The High Priest is shown a long-lost edict. The right to a consort is tested. Ketrick's time in Batuk begins to show results. Thermin and Tyra come to uneasy alliance.

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The Legal Stuff: The Warrior from Batuk  © 2004, 2007 Aardvark
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 

 
Photo Credit: 3.bp.blogspot.com

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Chapter 18
 
 
The main temple is located in the southwest corner by a waterfall that feeds a stream which runs to the lake. Snow-fed, it flows greatest in the summer, is moderate in fall and spring, and slows to a trickle in winter. The height of the falls guarantees a cool mist and morning fog, contributing to that mysterious ambiance in which the Temple thrives.

The main temple is a misnomer; it’s actually a collection of buildings on grounds about half the size of the palace complex. All the main deities are represented, with temples to the main gods and goddesses, and a dome of prominence is reserved in the very center for the mysterious Overlords, Zhor’s true rulers.

It was cold. The sun generally shined directly on the complex less than half a day, in the winter, less than that. That early in the dim, foggy morning, most priests were in their beds, the hardiest treading the grounds in their colored robes of rank for exercise. Professional wailers, probably paid for by a grieving family pious enough to pay for extended services, keened, broke the silence, and there were, of course, the initiates, in unobtrusive gray robes, with brooms and baskets cleaning up to prepare for the short day.

Wanda rode behind me, Merton by my side, riding in pain. The Librarian was an odd one. As far as I could tell, he had little physical courage or interest in the real world, as I thought of it, preferring the inner realm to the outer, but he had the mettle of persistence and a loyalty that endured centuries.

When we were in sight of the Hall of Records I directed Gerhart and Zhok to cover us in the front and rear. When they were far enough away, I asked, “Merton, do you have any idea what Queen Prudence meant by hiding the edicts in plain sight?”

“No, Majesty. She never told me and I never asked. It existed, though. I saw the actual slab and the inscription.”

“Weren’t you ever curious about what happened to it?”

“Only to a point. The records of the Queen’s right to a consort were expunged from all written records in the law after she died. It wasn’t as hard to do as it sounds. Few knew of the law, and there were limited numbers of the new law books that contained the new lines. Once Queen Prudence was gone, I saw no reason to open a dangerous inquiry into a mystery that meant nothing anymore.”

“Are you curious now?”

He looked at me in surprise. “Why yes, very curious.”

“That’s good. I’m relying upon your greater knowledge of the time to help me.”

“I will do my best, Majesty.”

We halted at the hitching posts just outside the Hall, an impressive double-domed edifice of veined blue marble. Otherworldly creatures of polished black stone guarded its entrance. We had timed our arrival well; a small party of bald priests and cowled priestesses progressed towards the entrance. One rotund man in a brown robe yawned. A priestess in orange and white trim swung a silver flask of some steaming liquid by her hip.

Their conversation ceased when they recognized me.

“Majesty, welcome to the temple,” spoke the leader, a man of excellent appearance in a deep red robe. His voice was extraordinary, a rumbling bass with equal parts command and warmth. “I am Feshter, a priest of the second rank. We are overjoyed by this visit. It’s not often that a king or queen visits us.” He bowed elegantly.

I’d met men who oozed slickness like him before. With more hair and a different set of clothes, he might have been seated high in Batuk’s council.

“I visit the temples this morning, Feshter. Librarian Merton is here on a scholarly quest. I would appreciate it if you give him whatever assistance he requires.” My voice hung on the word “appreciate,” imbuing it with added meaning, the yellow kind that clinks when rolled in the fingers.

A gleam in his eye told me that he understood well enough. “It’s irregular, Majesty, but it will be done. May we help you with anything else?”

“I will pray to Ashtar and Marten. I’d like pleasing offerings made to their glory.”

“We can arrange that, Your Majesty,” he replied, bowing and sweeping.

“I’ll leave it in your hands, then.”

I left him wondering how much to offer the Goddess of Mercy and the God of War, and how much to charge. I brought my guards with me. Hopefully, anyone monitoring would follow me and waste their time.

The sun was just coming up when I reached the Temple of Ashtar and the fog had risen to the temple roof, where the gentle goddess’ aspects were carved into the facing. I walked through the twin arches, leaving my male guards behind — only women were allowed to pray to Ashtar — and then past majestic pylons and between twin silver plates on brass tripods burning with a clear flame.

A pretty attending priestess started when she recognized me. Like any penitent or petitioner, I had to remove my clothes and slippers before I entered the sanctum. I disrobed in a side room and hung my dress from a plain wooden rod, placing it by several others, and then donned a white robe. Walking down the steps to the cold marble floor, I grasped a prayer pelt from a pile.

The Goddess stood thirty feet high on a broad base in the back of the semicircular temple. Her face was polished to the translucent sheen when white marble comes alive. Wearing a simple flowing robe cinched at the waist with a golden cord, Ashtar looked down tenderly, her right arm raised to chest level, palm out, as if performing a blessing. The eyes were a masterwork, appearing to follow you anywhere.

She was a goddess for women, and I’d never been to one of her temples -- except for one time, years before, as Tyr, when a priestess with hair of red and gold had caught my eye. I made a place for myself towards the back where I wouldn’t have to crane my neck to see Her. There were others around me. A few prayed with their eyes closed; some rocked back and forth on their heels; others looked up, lost in Her eyes.

A woman to my right prayed for her son to be safe in the upcoming war. Another prayed for her husband. A third was worried about her daughter, wishing to guide her to a path of safety and away from a man would lead her to disgrace. It was simple enough, and I would be there for at least an hour to give Merton and Wanda enough time to discover the location of Queen Prudence’s edict.

For a while I did nothing except look up into Ashtar’s eyes. As Tyr, if I ever had a god to call my own it would have been Marten, but I was not a warrior. Ashtar looked down upon us all in her temple, a forgiving Goddess. One or two cast curious glances at me, wondering why I was in Her temple if not to pray. Feeling a little foolish, I decided that I had to pray, else risk unwanted talk.

What could I possibly pray to the Goddess of Mercy for?

I used to be Tyr t’Pol, a warrior with everything a man could have wanted. But I was Tyra, now. It was like denying an old friend, but I would not waste a prayer to become Tyr again.

I had killed many as Tyr. Marten would have shrugged his mighty shoulders and laughed. I'd been a warrior then, and had followed the code, honoring the dead and moving on. With this body, it wasn't as clear and my emotions were not so easy to rule. When I killed Beata's beloved, It was as if I'd inherited part of her pain, in dreams I sometimes relived the night I’d slaughtered the men in Alexander’s castle, and the deaths I was responsible for in the assault on the King, although they were enemies. I looked to Ashtar, taking my time to remember every dart I had thrown and every scream, but I found that I could not pray for them. In truth, I would have killed twice that many if it saved thousands in Batuk. Though no longer a warrior, I would still see those I killed after I died, explain my actions, and face the final judgment.

