Voice of the Gods

I-Portak turned to regard her. “Or earlier, if the weather holds.”

She smiled. “Your warriors never cease to impress me with their stamina, I-Portak. Leave them a little strength for the journey across the desert.”

His shoulders lifted slightly. “I am. We are not unfamiliar with desert conditions. Don’t tell the Sennon emperor this, but we have been sending small warrior groups into the desert to train for centuries.”

She laughed quietly. “I’m sure the Sennon emperor is quite aware of that.”

Danjin suppressed a smile as I-Portak regarded her with barely concealed dismay.

“Do you mean all the secrecy we have practiced has been for nothing?” he eventually said.

“Practice is the only route to perfection,” she said, quoting Dunwayan tradition.

He chuckled and turned away. “And perfection only exists in the realm of the gods.” He shrugged. “So long as the emperor pretends ignorance, we will pretend that our forays into his land remain unknown.”

Far out at the edges of the city was a training ground for warrior Servants. Auraya skimmed over the minds there, glimpsing practice bouts both physical and magical. When she found what she was looking for she smiled. Two Dedicated Servants were sharing a meal and discussing the size, strengths and weaknesses of the Pentadrian army.

A loud clang of iron interrupted their conversation. For a moment she wondered why the man and woman hadn’t reacted. Then her stomach sank and dread clutched her heart as she realized her own ears were hearing the sound.

Her awareness snapped back to her surroundings. Opening her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and let it out. The same four domestics hurried toward her. Nekaun strolled after them.

The smell of flowers came with them. It sent her pulse racing though she wasn’t yet sure why this should bother her. Looking at the domestics, she realized they were all carrying buckets. Bags were slung over their shoulders. Obviously they were planning to do more than just wash and feed her.

She resisted the temptation to look at Nekaun.

The first domestic swung the bucket toward her. She braced herself for the chill water and nearly gasped as she was battered with warmth instead. Before she had recovered from the surprise the second domestic tipped more water over her head. This, too, was warm.

Setting aside their empty buckets, the domestics drew objects out of their bags. Pottery jugs were uncorked. Hands drew out fistfuls of something resembling very fine wet sand.

She flinched as the first spread the substance onto her arm and began to rub it against her skin. It was sand. This, she remembered, was how the locals preferred to clean themselves. The rich used a fine, rare sand from some distant place. The two domestics scrubbed her arms, neck and scalp then, to her embarrassment, worked ever lower. Their touch was efficient and their faces expressionless, but she gritted her teeth and tried not to show how much their touch unsettled her.

All the time she felt Nekaun watching.

Finally the domestics had scrubbed her all over. The other two approached with their buckets and carefully washed the sand off her skin. This rinse water held the perfume she had noticed earlier. It was cooler, but not cold.

When they had stepped away Auraya’s skin tingled all over. It would have felt good to be clean, if Nekaun hadn’t been there.

He hasn’t asked me any of his stupid questions yet, she realized. The domestics swept the dais and then hurried from the hall. None had brought any food. Perhaps because there’s no point. Why bother feeding me if I’m about to die. But why clean me? Does he prefer to kill clean people?

She nearly giggled at the silliness of that thought. But all humor vanished as he moved closer. Her skin felt too sensitive. Her body felt too exposed. She resisted the temptation to curl up as much as the chains would allow.

“That’s better,” he said quietly. “Don’t misunderstand me. I like a bit of sweat and dirt. But not utter filth.”

He stopped a mere step away. He’s just trying to intimidate me, she told herself. And he’s in the void now. He’s vulnerable too.

Now that she would have to go out of her way to avoid looking at him, she met his gaze with what she hoped was a blank stare.

He stared back.

That’s different, she thought. He usually smiles and says something snide and ridiculous to point out that he’s in control.

When he spoke next, it was in Avvenan. The two Servants guarding the door paused, then walked away.

That sent a shiver of pure terror through her. Why send away the guards unless he was about to do something he didn’t even want his own people knowing about?

“There,” he said. “A little privacy.” She resisted the urge to shrink away as he moved a hand toward her, then tried not to flinch as his fingers touched her throat. His hand curled around her neck, warm and firm.

“So thin. I could throttle you right now,” he murmured. “But I don’t gain any pleasure from killing.” His gaze shifted lower. “Did I ever tell you that I was the Head Servant of the Temple of Hrun before I became First Voice?”

His hand slid downward to her breast. Her mouth went dry. Intimidation, she repeated. Don’t react. Be boring. Give him nothing and he’ll lose interest and go away.

“Hmm. How tense you are.” His breath was sickeningly warm. She tried not to breathe it in. “So am I. Here, I’ll show you.”

He pressed his body against hers, pushing her against the stone wall. Smothered by black robes, revolted by his breath, she felt herself shudder in horror at the hardness of his groin beneath his robes.

He really means to do this...

No. Stay calm. He wouldn’t dare. It’s just intimidation.

His hand left her breast. Her relief was brief. She felt knuckles dig into her belly as he pulled at his robes. His breathing was fast. Despite herself she looked up. He bared his teeth.

“Yes. That’s right. Where are your gods now, Auraya? They can’t help you.”

Her mind spun in increasingly frantic circles, then abruptly she saw, with awful clarity, that he did mean to do what he threatened. This is going to be revolting and humiliating and painful but I can bear it. I will have to... But she had glimpsed the wounds and scars in the minds of women who had been used by men. He has, too. He knows he’ll leave me with more than his... oh, gods. She had no magical means to prevent conception. But he won’t want to sire a child, she reasoned. But he’s in the void too. His magic won’t work either. Gods, no! She bit back a scream as she saw herself, chained and bloated with his child, in this place. Imprisoned without and within. But if he’s in the void he’s vulnerable too. I can hurt him. I can kill him. She felt her jaw tense. I will bite out his throat. I will...

“Nekaun.”

The voice was unearthly. It echoed and whispered around the room like wind. Nekaun whirled around. Looking over his shoulder, Auraya saw a being of light. She felt her mouth go dry. She had seen this god before.

“Sheyr!” Nekaun gasped.

“Come here.”

Nekaun hurried off the dais and threw himself to the floor before the feet of the glowing figure.

“Do not harm Auraya,” the god said. “Revenge will come, but not in this way. What you wish to do may disadvantage us.”

“But...” The word was barely audible.

The being straightened. “Do you dare to question me?” he boomed.