10

Daniel, Henry, and Rasim joined Crispino and his family for a large late lunch. They ate in the central pavilion again but this time men and women dined together. There was talk of all kinds and lots of laughter. Crispino and Henry fell into a deep discussion about the otherworldly monsters of the Heretic's Arena. Daniel continued questioning Rasim concerning just about everything in Irem, and Rasim patiently answered his questions. Time was forgotten entirely, even after twilight fell.

In the evening, Crispino took Daniel to his private office. He exchanged the Orb for the items that Paternoster had requested. Daniel was sorry to see the Orb go and Crispino sympathized. He opened a small locked cabinet drawer and withdrew something. He held it out on his palm to Daniel and Daniel leaned down to look at it. A chain of gold held a small ivory charm of very peculiar design: a naked man's figure entwined by a snake, the snake's head resting upon the man's lion-shaped one. The lion-headed man held up his hands, a key in each and a scepter held by his right arm. The lion-headed man was framed by four wings upon his back. Though small, the detail of the charm was exquisite. The yellowed patina of the ivory gave Daniel the impression that it was very old.

"Here, take this as a token of friendship," Crispino said. "Rasim is not the only one who enjoys investing in potential talents. Go on, take it."

Daniel took the charm into his hand. It had a nice weight for such a small, delicate-looking piece. The ivory felt smooth and pleasant in his hand. Despite the intimidating open-mouthed lion head, Daniel found the strange figure comforting.

"You were born under what they call the sign of Leo, weren't you?" Crispino asked. "In early August?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, actually. Yes, I was."

"Then you should be watched over by the god Arimanius, one of the Sol Invictus Mithras group's oldest deities," Crispino said. "He represents balance and time: see how the snake spirals around him yet he remains constant, holding the keys to the two opposing paths of life? The scepter is to guide the initiate, the wings represent freedom to fly through all spheres. You shall learn more of him as you progress with the Sol Invictus Mithras, I'm sure."

"Thank you," Daniel said, fastening the chain around his neck.

"The charm itself is capable of holding very strong enchantments without breaking, so it is also useful," Crispino said. "Just take care not to lose it, that would bring very bad luck."

Daniel promised not to and thanked him again. They went to join the others in a room Crispino called the "social atrium". Like the atrium that admitted guests, this was a large open space. However this room was deeper in the domicile and isolated from the busy hallways and doors to the outside. This atrium was also furnished lavishly with plenty of seating around a sunken fountain pool. The guests were lounging with wine and victuals servants brought in on silver trays. Daniel found Henry and sat beside him, showing him the charm.

"I suppose this concludes our business in Irem," Daniel remarked. "I do wish we had more time here."

"An irony, isn't it?" Henry laughed. "Wishing for time in a timeless city. But you are right, Daniel. I would love to stay longer but we should be leaving soon."

Rasim was suddenly beside Daniel, nibbling a kebob.

"Irem is always obliging," he said. "The city shall open itself to your realm again tomorrow morning. You may leave then."

"One more night," sighed Daniel. "Only one more night."

"We shall have to make the most of it, then," Henry murmured into his ear. He kissed his cheek then drew him into a deeper kiss.

A commotion on the opposite side of the room parted them. They saw Crispino talked animatedly with two of his guards. The humor left his face and he lifted his head imperiously. He gave them an order and then returned to the sitting area. He stayed on his feet and the guests quieted beneath his severe frown.

"There has been an incident involving our third new guest," Crispino announced. "Daniel, Henry, Rasim, please join me in the guest atrium."

He swept out of the room without waiting for a reply. Daniel groaned Charles's name as Henry helped him to his feet. Rasim stayed by their side as they left the comfort of the social atrium. They were silent as they followed the long sparse halls to the front of the home. They found Crispino centered in the atrium, flanked by his two guards. Before the door was a group of four frighteningly tall, slender figures dressed from head to toe in black. There was not a glimpse of skin or feature to tell whether these figures were male or female, black or white, or even human at all. They all wore cloth masks covering their faces like a curtain reaching their collarbones (if they had collarbones), each mask embellished with a symbol resembling the Eye of Horus centered in a spiral, in gold thread. Two of the figures stood at the forefront and held Charles between them.