Nor would I pray for Batuk's safety. I owed her my honor and loyalty, but praying for a city was not the way. No god or goddess owned a city. The men and women of a city were its strength, their lives the essence that nourished it. If Batuk fell, it would be because its citizens had failed her. I could have prayed for the people of Batuk to overcome their complacency, but every person has his or her own will and must choose their own way. That a deity would change a person’s heart to match another’s wish was detestable. I raised my eyes to Ashtar and spoke silently.

I, Tyra, Queen of Tulem, want to stop this war. Please, Ashtar, grant my wish.

The eyes remained blank marble. Even to my inner ear, it had sounded somehow arrogant. I listened to the women around me as they prayed for their sons, husbands, and daughters. Then I had it. This was a goddess. She accepted prayers from women for matters that concerned woman. I’d been praying like a warrior.

Still, any woman would want peace and an end to the war that threatened her city. Ashtar and I were surely on the same side. A woman might ask in a different way:

My name is Tyra l’Fay, mighty Ashtar, and I am a woman from Batuk. I pray for your guidance to do what is good and right. Give me the strength and wisdom to do your will.

I saw no lights and Ashtar’s eyes remained cool, but I felt strangely better. I came off my knees, dressed, and walked out of the temple into the light of day.

Unlike Ashtar, Marten was an old friend. The Warrior God cared little for right or wrong. He loved battle, strength, courage, and generally, although not always, rewarded those who served him. His temple was in the very corner of Tulem by the waterfall where, according to the acolytes, its roar was pleasing to His ears. His temple was red marble, and the eternal sheen from the falls gave the outside the look of fresh blood -- a nice touch, I thought. Normally, women didn’t pass through Marten’s gate; normally, they wouldn’t want to.

One properly enters Marten’s temple without fear or doubt. I passed between two huge granite warriors with spears like they weren’t there and strode through doors that would have been a worthy addition to a fortress.

About a dozen knelt before Marten’s image. As different from Ashtar as it was possible to be, He sat upon a massive black stallion, holding a sword high in victory. Blooded warriors recognized the gleam of battle in His eyes and the joy of a good kill. Marten, it was said, was happiest when He was dealing death.

When I arrived, a few were nonplussed to see a woman in their midst, but they knew me from my visits to the practice field, and most respected my bloody past enough to give me a salute.

No woman could return it unless she were willing to beat her left breast, so I gave them a traditional blessing: “Warriors, may you find honor and glory!”

I made my way to the floor. There I knelt, and prayed for less than a minute, asking Him for victory against my enemies. A true god for warriors, Marten was far more interested in what you did on your feet than how long you spent on your knees. I felt nothing, nor did I expect to. This was Marten’s way. A warrior might pray for victory, booty, or glory in battle. Marten’s reply was always the same: “Prove yourself worthy, and we will see.”

Maybe he didn’t care what serum girls said, or perhaps he would ignore the plea of a woman, but I didn’t think so. Marten favored the strong, but he placed as much weight into boldness and courage, and that suited me fine.

Leaving the God of Warriors behind, I returned to the Temple of Records. Wanda waited outside, and from her expression, it wasn’t good news.

“Go ahead, Wanda,” I said.

“Mistress, the Book of Edicts goes back nearly a thousand years, but the edict we seek isn’t in there.”

“Well, we expected that,” I said, but my words belied my hopes. This would be harder now.

“And the priests are stubborn. Merton is not a member of the priesthood. They’re reluctant to let us see the vaults.”

“Right. It’s time to see how far my authority goes.” I marched into the temple with Wanda just behind.

“What’s your name, priest?” I asked the fat one in the brown robe.

“Lemur, Your Majesty. I hope your communions were satisfactory.” I deemed his smile too unctuous for a man, but the Priest Class did have a tendency to grovel.

“They went well. I'd like a tour of your vaults. I have a special interest in Temple lore.”

“We’d need permission from the High Priest to show the vaults, Majesty,” he said, his face a sweet plea for understanding, his hands twisted together in soulful commiseration.

I gave him a glare that should have melted flesh. “I would like a tour now, when it is convenient to me. Your Queen does want to be delayed over some forgone approval process.”

He blew softly, but like any mid-level bureaucrat, he knew enough to avoid a crisis over something unimportant. “Of course, Majesty. Naturally, we must ask you not to touch any of the holy relics.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Lemur. Shall we go?”

“Yes, Majesty.” He picked up a ring of keys below the counter and opened a side door to some stairs going down. I motioned to Wanda and Merton to follow. Lemur opened his mouth to protest.

“I vouch for their behavior,” I said.

Having acquiesced on my major demand, he could do little but continue. The stairs entered into a corridor carved out of solid rock, with rooms extending from both sides. He lit two lamps and handed one to me. I made sure we entered every room and listened to a full history and explanation of each, but the second to last was the one I wanted.

The room was long, with the two sides containing four rows of more than one hundred stone cases each, each case on four stone legs, about two feet long, a foot wide and a foot high -- seemingly identical in every way.

“Majesty, this is the edict chamber, where the immutable interpretations of all our high priests are stored.”

I wandered through it, careful not to get close enough to anything to make the fat priest nervous. I looked for obvious markings or differences, but found none. I said, “To think that all the holy laws are carved here is staggering. How are these arranged? They all look the same. How do you ever find anything?”

“They’re arranged chronologically. The oldest is on the left working from back to front, bottom to top and then on the other side in a similar manner. Each case contains ten edicts. But we never open them, Majesty. There is no need. All edicts are inscribed in the book.”

I gave Merton time to work out where Queen Prudence’s cases lay. He pointed them out while I distracted Lemur. I concentrated on those that Merton had shown, the four on the lower middle shelf. I nearly missed it, but there was a difference. One base extended a half-inch or so lower down the legs. Hidden behind scrollwork, one had to look closely, but it was there, in plain sight, exactly as Queen Prudence had written -- and its seal was broken. It could mean a couple of things, but I feared the worst. I had at least one more visit to make that morning, I decided.

“Lemur, when we’re through here, I’d like to continue this tour. I’d like to see your priests work. I’ve always admired fine craftsmanship.”

He sighed so softly that I had to listen carefully, but it was a sound of annoyance, on the order of being late for lunch.

In the early afternoon, I determined that I would triple the guard in the palace. I notified Master of the Guards, Gherome to expect them and to find room to quarter them.

