The Sorceress and her Lovers Read online

  “If this had happened five years ago, I would have felt sorry for the pain you’re experiencing now.” She ran the palm of her hand across his dirty cheek. “Then again, five years from now, I might wipe out your whole family in retribution. Perhaps you should count yourself lucky. Well, maybe lucky isn’t the right word. Uuthanum.”

  Black strands spread from Senta’s hand through Scarnose’s skin. As a new round of screams burst from his mouth, the sorceress stood up and walked past him toward the doorway, leaving the man clawing at his own skin as whole chunks of it blackened and sloughed off.

  Up two steps, she entered the doorway. The shining ball of light, which had remained where it had been created, quickly followed her when she snapped her fingers. Beyond a long hallway, was a vast room filled with bodies. Many women and a few men were lying all about the marble-tiled floor. There had to be more than a hundred of them. Some had their heads propped up by pillows, but just as many lay without any attention to comfort. A low moan escaped from the far corner. Here and there a body twitched. Senta moved carefully through the spaces between the bodies. Hearing the clink of glass as her foot kicked something, she looked down to see a tiny, empty indigo vial go skittering away.

  “Well well,” she thought aloud. “Somebody is getting rich.”

  Suddenly hands gripped her ankle. Kicking her leg loose, she looked down into the milky eyes of a middle-aged woman.

  “She wants you,” the woman hissed.

  “Who wants me?”

  “She wants you.”

  “She can go to hell,” said Senta.

  The sorceress made her way through the maze of drug-addled bodies to a door that led out onto the street. White opthalium, the see spice, was becoming more and more common. It sapped the will of those who became addicted to it. Senta had seen similar dens back in Brech, though none so large. Made from rare enchanted lotus blossoms and blue fungus from the distant island land of Enclep, and whipped together with relatively potent magic, the drug provided a doorway to a shared fantasy for those who rubbed it upon their eyes. The price for these visions was lethargy, depression, and finally the loss of the will to live.

  Senta stopped outside the door and stared back into the room. She was still there, lost in thought, when Baxter came jogging up to her.

  “I’m sorry. He got away.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Senta. “Are you sure it was a he?”

  Her companion thought for a moment. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Let’s get home.”

  Baxter put his arm around her shoulders and led her back to the hotel. Senta was lost in silent thought as they passed through the lobby and rode up in the elevator. Once back in the suite, she went directly to her boudoir and began removing her dress and complicated undergarments. She had just slipped into a filmy nightgown made of Mirsannan silk, when Baxter entered, still dressed, carrying a smiling baby.

  “Look at what I found,” he said, spinning the child around him. “Come look at her new trick.”

  He set the baby on the bed on her stomach and stood back. The little girl, her bright eyes now wide and mouth smiling, pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

  “Ta da!” he said, with a laugh.

  Senta looked from child to the man without recognition.

  “She’s up on her knees,” he explained. “Soon she’ll be crawling and then there’ll be no keeping up with her.”

  “Ah.” The sorceress sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the baby, looking into her face. “I suppose I should be impressed.”

  “I sent the women home,” said Baxter, walking into the other room.

  The sorceress followed, the baby on her hip. “Senta will need to eat again.”

  “Miss Lorvann left us with a bottle.” He took off his coat, hanging it up; then began unfastening the cuffs of his shirt. “You didn’t think that giving your child your name would be confusing?”

  “Men do it all the time,” said Senta. “Besides, who do you propose I name her after?”

  “Your mother?”

  “No, that wouldn’t do. I doubt anyone will name their child Zurfina ever again.”

  “Her father then?”

  “Is that a hint that you would like me to tell you who he is?”

  “I don’t care who he is.” Baxter peeled off his pants, and hung them up.

  Senta placed her daughter down in the center of Baxter’s bed and attempted to play peek-a-boo with her, using a pillow to cover her own face, but the girl rolled over, rising to her hands and knees, and began rocking back and forth. Putting the pillow back in place, the sorceress slid up so that she could lie back upon it.

  “Besides, bastards don’t get their fathers’ names.”

