Authors: Tracy St. John
He kissed the top of her head, his muscled arms wrapping around her. It was like being embraced by a friendly grizzly bear. Tasha sighed. She rarely slept overnight with lovers. Falinset felt incredibly good.
She didn’t think a full minute had passed before he started snoring, exactly as his clanmates had said he would. She managed a giggle before diving into sleep herself.
Narpok followed Sitrel into the study of the home he’d brought her to. The house was grand enough. The study, though dark, had expensive furnishings. The scent of the finest leather hung heavy in the air. She found it interesting that all the seating options were raised. There wasn’t a seating cushion arrangement in sight. It was odd, as was the humming of a listening device blocker. She knew the sound well; her father Pwaldur had used one in his study and office. He had kept a good many secrets from his enemies with such a tool.
Her cousin Sitrel had already told her the home belonged to an unclanned Dramok. That he’d accumulated such wealth on his own without the added incomes of clanmates spoke well of his success.
The few contemporaries Narpok had been acquainted with before her breakdown would have been sniffing around in interest. They had all been clanned off by now, according to Sitrel. All fertile, all with high-ranked clanmates. While Narpok had been locked away in a psychiatric ward, the world had moved on.
A small, bent shape rose awkwardly from behind the uncluttered desk. Narpok would have never placed the unmarred and rather handsome face of the man before her, not after the years of being out of circulation. Still, she would have known that twisted body anywhere. She’d met Councilman Maf at dinners hosted by her father Pwaldur.
She tried to conceal her disappointment as Maf executed a clumsy bow. This was the great man Sitrel wanted her to meet? Her cousin’s employer? This was the reason he’d lured her from the hospital, promising her the opportunity of a lifetime, hinting at revenge on those who had stolen her birthright from her?
For a moment old childish impulses rose strong. The entitled Narpok, spoiled from birth, future empress of Kalquor, would have sneered at them both … the lowly aide and the crippled Dramok who couldn’t attract a Nobek or an Imdiko no matter how much power and money he accrued.
The compulsion passed. After all, who was she to put on airs? She’d been a pathetic whimpering creature for some time now, so much less than even Maf. An orphan now, unable to bear children, her last parent dead in a traitorous attempt to kidnap Empress Jessica. Narpok was less than no one.
She nodded gravely to her host as he completed his bow. “Councilman Maf. How good to see you again after so long.”
He smiled, seeming pleased with the sight of her. “It has been a long time, Matara. I am no longer a councilman, however.”
She gave him a look of genuine surprise. What his body lacked in grace, his mind more than made up for in intellect. “But you have always been so respected by our people. I can’t imagine anyone besting you in an election.”
His smile grew even more pleased. “They did not. I resigned. Please sit, Matara Narpok.”
She took a seat and refused refreshment when Sitrel offered it to her. She hoped this was not a waste of her time. She had allowed Sitrel to coax her from the hospital in hopes that his promises of revenge would somehow lead her to the rebellion.
Sitrel had always been a shifty character. His quiet demeanor masked an ardent ambition for power. Narpok could well imagine him being complicit in underhanded dealings but as Maf’s lackey, she’d thought such opportunities out of reach for him. In fact, she had always believed Sitrel would not amount to much as the assistant to a respected but pitied councilman. The best he could hope for was the tag of respectability himself. Now he wasn’t even assisting a man of rank, not if Maf had quit the council. Sitrel had little to recommend him now.
She swallowed her disappointment that the important meeting her cousin had arranged wasn’t so important after all. What Maf and Sitrel hoped to accomplish by luring her here, she couldn’t imagine. If they thought they would see one unit of her inheritance ... and given Maf had resigned his post as a councilman, that seemed the most likely reason they’d summoned her ... they would be as disappointed as she.
Maf sank back into his chair and gave her a winning smile. “I am delighted you are feeling better. We were all grieved that you suffered so much when your place was usurped by that Earther.”