That evening I sent a messenger to the High Priest. I had something very important to discuss with him, something that had tremendous implications for Tulem. He agreed to a private meeting by the Temple of Records.

The next night, very late in the evening, a master stone worker finished a stone tablet. He had worked hard and long for more than a day. He was a happy man, though, for he had been well paid. And if he kept silent for two more weeks, he could leave Tulem with much more, enough to keep him wealthy for the rest of his life.

***

Two days later, we rode the short ride to the main temple in the early morning. I brought the same group with me; Merton was by still by my side, but we spoke little, as he was preoccupied. Even taking his disease into account, he looked ashen. I took his hand to brace him and smiled. “Confidence, Merton. This will work.”

“I’m not used to this. This is going against everything I’ve done for two hundred years.”

“If you’re fortunate, you may not need to do it for another two hundred.”

He swallowed. “There are too many changes.... Your Majesty. I fear the future.”

“I understand, but I will do what I can; remember that.” I poked him in the ribs. Something about the bleak and humorless man inspired an urge to tease him. “By the way, have you thought about your new body? Would you prefer to be a svelte blonde or a red-haired vixen? Perhaps a large-breasted brunette is more to your taste.” I brightened. “We shall have such fun. No more trousers for you! And you will need to take bitters every month,” I shrugged. “Unless you want to bear children, but I do not advise…”

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Please, Majesty, right now I wish to survive the day!”

I gave his hand a womanly pat, which made him cringe. “We shall, Merton.”

We rode to the Temple of Records and I carefully got off my horse; it wasn’t easy riding with a thirty-pound tablet strapped to my inner thigh. With my guards and Wanda providing cover for my awkward gait, I managed to get up the steps without too much trouble.

The High Priest was just inside, his bald pate and clever eyes the same as when he’d crowned me a week before. He wasn’t completely pleased to see me. He’d heard of my forced tour the day before.

“Good morning, High Priest. I’m pleased you could meet with me on such short notice.”

“It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty. You have something important to show me?”

“I do. It happened when I toured the vault yesterday. I discovered something very interesting. I’d like to show it to you -- alone. There are implications, you see.”

“Really. Then I suppose we had better take a look, eh?” His joviality came too easily, and I disliked the way his lips stretched over teeth without the proper feeling.

“Please.”

He led the way, and we were soon in the vault. With both lanterns lit, the light was more than adequate. I placed my lantern on the lower middle row, near the case in question and turned to the High Priest, meeting his eyes squarely.

“High Priest, have you noticed that all cases except this one are designed for ten tablets? This one has space for one more.”

He bent to look at the case I pointed to. “I believe you’re right. This is amazing, Majesty!”

“So, you knew. Then you won’t have any objections if I look inside. Did you notice also, that, unlike the other cases, this one's seal has already been broken?”

He considered it. “Why not? As you say, Majesty, it has already been opened.”

“Would you please lift the covering from the case? I’m not as strong as I used to be.”

“Of course.” He picked it up with an effort and, with a faint grinding, it lifted away. He stood its end on the floor to lean against the shelves.

I took a look, holding the lantern over the edge. Plainly, there was room for one more tablet. The lords had been thorough. It had been stolen and surely destroyed, likely with the Temple’s acquiescence, probably not long after Queen Prudence had been killed. I looked dejected and dismayed.

He, also, took a perfunctory peek. He shook his head, but there was no sympathy. “Perhaps you’re right. It does look like someone did the unthinkable and removed a tablet. And yet, all the tablets and edicts are accounted for in the records.”

“What’s that over there?” I shouted, pointing my arm at the floor. “In the corner!” I moved my light to the floor to darken what I was doing. A few seconds were all that I required to slip the tablet from its leather brace under my dress and hoist it into the case. It dropped home in a gentle scrape of stone on stone, fitting perfectly with barely room for a knife’s blade around its sides. To remove it now would require special tools or dumping the entire case over.

He'd heard me, and had turned around, but too late. It mattered little, anyway. If the ruse hadn’t worked I would have held him off at knife point until the tablet was in place. He leaped for the case as fast as his legs could propel his thick frame.

“What have you done?” he screamed.

“I merely returned the edict tablet to its rightful place in the case, High Priest. Just think, a new tablet, a lost edict, rediscovered.” I grinned for us both.

“That is a forgery! You will not play games with me!”

I didn’t tell him that the copy was made using the temple’s own dimensions and text patterns, and would be indistinguishable from a real tablet, but he would discover that soon enough.

“The games are over,” I assured him. “That edict cost the first Queen nearly a year’s income as a bribe. The gold built some of the temples here. You’ll live with it, High Priest, unless you want me as an enemy.” I walked around him and up the stairs.

As soon as I reached the top of the stairs, I staggered into the room and spread my arms in righteous joy. Injecting a tone of wonder into my voice, I declared the event to wide-eyed priests and priestesses in the Temple of Records: “The High Priest has discovered a new edict! Rejoice! Come down to the edict chamber. Everyone must be a witness!”

I brought as many priests and priestesses as I could to view the miracle. Making sure I was the first one inside, I found the High Priest straining against the case in an attempt to tip it over -- a difficult task -- with the tablets it must have weighed six hundred pounds, and he had no leverage. I made a slicing motion across my throat to his reddening face and he stepped back.

Any protest he was about to make or attempt to get rid of the tablet ended there. By the end of the day, I’d sent messengers to every castle and village, making sure the entire valley knew the story of Queen Prudence and the Queen’s undisputed right to a consort. Not too surprising, the castle lords demanded a meeting in the early evening, which, of course, I granted.

***

Franco approached my throne in the audience Hall and shook his fist close enough to my face to make two of my guards reach for their swords. “You have betrayed us all!” he shouted.

I calmed my guards with a raised palm, but their eyes sharpened like birds of prey on this assemblage of the highest-ranking lords and lady in Tulem.

“I betrayed no one. I claim my right to have a consort, but…”

“Majesty! Do you have the urges of a serum girl?”

I smiled and sat back comfortably in my cushioned throne. It was good to be the Queen — if you had the power to match the title. “I do. Did you know, Franco, that you are a handsome man?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. When he opened them, they were filled with grief, but also determination. “You must go -- immediately.” He turned to the lords beside him and nodded. “Paoli, Nikolai, it’s time. We’ll take her to the agreed place and arrange…”

“Silence!” I shouted, rising to my feet. “Franco, you will speak to me directly, addressing me as ‘Your Majesty!’ I am not about to become a slave. I have a way to stay free.”

“With all respect, Majesty, that’s absurd! I regret this more than you know, but we have no choice. You know what a slave Queen would do to the aristocracy.”

