5
Daystar
In the dreadnought’s heart chamber Sungui tended the Ethus Tree with thought and sickle. The tree’s bark was the color of burnished gold and smooth as a shark’s skin. Sungui floated among its maze of branches, wrapped in the earthy smell of the amber leaves. Its trunk was as wide as a merchant tower, its branches thick as arching bridges. The gleaming roots coiled seamlessly, like the branches, into the chamber’s floor and walls. The difference between branch and root was found only in the clusters of foliage growing from the former. Over the course of decades the tree had grown this ovoid chamber to cocoon itself, as it had grown the keel, hull, decks, and masts of the airship that was its extended body.
Sungui had fostered this particular tree himself, from seedling to fully formed dreadnought. He felt strangely secure nestled inside its network of yellow limbs. His heartbeat and the tree’s own pulsing essence achieved a synchronicity similar to that of a mother tending a child. Yet, dwarfed by the tree’s colossal stature, Sungui felt more the child than the caregiver. In the presence of the Almighty he often felt this way, yet Zyung’s presence was a paternal force; the Ethus Tree seemed more like a silent mother. Sungui did not remember having any true parents.
New sprigs constantly sprouted from the interlinking branches. If left to its own free will the Ethus would continue to manifest larger and more complex structures. The carefully sculpted shapes of dreadnoughts were guided by the thoughtforms of tree-bonded High Seraphim. Many of Sungui’s kind had bonded with two or three different Ethus Trees, yet he had refused to weaken his union with the Daystar by adding another ship to his heart-mind. This was the flagship of the Almighty himself. Sungui’s charge was to ensure that it kept a form and substance that outshone the rest of the Holy Armada.
He raised the silver sickle and sliced a three-foot sprig from a vertical roof branch. Sap like honey dripped along the blade and pattered upon the curled roots below. A twinge of pain shuddered through the tree and along Sungui’s fingers; a momentary sensation of discomfort, soon replaced by numbness. The amber leaves rustled.
“Be still,” Sungui whispered, as one might speak to a horse being fitted for shoes. “A few more, my darling. We are almost finished.”
The tree responded with a silent rush of understanding. Sungui regretted the small pains that pruning caused the Ethus, but it was necessary to maintain the Daystar’s physical perfection.
The dilemma of preserving the Ethus Tree, the Almighty had told Sungui, is the dilemma of preserving the Living Empire. Sometimes one must remove a limb in order to preserve the integrity of the body. When we destroy a rebellious city or depopulate a riotous province, the process is much like pruning the unwanted branches of the Ethus. A moment of quick pain leads to years of peace and order.
Sungui placed the severed branch, still leaking its golden lifeblood, into the basket in his left hand. Several more branches lay there, results of his morning’s work. The tree seemed to understand the need for these moments of pain, though it could not prevent itself from sprouting more needless sprigs and stems. Its very nature was to grow beyond all orderly shape, so the High Seraphim worked constantly to preserve the shapes of the Holy Dreadnoughts.
In his most private moments, Sungui wondered if the same was true of mankind. Perhaps mortal beings could not help but erupt in sedition and treason every once in a while. This must be their nature, as the Ethus Tree’s nature was to grow into a glorious yet chaotic tangle of woodflesh. Without Seraphim to tend and prune the Living Empire, it would grow into chaos, and nature would inevitably destroy it.
Sungui dismissed this line of thought as something his female aspect might ponder more readily. Duty was the soul of his male aspect. Questions about the worthiness of his position among the Seraphim sank like heavy stones into the black depths of his subconscious. He knew they would emerge to trouble him once more as soon as his aspect changed. This did not worry him, as so many other qualities changed when that metamorphosis occurred. He had accepted that, as the Ethus Tree had accepted the need for its weekly pruning.
“There,” he said, tucking the final cutting into his basket. “All finished.” He placed a slim hand upon the golden trunk. Warmth radiated from the bright bark, and a shudder of contentment rattled the leaves about him. Sungui closed his eyes and reached out to the rest of the ship through its living core.
