Stormlord Rising Read online

  She grinned at him, her lips almost lost in the plump folds of her face. “And I am sure we can come to some agreement, m’lord.”

  Even after saying that, it took them another half run of the sandglass to agree on the details, but finally he had what he wanted: her promise to see that a reliable member of the next Scarpen caravan leaving Scarcleft would deliver an anonymous oral message to the reeves or headmen of as many settles or wash-towns as they visited. The price was higher than he liked, but he had little choice.

  “Never mind,” Tourmaline said, when he protested her charge, “I shall include tonight with Silver free of charge.”

  When he demurred, she laughed and refused to listen. She personally delivered him to the door of Silver’s room, her bulk lending force to her invitation. In the end he acquiesced, deciding it was easier to let her have her way than to argue. And in truth, the idea of gazing at Silver again was an enticement.

  The handmaiden’s room was luxurious to say the least, and she gave every appearance of being delighted to see him. Her enthusiasm left him unmoved; he had learned far too much from Terelle to believe anything except that Silver’s smiles and coquetry were part of her job.

  As Tourmaline waddled away, he gently disengaged the hand clutching his arm. “You don’t have to pretend,” he said.

  “Pretend what?” she asked.

  He flushed. “That anything about me—other than my money—is at all fascinating. I wouldn’t mind listening to some music, though,” he said. “Do you play the lute?”

  She did, and she had a sweet singing voice, so he spent a pleasant run of the sandglass listening. Between songs they ate the delicacies Tourmaline sent up from the kitchens and, when he asked a question or two betraying his lack of even elementary knowledge of music, she was happy to explain. At the end of that time, she laid her lute aside and moved to untie his tunic.

  He grabbed her wrist. “No,” he said. “I do not want to bed someone who is only constrained to do so for tokens.”

  She looked at him in astonishment.

  “Tourmaline needn’t know I didn’t lie with you,” he added. “I just hate the idea of sharing an… um… intimate moment with someone who has no real interest in doing so.”

  For a moment she looked at him blankly. Then she said, “But of course I want to! You are the stormlord, my lord!”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to bed me for money,” he asked, amused, “but because I am the stormlord?”

  Her mischievous smile was back. “And why not? After all, men want to bed me for my face and figure; why should I not want to bed a man because he is both personable and important? And it’s nice that you are young, too!”

  Jasper couldn’t think how to reply. His heart raced. Salted damn, but she was beautiful. He grabbed at the wine and took another gulp, as if that would help him control his own body.

  She pushed her advantage, her expression thoughtful and her finger raised to her cheek as if she was assessing his looks. “My lord, if we were two people meeting accidentally in an inn taproom, I would be plotting how to entice you into my bed so I could revel in the idea I had lain with the land’s only stormlord—who also happens to be a very innocent young man with a sweet earnestness about him and—” She made a vague all-encompassing gesture at his torso, but the look on her face flattered.

  He laughed. “You,” he said, “are very good at your job. But do you really like bedding strangers?”

  She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “It’s a job. But, yes, sometimes I do and this is one of those times. And you will disappoint me if you leave without seeing what I have to offer. You will disappoint me if you leave before I see what you have to offer me.”

  He wondered whether all of that was just the patter of a handmaiden. “Not much,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I have no experience.”

  “You’re scoffing me.”

  He shook his head, his embarrassment darkening his color. “Er… no, I’m not, actually.”

  “Merciful heavens, we shall have to do something about that! If it worries you,” she added lightly, “then take pity on me. If you were to leave now, all the handmaidens would tease me, saying I have lost my touch. That I am no longer able to entice a man to stay till dawn. And Madam Tourmaline will send some old wrinkled fellow who smells to my bed instead.” She reached out and slid her hand up his arm and across his chest. “But if you stay, I shall have something to remember—that I, Silver of no particular importance, once bedded the most important man in the Quartern. And maybe even taught him something useful?”

  He had to laugh, and she raised her face to be kissed.

  It was her job, he knew that, but he also knew he was going to stay the night and enjoy it.

