A Distant Tomorrow

Chapter 4

GAIUS PROSPERO looked across the table at his guest. His thick fingers closed about the stem of the jeweled goblet by his right hand. He lifted it to his lips, and sipped the wine within appreciatively. “So, you depart tomorrow, Arcas.”

The young Coastal King nodded. “In the morning.”

“And you will not forget your promise to support me in the vote before you go?” Gaius Prospero’s cold dark eyes narrowed as he looked at Arcas.

“You have my vote, my lord,” Arcas said. “Though the council is disbanding for a recess, I will return when it reopens again.”

Gaius Prospero nodded, satisfied. “I am told that the widow of the Outlander, Vartan of the Fiacre, is visiting with your father. It is said he is quite taken with her beauty. Lara is an ambitious girl, and now that her little orgy among the savages is over with, I suspect she looks to wed higher. The passage of years makes it impossible under our laws to enslave her again. She would even be safe in the City now. But perhaps living by the gentle sea suits her better. An old man could be tempted by such faerie beauty, and her magic could make an elder potent again. If she loved him, she might even give him a child.” He smacked his lips appreciatively. “I would have liked to have her, but I could not bring myself to squander half her value just to satisfy my lustful cock.” He chuckled.

“Do you have spies everywhere, my lord Gaius?” Arcas asked his host dryly.

“Everywhere,” Gaius Prospero agreed with a smirk. “I hear your father and Lara ride each afternoon along the beach. The soft earth would certainly make a good bed.”

“It does,” Arcas answered, not showing his irritation. “I’ve taken many a girl in the dunes by the sea, my lord Gaius.” Was the smug and power hungry Master of the Merchants suggesting that his father was Lara’s lover? The thought that his father might have gotten what he could not have infuriated Arcas. A long time ago Lara was meant to be his personal Pleasure Woman, but that the Head Forester had seen her and paid an obscene sum to possess her. When Arcas had learned of Vartan’s death several months back from the ubiquitous Jonah, Gaius Prospero’s valued right hand, he had begun to consider the possibility of having Lara for his own again. Once he had told her he would never have kept her as a slave—but that had been a lie. If he could have her, he would imprison her in his apartments and never let her free. She would be only for him. For his pleasure. For his eyes alone.

To consider that his father had gotten there before him was a thought not to be tolerated. Archeron was newly widowed of Arcas’s mother. Could he have loved Alina, and been so quick into another woman’s bed? Yes, he could, if the woman was Lara! And Gaius Prospero knew it or he wouldn’t have said it. Arcas thought the Master of the Merchants had actually enjoyed imparting the information to him. Damn Gaius Prospero to Limbo, he who intended packing the new High Council with his adherents, and having himself elected emperor of Hetar! But the pleasant smile Arcas wore never faltered. Finally he arose.

“I should be getting back to the Council Quarter,” he said. “King Balasi and I want to depart early. I will see you in a few weeks, Gaius Prospero. My felicitations to your two wives, the lady Vilia and the lady Anora.” Then with a bow he left Gaius Prospero. He did not look back, or raise his hand in farewell.

The Master of the Merchants smiled to himself as his guest departed. He had been unable to resist taunting King Arcas with thoughts of his father and the beautiful half-faerie woman. He knew how very much the younger man desired Lara. When the Winter War of five years ago had ended, and Gaius Prospero had gathered all the information he needed to learn how he had failed to annex the rich mountain region of the Outlands, the Master of the Merchants had discovered that the daughter of the Crusader Knight known as Swiftsword was responsible in great measure for his defeat. It was she who had advised the Outlanders against him. At first he could not believe it. He had been amazed that the exquisite creature he had bought from her father to sell into one of the great Pleasure Houses of the City had become such a skilled warrior and strategist. Once he had lusted after her himself, but now he considered her his enemy. He would have his revenge on her for that earlier defeat, and engineering her husband’s death was just the beginning. And yet he wondered, if she came into his life again, would he still desire her?

It had taken five years to regain his popularity among the people. Five years to quiet the outcry against him by his fellow magnates, to calm the leaders and men of the Mercenary Guild. Seven carts piled high with Hetarian dead driven into the heart of the City was not a memory easily erased. And though they had buried those unfortunate dead quickly in mass graves, the stink of their rotting bodies had lingered in the air for days, reminding everyone of just what had happened—and who was responsible.

It hadn’t been his fault, he convinced himself. But he had been unable to ride out in the streets for weeks afterwards. On the rare occasions he had ventured out, surrounded by mercenaries paid to protect him, people had cursed him and thrown refuse at him. He could never forget that, nor would he forget those who had turned away from him in those wretched streets, or refused to return his messages. He knew they plotted against him, but most were still fearful of his wealth, which could yet buy death for Gaius Prospero’s enemies. They might hate him, but he still wielded some small power.

The Head Mistress of the Pleasure Mistresses’ Guild owed him a great favor for having sent Lara from the City to be sold. She had come to him some months after the Taubyl Trader had taken the faerie girl away and told him so. He had not wanted to see her, but Jonah had convinced him otherwise, reminding him that to lose the lady Gillian’s favor was an error he did not want to commit.

“You do not want to lose her allegiance, my lord. There will come a day when you can hold her to account, but now is not the time.”