I had completely forgotten about him after the Heretic's Arena, Daniel thought guiltily. Now what has he done? I should feel sorry for him but he's ruining everything.

"What has happened?" Rasim asked Crispino.

"This man has been accused of attacking another citizen unprovoked!" Crispino exclaimed.

"Citizen? That was a bloody monster!" Charles snarled. "Disgusting lizard thing! Was I supposed to just let it walk by? One of those damned things nearly killed me at the British Museum!"

"I don't care about your mundane life!" Crispino shouted at him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Bringing such humiliation to my door? You are my guests! This reflects directly upon me!"

Crispino's voice boomed around the large atrium. All trace of joviality was gone. Daniel could well imagine him leading a Roman army to battle now. He prayed Charles would be reasonable but Charles sneered at the shorter man derisively.

"I never asked to be your guest," he sneered. "Why should I care about some damned Roman who should be dead by all rights?"

Crispino struck him across the face heavily. Charles spit blood and glared at him. He tried to fight back but the black-clad guards held him back without budging an inch.

"The Iremian Watchers, in my domus!" Crispino raged. He punched Charles in the gut. "You ungrateful fool!"

Crispino went on cursing in Latin, pacing in front of Charles. Rasim approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. They spoke in Latin for a few moments. The bright red in Crispino's cheeks cooled.

"A host is responsible for their guests, which is why he was brought here," Rasim explained to Daniel. "I am your host but your business is with Crispino, so we are both culpable in this matter. That is why the Watchers have brought your friend to us."

"We will be fined for this," Crispino said furiously. "And a laughing stock!"

"It is also up to us how this man will be punished," Rasim said. "I will pay the fine, Crispino. But the man must still be dealt with."

"Please, this is my fault," Daniel entreated. "I brought Henry and Charles here. I was responsible for them. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I started all this without even telling either of them. If someone has to be punished, it should be me."

"For God's sake, Daniel, that's too much," Henry scolded. "This isn't one of your masochist games! Charles is a grown man and he had free reign here in Irem, we all did. He could have just stayed in his room, couldn't he? But you were drawn to the so-called sins of Irem, weren't you, Ledford? You fucking hypocrite! I won't let Daniel suffer over your stupid choices."

"I agree," Rasim said. "Daniel, you are not at fault here."

"But I brought him here," Daniel insisted. "It wouldn't be fair if he was killed here because of me. I … I've done this all wrong. Please! Please don't send him to the Heretic's Arena. It wouldn't be right."

"No one was killed," Rasim said. "I think the Arena would be too strong a penalty."

"I disagree," Crispino said. "He is the very soul of a heretic against this city! Let him be torn apart and let's be done with it. You are better off not keeping such company, Daniel."

"Please," Daniel begged Rasim. "I know it's a lot to ask and I'm sorry. God, I'm … I'm so sorry. But please, don't kill him."

Rasim gave Crispino a look. Crispino tried to look away but he was drawn back to his ebony black eyes. They seemed to communicate without speaking. Finally, Crispino threw up his hands in disgust, swearing in Latin.

"Then do what you will, Rasim!" he said. "But you owe me, old one. Do not forget it!"

Rasim tossed him a din, engravings appearing on it as it flew through the air. Crispino caught it, read the script, and was appeased. He crossed his arms and waited for the matter to be settled.

"He shall not die," Rasim told Daniel. "But there must be punishment. I shall take him to the Temple of Hastur and pray. He shall be judged by the Great Old Ones."

Crispino muttered something in Latin. Daniel's rough knowledge of the language thought he might have said "that may be worse" but he couldn't be sure. Daniel licked his dry lips and looked at Charles. Charles scowled and bowed his head.

"Will he be all right?"

"It will be in Hastur's hands," Rasim said simply. "But he will live."

"There's nothing else I can say, is there?" Daniel asked. "Nothing I can do?"

"He made his choice," Rasim said. "I am sorry, Daniel, but you know the ways of our city."

"I know. Charles, I—"

"Shut up," Charles growled. "I don't want to hear anything from you, you damned little monster."

