House of Lust (5 page)

Vosgaris caught himself before he corrected the elderly man.  He looked carefully at the general.  “Do you recall your time in Turslenka when Astiras visited the slave girl Metila?”

“Who?  Oh, yes, the slave girl.”  Teduskis slowly sat back down and chuckled.  “Gave him a right old welcome.”  He grinned and stared into the middle distance.  “We need to train up more men to put down the Bragalese insurrection.  How many men can you raise to help us?”

Vosgaris felt uncomfortable.  Teduskis’ mind was wandering and who knows what he was thinking.  He tried to steer himself back onto course.  “Metila seduced the emperor?”

“What emperor?  You mean the fool on the throne at the moment?  I don’t know if she did that!  Thetos says she helped seize Turslenka from the Duras.  They’re a dangerous lot; don’t trust them one little bit.”

“Sir, who knows about Metila and Astiras?”

“General Koros, you mean?  That’s a secret; I’ve been sworn to secrecy and won’t tell anyone, not even the emperor.  Sorry, but I can’t help you any further.  Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to attend to.”

Vosgaris saluted and slowly left.  Outside he sighed.  The deterioration in Teduskis’ mind was going too fast.  He wasn’t going to be of any use for much longer.  One thing he had found out though; Teduskis had babbled too much about the incident and it was probable that was where the leak had come from.  The problem was to find out whom he had babbled to.

He decided to grasp the thorn and go to the person who would be most angry about it.  The empress. 

He got an audience fairly quickly, and once he had insisted on speaking alone with her, the handmaidens and servants were dismissed.  “Now, Captain, what is this all about?  I do have things to do and you being mysterious isn’t being helpful.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I have to speak to you about the – regrettable relationship of the emperor and the slave girl in Turslenka.”

Isbel’s face tightened at once.  “No, Captain, I do not wish to discuss that with anyone.  If that is what you are here for then I must ask you to leave.”

Vosgaris sighed.  “Sorry, ma’am, but I’ve been tasked by the emperor to find out who wrote that letter.”

“I’m not in the mood, Captain, now please leave or else I’ll be forced to insist.”

Vosgaris slowly produced the authority from Astiras and passed it to her.  “I don’t want to do this, ma’am, but I think there is someone here, probably more than one person, who wishes to spread harm to the Koros.  I have to find out whom.”

Isbel glared at the letter, then thrust it back at him peremptorily.  “Very well, it seems that I have no choice.  What exactly is it you want from me?”

“Do you have any idea who could possibly write that letter?  You saw it, of course, and I presume you didn’t recognise the handwriting?  Somebody wrote it who is well educated and writes neatly.  Someone else probably slipped the letter under your door yesterday, most possibly a servant.  A scribe?”

“I have no idea, Captain.  Do you know whether the emperor is intending to merely silence the messenger?  He didn’t seem to be upset at having fornicated with that woman – I knew there was something wrong with her, I could feel it! – but rather he’s angry at it coming out.”

Vosgaris shook his head slowly.  “I can’t say, ma’am – I must admit it came as a surprise to me when he told me this morning.  I wondered why the two of you seemed – distant – yesterday.”

Isbel puffed out her cheeks.  “Not as surprised as I!  All the time I could have – “ she caught herself.

Vosgaris guessed what she was about to say.  “I wouldn’t have said no, ma’am.”

Isbel shot him a sharp look and Vosgaris looked over her shoulder and stood to attention.  “Captain, I do not wish to discuss these matters right now.  I’m not in the right frame of mind.  Perhaps in time to come we can speak of this, but not now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re just as bad as he is, Vosgaris Taboz.  Every woman who catches your eye you lose your head.  What is it with you men?”

Vosgaris looked at the empress.  “I don’t know ma’am – I can’t help myself.”

“Have you betrayed Alenna since becoming married?”

“No, ma’am!  She’s keeping me, ah, satisfied.”

“Damn Astiras,” Isbel said forcefully.  “He’s a man but too much of one, so it would seem.  Why would he want to sate his feelings on that slut when he has me?”

“I believe she used potions on him.  That’s what I’ve been led to believe, anyway.”

“I ought to have her tied to a stake and burned!  Witches should be destroyed.”

“Perhaps – but I need to find out who wishes your marriage harm.  Who knows what they will do next?”

Isbel stood up.  “I won’t help you if Astiras merely wishes to silence people in order for him to continue with his affair, but I will help you if it means finding enemies of my family; I do have Argan and Istan to think of now.  I can’t leave the emperor, although I feel like doing so, for he would take the two boys from me and they are my children, too.  I would have nothing if I left him.”