  “Is that a hint?” asked Baxter, stepping out of the closet in his robe.

  “A hint at what?”

  “A hint that you would like me to marry you and give your child my name.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t marry you in any case. You’re probably far too good for the likes of me, and I am most definitely too good for the likes of you.”

  Baxter lay down on the other side of the bed, so that little Senta was between the two of them. With a flourish, he produced his cufflink box, shaking it so that it rattled loudly. The baby’s eyes went right to it. She opened them wide in astonishment as her mouth gaped, leaving a long strand of saliva dripping down onto the bed cover. They played with the rattling little box until the child’s eyes began to droop, then her mother scooped her up and sang to her until she was asleep. Baxter stepped into the nursery and returned carrying the cradle, which he sat near the foot of the bed. Once little Senta was placed in it, he turned down the room lights and rejoined Senta the elder in his bed.

  Chapter Two: The God of the Sky

  Hsrandtuss stopped halfway up the hillside and leaned wearily on his staff. Glancing behind him, he saw that his six wives and twenty warriors were not having nearly as difficult a time with the climb as he was. Looking up the other direction he saw the massive fortress at the top of the hill. It was covered with wooden scaffolding for renovation and hundreds of small square wooden houses surrounded it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to his first wife Sszaxxanna. She pointed off to the right.

  Hsrandtuss, his wives, and his warriors were all members of the cold-blooded reptilian native race of the continent of Birmisia. The humans called them lizzies. Ranging in color from light olive to deep forest green, they gave the appearance of an alligator crossed with an iguana, if either had been able to walk around on their hind legs. Thick tails followed behind them, the tips a few inches off the ground.

  “That is the road of supplicants, my king,” she said.

  He nodded and started off in that direction, leading his small column along.

  As they neared the road, they could see that literally thousands of people were upon it, making their way to the fortress and to the god who lived within. They were not all walking though. About one mile from the great gate, there was an arch over the road. Upon reaching the arch, travelers dropped down onto their bellies, crawling the rest of the way, dragging their tales behind them. Hsrandtuss stopped at the archway. He was torn. He needed to go on, but it was unseemly for a king to crawl.

  “Hsrandtuss,” called a voice, just as he had decided that he had better get down on his belly.

  He looked up to see an ornately painted male, wearing a bright red cape. He started when he noticed that the cape was made not of feathers, but of the smooth cloth woven by the soft-skins to the north. He nodded at the male.

  “You need not enter through this gate. Bring your people and follow me.”

  The red-caped male led them up a path paved with shiny river stones. It wound up the hill, sometimes approaching the main road and sometimes veering farther away. Finally it led to a small but beautiful gate in the cyclopean fortress wall. It was not as large as the main gate, but was lined with two beautifully carved statues of the god.

/>   Close up, it was easy to see that the fortress was more than undergoing a simple renovation. One entire wall in the rear of the structure was gone and another had just been rebuilt. Buildings inside the walls were being remade. Every brick was being replaced. Thousands of males and females were laying bricks, hauling stones, or pushing wheelbarrows. Hsrandtuss hadn’t seen so many people since he had visited Suusthek as a child.

  Tokkenoht, the king’s third wife, gave a low hiss and Hsrandtuss turned to see what had drawn her attention.

  The body of a huge creature lay on its back, rotting in the sun. It was over fifty feet long, easily as large as a tyrannosaurus, though it was obviously a quadruped. A thick armadillo-like armor that had once protected the mighty back, now seemed to weigh the body down to the ground, and the gigantic head, attached with almost no neck, now gazed at the sky with empty eye sockets.

  “What is it?” asked Sszaxxanna.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Hsrandtuss replied.

  “It was a magic beast,” said the red-caped envoy. “The god killed it.”

  Hsrandtuss stared.

  “Come with me,” said the envoy.

  He led them to a one of the few completed structures near the newly rebuilt wall. Tall and boxy, the building was covered on all sides by hanging pots, from which grew flowering vines. Beneath the windows were more flowers growing in heavy stone window boxes.

