House of Lust (27 page)

“We shall not rest until they are found, ma’am,” Bevil responded.

“It may take some time, Lieutenant.”

____

For Amne the past few days had been extremely busy for her.  The new accommodation for the expanding KIMM was accepted, with the provision that the soldiers themselves made the place habitable.

The men set about their task with enthusiasm.  Their equines were looked after first, the stables made and waterproofed, painted and stocked with feed.  Amne was deeply involved with organising this and all the other equipment and supplies necessary, even diverting building supplies earmarked for elsewhere to the project.

Elas let her have her way; he was relieved she was occupied fully with something he saw as worthwhile, rather than wasting her time frivolously.  She sequestered an entire section of clerks to do the paperwork, liaising with the treasury officials to ensure funds were available.

Ultimately a hundred and sixty places were set aside for the new squadrons, beasts, men and support staff.  A small office in the main council building was given to the latter, on the ground floor, and they would be responsible for the day to day running of the unit.  Captain Telekan returned from his errand deep in the farmlands of Frasia, hot, sweaty, and pleased that new quarters were almost ready for him and his men.   

Amne, though, was even more pleased.  The thought of making love to her latest intimate excited her, and she hurriedly finished off a letter to the port manager, authorising the passage of timber to the new stables without the usual importation fees.  The Koros did not need to pay themselves, after all.  She made her way to the entrance hall.  “Captain,” she hailed Lalaas, who had been listening to a street report from a militia patrol.  He dismissed the three militiamen and came over, bowing as he reached her.

“Captain, I’m going to the new KIMM quarters to check on the rebuild.  I don’t trust these contracted builders to do a proper job if my back is turned.  I need an escort.”

Lalaas bowed again.  “I’ll send two men immediately.  Oh, I’ve just heard a rumour that there’s a group in the city asking for able-bodied men to join a secretive new organisation.  I’ve had two separate reports now, so I’d be wary.  Someone is making unauthorised recruiting, and I don’t yet know who.”

“I know you’ll get to the bottom of it, Lalaas,” she smiled.  “Nobody can keep that sort of thing hidden for long.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he bowed once more and left.  He felt Amne hadn’t really grasped the seriousness of the reports.  Nothing for some time, then suddenly this.  Recruiting never went on for long; if people were going to join some force then they’d do it almost right away.  He wondered who it was and what they were going to do.  It seemed another small army was being gathered.  He fretted at the slackness of the Koros regime – clearly they needed to put these young, fit unemployed men to work, or rival factions would continue to gather these very same people to their banners.

So far they’d managed to defeat their enemies but eventually someone would come along who was better than the Koros generals and then there’d be trouble.

Amne grew impatient, but then two men turned up and she waved them to follow her out.  She crossed the square to the old Council building.  It was only a short walk but killers could be waiting at any point.  The passers-by bowed as she passed, flanked by the volgar-wielding guards, and she smiled and waved languidly to them.  The Council building had shut gates and men on guard which was good.

She was allowed access and made her way to the stables, off to one side.  The repairs had been made good and opposite them the old offices had been converted into barracks for the men.  A group stood in the open air and Amne recognised Telekan, looking around at his new quarters with approval.

“Captain,” Amne greeted him.  “Do you like your new barracks?”

“Indeed, your majesty,” he bowed, a smile on his face.  “A lot of hard work has gone on during my absence.”

“You and your new squadrons will be based here from now on.  I want to inspect the work done so that I can authorise payment to the contractors, or to demand corrections before I do so.  Please show me round.”  She turned to the two guards.  “You may wait here.  The KIMM will show you their canteen,” she looked hard at one of the junior officers who bowed hastily, and beckoned to the two guardsmen.

“Now, Fostan, I want to reacquaint myself with you,” she whispered to him as they made their way to the double door that led into the grand building.

