Iltherian’s Sword - Chapter 18
A tall, silent figure slid silently into the shadows of the tent. The two women who were the current occupants of the tent, did not seem to notice his arrival at all. If they did, they did not acknowledge him. Indeed they were lounging on couches piled with cushions and furs, sipping from golden goblets crusted with precious stones whose contents were kept filled by a tall slave girl, who was pale with fear and whose right cheek bore an angry red welt. Another slave stood with a platter weighted down with cheese and fruit and meat pies.
The man eyed the two slaves curiously. He found, oddly enough, that he could feel a kind of disinterested pity for the slave girls. None of the girls who served in the camp were treated with any kind of regard. The women treated them with slaps and kicks when they were displeased and indifference when they were not. And the men with even less regard, seeing them as convenient vessels to sate their lusts. It was no wonder that so many of them had run away. Even with the threat of being hunted down like sport animals, most of them chose death to remaining.
Abruptly, he dismissed these thoughts from his head as he said quietly, “Lady.”
The shorter of the two started, then tumbled backward away from him to her feet, a pair of crackling blades in her hands. The taller laid a restraining hand on the other’s wrist, a slight smile playing on her full lips, “Ah, General, I see you have returned unharmed. Is it done?”
“Of course. It is as you wished,” the general bowed. “As you anticipated, the Masters have started taking action. So it was easy enough to put your plans in motion.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Lady turned to the shorter woman. “Damarie, I release you for tonight. Return to me in the morn. I have plans I wish to discuss with you.”
Damarie had sheathed her blades when Lady had reacted with nonchalance at the General’s sudden, silent arrival. She knew who he was, of course. The entire army knew who he was, but she had also known who he was before he had been recruited. A rogue, an assassin, who was known only as Murderer. Ruthless and highly skilled, his reputation was such that he was highly sought after by rich merchants, clans and the ruling classes. The mere mention of his name was intimidation enough; the thought that he might come after them had even some of the most powerful of men breaking into a cold sweat.
She studied him while he spoke with Lady. Taller and slender, but still powerfully built, he moved with the sinuous grace characteristic of most rogues. He was quite handsome in a strangely exotic way, he was tanned, a golden color owing more to his heritage than exposure to the sun. Eyes as intense as a fire and black as jet burned even in the darkened tent. A long black braid swung from a topknot down to his waist.
She found him quite attractive, but wondered if bedding him it were worth it . She had no doubt that she could seduce him; sex and seduction were the skills she was best at after all. While she liked a handsome man well enough, it was a man’s power and what he could do for her that truly aroused her. She may have been power-hungry, but she was not stupid either. She knew this man could give her what she craved. But she also sensed that he was no one to be crossed, in bed or out. Still, no use in wasting an opportunity, so she gave him a flirtatious look through her hennaed lashes and a coy smile as she sashayed by him. Although possessed of an iron will, he was a man nonetheless, and he gave her backside a look of pure masculine approval.
“Ah, yes, there was something I wish for you to do, General,” Lady’s voice brought him back to business.
“I live to serve, Lady,” he bowed to her, giving her his full attention.
“Worry not, General,” she chuckled, a rich throaty sound which filled the tent, “I am sure that you will find these orders quite easy to fulfill.”
A tall, silent figure slid silently into the shadows of the tent. The two women who were the current occupants of the tent, did not seem to notice his arrival at all. If they did, they did not acknowledge him. Indeed they were lounging on couches piled with cushions and furs, sipping from golden goblets crusted with precious stones whose contents were kept filled by a tall slave girl, who was pale with fear and whose right cheek bore an angry red welt. Another slave stood with a platter weighted down with cheese and fruit and meat pies.
The man eyed the two slaves curiously. He found, oddly enough, that he could feel a kind of disinterested pity for the slave girls. None of the girls who served in the camp were treated with any kind of regard. The women treated them with slaps and kicks when they were displeased and indifference when they were not. And the men with even less regard, seeing them as convenient vessels to sate their lusts. It was no wonder that so many of them had run away. Even with the threat of being hunted down like sport animals, most of them chose death to remaining.
Abruptly, he dismissed these thoughts from his head as he said quietly, “Lady.”
The shorter of the two started, then tumbled backward away from him to her feet, a pair of crackling blades in her hands. The taller laid a restraining hand on the other’s wrist, a slight smile playing on her full lips, “Ah, General, I see you have returned unharmed. Is it done?”
“Of course. It is as you wished,” the general bowed. “As you anticipated, the Masters have started taking action. So it was easy enough to put your plans in motion.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Lady turned to the shorter woman. “Damarie, I release you for tonight. Return to me in the morn. I have plans I wish to discuss with you.”
Damarie had sheathed her blades when Lady had reacted with nonchalance at the General’s sudden, silent arrival. She knew who he was, of course. The entire army knew who he was, but she had also known who he was before he had been recruited. A rogue, an assassin, who was known only as Murderer. Ruthless and highly skilled, his reputation was such that he was highly sought after by rich merchants, clans and the ruling classes. The mere mention of his name was intimidation enough; the thought that he might come after them had even some of the most powerful of men breaking into a cold sweat.
She studied him while he spoke with Lady. Taller and slender, but still powerfully built, he moved with the sinuous grace characteristic of most rogues. He was quite handsome in a strangely exotic way, he was tanned, a golden color owing more to his heritage than exposure to the sun. Eyes as intense as a fire and black as jet burned even in the darkened tent. A long black braid swung from a topknot down to his waist.
She found him quite attractive, but wondered if bedding him it were worth it . She had no doubt that she could seduce him; sex and seduction were the skills she was best at after all. While she liked a handsome man well enough, it was a man’s power and what he could do for her that truly aroused her. She may have been power-hungry, but she was not stupid either. She knew this man could give her what she craved. But she also sensed that he was no one to be crossed, in bed or out. Still, no use in wasting an opportunity, so she gave him a flirtatious look through her hennaed lashes and a coy smile as she sashayed by him. Although possessed of an iron will, he was a man nonetheless, and he gave her backside a look of pure masculine approval.
“Ah, yes, there was something I wish for you to do, General,” Lady’s voice brought him back to business.
“I live to serve, Lady,” he bowed to her, giving her his full attention.
“Worry not, General,” she chuckled, a rich throaty sound which filled the tent, “I am sure that you will find these orders quite easy to fulfill.”