Winds rushed across the curved hull, sliced by the bladed keel. The massive hold lay silent and stuffed full of provisions. Above it sixty slaves pulled upon oars to flap the two sets of canvas wings extending from the sides of the ship. The snores of another hundred and twenty slaves rattled the sleeping chamber on the same deck. At midnight the oarsmen would change shifts. The power of the Ethus Tree itself levitated the dreadnought vertically, but it took the beating of these wings and the sweat of slaves to drive it forward through the air. Conjured winds in the sails added speed, but the true mobility of the armada rested on the backs of these honored slaves. Such oarsmen were pampered and well fed, almost a separate class of slave royalty. Their strength was augmented by alchemic elixirs brewed for this purpose.
On the next deck above the oarsmen, hundreds of Manslayers honed their blades, oiled their armor, and spoke in anxious voices about the battles to come. Above that level the quarters of sailors and Lesser Seraphim ran the length of the ship. Finally, the upper deck vibrated with the steel-shod steps of Manslayers sparring or keeping watch, the tread of busy sailors, and the footfalls of slaves preparing meals in the ship’s galley.
In the forecastle the palatial cabin of the Almighty himself was empty of his presence. Holy Zyung stood near the mainmast, directly beneath the rippling violet sails stitched with the likeness of his flame-eyed face. Next to him stood Red Ajithi, the flagship’s captain. The two were speaking, but Sungui could not hear their words from the heart chamber. He imagined the Almighty’s eyes scanning the western horizon of the sea, perhaps looking beyond the waves toward his goal. Zyung must see further than any of those who served him. Perhaps he saw his future victory lying beyond the heavy clouds.
Sungui sensed the familiar presence of two others next to his sovereign. The Black Wolf and the Pale Panther walked always at Zyung’s side these days. His favorite new pets. The Wolf he called Gammir, the Panther Ianthe. He named them his allies, but Sungui knew them to be little more than traitors. Both had abandoned their kingdom in the Land of the Five Cities and come to Zyung’s side as fawning turncoats. At times they walked in the shapes of man and woman, but they seemed to prefer the bestial forms. Or perhaps it was Zyung who preferred those forms. Vis ible reminders of their true nature?
Black Wolf and Pale Panther were two important keys to the coming triumph.
Sungui removed his hand from the Ethus bark and floated downward through the leaves. He left the heart chamber through its single portal and climbed the spiral stairs to the door of his own deck. Walking the long hallway he approached two Lesser Seraphim on their way to the upper deck. They halted and bowed on either side of Sungui as he passed. Although the Lesser Ones were mortal, they were disciples of the High Seraphim, devotees of the minor sorceries allocated to their kind. Many served as dreadnought captains in the armada. These two were part of the thirty or so who served Zyung directly, thus their presence here on the Holy Flagship.
The deck’s central corridor was a broad tunnel of seamless yellow Ethus wood. At its far end Sungui opened the door to the alchemical laboratory where Gulzarr and Darisha worked amid an array of crystal decanters, glass tubes, cauldrons, and braziers. The pair were lost in their work, beautiful and serene as always, brewing potions and elixirs for the potency of slaves and vitality of the Manslayers. Sungui sat the basket of Ethus trimmings on a workbench, along with the curved sickle, and departed without words. The leaves and sap from the trees were highly effective in the endeavors of alchemy. The alchemists had even brewed a delicious mead from the sap, one only the High Seraphim and Zyung himself were permitted to drink. The couple’s work now, on the edge of the invasion, was focused on more practical concerns.
Sungui climbed another spiral stairway to emerge on the middle deck. The fierce winds grabbed his hair and tossed it about his head. Manslayers in scalloped plates of steel and spiked helms paced the deck with tall spears clutched in their gauntlets. To either side of the hatch stood a row of Trill stables; every dreadnought had facilities to house twelve of the bronze-beaked sky-lizards, though only half of these were occupied at any one time. The stables were empty now, the Trill Knights having taken their mounts into the clouds for maneuvers. The winged beasts must fly daily or they grew restless and hard to control. They also caught seabirds as fodder on these flights, requiring less of each ship’s supplies to feed them. The reek of Trill feces stung Sungui’s nostrils, but the wind quickly tore it away from him.
Captain Ajithi remained standing near the mainmast, studying a map scroll while the great sail thundered above him. Zyung had left him alone there. Sungui supposed the Almighty had returned to the privacy of his great cabin. Red Ajithi had earned his way up through the ranks of Manslayers to dreadnought captain by quelling three separate revolts in the Outer Provinces during his thirty-year service. The man was in his fifties now, and still wore his polished breastplate, shoulder guards, and skirt of silver scales. He had forsaken the beaked helmet of the Manslayer for a turban of purple silk that matched the ship’s sail. An onyx gemstone large as an egg sat in the fabric above his forehead, and his waist-length hair was completely bundled into the turban. A curved greatsword hung upon his back, its pommel set with a ruby that matched the size of his turban’s onyx.