So Gaius Prospero had welcomed the lady Gillian, and offered her refreshments and listened while she apologized to him.

“I know you are angry, Gaius, and disappointed by my decision in the matter of the faerie girl, Lara, but she really would have been too dangerous a possession for any of our Pleasure Houses to hold.”

“You have cost me a fortune,” he had grumbled at her. “I had to buy Vilia a new cart and horses to match. I had promised her, and had I not purchased them she would have complained, and many would have believed I couldn’t afford them. And the girl ended up escaping from the Forest Lords, and in the end has led this Winter War, which has almost destroyed me, Gillian. The monetary loss is bad enough, but worse, my prestige has been threatened.”

“Gaius, Gaius,” she murmured soothingly. Then she had come and sat in his lap and begun kissing him with slow, hot kisses. Her tongue slipped into his mouth to play with his. One arm curled about his neck, while her free hand found the opening in his robes, and began to fondle his sex. When it was rigid the lady Gillian positioned herself so that she might absorb his fleshy cock into her body. “There now, Gaius, isn’t that nice?” she purred at him. “I know taking pleasures cannot really make up for your loss, but I want you to know that despite everything that has happened I still consider you my dearest friend, and I will always ally myself with you in whatever endeavor you pursue. And I will advise the Guild of the Pleasure Women to follow my lead as well.” Her arms wrapped about his neck, and she tightened the muscles within her sheath around him.

Gaius Prospero groaned with pure delight. When she leaned back he reached out and fondled her large breasts beneath her gown. “Gillian, you are an amazing woman,” he told her. “Now ride me to ecstasy, you delicious bitch, and I will consider forgiving you.”

And so she had, and while she did Jonah watched with both amusement and interest. The Head Mistress was a powerful friend to have, and Gaius Prospero would have been foolish to make her an enemy. After she had gone, Gaius Prospero had admitted as much to Jonah. With her allegiance assured, Gaius Prospero set about rebuilding his alliances.

He soothed the Guild of Mercenaries and the Order of the Crusader Knights with promises for the future. They would take the Outlands, but first they must rebuild their forces. It would take time and careful preparation, Gaius Prospero told them. Hetar would not fail again. They had moved too quickly before. This time, he would put all his own personal resources at their disposal, and Hetar would triumph.

With Jonah by his side, Gaius Prospero had worked out just how the acreage belonging to the Outlands would be divided up. Jonah cleverly divined just whose aid was most needed by his master. They were given their choice of land or slaves. And of course, the Midland farmers must be given land as well. Each year the old farms produced less, for the earth was tired, and this condition was causing a scarcity of foodstuffs. New farms needed to be opened up, new orchards planted, new pastures sown for grazing.

It had been difficult for Gaius Prospero in those early days following Hetar’s defeat.

But Gaius Prospero had managed to keep his head above the water in those dark days. And much of his success was due to his former slave, Jonah. Jonah was clever, and he always looked ahead. Although he prided himself on his own mental skills, Gaius Prospero was not above using the abilities of others, and in Jonah he recognized an ambitious man. Better to have that man on his side. He had offered Jonah his freedom on the condition he remain with him for a term of ten years. It was not a verbal agreement, but one that was written down, and signed by both parties. Jonah even insisted on paying his former master the price of a sturdy male slave in order to make certain the transaction was completely legal and could not later be challenged. Two copies were made, one to be held by Gaius Prospero, the other by Jonah—although the Master of the Merchants did not know where his former slave kept his copy.

And so, working together they had struggled to rebuild Gaius Prospero’s reputation. It had taken longer than the Master of the Merchants had thought it would, and it had certainly cost him a great deal more in hard coin than he had thought to spend. He had opened his storehouses to feed the many poor in the City during the winter months. He had given free entertainments in the public stadium, and held races open to the public with prizes that while unimportant to him were considered generous by the people. And he had taken a second wife in a public spectacle that delighted the City and had capped his return to favor.

Usually a magnate wanting another woman to wed divorced his current wife. But Hetarian law allowed a man to have three wives at one time. When Gaius Prospero had married Vilia he had divorced his childless first wife, Hedda. Vilia was quite adamant in that she would not play second wife to another woman, and Hedda was more than willing to accept a generous settlement to let him go. Only later did he discover she had been cuckolding him with a younger man. But Vilia, beautiful and already burgeoning with their first child, soothed his ego with caresses and kisses.

Gaius Prospero knew, however, that Vilia would not divorce him so he might wed another woman. And divorcing Vilia who was the mother of his four children would have been a ruinous proposition. Particularly given the expense involved in regaining his reputation. When he had told her he planned on taking a second wife she had, to his great surprise, laughed.

“Do so,” she said to him.

She loosened her gown, revealing her wonderful breasts. He had always been fascinated by her bosom, and he could not take his eyes from it now. “You do not mind?” Unable to help himself he reached out and began to fondle her two full breasts.

“No,” she told him. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her lips.

Suddenly he was suspicious. “Have you taken a lover, Vilia?” he demanded, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Again she laughed. “I am not Hedda, Gaius. You are all the husband I want. But if the truth be known your appetites are too great for me to satisfy. I am happy to let another woman carry some of the burden. It is your Pleasure Woman, Anora, is it not?” She smiled as his hands became gentle again. “I imagine you are tired having to constantly go to her only to find her engaged with another, when it would be so much simpler to have her here with us.”

