3.6-3.8

-6-

            “I don’t know who the demon was.”  Louis shrugged.  “But he’s gone now and Lord Jamiason has demanded your attention in the throne room.”

            Frowning, Paul glared at Louis.  He really did loathe Louis.  “Didn’t you get a good look at him?”

            “I did not.”  Louis replied.  “He obviously didn’t want to be recognized.”  Then, turning toward the door to take his leave.  “Don’t leave him waiting.  He’s been in an extremely foul mood as of late.”

            As if Paul didn’t know that.  Jamiason had been in an extremely foul mood since they had returned from the Oakland Grove.  Some of that had to do with his displeasure with Paul’s insistence that he ride with the Calvary into war.  Most of it was because whatever obsession Jamiason had over the elf had expounded itself tenfold. 

            Shaking his head, Paul pushed his opinions and anger over the elf out of his head and made his way to the throne room.  Whatever was going on with James today, chances were that if he had received a visit from a demon who was still in service to his God then the elf was nowhere in it.

            Slipping through the door, Paul forced himself to smile at Jamiason, who was pacing back and forth across the room in front of the thrones where the two of them sat when granting a formal audience.  Paul knew that his presence had been marked, even if Jamiason had yet to look at him or give him any sign that he had been seen.  Still, Paul cleared his throat and said, “My Lord?  You bid me?”

            Jamiason’s blue eyes turned in his direction for a moment before returning to his pacing feet.  He took two more trips across the room before stopping at his throne and throwing himself—gracelessly and not at all in his general manner—upon his throne.  He sat in silence for a long, long while before finally letting out a ragged, almost heartbreaking sob.

            Not knowing how to respond to such a display, Paul burrowed his hands deep into his pockets and lowered his gaze.  He had served Jamiason long enough to know that when James—who was always in control of his emotions—lost control of his emotions the only thing for him to do was dig in and wait for them to come back into James’ control.

            Finally, James said, “I need you to take a trip.”

            “A trip, my Lord?”  Paul asked, his brow raising.

            “Ta.”  James raised his gaze and forced a smile.  “I need you to deliver a message to someone that I really have no business seeing.”

            Paul felt his jaw clench.  There were only two people in all of Anticata that Jamiason had no business seeing:  Lord Aiken and that Gods be damned elf.  Aiken had never pushed the point, so Paul had no doubt this was about the fucking elf.  “Whatever you will of me, my Lord.”

            James reached into his vest and pulled an envelope from his pocket.  “Give this to Wisterian.”  He muttered.  “And no one but Wisterian.”

            “My Lord, wouldn’t it be faster to send Iykva or one of the other demons?”  Paul asked, surprised.  He hadn’t thought about Wisterian, who James also shouldn’t be seeing given his unholy relationship with the angel.  As for suggesting Iykva, it would take Paul a month to journey to the castle where the elves lived.  Even on their fastest of horses.

            “Yes.”  Jamiason replied. “But I can’t trust Iykva to deliver my message and return without either reading the letter or making a strike against the elves.  We promised Wisterian’s people peace until Iladrul comes of age.  You, I trust, will honor that promise.”

            “You know that I will.”

            “I do.”  James conceded.  “Ride to the west first.  Seek out Lord Lucias.”  Paul felt his eyes grow wide at that request.  “He’ll trade your horse out for one of his winged ones.  Tell him you’ve asked him to do so at my request.”

            “My Lord,” Paul swallowed.  “I don’t think that even at your request Lord Lucias will be pleased to see my face.”

            “And why not?”  He asked, his flaxen brow rising over his dark blue eye.  “He promised me protection long ago.  I’d wont that he’ll grant it to my son.”

            “But I’m not your son.”  Paul muttered.  “He’ll know that.”

            “As far as the world is concerned, you are.”  Jamiason spat at him.  The bite in his tone was sharp.  “It is most urgent that Wisterian reads that letter before Iykva or the others hear the news of what is in it.  They will not be pleased with their fate.”

