THE SHADOWLORD (25 page)

"I'll not spend every day of my life in this miserable hovel!" Orithia said. "I'll make Hasani take me with him when he travels, and he travels often. Do as I command and I'll see that you accompany us. You can get word to Phillipa. With a large enough contingent of warrioresses, we can overpower any Rysalian excuse for a soldier!"

"What of the Death Lords?" Aradia inquired. "What will they be doing while their King is trekking about the countryside?" She locked gazes with her sister. "What of the Shadowlord? Do you expect him to sit idly by while you escape?"

"Jaelan Ben-Ashaman will meet his fate before the rise of the new moon!"

"And how will that be accomplished?"

"You really think me a fool, don't you? Why would I tell the wife what I have planned for her malevolent husband?"

A vein throbbed in Aradia's head. As her anger rose, her worry over Jaelan grew stronger. "If you think I'll sit back and let you hurt him, you'd best think again,
Sister
."

"Sulaimon!" Orithia shouted, coming to her feet. "Sulaimon!"

The dark man came running. He looked about, as if expecting danger to be lurking from the volume of the Amazeen's shriek.

"Take this treacherous bitch back to her quarters and keep her there!" Orithia snarled. "I do not wish to see her ugly face again!"

"Enjoy the power while you have it, Orithia," Aradia said as she allowed Sulaimon to grip her forearm. "It won't be yours forever."

"No more so than that evil demon will be yours!" Orithia screamed, the force of her fury turning her face into a hideous mask.

Sulaimon did not give Aradia a chance to reply. He drew her down the corridor and to her room, his menacing bulk uncompromising. When they gained her chambers, he opened the door and pushed her none-too-gently inside. "You'll not help Lord Jaelan by giving away your intentions to his enemies,
anide
."

"Are
you
one of his enemies?"

Sulaimon glared. "No. Like the Shadowlord, I serve the King."

"Then help me. Get word to him for me."

"The King?" Sulaimon asked, his brows shooting up.

"Aye."

"You don't want to do that."

"Why?"

"He would not see you anyway."

"Why?" Aradia repeated.

"Nor would Lord Jaelan want you to garner the King's notice."

Aradia thought about that for a moment. Jaelan might indeed be furious that she'd dared to seek audience with the King. She bit her lip, then looked beseechingly at Sulaimon.

"No," the big man said. "You will stay here and out of the Pale One's notice. For now, she has the ear of the King and her venom is worse than a thousand angry asps."

"I came here to help her escape," Aradia confessed, "but now I intend to see she never leaves this place."

Sulaimon grinned. "You would have had a hard time helping her leave,
anide
. Best you realized that before trouble brewed."

"It wasn't the trouble that concerned me," Aradia said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "I am Amazeen, and my allegiance is to my tribe, but..." She raised her chin. "When one of my tribe is threatened through no fault of her own, that allegiance can be put aside without regret."

"Is not the Pale One one of your own,
anide
?"

"Not any more. She wants wealth and power, position and authority. In Amazeen, she would have risen to the position of domestic queen, but that wasn't enough for her. Here, she thinks to rule an entire people."

Sulaimon shook his head. "That will not happen, but allow her to have her fanciful dream. The paying for it might prove to be costlier than she realizes."

Jaelan opened his eyes on the fifth day of his recuperation and wished he could fall back into the unfeeling depths of sleep. His back burned, and when he moved, the wounds opened and oozed liquid that gave off an unpleasant odor. Trying to lever up his body proved to be far too difficult, so he collapsed on the mattress and tried calling for help with his raspy voice.

"I am here, Milord." Kafele rushed to the bed. "What do you need?"

"Get...up."

"I am not sure Sir Tarsis--"

"Get up," Jaelan insisted and tried to rise.

Kafele pulled the cover from Jaelan's legs. Carefully, he put his hands on Jaelan's shoulders and helped him lift to his knees.

"Now that's a sight," Tarsis joked from the doorway. "Seeing the great and powerful Shadowlord with his bare arse in the air is too much for these eyes."

"Leave me alone, you ugly gnome," Jaelan grumbled. He managed to shift his right leg from the bed, his toes just reaching the floor as he moved toward the edge of the mattress.

"He's feeling better," Aluino quipped.

