THE SHADOWLORD (22 page)

King Hasani put his elbow on the chair arm and braced his cheek in his palm. Once again, his entire attention focused on Jaelan. "So to prevent this anarchy of which you speak, you wish Lord Jaelan to be punished for his supposed crime against the Tribunal?"

"Aye, Your Majesty," Gehenna answered.

The King drummed the fingers of his free hand on his knee. "And exactly what punishment do you require, Lord Gehenna?"

"His ill-advised and unlawful Joining to the infidel woman should be put aside and she returned to her homeland."

The tense look on Jaelan's face drew the King's notice. "What say you to that suggestion, Lord Jaelan?"

"The Joining was
not
unlawful, Your Majesty. A registered magistrate in my home district of Uadjit duly performed the ceremony. I can not stop you from annulling the Joining, but should that happen, I can promise it will be a decision that will be regretted."

A gasp ran through the assembled warriors.

"As you can see, Majesty," Gehenna said, a snide smile tugging at his thick lips, "Ben-Ashaman makes threats to his sovereign lord. Obviously the woman has put a curse on your levelheaded Shadowlord."

"That was no threat," Jaelan decreed. "It was a solemn vow. The only curse on me is your unwavering attempt to have what you never will."

As another gasp filtered through the throng, King Hasani flinched. He held up a hand. "Jaelan made no threat against
me
, Lord Gehenna, nor would he. I have no intention of annulling his Joining, so put that matter aside." At Gehenna's sputter of protest, the King shushed him.
"That
matter is settled! Let it drop!"

Jaelan relaxed his shoulders. He knew the King would not have annulled his marriage, since he, himself, was contemplating a marriage to an unbeliever. He also knew the situation had grown more complex. Hasani would have no choice but to soothe Gehenna and the Tribunal in some way.

"And what is your opinion?" the King asked the man standing to Jaelan's left.

"The Tribunal demands this man be censured for his lack of respect," Chief Tribunalist Abasi Ksathra answered. He glanced at Lord Gehenna, then took a few steps toward the dais. "As the Arch-Deacon says, we can not allow even our much-respected Shadowlord to defy rules that must be followed by all Rysalians. If he is not made to atone for his conduct, then--"

"Cease your rambling, Abasi." The King fanned the air, then sighed. "You'll get your pound of flesh. Have you anything further to say, Lord Jaelan?"

Jaelan came to attention. "No, Your Majesty. I am at your command."

"Then report to the Temple within the hour so this affair will be settled."

"Aye, Your Majesty!" Jaelan agreed, striking his chest with his right fist.

The King stood. Those gathered bowed as he stepped from the dais. He cast Jaelan a final troubled look, then exited.

"Don't you ever get tired of bashing your head against stone walls, boy?" Tarsis growled when he approached Jaelan.

Jaelan ignored his mentor and turned to Aluino. "Get word to my lady that it will be tomorrow before I can come for her."

"If I know Gehenna, it will be more than a day before you can claim her," Tarsis grunted. "Tell her to await the retarded man's appearance on the day after tomorrow."

"Tell her tomorrow," Jaelan corrected, "else she'll worry. And tell her nothing about this."

"As though one of the women won't," Tarsis scoffed. "It will be all over the seraglio before you ever make it to the temple."

"Not if you see to it personally," Jaelan suggested.

Tarsis nodded, then issued a piercing whistle to a warrior standing nearby. The man came running. When he came to stand before the retired warrior, he struck his chest in acknowledgement.

"Go to the seraglio and ask for Sulaimon," Tarsis ordered. "Tell him that no news of today's happening in the throne room is to reach the ears of the women. Explain that it is by my
order
and not at my request."

"Aye, Your Grace!" The man ran through the gathered warriors, who stood talking in excited whispers.

"You enjoy your status, don't you, old man?" Aluino questioned with a twitch of his lips.

Tarsis ignored the question and searched Jaelan's eyes. "Someone should be at the Temple with you. You will not deny me that right, will you?"

"No," Jaelan drawled.

Tarsis pointed at Aluino. "You will wait outside with two of our most trusted Death Lords. Have Jael's quarters ready for his arrival, and make damned sure that redheaded viper is nowhere in sight!"

Aluino sneered. "I'll take great pleasure in preventing Saahira from ever gaining Jaelan's bed again."