He nodded, amazed at the depth of her understanding.

“You must make the wedding a great public entertainment. To take a Pleasure Woman, buy her freedom and then wed her will but cap your return to popularity, husband. I shall welcome her before the masses, and we will provide a celebratory feast for all in the City,” Vilia said. “At the end of the evening I shall lead her myself to the bridal chamber, and we shall offer gifts to all the children who are born nine months to the day of your wedding to Anora.”

Gaius Prospero had been astounded by Vilia’s cooperation and her clever suggestions. He had rewarded her by putting her on her back then and there and using her lustily. He would never divorce Vilia now, he decided. She was a perfect first wife—and far too valuable an ally.

Vilia had been true to her word, arranging a great public celebration of his marriage to Anora to welcome this new wife. The Master of the Merchants had never known such utter bliss in his home life. The two women even conspired to entertain his lusts together now and again. He was amazed, and more than pleased by their cooperation. He had gold. His lustful desires were constantly and well satisfied. There was nothing left for him to desire but complete power, and it was now within his reach.

His clever plan to assassinate Vartan of the Fiacre had been genius. He had learned of the jealousy harbored against the Lord of the Fiacre by his younger brother. The brother was, if his spies were to be believed, unfit to rule. He was a young man filled with a sense of his own importance, which was based on naught. The Master of the Merchants secretly contacted Adon’s ambitious wife, Elin, having first sent her a faeriepost to arrange a meeting place with her in the Outlands. He had flattered and cajoled her until the stupid creature had been convinced to do his bidding. She, in turn, persuaded Adon that the lordship of the Fiacre should be his and not his brother’s. She prevailed upon her husband to do Gaius Prospero’s will, assuring him that he would be both rewarded and supported by this powerful man. And then she gave her husband the dagger with the poisoned tip that he was to use to accomplish his task. When he hesitated, Elin nagged Adon until finally he acceded to her wishes.

Now with Vartan dead, Gaius Prospero’s first order of business when spring came again would be to invade the Outlands once more. Vartan and Lara had been the heart of the Outlands’ resistance. With the Lord of the Fiacre dead and his wife driven away by Adon, the Outlands would fall into Hetar’s hands. Oh, there had been a message to the High Council that an Outlands lord named Rendor was now their council head, but this fellow, whoever he was, would not have Vartan’s influence. And he would be the first of the lords to be executed when Hetar claimed the Outlands.

In the meantime, it but remained for Hetar’s High Council to make Gaius Prospero their emperor once the winter recess was over. Emperor Gaius I—he liked the sound of it, the Master of the Merchants considered with a cold smile. Once, long ago in its very distant past, Hetar had been ruled by a line of emperors. It had been one land then, and not divided into the four provinces. It would be one land again, and the Forest Lords, the Shadow Princes of the desert, the Coastal Kings, and the Midlands governor, Squire Dareh, would pledge him fealty and do homage to him. The Crusader Knights would be his personal army, and the Mercenaries would fight under them and police the land for their emperor. And they would all obey his will, for what Gaius Prospero desired was for the good of Hetar. The emperor would be Hetar incarnate.

The touch of a gentle hand on his sleeve startled him.

“What?” he demanded.

“It is late,” the lady Vilia said. “Your guest has gone, Gaius, and yet here you sit while your two wives eagerly await your coming. Anora says you must be punished for your neglect of us. She says your bottom must be whipped most thoroughly, Gaius. Come.” She drew him up, and led him from the dining chamber.

Gaius Prospero’s heart began to thump with excitement. He had first been drawn to Anora because of her skills at punishment, and she had taught Vilia some of her art.

“Will you both beat me?” he asked hopefully. He loved it when together they plied their custom-made whips on his bare flesh. Each of the dozen thin strands of leather flowing from the carved wood handle was tied with several knots. The knots bit into his tender skin, arousing him greatly.

“Yes,” Vilia said to his delight. “You are deserving of both of us tonight, Gaius. I hope you will be up to the task ahead,” she murmured with distinct meaning.

Gaius Prospero’s breath was already coming in short bursts as his emotions were hotly kindled. Could his life be any better? he thought happily. Everything was happening as he had planned it. Vartan was dead. He would soon be emperor. And tomorrow, Arcas would return to the coast to do battle with his own father over the beautiful Lara, who would then be forced to seek refuge elsewhere. Arcas was doing his bidding, and he did not even realize it.

And while the Master of the Merchants gloated with the success of his schemes, Arcas lay awake in his bed in the Council Quarter considering all that Gaius Prospero had said that evening. Alone, his emotions cooling, he considered that the wily Gaius could very well have been baiting him. He was a very manipulative man who did nothing not to his own advantage. Arcas’s father, Archeron, was an elder. Surely he was not truly interested in Lara as a lover. Yet Lara’s faerie magic could possibly convince Archeron that he did love her. Was his father potent enough to create another son? Would Lara’s faerie heart give him that son? Arcas tossed restlessly. The dawn could not come quick enough.