Daniel swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. Rasim ordered the Iremian Watchers to take Charles to the Temple of Hastur. He bid them take his carriage to his home and said he would meet them in the morning for their departure. Then he left after the Watchers and Charles. Crispino, Daniel, and Henry stood in the doorway watching them vanish into the city. The Watchers garnered many startled glances and people went out of their way to avoid them.

"It is a foolish man indeed that turns his back on Irem's gifts," Crispino said. "Do not let him ruin the night. Such men are not worth fretting over."

"I can't help it," Daniel said. "It's my fault. I'm sorry, Crispino, but I think I need to rest now. Thank you for being so gracious and I apologize for Charles."

"I hold no blame against you, Daniel," Crispino said. "I do hope that you and Henry visit Irem again. Henry, there is much and more I wish to show you at the Arena. You are an admirable man that would do well here. That black hair of yours, your strength, I bet there is some Roman in you somewhere."

"Thank you, Crispino. I've enjoyed our time together immensely. I do wish to return here someday."

"Excellent!" Crispino said. "Ah, it is always fun to welcome worthy guests. All I ask is that you never bring a man like that fool to my door again!"

"Never," Daniel promised.

Crispino laughed and shook their hands in turn. He bid them farewell and saw them to the street. Without his company, a forlorn quiet descended upon the two men. Henry clapped Daniel's shoulder and brought him along to the carriage. Daniel sat apart from him, staring out the carriage window at the stars.

"It is not your fault," Henry tried to console him. "Charles was responsible for himself. He was looking to clash with this city and he got what he wanted."

"He hated this city because he hated me," Daniel said. "I lied to him, betrayed him, ruined his expedition, used him, and then used him again by the Orb's power. Don't you see? If I had only been honest with him, with you, with myself, I could have mitigated all this damage. It is my fault, Henry."

"Daniel … "

"Why have you changed so drastically?" Daniel asked. "I know that you love Irem and that I brought you here, but is that enough to just forgive me everything?"

"What would you have me do, Daniel?"

"Yell at me! Beat me! I don't know!" Daniel exclaimed. "I don't know. But you were so furious in the desert … I deserve that. That's what I deserve."

"But I already punished you for lying to us," Henry pointed out. "Isn't that what we do? You go off and disobey me, I punish you, then it's done. It's done, Daniel."

Daniel's hazel eyes stared intently at Henry. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Henry crossed over to sit beside him.

"You don't care because the one I hurt this time wasn't you," Daniel realized. "You never liked Charles, anyway. You won't punish me on his behalf."

"I sure as hell will not."

Daniel held his head in his hands. He was quiet the rest of the way to Rasim's property. Henry kept an arm around him as they made their way to their room. He hated Charles for spoiling their last night in Irem. Despite Daniel's guilt, a part of him wished Crispino had had his way and Charles would be fed to the shoggoth.

In their room, Daniel went to the dry bar and poured himself wine. Henry joined him, trying to lift his spirits. No amount of kisses or gulps of wine could cure his moroseness. Once the decanter was empty, he curled up in bed, hugging his knees to his chest. Henry sat beside him caressing his back.

"You'll learn from these mistakes, Daniel," he said. "The next time you decide to drag anyone into a dangerous mystical adventure, you'll be more responsible, won't you?"

"Henry, it's not funny."

"Not for Charles, maybe," chuckled Henry. "But Daniel, what's done is done. Tormenting yourself over it won't change whatever is going to happen to Charles."

"I can't help how I feel, Henry. I was always jealous of Charles, that's why I thought nothing of using him," Daniel said. "I kept forgetting about him while we were enjoying Irem. I could have asked Rasim to have him followed. I could have watched him myself, with you. I did nothing for him. I used him, betrayed him, and left him at the mercy of this city. It was wrong, Henry. Another in a long, long list of sins. I've caused so much suffering. How can a single man's existence ruin so many lives? I wish I could say that it was over, but I … I honestly don't know. I don't know what I'll do in the future. I know what I'm capable of, but I don't know what I'll do. It frightens me, Henry. Here in Irem, I forgot about the consequences of my actions. Everything is eternal and pristine here. I thought I had found the perfect escape and Charles is the one to pay for that indulgence. It isn't right. It isn't fair."