“Ma’am,” Vosgaris said helplessly.

“Oh, I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”  Isbel waved an arm in the air.  “Go.  Find out who is trying to undermine the Koros.”  She said the name bitterly.  “And keep me informed, too.  I have as much at stake as that philandering man!”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll do that.”

Isbel nodded.  “Thank you, Captain.”  She sank back into her chair after Vosgaris had left and put her head in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.

___

The captain’s next task was to return to the emperor.  Astiras was busy, so Vosgaris had to content himself with speaking to the political advisor, a nobleman called Fostan Anglis, the son of a House that traded in marble from Turslenka.  The advisor was of medium build with wavy dark hair and dark eyes.  No doubt a lot of women would find that enticing, or so Vosgaris considered.  It did seem the young Anglis nobleman never lacked female attention.  There didn’t seem much difference between their ages, but Fostan Anglis always dressed smartly and displayed wealth with jewels on his clothing, such as clasps, buckles and rings.  Vosgaris considered it somewhat vulgar, especially as the Koros tended not to flaunt anything like that except when holding some special occasion, such as the eighth anniversary celebration of Astiras’ accession to the throne the previous evening.

“Any news worth talking about, Fostan?” Vosgaris asked, sitting on the edge of a desk.

“News?”

“Mazag?  Venn?  Zipria?  Political stuff.”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, Taboz.”  Fostan addressed him by his House, denoting that he regarded the Taboz family below his in social rank.  “Mazag remains our ally, as you know, and Venn is holding true to the ceasefire.  I hear rumours but unless they are proven I don’t think it my place to go spreading what is, after all, gossip.  I leave that to eunuchs, women and other such types.”  He looked and sounded disapproving of it all.  “As for the Tybar, news from there is patchy at best, and I have to rely on merchants to pass on what they have learned, like Demtro Kalfas in Niake.  He would appear to know more of what is going on than anyone else.”

“And what is the latest with the Tybar, from what you have heard?”

“Tybar occupation of Tobralus is being consolidated, despite resistance.  Refugees are still trickling into our lands.  The Tybar are now in the process of conquering Amria.  It would seem the tribes are not looking at us for the time being, which is something to be thankful for.  So, Captain, what is your news?”

“No uprising imminent, nor any news of any Bragalese resistance.  All seems settled here.”

Fostan Anglis grunted with amusement.  “That’s not what I hear.  The Mazag border area is rife with banditry.  Now that the massacres have stopped the natives are becoming bolder.  Surely you would have heard these rumours, if you’re chief of security?”

Vosgaris eyed the man, piqued.  “So where did you hear of these rumours, Fostan?  If you’re really concerned about them why haven’t you brought them to my attention, or even to that of the emperor?”

“What, and do your job for you?” Fostan Anglis smiled slickly.  “The heavens forbid!  I leave such matters to you or your excellent network.  I’m a mere courtier and talk of rebellions and slaughter are beyond my responsibility.”

Vosgaris stood up.  This man mirrored the courts in the later days of the Duras-Fokis backed puppet emperors.  He decided to look into the background of him and his family.  “In which case I think I’d best look into them, rather than take up your valuable time.”  He reached the door and turned round.  “The trouble with people like you, Fostan, is that you’re too busy looking outside when the real enemy is much closer.  Good day.”  He left Fostan looking at the door with a thoughtful expression. 

The day was nearly halfway through now, and so Vosgaris returned to his office.  Alenna was sifting through a pile of parchments and smiled at his entry.  They kissed and made small talk for a few moments.  Then Vosgaris gave her the bad news.  “I’m definitely going to have to go down to Turslenka as part of my investigations.  I think that’s where I’ll be able to get definite leads.  I’m afraid I will probably be gone for the best part of a moon’s cycle.”

“Oh, do you really have to?” Alenna looked dismayed.  “I’ll miss you terribly, you know!”

“I know – I’ll write once I’m there so you know I’m alright.  I’ll sort out whatever I need to as fast as I can and return.  I won’t want to be away too long.”

“Can’t you tell me what it’s about, Vos?  I’d love to help, really I would.”

Vosgaris shook his head, then became thoughtful.  “You know, perhaps you can.  I would like to have a full list of everyone who was within the keep here yesterday morning, from the emperor down to the lowest servant.  Also, if you can find anything, an example of hand writing of these people.  I know the servants won’t have any, but the courtiers and inner confidants must have, and their scribes.  I still can’t tell you what it’s about but I will say that there’s someone here who isn’t doing us all any good.  I need to find out who it is.”

