Текст книги "Touch of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

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She stared in shock. “You’re going to send me back for one fucking joint? You f-fu—”

I slam on the brakes! I force myself through the strand and manage to make her stop before she can call him a fucking asshole. The thought is there, the words formed, ready to spill. Stop it. I want to weep, but she has my body. Exhausted. This tiny influence exhausts me. I can’t do this. Please, you have to stop this. Mzatal, please! I’m trying not to panic, but there’s so little room. Please. Please.

Mzatal moved to me and took my head in his hands, unsealed the barrier. I sagged and clutched at him as he released it, eyes wide as the goo slowly retreated. He pulled me to him, kept one arm wrapped around me and the other cradling my head to his chest. I could feel him continuing to dismantle the suppression. With every heartbeat it loosened more, until finally it was completely gone. I was me again. Fully me.

But shudders spasmed through me, and I had to clamp down hard on the urge to cry. “That was me.” I whispered.

He continued to hold me close, even though the cruel submersion was over and dismantled. “Was,” he replied. “It was an aspect of you. You would not be who you are today without that aspect. It is a gift.”

A shiver raced through me. “You know all about that time in my life.”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

Of course he did, I realized. He probably knew me better than I knew myself. He’d gone trouncing through my memories and life when he was deciding whether or not to snap my neck.

“Fuck,” I breathed. Shame coiled through me, but I pushed it down. I wasn’t that person anymore. And I could be damn glad that I didn’t have to live my existence watching me be that person, be something I despised. “This submersion,” I said, then paused, considering my words. He couldn’t answer a direct question, but he could, perhaps comment. “I don’t know how anyone could bear it for more than a few minutes, much less many years.”

Mzatal went very still. “I do not know how it could be endured for so long.”

Again, I chose my words carefully. “I wonder if anyone else could be as…reviled and shamed by the actions of their outer personality as I was.” Did Szerain detest how Ryan conducted himself?

“Yes,” he said, exhaling. “Perhaps not as instantaneously, since your overlay was drawn from a painful era of your past. But without the control, without the influence, any actions could emerge. Surely you have watched another and judged their actions. It is similar with a foreign overlay.”

I struggled to process it all. Now I knew—or at least had a taste of—what Szerain endured. But Szerain had been submerged under the overlay of someone else’s life. It was bad enough under a shadow of myself. What would it be like to have the superficial memories of Jane Doe overlaid and my features shaped into hers? And Szerain chose this. Surely, he didn’t know how bad it would be. Turek’s words came back to me. He despised being submerged. He will not willingly submit to it again.

“There were a couple of minutes there where I thought you’d really done it. I thought you’d really submerged me.” I looked up at him. “I’m sorry I doubted.”

He met my eyes steadily. “You wanted to know what it was like. That aspect was crucial to your understanding. I reinforced it with specific intention.” He shook his head. “There is no need for apology.”

Reinforced with specific intention.The words he spoke when he submerged me. They’d made little sense at the time, and now I thought maybe I knew why. Were those Rhyzkahl’s words when he submerged Szerain? Was this the only way Mzatal could tell me?

I tensed as the grove flared. “Someone’s coming.” I paused, feeling the resonance. “It’s Lord Vahl. Were you expecting him?”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. I winced in sympathy. Mzatal was having a Bad Day. I knew those far too well.

“Do you need me to leave?”

“Only if you choose to do so,” he replied. “Otherwise, I would have you abide.” Left unspoken was the implication that, while he wanted me with him, he would not mandate it.

“I’ll stay then,” I said, pleased and oddly flattered. I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m kind of a nosy bitch.”

A smile ghosted across his face. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then released my hand. “I need a moment to prepare.”

“Of course,” I said. He’d want to be in top form to face another one of the lords with their perpetual head games and intrigue. “Would you like me to get wine?”

“Wine would be excellent.” He faced the balcony railing and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

I headed inside to the demon realm version of a wet bar and grabbed wine and three glasses. I also wolfed down a couple of pieces of cheese and a slice of fruit since I was starving. Clutching the glasses and wine carefully, I returned to the balcony and set them out quietly so as not to disturb him.

A moment later he opened his eyes and regarded me. “Fog yourself, Kara.”

“Huh?”

“When you hold grove power it is far more difficult to read you,” he said.

I blinked. “Oh, right.” Rhyzkahl had said something about my being fogged right before the big bad ritual. Reaching for the grove, I pulled a trickle of power, then looked to Mzatal.

