The Dark Lord

before the walls of Alexandria.'

Helena had begun to write, but now she stopped, staring at her husband. 'And Maxian? You'll be sending him, won't you?'

The Emperor stared through the pillars again, stricken with gut-wrenching despair. He started to speak, then stopped. Helena waited, stylus tapping impatiently on the edge of the tablet.

'He must go,' Helena said, when she could keep her peace no longer. 'If the Perisan monster is striving against Aurelian, he will not be able to hold Egypt! Maxian will have to go, if we hope to hold Alexandria and the delta.'

Still the Emperor said nothing. In the dining hall, men raised their cups in a toast to the young couple and the prince's face glowed with delight. Galen remembered times now lost, when they were all children, brawling in the kitchen, running in the grassy fields above Narbo, Aurelian daring Maxian to cross the aqueduct vaulting the swift-flowing Atax. His mother silhouetted in the doorway of their room, watching the boys sleeping by firelight. Does it come to this? he thought, mournful again. A young man sent out to war on his wedding night? What about my promise?

'Husband?'

A thought occurred to him, whispered by some unseen messenger and Galen let relief hiss out in a long breath. 'No, not yet. Iron Pegasus can carry him to Egypt in the space of a week. The fleet will take...' He paused, calculating distances and time. '...two weeks to gather and reach Constantinople. Another five days to load Alexandros' army aboard, then a week to reach Alexandria.' A very faint smile creased his lips and he felt lighter, relieved. 'Time enough for him to enjoy a taste of marriage, I think. We will wait until Alexandros is in position, then send him forth. By then, his flight of iron drakes may be hatched and ready to wing—that will give Persia pause, I think!'

He looked back to his wife and saw she had gone deathly still.

'What is it?' Galen was afraid to ask, but felt compelled. Tears sparkled at the corner of Helena's eyes, creeping through kohl already smudged by her nighttime ride. Swallowing, she wiped them away, leaving trailing black streaks on her cheeks.

'I always loved that big horse,' she said in a choked voice. 'It's not right.'

The Emperor nodded, understanding her reaction all too well. There was a tight constriction around his heart. 'He's a soldier, Helena. Always has been, always will be. Aurelian will understand.'

'Will Famia? What about his boys? They're so worried already...'

Galen could think of nothing to say. What came to pass, would come to pass.

—|—

Waves hissed against across empty sand, foam glittering in faint moonlight. Luna, a thin sliver, rose over the mountains in the east, shedding barely enough light to challenge the jewel-bright stars. Maxian, his toga and tunic a pale flare of white against the dark shore, splashed into the surf. The water rushing past his ankles was still warm from the day's heat.

'Where are we going?' Martina said sleepily, arms curled around his neck, tousled head nestled against his chest. The Empress' elaborate gown was rumpled and sweat-stained from a long night of dancing, feasting and drinking. Maxian waded deeper into the bay, bare feet sinking into heavy, soft sand. Waves lapped around him, rising to his waist. Foam touched Martina's bare feet and she squeaked in surprise. 'That's wet! Where are...'

Maxian raised his chin, pointing, and the Empress turned, eyes widening in surprise.

A boat rode at anchor, not more than a dozen yards away. Long-prowed, with gilded figureheads of rampant gods at fore and aft and shallow sides chased with gold. An awning of muslin suspended from wooden arches sheltered the deck, barely visible in the moonlight.

'Oh,' Martina said, then she hissed as the warm water rose up around her. Maxian smiled in the darkness, feeling her cling tight to him. 'Are there sharks?' she whispered, still half-asleep.

'Not in this cove,' he said. 'A barrier net closes the entrance and nothing enters that might spoil an Empress' wedding night.'

'That's comfort—eek! That's cold!' Maxian waded to a ladder hanging from the rear deck, water swirling around his chest. Martina, her head still above the waves, was completely immersed.

'Hold tight now,' he said, letting her legs fall free in the water. Her grip tightened on his neck like a vise. With his free hand Maxian grasped the rope, setting one bare foot to the lowest rung of the ladder. Then he swung himself and Martina out of the water in a smooth motion onto the deck. Water sluiced from their sodden clothes, spilling away on polished teak planks. In the moonlight, a very pale, indistinct radiance touched the awning ropes, the railings, even the piled cushions and quilts on the deck. The deck rolled softly under their feet, the motion barely noticeable, yet giving the impression of yielding, infinite depth.

'I'm freezing,' Martina said in the darkness. The heavy, saturated wool of her gown sent streams of water spilling down her legs. Maxian let his own garment fall to the deck. 'Why is it so dark?'

'Here,' Maxian said. 'Let me show you.' He drew her close, hands peeling the sodden gown away. The Empress shuddered, then let out a gasp as he caressed the skin of her shoulders, her upper arms. Warmth spilled from his touch. His palms slid over the curve of her breasts, her round stomach, her flanks. The gown fell away and then she was dry. Martina pressed herself against the prince, finding his smooth chest bare under her fingertips.

'You're so warm,' she breathed, her body conforming greedily to his. She turned up her face, lips parted. Maxian smiled down and above his head, the tracery of wires suspending the translucent awning began to wink to life, fluttering with pale blue, yellow and carnelian. Unnoticed by the Empress, the ship had begun to move, the ladder lifted from the sea by invisible hands. Now the tiller shifted and the sea hissed past under the prow. In darkness, the ghost-barque turned to the cove's entrance, passing between towering black pinnacles. Ahead, the open sea waited.

'Are... are they the fey?' Martina turned, feeling delightfully smooth skin sliding against her back, the Prince's arm curled between her breasts, his fingers against the side of her neck. Looking forward, she saw pale lights trace the length of the ship, throwing a soft, intimate light over couches, bedding, silken pillows. 'It's so beautiful...'

'All of this,' the prince whispered, his breath hot on her neck, 'is for you.'

Jewels blazed in the awning and the deck shone like molten gold. A comfortable, encompassing warmth folded around her, made all the more delicious by the sea's cool grasp, so recently released. Maxian picked her up, then settled among the cushions, deep quilts yielding to his knees. Laughing softly, he dropped Martina to the deck, then smiled as she bounced—startled—on the deep pile.

'Ah, this feels wonderful...' She stretched, luxuriating in the glassy sensation of Chin silk. 'You are very... ah!... naughty!' Maxian slid his knees inside hers, parting her legs. Martina's eyes grew large in the dim light, seeing him bend over her. Long, dark hair trailed on either side of his face, spilling across her white breasts. Seeing him in this glamour, Martina realized how beautiful he had become, his face lean with high cheekbones, his body trim and muscled like an acrobat, long, powerful legs illuminated by the subtle light.

He bent to kiss her, but she suddenly stiffened, turning away.

'What is wrong?' he said softly, moving to look at her face. She was biting her lip, eyes squeezed shut. 'Martina?'

'Don't look at me,' she hissed, tears pearling from her eyes. 'Please make the lights go out.'

Maxian sat up, head tilted to one side, sun-browned hands on her waist. 'You don't like the lights?'

'They are very nice,' she said tightly, curling away from him, drawing her legs up to her stomach. 'Please put them out.'

'Why? I want to see you...'

'Don't!' The Empress compressed herself to a tight ball, hiding her face in her arms. 'You don't want to see me—I'm fat and round—not beautiful like you and your family. Please, make it dark again.'

'Oh.' Maxian knelt beside her, trying to stroke her hair. Martina flinched away. 'You're not happy with your body?'