Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

70. Idezza's Welcome

The Idezza's welcoming festival fit nicely with the campaign against the Tigress. She, no doubt, had her own magic lantern. A dozen of the Imperial High Scribes had to have been watching my arrival to the defiant city.

I wanted my opponent to see the Deadhead Company carousing, while Xenophonta blocked certain preparations from the spies. Kozima could keep his misgivings about Taffiz. I preferred a scorpia assassin to teach my middle daughter the mysteries of the Ashanti. Taffiz knew more than the High Scribes. I also suspected that he was better trained to block the drug's effect on his mind.

On the night of the party, Xenophonta gave my thumbs up. I donned a pretty dress, brushed my hair until it draped my shoulders, drew golden hoops through my earlobes, swung my hips and plastered on a carefree smile. With everyone watching—my troops, Imperial High Scribes, scorpia—I rode to Idezza.

A huge bonfire took over the middle of the Piazza Divina. Banners and flower garlands basked in its orange glow. Musicians, acrobats and jugglers competed for every square inch of space left by the long tables. Dancing was the thickest around the bonfire. I didn't notice any dwarves among the entertainers. Was it Nirav's doing? In all probability, yes.

The wine flowed more plentiful than the great Enzara River. My lieutenants sang loud enough to drown out the dancing music. I laughed like a hyena. The risks of tomorrow's expedition were for tomorrow.

Despite the naked shoulders, I was hot in my dress. Hot and drunk. And I wanted to be hotter, more drunk, more careless. When the musicians kicked up the tempo to the wildest tune they knew, I lifted my empty goblet upside-down.

"More wine for your Commander!" I roared. Beyond the littered trestle tables, just outside the pavilion, the piazza undulated in the orange light.

A familiar hand refilled the goblet from me. "The whole of Idezza is dancing to honor you, Your Grandissima," said Nirav, appearing by my side.

"You are not wrong! Let's dance to honor me!" I tossed the goblet aside, spilling wine over Miccola. "Miccola! Let's dance! Like in the good old times!"

She shook her thumbs at me in warning. "O Ismar! Slow down!"

"Shut up, I'm going dancing!" I yelled over the music and the cheers.

"Right, dancing." Miccola stretched out her long legs before me. "Don't dance to the altar this time, Ismar."

I climbed over my Second-in-Command and pushed Nirav towards the middle of the square. "Pah! Not before I witness your wedding vows."

"The foremost thing Ismar's legendary example taught me is the perils of matrimony. I'll never marry!" Miccola announced to the table. Goblets clunked together and the cheers tripled in volume.

I hope the Tigress' servants observed Miccola's grin, but not the glint in her green eyes. Without the glint, she was a washed-out lieutenant down in her cups. Always the Second to a better woman, never a Commander. With the glint, she was the best ally anyone could ask for. Her last admonition to me was: "Don't stay out late... dancing, Grandissima."

"I'll see you at the first light," I promised.

Nirav and I charged into the crowd.

No matter what the morning held in store for us, tonight I wanted to dance. Alas, even the Tigress' elephants couldn't have penetrated the feasting throng around the pavilion. The music boomed in my ears, but the pipes and drums might as well have been in Char-Kermen.

"Mythra's fangs!" The archway into an alley loomed to my right. Was I a strategist or not? I pushed between the revelers, then climbed over an overturned bench and peered into the mouth of an alley. It was time to ask for local guidance. I pointed into the shadows. "Does this cloaca lead back to the piazza, Duke?"

"Yes, I think so... Yes." A fleeting smile on his lips told me that the unsure tone of voice was a pretense. He steadied me, both hands on my shoulders. How nice! Nicer than hiding his familiarity with the dark alleys of his city.

We walked into the alley. The night's cool air started to dissipate the heat brought on by wine and crowds. I could hear the festivities roiling ahead of us, but... In the narrow alleyway, the light and the noise of the piazza made only one side of an imaginary box. The cobblestone was dark under our feet. So were the blind walls of the houses to our left and right. The darkness was to our backs and the starry skies spread overhead.

I didn't feel like returning to the party any more. Dancing be damned! I wanted something else on the eve of a difficult campaign. Something far more fun...

"Here." I whirled Nirav to face me and parted his lips with my tongue.

Nirav's curls, perfumed by something bitter and fresh, snaked into my eyes. It wasn't cedar this time. Something else woodsy, a precious sap. The Duke had a weakness for trees. What I loved was the taste of his lips. And their aftertaste when the velvet kisses trailed lower and lower down my neck.

Blessed be the narrowness of our alley! The wall was only a step away. I pressed him into the stucco and straddled his hips. The free-flowing skirts I wore for the occasion fell about our legs in soft folds. The men's wardrobes are designed to keep them chaste, all these abominable lacing, tightly locked belts and tight seams. Yet, I'm yet to meet a woman who'd be stopped by a knot on a leather string! I certainly wasn't going to be one.

Nirav's age and good looks made it nearly impossible that the 'first nectar from his flower's pestle'—to use a euphemism of his aristocratic caste—hadn't been drunk already. I didn't mind. As sweet as the green wine of innocence is, I preferred to drain the headier mixtures to the last drop. He was still the prettiest thing in the night, and that's with the silver disk of Divine Yansara looking down on us.

I slid onto him. The moment the getaway to my womb felt the touch of his flesh, its needs blinded me. Our small world grew even smaller. Him and me, hip to hip, chest to chest.

Nirav sagged under my weight with every trip I took. He was talkative, but the only word he said was my name. Ismar, Ismar, Ismar...

First, he whispered it into my neck, then into my ear. I had never understood those calling on the Divines when making love to a mortal, but I came close that night. Alas, he shuddered between my thighs all too soon. Were he wed, it would have been his wife's task and his brother-husbands. I could remedy the lapse in his education, but... I looked to the sky, mindful of Miccola's warning. We had to meet at sunrise. That meeting was more important than one night's lover.

He rolled his head back... If the darkness could be luminous, if the stars could be black, they would have been Nirav's eyes. "Idezza has to honor me in absentia for the rest of the night. Follow me, for I want to teach you patience."

I didn't waste time straightening his clothes. He wouldn't be the only man walking with his belt in hand tonight. In the festive lights we were just another pair of revelers seeking a nook.

I found Breva and borrowed a horse for him—it was not a night for negotiations—and let Breva gallop. She raced through the night, eager to leave the dirt road and get onto the glowing highway of the stars. A silver steed racing Yansara's silver... Breva was the fifth horse of the same name, the same coloring I owned. She was as swift as her predecessors had been.

I had to rein her in after a few minutes. The hooves pounded through the air. Heart pounded in my chest. "Nirav, are you sore in the saddle?"

"Not yet, Ismar." He rode decently, falling behind less than I thought he would.

"If you hurry, you'll be," I promised.

"My poor mare is no match for a warhorse," he said reasonably. Then, added in a husky whisper, "I wonder how you look in full armor."

It didn't occur to me that a man who was not fit for war might find its accouterments titillating. For my part, I found that titillating. It had been too long since I held Ondrey in my embrace. "My full kit is in my tent, if that excites you, sweetheart," I teased and raced on.