Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 (22 page)

“Greetings, my Oracle,” Habib Ibn Mahomet said. “I trust you have been made comfortable in your new home.”

She inclined her head in a graceful bow. “Quite comfortable. I thank you.” Valdis sheltered behind distant courtesy. “My rooms are lovely.”

“As are you,” he said, patting the cushion beside him. “Sit.” He clapped his hands and all the servants placed their trays of food before their master and scurried away, like roaches fleeing sudden torchlight. “You may remove your veil. We will eat together and grow better acquainted.”

Valdis had never felt less like eating, but she managed to slip small bites between her lips, hoping not to enflame her master's passions. Between nervous bites, she asked questions, encouraging Mahomet to talk about himself so she might learn something of value to report to Damian. Habib was not shy about his exploits and regaled her with tales of his youth in Cordoba, hunting with trained cheetahs in Africa and business dealings in the great cities bordering Middle Earth's Inland Sea.

“But I did not bid you here to speak of myself,” he finally said after doing just that through five courses. “It is time for me to learn what my hard-earned coin has bought me in you, Valdis of the North. You have said that your power comes when it wills, yes?”

“That is true.”

“Then what good is it? If I own the finest steeds in the Hippodrome and have no driver to control them, what do they profit me?” He leaned on his elbow, considering her carefully. “You really are most enchanting. Of course, your eyes are a bit disconcerting, but I will admit the light and dark of them is alluring in its own way. And your skin—it is like milk.” He ran a blunt finger from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. “Is it so all over?”

Valdis swallowed hard. “Yes, master. Pale and pasty from head to toe.”

“Let us see.” He sat up straight and clapped his hands. “Remove your clothing.”

“But surely Publius explained to you that—”

“Ah, yes, if I wish to preserve your powers I must also preserve your virginity. He did tell me,” Mahomet said. “Removing your clothing in my presence will do no damage to your purity and it will help me make a decision.”

She swallowed hard. “What decision?”

“Whether or not preserving your powers is worth my sacrifice. You see, my Northern blossom, there is nothing I enjoy more than introducing an innocent to the pleasures of the flesh. They present so many... possibilities.” His pleasant smile faded and his features hardened. “Disrobe. Now.”

Valdis stood, trying to control her tremble. If she refused, she knew more than a beating on her feet with a bastinado awaited her. Habib Ibn Mahomet wouldn't just order her torture—he'd deliver her punishment himself. Remembering that Mahomet enjoyed inflicting pain on Landina, Valdis suspected he might be roused by her fear. She removed her headgear and let her hair fall to her waist.

“This is truly a bad idea.” She fumbled with the tiny buttons running down the front of her tunic. “You do not yet understand the scope of my abilities.”

“That is precisely what I am trying to ascertain. Do not speak again unless I bid you,” he commanded. “If you require assistance, I will ring for Publius.”

The only other person she would welcome seeing at that moment was Erik, with his battle ax drawn. But since that would endanger them both, she pushed him from her mind. The thought of another pair of eyes witnessing her discomfort stiffened her spine.

“No need to summon Publius.” She shook her head and continued with the buttons. “I can manage.” When she unfastened the last one, she shrugged the tunic off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

“Pull your hair back,” he said. “It is lovely, but it is obstructing my view.”

She pushed her long locks behind her shoulders, baring her breasts to him.

Mahomet stared at them wordlessly for several heartbeats. He ran his tongue over her lips. “Come. Kneel and present yourself to me.”

Fortunately, Chloe had prepared her for this formality. Valdis cupped her breasts with her hands and knelt before Habib Ibn Mahomet. She arched her back, as was customary for an odalisque, thrusting the pink tips toward him.

“My breasts, my breath, my very life, all are yours, my master,” Valdis whispered the prescribed words as she squeezed her eyes shut. This was worse than her recurring nightmare. This was a dream from which she could not wake.

“My other women are brown or berry-colored here. You are pink. I would not have imagined them so,” he said as he drew small circles around her nipples. He pinched one till she drew back in pain. “Stand.”

