IV. You try my Patience

Adhemar was watching Niobe warily, yet his pulse still raced when his hungry gaze fell upon her. He knew what she was playing at. And it annoyed him to no end, though the outcome of her little game, and her reaction to it, was fit to give him at least some satisfaction.

She had deserved that.

At first, when she had lured him off into the corridor, and further into a side chamber, he had considered to refuse her; after all, he did not want to just serve as substitute for another man, especially not if the place by Niobe's side had successfully been claimed by him for the last few months. Yet the trouble was that he still wanted her.

And even more, he admitted to himself, that if she decided to want him, she would take no refusal.

It had begun just as usual, with her throwing him down on his back and demanding submission. Normally, and with any other woman, Adhemar was not the man to do so. But with her, he did so immediately, very eager to please her.

He had no choice.

He had enjoyed her attentions, her hands and lips all over him, as he always did, though he would have preferred to find himself in a more dominant position. At times she had let him, yet he had gotten used to the fact that whatever he tried, he would always end up on his back in the end. Niobe valued dominance far too much.

He wondered who didn't, among their kind. They all strived to be in control. Even Atrox and Ferox did, though their own mental powers were weak. Even Lionel had probably done so. Probably. There was not much Adhemar had known about Lionel; the man – and it was hard somehow to think of Lionel as such – had always shied the light.

Except Aeternus, maybe. But Aeternus was a queer fellow, and in more than one way. He had those two servants he had acquired recently, trailing him wherever he went, the brother and son of a past sweetheart, as far as Adhemar knew, and he always hid his right hand. Well, maybe his touch was truly… contagious in some way. At least his disfigurement, a highly uncommon one, as it seemed, was called the Touch of Pestilence. But who could say if this truly was so, apart from the Master and Aeternus himself, and maybe Niobe? No, probably not Niobe, Aeternus seemed to keep himself away from her for some reason. It was not that he shunned a woman's affections; Adhemar had come to learn this in the twenty years he had known the man. Aeternus seemed to have reasons of his own. He always had.

Who had Aeternus been once, at the dawn of time? Adhemar sometimes wondered. He did not know who he himself had been, not yet, but somehow he was quite certain Aeternus did. When he had asked him, Aeternus had claimed to have some memories of what had once been, and Adhemar tended to believe him. He only hoped that he would remember, too, and soon. Until now, in the ninety-six years of his life – which was not exactly long, he had to admit – there had been no memories, no visions from another age. There had only been odd dreams, but those were common enough. Everybody got them, even Ferox and Atrox. Even Lionel had had them at times, he guessed.

Bertrand knew, and so did Niobe. Of course Niobe did. There was no reason to doubt her words, just as there was no reason to doubt the story his Master had told him, a long time ago. At the time of the Second Rebellion, Niobe had stood at the Master's right hand.

All the same, this did not justify what game she had been playing with him until a short time ago. Not until she had desisted from him with an angry snarl had he realized that it was not him she was interested in, but that new boy everybody was so excited about. She had found some way to get at him, apparently using that girl the young fool adored so much, but she had not succeeded… and as soon as she had failed with the boy, Adhemar had not been interesting anymore. She had just used him, nothing more. She was through with him.

And all because of that useless –

No. No, the Master needed him, this Erik or Phantom or whatever his name was. And if the Master needed him, then they all needed him.

Obedience was harder than usual tonight.

Niobe was standing beside him, but ignoring him completely and staring straight ahead into the gloom. She had been doing so for half an hour at the very least, and he had just stood and waited. Why? There was no sense in it. But still he had done so, still he had waited for an order to come. Thoughtlessly, Adhemar toyed with his dagger belt. No orders yet. From nobody.

"I will yet have him", Niobe suddenly said. "However hard he struggles, I will have him, and bend him to my will."

"This is the Master's privilege", Adhemar reminded her. "Not yours."

For the first time since she had desisted from him, Niobe turned to face him, and her dark eyes were like smouldering charcoals. "Indeed? But among the two of us, it is I who know how to get at sweet little Erik, not him."

Sweet little Erik? Adhemar almost snorted. That large brute? What had gotten into his former lover, acquiring such a bad taste so suddenly? "Yet you failed", he said coldly. "Perhaps you should take that into consideration."

"Not the next time – you common lout." And she turned on her heel and strode away, obviously fuming, back towards their encampment, leaving Adhemar to glare after her, his hands clenching into fists.

My patience is running out, my love. The next time I see your sweet little Erik, I'm going to make him suffer as he has never suffered before… or only once, if he truly is who we must hope he is…