He shook his head. “Draw more,” he instructed. “I can still read with a very slight probing. Learn how much you need and pull only that.”

Complying, I pulled slightly more, then brought up an image of me doing an obnoxious booty-shake.

Mzatal gave a nod. “Perfect.”

I hoped he meant the fogging and not the booty-shake itself. “Where do you want me?” I asked. “Standing? Sitting?” I grinned. “Sprawled suggestively?”

“You already stand with me,” he said quietly. “But for this, sit.” He gestured to a chair.

My smile widened. I poured a glass of wine for myself and settled into one of the big comfortable chairs.

“He comes,” Mzatal said, face shifting with unnerving speed into a cold, hard mask. Radiating a feral potency, he turned to look out over the rail, hands clasped behind his back. I composed my own face and held my glass of wine.

I felt Vahl’s approach before I saw him. He stopped in the balcony doorway, dark eyes on Mzatal’s back. He still had that “dangerously appealing” feel about him, which was certainly helped by the snug black shirt and pants he wore. Due to the angle, he didn’t appear to see me, and since I’d fogged myself, he couldn’t pick me up through reading.

He spoke in demon to Mzatal, and with the grove power I got the gist of “meetings are complete” or something to that effect. I remained quiet and still, only moving to take a sip of wine.

Mzatal answered in English. “And what have you come to tell me?”

Vahl blinked, clearly wondering why the hell Mzatal spoke in English. He glanced around and a quick flash of surprise lit his eyes as he saw me. He’d surely been expecting me to be here in Mzatal’s realm, but probably not here by his side sipping wine.

Vahl barely missed a beat, though he was obviously taken aback. He looked from me to Mzatal and continued in English. “The rotations were agreed upon, with yours remaining allocated to the threes and elevens with general oversight in the eleventh month. Much time was spent in negotiations brought forward by Rayst and Seretis concerning—” Vahl stopped abruptly as Mzatal dropped his hands to his sides.

I took a very casual sip, watching Vahl. The lord obviously took that simple movement of Mzatal’s hands as a potential threat. He barely breathed, eyes intent on Mzatal’s back.

“You are in Rhyzkahl’s debt,” Mzatal said, slowly opening his right hand. “What is your true purpose for being here?”

Vahl took a half step back, apprehension flickering in his eyes. “Mzatal…”

“I will speak for you since you cannot find the fortitude to do it yourself,” Mzatal said in the silky and oh-so-scary tone I knew far too well and which seemed to have an effect even on Vahl. “You have come to see what you can determine on the status of Kara Gillian so that you can report to the one who holds your tether.”

I suppressed a shiver with effort and made certain to maintain contact with the grove.

Vahl shrank back just a hair, eyes on Mzatal’s right hand as if he watched a revolver cocked, loaded, and aimed at his head. But then he pulled himself up to full height and drew a breath, clearly determined not to go down cringing. “Yes.” He glanced to me and back to the hand. I had a feeling Mzatal could call and cast power before Vahl could even blink. “He wants to know,” Vahl added.

“What did he tell you of how she came to be with me?” Mzatal asked, still with the silky deathly voice. My grip tightened on my glass as I willed my hand not to shake. This would notbe a good time for me to go into any sort of meltdown.

Vahl’s brow furrowed at the question. “He said he was in the midst of working with her in a ritual, and that you activated a recall you had implanted.” A brief flicker of admiration touched his face, likely for the skill required to accomplish such a difficult feat. Tension knotted my back at the “with her” bit, and I had to fight the urge to bare my teeth.

Mzatal pivoted to face Vahl. Without taking his eyes from the other lord, Mzatal held a hand out to me, extending with his presence as well. “Kara.”

I set my glass down, then stood and took his hand, calming at the comfort of both the physical and mental touch. “Lord Mzatal,” I murmured.

Vahl’s eyes flicked over me, no doubt noting everything from my collarless state, to my unreadability, to my comfort with Mzatal. Mzatal drew me to him and looked down at me with a very obvious gentling of his features and a smile that I knew was for Vahl’s benefit as much as mine. He was sending a clear message to Rhyzkahl via Vahl: Kara is herewith me.He pulled me to stand in front of him with my back against his chest, then slid a hand down my left arm and lifted it, showing Vahl the long scar.

“Did he tell you he excised his mark with Xhan?” Mzatal asked, eyes on Vahl.

Vahl’s eyes dropped to my arm. I watched as his lips parted in reaction. Surely he knew what arcane agony the act had held. Vahl tore his gaze away and looked directly at Mzatal, an odd combination of repulsion, horror, and fascination on his face. “Why torture himself—and the girl—thus, severing a mark physically?” he asked, voice incredulous.