“But – Turslenka?  Why so far?”

Vosgaris sighed.  “It may well have started down there – in fact it did.  I need to go straight to the probable source, and there’s two I need to check out.  Once I get that sorted out properly, my task back here should be much easier.”

“Are we in danger?  I mean, if this someone wishes us harm, will my life be in danger?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.  Its intrigue.  Certain people use swords, others words.  Keep your eyes and ears open for anything untoward.  Oh, another thing, poor old General Teduskis won’t be taking my place.  I’ll have to assign someone else.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m afraid the poor general is becoming unwell and I doubt he’ll be able to cope with the job.  I’ve got to see the emperor about that.  Right,” he stood up, kissing her again.  “Must be about my duties.  No rest for the wicked!”

Alenna smiled and waved him out.  She then looked back at the parchments and frowned.  A list of people who were in the keep yesterday?  She knew most of them, and began dipping her feathered quill into her pot of writing ink and scratched the names down on the parchment.  Then she searched through the roster and list of visitors for the day and added them to the list.

When she had finished she studied it, deep in thought, then began looking through the records for written documents from these people.  She found twelve, and was quite pleased with herself.

She just hoped it would help her husband.

The celebrations to mark the eighth anniversary of the reign of Astiras had been a little more muted in Kastan City.  Elas had overseen the preparations and as a result they had been less colourful than perhaps people had hoped for.  The palace itself made a token gesture but Elas had been occupied with other more pressing matters than something he clearly had little time for.  Amne however did her bit, leading a procession from the palace to the gates, cheered on by many citizens.  Lalaas had made sure of the security and provided a reasonable escort.

Now Amne happily sat in her quarters speaking with her eldest daughter, Kola.  The girl, now two and a half years of age, was chatting away quite brightly.  The nurse, Benitia, sat on the corner of the richly patterned rug that had been made further west in Izaras, occupying the much younger Stana, who was learning to walk.

Since the affair with Dragan Purfin had begun, things had become strained between Elas and Amne and the prince had decided not to entertain or be entertained by Amne in his chamber.  Amne often slept alone, although sometimes one or both of her daughters needed settling down and slept with her.  Amne was happy enough with that, and it gave her a feeling of being wanted.

There was, however, the feeling of emptiness in her marriage.  She had hoped that after her visit to Zofela and before she had fallen pregnant for the first time, Elas was warming to her.  There had, to be sure, been a thawing between them in that period, and even after Kola’s birth, they had shared a bed on many occasions, and Stana had followed soon afterwards.

It was only after that birth that things had begun to go wrong again.  Dragan Purfin had been the cause, without a doubt, and Amne had all too easily fallen for the handsome man.  The nobleman had clearly wanted to use Amne to gain information on the palace and imperial dispositions in Frasia.  Lalaas discovered the affair pretty quickly and had warned Amne off him, citing the likely dangers and ambition of the rebel.  Amne had reacted predictably at first.  It was when Lalaas had spoken to her at length and pleaded with her not to destroy her children’s future, that sense had come to her.

Lalaas had pointed out that Elas could threaten to lock her up and take her children away from her unless she stopped, and then had come evidence of Dragan’s treachery and betrayal of what she had seen as his love for her.  Dragan’s plans had been overheard by one of Lalaas’ spies in Kastan City after a drunken orgy in the tavern where the rebel nobleman often visited and met his shady contacts.  Lalaas had planted a buxom female agent there to get precisely what he had hoped for; information from Dragan, and his agent had slept with the nobleman on many occasions.

Amne had been furious, and had agreed to act out her part thereafter.  The good thing with that was she was getting plenty of physical love from him, which was what she wanted.  Lalaas was not happy about it but had been forced to agree when Amne pointed out that Dragan Purfin was under the firm belief Amne was betraying Elas in favour of him.  Now all that was required was the date, time and place that Dragan was going to raise his army to take power in the city.

Lalaas was well aware of the so-called secret network of contacts Dragan was using to pass messages to Amne, and that day the suspected contact was seen making his way surreptitiously up the stairs towards the bedrooms.  He was one of the cleaning staff, but not supposed to go upstairs.  His area was the ground floor.  Lalaas had, however, told the guards to let him up as long as they kept an eye on him.