Nikolai snapped his heels to rigid attention and bowed sharply. “Your Majesty. You must leave Tulem immediately. I’m sorry.”

I traded glances with the two heads of the nobility. “This is not a debate. I really have discovered a way to control my needs. Malchor abducted me, yet, despite his best efforts, he could not make me submit. I can do it at will.” I looked around the room, meeting all of their disbelieving eyes coldly. Waving the royal staff idly, I shrugged. “Go to war with me then if you want. I will not step down.”

A pair of Giovanni lords fairly growled at me, but Franco waved them silent. “You are not invulnerable,” he said.

“You speak of the past,” I said, confidently enough to give him pause. “You’ll find my defenses have been reinforced dramatically. I’ve also removed the Queen’s forces from the attack on Batuk. Until this affair is resolved to my satisfaction, they will remain that way.”

Nikolai stared at me, his mouth floundering. “You can’t do this!” he gasped. “That’s almost half the invasion force!”

“Nikolai, listen to me. I can prove what I say. If necessary, I can wait a long time, and keep my forces here without discomfort, but you and the war for Batuk cannot.”

He considered it, at first in fury, then more calmly as my words penetrated.

“The invasion is only several days from now.” he said.

I smiled. “That’s correct.”

“And you swear you have a way to stay free, Your Majesty?”

I pulled out the dagger from the calf-sheath beneath my dress and, biting back the pain, sliced another gash on my left palm across the still-healing wound. Holding my hand up in full view, I let the blood of my oath drip onto the carpet.

“I do. And I’ll prove it if you stubborn lords and lady will give me the chance.”

He nodded, Borodin honor satisfied. “Then the Borodins will accept you until we conquer Batuk and move to our new city.”

“That is no less than what I expected.” I looked to the Giovanni side. “Well? Do you want a war with me, Franco?”

“You give us no choice,” he said, choking on the words. “I demand proof, though.”

“Send a man tonight to my quarters. He should do his best to force me to submit. In the morning, I will be free. Naturally, if he attempts to harm me, he’ll be killed immediately.”

Katrina, the lone lady present, slipped around Nikolai. Our comradely past in the fight for the palace gates seemed forgotten, for her blue eyes were aflame.

“How can we possibly know if this test is fair? You might be toying with us!”

I would have explained, but Nikolai stepped forward to lightly take her arm.

“A man would know. The feel of a natural slave submitting to her dominant male is unmistakable, and can’t be faked with an experienced man.”

“But…” She stopped as other lords behind her affirmed Nikolai’s simple statement with words and nods. Her cheeks flushed as she removed herself to the rear.

“Majesty, this demonstration is unseemly,” Franco said.

I shrugged. “I don’t like it either. I should always have the choice of my bedmate, but it’s the only way I know.”

“Could it be anyone, Your Majesty?” he asked slowly.

I frowned, wondering what he was thinking. “Within reason, but it would be better if he were not a noble. Now, that would be unseemly. A concubine or consort should always be mundane.”

Our business concluded, they all left, except for Franco, who desired a private moment.

“You won today only because you were willing to blackmail us. You are not the same person who led us and defeated the King.”

“You forced me to this. If I’m right then I will live to be Queen another day. If I’m wrong, then, in the morning, I’ll be a slave on her way to a distant city and you will be the King. Think on that before you criticize my actions.”

He growled, clenching his fists. “It’s much more than that. ‘Discovering’ this new edict for consorts was too fortuitous.”

“Strange. I prefer to think that the edict’s loss was a theological calamity. I’m certainly pleased with the reappearance of this most holy tablet.”

“So I see,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “But consorts were never meant for serum girls. Tulem will be the laughingstock of Zhor.”

I held up a slim finger and pointed it at his face. “Give it up, Franco. You’ll never talk me into a collar.” I swirled away from him and walked swiftly back to my quarters.

Later that night, I waited in my nightshirt on the balcony. I'd washed my hair with sandalwood, and it was down, ready for whomever they decided would force me to his will. Whoever he was, he would arrive soon, at the tenth hour.

Franco’s ambiguous question left me uneasy. As far as I knew, Franco could be sending a man from the Slave Trainer’s Guild, who would arrive with whip and chains. I shivered. From another corner inside me, the thought of being so expertly disciplined left me wet.

A rider came through the northeast gate, a tall man in elegant attire, and I leaned forward straining to get a glimpse of his face in the torchlight, but a cloak concealed his features as he rode by. At least he didn’t wear black, and I relaxed a little. He seemed presentable, too.

A moment later came the call: “Mistress, a man is at the door.”

“Coming!” I left the balcony and stood by the bed, brushing my hair a final time and preparing my mind. This fantasy would be easy: I would be the person I pretended to be.

“Wanda. I’m ready. Say the word.”

“Drusilla,” she said, and I shifted.

When Franco walked through with a guard, I narrowed my eyes at him. “What in Hades are you doing here?”

He draped his cloak over a convenient chair, and then regarded me, his arms crossed and grinning like a tax appraiser who had found a new source of income.

“In the end, your Majesty, I found that I didn’t trust anyone else to do a thorough test.”

The nerve! “Damn you, Franco! I told you I wanted a mundane. How are we to face each other after this? I’ll be compared to siolat girls, and you’ll be asked about my quality.”

“Questions would be asked of any mundane fortunate enough to sample your beauty.”

Despite myself, I flushed at his compliment — which only made me angrier. “Who cares what a mundane thinks? Mating with one would be only to please me.”

He bowed elaborately, sweeping his arm like a courtier, a gentlemanly courtesy that gave rise to a healthy response from within my bodice. “You have my word that I will be discreet,” he said.

“We knew each other as Franco and Drago. This is … intimate,” I protested, weaker this time.

“We weren’t close before. If I spotted Drago lurking behind those bright eyes, then I would think again, but I don’t. Frankly, I would have thought that you’d prefer a friend for this test, and one you thought handsome.”

You are handsome, blast it.

“Are you my friend? You were terse with me earlier.”

“I think I understand you better. Your Majesty, you aren’t the dragon-bitch you seem sometimes.”

I laughed, exasperated yet pleased in a peculiar way. “Tender words for your Queen, Franco.”

“I’ve had time to think about it. You forced your will on us at the meeting, but it wasn’t unreasonable, considering the stakes. As you say, you demanded a test, not a capitulation.” He stepped very close to me, close enough for me to feel his heat, and he touched my hair. It was all I could do not to pull him closer.

“Do you feel the urges, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, I feel them,” I sighed. “Pray that you never suffer Vanora’s revenge -- and you should call me Dana if we are to be together.”

“I will.” He cocked his head attractively and grinned. “You breathe deeply, Dana.”

