Wizard of the winds

CHAPTER

When the caravan rolled into Kyrania Safar learned what it was like to be a hero.

He and Iraj rode in the lead with Coralean, mounted on the caravan master's finest horses. They were high-stepping steeds with painted shells and beads woven into their manes and tails. Behind them, guarded by the surviving soldiers was the caravan itself, bells jouncing, colorful banners waving. The air was pungent with the odor of precious goods from far away places. A boy ran in front carrying a demon's head mounted on a stake. The creature's yellow eyes were open and staring, snout gaping to display many rows of bloody teeth.

Safar felt like a participant in a strange, barbaric dream. The battle seemed distant, unreal. Yet there was the gory head bobbing in his view. His memories of the fight were vague, adding to the dreamlike quality. He felt as if it were not him but another who had cast the great spell that brought the avalanche down. There was no sign of the power he recalled coursing through his body. That morning, before the caravan set out, Safar had quietly attempted to tap some of that power. But it was either denied him, or, he'd thought, perhaps it had never existed at all. Maybe the avalanche had been a coincidence. Perhaps it was an accident of nature that killed the demons and not Safar Timura.

They rounded the last bend and excitement rushed in and all introspection vanished. Safar saw one of the Ubekian brothers posted at the old stone arch marking the village entrance. With much satisfaction he saw the bully's eyes widen in fear when he spotted the demon's head. Then he whirled and sprinted out of sight, crying the news of the caravan's arrival.

Iraj cantered close to Safar, face beaming with pride and he pointed to the gay ribbons festooning all the trees that lined the road. He started to speak but then the sound of glad music caterwauled from up ahead.

Coralean's smile was a bow of pleasure in his beard. It is good, he boomed, that your friends and family are giving you a proper reception. A true welcome for young heroes."

In the two days since the battle the people in the caravan had tended their wounded, repaired the damage and had bathed and wrapped their dead in white linen sheets. The bodies were loaded into a wagon for later funeral ceremonies. While Safar slept off the effects of the battle, Coralean had sent word to Kyrania, assuring everyone their young men were safe and unharmed. Iraj had been clear-headed enough to tell Coralean of the herd left in the mountain meadow and the messenger had carried that news with him as well so a boy could be sent to fetch the goats and llama.

When Safar had finally awakened there was no sign of Astarias. Iraj reported she'd been returned to the wagon with the other women. Safar had pined for her, although he'd been shocked when Coralean had informed him the women were being taken to the brothels of Walaria where they'd be sold.

"If it were not for you and your brave friend, he'd told Safar, Coralean's wives would not only have lost their loving husband, but would have been impoverished as wellwithout even the price of a bowl of barley and rice to stave off starvation. As for the fair Astarias, she and her sisters in seduction squabbled so heatedly over who would care for you they gave poor Coralean a headache that could only be treated with a large jar of brandy."

He'd rubbed sore temples, groaning. But the cure, as always, has afflicted your humble servant anew. I fear Coralean must apply yet more brandy to treat this malady. Then he'd winked at Safar. Astarias surprised us all with her fire, he said. She may be small, my boy, but she's as fierce as a desert lynx."

Then he'd leaned closer to confide: Coralean was worried that after they'd survived the demon attack with little harm, the gods would mock me. And the women would then be damaged in a silly harem fight. I have a large investment in those women, you know. Not only their purchase price, mind you, but I spent much Coralean silver assuring they were fresh and free of all diseases. And I gave a witch a fat purse to cast spells that will make them inventive and full of passion for any man who pays to be taken into their embrace."

Safar had flushed, angry at such treatment of Astarias and her sisters. Coralean mistook his angry coloring for a village boy's blush from hearing of such worldliness.

"You'll learn of these things soon enough, my boy, he'd said. As a matter of fact we should consider furthering your education soon. I'll make your schooling in such matters my personal responsibility. I, Coralean, do so swear. And there is not a man who knows me who will dispute that the word of Coralean is sounder than any coin a king has minted."

His promise echoed in Safar's thoughts as they approached Kyrania. What the caravan master intended, he didn't know. He had several guesses, however, that had him squirming like a fly in a honeyed dilemma. If Safar was right, one part of his nature was insulted that Coralean thought so little of him. The shameful human side of him was powerfully intrigued.