Telekan nodded eagerly.  The sight of Amne had got his blood racing and he desired to couple with her.  He had been away too long.  They entered a long, half-decorated passageway.  Their shoes crunched on pieces of plasterwork and the sound echoed down the passageway.  “This way,” she said breathlessly.  “Nobody is working in that direction.”

She led him to a shut door, and she pushed it open.  Telekan went in first, checking the space beyond.  It was empty.  There was a narrow passageway and two doors.  The first was ajar and showed a damp and mouldy room, which they avoided.  The other door opened to an antechamber, looking out onto the courtyard from the end, and they turned left and selected the first door they came to.  A small but dry room greeted them.  Nothing was to be found within it, and the two took hold of each other and were soon locked in a passionate embrace.

Their body heat was rising and their breathing becoming ragged, and his hands were roaming over her figure.  She moaned and pressed against him eagerly, wanting to feel him again and again.

Telekan began to slip his hands down her front when he suddenly gasped and jerked upright stiffly, and fell against her.  Amne opened her eyes and wondered what was going on.  To her horror Telekan slid to the floor, striking it hard with his head.  Behind him, holding a bloodied knife, was Dragan Purfin, his hair wild and unkempt, his eyes full of hatred.

She drew in her breath to scream but the blade of the knife was against her throat in an instant.  “One sound and you die,” he hissed venomously into her face.  “I knew you’d be back here, you whore,” he growled, “you just cannot say no to the next virile stud that crosses your path.  You are without shame, you slut.”

Amne whimpered.  The knife pressed against the skin of her throat.  Her eyes rolled wildly.

“Too bad about him,” Dragan kicked the body of Telekan, “a promising career ended with his hands on a princesses’ breasts.”  He chuckled softly.  “You’ll end up the same way unless you keep quiet.”  He spun her round and pushed her against the nearest wall.  Amne wondered wildly what was going to happen next.  She felt a cloth on her back, then it went round her shoulders.  “Put this on and hide your head.  You’re too distinctive with those yellow curls.”

Amne shrugged into the cloak and slid the hood over her head and remained standing, trembling.  A rough hand took her arm and she was dragged out into the antechamber.  Her eyes went to the dirty window that overlooked the courtyard, but Dragan was already ahead of her.

“Don’t think about it – here, through this door.”  She was pushed through another door and they were then into the main part of the abandoned building, a stark, bare place that echoed with every footfall.  Dragan pulled her along, his knife still red from Telekan’s blood.  They turned right and then were at a side door.  “We’re going on a short walk.  It’s outside but not in any street.  You keep on moving and nothing bad will happen.”

There was a narrow alleyway and it smelt of refuse and rot.  Small creatures scuttled away as they made their way along it, and then they turned off into an even smaller passageway to a shut door.  Dragan produced a key and unlocked it, pushing her into the dark opening beyond.

Amne stood fearfully just inside the building and waited.  Dragan shut the door and darkness descended.  She cried out softly. 

Dragan sniggered right next to her.  “Oh, worry not my sweet, your devoted lover is with you and I won’t let you come to harm – unless I decide otherwise.  He fumbled about and Amne’s eyes began to adjust.  Shadows appeared, and a few lighter spots where daylight filtered in under doors.  A spark, a second, and suddenly a candle was lit.  The light showed they were in a hallway of some sort, and a staircase led up on one side while the passage carried on past into the deeper part of the house.

Dragan pushed her up and she went reluctantly.  His hand ran over her bottom and she tried to avoid it but he chuckled again.  “You’ve got a fantastic arse – I’ve never appreciated it like this, but I’ve never seen it ahead of me going up stairs before.”

“Dragan – please let me go.  I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

He merely laughed again, a nasty sound.  He pushed past her at the top of the stairs and wrenched open a door.  A small bedroom lay beyond, with a sagging bed of straw and ripped sheets.  The single window was masked with a dark blanket hanging from a rail above it.  “Look what I am reduced to thanks to your treachery, you back-stabbing she-canine,” he said bitterly.  “I could have had all this city, and you by my side, instead here we are, I a fugitive, you a prisoner in this shit-hole of a domicile.  I bet you’re the land owner of this eyesore, too.  Hah!  What rents are you earning from these pathetic rooms?  How many are here?  Fifty, a hundred?  How many live in these rooms?  Four hundred?  Crammed in like caught piscines in a box!”

