Read The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy Online
Authors: Chris Bunch
“No, Damastes. It is for me to apologize. I’m foolish to think of going to Chardin Sher. He’ll deny he said anything of the sort, and then I’ll be the fool.
“Why in the hells is it always the man who’s believed?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it’s because man makes the laws.”
“Well, it’s stupid and it’s fucked!” Her rage was returning. Her dress seemed to respond to her anger, because the coils seethed up and down her body.
“It is,” I agreed. I didn’t know what to do — the evening was ruined. I supposed that we should just leave quietly. But instead of suggesting that, I took her gently in my arms, and held her close.
We stood in silence for a very long time, and her breathing came hard, then relaxed, then hard again, then gentled as she fought for, then found, control.
“I am not going to cry, either,” she said against my chest. “I won’t give that son of a bitch the price of one damned tear!”
She lifted her head to me, and her lips parted. I kissed her, and she kissed me back, fiercely. Then she pulled away.
“I suppose he would have said how taken he was with me, and perhaps I might be willing to meet him in his quarters later. He doesn’t impress me as a man who spends much time wooing those he wants.
“But I’ve heard nastier suggestions,” she said. “The sons of the rich think they can talk like stable hands when they’re not granted their every desire, and have very strange ideas of what an unaccompanied young woman might wish.” A bit of a smile came. “Although I’ve never had them from somebody as high-ranking as Chardin Sher. I suppose I should be honored.”
She laughed then, and the laugh was genuine. “I wonder how Malebranche qualified as Chardin Sher’s procurer.”
“Probably sold him his mother and sister,” I said. I did not tell her I knew Malebranche to be far more than just a pimp — I now realized he was the prime minister’s specialist for any and all dirty work.
“I shall tell you what we are going to do,” Marán said. “We are going back in there, and we are going to enjoy ourselves, and forget about Kallians. I was having far too good a time to allow them to ruin anything.”
That was exactly what we did. Chardin Sher and his lackeys were gone, so it was not impossible. As the evening went on, it became easier and easier.
• • •
The ball would last all night, but it was only a bit past midnight when Marán suggested we leave.
“We have made our appearance, I’ve shown off my outfit, and we’ve discovered Kallians are pigs. What else is there to do? I’m afraid to eat anything or I’ll burst out of this dress.”
“Hmm,” I said. “What an interesting thought. Have you examined that tray of eclairs over there? They look delicious.”
“Come on, you lunatic Cimabuan!” She laughed, pulled the serpent’s hood from her head, and her hair fell free about her shoulders. I unmasked as well and followed her.
On the ride to her house, Marán was quiet. I assumed she was brooding about Chardin Sher’s insult, and so tried to keep a jolly conversation going.
I stepped out of the brougham when it pulled to a halt, and handed her down. I was about to bid her good night, and go to the stables for Lucan, when she said, “Captain, are you a gentleman?”
“I would hope so, Countess.”
“Then I can invite you in, although I have little idea on what to serve a nonimbiber.”
“In honor of the occasion, Madam, I will make an exception and allow you to pour me a small bit of your finest brandy.”
“You
are
a gracious man, sir, ever ready to help a distressed and puzzled damsel.”
The house was deserted, and there were no servants about, even though the gaslights blazed.
“I suppose everyone thought we’d be out till dawn, and went out to look for parties of their own.” She frowned. “Very, very old, brandy. That would most likely be in … in
someone’s
study.”
She led me upstairs, and bade me wait.
I stood in the luxurious halls, feeling foolish in my orange robes. After a moment, she came out with a crystal decanter that shot reflections of the light around the room.
“Let’s see. Oh, I know. You haven’t seen the solarium yet. Come on.” She took my hand and led me up the stairs to the roof.
It was a large room, with a glass roof curved like the top of a breadloaf. It was all done in white, wrought-iron chairs and tables, even the frames that held the glass window panes. There were doors that opened onto a deck.
I sat gingerly in an ornate chair, and Marán poured me brandy, then sat down in a thinly upholstered lounge that looked as if it would collapse if I had tried to use it.
