he ordered Kordri.

  The lieutenant marshaled the palace guard to sweep of the grounds.

  Sedrael told Kordri, “Cap’n’s gone, too, must be in on th’ gag. Hidin’

  th’ prince ta protect him an’ I betcha I know where.”

  Kordri gave Sed permission to folow his hunch. Sedrael went to the narrow, often-overlooked western halway beside the great hal and started checking the doss rooms one by one. The fourth room yielded results. “G’morning, Cap’n,” he said cheerfuly. “King has th’ entire guard searchin’ fer ya.”

  “I suppose it was inevitable that he would cal out the guard,” Jisten replied glumly.

  “Yessir,” said Sedrael. He glanced at Jethain, sleeping in the bed, and Rak, sleeping on the couch. “Wha’dya want me ta do?”

  “Bring the king here,” Jisten said. “Slowly. I’l not have you reprimanded for failing to find the prince.”

  Sedrael’s eyebrows went up in surprise, then he nodded. “Woulda lied fer ya, but I’l take my time returnin’ ta his maj’sty’s side.”

  “Thank you,” Jisten said. “How much time can you buy us?”

  “Hour,” chuckled Sedrael. “I'l mark th’ wal.”

  “Thank you. And Sedrael, you’re smart to have found us so quickly,”

  Jisten said.

  “Thank ya, sir.” Sed gave an exaggerated bow and sauntered off. At the end of the corridor, he chalked a mark on the wal, indicating it had already been searched.

  Owain huffed out his kingly chest, “Now Araken, realy, hiding your brother?” He was standing in the parlor outside the royal bedroom where Jethain once more lay. Both the prince and the captain listened to every word.

  Rak affected to look innocent. “I wanted him to rest.”

  “Jethain is a prince. He has duties. Resting is not one of them. He knows this. You know this.”

  “If he does not rest and heal, he wil become an ex-prince,” said Rak firmly. “And he cannot carry out his duties if he dies.”

  Owain sniffed. “Weak, yes. He can rest in his rooms until the nobles start howling.”

  “He is not weak, he is injured, and I like him where he is.” Rak planned to move Jethain again as soon as he’d gotten rid of the king.

  “Son, you need a fuler tour of Koilatha, to see its beauty.” Owain said, changing the subject utterly.

  Rak blinked at Owain. “What?” Did the king realy just say what he thought the king had said?

  “Rich fields, beautiful mountains to the north that feed our rivers. This kingdom is peaceful, rich and beautiful. You wil love it as much as I do, as you once did when you were a child.”

  “I would like to visit Loftos again,” said Rak. “Once we have signed a trade agreement.”

  “Loftos? Oh, wel, I suppose,” Owain said without enthusiasm.

  “Koilatha borders Loftos. When you live here, you wil be close by.”

  “I beg your pardon? My home is in Okyro, and when my mission here is done, I wil return there.” Rak didn’t, however, say when that would be.

  “Mission? That trade agreement? That wil take time. As crown prince, you have considerably more power than you did as a foreign envoy.

  Imagine, grain for the Okyrans, son.”

  “Crown prince? Your majesty, you have an heir already, and my vows cannot be set aside.” Rak gave Owain a look.

  “No one is asking you set aside your vows,” Owain soothed. “Do al your priestly duties. You could order the entire court to attend! Think of al the converts!”

  Rak was taken aback. “You mean, build a ful temple here?”

  “As crown prince, you wil,” Owain said with a smile.

  Rak shook himself. “Not only would it be wrong of me to do that to my brother, whom I care about deeply, but my vows included a renouncement of al birth titles, ranks, and lands.” At the time, that part of the vows had amused Rak, the ex-slave, greatly.

  “The title was yours from birth and is restored to you now, and I haven’t seen any lightning bolts from above.” Owain put a fatherly arm around Rak’s shoulders. “Let us walk around the palace grounds. You can see al the fruit trees that flourish here. We’l ride out to the nearest fields and you’l see al the grain for the Okyrans.”

  “The title is not mine, your majesty. It belongs to Jethain,” said Rak. He let Owain guide him away because it would distract the king from Jethain, and he trusted in Jisten’s good sense to keep Jethain from harm.

