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Fair warning: this chapter is about to steam up your glasses.
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As he spoke, he drew a long, deliberate caress about Faunos’s body, cherishing every sensitive place, neglecting nothing, until Faunos could barely breathe and the linen wrap he wore was stretched taut. Soran rested his palm on the hard warmth there, and leaned down to kiss both the gold-ringed nipples.
“I dishonor myself with lust,” Faunos said hoarsely. “My own flesh betrays me.”
“Your mortal flesh has more sense than your mind and heart will admit,” Soran argued. “It knows what it wants, and has no hesitation about saying so, in its own way. You can’t lie to me, Faunos, not when your body says so eloquently, ‘touch me, hold me, mate me and love me.’”
The Zehefti youth blinked up at him, dark eyed and feverish. “Is this why you’re here? A hundred courtesans in the palace and temple won’t do, you have to have me again? You risked everything you were, everything you had, to be with a witchboy again?”
A self-mocking smile lifted one corner of Soran’s wide mouth. “Yes … and no. Yes, it was desire that set my feet on this particular hunting trail! And then, no … much more brought me out past the Myrmidae.”
“I don’t understand.” Faunos sagged back into the bunk and closed his eyes. “You speak in riddles -- you’re as bad as the damned oracles. Worse, because you have the power of plain speech and won’t use it.”
Soran permitted a chuckle, and perched on the edge of the bunk. “How odd you should say that.” Faunos peered at him through slitted eyes. Soran caressed him, his breast, his belly, and said quietly, “I did as you bade me.”
“You did …? Faunos echoed, as if he could not recall what he had said to Soran that night.
The caressing hands were most likely making his thoughts rush apart, Soran knew. Gratified, he redoubled his efforts. He liked Faunos this way, a little flushed, dark eyed with desire, breathing heavily and struggling manfully to keep his mind on the subject.
“I went to the Temple of Mayat,” he said softly. “I knew you’d gone out on a ship, though I didn’t know which. A little weasel called Keffek was eager to betray you for a coin tossed into the sand. It was just blind luck you chose this ship. You couldn’t possibly have known the Quezelus and the Incari run together like sisters. Or that Priolas and Senmet are second or third cousins, related through the aunts and nieces of so many clans, no one is sure of the lineage any longer.” He leaned down again and kissed Faunos’s throat. “And I did as you bade me. I spoke to Iridan.”
The strange green eyes were open to slits. Faunos’s voice was soft and husky. “You challenged the Oracle to tell you if I had lied to you. And Iridan told you -- what? I had said nothing but truth.”
The gold rings in Faunos’s nipples seduced Soran’s tongue. “What do you wear here, when you dare to display your valuables?”
“Soran!” Faunos insisted. “Speak plainly, for godsakes!”
He gave the gold rings a final tug with careful teeth, and sat up. “I did speak plainly. You’ll wear your valuables for me. When you’ve been seen in my company, no one will dare touch your things, nor insult you with word or gesture. And yes, Iridan told me -- in the most infuriating riddles, mind you! -- about the Power, the foci, the past, the future. Your part in it and, perhaps, mine.” He took his hands away and let Faunos think. The dark Zehefti eyes, so like Keltoi eyes, cleared a little as he watched. “Iridan believes you have the Power to hold back the sea. To deny Hurucan and Peseden. He wouldn’t answer clearly, no matter how I framed a question, but I’m sure he doesn’t know where the Eye of Mayat and the Eye of Hados are.”
Faunos took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “No one does, not in centuries.”
“Yes.” Soran laid one finger on the lush young lips to silence him. “Iridan told me to study. Learn. I took him at his word, and broke into the Library.”
“You -- what?” Faunos was shocked.
“A priest-scribe died to keep secret my presence there,” Soran said grimly. “I sent him out of this life without pain or fear, but still, I took his life. Druyus and Azhtoc know by now that someone broke into the Library, but not who it was, nor what was read. Soon enough they’ll know their precious witchfinder is missing, and thereafter … well, it won’t take them long to reason who was in the Library.”
“Your neck is in a noose,” Faunos said quietly. “You might not be able to talk your way out of the trouble you’ve brought on yourself.”
The observation was as keen as it was simple. Soran smiled faintly at him, toying absently with the gold rings, which made Faunos whimper and curse. “I’ve no desire to go back. Well, not empty handed, at least. There’s nothing to be done for Vayal. What did you call it? The kingdom of crabs and turtles. My home will be drowned, and my people will be extinct, if they don’t have the sense to get out and run, while they can. Like the Zeheftimen.” He shook his head slowly. “I can do nothing for Vayal while fools like Azhtoc and Druyus hold the reins. But --” He frowned deeply at Faunos, stooped to kiss his throat and mouth. “I read part of a book. It might be something like one of your own books. A history of Zeheft, its magic, its greatness … its doom. I learned … things. Truths.” His voice fell away to a whisper. “I never knew any of this, Faunos. I swear on my life, I didn’t.”
“I believe you.” Moved, touched, Faunos spoke gently. “They made you what you are -- or were. The witchfinder. But I don’t see the amulet on your breast this morning. Have you set aside your swords?”
“No. I’ll bear arms again,” Soran admitted, “but not for Vayal. At least, not for Azhtoc and the rest of them. If I pick up a sword again, it’ll be to keep you safe.”
He traced the shape of Faunos’s mouth, and smiled when the soft lips parted, and his finger was taken between Faunos’s teeth, held there, caressed by the boy’s tongue. Soran swung one leg over him, straddled his flat belly and gave Faunos the favors of both his hands, until Faunos moaned woundedly.
“You’re the last alive who commands the Power, as far as anyone knows,” Soran murmured. “The future for Vayal, as well as Zeheft, lies in your hands. There’s no one else.” He settled on Faunos, heavy on him, matched shoulder for shoulder and hip for hip, and kissed his mouth hard. Memories of the gypsy camp overwhelmed him, and he wanted Faunos’s arms around him, if only he dared cut the bonds and release him. “I didn’t come here to hunt you, or hurt you,” he said against the witchboy’s soft, open mouth. “Be sure of this. Trust me, and I’ll release you.”
“You could have killed me a hundred times over,” Faunos whispered. “Since I’m still alive, I’d better have a little faith. Let me go.”
Soran lifted his head. “I don’t know how to make you trust me, save like this.” For a moment he let Faunos feel his full, considerable weight, and sank his teeth into the boy’s neck at the place where it curved into his shoulder. Her bit down hard enough to leave a bruise like a brand of ownership, but not to break the skin. Faunos gave a sharp yelp, but before he had registered pain, let alone fear, Soran kissed what he had bruised, licked the brand to soothe, and said against the boy’s ear, “I’ll never hurt you.”
“Let me go,” Faunos said brokenly. “I’m a freeman, no less than yourself.”
“A prince, no less than myself,” Soran added. He had slip-tied the straps, and one tug released Faunos’s hands, a second, his feet. He might have made some jest about Faunos being free to take vengeance, but the slender arms went about him at once. Faunos tangled his hands in the cloak of Soran’s hair, pulled his head down and kissed him, long, deep, slow.
Fingertips massaged Soran’s scalp, finding tender places, sensitive places, making him tingle with reaction from head to foot and cry out onto Faunos’s mouth. The fingers on his scalp might have been discovering his body’s most intimate secrets.
He shivered as he found himself hard as iron, and for a moment lifted his head from the witchboy’s mouth.“What are you doing to me?”
Turn page to Chapter Twenty-one contined...
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