Then all thoughts were swept away when Safar saw the huge gathering at the outskirts of the village. All of Kyrania had turned out. The musicians played horns and bagpipes and drums and the whole village cheered when they saw the caravan. Safar's family was in front with Gubadan and the village headman and elders. Everyone was dressed in their best costumes. Boys stood tall, chests puffed out, trying to look like men. The girls wore flowers in their hair and blew kisses as Safar and Iraj came near.

All goggled and pointed excitedly when they saw the gory head. It's true, then, a man said, that the demons got out!"

"Too bad for them they met our lads, eh? said another. This'll teach them to stay where they belong."

Coralean called a halt. He raised his hand for silence and the crowd hushed. He rose up in his stirrups so all could hear.

"Greetings, O gentle people of Kyrania, he said. I am Coralean of Caspan. We meet in circumstances filled with both joy and fear. He pointed at the head. There is the fear. But you will notice, no doubt, that this particular demon is taking a long rest on a stake made of good Kyranian wood. There were chortles in the crowd. This one and his companions, Coralean continued, defied the curse of the Forbidden Desert. Now they have their reward. To dance in the Hells for all eternity."

Laughter and nods followed that statement.

"And now I will speak of joy. And it is joy, not fear, that fills Coralean's heart. For more years than it is comfortable to consider Coralean has heard other caravan masters speak of the warmth and hospitality of the people of Kyrania. My brothers of the road are notorious liars, as I'm sure you all know. But the tales were so frequent and seemed so little exaggerated that Coralean came to believe they were true. So it was with much anticipation of meeting you all that I undertook this trading journey. The Coralean business has never taken him to this side of the Bride and her Maids before.

"During the long, hard months of travel Coralean thought of your peaceful valley many times. When we were thirsty, Coralean dreamed of the sweet waters of your lake. When we were hungry, Coralean took comfort in visions of your fat lamb kabobs and beds of barley spiced with oil from your olive trees and garlic from your gardens. When my men despaired, Coralean cheered them with tales of your charming village. All will be well, I told them, when we reach Kyrania. Yet how was Coralean to know that not only were the tales true, but Kyrania had more than mere hospitality to offer?"

He indicated Iraj and Safar. She also has brave young men of whom she can rightly boast. Young men whose like I've never had the thrill to see. And Coralean, you should know, has seen much in his long life. Others I've met are more full of bluster than true courage. Such men would most certainly have kept their silence and slipped away when they saw the demons creeping up on a party of strangers. And Coralean and his companions would have been doomed.

"But these two gave not a thought for their own safety. They risked their lives when they charged out to give warning. Then they turned to fight the demons as they rode down on us. Why, none of us would be alive today if they had not taken such a brave course.

"This one he pointed to Iraj"saved Coralean's life with an act of bravery and skill rarely witnessed. While this one he pointed to Safar"joined in the fray as if he were warrior born, instead of a gentle village lad. And then, wonder of all wonders, the gods of Kyrania personally intervened. They caused a great hill of snow and ice to fall on our attackers. Proving that these mountains and this valley are the most blessed in all the world. For it is here that the curse brought these demon interlopers down.

"After we have honored our dead, sending their souls back to the gods who made them, it is Coralean's fondest wish to reward these young men. And to reward Kyrania, as well. The gods willing, we will have a feast tomorrow night. A feast like no other Kyrania has ever seen. And all that is eaten and drunk shall be my gift to you. I, Coralean, do so swear!"

The crowd roared approval and crowded close to praise him and wish him well. In the confusion Safar slid off his horse and into his family's arms. His mother cried, patting him all over to make certain he was uninjured. His father clasped his shoulder in the strong grip men of Kyrania reserve for those they honor. His sisters wept and crowded around him.

Quetera slipped in to hug Safar when his mother stepped away. As he leaned over her child-swollen belly to kiss her she laughed at the awkward embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, Safar, she said.

Safar was surprised at her reaction. His dream had been so real he'd been braced for a scolding. Instead of thanking her, he blurted out that he was sorry.

"Why should be you be, Safar? she asked. Why should you be sorry for bringing such honor to our family?"

Iraj heard the exchange and pressed through to join them. He's just tired. He chuckled. Spearing demons is weary work."

Everyone laughed as if this were the greatest jest they'd ever heard. His words were passed along through the crowd of well-wishers and soon everyone was roaring.

That was another lesson Safar learned that day: that success could turn a man's every word into the purest gold. Which was something no wizard, living or dead, could accomplish.

