
killed that day, steamed on broad leaves, dripped
with sauce and herbs. The bounty of the fields was
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also represented with great sacks of steamed
barley dripping with purified butter. Fresh, sweet
smelling almonds sauted in fermented yogurt
competed with salted onions and tender greens.
The huge boar had been roasted at the edge of the
field and was meant as the meal of the hunting
dogs and the great war mastiffs that the king kept.
Its meat, coming from an enormous male, was
unsuitable for human consumption, for it smelled
of male urine.
The news of the hunt, much embellished, had
flown from table to table, causing intense jealously
in some and genuine respect in others. Varlans
role in the business was somewhat distorted
however.
I heard he rescued her, didnt he? She was
about to fall off her horse! Women shouldnt be
allowed in such things! One lord spoke up,
daubing at his mouth with a silk handkerchief. His
wife was obediently silent. Yes, what a
gentleman he was to try and help her, but it was
too bad that he missed the boar, especially since it
might have cheered him up after that unfortunate
business with his wife then the awful incident at
the Kloraportvar.
Yes, imagine getting in the way like that. Shes
the reason, he said, why he didnt kill the boar.
Then that smith of hers had to kill the boar for
her, another lord said shaking his head.
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That isnt true! The first mans son suddenly
stood. She was pushed, and even so, she killed
the boar. All by herself and shes only eighteen!
She is so strong.
Listen to this hot-headed youth! Probably
fancies the girl. But in my opinion, shes more like
a man than a woman, even if she had help killing
it. The boys father grinned at his friend. I heard
my version from Lord Varlan himself! He
winked at his companion and nodded toward the
boy. Yes indeed, he probably fancies the
woman!
The boy narrowed his eyes with hurt and
looked toward the far off group where the king
and the guests of honor sat feasting.
****
Lady Aryazate! Baraka called again, his voice
considerably louder, obviously utterly oblivious to
her rejection.
Aryazate turned toward him now.
Patiently Baraka repeated his question. I
asked you, when will you accept my offer of
marriage? Its not healthy for a woman to be
unmarried. The Magi say that without regular sex,
a woman will develop diseases in her female
organs. Did you know this?
It would be better for you to focus on your
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own sexual organs. You dont want to become like
Varlan, do you? The table erupted with laughter
at Aryazates condescending answer, but Baraka
rolled his eyes in a kindly gesture of exasperation.
King Cyrus, having overheard, had reddened
and was looking at Baraka with deep disgust. His
mouth was quivering in a way that would have
indicated, to those who knew him, that he was in a
killing mood.
Let me explain this to you in simpler terms,
dear woman. I am giving you an offer of marriage,
do you accept or not?
No, I do not accept. Aryazate gave him a
brilliant smile.
Your Majestys wives, I trust, are all well?
Nizami attempted to change the subject.
Baraka meet his uncles eyes across the short
distance.
King Cyrus began to answer, but stopped
abruptly, narrowing his eyes, when he heard what
Baraka was saying.
Baraka commented out loud. See, even the
King has many wives, after all, regular sex is
necessary for men, too.
King Cyrus seemed aghast. Referring to the
existence of bodily functions regarding a king was
never allowed. His eyes reddened with anger.
Baraka turned toward Kavada. Blacksmith, do
you have any designs on this ladythis
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noblewoman? She is my future wife, you know.
King Cyrus pressed his lips together. Obviously
annoyed at the interruption, his hand now
squeezed the hilt of his sword. He looked to see if
Monushir was watching and, when he caught his
eye, indicated he was about to kill his nephew.
Most knew it was common for the king to respond
in this way if he were annoyed.
The blacksmith looked stunned at Barakas
comment and his face reddened.
Aryazate set her goblet down forcefully. Lord
Baraka, I am not going to marry you, do you
understand?
So you are having an affair with him?
Furious, Baraka pointed at the blacksmith.
No, I am not, Aryazate snapped.
Good, I am glad that you do not have to be
trained in fidelity as well as all the other things
Im going to have to teach you, Baraka huffed. He
stood and returned to his uncle, who was already
standing.
King Cyrus loosened his grip on his sword, but
Aryazate noticed that Monushir still looked
worried. Often the king would relate his problems
to his hotheaded son, Prince Bardiya, who would
take care of anybody who dared to offend his
father. Bardiya would enjoy it. Yes, everyone
knew he always enjoyed such work.
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****
Aryazate was happier than he had ever been in his
life. The evening was painting the sky into a
fantastic tapestry of color as he and Nizami finally
rose from the place of honor, the accompanying
men at their side.
You shall have to dine with me, both of you,
Cyrus offered as the servants removed the spent
goblets.
Aryazate gave him a smile of gratitude. Thank
you, Your Majesty.
They moved toward their horses and Captain
Tripura offered to escort them home. Nizami
accepted his offer with a wicked grin that made
Aryazate smile in enjoyment of her happiness. He
glanced behind him and Kavada looked away
hastily, as if he had been staring. As they moved
through the trees, he let Nizami and Captain
Tripura wander ahead while Kavada remained at
his side. The sounds of the feasters dimmed in the
background. The deepening purple shadows of
evening cloaked them in a world of their own.
This was such a wonderful day, Kavada.
Aryazate put a hand on his broad forearm. His
skin was hot under the coarse hairs of his arms.
The muscles beneath Aryazates fingertips
quivered.
Kavada spoke excitedly. It was more fun than
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Ive ever had! I never got to tell you how much I
admired your bravery. If you hadnt shot so fast
we could have gotten hurt. I dont think Ive ever
seen anyone shoot like that.
He blushed with pride at Kavadas words and
was mentally off balance. He had expected a
tautness between them, for hadnt Kavada also
wanted to slay the boar? He had already decided
to downplay his role in the hunt so that he
wouldnt feel intimidatedafter all, Kavada
thought he was a woman. This open acceptance
made him lean closer to him in amazement.
Aryazate peered through the shadows at him,
feeling the heat of his large body. Youre
notjealous?
Kavada threw his head back and laughed.
Jealous? Where did that come from? I
amthrilled by your skill. You are so powerful,
so he paused searching for the right word.
Aryazates lips parted in expectation as he leaned
closer to him. You are like a tiger, so cool and
calm, so beautiful and so dangerous. You are a
powerful woman, Aryazate. Perhaps in ways
different from me, but powerful nevertheless. His
last word came out a whisper.
Aryazate
looked
up
into
his
eyes,
Dangerous? He laughed nervously. How so?
Kavada didnt look away from his eyes this
time. Its a danger that draws me like a moth to a
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flame. I cant describe it, butI want you.
Aryazates arms slid around his neck and he
rose to his toes to meet his mouth. Aryazate closed
his eyes as he felt himself melting against him.
They embraced, breathless with passion.
Lady Aryazate! They heard Baraka shouting
from behind them. What in the name of the gods
do you think you are doing?
The two broke apart and turned to him. Go
away, dung fly. Aryazate took Kavadas hand
and turned away.
So you lied. You lied! Baraka screamed. You
have been mating with him like a she-hog!
Baraka lunged forward with terrifying speed.
His disgustingly cheerful manner disguised
this side of him, Aryazate realized, as a bolt of
terror made him leap back. He supposed he had
known it all along, but he had never seen a full
transformation.
Dont raise your voice at her again or Ill rip
your tongue out, little man! Kavada stepped in
Barakas path and bared his teeth at him in a
terrible battle grin.
Oh, ho ho, the servant who thinks hes a lord!
Baraka sneered, not backing down. Wonderful!
Im taking orders from the likes of you? He
laughed with contempt.
Kavada said nothing, but when Baraka tried to
step around him, his large hand shot out and
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knocked him effortlessly to the ground. Kavada
loomed over the smaller man, dark in the evening
shadows. Only the glint of his eyes showed eerily.
Stay away from Lady Aryazate! Kavada
growled in a voice that Aryazate did not
recognize.
They walked away from Baraka, who lay on the
forest ground in a daze of hatred and rage.
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Chapter 13
eerka turned away from his brother to face the

hearth. The porridge was ready. The
disgusting stuff ought to be removed from the
heat of the fire, he thought, but neither brother
made a move toward the iron pot. The air crackled
with tension.
Its none of your business, Sheerka. He
nervously fingered the hilt of his dagger. The
dagger was of fine workmanship. Heerka
remembered the winter solstice that Sheerka had
given it to him and how much his brother had
saved for the fine dagger.
I should think it is my business! If you got
fired, what do you think would happen to me? I
couldnt just abandon you, my dear brother! I
would have to seek employment with you. I love
you too much to abandon you after all our years
together. Besides, we have worked here for most
of our lives. It is a good life.
Oh please, Heerka muttered. He knew that
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there was a hateful, scornful note in his voice that
alarmed his brother. You honestly think they
would ever fire us?
There was a silence then Sheerka repeated the
question that started the argument between them.
Brother, what were you doing in the garden? We
both know that such times are sacred to Aryazate
and Nizami. We have always respected their
privacy! Please, talk to me! Weve never had
secrets between us, but lately youve been
drawing away from me. What is it?
Heerka turned from the fire. Shut up, brother.
The porridge spilled over the edge of the pot and
hissed in the fire, punctuating his insult. You
have never had secrets from me. That might be
true, but do not think, little brother, that you can
pry into mine.
What? What madness has overcome you? This
has something to do with that man you met at
night a few days ago, doesnt it? You are mad at
Lady Nizami for finding a lover, and now perhaps
you want to find love withwith a man?
Heerkas face went slack. He could feel himself
losing color. What are you talking about? He
spoke too quickly.
Youre not as sly as you would like to be,
brother, Sheerka said in a derisive tone that
matched Heerkas earlier voice. I heard you get
up in the middle of the night and when you didnt
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come back I followed you. Now talk to me, tell me
what the hell is going on with you, by all the holy
fires. Whatever it is, do you think Id ever turn
away from you? Was he your lover? Do you think
Id mind if it was? You are my brother, I will
always love you.
Heerka muttered a vile curse under his breath.
He nervously wet his lips and considered the
options open to him. He began to shake. He
lowered his head and bit his lower lip, searching
his mind for any other way out. Anything but that!
Should he agree with his assumption? No, he
knew that would be impossible because tonight,
the dark one planned to make his move. If his
nosey brother sensed his involvement, brother or
no, he would squeal. Honest, upright Sheerka!
Heerka gave a little whimper of horror.
Sheerka hurried over to him. Look, brother,
Im sorry. Im sorry. You dont have to tell me. I
just wanted to help youHeerka, I love you. He
put a brotherly hand on Heerkas shoulder,
worried that he had vexed him.
Heerka looked at his brother through a shine of
tears. Then his hand snapped out with his dagger.
The blade sank deep into his brothers eye,
sending out a geyser of blood. Sheerka screamed.
The sound cut through the night until he silenced
him with another quick thrust in the throat.
Heerka was covered in blood. He moaned as
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his brother fell to the floor with a meaty plop. He
convulsed violently then lay motionless in a dark
pool that formed around his head. Heerka was
shaking from head to toe, what had he done?
What had he done? His tongue felt thick in his dry
mouth. He looked at the face of the man on the
floor and suddenly the memories flooded back.
Their first day at the house of their teacher, their
first involvement with girls, their first job, their
first housethey had done everything together.
He remembered the way Sheerka had fearlessly
helped him when the bully of the small town
where they had grown up attacked him. He
remembered the countless meals they had eaten
together, the countless mornings they had faced
the world together.
A sob tore through his chest. What have I
done? Brother, what have I done? And all of this
for gold? I killed my only dear brother for a sack
of gold? He shuddered uncontrollably.
Something seemed to snap in his soul and he
knew the spirit of his brother was gone. He
gasped when he remembered his brothers last
scream. Had anyone heard? He crouched and
scuttled toward the door. The newest servant,
Kavada, was not there and the other huts were
dark. All was quiet. Suddenly the only thought in
his mind was self-preservation.
He turned back to the body as a burst of
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inspiration came to him. He took a bag of salt from
the kitchen corner, smearing his bloody hands
over the bag as he lifted it. He reached the body of
his brother, but seeing his sightless eye and his
ripped neck made him heave with a mixture of
horror and intense guilt. He poured out the salt in
a careful circle surrounding the body. The blood
seeped into the white salt in places, but the circle
was clearly visible. The signs of sorcery. After all,
the Hunter planned Aryazates condemnation
already. This would not affect anything. It would
only save his skin.
He stripped and changed clothes, careful to
wash his dagger clean of his brothers blood. He
threw his bloodied clothing into the hearth fire
before looking over at the body, his eyes drawn as
if by magic. What have I done? Heerka
whispered into the darkness, but only his
thudding heart answered him.
****
Baraka mounted his horse and tore through the
streets to his town house, knocking pedestrians
down carelessly. The horse was frothing and
snorting with near-fatal exhaustion when he
pulled her to a stop. With a shriek of rage, he
snatched the red bit of ribbon from the main door
of the stable. This was Ezors sign that he was
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waiting. Baraka stomped into the house,
muttering curses. He was again reliving the
moment that that the bitch Aryazate had finally
stepped over the line.
He entered the cellar with an oil lamp, but he
left it by the door before he entered the room
where he knew Ezor waited. What news?
Baraka tried to peer through the shadows at the
mans face. The single candle did little to
illuminate the room.
Im sorry to say, Ezor began in a monotone,
that our second attempt has failed. The servant
was caught sneaking about, and is now under
suspicion. I suggest that we make our move as I
have plannedtonight.
The stillness in Barakas cellar chamber was
absolute after Ezors admission. The candle
danced as he expelled a long breath. So you claim
that you never fail, yet this bitch has totally
undone you and your men?
I take that personally, very personally, Ezor
growled. I will take care of it myselfthis very
night.
Baraka exploded out of the room, banging the
door so hard one of the metal hinges ripped free of
the door. It skittered across the dark hall with an
eerie sound. Wife! he roared. He needed to
punish something. He needed to work off his rage.
And tonight, Ezor planned to make his move, it all
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worked out perfectly.
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Chapter 14
zor slid into the womans room, closing the

door behind him without a sound. Cool night
air blew in from the windows that led out to a
balcony. The moonlight shone full upon the bed,
illuminating a sleeping figure. The sorceress, Ezor
thought, slinking forward. His breath caught as he
stared at her face.
Long lashes swept porcelain smooth cheeks.
Her flushed lips, slightly parted, revealed the
sound of her gentle breathing barely audible in the
still chamber. Her long, shining hair spread out
over the pillow in a tumble. The covers were flung
off her and she lay against the silk bed sheet, one
hand flung out, palm upward on the bed. Her thin
knee-length robe hiked up high about her thighs,
revealed long slender legs and the barest hint of
the shadow of the treasure between them.
But then he noticed something. Wasnt she
rather flat chested? Perhaps it was her hard
training in hunting, for hadnt she been the one
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kill the boar? Her chest appeared well built and
her thighs were rather muscular, like those of a
young man.
Ezor slid toward the woman on feet that barely
seemed to touch the ground. His heart beat fast in
his chest. The strange awareness, the tingling in
his lips and fingertips made him long to kiss the
boyish young woman. His feelings of rage toward
her now seemed remote, swamped by this new
sensation. He wanted to cover her lithe frame with
his own and wake her with his heated kisses. As
he stood there, he struggled with himself, so great
was the temptation that he clutched the bedpost to
keep himself from going to her. The chamber was
utterly still. He knew he did not make any noise,
but her nostrils flared, unconsciously detecting his
dark scent on the air.
Ezor tensed as she shifted in her sleep and his
heart picked up speed. She moaned softly and he
moved like a shadow to the protection of the wall.
He stared at her from the shadows, keenly aware
that they were breathing the same air. He was
seeing her as no other man could see her.
Wrapped in the shadows, he watched her dream
her private dreams. He stared at her, mesmerized
by the soft column of her neck and by the tapered
gold-tinted fingernails that graced the ends of her
long fingers. She didnt move again.
Ezor took a step forward. Somewhere in the
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back of his mind he shouted warnings to himself,
cursing his own stupidity. He stood over her,
looking down. He felt himself bending down until
his breath was hot against her lips. His lips
hovered over hers, not touching their softness, but
quivering with the effort of restraint. He jerked
back as she whispered something. What had she
said? Her husky whisper came again.
Kavada. Her eyes opened, fully conscious.
He darted back into the shadows of the wall,
heart thudding.
She sat up in bed and stretched luxuriantly.
He could now see that she moved with grace,
but his intuition had been correct. He was
fascinated to see how, in the privacy of her own
room, the woman moved with decided masculine
ease. Her hips were narrower than a womans and
as her gown slipped from one shoulder, her saw a
chest, not a breast. Her face was as beautiful as
any womans Ezor had ever seen, but she was a
he. A he with a boyish, but beautiful mans body.
****
Aryazate wet his lips and reached for the bottle of
wine by his bedside table as he smoothed his long
hair. Sleepily, he poured himself a glass and
slipped out of bed to walk to the balcony. There
was nothing like a glass of wine in the middle of
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the night, he thought, as the cool night air pressed
his silk shift against him. The moonlight streamed
onto the balcony in silver glory, lighting the wine
from the inside into a rich purple. He had been
dreaming of Kavada. He smiled and their lips
were about to touch when he had inexplicably
woken up. He sipped his wine and rested his head
against the soft chair back with a dreamy smile on
his face. There was something enchanted about
this night.
He gently swilled his wine, remembering the
power of the hunt. Kavada had worked with him,
like his right arm. He had bellowed with joy when
Aryazates arrow had pierced the eye of the beast.
There wasnt a trace of jealousy. His victory was
Kavadas victory. It was amazing. He remembered
the way his eyes had twinkled at him from under
those thick black lashes.
Kavada, he whispered into the night. As if in
answer, an owl hooted below him, seeking her
mate as he sought Kavada. Maybe it was finally
time. Maybe it was the night to trust in the gods that
Kavada would love him even after learning the awful
truth!
Aryazate drained his cup and stood. His step
was sure and quick as he donned a robe and
changed his slippers for the nearest pair of shoes.
No, he whispered as he descended the main
stairs that led to where the wolfhounds slept. This
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way is too indiscreet. Ill go around to the servants
entrance and with luck, the dogs wont hear me.
He retraced his steps and slipped down a dark
stairway. As he stepped out into the night, he
inhaled deeply then tried to steady his racing
heart. Fear of rejection was like a poison to him,
but even worse was the fear of seeing disgust on
Kavadas face. He hummed softly to himself,
trying to remain calm, until he reached Kavadas
hut. Quietly, he pulled on the rough wooden door
and let himself in to the dark hut. He shut the
door quietly behind him, and turned.
Kavadas eyes snapped open, and glinted in
the moonlight.
I
couldnt
sleep.
Aryazate
grinned
uncertainly at the startled man.
Kavada smiled back. Fumbling in his
sleepiness, he lit the oil lamp by his bed. He
mumbled something about banking the fire and
slipped past him to the hearth.
Aryazate seated himself on one of the cushions
by the hearth and watched him industriously load
the firewood above the embers that rested there.
Ive been thinking about the hunt, Aryazate said
with laughter in his voice. That was too much fun
to only do once a year. We should have our own
hunting parties, dont you think?
Yes, that would bewonderful, he said
hesitantly. His eyes fell to Aryazates lips then he
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looked into the fire.
We made Baraka as angry as a boar with an
arrow in its hide! Aryazate laughed. He stood
and crossed over to a small table. Show me your
pictures again.
Are you sure? Kavada asked, swallowing
hard.
Yes. Im always sure.
Ok, if thats what you want. He turned away
from him, as if afraid that his eyes might betray
something.
Aryazate studied his bare, broad back,
watching the way the firelight danced off his
smooth, hard muscles. His big hands rested at his
sides, slightly curled. His hair hung down his
back, unfettered and shining.
Kavada turned, bit his lip and stared.
What I want, Kavada, my blacksmith, is you,
he whispered huskily as he walked over to him,
wrapped his arms around the trembling man and
pressed his cheek against his warm back. The man
froze as he melted against him.
You want me? But I am a lowly blacksmith!
Youyou said you would do anything to
have me. Do you still feel that way? Aryazate felt
a lump growing in his throat. His voice choked
with tears.
II want you. Of this, I am certain, but will a
rich and beautiful young woman like you ever be
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satisfied with me? I am a lowborn poor rat!
I have everything I wantexcept for someone
to share my passion with. KavadaII have to
speak with you. Nomaybe I should show you.
****
Kavada had decided. Even if her secret was
awfuleven if her body was disfigured horribly,
he would tenderly accept her with all of her flaws.
The look of fear and sadness on her face made his
heart break. Somehow, she had not accepted a
man yetperhaps she could not accept a highborn
man because of some disease or blemish. This was
his luck, in that case, for he would even be content
with holding her soft form to him. Nothing,
nothing would change the way he felt!
Her robe fell to the floor. She moved slowly,
and with trembling fingers, unbuttoned her
simple nightgown. She slipped out of the
undergarment and he saw a flat chest. His eyes
roved up and down from her lovely face to her flat
chest. His fingers were cold. Then she dropped her
lower garments and he saw the truth finally. His
Lady was a mana man who seemed to want him.
His breath faltered and he saw tears run down the
lovely mans face.
Anything, huh? I should have known. You
lied, just like I lied! I knew you could never love
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me for what I am! Aryazate picked up the
clothing and held it over the offending area. For a
long moment, he sobbed wretchedly. Yes, I am a
man. My mother raised me as a girl. I never even
knew, until recently, that I was different. I was
attracted to girls, so she had to tell me the truth.
You were the first man I ever fell in love with, but
I can see that
Kavadas knees weakened. His hand went to
his mouth, seeing the young man almost bent over
in his grief. For a moment, he waited for the
feeling of repulsion to grab his heart, but only
shock reigned. Shock and sadness not only for
himself, but also for this new person who had
taken the place of the lovely Lady Aryazate.
The young man raced for the door.
Kavada moved closer. This beautiful man had
saved him. His cock still wanted this person, even
though he knew what it was. Hed never
entertained thoughts of another man, but he felt
confused now. It wasnt just his gratitudehe
loved the person she or he was. That person was
strong, loving and determined. It was not his fault
hed been raised like that. Aryazate hadnt meant
to deceive him.
The man Aryazate wept now as Kavada lunged
for the door and stood before him. He put a
protective arm over his shoulder. His skin was soft
and white. His shoulders were firm and the firm
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muscles of his chest strangely attractive. He held
Aryazate close. The clothing he clutched fell to the
floor and they stood chest to chest. Suddenly
Aryazate hugged him close as he sobbed. Kavada
smelled the fragrance of that long, perfumed hair
and felt the softness of his skin as he shuddered
against his chest. Their cocks rubbed close. There
was no escaping that in the position that they were
in. Kavada did not feel his cock go flaccid,
although it was a man he was with, instead, it
sought him.
He rubbed the distraught young mans back,
trying to comfort him, but it seemed that he would
not be comforted. Kavada leaned down. He knew
he was losing his reason. He cupped that
trembling chin and inclined his head. As his lips
pressed against those petal-soft lips, Kavada knew
it was too late. His body and mind were in a
turmoil that would not be stilled by reason.
His head swam with the feelings that
enveloped him now. His breath caught as he
pulled Aryazate closer. The sweetness of his kiss
pulled him deeper into the whirl of his passion,
and he clung to him. The youths surrender in his
arms stripped him of his inhibitions. He gasped
and pressed deeper into the kiss.
The richness of this loveI have never felt such a
thing before! Kavada wanted the world to stand
still. He wished that this moment could last
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forever. He wanted all of the problemsthat she
was a manthat he was a manthat they were of
different classeshe wanted it all to go away.
They held each other, but Kavada was afraid to
speak. What could he say?
Silently they held each other and kissed.
Kavada ran his hands over Aryazate, wondering
at his perfection, while the young man ran his soft
hands over the calloused hands, the chest and
muscles on his blacksmiths body. My Llord,
Kavada began, but he faltered when he looked
into those large, liquid eyes that seemed to bid
him to stop talking.
He inclined his head and Aryazate received his
gentle kiss with passion. Their bodies rubbed
together until he was insane with need. All of his
dreams of having Aryazate in his arms pressed on
the inside of his head until he could take it no
longer. His questing cock wasnt satisfied as it
pushed against the softness. He gasped as it
slipped under and encountered the soft rounded
cheeks. He pushed harder and heard Aryazate cry
out. There was no way he could hold himself in
check. He lifted Aryazate and was surprised when
he wrapped his legs around his waist. He watched
with clouded eyes as they came into contact. The
copious amounts of his own precum served to
lubricate them and slowly he pushed his way in.
He held Aryazates buttocks and moved him as
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he thrust in deeper each time. The younger man
threw his head back and cried out in passion as he
held on to his neck. He had experienced sex with
women, but this was something unlike it. He had
never experienced this sort of exquisite and
desperate enjoyment. He felt his cock squeezed by
a strong grip. His senses rocked as he came to a
violent climax. He felt the wetness on his chest,
too, and knew that Aryazate had experienced joy
as well. He slowly set him down and they came
apart. They held each other, but Kavada was
afraid to speak. What could he say? He had just
loved another man and he liked it. It was the
sweetest thing he had ever felt.
****
Aryazate felt a wave of delicious heat flood to his
groin and he felt shameless hunger as the bigger
man gazed down at him, incredulous and looking
delighted. Fearful that he would rethink the
matter, he stood on his toes to meet his lips. He
stood poised with his lips nearly touching
Kavadas, curling his fingers into his hair. He
drew his head down gently to his kiss, and felt the
great frame shudder with delight. Passion filled
him as Kavadas hand slid down his back. He
moved closer and pressed himself against his taut
body.
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Their bodies were consumed with an ancient
hunger. It was a hunger as boundless and raw as a
raging river flood. Kavadas lips moved to graze
the hollows of his throat and he arched against
him as he nibbled with exquisite gentleness on his
ear. Kavada sat down on the bed and gaped at
him.
****
Ezor sputtered with rage as he watched
Aryazates slender figure disappear into the hut.
He could not stop his feet from continuing to
move forward. Irrationally, he felt possessive. Yes,
he could have won this mans heart, but he never
knew that he could feel this way. He thought he
would never really want a man. His encounters
were always the short trysts with paid women, but
this man was unlike any person he had ever
known. An unfamiliar pain well up in him.
Watching them, Ezor felt his mouth go dry. He
moved the edge of the rag that covered the
window opening and leaned closer. When was the
last time he had let down his guard like this? He
decided he didnt care. It was too late. He had lost
his finely honed control.
His fists clenched in frustration and rage, his
eyes hurt from not blinking and his teeth clenched
painfully. Ezor moaned without even realizing it
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as his desire flamed into raw passion. His hand
was poised in mid-space, all conscious movement
stilled. Would theythose two men?
****
You are sohandsome, Kavada whispered
raggedly, his cock straining again.
The words were spoken with such sincerity that
Aryazates fear of rejection seemed to shrink.
Kavada loosened his golden hair so that it fell
in a shimmering wave down his back. He ran his
fingers through it and sighed. Are youare you
sure? He trailed off.
Aryazate stood then bent and kissed his lips.
Kavada scooped him into his arms, deepening the
kiss. Aryazates arms slid around him and pulled
him closer. The blacksmith hesitated then gave in
to his passion again and kissed him. Aryazate
remembered vividly the way his powerful arms
had lovingly encircled him with the arena crowd
all around them, cheering. He had hoped that one
day his beloved would do this again, even after
knowing the truth.
He set Aryazate on the bed and gazed at him.
Did I hurt you? I really dont know what Im
doingit was my first time with another man.
Aryazate took one of his hands and guided it
toward the hot flesh between his thighs.
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Kavada parted the soft cheeks with gentle
fingers and stroked Aryazates flushed cock with
his other hand.
Oh Kavada, he moaned, closing his eyes. The
blacksmith kissed the hollows of his throat while
he continued to stroke him. He shuddered,
coming near the brink, but pushed his hand away
before it was too late.
Kavada took a ragged breath as Aryazate took
his hot, throbbing cock into his hands.
He directed Kavadas shaft over his own
heated flesh.
He hesitated for a moment then sank inside him
again, gasping. He filled him, and Aryazate
surged against him, the glorious feeling building
as their bodies locked. Kavadas fingers tangled
into the softness of his hair, closing unconsciously
into fists as the feeling rose.
The stars seemed to explode behind Aryazates
eyes as he hurtled toward a shattering climax that
left him gasping for breath. He heard his
companions ragged breathing. He was still hot
inside of him.
A god, Kavada whispered, kissing him
gently. Aryazate opened his eyes, smiled tenderly
at him, and he relaxed his grip on his hair. They
kissed deeply before he withdrew and settled
himself more comfortably. Silently they held each
other and kissed. They lay on his narrow bed and
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kissed until both needed release again. Kavada sat
up and took him on his lap gently.
Aryazate took his cock and held it as he
lowered himself slowly. He gasped as it contacted
something that made his face flush red and he
began to move as it stroked that place.
Kavada thrust even in this position as his need
grew, and together they rocked until they came
again in a burst of passion.
He curled against that broad chest and both fell
into a drifting, infinitely peaceful sleep.
****
Outside of the hut, the moonlight sparkled on the
dew that had already settled for the night. The
very earth itself hummed with the driving force of
life, echoing the heartbeats of the two united
inside the hut.
Ezor trembled beside the window. As the
lovers fell asleep, he continued to watch until he
knew he had no time left. He raced to the main
house and noted with satisfaction that the dogs
still slept. Heerka had drugged the meat well. As
he slipped into the house once again, he paused.
Cloaked in shadow, he remained utterly silent, but
a battle raged in his heart. His heart! He had
forgotten that he had one!
He fingered the large bag of juniper berries and
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closed his eyes. He almost laughed when he
opened them once again. What madness was this
to even contemplate aborting his mission? If he
didnt do this, he would risk losing his reputation
altogether! He slunk forward with renewed vigor.
With sure, experienced hands, he pried off a
flagstone on the floor and placed a dead black
chick underneath. He moved to the womans
bedroom and poured out a bag of colored powder
in a circle at the foot of the bed. Making a larger
circle, he poured out another bag of powder to
ring the first circle. He slipped a dead lizard under
the boy Aryazates pillow.
Moving to the windows that lead to the
balcony, he removed a ring from his finger.
Carefully, he traced tiny runes on the edge of the
windowpane with the gem in his ring. After
stashing a bag of human feces in the closet, he
replaced the bottle of wine on the bedside stand
with a bottle of blood. He placed the bag of
juniper berries and salt in the drawer that held the
womanly undergarments the boy used. As if in a
dream, his hand picked up one of the
undergarments and he put it to his nose. It was
clean, but he imagined that the boys smell
lingered faintly. He slipped the silk into his
pocket, his heart in a turmoil that could never be
calmed.
He had always thought that love between two
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men was perverted, but seeing those two, desire
he never knew possible blossomed in his chest.
What he would give to have that willowy boy to
cling to him! To call out in passion as he impaled
him on his rod of desire! How lovely he had been,
throwing back his soft neck in a fit of delight! Oh
the beauty of that golden hair! The softness of his
body against that of the rude and monstrous
blacksmith who had so loved him! His soft body
how did it not break apart under that hulking
lummox? How Ezor would cherish that boy if he
could love him even once, yet here he was,
spreading the seeds of disaster for that fair cherub.
After they found all of this planted evidence, that
angel of his would die a horrible death! For once
in all of his adult life, a tear fell from his eye.
Ezor looked around then slithered out of a
window and over the balcony without a sound.
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Chapter 15
araka sighed impatiently, pouring another