            “My Lord,” Paul braved, “what is in it?”

            “You’ll know soon enough.”  Jamiason replied, flicking his hand at Paul.  “Now go.  And waste not a moment.”

            Frowning, Paul gave Jamiason a perfunctory bow and did as he was bid.

-7-

            Na’amah sat at Ishitar’s feet with her nose over her crossed paws and her eyes dancing over her father’s face.  Ishitar often came to visit with Lady Lucias and, when he did, just as Sappharon had promised her she would be, Na’amah was always allowed to visit as well.

            “Damn it.”  Ishitar muttered under his breath.  Na’amah, curious as to what had upset him, raised her gaze and let out a tired whine.  As she did so, she watched Lady Lucias—who always wore her female form in Ishitar’s presence—deftly pluck Ishitar’s fairy from the castles board and raise it before her eyes to contemplate it for a long moment.  This was the fairy that Ishitar had carved for Lady Lucias.  And Lady Lucias had praised him for his craft upon sight of it.  “I didn’t see it coming.”

            “Take heart.”  Lady Lucias gave him a guarded smile as she sat the fairy down with the other pieces that Ishitar had lost to her own pawns.  “You’re miles improved from our first game together.”  She sat back and crossed hr arms over her generously swelling breasts, her eyes flicking down to Na’amah and then back up to her son.  “Your problem is that—like your father—you are more concerned with what is taking place on the board than you are with what is taking place in my head.”

            “How in the name of Loki’s Gods be damned beard am I supposed to know what’s taking place in your head?” Ishitar groused.  “You didn’t give me the barest clue that you intended your pirate to visit the grove.”

            “Do you believe that a real pirate would give a real fairy fair warning that he meant to visit the grove?”  Lady Lucias asked.  “Look at every one of my pieces.  I’m within a move of every one of yours.  They may not be looking your way.  That doesn’t mean that they are not watching you.”

            Na’amah whined over that particular sentiment.

            She felt the tips of Ishitar’s fingers on the top of her head and she immediately quieted down.  She knew that he didn’t like it when she whined.  He had a penchant for very violent headaches.  She sensed that playing castles with Lady Lucias was just one of the many triggers that set the pain ablaze in his mind.

            “I know that it is frustrating.”  Lady Lucias sighed, her eyes returning to Na’amah.  “But you must be prepared for every eventuality.”  

            Na’amah wanted to whine again as she held her gaze but she managed to keep her discontentment in her throat.  She was looking at her more and more often lately and always with a quietly curious expression that both terrified and troubled her.

            It was as this thought was crossing her mind that a hesitant knock played at the main door in the cottage.  She jumped to her feet, ready to trail after her father to answer when she heard Lady Lucias command that she stay and that Ishitar see to their guest.  She howled at that, causing Ishitar to laugh and pat her head as he made his way past her.

            When Ishitar was out of the room, Lady Lucias found her male form and turned his gaze away from Na’amah and toward her father.  His hand, however, rose with one long finger pointing in Na’amah’s direction.  “That isn’t a dog.  I’ve known it from the start but I haven’t understood exactly whose child it is until today.”

            “My Lord?”  Sappharon asked, his eyes wide.  Na’amah felt her own heart begin to thrum.

            “Whose child, Sappharon?”  He asked.  “And don’t lie to me.”

            “I don’t know what—“

            “I know by the smell of it that it is yours.”  Lord Lucias muttered. “Who is the mother?”

            Sappharon’s eyes darted to Na’amah.  He licked his lips and then returned his gaze to Lord Lucias.  “Does it matter, my Lord?  I swear she was my only indiscretion.  It was a mistake.  I’ve always known in my heart that it was a mistake.  And it was long, long ago.”

            Lord Lucias’ eyes narrowed and then returned to their rights.  “No.”  He finally conceded.  “If you are faithful to me now that you and I are lovers then it doesn’t matter who you have loved in your past. No matter that Noliminan would damn you and the child for it.   I just have grave concerns over a dathanorna lying to my son about what it is.”