Ajithi looked up from his map as Sungui approached.
“The pruning is complete,” Sungui told him.
Ajithi nodded. “His Holiness wishes to speak with you in his chambers,” said the captain. Sungui returned the nod and watched him march immediately to his command chair high on the quarterdeck. Like the entire ship, the captain’s chair was an extension of the Ethus Tree, a chair-shaped conglomeration of lesser branches woven specifically to accommodate a man-sized commander. Nestled into its curved comfort, pillowed by orange leaves and surrounded by the pointed tips of curling limbs, the captain communed with the tree as well as any Seraphim. During the regular pruning sessions most captains vacated the command chair to avoid sharing the pain of the tree. This was a luxury the pruning Seraphim themselves could not enjoy.
Ajithi wrapped his hands about two curling sprigs at chest level and resumed control of the vessel. A faint smile grew on his lips as his tree-bond returned. Sungui knew the warmth of that bond, and he envied the captain’s right to avoid the tree’s pain. Yet because Sungui felt that pain which no captain deigned to endure, his bond with the Ethus was the stronger one.
Sungui turned about and headed for the forecastle. The wind whipped at his silver robes and chilled his bare feet. Beyond the far railings at left and right, banks of gray clouds rose like billowing mountain ranges. A few Trills and their riders could be seen darting through those clouds. The bulk of the Trill Knights flew behind the flagship, but the lizards would pursue tasty avian prey with great speed before returning to the ranks. Knowing when to indulge a Trill’s appetites was a large part of commanding such a mount. Sungui had not the talent for it, but he admired the warriors who dedicated their lives to mastering the lizards.
Below the cloudscapes a green ocean simmered with white-capped waves. Three weeks the Holy Armada had been flying, and still no sign of land. The sea below must be truly vast. Yet they must be close to the other side of the world now. Sungui could feel it, as he had felt the entirety of the ship while communing with the Ethus at its core.
He stood now before the double doors of Zyung’s quarters. As tall and grand as any palace portals they stood, engraved with holy sigils and the flame-eyed face of Zyung. The doors were made thrice the height of a man to accommodate the Almighty’s great size. Rarely did Zyung reduce himself to the size of a mortal, though it was easily within his power. The multitudes needed to see that their God was a massive and imposing figure. Two hulking Manslayers stood before the portal, one on either side. They bowed as Sungui approached, uncrossing their barbed spears and pulling the doors open.
The Almighty’s council chamber was as large as a provincial King’s throne room. It spread across the entire width of the forecastle, with oval windows admitting rays of sunshine through colored glass. The ceiling was high and vaulted, supported by eighteen pillars of amber wood. Each pillar was shaped into the form of its own tree, although these were merely extensions of the great Ethus Tree below. Tapestries of jeweled silk hung along the walls or separated the front of the chamber from the sleeping quarters at its far end. The Almighty’s personal slaves scurried about the room carrying pitchers of wine and water, sweeping the rich carpets, and preparing platters of foodstuffs for their lord and his visitors.
Zyung’s gigantic form sat in a larger yet less ornate version of the captain’s command chair. Before him sat a table of polished obsidian scattered with oversized scrolls, leather-bound tomes, maps, quills, and goblets. A circlet of flawless platinum held back Zyung’s black mane. His skin was polished bronze, and his silver robe was the exemplar upon which all the robes of the Seraphim were patterned. His eyes were miniature suns, his chin a block of marble. A chain of black opals glittered across the slab of his chest.
Before the high table, in seats built to accommodate their lesser sizes, sat the three advisors who had already arrived: Lavanyia with her mound of sable hair wound in golden wire; Gammir the Black Wolf in his slim human form, and Ianthe the Pale Panther in her womanly shape. Ianthe’s skin and hair were pale as milk, her nails sharp as talons, her lips red as blood. Her beauty rivaled even Lavanyia’s. She stared at Sungui with feline eyes. No longer did he imagine Lavanyia as a lioness of the plains; the feral nature of Ianthe dispelled all notions of Lavanyia as a predatory creature. Ianthe still looked every bit the cat, even when shaped as a woman. Gammir’s black hair and eyes likewise maintained their lupine aspect, although he was unexpectedly handsome. Sungui wondered if the two expatriates were related in some way.