“Truth.” I looked up expectantly and parted my lips. The empty days and nights had taken their toll, and, despite my arguments to the contrary, I decided I was glad that it was Franco.

He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, and bent until his face drew bare inches from my own. “You are beautiful. It’s hard to believe you were Drago.”

“You didn’t always talk so much.”

He smiled, then affixed me with a warning glance. “You know I’ll do my best to force you to submit.”

“I trust it will be sometime tonight?” I whispered, my hands already reaching for his belt.

Finally, he lowered his lips to mine. It was softer than a master’s kiss. I took it and submerged myself in his strength. A moment later he understood. An hour later I was his, moving to his will, my skin alive with his touch. I screamed, helpless to deny what I was, and he forced me to meet his needs, which, in turn, were mine.

I cried his name softly, and begged him to make me his. For a moment, I was afraid he would deny me, but he acceded, and I crossed my wrists to him, once his Queen, but now just a slave.

I awoke beside him in the early morning remembering everything. My hands were bound behind me, while Franco was still sound asleep. I wasn’t surprised; I’d had that affect on a few I'd drained in the Queen’s Cup. The guard standing beside us watched me with the most unusual expression, again, not surprising: he had seen his sovereign submit.

I jerked my chin at him. “Cut me loose, Turcote.”

He paused, unsure what to do.

“Release me, damn you! I am your Queen!” At those unsubmissive words, he pulled a knife from his belt and cut my bonds with a sharp tug.

Franco awoke at my outburst and realized the truth. “But … you submitted to me last night!” he exclaimed.

I shook my head while I wriggled into my nightgown. “That wasn’t me. It’s what I use to remain free.” I sat on the bed beside him, close enough to touch him with my hip, and smiled down into a face straining with doubt. “You were very good, you know. You dominated me well.”

“What you do is unnerving,” he said, blinking a few times. “And you speak as if you have done this before.”

“Ah. But that’s my business. Are you satisfied that I’m not a slave?”

“It’s hard to believe, but you’ve done what you said you would do.”

“Good. I expect that this is the end of the matter. I won’t tolerate any more attempts to remove me.”

“I’ll be honest with you. The Giovannis won’t be entirely convinced by this demonstration. If you made a mistake in the silks, then you would have a collar. And we will not stand for a slave queen.”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” I said evenly. “You wanted proof. You have it. The matter is concluded. There will be no more tests, no examinations. No noble will ever question my right in court, nor set conditions on me in the silks.”

“How can we … how can you know that whatever you do will work all…”

“Because if I ever catch anyone trying to make me their slave, I'll kill them myself.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Point. You say that it wasn’t you last night.”

“Yes.”

“Then who was it?”

I covered his warm hand with my own, knowing what a man would need to know. “It was someone very much like me. I remember everything. You were right: it is much better to be tested by a friend.”

He lay back on the bed and smiled, secure again that he had conquered the woman by his side. “There was no Drago in you last night.”

“Drago would have responded with sharp steel in your throat. I was more receptive.”

He watched me smile and nodded. “You made it hard to think that you were ever Drago.”

“It’s hard to deny being a woman when one is sprawled and penetrated. But this was the last time with you. A lord and his queen should not be involved; the resulting intrigue could write books.”

“That was the agreement.” But the way he looked at me gave me a feeling that it wasn’t the final word on the subject.

***

After breakfast, I wasted no time and summoned Physician Lees’n to my rooms. Following my instructions, he arrived alone. The news of the lost edict and my wish to have a consort had been propagated throughout the entire valley. Franco spending the night with me was surely the talk of the entire palace. As he stood, waiting for me to begin, I enjoyed his discomfiture, noting how his pants filled. Yes, the man could surely add, and I was pleased that he wasn’t afraid of me.

“Physician Lees’n, I’m glad to see you so — healthy.”

“Majesty?”

How to approach the matter? As much as a man liked to be compared to a bull, no real man would desire a relationship where a woman was dominant. “Lees’n, please sit down. There is something I would ask you.”

He sat and watched me warily. I sat, too, and composed myself before addressing him. “You know that I’m a serum girl, of course. What you may not know is that the slave and slut urges are fully upon me.”

“Yes, Majesty,” he said in a way that told me he already knew.

“I have the right to have a consort. I demonstrated last night that I have a way to remain free.”

“So I have heard.”

“Excellent. You are a fine-looking man, Lees’n,” I said, smiling like the noonday sun.

“Uh, Thank you, Your Majesty.” he replied.

I sighed, and looked down to my hands. “This is not comfortable for me. I’m asking you to be my lover on occasion.” I looked up to see a man struggling, perhaps to discover duty and honor in my request, or perhaps an advantage; I didn’t know him well enough.

“Majesty, I will not be an oernid.”

“And I won’t buy a man. You would gain no recompense or favoritism from me. I’d expect you to continue as my physician, and attend me with the same courtesy in public as before.”

He placed a hand firmly under his chin. “This is very irregular.”

“Irregular, a serum girl queen with a consort? I’d have to consult my Minister of Protocol, but this might be unique in the annals of Zhor.”

“I’m not sure that I'm the best choice for your consort.”

“Lees’n! Must I say it? I’m attracted to you, as you obviously are to me. Of course, if you are small….” I shrugged sadly.

His right eyebrow lifted a quarter inch.

“I assure you that I am not.”

“Perhaps, then, I am malformed.”

He finally smiled. “Your Majesty knows better. I hesitate because I already have a fine woman in the city, Elli.”

“I see. Is she your betrothed?”

“Not yet.”

Lees’n was by far my first choice, but there were other men.

“I have standards as well. I will not order a man to my bed.” I placed my hands on my knees, preparing to rise.

“Maybe you should in this case.”

I searched his face for signs of misplaced jocularity, but he seemed serious. “I don’t understand you. You want me to order you to mount me?”

He stood, spread his hands, and bowed, managing a fair genteel imitation of affronted dignity.

“Majesty, I suspect that I’m a choice of convenience. I have no illusions: I’m likely to be only the first of several consorts. The woman I desire most wouldn’t like me being with you voluntarily. If you command me to sleep with you, then Elli would more easily accept me back when you were finished with me.”

I stood at that and began pacing. I understood what he was saying, but I also understood more about women than I had a few months earlier.

I paused after a few steps and regarded him. “Does Elli fight your advances? Is she coy and inconsistent?”

“She is a difficult nut to crack,” he admitted.

“I will not order you to the silks, Lees’n, but you should take me anyway. Your constancy does you credit, but it’s counterproductive. Her initial ire and jealousy will be outweighed by renewed interest. After all, if the Queen selects you, then you are, by definition, extremely attractive. It is a contradiction with women: being appealing to other women and having the independence to link with them as he pleases makes a man more desirable; she will want you more.”