glass of spirits while he waited for his wife to
arrive. The late evening deepened the shadows on
his handsome face. His fingers continued to
squeeze the glass in his hand until he heard a low
pop and felt a sharp pain in his palm and fingers.
He looked down. Blood poured down from his
hand. Some primal instinct triggered at the sight
of his own blood and he screamed in pure killing
fury.
He whirled away from the window and saw
that she was cowering against the back wall. You
bitch! he roared, leaping on her and giving her a
punch that knocked her to the floor. He ignored
his wifes beseeching whimpers for mercy. This is
the last time Ill let you get away with your tricks.
Baraka kicked the woman on the floor with all
of his formidable strength. The blow landed on
her ribs with an awful crack. Now its your turn,
Lady Aryazate, he whispered unevenly. His
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hand unconsciously massaged the erection, which
strained against his pants. His wife struggled to
her knees only to be kicked in the face. He landed
a blow to the side of her head then knelt.
No! the woman screamed. With a
superhuman effort, she fought back. She plunged
her thumb into his left eye.
He heard a pop. Baraka screamed in pain and
surprise, clutching his face in agony. She raced for
the door, but he jerked her back. He yanked a
fistful of her shining hair again, hard then dragged
her back to his bed, his face contorted in a mask of
rage.
He threw her onto the bed and scrambled on
top of her. As she fought below him, he drew a
dagger. The last ray of sunlight shone down the
length of the deadly blade as he held it poised for
a moment. Then he plunged the knife into her
eyes while she screamed. His arm now continued
to stab her in the belly spasmodically, while his
pelvis unconsciously thrust against her.
The noises that issued from his throat were
more like those of a boar rutting than of a man.
When he got up from the bloodstained bed, he
was shocked to realize that he had ejaculated. His
penis was beginning to grow flaccid once again,
but it was covered in her blood. The vivid red
stained his hands and spattered his shirt and his
hair. Blood ran down his face and Baraka realized
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with a shock, that his left eye was hideously
wounded.
He removed his soiled clothes and went to his
desk. He shook out the juniper berries from a bag
in his pocket and threw them at the dead young
woman. After drawing a few runes on the wall in
her blood, he scrubbed his hands and face
vigorously in the washbasin.
She deserved it! Baraka said, drying his
hands off on a soft cloth. He caught a glimpse of
himself in the mirror as he passed. He grinned his
rakish, devastatingly handsome grin. Oh the
women cant sleep at night for wanting my cock. Yes, I
am quite magnificent. Hung like a horse, too. He took
his member in his hand and pointed it at the
mirror. Magnificent. Then he doubled over in pain
from his eye.
He let go of his cock and surveyed his
handiwork. Another pain shot through him and
he knocked the lead crystal washbasin over with a
tremendous crash. Then he raised his voice in a
wail of despair as he buttoned a robe over his
naked body. He clutched his wounded eye
dramatically as the sound of running feet came
charging down the hall.
The servants burst in the room and he covered
his face in his hands as he heaved with convincing
sobs of the deepest agony. He really was in pain so
he didnt have to act. As he sobbed louder,
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clutching his thick hair with both hands, he
thought about how Aryazate would pay for this.
****
The courtiers were in a positive uproar. The buzz
was like the sound of angry hornets about to
descend. I knew it would come to this!
Monushir said when he reached the most crowded
courtyard of the palace. Do you see what has
happened?
His angry question was punctuated by a
heartfelt sob from Lord Baraka. Lady Snatia and
her mother, Lady Chutka and her associates, came
rushing over to the grieving widower, fans a
flutter. Baraka had a patch over his left eye,
covering the horror under it. The royal doctors
had already administered narcotics to dull the
pain.
Do you now understand the horror that has
finally befallen one of our own? My own dear
nephew! Now he has no family other than me! No
one to inherit his vast wealth! Monushir cried, his
nasal voice rising as he lifted his hands toward the
heavens. The virtuous, pious wife of Baraka is
now slain! You could be next! No one is safe from
the wicked sorcery rampant in this land! Ahura
forgive us for not heeding your call with more
vigor! Oh grandson of the Fire! Lend us strength,
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for now the time has come to test our faith! The
sorceress that my dear nephew and his friend
Lord Varlan have long suspected has finally given
herself away! She came in the night to slay the
wife of Baraka in a fit of jealous rage! She did this
by means of sorcery! Lady Aryazate is a
sorceress!
A sorceress! A sorceress! The crowd
screamed with delighted horror. Although the
tone many of them used was shocked, there was
an unmistakable taint of eagerness and the gleam
in their eyes was distinctly predatory.
Oh yes, Ive known all about her! Lady
Chutka screamed. Shes a sorceress!
Imagine that! The silk merchant agreed
heartily as the triumphant color rose to his cheeks.
This explains everything. They are so unnaturally
successful, those two bitches!
Ive always noticed that her family is odd. Her
and that mother of hers, managing the estate all by
themselves. Very odd. Lady Snatia patted Lord
Barakas arm as she looked about eagerly.
I have said it for days! Varlan cried. Ever
since she murdered the boar with her foul trickery,
I knew!
I will speak to the King of Kings at once!
Monushir honked and swept out.
Baraka did not follow, but rather raised the
volume of his sobs until the attention of the angry
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mob turned toward him.
****
Captain Tripura pulled his horse to a stop, the
smitten smile still on his face. With a spring in his
step, he sauntered down the main hallway of the
barracks to his office. With a rattle of keys, he
opened the door, and to his surprise, his
lieutenant came rushing in.
Weve been looking everywhere for you, sir!
the man said breathlessly. There is chaos in the
main courtyard! Theyre calling out the city
guard.
What? For what? Report!
The wife of Baraka was killed last night and
the Head-Mage Monushir says it was sorcery.
Lord Varlan and Baraka claim that Lady Aryazate
is the sorceress. Now Monushir is in the Kings
apartments trying to summon the city guards!
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Chapter 16
yrus the Great woke in his chamber with his

favorite wife snuggled against him. The
morning sunlight lit her hair golden and glowed
on her skin. The chamber was silent, except for a
distant ruckus coming from one of the courtyards.
The scent of her sleep-warmed skin had him
aroused before he even had his wits about him.
Slowly, he traced the line of her jaw with a swordcalloused hand and shifted so he could kiss her
ear. His breath stirred her hair and she murmured
wordlessly.
She opened her eyes and smiled lazily at him.
He kissed her deeply, wanting her to feel his
passion. Her arm slid around his neck and he
groaned with pleasure as her other hand slid
down his belly with practiced slowness.
Cyrus shivered as her hand closed around him.
A knock at the door was all the warning they had
before the royal announcer barged in. Cyrus
looked up, annoyed beyond words. He began to
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add this man to the list he was composing for
Prince Bardiya.
The announcer opened his mouth until
knocked aside by Monushir. The Head-Mage
swept into the room and began to rave, scarcely
noticing the lovers.
Cyrus added another name to the mental list.
A sorceress has been found, Your Majesty! By
Ahura and all the Holy Fires, we must act at once,
Your Highness, King of Kings! Let us send out the
city guards to arrest her at once before she strikes
again! There is not time to delay
Cyrus the Great held up his hand and stared at
the Head-Mage. The Mages cheeks were flushed
and his eyes held the light of near insanity. Cyrus
shivered. What are you talking about, my good
man? Whom, I should say, are you talking about?
Lady Aryazate! I have told you, Master Ezor
himself suspected her! There is no time to waste!
Lady Aryazate? Impossible! She killed the
boar yesterday. Cyrus stroked his wifes cheek
distractedly.
And how do you suppose she accomplished
that? I ask you, Your Majesty, to cast you mind
back
Cyrus pulled a silk sheet over him and his wife.
Go away, Monushir. His wife giggled under the
sheet as Cyrus glared.
Monushir looked away, disgusted and aghast.
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But your Highness
Send out the guard then, I dont care.
Very good, Your Majesty!
Cyruss wife gave a little moan, and Monushir
scuttled out, his eyes bulging and his loins stiff.
****
Golden morning sunlight slanted in through the
window over the bed, illuminating the two lovers
nestled against one another. Aryazate opened his
eyes, still feeling the warm, comforting cocoon of
sleep. Under his hand, Kavadas chest rose and fell
in the gentle rhythm of sleep. You dont hate
mefor what I am? Aryazate murmured, raising
up onto one elbow to stare at him. The sunlight
touched his lovers blue-black hair and glowed on
the features of his sleep-slackened face. Gently, he
placed his mouth over Kavadas nipple and
explored the area with his tongue.
He sucked in his breath. Aryazate, he
whispered, his lashes fluttering, but remaining
closed.
Aryazate grinned as he carefully straddled
him. He took Kavadas cock into his hands,
watching the emotions ripple over his sleeping
face. He could feel him swelling beneath his
fingers. Grinning, he kissed the tip of his nose.
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Kavada moaned, still asleep, and he continued to
give him his devastating caress.
Aryazate! he gasped, coming awake as he
climaxed. He was breathing hard and sweating,
but he looked up at him, as if hardly daring to
believe that they were together. Good morning,
my love, my Aryazate, with your hair haloed in
the sunlight. He snuggled up to Aryazate. I
cant believe youre actually here. He put his
hand over Aryazates heart. Youre even more
beautiful in the light of the sun.
I asked you. Do you hate me for being this
He looked down at himself.
I was shocked. I have to admit. But I finally
realizedI understood the meaning of love. You
love me although I am a lowly blacksmith with
rough hands from years of work and I love you
although you are a man. Nothing will change
that.
Aryazate wiped a tear from his cheek. I
thought I would take my own life if you looked at
me with disgust. Since I first saw you, I wondered
at myself. How could I love a man? Although I
was raised as a girl, I began to have feelings for
women, but with you, it was different. I felt love. I
wanted to be with you no matter what.
Kavada put an arm around him and held him
close. What a glorious day for us both! He
watched him with hungry eyes.
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Aryazate sat shivering suddenly. Kavada.
Marry me then. I know it will be difficult. I
thought about moving to another land and
starting life again as a man. Nobody would guess.
I will say you are my older brother and we will
live together. But this landI love this place, and
so does my mother. She doesnt want to leave and
neither do I. I do wish this were not such a
problem.
Yes, while were here, it is dangerous for us
both. They are already calling you a sorceress,
Aryazate. If they learn you are a man, they will be
certain.
Perhaps then, I will pretend to marry a rich
foreigner. I will leave and come back as a man. I
will say I am Aryazates long-lost brother!
That sounds like a good plan! But what about
me? How will I act? Will we have to live apart?
Kavada looked out at the sparkling day then
looked at him and suddenly shivered.
Aryazate felt it, too. He looked around warily
as he began to dress.
I love you, Aryazate. A life by your side is
better than heaven. We will find a way.
Aryazate looked at him with tears welling up in
his eyes. A blush rose to his cheeks and he covered
it by stepping into his arms.
I love you, too, Aryazate murmured against
his chest, trying to blot out the dread that
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suddenly came over him. He could feel the steady,
strong beat of the blacksmiths heart thundering in
his chest and he smiled at his earlier sense of
impending doom. Come. I want to get cleaned
up, but I dont want to leave you. Lets go have
breakfast with Nizami and no doubt, Captain
Tripura!
Kavada chuckled and took his hand. Together
they stepped out into the bright sunshine of the
morning. The golden light touched the dewdrops
that decorated each blade of grass. The mist lay
over the land, quickly vanishing under the glow of
the sun.
Aryazate took a deep breath of the fragrant air
and he caught a whiff of the roses in the garden.
The trees were glorious in their full, deep green
summer foliage, some already turning into the
vivid hues that matched the feeling in his heart.
They walked in silence, listening to the sounds of
the land waking up. The roosters were already
crowing victoriously, their passionate cries
echoing out over the estate.
The house appeared after they rounded the
bend and Kavada stood as if taking a moment to
revel in the beauty of it all. You are looking at the
happiest man in the world, Aryazate, my love, he
sighed. I know of a hundred things I could do to
make this place even better than it is. You need
some trellises for your climbing roses.
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Aryazate laughed with joy. He leapt up the
stairs lightly and unlocked the door. When he
swung the door open, he screamed hoarsely. Oh,
Ahura! Aryazates voice was high and
frightened. All the wolfhounds were still,
unresponsive. Oh no! Oh please, oh the gods no!
He fell to his knees and took Damans head onto
his lap. Nizami was just coming down the stairs.
She gave a shout of alarm and raced down.
Whats happened? Oh, no! Are they
They were most likely drugged, but they are
alive, Kavada said with authority. His voice was
rough with anger. Who could have done such a
thing?
It must have been one of the servants!
Aryazate gasped, shaking his head, but instantly
thinking of Heerka creeping into the gardens.
Ill take care of him, Kavada said ominously,
as if the same thought had occurred to him. The
three of them whirled at the sound of a distant
ruckus. The noise rose in volume rapidly.
Aryazate edged closer to Kavada, gripping his
large hand and facing the rapidly approaching
menace.
He
remembered
his
sudden
apprehension. Could he have possibly been right?
Hurry Aryazate, dress! Nizami pushed him
to his room. He hastily threw off his robe and
donned a dress.
The mist of the dawn was by now gone so that
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the figures approaching were clearly visible as
they rounded the bend in the road. The chant they
howled was now audible to the three, standing
terrified on the threshold.
Sorceress! Sorceress! Bring her out! Bring her
out!
Aryazate gripped Kavadas hand and he felt
terror lancing through him. Sorceress? The four
figures in the front, Aryazate saw with mounting
horror, were the Head-Mage Monushir, Lord
Baraka, Lord Varlanand Heerka! Baraka had a
patch over his left eye that made it almost unable
to recognize him.
Kavada wrapped his massive arms around
Aryazate and roared at the city guards who were
tramping directly up onto the veranda with
terrifying speed. Get away! he snarled.
Bring her out! Bring her out! Sorceress!
Sorceress!
Aryazate screamed as they tore him from
Kavadas arms.
No! Kavada roared. They looked at each
other as the chaos reigned around them.
As their souls met in this one last embrace.
Aryazate was certain they would never see each
other again. No! Aryazate screamed again as
one of the guards broke them apart with a ruthless
yank.
Sorceress! Sorceress!
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The mob streamed inside the house,
discovering the evidence Ezor had planted.
The terrified screams of the guards rang out
above the chant. There was a tremendous crash as
Kavada threw a guard out through one of the lead
crystal windows by the main door. He burst into
action, mighty fists flying. He punched one soldier
in the face and they heard the crack of bones. Like
lighting, he felled another soldier, ignoring the
blows that rained down on him.
Kavada! Aryazate screamed.
He heard his cry and roared in answer,
throwing two men off his back. But there were too
many of them. He went down under the combined
weight of a dozen men, still fighting with a
ferocity that terrified the soldiers.
****
Nizami screamed curses at the soldiers and at the
people, many of whom she knew. They came
storming into the house, screaming for blood. She
turned and ran to her wing of the house. She
snatched up her bow and arrow and turned to run
back downstairs when she saw Lady Chutka
standing in the doorway to her chamber.
At last, its just you and me, bitch. Lady
Chutkas ample bosom heaved with exertion. She
laughed, stretching her lips back to expose her
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hideous yellowing teeth. Her belly giggled
obscenely. I just wanted to warn you dear, that
your time is over. Ill be testifying along with
scores of others. Theres nothing you can do. Your
little servant Heerka has spilled it.
What do you mean? she croaked. The
intensity in her face seemed to delight the wretch.
Hes told me your little secret. Now he works
for me, she said, stepping forward, savoring her
triumph. The gleam in her eyes told volumes
about the envy and hatred she harbored against
Nizami for her beauty and wealth. It didnt help
that her husband had always desired her as a
second wife.
Get out of my way, or die! Nizami raised her
bow with an arrow already notched.
Chutka gave a muffled shriek and ran out of the
room.
As Nizami hurried downstairs, she saw the
evidence gathered in an orderly fashion by the
hairless, hideously burned tax collector, Grumio.
She aimed her arrow at him, but was restrained by
one of Captain Tripuras men.
It will only make it worse for her, he said as
she trembled with rage.
****
The crowd hauled Aryazate outside into the
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morning sunshine. He yelled, fighting until one of
the soldiers gave him a punch that snapped his
head back. He drooped in their arms, nearly
senseless and overcome with nausea.
But my dearest brother! Sheerka! Heerka
wailed. His agonized scream captivated the
attention of the crowd. They moved in a mass
toward the huts. The sorceress has killed him
while I was off getting the help of the lords! By the
gods and the holy fire! My dear Sheerka! They
swarmed into the hut, thrusting Aryazate into the
dark room.
Did you do this? Monushir shrank away
from the circle of salt and screamed into
Aryazates face.
Aryazate was dazed from the punch a soldier
gave him for good measure. His head lolled and
he could not focus. His blurry vision caught a
sight of blood, of torn flesh he surrendered to the
nausea that overwhelmed him. He vomited onto
Monushirs clean white robes.
Monushir drew back, screaming in terror. The
guards holding Aryazate let go and he slid to the
ground, senseless.
****
Ezor watched from the shadows, melting
effortlessly into the crowd. He tried to block out
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the anxiety in his soul, but was utterly
unsuccessful. These were sensations he had never
felt before. He watched the boy fall and he felt as if
his soul were down there on the ground with him.
He knew that he was responsible for this. For the
first time that knowledge did not bring him the joy
that it should have. This was all wrong. They were
hurting the only human he had ever loved. He
had to do something.
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Chapter 17
ryazate woke to the rattle of keys. He sat up,

gagging at the stench of excrement. Fleas and
lice were crawling all over him, irritating his
sensitive skin. The light from beyond, broke by the
stout iron bars, cast him in rays of shadow and
orange light. His heart pounded as instinct
warned him of the menace approaching. He
snapped his head up, his long, soft hair fell across
his face.
The door creaked open with a sound very much
like a scream of terror and pain. Baraka stood in
the doorway of the cell, alone.
Aryazate sat up quickly, pushed the hair from
his eyes and wiped off the filth he had picked up
from the slime-slicked stone floor of the cell. He
rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off Barakas
shadow-cloaked face. His body throbbed with
pain and his skull pounded so insistently that he
was alarmed.
Hello my dear, Ive come to visit you, Baraka
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whispered.
His voice was the altered voice he had used
after he had seen Kavada and him kissing. It was
chilling, almost alien. His grin widened in the
orange light of the torches on the corridor outside
as his gaze raked Aryazate, now stripped of his
finery and clad only in a white cotton tunic that
was filthy from the floor. He seemed mesmerized
by the sight. The door clanged shut behind him
with a slam that caused the prisoners in cells up
and down the corridor to screech obscenities.
Well, my dear, you seem to find yourself in a
bit of a predicament. Barakas voice was still low
and menacing, but now tinged with a growing
eagerness.
He licked his lips as he stared at Aryazate,
whose hair hung in a tangle down his back. The
look of revulsion grew until Barakas teeth were
bared in a savage grin. He stared at his flat chest
and chuckled.
You really are a sorcerer! You have finally been
caught. You filthy animal! And to think I touched
that vile body of yours! To think that I almost wed
you! Would you have fooled me with sorcery?
He spoke in guttural whispers, as if speaking a
secret.
No woman would ever want you, ugly goat,
especially now that youre a one-eyed goat!
Aryazate spoke, ignoring the pain that moving his
214