Lavanyia’s presence was surprising. She tended the Ethus Tree of the Flametongue, and had never set foot on the Daystar until now. Yet she stood first among the High Seraphim, so the Almighty must have summoned her for some reason. Perhaps a new strategy had been devised for the coming invasion.
An empty chair waited for Sungui. He bowed to the Almighty and settled himself in its cushioned seat. Both of the expatriates wore the silver robes of Seraphim. Were the Wolf and Panther to be counted among the ranks of the Holy? It must be so, for only Seraphim were permitted to wear such garments. Sungui would not be foolish enough to question the Almighty’s wisdom on the subject. The four guests sat meek as children before an imposing father.
Zyung regarded them with eyes hard and bright as diamonds. His voice was the rolling of distant thunder. One did not simply hear the Almighty’s words, one felt them resonating in the bones that lay beneath flesh and skin.
“Tender of my Ethus Tree,” said Zyung. “Your work does not go unnoticed. Would that I had another thousand with your skill at woodcraft.”
Sungui bowed his head. The eyes of Lavanyia fell upon him, but he felt the gazes of Gammir and Ianthe most keenly. Their stares were leaden weights upon his shoulders.
“I live only to serve His Holiness,” Sungui said. The words were ritual, the only proper response to such praise.
Zyung waved one of his great fingers and a network of chromatic lights spread through the air between his guests. In a moment’s time the colors resolved themselves into a map, one with which Sungui had some familiarity. Yet now the map bore details and reliefs that had never existed in previous versions. It hovered before them, a vision of the continent to which they were heading.
“While awaiting word from Ongthaia,” said Zyung, “I have learned much from the Wolf and Panther. Before your eyes stands the Land of the Five Cities in more detail than any have seen until now. I have discussed our strategy with my generals and decided upon the most favorable tactics. We shall establish the seat of the Extended Empire here…”
Zyung’s finger pointed to a stylized city etched upon the floating light-map, the representation of a metropolis with tiny towers and domes encircled by a high wall. It sat upon the eastern shore of the greater land mass. “Here lie the ruins of Shar Dni, destroyed eight years ago by the wrath of its enemies Ianthe and Gammir. These ruins are uninhabited save for ghosts and blood spirits. It lies in a fertile valley at the mouth of a mighty river. There are abundant croplands for our slaves to work. Our legions will be well fed. Here we will build a new Holy Mountain from the shattered stones of the dead city.”
Sungui scanned the lands beyond the valley of Shar Dni. To its north lay a continent-spanning range of high mountains. Beyond that, the forests of the Giantlands and the city called New Udurum. To the valley’s west lay the broad plains of the Stormlands, marked with the gold-green city of Uurz. South of Uurz stood a mighty cliff labeled as the Earth Wall, and beyond that a realm of untamed wilderness. In the southern half of the continent he counted three great cities: Mumbaza and Yaskatha on the western coast, and Khyrei on the eastern coast directly across the Golden Sea from Shar Dni’s ruins. Two peninsulas of rugged mountains and volcanoes hemmed the Golden Sea to north and south. The Jade Isles of Ongthaia did not appear on this map. The Almighty must believe them unimportant to his invasion. A few stepping stones to cross on the way to his true prize.
“Holiness, what of this Khyrei?” Lavanyia pointed at the city. It gleamed with dark purple light. “Should we not establish a foothold there as well to secure the southern half of the continent?”
Gammir shifted in his seat. “That is my city,” he said, glaring at Lavanyia with a wolf’s inscrutable calm. His eyes shifted to Ianthe and he corrected himself. “Our city. A revolt of slaves and sorcerers has temporarily removed it from our power. His Holiness has promised to restore it to our care. We shall rule it in his name.”
Lavanyia stared at Sungui. Her look said: These traitorous fools should not be here.
Sungui offered her the slightest of smiles.
“Khyrei will be spared until we have conquered the Stormlands,” said Zyung. “Then we will send legions south with Wolf and Panther to take back their city. A few of the High Seraphim will join them. When Khyrei is secure, these southern forces will move upon Yaskatha and Mumbaza. Yet our greatest concerns at present are these two northern cities. Uurz must fall first, followed by Udurum, City of Men and Giants. The Giant-King’s armies must be destroyed when he comes to the aid of Uurz, as I am told he will surely do. Without the power of the Giants, Udurum cannot stand for long.”