"Life is not fair," Henry said. "We both know that."

"The worst part is that if I had to do it all again, I would," Daniel said. "I would not trade everything I've learned and gained in Irem for Charles. I wouldn't."

Henry sat Daniel up and held him in his arms. He kissed his forehead, brushed his hair from his face. His lank brown hair was always falling out of place, as if betraying his inner dishevelment. Henry tipped the young man's face up to his own by the chin.

"What can I do for you, Daniel, hm?" Henry asked. "This is Irem, city of freedom, of truth. So tell me, what do you want me to do?"

Daniel licked his lips again, meeting Henry's steady blue gaze. He put his arms around Henry's neck and kissed him sweetly. His skin was so hot he felt feverish in Henry's arms. He nestled his face into the man's neck, softly whispering, "Punish me. Not for Charles's sake but for my own. Make it hurt."

Henry had expected this and could not say he was disappointed. He hugged the young man close to him for a moment more, savoring the echo of those words in his ear. Never mind the powerful sorcerer everyone in Irem seemed to think Daniel was capable of becoming: Henry would always prefer him softened by shame. He traced their shared history all the way back to the first time he had taken notice of the nervous, slender boy in their classroom. He could clearly see the younger Daniel's upset little face, hear him desperately trying to talk his way out of his punishment. He remembered the exasperated pucker of their teacher's pinched face, how white his knuckles got clutching the birch rod in his hand. Daniel's whining voice had been annoying yet it had amused Henry greatly. At first he was merely amused when the teacher hoisted the boy over his knee, pulled down his breeches, and began to flog him. But something about the curve of the boy's naked bottom had stirred Henry's interest, made him pay particular attention to this beating. Was it the way the lad had kicked, giving Henry glimpses between his legs? Was it the stricken yet defiant look on his face when he looked over his shoulder, biting his bottom lip with tears in his eyes? Henry's pulse had pounded with every crack of the rod. The thin red lines marking the boy's bottom, even the droplets of blood from the scratches that came later, had aroused Henry agonizingly. He had wanted to feel those bruises with his own hands, squeeze them, perhaps lay more upon the other lad. When the irate teacher finally set the shaking boy down, Daniel was wiping tears from his eyes. His breath hitched and he sheepishly pulled his breeches up with a wince. That was when Henry wanted to hold him, comfort him, kiss him—the way he was right now.

This time, it was all backwards, Henry mused. He was done comforting Daniel, now it was time to punish him. He released him and climbed down from the bed.

"Strip," he ordered. "I'll return in a moment."

"Where—"

"Don't question me, Daniel."

Daniel swallowed and nodded. As he pulled off his clothes, he watched Henry pull the cord to ring for a servant. Daniel hoped Henry didn't want one of those mummies to hold him down, he hated dead things. Once he was fully naked, he lay face-down on the bed, arms beneath his chin. The breeze blowing in through the windows did nothing to cool his flushed skin.

Henry returned to him and sat on the bed beside him. He ran his hand down the length of Daniel's back, over his buttocks, to his thighs. He squeezed one cheek, then the other.

"Those bruises from your last punishment have faded already," he observed. "People must heal differently in Irem. Well, let's give you some more, shall we?"

Biting his lip again, a small nod. Henry ruffled his hair and slapped his hand down on Daniel's bottom. He was smiling, not taking it very seriously, and the smacks were quite light. As the pink handprints deepened to red, Henry would pause and stroke the youth's buttocks lovingly. Daniel watched him, equal parts curious and aroused. When his bottom was warmed, Henry kissed him deeply. Then he gave him a harder smack and told him to sit up. Daniel obeyed, a little wary. He knew Henry would never let him off so easily, even if Henry wasn't punishing him out of anger.

Henry stacked the plump pillows up high before Daniel and told him to lay over them. The cushions propped Daniel's equally plump buttocks up nicely. Henry rested his free hand on the small of Daniel's back possessively. Daniel clung to one silken pillow tightly as he watched Henry raise a hand over his clear round target. The next series of spanks were sharp, hard, and loud as gunshots in the quiet room. Daniel buried his face in the pillow as stinging heat spread across his bare skin. Henry had nothing to scold him for but every crack seemed to chasten him. It hurt, but he was gratified. I deserve it, it's the least of what I deserve. I deserve it. I deserve it.