The next day everyone gathered at the temple for the funeral ceremonies. Gubadan wore yellow robes of mourning, while the villagers tied yellow sashes around their waists and streaked their cheeks with hearth dust tears. The bodies of the seven dead caravan soldiers were laid out on a raft decorated with the red streamers favored by Tristos, the god who oversees the Kingdom of the Dead.

While a drum hammered a slow beat, Gubadan prayed over the poor strangers who had come among them and sprinkled their white-wrapped bodies with holy oil. When the sun reached its highest point, Coraleandressed in the flowing golden robes with the scarlet fringe of his kinsmenstepped forward to light the oil-soaked kindling piled around the corpses. Then Iraj and Safar used long ribbon festooned poles to push the raft out into the lake. The current caught it, carrying it into the middle. Everyone prayed as thick smoke made a dark pathway in the sky. There was no wind that day and the smoke was carried high, curling under a bank of glowing white clouds, then streaming away in pale gray ribbons. Later, all said that this was a lucky sign.

As Safar bowed his head in prayer he chanced a look and saw the women from the caravan gathered in a quiet group. They wore heavy robes and their faces were veiled, so at first he couldn't make out Astarias. Then he saw a small figure slip her veil aside and a single eye peeped out. The eye found him. It was dark, with long flowing lashes. Safar smiled. A slender white hand fluttered at him. Then the veil was drawn back. Safar turned away, heart hammering, loins burning from the promise he thought he'd seen in that eye and fluttering hand.

Gubadan nudged him. It was time to lead the others in the funeral song.

The musette player set a slow tempo and one by one each instrument joined in. Safar lifted his head and let the clear, sad notes pour forth:

Where are our dream brothers? Gone to sweet-blossomed fields. Where are our dream brothers? Asleep in the Gods high meadow. Our mortal hearts Yearn to follow their souls.

The words carried far on the balmy air. And when the last notes fell, all were weeping.

Later, Coralean and the village leaders met to discuss the mysterious appearance of the demons. Safar and Iraj were allowed to attend the gathering in the large, colorful tent the caravan master had erected in the caravanserai.

Safar had never seen such luxury. The floor was covered with many layers of thick, expensive carpets. Pillows and cushions were spread around a central fire, where a servant tended a pot of steaming brandy. All manner of fruit bobbed on top and as the servant stirred the pot it gave off an odor so heavy Safar felt a little drunk from breathing the air. Curtains divided the tent into rooms and on one side Safar saw the shadows of the courtesans moving behind the thin veil, coming close so they could listen in.

"Here is Coralean's view of the situation, the caravan master said. The demons who attacked us were outlaws of the worst and most foolish kind. Their actions may even end up being a favor to us, for when they fail to return all demons will know the price that must be paid for defying the laws of the Gods."

There were murmurs of agreement from the elders.

"Then what shall we do about it? Coralean said. What is our next step? Coralean asks this, believing it would be best if we acted in concert."

"Alert the authorities, of course, Gubadan said.

Coralean's bushy brows lofted. Do you really think so, holy one? he asked. He looked around at the others. And who, after all, are these authorities? Coralean owes no king his allegiance. He is his own man."

Buzal, the headman, who at eighty was the oldest of the group, said, Kyrania makes its own laws. No one rules us. He indicated Gubadan. Our priest has superiors, which is only natural. Buzal grinned, displaying dark, rock-hard gums. But I don't think they talk together much. I'd guess that they barely remember if he exists."

Gubadan stroked his beard, then nodded in unembarrassed agreement. We're far away, he said. And the temple isn't considered important. Still, don't we have a duty to warn others?"

"That's a load of goat droppings, Foron, the village smithy, broke in. Meaning no offense, of course. What's to warn? The demons are dead and stinking. No more are likely to come. And that's that. The tale is told."

"But why shouldn't we tell others? Gubadan asked. What would be the harm?"

Coralean harrumphed and all turned to see what he had to offer. I do not know these parts, the caravan master said. This is the first time the Coralean business has carried me over these mountains to the markets of Walaria and beyond. It cost me much to buy the necessary maps from my brother merchants. Even if this first journey proves profitable beyond my wildest estimates, it will take many such journeys before Coralean's initial investment is repaid."

He shook his great, shaggy head. Even so, he said, if Coralean were a lesser man this incident might give me pause. I might never dare such an undertaking again. And I know my brother caravan masters well enough to say with some confidence that they would feel the same if they suddenly thought these mountains had become unsafe."