“I wish to thank you,” I said, “for inviting me to the ball. Otherwise I would have been one of those poor cavalrymen we saw in the streets, sitting my horse, trying to look noble and freezing my, my — ”
“Balls is the word you are looking for.”
“No it’s not. But it’ll do. By the way, I meant to compliment you on your language. I didn’t know countesses could swear like you.”
“You can if you grow up in the country and ride a lot. All my horses respond better to that sort of language than cooing and such.”
“How odd,” I said. “Army horses prefer soothing and gentleness. Perhaps it’s the unfamiliar that makes them listen.”
I smiled, and she hesitantly smiled back. For a second, her expression once more became that of the innocent expecting punishment. She rose and went to one of the doors. I picked up my glass and joined her.
Below was the river, and even at this late hour I saw the lights of barges and vessels. I thought I heard something, and opened the door. I was right. Soft music drifted up from the water. After a moment I saw where it came from: Far upriver a luxury ferry moved slowly toward us, and there must have been a band aboard.
I was standing very close behind Marán, and could smell, over her perfume that was making me far drunker than the bit of brandy I’d tasted, the clean scent of her hair.
She turned, and took the brandy glass from my hand, and sat it down. “Now, you arrant bluffer, we are far from prying eyes and we have a magically provided orchestra. I wish to see this Rotten Row dance, sir.”
I hesitated, and the way her eyes boldly took me made the decision.
“The hells with being a gentleman,” I muttered, and her arms slid around me, and she melted into my embrace. I slid my arms down around her back and, as I’d longed, cupped her buttocks. She caught her breath, slipped one leg between mine, and we moved as one. I began kneading my hands, and her breath came faster and I felt her nipples rise, even through my costume.
I felt my cock hard against her thigh, and she forced herself closer. We danced like that for an eternity, and then I suddenly realized the ship was long gone, and the only music we had was in our minds.
She pulled me down into a kiss. Our tongues flared together, and she moaned, moving her head from side to side, crushing her lips against mine.
Then she pulled away.
“Yes, Damastes. Now. Quickly. Come with me.”
Almost running, she led me toward the stairs.
• • •
I did not notice what her bedroom looked like, except that the bed was wide, invitingly laid, and the sheets were silken, but as warm as her dress. The room was lit by a single candlelike flame from a lamp on a bedside table.
We embraced once more, then Marán pulled away. Her fingers fumbled at her neck. She muttered in frustration, and I hooked fingers inside her costume, and tore. The stitching ripped with a tiny shriek, and she was naked.
“You,” she said. “Now you. Hurry. Please hurry.”
I lifted my robes away and kicked off my sandals. I picked her up in my arms, and we fell across the bed. Her arms were moving up and down my back, and she was moaning, murmuring my name. Her leg lifted across the back of mine, caressing. My fingers slipped down her body, the softest, fairest skin I’d ever touched, shaven clean, and then I found waiting wetness.
Her thighs parted, and she pushed up, against my searching hand. There was no hesitation, no time or need for long fore-play as I moved between her legs.
I touched her clitoris with the head of my cock, and her body jerked. “Oh, gods,” she said. “Oh, Damastes. Please. Please. Take me. Fuck me, fuck me hard, fuck me now!”
I found the wetness, pushed, met hard obstruction, felt a flash of amazement, then pushed once more, and Marán cried out, guttural, a moment of pain, and then the tissue gave way and I buried myself in her.
I lay motionless for a moment, then her legs lifted, and she wrapped them around my lower thighs, and thrust up against me, slowly at first, then stronger and stronger. My thrusts met hers, and her fingernails dug into my back. Our bodies crashed together, and then I broke and I could feel semen gush, and a moment later she cried out sharply and her body jerked against mine.
Slowly her throbs faded, and she was still, her breathing calming. But I was still hard, still inside her, and rolled her onto her side and began moving, and she moaned my name and once more we were swept away.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said, “so you’ll have to give me advice.”
“Well, this isn’t a good time to be biting. At least not very hard. Use your tongue. Yes. Mmm. Like that. Now, take me in your mouth. Try to swallow me.” It was my turn to moan. “Now, move your head back and forth.”