So why can't I cry?

Daniel lifted his scarlet face when Henry stopped. Henry soothed his palm over his upturned buttocks, gave him a smile.

"Thank you," Daniel said tritely. "I do feel better now."

He went to get up but Henry pushed him back down. He tilted further over the pillows, his bottom stuck up horribly high. A fresh flush of humiliation swept over him and his stomach fluttered.

"Oh, I'm not finished," Henry informed him. "You told me to make it hurt, didn't you? Yet you're still dry-eyed as ever."

"Oh Henry."

"Don't 'oh Henry' me," he laughed. "And don't sulk. You asked for this spanking and you'll take all of it. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

Daniel took up the pillow he'd been clutching again. Henry lifted a case from the floor and put it on the nightstand. He opened it and nodded in approval.

"I asked one of the servants to bring me some disciplinary instruments," Henry explained. "There's just about everything here. Exquisite quality. Ha, I'll have to return to Irem with something to barter and buy a set like this someday. Just lovely."

"Please don't use a paddle," Daniel begged. "I don't think I could bear that again so soon."

"You'll take what I give you and thank me for it, lad."

"Oh—Yes. Sir."

But Henry's tone was mild and he kissed the top of Daniel's head. His fingers drummed across his lover's behind as he considered the implements before him. Despite Daniel's grumbling, Henry saw him positioning himself just right for him. His face was all anxiety but he presented his backside eagerly. That's how he finds freedom from all those pesky responsibilities, Henry thought, by being completely submissive. So let's go on playing this little game of absolution he so craves.

"Here, I think I will use the martinet," Henry said. "Did you know this is used to discipline children in France? That is what you want tonight, isn't it? To be a child?"

"Henry, please."

Henry took the wooden handle of the martinet firmly in hand. He leaned down and lifted Daniel's face to his own. Daniel's mortified expression delighted him.

"Go on, say it," Henry demanded. "I want to hear the truth from you instead of all that whining. One last moment of truth here in Irem. Tell me."

Daniel hugged the pillow more tightly. Henry kissed him. When he still did not speak, Henry gave his bottom a tap with the handle of the martinet.

"Yes. Yes, all right, fine, I'll say it." Daniel drew a breath. "Yes, I want to be a child for you. I want to be a boy again, told what to do, punished when I do something bad. Only, you always forgive me, don't you? I was never really forgiven as a boy. I couldn't let myself cry or yell, I had to just take it all like a man. Well, sometimes I tire of being a man. I want to forget the kind of man that I am. So yes, Henry. Yes, I want to be a child tonight."

"Good lad."

Henry kissed him and stood. Daniel resettled into position. Henry teased him briefly, stroking his bottom and then letting the leather thongs caress him. Daniel was right at the point of arousal when the thongs whistled through the air and slapped across his buttocks. Daniel yelped at the smart sting.

Perhaps it was the abject humiliation of confessing, or the very idea of regressing to childhood. Perhaps certain miserable memories had been dredged up from the shadowy corners of his mind. Perhaps it was Henry's stringent, rapid blows and the burn they brought. The tears sprang to Daniel's eyes before long and he let them fall.

Good, that'll be good for him, Henry thought. The distance the long-handled martinet gave allowed him a good view of Daniel's frame, trembling and bent over docilely. He could see every flinch, from the youth's toes curling to his leaning heavily into the stack of pillows. The urge to comfort him was also negated by their separation, allowing Henry to focus solely on the punishment. The martinet was a lighter implement that required a high number of strokes for a proper whipping. Henry kept count in his mind, numbering each bright red weal he laid down. Around seventy, Daniel's cries began to turn more towards genuine discomfort than emotional distress. Finally he reached back, a hand clutching his bottom. Henry swatted it away with the martinet.

"Ah, ah, hold your position, Daniel," he scolded. "I was just going to give you a short break but now … "

Henry snapped the martinet's leather fingers across Daniel's buttocks with full force.

"Owww, Henry, it burns!" the man wailed. "God, it stings! Henry!"