            Na’amah, let out another howling whine.

            “She won’t hurt Ishitar.”  Sappharon said, his tone softened.  “I promise you.  She knows that I love him as my own.”

            Lord Lucias sighed and returned his gaze to Na’amah.  Finally, he granted her a tight—and very tired—smile.  “If you trust her then I suppose that there is no harm in having an extra pair of eyes upon him.  But you must be careful that no one else discovers what you are.  Your existence can only mean the death of both yourself and your father.”

            “We both know that.”  Na’amah replied, lowering her gaze. 

            Lord Lucias, amused that she had spoken to him—and in her own female voice—let out a string of quiet laughter.  “Yes.”  He said as the door opened and Ishitar stepped in with a tall, copper headed man at his heel.  “I suppose that you do.”

            “My Lord.”  Ishitar’s quiet, kind voice seemed hesitant to interrupt them.  Na’amah knew that he not heard their conversation.  He must have assumed that the discussion was that of two lovers and so didn’t wish to interrupt.  “This is Prince Paul.  He’s—“

            “Jamiason’s child.”  Lord Lucias said, his tone that of surprise, as he found his feet.  He held his hand toward Paul, who took it and gave it a good, hard shake.  This made Lord Lucias’ smile grow.  Na’amah reflected upon that fact that Lord Lucias was extremely handsome when he smiled.  She’d seen him wear a true smile on only one other occasion:  the day that she and Ishitar had first visited him.  “Or, his heir, to be more exact.”

            “Yes, my Lord.” Paul released his hand and bowed to him.  “Forgive me for imposing on you so late in the day.”

            “Not at all.”  Lord Lucias seemed to beam at him.  “Given your limitations a late night visit is to be expected.”  Then with a smile.  “How is the brat?”

            Paul laughed, causing Na’amah to shiver.  Had she ever heard such a beautiful, jovial laugh?  Even Lord Loki, who always seemed to be cracking wise, had never let out such a free and honestly happy laugh in her presence.  It was the kind of laugh that was deep and from the belly.  And it brought Na’amah a wave of comfort and peace that she would have mistaken her sudden rush of desire for love were she foolish enough to believe in such trite emotions.

            “I’m afraid that I’ve never seen that side of him, my Lord.”  Paul grinned beneath his copper beard.  “He’s always been the model of seriousness and propriety when in my presence.”

            “Yes.”  Lord Lucias replied, indicating the sofa and biding Paul to take a seat.  “I’m afraid that he is a victim of his own disenchantment.”  He lowered himself at the castles table, watching Ishitar return to his seat as he did so.  Passing Na’amah, Ishitar reached between her ears and scratched the top of her head.  Lord Lucias watched this as well, his smile once again becoming guarded as he appraised her.  “It’s unfortunate because he was once so spirited.”

            “So I understand.”  Paul replied, taking his seat.  “What a beautiful dog.”

            “He belongs to my son.”  Lord Lucias tore his eyes away from Na’amah and turned them toward Paul.  When he was no longer looking at her, Na’amah walked toward Ishitar and laid her head upon his thigh.  Smiling, Ishitar wrapped his large, comforting hands around her muzzle and lovingly began to stroke her.  “His name is Ansibrius.”

            “Ansibrius.”  Paul muttered.  “Interesting.”

            “Quite.”  Lord Lucias replied, bemused.  “How might I help you, child?”

            The smile immediately fled Paul’s face and his expression became dire.  “Lord Jamiason has asked if I might borrower one of your winged horses.”

            “Of course you may.”  Lord Lucias shrugged.  “To what purpose?”

            “I must deliver a message to King Wisterian.”  Paul replied, his brow furrowed.  “He said it was urgent that it reaches King Wisterian before news of some disaster reaches the ears of the demons with which we keep our company.”

            Lord Lucias let out a long, low whistle through his teeth.  Na’amah had heard that whistle before.  “I’d completely forgotten about the angels and the demons of the subsequent revolts.”  He muttered.  “Did Jamiason tell you what the Council means to do?”