Oh, Rhyzkahl suffered? Poor fucking baby.I glanced back at Mzatal with an “it’s okay” look, then locked my gaze with Vahl’s. I tugged my blouse open at the top so that he could clearly see the intricate tracing of scars on my upper chest. “No, Lord Vahl, thisis torture. These were carved with that same blade.”

He took another half-step back, clearly shocked. His eyes rested on the sigils, revulsion whispering across his face as if they spoke to him in crazed murmurs.

I closed my blouse, readjusted my clothing. “There was more,” I told him. “Much more.” A tremble went through me as I echoed Rhyzkahl’s words. Mzatal set a hand very gently on my shoulder, calming me, letting me know he was there for me.

“Vahl,” Mzatal said, “tell me what you know of this ritual.”

The other lord visibly suppressed a shudder, eyes remaining on me. “On the morning of the ritual, Jesral and Rhyzkahl cloistered themselves in a room near the summoning chamber for hours.” He shook his head. “I do not know with certainty, but I believe it was related. There were also ties to Amkir and Kadir.”

Mzatal leaned forward ever so slightly, increasing the contact with me. I kept my expression as controlled as possible, feeling him at my back in more ways than one and grateful for the support.

Vahl ran a hand over his head. “Something went horribly wrong with the ritual and—”

“No! It didn’t go wrong!” I cut him off, voice cracking. “It went exactly as intended. As Rhyzkahl intended.” I swallowed hard. “He bound me in potency, carved my flesh, and torturedme to charge the sigils and diagram. It was only when he sliced the mark from my arm that Mzatal was able to retrieve me.” Potency flared from Mzatal, backing my words.

Vahl didn’t argue, obviously disturbed. “When Kara was recalled, the patterns imploded.” His mouth drew into a flat line. “Everybody was aware that something had happened. The entire palace shook.” He lifted his gaze to Mzatal. “Rhyzkahl went down, but no one knew for sure at first because he had sealed the doors such that no one could open them. And none of the syraza would touch it.”

I had to smile. I was the one who’d sealed the damn chamber with the grove power. “He tried to follow me through the conduit,” I told Vahl, sneering. “I threw him back.”

He looked at me, eyes haunted. “He emerged later and went straight to his chambers for a full day and night and half of the next day.” He exhaled. “I know nothing more of it.”

Anger shuddered through me. I would have to bear these scars for the rest of my life, while Rhyzkahl simply had to take a long fucking nap.

Mzatal dropped his arm over my left shoulder and across my chest, pulling me close and supporting me on many levels. I lightly crossed my arms over his and leaned back against him, let my anger trickle away.

“When next you see Rhyzkahl,” Mzatal said, “tell him Kara Gillian is under agreement with me and has my fullprotection.” He paused. “Tell him also that I know what he has done to Xhan.”

Vahl grimaced, nodded. I didn’t have to read him to know that he wasn’t keen on making that report.

“And, Vahl,” Mzatal continued, but in a much less scary tone, “that report need not be in his presence. It was an arduous conclave. Perhaps a few days rest here.” The potency eased in Mzatal. “There is the potential for discussions of mutual interest.”

Relief coupled with uncertainty crossed Vahl’s face. “I will send him a sigil,” he finally replied. “And I am honored to accept your invitation.”

Well, the next few days will certainly be interesting, I thought to myself.

Mzatal and Vahl exchanged slight nods, then Vahl turned and left. I let out a breath and turned in Mzatal’s arms, sliding arms around him and leaning my head against his chest. “Thank you.”

Mzatal put his other arm around me and released the power he’d been holding. “There is no need for thanks,” he replied softly. “It is what had to be done.”

I tilted my head to look into his face. “No. I mean it. Thank you for being so herefor me. I don’t think I could get through this without your help.”

A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I will ever be here for you, Kara Gillian.”

The truth of his statement made me feel warm all over. I gave him a light squeeze. “I’m starving. Are you starving? I think we should eat food that’s terribly bad for us.”

One silky eyebrow lifted. “I promised you ice cream.”

I grinned. “So you did.”

He slipped an arm around my waist and led me inside. “Come then. The faas will prepare a feast of that which is bad for us.”

Chapter 32

The next week was a flurry of training with little time to do anything extra but eat and grab what sleep we could. However, I managed to get halfway through the first ring of the shikvihr without blasting the crap out of myself, and only had one teeny little incident where I accidentally set all of my notes and papers on fire. Fortunately I was on the balcony at the time, and the faas were quick with water to douse the small blaze.