“You speak of sorcerers, Wolf,” said Sungui. “How many are there to oppose us?”
Ianthe laughed and answered for Gammir. “A handful of the Old Breed,” she said. “Iardu the Shaper struggles to rouse more of them, but most will continue to languish in their long sleep.”
“Yet there were enough to steal away your southern city,” said Lavanyia.
Ianthe’s eyes focused on her. Sungui expected bolts of flame to leap from them and reduce the highest of the High Seraphim to ash. The Pale Panther only smiled.
“We did not yet stand in the grace of the Almighty when this happened,” said Ianthe. “By his power we will shatter our old foes. In his presence we grow mightier than ever.”
“Indeed,” said Lavanyia. Her eyes returned to the glimmering map.
“When we reach the Sharrian valley,” said Zyung, “the High Seraphim will conjure up these blood spirits and bind them to aid us in the siege of Uurz. The Lesser Seraphim will begin construction of the new Holy Mountain and a city to serve it. Any slaves taken from the interior will be sent to work there. What was once Shar Dni shall stand again as New Zyung, Heart of the Extended Empire.”
Zyung’s listeners bowed their heads in a simultaneous gesture of understanding.
“Lavanyia, Sungui, you will travel among the Seraphim tomorrow and dispense these new commandments. When you have accomplished this, report to me your success. We have only a few more days until we see the Isles of Ongthaia. After that, a single day will bring us to the Land of the Five Cities.”
Again the four heads bowed. The floating map faded like a snuffed torch. Sunrays gleamed in Zyung’s great eyes. Or perhaps they beamed from his eyes. Sungui could not be certain which was true.
“Rejoice, my children,” said Zyung. “You will bring abiding peace to a realm that has known only war, strife, and chaos for ages. Through these mighty works of ours, future generations of Khyreins, Uurzians, Yaskathans, Udurumites, and Mumbazans will know the bliss of ultimate order, the strength of holy unity, and the sweetness of a universal harmony that spans the entire world. Rejoice, for the future of mankind grows brighter with every league we travel.”
Sungui could not help smiling at the brilliant truth of the Almighty’s words. The others also shared this breathless awe. Here was the naked joy of Zyung’s presence: the absolute conviction that the world was made better by his very existence, and that your part in the great drama was to help him spread that ecstasy across the earth. Power brought Order; Order brought Peace; and Peace brought Bliss. Zyung and his Seraphim were about to unite the world as it had never been united in all its long, bloody ages of struggle. First there must come a great pruning, then the Tree of Empire would grow stronger and healthier than ever.
A final round of bows preceded a goblet of highborn wine for each of them. Then the four were dispatched from mighty Zyung’s presence. On the windy deck outside, nothing much had changed. The Daystar sailed through the sky with the Holy Armada trailing behind it, three thousand Holy Dreadnoughts filling the blue heavens in all directions. The great flock of Trills spread itself between the airships, flapping leathery wings, and the armor of knights riding on their ridged backs gleamed bright as diamonds.
Sungui breathed deeply of the cool, fresh air. He let the winds caress his face like the gentle fingers of a lover. Gammir and Ianthe went down the main hatch where the comfort of their quarters waited. Surely there were others among the Seraphim who resented the presence of these newcomers, but to voice opinions on the matter might bring one in direct conflict with Zyung’s wishes.
Lavanyia lingered at the railing of the middle deck, her eyes searching among the dreadnoughts for some unspoken sign. Sungui joined her, sensing that she wished to speak.
“I do not trust these traitors who often wear the forms of beasts,” she said, her eyes still on the armada. The rattle of sails mingled with the sound of the Daystar’s flapping wings. “It is said they drink the blood of slaves.”
“This is true,” Sungui told her. “Six days past a galley slave was burned nigh to death in an accident. Captain Ajithi ordered a spearman to put the wretch out of his misery, but the Black Wolf came instead and took the wounded man away with permission from His Holiness. Later I witnessed the Manslayers toss a charred and shriveled corpse into the sea. There was not a drop of blood left in the body. Sergeant Mhirondu tells me they have requested more slaves’ blood, but His Holiness denies them. Yet they will be allowed to drink their fill in the coming battles.”