In the years since the Winter War the Shadow Princes had made an arrangement using their own magic that allowed the diplomats from the other provinces to go and come from the City immediately. Times had changed, and these representatives could no longer spend long days of travel between their own homes and the City. Each of the council members was assigned a time, and then transported to his own province on the assigned day. The last to go were the Shadow Princes, and the transport was closed by the final traveler. This prevented misuse of the Shadow Princes’ magic.

Arcas and his fellow king, Balasi, arrived shortly after dawn. They would enter the transport together, but each would reappear in their own home. With a nod of thanks to the Shadow Prince in charge Arcas stepped within the conveyance, and a moment later found himself in his father’s Great Hall. He nodded pleasantly to the servants sweeping the hall. “Good morning,” he said.

“Welcome home, my lord king,” they chorused.

“Where is my father?”

“It is his custom of late to break his fast with the lady Lara, my lord king,” a servant answered. “You will find him in her apartments in the guest wing.”

So, Arcas thought, irritated, he eats the morning meal with her. Is that after he has spent a night of passion in her arms? He hurried to the part of the palace to which he had been directed. An attentive servant flung open the door to the apartment. Arcas followed the sound of laughter through the chamber and out onto the terrace.

“Arcas!” His father arose from the table smiling, and embraced him warmly.

“Father,” he said, but his eyes rested upon Lara. She was even more beautiful, if such a thing was possible. He returned his father’s embrace, then releasing him said, “Greetings, widow of Vartan.” He quickly caught her hand and kissed it.

Lara withdrew her fingers from his grasp. “Welcome home, King Arcas,” she replied. “I know how very much your father has been awaiting your return.”

“Sit down! Sit down!” Archeron invited his son. “Eat! If I know you, Arcas, you rushed to get home, and have had nothing since last night’s dinner.”

“Which I ate with Gaius Prospero,” Arcas volunteered. He reached for the bread, and tore a large piece off the loaf on which he spread fresh butter. A servant put several hard-boiled eggs, a bunch of grapes and a slice of salted meat upon his plate. Another servant filled the goblet by Arcas’s hand with sweet frine.

“And how is the wily Master of the Merchants?” Lara inquired.

“Soon to be created emperor,” Arcas said softly.

“Your High Council is made up of fools that they would give Gaius Prospero such power,” Lara replied bluntly. “He will abuse it, for he cannot help himself. His ambition knows no bounds, my lord king.”

“She is right,” Archeron spoke up now. “If we must all answer to Gaius Prospero as the supreme ruler of Hetar then what will happen to us, my son? Will our secret remain safe then?” The older man looked very concerned.

“You have told her?” Arcas demanded. Then he laughed. “Of course you have told her. You are bewitched by her. All men are.”

“Your father told me because I asked what was on the other side of the sea,” Lara explained. “Any stranger remaining in your kingdom for a time would wonder, Arcas. There are no manufactories here, so from where do your luxury goods come? You are the most distant province from the City. Few except the Taubyl Traders have ventured here, and they remain but long enough to sell their goods and purchase yours.”

“You are clever as well as beautiful,” Arcas replied.

“And you are as bold as you ever were,” Lara noted. She then concentrated upon her meal. This young Coastal King had irritated her the first time she met him, and it would seem that nothing had changed.

“Hetar will be stronger under a single ruler,” Arcas told them.

“I think you are wrong,” Lara said. “A High Council with all the provinces represented gives a greater voice to the people of Hetar. And there is no danger to us.”

“The Outlands presents a danger,” Arcas quickly said. “They must be subdued.”

“The Outlands present no danger to Hetar,” Lara snapped. “That is Gaius Prospero’s excuse to take what is not his. Do you think we have not heard that the City is riddled with poor? That the soil in the Midlands no longer produces enough crops to feed the people? The farmers have pushed into the forest, felling trees and clearing the land to plant. That must sit well with the Forest Lords. And Gaius Prospero has even dared to venture into the sandy grass of the desert as well. Do not tell me that his nefarious plans for war are because Hetar is threatened, for it is not!”

“How can you know these things?” Arcas wanted to know.

“Do you think Gaius Prospero is the only one with spies?” Lara taunted him.

He laughed. “I suppose not,” he said. “This is a high-stakes game that is being played. The future of Hetar depends upon who wins.”

“You have land here in your own kingdom that lies fallow and unused,” Lara said to him. “I have ridden across it on many an afternoon. Why will you not share your lands with those who feed Hetar? You would not have to give it away, or even sell it. You could lease it to the farmers, and those who did not produce would not have their leases renewed. And the purpose of the land would not be for settlement, but only for growing. The Midlands farmers coming here could not bring their families. They would only work the land. They would pay their leases yearly, and then from their profits give Hetar’s government a quarter share.”

“Lease our land?” Arcas looked horrified. “It is ours. We do not want strangers coming onto it.”

“You would rather involve Hetar in another war to try and take land from the Outland clan families?”

“The Outlands are populated by savages,” he said. “They do not deserve the land. It should belong to Hetar.”

“You know you speak foolishness, Arcas,” his father said. “You are more aware than most on Hetar that the Outlands are populated by peaceful people who simply wish to be allowed to live their lives as they see fit, and as their customs dictate.”

“I will grant you Rendor is a fine fellow,” Arcas admitted, “but as for the others—” He stopped.