There were murmurs among the men. It would be disastrous if Coralean reported such a thing. All trade over the Gods Divide would cease. And more than just Kyrania would suffer. Life could become very bleak.

"Not only would there be no more caravans crossing, Safar's father said to Gubadan, but there'd be no more pilgrims."

The old priest winced. Everyone knew how much he depended on the donations of the faithful who visited the Goddess Felakia's temple and holy lake.

"Yes, he said, I can see the wisdom in your words, Khadji. However, what if we are mistaken and these demons are not the only ones? We are cut off here from the rest of the world. News travels slowly. What if others have been plagued by demons? Our silence could end up being an unnecessary and dangerous decision."

Iraj cleared his throat. All looked at him. He flushed at the attention, then emboldened himself to speak before the elders.

"Forgive me, sirs, he said. As you know, I made a long journey not many months ago, passing through Walaria on the way. And I heard nothing in the market place of demons… or any other dangers, for that matter, other than the usual tales of marauding bandits."

The men listened to Iraj quite carefully and with deep respect. Safar thought it ironic that only a few days before many villagers had gone out of their way to avoid Iraj, fearing the trouble he might bring from the outside world. Now he was a hero because he'd turned back a threat from the outside.

Gubadan gently broke in to explain Iraj's backgroundcarefully skirting the issue that he was hiding out from some of his own tribe. However, Coralean immediately caught on that although demons might not be riding about at will, there were other troubles to be considered.

"May the name of Coralean be bandied about in the company of swine, if I'm wrong, the caravan master said, But from what your wise priest just said, it sounds to me like the south is about to become a permanent battle ground for warring clans. This would almost be as bad for trade as the demons."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Iraj blurted. Then he turned as red as a ripe apple for making such a seemingly foolish statement.

Coralean studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled. After hearing of your background I now fully understand where you got your fire, he said. You didn't learn it here, that's for certain."

He made a soothing gesture to the rest of gathering. I cast no doubts on the courage of the men Kyrania, he said. Your own Safar has proven there is steel in your spines. But I know you do not claim to be warriors. Which this young man he indicated Iraj"was surely bred to be. There were mutters of agreement from the men. It's also my guess, the caravan master said, that you are the son of a chieftain."

Iraj bowed his head, not saying anything, while Gubadan tried to leap in to save his secret. But Coralean only laughed and shrugged his shoulders. You needn't reveal more, he said. Something is going on, or you may call Coralean the son of an ass who mated with a dog who doesn't know from one minute to the next whether he will bray or bark."

He leaned closer to Iraj. I'll tell you this, my brave young warrior. If you should ever need the help of Coralean, you have only to ask."

When he said that Safar learned it doesn't necessarily take a magical vision to see through the disguise of a future king. A canny merchant can do just as welland without disturbing the serenity of his dreams.

Iraj lifted his head to return Coralean's curious stare. His lips lifted slightly for a brief smile and then he nodded. This was a promise he would long remember. A silent understanding passed between the two. When the time cameand there was no doubt it wouldnot only would Iraj ask, but he would repay the caravan master many times over for any assistance he gave.

Coralean turned to others. Is it agreed, then? he asked. We say nothing of this incident. Correct?"

There was a whispered discussion among the elders. Then Buzal said, What of your men? He pointed at the curtain that divided the room from the harem. And the women? Can you assure us of their silence?"

"My men obey me in all things, Coralean said. There's no need for worry in that quarter. As for the women, well, Coralean will tell you a little secret of the courtesan trade. Before I deliver these girls to their new masters each will drink a Cup of Forgetfulness. They will have no memory of their past. No reason to pine for home and family and friends. This makes for a most pliable and happy bed slave. No weeping to dampen the ardor of their masters. And in this case, no tales of demons to disturb their dreams."

The men snickered and then relaxed. Carnal jests were exchanged and there was much manly guffawing and knee-slapping. Only Safar was horrified at this casual dismissal of Astarias and her sisters. He glanced over at his father and saw that Khadji had the same knowing look in his eyes as the others. The same flushed and swollen features.

Then Coralean had his servant dip out hot bowls of brandy punch to be passed around. They were quickly emptied and refilled several times. Soon the talk became louder, the men's voices deepening as they recounted the bold adventures of their youth. Coralean held forth for more than an hour, telling every detail of the fight that he'd witnessed. The men murmured in appreciation when he told of how Safar had fought the demonsslaying the beast who took Astarias with a splintered staff that he'd wielded like a war spear. But there were loud gasps at Iraj's courage when he'd rescued Coralean, leaping on the demon's steed like the greatest of plains warriors, testing his strength against a more powerful enemy and finally cutting a path in his throat so the demon's soul could flee.

