The Concubines 1

I will admit the tiniest bit of hesitation before I knocked upon the door. When I turned off the main street into the alcove that hid it, I realized that I had not seen it in over a decade and no clear memory of what it looked like. My own home, and I had forgotten it. I had only just purchased it when the Mythseekers received our summons to fight for Axichis. I had thought that war would be a tiny diversion. I was a fool.

It was just a door, wooden, set into an archway of dun-colored brick, down a short staircase from the bustling street above. An iron knocker, in the shape of a fish grasping a ring in its mouth, sat right at my eye level. For the life of me I couldn't remember if it had been there before. My memory assured me it had, and then I conjured an image of the door without. My home was stranger to me in that moment than the deepest jungle of the Ocaital or the stark wastes of Lu-Ninurta.

Tanyth and Quiyahui were with me on the bottom landing. The others, Ujaala, Tanyth's handmaids, and Shaluvia, were arrayed on the steps above. We'd already boarded the qobads in one of the city's stables. The hands there were excited. Apparently, Kharsoomian riding birds were an unusual sight in Castellandria, but not so unusual as the stable master heaped them with lavish praise as mounts worthy of a king. Although, considering the way he looked upon the five comely Kharsoomian maids I traveled with, I think he might have praised most anything to find their favor.

I took the iron ring in hand and tapped it against the plate, softly enough that I thought I might have to do it again. The door opened.

Waiting in the threshold, I saw a face that for many years I expected to live only in my memory. It was Lysethe the Heaven's Fire, former witchthrall of the Heacharid Empire. Her skin was stark white, her hair bound in a simple tail. Her red eyes went wide with surprise as she recognized me. She wore a loose blouse and pants, both in red linen, the Heacharid slave collar still about her neck. My gaze went to the skymander wrapped about her shoulders shedding a soft white-gold light over her fine features.

"My lord?" she breathed in disbelief.

I did not have a moment to speak, which was fortunate, as my mind was a blank.

"Bel!" a familiar voice cried as Sarakiel burst past Lysethe, crushing me in a happy embrace. Her scent, incense and candlewax, filled my nose as I held her. She pulled away only to pepper me with kisses. "I never gave up hope! I knew you would return to us! Oh, how I missed you, my love!"

Laughing, I kissed her too. "I missed you too, Sarakiel."

Sarakiel was more beautiful than I remembered. A darkling, her demonic heritage was obvious, and when she was out of doors, she would conceal her appearance with an enchanted necklace. Her skin was a pale blue, punctuated with darker stripes. Her indigo eyes with their glowing yellow-orange whites were filled with love. Dark horns curved over her head, and her pointed tail lashed excitedly, knocking the hem of her yellow linen robes about. Her hair was tri-colored, copper at the base, then changing to orange for the bulk of its length, then yellow at the tips, and she wore it in a tight bun. Her body was as soft and curvy as I remembered, her embrace effortlessly comforting. I had not realized how much I craved her touch until the moment she held me.

She looked up, noticing Tanyth and the others. "Hello," she said. Then, to me, "Who is this?"

"Please," I said, "I'll explain everything. Can we come in?"

"Of course! Oh, I'm a fool. I was so excited, yes. Come in. Come home!" Sarakiel stepped back and gestured into the house. Of an airy Castellandrian style, the main room opened out into a courtyard balcony that overlooked the Castelpont on the Azure side. Other, smaller chambers opened off of this main one, including bedchamber I'd intended to share with Sarakiel and Zhahllaia.

My entourage filed in after me, looking about with curiosity. The open structure with its clean angles and colorful accents was so alien from the crumbling glory of Kharsoom. Tanyth smiled at both Sarakiel and Lysethe, and I found myself wishing for the enchantment Lyta had on her house, that would allow everyone to converse regardless of language.

Zhahllaia stepped into the room and my heart leapt. She was exquisite. Petite and slender, her skin was bronze, glittering with metallic undertones. Her dark hair had the same luster. She wore only a costume of delicate golden chains and ornate bracers on her wrists and ankles. I could not read her expression. She was, as always, an enigma.

"Zhahllaia."

"Master Wizard," she said.

"I missed you."

"You've grown sentimental," she said, her voice breaking, her gold-flecked eyes soft.

"Honored father. Welcome home." Belazei stepped out next to Zhahllaia. The nereid, my daughter, wore a short dress, a section of netting hanging from her belt as adornment. She was a little older than I remembered, and her words were in Abbih, the language of Old Qammuz.

"Belazei. Your Abbih..."

