He gave me another pale smile.
“Just don’t ask me to repeat that,” he joked, then gestured me out.
I didn’t tell him that in Tarvissi-é ‘vashir’, while technically meaning the same as vessár—that is ‘the leader’, was never used as a title and ‘kiar’ meant ‘exceptional’.
Chapter 28
Myar Mal’s hand stopped suddenly. Tayrel Kan kept his eyes closed, but he could almost see the other man frowning, and he was just waiting…
“You think she knew?”
The sorcerer exhaled. “I’m not talking about your ex,” he said sternly. He heard the body shifting beside him as his partner lifted himself on his elbow.
“I loved her. I think I still do.”
With a sigh, Tayrel Kan sat up and procured a tchalka. He was naked, sweat gluing dark hair to his arms, legs, and chest, but he didn’t care. Some could even say he reveled in his filth, not bothering to wipe the sperm off his stomach, displaying it proudly like a badge of conquest. He would display more, but his magic was already in action, making bruises on his neck and wrists pale, and the red handprints all over his body disappear. His penis was half-erect, ready for the next round whenever the other man stopped moping.
“That’s why you jumped in as soon as I offered you a blowjob?” asked the sorcerer mockingly, lighting the tchalka with a flicker of his fingers.
Myar Mal pouted.
“They gave her five cycles in Xiburk,” he said instead of answering. “I tried to speak for her—”
“Of course you did,” murmured Tayrel Kan, but the other man ignored him.
“But they treated her actions as a crime against the state.”
The sorcerer sighed again. “Are you going to visit her?” he asked, finally giving in.
“Maybe. We haven’t really spoken since…” Myar Mal waved his hand in some uncoordinated gesture and paused, the frown on his face deepening. He was also naked, but he’d previously used a spell to clean himself, leaving no trace of their intercourse.
His body, with smooth skin and perfectly sculpted muscles, provided Tayrel Kan with a much more interesting view than his worried profile. The sorcerer wondered if there was some mathematical formula coded in his body—not a far-fetched idea. Myar Mal led a sedentary lifestyle; his looks were the effect of magic, not workout.
“I think if we talked more—”
“Then you’d break up sooner,” cut in Tayrel Kan, “but then again, if you did that, maybe she wouldn’t try to kill you.”
He didn’t let his facade slip, but his stomach clenched, his own words dredging up memories. He drew in his tchalka.
“People destroy what they love. You got out easily,” he said against his better judgment. He quickly collected himself: “But if you hate your life so much, go back to her. I don’t care. Or find yourself another sweetheart. I didn’t come to you looking for love. And I didn’t offer mine.”
“How gracious.”
The sarcasm in Myar Mal’s voice made something inside him snap.
“If you want to blame the decay of your relationship on me, I don’t care either. But you know it was dead long before I came. If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else; a buxom lady or a pretty boy with firm cheeks. Or hey, maybe she would find someone. Someone like Aldeaith: a simple guy her dad would approve of.”
Before he was finished, Myar Mal was on him, straddling his hips, with one hand clasped around his neck, the other closed into a fist and ready to strike.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, looking Tayrel Kan in the eye, but the sorcerer didn’t even blink.
“Make me.”
Chapter 29
The ceremony took place in the central plaza—the only part of The Inner City big enough to contain everyone from Mespana. Or everyone that was left.
It was located at the crossing of two main market streets. In the center rose a round platform covered by blue Dahlsian grass and surrounded by an artificial stream. Another, temporary platform was built on top, and our leaders lined up on it.
This time, I did my homework. The Directory had three members. An elder woman with a tanned face and long, silver braid was Lyria La-Nidru, one of the first explorers of the Meon Cluster. A younger woman, pale, with more respectable short hair, was Rinay Kia-Varey, a politician from a family of politicians. The only man was Kiav Rin-Sannos, who used to be sil-kahar—the leader—of some colony, then proceeded to be a governor of Sfal, Chief Governor of Meon, and finally a member of the Directory. Behind them governors and ministers lined up. On the left side of the podium stood Myar Mal and a bit further other vessár-ai. I noticed Adyar Lah at the head of the Second and Arda Nahs—Laik Var’s nami—at Seventh. Why didn’t I think about her when Myar Mal asked for a recommendation?
I wished I could stay behind, hide in a corner and watch from there, but as one of the honored ones I had to take a position at the base of the platform. As always, the majority of people around me were pure Dahlsi, and I stood out like a sore thumb.
“Mespanians,” spoke Lyria La. Despite her age, her voice was loud and clear—probably magically amplified. The murmurs filling the plaza died down. “You defended your country against the greatest threat it faced in centuries. For this, we are all grateful. The sacrifices many of you made were immense, and I cannot imagine there’s a way we could ever pay you back. It’s a great tragedy that even here, in Dahlsian worlds, there are people who value material goods and land more than human lives; who would send hundreds to die to satisfy their greed and false claims. Alas, we cannot change who they are. We can only defend ourselves and our way of life.”
She flicked her hand and an obelisk of black stone materialized in the middle of the platform. It’s tip almost brushed the dome topping the plaza and the light reflected