  “Look how lush the greenery is, son,” Owain said as he walked Rak to the window. “Ah, let’s go to this part of the garden.” He guided Rak outside. “You loved to play here as a boy. Does it jog any memories?”

  Rak looked around, admiring the greenery and inhaling the fragrance of spring flowers. “I wish it did. This is lovely. At home, plants like these have to be carefuly nurtured in protective pots.”

  “At your home here you have them al over, son,” Owain said Rak bent down to study a long, trumpet shaped flower with a delicate ice blue base veined in lilac, the color deepening to deep sea blue veined in violet, but the inner aspect of the petals were flame red.

  “Pick the flower and suck the bottom. It’s very sweet. You adored them as a child.”

  “I like it where it is,” demurred Rak. “If I pluck it, it wil die. Let it live that others may enjoy its beauty.”

  Owain continued on. “See that fruit hanging? Pluck it and taste it. You once ate them until you were sick. Then convinced Jethain to do the same.”

  Rak plucked one of the bright yelow globes. He bit into it and sighed in bliss. “I have not seen these since I left the Riverlands. They need much water and a moderate climate to grow.”

  “I’m told that they can be harvested green and transported. Perhaps to Okyro,” Owain said.

  Rak shot Owain an amused glance. “I wil include that in the trade agreement. Even jars of preserves would be welcome in Okyro. A soul does grow tired of citrus.” He took another bite of the fruit.

  “See how much good you wil accomplish as crown prince?” Owain said. He squeezed Rak’s shoulders. “No need to renounce any priestly things.”

  “Jethain is your heir. I do not want a crown, your majesty. I do want to support my brother.” Rak gave Owain a look that was just short of pleading. “Think about how much more powerful Jethain wil be considered, once the nobles realize that I am his aly.”

  “The position was too much for your brother. He can’t hold onto political aliances, and already he’s shown his weakness. If you have affection for him, you’l remain in your rightful place.”

  “I am in my rightful place, as high priest. Not as your heir. That is Jethain’s rightful place. You do not give your son enough credit. He is a good man, and wil make a good king.”

  Owain demurred and walked on. “How important is it to Okyro that they get that grain?”

  Rak paused to admire a stately shade tree. He ate the rest of the yelow globe to gain time to regain his composure. Stil, exasperation tinged his voice, “It is not important enough to leave a high priest here indefinitely.”

  The prophecy, however, was that important.

  “Wel, wel, we’l work with what time we have,” Owain said. “Perhaps when the Okyrans see some shipments of grain, they’l see that your status as heir is compatible with being a priest.”

  Rak had to laugh. “You do not give up, do you? A trade agreement, and grain shipments, can occur without me usurping Jethain’s place.”

  “Perhaps,” Owain said. “You aren’t usurping Jethain’s place, merely taking your own. You’l be good to your brother. He’l be better off than if he ascended.”

  “You do realize that I would anathematize slavery immediately, and enforce it with the same vigor as if this were Okyro.”

  “That vigor would save you,” Owain said. “Surely your God would be pleased.”

  “And when Jethain ascends, and outlaws slavery, the Okyran army wil march to support him.” At least, part of it would. Rak hoped a lot of it would.

  “You’ve promised him that?” Owain asked. He stopped his strol through the garden.

  “Ai, I have.” Rak offered Owain a pleasant smile. “Al the aid I can command, which includes a ful battle, what you would cal a division, of the army, plus my beasts, including the dragon wings.”

  “Excelent, excelent. You are the powerful one. And you can produce sons, where Jethain cannot,” Owain said but he stared past Rak at some distant object, or perhaps imagining the army and the beasts of the night mustering. Rak was pleased to note how taken aback Owain was.

  Aliance was clearly not what the king had expected of the two brothers.

  Chapter Ten: Virien

  “This must go perfectly,” Virien hissed to Hasaviz. “We don’t want him on our backs.”

  “If it would make him happy, he can use the slave, too,” said Hasaviz, extremely unconcerned. He had the whistle in hand.

  Virien brushed his spotless velvet clothing. “Not until you show me we have perfect control. Now why do you have a dog whistle?”

  “I had the slave make this for me.” Hasaviz blew a bright, happy note.

  “Now he wil come to us.”