Henry gave him ten hard whacks. Daniel squirmed and his buttocks clenched and un-clenched, but he held his position. Henry rewarded him with a reprieve. He held the martinet under his arm and came over to the sobbing young man. He ran his palm up and down the raised welts striping Daniel's bottom and upper thighs. Daniel swiped his arm across his damp face, looking up at him pitifully.

"Not too much more, Daniel," Henry assured him. "There, there. We'll burn all that guilt away soon. You'll see."

Sniffling, Daniel nodded. Henry rubbed his tender skin a few moments longer, then took the martinet in hand again. Daniel wilted over the pillows, burying his face in the sheets now. He resigned himself to the rest of the whipping with his eyes screwed shut. The martinet stung him again, then again. The fiery layers of welts burned until he was howling into the bed. The guilt was burned away by the pain, degradation, and an underlying current of eroticism. Reduced to nothing more than a child, he could be no more responsible than one; he was utterly lost in the roleplay.

"Is this enough for you, Daniel?" Henry asked. "Hm?"

"Y-you decide."

"No, you requested it," Henry said. "Honesty, remember? Tell me, have you had enough? Or do you want more?"

"Mmmph. Henry, don't make me say it."

"Go on, say it, lad."

"M-more. A bit more." Daniel hissed in pain at the following stroke. "Just a little bit!"

"You could be more polite about it, you know."

"Gah! A little more, s-sir! Please! Sir! Aaaow!"

"Very good," Henry rumbled. "I should have done this before. It's nice to hear you beg for it. Especially after all this 'sorcerer' talk. Don't you ever forget that you belong to me, Daniel. Whatever else you become, you will always be mine."

Daniel broke position slightly to look back at Henry. Henry wished that he still had his old beard to hide the smile threatening his lips. How very like him, to look at me with curiosity in his eyes even now. I told him to stay in position but he never can help asking whatever question comes to mind. A curious cat. Good thing he's proven to have at least nine lives.

"Is that why you really agreed to this?" Daniel asked. "You don't want me to have any power?"

"I said I wouldn't interfere with your weird studies, and I won't," Henry said. He snapped the martinet's thongs across Daniel's buttocks crisply. "But with all this attention you've been getting, yes, I believe being taken down a few pegs will do you good. Now get back down."

"Oh, Henry, you know I'll always submit to you. You needn't worry about that."

"Then why are you still up?"

"S-sorry."

Henry gave Daniel more than Daniel would count as 'just a little bit'. Daniel took it dutifully. Is he jealous of my abilities? No, if he were he would simply throw himself into occult studies. Henry takes power when he wants it, that's why I'm here like this now. Is he insecure? Does he think I'll outgrow him, become so powerful that I won't need him anymore? That must be it.

"I'll always need you, Henry."

Henry paused, lowering the martinet. He had worked up a sweat and his arm was tired. He set the martinet back in the case and sat down on the bed beside Daniel. Daniel crawled off the pillows, rubbing his bottom and wiping his eyes. Despite the tears, he smiled and embraced Henry in a rush.

"You don't understand at all," Daniel said. He actually laughed. "The more power I get, the worse it is. I never handle it right, I always do more harm than good, to myself and others. I need you by my side to guide me, or at least to punish me when I go wrong. I love you, I need you, and I always, always will."

Henry's heart twisted at the words. He felt the promise of hope, that old necessary lie, come to excite him again. Perhaps Rasim's dire predictions were wrong. He had outgrown his family but surely that would never happen to them. Even having tasted arcane power, Daniel was so very emotionally delicate. He was fragile and when he inevitably shattered, he needed Henry there to pick up the pieces. How could that change?

Henry kissed Daniel until he was breathless. Daniel held onto him tightly, fresh tears falling. Henry pulled himself fully onto the bed, cradling Daniel in his arms. He hushed him, humming some tune he had heard in Irem to him.

"Thank you, Henry," Daniel sniffled. "You want me to be honest tonight, don't you? I'm grateful to you. Even when it's been difficult to accept your discipline, I've always appreciated it, even if I cry a bit."