Narpok’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her assessment of the situation. She’d heard bits and snatches about the rebellion, led by some shadowy figure known as the Basma. Being sequestered in the hospital hadn’t allowed for much more information than that – other than the abduction of the child princess and her cousin. The empress had been quite vocal about that part.
She kept her face composed, not hinting she had hopes of discovering more about the revolt and the people involved in it. And how she might take part. The chagrin she spoke with was real enough. “Perhaps if I had been stronger things would have been different. I regret allowing myself to be undone by the events surrounding Jessica McInness’s clanning to the Imperials.”
Maf gave her a gentle, fatherly look. “No one faults you for the indignities you suffered. It was the beginning of the Imperial Clan’s infamies. I have not known such a terrible time for the Empire. Our leaders are liars. Our legacy is being stolen. We are being cheated, all of us, but you have lost more than most, my dear.”
He was definitely at odds with the current state of the Empire then. But had he gone all the way to the Basma’s side? And if so, how involved was he?
Doing her best to look lost and forlorn, Narpok said, “Starting over will be hard for me.”
“It need not be. I have a son.”
The still-childish part of Narpok recoiled at the idea of any woman wanting a man as malformed as Maf. She reminded herself again that she too was probably considered damaged. The only difference was that her shortcomings were those of mental abilities. Given a choice between the two, Narpok would have wished herself the twisted body rather than the unreliable mind that broke under shock. Maybe the mother of Maf’s child was like her and recognized inner health was far superior to outer beauty.
Because she was so far behind in current events she was forced to ask, “Oh, so you clanned?”
He shook his head, a brief flash of sorrow crossing his face. “My appearance puts off many. It takes a special Matara to see beyond the outside.”
Narpok nodded. It was a shame he had not found himself a Nobek and Imdiko that would allow him to clan the Matara who’d loved him enough to give him a child. She would be a special woman indeed, not shallow like Narpok and so many others.
Maf’s face brightened. “I cannot be with the woman I love, but I do have a son. A Dramok, no less. With a Nobek and an Imdiko.”
“I congratulate you. Children are precious.” The thought brought pain to Narpok. One of her many shortcomings before discovering she couldn’t have children had been the selfish wish to never give birth. She’d wanted all the attention for herself, to not share it with anyone. Particularly babes who would assuredly steal her limelight.
Stupid, stupid girl, she chastised herself. She had so much to make up for. What little she’d discovered about the growing revolution against the Imperial Clan and Royal Council seemed like a golden opportunity to make her pathetic life count for something. She just needed an in.
Maf was speaking again, and Narpok forced herself to attend. “In most cases, my son’s clan would make a lucky Matara wonderful mates. I think you would make them the lucky ones, however. Would you like to meet them?”
By the ancestors, this is what he wanted? To play matchmaker for his son? Narpok’s disappointment was complete. She decided to put Maf off as quickly as possible and get the hell out of here.
Her tone chilly with all her former haughtiness, she told him, “I am infertile. I cannot give them children.”
He waved her off with an indulgent smile. “That does not matter. Most of our women are just as you. It does not make them any less wonderful. All that matters is that you are Kalquorian through and through. No Earther blood belongs among us.”
“Even though we are going extinct?”
He spoke with the fervor of a fanatic. “It is better this way. I believe that with all of my heart.”
Did she dare to come right out and ask for the truth? She had to. “So you support this Basma I’ve been hearing about, I take it.” She was careful to keep her tone casual, as if it was not such a big deal.
He didn’t hesitate for an instant. “I do, and let me tell you why. He will avenge women like you who have been shoved aside. He will keep intact our glory. He will make our memory immortal.”
Maf really did sound like a revolutionary. His voice shook with fervor. Maybe this hadn’t turned out to be a waste of her time after all.
A smile spread over her face, and she regarded him with delight. “He guards our place in history. He will cast aside the Earther infestation that would steal Kalquor’s proud name.”