The contact slipped along the corridor of the imperial sleeping chambers.  Two guards were on duty and they noted the contact approaching.  “Lost, are we?” one of them challenged him, stepping into the middle of the corridor.

“No – I have something you might like.”

“Oh?  What’s that, then?”  The other guard peered with interest at the servant, a brown-haired man with bad skin.

“Something to pass the evenings in pleasure.  See?” he held out his left hand and resting in the palm were a few dull coloured pieces of something.  The two guards eyed one another in puzzlement. 

“What’s that?”

“Ah, it’s a plant extract – makes you feel really good, you know.  Almost as good as sex.”

The two guards chuckled.  “Oh, trying to sell us something like the leaf, eh?  That’s going to get you into deep trouble, friend.  Like to spend a few evenings in the dungeon explaining this to the interrogators?  They’d love to find out who gave you this, I’m sure.”

The servant went to put the small stone-like objects away but dropped them over the floor.  He swore and went down on his hands and knees.  The two guards smiled and shook their heads.  As the contact scrabbled about, he slipped a letter he had in his tunic under the door.  Sighing, he stood up, the stones in his hand which he slipped into his pocket.  “I won’t bother you then.  You’ve missed out a treat, believe me.”

“Go home and melt your mind, cretin,” the first guard growled.  “We prefer to retain ours and not become a mindless plant.  Now hoppit before I try out my volgar on you.”

The servant bowed and backed away.

“Well, he was as classy as a Turslenkan whore,” the second one commented.  “Think we ought to alert the captain?”

“Yeah.  Dunno what was in that letter but think we should let him know else we get it in the neck.”

The second guard grunted and walked off to find Lalaas.  Meanwhile, in the room, Benitia brought the sealed letter to Amne who, curious, opened it.

It was from Dragan Purfin and it was a curt summons to his house in the affluent quarter of Kastan City.  Amne’s heart began to beat and she stood up, a slight flush to her features.  “I’m going to be gone for a while.  I should be back before dark.  Make sure the girls are changed and fed by the late afternoon watch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anne went to see Lalaas.  She showed him the letter.  “I must go, Lalaas, but I want you to come with me and escort me through the streets.”

Lalaas was already dressed, having been forewarned by his guard.  “I agree, Amne, I wouldn’t have you wandering the streets alone.  You must be disguised, though.  Look at me, no insignia, no sign of who I am or where I come from.”

Amne looked at his dark, nondescript apparel.  A cloak dropped from his wide shoulders.  His hair was uncovered and fell to his collar.  He had dark leggings and under the cloak a brown coloured tunic with iron studs, a poor standard of armour but often worn by those citizens on the lowest rung of the financial ladder.  “Are you armed?”

Lalaas smiled and slipped his cloak aside.  Buckled to his wide leather waist belt was his sword.  He lifted his right leg and tucked into his calf-length boot was a dagger.  Another knife was snugly fitted to a sheath in his belt on the opposite side to his sword.

“Ah, good,” Amne nodded.  “What of me?  I can’t roam Kastan’s streets in my best dress!”

Lalaas rubbed his chin.  “Aye, you have a point.  You need a cloak, hood, rough type of dress, simple belt.  I think we might have something in our cloak room.  We get a regular supply of clothes from staff, families and so on.  I’m sure we have something to fit you.  Hold on.  Stay out of sight,” he nodded towards the back of the room.  He left, seeking out one of the staff responsible for the laundry.  A palace had to have an organised cleaning system, and Kastan’s was no different.

In no time Lalaas was returning with a hooded cloak and a dress, and a small simple belt.  He shut the door behind him and Amne came out from the recess with relief.  She looked at the dress.  “Will I fit that?” she asked dubiously.

“Well, in most places, yes,” Lalaas said.  “I’m not entirely sure about – on top,” he said, eyeing her chest, “but the cloak will be fine.”

Amne ran her hands over her breasts, smoothing her dress so they were firmly outlined.  “Yes, I’m so big up there!  They can be so troublesome you know, clothes have to be re-sewn so many times after fitting.”

“Don’t knock them,” Lalaas advised. 

“Heh, typical man.  Anyway, I thought you weren’t interested in them,” she said, a challenge in her eyes.  She peeled off her dress and placed her hands on her hips, swaying one way, then the other.

“Try the dress on Amne,” Lalaas said, chuckling.  “Or I’ll go all formal on you.”

“Oh, perish the thought!  I’ve got enough with The Corpse being like that with me.  He’d kill me if he knew I was seeing Dragan.”