jaw cost him and knowing the consequences.
Baraka advanced, a snarl of rage on his face.
Like lightning, he attacked Aryazate, striking
his bruised face with the back of his ringed hand.
He fell to his knees, feeling blood well up in the
deep cuts across his face.
Baraka caught a fistful of his hair in his hand
and yanked him to his feet.
Aryazate still reeled from the soldiers attack
and was too dazzled with pain to fight back. The
enraged man brought his face close to his, cupping
his other iron-fingered hand under Aryazates
chin.
Even knowing the fact that you are a man,
your sorcery is still strong enough to entice me.
This is going to be your first lesson as my wife
you will never! He shook Aryazates head
violently. You will never talk back to me! Do you
hear me? Baraka screamed into his face.
Distantly, Aryazate heard the prisoners scream
back, repeating his words in slurred mockery. He
tried to gurgle an obscenity at Baraka, but his grip
on his throat was so tight that he could not form
words.
Baraka released him and stood back, smiling,
as if he had just purged himself of an ill humor.
He stumbled to his knees, wishing he could see
the sunlight, wishing the man before him would
die a hideous death, but now, when he needed the
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fire that rose unbidden so often before, it ignored
him.
Okay! Now that thats settled. Baraka nodded
and sighed. Lets see if we can come to an
agreement here. Right? Good! He pulled out a
small, rolled parchment from a pouch hanging
from his belt. This is our marriage contract, my
dear. You and I will get married, as soon as I get
you cleaned up and ready for the ceremony.
Aryazate stared in shock. What? Y-you
know
Yes I do. Its obviously a sham. Somehow, my
uncle Monushir, has been blackmailed. Your
secret will be safe with me, for now. He pulled a
simple gown out of his bag and hung it on the
bars. Then he took a rolled up cloth and handed it
to Aryazate. Your disguise.
Aryazate saw the padded bodice, so neatly
packed, and knew Nizami sent it. Tears rushed to
his eyes. If he were discovered then surely she,
too, would be executed. He quickly threw the
clothing on over his badly bruised body.
Yes, it seems that your mother may have
something over my uncle. So it would seem.
Perhaps they were lovers, but he has forbidden me
to reveal what only he and I saw. Or perhaps he is
ashamed to admit that you had even him totally
fooled. In any case, your mother has wed Captain
Tripura in an attempt to keep her wealth. If you
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were executed, surely her estate would also be
jeopardized. Now, with his protection and
influence, she saved herself and her wealth.
You bastard! You make it sound as if she
doesnt care about me! Tears stung Aryazates
eyes.
No. That is very far from the truth. You see,
we have struck a bargain. In exchange for your
life, she will give me half of her estate. You will
marry me and be freed from suspicions. Of course,
once we wed, I will make a claim to more of your
mothers landthe portion she has legally allotted
to you. Then three-fourths of it will be all mine, as
you will be my wife I will be the richest man in the
kingdom. Baraka began to laugh. You will be
my prisoner as long as you live.
Baraka. Aryazate whispered through his sore
throat. Go fornicate a decayed goat corpse.
No, my dear. It is I who will be arranging for
your torture. I will dream up degradations you
will never believe possible. You will be my
humble slave! He let out his breath in a deep sigh
of the patient father instructing a dense child. I
had feared it would have to go like this, he said
sorrowfully. If you dont be a good girl, I can, and
will carry through with the trial. You dont want
that, do you? I have been forbidden to reveal the
fact that you are a man, but you can still be
executed because of all the evidence against you.
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You know that the judges will be only too happy
to send you to your death. Perhaps your mother
can keep her wealth, but she will lose you. Its
either meor death.
Aryazate moaned.
So you will marry me now, Im sure. Just say
the words, my dear, and youll be wrapped in silk
and perfume and the finest oils. Baraka laughed
his odious cackle again. Well, maybe not, but you
will keep your miserable life. If you are especially
good, I may treat you to some of this. He pointed
to his crotch. I realize that having been raised as a
woman, you really believe you are one. That is no
problem here. He threw his head back and
laughed a laugh that ended in a cough.
It wont be so bad for you or for me, as I see it.
You may have grown up wealthy, child, but you
wont know what true wealth is until you become
my wife. Especially after I gain your riches as well.
Even now, I am the nephew of the Head-Mage
Monushir. I walk in the court circles. You cannot
know the vastness of my wealth. Really, it cant be
as bad as you make out. Im a good man! The
noblest of nobles! I must have given you a bad
first impression, scolding my wife in publicI
mean my late lamented wife, but wasnt it destiny
that we met? And now you will be my first wife,
although you will not be able to bear my children.
Oh well, that cannot be helped.
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Aryazate thought hard, ignoring the pain. He
remembered his first sight of Baraka smacking his
wife in plain sight of a crowd of nobles. No one
had had the courage to intervene, but Aryazate
stepped forward without hesitation. Now he
wished he had done more. He looked at the cruel
mans face and saw the scratches and the patch
over his ruined eye. He had killed his poor wife!
He knew it had to be so. Nausea welled up in him
as he came to that realization.
Baraka was right about the near certainty of the
conviction. Not only was there more than enough
evidence, the Magi under Monushir were
notoriously greedy. That was one of the reasons
why the great Rustem, the Sorcerer-Mage had fled
the palace with his sister-wife, Anahita, and their
young twins, Spenta and Mihr. Aryazate closed
his eyes in horror.
Nizami will lose almost all her wealth if I agree to
this vile trick! All that she worked for even before she
gave birth to me! Aryazate thought frantically. Then
again, she will lose me if I dont agree to this! He
closed his eyes and waited. No, he finally
muttered. I would rather die than to be your
slaveand to allow you to make my mother poor.
Go to hell, Baraka!
Baraka threw up his hands like a man tried
beyond all reasonable bounds of patience. Well,
then in that case, you will die. Your mother will
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get to hold onto her wealth, but how do you think
she will feel when she sees you burning to death
for your sorcery? Yes, they will burn you slowly
you and those hellhounds you love so much!
Aryazate felt his insides grow cold. His eyes
flicked about the cell and his chest rose and fell
more rapidly, but his face remained impassive.
You claim to be the nephew of the Head-Mage!
He is supposed to be the most moral person in the
world, yet you would lie and steal my mothers
wealth? You are an immoral monster!
Baraka drew himself up. How ever dare you?
My morals are beyond question! Yes, I am the
nephew of the Head-Mage himself! And you are a
sorcerer, so dont even try to question my
morality!
Uh, morals? Aryazate said sarcastically. I
guess your wife got in a few licks before you killed
her. I wish she had taken out the other eye, too!
Barakas face reddened alarmingly and he
raised his hand as if to strike him again. Dont
interrupt me! Now, to answer your question, you
are of marriageable age and you are posing as a
woman. There is no immorality in my wedding
someone who has fooled everyone. You have
deceived me. You are the immoral one! I ought to
test your woman parts right here and now!
Despite his languid stance, Aryazate felt sweat
break out on his forehead. You wouldnt dare. Id
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have the guards running here in a moment. I may
be in prison, but I am a noblewoman, the public
outcry would be massive.
A noblewoman? Baraka laughed roughly. The
public need never know, the soldiers certainly
wouldnt tell, dear! Not with the gold that lines
their pockets now. Be a good girl and lift your
skirts for me. I can be very gentle this time.
As he spoke, Aryazate watched with growing
horror as he unbuckled his belt and pulled his
erect, stubby penis out of his pants.
Unconsciously, he began to back away from him,
almost slipping on the slimy stone floors. His back
hit the cold stone wall, making him conscious of
his own actions. He swallowed hard, hating that
Baraka could see his fear. You will never get
away with this. Aryazates voice was strong, not
giving away a hint of fear.
Ah, but I will. I will, and I will enjoy you for as
long as you are kept in prison. Oh, the surprise on
your face! I regularly bed my houseboys. All
nobles do, you know.
There must have been something in Aryazates
expression that amused him, because he laughed,
his muscled shoulders shook as he opened his
mouth wide and bellowed. The other prisoners
repeated echoes of insane laughter. Aryazate
wished that this were a nightmare, but it was all
too real.
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Baraka looked down at himself and smiled
widely then lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders
and hauling him upright. He rubbed his bare body
against Aryazate as he hiked up his dress.
You bastard! Help me someone! Aryazate
screamed. There was no answer except for the
soulless cries of the other prisoners. He used all
his might to pull down, hoping to break the
inflamed mans hold, but he merely laughed and
tightened his grip painfully. He realized he had
had no idea how strong Baraka was. Viciously
Aryazate kicked his shins with his bare feet, but he
did not seem to register the pain as he looked at
him with his one lustful, hollow eye, which
reminded him of depictions of the Evil Sprit.
He pulled Aryazate to him in a savage jerk and
pressed his lips against his, but he bit them hard,
tasting his revolting blood. He drew back sharply.
Bitch! Youll pay, youll pay! Baraka
screamed as he pinned him against the wall,
separating his legs with his knees.
Help me!
****
Captain Tripura knit his brows in frustration and
fear, racking his brains to come up with something
that would help. He paced his office, sweating,
feeling helpless, even contemplating whipping up
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a revolt. The soldiers loved him. It would be
possible.
A dark shape detached itself from the wall and
stepped into Tripuras path.
He nearly ran into the hooded man. By all the
Holy Fires! Tripura exclaimed jumping back.
There is no time for delay. You must go to the
prison at once. Go to the sixteenth cell on the
lower level, Lady Aryazate is in danger.
What
Go! The man slipped out the door.
Tripura hurried after him, but when he got into
the main hallway, the man was gone. He ran to
the prison wing, his muscled legs carrying him
swiftly. As he passed a group of a half a dozen of
his soldiers, he ordered, Follow me! He heard
their surprised exclamations, but they followed
him without question. They entered the dungeon,
still running.
A startled guard leapt up and barred their path,
seeing their uniforms. Im sorry, but youre not
allowed in there!
Tripura slowed and halted. We have urgent
business with one of the prisoners. There is good
reason to believe that she is in great danger!
Tripura tried to inject as much authority as he
could into his voice. He had no real power over
the City Guards or their internal systems.
The guard blinked, but didnt budge. If you
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want admittance you shall have to make an appeal
just like any other ordinary citizen, Captain
Tripura. Captain Ratka gave strict orders
concerning the matter of Palace Guards in the
prison after someone gave preferential treatment
to one of the prisoners. Just then, another one of
the city guards appeared and the first gestured for
the man to take his place blocking Tripuras path.
He cursed, wondering how the city guard had
found out about Kavada. This matter is urgent!
he insisted, growing angrier by the second.
To allow you to rush in would be giving you
preferential treatment and that would not be fair
to the others who visit the prison every day, the
guard said implacably.
Tripura gave a shout of anger. He advanced on
the soldier blocking the way.
Wait! You are breaking the law! the guard
squeaked.
Out of my way! he roared. He slammed the
guard against the wall and continued to run. He
could now hear the ruckus. A screamand
Barakas hate-filled voice.
I will destroy you! I will ravage you like the
whore you are! Baraka turned at the tramp of
running booted feet.
Help! Aryazate screamed again.
Let go of her! Captain Tripura shouted. The
Palace Guards behind Tripura made faces of
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disgust and scorn when they saw Baraka
grappling with Aryazate. He snarled and turned
to them. Tripura saw him quickly cover what he
had been planning to do by pulling down the
ladys dress. In his haste, he forgot about himself.
Tripura opened the cell door with a rattle of keys.
Baraka stood facing them with his erect penis
jerking out of his opened pants. His face was
purple with rage and lust, but he suddenly
seemed to see them staring at him. I was just
leaving, gentlemen, Baraka muttered nervously.
Fear made him go flaccid before their eyes. He
bucked his pants on and tried to smile cheerfully
at the towering Captain and the six men who
advanced on him. As Tripura loomed over him,
Baraka gave an explosive fart of anxiety. Thank
the gods you showed up, Baraka moaned.
Shethis sorceress had me in the grips of a spell.
She was about to rape me! About to use my body
for her evil
He didnt get to finish, as Tripura shoved him
viciously. It can be pretty dangerous in these
prisons, I hear, he growled low. People down
here get hurt all the time and since the convicted
cant testify in court there will be no
witnessesand the dead tell no tales. He let the
words dangle and the six men with him laughed
and cracked their knuckles. Oh, Ive got the keys!
What if I open a few cells? Oh, theres a deranged
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criminal there...
Now listen here, my friends. I am a nobleman,
the nephew of The Head-Mage himself! Baraka
wiped his hands on his pants as if to rid himself of
his guilt. I cannot allow you to do this. You seem
to have a lot of aggression in your liver? The Magi
say you ought to eat fig leaves or else the ill
humors will cause the mucous in your head to
overflow. Hey, hey there, back up! I cannot allow
you to do this! His smile was strained and his
lips thin as he tried to push his way past them.
But you would allowno, you would commit
rape of a noblewoman? Tripura growled, his face
a mask of rage. I think, boys, that we need to
teach this man how to behave. Lets give him a
little lesson, shall we? The men grinned savagely
and moved in closer. Tripura landed one good
punch, causing Baraka to double up and moan,
before the city guards came rushing down the hall.
Hey! Hey! You arent allowed in here! A city
officer appeared with a sword then, seeing
Captain Tripura, altered his tone. I mean, Im
afraid youll have to leave, sir. Captain Ratka gave
me strict orders, sir.
Captain Ratka is a son of a one-titted whore
and a lame donkey. Tripuras men roared with
laughter. The enmity between the captains of the
City Guards and the Palace Guards was well nigh
famous among the soldiers. Captain Tripura
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blushed, glancing at Aryazate. Excuse me Lady, I
forgotuh
Its okay, Aryazate said with a little grin. The
soldiers were gawking at her.
Baraka took the opportunity to slip into the
ranks of the city guard and cower away from
Tripuras gaze. He thought he had gotten safely
past them when one of Tripuras men placed a
large, hairy hand on his scrotum and squeezed
hard. Baraka fell to his knees and was kicked
viciously in the rear. He scurried away, only
reaching the outside door before he retched
violently.
You there, give her your cloak! Tripura
ordered.
Thank you Captain. Aryazate took the thick
cloak and wrapped it over her shivering body.
Thank you for everything.
Tripura felt genuine tears coming to his eyes as
he looked at Aryazates slender form. She stood as
straight and comfortable as if she were in the main
hall of her estate, greeting guests, but she was
bruised and bleeding. Im sorry I cant do more. I
wish I could at least change your cell, but that lot
is wise to my tricks now.
Come on, lets go. One of the city officers
tried ushering Tripuras men out.
Tripura gave him a furious glance and lingered
a moment longer. There were no words to say to
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Aryazate, nothing was adequate for the terror
with which she was faced. Finally, he turned and
followed his men. The ruckus the prisoners made
as the soldiers passed covered their footsteps and
didnt die down as he left the horrible place and
headed to see Nizami who had warned him that
there was a secret she had to break to him. He was
grim as he wondered what it was and if it had
anything to do with this.
****
Aryazate stood in the center of the cell, feeling a
despair that was utterly foreign to him. The
feeling was mixed with rage at the hideous
injustice of the situation. He looked down at the
filthy floor, disgusted with muck that sloshed
underfoot. The slime had an oily sheen cast by the
orange light from the torches that burned on the
walls in the corridors outside. Eventually, he set
the cloak down and curled up in it. He closed his
eyes, remembering the way Nizami used to tuck
him in at night. He thought of Kavadas face,
seeing it as he had when they tore him away. The
look of terror and despair would be one he would
remember for the rest of his life, however long that
was. He felt tears trickling down his cheeks, but he
didnt make a sound. Would he ever see Kavada
again? There was a primal voice inside of him that
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was already weeping with the knowledge that he
would not.
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Chapter 18
ryazate jerked awake as the door to his cell

screeched open once again. He stood, feeling
his head still clouded with murky dreams of fear.
Four men entered the room and stared with
unmasked hatred. They held weapons in his
direction, as if he could possibly hurt them.
Put this on. A soldier threw a clean dress at
him.
He seemed loath to approach Aryazate and
stood near the door of the cell as if to make sure he
could make good his escape if attacked. Aryazate
held the dress and waited for the men to turn
around, but they just stood there expectantly, their
tongues nearly lolling out of their mouths. Turn
around, if you will, gentlemen. I am not
accustomed to being treated like trash. I havent
been convicted yet, you know.
The men gave each other looks. Iuhturn
around you three, the man in charge ordered. He
kept his eyes on Aryazate, who raised his
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eyebrows at him, but he met his gaze insolently. A
hot flush began to spread up his cheeks. Then
lock the door again and turn around, for I do not
expose myself to men. He stood firm until they
obeyed.
Okay, lets get the chains on her!
There was a clank of heavy chains behind him.
Aryazate turned. One of the men was arranging
shackles that still shone where a smith had
adjusted them to fit his smaller wrists and ankles.
The links were thick enough to hold a man of
Kavadas size and strength. What? You cant be
serious? This is ludicrous! Aryazate backed away
from the man with the shackles.
We have our orders. The officer grinned.
Aryazate felt the heavy, cold iron settle against
his skin. A soldier none too gently grabbed his
other arm and cuffed the other shackle into place.
He supposed he ought to be flattered that they
were taking so many precautions with him, as if
he were a vicious killer capable of anything. He
followed the soldiers out, growing colder and
colder until his hands felt like ice.
The enormous brass doors to the Great Hall
opened and, before Aryazate, the entire court was
assembled in all their pomp and glory. The
arrangement, now different than at the
announcement feast, arranged the seats in orderly
rows and no one lounged. The excitement was
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tight in the air. The high ceiling of the Great Hall
made him dizzy as he paused on the threshold
with the four guards flanking him. He swallowed
hard, his eyes following the straight path in front
of him toward the throne of Cyrus the Great. The
King of Kings was dressed with his usual finery,
the gold and gems decorating his crown and
glowing on his jewelry. The king didnt look at
him. Captain Tripura stood in his usual spot
behind the throne with his hands clasped behind
him. His face was impassive, but he met
Aryazates eyes with a compassion that was
obvious to him even from this distance.
Aryazate stepped forward, trying hard to
banish the sense of unreality that wrapped around
him as he stepped into the avidly curious sight of
the court. The assembled nobles murmured and
the hum of it made him feel as if he were in the
midst of a swarm of flies. His eyes flicked away
from Tripura and searched for Nizami. His gaze
passed over the crowd, seeing people he had
known all of his life with blank horror in their
eyes as his gaze touched them. They grabbed their
kustis as he passed and shook them. He saw his
mother seated in the front row. Her red eyes were
dry, but at the sight of him, they overflowed once
again.
To the right of the dais, where the throne sat,
was a high bank of polished wood where the High
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Council of the Magi sat, with Monushir the HeadMage in the center. As Aryazate approached, he
rose from his seat and towered over him.
The time has now come, he intoned in a shrill
nasal voice that carried to all corners of the hushed
hall, for the faithful, the best and most sacred to
Ahura Mazda, the Giver of Fire, to decide the fate
of the accused who stands before us. Monushir
looked directly into Aryazates eyes, seemingly
drawn to his gaze against his will. He shook his
head and continued. As is the custom, the
accused shall stand trial before the High Council
of Magi, but due to the nature of the social
standing of the accused, the King of Kings has
requested to have the ultimate say in this matter,
as is his right.
A slight murmur of approval rippled thought
the crowd until Monushir held up the ornate staff
of his station. I have the staff. The accused, Lady
Aryazate of the House of Fortiviar, has been
charged with the brutal torture and slaying of the
first wife of Baraka by means of sorcery. She has
been charged with the wrongful murder of one of
her servants, by the name of Sheerka, by means of
sorcery. She has been charged with the seduction
of Lord Baraka, by means of sorcery
A gasp of shock of horror went up from the
watchers and Aryazates bruised jaw dropped
with shock. Seduced! What lies!
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Be silent! Be silent! I have the staff! Monushir
held up the staff until the assembled grew utterly
still once again.
Aryazate resisted the urge to shout out at the
injustice of it all. The pain and fear made his
pupils shrink, and his sharpened gaze flicked to
Nizami then settled back on Monushir.
The accused has been charged with attempted
murder of Lord Varlan
Again the exclamations cut through Monushirs
speech. Aryazate shook his head in total disbelief,
his hair falling over his face briefly until he raised
his head once again.
She has been charged with the attempted
murder of a servant of the empire, by the name of
Grumio, by means of sorcery. She has been
charged with enchanting the great Lady Nizami
with her foul trickery
What! Nizami leapt out of her chair and
started forward. What insanity is this? she
demanded. Her voice and graceful frame shook
with indignation and fear. The nobles gave her
looks of pity, as the Magi nodded to themselves
slowly.
Sit down, Lady Nizami. If the proceedings
prove too much for you, you will have to remove
yourself or risk being removed by force,
Monushir said implacably.
Nizami was flushed. Her mouth had a hard set
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to it that Aryazate had never seen before. With his
gaze, he implored his mother to sit down. He
could not bear going through these terrifying
proceedings without her. She hesitated then
resumed her seat, still shaking with rage.
Now then, without any further interruptions
please. Monushir droned on. The accused has
been charged with attempted murder of Lady
Snatia, with the enchantment of her servants and
with treachery for slaying the boar at the autumn
hunt by sorcery. In summary, the accused is
charged with two counts of murder, three counts
of attempted murder, two counts of enchantment,
one count of treachery and one count of seduction.
What is your plea to these charges?
All attention turned to Aryazate. He felt the
weight of the chains on his wrists and the weight
of their gazes on his life force. Not guilty, he
said in a calm, cool voice.
The whisperings died as soon as they had
begun. Monushir nodded, one of the other Magi
was scribbling down every word of the
proceedings.
Very well, call the first witness. Monushir sat
down again.
Lord Baraka, stand before us, the mage to
Monushirs left said, reading from a parchment.
Lord Baraka stood slowly and made his way to
the imposing bench. His movements were slow
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the agonized walk of a man who has suffered
though the darkest, most terrible nightmare. He
held his head cocked in the direction of his ruined
eye as if in great pain. When he reached his seat,
he sat down then jumped up for a moment,
making a shrill whine of pain.
Tripura smiled slightly. Perhaps he was
remembering Barakas little confrontation with
one of his mens boot. Baraka finally accepted
Monushirs staff listlessly.
Now, my nephew, tell us your entire story
from start to finish as you told it to me before.
Monushirs nasal voice was kindly and reassuring.
Baraka took a ragged breath and squared his
shoulders. He cast a fearful glance over his
shoulder at Aryazate and shuddered. He cleared
his throat and began. II first met Aryazate in
the street outside my house. I was withwith
Shrava, mybeloved wife. I remember thinking
right then and there that there was something odd
about her, but I felt the most intense attraction to
her body. I could barely form coherent thoughts.
She became my obsession. Baraka sighed and
shook his head ruefully.
Aryazate could feel his jaw beginning to clamp
down hard, the muscles tightening until they hurt.
I courted her most honorably, giving her
sumptuous gifts far above her station. I paid her
the most tender affection in public and when we
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were alone together. She would always be so rude
to me in public! She flaunted her control over my
heart.
Several of the nobles whispered to themselves,
as if remembering the way Aryazate was indeed
quite cruel to Baraka. It was so painful, he
continued. His voice cracked and tears glistened in
his eyes. When we were alone, she encouraged
my attentions. She nearly drove me wild with
passion for her, continually refusing my offer of
honorable marriage until I nearly wasted away
with love for her. Then finally, she came to my
country estate one night. II tried to stop her, I
tried to tell her how wicked she was to do such
things without the binding lock of marriage, but
she overwhelmed me. I tried to stop, but she had
taken control of my body. I tried to scream, to run,
but it was useless. Afterward, she began to stalk
me, coming to me night after night. I would
sometimes get no sleep at all. When she didnt
actually come to me, she came in dreams, in all my
dreams. It was horrible.
One day, Lord Varlan came to my townhouse.
It was after the fights at the Kloraportvar. He said
that he was suspicious of Lady Aryazate. He said
hed seen evidence of her predatory nature with
his own eyes and he didnt know whom else to
turn to. I was so happy to have someone to talk to,
to confide my fears in. I hadnt visited my wifes
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bed for months, fearing Lady Aryazate would
come in the night and see us. But a few days after
speaking with Varlan finally I had the courage to
visit my beloved wife. That was last night.
Baraka stopped speaking as a sob tore through
him.
The watchers were utterly silent. Many of them
reached for their own handkerchiefs, moved to
tears of their own by Barakas tale of suffering.
I told my wife everything, from start to finish.
She held me as I cried with the pain and shame.
She told me that she would find a way to make
Aryazate submit to marriage then she fell into my
arms. We kissed. One last kiss was all we had. One
kiss. ThenthenIm sorry I need a moment.
Baraka daubed at his one eye. I felt skeleton
hands, as cold as ice, grab my arm. I heard
Aryazates disembodied voice say you cant have
him, hes mine. Then my wife, my beloved Shrava
screamed. I could see the wounds blooming on her
skin like red roses. I fearlessly jumped in to save
her, but was knocked backwards and something
was buried in my eye. Through the haze of blood
and pain, I saw the lifeblood drained from my
wife. I screamed for help then, but my wife was
dead. The sorceress disappeared and I was alone
with the corpse of someone I loved so much. And
now, how can I remarry, if every woman who
looks at me is subject to this sorceress wicked
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jealousy? My life is ruined! He sobbed.
Lady Snatia rose and hurried over to him,
ignoring the breach of protocol, to make a show of
her affection and support of Baraka. He sobbed
against her, pushing his face violently against her
breasts.
Daubing at his eyes, Monushir shuffled papers
on his desk. He honked his red nose loudly then
glared at Aryazate. What do you have to say for
yourself? A look of hatred distorted his features.
Aryazate straightened. Lord Baraka is a lying
coward. He killed his own wife. Do you see his
missing eye and the scratches on his face? His wife
was the one who injured him, defending herself.
Im almost sure of it. As for me seducing him,
Captain Tripura can testify to the fact that this low
down scoundrel attempted to rape me in the
cellars a few hours ago, because he was so
frustrated that I never submitted to his arrogant
wooing.
King Cyrus raised his eyebrows.
Monushir opened his eyes in shock and
indignation then cast his nephew a furious glance
that was not missed by some of the audience.
Well, what of it, Tripura? Cyrus asked.
It is true, my men can testify to this as well. He
was attempting to rape a noblewoman. Tripuras
deep voice rumbled out over the heads of the
watchers, causing uncertainty.
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Aryazate felt the tide turn in his direction, so
apparently did Baraka.
He is enchanted as I once was! Baraka cried
in apparent agony. And his men will of course
agree with the Captain of the Guards! They will
lose their heads if they do not! Think of how clever
she is! Oh, Captain Tripura, you have my deepest
sympathies. We need to help this man! Nobody
helped me, but together we can save this poor
enchanted man!
Enough of this slander! Monushir wiped his
brow with a silk cloth. Call for the next witness.
He took his staff from Baraka as the man hobbled
away miserably.
Lord Varlan, stand before us, the mage said.
Lord Varlan still limped from his injuries at the
Kloraportvar. Tell us of your involvement with
the accused and clarify to the court why your
rivalry with Lord Baraka changed into sympathy.
Monushir handed Varlan the staff and leaned
forward slightly.
Lord Varlan tried to look grave. His mangled
face was still covered in bandages, but it appeared
that they were especially huge today. Ive known
Lady Aryazates family for over forty years. When
I met her, I was taken in by her innocent
demeanor.
Aryazate barely suppressed a snort of laughter
at this.
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I was angry with Baraka for trying to
dominate her attentions and it was said all about
court that we were rivals for Lady Aryazates
affection. But she didnt fool me for long. When
she attempted to force herself on me, I knew she
was no natural woman. I refused her and sent her
on her way, having superior control over my own
will. But to my shame, I didnt report the incident.
I watched her from then on and my suspicions
grew. For one thing, the death of my dear wife
may have been connected with her, but I cant say
for sure. She gave herself away a number of times,
but the worst time was at the Kloraportvar. I
watched with horror and disgust at the way she
conducted herself and I wondered how I could
have ever wanted to marry this woman. I knew
that the man she cheered for was under her spell
as I had once been. I knew that there was no way
the man could free himself from her spell, being a
lowly and weak-minded servant. Although I
observed plainly that the man had been granted
unnatural strength through her sorcery, I attacked
him with the noble idea of putting the man out of
his misery.
I felt an icy hand pull me off of my horse. The
man I had intended to kill had also pulled at me,
but that certainly hadnt been enough to unseat a
horseman of my prowess. The beast spooked then,
and I fought with the wicked spirit that pressed
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my face into the dirt. It held my foot fast in the
stirrup no matter how hard I tried to yank it out.
Finally, I overpowered the spirit and I released my
foot. I knew then, that the servant of Aryazate had
to die, for at that point, I was certain that Aryazate
was a sorceress. I attacked the man who was not
really just a man as all could clearly see, but was
half demon from the infusions of power she had
obviously given the creature. I struck the man,
nearly severing his head from his body, but to my
horrorto the horror of all, she brought him back
to life! Many listening here saw this with their
own eyes.
I was greatly troubled, and that night I went to
Lord Barakas house in the hope of telling him that
Aryazate was not what she seemed. For although I
was once Lord Barakas rival, my honorable soul
would not allow me to see another man fall into
her clutches. Word of my visit must have reached
the sorceress because I received this note in the
mail. Baraka held up a small piece of parchment.
Tripura took the note and gave it to Monushir.
The note warned me that I was not to go to
the hunt. I was to stay away from Baraka or suffer
her wrath.
I see it is not signed, King Cyrus said when
the note was passed to him.
It is obviously from her, nonetheless. I became
convinced that Baraka was in need of my help. I
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went to the hunt, but no sooner did the hounds
begin to bay, than she came racing up behind me
on that black devil horse of hers. I felt the same icy
hand trying to pull me down, but with all my
considerable willpower, I resisted. I barely
escaped with my life. Then I saw her make a sign
of sorcery over her dogs. They attacked me, and
had it not been for my great strength and cunning,
I would not be here to tell these things. When I
rejoined the main hunting party, we discovered
that she had killed the boar. At the time, I insisted
that it was due to sorcery, but no one listened. I
knew her tricks, but it took the death of Barakas
wife to get people to pay attention to me. His face
was awful in its look of suppressed victory.
Monushir nodded at Varlan, looking pleased.
What have you to say in your defense, Accused
One?
Aryazate gave Varlan a scornful glare, even as
he felt the sweat beading on his forehead. Lord
Varlan attacked my servant Kavada because he
resented my attentions to him. He fell out of his
saddle because he is a poor horseman. At the hunt,
he tried to pull me out of the saddlehe tried to
kill me. Captain Tripura, Lady Nizami and
Kavada all saw this. He wanted to kill me for
revenge because he had made a fool of himself in
the Kloraportvar! When I killed the boar, despite
his meddling, his jealousy was so obvious that it
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drew wide comments. Dont people remember
this?
People began to mutter, some smiling as they
remembered Varlans little ride as he was dragged
behind his horse.
Call the next witness! Monushir belched as he
turned his head away from the King. He wiped his
lips on a white handkerchief.
Lady Chutka, stand before us!
Lady Chutka waddled up to the bench as
Varlan left to go sit down. She took the staff with
great reverence then her upper lip curled and she
gave Lady Nizami a look of pure, savage triumph.
I first saw the accused when she appeared to be
about six years old, but of course, one can never
tell with demons. At the time, I was unwary. I
allowed the creature to go near my dear, fair
daughter, Lady Snatia. The atmosphere was
festiveit was a grand celebration at the
Kloraportvar.
While I was busy making arrangements for
my party, the cunning evil creature used her guile
and treachery to lure my innocent daughter into
danger, into the very path of a charging bull
elephant! Ahura Mazda saw what had happened
and the Giver of Fire struck the mad beast dumb. I
heard the sound of scuttling demon feet as the
accused hurried to the poor, unfortunate Lady
Nizami. When I demanded that justice be carried
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out, Lady Nizami was indignant and angry. I felt a
great cold fear in my heart as I looked at the
demon Lady Nizami clutched to her breast. She
glared at me and burrowed her face into Lady
Nizamis hair like a rat.
I began to realize that the poor woman had
been enchanted by a demon! Then I saw the
creature smile and I saw its true face for a split
second. It had blue-black skin covered with a thick
layer of mucous that dripped from its hog-like
nose. There were several layers of teethall of
them were at least three inches long and sharper
than a bone needle. Where the eyes should have
been, were deep black holes. I was so frightened,
but those eyes seemed to warn me not to speak,
for it knew me.
The facts began to fall into place after that. We
all heard about the death of Nizamis husband at
sea, but the tragedy was made doubly unbearable
when soon after this, the Ladys young girl child
fell deathly ill and died. I know she would have
you believe that her child recovered, but I know
from an excellent source, that her child was dead.
She had a manservant at the time, who now works
for me, by the name of Heerka. In her weakened
state, so this manservant tells me, she went to the
Daxma, following the corpse cart as is the custom.
At the base of the Daxma, the awful Towers of
Silence, was a feces covered monstrosity, its hair
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plastered to a hoary hide. That demon Lady
Chutka pointed to Aryazate scuttled back and
forth on all six of her feet. It was drooling with
hungerglobs of pendulous slime hanging from
its toothy mouth. The multi-jointed legs ended in
scaly, yellow chickens feet.
The uproar stilled as Monushir gave them all a
quelling look.
Lady Chutka continued, Heerka was holding
an oilskin to keep the rain off of Lady Nizami. He
tried to call out to Nizami, he tried to warn her,
but he felt an icy hand close around his throat.
Nizami took what she thought was a child into her
house. The demon appeared to her to be a
cherubic child, and even to this day, it retains an
unnatural beauty. Who can blame Lady Nizami
for harboring this creature? The Lady is a victim of
this demon! She is in need of rescue! Have we not
all observed the gradual change in her
personality? At one time, she was a meek and
obedient wife, pious and true to her natural
station! And now look at her! Look at the way it is
rumored that she takes men into her bed at her
whimsy! Look at how she handles the money of
her estate, supposedly investing it herself without
the guiding hand and superior intelligence of a
male! Let us free her from this torture! Lady
Chutka gave Monushir the staff and swept back to
her seat, giving Lady Nizami a quick, malicious
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grin as she passed.
Aryazate swayed on his feet. Something inside
him constricted, some vague memory was stirring
in the depths of his unconscious. Can this possibly
be the reason why Nizami raised me as a girl? Is she
not my mother? Can this be true?
What is your defense, Accused? Monushirs
voice quavered. His face was drawn. There was a
paleness that hadnt been there a moment ago.
Aryazates throat was dry and he hoped his
fear and doubt did not show on his face because
the watching audience would certainly take this as
a sign of guilt. II dont know what she is
talking about. I can only suppose that fat cow is
jealous of my beautiful mother because she knows
that Lord Chutka desires her to this day!
Lady Chutka screeched in indignation, whirling
around. How dare
It is my turn to speak! Aryazate said loudly
over the noise. The Great Hall door opened
silently and a hooded figure slipped into the
room. He drew little notice as he settled into place
because the people were in such an uproar, but he
took note.
Monushir stood up impatiently, raising his staff
over his head. Silence! Silence! I have the staff!
He waited until utter stillness had returned.
Aryazate waited for Monushir to ask him to
continue.
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Call the next witness!
Aryazate began indignantly. Hey! I havent
I have the staff! Do not speak unless you are
asked to speak, Accused!
Nizami stood up and strode to where Aryazate
stood. This is injustice! You do not even let her
speak in her own defense as is her right! I will tell
you now that what that water buffalo says is
nonsense! She has been jealous of us since as far
back as I can remember.
Silence! Monushir held up the staff.
Nizami ignored him. There is no woman more
kind, competent and courageous as Aryazate is!
She is an example that others would do well to
follow! We are educated people! Are we going to
seriously believe that a woman such as this could
possibly be a sorceress? Do you honestly
Silence! Monushir screamed. His face was
purple with rage. Guards take her out!
Tripura stood still, looking straight ahead.
Monushir looked at him, utterly incredulous.
All gazes turned to Tripura, including Cyruss.
A slow grin spread over Cyruss face, but
Monushir looked as if he were about to explode.
You dare to disobey me! he honked. He
slammed the jeweled staff down hard on the
polished bar. You will die for this! He wiped the
sweat from his face with a trembling hand.
Tripura lost color, but remained immobile.
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Cyrus said, Your family is nothing, if not
amusing, Lady Aryazate. Come now, Tripura, do
as you are told.
I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, but there
is more to this story than is being told here in this
court. Lady Nizami has a right to speak in defense
of her daughter.
You will pay for this! Monushir screamed
shrilly.
Ill go. Nizami and kissed Aryazate on the
cheek. Do not fear, my child, I will not abandon
you. She gave his arms a squeeze, being unable
to reach his hands. Then she turned and swept
out. The Great Hall doors eased shut behind her.
Aryazate found he didnt feel as alone as
expected. He looked at Tripura with gratitude.
Heerka to the stand, the announcer mage
called.
Aryazate felt the muscles in his neck hurt from
the tension. He swallowed nervously, shocked
that Heerka, the servant he knew from his earliest
memories was here to testify against him. He had
been like an indulgent uncle to Aryazate, always
ready to play. It was Heerka who had given him
the very first puppy of his own. He remembered
how the kind man had given him horse rides on
his own back and how he would use his sharp
knife to peel fruit and sugarcane for him. Tears
stung his eyes as he considered how greed could
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warp a persongreed or had it been jealousy?
Aryazate grieved for him and for poor Sheerka,
whom he had almost certainly murdered
Sheerka, who had been the inseparable brother
and friend of Heerka.
Heerka, you have been a servant at the House
of Fortiviar since before the accused was taken in.
Tell us about this, Monushir demanded.
Heerka took the staff with a noticeable tremor
in his hand. His gaze darted from side to side, but
he refused to make contact with Aryazates eyes.
My first sight of the demon was as my Lady
Chutka said, at the Towers of Silence. The demon
looked just as the Lady said. I was afraid for Lady
Nizami, for her dear dead husband had given me
the task of caring for her, should he drown at sea,
which he did.
The audience gasped and whispered. It was
unheard of that a servant would be appointed to
such a task!
He cleared his voice and continued, although
Aryazate noticed that Monushir was glaring
angrily at him. Perhaps he had departed from
their rehearsed script.
Each time I was alone with Nizami, I would
try to warn her, but the same death grip closed
around me, preventing me. Sometimes I would be
working and the demon would come out and stare
at me. She would let her real face show the whole
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time until someone else came. The monstrous
child always touched my face or arms with her
corrupted flesh, making me feel her threat. I knew
by this touch that if I ever said anything not only
me, but my dear brother Sheerka would die.
Heerka swallowed hard and continued his lie.
Once I was digging a pool for the Ladys
garden and the demon came out to watch me.
Since she couldnt reach me with her hand, she
opened her toothy mouth. A tongue, at least six
inches thick, uncurled from her mouth and
reached down to me. It was blue green and had
numerous whitish and gray growths on it. It kept
stretching out and out, and finally it crossed the
distance to where I shrank in the farthest corner of
the pit. It curled around my neck and stroked my
face. I knew she was just about to kill me when
Lady Nizami came up behind her. Her tongue
whipped back into her mouth like a frogs tongue
would, and she changed into the beautiful woman
you see there. He seemed to tremble, but he
never looked at Aryazate.
Aryazate had heard the stories that everyone
whisperedhow Heerka had fallen into a pool he
was digging and he had somehow saved him. He
had raved, half-drowned, about how he had
thought he was dying when suddenly, little
Aryazate pulled him out of the water with a force
like a whirlwind. Heerka had been devoted to him
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even more from that day on. Aryazate had tried to
forget these stories, which now seemed to contain
ominous meanings.
Despite my knowledge, I did nothing. I feared
that any move I might make would endanger my
life or my dear brother Sheerkas life. For years I
lived in terror, knowing that the demon knew that
I alone knew her secret. It turns out my fears were
justified. Last night, I finally found the courage to
come to the Magi, after hearing that the HeadMage was rousting out the demons. But
Heerkas quavering voice broke in a sob of
genuine grief. When I came back, my dear
Sheerka was lying in a circle of salt. There were
gaping wounds in his eye and throat. Inside the
woundswere bones.
The crowd gasped as Heerka held up two
chicken bones with trembling hands. The clerk
gathered up the evidence and brought it to the
Magi. What is your defense?
Monushir demanded as he turned to Aryazate.
Aryazate bit back a sarcastic reply and drew a
deep calming breath. Heerka, my servant has
good reason for wanting to dispose of me. He has
betrayed me, gone to work for one of Fortiviars
enemies and killed his own loyal brother. Why did
he do this? I believe he was jealous of Cap He
realized with horror that he couldnt involve
Captain Tripura, so he faltered. I believe he was
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jealous of our good fortune, he amended it
lamely. Is it any wonder he is testifying against
me? As for the insult of implying that I am not
Nizamis child, I ask the assembled to decide
whether I do not act like a noblewoman? He
stopped, wondering what to say next and wishing
that he could have a drink. There was nothing he
could say, he realized. They were against him. No
matter what he said or did they would think him a
demon.
I am noticing a trend in your defense, demon.
Monushir scratched his beard. He didnt meet
Aryazates eyes as he spoke. You continually
blame the victim of your attacks. You ought to
think of more inventive ways of defending
yourself because your present defense stinks of
falsehood. Call the next witness.
Grumio the tax collector to the stand, the
announcer mage called.
Grumio strode forward. His hairless head had
mostly healed from the burning, but it still looked
like a piece of raw meat. Tufts of hair were
beginning to grow back, making the wounds look
even more grotesque.
You are a tax collector, a servant of the
empire. Monushir peered encouragingly at him.
Tell us of your involvement with the demon.
Grumios little eyes flicked toward Aryazate in
satisfaction. My first contact with her was when I
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went to the house of a blacksmith named Kavada.
The blacksmiths fatherwas a sorcerer.
There was a gasp at this damning evidence.
The blacksmith himself was innocent, but she
could sniff his corruptibility. His bad blood was
what drew her to him as we were carrying out our
duties as honorable servants of the empire. She
must have been watching him from a distance
because she gave him an infusion of power as my
associates and I were in his home. He picked me
up bodily and threw me into the street! When I
confronted him, his superior, that sorceress, came
and glared at me.
I felt an icy hand clutch my heart and I was
obliged to flee for my life! But I did not trust my
own senses. I was certain that I must have
imagined the icy hand around my heart or else I
would have never warned them that I would not
forget it. I didnt recognize her danger. I filed the
report of his assault, but I did nothing about her.
When I went to her estate to collect the blacksmith
with six City Guards, I was attacked once again.
The entire smithy went up in blue flames then she
set my hair on fire as well. By sorcery, she did all
of this! The blue flames were as unnatural as she
is! I suffer day and night as if they still lick me
with their fiery demon tongues! I wish for
deathoh I wish for death, just to be free of this
pain!
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Monushir stood to quiet the crowd, accepting
his staff back from Grumio. What is your
defense?
All eyes turned to Aryazate. He clenched his
hands into fists behind him to keep them from
shaking. I have no idea what this man is talking
about. The smithy did burn, but that was days
before the tax collector was anywhere near our
land, Aryazate lied. It was his word against
Grumios, and he was damned if he was going to
admit that the smithy truly did burn as Grumio
said. A shiver of doubt and fear ran down his
spine. Maybe he was a sorcerer.
Quiet! Monushir demanded. The High
Council of Magi will now retire to contemplate the
evidence that has been laid down before us.
Aryazate hung his head in despair. The sound
of the spectators was all around him, suffocating
him.
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Chapter 19
avada blinked back tears as he drew his horse

