Convergence

Zhura looked a question at her father. He nodded, a bemused expression on his face.

She took down the items, trying a few experimental swings with the club, feeling its weight and balance.

"Menga trained you with club and shield?" he asked.

Zhura shook her head no. "He trained me to defend against them."

She strapped the shield on her forearm. The shield was heavier than she expected, but easy to wield with the demonic vigor that pumped through her veins.

"Somehow, these feel familiar," she mused.

"Your mother wielded them," he said. "Remarkable. You remind me so much of her."

Zhura swung the shield over her back, the strap pulling snug on her shoulders. "Did you love her?" she asked.

Yende sighed as he gazed at a room full of memory. "No," he said finally. "Our affair was a brief one, born of political necessity. She was in love with her cause. I was... in love with my ambition."

The herb-witch felt relief, hearing that. At least the tragedy of her mother's death hadn't been compounded by love, unrequited and unfulfilled.

"The state of the Lower City is grim," Yende said. "There is no siege, yet the people act as if there is, hoarding food and fleeing the city. Wardens have been murdered in the streets and alleys. Those who remain hold the watch post on the Brassbelt Bridge, to keep the trade route open west to Bocha and to protect the Water Keepers' access to the river.

"The post has been attacked each of the last two nights, by demons and Vong rebels. I will reinforce it with as many wardens as I dare. But these sanju demons sap the men's courage. Bajari rip them apart. During the days, the people can have some shred of normal life. The surviving wardens can attempt to maintain order in the Lower City. But the nights belong to the beasts.

"If those wardens fall, then we will lose the city. More people will flee. They will raid the granaries in order to survive. I won't be able to rally city folk to prepare defensive positions for the army. They will believe I have abandoned them. And they will be right." He scowled. "No one in this city knows more about these monsters than you and your companions."

"You want me to help the wardens in the Lower City."

"Ranthaman told me of your courage in battle. He said he'd seen few who could fight like you, even among men," Yende said.

"But you are their king." Zhura took a deep breath. Perhaps it was too much to ask a king to personally fight for his subjects. Perhaps this was the political realism that Keya always spoke of. "You didn't come here from the Valley to defend the interests of Malindi Clan, or protect the nobility. You came to save a city," Zhura said. "At least, that's the way Menga always told it."

That was the story told to a little girl. But Yende had been a mercenary. He fought for coin, and nobles had the coin to pay.

The king steepled his hands in front of his face. He was silent for a while before allowing an embarrassed smile. "You're right, of course. I've put out the word that I will be out of the palace, rallying the people of the Upper City. I have men watching the tunnel. When the Thandi come for me with their summoning stones, we will catch them. That was what you suggested, wasn't it?"

"I did." Her foray into the armory complete, Zhura came to stand with her father. "What about my other requests?" she asked.

"There have been no more arrests. I've even allowed some of the Vong to return to their homes in the Upper City."

"And the crowd at the palace gates?"

"I cannot let them inside," Yende scowled. "But I will make sure that all have food and water. And I will allow them to leave the Upper City if they choose. Less mouths to feed if it comes to a siege.

"This is a dangerous moment, Zhura. I've already given the order for the soldiers on the border to begin a fighting retreat. If the Chideans reach the city before aid comes, Morore will be besieged. If we have not crushed the Thandi and Vong rebels that are already in the city before then, Morore may be lost."

The king hesitated, a grim expression fixed upon his face. "There are those who demand that I arrest your priestess friend, and offer her in exchange for Ikanjan aid."

Zhura's blood ran cold. She started to respond, and then swallowed the words, not trusting herself to speak them. Who would make that demand? Ranthaman? Yende's advisors? Or was it Yende himself, considering his options?

"But I see she is important to you," Yende said. "And I believe she will be more valuable to us against the demons."

"Why would you even tell me that?"

"My daughter, I only want you to understand how desperate our situation is."

Zhura shook her head, still angry. "How long do we have?"

"At a guess? Three, perhaps four days." He sighed, "If we survive this-"

"If we survive this, build no more statues to long-gone heroes. Save your respect for those that live here."

Yende sighed. "By the Ancestors. You must be channeling her uwa. That is something she would have said."

All of this still troubled her. Yende was her father, to be sure. But how far could she rely upon him?

"Why?" she asked. "Why do you trust me with this? When your advisors counsel you otherwise?"

