Fire & Ice
The last hours of night had given way to the first pale shards of morning, but the spacious rooms of the palace still vibrated with music and movement. The feast had ended hours before, and the huge barrels of specially prepared inebriants had almost all run dry, but the majority of the revelers were in no mood to retire. Twin lines of dancers, men on one side and women on the other, spanned the entire length of the ballroom. Vibrant colors flashed and glowed as the most prominent citizens in the city displayed their finery for their new sovereign.
Tilting his goblet in his hand, Zor Khan stirred its diminished contents with a slight movement of his wrist. Much as he'd looked forward to his inaugural ball, he now found himself bored with the endless procession of sycophants and toadies. Their previous ruler had been weak, overly scrupulous. Wresting power from him had been almost too easy, a contest staged between a man and an infant. He only hoped that ruling this colony of sheep would prove more of a challenge. He knew himself well enough to know that boredom often led to caprice. He supposed it was a mixed blessing that he had reached a position from which he could demand anything he wanted at any time. In any case, he planned to enjoy it.
From his place on the dias, he surveyed the crowd once more, this time focusing on the women who swayed and gamboled for his amusement. A few even turned to him and offered coy little smiles as they moved from one row to the next and back again. Rather to his own surprise, Zor Khan found that the harder they tried to please him, the less interested in them he became. Too much perfection, he decided, was not necessarily a good thing.
He was about to ask his aide to begin ushering the guests out of the palace when he spotted a woman he had not noticed before. Settling back in his seat with renewed interest, he watched her weave among the throng of other dancers with the kind of unstudied elegance that, in Zor Khan's opinion, came only with the right combination of breeding and education. Unlike the others, she seemed entirely unconscious of her effect on him. Zor Khan found that refreshing.
And he found her intoxicating.
The aide he summoned came quickly, setting down his goblet and hurrying over the moment Zor Khan crooked a finger.
"That female. I want you to discover who she is." Eyes narrowed, he watched her move into the center of the floor, touch palms with a tall blond man, turn, and step back in line with the other women. Thoughtfully he stroked the long point of his freshly barbered beard. "And the man dancing with her. Inquire after both of them at once."
"No need, my lord. I am already acquainted with them. That is the Lady Zarabeth and her brother, Argus."
Zor Khan smiled. "That simplifies things considerably."
The aide's face grew pinched. "I fear not, my lord. They are the children of the House of Jaryd, known to be loyal to the coward so recently-and so rightfully-deposed. Rumors hold that their father has spoken against your lordship's rule."
"Indeed? Yet Jaryd sees no harm in entertaining himself and his family at my expense. In that case, perhaps he would consider his daughter a fair exchange for my hospitality."
Swallowing, the aide shook his head. "I fear not, my lord. Since the death of his wife, Jaryd's possessiveness of his children is well known. He welcomes no one's interference with his daughter."
"In that case, I shall take great pleasure in changing his mind." Zor Khan's eyes turned cold even as his heart began to burn with lust.
"It is not only Jaryd's insolence my lord must contend with. Many say the lady places great store in her own will. She is considered quite headstrong for a woman of her age."
"Nonsense. The will of one's sovereign must take precedence over that of some overindulged chit. Still, I am not a man to force my attentions on any woman-or my views upon any citizen of my realm." With a single flick of his wrist, Zor Khan flung his empty goblet sideways, so that it shattered on the dark stone floor. He stared, gratified, at the particles that gleamed there like stars in a distant night sky. "The female, and her father, shall be offered a fair choice. At that point they they will do as they see fit...and I shall do likewise."
Just then, by chance, he looked up and caught her eyes across the room. He saw them harden just before she turned away. Her brother followed suit, his mouth drawn in a tight, narrow line. Abruptly the two of them turned and left the dance.
"Arrogant pup," Zor Khan murmured.
Beside him, his aide began to smile. "It would not be unseemly for so powerful a ruler as your lordship to impress upon his subjects the value of humility."