Lavanyia sighed. “Blood magic,” she whispered. “There is no place for it among the Celestial Ones.”
Sungui offered a half-smile. “Apparently there is.”
Lavanyia’s dark eyes turned to Sungui. She caressed his face with her soft palm. “Be wary of them, Sungui. When they are no longer of use to His Holiness, we will rid ourselves of them.”
“With the Almighty’s permission,” said Sungui.
“Of course,” said Lavanyia. She kissed his cheek and floated beyond the railing, winds tearing at her silver vestment. He watched her glide gentle as a seabird past the Serpentine and the Steel Heart, alighting finally on the deck of the Flametongue. He lost sight of her among the armored figures pacing there.
The armada flew directly toward the setting sun. Shades of scarlet, pink, and gold bled from the clouds into the sea. Sungui watched the last of the sun’s disc sink beyond the horizon, and the first stars blinked to life in the purpled sky. Darkness covered the ocean and a yellow half-moon emerged from a bank of clouds. Lamps and braziers came to life across the top decks. The Trill Knights brought their screeching mounts back to the stables of their assigned ships, driving them home with prodding spears and vocal commands. Slaves came forth with hocks of raw meat to feed the lizards. The familiar odor of Trill dung filled the middle deck, and the sound of snapping beaks shod in bronze.
Sungui took a last look at the armada trailing behind the Daystar before going below. In the darkness the Almighty’s great fleet resembled nothing less than a constellation of stars rushing across the darkness. Sungui descended the middle stair and entered his cabin, where slaves brought a meal of roasted fowl, seasoned rice, and assorted fruits. When the remains of his repast were removed, Sungui hung his silver robe on a peg near the cabin door and practiced evening meditation by the light of a tallow candle. In the morning he must travel across half the armada to deliver the Almighty’s instructions. Tonight a calm mind and deep sleep would serve him best. He lay upon the pillowed cot and closed his eyes, denying himself the opportunity to yearn for his comfortable bed and spacious apartments in the Holy Mountain.
As he hung upon the edge of sleep, an image of poor, salt-doomed Mahaavar leaped into his mind. The specter followed Sungui into a dark dream where she wore her female aspect and lay with Mahaavar again in the Garden of Twenty-Seven Delights. In waking life Sungui had to choose either male or female form, but the sleeping mind was both at once. The emotions of both aspects mingled and merged in a way they rarely did during conscious moments.
The Almighty had taken no notice of Mahaavar’s disappearance. He was not the first of the High Seraphim to be found unworthy, sent to salt, and consumed by his kind. It was likely that he would not be the last. The High Lord Celestial had more weighty matters on his mind, and a thousand other High Seraphim to serve him.
In the dream Sungui the woman made love to Mahaavar on a bed of crumpled flowers. Yet at the moment of climax, Mahaavar turned to salt. Sungui cried out and woke abruptly in the dark cabin, still entirely male. He blinked into the darkness and realized that he was not alone. He might have been startled by this realization, but he was strangely unmoved for some reason. Warm hands moved across his chest. The scents of jasmine, rose, and lavender. A lithe, pale form lingered next to him on the edge of the cot.
Sungui whispered a word of flame and the candle on his bedside table ignited itself. A woman’s round, heavy breasts hung before his face. Above them Ianthe’s white tresses framed her exquisite face. Ruby lips smiled at him as her palms explored the muscles beneath his taught skin. Her eyes were black diamonds reflecting the candlelight.
“Sungui…” She whispered his name like a spell. “I want you.”
Sungui sat up, taking her wrists in his strong hands. She did not struggle or resist him.
“You wish to drink my blood.”
Ianthe laughed. “The wine of your veins is far too rich a vintage for me,” she said. “I do not drink the blood of allies… only enemies.”
And slaves.
Her breath was honey-sweet in his face. He had expected the breath of a carnivore. Suddenly he became fully conscious of her nudity and his own. Already his body was responding to her presence. Her hips were wide, her legs long and slim. She was pale perfection.
“We cannot do this,” he told her. His words contradicted the promise of his ready loins.
“Why not?” she asked. “Gammir is not my lover. He is my… heir.”
She is of the Old Breed, like us.
Yet, unlike most of us, she is not fully Diminished by the will of the Almighty.
