[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (34 page)

The men burst out laughing as Yim quickly put the gown back on. As she sat down, she heard the general say. “Count Yaun, you owe me five golds. You wagered she’d piss herself.”

Yim forced a smile. “General, he made that wager because he thought I’d act like him.”

Even Lord Bahl laughed at that. It encouraged Yim to softly touch his hand, which felt unnaturally cold. “My lord,” she whispered, “when you held my life in your hand, I fully felt your power.”

Bahl said nothing, but he seemed pleased. Yim’s mind was racing as she tried to understand him. He had enjoyed terrifying and humiliating her, but he had laughed when she made fun of Yaun.
 
Perhaps he’s like a man who prides himself in breaking spirited steeds 
. Yim decided to be arrogant and tart to everyone except Bahl. Toward him she would be submissive, fawning, and fearful.
 
At least the fearful part won’t require acting 
.

Yim sat upright in her stool to best display her body, a feat her damp, sheer gown made easy. She pretended to enjoy the men’s lustful glances, while frequently gazing at Lord Bahl, as if to say, “I know I’m beautiful, but I’m yours
 only.” Every time she looked at Bahl, she readily sensed the otherworldly being that possessed him. It was the source of his chill. Sitting close to Bahl in a skimpy gown, Yim was no longer hot, or even warm. As her nipples stiffened from the cold, she noted that the men who stared at them were dressed for winter.

Lord Bahl’s chill extended to his features, which seemed as pale as quartz and as hard. He exuded an air of sinewy strength that left no room for softness. His eyes—so pale that his black pupils denominated them—epitomized both his coldness and his might. Yim was well versed in the arcane power that resided in some eyes, and she saw the forcefulness of his. Bahl’s gaze would be dangerous to confront.

Peering at the other diners, Yim used her powers to view their inner qualities. Most of them were military men. They reminded her of Cronin’s officers, though she perceived that they were far more hardened and ruthless. They were violent, but disciplined. Yim discovered no madness among them, which made her suspect that Lord Bahl had spared them that, finding rational officers more useful. Yim laid bare Count Yaun easily. He was sadistic, vain, and cowardly. The priest was an enigma. His face looked young, but his gray eyes belied that impression. His other qualities were impervious to her perception. Yim quickly glanced away, fearing that he could detect that she was probing him. Later, when she ventured another look, she found his suspicious expression disconcerting.

The meal was brought out. After Lord Bahl was served, the dishes and bottles were placed on the table for the diners to serve themselves. Yim was ravenous, but she neither filled her plate nor her drinking bowl, but left them empty and gazed at Lord Bahl like a dog begging from its master. Bahl ate awhile before he acknowledged the look. “Eat. Drink,” he said in an indulgent tone.

Yim bowed her head and took food for her plate and wine for her bowl. Her memory of the charred leg caused
 her to avoid any meat, but fortunately there was some fowl. Her chill and terror made her gulp down the first bowl of wine, but she forced herself to sip from the second. The food and drink were good, an encouraging sign that Lord Bahl hadn’t abandoned all human pleasures. As to whether he would seek pleasure from her, Yim still had no idea.

The meal progressed without Yim coming any closer to achieving her goal. She was afraid to appear too forward, for she realized that Bahl had to feel in control. Since he ate silently, the other diners were silent also. That provided Yim no opportunity for banter, sexual or otherwise. All she could do was try to appear alluring and hope for the best. The meal became a drinking session, and Yim still remained ignorant of her fate. When the drinking wound down, she decided that she must take a risk. Yim caught Bahl’s eye and spoke to him in a tremulous whisper. “My lord, will you return me to the dungeon?”

Then Bahl’s eyes traveled over Yim’s body and took on an almost human look. “No, my little spy,” he said after he finished his inspection. “Tonight you’ll adorn my bed.”

“My lord,” said the priest, “that isn’t wise.”

Yim was surprised by the priest’s tone. Even the general had been obsequious when addressing Lord Bahl, but the priest spoke to him as an equal.

“She’s a slave and a whore,” replied Bahl. “Surely no virgin.”

“So you assume,” said the priest. “I prefer to be certain.” He regarded Yim. “Woman! Look me in the eye!”