Valdis raised herself to her feet, hoping to have failed this test. To her dismay, he grasped the waist of her filmy skirt and yanked it to her ankles. Then with infinite slowness he untied the drawstring holding up her baggy trousers. He hooked a finger on each side of her waist and drew the garment down by finger-widths. She lifted first one foot, then the other as he pulled them off. Save for the jangling jewelry shackled to her ankles, wrists and neck, she was naked as a babe before him.

“So it is true,” he said in awe as he tugged at her blond pubic hairs. “They are golden, just like the hairs on your head. We pluck our women here, you see. They are bare as a young child when they come to me and I would have it so. But this, like spun gold ...” He pulled several strands through his fingers. “I forbid you to pluck even one.”

“I will obey,” she said, the thought of yanking out those small hairs reminding her of her new master's devotion to pain-giving. She stepped back a pace. “But before you make any decisions, I must tell you more of my other powers so you have complete knowledge of my abilities.”

“Complete knowledge of you is exactly my aim.” He ran his jeweled fingers down the length of her thigh.

She knelt, letting her hair fall forward to provide a partial covering again, and picked up the small leather pouch she had tied to the waist of her trousers. “I may not be able to control when my visions come upon me, but with these bones, I can divine the answers to many questions. How often have you wished for a window on tomorrow?”

“What man does not wish for such a thing?” He frowned, intrigued despite himself. “How does it work?”

“In good time, my master," she replied."But first, let me dress. My purity may yet be intact, but being in your presence thus will dilute my understanding of the bones. I would present you with inaccurate interpretations.”

“Bah! Get on with it, then. And if you please me not with this parlor trick, I have in my mind several other ways you will be of use to me. All of them delightfully painful.”

“My dear, you were a triumph tonight,” Publius said as he escorted Valdis back to her rooms. “I’ve never seen the master more delighted by an odalisque, though for your sake, I am sorry he sent you away and called on two others to minister to his bodily needs. What kind of magic did you work on him?”

“One of the oldest kinds.” Valdis was still breathless from her unexpected success. “It's called
seid.”

“The master said you saw the events of tomorrow as though they were yesterday.” Publius shook his head in amazement. “Damian told me you were gifted, but I had no idea.”

The eunuch practically bowed to her as he made his hasty exit. Valdis was unprepared for the way her predictions tipped the balance in all her relationships. She felt slightly light-headed still, remembering how effortless it had seemed.

At first, when she was unable to control her trembling, she feared Mahomet would sense terror for what it was, not as the manifestation of power she claimed. Then she gathered the bones in her hand. From the first throw, all that she'd gleaned from the old
seid
-woman in Birka came back to her with stark clarity. She saw patterns in the bones, meanings that she didn't have to fabricate. Her master was fascinated.

Perhaps she had more
seid
abilities than she thought.

There was only one time when she substituted Damian's prediction for the one she saw in the bones. Mentioning the imperial nephew directly by name seemed too obvious. When she described the bones alignment signifying the lion rising on the wings of an eagle, she thought Mahomet might jump out of his skin. The symbolism was potent. Leo, the emperor's nephew, was obviously the lion and the Byzantine eagle was the ubiquitous symbol of Imperial power.

If Mahomet hadn't been thinking of backing Leo before, Valdis was sure her performance tonight convinced him it was in his best interests.

As she settled into her bed she wondered if that was Damian's real objective all along. What if the chief eunuch wasn't uncovering a plot as much as he was hatching one?

Valdis shook her head. What a fanciful notion! Damian lived and breathed for the good of the Bulgar-Slayer.

Didn't he?

The lion reared on its hind legs, leaping after the eagle, that swooped barely out of reach. On one pass the eagle grasped the regal mane and yanked out a chunk with its sharp talons. The lion’s
cruel claws sent tail feathers fluttering to the ground like oversized snowflakes in a late spring storm. The eagle dove back down and this time the great cat plucked the raptor from the sky. They rolled together in a blur of golden fur and beating wings, beak and tooth, talon and claw.