"Because you are my daughter," he said, glancing away. "Maybe it is instinct that makes me turn to you when my son betrayed me. You are the eldest, perhaps not corrupted by the damnable politics of this place.

"But there is something else," Yende said, meeting her gaze. "I see her in you. Anathe was the real hero of Morore, even though the storytellers do not recount it that way. She was a leader who compelled others to follow by her own courage and determination. I trust you because you carry part of her within you. Zhura, you are the symbol of our union, of what made this city the heart of a new kingdom."

He moved to embrace her. In that instant, she could feel the warmth and closeness of him, his woody, earthy scent that felt like home. Not Boma, or even Morore, but the place her soul lived.

But Zhura didn't trust that feeling.

She recoiled, even as she saw the pain on his features. She wanted him to understand. "I look forward to the day," she said, "when our situation is... less desperate."

**

Zhura and Keya shared supper in their chamber with Musa, Lila, Ngo and Emmi. Keya's former maid had quickly learned which servants in the palace could find them the best food. They laid out woven mats on the cool tiles of the floor and sat round a bowl of delightfully sour sauce made from hibiscus greens, a couple of roasted birds, pounded millet dough, and jugs of honeyed beer.

Musa whispered a few words of soft prayer before he began to partake. "When I was a small boy, Ikanjan farmers drove the last Kut people off of our hunting grounds. The elders tried to fight, but eventually we starved. They herded us into Namu to civilize us, and still we went hungry." He tore a leg from one of the birds, grease dripping from his fingers. "Ranthaman had it right to try to leave. You do not want to see the nightmare of a siege, of a whole city without food. We should fight like an elephant protecting her calf to avoid that."

"We can prevent it," Zhura said. "Yende says he will have aid from both the north and the west, enough to drive the Chideans back to the border, if we can keep the city from descending into chaos for just a few days."

Musa nodded. He licked his fingers. "If we are going to stay, then we will fight like mother elephants anyway."

Emmi sopped up sauce with a piece of the millet. "If you join the men that I can raise, the men of my Clan and of the Casters' Guild, we can keep order. The Vong are the true enemy, and Busara Clan knows how to beat the Vong," he said.

"Join your men?" Keya said, eyebrows raised in irony.

Zhura smiled to herself, eyeing Emmi. You are a leader of men. But I am asking you to follow.

Emmi wiped a hand across his lips as he ate. "Within the close confines of the city, even a small number of strong warriors can make a difference. If we can protect the granaries and the river crossing, the people will still have hope. The Casters' Guild is a defensible position we can fight from."

This had all happened before. Zhura had seen it, like a recurring nightmare. She shook her head. "We are not running like Ranthaman. The Vong are not the greatest threat."

Everyone turned to her.

"Zhura, what are you asking us to do?" Keya said.

I'm not asking, the voice inside her urged. Zhura quelled it. "Follow me," she said. "Fight the Thandi and their demons who are behind all of this."

The others were silent as they ate, watching her. Emmi chuckled softly.

"I will follow you, Zhura," Ngo said solemnly. "Wherever."

"As will I," said Keya, though lines of concern were etched in her forehead. "We will find a way."

Musa, silent, only nodded his assent.

Emmi smiled. "Perhaps we will fight this mysterious enemy together," he said. "But my men will not be led by a woman." He took a long draught of his beer. "I have no doubt you are a capable fighter. But these men have seen war."

"As have I," Zhura said, levelling her gaze upon the big man.

"You are an herb-witch."

Zhura only smiled, as she dipped her bit of millet in the sauce.

Lila cleared her throat. "I have observed something about the men who balk at following the command of women," she said.

A knowing smile crept across Musa's face as the Kut warrior bent over his food.

"Either they refuse to follow because they desire her, or because they see her as less than themselves," the maid said.

Keya nearly spat out her beer, giggling in surprise.

"That is preposterous," Emmi laughed. "What if the men are better?"

"You're proving her point," Ngo murmured.

"With many men it's a little of both," Lila admitted. "In House Oko, most of the men secretly wanted to bend Lady Keya over a bale of jamgrass and rut her silly. Some of those also thought her cursed because she is an albino."

"Is that true, Musa?" the priestess asked.

Musa looked away. "It isn't untrue," he said. "Though I followed you and still wanted to bend you over a bale of jamgrass."

"Not all men lust after women," Emmi pointed out.

"True," Lila grinned. "But I think you do."