up in front of the main gate of the Palace. He
hesitated, feeling perfect truth in his heart. Oh my
god, Oh Ahura Mazda, if you grant me this one boon, if
you let Aryazate live, I would give anything, even my
own life. After he spoke the words in his mind, he
felt a shiver run up his spine. He meant the prayer
with all of his being, and for once, he felt that
someone had heard his request.
Kavada was covered in dust, but his blue eyes
held a shine of fury as he galloped through the
marketplace. The City Guards had left him in an
unconscious heap on the floor. Nizami had
thrown a blanket over him and had ordered one of
the servants to tend to him before she ran after the
mob that carried away Aryazate. Now he was
awake.
Kavada was coming.
The people leapt aside as the man on the huge
horse thundered past. He looked neither to the
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right nor to the left in his intensity. He felt a boil of
toxic feelings twisting his gut. He urged his mount
faster. Kavada sped up when he reached the
imposing outer gate of the palace. With a
practiced flourish, he unsheathed the long sword
Tripura had given him. Sweat from the long ride
made tracks in the dust and stung his eyes, but he
never wavered or slowed his charge. The half a
dozen guards at the open gate leapt to their feet as
he came thundering toward them. He gave a roar
of battle fury that echoed into the packed Great
Hall. He burst through the first set of defenses
before they could even draw their weapons.
A rams horn blew out a series of sharp
warning calls as Kavada raced over the courtyard
toward the large brass doors of the Great Hall.
Soldiers raced toward him, coming from all sides.
His horse whinnied in terror and reared suddenly
as one clever soldier flashed a bright shield in the
beasts face. He felt a lurch then knew he was
airborne. As he hit the ground with a bonecrunching thud, he saw stars. Instantly he was on
his feet, ignoring the pain and drawing on his rage
to keep him fighting. His sword loose, he snarled
out a vile oath as the Palace Guard closed in a
tighter circle around him.
His great balled fists lashed out quicker than a
striking snake and he attacked the next soldier in a
heartbeat. His aggression was terrifying. He was
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so relentless that the soldiers didnt have the
courage to rush him en mass, but he knew it was
only a matter of time before they figured this out.
Kavada roared again and charged through a thin
spot in the circle that surrounded him. He lifted
three men off their feet and barreled through the
brass doors of the Great Hall.
****
Aryazate raised his head at the sound of that
familiar roar. Could his Kavada be here? The noise
of battle grew until the doors flew open with a
crash. He heard someone scream in the utter
stillness that descended upon the nobles. Kavadas
gaze flew toward the place where he stood
shackled.
Place Guards boiled out of the doorway behind
him, but Captain Tripura waved them back.
Please! Kavada shouted, a little short of
breath. He advanced into the Great Hall. Please
listen to me! Aryazate is innocent, she is honorable
and good. She could never be a sorceress. You
must listen to me! You are making a terrible
mistake.
Who are you to dare to interrupt these sacred
proceedings? Monushir honked indignantly.
I am Kavada, the blacksmith, the servant of the
most honorable Lady Aryazate.
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There was a murmur of interest. Monushir
leaned forward. You have broken the law by
coming in without being summoned, but since
you are here, you might as well testify. To the
stand.
Kavada hesitated, tossing Aryazate a look of
uncertainty.
Tell us of your involvement with the accused
from when you first saw her. Monushirs eyes
were intense as he began his interrogation.
Kavada stepped forward. He squared his
shoulders. I saw her at my old smithy. The
servants of the empire had taken everything I had.
She gave me a second chance at life and offered
me a job and a home. She is the most incredible
woman alive.
Aryazate had to fight a grin. At least Kavada
still loved him.
Did you receive supernatural infusions of
power from the accused? Monushir asked. He
retained the staff and the right to interrupt the
witness.
No! I dont know what you are talking about!
Kavada shouted, his indignation making his voice
rise in volume. What does that mean?
In the battle at the Kloraportvar did you not
suffer a mortal wound at the hand of Lord Varlan?
Did she not bring you back to life with an infusion
of power then?
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Iuh, He faltered, going pale. Aryazate
would have grinned if the situation hadnt been so
serious. Guileless Kavada was incapable of telling
a convincing lie. I Frustrated, Kavada
pounded his big fist into his open palm with a
smack. Shes a good woman! Damn good! Better
than the lot of you! He raised his chin
impudently and glared at them all. Id sooner
trust my life to her than to anyone here and thats
a soldiers word!
Monushir looked singularly unimpressed. I
see. On the day that the tax collector took you into
custody, did the smithy burn with a blue fire that
also blazed on Grumios head?
Uhit Did you know that Lady Aryazate is
kinder to her servants than I have ever seen any
other lord or lady be? How could
Answer the question, blacksmith! Monushir
glared. Yes or no.
Kavada hesitated. No, he answered, glancing
at Aryazate.
Did the smithy burn at all? Monushir asked
his face impassive.
Kavada was more confident now his answer
was quick and sure. No, of course not, the smithy
is untouched.
Aryazate felt his heart sink. Kavada had only
been trying to help him, but his contradiction of
his testimony sealed his fate in the eyes of the
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court.
The High Council of Magi will now retire to
consider this matter! Monushir rose and the other
Magi followed.
Aryazate felt a yank at his chains. He stumbled
and heard Kavada advancing on the soldiers.
Tripura leapt in front of the younger man as he
was about to attack the four guards. Now is not
the time for force, my friend, Tripura warned.
Aryazate wanted to look back at Kavada, but he
knew he couldnt turn and still keep his footing in
the shackles he wore. He tried to keep an image of
him in his mind as he descended into the depths
of the prison. He shuddered as the door to his cell
clanged shut once again.
****
The Great Hall emptied until only Kavada stood
alone. He put his face into his great hands and
sobbed. He had done something wrong, but he
didnt know what it was. He prayed for his dead
father and mother to look down at him and help
him. He had only wanted to help!
His mind went back to that glorious night they
had spent together. He still felt it was so unreal
that he wondered if it had even happened. The
first shocking sight of Aryazates body. The shiver
of terror he had first felt then the dissolution of
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his doubts as he looked into that tear-streaked,
lovely face. They had loved with their bodies. He
had loved another man. The feeling still lingered.
The exquisiteness of that feeling! Never would his
life be the same. He had given his heart to the man
Aryazatehe had given it fully, and now he
would give his entire life.
He decided that if they tried to execute
Aryazate, he would die trying to save him. He
would make sure that he took Monushir, his
nephew Baraka and Varlan with him to hell.
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Chapter 20
e huddled in the driest corner of the cell and

tried to block out the stench of the prison. His
mind turned to thoughts of his childhood, seeking
escape from his present predicament. Aryazate
closed his eyes then snapped them open at the
sound of a distant, very cheerful-sounding male
voice humming as he strode briskly down the
corridor. His sandals slapped at the muck in a
rhythm that kept time with the melody he was
humming.
He sat up and felt the knot in his stomach twist
into a tight ball. It couldnt be. When he looked up
to see who was unlocking the door, he realized
that it was he. Baraka swung the door open and
grinned at him like an idiot.
Hello dear! Baraka closed the door behind
him.
His perky voice made him nauseated. He
wished that he truly was a sorcerer then he could
rip Barakas tongue out with magic and not have
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to listen to his chatter.
Have we finally realized that Baraka means
business? I expect that now you understand the
severity of the charge and that you will be a good
girl and sign the marriage contract! Okay! All
right! He shoved the contract into his face with a
broad grin.
Aryazate looked at him from red-rimmed eyes,
but he didnt bother getting up. Come to try to
rape me again?
Baraka waved a hand in dismissal. That
wouldnt have been rape, you obviously wanted it,
you perverted boy. I know you want mehow
could you not? But as to our love making, you
shall have to curb your passion. That Tripura
character has got men watching this cell. Now
then, dont change the subject, dear! Sign the
papers and let me take you out of here!
Aryazate stared at him unblinkingly, ignoring
the parchment. You honestly think that you
could reverse that much false evidence? There
was a note of hope in his voice that Baraka jumped
on.
I am the nephew of the Head-Mage Monushir.
Monushir has the ear of the kingif he says
youre not guilty, the entire council will agree.
Dont fret your pretty little head now, just sign the
papers and leave the thinking to me, as it should
be.
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Aryazate took the parchment. The problem is,
how could you convince Monushir? You may not
think me a sorcerer, but trust me, he does.
Must you insist on being difficult in
everything? Baraka demanded, his eyes
twinkling with humor. I know for a fact that I can
change his mind. He gives me whatever I want, he
always has. Now then
Aryazate ignored him and knit his brows in
concentration as he weighed the possibilities.
Monushir has that much power?
Baraka threw up his hands again. Yes! You
must not have been listening. Do you need me to
explain this again in other words? Monushir has
enormous power. He loves me, and therefore, hell
do anything I ask. Besides
He noticed the hesitation in Barakas voice, and
he put the parchment on his lap. Let me think
about it.
Baraka rolled his eyes, but he smiled with his
victory. Im too indulgent with you, really!
Things will change though once you become a
proper wife. He barked a laugh and unlocked the
cell door. He sauntered out, humming as he
looked back at Aryazate. He rubbed one hand
over his belly as if in anticipation of the pleasure
to come. Baraka paused, peering down the dark
hall at an approaching figure.
As it came closer, Aryazate gasped. It was
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Nizami, accompanied by a City Guard.
Oh, I see you have finally understood. Baraka
grinned hugely and waved his ringed hand in her
face. Nizamis impassive expression did not
change. She swept past him and hurried to
Aryazates cell. The guard opened the door and
she rushed to him.
She held him for a long moment. I love you,
my child. There were tears in both their eyes.
I love you too. Aryazate wondered if this was
the last time he would have the opportunity to say
it. Words were insufficient to soothe the
complicated feelings that gripped his heart. For a
minute, they just stood near each other, praying
that time would stop. Privately and silently,
Aryazate acknowledged the fact that this might
well be their last goodbye. He fought the tears that
threatened to overwhelm him. He didnt want his
mother saddened by his despair.
Im so sorry I didnt come soonerthey
wouldnt let me in. Outside they could hear the
guard stamp impatiently. I only have a few
minutes. In the flickering orange light of the
torches, she finally noticed the parchment he was
holding. Baraka? She kept her voice low so the
guard couldnt hear.
Aryazate nodded. How could he think he
could get me out of this even if he wanted to? He
claimed that Monushir would give him whatever
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he wanted. He said Monushir had the power, and
now that I think of it, he probably does.
Yes, he probably does, doesnt he? Nizami
stared ahead.
Should I marry him, Nizami? II dont want
to die, but he plans to rob us of our wealth.
Nizami shook her head. I dont care about
wealth. If they killed you, my life would be over.
I dont want you to lose everything, the estate.
And I dont want to lose you, Kavada, my
freedom. But what can I do? It tortures me to think
that youd lose it all to him too. He wept as he
spoke, although the tears didnt interfere with his
words.
She hugged him. Hush, hush, Ill think of
something.
How is Kavada? Was he punished for
breaking in like that? Aryazate asked anxiously.
And my dogs, did they ever wake up?
Yes, they are all fine. All twelve were awake
by the time I rode to the city. They were still
groggy, but they will be fine. Dont worry about
Kavada, my child, Ive seen to it that hes safe.
Times up. The guard rapped the bars of the
cell with his stick. She gave him one last hug.
Goodbye, my child.
Goodbye, Nizami.
Nizami lingered as the guard impatiently
waited then she left. Her footsteps were bold and
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sure as she strode down the corridor.
****
Nizami froze in front of the main gate of the Mage
Hall. She knew she was invisible in the deepening
gloom of twilight with her black cowl drawn low
over her face, hiding the whiteness of her
complexion. The red glow of sunset lit the sky and
even here in the city, night insects called. She
peered out at the two guards standing watch and
felt a lack of fear that startled some part of her.
The air, scented with the fragrance of running
water that came from the stream inside the
courtyard of the Mage Hall, filled her nose. She
had seen the winding course the stream made in
the architectural scrolls in Tripuras office. She
strode forward.
The guards snapped to attention and unlocked
the gate without a word. Good luck, Lady, one
of them whispered.
She flashed him a white smile and slipped
through like a shadow. Only then did she realize
that she had had serious doubts of Tripuras
ability to control the loyalty of his soldiers. She
took a long relieved breath of the twilight air and
paused, letting her gaze settle into the deeper hues
of the courtyard. The dark leaves of riotous roses
and fruit trees made odd shapes in the half-light.
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Nizami closed her eyes and pictured the scrolls
once more.
She headed down a stone path toward the
building on the right that loomed darkly against
the lit sky. The second set of guards saluted as the
first had and opened the huge doors of the Mage
Hall. The wide corridor inside was dimly lit by a
few candles that caught the glow of gold that
occasionally graced the ornate mosaic that covered
the floor.
She hurried now, passing dozens of doors. She
turned once then again and mounted a stone
staircase to Monushirs private quarters. There
was another Palace Guard stationed in front of
Monushirs door. The cloth of gold curtain hung
richly from the wide door. It was lit from behind
and she was thankful that the Head-Mage was still
awake. The guard saluted her as she passed. She
slipped through the part in the center of the
curtain.
Her gaze flew about the chamber, taking in the
rich silk drapes, the scattered carpets and the
elegant furniture. It was far more sumptuous than
even her lavish home. This is the power of
Monushirs influence. Although she had no respect
for the man, Nizami knew that he did not hold his
position of Head-Mage for nothing. She stepped
into the room, looking at the carved mantle and
the gold statues that rested on glittering tabletops.
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Odd, but she felt no fear. Monushir was
dangerous, but her heart was cold to this. She was
confident that his wits would be so scattered that
he wouldnt be able to summon the intense
concentration needed for spells, otherwise, hed
kill her at once.
A brocaded door hanging swished, catching
Nizamis eye. Monushir entered with his head
down, unaware his sanctuary was invaded.
Monushir. Nizami spoke softly.
His head snapped up and he jumped back, his
belly jiggling. His eyes widened in shock and she
heard a belch rumble through his chest. Her eyes
were stonyher face was utterly still as he looked
at her.
Ahura save me! Guard! Guard! Help me!
Assassin! Help! Monushir squeaked in a highpitched fearful voice.
Give it up, Mage, hes not coming, HeadMage. A terrible smile curved her aristocratic
features. Its just me and you.
He shrank back against the wall, knocking over
a table in his fear. You again. If you want money,
take anything you want! Take it all! I did what you
told me to do! I kept your sons secret! I didnt
promise anything else. Why do you continue to
bother me? No one will believe you if you tell
them about my family. They werent sorcerers
anyway. They were mages. They were falsely
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accused. You promised not to tell. He gasped as
he backed away.
I dont need money, mage. Her eyes bore into
him, pinning him to the wall.
W-what do you want then? I kept my part of
the bargain.
Well, Monushir, I know something else about
you, besides the fact that your father was burned
alive for sorcery. As you heard today, I am not
Aryazates real mother, as he believes me to be.
What are you talking about? Monushirs
voice quavered then he seemed to remember.
You did pick that thing up at the Daxma then! By
the gods and all the Holy Fires! He backed away
from her and tripped on one of the statues that
had clattered to the floor. His hands flew out
wildly for balance as he went down and he caught
a purple drape that ripped from the wall and
landed over him, mussing up his neatly curled
beard. He sat on the floor gasping desperately as
his left hand moved up and down as if to shoo
away flies.
Nizami laughed at his antics. Her voice was
pitiless. Its time for you to pay, Monushir. I
knew my knowledge would come in handy one of
these days.
He yanked the drape from his head and
belched deeply in anxiety. They wont believe
you. They will say you are under a spell. Even my
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wife thinks my father died an honorable death in
Arachosia.
Aryazate is a special child. He is my child, but
he is not my offspring. And yes, it is true, he is a
sorcerer.
Monushir gurgled in terror and tried to kick
himself away from her. I knew it! he
whimpered. I just knew it from the moment I set
eyes on him!
Do you know why, my dear Monushir? Do
you know why hes a sorcerer? Because you,
Nizami took a few menacing steps forward, are a
sorcerer!
He paled and grew utterly still. What insanity
is this? Im the Head-Mage! Im the holder of the
sacred texts!
Ah, but you are no Mage at all, are you? You
would have people believe that you are so upright
and pure, but I know your secret. You scream the
loudest about kawis and karapans, because you
wish to throw suspicion off yourself! Youre the
nemesis of the Magi, you are a sorcerer! If
Aryazate is a sorcerer, it is because he is a child of
your sorcerers blood!
This is nonsense! Insanity! Guard, take this
madwoman out of my quarters at once or I shall
order you to kill yourself!
No palace guard moved to obey.
This is no insanity, Monushir. Aryazate is your
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son, thats how I know what you are. You feel it,
tooI know you do. Ive seen the look on your
face when you gaze at your son.
Monushirs eyes went wild.
Aryazate told me much before he fell ill from
the rain and cold. When he woke from his fever,
he remembered nearly nothing. The illness was
severeit added credibility to my story that my
own ill child was gradually recovering. I think
that to this day, he has no clear idea of what
happened. But I remember. I put the pieces
together. After I picked Aryazate up at the Daxma,
he told me everything. I asked myself, which
newcomer to court life has a slight paunch
which, by the way, has grown each year
obscenelya tendency to belch and an uncertain
past? It was you Monushir. I knew it had to be
you. You burned your mistress, Aryazates
mother, alive because she was too low for a man
of the court and you were a rising star. But I know
about you, Ive been watching you. That is why I
sent men to check on your past. That is how I
discovered the truth about your fatherand about
the son you abandoned.
Monushirs eyes narrowed and she could tell he
was summoning the power locked inside him.
Dont even think about it. Killing me would only
make you look even guiltier. If you did that, then
all the people Ive told will know the story was
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true. You know why the guards arent coming to
help you, dont you? You know who my lover is,
dont you? We recently married, as you know.
You arent the only one with power.
Who else did you tell? Monushir narrowed
his eyes. Sweat poured down his face.
As if I would tell you. Im glad you are now
sensible.
What do you want? His tone was clipped, but
it still did not hide the raw fear that bubbled
beneath the surface.
You will fully acquit the Lady Aryazate and
give a lengthy apology for the misunderstanding.
You will tell the court to dismiss their suspicions
from their minds. You will say that you now know
that a demon in the guise of Lady Aryazate has
been behind the wicked things that were told in
such colorful, shall I even add, lurid detail.
Monushir was shaking his head, but Nizami
held up a hand, forestalling him. If you do not
comply with this simple request, I shall tell the
court what I have just told youthat I know for a
fact that you are not only a murder, but a sorcerer.
Even if I die, the mere suspicion will be enough to
throw you out. When the other magi carefully
examine the way you carry out your spells, they
will see. Eventually, everyone will know. Then it
will be your turn to burn alivejust as did your
father.
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Nizami turned to leave. She heard Monushir
belch loudly then retch as the vomit finally
spewed out of him in a wet gurgle. She smiled to
herself and passed the still immobile guard. She
smiled with relief as she emerged from the Mage
Hall and fell into the arms of Captain Tripura. The
weight of the secret lifted from her chest, her
beautiful child would be safe and that secret had
been his salvation.
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Chapter 21
ryazate woke from a fitful doze as the cell