And that, boys and girls, is why you should never sigil in bed, I thought with a low laugh as I cleaned up the mess.

Mzatal attended to my training as much as possible; there were many hours, however, during which he remained in closed-door meetings with Vahl. Fortunately, I was at a point where the best thing I could do was practice practice practice what I’d already learned. Idris would have helped, but the boy wonder was tied up with some sort of from-scratch development of a new interlinking diagram method that he and Mzatal had brainstormed. Thankfully, Gestamar stayed close by to help me in case I had questions. Or maybe he stuck close by in case I tried to set the place on fire again. Either was possible.

“Tomorrow is the full moon on Earth,” Gestamar abruptly said, startling me enough that I lost control of the sigil I was crafting. He quickly flicked a claw and dispelled it before it could do more than deliver a light sting.

I gave him a somewhat sour look. “Okay. But we don’t have to worry about phases of the moon here, do we? I mean, there’s shitloads of available potency.”

The tip of his tail twitched. “Dahn, but demons will be summoned to earth from here, and I am often among those summoned.”

“Because you’re so awesome?” I grinned.

“Kri,” he replied with a proud lift of his chin. “But this is not why I tell you of the full moon.” His eyes met mine as he folded his wings in close. “Jekki and the zhurn Bezik are also oft-summoned, and we have agreed to carry letters for you and do what we can to have them safely delivered to your loved ones.”

For the longest moment I could only stare at him while I processed this. “Thank you,” I finally managed. He was offering me a chance to personally let Tessa and the others know I was safe and sound. Mzatal’s communication with Earth was shot to hell with Katashi’s defection, and he wouldn’t have a solid back-up system in effect for at least a couple of months. He did have some sort of verbal arrangement in place to get word to my people in case any of his demons were summoned, but, by his own admission, it was unreliable at best, especially since the communication skills of many of the demons weren’t the greatest. A physical letter made it all feel real, as if I could touch the folks back home.

“I…wow.” I swiped at my eyes, which had somehow become a bit moist. “Thank you,” I repeated.

Gestamar gave a gentle rumble. “Go and write three copies of a letter.” He paused. “And best not to set them on fire.”

“Will I ever live that down?” I asked with a laugh.

The reyza snorted. “Dahn. Demons have long memories and are easily amused.”

It took me most of the rest of the day to write a letter to Tessa, primarily because I had no idea how to explain every thing. I finally gave up and kept it short and simple, telling her I was all right and would be home as soon as possible. I didn’t want to go into any of the other stuff in a letter, and the most important thing was to let her know I was alive and reasonably safe.

There was no sign of Mzatal that night or the next morning, but around mid-afternoon Jekki handed me a trifold parchment with Mzatal’s seal in wax on it. The elegant, handwritten note simply said to please go to the atrium for the evening tone. Please.

An actual written invitation? Weird.

I turned to ask Jekki what it was all about, but forgot my question entirely at the sight of the faas laying clothing out upon the bed.

“This wear!” the faas burbled, pointing to what looked like flowing pants and shirt in a rich maroon. “Tonight. Bathe now and hair Faruk do.”

My eyebrows lifted as my bafflement increased, but I knew better than to defy Jekki’s directive. I cleaned up, allowed Faruk to do my hair in a complex braid complete with gold and silver strands woven through, donned the new clothing and elegant jeweled sandals, and then headed to the atrium.

Idris stood watching the beginning of the sunset when I stepped off the stairs. He was dressed to the nines as well, in black jeans, a crisp white tailored shirt, and a grey silk and wool blend jacket. It was a good look for him. Even his hair had been tamed. A bit.

“Hey, Idris,” I said, “do you know what this is about?”

“No clue,” he replied with a smile. “It’s a first for me.”

“Maybe we’re being fired,” I said, “for being simply awful.”

Idris laughed along with me. “Somehow I don’t think that would come with a fancy invite. Did the faas dress you too?”

Grinning, I looked down and ran my hands over my outfit. “Yep. Good thing or I’d have shown up in workout clothing.”

A soft scrape of sound alerted us, and we turned to see Mzatal step into the atrium, wearing the dark Armani suit, white shirt, and a deep red tie. His braid hung over his shoulder wound with extra strands of silver cord, and he looked sharp as all hell.