She is ageless and full of mysterious power.
“I am told the Seraphim often take lovers among their own kind,” she said. “And that your last paramour is no longer among us.” Her lips hovered close to his. Her hot breath quickened his pulse.
“I am not…” A rushing flood of lust washed away his words and thoughts.
His hands fell to the softness of her breasts.
His eyes closed tightly, as if he were staring at the sun.
“Do I please you?” she asked. Her lips smothered his before he could answer. Heat surged to the limits of his body. He grabbed her narrow waist and pulled her close. The world and all its powers were lost as he fell into a red dream.
When their lovemaking was finished, the candle guttered low. She lay wrapped in his arms, cheek resting against his chest. Had she worked a spell to enchant him? Or was it only that ancient enchantment that all women possessed? He could not be sure. The pantherish aspect of her nature had shone through in her savage mating. He lay spent and exhausted. Sleep stole his awareness, despite a growing sense of alarm.
She woke him with kisses before the sweat had dried on their bodies. Starlight through the porthole of his cabin told him it was still deep night outside. Where he had been exhausted, he was aroused once again. Her taloned fingers worked a tender magic on his flesh.
“You were marvelous,” she said. “A most glorious lover.”
He returned the praise. Yet he did not tell her the whole truth, that her skills had eclipsed all of his previous lovers. Through ten thousand years of carnal delights, he had experienced nothing like her. Already he craved more.
“Is it true that you alone among the Seraphim,” she asked, “assume both male and female forms to suit your moods?”
His hand lingered on the warm curve of her waist. Her snowy tresses smelled of lilac and rosewater. “I possess both aspects,” he said. “But in truth my moods are most often determined by which aspect I wear. Temperament follows form, as form follows function.”
She cooed into his ear and wiggled in his arms. “Never have I found such an enticing lover,” she breathed. “Show me!”
Sungui shook his head. None who shared his body had ever made such a request. As a male he took female lovers, just as his female aspect enjoyed a variety of male lovers. The idea of mingling the two for a single paramour seemed strange. Perhaps forbidden. The Almighty would not allow it, of that he was certain.
“Please,” she begged, touching him in places he could not resist. “I wish to make love to all of you, Sungui. I can find this thrill nowhere else in the world. I have loved women before. You will see that I know how to please both your aspects equally well. Let me do it.”
Why should it be such a strange thing? He was a being of double aspect. Why not share it with her? Why should his intimates not experience the fullness of his being? Already the female aspect slumbering within him leaped at the idea. The female Sungui was rebellious, defiant, and adventurous. To do this thing that had never been done before was a quiet rebellion against the established order. Zyung’s order. The thought excited him, grew in his chest and loins until he could no longer contain it.
Ianthe glided away to watch him change. The hard planes of his body softened to supple curves. His cheekbones and chin receded, growing smaller and more feminine. His neck lengthened and smoothed, as did his legs and arms. A pair of firm breasts sprouted from his chest, smaller than those of Ianthe but no less beautiful. The hair upon his body vanished except for the tangled black mane that grew soft as silk, and the matching eyebrows. Soon the female aspect had banished all manly elements from the body.
Sungui lay bare and splendid in the candlelight. She blinked her heavy-lidded eyes at the amazed and curious Ianthe. Wordless, their bodies joined together in a wholly different yet strikingly similar passion. The Pale Panther taught Sungui the secret arts of pleasing a woman, something only her male aspect had considered until this moment. If this was some arcane spell the pale sorceress had woven, then Sungui was entirely lost in its grip. She no longer cared. They spent the remainder of the night wrapped in an urgent bliss as fresh as new-fallen snow, yet hot as dancing flame.
When the first rays of a gray dawn crept through the porthole, Sungui rose to wash herself in a basin filled by mute slaves. Ianthe lay propped on one elbow, watching her every move. In the corner of Sungui’s vision the Khyrein seemed once again to be a great, white cat staring at her. Sungui accepted a platter of cheese and mangoes from her body-slave, and brought it to the cot. Ianthe’s ebony eyes haunted her with memories of the night’s splendors.
They fed one another slices of yellow fruit and shared juicy kisses as the morning light grew bolder, filling the cabin with a golden glow.
“Why do you serve Zyung?” Sungui asked, sitting on the cot’s edge.
Ianthe smiled. “Because I must,” she replied.