"I was looking forward to sharing that bed tonight," Jaelan said on a long sigh.

"That will give you something to think on for the next few days, eh?" Tarsis slapped his protégé on the back, then slipped his arm around the Shadowlord's shoulder. "Is she as beautiful as you remembered?"

"More so."

"That's good," Tarsis remarked, "for if the prize is worthy, the expense is not so hard to pay."

Just as Aradia had begun to speak further with her sister about the Shadowlord, two dusky-skinned servants arrived to show her to a bath. She had protested, but Orithia shook her head.

"Traveling in the heat of the desert has a tendency to cause a certain ripe odor to cling to one," her sister quipped. "When you've refreshed yourself, we'll speak at length."

Now, disrobing at the edge of a sumptuous marble pool filled with water the color of sapphires, Aradia felt relief no other harem women shared the room. She was in no mood to answer questions, and idle chitchat had always bored her to tears. As she slipped into the warm, lapping waters, she sighed, the tension in her muscles relaxing. After washing her hair, she took up a sea sponge and a bar of lavender-scented soap and lathed her sticky flesh. By the time she finished, she felt sleepy, hiding a yawn as servant girls wrapped her in a large cotton bath sheet. They led her to a room prepared for her.

Aradia had seen nothing like it. Luxurious to the point of obscenity, the worth of the golden fixtures, jewel-studded lamps, extravagant silk couches, and Chalean lace bed hangings overwhelmed her. An expensive bauble sat on an elegant parquetry table everywhere she looked, or fine satin lay draped over a comfortable down pillow or mattress. The soft colors added to the relaxing atmosphere.

As inviting as the huge bed looked, Aradia could not forego a bounce upon it. Once stretched out on the silk and lace coverlet, she would not have climbed off had her life depended upon it. Sinking into the body-molding mattress, she closed her eyes and grinned.

"I could get used to this very quickly," she said, hiding another yawn.

"Do you want your meal now, Milady?" one of the servant girls asked.

Aradia started, bracing her upper body on her elbows to find the girl standing at the foot of the bed. Her gaze shifted to the tray held in the other servant girl's hands.

She licked her lips. "Aye, I'm starved."

The girls smiled in unison. One brought the tray to the bed, while the other set a small table beside it. The odors wafting through the room made Aradia's mouth water.

"Enjoy, Milady," one girl said, bowing as she backed away. "If you need anything, you have but to call. We will be just outside the door."

When the servants departed, Aradia dove into the meal as if it would be her last. She rolled her eyes to the delicious tastes that burst upon her tongue. She'd never tasted such heavenly food, and the chilled cherry wine flowed down her parched throat like nectar. She ate every morsel, despite having to stop to stifle several yawns. When she finished, devouring the little chocolate dessert cake, she set the tray on the table and lay down, sighing as her eyes began to close.

Tarsis was accustomed to seeing men punished. Over the course of his long military career, he had meted out many of those punishments himself. The sight of a man being tortured had lost its effect upon him. But as he aged, some things began to bother him--like Jaelan's punishment.

The first pass of the cat-o'-nine as it dragged down Jaelan's back from shoulder to waist made the old warrior sigh. The second pass, striping the Shadowlord from left ribcage to right, caused Tarsis to purse his lips. By the fifth pass, he frowned, knowing fifteen more passes remained before they would unhook Jaelan's wrists from the hitching post.

When the whip clawed down his back for the sixth time, Jaelan flinched. The stinging suddenly intensified to that of a burning torch laid to his flesh. The blood running down his sides and shoulders felt like acid where it passed. He shifted beneath the agony and clenched his teeth to keep from groaning, wondering why, with the mass of scar tissue already covering his torso, he should feel this pain so acutely.

His forehead creased with concern, Tarsis watched his protégé squirm against the fall of the whip. He unfolded his arms and took a few steps closer to the whipping post. If Jaelan came close to releasing his suffering in a scream, Tarsis wanted to be in front of him to warn away that notion. Jaelan would never forgive himself if he allowed his tormentors to make him cry out. It had always been a source of pride to the young man that nothing made him show emotion that could be used against him.

The tenth fall of the whip crashed the Shadowlord into the wooden post with enough force to make the beam shudder. Tarsis barely noticed it, however, when he saw the whip wielder lower the end of the whip into a bowl held by the detestable Abasi Ksathra, dipping the barbs up and down, before pulling it out again.