"A bit?" Henry guffawed. "You yowl like a drowning cat. But don't be sorry, I quite enjoy it. You never did as a boy. In school when you were beaten, that time I saw your father beat you in the street, even when I fought with you, you never cried out. It's a relief to finally hear you holler."

"You're a strange man."

"Says the man who begs to be spanked."

Daniel chuckled sheepishly. Henry wiped the last of his tears away with his own sleeve, kissed him. Daniel met the kiss fervently, slender body pressing close. His lips were still red and his mouth tasted of wine. Henry laid him down and sat over him. Even after their time in the desert sun, Daniel's skin was smooth and fair in the moonlight. His hazel eyes were dark and round as orbs as they looked up at Henry expectantly. That need and desire won't ever fade, Henry told himself. He traced the lines of Daniel's fine face with his fingers, then his mouth. I never dared hope to see Daniel again after boyhood but life brought us back together. The truth doesn't always need to be painful. This love is the truth. We're free to be bound to one another.

Daniel was pliant and eager in Henry's arms. He let himself be turned over and propped up on his knees again. Henry kissed the bright welts on his bottom, the small of his back, his thighs, as Daniel shivered in pleasure. He was gentle parting the young man's battered cheeks, easing into him slowly. Daniel gave a small gasp, of pleasure or pain or both. Henry felt him buck into him so he pushed harder, made him yell. Their thoughts, good and bad, melted away in the heat of pure carnal lust.

Ironically, Charles Ledford was once again totally forgotten.

The Temple of Hastur was monumental. The very sight of the enormous temple and those neighboring it was enough to make Charles want to quit this horrendous world immediately. He wished Daniel had let them kill him. He hated the world, hated it with all his heart for allowing such atrocities to exist. He had seen the ugly face of man, from cannibalism to dumb, brutal murder, but he had never doubted that good ultimately conquered evil. He had grown up in an age where the true God and his own Empire were spreading to civilize ever more exotic lands. Science was leading them to new stages of enlightenment and industry continued to propel them forward. Evil, savagery, ignorance, all those sins would soon be things of the past—or so he had believed.

Laying eyes upon the gargantuan temples built to celebrate the very worst of the pagan gods shattered the very last of Charles's faith. As he was led up the steps, he felt no more than an ant trying to climb a mountain. He wondered how Rasim could walk so proudly, so confidently, when he too resembled little more than an insect in the shadow of the temple. Was he not afraid of these things he worshiped? Mad, he had to be as mad as Abdul Alhazred. Everyone in this city was mad.

The moonlight turned yellow as they at last neared the top of the stairs. The stars were too close, he could see heavenly bodies whirling with his naked eyes. He had to look down at the stairs to keep from losing himself in the dizzying Void above. How could this be the truth of Creation? How could Creation be so sinister? Did his God even exist? He could not lose faith now, and yet …

"Enough," groaned Charles. "That's enough. Rasim, just take that dagger of yours and slit my throat. I don't want any more of this."

"I promised Daniel that I would not, and I am a man of my word," Rasim said. "I will not lie to you, it will be bad. You should try to clear your mind of all your prejudices first. Try to embrace this city one last time, for your own sake."

"I can't accept this hell," Charles said bitterly. "As God is my witness, I never will."

"Your god does not exist," Rasim said. "Isn't that obvious by now? Fighting the truth will only hurt you more. Would you stare at the sun while denying its existence? The truth is here all around you. Accept it."

"No."

Rasim sighed and shook his head. They reached the top of the steps and stood before a colossal door of pure yellow gold. It was flanked by the largest pillars Charles had seen so far, each topped with a golden orb. There were engravings in unknown languages and hieroglyphs whose depicted creatures made Charles shudder. Everything was lit by a golden glow that emanated from no source Charles could determine. It was all so damned yellow!

The titanic door did not open. The pilgrims entered through a comparatively tiny door on the left side of the big door, and exited through a similar door on the right. The Watchers pulled Charles along behind Rasim, into the temple.

Even the human passageways were spacious and forbidding. Tapestries depicting all sorts of oddities or designed with strange geometric patterns adorned the walls. Between the tapestries were black flags with yellow border and what Charles had been told was the Yellow Sign embroidered in the center: Hastur's sign. Charles felt that he was inside both an ancient pyramid and a medieval castle at once. There was also something scientific about the geometric patterns, futuristic even. The overall effect was beyond foreign, it was alien.