door opened. His body was awash with pain.
He knew his tender jaw must be black and blue
and he was pretty sure that one of his eyes was in
a similar condition judging from the way it
throbbed with pain. He looked down at himself
and winced at the filthy rag he wore and the rats
that stared at him from the hole in the corner of
the cell. He felt cold, but his limbs were too numb
to respond.
Baraka entered his cell with a big grin on his
face. He was dressed regally and he had an ornate
patch over his eye. Greet the lovely day, for it
will be your last! Baraka spoke with a happy lilt
to his voice.
Aryazate was overcome with a sense of
unreality as he stared at him. He hadnt eaten the
bowl of gruel thrown carelessly into his cell, but
he saw that the rats had almost finished it. His
sleep had been filled with the dark shapes of death
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and the fear of the blackness that kept nudging at
the rims of his consciousness. All night, the
prisoners howled, rattling the bars and getting
into fights with each other. He supposed he
should have been thankful to even have a cell of
his own, but that all seemed unimportant now that
he was at deaths door. But even if it had been as
silent as a tomb, would have kept him awake.
He knew that if he went along with the sham
marriage with Baraka, nothing could be gained.
Baraka could not be trusted so he didnt think
Nizami would be safe. She would lose her vast
estate to him and only Captain Tripura could save
her. He would rather die than to see his beloved
mother totally dependent, even if she did love
Tripura. The marriage parchment rested on top of
a heap of feces in a corner.
Barakas smile faded as his gaze flew to the
spot. His face grew grave then reddened as a
twitch worked at the left side of his mouth. I
cant believe it. He shook his head. I should
have known. He lowered his head slightly and
looked at Aryazate from beneath his knit brows.
Yes, I should have known. Ill win, however. You
know that, dont you? Today the magi will punish
you, as I wanted to punish you. The only
difference between their punishment and mine is
that youll be dead once they get through with
you. You little fool. I would have spared your life,
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but instead you choose death. Fool! He lifted his
hand to strike Aryazate then restrained himself.
Aryazate smiled at him. I believe youre not
satisfied with my answer? Ive thought the matter
over and Ive decided that yes, Id rather die than
give into your plan to ruin my family. Go and let
me die in peace. He turned away from Baraka, to
his fury.
See you at the Daxma. Ill enjoy watching the
buzzards rip out your entrails and eat them. First,
they will sentence you to death then they will
gouge out your eyes and pull your fingers off one
by one. Then you will burn slowlyever so
slowlyso that you can suffer for the longest
time. Baraka whirled and stormed out. He turned
and hurried back. Ill enjoy watching your
mother suffer as youre publicly executed.
A few minutes after Baraka left, Aryazate heard
the guards coming for him. He hugged his knees
and shivered. Hed had a good life. Hed been
blessed with love, money and peace. It was time to
go now and he would leave this world with
dignity, as hed lived his life. He grieved for
Nizami more than anything else and hoped that
she could go on, despite the tragedy of losing her
only child. He tried to picture her happy in the
arms of Captain Tripura, but he could only see his
mothers eyes welling with tears of grief and
despair. The guards came in as they had before.
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As the shackles clicked into place, Aryazate felt
himself departing. He felt like an onlooker as he
traveled down the torch-lit corridor. The now
familiar howls of prisoners had none of the shrill
power they had only a few short minutes ago.
Everything was wrapped in a comforting
fuzziness that left him feeling calm and composed.
As they entered through the brass doors, he
saw even more assembled nobles than there had
been yesterday. They eyed him like predators,
craning their necks to see the squalid condition of
the woman who had so recently been the most
beautiful, rich, and intelligent young lady of the
court. He passed Baraka, ignoring his savage
glare, and floated to the spot where hed stood
yesterday. He looked over at Nizami and saw that
she was smiling. Aryazate swallowed, realizing
his mouth was very dry. Distantly, he could feel
the heavy shackles biting into his skin. The sounds
of the court were muffled and distant to him.
He looked blearily over his shoulder at the sea
of faces and finery. Varlan was settling in next to
Baraka with an eager expression on his face. When
he turned his head to face the empty Mage bank
and dais, he felt the world spin. He was tottering
on the brink of passing out, but the disgusted
guards made no attempt to steady him until his
knees bent and he felt the booted foot push against
his back, forcing him to stand upright against the
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wooden railing.
Aryazate stood straight now, but the feeling of
floating in a dream persisted. He prayed that it
would remain like this so that he could no longer
feel the searing pain of loss. Death seemed to be
closing in over him like a dense fog and he was
sure he could smell its stench. He felt a sudden
lurch of consciousness and he could now see
everything with a crystal clarity that made the
faces of the onlookers look grotesque. The pores in
their skin, the tiny hairs on their faces, all became
separate entities.
He looked over at Nizami again, and saw that
she was still smiling. Aryazate thought that his
mother was the kindest woman in the world. She
was wearing a smile so that her child would not
go into death grieving for the loss he was causing
her.
The rams horn blew the announcement of the
arrival of the King of Kings.
Aryazate heard this distantly, it was his death
knell and it sounded from inside of his chest.
Cyrus the Great filed in, followed by the High
Council of the Magi. Even in his dazed state, he
could not help but notice that Monushir the HeadMage looked distinctly troubled. His worried face
was pinched and pale.
Cyrus the Great seated himself on the throne
and his advisor, Mihr, seated himself on a lower
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throne next to the king. Cyrus was holding the
staff today. It was his duty to give the death
sentence. He raised this staff now and
immediately a hush fell over the assembled.
Baraka wore a broad smile, finally giving up
the act of the grieving widower.
Aryazate looked at the king with a grain of
hope growing in his heart, despite logic. He
remembered the kings kind words on the day of
the hunt and prayed that he would have mercy on
him. The king could defy the magis decision.
Cyrus scanned the crowd, letting the silence
thicken. Finally he spoke in a sonorous voice. The
most honored High Council of the Magi has come
to a decision after careful deliberation. I, too, have
considered the matter and weighed the evidence.
Aryazate waited, trying to squelch the hope in
his heart.
I agree with their verdict
Aryazate felt his shoulders slump and his heart
lurch with pain.
Of not guilty.
There was a loud gasp of shock from the court.
He thought hed heard wrong until he glanced at
his mother again. There was the same beaming
smile and now the king wore one to match. He felt
the life returning to him, tingling in his fingertips.
His breath was shallow as he struggled to switch
gears.
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Baraka paled then leapt to his feet, overturning
his chair. There must be some mistake!
I have the staff! the King of Kings cautioned.
There was a note of menace in his voice that
Baraka ignored. Sit down, Lord Baraka.
He sat, his mouth gaping like a fish on land.
Varlan, Lady Chutka, and Lady Snatia wore
similar expressions.
Cyrus adjusted himself in his chair, still deeply
offended. As I said, the Lady Aryazate of the
House of Fortiviar has been found to be not guilty
of all the charges brought against her here in this
court yesterday. It has been determined, after a
careful and in-depth study by the Head-Mage
Monushir, that a demon wearing the shape of the
Lady was behind the incidents reported. Cyruss
tone indicated that he himself had doubts as to the
truth of the incidents themselves. His bemused
expression left little doubt that the Magis witchhunt was a mystery to him.
Aryazate couldnt believe what he was hearing.
He was going to live!
Wait! Baraka shouted as he jumped up again.
You said my uncle conducted this study?
Impossible! He tore the patch from his ruined eye
and turned on the people. Look what that witch
did to me! Will you let her get away with this?
The eye leered, a lumpy mass of dimpled red flesh
that seemed to pulsate with his anger.
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Cyruss face darkened with rage. Guard!
Throw this upstart out at once.
Tripura was down the stairs, flanked by two of
his men, before the King had even finished giving
the command.
What are you doing? Baraka demanded of
the approaching guards.
Tripura reached for him with alacrity and
hoisted the man over his shoulder.
Hey! Hey, you cant do this to me! Unhand
me! I need to question the King! Let me go!
Tripura wheeled the man over his head and
threw him out into the courtyard. Through the
large double-doors, they could see Baraka soar
through the air for a mans length then land with a
tremendous splash into one of the fountains.
The brass doors of the Great Hall swung shut.
I was saying. Cyrus voice was now soft. We
are profoundly sorry for your inconvenience,
Lady Aryazate. The High Council of Magi and the
Throne both wish to extend our deepest apologies
for this unfortunate incident. We ask you nobles to
dismiss the suspicions from your minds and do
your best to repair the grievous wrong we have
done to the House of Fortiviar. Monushir the
Head-Mage, has agreed to make a generous gift to
the said House, although he realizes that a gift of
wealth and goods cannot come close to
recompensing your great anguish and discomfort.
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To the Lady Nizami, I personally make the gift of
a large property adjoining hers. Im sure that Lady
Aryazate and everyone else would love to hear a
more complete version of Monushirs conclusion.
Please send one representative from each House to
the Council Chamber and Monushir will give his
presentation.
As soon as Cyrus lowered the staff,
pandemonium erupted. Aryazate felt the heavy
shackles fallhe saw Nizami rushing toward him.
The world spun and the sea of faces became a
nauseating swirl as he crumpled.
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Chapter 22
ord Baraka sat in the fountain, utterly dazed.

The water shooting up from the penis of the
little statue in the center was drenching him. He
blinked his one eye and heaved himself out of the
water. He held his hands away from him as if they
were disgusting and shook them. He was wet
down to his new loincloth. He drew his wet locks
of hair from off his face.
He sat on the edge of the fountain, still in shock.
As he stared at the rippling water, however, a
gradual change crept over his features. He stood,
his bloodshot gaze darted about the courtyard.
His lips drew back over his teeth. This was not
over if he had anything to do about it.
He walked with deliberate steps, trying to quell
the berserker rage that reddened his vision. If he
made any sudden moves, he was sure to lose
control. He walked out of the open main gate. In
the street, Kavada, the blacksmith, and Aryazates
entire household of servants and fieldworkers
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were waiting anxiously.
Baraka stiffened when he saw Kavada walking
toward him.
What news?
Baraka bared his teeth.
What did the Magi say of Lady Aryazate?
Another anxious Fortiviar servant approached.
Is she guilty?
Hurry! Tell us!
Baraka glared at them all, malevolence shining
out from his eye. She has been proclaimed
innocent, he said through clenched teeth. Behind
him in the Great Hall, he heard an eruption of
noise just as the servants outside began to cheer.
Kavada lifted Baraka off the ground and spun
him around in great, dizzying circles as the
furious man struggled. He came down rather
abruptly as Kavada dropped him and howled
with sheer delight. The kitchen staff was cavorting
wildly, thankful that their livelihoods and families
were still secure. But none was as obviously
happy as Kavada. His joy was manic as he danced
and cavorted in ecstasy like a disgusting,
overgrown puppy.
Baraka stepped away from the revelers silently.
He watched Kavada from the shadows as an idea
formed in his mind. He would give the perverted
girl-man what he deserved. Yes, it would be so
painful for him. As he stared at Kavada, he rubbed
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his belly slowly. A grin spread across his face. He
liked this new idea even better than his original
plan. Just then Lord Varlan emerged looking
furious and bewildered. Lord Varlan. Baraka
stepped toward him. We need to talk. He was
wearing his terrible grin.
Lord Varlan stepped back, alarmed. What?
Your town house is only a few minutes away
from here, is it not?
Yes, but Varlan began.
Hush, time is of the essence. How many
armed guards can you summon on short notice?
Baraka demanded.
A-about thirty, why?
Baraka just grinned.
His gaze flicked to Kavada and Varlan
followed. He grinned as well. Well hurt her
where it hurts her most, eh? Varlan chuckled.
Quick, lets go to the stables, he whispered.
The two men disappeared into the throng of
nobles, which poured from the Great Hall.
****
Ive got to see Kavada! When Aryazate had
come to his senses, he was in a soft bed.
Not now, my love! Nizami kissed his
forehead. Ive brought you some decent clothes.
You need to get cleaned up. Lets go to one of the
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guest bedrooms in the Palace. Cyrus invited us to
make ourselves at home. He wants us to be at the
meeting, you need to hurry!
Aryazate grabbed his mothers hand and
squeezed. It was all happening so fast! He knew
he looked awful and smelled worse, but this was
the happiest moment of his life. His lovely hair
hung in sticky, dirty strands and his feet were
bare. Aryazate wobbled after Nizami in a daze
down cool corridors. How did you do it? he
demanded. You knew the verdict! How
Ill need more time to explain it, my child. Its
long since the time when I should have told you
everything. For now, you need to get ready.
They entered one of the palace bedrooms and in
one corner of the large chamber, a sumptuous bath
had been laid out. Eagerly, he slipped off his
disgusting, filthy shift and stepped into the warm
bath. The servants had been sent away and only
Nizami remained. Aryazate blushed and placed a
cloth over his privates as Nizami set to work
scrubbing him until the grime was finally gone
completely. With the tub drained, Aryazate rinsed
in clean water from buckets.
All the while, Nizami talked. We shall have a
feast for your return! It shall be grand, but our
guest list will be very short. I could almost thank
Baraka for causing this mess, for at least he helped
us figure out who our friends really are. Lets see,
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I can sit Daman next to Arshak, and have Ramzir
across from Tigran? Sound good? Zadspram shall
have to sit on your lap.
Aryazate laughed as Nizami named all twelve
of the wolfhounds and arranged them in her head.
Yes, aside from Captain Tripura, they are our
only friendswelland Kavada. Aryazate
blushed deeply.
We shall slaughter a yearling and feast with
our true friends! Nizami looked away. You
really do love him then?
I want to be home.
Soon, my child. Dont worry, this Council
meeting shall go by very quickly. Im afraid its
vital for us, but after that, you can sleep in a heap
with the dogs. Theyre all fine, you know. A little
wild without you, but they are otherwise healthy.
Everything felt exotic and wonderful to
Aryazate. The scented soap seemed heavenlythe
multicolored shine of the bath bubbles entranced
him. He always had an appreciation for life, but
this near brush with death intensified his love. It
was a second chance at life.
He looked over at Nizami, utterly speechless
with gratitude. He was dying to know what
happened, but the small army of servants who
entered after Nizami had dressed him, provided
no privacy. The women combed his hair while
Aryazate ate an entire bowl of cut honeyed fruits.
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By the time the women finished, Aryazate looked
like a lady once more, except for the black and
blue bruises on his face and arms.
With some trepidation, he grabbed Nizamis
hand as they approached the Council Chamber.
He didnt know if he had the strength to face the
hostile crowd once again. He gathered his courage
and stepped forward with as much confidence as
he could muster.
The council chamber was packed, but
thankfully, the crowd was much smaller than it
had been in the Great Hall. He supposed that
seeing him exonerated was far less exciting to
them than seeing him condemned to death.
Morning sunlight shone on the gold and
embroidery of the nobles. Aryazate cursed them
all silently for being such two-faced asses. He
resented providing them with entertainment, and
now braced himself for their black looks and
scornful glances, but to his shock, there was a
general outcry of dismay at the extent of his
injuries.
Poor Lady Aryazate!
Such barbaric treatment of one of our own!
Imagine the shame of the City Guards!
The Lady will need friends after such a hard
time! Let us invite her over and hear her story!
Aryazate barely suppressed a grin at that last
remark. He had needed friends during his hard
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time, not after. He kept his gaze straight ahead as
he made his way toward a cushion very near the
King who reclined with a bored expression on his
face.
Monushir stood. His gaze flicked to Aryazate
and he paled visibly. He belched in nervousness
and grimaced, clearing his throat nosily before
beginning. First I will extend my most humble
apologies to Lady Aryazate for the wrongful
accusations brought against her. Examining the
evidence, I came up with a startling conclusion,
and was thus able to save her life. Monushir
began to drone on and on, turning over each bit of
testimony.
Aryazates eyes felt heavy from his sleepless
night. He felt Nizami shake him awake and he
grinned. Only few more minutes then he could go
home and see Kavada. Maybe tomorrow night he
would feel rested enough to visit him. He smiled
again and kept his neck straight as he drifted into
sleep.
He had the strength to get through this because
he knew Kavada would be waiting for him when
this nightmare ended at last. His sweet face rose to
meet Aryazates exhausted mind as his body
snatched at the sleep it so desperately needed.
****
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Varlan rode at the head of the party, narrowing
his eyes against the dust kicked up by the horses.
Noonday sun blazed down, making him sweat
beneath his armor. The salty drops soaked into the
bandages on his face and stung the still raw
wounds that disfigured him. Baraka was readying
his country estate. He was glad for this small
blessing, for it would be unseemly for the younger
man to see the depth of his hatred for a mere
blacksmith.
He was the bitchs blacksmith, the one who had
humiliated him, the one who had disfigured him
for life. It was he who had turned his handsome
face into a terrible mask and it was he who had
stolen his woman, even after he had disposed of
his wife just for her sake!
Varlan felt his lip curling with the intensity of
his loathing and with the satisfaction of knowing
that finally justice would be dealt. His men cut a
wide swath through the streets as they rode
toward the castle. People looked away from the
fierce party, scurrying into doorways and out of
sight as they passed. Four of his strongest men
carried a net between them. As the castle loomed
ever closer, the men spread out, holding the net
between them.
Varlan sat higher on his saddle in his eagerness.
His eyes fell upon the tall man reclining lazily in
the shade with the other servants of Aryazates
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household.
There he is. Varlan pointed to the big man.
The men nodded and readied the net. The rest of
the company readied their weapons. It is time for
them to pay. Nobody insults Lord Varlan and
escapes without punishment. He sat straighter in
his saddle as they advanced. Kavada will die a
slow death.
****
Aryazates eyes flew open. Monushir was still
droning on, but Aryazate was seized with the
most intense sense of danger. Sunlight had shifted
significantly since he last dozed off. He tried to
focus on the bright bars of sunlight to still the
pounding in his chest, but the more he sat
immobile, the stronger the feeling got. He
squeezed Nizamis hand and shot her an
imploring look.
Aryazate looked at Monushir then back at his
mother. He needed to get out of there, even if he
made a scene. Something was wrong. Kavada was
in danger. He had no idea why he was so certain
of his feeling, but it was too distressing to question
it. He soundlessly rose to his feet and picked his
way out. Heads turned and there were a few
murmured comments, especially when Nizami got
up to follow him.
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What is it? Nizami asked when the doors to
the Council Chamber closed behind her.
II dont know. Its a feelingNizami we have
to see if Kavada is all right. I sense he is in danger.
We have to go to him now! He felt a light sweat
break out over his forehead.
The doors to the Council Chamber opened,
startling both of them. The King of Kings closed
them softly and grinned with relief. Thanks for
giving me the excuse to get out of there. Monushir
could talk for a solid week, I think. The King
rolled his eyes.
Aryazate grinned and edged away. He could
feel the danger swelling against his senses, driving
him nearly wild with the need to see Kavada. But
how could he be rude to the man who had just
pronounced him innocent! He forced himself to
stand still and smile.
****
Kavada waved another fly out of his personal
space, marveling at such heat in autumn. He tried
to imagine what was keeping Aryazate for so
long. Not that it mattered. They would be able to
spend the rest of their lives together once he got
out. He could afford to wait a few hours to
welcome him back. He was delighted at Nizamis
plan.
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For the one hundredth time that hour, he
thanked Ahura for saving the life of the one man
he adored. Ahura had answered his prayer and in
the Almightys infinite mercy, it seemed that there
was to be no cost to him. He sighed happily, at
peace.
A commotion made him turn his head. He leapt
to his feet as seemingly dozens of horsemen
rushed at the servants of the Fortiviar household.
An involuntary shout of alarm escaped him as
they approached, gaining speed. The thunder of
the horses hooves terrified him and he froze. The
fiery shine of the horsemens armor in the noon
sun dazzled his eyes. Too late, he tried to dive for
cover with the others. He felt something heavy
knock him off balance.
Frantically, he struggled against the weight that
clung to him. Fear clutched at him. They were
surrounding him, their black shapes silhouetted
against the bright sun behind them. He felt an
incredible pain in his head then all was blackness.
****
Cyrus the Great was in no hurry. He leaned
against the wall and sighed. Lets go to my
quarters and have a drink. I truly am sorry about
this whole mess. Cyrus began to walk down the
corridor, without looking back.
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Aryazate shot Nizami a frantic look. They had
no choice. Im so sorry, Your Majesty, Im very
tired. I must go home and get some rest.
Aryazate hurried after him, but spoke up, despite
Nizamis look of warning.
Nonsense! the king declared. A quick drink
will be vastly refreshing for you, and if you like
you can stay at one of the spare bedrooms here in
the palace. Youve been through a lot, I do
apologize.
But where are your servants? Nizami looked
around in alarm.
Ho ho! King Cyrus patted the sword in its
scabbard. I can order them away whenever I like.
Do you think I remain king only because of their
protection? I know that half of these knaves would
kill me if they could. The answer is that I am the
most powerful swordsman here. He chuckled at
her open mouth.
They turned, ascended a well-lit staircase and
walked down a wide corridor. Widows
overlooking an interior courtyard shed light on
the tiled floor. Servants bowed and scurried as
they followed the tall King.
Perhaps Im being irrational. Perhaps the stress of
this nightmare has distorted my sense of logic. In any
case, there is nothing I can do about it now. Aryazate
shivered with apprehension.
They entered King Cyruss huge sitting room
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and he motioned them to soft couches near a wide
window. This whole business is rather absurd, in
my opinion. Cyrus scratched at his chest
absently. Honestly, the Magi like to stir up
trouble to make themselves look important. I
sometimes wonder about Monushir. This
campaign against the demon-worshippers has
gone too far. I only recently learned that my own
men were attacking the Jews, even though I
personally invited them to come here! It cant be
good for my popularity.
As the conversation continued, Aryazate found
that he couldnt even pretend to relax. His sense of
imminent danger increased. He fidgeted.
Aryazate, I see I am boring you with my talk.
Never mind. I know what you are thinking. I bet
the one you want to see is waiting outside. Go to
him. Cyrus smiled and waved them away.
Come again later and well talk at length.
Nizami followed him into the corridor.
Nizami, Ive got to see Kavada. I have a bad
feeling.
Go put your mind at rest. The king is probably
right. He must be outside waiting.
They rushed to the main gate of the Palace. He
scanned the crowd for Kavada, but there was no
trace of him. The late afternoon sun was glorious.
If he could only find him, this day would be
perfect. Eagerly, his servants came to welcome
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Aryazate back, but Kavadas tall form was
nowhere among them. He felt his heart sink when
remembered his awful premonition. Where is
Kavada?
The servants stilled at his question. Oh the
blacksmith? Raust, the head manservant asked.
It was a terrible thing, my Lady! We didnt want
to darken your day, but we were attacked outside
the gate! Right here! Dozens of horsemen came
charging out of nowhere and threw a net over
Kavada. They took him away, my Lady!
Aryazate felt his vision sharpen. Who did this?
Who! he demanded fiercely.
II dont know! The Lord who led the charge
had a face full of bandages
The stallions are in the royal stables. Nizami
clutched at Aryazates elbow, but before the man
was finished speaking, they rushed to the stable.
Saddle these two stallions, a gold coin each if
you hurry! Nizami snapped at the grooms. They
burst into action.
I should have known Lord Varlan would stop
at nothing! Aryazate felt bitter rage.
I didnt see it coming either, the gods curse
him! But Baraka could be behind this as well,
Nizami suggested.
Youre right! Maybe Raust didnt see Baraka,
but he could have been there. The question is,
where could they have taken Kavada? The horses
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were ready and Aryazate swung into Ishrashirs
saddle effortlessly. Ill go to Barakas country
estate and you go to Varlans. I doubt they would
risk keeping Kavada in their town houses. He
guided his horse out of the stable then shot his
mother a farewell glance over his shoulder as he
urged Ishrashir into a gallop. The Paralatae
stallion proved his blood on that ride, stretching
his long legs out in perfect rhythm. The wind
whipped Ishrashirs mane and made his hair fly
out behind him as he thundered out of the city.
The dust his mount kicked up caught the late
afternoon sunlight and hung suspended in the air
for a few minutes.
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Chapter 23
ryazates mind filled with a picture of

