In a daze she stood on the threshold and looked at the interior. It had only a single room, a bridal chamber with large windows open to the breezes that played in the garden and a huge bed piled with soft pallets and pillows. It took Linsha a minute to notice Callista and another male servant standing by the bed. They bowed low to the newly joined couple.
“The pavilion is ready, my lord Akkad,” said the male servant to Lanther. He indicated a tray of cooled wine, goblets, and sweetmeats, then he helped the warlord remove his mask and cuirass.
Callista hurried to Linsha and gently removed the dragon robe. “I have brought your things, my lady, if you wish to refresh yourself. There is a basin of water and some cloths.” Then she said as softly as she dared, “Afec sends his congratulations.”
Linsha’s eyes met Callista’s in a dagger-sharp glance. “He is well?”
“Yes. He was sent here to prepare this house for you. It is the pavilion used by all the imperial family on the five nights following their marriages. You will stay here with Lanther until he leaves for the Missing City. Afec told me to tell you that if your head pain returns, he has left a bottle for you in the small cabinet by the wash table.”
“You are dismissed,” Lanther snapped at both servants.
Callista dared not dally. She gave Linsha a sympathetic squeeze on her arm. “Good night, Linsha,” she said quietly, then her voice dropped even lower. “Afec says don’t kill him. If you do and the Tarmak catch you, they will torture you for days. If you get away, we will try to wait for you.”
“Out!” Lanther bellowed.
The courtesan bowed low, and with her most impish grin, she winked at Lanther and hurried out after the male servant. The door closed behind her, leaving Linsha alone with her husband.
Linsha stood still for a moment and eyed him coldly, then she walked toward the wash basin Callista had left for her.
Lanther sat down on the bed to remove his sandals. “Callista had a lot to say,” he said idly.
“Yes,” Linsha replied, busy with the cloth and the cool water. Her face was dusty and hot and the blue paint design itched. “She was giving me advice.”
He chuckled. “You are no virgin to need advice from a prostitute.”
Linsha made no reply. She had found a folded fabric bag that contained her few clothes, a pair of sandals, her hair brush, and buried in the center lay a certain leather pouch, some dark green silk clothes, and two coils of rope. Linsha’s eyes began to glitter with a dangerous spark. Under the guise of applying a hint of perfume and brushing the braids out of her hair, she palmed the leather pouch.
“Does this house contain a privy?” she inquired in a cool detached manner. “I fear I drank too much wine during the feast.”
He nodded and indicated a door leading out of the room. “It is there. But do not think to slip out a window or make a break for the Akeelawasee. This garden is surrounded by guards.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she growled.
She picked up a candle and stalked out, slamming the door between them. The privy turned out to be a tiny, one-person room attached to the pavilion by a very short walkway. She made use of it for her own comfort as well as his suspicious nature, and while she sat she carefully poured hot wax onto her palm. The wax burned for a moment before it cooled, but while it was still pliable, she smoothed it over her hand to form a thin protective layer. As soon as she finished and smoothed down her dress, she poured a small handful of the sedating powder into her hand. Her heart began to race; her stomach twisted into a large knot.
She managed to screw a smile of sorts onto her face before she went back into the room. Lanther had poured more wine and doused most of the lamps. Only a few candles remained to light the room with a soft romantic light. Linsha knew she would not have to approach him. He would come to her.
She stepped into the room, her hands clenched into fists beside her, her entire demeanor stiff and apprehensive. He did not hesitate. He strode to her, pulled the candle from her hand, and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
Linsha could scarcely breath in his embrace. She could feel his intense need for her, and the reality of it sickened her. She didn’t want this man, and she knew at that moment that she could never bear to give herself to him even in pretense. She squirmed to pull her arm loose, but his hold was too tight. His lips trailed down her neck and his hands moved over her back. Her wrap dress fell loose and remained between them only by the pressure of his body against hers.
She forced herself to relax. Pushing every feeling of revulsion aside, she made the lightest hint of a moan and leaned closer to him.
“Thank Takhisis you are mine now,” he said huskily in her ear. “I have waited too long.”
She felt his arms release their tight grip around her enough to move further down her body. She squirmed just enough so she could take a deep breath. He grinned at her, misinterpreting her action, and she smiled in return. Taking her breath, she held it and pulled her arm loose. She raised her palm and blew the powder into his face.
Lanther coughed and choked once then toppled to the floor with a heavy thud.
Linsha looked down at him. “You’ll have to wait a damned sight longer,” she snarled at his unconscious form. Suddenly her own head swam and her eyes unfocused. She realized belatedly that talking while that powder was in the air was not such a good idea. She quickly staggered away and sat down on the bed where she could breathe without falling over. For a short time she breathed slowly and deeply to clear her head, and while she rested she stared at Lanther.
The temptation to wrap her fingers around his neck and apply pressure to the artery just under the skin was almost more than she could bear. Her fingers itched to throttle him or smash the wine ewer into his skull. He was a menace, a constant danger to her world and her life. He had not hesitated to betray the encampment at the Scorpion Wadi, murder Sir Remmik, or order the slaughter of hundreds of defenders in Duntollik. If given the opportunity he would return to the Plains of Dust and kill anyone in his path to an empire.
She forced her teeth to unclench and took several more relaxing breaths. She wanted to kill him, wanted it so badly she could feel it like a fever. But she couldn’t. She would let him live for now. If he came at her with a weapon, she would not give a second thought to killing him, but even without Afec’s warning, she knew she was not like Lanther. She was a Knight of Solamnia, Order of the Rose, trained by the Oath and the Measure and sworn to accept honor as one’s guide. She could not in good conscience kill Lanther while he was helpless and unarmed. She just hoped she didn’t live to regret her decision.
Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t gag him, tie him, and make him completely uncomfortable while she made her escape. Quickly she doused the candles and worked silently in the ambient moonlight to truss the Akkad-Dar very tightly and gag him so he could not make a sound. Just in case a passing sentry decided to peer in an open window, she heaved Lanther up on the bed and covered him with a blanket, and just to be sure he did not wake anytime soon, she dusted him with more powder.
When she was satisfied, she went to the small cabinet under the wash basin and found a clear glass bottle filled with a dark liquid that gleamed with the faintest hint of red when she held it up to the candlelight. She was unwilling to leave it behind, so she wrapped it in the cloth bag and tied it to her stomach. After that it took only a moment to change into the dark clothes, tie Afec’s knotted belt around her waist, and tuck the pouch of powder into her waistband. She still had the wax on her palm, but she decided to leave it for now. If any of it remained, it might come in handy later. She slipped through a window as stealthily as a cat and slid into the shadowed groves of the garden.