Lara was shaking her head. “Did you find my husband a savage, Arcas?” she asked him. “I found more civility and kindness among the Fiacre than among the good people of Hetar. Did not the mercenary Wilmot tell the High Council the truth of the Outlands when he spoke before them? For Gaius Prospero to persist in the fantasy of savagery, and to use it as an excuse to invade the Outlands, is just wrong!”

“You speak treason,” he said in a threatening voice. “You are Hetarian.”

“No, I am Lara—widow of Vartan, daughter of Swiftsword, half-mortal, half-faerie. I was born in the faerie realm and raised in the City, but I found my greatest happiness in the Outlands,” she told him. “I use the small magic I possess only for good, Arcas. I will speak against intolerance and injustice while there is breath in my body.”

“How can someone so obviously meant for pleasure debate on such things?” he asked her.

“You are hopeless,” she told him.

He did not understand her, Arcas thought irritably, but he found he still wanted her. Yet in the days that followed she grew no warmer toward him despite his many compliments. But her sweetness toward his father seemed to grow. And as Gaius Prospero had told him, Archeron and Lara rode out together almost every afternoon. They did not ask him to join them, and on one or two occasions he had suggested going with them his father had said no. Arcas had been amazed by the refusal. Was Gaius Prospero right? Was his father Lara’s lover? Still, Arcas could find no other evidence of such a relationship. And he had easily learned that his father spent his nights in his own bed, and not in Lara’s arms. This knowledge made him want her even more. Perhaps she was one of those women a man must force to his will. Of course! That would have been the way the Fiacre lord, Vartan, obtained her. Lara was a strong woman. She needed a strong man to tell her what to do, and how to do it. Then she would melt with passion.

IN THE DARK of an early winter’s night Arcas made his way to Lara’s chamber. He entered quietly, making his way to her bedside. Flinging off his chamber robe he gazed down at her sleeping form. She was exquisite. Perfectly made with lovely breasts, and just the faintest swell of belly. Her skin was like white silk. Her golden hair like thistledown. His male member was hard with his deep longing for her. He was about to climb into her bed and take her for his own when suddenly her eyes opened. Even in the dimly lit room he could see the icy green glare.

“Get out!” she said quietly.

Arcas was about to bluster a refusal when he became painfully aware that his male organ had suddenly gone limp, and was shrinking at a most alarming rate.

“Get out,” Lara repeated, “or do you wish me to make it disappear entirely, Arcas?” Her cold voice matched her cold eyes.

The Coastal King turned and fled, not even bothering to gather up his robe. Looking at it, Lara pointed a finger, and the garment disappeared. Then turning over she went back to sleep again. But when the morning came, she found she was very angry. She would not tell Archeron of his son’s breach of good manners. It would hurt the man who was sheltering her so generously, and drive a wedge between father and son. She could not do that. It is time for me to move on, she thought. But where? She listened to the roaring of the waves as they pounded upon the beach below.

To Lara’s surprise Arcas sought her out that morning. He knelt before her.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. Then he sighed. “I cannot help but desire you, Lara, and I have presented my case badly. When we first met I offended you, and now I have done it again. I apologize.”

“What is it you want of me?” she asked him quietly. “I only share pleasures with those whom I choose, Arcas.”

“And I am not one of those fortunate, am I?”

“Vartan is gone from me but six months, Arcas. I am not ready yet to love again, or even share my body again. I am sorry,” Lara told him. “Get up now.”

He arose. “Do you deny that you are my father’s lover?” he asked half-angrily.

“Yes, I do,” Lara told him. “Your father is my dear friend, but he is not my lover, nor is he ever likely to be. Is that why you did what you did, Arcas? Because you were jealous?” Her tone with him had softened.

Hearing it he nodded, lowering his head as if in shame. The bitch had refused him twice now. He would have his revenge on her. He had but to find a weakness in her character he might exploit. “Will you forgive me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she told him. He could never know she did it for his father’s sake, and not his. Arcas was a fool. She had known it the first time they met, and he had but confirmed her belief with his behavior last night. “It will please your father we no longer quarrel.”

“Yes,” he answered her. “We should be friends, and allies. My father tells me that you are interested in our trading partners from the Dominion.” He smiled.

“I am!” she said enthusiastically. “Tell me what they are like, Arcas? What do they look like? Do their women travel with them? Are there faeries in the sea?”

He laughed. “Would you like to see for yourself, Lara? I had planned to captain one of my ships to the meeting place while I was home. Travel with me, and you can meet some Terahns for yourself. And I swear to behave myself,” he concluded with a rueful smile.

Could she trust him? she wondered. Her instinct warned her no, but instinct warred with her curiosity. “Perhaps another time,” she said. “I have never traveled upon this sea of yours, and I am quite in awe of it. It is a powerful force, Arcas. I don’t think I am yet ready, or even brave enough to sail upon it.”

“Then another time,” he responded. “I will take a second voyage before I leave again for the City. Mayhap you will come with me then, Lara. It is not because you are still angry with me, I hope.”

“Nay, of course not,” she lied facilely. And she even gave him a smile.

He departed the following day, and returned ten days later. She enjoyed the time Arcas was away. She did not like the man, and he had obviously become an ally of Gaius Prospero, which did not please Archeron at all. They had quarreled the night before Arcas had gone to sea. Archeron feared a more centralized authority could endanger the monopoly the Coastal Kings had on the secret of their sea trade. But Arcas had assured his sire that he was not that big a fool.