  “And he won’t bring those monstrosities with him?” Virien looked at the whistle. “It’s a dog whistle and he has demon dogs.”

  “He is tied to this whistle. He knows it is mine. He wil come alone, and swiftly. He dares not disobey, he fears to be exposed to the court and colared.”

  “Excelent,” Virien said with rare praise. “Your Zothian training shows.”

  Hasaviz smiled. “Thank you.” The bel tinkled as someone puled on the rope outside. “That’s probably him.”

  Virien sat on the plush couch and propped his feet up.

  Hasaviz opened the door, saw the page, and scowled fiercely. He snatched the scrol from the quailing boy’s hand. “Scat!” he snarled. The boy scrambled to comply. Virien laughed from the couch.

  Hasaviz huffed. “Wel, it hasn’t been long enough. He can’t fly even if he does have wings.”

  “Neither of us wil be laughing if this happens when he is around. You saw what he did to that desk. We’l be next.”

  “Obviously, sir, the solution is to summon the slave first, and not have him waiting.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, slave trainer,” Virien snapped. “Or you’l be doing al the delivering from now on.”

  Hasaviz bowed. “My apologies.”

  Virien stood, gave his package a hitch, and started pacing the room.

  Hasaviz read the scrol, grunted, and set it aside to deal with later. Again the bel tinkled. This time, when Hasaviz answered it, Rak stood on the other side of the door.

  Rak entered the office, glanced at Virien, and said, “This violates our agreement,”

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Hasaviz. “I agreed to keep your past from the court at large. I never agreed to keep your past from my direct superior.”

  “He reports to me,” Virien said. “He cannot keep such important news from his direct superior. I would have him executed.”

  “If it becomes common knowledge that you are a sex slave, then you can consider our agreement violated.”

  Rak’s expression was not pleased. “You are treading a fine line. The more people who know a secret, the more likely it is to be spiled.”

  “Training room,” commanded Hasaviz, pointing.

  Virien crossed his arms on his chest, watching and waiting. The sound of Rak’s teeth grinding was audible. But he obeyed. Virien folowed and slouched on the padded viewing chair.

  Rak glared at him, then turned his gaze on Hasaviz. “Why is he stil here?”

  “Because your oath is not broken, slave. Strip for inspection.”

  Rak glared even more, but the clothes came off.

  “Barely obeys,” Virien noted. “Not a good start, slave trainer.”

  Rak finished undressing and assumed the inspection position. He alowed Hasaviz to lock the training colar on his neck. Virien hauled himself to his feet. “Much better.” He ran a single finger down Rak’s chest to his groin. He casualy flipped Rak’s manhood. Rak remained stil but he glared freely. “Smal,” Virien said in response to Rak’s glare.

  “Bigger than you,” replied Rak, deadpan. Virien stroked himself out.

  He was quite a bit larger. “My mistake,” said Rak easily. “It was wel hidden by your ale bely.” Rak kept his gaze on Virien.

  Hasaviz nearly burst a blood vessel in his eye containing his laughter.

  As it was, he had to turn away and select a whip to hide his face. “Lord Virien, shal I whip the slave for you or do you wish to?” Hasaviz offered the whip. “You cannot damage the wings or cause permanent injury.”

  “Oh, only you swore that,” Virien said with silky venom.

  “Then I wil not let you touch him,” said Hasaviz. “I like my soul.”

  Virien snatched the whip and Rak furled his wings tightly as Virien let fly with a practiced hand. He grunted with the impact. The tails easily missed the wings. It was a five tailed whip that Hasaviz had invented, missing the familiar Zothian whip, but accepting the strange requirements of his new home. He used wooden beads instead of steel barbs. Once sweat dotted Virien’s brow, he desisted and handed the whip back to Hasaviz. “Put him through his paces,” Virien said, mood stil foul.

  “Let me finish warming him up,” replied the slave trainer. He turned Rak to face Virien. “He enjoyed your efforts.” Hasaviz indicated Rak’s erection, and Virien smirked. The slave trainer whipped Rak with an expert hand around the thighs, buttocks, bely, and groin.

  Rak screamed when the whip lashed across his erection, causing Virien to cheer up. “Nice hitting such a smal target,” Virien said. He idly stroked himself.