Jaelan sucked in his breath as he dragged his left leg from the bed and gained his feet. He stood, wobbly-kneed and dizzy, and had no choice but to sit down else he knew he'd fall on his face.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Tarsis inquired, strolling to the bed.

"I have to piss," Jaelan snapped. "Is that all right with you?"

"And you were too proud to ask for a chamber pot?"

"I need to get up. I need to regain my strength."

"True, but another day or two in bed--"

Jaelan shook his head, then wished he hadn't. Sour bile rose in his throat. He realized the burning pain in his back would have a friend in a brutal headache, already flashing at the edges of his vision.

"No bed, eh?" Aluino sighed. He looked at Tarsis. "My guess is he was going to slither down to the seraglio and fetch the winsome Aradia."

"Want my wife," Jaelan declared in the tone of a petulant child. Again, he stood. He swallowed the fluid flooding his mouth and took a step, cringing as the gashes crisscrossing his back came to vivid, brutal life.

Aluino chuckled. "Big, bad Shadowlord. Gonna stride across the room to--"

"Beat your ass," Jaelan growled, glaring at his friend.

"Tell Sulaimon to have the Lady Aradia ready for her husband," Tarsis instructed Aluino. When the Diabolusian made to protest, the old warrior raised a warning hand. "Do as I say, warthog."

Aluino snapped his mouth shut. He took one look at Jaelan, cautiously making his way toward the bathing chamber, and shrugged.

Kafele walked beside his new master in case he needed assistance. Halfway across the room, Jaelan stopped and turned. "Who are you?"

"Kafele, Your Grace," the servant replied. "Sir Tarsis has employed me as your helper."

Tarsis winced, and when Jaelan turned a baleful eye to the retired warrior, he merely sighed. "You don't have a valet, so consider Kaffie as such."

"Kaffie," Jaelan repeated. His shoulders slumped in defeat, for he knew it would do no good to argue with Tarsis. "Don't need a prophets-be-damned valet."

"Then consider me a friend, Your Grace," Kafele suggested.

Jaelan inspected the servant and saw no duplicative gleam in the young man's eye. About the same age as the Shadowlord, he bravely met the steady gaze of his master without cringing. Jaelan liked that.

"I'm having trouble walking, friend Kaffie. May I lean on you?"

Kafele nodded and braced himself as Jaelan placed a heavy grip on his shoulder.

Tarsis put the palm of his hand to his only ear and slapped it a few times. "Did I hear Jaelan Ben-Ashaman asking for help?"

"I'm hungry, old man," Jaelan said, reaching the bathing chamber door. "Make yourself useful and have food brought."

"No amount of food is going to put the steel in your shaft if you're thinking to do a little slap and tickle with the lass."

"Go away!" Jaelan released Kafele's shoulder. He weaved his way into the bathing room and slammed the door in the servant's face.

Kafele looked at Tarsis.

"He'll be all right," Tarsis assured. "Ask the cook to prepare broth and hot coffee, perhaps some pudding. Don't bring back anything he'll need to poop out any time soon. Sitting ain't going to be something he's going to want to do for a while, whether he realizes it or not. Understand?"

"Aye, Sir Tarsis." Kafele hurried to do the warrior's bidding.

Tarsis walked to the door and tapped lightly. "You alive, boy?"

"Aye," came the muffled reply.

"Need help?"

"Not from you."

Tarsis grinned. "Need anything?"

"Your head on a pike?" Jaelan grumbled.

"Ain't gonna happen." When the door opened, Tarsis looked into the pain-glazed eyes of his former pupil "Bad, is it, son?"

"I feel as though I'm lying on a bed of red-hot coals."

"You still determined to walk down to the seraglio and bring back the Lady?" Tarsis asked, worry rife in his husky voice.

"I need her." Jaelan met his mentor's steady gaze. "I'll feel better with her here."

Tarsis nodded. "I could fetch her myself."

"It is
my
duty," Jaelan said, moving into the room. He gripped Tarsis' shoulder to steady himself. "I've left her there too long as it is."

"She'll understand."

"Help me get dressed."

The old warrior looked at his naked protégé. "I rather like the idea of you striding about the halls of Abbadon in all your bare-arse glory." He winked. "Gehenna and Jahannum would appreciate the sight."

Jaelan smiled for the first time in nearly a week. When he looked at the leather britches and black silk shirt Tarsis plucked from the closet, he shuddered. "There's no way in hell I can put those on."