The world was her lips around me, and I moved, and she moved faster, and I lifted my buttocks off the bed, feeling her hair sweep across my stomach my hands stroking the back of her head, and Jaen took me in her embrace again.
She let my cock slip out of her mouth, and swallowed. “Thank you, my Damastes.”
“For what?”
“We didn’t have time for dinner. You taste good.” Her words sent another spasm of desire through me.
• • •
She got up once to use the bathroom, and I glanced down at the sheet. It was stained, but with more than love. There was a small bit of blood where we’d first joined. I wondered what sort of strange marriage she must have, then, guiltily, put the thought out of my mind as she came back toward me and started to lie down.
“No.” I stood up, and turned her around so she faced me. “Lie back on the bed. No, don’t move up on it. Let your hips touch the edge. Now, lift your legs until your heels are on the bed.”
I touched her knees and they fell open, welcoming. I slipped between her thighs, and touched her sex, still wet with love. My cock rose, and I slid it into her.
“Now, put your feet back on the floor.”
She hissed and arced her back as I began moving in her, my hands caressing her breasts, massaging her nipples gently.
• • •
We were never sleepy, never losing the savage desire to bury ourselves in the other’s bodies.
The world was silk, that single candle, and her body moving under me.
Once, in a brief moment of sanity, I asked, “What of your servants? Don’t any of them have big ears?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I’m not a stupid woman, even if I’m not experienced in adultery. I made sure they knew, when they were hired, the Agramóntes pay their salary.”
“I was just asking. So what do I do now that I’m not worrying?”
“What I want you to do now is just what you did before. Except this time, slowly, very slowly, putting it all the way in me. I like it better that way. I want to feel you on my womb.”
“Your wish is my command, Countess,” and her buttocks rose against me.
• • •
It was gray when I slipped out the door. I found the stables, where Lucan was tied. He nickered a soft reproach at having been left saddled for so long, and I whispered a promise that he should have a meal of the best barley as my apology.
As besotted as any drunkard, I rode through the streets of the city as the dawn rose golden over Nicias.
T
HE
I
SLE OF
B
ONES
I managed to avoid the duty roster for that day, but had slept only two hours when Lance Karjan awakened me. “I know you told me not t’ bother you, sir. But there’s a messenger, an’ th’ bastard insisted.”
I groggily pulled on a robe, and found a plainly dressed man waiting for me. He handed me an envelope, and I tore it open. It read:
Dear Captain á Cimabue
You will note I sent this letter in the hands of a commoner. I meant no disrespect, but I want to make sure we were able to satisfactorily resolve our differences without interference.
While my lord, Chardin Sher, cares little about the death of an arrogant Numantian officer, I recognize that you are bound by certain conventions, from your Army’s policies, to no doubt the cowardice of the Rule of Ten, which surely would frown on our meeting.
Since I have no friends in Nicias of the necessary rank, I hope you will forgive this somewhat demeaning manner of conducting business, in sending this missive by a commoner rather than one of our equals and proposing the matter be dealt with directly.
But you and I need no seconds to settle things. If this arrangement is satisfactory, do me the honor of sending a note with this man giving the proper arrangements.
Landgrave Elias Malebranche
The Kallian had a point. I bade the servant wait, and scratched a quick reply. I told him I agreed, and we could surely and honorably come to an agreement.
My arrangements were simple: We would fight at dawn, four days hence; the location was the Isle of Bones, a certain island three miles above the city and not the usual place for gentlemen to settle their differences; and finally my choice of weapons was sword and dagger, identical swords to be provided by me, and knives of our own choosing.
I knew this last would surprise and please him, since it appeared to be playing into his strength. But I had a small secret he wasn’t aware of.
I sealed the note, gave it to the messenger, and he touched his forehead and left.
I was suddenly very awake, and told Lance Karjan to make tea and prepare a bath. As he worked, I could see him casting curious eyes at me, and so I told him what was in the offing. I told him nothing of the night with Marán, but assumed he would draw the obvious conclusions. If a man is never a hero to his body servant, it’s equally impossible to have a secret.