From the North, a mighty roar drowned out the cacophony of screech and growl. The otherworldly sound made the lion and the eagle stop fighting. A Nordic dragon bore down upon them, its leathery wings outstretched. The lion and eagle stood shoulder to shoulder to face the dragon. Flames erupted from the lion’ s mouth, incinerating the dragon in a fiery blast. The dragon sank into a boiling sea.

“No!” Valdis cried out as she woke. This night phantom with its flash of blood-reds, scent of sulfur and screams of the dying beast was even more disturbing than her evil recurring dream.

Worse, now that she was awake, a real hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled and tried to bite down on the fleshy part of his palm at the base of his thumb. Loki woke and started growling at the intruder.

“Be quiet. Valdis, it's only me.” Erik's voice rumbled into her ear as he released his hold on her. “And for both our sakes, shut that damn dog up before he brings the house guard down on us.”

“Loki, shh!” she ordered. Then, because she was still in the grip of the nightmare, she reached up to feel the man's face, just to make sure it really was Erik. His beard met her palm. “Oh, it is you!”

“Were you expecting someone else?” He settled onto the side of her bed with a grin. “How many runic messages did you leave in the garden, woman?”

She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, reveling in his scent, his warmth, the steady thump of his heart. His lips found hers and she gave herself up to him, surrendering her mouth to his exploration. Then she thrust her tongue and nipped at his lips in love play. In the darkness, he enveloped her, climbing atop her and pinning her against the linens. She welcomed the weight of his body.

“I came as soon as I could. The guard was annoyingly vigilant tonight.” He suckled her earlobe, sending tendrils of pleasure sweeping over her. He slid off her and snuggled her close to his side.

His fingers dipped into the hollow between her breasts, touching and teasing. Her breath came in gasps. “How did you sneak past the eunuchs stationed at the top of the stairs?”

“Stairs are for weaklings. I used the vine and trellis outside your window. It is as sturdy as it looks.” He untied the drawstring at her neckline and parted her night shift to bare her breasts. His face lit with desire. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, aching for his touch. As if in answer to her unspoken plea, he lowered his head and nuzzled her with his nose and lips, his beard and warm breath tickling her.

Languid warmth stole over her limbs. She sank into the heat of bliss. A low drumbeat started in her womb, throbbing for him.

“So you read the message without any trouble?”

“I had a good teacher,” he said before shifting attention to her other breast. “I thought night would never come so I could answer your summons. It doesn't take much to lure me to your bed, Valdis.”

Suddenly she remembered why he was there. She had to warn him. She grasped his hair and pulled his head up. “I didn't invite you to my bed to dally. I need to talk to you.”

“Talking is vastly overrated.” He circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

A jolt of desire streaked from her breast to her womb. “But I have to warn you,” she said, torn between the need to tell him of her fears and the need for him to continue pleasuring her.

“Warn me of what?” His hand stole under the bedclothes and found her bare knee. The callused palm sent messages of delight up her thigh. Her legs parted slightly of their own accord.

“You're in terrible danger,” she whispered as his mouth trailed down to her navel.

“I am now,” Erik said with a smile in his voice. “If they catch me in your chamber, I'm a dead man. But I don't care. All I want is you and if you send me away now, I swear Valdis, I'll be the first man in Miklagard to die of love.”

With tremendous effort, she straight-armed him and wiggled away. “Erik, I'm serious.”

“What makes you think I'm not?”

“Men speak easily of love when they think it will gain them a bedding.” She climbed out of the tangled linens and stood to put some distance between them. “Then by morning's light all talk of love is forgotten. Besides, there are more important issues at stake right now.”

“More important than love?”

“Even more important than love. I'm talking about your life. Damian knows you're here and he's—”

“Do you think I fear that ball-less wonder?”

“No, but you should.”

“The day I fear a eunuch is the day I fall on my own sword.”

“But I've had such an evil dream—two of them really, and you're in mortal peril in both.” The echo of the dragon's dying scream was still fresh in her ears.