  “This is the style popular in the south,” said Sszaxxanna.

  Hsrandtuss nodded. He didn’t ask her how she knew such a thing.

  “Make yourself at home,” came the order, before the caped one left.

  Seconds later four females entered through the same door that both the party and the envoy had used. They carried huge platters of food—raw meat, cut into fist-sized pieces, and fresh fruit. As the females placed the platters on the floor, the warriors all looked at their king, waiting for him to choose the best for himself.

  “Remember your bowels,” whispered Sszaxxanna, leaning her long snout near his earhole. “Just have some fruit.”

  “I’m too tired to eat,” he sighed, and then turned to his warriors. “Feast my friends.”

  The warriors went right after the slabs of meat. Two of his wives did too, but Sszaxxanna quickly put an end to that.

  “Get over here,” she hissed. “The king needs to be rubbed with oil while he relaxes.”

  Tokkenoht and Sirris both looked suitably chastened.

  “Oh, let them eat,” said Hsrandtuss. “I just want to go lie down for a bit.”

  He opened the tiny pouch on his belt and pulled out a golden pocket watch that he had purchased from the soft-skin city trader for 2,500 copper bits. He held it in front of his first wife’s face and pointed to it.

  “The little hand is on the river and the big hand is on the tree by the river. I want to get up when the little hand is on the claw and the big hand is on the ladle.” He handed her the watch.

  “It will be done, Great King,” she said, and then snapped her fingers, calling his second wife. “Ssu will sleep with you and make sure you are comfortable.”

  Hsrandtuss nodded. Ssu was good for little else, but she did a good job of seeing to his comfort.

  “The sleeping room will be through there,” Ssaxxanna pointed.

  Hsrandtuss found a large, well appointed chamber set up in the usual style. A fire pit burned in the center of the floor, surrounded by comfortable sleeping mats. The king climbed down onto one of the mats, pausing to appreciate its craftsmanship. Then descending to his stomach, he put his snout near the burning fire. Ssu settled next to him, on the same mat, placing her snout over his, and pressing her stomach to his side. He scratched her belly idly before drifting off to sleep. When he woke Ssu was gone, but Tokkenoht was in her place, in exactly the same position.

  “The little hand is on the claw, Great King,” said Sszaxxanna, from the next sleeping mat to the left. “The big hand is past the ladle. It is on the stacked boulders.”

  “Fine, fine.” Hsrandtuss pushed his fourth wife aside and stood up. He stretched out his arms and hissed in pleasant surprise. “I feel good. I feel rested. Find me some of that meat.”

  His first wife rose with a single fluid motion that the king couldn’t help but admire, but he scowled when she held out her hand grasping a large, lush pomegranate. He took it, tearing it in two with his heavy claws and then eating it in two bites.

  “Great King, Great King!” Sirris scurried into the room. “The god calls for you!”

  “Come along,” he told Sszaxxanna, and then looking first to Tokkenoht and then Sirris. “Both of you too. Get the others. You must all come. Others might bring him better gifts, but none of them will show up with six wives, I can tell you that.”

  “Your paint has become smudged,” said Sszaxxanna, looking him over.

  “We haven’t time to worry about it now. Just wipe it off.”

  Hsrandtuss stopped only long enough to let her wipe him down with a moist towel. He noted that at least the females were properly painted. Less than five minutes later, he was out the door followed by his entire retinue of wives and warriors. The red-caped envoy met him just outside and without a word, led him through the fortress and out a gate, recently rebuilt in the otherwise deconstructed wall. Halfway down the sloping hillside beyond, they entered a stone amphitheater. The lizardman king could see the god as soon as they entered.

  Since time immemorial, the lizardmen had worshipped dragons. Their gods had lived among them and ruled over them. There had been a dozen in the pantheon, including Setemenothiss the black god of war and mighty Hissussisthiss the green god of fear. But they were all gone now: gone and dead. There was a new god though: a new, powerful, young god. He was much larger than the last time that Hsrandtuss had seen him, but there was no mistaking. Yessonar, the god of the Sky, sat in the center of the amphitheater. His massive head, covered in whiskers and spikes, lay resting in front of his great winged body. His whip like tail was hung off the edge of the stage. When stretched out completely, it was more than eighty feet from the former to the latter. Every inch of his body was covered with tightly woven scales, and they were the color of new steel.