  On returning to Scarcleft Hall next morning, he had breakfast in his room, humming while he had his tea, and then went to the library where they did most of their stormbringing. By the time Taquar arrived, he had the day’s water allocations planned.

  They moved to the large window with a view in the direction of the sea, and together they assembled the cloud and saturated it with water to change cloud to storm.

  This weakness of mine, Jasper thought as he gathered the moisture Taquar enticed from the ocean, it’s the manacles imprisoning me more securely than any bars could do. Free of Taquar’s bonds, yet snared by the need for storms. How ridiculous is that?

  A servant entered the room twice to invert the sandglass, but still the two men worked on in silence. Once the restless clouds over the sea were heavy with impending rain, Taquar asked, as he always did in the same half-mocking tone, “Can you manage the rest?”

  Jasper nodded. Taquar inclined his head in acknowledgment and left.

  It took Jasper much of the day to do exactly what he wanted with the clouds, first over the Scarpen Quarter, then the Gibber and finally to push what was left to the Border Humps so rain fell in the White Quarter. Eventually the water would feed the tunnels serving the Alabaster mines and the city of Samphire. By late afternoon, he was exhausted. And satisfied. He had finally achieved success in something he had been trying to do ever since he had spoken to Viviandra.

  “The guards tell me you’ve been here since I left you this morning.”

  Jasper jumped, turning to see the highlord standing inside the doorway. He tried to sound matter-of-fact. “I’ve finished now.”

  “Why so long?”

  He shrugged, hoping Taquar would not notice his guilty flush. “It was a difficult stormbringing. White Quarter—that’s as far as I have to send clouds. It takes time. Then I have to be very precise about where the rain falls. Difficult when it is so far away.”

  Taquar scowled at the idea of precious water going to the White Quarter. “Lord Gold will be complaining to me again tomorrow about you watering the heathens, I suppose. You want to watch yourself, Jasper. It doesn’t pay to upset the priesthood, especially not when a man like Basalt is Lord Gold.”

  Jasper shrugged.

  “I came to tell you—Davim has sent a message. He informs me he is withdrawing all his men from Breccia City. In fact, from all the Scarpen on this side of the Warthago. He intends to hold onto Qanatend, I suspect until it runs out of water. He assures me he now believes I really do have you in my custody, so he is prepared to return to the terms of our original bargain, only the line of division will be the Warthago Range.”

  “With the nation divided like a bab pie. Tell me, Taquar, how long will an alliance last when it is made between two men who know nothing of honor and trust each other even less?”

  Taquar smiled thinly. “Long enough. He is busy in the White Quarter, and I have already sent men, both bladesmen and administrators, into the Gibber. The largest of the Gibber wash-towns bow to my rule now.” He chuckled. “All it takes is a handful of armsmen with ziggers in each town. Shall I tell you something amusing? I used the example of what happened to your settle as an illustration of the fate of people who don’t have protection against Reduner atta
ck. The kind of protection I can provide. What was the name of the place again?”

  Jasper had to unclench his teeth to speak. “Wash Drybone Settle,” he said. “One day I will have the freedom to tell Gibbermen just who arranged for my settle to be wiped from the face of Wash Drybone. What will happen to you then, I wonder?”

  Taquar shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what you say, or to whom. Who would fight men with ziggers and pedes when they have no rainlords or water sensitives? You just concentrate on your storms, boy, and leave the politics to me.”

  “Oh, I do, Taquar. I do.” Taquar’s look sharpened, so he added quickly, “But I wonder what the Scarpen forces will do when they realize the Reduners have retreated?”

  “Scarpen forces?” Taquar snorted. “What Scarpen forces?”

  “The ones the other cities are assembling.”

  Taquar looked amused. “Whatever makes you think that is happening?”

  “No city was going to sit still and wait for the Reduners to come; not once they heard Breccia City had fallen to Sandmaster Davim. They will have been arming and training, and they will have learned a lesson from the fall of both Qanatend and Breccia. They will realize they must unite.”