Safar looked over at Iraj and smiled, grateful he'd kept his promise. But Iraj frowned and made a motion, asking if it were finally time to tell the tale as it had really happened. Safar shook his heada firm no. Iraj's eyes flickered, wondering why Safar was happy to allow him the greatest praise when Safar deserved much more.

Iraj leaned close, whispering, Are you certain?"

Safar's answer was a lifted brandy bowl and a loud call for a toast to honor the deeds of his brave friend. It was the first toast he'd ever made in adult company. And all hailed Iraj Protarus, the young man Safar knew would someday be king.

After that everyone became a little drunk. It was another first for Safar. Relief mixed with fuddlement and he was suddenly very happy. He became happier still when Coralean began handing out the gifts.

First he told the elders that he would pay double for any goods, services or animals he purchased during his stay in Kyrania. Then he had his servants bring out heaping baskets of gifts. He asked the men if they would be so kind as to distribute them to the villagers. For each of the elders he had a purse of silver. For every man in the village there were small sacks of tobacco and a single silver coin. For every woman there were vials of perfume and little baubles to string as jewelry or to sew on their clothing. For every child there were ginger sweets as well as a copper coin.

Finally he came to Safar and Iraj.

"Coralean has thought long on this, my young friends, he said. I have other presents I will give you both a bit later. He snorted. Money, of course. But what is money, lads? Coins have value only because we all agree to give them such. I have a few pleasures in mindyet you will have pleasures aplenty in the long lives before you. But I wanted to give each of you something special. A gift you will always remember Coralean by.

"First, my friend Iraj… He took out a black velvet pouch. Iraj's eyes sparkled as Coralean withdrew a small golden amulet. It was a horsea wondrously formed steed dangling from a glittering chain. Some day, Coralean said, you will see the perfect horse. It will be a steed above all steeds. A true warrior's dream, worth more than a kingdom to men who appreciate such things. The beast will be faster and braver than any animal you could imagine. Never tiring. Always sweet-tempered and so loyal that if you fall it will charge back into battle so you might mount it again.

"But, alas, no one who owns such a creature would ever agree to part with it. Even if it is a colt its lines will be so pure, its spirit so fierce, that the man it belongs to would be blind not to see what a fine animal it will become. He handed the horse amulet to Iraj. If you give this magical ornament to that man he will not be able to refuse you the trade. But do not fear that you will be cheating him. For he only has to find another dream horse and the man who owns it will be compelled to make the same bargain when he gives him the amulet."

Tears welled in Iraj's eyes and they spilled unashamedly down his face as he husked his thanks and embraced the caravan master. When I find that horse, Iraj said, I promise that I will ride without delay to your side so you can see for yourself what a grand gift you gave me."

Coralean, whose emotions were as large as his frame, harumphed to cover the sob in his throat.

Then he turned to Safar. The first thought the young Timura had was that he hoped Coralean wasn't going to give him a horse as well. What use would such a rare creature be to a potter? It was a foolish thought and he was immediately ashamed of himself for thinking it. He vowed to accept whatever gift he received with loudalthough pretendeddelight, so as not to spoil the pleasure of such a generous man.

"They tell me, young Safar, Coralean said, that you are very wise. Some say you are the wisest child ever to have been born in Kyrania. Safar started to protest but the caravan master raised a hand to stop any foolishly modest statements that might burst forth. For you Coralean has two small gifts. Together they may more than equal the gift I made to Iraj. That depends on whether you are as wise as they say and make good use of them."

He took a scroll from his robes. This is a letter to a friend in Walaria. He is a rich man, an educated man. A patron to the all the artists and thinkers in Walaria. It asks him to present this to the chief priest at the temple school. He will entreat them to grant you entrance and once you join the great scholars there Coralean will pay all your expenses until you are the wisest man in all the land."

Safar's fingers shook as he took the rolled up scroll. It was heavier than he expected and he nearly dropped it. Then a small silver dagger slipped onto his lap.