“This way,” he said with an enigmatic smile. He turned and headed down stairs I’d yet to explore. With a glance at Idris, I followed, curious and puzzled. After a couple of turns of the spiral stair, we stepped out into a room dancing with light and color. As everywhere else, a wall of glass faced the sea and sunset, but here, the waterfall cascaded before it, spectacular rays of the setting sun streaming through.

Then came the bewildering part.

Mzatal strode to the head of a dining table elaborately laid with crystal, silver, and fine china. He glanced at us and gestured to the chairs on each side of the table. Gestamar came in behind us and moved to crouch near Mzatal.

Idris slid a look at me, and I gave him a what-the-fucking-fuck look right back. I moved to a chair, pulled it out, and sank into it, utterly mystified. Idris sat across from me with a look on his face that mirrored how I felt. I got that we’d apparently been invited to a meal, but that in itself was weird. I’d eaten plenty of times around Mzatal, but apart from wine and tunjen, I rarely saw him eat, and had certainly never shared a meal with him

Mzatal stood behind his chair, a faint smile curving his lips. “You have both worked very hard,” he said, “and are away from your homes.” He waited while the faas poured wine in our three glasses, then drew a breath as though delaying a moment more to choose his words. “With the fullness of your schedules, you have lost track of your Earth time,” he continued. “This is a day that each of you typically celebrate with your family and with your friends. I cannot offer those, but I can offer the recognition and something of the celebration. Happy Christmas, Idris Palatino and Kara Gillian.”

A weird jolt went through me, a strange combination of dismay and pleased surprise. Idris simply stared, brow slightly furrowed.

I’m going to miss Christmas with Tessa.My throat tightened in preparation for a lovely bout of feeling sorry for myself. But Idris is away from his family, too, I reminded myself. And he had to lie to them; through Katashi, they’d been told he was in Japan. Now that Katashi proved himself untrustworthy, who knew what, if anything, Idris’s family was being told. Ruthlessly I shoved the self-pity down.

Mzatal lifted his glass, smile fading a bit, obviously sensing the muddled emotions. “Here. Drink.”

I forced a smile as I picked up my glass and took a sip of the really good dark wine. “Merry Christmas, Boss. Thanks for remembering.”

Idris cleared his throat, seeming to have recovered a bit from his initial shock. “Yeah, um. Thanks. Really,” he said and lifted his glass.

The doubt seemed to linger in Mzatal’s eyes, and I realized it had to run fairly deep if it was actually showing. Damn it, he’d made an all out effort to do something for us, even if it did sting. Sure, I could get into a big pity party about having to miss Christmas with the folks back home, but that would pretty much guarantee that my Christmas here would suck shit. Truth was, I couldn’t find it in me anymore to resent Mzatal for summoning me. If he and Idris hadn’t brought me here, then Rhyzkahl certainly would’ve carried out his plans, and there wouldn’t have been anyone to rescue me.

Time to lighten the mood in this room. “Wait,” I said with a laugh. “This isn’t at all like the Christmases I’m used to. There’s no smell of burnt turkey.” I grinned. “Tessa can’t cook for shit, and neither can I.”

Some of the uncertainty faded from Mzatal’s expression. He downed half a glass of wine, his other hand resting on the back of the chair. “The faas have prepared a meal that they assure me contains your favorites from here and even some from Earth,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “It is unlikely anything will be burnt unless I specifically asked for it, and then it would be under protest.”

“No, that’s quite all right.” I shook my head emphatically. “Not-burned sounds good to me.” I looked up and gave him a teasing smile. “Mzatal, sit the hell down so we can all relax, okay?”

He gave a slight nod and pulled the chair out. Finally.

With that the mood eased enough for us to engage in some light conversation while we waited for the food. I told the others how Tessa and I always went to Lake o’ Butter pancake house the morning after Christmas, before hitting the stores for the day-after-Christmas sales. Idris told us about how his family had a tradition of getting together on Christmas eve, making cocoa, and taking turns at verses of Christmas carols with on-the-spot, fabricated lyrics. He grinned so much in telling the story—and during his rendition of a snortingly funny verse of Silent Night—that I knew he really considered them family, though they’d adopted him as a teen.

Mzatal finished his wine and set the glass aside to be speedily refilled by Faruk. He reached into his pockets and pulled out two little boxes of delicately carved wood, then placed one before each of us. “I do greatly appreciate your work and your efforts.”

I set my glass down, hesitated, then reached for the box and opened it. Inside was a ring. Uh oh.I slid a glance to Idris. With relief, I saw he had a ring, too, and with that the weirdness factor evaporated.