"Is adequate," Zhahllaia said. "She's clever but needs to take her studies more seriously."

I embraced my daughter. "I am so glad you came here."

"Your wives have looked after me well."

"I'm glad to hear that too. Please, everyone, out on the courtyard. I want to introduce everyone." I repeated myself in Kharish. Tanyth nodded, watching everyone curiously.

We went out into the evening air. The smells of the city folded over us, a riot of seawater, food of every variety, of life in its manifold forms. Distant music, conversation, the sounds of ships in the strait danced on the air. Lights blazed far below on ships and wharf, from windows and streetcorners. After my time in the wilderness, Castellandria was almost overwhelming. Yet I knew that, for the first time since I had left this place to battle the Heacharid, I was safe. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, I was momentarily taken by the magic of the city. Then I focused on my task at hand. On one side were the seven I had traveled with from Kharsoom. On the other, the four who lived here.

"Before we get into introductions," I said, addressing my recent companions in Kharish, "there's the matter of language. The household language is Abbih. Its living speakers are all in this courtyard, and so it affords us privacy, a way to communicate that others can't penetrate."

"And it's a civilized tongue," Zhahllaia said.

"You speak Kharish," I blurted.

"I speak every language, Master Wizard. Has it been so long that you've forgotten?" She looked to the Kharsoomian side. "I will instruct you in Abbih."

"You are Zhahllaia the Enlightened," Tanyth said, a smile lighting her face.

"I am."

"Bel speaks of you fondly."

"Who are you?"

I switched to Abbih, putting an arm about Tanyth. "This is Princess Tanyth of Clan Abibaal, my wife."

Sarakiel was stunned, then broke into a smile, approaching Tanyth and taking her hands. I should have noticed the shadow that passed over Zhahllaia's features, but it was gone so swiftly and I was distracted. It was not until later that I reflected upon this moment that I recalled it being there.

"I am so pleased to meet you. I am Sarakiel."

"Sarakiel," Tanyth repeated. In Kharish, she said, "I am honored."

I translated, and Sarakiel blushed. I then introduced the others on the Kharsoomian side. I once again was forced to explain Oddrin's absence, and my brides were horrified by the little creature's demise. I then explained Quiyahui's role, as well as her monthly transformations. Sarakiel gushed over the coatl's beauty while Lysethe was impressed by her obvious power. It wasn't until I arrived at Ujaala's introduction that Sarakiel stopped me.

"Slave? Bel, no. You cannot have a slave," Sarakiel said.

"I tried to explain that to her, but she would not hear it," I said.

"I am a slave," Lysethe pointed out.

"No, you aren't," Sarakiel said, putting an affectionate arm about the other woman's waist. The way Lysethe leaned into her, there was affection between them. The skymander crawled from the witchthrall's shoulder to perch upon the darkling.

"I am," Lysethe said. "Belromanazar saved me. My life belongs to him, now and forever."

"A bedslave is a Kharsoomian custom," Zhahllaia interjected. "It is a matter of manner and status. Our wizard likely needed one to be accepted at court."

"Something like that," I said.

"The others, the handmaids and the warmaid are slaves as well. Property of the princess, I imagine."

"That's right."

Sarakiel frowned. "I don't like this."

"Because you have a soft heart," Zhahllaia said without malice. "It is likely that they have no other skills and were we to expel them, they would have nowhere to go. Think of them as servants if you must, paid in room and board."

Sarakiel swallowed further objections, but her expression was troubled. I turned the introductions of the Castellandrians. Tanyth was careful to repeat their names and offer a curtsy to each. When we got to Belazei, she was amazed. "A daughter. She is beautiful." She paused. "What is she?"

"A nereid. The result of a dalliance in my youth. I did not know of her until relatively recently."

"Please tell her that I am honored to meet her, and I hope she will come to think of me as a second mother." It was a funny statement, as Tanyth was only a few years Belazei's senior, but I conveyed the sentiment and my daughter smiled with her human teeth.

"The last, I'm afraid I don't know," I said, gesturing to the skymander that had made its way back to Lysethe's shoulder and watched Quiyahui with open suspicion.

"This is Eytelis," she said. "Rescued from the Red Citadel."

"That is my honor," I said with a bow. Lysethe blushed sweetly. I looked about. "This place is too small, isn't it?"

"Azureview was suitable for the four of us," Zhahllaia said, "but twelve? I don't think so."

"Azureview?"

Sarakiel colored. "It is what I called it."

"I like it. I suppose my money from adventuring is exhausted. We'll have to make do until we can earn more."