Maf’s eyes widened with excitement. “Exactly! The Basma will save us by letting our legacy live on after we die.”
“You have met him? Is he truly devoted to leading Kalquor to the right path?”
Maf leaned forward. In an intimate whisper he said, “I know him very well. Nothing means more to him than eradicating the Earther infestation from our proud Empire.”
Narpok’s heart drum. Maf knew the Basma! “And your son feels this way too? His clan is with the Basma?”
Maf’s zeal dimmed at the question. He looked downright uncomfortable, and not because his poor body pained him. “My son allies himself with no one, at least not until recently. His loyalty to the true Empire may be threatened, the Empire of the Basma. But he is a good man, devoted to his clan. He is only young and confused right now. He needs coaxing.” He nodded at her. “He needs someone close to him to help him find his way.”
Narpok wondered how a man’s own father could not be influence enough to sway him. Maf and his son must have had some sort of falling out, and he saw her as the instrument to endear him to his child again.
She wasn’t fond of being used in such a way, but her fervor to join the rebels was reason enough to play along. She asked, “But won’t your son mind that I cannot give him children? And the other matter, that of my breakdown. He won’t be bothered my mind is weak?”
Maf looked at her with warmth that told Narpok he saw her as a kind of savior. She was indeed a path for reconciliation with his son. In a heartfelt voice he said, “My beautiful child, your troubles will make you more precious to him. And when he sees the wonder that is a true Kalquorian woman, all his doubts will fade. I know he will adore you. Will you meet with him, Matara Narpok?”
Maf was in league with the Basma. He knew the man who would bring the Imperial Clan to its knees once and for all. If she played her cards right, she could get in too. Not just be a part of the rebellion, but join its inner circle.
The opportunity to pay them all back...
She gave Maf a sad, sweet smile. “I would love nothing more than to meet your son and his clan – but I am not what I was. I have no pretty gowns to disguise my recent illness. I have nothing to attract a man worthy of the rank of Dramok Maf’s son.”
He seemed a little surprised though still eager to strike the bargain. “I could help, but surely the estate of Clan Pwaldur goes to their only child?”
“Of course, but I am in hiding. If I’m seen, won’t I be taken back to the hospital? Sitrel took me out without Dr. Govi signing the certificate of self-sufficiency.” She glanced at her cousin, who she’d almost forgotten was there. Sitrel had stood in one corner, silent and watchful.
“Well, we knew it might be some time before the psychologists were comfortable with your remarkable recovery,” Maf said in a musing tone. “I suppose we should buy you a gown or two.” He looked at the dress she wore, some secondhand frock found in a hurry. It didn’t fit quite right, hanging loose at the bosom and waist.
She smiled, knowing she still looked wan and unhealthy. As she bartered to make Maf pay for what she wanted so badly, she did her best to look both pathetic and appealing. “Yes, I should have the right clothes, gowns that fit correctly to make the best possible impression on a potential clan. That won’t be easy as I’ve lost weight. I’m a bit scrawny for a Kalquorian woman, wouldn’t you say? If not for my height, I could probably wear Earther clothes. I’ll have to be properly measured.”
Maf blinked at her, overwhelmed by the rush of words. “Are you saying you want to shop for clothes yourself?”
Narpok burst out laughing. “Well, you can’t expect Sitrel to find anything good, can you? He picked this awful thing out. I’m embarrassed to be seen in it!”
“But if you’re seen by the wrong people—”
She waved off his concern. “The one good thing about what’s happened to me is it wouldn’t be hard to disguise me from most people. I hardly look like the woman I was before I became ill. Besides, Dr. Govi isn’t likely to come across me in a dress shop. The Imperial Family has dressmakers come to them rather than shopping in the marketplace.” She snorted in derision. “Empress Jessica, her mother, and her friend Michaela liked to come and gloat over my downfall from time to time. They were my only visitors, you know.”