Kavadas face. He saw him as he had on that
glorious dewy morning after their first night
together. The love in his eyes had made his
features even more handsome than they already
were. He remembered the priceless way hed
offered to kill Aryazates enemies and make him
things that would bring him joy. He wanted to
give Kavada all of his love. He wanted to shelter
him and buy him all the things his wealth could
offer. He wanted to see him play with the
wolfhounds and lounge in his gardens. Their love
was forbidden by every rule society imposed, but
their hearts wouldnt be kept apart.
His mind occupied with these thoughts, he
raced along a wooded path. The woods fell behind
him abruptly and he crossed Barakas open fields.
His workers looked up in surprise. They made the
sign against evil.
In the distance, he could see Barakas mansion.
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He had never been to Barakas house, and as he
drew closer, a part of his mind registered that the
place looked more like a palace than a house. He
drew in Ishrashir.
Baraka, you bastard! Aryazate shouted at the
house, his mind reeling with exhaustion and raw
fury. His voice was filled with such wrathful
anger that it startled a flock of birds from one of
the shade trees. Get out here at once! He roared
again, no longer making a pretense of being a lady.
Evening light slanted across the fields making him
realize how exhausted he was.
The main doors opened and Baraka stood on
the threshold with a huge grin on his face. Hello
dear! Ive been expecting you! Come on inside and
lets talk, okay! Okay! He turned and entered the
huge chamber without looking back at Aryazate.
Baraka, I have lost all patience, you piece of
camel dung! Where is he?
Oh, come now, my dear. Such anger does not
befit a lady. Come, lets discuss this inside! Baraka
disappeared into the doorway of an inner room.
Aryazate dismounted and a tossed the reigns to
a groom. He stalked after him, ignoring the pain
from his bruises. He knew Baraka wouldnt dare
harm him after he had been publicly forgiven. It
would be far too risky for him, but still, he
hesitated a moment before entering the house. The
inside was lit by dozens of candles, far more than
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necessary. The entry room had a high ceiling with
a fountain in the center. Beyond the fountain were
two doorways.
Baraka waited.
As soon as he saw that Aryazate had seen him,
he disappeared into the one on the right. He
followed him, growing angrier by the second.
Baraka! Baraka, where is Kavada? He watched
the man move into a doorway and ran after him.
The room he had disappeared into nearly glowed
with gold. He was lounging on one of the couches
while a servant poured wine for him into an
ornate goblet. Come in my sweet, youre just in
time to see the sunset!
You son of a diseased whore. Stop playing
games and tell me where he is. What do you know
of his kidnapping?
So impatient! My, my, you must really care for
that lout. Lets sit down and talk. He stretched
and pointed at an ornate chair.
I can talk just fine standing up.
I wont talk unless you sit. Baraka said
waggled an admonishing finger at him.
Aryazate glared. He could feel the fear
creeping into his heart. Was he already dead?
Baraka sighed deeply and took a sip of his
wine. Okay, but Ill only let you be this willful for
a few more days. Your servant encountered a
littleaccident, shall we say? He chuckled.
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Aryazate paled. You killed him? He couldnt
feel his lips and the world seemed to blur. He sat
abruptly.
No, no, child. Not yet. I may never kill him.
Aryazates head snapped up. What do you
mean? Youve kidnapped him then, you festering,
maggot infested corpse!
Baraka grinned and took a slow sip of wine
before he continued. Yes, well there you have it.
And dont even think of finding him. You wont
be able to, honey, and there is no way you can
prove that I have him.
What do you want from me? Kavadas done
nothing to you! How could you do this?
Very easily. Now, if you cooperate, I promise
to spare his life. If you dont Baraka let the
threat trail off. You will marry me, as I had
planned. Thats what I wanted all along anyway.
My uncle has forbidden me to take any bribes
from your dear mother. It seems she has him quite
scared. The only way to get hold of your wealth is
to marry you. Dont look so forlorn! I may even
allow you to see the big lout from time to time
provided I get to watch the fun! He roared with
laughter.
Aryazate rose with his fists poised.
Baraka stood his ground. Try that and Ill have
him killed.
I think Im going to be sick. In a daze, he rose
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to leave.
Stay here for the night! I promise to wait until
our wedding night! he jokingly called after
Aryazate as he crossed the room to leave. Baraka
got up when he didnt turn to him. Why wont
you stay? I insist! He was walking beside him
now.
Aryazate still hadnt looked at him, but then he
turned. Ill kill you Baraka! I swear, if you hurt
him, Ill kill you and every one of your friends.
Mark my words! He exited the main doors and
waited for his horse to be brought to him. He
followed, laughing the entire time, as Aryazate
fought the urge to kill him. Wheres my damn power
now? Before it always shot out, unbidden, but now that
I need it, its gone! Why did it leave me now, when I
needed it the most? I want to be a sorcerer! I want to
kill this man with a bolt of deadly blue fire!
I promise Ill still be here! Baraka called out
laughingly.
Aryazate urged Ishrashir out into the dark
night. The tears that fell from his eyes were lit
silver by the moon. As the bright house fell behind
him, he felt the night surround him.
****
Ezor watched Aryazate ride away into the dark
night. Whats he doing here? Why is he not in prison,
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or dead?
Baraka stood in the doorway, humming and
chuckling as he rubbed a hand in a circle over his
belly.
Ezor stepped from out of the shadows.
By the gods! Baraka exclaimed jumping back.
You scared me, my friend! Come on in, theres no
more need for secrecy.
Ezor stood immobile, still concealed by his deep
hunters cloak. Ill accept my payment now.
Theres no need for me to go inside.
To his surprise, Baraka laughed. You expect to
get paid after that? Dont you know the sorceress
was acquitted?
Ezor felt his heart pound with delight. Aryazate
had gotten away despite his evil. Warmth spread
from his chest. He would have most certainly
found out about it sooner if he hadnt hidden
himself away after listening to the trial. The guilt
was eating him alive.
Baraka laughed again. Im certainly not going
to hold up my end of the bargain after that little
failure! Get gone, Master Hunter, I want nothing
more to do with you!
Ezor blinked in surprise. I promised enough
evidence to go to trial. Thats what I delivered.
Your testimony was weak or else you didnt use
the evidence I planted correctly. He knew his flat
voice inspired terror in most people.
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Whatever! Get! Get away! Ive got a marriage
to plan! Ive won Aryazate despite your inefficient
job. Baraka turned to shut the main doors of his
house.
Ezors mind raced. Even though his heart had
cried out against it, he had planted the evidence in
Aryazates estate out of loyalty to his employer.
He stepped into the light for the first time. He
pushed his hood back just far enough so that
Baraka could see his glinting black eyes.
****
The hard stare Ezor gave him before the door
slammed in his face made him shiver and hasten
from the entrance hall. Almost against his will he
made the sign against the evil eye. He had just
encountered the real evil eye for the first time in
his life, for it was said that Ezors mysterious
family was skilled in such things. He shivered and
queasiness in his gut. He ran to the chamber pot
and unloaded his gut. The contents were loose and
mucoid. He thought he saw wriggling, but quickly
threw a cloth over it and called for a maid.
****
The slow ride home was a blur for Aryazate. The
darkness of the country night was so absolute that
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sometimes he had the eerie feeling he was riding
through a void of nothingness. Ishrashir had to be
soothed and comforted repeatedly, but there was
no one to soothe Aryazate. Again and again, the
scene in Barakas house replayed itself, jumbling
together with memories of the amazing acquittal.
His emotions had rocked today like a ship in
stormy seas. The agony tearing at him now was
almost too much to bear. Night sounds filled the
air, punctuating his thoughts and making him
acutely aware that his life had changed
irrevocably. He was not safe and warm in his bed.
He was out here in the night, while the man he
loved was somewhere suffering.
What are they doing to him at this very
moment? He whispered to the night. What pain
is he suffering at that evil mans hands? The
terror and despair in his own voice scared him so
much that he could feel the delicate hairs on the
nape of his neck rise. It was no use thinking about
itnow was the time for planning. He had to
think! A shudder ran down his spine at the
thought of actually marrying Baraka so that he
could take the familys wealth. But what else
could he do? His only alternative was to let him
kill his lover!
He paused to orient himself then took the right
fork in the road. His horses hooves thumped
steadily on the packed dirt of the road. Moonlight
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shone down on this section of the path, glittering
against the dew that had already settled on the
early autumn foliage. Another tear slipped down
his face. The thought of his mother made him urge
his horse forward into the night. The marriage
would be a blow to Nizami, as Baraka planned to
seize much of her estate. He would have to ask her
permission before he did something like that to his
friend and mother. He was comforted with the
knowledge that Nizamis new land would be hers
alone, the Kings gift. It would not be as bad as
before, when she would have been stripped of
everything. And she still had Tripura
The minutes seemed to drag by interminably,
but soon he recognized familiar landmarks and
knew he would soon enter their land. No, he
corrected himself silently and bitterly, Barakas
land. The injustice of it filled him with rage, but his
rage was nothing compared with his deep fear for
Kavada, grew with each second. He decided that
material wealth was nothing compared to love. He
would have to sacrifice for the one he loved!
The lights of the estate were blazing in
welcome. As soon as he came near, the
wolfhounds burst out of the front door, howling in
welcome. He dismounted into the sea of dogs and
let them lick his face and hands. They were
cavorting so violently that he was hard pressed to
keep his balance. They loved him. He sobbed
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violently. He would have to leave them, to leave
everything and become a slave. Through his tears,
he saw Nizami standing in the lighted doorway.
In another moment, her arms were around him.
He felt himself led toward the house. A blanket
was thrown around his shoulders, making him
realize how cold he had been from the night air.
He was aware of Nizami holding his hand,
leading him up the stairs to his room. The dogs
followed them, still overjoyed at his return. The
household servants began to scurry about as she
snapped orders.
He finally sat down on his mothers bed as he
had when he was a child. He wished it were all a
bad dream, as his nightmares as a child had been.
The wolfhounds settled around him, breaking his
heart as he thought of leaving them too. He loved
everything about the life he was about to leave.
Could it have been only a few short days ago that
he was safe and happy, about to embark upon a
life with Kavada? His biggest worries were
amusing to him, even before this.
Drink this. Nizami gave Aryazate a cup of
steaming soup.
The tears slowed as he drank the comforting
brew. The fire blazed cheerfully in the far wall of
the room, warming the cozy room with a light that
should have made him feel safe. But for the first
time, he didnt feel safe, even in his mothers
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familiar room. The menace touched him even
here, in this sacred place.
Is he, Nizami hesitated, dead?
No. Its worse. Baraka has taken him! If I do
not go along with that sham marriage, he says
hell torture him to death!
Oh, my poor child. Nizami gathered her child
close once more.
What should I do? he whispered. One of the
dogs licked his face to comfort him.
Surely there were some witnesses? He
couldnt just take him! Ill go to Cyrus!
There were none, besides, a servants
testimony wont be accepted. I know it. It
happened too fast. We can ask around, but Baraka
wouldnt demand what hes demanding if he
wasnt sure. I justI dont know what to do!
Nizami, if I do this, youll lose all that youve
worked for!
No, no I wont. This land is both of ours so
hell get this estate, but Cyrus gave me a huge
section of land, dont you remember? Ive always
taught you to value the riches of the heart over the
riches of the world. Dont worry about me, my
child, Ill be alive and as wealthy as ever. If you
dont do this, Kavada will be dead. Later well
find a way to overcome his evil as soon as he is
free. Tripura, Kavada and I, will destroy Baraka
and free you! Nizamis eyes filled with tears.
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But please be sure this is what you really want,
my child. I dont want you to have to go through
this suffering.
Aryazate nodded. Yes, Nizami, this is what I
really want. I couldnt live if I thought there was
something I could have done.
They held each other close as they both cried,
and he realized that he was acting like a helpless
woman. He didnt know what else to do.
Eventually, he nodded off to sleep, utterly
exhausted from the long days of torment.
****
Nizami watched her child, lightly touching the
hideous bruises on his face. The firelight did little
to warm the cold ball of fear in her heart. She
wracked her mind. Was there any other way out?
She couldnt use Monushir, because he held no
more power over Baraka since he had proclaimed
Aryazate innocent. The chances of finding a
witness were slim, and if they used their own
servants, the court would think they were just out
for petty revenge. There seemed to be no other
way. Nizami let her own tears fall then, but even
as she grieved, she marveled at the strength of her
sons love and courage. She looked at the man
dressed as a woman and realized that he really
was a brave and powerful man. He would surely
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find a way out.
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Chapter 24
n Lord Barakas decorated courtyard, heads

turned as the marriage drums pounded. The
fifes started up a merry tune, weaving in and
around the drums like fanciful sprites. The bridal
party had been sighted in the distance. The day
was bright and cool. Soft sunlight filtered down to
shine on the finery of the wedding guests. The
gathering had swelled as the day grew, each
brightly clad guest adding to the dazzling array.
Even Cyrus the Great, the King of Kings was
there, striding forward to get a view of the
approaching procession. His cape swirled out
behind him. Servants hurried all around him and
the other guests, keeping goblets filled. The arches
in the gardens had been decked in fabulous
displays of flowers of every variety. Seats took up
nearly every inch of the vast courtyard, but these
were abandoned as the wedding guests hurried to
form an isle for the bride and her family to pass
down.
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The glint of white silver flashed even from this
distance. Lady Snatia clutched her mothers fat
forearm and sobbed nosily over the thud of the
marriage drums. This should have been mine!
She moaned thickly, garbling the words in her
distress. People cast looks of pity her way, but the
ruckus only added to the excitement in the air.
Snatias contorted face was as pink as the gown
she wore. She buried her face on her mothers
shoulder and increased the volume of her sobs.
Lord Chutka looked uncomfortable as Lady Snatia
honked her nose gracelessly, diverting some of the
crowds attention to her.
The procession came nearer. Servants in the
very front of the bridal party carried a huge pile of
silver on a tray bound for Barakas coffers. A shout
went up at the sight of the bride. Aryazate rode
forward slowly, clad in the customary red gown.
His hair was piled high on his head and his beauty
seemed to outshine the sun. The red circle of
kunkun on his forehead felt like a raw wound to
him. It was a mark of his doom. Ishrashir had been
groomed until he shone, but his natural beauty
would have been enough to dazzle the most jaded
crowd.
****
Baraka frowned at the kunkun mark on his
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forehead as he glared at the mirror. What? So
thin? So short? His expression turned murderous
and he glared at the servant who jumped and
hastily began to mix more pigment. Make it long
and thick like the real thing. You know what it
symbolizes. Hurry now! Hurry, we havent got
time! The servant used the flat end of the brush
to elongate the line on Barakas forehead until it
looked rather obscene.
Baraka hurried down his stairs and peered out
one of the windows, carelessly stepping on the
colored rice powder that decorated every floor in
his vast house in curling lines of color. Servants
applied bright orange turmeric powder to the
thresholds of all the doors. The garlands of flowers
they hung on the walls and above the doors,
added a heady fragrance to the air. Baraka spared
no expense for the lavish affair. Hastily, one of the
servants placed a garland of waxy white flowers
around his neck.
Lord Baraka stepped out of the tall double
doors of his house wearing an obscenely huge
grin. Aryazates face was stony as he pulled
Ishrashir to a halt. He dismounted like a man, his
robe sweeping the ground and falling into place.
Behind him, Nizami wept silently, but her tears
were not the happy tears of a wedding day. Her
tears fell from her eyes like rain on a funeral day.
By the expression of utter grief in her eyes, it
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appeared that she was losing her child to plague
rather than to one of the finest lords in the land.
Baraka started down the stairs of his estate in a
brisk walk, rather than the more accepted slow
and stately pace his bride adopted. He reached the
platform that had been set up in the center of the
courtyard long before Aryazate did and made
little hurrying motions with his hands. The
platform was set up for the wedding with two
huge pillows separated by a curtain. Next to each
chair was a stool with a bowl of rice on it.
Monushir looked away from Baraka in disgust
and didnt see the hot glance of hatred Baraka cast
him.
Baraka hadnt forgiven or forgotten his uncles
stunt at the trial. In fact, he had plans for his uncle.
They might involve his death or disappearance.
The servants carrying the silver laid it down on
the platform with a chink of coins. A similar gift of
silver coins had been given to the House of
Fortiviar. Aryazate ascended the platform wearing
the same impassive mask. He entered upon the
left side, the side of evil that stood reserved for
women. Baraka was standing on the other side of
the curtain, the right side of honor.
Monushirs brow wrinkled and he tried to
suppress a belch that nonetheless rumbled out
over the heads of the watchers. What is the
meaning of this? he honked, staring at the silver.
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Do you mean to tell me you have not yet
undergone a betrothal? Its bad enough the
wedding is taking place at your house instead of
at the brides house, as is the custom, but this is
too much!
Baraka looked at him with an annoyed
expression. Yes, Uncle, isnt that obvious! These
are extenuating circumstances! Hurry up and
name her. Baraka kept his voice low, but his
shockingly disrespectful tone was heard by too
many. He was starting to hate this man and he
thought it served him right. After getting
Aryazates wealth, he would no longer need his
uncle. He noticed how Monushirs hands trembled
in rage.
You must wait three days between the
betrothal and the marriage! Why in the name of
the Fiery One did you assemble us? Monushirs
nasal voice began to climb shrilly. The wedding
guests leaned forward avidly.
Why the rush? One guest whispered to her
companion behind a fluttering fan.
There must be a reason, her companion
whispered, do you think they
Do you think it might have something to do
with Varlan? Hes so envious and angry!
Oh yes. I heard that they argued.
Cant you see? The poor woman cant wait.
She can barely restrain her passion! I tried to insist
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on waiting, but you know how women are. Or
maybe you dont. Baraka said, eyed his uncle
with disgust. Anyway, thats beside the point,
you have a duty to perform now, Uncle.
You wormy piece of excrement! Monushir
hissed.
Baraka laughed in his face. Finally, Monushir
turned to Aryazate. Baraka was elated. Ive won!
No one will be able to touch me after this! Ill be richer
than Uncle Monushir!
Na kardeh nam, unnamed one, do you accept
Lord Baraka as your betrothed after truthful
consideration?
Aryazate paused perceptibly. Finally his lips
moved. Yes, I accept him. Monushirs question
was repeated three times, as was the custom, but
each time Aryazate hesitated.
Baraka wondered if he had gone too far this
time. The sound of Monushirs voice made him
quaver.
Now I pronounce you the Lady of Baraka,
betrothed forever to Lord Baraka, Monushir
intoned.
Aryazate remained standing until Baraka
seated himself then Monushir nodded at him. The
bride sat in his cushion like a wooden statue and
stared ahead at the white curtain. The murmurs of
the wedding guests as the Head-Mage and the
lesser mage prepared annoyed Baraka.
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Nizami stepped up onto the platform as
Barakas two witness moved forward as well. The
thin curtain fell gracefully to the floor and Baraka
was sitting across from her grinning.
Monushir began to recite the opening line of
the sacred prayer of Yatha Ahu Vairyo. May the
Creator, the omniscient Lord
Without waiting for Monushir to take his right
hand, Baraka stuck it out at Aryazate. His uncle
grabbed the offending hand, so shocked, that he
lost track of the prayer. After an embarrassed,
loud silence, he resumed the prayer and pushed
Barakas hand back an inch or two, trying to
recover his blunder. Monushir took Aryazates
hand and began the Hathevaro, the hand fasten.
Pressing their hands together, he wound a length
of white cotton around them.
Baraka felt the cold flesh of Aryazates hand
and suddenly realized how manly that hand was.
It was large and strong. He felt suddenly ill,
although he continued to smile while Aryazate
regarded him as if he were a slimy toad. The Mage
tied the first of the seven knots that would bind
them together. He felt Aryazate shudder and cast
his furious glance down.
The final knot was tied. Monushir stepped back
as the last words of the prayer ended. The HeadMage looked dangerous now. Something in his
eyes made Baraka fearful. His uncle made some
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furtive hand-gestures in his direction and Baraka
froze. Deep in his gut, something began to brew.
He glanced at his uncle and saw murder in his
eyes. Is my own uncle cursing me?
May the creator, the omniscient Lord, grant
you a progeny of sons and grandsons, plenty of
means to provide yourselves, heart ravishing
friendship, bodily strength and an existence of one
hundred and fifty years. Monushir solemnly
turned to face Barakas witness. In the presence
of this company that has met together in the city of
Pasargade on the first day of Hormazd month of
the seventh year of Emperor Cyruss of the
Achaemenid dynasty of auspicious Persia, say
whether you have agreed to take this maiden,
Lady Aryazate, by name, in marriage for this
bridegroom, in accordance with the rites and rules
of the Mazdayasnians, promising to pay her twothousand dirams of pure white silver and twothousand dinars of the Nishapur coinage?
Barakas witness replied, I have agreed.
Monushir turned to Nizami. Have you and
your family with righteous mind and truthful
thoughts, words and actions and for the increase
of righteousness agreed to give forever this bride
in marriage to Lord Baraka.
Both Nizami and Aryazate answered. We have
agreed.
Monushir continued, still addressing them.
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Have you preferred to enter into this contract for
the rest of your life with righteous mind?
We prefer, they said together again.
Monushir nodded and released the tie that
bound them then he began the admonitions. By
the helping name of Ahura Mazda, may your
happiness increase! May you be brilliant! Try to do
good deeds! Be increasing! Be victorious! Learn to
do deeds of piety! Be worthy to do good deeds
Although he appeared to be offering a blessing,
Baraka was sure his uncle was cursing him
instead.
The prayers droned on and on for hours until
the evenings slanting light fell over the faces of
the profoundly bored wedding guests. Soon the
festivities would begin.
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Chapter 25
zor knew they were being married even as his