He paused and stroked his neat goatee between his fingers, a look I judged as deep thought. Occasionally he looked my way, sweeping my body casually with his eyes, and my skin tingled as I imagined his male thoughts. I waited for a time, enjoying his regard, but finally held up my hand to cut short ruminations that were beginning to run annoyingly long.

“You would be wise to agree, Lees’n.”

“You are persuasive.”

“How persuasive?” I asked impatiently.

“Enough. When would you like me to visit you?”

“When rights are delayed, enemies find ways to make the delay permanent. Come tonight at the tenth hour.”

“Yes, Majesty.” He bowed to me again and made to depart.

I took his arm as he began to turn. He started at the contact with his Queen, but then relaxed and began to stir, realizing that it was the smallest part of me, and that he would soon be feeling much more. I left him with more than a smile to remember. “Thank you, Lees’n.”

After he had gone, I found Wanda in the back of the apartment watching the administration building.

“Any news, Wanda?”

She lifted her head from under the black silk long enough to speak. “Mistress, the courier from Batuk is late.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was too soon to tell, but it felt like Ketrick’s work. Wanda watched the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon, but no messenger appeared. The outside of Thermin’s office showed no sign of the turmoil that must have been raging within. The regular courier departed as usual in late evening, but Wanda would have to tell me the next morning -- Lees’n had since arrived.

Slightly intimidated at first, he gradually warmed to his task. Soon I was forced to become my true self beneath Lees’n’s powerful body, and I awoke with the soft glow of the finely-brolled woman. It was the only proof I needed that I had chosen my consort wisely.

After a wonderful breakfast, where Thermin was unusually preoccupied, Wanda reported that the daily courier from Batuk had once again not arrived. When Donal, Thermin’s second, rode from the Queen’s stables with a fast horse in the early afternoon, I allowed myself a big smile.

***

A day later, after I returned from another afternoon with the troops, I found Thermin waiting for me outside the stables, his normally cool demeanor refreshingly bleak. He and I were not friendly and it would have wrong to pretend otherwise, so I nodded civilly as I approached to entrance to the main building, Gerhart and Zhok flanking me as was their norm.

“Majesty, if I might have a word.”

I gave him a good looking-over. His loose tan tunic contrasted nicely with the royal purple of his sash, and he left a gap in his shirt, where a small patch of curly hair peeked through attractively, perhaps provocatively to a serum girl made to respond to men and things male. That Thermin had chosen such garb bespoke desperation.

“Yes, Thermin?”

He bowed more respectfully than was his usual wont. “Majesty, I’ve called an emergency meeting in my offices. Lord Franco and Lord Nikolai are already waiting. It’s about the invasion.”

“I see. I’ll go with you then.”

Thermin glanced towards my guards then back to me. I could take a hint. “Gerhart, Zhok, return to the guard's quarters. I’ll call you when I need you.”

After they bowed and departed, I walked with him the short way through the lobby of the main building. He chose the path through the relative seclusion of the inner courtyard, bypassing the shorter route, but with the heavier traffic of the hall.

“Majesty, I congratulate you on your swift consolidation of power. It was worthy of a master.”

“I did what I had to do. I admit I was under some pressure to do it quickly.”

“Yes, Majesty. Someday you must tell me how you overcame the urges. It would be a valuable weapon for a spy.”

I eyed him to discern a hidden threat, but he seemed straightforward, and it was a natural thought for a spymaster.

“The knowledge is dangerous. Imagine natural slaves around the world knowing how to trick their masters.”

“It makes one shudder to think about it. It almost makes more sense to believe that a method doesn’t exist.”

“If you don’t trust what I say, you need merely wait. A hot serum girl inevitably submits to a master eventually. Without a way to keep free, I would be no different.”

“You can hardly blame me for being curious.”

“You would be a poor spymaster if you weren’t.”

Franco, Nikolai, and War Leader Prator waited alone inside Thermin’s office. After setting a guard outside, Thermin closed the door. Franco’s eyes lingered a moment on my face, perhaps searching for signs of the urges, or even something more personal. I smiled, it was hard not to after having shared each so recently. He grinned in return, but returned his attention to his host when Thermin walked to the display board.

“Majesty, Lords, and War Leader Prator, I haven’t heard from my couriers from Batuk in three days. I have to assume that the network has been compromised.” He spoke the words calmly, but his expression bore the mark of calamity. His part of the invasion plan was collapsing at the worst possible time.

I jumped to my feet. “Thermin! What could have happened? What can we do to correct this? What are our options?”

“Majesty, that’s almost all I know. I sent Donal two days ago to investigate. He is late returning, although he might be delayed for any number of reasons. But I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you, not with the invasion planned for three days hence.”

Prator rubbed the side of his face with the scar. “Majesty, Lords,” he said. “If Batuk knows we are coming, if she knows our plans for taking the outer walls and weakening the Fortress, then our invasion would be extremely risky, maybe even a disaster. I cannot now guarantee success.”

“Damn!” shouted Nikolai, pounding the arm of his chair with the bottom of his fist. “There must be something we can do.”

“Speculation is useless,” Thermin continued. “I must find out what happened. I leave this afternoon with a column of guards. But privately, I fear the worst. It’s possible that Batuk has discovered our intentions. Certainly they’ve discovered some spies from the network in their midst.”

Nikolai lifted himself from his seat slowly, every muscle taut, as dreams he held dear were torn to shreds. “Blast you, Thermin,” he said low and dangerously. “How could you allow this to happen?”

“Lord Nikolai, all may not be lost. The spy network in Batuk is fragmented, divided into separate cells that have no idea of the other’s existence. The only man in Batuk who knew them all was the spymaster. If a cell was discovered or betrayed, then it’s likely that only the spymaster and the cell were destroyed. Couriers trying to meet with the spymaster might be caught and killed as they arrived, but the majority of the network would still be intact and ready to do their work. If the network could be reestablished with a new spymaster, then our plans could still go forward. The only way to find out what's going on and what needs to be done is to go there.”

“I assume that all spies in Batuk have a way to kill themselves if they are captured?” I asked.

“Yes, Majesty. They all have a poison tooth.”

That was more than passably interesting. The hope was that Ketrick could capture the spymaster and force him to betray the cells, but it was unlikely that Ketrick had been given the chance. If the spymaster were dead, then it was almost a certainty that Ketrick was killing couriers as they arrived, but little more. I wanted to laugh desperately. It seemed that there was still more work to be done.

“Thermin. I will go with you.”

He stared at me. It was the first time I’d actually seen him truly surprised. “What on Zhor…?”