  In addition to the god’s servants and Hsrandtuss’s own group, there were five other groups of lizzies present: five congregations of lizzies from various villages. The king hissed unhappily. He knew four of the other leaders, two of them well, and he knew who the fifth was.

  Zsackass was the king of Ussus. He had reigned longer than Hsrandtuss and seemed to delight in one-upmanship over the king of Hiissierra. If Hsrandtuss built a shrine, Zsackass built a temple. If the hunters from Hiissierra took down a gorgosaurus, Zsackass and his warriors killed a tyrannosaurus. And Zsackass loved to repeat how he had stolen his wife from Hiissierra.

  Tokkentott was the new king of Hiikhuu, taking the leadership after killing the old king. As a warrior, he had led several attacks against Hiissierra after Hsrandtuss had stolen a group of females from Hiikhuu, including Tokkenoht, who had come from Tokkentott’s own house. Now as king, Tokkentott was actively attacking Hsrandtuss’s warriors on their patrols.

  Tistakha was not exactly a friend, but Hsrandtuss knew him and had traded with him. He was the king of Tuustutu and owed as much of his village’s prosperity to the humans as Hiissierra did. The two villages were relatively close and traded between themselves as well as with the humans.

  Then there was Szisz, the king of Suusiss. He had been closely allied with the city of Suusthek, which had been destroyed by the human witch woman. Hsrandtuss was surprised that he was even there. There was no love lost between Suusiss and the humans and the young god was closely allied to the soft-skins.

  The unknown factor was Hakheekh, the king of Zis Chusstuss. The old village of Chusstuss had sat far north near the coast, but had run afoul of the humans when they had arrived. The old king, a curse be forever on his unspoken name, attacked the humans. When that didn’t work, he had allied himself with a
nother group of soft-skins. He had picked the wrong side. The humans had made Chusstuss pay and afterwards, the lizzies that remained had abandoned it. Some of them had moved south and founded Zis Chusstuss. Zis Chusstuss had grown recently as lizzies from the south moved north, but Hsrandtuss didn’t know Hakheekh and didn’t know his politics.

  Zsackass was standing before the young god. Yessonar’s voice rumbled throughout the stadium seats, but Hsrandtuss couldn’t hear what Zsackass was saying.

  “I want to hear,” he hissed.

  Sszaxxanna gave Tokkenoht a little shove, and the younger female opened her shoulder bag, pulling out a lizard talisman. She said a few words, shook the lizard on a stick, kissed it, and then blew into Hsrandtuss’s ear. Suddenly he could hear the words of everyone present.

  “I bring you a great gift,” said Zsackass, waving three of his warriors forward.

  The three colorfully painted males each carried a leather sack. In front of Yessonar, they opened them up to reveal that they were filled with the copper coins the humans made. Zsackass must have sold many animal skins to the humans to accumulate so much treasure. Hsrandtuss shook with mirth.

  “What a fool,” he hissed gleefully. “What a stupid gift for Yessonar.”

  “It is great wealth,” said Ssu, before Sszaxxanna slapped her mouth shut.

  “Yessonar grew up among the soft-skins,” explained the king. “The copper bits are valuable to us, but I have seen the humans trade piles of them for a bit of scrap with a picture on it. The copper bits are not valuable to the humans and they will not be to Yessonar.”

  “Thank you for your gift,” said the god with a shrug, seeming to confirm Hsrandtuss’s evaluation. One of the orderlies led the king back up to sit with his people. Tokkentott stepped forward to take Zsackass’s place.

  “Great Yessonar, I too have a gift. I hope you will like it.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hsrandtuss.

  Two warriors from Hiikhuu brought forth a wooden chest, which they sat at their king’s feet. He reached down and pulled the lid back. Reaching inside, he pulled out a large black rock.