“Dragan – please.  Let me go, I beg you!”

“Shut it,” he snarled, hauling off the cloak.  He appraised her standing before him.  “Get every piece of clothing off, now!  Or I rip them off.”

“Dragan….”

He slapped her hard across the face.  “You never hesitated to bare yourself previously.  Now get all of it off.”

Sobbing, her face stinging, she complied, struggling with some of the catches, but before long she was naked before him.  He nodded.  “Yes, hard to imagine you’ve had two kids, and you’re still in fantastic shape.  Shame.”

He pushed her onto the bed and she sagged in it, then got a whiff of stale straw.  He knelt on her stomach and suddenly there was a rope in his hands, fixing it to her hands.  He pulled her hands up and tied the rope to a hook in the wall just above the bed.  Then he moved down and fixed each ankle to another rope and tied each to the frame of the bed.  She was now helplessly tied, her legs apart, her arms above her head.  He grinned and put the knife away.

“I vowed revenge on you, you cheap strumpet, and so here we are.  It must be my birthday.”  He unfastened his trousers and slid them off, sliding up onto her stomach.  “I am going to take you repeatedly, and there’s nothing you will be able to do about it.”  He slapped her again across the face, three times, viciously, then spat into her stinging flesh. 

She shook, crying out in pain, then felt a cloth thrust into her mouth and pressed there.

“Just so you don’t make too much noise and disturb the neighbours, see,” he commented.  His knees went between hers.  “Not a sign of your precious Captain Lalaas or your doting husband.  They can do nothing to stop me,” he said, then began to painfully force himself on her.

Amne screamed behind her cloth, the agony was intense.  She writhed and struggled but he was too strong and the ropes too firmly fixed.

He didn’t stop for a long time.

____

The discovery of the body of Captain Telekan sparked a huge search around the building.  Soldiers were sent into each house, with orders not to spare any hiding hole or door, no matter how inconspicuous.

Elas led the search, directing Lalaas to lead a second squad of men in another sector.  The two guards detailed to escort her were arrested and held in the palace jail and every member of the KIMM who had seen her and Captain Telekan questioned closely.

Nobody had seen anything or heard anything.

Elas was now directing a house search around the block where the council building stood, and at the rear were some dilapidated tenements, a run-down area away from the main streets.  His soldiers kicked in doors and smashed out of the way anyone who tried to stop them.

At the doorway of yet another malodorous rodent-hole, there was a note pinned to it, addressed to Prince Elas.  The soldier who found it took it immediately to the Prince, and saluted.

Elas snatched it and tore it open and his eyes bulged when they read it.  His lips trembled with rage.  “Stop!” he shouted.

His soldiers all came to attention.  “Return to the barracks at once!  March!”

Lalaas and his squad came back once they got the order, too, and he presented himself to Elas in the palace.  “Sire, some development?”  He didn’t waste time asking pointless questions.

“Here, Captain, read this!” Elas flicked at the curling parchment on his desk, his whole attitude one of distraction.

Lalaas picked it up, turned it and slowly read the message
.  ‘If you or your soldiers enter my premises I vow to remove the Princess’s head from her lovely neck.  Dragan Purfin.’
 

“It could be a bluff, sire, or an empty threat.”

“This was affixed to it,” Elas held up a single blonde lock.  It was unmistakably Amne’s.  “That evil man has my wife at his mercy.  He shall enjoy a long slow death.”

“Sire, someone has been recruiting men of serving age into an unknown force.  It might well be him.”

Elas glared up at Lalaas.  “And how long have you known of this?”

“Since this morning, sire – I was investigating the veracity of this when this incident broke out.”