“Simply this. If there is a turncoat spy in Batuk, then your face is known, as is probably every member of your department here. Even with a disguise, you might be caught and there is no time to permanently modify your features. I am not so easily detected. None know me in Batuk. I’d be the perfect intermediary, and further, I’d like to assess the situation personally.”

“Dana!” yelled Franco, full of manly concern.

“You know I can do this, Franco, and you, too, Nikolai. I will do my part for my city.”

Thermin eyes burned with azure fire, fading only slightly as he recovered control. “Majesty! You have no training and the risk is too great.”

“I’ll ride with you, Thermin, and you will tell me what I need to know on the way. I’m no spy, but if you want someone to contact the cells in Batuk, it would be far less risky to use me. Besides, I know Batuk pretty well by now. I’ve studied the operational maps. I know all the main roads and landmarks.”

He shook his head, his distaste too obvious for politeness. “Majesty, need I remind you of your special needs? I have no room for a consort.”

That was the unpleasant side to this; if we were there long enough I might have to mate with him repeatedly. “For the good of the city, I’m willing if you are. I’m assuming it will be just you and me within Batuk’s walls?”

He threw me a baleful glare and expelled a breath. It mattered not at all if he were willing. My wishes had the strength of a command as far as he was concerned. I stopped a smile from forming while thinking of fate’s smaller ironies. Being forced to satisfy my needs would probably be more of a hardship to him than to me.

“If you insist, Majesty,” he replied glacially, “but I cannot protect you.”

“Then it’s settled.” Turning to the rest of the room, I declared, “The invasion is delayed until we return. Franco will rule in my stead until then.”

***

The early evening wind cooled my face, and I allowed it unhindered flow under the brown riding cloak, conducting away the humid warmth from my dappled mare as she labored to maintain a fast trot-gallop. Thermin had exchanged his palace finery and sash for meaner pants, tall boots, and pale brown tunic. He had assured me that my riding dress of subdued green and gray would cause no comment on Batuk’s streets, and I privately agreed.

The twin columns of the palace guards protecting our sides on the packed gravel road were another story. Although now garbed in coarser cottons and plainer colors, no one would mistake their disciplined formations and menacing alertness for anything but what they were. Thermin rode to my right, but the heavy pound and crunch of hooves on gravel during a gallop made any conversation below a shout impossible.

Even while at the slower trot, Thermin remained reticent and cool, preferring to concentrate on what was ahead. Occasionally, he turned a glance my way. I paid him little mind, my own thoughts being fixed on Batuk, seeing Ketrick again, and how I might manipulate events to root out the cancer within my city’s walls.

The sun had been halved to orange-red over the western mountains when we finally turned to the side, drawing close to a swift stream to rest and feed our horses in the verdant grass. We’d been riding for hours and I used the chance to cross the stream, darting over a few well-placed stones to find a private bush away from the men to do nature’s business. It was at such moments of inconvenience and vulnerability that I cursed my older brother the most. When I finished, I started to rise.

“Majesty,” came a rumbling voice kept low and quiet from very close. “Please stay down behind the bush. I must tell you something.”

My heart hammered a few beats until I realized who it was. “Turcote?” I lifted my head slowly and spread the thick green leaves to find him standing just on the other side of the bush with his back to me. He stood casually in a wide ready stance with his spear braced in the ground.

“Majesty, please forgive me for disturbing you.”

I was more disturbed that he had managed to get so close without hearing him. He already knew my body and its most intimate crevasses, having been the guard on duty as Franco had so thoroughly tested me.

“I suppose I can’t blame you for following me. You’re doing what you were assigned to do, although I wasn’t in any danger -- unless you count the quail and rabbits as enemies. What do you have to tell me, and why the secrecy?”

He continued in the same tone, barely above a whisper: “You and Spymaster Thermin are leaving us after the way station to go to Batuk. I’m worried for your safety.”

“Thank you for your concern. Batuk is a dangerous place, but we’ll need discretion there. Guards, even in disguise, would be unsuitable to protect us.”

He sighed impatiently, so softly I almost didn’t catch it. “That’s not what I mean: I think the Spymaster hates you. I thought I should make sure you knew.”

The last time I had been told something similar, it had been about Marcus. I had dismissed it then; I would not do so again.

“I know he doesn't like me. What do you mean by hate?”

“I think that he’d like to rip you apart like an eagle on a fat rat.”

“How do you know this?” I demanded, not particularly caring for his description. I was not fat.

“I’ve guarded his wing in the palace sometimes. Though he tries to hide it with you, I’ve never seen him so crazy at anyone. I’ve seen him mark you with angry stares when he thought nobody was looking, and everyone in the palace knows how his mouth twitches when he’s really blistered. It’s none of my business, Majesty, but I’d be very careful around him.”

The early evening had just become colder and I drew my cloak around my narrow shoulders. I shivered, thinking how vulnerable I was now with any man who wished me ill.

“I see. Thank you, Turcote. I’m going to get up now.”

“Yes Majesty.”

We walked back to camp together in silence. I couldn’t discount what Turcote had said, and I had no choice except to go with Thermin to Batuk. I had a knife strapped to my calf, but that was little protection against a prepared man. But why would Thermin hate me? I hadn’t done anything so terrible — or had I?

Thermin was my enemy; I’d had no choice to do other than what I did, but how did I seem to him? “Give me the strength and wisdom,” I had asked Ashtar in her temple.

At best I was an indifferent follower of the gods, and now, as a woman, I supposed, to some of the goddesses, but I was far from sure of their power. My father had shrugged when I had asked him if the gods were real.

He had summed up religion this way: “Tyr, if the gods are real, then they are, as far as I can tell, unmoved by words and prostration, but it would be unwise to annoy the priest class to tell them this. Declaring that the gods are not real is stupid because one can never know. Saying this to others is even worse because you are implying that you know better and that they are idiots. If mumbling on your knees clarifies your mind, then well and good. If not, then the Temple is a good place to meet people when they are generally on their best behavior.” He had then turned a stern eye in my direction. “And stay away from the priestesses; they are nothing but trouble.”

Unfortunately, none of that advice was of much use to me at the moment. But I had asked Ashtar for wisdom. It seemed very wise to think about what I had done to make Thermin so angry.

The moment I’d met him, I’d required him to acknowledge my supremacy with a threat, even making him come to breakfast like an errant boy. Earlier that afternoon I had bullied my way onto this mission over his objections and forced the role of sex servitor upon him in front of the heads of the royal families.

If I were a king, none of this would have been necessary. If a king had told him to service a woman for the good of the city, it would have made a fine base for a ribald joke.