Sarakiel grinned. "Not as such."

"What?"

Zhahllaia shot a smirk at the darkling. "Sarakiel is quite clever in such matters. She spent your money on things like shops. She gave them coin in exchange for stakes in the business. Now we have income. Quite a bit of businesses. Quite a bit of income. As I said, she's quite clever." Sarakiel glowed under the praise.

"Could we purchase a different house?"

"I was thinking of the neighboring properties," Zhahllaia said. "Buy them, connect them. What used to be two, four, even more houses, can be one. Big enough for all."

"Let's begin that process," I said. "In the meantime, we should find places for everyone to sleep." I explained what was going on to Tanyth.

"We will sleep out here," Tanyth decided. "We have our furs. We will be comfortable."

"Tanyth, you can sleep with me."

She gave me an indulgent smile, putting her hand on my cheek. "My love, these three have been awaiting you. They do not know me yet. They need to understand that you still love them and accept that I am not a threat."

"What about you?"

"I see the way you look at me." She kissed me. "I will sleep out here. I am accustomed to Kharsoomian nights, and this is mild. I will join you eventually, but tonight would be a mistake."

Tanyth went to Sarakiel, kissing her hand, then Lysethe, clasping it, and finally she curtsied to Zhahllaia before returning to the rest of the Kharsoomian contingent. I touched Quiyahui's head, feeling her thoughts. They were with Ujaala, a deep concern born from their years in the wilderness together. I knelt, kissing the serpent on the top of her head. She slithered away to coil about the bedslave, whose body relaxed at the serpent's touch.

Belazei had a small room, where a tub of saltwater gave her the perfect bed. Sarakiel, Zhahllaia, Lysethe led me to the bedchamber we had claimed so long ago. Lysethe gestured, the candles in the room lighting as one, spilling gold everywhere. Bookshelves now stood against the walls, stuffed with texts, statuary, and oddities. A soft pillow stood on a pedestal. On another was Zhahllaia's lamp. A pair of chairs sat in one corner, next to a pair of candles.

"Your wife seems kind," Sarakiel said.

"She is a princess of Kharsoom," Zhahllaia said.

"What does that mean, my lady?" Lysethe asked.

"You cannot trust her."

"Zhahllaia," I sighed. "I've spent years in Kharsoom now. I'll not defend the culture, but Tanyth should not be tarred with that brush."

"I like her," Sarakiel said firmly.

"Why?" asked the djinn.

"You don't know what it is to be a darkling. I have to hide myself, and when I am seen, there is a look that passes behind the eyes. Bel never looked at me like that. It was why I loved him so swiftly. And neither did Princess Tanyth."

Zhahllaia stared at Sarakiel, and her eyes softened. "Very well. I won't call her princess. She is our equal, no matter what her title."

Lysethe relaxed, taking her skymander to the cushion. The little creature slithered from her arm to curl up. "You found your familiar," I said.

"I'll tell you the tale one day, my lord. Where will you have me sleep?" She looked to Sarakiel, "My lady?"

Sarakiel smiled, a glint in her indigo eyes. "I believe our Belromanazar needs a proper welcome." She turned to me. "We have had a good many years to ourselves, and you will need to understand our habits, but for tonight, I just want you to be home. To begin an easy span of years."

"Thank you," I said. "Allow me a moment."

I placed Ur-Anu against the wall, then I removed my robes and boots, followed by the sheath belted over my chest. Clad only in my loincloth, I removed the treasures I had hidden there, the sweetwater goblet, the dryad seed, and the swatch of cloth emblazoned with the scorpion. All three went into a nearby shelf. I turned and the three women were staring at me with a mixture of concern, love, and lust.

"What?" I asked.

"You've grown," Lysethe said, swallowing. "My lord."

"Yes, I've been told I'm broader."

Sarakiel approached. "And taller, Bel. Did you not notice?"

"I had nothing to compare to."

Her hands brushed over the scar on my abdomen. A circle, looking a bit like an eye, was on the right side of me, just above my loincloth. "This was a terrible wound."

"It happened during the war. It nearly killed me."

Her fingers found other scars. The one over my heart, the one on my arm, the whip marks across my back. "Oh, Bel. You were hurt."

"It was not an easy span of years."

Sarakiel wrapped her arms about my neck and kissed me. The edge of her scent, of sweet incense and candlewax, slid into my senses, and I lost myself in her comforting embrace.

"Sarakiel?" Zhahllaia said.

She broke the kiss only reluctantly. "You tell us all you wish to," she murmured, then shot a glare at the djinn as she stepped back. "There. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Master Wizard, you are still dressed, are you not?"