tears soaked into the black cowl that hid his
features in shadow. His subordinates had told him
what they had learned. He cursed himself for a
fool for not seeing it coming. As the servants of
Lord Chutkas home settled for the night, Ezor
watched. He blended in with the scenery and did
not move so much as a muscle as the night
awakened around him. It was time. He knew he
wasnt thinking clearly, but for the first time in his
life, for the very first time, he felt right. He felt the
lighthearted wildness he imagined Aryazate felt
when he was happy.
A figure emerged from the servants quarters,
opening the door and letting light and happy
conversation out into the deepening twilight. The
figure shambled out of the bright bar of light and
closed the wooden door on the laughter inside.
The sound faded and night noises replaced it.
As the man moved closer, Ezor recognized the
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walk of his victim. Heerka. The hapless man
moved into the bushes ludicrously close to the
immobile Hunter. It was childs play to close the
gap. Ezor had him, his white fingers snapping
Heerkas head back to expose his vulnerable
throat. He moved so fast and silently that his
victim didnt seem to even feel it. Heerka finally
understood, and he struggled violently, but his
arms went limp numb as Ezor ruthlessly applied
pressure to particular areas.
He was now as helpless as a baby. Oh the
gods! Please dont let me die! I want to live!
Heerka sobbed.
Thats what Aryazate said, I imagine, Ezor
whispered.
Heerka stopped struggling as he recognized the
voice of the Master Hunter. Master, what do you
want? Oh please Heerka sobbed. Please stop!
I havent said anything!
A blade glinted in the faint light. You havent
had the opportunity to reveal me, but this is about
something else. A little payback.
BBaraka was here just yesterday! I could
have told him! Heerka gasped.
Ezors blade paused. He canted his head
slightly.
Heerka stared up into the black hole where the
face of a man should have been.
Ezor knew what affect it had on a person. The
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treacherous servant babbled.
I could have told, but I didnt, no, no, it was
just as we planned, I only told Lady Chutkabut
of course I didnt mention you
Silence.
Heerka gagged as he nearly swallowed his
tongue. His eyes riveted to the blade.
Tell me all you know, Ezor whispered, and
I might let you live.
God bless you! Oh Ahura be
Talk, Ezor warned in a terrible voice, my
patience is gone. Baraka came here, why?
Heerka gulped and he returned his eyes to the
razor sharp blade that was inches from his throat.
His eyes crossed in the effort to track the blade.
Tto ttalk to Lady Snatia of course, to prepare
her for the shock of knowing that he was going to
marry Lady Aryazate.
Go on.
Aas he was leaving I heard him muttering to
another manI think Varlan. He was saying
something about a bl-blacksmith.
What, Ezor demanded, moving his blade an
inch closer.
Heerka whined like a dog in the last
extremities of terror. Hhe was talking of
torture. He was wondering where to put the bbody.
Ezor felt sick. He should have known Baraka
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would not honor his promise to Aryazate. The
blacksmith was probably already dead. Ezor
plunged the knife into Heerkas throat.
But you said Heerka managed to gasp.
I said maybe. Ezor removed his blade and
sprinted through the woods to his horse. His pace
was so frantic that the wind pushed back his cowl
and for a moment, his human face showed.
****
It was time. The admonitions were over, and
although the festivities would go on for another
hour or so, it was customary for the bridal couple
to retire. Aryazate stood with Baraka. The twilight
was pink and orange in the sky, the smell of the
flowers hung thickly in the air, competing with the
scent of body odor that rose up from the pack of
guests. Aryazate jogged along with him,
unsmiling through the millet thrown for their
prosperity. The shouts of the wedding guests were
indistinguishable to him. He paused in the candlelit hall and felt the disgusting man move close to
him.
Aryazate heard him chuckle lasciviously and
shuddered with revulsion. He followed Baraka as
he led him down winding corridors to a place that
must have been out of earshot of the wedding
guests. He could no longer hear the drums or the
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fifes. He couldnt help but stare at the scene
around him. He had never been in such an
enormous bedroom. Although ornate damask
drapes covered the windows completely, the room
was bright with countless candles of all
descriptions that burned in the still air. Some were
so beautiful that he couldnt have brought himself
to burn them. Incense drifted in the room like
spirits prepared to witness his humiliation at the
hands of the disgustingly smug idiot who
accompanied him into the room, one hand resting
on his waist.
The bed was decked in beautiful fabrics, which
were hand embroidered in patterns that were rare
and almost painful to see. Huge, ornate mirrors
hung throughout the room, making it seem even
bigger. The thick rug muffled their footsteps as
they entered the enormous room, but to Aryazate,
the sound was deafening. His body was stiff with
revulsion, but he was also faint from the hours of
anger he had had to suffer through.
This is just a sham. A trick to steal my money.
I want to go to my room, or whatever dungeon
you have in mind for me, you stinking hog-tripe.
You have your money, now leave me to rot in
peace! Aryazate leaned against the wall like a
man and folded his arms over his chest. His
mouth was as dry as if he had been eating
powdery sand. He wanted a drink, but he refused
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to ask this man.
Yes, it is a sham. A sham indeed. However,
you are very much a sorcerer in the way you
attracted me. You know, I really did love you. I
saw this scene a million times in my dreams, and
even after finding out the disgusting fact that you
are a man, you still bewitch me. I am going to use
you as I would a woman. I must satisfy my
craving for you. Baraka rubbed his belly.
He was wearing nothing but a silk loincloth
when Aryazate turned to look at him.
Yes, I knew you could get into this, yes
indeed! You have been doing this with your
blacksmith, so clearly you are not opposed.
Aryazate could see the erection clearly now and
perspiration dripped off his face with the effort it
took to restrain himself from grabbing it and
pulling the sorry thing off. He would take it and
stamp it until he mashed it into the rug. He then
would pour oil on it and burn it.
My dear! You really do want me! You see, all
of that coyness for nothing. You couldve saved
everyone a lot of trouble by just surrendering to
your lust a long time ago. His penis bobbed on its
own now, mimicking the nodding of his long
head. I wondered when you would acknowledge
your feelings for me. Yes, I will make you mad
with pleasureyou will scream for more and
more.
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Aryazate felt so sick he wanted to retch. Baraka
handed him a cup of wine and he drank, unable to
bear the dryness in his throat. He saw Baraka
staring and the realization came too late. His
footsteps faltered and a hand grabbed him by the
elbow. He felt himself led to the bed. His head
swam as Baraka eagerly undressed him, opened
his gown and stripping off the padding that
covered his chest.
Baraka pushed him back onto the soft pillows
and gave him an appraising look.
He was naked now and Aryazate could see his
body glowing by the light of a hundred candles.
The piggish man grunted with pleasure and
anticipation as he spread Aryazates stiff legs
apart. He tried coaxing an erection, but Aryazate
felt himself almost drifting off. Finally, Baraka
grunted impatiently and slapped him awake. He
climbed over his body using his knees to hold his
legs apart. He came down slowly until his penis
brushed against his soft opening. Baraka touched
the end of it to him, as if tempting himself before
plunging in, then took a gasping breath and
pulled back as Aryazate began to struggle weakly.
Baraka pulled his arms up over his head and he
felt him tying his hands. Then he turned his body
as he remained on top of Aryazate and leaned
over, Aryazate could see the pink of his anus. He
was tying Aryazates legs to the bedposts with
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coarse, painful ropes that he had obviously
prepared beforehand. Satisfied, he turned, his one
mad eye wild with a mixture of lust and rage. He
used his tongue to poke Aryazates tight ass,
causing him to struggle more.
It would be very unfair of me to keep this all
to myself, I was thinking, Baraka rasped, his
voice catching with the strength of his lust. Yes,
that would be most greedy of me! So, I have
invited a guest of honor who will be here to watch
and enjoy right along with us! A coarse, grating
bark of laughter came from his throat as he moved
off the bed.
Propped as he was on a pile of pillows,
Aryazate could see him moving toward the wall
across from the bed. It was covered with beautiful
draperies. He suddenly felt the fog of doom lift
from him as the prospect of a greater
embarrassment dawned in his mind. Had he invited
Varlan to watch, and maybe even take part? They
would know! Everyone would know Im a man! Hadnt
they promised not to tell? He was now acutely aware
of his vulnerable position and he tried desperately
to move his legs, but he couldnt.
With a flourish, Baraka pulled the cord and the
drapes flew open.
Aryazate felt a scream in his throat, but it was
so dry that nothing came out but a mad gasp. The
brightness of the candles made his figure too real.
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Kavada, his eyes wild with rage and pain looked
at him, his mouth moving in vain against the gag
that bound it. A trickle of blood ran from his
mouth and his face was bruised terribly. The
chains on his wrists and ankles didnt jangle as he
tried to pull against themthey were too tight.
Aryazate felt shame as Kavada looked at him.
He could see the panic, the helplessness that
threatened to tear him apart. The muscles in his
great chest contracted violently as he tried to pull
the chains from a stone wall. Kavada looked into
his eyes and he felt the powerless feeling and the
rage that was tormenting him, but then he looked
away, as if to spare him the shame of seeing him
in such a humiliating position.
Now, now, I see our guest has got himself
worked up! I suppose he wants a little of what I
am about to havebut too bad! I get it all. Baraka
rubbed his stomach obscenely then grabbed his
penis, waving it at Kavada. They stood looking at
each other, their hateful stares charging the room.
Aryazate struggled in vain. If he shouted for
help, he knew that no one would hear. Baraka
laughed loudly and beat his chest with insane
glee. Well friends! This is going to be the most
fun weve ever had. Ill first explain a little! He
clapped his hands together like a teacher excited
about giving a lecture. First I am going to take
you slowly, my sweet, very slowly. I will violate
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every hole in your delicious body and your lover
will watch. He will watch how a real man uses his
penis as a sword against his conquered one. Do
you know my dear boy, yesterday the fool said he
loved you! We were having one of our little
sessions.
Aryazate met Kavadas gaze. You bastard!
What did you do to him? His voice was slurred
with the effect of the drug.
He chuckled, Thats not my point, dear boy.
As for this man, weve got some wonderful things
planned! I will make sure you are still very
conscious so that you can watch while I do
something quite He paused and chuckled as
Aryazate met his eyes. Quite unspeakable to
him.
What do you mean? Aryazates voice was
voice barely above a whisper. Barakas eyes
brightened as he stood before him, naked. Talk,
you son of the Evil Spirit! You mean to break your
promise, dont you? His voice was angry, but still
quavering with fear for Kavada.
Baraka laughed again with delight. Yes, well,
there you have it. You shall watch as I cut off your
precious mans male parts and stuff them down
his throat. Then I shall have my way with you for
the rest of the night while you watch the
blacksmith bleed to death. In the morning, I will
run screaming from this room and say that the
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sorceress
who
Monushir
claimed
was
masquerading as Aryazate, came and killed her,
too. As for the blacksmiths body, my servants will
pick it up and it will be in the bottom of a lake
before the noon sun shines on the day. Oh, I will
cry buckets of tears for you my sweet wife I will
cry for you, and become a widower for the second
time! But I will now have your wealth!
But you promised! Oh the gods, no, no!
Aryazate watched him advance toward the bed,
his penis waving slightly as if seeking him. He had
been trying to buy time. He knew Baraka would
do something to break his promise, but not so
soon! Nizami and Tripura would never have a
chance to implement their plan!
Aryazate felt the heat of his hatred for Baraka
growing like a red-hot sun in his chest. The heat
became stronger and stronger as his humiliation
faded. He saw Baraka with eyes that were clearer
than he could have thought possible. He thought
that he could see the blood as it flowed through
the tiny capillaries in his skin. His tormentor
seemed vulnerable nowsomehow he was no
longer holding power over him.
Baraka used his index finger to poke deep
between Aryazates legs then he turned and made
Kavada watch as he licked his finger. I had to
test, you know! The magi say that you must avoid
a woman whose fruit doesnt taste fresh and clean!
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Yes, this woman is ripe and tasty!
****
Ezor watched as an erection of desire and fury
built between his legs. He clenched his fists as he
watched the scoundrel poke Aryazates tender
part. He was dimly aware of the blood that ran
from his lips as he bit down hard, trying to
suppress his rage. He wanted to kill the man on
the spot, and he was well able to do it, but his plan
called for something else. He had to free Kavada.
Somehow, he knew that he didnt want to steal the
glory of saving Aryazate from Kavada. Ezor loved
Aryazatehe loved him so much that he wanted
him to be happy with the man he loved. He had
done Aryazate enough harm. Aryazate would
never love him, he thought, as a stinging tear
surprised him. He wished that Baraka would turn
so that he could give the keys to Kavada.
The drapes moved slightly and Kavada turned
his head, as if unable to watch what was
happening. The hooded form moved toward him
like a dark ghost. Deathly white hands reached for
him. The lock opened and his hand fell to his side,
limp, numb and useless.
****
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Aryazate knew everything now. Hed planned
from the beginning to kill them both as soon as
possible, before Nizami and Tripura had a chance
to act. He felt the oddest calm come over him as he
considered Baraka who looked angry that he
wasnt cringing and crying out in fear. Baraka
wanted to draw it out. He wanted Kavada to see it
all. Now he understood the significance of the
huge mirrors in the room. The brutish man sat on
Aryazates legs considering his penis.
Its huge, isnt it? You will have the ride of
your life! I cant believe you are so lucky, he
crooned as he now held it over Aryazate. I have a
name for him, you know. I suppose its only
proper to offer an introduction. His name is Fuso
the Magnificent, the sacker of cities. Hes quite the
conqueror you know! Where to begin? I want this
part, this first penetration, to last the longest!
Youre going to be driven wild with passion. At
least youll die happy. He teased Aryazate,
thrusting at him, but staying just outside. His face
was contorted and reddened with an emotion akin
to lust, but clearly violent.
Aryazate felt the heat. It was pleasant, yet
insistent. It was building in him as his passion for
Kavada hadbuilding like a wave of fury that
would have to break at the shore. He held his
breath, trying to hold back as the force fought to
crest. Baraka didnt see the glow of his eyes. He
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didnt see the blue light that lit up his face as he
concentrated on his task. Aryazate no longer felt
the weight of Barakas body, or the touch of his
hideous appendage. His eyes were focused on the
mans head now and he thought he could see
every cell as they worked together.
****
It was just too quiet, Baraka realized, just too
quiet! He had just decided to enter the boy and
feel the thrill, when he looked at his face, wanting
to witness his expression when his dagger pierced
that precious treasure. His heart froze when he
saw Aryazates expression. Those soft lips curved
in a handsome smileit was wrong! Those eyes
glowed with the intensity he thought he could see
a glimmer of sometimes. They glowed with an
unnatural light! He drew back onto his rump, his
mouth wide with surprise. His head felt full
suddenly. It was so full that his eyes felt like they
were popping and his ears seemed to push out
from the inside. The pressure was great, as his
head seemed to swell. He put his hands to his
head, holding it as if to keep it from swelling. He
tried to turn it from side to side in desperation, but
his neck was unable to do his bidding.
The knowledge that he was going to die
blossomed in his tortured mind. He tried to close
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his eyes to block out the sight of Aryazates calm
smile. The form of his first wife floated up to him.
She was bleeding from the wounds in her face and
an eye hung on her cheek from a cord of veins.
She wore the same calm smile as Aryazate. She
opened her bloody gown and Baraka saw the
small head and arm of a partly formed infant
hanging from her ruined belly. Its head lolled
from the gash in her belly and its fingers were
blue and limp. Even in the grip of panic, Baraka
understood that his barren wife had been pregnant
with his son when he killed her.
He tried to sob, but his lips felt swollen so
much so that his tongue, also grotesquely swollen,
tried in vain to thrust out between them. The
pressure continued to grow and he felt his jaw
snap. His tongue thrust out and he could see it
growing from out of his mouth, suffocating him.
Baraka tumbled from the bed, clutching his
swollen head and mewling in terror. His eyes
stared out at Aryazateat his calm face and
sorcerers eyes.
****
Kavada watched, frozen in horror as the man
flailed against his terror. His eyes were thrusting
out of their sockets and his cheeks bulged. The
hair on the head seemed to prickle out thinly and
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the skin was diaphanous and shiny, as if someone
had inflated a water bladder to its bursting point.
The figure turned to Aryazate, its arms waving
frantically when suddenly a loud thut sound rent
the air. Wet blobs of brain, blood, skin and bone
covered Aryazate, Kavada and all of the walls and
furnishings. For a moment, he saw a blue fire
raging within the ruined head. The smell was of
burning flesh.
Finding his strength, he bounded off the wall to
his lover, untying his arms and legs.
Gently, Aryazate untied the gag that still
bound Kavadas mouth and he let out a cry of
relief and joy.
His face was spotted with red as if he had
decorated it for a grand festival. Kavada helped
him to dress after they had clung to each other for
too long. He could hear the clatter of weapons and
booted feet as Barakas armed guard mobilized
toward the sound of the loud explosion.
Frantically, he lifted Aryazate and tried to set him
under the bed, frightened for his safety, but he
refused to hide.
****
Aryazate had felt it. The emotion, so like passion,
had built in him until he could bear it no longer.
Barakas head had burst, drowning him in a wave
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of passion so strong that he still quivered with
delight and relief. Kavadas touch was like fire
that set his hot blood boiling again. He wanted
him now! They looked into each others eyes and
they both felt it.
Barakas loyal guards poured into the room as
Kavada reached for Barakas heavy sword and
began to swing it effortlessly. Blood spurted from
severed heads and arms as their useless torsos fell
to the ground, writhing in agony. The men poured
into the room and threatened to overwhelm him.
Aryazate tried to remember his rage at Baraka,
which had transformed itself into a passion so
delicious that it warmed him as if he were making
love. He wasnt afraid as the guards attacked
Kavada. He knew what he must do and it wasnt
unpleasant.
Kavada whirled as yet another man attacked
from behind, allowing the two who slashed at him
to find their opening. As the sword swung at his
neck, Kavada ducked violently, but then he stared
as the mans ears began to bleed. The man behind
him squealed in horror, as teeth seemed to drip
from his mouth, accompanied by a large quantity
of blood and mucus. The other terrified guards
began to fall one by one, screaming as Aryazates
magic felled them. Finally, he stood quietly in the
room, observing the dead who lay in bloody heaps
around him.
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Aryazate looked at his face and felt a thrill of
fear mingled with intense longing and sweet
desire. He could see that Kavada was afraid of
what had he done to the guards.
Kavada rushed to him and took him into his
arms. His hot lips pressed against Aryazates neck
and he realized that he was trembling from the
ordeal. He could still feel the throbbing heat, the
surging power in his veins. Kavadas arms were
around him, where they belonged, and despite the
scent of fresh blood, the passion overcame them.
Some distant part of him was afraid, but the
pounding in his blood blocked those thoughts out.
His coming to power was still too recent. It clung
to him, and he knew that Kavada, too, felt it ripple
across his skin as his arms slid across his wide
back.
What will we do now? Kavada asked in a
breathless rush. Tears made wet tracks down his
cheeks. How can we hide and flee the country?
What will we do? Is it already too late? They will
come soonthe rest of his men, and they will see
whatwhat we did! Running feet approached
the door fast. What should I say? What should I
do? Kavada looked about him, his breath shallow
and rapid.
Ill handle this! Dont say a word. Aryazate
moved away from him just as the door flew open.
Before them stood the Captain Ratka of the City
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Guards. He stood there with his arms folded over
his chest and his face went from extreme shock to
fury as he took in the body parts strewn
everywhere and the blood that soaked into the
thick carpet. He stood still in the doorway, dark
and menacing. He was imposing as he looked
down at Aryazate, his thick brows furrowed, but
suddenly he was gracelessly attempting to stay on
his feet as Captain Tripura shoved his way in. The
two men glared at each other for a moment then
Aryazate cried out loudly.
Kavada stared at him as he pointed at the dead
body of Baraka.
Sobbing piteously, Aryazate wailed, My
misery is unending! He threw his head back and
uttered a keening cry of sorrow.
Tripura cast Captain Ratka a murderous glance.
Good God man, have you no heart! He rushed
to Aryazate and gripped Aryazates shoulders.
What happened?
Wewe were just about to lie in our sweet
marriage bed when these men sprang in and
confronted my poor husband. Aryazate wiped a
tear from his eye and focused on Captain Ratka
who by this time looked sheepish. One of them,
the leader, I think, spoke saying, finally we will
have our revenge. Varlan wanted you to know
that he was the one to plan your death. You
thought you could have Lady Aryazate, but you
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wont! You never will. That was all I heard from
their mouths. They were my lord husbands own
guards! They were paid mercenaries of Varlan.
After taunting him this way, they fell upon him
mercilessly.
Oh, it was more than I could bear! The blood!
Oh, I cant go on! He fought bravely, but they
overwhelmed, my dear Baraka! And then he was
dead! Just lying there! I was screaming, but one of
them turned to me and smiled. He raised his
booted foot over my dear husbands head and
made me watch as they pounded his head to bits. I
screamed and screamed until our faithful
blacksmith, Kavada, came and killed them all.
Aryazate trembled as he seemed to try to hold the
bloody gown away from his body. I was so
frightened!
Aryazates eyes welled with tears again and he
began to sob.
Ratka blushed with shame and hastily waved
his men out of the room.
Aryazate fell back against the blood stained
bed in a graceful faint.
Tripura leapt up from the bed to look at him,
his huge shoulders covering him from their sight.
He sighed faintly, but as Tripura moved the
hair from his face, he smiled slightly enough to
make him understand.
What horrors the lady had had to suffer
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through! One of the soldiers cried as he tried to
peer around Ratkas shoulders at the beautiful
lady. The men began to exclaim at the horrors
poor Lady Aryazate had suffered through and
word leaked out of the room.
Get back to the courtyard until I call you. Ask
the head steward where he wants the dead held
until the corpse handlers arrive.
How did you do it, my boy? A guard slapped
Kavada on the back.
Kavada just shook his head as the men
converged on him, congratulating him on his
incredible victory over such a great number of
men as Aryazate watched through a slit in his
eyes.
I guess a man like you could really do some
damage! Ever consider becoming a city guard?
Kavada seemed too stunned and exhausted to
answer Captain Ratka. I can give you an
incredible salary.
Ratka smiled and put a fatherly arm on his
shoulder. I heard your father was a hero
Get some clean blankets, Tripura called out
from the door then disappeared again into the
room.
Get to work, Ratka shouted at his men and
they scurried off down the corridor.
****
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The early night stars shone down on the finely

dressed guests and the cool night air, scented with
flowers, carried the excitement of the day. The
guests had noted the activity of Barakas guards
with much interest. They couldnt hear the
commotion, but they saw soldiers moving toward
Barakas bedchamber. Finally, one of the wedding
guests stopped a guard. What is going on?
Monushir inched closer and the guests moved
aside hastily as he proceeded.
Lord Baraka is dead! The city guard made the
announcement in a voice charged with excitement.
Shock rolled through the crowd like a great ocean
wave. Monushir froze, a stunned expression on
his face. His wine cup froze on the way to his
mouth. The shouted demands for more
information grew louder and louder until
Monushir stepped forward and demanded silence.
Let this guard speak! At his loud command,
relative calm fell. Go ahead son. Night sounds
dominated the air for a moment.
The guard repeated the story Aryazate had
told, embellishing it slightly, adding a few more
lurid details that made the crowd dizzy with
delight.
A blood-chilling wail rent the air making
people turn quickly to find the source of the
horrific call. Lady Snatia was swooning into her
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mothers arms. Dead! Dead! Dead! My love! Oh
Baraka, do you hear me! I weep for you! She
began to sob big, wet, noisy sobs. Lady Chutka
and two menservants hurried away to a waiting
carriage while Snatia struggled against them. No!
No! I will not leave him! Let go of me, you water
buffalo!
I remember Lord Varlan did swear revenge!
Lord Chutka added avidly, watching his
daughters fit with as much predatory interest as
the other ghoulish guests. He made no move to
help his daughter, instead, he turned to his friends
with a gleam in his eye. Others who had heard the
argument between Varlan and Baraka now
recounted this story to others.
Yes, it was as I said, it seems that, according to
a reliable source, Varlans wife was a witch. It is
probable that she was the witch impersonating
Lady Aryazate. Do you know her body was never
found?
Oh I can guess that she never died, instead,
she was doing Varlans bidding!
You mean maybe the witch killed Baraka?
Indeed!
I also heard that
Poor Aryazate!
Shes been through so much!
Monushir stopped the man moving Barakas
body and the crowd broke into hissing then cries
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of delighted horror. Monushir motioned for the
men to continue on their way to the waiting
corpse-cart. He stepped up, raising his hand again,
arresting the crowds attention. My young
daughter-in-law has been through far too much
grief! His face was turning red with suppressed
emotion. After the trial, I warned everyone to do
what they could to make up to her for the injustice
done to her. My request was apparently ignored.
This shall not go unpunished!
Monushir wondered if his own curse upon
Barakas head had caused him to die so horribly.
After viewing the body, he knew that no mans
boot could have caused such damage. Even as his
face seemed to be writhing with pain, anguish and
anger, his spirit soared. My power is great indeed.
The victory was his! His curse had killed Baraka.
He was sure now. Let no one doubt the power of my
magic! You dared mock me, nephew, and now you are
dead!
Just then, there was a commotion near Barakas
main entrance. The two doors opened and the
candle-lit doorway spilled its light onto the
courtyard. Silhouetted in the doorway was
Kavadas great frame, holding a gracefully limp
form. Aryazates hair streamed down like a
waterfall, swaying with the night breeze.
My God! Is she well? Oh, the unending
tragedy! Monushir wailed, but he tried to get a
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closer look at his son.
Captain Tripura stepped out from behind
Kavada. The Lady Aryazate has been through
more trauma than her delicate sensibilities could
handle. Please make way, she is bound for the
Lady Nizamis estate. We will let you know of her
progress.
Monushir watched his son being loaded into
the carriage and wondered if the boy would ever
forgive him. Seeing his son was like catching a
sight of himselfthat was what had disturbed
him so much every time hed seen the boy dressed
as a woman. He had a sudden, vivid picture of the
sad child huddled under a table, watching his
mother burn. He heard the anguished screams of
the mother, the whimpering of the child and his
own mad laughter.
He winced. He could see the power there in his
son. God help him if he ever discovered his true
nature. His mother had been the daughter of a
sorcerer so great that he was feared as an eternal
sorcerer who traveled from one body to the next,
using them as a host. The great sorcerer Gaumata.
The timid woman had been unable to use the vast
power that lay within her, but Monushir was
certain she had passed it to their son. That and his
own considerable power, made the boy mighty
indeed.
He felt an unfamiliar shock of sympathy as he
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gazed at his son. Yes, his only son! He was
surprised at his sudden paternal feelings, but then
he shivered. Would the boy carry that grudge? In any
case, he wanted to help him. His ruse of being a
woman wouldnt last much longer. He was
growing to be quite a powerful man, despite his
attempts to hide it. Monushir began to wrack his
brain for an answer.
****
Aryazate opened his eye a tiny crack to get a look
at peoples reactions. They were going home to
Nizami! His heart swelled with joy and he
trembled with excitement as he felt himself lifted
into the carriage. He felt Kavada climb into the
carriage and heard the door slam. He waited until
they began to move before sitting up.
Kavada was trembling. He looked at him with
something like fear, and for a long moment they
didnt speak. Baraka was dead now, but were their
problems over? That evil man could never bother
him or Kavada again. The city guards were on
their way to arrest Varlan and Aryazate was now
a widowa very rich widow.
As they sat, Aryazate looked out the window,
parting the curtains a crack. As the land blurred
before him, he realized that he, not Baraka, was
the richest man in the kingdom. He would inherit
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all of Barakas wealthbut what would happen?
Eventually people would know the truth. He
considered disappearing and leaving it all to
Nizami, but his heart ached at the thought that he
still would lose everything dear to him.
As the euphoria of his explosion of power
faded, terror slithered into his heart. He did not
look at Kavada, fearing what he might see in his
face, fearing what his own eyes might reveal. He
wrapped his strong arms around him, but
Aryazate wondered, after he began to think about
life with a sorcerer, whether those arms would
stay? Kavada had seen what he had done. He had
witnessed something awful.
What am I? What kind of monster am I? And the
worst part is that I enjoyed it! I enjoyed killing Baraka,
and I enjoyed killing the guards! The horror of his
ordeal began to sink in. Outside the world was
blackness.
He ordered the carriage to drive close to the
house in a voice that was not quite steady. The
carriage rolled to a stop and he threw open the
door with desperation in his heart. Before him was
the house he had grown up in, familiar and
comforting in the moonlight. He could pick out
the individual voices of his dogs as he stepped
from the carriage and he once again felt a wave of
euphoria.
He realized that there was a trail of carriages
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and horsemen on the curving road behind them.
Lights sparkled from the doors of the servants
huts and in the windows of the main house.
Kavada got out and stood near him as he looked
out at the procession that followed. Tripura
stepped out of the carriage directly behind them
and Monushir soon followed. A crowd was
growing all of a sudden and Aryazate was fearful
again.
The some of the city guards offered to escort
you home, just in case Varlan tried to attack
again, Captain Tripura explained. Some of the
wedding guests also offered to protect you, too. I
imagine many of them are curious, but it seemed
better to me that they get it out of their systems.
What is going on? Nizami shut the door
firmly behind her against the wolfhounds who
struggled to get out.
Lord Baraka is dead! Monushir pronounced
with awesome severity.
Aryazate saw the quick flash of joy briefly light
his mothers face before she let out a convincing
wail of despair and covered her face with her
hands.
The young guard who had told the wedding
guests recounted the tale to Nizami with even
more embellishments. By this time, it was
concluded that a witch had been there, perhaps
even Lord Varlans wife disguised as a man, and
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that she had killed him with her evil witchery.
Nizami gasped with horror at the appropriate
times and seemed fully shocked.
Aryazate sobbed and held her close.
****
Monushir was sorry if his curse had caused
Nizami grief, but he really knew deep down that
his son and his mother were happy. He felt a
warming sense of accomplishment as he
considered how he had freed his only son from
evil Baraka. He was also very impressed with his
sons convincing performance. He was indeed
quite a sorcerer. He probably didnt even know
that he was using his power, but Monushirs
expert eye could catch the signs. When he acted as
a woman, somehow his face softened, and he was
indeed very convincing. No doubt, even as a man,
he was as attractive as a god, but when he willed
himself to look like a sweet woman, his sorcery
covered him from the eyes of all. Monushir
shivered when he considered the power latent in
that young man. Had he been evil, the world
would have been his toy.
I have come here because I suspect the
involvement of a demon. I shall check the house
before I allow my daughter-in-law to enter!
Monushir straightened himself and chanted
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mysterious verses meant to ward off evil. He was
gratified when he saw the assembled people
regarding him with awe.
The wedding guests poured from their
carriages and the servants of the household lit
torches. At his words they pressed closer, peering.
With a flourish, Monushir brandished his holy
kusti, the holiest of holies, and entered the house.
Captain Tripura stared at him suspiciously and
followed him, drawing his sword and adding to
the drama.
****
Please help Tripura get things in order, Kavada. I
need to rest. Aryazate whispered to him when
the people were busy recounting the signs they
had seen that indicated the terrible events.
Of course! Kavada answered anxiously. Ill
keep this rabble quiet.
As Aryazate and Nizami waited for Monushir
and Tripura to come out of the house, they
wondered what Monushir was up to. What had
caused his change of heart? He was playing the
role they demanded, but all too well.
It is now safe to enter! Monushir proclaimed
as he left the house followed by Captain Tripura.
It is going to be a long night, but you, my dear
daughter must rest! The Head-Mage turned to
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the waiting crowd. To the house of Varlan! The
other regiments must have apprehended him by
now! I shall see if there are any signs of sorcery
there! Monushir looked efficient and concerned
as he quickly mounted the carriage.
Gratefully, Aryazate shut the door of the main
house. He was too worn out to greet the storm of
cavorting wolfhounds, but they brought a smile to
his lips. Once again, he found himself seated on
his mothers bed, but his heart was troubled.
This is fantastic! Nizami cried as she hoisted
another log onto the fire. Oh the great god, what
great good fortune! Ahura be praised!
Aryazate looked at her back, happy to be there,
but grieved by the new emotions that descended
on him. He couldnt stop himself from sobbing.
Aryazate, my child, what is wrong? She
hurried over.
Outside they could hear the excited voices of
the wedding guests and the rumbling of the
departing carriages. The dogs were still too
overjoyed to act sane. Many were wrestling and
wreaking havoc all over the room. A crystal vase
came crashing to the floor, but the two paid no
mind.
It didnt happen like that! Aryazate wailed,
bringing the antics of the dogs to an abrupt halt.
Nizami, oh the gods, it didnt happen like that at
all. I had to think fast. I made up that whole tale. I
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hadnt even known about the argument the people
keep talking about. II killed him! I killed him!
He shook his head. She wrapped an arm around
him.
I came into the room and he tied me on the
bed. I was willing to do whatever he wanted of me
as long as he didnt hurt Kavada. But then he
drew back the drapes and he told me what he was
going to do to him! Thats when I did it! I blew his
head up! It felt good, too! I mean I actually
enjoyed it! What am I? What? Could they have
been right all along? Am I some evil creature?
The tears coursed down his cheeks in the light of
the fire.
Nizami was silent for several long moments.
The fire popped and resettled itself, casting
different shadows in the room. Outside, nature
reclaimed the night and the sweet sounds drifted
in. I have something to tell you, my child, and
now I see that I should have summoned the
courage to say this long before. She took a deep
breath.
Aryazate sensed that he was about to hear
something shocking.
I am not your birth mother.
His jaw worked and he shook his head in
denial.
Its true.
No! Youll always be my mother! What can
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you mean by this? He leaped up from the bed.
He couldnt pace because there were too many
dogs on the floor.
I am you mother, yes, and I always will be. It
never made any difference to me, and you were
too young for so long that I never was able to tell
you, and when you were older, well, it seemed too
late! I willed myself to forget about it. I wanted it
to not be true, you see, it was all too painful.
Aryazate sat back down, feeling dizzy and took
her hand. Tell me, my mother. What happened?
She squeezed his hand. You were such a little
imp. I saw you just after you lost your mother.
I was at the Daxma like they said?
Yes, but you were no demon, you were a lost
angel. I took you in from the rain after I left my
little girl at the Tower. We were both bereft. I had
lost my child, who was your age and you had lost
your mother. Heerka was the only one who
actually saw me take you in, although I think
many of the servants suspected me. That was how
I came to raise you as a girlyou see, you looked
so much like my lost child. You looked like an
angelic girl-child. Only after I had lied and
claimed you were my really my child, did I realize
my mistake. It was too late and my heart was so
crazed with grief that I really willed you to be a
girl. I wanted you to be my daughter. Forgive
me!
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He took her hand in his and kissed it.
She continued. I kept you out of sight for two
weeks. You had contracted a terrible cold from the
wet and the trauma. My own child had died from
an illness, so it was easy. In your delirium, you
told of how your mother had been murdered by
your father and I was eventually able to figure out
who that man was.
You know who my father is! Who? he asked
breathlessly.
Monushir!
Aryazate gasped in horror. He killed my birth
mother? But hes a mage!
No, hes a sorcerer! There really isnt that
much difference between the two, except that
magi are supposed to use their magic for good.
Anyway, I blackmailed him with this knowledge
and thats why he acquitted you.
Aryazates tears flowed in earnest. Fear made
him tremble. So I am what they claimed? Im evil!
That power, that delicious feeling, it was of the
Evil Spirit?
No! she shouted. Your power is what you
make it! Listen to me, my child! Youre gifted with
a powerful force! It is like a sword. The blade is
evil if it is attacking innocents, but is that same
blade still evil if it is in the hands of a hero? If you
could only come out of hiding and be a man, you
could be a great mage, but only because you are
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seen as a woman, they will call you sorceress. You
must welcome the power into your heart because
it will never leave you. Never fear such a thing!
Its your strength!
I cant believe this! He felt like the ground
had been swept out from beneath him, but he
clung to his mothers words like a lifeline,
desperately wanting to believe them. He did not
want to be evil. Did you know about mypower
all along?
No. No, of course not, otherwise I would have
found someone to help you harness the power.
WellI admit I suspected. Do you remember that
great elephant who charged you when you were
so little? I think maybe you stopped it with your
power. Also, do you know the lie Heerka told the
court about you becoming a monster trying to
attack him when he was digging that pool? The
truth is that he had fallen in and had almost
drowned and he claims you somehow saved his
life. You have never done anything but good, my
child. When you are trained, Ahura only knows
how much more powerful youll be.
Aryazate paled.
Think of this logically, think of the good you
can do! I had no idea that you had inherited so
much power. Possibly even more than Monushir! I
suspected, of course, that you had the magic, but
this is the first time you have truly come into your
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power. Its a wild force now, totally unpredictable,
but when you cultivate it, when you learn the
proper spells, you will be able to do wonders! And
now that you are free and rich
Nizamis enthusiasm was catchy. He grinned.
I wish Id known about this before they hauled
me off to prison! I wish I could have saved Kavada
from the pain he went through, but I will make it
up. Now he remembered healing Kavada and it
was no longer as frightening a power. Perhaps he
could use his magic for good.
Theres no telling if you would have been able
to do anything anyway, it takes a great deal of
concentration, so Ive read. I will hire a mage to
teach you!
I love you Nizami!
I love you too, my child. They hugged
fiercely.
Aryazate stared at the wall suddenly. What
shall I do about this? He pointed toward his
crotch and his mother blushed. What shall I do?
We arent out of danger. If they find out
For now, I am sure that y-your father will
protect you. I think something about him has
changed. I dont know how, or why, but I can see
it in his eyes. Aryazate, we will think of
something. Well think about it later. For now, you
must rest.
The wolfhounds caught their changed mood
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and resumed their merry cavorting.
****
Monushir approached Varlans house with
Captain Tripura and his men. It was unusually
dark and quiet. Many of the guests at the wedding
had mentioned the fact that Varlan had rudely
snubbed Baraka by refusing to come, and now it
became another clue in their puzzle.
A muffled cry sounded as one of the soldiers
tripped over a body. They brought a lamp over to
illumine the face of the corpse and gasps of alarm
went up as they saw the body of Heerka lying face
up with its throat savagely slit from ear to ear. His
glazed eyes and rictus of horror bespoke of his
hideous death. They had found him right outside
of Varlans estateanother clue.
By the Holy Fire! Varlan and the witch have
killed poor, enchanted Heerka, their hapless
servant!
I wondered why he wasnt at the feast with
Lord and Lady Chutka, his new employers,
remarked another breathlessly.
Well it makes sense, if you ask me, another
intoned with an air of authority, Clearly Varlan
and the witch are killing all their witnesses!
Hurry! We must see if the Chutka family is
dead, too, another screamed in excitement.
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When they entered the house, Varlan was in
bed, but they saw the signs of sorcery everywhere.
In a pot in the kitchen, they found human bones
simmering with juniper berries. Runes decorated
the walls in obscene patterns, and in the middle of
the large room that served to receive guests, was
poor Barakas wedding garlands dipped in blood.
****
As Varlan was taken into custody, screaming
obscenities, Ezor stood in the shadows, observing
his handiwork. He had punished those who had
dared to harm his Aryazate. Now there was only
one thing left to do.
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Chapter 26
he corpse handlers had completely covered