  “I think you overestimate the good sense of the unwashed, Jasper. Even if you are right, it is to the Highlord of Scarcleft they will look for leadership. I am better armed, with better guards and more pedes. My guardsmen will take over Breccia City. My power will spread. How can it be otherwise? Besides, I have you. I am the only one who can threaten anyone with water shortages.”

  “You can threaten. But if ever they called your bluff, you’d be in trouble because there’s no way I’d deny others water. In fact, I’d be more likely to reward them! And don’t forget, many people know about your unholy pact with Davim. You don’t have too many friends.”

  Taquar smiled. “I have Lord Gold. He controls the rainlord priests. And he doesn’t like you one little bit. Don’t underestimate me, Jasper. That would be unwise.”

  “And if I defy you, what then? Will you punish me? How? Kill me? Hardly, I think!”

  Taquar did not answer.

  Jasper pushed past the highlord as he left the room. The expression on Taquar’s face was fleeting, but Jasper would not have missed the moment for all the water in the city.

  As he walked back to his room, though, his pleasure died. The taunting might be satisfying, but it was childish and probably dangerous. Taquar was right: if the man did have Basalt’s support, and if the priests voted to uphold Basalt as the new Lord Gold, then Taquar could command a lot of power when it came to a vote to confirm or deny his position as Cloudmaster. Half the rainlords of the Scarpen were waterpriests.

  And waterpriests were powerful among the devout.

  Jasper had promised the dying Nealrith that Taquar would never rule the Quartern.

  Spindevil take it, is that yet another promise I can’t keep?

  * * *

  Pediment was one of the five escarpment cities trickling from the top to the bottom of the scarp like spilled bab molasses. For the past half-cycle or more, the main topics of conversation in the city, from the guards on the northern wall restlessly scanning the distance for tell-tale signs of dust in The Sweepings to the humble piss-collector on the city’s lowest level, were the lack of water and storms, and the possibility of a Reduner invasion. Probably it was the same in the other four cities as well.

  At the same time as Jasper and Taquar were sniping at each other, the Overman of the Guard on Pediment’s northern wall was dashing away from his post with undignified speed to race into Pediment Hall on Level Two. Once admitted, he took the steps three at a time on his way to the hall’s large reception room. At the top of the stairs, after a minimal knock on the door, he burst in on the highlord, who was meeting with his rainlords. As the group of startled men and women looked at him, the Overman flapped a hand at the open door to the balcony. “My lords; look! Look at the sky!”

  When a staid officer of the guard behaved so erratically, it seemed a good idea to listen. The highlord rose to his feet and did as he was asked. The other rainlords crowded behind him as he stepped out onto the balcony, their faces turned skyward.

  One of them wiped away the dribble of saliva escaping from the twisted corner of his mouth and said quietly, “I’ll be salted.”

  The expression on his face might not have appeared pleasant to most people, but to those who knew the recently widowed Lord Iani best, it was clear he was smiling for the first time in a long while.

  Far above them in the sky, thin white clouds had formed into recognizable shapes. Letters. Cities of the Scarpen unite, they read. Prepare for battle. Stormlord Jasper Bloodstone commands you.

  “What do you make of that?” someone asked Iani.

  “I think at last we have a stormlord who is man enough to lead us.”

  The Highlord of Pediment added, with a wry smile, “And one clever enough to find out how to tell us. Who would have thought it of a Gibber-born wash-brat? Lord Iani, I think we are prepared to give you—and all the other free Scarpen cities—the cooperation you have been asking for.”

  Iani smiled. His thoughts were grimmer. Jasper, Taquar has his spies everywhere. He will soon know what you’ve done. Be careful!

  Jasper decided he would not return to the Silvermesh Snuggery again, although part of him longed to do so. I have to marry Senya, he thought, but I don’t have to betray what I feel for Terelle by going to see Silver again.

  Yet three days after making that decision and pushing away all thoughts of Silver, he had a dream involving her. They were in Opal’s Snuggery, and Laisa was there as well, telling him not to think, just to enjoy, it was better that way. So he smiled, enjoying the sensations rippling through him. There was something wrong about that enjoyment, though, he knew. It would annoy Nealrith and Terelle, that was it. In his dream he ordered Laisa to leave, then told Silver she had to go too, because he couldn’t use the money Nealrith had given him from the Breccian treasury to pay her. She vanished, her place taken by Terelle. That was better.

