The Cerulean Ocean glittered out off the western coast of Uazica like an endless field of sapphires. A Kharsoomian frigate brought us hence to Sacasia, a free city and the trade hub of the area. I remembered it dimly from maps shown to me by my old master, those many years ago in Thunderhead. I had not use for it until now. Eight of us, along with seven qobads, disembarked from the red-sailed ship, and made our way up the wharf to the city proper, where we would stay the night.
I journeyed with a strange retinue. First and foremost was my wife, the Princess Tanyth of Clan Abibaal. Every sailor aboard the ship, man and woman, human and otherwise, had fallen in love with her. Even the taciturn xerxyss who saw to the vessel's hull and initially ignored her fell victim to her charms. It was unlikely he reacted to her breathtaking physical beauty. She had a way about her, an ability to make one feel like whoever she spoke to was the only other person in the world. Her violet eyes focused on them, and love was the only possible option.
As for the crew, I believe the fact that she maintained Kharsoomian fashions was the primary cause of their attention. She was almost entirely nude, wearing only a pair of sandals and golden jewelry dusted with amethysts. A silken half-skirt in the purple of her clan flared out from her hips, secured on a gold belt. Her only concession to the cold night air were the furs she would wrap herself in when the sun went down.
Her warmaid, Shaluvia, was never far from her. Thanks to the warmaid's vigilance, I never feared that one of the sailors might try to hurt my wife. She herself had attracted no few admirers, for though her physique harder than Tanyth's, her features rougher, she was undeniably a great beauty. A pair of Kharsoomian blades hung from her belt, and she wore even less than her mistress, bothering only with sandals, a leather harness, bracelets, anklets, and her slave collar.
Tanyth's handmaids tended to her every need. Akadina and Ku-Aya were Kharsoomian, while Itzamatul hailed from somewhere in the Ocaital. For sailors wishing a dalliance, they were far more receptive, and I believe each one of them availed themselves from time to time. Their jewelry was simpler than their mistress, and they only carried short blades upon their belts.
Ujaala, my bedslave, stayed close by me. She was Tabiyyan, with deep brown skin, long wavy black hair, and a figure with bountiful curves. A beauty in her own right, she had been apart from me for too long and did not want to be forgotten again. Comfort had done her some good, and she had regained some of the weight she lost. Tanyth had only just begun to give her proper jewelry, insisting that what she wore should be marked with my sigil, the feathered serpent.
The model for that sigil was perhaps the most distinctive member of my entourage. Quiyahui, a coatl from the Mixtayhua, played upon the wind by day and coiled nearby me as night fell. A serpent three times as long as I was tall, her body was covered in white feathers. Where the light found them, rainbows bloomed. She watched all around her with lightning-blue eyes. She was my familiar, a new arrangement, but a blessed and needed one.
Lastly, there was me. I was still wearing my barbarian garb, a pair of leather boots, a loincloth covered in folds, and a harness for my weapon. I could have been seen as little more than a savage were it not for the crown on my brow, worn at Tanyth's insistence. My title was a simple lord, but I was married to a princess of Kharsoom, and thus noble by right. My hair and beard were shorter and far more kempt than they had been in a long time. I suppose I looked almost respectable.
We stayed but one night in Sacasia, but I found the opportunity to sample the local chocolatl. While it couldn't compare to the Pelesamatu bean, after years of going without, I was grateful for a draught of this divine beverage. Tanyth laughed at the blissful expression on my face as I savored the frothy mug. "I wish I knew how to make you look like that," she joked.
"Taste, my love," I said.
She had a sip, and gave me an indulgent look. "I'm pleased
you
like it."
"I'll have yours then," I said with a laugh.
The following morning, we made our way into the highlands around the city, mounted on our qobads. The Kharsoomian birds were surefooted up a track muddier than they ever before encountered. Their heads turned back and forth, hunting for the source of unfamiliar sounds in the emerald jungle.
Our destination was not far from the city's walls. A collection of standing stones rose on a rocky outcropping over the bay. Carved with runes, they had been erected uncounted millennia ago by wizards whose names were long forgotten.
Tanyth shivered. "Since you described it to me, I've been looking forward to traveling this way."
"I have missed it," I admitted.
"It would have made your trek across Kharsoom easier."
"Then I never would have met you." She gave me a demure smile.
"I've never seen anything like these," Shaluvia said, watching the stones warily.
"There are none in Kharsoom," I said. "If there ever were, they've long since been destroyed."