Yim put on a meek expression as she obeyed, but she shielded her thoughts from scrutiny. After a moment, the priest frowned and turned to Bahl. “Something about her isn’t right. I suggest you slay her.”

“She’s just a wench,” said Bahl.

“If you 
must 
sport with her,” replied the priest, “I insist you send her to Yaun first.”

Lord Bahl shrugged and turned to Yaun. “Well, Count, it
 seems the Most Holy Gorm has given you this wench for the night. You know what he requires. Tup her thoroughly.”

“Yes, my lord.” Count Yaun grinned maliciously at Yim, who was struggling to hide her shock. “I’ll use her well.”

“I know your habits,” said Bahl. “Don’t mar her.”

“Never without your leave, my lord.”

“Good,” said Bahl, rising from his seat.

Yim rose with the others, her face a mask to conceal her despair. It had all been for naught. She had thrown away her single chance for love, endured pain and terror, and degraded herself so a sadistic coward might violate her. In the end, she would die and no one would be saved.

Yaun grabbed Yim’s arm, gripping it so his fingers pressed on nerves. Then he squeezed until she winced from pain. “That was just a taste, you foul-mouthed slut!” he whispered. Yaun squeezed her arm again. “Follow at my heels and don’t dare lag behind. We’ve a long night ahead.”

THIRTY
-
FIVE

COUNT
YAUN’S
room was a large one on an upper floor of the keep. After Yim entered it, Yaun made her stand in its center as he shut and bolted the door. A blaze in the carved stone fireplace provided the only light. Its ruddy glow illuminated a large bed, stacks of valuables that Yim assumed were looted, a collection of shackles and other restraints, a pile of bloody rags, and a table covered with instruments for torture. The devices’ shapes hinted at their gruesome uses, and when Yim saw them, she shuddered.

Yaun noted her reaction and smiled. “When Lord Bahl
 tires of you—and he most surely will—I’ll acquaint you with my playthings.” He slowly walked over to Yim, grabbed her gown at the neckline, and tore it from her body. Then he grinned salaciously. “Stand like you did on the slave block.” Yim lowered her hands to her sides and stared straight ahead as Yaun circled her. “My coppers bought you,” he said, “but Honus denied me even a feel.” Yaun reached out and grabbed one of Yim’s breasts. “Well, where’s Honus now?” Then he squeezed until Yim gasped from pain. “Answer me, slave!”

“I ran away from him.”

“To your real master. To the man who bought you.” Yaun squeezed Yim’s other breast, causing her to moan. “Do you remember how much I paid?”

“Ten coppers.”

“That’s ‘ten coppers,
 
Master.’”
 
“Ten coppers, Master.”

“And now you’re secondhand goods. Did that Sarf use you often?”

“Every night, Master.”

“Stand still while I see how worn you are.”

Yaun’s “inspection” was a brutal groping. As he pinched and poked Yim in ways that would leave no marks or in places where marks wouldn’t show, she realized that inflicting pain aroused him. Thus she exaggerated her suffering, gradually escalating her wincing and moaning to writhing and screaming. The ploy worked, for Yaun eventually commanded her to undress him.

Yim obeyed, making sure she appeared abject and terrified. All the while, she steeled herself to attempt the one thing that might prevent her rape. She had conceived of it while following Yaun to his room. When her tormentor was undressed, she knelt on the floor before him, and bent down to kiss his feet in a slow, sensuous manner. Then she sat upright. “Since you’re my master now, shall I perform the feat Honus taught me? You’ll feel as if you’re with dozens of women.”

“Do your whore’s trick,” replied Yaun, “and pray it pleases me.”

“It will, Master.” Yim kissed Yaun’s feet again, then sat on her heels.

Yim began her meditations, fearful she wouldn’t complete them before Yaun grew impatient. Sure enough, she was only partway done when he said, “What is this? If you’re just stalling, you’ll regret it!”

When Yim remained silent to maintain her concentration, Yaun pinched her nipples. Still, Yim didn’t react other than to grit her teeth. He squeezed harder before suddenly releasing them. “What’s this?” he asked in an uneasy voice. “What are those moving shadows?”