“Do you think I want us powerless?” he demanded of Archeron.

“Of course not, but if the secret is made known we may have no choice, Arcas.”

“We are the only ones who can build sailing vessels or man them,” Arcas responded. “The magnates in the City have no talent for that, nor a way to accomplish such a task, my father.”

“The wood we need to build new ships we have always purchased from the Forest Lords,” Archeron said. “Now the City allows the Midlands to encroach into the forests.

“Gaius Prospero plans a new invasion of the Outlands. Once he has accomplished that what is to prevent him from invading our lands, building his own ships and launching them into the sea? My brother kings and I will not cooperate in this planned incursion into the Outlands, Arcas. And do you truly believe that the Shadow Princes will allow an army to cross their territory? So your powerful friends must either push into the mountains once more, or go through us. Given what happened last time what do you think they will do, Arcas? And will you help them?”

“The clan families in the mountains of the Outlands were weakened by the Winter War. They were easy to subdue the first time, and will be easy once again,” Arcas answered his father.

“The Outlands will not be easy to subdue this time, Arcas, and if you think they will be you are badly mistaken,” Lara joined the discussion.

“What do you know of it?” he asked her.

“What I know is not for your ears, Arcas, for you would immediately send off a faeriepost to Gaius Prospero. You have, I note, kept in touch with the City since your return.” She smiled sweetly, teasing him, “Unless, of course, your correspondence is poetry being sent to a favored Pleasure Woman.”

He laughed aloud, but neither confirmed or denied her suspicions. And then he had gone the following morning, and Lara had been glad to see him go. But Archeron was yet concerned by his son’s attitude, and fretted to Lara.

“If only he would choose a wife. But each year on his birthday he admires the young women presented to him, but chooses none to wed. He is older than I was when I chose Alina. If he does not marry, and beget children our line will die out,” Archeron said. He looked at Lara. “My son admires you greatly.”

“I know, but he is not the man for me, my lord king,” Lara answered him quietly. “And I yet mourn Vartan. Faerie women, even half-blooded ones, do not love lightly.”

“But he does respect you, Lara. Perhaps if you would remind him of his duty to the Coastal Kings he would see reason. He told me that he invited you on this voyage, but that you refused him. I thought you were interested in the sea, and the Dominion beyond it. That cannot have changed.”

“I was fearful of traveling upon those rolling waters,” Lara lied.

“You need not be. I will take you out in my own small boat rather than riding out this afternoon. You will see you have nothing to fear,” Archeron said.

That afternoon Lara took her first voyage upon the Sea of Sagitta, in a small boat with snow-white sails that King Archeron manned himself. She found the motion of the sea, the wind on her face and in her hair, exhilarating. And by afternoon’s end, to her utter amazement, she was controlling the small vessel herself. Each day after that Archeron and Lara sailed his small boat together. She realized that she could no longer use the excuse of her fear of the sea to avoid a voyage with Arcas, yet still she did not trust him. But Archeron pleaded with her to accompany his son when he sailed forth again. Arcas was happiest, his father said, out upon the sea. She would remind him of his obligations to his own kind, and he would hopefully choose a wife and forget Gaius Prospero’s great ambitions. Nothing must change. The Coastal Kingdom must remain the way it had ever been.

And Lara agreed because she could not offend this man who had been such a gracious host to her. She could not tell him that his son was a lustful and ambitious man who would do only what was best for Arcas. Besides, it was a short voyage, Archeron explained. She would sail to the meeting place, the cargoes would be exchanged and they would return. Archeron would tell his son to invite the Terahn to a meal so she might speak with him, and learn firsthand of the Dominion. Then they would return home.

Arcas returned with his ship’s hold filled with luxury goods. He would make another voyage in a week’s time.

“Lara will go with you this time,” Archeron told his son.

“You are no longer fearful of the sea?” Arcas asked dryly.

“I have taught her to sail,” his father replied.

“I find the sea beautiful, and I very much like riding upon it,” Lara said. “I shall enjoy meeting the Terahns, my lord king.” And as she spoke, Lara realized her concerns had vanished. Besides, what could Arcas do to her out at sea? She would travel with both Andraste and Verica as always. She wished she had her horse, Dasras, though she could only imagine Dasras’s opinion of the sea. It would not be a good one, Lara thought with a small smile. She had been wise to leave him with the Fiacre.

Several days later they prepared to depart. Arcas had turned over the master’s cabin to her although he told her he would join her for meals there. The quarters were spacious, located in the rear of the vessel with a large window overlooking the sea. The ship itself was sturdy, and built of a fragrant wood that perfumed the air most pleasantly. It was fitted with large square creamy silk sails, and flew multicolored pendants from its masts. Each of the flags flying indicated whose ship it was, and the cargo it carried, Archeron explained to Lara as they watched the vessel being loaded with large baskets of salt and silver boxes of pearls. Finally he escorted her aboard his son’s ship, and bid her farewell.

“You are bringing your sword and staff with you?” Archeron asked her, curious.

“I would never leave them alone,” Lara told him as she lay them on a table in the great cabin. “They are a part of me.”

