Whisper of Venom

“Ouch!” he said. “What was that for?”

“The same as usual,” she said. “I just shared my womanly treasures with you. You’re supposed to be deliriously happy.”

He sighed. “I know I am. I mean, I am! Being with you makes me very happy! But I also mean, I know I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re babbling,” she said.

He smiled. “I am, aren’t I? I’ll try to speak more clearly. I shouldn’t care that Tchazzar is lying to provide an excuse for an unjust war. The Brotherhood would starve if we only fought for noble causes. I also shouldn’t care that I like Medrash and Balasar. Every sellsword knows that from time to time he’ll look across the battlefield and see friends standing on the other side. All that should matter is that our employer has another campaign in the offing, he stands an excellent chance of wi

“But you do care,” Cera said.

“As do you,” said Aoth. “Because we still don’t know how the puzzle fits together, do we? Wyrmkeepers disguising abishais as dragonborn. Games and Precepts. What does it all truly mean? By the Black Flame, spying on Tchazzar and Jaxanaedegor just made me feel even more confused than I was before.”

“Have you thought of any way to sort it out?”

Aoth grunted. “Maybe. If I’m willing to commit still more treason, and my friends are too. I know Gaedy

“She’ll help you,” Cera said.

“You sound pretty sure, considering you hardly know her.”

“A priestess learns to read people and recognize how they co

“I hope so. If you’re mistaken, I suppose I’ll find out when I confide in her, she tattles to him, and he orders my arrest.”

“That won’t happen. Now, since the Keeper actually assigned the task of solving this mystery to me, and then I merely goaded you into helping, you’d better have a task for me as well.”

He scowled. “Yes. A hard one. And the fact that Tchazzar would view it as treason may not even be the bad part.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Don’t promise till I tell you what it is.”

Tchazzar pivoted before the full-length mirror, checking the lines of his scarlet, gold-trimmed doublet. He supposed that if any of his fellow gods were watching, they were amused. For how could a deity appear less than magnificent to mortal eyes? And even if he could, it was beneath his dignity to care.

But Tchazzar had discovered his fate was linked to Jhesrhi Coldcreek’s, and he wanted to tie her to him with bonds of affection and gratitude as well. Yet despite all the favor he’d shown her, she often seemed morose and aloof.

But perhaps the ice was starting to melt, because, for a change, he hadn’t been the one to suggest they spend time together. She’d diffidently proposed it, and he intended to be as charming a supper companion as any lady could desire.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Yes,” Tchazzar said.

“Lady Jhesrhi is here,” the servant answered.

So she was, waiting in a portion of the royal apartments that afforded a panoramic view of the rooftops of Luthcheq and the crimson sunset beyond. She looked endearingly uncomfortable wearing a trailing formal gown the color of honey, with her blonde hair arranged in elaborate braids.

They exchanged greetings, and then he did her the honor of pouring her a goblet of tart white wine. Careful not to let their fingers touch, he placed in her hand. She sipped, and smiled a wan little smile.

“Come say good night to my little brother Amaunator.” He waved her to one of the two leather chairs positioned before the row of open casements. “And as we see him off for the evening, you can tell me about your day.”

Jhesrhi hesitated. “It was pleasant.”

Tchazzar gave her a look of mock severity. “It’s foolish to lie to a god.”

“It was, truly. It’s just that I keep thinking of Scar.”

“He was a brave and faithful creature. He gave his life to keep Alasklerbanbastos away from you.”

“I know.”

“But fine as he was, I’ll find you a flying steed that’s even better.”

“That’s … generous, Majesty. But you needn’t bother. Much as Scar’s death saddened me, I’ve also been thinking that it was a … passage. A sign that my time with the Brotherhood is over, and I truly am meant to stay and serve you when they move on.”

Tchazzar smiled. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

The wizard stared straight ahead. Tchazzar had the feeling that it wasn’t just to drink in the spectacle of the sunset. She was hesitant to meet his gaze. After a time she said, “I’ve also been thinking that I could find a … particular relief by staying here.”

“My lady, you’re welcome to whatever I can give you.”

“You’ve given me so much already. You probably see how unhappy I am and think me a terrible ingrate. But … by the stars, I hate talking about this! … but you know how I hate to be touched. But do you know I hate myself for hating it? That I’d give anything not to be so freakish? To share in the same simple comforts and pleasures that everyone else enjoys?”

“Yes,” said Tchazzar, “I do.” Since he had the insight of a deity, he must have realized it, mustn’t he?

“Well, it occurred to me … I mean, you’re different. You’re a god, not a man. And I have no trouble touching you when you’re in dragon form. So I thought …”

“That I could help you overcome your aversion?”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “Maybe. Or that even if I never learn to bear the touch of ordinary people, from time to time perhaps you would condescend …”

He had to hold in a grin that might otherwise have spooked her. For that was the way to bind her to him, as he’d captured the hearts of so many women in the past. And now that he understood it was possible, her severe, tawny beauty leaped out at him and made his mouth grow warm.

He just had to proceed gently and patiently. And, for the time being, not acknowledge in any way the consumation toward which they would travel together.

“My lady,” he said, “condescend is the wrong word. It will give me joy to help you.” He extended his hand. “Shall we begin?”

Jhesrhi flinched. “Right now?”

“Why not? The first course won’t arrive for a while. Just rest your hand on mine, as lightly as you like. I won’t even close my fingers around yours.”

She took a deep breath, then slowly did as he’d bidden her. Her fingertips were rough and calloused.

After a moment, her hand started to shake.

“You can stop whenever you like,” he said.

“No,” she said, her voice tight. “But talk to me. Give me something else to occupy my mind.”

“Of course, my lady. What shall we talk about?”

“Anything! Tell me why we had to fight in the north. Tell me about Alasklerbanbastos.”

By the time Jhesrhi reached her apartments, her guts were churning. But she couldn’t let it show quite yet. Life at court was still strange to her, but she had learned that everyone lived for gossip, and servants were prime conveyors of that commodity.

So she snarled for her maids to get out. And, knowing how their fussing, chatter, and mere presence often irritated her, they scurried away without questioning her command.

Just in time. Jhesrhi stumbled on into the lavatory and dropped to her knees in front of the commode. The fine supper Tchazzar had given her came up in a series of racking heaves.