I began my incantation, the words falling from my lips in a suddenly familiar refrain. The traveler's breeze washed over me, and I tasted a distant horizon. The sensation was comfortable, a lover that had not forgotten me even though years had separated us.
My retinue followed me into the circle of stones, and the world changed about us. All that we could see took on a flat aspect, but those things just out of vision loomed large and took on too many angles. With each step, the scenery changed about us, every step a league.
In the evening, we emerged from another set of standing stones. I saw with some pleasure that we were somewhere in the Ocaital, and that night as we camped, I was lulled to sleep by familiar jungle sounds.
We traveled this way for some weeks, the day when we crossed the Lapis Ocean the longest by far. The direct route to Castellandria would have taken us through Aucor, but the Heacharids had done a thorough job of smashing every set of stones on their continent they could find. The Hinterlands had grown treacherous there, and so going around was the wise choice. As such, we found ourselves in the southern part of Chassudor. We were far from my homeland of Rhandonia, but closer than I had been in many years.
The cooler climate invigorated me and made me think of that rocky stretch of shore where I had grown up. I was the only one pleased, for all of my human traveling companions shivered in the comparative cold of the southern Chassudorian spring. "How can anyone live in so cold a place?" asked Tanyth, hugging herself.
"This is quite warm," I said. "And here, most people wear more than sandals and a harness."
"They dress like you."
"Actually, I would be considered nearly nude."
I led them into a nearby town, and the sight of these six naked beauties caused quite the stir. I convinced Tanyth to purchase traveling cloaks for all of us. Though all of them complained to some degree about the feel of heavy cloth draped over them, they huddled gratefully in the newfound warmth.
We stayed in an inn that night, and there we were exotics, five women from far Kharsoom, one from the jungles of the Ocaital, one from the saffron cities of Tabiyya, a feathered serpent, and seven riding birds. For once, I was the least remarkable of us, and I basked in my anonymity. After being recognized everywhere as the barbarian boldisar, it was nice to merely be a Chassudorian like nearly everyone else in the inn.
"These are hardly appropriate accommodations for a princess of Kharsoom," Tanyth observed as we beheld our room. It was an unremarkable place, merely a box with a small window overlooking the muddy street.
I embraced her, kissing her neck softly. "Strange that it might be where we conceive a prince of Kharsoom."
"It is," she moaned happily. "Oh, how low have I fallen."
She giggled as we fell into bed and sighed as I slid inside her.
It was only a few days later when we emerged from standing stones on a beach beneath a brightly shining sun. I recognized the waves lapping on the shore, their color and scent would never leave me. This was the Turquoise Sea. I was momentarily stunned, joy at finding my destination, but memories of the war intruded.
"Bel?" Tanyth said. I wheeled my qobad about to see what she was looking at.
The standing stones were on a flat stone just above where living sea life marked the high tide. A staircase led down a path, which then wound up alongside the cliffs in front of us. A guard post stood right where the path began its climb. A squat stone building sat next to a bell, and four guards waited. They wore armor with fine livery, and carried spears and shields. A flag depicting a ship flapped over their blockhouse and was emblazoned on their shields and tabards. It was the symbol of Mairault. The guards, showing admirable discipline, formed into a loose row. Their posture was relaxed, which put me somewhat at ease.
"Hail, Master Wizard," said the guard whose helmet was decorated with a yellow feather. He spoke Mairese, a dialect of Eomet, a dialect I had not heard since my time aboard
The Burning Knave
.
"Hail," I responded carefully. My Eomet was never very good, and I didn't truly speak Mairese.
"You will come with me," he said, speaking as carefully as I. He glanced over at Quiyahui cautiously, but neither he nor my familiar were especially on guard. "It is the law. You will not be harmed."
"What is this about?"
"The Matriarch insists upon meeting wizards who travel here."
"Matriarch?" I asked. "Does not Mairault have a Lord Governor?"
"It does, but he does not insist upon your presence. Please, Master Wizard, come."
"What is going on?" Tanyth asked.
"We're to go with him. I don't sense any danger," I said, then looked over at where Ku-Aya flirted wordlessly with another one of the guards.
"I will need to learn this language," Tanyth said.
"Eomet certainly," I said. "This is the Mairese dialect. Not quite as common, but sailors in the Turquoise often use it."
"I will learn it too," she decided. She would at that. Tanyth has quite the facility for languages and speaks more than I do. I suspect some of her talent stems from her need to communicate. She retains her Kharish accent in every tongue, and that, I suspect, is artifice, to seem more exotic and allow her to get away with certain social liberties. I digress, but these tales are intended to be about my paramours, are they not?