  Hasaviz put the whip away. “Kneel and give Lord Virien the pleasure of your mouth, slave.”

  Rak went to his knees and eyed Virien’s crotch with disfavor. Virien cracked Rak across the head. “Do as you’re told, slave.” Rak shuffled forward on his knees until he was positioned directly before Virien. He set his tongue to Virien’s bals first. “Hmm, I expected better from a Zothian trained sex slave,” Virien said, “He’s holding back. He won’t approve.

  Shows lack of control.”

  Hasaviz replied, “It’s standard for a sex slave to start that way. He’s Zothian trained, so he’l give you a Zothian working. Licking, then sucking. The slave’s saliva has magical properties. Let him lick.”

  “Magical?” Virien relaxed further in the chair and spread his legs wider.

  “Do tel.” Rak sucked Virien’s sac into his mouth and massaged the bals with his tongue.

  “It’s from the potions, so this magic is common to al real sex slaves.

  The saliva heightens desire, but also staying power. In addition, it lubricates.”

  “I had no idea it was so complicated,” Virien said, his voice lowering as he relaxed further, legs spreading further as wel. “Damn my brother for forbidding it.” He reached out and languidly stroked Rak’s hair.

  Hasaviz observed, “The slave is trying to lul you. Make him move on to your manhood.”

  With a yank of Rak’s hair, Virien said, “Do as he says.”

  “Ow,” said Rak, voice cross. He quickly swalowed Virien’s shaft.

  Hasaviz thought Virien was hopeless as a slave master. Not that he’d say that. A skiled, inteligent slave like Rak was clearly more than the bastard could handle. But it kept him in a job, and it kept the slave road open. And that kept Uncle Narvain happy.

  Virien straightened in the chair as the stimulation increased. Hasaviz could tel that Rak wasn't bothering with his very best blow job. The king’s bastard half brother was very, very happy, judging by the noises he was making. Hasaviz made no move to correct Rak. But he made note of it. Tricky slave hadn’t been under discipline in far too long. He would make sure that he himself received the very best blow job. Rak swalowed Virien’s seed and once the climax was over, he settled back on his heels.

  “An excelent start,” Virien said.

  “The training room is at your disposal, my Lord,” said Hasaviz. “Is there any equipment you wish to try today?”

  “Do you have anything new?”

  “There is a new sling, but that may be too tame for you.”

  Virien shrugged with disinterest. “At least show it to me.”

  Hasaviz showed him the canvas, leather, and brass contraption. It was remarkably similar to the old one, which had broken recently under odd circumstances.

  “Just like the old one,” Virien sighed.

  “Yes,” agreed Hasaviz. “And it can’t bear the weight of a horse either.”

  “Forget the sling. I’m in the mood for the classics. Strap him down.”

  Hasaviz sighed a little and led Rak to the couch. “Koilathans,” he muttered very, very quietly in Zafirin. “Even the most perverted of them are prudes by Zothian standards.” He showed Virien a few of the more interesting positions. Virien perused them like a person at the market. The blow job had apparently left him rather satisfied. He made Hasaviz rearrange Rak several times.

  Finaly, Hasaviz said, “In this position, he could give me oral pleasure while you took him. He could probably take us both at once, but I don’t fancy a tight squeeze today.”

  Virien stroked his goatee. “Yes, yes, why not.”

  Hasaviz moved to Rak’s face. “Open.”

  Virien snickered nastily. “It’s a pity you can’t do this at the next council meeting. Perhaps someday.”

  “The king of Zoth, Narvain’s sire, used to keep a slave under the council table just to give him oral pleasure during meetings.”

  Virien thrust in smoothly. “Oh, you were right about the lubrication.

  And that would make those meetings tolerable.”

  “That was his rationale, also.” Hasaviz looked down at Rak. “Enough with my bals, pay attention to my phalus.”

  “Did he ever let his nobles have the same service? Or just the ones who voted his way, I wonder?”

  “The ones he wanted to curry favor with often received a visitor between their legs. It encouraged them to vote his way.”

  Virien sighed as he drove into Rak. “The drawback is that it encourages one to be neutral. He should reward his folowers with visitors as wel.”