Coralean stroked his beard. That is my second present to you, he said. Safar lifted the knife, knowing it had some hidden purpose and wondering what that purpose might be. Since you will be among so many wise men, Coralean said, that knife may prove even more valuable than the education you will receive. Listen to an old merchant. When a thought is too weighty it's probably not to be trusted. When a man's words are thick with the fat of hidden meaning it's doubtful they have as much value as the speaker implies. That knife will cut through those weighty thoughts and fatty words. And you will come to the true answer with little struggle."

He looked at the other men, heavy eyebrows lifting high with humor. At least that's what the witch Coralean bought it from promised."

Everyone chortled. Safar was stunned, not knowing what to make of either gift, especially the mysterious properties the knife supposedly held. He picked it up, felt a trickle of power and knew it to be as magical as the witch had warranted.

His father's voice came to him from far away, as if in a dream. Aren't you going to thank Coralean, my son? Khadji asked. Otherwise he'll think you were raised without manners."

Safar fumbled thanks, as graceless as any youth of seventeen years, but Coralean seemed to understand the shyness. He embraced the young man, nearly smothering him with his great strength. Safar hugged him back.

"Come, now, the caravan master roared as he pulled away. Coralean promised the people of Kyrania a feast! Drink up, my friends, so we may all stumble out with a good cargo of spirits in our bellies to begin the celebration."

The men shouted, bowls were emptied in mighty swallows, then refilled to the overflowing.

And there were few in the village who were not of tender years who did not spend the following days in a stupor so blissful that it was spoken of for much time to come.

That first night the sky was filled with fiery smoke balloons and kites with long flaming tails. There was drunken song and music everywhere and lovers slipped off into the darkness. Many a betrothal was sealed that night and many a child conceived in sighing embraces and barely-stifled cries of pleasure.

Coralean drew Safar and Iraj aside before they'd imbibed too much. He took the brandy bowls from their hands, saying: You'll have need of all your senses tonight, my young friends. He chuckled. Besides, you're both certain to end up in the arms of a village lass if you become too befuddled."

He wagged a finger. No sense spoiling your futures with a too early marriage. Coralean is blessed with a passionate nature himself. Ask any of his wives and serving girls. He winked. They call me their beloved bull. I have swarms of children to prove it. I tell you, if Coralean had been born into a poorer family my father wouldn't have been able to afford to save me from my youthful indiscretions."

Then he threw his arms about their shoulders and led them through a series of curtained rooms to the women's quarters. The main area was filled with pillows piled as high as their knees. Coralean plumped down and patted the pillows for the young men to sit on either side of him.

"I promised to show you a thing or two about pleasure, my boys, he said. And I, Coralean the Bull, know more of such things than most men. It isn't a boast but a simple statement of fact concerning the Coralean nature."

He clapped his hands and a wide curtain parted. Safar heard high, pleasing voices and the courtesans filed through, parading before the men in a silky, perfumed line.

Safar never seen so much beautyand certainly not so seductively displayed. He was no stranger to the feminine shape. He was raised with sisters, after all. And he'd spied on the village girls when they went to bathe in the lake. But the women he saw that night were so… available. His for the taking. What little they wore was sheer and artfully draped to entice, not conceal. Some were tall, some were small, some were dark, some were light, some were slender, some were plump. And they all displayed practiced smiles and movements. But more than just professional skills were on display. The courtesans were enchanted by the two handsome young rescuers. And eager to show their thanks.

"Pick one, Coralean said. Or even two or three if you like."

Safar hesitated, but not from indecision. What he was being offered, some might think, was the answer to every young man's greatest dream. All those hot, uncomfortable nights filled with perfumed sirens were about to be exorcised. Such fiery imaginings and desires are as much a part of a youth's nature as the downy beard beginning on his face. Safar knew from listening to his sisters that young women are afflicted with similar feelings. And here was his chance to realize his most lurid fantasies. But a different although related emotion boiled up from that youthful cauldron. And that was sudden blind, unreasoning love. Which at that age is the same as lust, only most mistake it as having a more noble purpose.

So as Safar's eyes swept the line of courtesans, they ignored all that jiggling pulchritude. He was searching for one woman and one woman only. Astarias.

He didn't see her among the group. He glanced around, heart thundering, mind swirling. And his thoughts became… pure? At least in his imagination, they were pure. And he determined at that moment that he wouldn't shame Astarias with his embrace. Foolish youth that he was, he thought this would be his gift to her. Furthermore, he'd somehow release Astarias from what he believed was her enslavement. She'd live with his sister Quetera and be as chaste as any maiden in the village. And she'd be free to choose any youth she wanted for a husband. But somehow her love for himand her admiration for his kind gesturewould overcome any feelings she might have for any other. They would be wed and have many children and live happily forever in each other's arms. All these things were running through his drugged mind. And he heard:

"You should choose first, Coralean said to Iraj. After all, you saved my life."