Intrigued, I lifted the ring out of the box. Silver and gold interwove to form an intricate yet solid band, and a rich blue stone sparkled in the setting. I exhaled and lifted my gaze to Mzatal. “It’s beautiful,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Kara,” he said. “It suits you well.”

Idris sat, stunned to silence, staring at his ring. His was silver and a dark grey metal, with a deep red stone. He looked up at Mzatal and back at the ring. “Holy shit,” he breathed, then looked up again, a smile lighting his face like a kid at, well, Christmas. “My lord, wow. Thank you,” he said and carefully removed it from the box.

I wasn’t one to wear jewelry much, but I knew I’d wear this. I slid it onto the middle finger of my right hand, instantly loving the look and feel of it. It wasn’t girly or prissy at all. It was almost like a man’s ring but for a woman—solid and strong, yet still utterly lovely. “Mzatal,” I said, guilt tugging at me, “I didn’t get you anything.”

He shook his head, face betraying nothing of expectation or disappointment. “You did not know. Enjoy.”

Idris, in his own world, slipped his ring on. “Holy fuck,” he said in an extended exhale. I grinned. Apparently he liked his ring.

Jekki, Faruk, and two other faas brought the first wave of food. They burbled and fussed so much over everything, I had no doubt that they got a kick out of the whole concept.

We settled into some serious eating. Mzatal sat and watched us with a small, steady smile on his face. He drank wine and picked at a plate of fruit, cheeses, and some sort of custard drizzled with what looked like honey, while Idris and I stuffed ourselves and swapped more silly Christmas stories. Gestamar listened and rumbled in reyza-laughter periodically.

I’d had a little wine, and Mzatal was way too quiet. “Y’all ever have parties or celebrations here?” I asked him. “I mean back before the cataclysm, when there were more humans.”

Mzatal twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers. “Yes,” he said with a slow contemplative nod. “In the atrium and the rooms that open from it.”

I tilted my head and peered at him. “And what were those like? Did those seventeenth-century folks know how to get down?” I asked, grinning.

Mzatal lifted an eyebrow and hesitated a second, likely reading the meaning of “get down” from me, then smiled. “They were lively indeed. I tended to observe from the mezzanine,” he said, his smile widening. “Unless, of course, a reveler caught my eye.”

Okay. Now that was interesting. “Oh? Do go on,” I urged.

He took a drink before continuing. “It was usually a smooth process. I would catch the glances thrown my way and note which appealed most in the moment,” he said with a slight shrug. “Later I would descend to the atrium and rescue the chosen one from the throngs.” Amusement lit his face. “They did so love to be rescued.”

“I’m sure they did,” I said, laughing.

Gestamar snorted, and I slid a glance to him. “I bet you saw some interesting shit,” I said.

“Much,” the reyza said, rumbling. “Bedding a qaztahl ranked highly for many, and wine loosened inhibitions and dampened fear.” He bared his teeth and looked at Mzatal. “I know a story they will enjoy. Tell them of Marguerite Deshayes.”

Go, Gestamar. I leaned forward. “Yes, tell us about Marguerite.”

Idris sipped wine and waited, a look on his face as if he couldn’t believe we might get a storyfrom the lord.

Mzatal gave Gestamar a lookthen stared down into his glass. I kept my eyes on him, knowing how to play the waiting game. He shook his head and lifted his eyes to me. “It is a truly silly tale,” he said, a smile playing on his lips.

“The best kind,” I said, grinning. “Spill it!”

Gestamar rumbled, and Mzatal settled back in his chair. “It was your year, sixteen thirty-two,” Mzatal said. “When I arrived in the atrium, Marguerite, a busty and hitherto unobtrusive woman in her late thirties, approached and sought to press her advantage, obviously quite inebriated.”

Gestamar elaborated. “She threw her arms around his neck and pressed everything against him. Including her advantage.”

Mzatal gave a grudging nod. “I simply put her aside and thought the matter done,” he said. “However, when I ascended to my chambers later, I found her naked at the top of the stairs unable to get past the warding to my bedchamber, which had likely been her goal. And I never bedin my bed.” He shook his head and smiled. “She was spread, and ready, and reaching for me.”

I laughed, though I almost felt sorry for the woman. “And what did you do?”

“She was far too much in the wine,” Mzatal said, “and would not have approached me without. I moved to step past her so Gestamar could carry her down, and…” He paused, drained his glass.

The reyza tapped the table with a claw, rumbling. “If you do not finish it, I will.”