            “No.”  Paul shook his head.

            “They mean to turn the angels and demons back to their hermaphrodite state.”  He groused.

            “They mean to do what?”  Ishitar asked, lifting his gaze from Na’amah to look at his mother. 

            “You heard me, child.”  Lord Lucias replied.  “At the next Council, which should occur within the next three years.”  His dark brown eyes returned to Paul.  “If you think Iykva and the others are angry now, just you wait until this particular vote is passed.”

            “They can’t do that!”  Ishitar cried, standing.  “Mima, you can’t let them!”

            “Ishitar!”  Lord Lucias snapped.  “How dare you!  I am not your Gods be damned mother!”  His eyes were darting nervously between Paul and Ishitar.  It was clear to everyone in the room that the moment that Ishitar had called Lord Lucias by the endearing term of ‘mother’ that Paul knew exactly who Ishitar was.  It was even more clear—at least to Na’amah—that Lord Lucias’ denouncement of Ishitar as his mother had wounded the young man in a manner that was irreparable. 

            Ishitar’s anger was palpable when he spoke.  “The Quorum will be devastated!”

            “To the Hells with the Quorum.”  Lord Lucias snapped.  “Quiet you and sit yourself down!”

            Na’amah watched in fascination as Ishitar glared at Lord Lucias.  His eyes flicked to the chair where he had been sitting and then back to his mother.  When he spoke, his tone was hard and cold.  “To the Hells with the Quorum?”  He asked his mother.  “No, my Lord.”  Lord Lucias’ eyes grew wide.  This was the first time that Ishitar had addressed him in the male vernacular.  “To the Hells with you.  For your denouncement of the Quorum, your sons.”  He growled.  “But more so for your denouncement of me!”  He looked away and seethed.  “I had come to love you.  To believe that you loved me too.  But you really are no better than my father at the end of it.  And you never loved me any more than he has ever done after all.”

            “Ishitar, that’s not—“

            Ishitar waved his hand at Lord Lucias, silencing him, and then stormed out of the room.  Na’amah found herself looking from her father to Lord Lucias with wide eyed surprise for a moment and then, knowing her place, she followed.

           

-8-

           

            Ishitar was miles down the path that led up the mountain to Zadkiel’s house before he realized where it was that he was headed.  And when he realized his intent, he found himself abruptly stop.

            “Damn.”  He spat before letting out a hard and irritated sigh.  “I can’t go to Zadkiel.”  He shook his head and turned his gaze to Ansibrius, who had caught up with him and who now sat at his feet looking quizzically up at him.  “Zadkiel will be furious about this.  And all that I will succeed in doing is getting him into trouble.”

            The dog merely continued to stare at him with its mismatched eyes. 

            “Why do you have to be a Gods be damned dog!”  Ishitar screamed at him.  “I need a friend today!  Not a fucking dog!”

            Ansibrius, seeming to understand him, flinched.  Ishitar watched in amazed surprise as his dog disappeared completely and then reappeared as a strikingly beautiful women with long brown hair and flaming eyes.  She was the very image of Lady Sappharon but for her hair, which was very much like Lucias’ when Lucias wore his female form.

            “What?”  He looked around himself, panicking.  “Where is my dog?  What did you do with him?  I want my dog back.”

            And just as suddenly as the woman had stood there, now there was the dog.

            Ishitar stared at the dog and then closed his eyes and shook his head.  Damn his headaches, but this was the first time that he had ever hallucinated. 

            “Fuck.”  He said, stepping toward the dog and opening his eyes.  “This has been a rough day.”

            The dog, staring up at him, whined.

            Ishitar, overwhelmed with his pain and his anger, lowered himself to his hunkers.  The dog stepped hesitantly forward.  When he did so, Ishitar wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face in his coat. 

            “All I want in all of the worlds right now is to disappear out of everyone’s line of sight.”  He muttered.