I took her hint and doffed the loincloth. Now I was nude, my staff beginning to rise. Their gazes crawled over my body, Sarakiel hungrily devouring, Zhahllaia softly sampling, Lysethe openly worshiping. I'd had many paramours in the stretch of years, but never three at once who wanted me so thoroughly.

Sarakiel was next, her robe falling from her bountiful curves. Her figure was an hourglass, with heavy, teardrop-shaped breasts, full hips and buttocks, and a slender waist. Her scent grew stronger in the air, the bare slit between her legs shiny with her juices. She let her hair down, shaking it out, and she was a goddess of beauty, all the lovelier for her demonic features.

Lysethe dropped her clothing as well, revealing a leaner, ropier body. She was a warrior, all taut muscle beneath her stark white flesh. Where Sarakiel was curved and soft, Lysethe was slender and hard. I found my attention falling to her sex, furred in white, droplets of arousal clinging to her fleece.

Zhahllaia had no clothing to remove. She joined them, and I was faced with three beauties, all beautiful and unique in their way.

"I was gone from you for a long time. Too long. It was not because I wanted to be. It was because I had to be. I'll explain everything. I'll tell you every story. But not tonight."

Sarakiel pulled me back into her arms, kissing me again. "When you are ready, my love. Come, let me take you."

"Oh, Sarakiel." I took her hands in mine, kissing her fingertips.

She helped me down onto the bed, laying me on my back. I jutted upward, straining for my loves. Zhahllaia stood beside the bed, idly toying with her nipples, watching us. Sarakiel crawled to me, her haunches in the air. Lysethe sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes going from me to the darkling and back again. Sarakiel held up her finger, a shiny black claw emerging from the tip. One by one, the claws emerged, and she flashed her fangs in an alluring grin. She gently placed the tips of her claws against the flesh of my leg. She carefully ran them up my thigh, the lightest of touches. The soft scrape raised gooseflesh in its path. Though Sarakiel would never harm me, her claws were sharp enough to do the work, and those so close to my vitals was enough to inflame me.

As Sarakiel teased, her claws swirling past my most sensitive spots, promising at once death and bliss, Lysethe settled behind her. The witchthrall's hands were just as restless, running over Sarakiel's skin, over her buttocks, up her back, and down to her thighs. Sarakiel's shuddering breath spoke to the success of these touches, and I knew I was seeing some of the ways they had found to please one another.

Sarakiel crawled forward, flashing her canines. "I have thought of this for many years now," she said, her breath tickling my staff. She leaned forward, confidently licking my entire length, from coin purse to head. "I'd forgotten the taste."

"Now that is a crime," I said, caressing her hair.

She grinned again. "You will just have to remain here."

"With you or in this bed?"

"Both," she said winsomely. Her laugh was muffled as she swallowed the tip of my spear. Her lips strained as she sucked me to the back of her mouth. Hot saliva rushed over me, the first rivulet falling running free down my shaft. She pulled her mouth from me, a line of spit dangling from her lip, pausing to gasp for breath, give me a lick, then attacked once again.

She took her time. I could tell she had been thinking of this for a long time. She had meditated on our dalliance so long ago, the thoughts worn deep ruts in her mind. She continued to lick and to suck, taking me to her throat but never deeper. She was not ready for that. She made up for it in eagerness, in the way she slurped with abandon, wanting nothing more than to heighten my pleasure. She purred in her throat, the soft tingle of sound another embrace that danced over me.

I opened my eyes without realizing I'd closed them. I saw why she had begun to purr. Lysethe was behind Sarakiel, her hands on the darkling's buttocks, spreading her, attacking the sweet ring within. The way the witchthrall industriously worked and Sarakiel writhed and pushed against her made me think this was a common component of their loveplay. I was already learning more about my concubines.

The sight, so unexpected from my sweet Sarakiel, took the pleasure that had been building in my belly to explode. I gave a happy moan as it burst from me in hot gouts of pure bliss. Sarakiel coughed as the first molten gush of seed filled her mouth. A thread fell from her lips and down her chin. She leaned back, sitting up. Lysethe, interrupted, sat as well, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes widened as Sarakiel kissed her hard.

Sarakiel's tongue pushed into Lysethe's mouth, and a pearly line fell from between their lips. The witchthrall's eyes widened in surprise, and her throat began to work as she swallowed. They broke, Sarakiel grinning wickedly. She licked her lips once, collecting the drip first from Lysethe's face then her own on a finger, sucking it clean.