Her feline eyes whispered another message: I am using him to get what I want.
“The Seraphim resent you and Gammir,” Sungui said. She reached for a comb to run through her rumpled locks. “They feel you do not belong. You do not believe.”
“Do you believe?” Ianthe asked.
“I remember,” said Sungui.
“What do you remember?”
Sungui lowered her lips to her new lover’s ear. She whispered what she could not say aloud. “Freedom. And power.”
Ianthe placed a hand on her thigh, tracing invisible patterns with a black talon. “These things can be yours again.”
Sungui shook her head. “A few of the High Seraphim remember their true power, but still they fear Zyung. We are all Diminished in his presence. This will happen to you as well.”
Ianthe laughed. “I serve him, this is true,” she said. “Yet I refuse to be Diminished.”
Sungui touched the pale oval of Ianthe’s face. “So did we all, until we no longer could resist. I have tried to stir them, to restore their greatness, yet I alone retain this independence of thought. Perhaps it is because of my dual nature. I serve, yet I defy. I am a perfect union of opposites.”
Ianthe kissed Sungui’s lips, one last ember of the fires that had blazed between them.
“What do you truly want?”
Sungui’s eyes were bound to Ianthe’s black diamonds. She hesitated.
“To be as I once was,” Sungui said. Her body trembled. “To be free of this Diminished state. To rule, to roam, to build my own empire. To love and slay and tear down mountains if they offend me. To walk this world as he walks it. Fearless and invincible.”
“I sensed this the moment I saw you,” said Ianthe. “These dreams are your birthright. You will have them, Sungui.”
“How?”
“I will aid you. We will both aid the Almighty in taking his new lands, then we will steal them away from him. He is no greater than you or I. You will see…”
Sungui did not believe this. But she wanted to. She yearned for it to be true. It had haunted her dreams for centuries. Longer. Yet none of Those Who Listened would truly hear. She had been alone in this private turmoil for so long, it had become an invisible chain that constricted her body in both its aspects, dragging her down with the weight of ages.
Now, for the first time, she might break that chain. She was no longer alone.
She would steal back the power that was rightly hers, and the world would no longer be slave to Zyung’s peace and order.
“What of Gammir?” Sungui asked.
Ianthe grinned, stroking Sungui’s chin. “Your beauty is unsurpassed,” said the Panther. “I am sure you can persuade Gammir to join our plans. Go to him tonight, as I came to you. Be sure to wear your female aspect.”
Ianthe stood to pull on her silver robe.
“What of the Almighty?” Sungui said. Her heart beat faster, as it had done during the night. “What if he should discover us?”
“Zyung cannot hear our words or taste our minds,” said Ianthe. “My own power prevents it. Speak to no one of this save Gammir.” She gave Sungui a lingering kiss before departing.
Sungui pulled away, wiping blood from her lower lip. Ianthe had bitten it.
Ianthe licked her own lips. Her eyes said: You may have me again, in both your aspects. Then she was gone, leaving Sungui alone in the cabin, a coppery tang on her tongue and drop of red staining the breast of her silver vestment.
Blood magic.
She changed her robe and decided to remain female as she toured the dreadnoughts to deliver the pronouncements of Zyung. Memories of Ianthe’s body and the phantom sensations of her touch lingered throughout the day.
In the early afternoon Damodar returned to the Daystar from Ongthaia. Wrapped in a luminous sphere of power, he emerged from a bank of dark clouds. Sungui had just returned from her own duties, so she came to the middle deck to greet him.
Damodar’s lean face was troubled; the remnants of rage still simmered about his eyes.
“Has the Jade King surrendered?” Sungui asked.
Damodar ignored her, but she knew the answer.
“I must speak with His Holiness.” Damodar stalked toward the Almighty’s cabin. When the great doors closed behind him, a peal of thunder shook the sky. The captain was barking orders to his crew. Men rushed to secure lines and masts while Trill Knights brought their flapping beasts in early. This was no weather for the winged lizards and their riders to brave.
Ahead of the flagship, the horizon was a mass of dark, churning clouds split by jagged veins of lightning. A wall of cold rain engulfed the decks, and the wind grew fierce. It moaned in Sungui’s ears like the howling of conjured devils. Thunder rattled the sails and drowned men’s voices.
“Hurricane!” called the captain from his high seat.
The Daystar sailed into the rising storm.