Humility. Zor Khan savored that prospect. By the time he finished with the House of Jaryd, she would beg to crawl into his bed. That...or she would beg for her life. And when her relatives came forward to defend her, he would rid himself of an entire cache of dangerous enemies. Most pleasant.
.......
In the end, she did not beg. Proud, so proud, every last one of them, and she held out the longest. Even worse, by the time he sent her away into the ice, other citizens-more of them than he could possibly monitor, or control-began to turn against him. In every corner of the city, he suspected, pockets of resistance were deepening. Even Atoz, the young apprentice librarian, turned away with a sickly expression while she was prepared and then thrust through the portal to her living damnation. Atoz was weak, Zor Khan realized, but in one sense his timidity saved him. A man who dared to question his orders more directly could not have been allowed to live.
Still, Zor Khan was not prepared to admit defeat. Many nights, when he wished to ease his mind, he entered the library and forced Atoz to put the disc in place. Then he would sit for hours, watching the storms, the snow, the misery he had resigned her to. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her solitary figure, meandering among the drifts, hopeless and struggling. Fire and ice, he mused as he watched. Yet he knew the wind on her face was no colder than that blowing through his own heart.
One night, he peered intently into the tiny viewscreen as she made her way along the edge of a deep ravine. The deadly winds surged around her like a pair of enormous, flapping wings while a primeval blizzard swirled in huge, blinding, withering gusts.
One moment, she was there. In the next, a solid sheet of snow momentarily obscured his vision. When it passed, every trace of her was gone.
"Is she finally dead?" he whispered, bending close to the table, peering down into the disc as if the blurring image there held his answer. All he could see was snow. Frustrated, he sat up and looked around for the youthful librarian who had stood beside him only moments before. "Atoz! I require your assistance at once! Where are you? I did not give you permission to leave this place!"
Zor Khan was startled to feel an arm slide around his neck. "I have not left you, my lord," came a quiet voice.
Surprise quickly turned to outrage. "You impudent peasant! How dare you lay your common hands on your sovereign?"
The final syllable left his lips just as the icy steel descended on his throat.
The last hours of night had given way to the first pale shards of morning, but the spacious rooms of the palace still vibrated with music and movement. The feast had ended hours before, and the huge barrels of specially prepared inebriants had almost all run dry, but the majority of the revelers were in no mood to retire. Twin lines of dancers, men on one side and women on the other, spanned the entire length of the ballroom. Vibrant colors flashed and glowed as the most prominent citizens in the city displayed their finery for their new sovereign.
Tilting his goblet in his hand, Zor Khan stirred its diminished contents with a slight movement of his wrist. Much as he'd looked forward to his inaugural ball, he now found himself bored with the endless procession of sycophants and toadies. Their previous ruler had been weak, overly scrupulous. Wresting power from him had been almost too easy, a contest staged between a man and an infant. He only hoped that ruling this colony of sheep would prove more of a challenge. He knew himself well enough to know that boredom often led to caprice. He supposed it was a mixed blessing that he had reached a position from which he could demand anything he wanted at any time. In any case, he planned to enjoy it.
From his place on the dias, he surveyed the crowd once more, this time focusing on the women who swayed and gamboled for his amusement. A few even turned to him and offered coy little smiles as they moved from one row to the next and back again. Rather to his own surprise, Zor Khan found that the harder they tried to please him, the less interested in them he became. Too much perfection, he decided, was not necessarily a good thing.
He was about to ask his aide to begin ushering the guests out of the palace when he spotted a woman he had not noticed before. Settling back in his seat with renewed interest, he watched her weave among the throng of other dancers with the kind of unstudied elegance that, in Zor Khan's opinion, came only with the right combination of breeding and education. Unlike the others, she seemed entirely unconscious of her effect on him. Zor Khan found that refreshing.
And he found her intoxicating.
The aide he summoned came quickly, setting down his goblet and hurrying over the moment Zor Khan crooked a finger.
"That female. I want you to discover who she is." Eyes narrowed, he watched her move into the center of the floor, touch palms with a tall blond man, turn, and step back in line with the other women. Thoughtfully he stroked the long point of his freshly barbered beard. "And the man dancing with her. Inquire after both of them at once."