Safar looked at Iraj. His friend's face was red with lust. Then he saw Safar and smiled. The redness vanished to be replaced with feigned bored interest. Iraj's eyes returned to the courtesans. He looked each one over slowly, shook his head, then passed on to another. Sudden realization clotted in Safar's belly then rose to become a lump in his throat. He knew what Iraj was up to. And then he became angry, certain that for some reason Iraj was about to cheat him of what he desired above all things.

"There seems to be one missing, Iraj said to Coralean. A dark-haired wench."

Those last four words fell like weighty stones into Safar's well of despair.

Coralean frowned. You mean Astarias? he said.

Iraj covered his mouth, hiding an elaborate yawn. Is that her name? he said. Very pretty."

Coralean shifted in his pillows, disturbedand a bit embarrassed. I held her back, he said, because she is still a virgin. I have a dear frienda very rich dear friendI was keeping her for."

Iraj raised his eyebrows as if surprised. Then he shrugged. Well, I suppose that's too much to ask, he said. I wouldn't want to lessen your profit. He gazed at Coralean, his face mild. However it was sheAstarias, you say?I really wanted. But… if it's too much trouble for you… He rose as if to go.

Coralean grabbed Iraj by the arm and drew him back down. Is it not known to all that Coralean is the most generous of men? he said. Especially to one who preserved his most precious possession, his very life? If it is Astarias you desire most, my good friend, then Astarias you shall have. And he clapped his hands and called her name, commanding her presence.

Astarias came into the room, seeming to float through the curtain. Her dark hair was tied back with a white silk band. Unlike the others she wore a robe that covered her from slender neck to ankle. It was also made of white silk and as she walked it flowed over her bodychaste, but still highlighting all the delicate parts of her. She looked at Safar and the most delightful smile graced her features. She took a step forward, thinking she was meant for him.

"No, no, Coralean barked. Not Safar! It's Iraj I promised you to."

Her face fell for an instant and in that moment Safar hated Iraj so much he would have gladly killed him. Then her smile returned, although Safar didn't think it was as bright as before… and she went to Iraj. He laughed and clasped her around the waist, roughly pulling her down.

The caravan master got up. He grinned hugely at the young men. Coralean must attend to his duties as host, he said. Take who you like, Safar. And if you can't make up your mind, let me suggest these two. He pointed at a pair of dark-skinned twins. They've given me more pleasure, I'll warrant, then any other woman here. He clapped Safar on the back and exited.

The twins moved toward the young potter, expectantly. Safar started to turn away, so full of hateful thoughts that he wanted nothing more than to escape.

"Wait, Iraj said.

Safar swiveled, anger plain on his face. Iraj ignored it, pulling away from Astarias shy embrace.

"Go to him, he ordered.

Safar was bewildered. But, I thought…"

Iraj laughed. I know what you thought, he said. I was testing you, don't you see? He grinned at Safar. You didn't do too well with that test, my friend, he said. But maybe it was unfair. So I forgive you for it."

He gave Astarias a gentle push. Go, on, he said. If you stay much longer I'll be helpless to let you leave."

Astarias pealed glad laughter and scurried over to leap into Safar's arms. All his noble intentions vanished as he crushed her to him. Then Safar heard Iraj call his name and broke away, gasping. His friend was standing at the curtain opening, arms around the dark twins.

"Thank you, Safar husked. Coralean might not have agreed if I had asked."

Iraj shrugged. No thanks needed, he said. After all, we both know who the true hero of this night is. He started to exit, pulling the twins with him. Then he stopped. Know this, Safar, he said. From this day forward, all I have is yours."

Safar grinned. And all that is mine, and all that shall be mine, he said, will be yours for the asking."

Iraj grew quite solemn. Do you mean that?"

"I swear it, Safar answered.

Iraj nodded. Remember this night well, Safar, he said. For someday I may come to ask an equal favor."

"And you shall have it, Safar vowed.

"No matter what it is? Iraj asked, his eyes suddenly hard and probing.

"Yes, Safar said. No matter what. And if you should ever test me again, I will not fail you."

And with that covenant he sealed his fate.