“I’ve got to tell him about the information,” Lalaas said.  “He thinks I’ve got a spy in Dragan Purfin’s household.”

“Oh?  What sort of spy?”

“A lusty servant,” Lalaas grinned.

Amne grunted, struggling with the dress.  “Oh, this hardly fits!  Have you got another dress at all?”

“It’s only your chest, and if it’s straining there I doubt Dragan will be looking elsewhere.”

“My hips, too,” Amne said in exasperation.  “Gods, I’m as big as a fantor!” she ran her hands down the tight dress.

“Nonsense.  You’ve just got a voluptuous figure, and a great one.  Nobody would think you’d had two kids.”

“Oh, you always say the right thing, Lalaas.  Marry me.  I’ll divorce The Corpse.”

“You know my answer to that, Amne.  You’d cause a civil war.”

“Aren’t I worth fighting over, then?” she asked, stepping close to him, looking up at the captain.  “Would you go to war over me?”

Lalaas sighed.  “Absolutely, but your father would roast me on a spit and your husband would call out the guard to have both of us arrested.  We’d have no chance.”

Amne pouted.  “Where’s the belt?” she fumbled it on and tied it about her stomach.  “Hmm, well, yes at least that’s flat.  You have no idea how hard it is to keep that in shape after children.  You men have it so easy!”

Lalaas rolled his eyes and passed her the hooded cloak.  “Best hide your hair and face, you’re so recognisable.  We’ll leave by the back gate.  We’ll go arm in arm, like a pair of lovers.”

“Oooh, yes please,” Amne coo-ed.  “Can we practice that now, so I can get into the role properly?”

“Ma’am,” Lalaas wagged a warning finger at her.

“I’m a princess, I could command you to make love to me,” Amne said.

“And I would have to decline.  I don’t think you’d want me arrested for that sort of thing.”

Amne huffed and slid the hood over her head.  “You’d best watch out for the day I do get my hands on you.  You won’t be able to move for days.” 

Lalaas smiled and held out his arm.  She took it.  “Come on, Amne, let’s sneak out before Elas comes looking for you.”

“He never bothers with me so that’s not likely.  We’re married only in name.”

Lalaas kept silent on that – he didn’t know what to say to her.  To say the two were ill-matched was an understatement.  Elas wasn’t actively unpleasant towards Amne, it was just he had an emotionless approach to everything.  Amne, on the other hand, was as emotional as anyone could be.  Her volatile mood swings left Elas baffled and mystified, and so he steered clear of her and stuck to what he knew best; how to run the palace, city and province.  He was efficient, but there was no joy or fun in it.

They walked along the long corridor that led to the main entry hallway but turned off before they got there and passed through a small door that led to the servants’ wing.  There was little décor here and everything was functional and stark.  The lighting was much reduced and the windows few and far between.  Amne kept her head in the folds of the hood and bowed, so that nobody who passed could see who she was.

There was a long passageway off from which doors to the kitchens and stores led, but they passed all of these and went to the very end and a locked door.  Lalaas had the key and unlocked it, albeit with some effort.  He peered out and, satisfied all was clear, ushered the princess out and then locked the door behind them.

They were in a far corner of the courtyard, close to the stables, and made their way along the front of these to the big doors that led out to the streets.  Two guards were on duty and Lalaas nodded to them.  They looked curiously at his companion, huddled in a commoner’s outfit.  “No word, lads.  Just some – ah – entertainment someone had last night,” he grinned.

“Ah, right, sir.  No word.”  One guard opened a small portal in the bigger gates and the two slipped out into the cobbled street beyond.

As the door shut Amne leaned towards Lalaas’ ear.  “Did you tell them I was some sort of whore?”

Lalaas shrugged.  “All I could think of.  Sorry.”

Amne shook her head but smiled.  “You must think I am one.”

“No I don’t.”

“I can’t help it, Lalaas.  You must hate taking me to a traitor who’ll be doing it to me in a short while.  And I’m looking forward to it, too!”

“Amne, don’t speak of it.  You’re using what means you have to get information from him to help defeat the rebel cause.  Come on, let’s go, and keep your head down.”

They emerged onto the main street that led to the east gate, the so-called Turslenka Gate.  The richer properties were along this thoroughfare, and Dragan Purfin’s city home was close by, just one street away.  It was unremarkable but looked well-maintained and was clean and tidy which spoke of maintenance and occupation.

Lalaas released her on the other side of the street.  “I’ll be close by.  Good luck.”