"No need, my lord. I am already acquainted with them. That is the Lady Zarabeth and her brother, Argus."
Zor Khan smiled. "That simplifies things considerably."
The aide's face grew pinched. "I fear not, my lord. They are the children of the House of Jaryd, known to be loyal to the coward so recently-and so rightfully-deposed. Rumors hold that their father has spoken against your lordship's rule."
"Indeed? Yet Jaryd sees no harm in entertaining himself and his family at my expense. In that case, perhaps he would consider his daughter a fair exchange for my hospitality."
Swallowing, the aide shook his head. "I fear not, my lord. Since the death of his wife, Jaryd's possessiveness of his children is well known. He welcomes no one's interference with his daughter."
"In that case, I shall take great pleasure in changing his mind." Zor Khan's eyes turned cold even as his heart began to burn with lust.
"It is not only Jaryd's insolence my lord must contend with. Many say the lady places great store in her own will. She is considered quite headstrong for a woman of her age."
"Nonsense. The will of one's sovereign must take precedence over that of some overindulged chit. Still, I am not a man to force my attentions on any woman-or my views upon any citizen of my realm." With a single flick of his wrist, Zor Khan flung his empty goblet sideways, so that it shattered on the dark stone floor. He stared, gratified, at the particles that gleamed there like stars in a distant night sky. "The female, and her father, shall be offered a fair choice. At that point they they will do as they see fit...and I shall do likewise."
Just then, by chance, he looked up and caught her eyes across the room. He saw them harden just before she turned away. Her brother followed suit, his mouth drawn in a tight, narrow line. Abruptly the two of them turned and left the dance.
"Arrogant pup," Zor Khan murmured.
Beside him, his aide began to smile. "It would not be unseemly for so powerful a ruler as your lordship to impress upon his subjects the value of humility."
Humility. Zor Khan savored that prospect. By the time he finished with the House of Jaryd, she would beg to crawl into his bed. That...or she would beg for her life. And when her relatives came forward to defend her, he would rid himself of an entire cache of dangerous enemies. Most pleasant.
.......
In the end, she did not beg. Proud, so proud, every last one of them, and she held out the longest. Even worse, by the time he sent her away into the ice, other citizens-more of them than he could possibly monitor, or control-began to turn against him. In every corner of the city, he suspected, pockets of resistance were deepening. Even Atoz, the young apprentice librarian, turned away with a sickly expression while she was prepared and then thrust through the portal to her living damnation. Atoz was weak, Zor Khan realized, but in one sense his timidity saved him. A man who dared to question his orders more directly could not have been allowed to live.
Still, Zor Khan was not prepared to admit defeat. Many nights, when he wished to ease his mind, he entered the library and forced Atoz to put the disc in place. Then he would sit for hours, watching the storms, the snow, the misery he had resigned her to. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her solitary figure, meandering among the drifts, hopeless and struggling. Fire and ice, he mused as he watched. Yet he knew the wind on her face was no colder than that blowing through his own heart.
One night, he peered intently into the tiny viewscreen as she made her way along the edge of a deep ravine. The deadly winds surged around her like a pair of enormous, flapping wings while a primeval blizzard swirled in huge, blinding, withering gusts.
One moment, she was there. In the next, a solid sheet of snow momentarily obscured his vision. When it passed, every trace of her was gone.
"Is she finally dead?" he whispered, bending close to the table, peering down into the disc as if the blurring image there held his answer. All he could see was snow. Frustrated, he sat up and looked around for the youthful librarian who had stood beside him only moments before. "Atoz! I require your assistance at once! Where are you? I did not give you permission to leave this place!"
Zor Khan was startled to feel an arm slide around his neck. "I have not left you, my lord," came a quiet voice.
Surprise quickly turned to outrage. "You impudent peasant! How dare you lay your common hands on your sovereign?"
The final syllable left his lips just as the icy steel descended on his throat.