Barakas body with white cloth, although it
was customary to leave the face exposed. It
appeared that there was a head under the cloth,
for they had cleverly substituted a large coconut
for it. The sound of weeping filled the air at
Barakas estate and Aryazate swayed slightly,
feeling tired as the hot sun beat down on their
unprotected bodies. He pulled the white silk robe
of mourning tighter over his head as he felt the
many eyes on him.
The ceremony had not yet begun when he was
suddenly startled by the rams horns of the Kings
procession. A murmur of excitement ran through
the mourners. Aryazate was shocked that the king
himself would make an appearance at Barakas
funeral. The Kings procession came into view and
his gaze fell on King Cyrus, astride a great
warhorse. His two sons, Princes Cambyses and
Bardiya flanked him, resplendent in their silver
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embroidered tunics.
King Cyrus dismounted and approached
Aryazate, taking him by the hand. He turned to
mutter something to his guards and they fell back.
The nobles fell silent as they watched in awe. The
King himself was walking off into Barakas
gardens to comfort the distraught widow! Out of
the corner of his eye, Aryazate saw Lady Snatia
beat herself over the head again and her reddened
cheeks were livid with rage, instead of grief. She
pulled another handful of hair from the top of her
head. Lady Chutka, her mother, tried to restrain
her hands, but Snatia bit her doughy hand and
looked around for support. None of her friends
looked at her. She was alone now that her family
had been disgraced by falsely accusing one of the
richest families in the kingdom.
King Cyrus led Aryazate toward the fragrant
rose gardens. The place was deserted and he
continued to walk through the rows, now patting
Aryazates hand with his rough, sword-calloused
hand. They were silent for some time and they left
behind the sounds of the funeral. He felt the cool
breeze and heard the gay twittering of birds
overhead. AryazateI cant call you Lady
Baraka. Do not fear me. Im not as removed from
court affairs as it may seem. I know that you were
somehow coerced into marrying that man. Look
me in the eye and tell me you grieve for him!
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No, King Cyrus, I dont mourn for him.
I was sure of that, but I didnt want to offend
you by assuming anything. I saw the way he
spoke to you after the boar hunt. Youre an
intelligent lady, and you reacted as any intelligent
person would. Im happy that he was put out of
his misery by Varlan, or whoever did the job,
because frankly, if he had made another vulgar
comment about bodily functions in my presence, I
had already ordered my son, Prince Bardiya, to
kill him.
The King laughed, something Aryazate,
indeed, very few people, had ever seen. Aryazate
joined him. He coerced me in a vile and terrible
manner, but eventually, all evil men come to an
evil end. He dared say that much, although he
was still fearful.
King Cyrus nodded in understanding. I really
wonder about our Monushir, your new father-inlaw. Theres something about his manner lately
that puzzles me. Have you bewitched him
somehow?
Yes, Aryazate said firmly, throwing caution
to the wind.
Go ahead, you can tell me, for I never confide
in him. In fact, I only confide in Mihr, my advisor,
and believe me, he is not fond of Monushir.
Cyrus held his hand steadily and gave him a kind
smile.
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Hes my father! Monushir is my father.
Aryazate blurted it out before he could stop
himself. He felt the kings body tense suddenly
then he threw his head back and laughed. He
laughed until tears trickled down his cheeks.
Aryazate again joined him. The King really was
just a person and a nice one, too.
Your father, yes, I noticed how he kept looking
at you. Hes fat and older now, but he was quite a
handsome man when he first joined us, as I
remember, so forgive me if I actually can see the
resemblance. Cyrus was still laughing as he
looked at him. So you are the true heiress to
Barakas estate, even if you hadnt married him.
He was your cousin. He started to lead Aryazate
back toward the funeral. Nizami has done a good
job raising you. You are nothing like the rest of
them. He swept an arm in the direction of the
people assembled before the body.
You enjoy your wealthand since your father
is pretty useless, let me advise you. Take the
blacksmith as a lover. Dont care about peoples
whispers. Youve been through so much that such
talk wont affect you. Besides, youre too wealthy
now and people will want to beware, after all, you
might curse them! He chuckled again, his eyes
twinkling at his own joke.
Aryazate was mute with shock. He could only
smile and nod as he pulled the white silk shawl
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tightly over his head.
****
The two dogs had been brought in and were ready
to lay their gazes on the dead body. People waited
nervously for the dogs to expel the Demon of
Death by their powerful glances. All was quiet as
the King took his place and the ceremony began.
The corpse handlers were supposed to expose the
body for the dogs to look at. This was a time when
loved ones usually saw the body for the last time.
They instead lifted the cloth and held it in such a
way that few could see the condition of the body.
The few who did, gasped in shock. Snatia let out a
wail that was quickly cut off by her mothers
heavy hand.
Having finished with this part of the funeral,
the corpse handlers lifted the bier and walked
toward the Daxma. King Cyrus and his retinue
stood apart from the group, but he glanced at
Aryazate, who held his mothers hand as they
followed the body.
Aryazate remembered the wedding and how
heartbroken they had both been as he held
Nizamis soft hand. They were light-hearted and
gay today and they had to fight not to show it. The
day was lovely. The sun that filtered down
through the trees made it appear warm, although
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it was a crisp autumn day. There was something
wonderful about the finality of this funeral. This
hated man would never bother them again and
even the King had encouraged him to find
happiness with Kavada! His gay mood was
overshadowed by worry, however. They would
have to find a way to continue his ruse. Somehow
they must not learn about his secret.
Captain Tripura led the way and they could see
his broad shoulders twitch as if he knew their eyes
were on him.
The Daxma loomed dark and evil before them.
They approached, carefully avoiding getting close
enough to step into the circle of buzzard dung that
marked the edges of the place. Without further
ceremony, the corpse handlers began their ascent
to the top of the Daxma, the Tower of Silence,
where the body would be exposed to the
buzzards, which usually had it eaten in a matter of
minutes. A few observers mentioned that it had
been some time since the birds had seen a feast.
The vultures stared hungrily at the corpse
handlers as they stepped from one horny, clawed
talon to the other. Nobody in this section of the
city had died recently.
Aryazate swallowed hard as he imagined that it
would have been his body that the buzzards
would have filled themselves with if it hadnt been
for Nizami, andyes, his own strength, which
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had saved him and Kavada from the death Baraka
had planned for them. He felt no sympathy for the
evil man. He had not thought it possible that a
man could be so wicked. He had seemed only to
be a nuisance at first, but the glint of violence
Aryazate often saw in his eyes
A piercing wail rent the air. Monushir looked
back angrily. Everyone knew that it was against
the etiquette to wail at a funeral. The dead might
be forced to remain as ghosts if they were called
back with such a wailing noise. Snatia didnt seem
to see his look. She stared up at the buzzards,
which snapped their great orange beaks and
spread their huge wings in preparation for their
feast. Obviously, she envisioned what the birds
would do to the body of her dear Baraka.
Aryazate wished the woman would shut up
and that this could be over.
The observers saw the corpse handlers as they
set down their burden. They saw them uncover
the body and take up a sharp knife to cut the
gown it had been dressed in, exposing the naked
body for the great birds to consume. Turning, they
left even as the buzzards descended en mass on
the body. Another, even louder wail emanated
from Snatias rounded mouth and her mother
tried to stifle it. The mad rush of the buzzards
caused the coconut that the corpse handlers had
substituted for Barakas head to fall to the ground
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from high above with a thut as it split open. They
could see the dark stain of blood on one end of it
and people backed away.
Suddenly, the spectators noticed something
strange and very disturbing. The buzzards, which
had appeared to be ravenous, were regarding the
body with scorn. One great male flew away and
others followed. Not one bird had tasted Barakas
body.
Monushir gave an audible squeak of fear. It was
a greatly inauspicious sign that the birds didnt eat
the body. It meant that a ghost or a demon
haunted the body. Monushir grabbed his holy
kusti string and shook it violently as he intoned
the demon-exorcising spell. Others, frightened and
confused, followed his example. People backed
away and the corpse handlers took up the leashes
that secured the funerary dogs, as if they could
gain strength from them. They quickly joined the
leashes in a kind of knot to increase the strength of
the dogs and placed their own kustis outside of
their white robes.
A scream of rage tore out of Snatias throat and
the attention of the group turned to her.
Dont you see? The birds will not eat because
the Sorceress Aryazate has killed my poor Baraka
and filled him with demons. She did it, she did it!
Kill her! Kill the evil sorceress. She bewitched
Baraka to marry her so that she could take his
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wealth! He hated her and loved me! Dont you
see? Why else would he have given me up?
Snatia screamed at the crowd, some of who turned
away. Her female friends appeared to be
embarrassed as they looked away from her and
whispered behind their hands. Some even made
the sign against evil.
Aryazate was pale with fear. Why did this have
to happen to darken this day? Would they now
cast their suspicious glances at him again? His
vision blurred as the idea became fixed in his
mind. Then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He
looked up to see Monushir looking at him with
concern in his eyes.
He whispered. Aryazates eyes grew round and
his knuckles white as he heard what his father
hurriedly murmured.
Monushir finally cleared his voice then turned
to the crowd, still holding his sons shoulder. As
the Head-Mage for the royal house, I am the most
learned and judicious of men. I declare that this
thing has taken place not because of the so-called
sorcery of Lady Aryazate, the loving and bereft
widow, but because of the improper conduct of
the accuser, Lady Snatia. It is well known that the
ghost of the deceased hovers near the body at this
time. The ritual of exposing a body to the carrion
birds ensures that the soul will remain separate
from the body.
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Wailing and excessive tears will wrench a soul
back into the body, where it clings as the body rots
inauspiciously. You have done this to my nephew,
Lady Snatia, now remove yourself from our
presence. You are an evil omen to this family as
you continue to rave about my nephew as if he
were a lecher who wanted you, even after he was
duly married! Leave!
Snatia continued to scream accusations and
some people cocked their heads. Suddenly it
became dark and lightening cracked above.
Evil!
It is a sign of evil!
Indeed! Lightning and no sign of rain!
The crowd seemed paralyzed with fear.
Nobody ran. A reverberating sound, like the deep
breathing of a dragon filled the air, and the
ground shook. From above the Daxma, a swirling
shape appeared. Slowly it took form. A headless
creature with the body of a human and the
obscene tail of a water dragon slowly descended.
The kings entourage, including the brave Tripura,
seemed caught in a trace of horror so great that
they were unable to move to protect him.
They watched as the head formed. First, it
looked like a lump of unformed flesh, but tusks
grew out and it writhed as if in pain. Great fiery
eyes popped from the raw flesh and it chomped as
a vicious mouth tore forth from the mucoid
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opening. Needle-like teeth shone yellow with
slimy saliva. It roared and the land shook. With a
loud thud, it landed and crushed the corpse cart
under a great foot.
Monushir seemed at first to be paralyzed with
the rest, but then he reached into his robe and
pulled out the barsom wand used by the magi for
spells. He waved this over Aryazates body three
times.
A blinding light covered Aryazate and he felt
the change. He felt the great sword in his hand
and the new glorious clothing that covered him.
His own power took over now and he saw the
crowd regarding him with open mouths. The
demon roared again and people screamed in
terror. He rushed at the creature and felt his
power bust forth. His hair lit with a fiery nimbus
and his entire body glowed like Mithra as he
descends from the heavens to bring the morning
sun.
The sword struck the demons neck and his
great head fell to the ground. The body remained
standing for a moment, but then fell like a great
mountain struck by lightning. Thick blood poured
from the severed head and trunk, wetting
onlookers who screamed in terror. Before their
eyes, the body dematerialized until it rose like fog
and vanished. There was a shocked silence before
the crowd burst into cheers.
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Aryazate looked down at himself. He was
dressed as a man in a royal warriors garb. He
looked like a prince. His long hair was neatly
rolled into a knot on his head, as was the habit of
the kings and princes. His garb did not cover his
powerful biceps and the size of his chest was
evident. Gone were his womanly coverings. He
was a man.
Monushir silenced the crowd.
Wwhat? King Cyrus had rushed over to
stare at the transformed Aryazate.
Monushir cleared his voice and began his
speech. This is my son, the powerful mage
Aryazate. When he was born, I saw a great omen
in the Holy Fire. The god of the Fire himself,
accompanied by Lord Soma, lord of the sacrifice
spoke to me. They told me that the Evil Spirit was
secretly hatching the seed of a great demon, which
was destined to rule our great land and to fill it
with terror and unrighteousness.
They told me that the son my wife had just
given birth to, this male-child Aryazate, and that
he alone, was to be the savior who would be able
to destroy this wicked thing. However, since the
child was helpless and because the Evil Spirit
already knew of his existence, he would have to be
hidden. The gods transformed him into a beautiful
girl, but they made me give the child away so that
no one should ever suspect. Indeed, even this
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horrible trial was just meant to lead them astray.
Only now has my sons power come to fruition.
Only today, we see his real form and he has
fought and killed this evil. Now let us live in
peace. He finished the speech and fell to his
knees. Blood trickled from his ears and pain
washed over his face.
Aryazate lifted him easily and carried him to
one of the carriages as whispers grew to raucous
shouts and questions lanced the air. He leaned
over his father as soon as he had dismissed the
servants.
My sonI will die now. I will die for my evil.
I have used all of my considerable power to
produce that evil specter, but it was actually the
demon of my guilty soul. Now you have slain it
and I am free. His head lolled to the side.
Aryazate cried out. No! No! Enough! Ive seen
enough death. Ive killed the demon, now you can
live. Please dont make me live with the thought
that I killed you, too! Aryazate placed his hands
on the mans chest. It was the same man whom he
hated so recently. The same man who had killed
his birth mother. He felt the heat leave his fingers
like lightening. They entered his fathers chest and
he breathed again.
Monushirs eyes sprung open and he wept.
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Chapter 27
zor was pleased that he had finally helped his

love, the handsome Aryazate, to attain
happiness. Now he was dressed as a male noble
and nobody would ever know he had actually
never been a woman. Ezor chuckled to himself. He
had never expected any kind of love to be kindled
in his black breastand certainly not that sort of
love. He wanted now to redeem himself as evil
Monushir had.
He could see the group from the window as he
lurked in the shadows. After some time, Aryazate,
Nizami, Captain Tripura and Kavada seated
themselves at the table and began to feast. He
could almost smell the aroma of rare wines
wafting through the room, mingling with the
fragrance of spicy fried breads. The people in the
room were riveted by the antics of the new mother
of the puppies as she protected her spot in the
great hall. The revelers ate lazily from the
enormous funeral banquet that was laid out before
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them as they mourned in honor of Baraka.
A tray was wheeled out with great pomp. The
head manservant directed four men to lift the
heavy tray onto the floor. The dogs gathered
around and as soon as the drape was pulled off
the roasted deer carcass, they fell upon it. Room
was made for the alpha female and she ate the
tender organs with ravenous hunger.
Ezor had been surprised that the dogs had
accepted him as soon as he had determined to
save Aryazate. Could they smell a mans intentions?
He hoped that he had redeemed himself by saving
the blacksmith, his rival. He looked at them one
last time and a tear slid down his cheek. One of
the wolfhounds, the mother of the puppies, looked
at him through the window with her large, serious
eyes. He knew that she could see him and seemed
to be saying farewell.
He peeled himself away from the window with
a pain in his heart that seemed to grow with every
step downward. He knew what he had to do. His
feet hit the ground without a sound and he
mounted his horse. The journey would be long.
The House of Fortiviar fell away as Ezor melted
into the foliage.
He had robbed and earned more money than he
could ever spend in his lifetime. His coffers were
now full of the wealth he had taken from the
house of Varlan while he was planting the
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evidence. The scoundrel was in jail now thanks to
the signs of sorcery he had planted there. He
headed toward the places he knew from the
campaign against the demon-worshippers.
Everywhere he visited, he did two things. First,
he sought out the greedy people who had sold
their neighbors as witches or sorcerers and he
robbed them of their wealth. Then he tried to find
the survivors of the terrible witch hunts so that he
could give them money. If it wasnt possible, he
would find other poor people to give the money
to.
Finally, he reached the glade in the woods
where he had seen a murder that had affected
even his cold heart. With the stealth that had made
him famous, he approached the place where the
witches had moved their camp. Two small girls
ran after a butterfly as their arms waved in the
sunlight. A woman was cooking a fragrant stew
whose aroma wafted to him and made him
hungry. Colorful clothing dried on the branches of
bushes, making them look like they were
flowering.
Then he saw her. She seemed to be their leader
by the way women came to ask her questions. He
quivered when he looked at her long hair, which
seemed so like Aryazates. Her manner was
confident and her smile made his legs weak,
although he thought he would never be able to
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look at another love after Aryazatebut maybe it
might be better for him to forget what was never
to be his? He felt oddly reluctant to approach.
Surely they would be frightened! He was loathe to
hurt them anymore.
Taking his dagger from its sheath, he gritted his
teeth as he cut the flesh of his thigh quite deeply.
He stabbed the dagger into the earth to clean it
then staggered toward the witches. Children cried
out in fear as he collapsed to the ground just
outside of the clearing. The leader of the women
took up a spear and approached him as the others
stood back and some took to hiding places with
their children. The woman poked him with her
spear. He moaned and held his wounded thigh,
but wouldnt look up.
She warily moved closer.
He was afraid she might remember him, but
knew what to say, after all, he had grown up in
one such camp for his mother was a witch. I am
looking for my mother, he moaned. I hope that
they havent gotten her. Please help me. He
continued to look away from her and the women
whispered.
The witches looked at each other, wondering
whether or not to believe him then finally he
heard what hed been waiting for. Call the Old
Woman to come.
They watched Ezor closely as the ancient
376

woman walked over to them. She was blind and
older than anyone knew. She approached him and
the others didnt try to hold her back as she bent
close and felt for his face. He could hear the birds
twittering in the trees. For a long time she touched
him and Ezor knew that she had robbed him of all
of his secrets. He was ashamed, but he also felt
safe finally. There was no going back. At last, she
smiled and motioned to the women who helped
him up and took him to a shady place where they
dressed his wounds and fed him. She knew! The
Old Woman knew everything about him. He felt
naked.
This man is a great wizard, she finally said in
a voice of announcement, which was surprisingly
loud. I know him. He is kin to me and has come
home to join us, as it should be. He has great
wealth, and although we have little use for it, he
wishes to share it. We welcome him. His name is
Ezor, the Master Sorcerer. He is aware of our
customs, having been a child of a powerful witch,
and he thus knows that in our group, the women
rule. It is for this reasona man is easily swayed
to do cruel things, whereas it is harder to sway a
woman to do so. His past is of no concern to us. It
is only the past. A man need only desire to give up
his past and it will melt away like a bad dream.
The old witch served herself a great portion of
stew, not waiting to be guided by seeing eyes, and
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KB Forrest
ate noisily.
Ezor cried and nobody looked away. A few
kind hands touched his face to comfort him
silently.
A woman came to sit beside him and she took
his hand into hers. He felt cleansed.
He had been redeemed by love.
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Chapter 28
here are we going? Kavada asked once

inside the carriage.
Its a surprise.
His demand for more answers was ignored and
soon they heard the sounds of a marketplace
through the carriage walls. He shivered for a
moment, recognizing the old marketplace where
he had lost everything. He gave Aryazate a
puzzled look, but his grin was broad and
expectant.
The carriage pulled to a stop in the street.
Aryazate opened the door and climbed down. A
man directing an overloaded donkey hurled
obscenities, but when he stepped out of the
carriage, he gulped and fell silent.
Come on! he said, taking Kavadas big hand.
He recognized the street where his home had
been for so long. Aryazate pulled him to a stop in
front of his own old smithy. He had installed
expensive windows on the part that had once been
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open, letting in light and blocking out most of the
sound.
He unlocked the door and led Kavada in. He
had had the walls painted in gleaming white and
the floor was now smooth, polished hardwood.
Rows of blank linen canvases were hung on the
walls and some sat ready on easels. In the center
of the display stood his old anvil and other places
where people could sit.
I meant to give this to you long ago, but then
everything started to fall apart! I was thinking the
front could be a gallery. Every artist needs to show
off. Aryazates eyes gleamed. Do you like it?
Kavadas back was turned to him as he looked
around at his old smithy. When he finally turned
around, tears rolled down his face and his grin
was wide enough to crack his face in two. He
shook his head in amazement.
Come upstairs to your new studio! Aryazate
took his hand again.
The splintery stairs that he had dragged
Grumio down had been covered in soft carpet. As
Kavada emerged into his old living quarters, he
gasped in surprise. The room had totally changed
and it was now sumptuous. Along one wall were
shelves filled with every manner of art supplies
imaginable. Pots of expensive pigments were
stoppered with ornate glass lids and several earth
pots held fine brushes. Where his bed had stood
380

by the window, was a huge table and another one
on the far side of the room. Aryazate had also
installed a large bed in another corner of the big
room.
I knew you needed space for yourself from
time to time to do your art. I plan to have a few
huts built in the woods as well, but this place is
special. This is where it all started. This is the
place our hearts met.
Oh Aryazate! Kavada swept him into his
spinning embrace. They landed on the sumptuous
bed.
Can we? Kavada asked. He lurched up
without waiting for an answer and pulled down
the lock on the door. Faint sounds from the street
wafted up to them, but he only concentrated on
his lovers soft breathing. Kavada had wondered if
he would still be attracted to him, dressed as a
man. At first, it seemed to him that he loved the
woman Aryazate, but now he was certain. He
loved the man Aryazate much more.
He sat on the bed staring. Aryazates deep blue
eyes were still entrancing. He was surely a
sorcerer. He rarely shaved the soft blonde hair on
his face, perhaps because he was delighted that he
no longer had to hide. He walked with a more
confident and manly step now, and although his
voice was rich, it still held some of that musical
quality. The noblewomen were beside themselves
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to marry this new nobleman, but he had cleverly
told them that having lived under the spell of
being a woman for so long, he felt uneasy about
marriage.
People had already guessed that they were a
couple. That was something people accepted, if
not openly. They all said there was no helping
that.
Kavada slowly removed his tunic and britches
as he watched. He gently undressed Aryazate and
ran a rough hand over his tender chest then his
abdomen. Shiny blonde hair curled above what he
sought to touch. He slowly licked a trail up
Aryazates cock. He hesitated for a moment, and
placed his lips around the end, gently teasing and
nibbling as Aryazate pushed against him.
I cant take it! I wont last long that way.
Aryazate tried pushing him away.
Kavada looked up for a moment. Its no
problem, Aryazate. You have amazing endurance.
You can come three times in a row, so be silent
and stop pushing me away!
The pressure on his shoulders lessened slightly
and he sucked and pulled until Aryazate pushed
him off and curled up. He came with a cry and
shivered as Kavada uncurled him and used one
hand to wipe cum from his stomach. He held it
carefully as he spread Aryazates legs with his
knees. He knew his partner was still shy by the
382

blush that covered him from his face and ears, to
his panting chest, but he smeared the cum on his
own cock and lowered himself urgently.
He was amazed at the wonderful feeling he had
when he finally pushed his way in and they lay
breathing heavily into each others bodies. They
had experimented many times already and he
knew just how to pleasure Aryazate. He thrust in
and his lover shivered violently. Suddenly,
Aryazate cried out, and he the opening tightened.
Poised on the brink of release, he didnt want it to
end so quickly that he fought to hold back.
Aryazates wonderful opening tightened again,
and he thrusted as he grabbed the younger mans
knees and pulled them back.
Aryazate wrapped his arms around Kavadas
neck and they rocked frantically against each
other. A shock ran through him and he thrust
deep and hard as the feeling spiraled in his groin.
The waves of pleasure almost pulled him over as
he jerked to his final release. He had never in his
life experienced such a surge of passionate delight
and he dared to look into Aryazates eyes. Those
bewitchingly beautiful eyes confirmed his
suspicion. He had finally experienced magic. He
fell over Aryazate and wept for joy. He had found
his bliss in this very life.
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KB Forrest
Aryazate ran his fingers through Kavadas hair
and they lay in each others arms, drifting in
dreams of magic that only they shared together.
384
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KB Forrest received a Ph.D. in the subject of the

Ancient Near East from Harvard University. This
work required the knowledge of many dead
languages, and the study of countless esoteric
tomes, which supplied KB with an endless source
of myths, legends, magical spells, curses and
exorcisms. This knowledge proves to be very
useful in writing fiction, but it tends to attract
ghosts and other spirits, as well as legendary
creatures of all sorts, who demand that their
stories be put into writing. KB is diligently
working to assure that this happens soon, so that
they will stop their incessant howling and
nagging.

K. B. Forrest - The Sorcerer&#39;s Secret

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K. B. Forrest - The Sorcerer&#39;s Secret

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THE SORCERERS SECRET

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

ill you marry me?

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

hat do you mean? This is my house! I wont

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

ll be there soon Nizami! The young woman

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

s they entered the wealthy section of the great

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

he vase hit the side of a stone wall with a

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

ryazate stormed into the stables in a black

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

araka let out a primal scream of rage. Dead?

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The little dog yipped excitedly as the man and

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

The Sorcerers Secret

thought you werent coming, dear, Lady

K. B. Forrest - The Sorcerer's Secret

K. B. Forrest - The Sorcerer's Secret