The walk through the hushed cavernous hall was very long. Charles did his best not to look at the inhuman pilgrims that passed. Even some of the humans were difficult to behold, tattooed or pierced or outright mutilated for whatever ritual purposes.

"Is it all so strange?" Rasim asked, reading his face (or his mind). "Your people worship carrion on a cross."

"Fuck you," Charles said wearily. "Jesus is the true son of the true God. All of this is just a test, just another one of the Devil's temptations. I won't give in, not this time, not anymore. If I have to die, then I will."

"I already said you will not die," Rasim said impatiently. "As for your 'true' god, they're all the true god, until they're not. Our gods answer us. Our gods are real."

"Your gods are not gods," Charles said. "These things may exist but they were born in the blackest reaches of Creation from sin. They're nothing more than clever monsters. You believe yourself to be wise, but you're just a fool, Rasim."

"A tangible monster is still better to worship than a figment," Rasim said. "But then that is what your kind of people want: an intangible figment to bend to their needs, their wills, their ideals. Your gods are all nothing more than chains forged by the powerful to bind the weak. They will never answer you. They will never love you. You die and you return to the spiral of life and you live out the same blind cycle over and over and over again. I am not the fool here, Charles Ledford."

"Aren't you?" Charles asked. "All of you, what are you here in Irem? You're nothing more than an ant colony. Any of your so-called gods could destroy all of this on a mere whim."

"Yes, but so be it," Rasim said. "We still have lived more, enjoyed more, loved more than you falsely faithful ever will. We have been the instruments of miracles and witnessed our prayers being answered before our eyes. I could ask for no more from a god and would expect no less."

Before Charles could retort, he found himself facing Rasim's god. They passed through a massive archway into a room resembling a throne room. Flames of pure yellow burned from sconces set in the walls, reflected by the mirrors behind them. What had started as a dull hum in the hallway rose to a steady, droning chant. People in yellow robes with white stone masks stood in a circle, arms raised, perpetually chanting. Above a high dais leered a magnificent statue depicting Hastur.

Charles did not know what he was expecting, but he had not been expecting this. The thing was a tentacled nightmare in gleaming gold but the geometric angles of some of its parts seemed almost mechanical. Somewhere in the senseless tangle of features there was what seemed to be a single eye. That strange orb lit with an unnatural electric glow. Charles felt the gaze piercing him: his mind, his body, even his very soul. Terror jolted through his body like shock of electricity, making him go rigid. His muscles and nerves wound so tightly it hurt. He wanted to look away but his eyes were fixated on that electric eye. Meanwhile his brain throbbed with each new feature he made out in the statue. The chanting was not very loud but as its meaning took form in his mind, his ears began to bleed. Reality cracked, it literally broke apart before his eyes as the vision of Hastur filled them. Overlaid upon the statue was the writhing, whirling image of the god itself.

Rasim was at the foot of the dais prostrate, praying fervently in an otherworldly language. He did not like this man but he did like Daniel. He would be disappointed if he had to bring the little sorcerer back only the dead body of his former friend. He begged Hastur not to make a liar of him, not to frighten the newcomers from Irem so soon. With enough supplication, he may be able to save Ledford. He had not expected the mere sight of Hastur's idol to break the man. Or was it Hastur himself? The statue was a conduit to the whims of Irem's founding Great Old One, and as Charles said, Hastur could destroy any or all of them on a whim. Was Charles so unfortunate to have provoked Hastur's ire? How could that be? He was only another close-minded newcomer—or was he?

I sensed all along that there was something different about those three newcomers, Rasim thought as he prayed. Daniel and Henry fit with this place, so I understand why I was drawn to them. But this man, Charles Ledford? Why would he be so important as to be noticed by Hastur? What purpose would destroying him serve? I do not question Hastur's will but it baffles me. Was I meant to bring him here? I normally would have had him taken to the Heretic's Arena or simply whipped, tortured. Was I called to bring him here? Oh Great Hastur, why? What role does this simple man have to play in all this? What will those three bring to Irem?

What have I invited in to Irem?