  Then the dream faded, and the substance was suddenly tangible. He woke fully, to find the pleasure racing through his body. Real, not imagined. His eyes flew open, but he didn’t need to see who was touching him. He recognized the perfume.

  He sat bolt upright, struggling to heave her away. “Senya—what the waterless hells are you doing?”

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” she said, and did something to him he would never have guessed she even knew about.

  Appalled, he pushed her away. “Sandblast it! Stop that!”

  She took no notice, and to his embarrassment his body continued to respond. Salted damn, but that felt good. “Senya—”

  Her head came up. “Jasper, you were right, and I was wrong. We need to marry. We have to have children.”

  “All right,” he agreed in desperation. “But later—”

  She wriggled upward, her naked body squirming delightfully across him, and covered his mouth with her lips. Her hand went to where her mouth had been a moment before. He clutched at her, wanting to throw her off him, but his protest muted and then ceased as he felt himself awash with her smell and his own arousal. Thoughts tumbled, confused.

  She’s not new to this. Blighted eyes, her breasts are so—

  Stop her.

  Why? Enjoy it while it lasts. You know you have to marry her anyway.

  Her nipples—

  This is so stupid, I know it…

  Oh, salted damn!

  He let his scruples go and allowed himself just to enjoy, to be borne away on the crest of pleasure. And then he was the one taking charge, sucking her delightful breasts, twisting her over onto her back and pushing himself into her. Part of him knew he would regret it, but the rest of him? That part didn’t care and refused to listen.

  Afterward, she rolled out of bed, and in the dawn light entering through open shutters he caught the look on her face. She pulled on her
robe and went to the door. The guard there turned to see as she emerged from the room. Only then did she pause and turn back to look at him. Only then did she smile provocatively. And then she was gone. The guards closed the door.

  Jasper collapsed back onto the bed. He lay still, staring at the ceiling. Feeling sick. All memory of pleasure evaporated, replaced by self-loathing as his thoughts coalesced. He rose, lit a lamp and by its light examined the under-sheet. There was no blood. He was not sure whether that made him feel worse or better. When he considered what it meant, especially coupled with her obvious experience and lack of shyness, he didn’t much like the answer.

  Who would dare? Who would even have had the opportunity?

  Only one name came to mind.

  Taquar Sardonyx.

  But why? What possible cause could Taquar have had for a relationship with Senya? To annoy Laisa? To annoy him, Jasper? No, whatever the reason was, it had to make sense. Taquar did not act on the spur of the moment, and he was not such a rampant hedonist he would seize a moment’s pleasure without some design in mind. Nor would he seek such a petty revenge on Jasper.

  No, what had just happened was something Taquar had plotted for a reason. He’d planned it and had tutored Senya in what to do. He and Laisa and Senya had been in Scarcleft only—what—thirty or so days now, but still, time enough for Taquar to have that silly girl, already infatuated with him, purring at his feet like a petted cat. The withering bastard. And he, Jasper, had not had the strength of character to throw her out of the door.

  I wonder if this is what a whore feels like… used. You are going to regret this, Jasper. He felt it deep in his bones.

  She had wanted the guard to see, of course, knowing the news of it would spread. She had bedded him at Taquar’s instigation, and he had been stupid enough to let her do it.

  As she’d left, she had looked so damned smug.

  Jasper dreaded Taquar making some comment about Senya, but at the next morning’s cloudmaking session the rainlord neither said nor did anything to indicate he knew what had happened. Jasper was not naïve enough to believe the man did not know. Of course he did. Senya would never have behaved like that without being told what to do. And as much as Laisa was a poor mother, Jasper didn’t think she would have been instrumental in using her daughter that way. No, this was Taquar’s devious fingers manipulating a girl to do his bidding and teaching her how in his own bed. All Jasper had to do was to find out why.