Archeron kissed her on both cheeks. “I will see you when you return. I shall be interested to hear your opinion of the Terahns you meet.” He bowed, leaving her, and went ashore.

Lara went out upon the deck as they set sail. Being upon this large ship was very different from the smaller one in which she had first traversed the sea. She felt much safer. She reached for the crystal about her neck. Well, she told Ethne, we are off upon a new adventure, my friend. The tiny flame in the crystal flared up.

Now the real adventure begins.

Do not speak to me in riddles. You know how much I dislike it.

Look upon Hetar well, my child, Ethne responded.

Will I not see it again? Lara asked. Her heart was beginning to beat rapidly.

One day, but not soon, Ethne said. There are other places you must be to accomplish what you need to accomplish, my child.

Riddles again, Lara chuckled. I have a destiny. I am protected.

I am glad you remember it, Ethne murmured mischievously.

I cannot forget it, for you will not let me, Lara told her guardian.

Trust only yourself, Ethne warned her, serious again.

I do not trust Arcas, Lara answered. But I could not find a way to avoid this voyage. I did try. Should I leap from this vessel and swim ashore while I can?

This journey is meant to be, but Arcas will betray you, Ethne said.

Lara nodded.

Arcas now joined her as Lara stood leaning against the rail, watching the coast slowly recede. “Are you getting your sea legs?” he asked her.

“Sea legs?” She turned a puzzled glance to him.

“Are you becoming used to the motion of the ship?” he repeated with a chuckle.

“Yes,” she answered him. “It is very different, however, than sailing your father’s little boat along the shore.”

“He taught you to sail the boat?” Arcas was interested.

“I wanted to learn. Your sea is so different from anything I have ever known. I would wager that most who live in the City have no knowledge of the sea,” Lara told him. “It is quite magnificent. I hope we will have no storms. The storms I have seen roll into your coast from this sea can be frightening.”

“My ship can weather any storms,” he assured her. “I quite enjoy riding out the fierceness. To outmaneuver the wind and the waves is exhilarating.”

“I will accept your word for it, Arcas,” Lara told him with a small smile.

But the weather around them remained fair. Her first night at sea Lara slept surprisingly well. On her second day she watched great fish who escorted their ship through the waves, leaping gracefully alongside the vessel. At dinner that evening she asked Arcas a question that had been in her mind all day.

“Where are the men who sail this ship with you? I have seen few.”

“The ship sails itself,” Arcas explained. “Did my father not tell you?”

“It is alive?” Lara queried him.

Arcas nodded. “Each of our ships is imbued with a powerful sea spirit who guides it, and keeps it safe. The few men you have seen with me are here to keep the vessel company, and to load and unload the cargoes. And I have a single steward who cooks and serves us. The ship does everything else. I tell it where I wish to travel, and it takes me there. Of course the Terahns are not aware of this. I do not believe they have magic, or if they do, we have seen no evidence of it.”

“Are they not suspicious that there are so few men aboard your ships?” Lara asked him. “Surely they must have noticed.”

“The ship knows how to protect itself,” Arcas explained. “When we reach our meeting point it works its magic, and the Terahns see a full complement of sailors aboard. Some of these magical creatures even help with the cargo transfer so the time involved is exactly what it should be. If I am familiar with the captain who meets us I will ask him to join us for a meal. This way you may meet a Terahn for yourself. I believe my father told me that was the purpose for your accompanying me.”

“Yes, I should like to meet a Terahn,” Lara said.

On the third day of their voyage Lara again sat out upon the ship’s deck and watched the waves and the iridescent fish who accompanied them, leaping and arcing from the sea. She found them very beautiful. Again that night she peppered Arcas with questions.

“You say the ship is inhabited by a powerful sea spirit. Are these other beings who live beneath the waters? Are there Sea Faeries like our Forest Faeries, our Mountain Faeries and the Peris of the desert? And how did you get a powerful sea spirit to take your vessel upon itself? Do you know its name? Is it a male or female spirit?”

“There has always been a compact between the Coastal Kings and the sea spirits,” Arcas explained. “We do not know how it came about as we do not know how our trade with the Terahns began. It has just always been. When a ship is built it is then set upon the waters, and we invite one of the sea spirits to come inhabit it, and make the vessel its home. They have never rejected us. Our people are blessed by the sea. As for faeries, I do not know if any exist beneath the sea. There are ancient tales claiming a civilization there, but I have no knowledge of such a thing.”

“Magic is everywhere,” Lara told him.

“We will reach the meeting ground early tomorrow,” Arcas told her.

“I will be up early,” she assured him, relieved that his behavior had been good during their voyage. He had not touched her even casually, or made suggestive remarks to her. He had behaved well, and yet Lara sensed her instincts about Arcas were correct. He was absolutely not to be trusted. Given the opportunity, he would betray her. But to whom? And how?

She was up and dressed early. Out upon the deck she watched as the Terahn ship, quite similar to that on which she stood, approached. Their vessel already had what Arcas called a sea anchor out to keep them in place, and their white sails had been lowered, rolled and tied to keep them from blowing in the wind. The Terahn ship reached them, and took the same measures. Two wide planks with wooden handrails were placed between the two vessels, and immediately the cargo began being transferred between them. Lara watched fascinated as sailors from the Terahn ship unloaded their cargo onto Arcas’s ship, and an equal number of men from their ship hurried back and forth across the second gangway with cargo from the Hetarian ship.