"You want your
izars
?"

Jaelan thought of the close-fitting loincloth that wrapped around the waist and between the legs. "I can't abide thinking of being bound in any way."

Tarsis understood and reached for a long, straight-cut, black cotton robe only Shadowlords were allowed to wear. He bunched it up, then eased it over Jaelan's head, holding his breath as the Shadowlord lifted his arms to thrust them through the scarlet-banded embroidered sleeves.

Jaelan gasped as the lightweight robe settled on his back. "Do I have any flesh left?"

"Precious little that isn't a roadmap of scars, son."

After gathering his strength, Jaelan sat carefully at the table, keeping his back ramrod straight. Though hungry, he doubted what he craved would be put before him. "So, it was Maiden's Briar?"

Tarsis cocked his head. "You were aware enough to hear us talking?"

"I couldn't move...but I was aware."

"I feared as much."

Jaelan glanced at the door as Kafele returned with a tray. He frowned at the meager variety. Though he sighed, he did not protest. He drained the cup of broth, then scraped the bowl of pudding until Tarsis bid him stop. He finished with the hot, steaming coffee, wishing he had more.

"Keep that down and I'll have mutton and squash prepared for the evening meal," Tarsis said. "You want your sandals?"

"I want to feel the cold stone against my feet," Jaelan replied, standing.

Aluino returned and leaned with his arms folded against the doorjamb. "The robe's a good idea."

"Hides his dangly, at any rate," Tarsis said.

"Don't be here when I return," Jaelan ordered.

"You mean we can't watch you fumbling around with the pretty Amazeen?" Aluino joked.

"Leave," Jaelan said between clenched teeth. "Now."

Tarsis motioned Kafele to join him, and the three men moved into the hall. The old warrior looked at Jaelan. "If you need us, will you send the Lady?"

Jaelan didn't reply. He just looked at Tarsis, who shook his head. He watched until they turned the bend in the corridor and disappeared from sight.

Leaning his head against the cool door panel, Jaelan closed his eyes and willed the agonizing pain to subside. Fever still rode him like a brutal master, and even though the lightweight robe billowed around him, it added to the heat being generated by the poison pulsing through his system. His headache had grown worse; bright squiggles of light lurked at the corner of his vision. With a long, weary sigh, he lifted his sweating head and started down the corridor.

Aradia looked up from a book as Sulaimon entered her chambers. His broad ebony face looked stern, so she laid aside the tome.

"His Grace the Shadowlord has sent word he is coming for you," he stated in his deep bass. "You will ready yourself to accompany him."

After jumping to her feet, Aradia rushed to him. "He is better?"

Sulaimon inclined his head. "It would appear so, Milady." He looked her up and down, and the frown on his face grew harsher. "He will not approve of the way you are dressed."

"He'd not want me parading around outside the walls in that transparent gauze, either."

Sulaimon pursed his lips. "Perhaps not. Lord Jaelan is a private man. He--"

A bell sounded deep in the recesses of the seraglio.

The Harem Master bowed his head. "Your husband has arrived, Milady." He swept a hand toward the door.

Her heart racing, Aradia hurried toward the door, only to be brought up short by the gruff clearing of Sulaimon's throat. She turned.

"Remember your husband's status at Abbadon, Milady. He is greatly feared and rightly so. It would not do for you to fling yourself into his arms, for it would embarrass him."

"I understand." Aradia made to keep walking, but when Sulaimon again cleared his throat, she stopped, put her hands on her hips, and lowered her head in exasperation. "What else?"

"Walk behind him, not at his side. Show him respect and defer to him at all times when in the public eye. Make no comment on his condition until you are in the privacy of his chambers."

"His condition?"

Sulaimon rolled his eyes. "Think you I do not know what that gossiping birdling Nefousi told you regarding what occurred at the Temple? She may think she hides her tattling from me, but she does not. Every woman here is aware of what happened to the Shadowlord."

"And what do they say of it?"

He shrugged. "Some think he deserves any pain that comes his way, but there are those who believe his sacrifice is most romantic."

Aradia stared into his eyes. "What do you think, Sulaimon?"

"I think a man who would bare his back to the executioner's lash to keep the woman he has chosen, is a man to be admired, Milady."