In Sanctuary everybody knew the game. There were no prissies. Every woman was someone's mistress whether she liked it or not. Every man was out for himself, and took advantage where he could. There were, true, codes of honour and religion. But they did not apply to love, liquor, or making a living. You drove the hardest bargain right now.
The opportunity seen. Instantly, the mind wildly scanned the possibilities. Then came the initial outrageous demand, thereupon negotiated downward by the equally determined defences of the second party to the transaction.
And that was what had brought the beautiful Illyra into his embrace. Her own agreement that, unless something happened to interfere, she would be available for him in the man-woman relation.
Apparently, once she realized that the bargain was binding, she did not resist its meaning. In the darkness Stulwig found her naked body fully acceptant of him. Complete with many small motions and excitements. Most of the women who paid in kind for his services lay like frozen statues, occasionally vibrating a little in the final moments of the act. After which they hastily slipped out of bed. Dressed. And raced off down the stairs and out into the Maze.
With Illyra so different, even to the point of sliding her palms over his skin, Stulwig found himself thinking once more of the huge blacksmith who was her established lover. It was hard to visualize this female, even though she seemed somewhat larger than he would have guessed, with such a massive male on top of her. Although-
A sudden realization: there were surprisingly strong muscles that lay under him. ... This woman is no weakling. In fact-
Presently, as he proceeded with the lovemaking, Stulwig found himself mentally shaking his head ... Those voluminous S'danzo skirts, he thought, conceal more than slender flesh - his sudden impression was that, in fact, Illyra was on the plump side. And that obviously she wore the skirts to hide a considerably heavier body than she wanted onlookers to know about. Not hard to do, with her face so thin and youthful.
No mind. She was a woman who had not been easy to capture.
And here she was, actually responding. Interesting, also, that her skin felt unusually warm, almost as if she had a temperature.
He was coming to the climax. And so the size of her was temporarily blanked out. Thus, the awareness of a transformation of her plump body into that of an Amazon, was like coming out of a glorious dream into a nightmare.
His sudden impossible impression: he was lying on top of a woman over six feet tall, with hips that spread out beneath him at least a foot wider than he was.
His stunned thought, immediately spoken: 'Illyra, what is this? Some sorceress's trick?'
In a single, sliding motion he disengaged from that massive female body. Slid off onto the floor. And scrambled to his feet.
As he did so there was a flash of incredible brightness. It lit up the entire room, revealing an oversized, strange, naked woman on his couch, sitting up now.
And revealing, also, a man's huge lighted figure coming through a door that, before his father's death, had been a private entrance to Alten's bedroom. It was an entrance that he had, long ago now, sealed up ... Through it came the shining figure into the bedroom. .
One incredulous look was all Stulwig had time for. And many, many desperate awarenesses: the glowing one, the being who shone with a fiery body brightness was Vashanka.
By the time he had that thought, he had numbly grasped his stave. And, moments later, was backing naked through the doorway that led out to the greenhouse.
Inside the bedroom a god was yelling in a deep, baritone voice at the nude Amazon, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. And the Amazon was yelling back in a voice that was like that of a male tenor. They spoke in a language that was not Ilsig.
In his time Stulwig had learned several hundred basic medically useful words in half a dozen dialects of the Rankan empire. So now, after a few familiar words had come through to him -suddenly, the truth.
The woman was Azyuma. And Vashanka was berating her for her infidelity. And she was yelling back, accusing him of similar infidelities with human women.
The revelation dazzled Stulwig. So the gods, as had so often been suggested in vague tales about them, were like humans in their physical needs. Fleshly contacts. Angry arguments. Perhaps even intake of food with the consequent digestion and elimination by stool and urination.
But much more important for this situation was the intimate act she had sought with a human male ... Trust a woman! thought Stulwig. Hating her incestuous relationship. Degraded. Sad. Hopeless. But nevertheless jealous when her god husband-brother went off to earth, and, as gods have done since the beginning of time, lay with a human woman. Or two. Or a hundred.
So she had got even. Had taken the form of a human woman. And had cunningly enticed a male - this time, himself; three and a half years ago, his father - to lie with her. Not too difficult to do in lustful Sanctuary.
And thus, Ten-Slayer, in his jealous rage, had become Eleven-Slayer - if humans like the elder Stulwig counted in the arithmetic of the divine ones.
Standing, now, in the centre of the greenhouse, with no way at all that he could use as a quick escape (it always required a fair time to unbarricade his door) Stulwig braced himself. Clutched his stave. And waited for he knew not what.
He grew aware, then, that the word battle in the bedroom had come to an ending. The woman was standing now, hastily wrapping the S'danzo skirts around her huge waist. That was a momentary revelation. So such skirts could fit all female sizes without alteration.
Moments later, the woman came out. She had three of the filmy scarfs wrapped around her upper body. Her eyes avoided looking at Stulwig as she thudded past him on bare feet. And then he heard her at the door, removing the barricade.
That brought a sudden, wild hope to the man. Perhaps, if he backed in that direction, he also might make it through the doorway, once it was unblocked.
But his belief was: he dared not move. Dared not turn his head. As Stulwig had that tense realization, the brightness - which had been slightly out of his line of vision - moved. There was an awesome sound of heavy, heavy footsteps. And then - Vashanka strode into view.
There was no question in Stulwig's numbed mind. What he was seeing, suddenly, was clearly a sight not given to many men to observe so close up. The Rankan god, Vashanka. Maker of lightning in the sky. Master of weaponry. Killer of ten god-brothers. Murderer of Jutu Stulwig (father of Alton). The mighty being stood now, poised in the doorway leading from the bedroom. And he literally had to stoop down so that his head did not strike the top of the door jamb.
He was a massive figure whose every stretch and fold of skin was lit up like a fire. The light that enveloped him from head to foot actually seemed to nicker, as if tiny tongues of white heat were burning there.
Those innumerable fires suffused the greenhouse with a brightness greater than daylight.
Clearly, a human confronted by a god should not rely on force alone. At no time was that realization a coherent thought in Stulwig's mind. But the awful truth of it was there in his muscles and bones. Every movement he made reflected the reality of a man confronting an overwhelming power.
Most desperately, he wanted to be somewhere, far away.
Which was impossible. And so-
Stulwig heard his voice stuttering out the first meaning of those defensive thought-feelings: 'I'm innocent. I didn't know who she was.'
It was purpose of a desperate sort. Avoid this incredible situation by explaining. Arguing. Proving.