By midafternoon the transfer of cargo had been completed and one of the gangplanks removed. Arcas did know the captain of the Terahn ship, and, as promised, had invited him to dine with them. He arrived in the hour before the sunset. Arcas welcomed him, and drew Lara forward to introduce her.

“This is the lady Lara, a famed leader of our world,” Arcas said. “Lara, this is Captain Corrado of the Dominion.”

The captain bowed and kissed Lara’s hand.

“I am pleased to meet you, Captain Corrado,” Lara told him.

“I had been told Hetarian women spoke,” the Terahn said. “Our women do not.” He then turned away from her, and began to speak with Arcas.

Lara was very surprised, but she had wanted to meet a Terahn. Their women did not speak? How odd. Perhaps that was why he had been so dismissive of her. Women were obviously of little importance in the Dominion. Yet without women, who would birth men? She wondered if anyone had ever considered asking a Terahn male that pertinent question.

The meal was served, and the two men continued to converse. Lara had to admit that Arcas did try to include her in the conversation, but Captain Corrado would each time answer Arcas while ignoring Lara. She wasn’t learning anything about the Terahns except that the men were horribly rude. She almost signed aloud with her relief as the meal came to an end.

“Captain Corrado has brought us a fine Terahn sweet wine to complete our meal,” Arcas said, and he pointed to indicate a little stone bottle.

The steward uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid into little silver goblets, setting them upon a tray and passing them about. First to Captain Corrado, then to Arcas, and finally to Lara.

“Let us raise a toast to the friendship between Hetar and the Dominion,” Arcas said, and he raised his goblet. “To friendship, and continued trade!”

“To friendship and trade,” his companions echoed.

Lara sipped from her goblet.

“No, lady, with this particular wine one must drink it down immediately,” Captain Corrado spoke directly to her, and then he demonstrated by quaffing his goblet.

He had actually addressed her. Lara was surprised. Perhaps she had misjudged him. Arcas had downed the contents of his goblet. Good manners required that Lara do the same, although she found the vintage a bit too sweet for her taste. It was her last memory for some hours to come.

The two men looked at the girl who had collapsed upon the floor of the cabin. Arcas looked to his steward. “Carry her across to Captain Corrado’s vessel. His steward will tell you where to put the lady.” He then turned back to his companion. “You will tell the Dominus that she is a gift from King Archeron, Corrado.”

“Not from you, Arcas?” The Terahn was curious.

“She is fond of my father. When she is told he betrayed her it will give her pain. I want her to feel that pain,” Arcas replied.

“You hate her, don’t you?” the Terahn said.

“I wanted to love her,” Arcas admitted.

“But she rejected you, and this is your revenge. Well, the Dominus enjoys women with spirit, and I imagine this one will give him great pleasure. She is incredibly beautiful.”

“She’s not a virgin,” Arcas felt he should say.

“Of course not,” the Terahn replied. “No one that beautiful would remain a virgin. Who is she, Arcas? Tell me her history. The Dominus will be interested.”

“Her father was a mercenary who became a Crusader Knight. Her mother is faerie. She was sold as a slave to advance her father’s career, but escaped into the Outlands, a lawless area, and married one of their leaders. When he was killed she returned to Hetar. As her husband was respected by his kind, so was she,” Arcas told the Terahn captain. “There is little else to tell.”

“It’s enough of a story,” Captain Corrado replied. He arose from the table. “I will be on my way now. What do you intend telling your father, Arcas?”

“I have not decided yet,” came his answer. “Perhaps I shall say the weather grew rough and she fell overboard. Despite our efforts she was lost to the sea. It is a plausible excuse, Corrado. My father is a simple man and will accept such a tale.”

The two men went out onto the deck, shook hands, and the Terahn crossed over to his ship again. No sooner had he stepped from the gangway than it was drawn back to the Hetarian vessel. He turned, but Arcas had already disappeared back into his cabin. Captain Corrado wondered what had induced him to leave the deck so quickly.

Entering the master’s cabin Arcas looked about for Lara’s sword and staff. They would be valuable to him, and she would certainly have no use for them now. But both of the objects that he sought were gone. He called to his steward. “Where are the sword and staff belonging to the lady?” he asked the man.

“Why they are there in that corner, my lord king,” the steward said. He walked to where he had directed his master, and his glance was puzzled. “They were here. I saw them when I passed by to take the lady to the Terahn ship, my lord king.”

Arcas swore under his breath. “They have followed her,” he said. Why had he not thought to enclose them in a cabinet this morning? The damned staff and sword were magic, but if they had not seen her taken away they would have been his. He swore again, but then he said to the steward, “Tell them to raise the anchor. It’s time for us to return home.”

“Yes, my lord king,” the steward said.

“It is unfortunate that the lady Lara tumbled over into the sea during a bout of rough weather, isn’t it?” Arcas told his servant.

“Yes, my lord king. Most sad,” the steward answered meekly, and he backed from the cabin bowing.

She could have been his queen, Arcas thought. Now she would be a pleasure slave for the Dominus of Terah. And the Terahns were not known for indulging their women. But it had been her choice. She could have been his queen!