Yim said nothing and kept her gaze forward, but she sensed that spirits were approaching. She knew they had arrived when Yaun gave a startled gasp. With the summoning complete, she turned to view what frightened Yaun.

The women were unclothed, as are all spirits of the dead. Yet when Yim glanced back at Yaun, he wasn’t staring at their bodies, but at their faces. “I know them,” he whispered in an awed voice. “I know them all!”

“Soon, I think you’ll know them better,” said Yim. She had recognized the woman who had suffered on the stake and who had not lived through the evening. The rest she had never seen before. Nevertheless, she knew that all the spirits shared one thing in common: Each had been one of Yaun’s victims. The room was filled with them, and the air grew frigid from their otherworldly presence. The chill matched the spirits’ icy hate. Even before they advanced, Yaun was backing away.

Unbound by the laws of the living world, the spectral women flew through the air and swirled around Yaun like a school of ravenous fish fighting over a bit of meat. The count fell to his knees and began to jerk and writhe. Yaun remained intact; yet by his actions, Yim assumed that he was
 suffering his victims’ torments. She feared that he would scream, but only hoarse gurgles escaped his lips.

Driven by the vengeful spirits, Yaun gradually backed toward the fireplace. Then he entered it and cowered in the flames. His scorched flesh bubbled and fell away in blackened sheets. Yet he remained, immobilized by terror and whimpering shrilly, as the fire slowly consumed him. Apparently its torment paled compared to what his victims inflicted. As Yaun’s writhing on the burning logs grew feebler, Yim put on the fur-trimmed cloak he had worn to dinner. He was still alive when she left his room.

Yim emerged into a dark hallway that was lit by only a few torches. She found a shadowed spot and leaned against the wall to regain her composure. She was shaky from her ordeal with Yaun and sore from his handling, but she knew that she had to act. Her doom would be sealed once Yaun’s body was discovered. She had only one night to conceive a child, and first she had to find the father.

Looking up and down the hall, Yim tried to determine which doorway looked most opulent, reasoning that Lord Bahl would have the grandest quarters. Her greatest fear was that she’d blunder into the priest.
 
The one Bahl called the Most Holy Gorm 
, she thought.
 
He already suspects me 
. She studied the closed doors, but none stuck out. Eventually, she selected one because of its location at the end of the hall. Approaching it with her heart pounding, she softly knocked. The door opened. To Yim’s dismay, General Var stood before her. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Count Yaun’s supposed to tup you.”

“He did,” replied Yim, “but he bores quickly when he can’t hurt a woman.”

“Aye, that’s Yaun,” said the general, betraying his contempt.

“So, I’m seeking my lord in hopes a man will finish what a boy had begun.”

“Did Lord Bahl send for you?”

“No,” replied Yim, trying to sound sensual and alluring. “But I’m certain he’s waiting by his doorway.”

General Var glanced in the direction of an archway. “Nonsense. You overestimate your charms.”

Yim smiled sheepishly. “Well, I’d hoped he was waiting.”

“Go back to Yaun. Lord Bahl isn’t fond of surprises.”

“I’ve been silly,” said Yim. She cast Var a grateful look. “Thank you for the warning, General. When my lord tires of me, I hope he’ll give me to you.”

After the general closed his door, Yim rushed toward the archway. Beyond it lay spiral stairs leading upward. Although she wasn’t certain they led to Lord Bahl’s chambers, she thought the general’s glance was a telling clue. Yim quietly climbed the stairway until she neared its top and saw that the door above was open. Then she paused a moment, licked her fingers, and used them to moisten herself. That done, she took a deep breath and entered the room. A blazing fire not only lit the chamber, it made it torrid. Lord Bahl sat in a chair before the fireplace, gazing at the flames that painted his pale skin and hair a bloody shade. He was still dressed as he was at dinner, in black velvet and gold, and looked comfortable in the heat. Bahl turned to gaze at Yim sharply. “What are you doing here?”

Yim slipped Yaun’s cloak from her shoulders to reveal her nudity. “My lord, the count tupped me as directed, but since you forbade him to mar me, he soon lost interest.”