But to a man who had little respect for women, except, perhaps, on his own terms, I was the lowest of all women, a serum girl that should have been pleasing numbers of men in a tavern. To such a man, it was cruel enough to have to obey me for any length of time. Managing to make my rule as Queen, and thus over him, permanent, must have been galling. Making him my male alcove girl likely had been the final stroke to a back already slashed with grave insults.

The last daylight had dwindled away hours ago. The moon beckoned ahead of us high in the sky; casting a colorless glow to the mixed scrub and rock by the road, making each boulder and plant a sharp contrast of gray and black shadow. Thermin’s position beside me and slightly behind was a safe enough place for one who concealed dark thoughts, and it gave me no chance to see his visage without turning around and facing him.

So I waited patiently, and during a trot, brought forth a small mirror at the proper time, pretending to fix my hair. The road swung to the north abruptly and I had my first look at the real Thermin in the full light of the moon. What I saw there, a stark glimpse of raw hatred, chilled me to the core, startling me upright in the saddle.

For the first time since I’d attacked the King, I felt small and very vulnerable. There was nothing to stop this man from killing me in Batuk except a duty to the crown, and I had no idea how strong that was. Did he think that Tulem might be better served by a king than a serum girl slut queen? I didn’t need to even think about it.

The conventions were there for a reason. A woman needed a man’s strength and protection. A woman’s proper response was her acknowledgment and respect. A woman wasn’t just a body and needs; she had her own place in this world and a role to play. If a woman acted like a man, then she risked being treated like a man -- or worse, a woman without the rights and protections of a woman.

Even if he didn’t plan on killing me in Batuk, I would certainly need his goodwill at some point. I couldn’t do anything without his knowledge of the spy network.

Determined to try to make things better, I looked Thermin’s way and smiled. His eyes widened appreciably, and he lifted a corner of his mouth to form the smallest of smirks.

We stopped at the way station at an hour past midnight. Tired and hungry, it made no sense to continue until we'd had something to eat and a rest. Thermin watched me uncertainly as I hurriedly ate a delayed supper after a quick bath that early morning, wondering, no doubt, if I would demand to be brolled. I caught his eye and motioned towards the door to draw him away from the guards and station keeper. He followed me to a boulder far enough from the stone house to avoid prying ears. By his expression of disgust, I was sure he expected a call for servicing.

I lowered my head modestly and did my best to feel humble, which I did, mostly. The man was a stiff-necked rhadus, but I’d offended him as Queen — and yet I couldn’t pretend to myself that I wasn’t manipulating him for my advantage. “I owe you an apology, Thermin,” I said softly. “I’ve been cruel and presumptive.”

“Majesty?”

“There are some things that a woman should not command a man to do. I have commanded these things from you. I should not have.”

“You are the Queen,” he said evenly. “You may do as you wish.”

“I was wrong. I especially should not have demanded that you bed me, and I withdraw my command. Please accept my apology.”

He bowed his head marginally, but enough to honor my words. “Apology accepted, your Majesty,” he replied in a voice far from warm. “I believe I understand. You hold on to your manhood with an iron grip.”

I nodded sadly. “You’re only too right, Thermin. I’ve held onto what I was, but I have control of my life now and that has given me time to reflect on who I am -- and must be -- and that I should start to act according to my nature.”

His turned his head to the side, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I don’t follow.”

I lifted my eyebrows prettily, making my eyes wide and innocent, then let them fall. “I can’t pretend to be what I was. My body will not allow it, nor, I believe, should I.” I grasped the sides of my dress and pulled them out a few inches. “I’ve been ruling as a king because of my birth, but who looks at me and thinks, ‘King Drago’?”

The confusion in his eyes resolved to become curiosity.

“Serum girls must accept the will of the gods. For almost all, it means the brand and collar. But you've found a means to choose your own way. Majesty, are you saying that you would willingly take the woman’s role?” he asked in disbelief.

“I think I must become whom I appear, lest I be known as the cat that barks. It isn’t completely voluntary, you know; even though I’ve found a way to manage the slave urges, I’m still a serum girl. I like men -- a lot.” I said, shrugging my shoulders helplessly.

“Majesty, may I be honest?”

I lifted my head to smile brightly. “Always, Thermin.”

“A serum girl queen is an absurd concept. How can a natural slave rule men whose natures are uniquely suited to rule her?”

“I hope by now that I’ve proven I’m more than the usual serum girl.”

He grunted. “I suppose that I can’t argue with that. What you’ve done so far makes you exceedingly difficult to classify.”

I sighed, folding my arms under my breasts, and leaned back against the boulder. The air was cool and dry, and I looked to the stars, clear and bright away from the lights of the city. “I’m very fortunate to be alive. I’ve been acting like a man since I became a serum girl. By all rights I should have been dead three times now. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep denying what I am.”

“You killed Lord Alfredo, an amazing feat.”

“With a trick only a woman could do. It would never work for me again.”

“And you killed the King with his own sword.”

“Luck. I was a second from death when a brave man gave his life to save me.”

He rubbed his chin for a few seconds, in the end deciding to tell me: “I know of the ruse with the tablet in the temple. That was bold enough.”

“Thank you, but even that was done with the help of a man who helped me because I reminded him of a woman he’d known. You see, Thermin, I’ve learned that it’s not natural to pretend to be a man in a woman’s body.”

“I’ve always thought so,” he said, watching me closely.

“Well, you were right. I can’t undo my callous disregard and mannish behavior, but I’d like to start over with you again. I hope you give me the chance.”

“You want me to treat you like a woman?” he asked incredulously. He turned away to think before facing me again. “That might be difficult — for both of us.”

“I’d like to try.” I blushed. “I'll do my part. I’m sorry for the way I’ve insulted you. I really am.”

“No more apologies are necessary, Majesty. This is a good time to ask who is in charge. You could be helpful in Batuk; it’s true that your face is not known there, but are you willing to follow my orders?”

“I’ll do as you say, Spymaster Thermin. I put myself in your hands.”

“I’m happy to hear that, for it must be that way. There will be times that I must be obeyed instantly, without question. Sometimes, you will not care for it. I must have your word that you will not seek revenge for what happens inside Batuk. If not, I’ll take my chances and do everything myself.”

I wasn’t completely satisfied with the look in his eye. The hatred was less than before, but it might have been replaced with wariness, or deception.

“You have my word, Thermin. I’m with you to help Tulem, not to usurp what you do best.”
 
 

 
Thanks for the kind comments! Things will get quite interesting soon in Batuk, and you'll discover things about Thermin that he would rather have kept hidden. New threats, reconciliations, more killing, friends, learning about herself, plots, and, as they say, much more to come. :) ~Aardvark