"What's in that bowl?" Tarsis inquired, but the pop of the eleventh pass of the whip drowned out his words.

Jaelan was beyond hearing anything. His back was on fire and it was all he could do not to bellow. He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw straining with the force. His fingers clawed at the wooden beam, and he breathed heavily through his nose with the effort of maintaining his composure. He pressed his forehead against the wood, the salty sweat dripping from his brow making his eyes sting. As the thirteenth and fourteenth blow landed almost in the same spot across his shoulders, he could not stop the whimper that burst from his straining throat.

Tarsis appeared before him. "Ben-Ashaman! Look at me!"

Jaelan turned his head, his right cheek pushed against the wooden upright. He trembled, but he set his jaw against the savagery.

"Hold steady, boy," Tarsis ordered. "Remember your training."

The fifteenth blow nearly undid Jaelan, but he bit the inside of his mouth, drawing blood, and stopped the scream that threatened to erupt.

Tarsis tore his eyes from his suffering friend and saw the whip being dipped once more into the bowl in Ksathra's hands. When the Chief Tribunalist saw he was being watched, he extended the bowl toward the old warrior. "Nothing more than water, Khnumisi. To cleanse the barbs."

"And make them sharper if there's no flesh clinging to them, eh?" Tarsis accused.

Jaelan squeezed his eyes shut and managed to endure the final five passes of the cat-o'-nine, keeping the screams at bay. But with the brutal pain, he could not manage to stand erect when men unlocked his hands from the upright. Sagging into Tarsis' arms, with the agony of contact with those steady arms too much to bear, Jaelan fell headlong into unconsciousness.

The old warrior carried Jaelan through the halls of Abbadon and to his quarters.

"By the Prophet," Aluino whispered as he opened the door. He took one look at the blood splattered on the aged warrior and winced. "Is he all right?"

"Hell no!" Tarsis bellowed, kicking the door shut. He strode through the chambers and straight to Jaelan's bed, where the covers had been turned back. "Where the hell are the Death Lords I told you to have here?"

"We are here, Your Grace," Jubil Ben-Alkazar said as he came out of the bathing chamber. "Arcan is--"

"Help me cut these clothes from the boy," Tarsis interrupted. As though the man he carried was a priceless work of art, Tarsis laid Jaelan on the bed, turning him onto his stomach as gently as he could.

Jubil called his brother, Arcan, and told him to bring a knife. He shivered when he saw the fiery condition of Jaelan's back. "Why is the flesh so red?"

"Just help me get him out of these clothes," Tarsis snarled. "We'll talk about what those gutless bastards did to him when we're finished!"

Aluino and Arcan ran their sharp blades down Jaelan's leather britches from waist to cuff, careful not to knick him. With infinite care, they peeled away the material as Jubil hefted Jaelan's hips from the blood-soaked sheets.

"Shouldn't we send for a Healer?" Arcan asked.

"Hell no!" Aluino spat. "You know how he feels about Healers!"

"But are we capable of caring from him in this condition?" Jubil asked. "I've seen men whipped before, but I've never seen their flesh turn this color."

"You've never seen the whip bobbed through whatever those sons-of-bitches bobbed it through, either!" Tarsis growled. "Water, my hairy wrinkled ass!"

"You think they put some brew on the whip?" Aluino asked.

"I don't think it, warthog. I know it!" He pinned Jubil with a fierce glower. "Get warm water and the strongest soap you can find. We need to bathe these wounds before they get infected."

"That's going to hurt," Aluino said with a shudder.

"Shut the hell up," Tarsis snapped.

When Arcan returned with steaming water, he had one of the serving men with him. Before Tarsis could shout disapproval, the Death Lord held up a hand. "I think you need to hear what he has to say."

Glowering, the old warrior came toe-to-toe with the wavering servant. "Well? What is it?"

"I...I am Kafele, Your G...grace..."

"Did I ask your name, fool?" Tarsis bellowed. "Tell me what you know!"

The servant backed up, but whined when Tarsis advanced. "I overhead Lord Gehenna ordering a Temple Guard to fetch him a jar from the Healer. When I heard what it was he wanted, I tried to find you, but you had already gone to the throne room. I--"