The mood in the room had changed. Zhura secretly thanked the little maid for it. No one was eating anymore.

"I followed Zhura because she knocked me on my ass," Ngo laughed in mock protest. "Wanting to rut her came later."

"So which is it for you, Emmi?" Zhura said.

As usual, she was the least-dressed in the room, wearing a halter that bared her belly and shoulders. The cut of her wrap skirt barely covered her toned legs. From where she sat, she was certain that Emmi could see the tight loincloth that stretched tightly over her plump mound. She didn't try to hide it.

Zhura eased forward and pushed the bowl and empty plates out of the circle of companions. She crept into the space she'd cleared, close enough to take in the heated metallic scent of him.

It was not like her to be so aggressive with strangers. In fact, she would never have been so bold, and it wasn't the beer that was lowering her inhibitions. She felt the eyes of her companions on her, but her gaze was fixed upon the Caster.

Anathe.

"Do you want to rut me?" Zhura said, low-voiced, to the man. "Or do you need proof of my worth?"

Emmi said nothing, but he watched her with a look of astonishment and lust.

Zhura crouched before him, their faces close. "I am daughter to the King. I have stood against demons that crushed other men. The Ancestors smile upon me, and when I speak, Yende listens." Their lips almost touched. "Follow me. Together we will prevail."

Before he could muster a reply, she kissed him.

Emmi tasted of beer, of the nutty sweetness of the millet brew and the burnished incense of his craft. His beard tickled her lips, as she cocked her head and straddled him. Though her eyes were closed, she sensed the others in the silence, as if they held their collective breath.

She slipped her arms around him, slender, strong fingers feeling his bulk. Her skirt was rucked up completely around her hips, and his stiffness ground against her dampening slit through the irksome fabric that kept them apart. Emmi's hands pushed up under Zhura's halter, squeezing soft flesh.

Zhura's lips drifted over, through curly hair to the bare skin under his ear. "Will you follow me?" she asked softly.

His fingers teased her nipples, causing Zhura's sharp intake of breath. She stood, hauling his tunic up and off his shoulders. She threw off her halter as well, exposing stiff nipples to the night air.

Zhura glanced at Keya, noting the lustful look on the priestess's face. From the corner of her eye, the herb-witch could see Musa and Lila kissing. She crouched down again beside Emmi.

He began to nibble and suck at her breasts. She cradled his head with one arm. Her pulse raced, but she reined in her eagerness. The fluttering of his tongue on her nipple didn't help her to slow down.

Emmi's skin was hot on hers, the brass rings on his arms jingling as he hefted her breast. He was powerfully built, with a healthy paunch around his middle. Zhura ran her hand over his furred chest, letting it trail over the groove of his sternum, continuing down over the smooth bulge of his belly.

As she untied his trousers, Zhura noted the expression of hunger that settled over Keya's ivory features. Emmi's cock flopped out heavily from the confines of his trousers. Zhura beckoned Keya with a crooked finger. The priestess crawled over as if on a leash. Zhura leaned over Emmi.

Kissing Keya was such a contrast to the Caster. Her lips were plump and full. Her tongue darted into Zhura's mouth - more delicate, but no less ardent. On their knees, the women embraced, with Emmi's head still bent between them. As Keya's chest brushed the back of his head, he turned to caress her through her tunic.

Keya shuddered in response. Her already generous breasts had become swollen and sensitive in the first months of her pregnancy. She drew away from Zhura and pulled Emmi's head into a kiss.

Abandoned, Zhura crouched beside the Caster. She licked her hand and dropped it to encircle Emmi's throbbing shaft. She began to stroke it, delighting in how it twitched in her fingers. She dug into the opening of his trousers to fondle his balls. They churned with seed - seed that she was determined to get into her belly, one way or another, by the end of the night.

Someone had lit candles to brighten the room. Zhura guessed that it was Ngo, although now he and Musa were busy stripping Lila of her tunic and skirt. The little maid never seemed to miss an opportunity to be the center of attention.

As much as Zhura wanted to watch, she had other matters to attend. She tugged on Emmi's trousers. Laboriously, still locked together with the priestess, the man got to his knees. Zhura yanked his pants down as far as they could go. She tossed her braids aside and bent her head. Emmi groaned as she began to lap the musk and salt from his balls.

She felt Emmi and Keya adjusting above her, but Zhura focused on Emmi's cock. As he laid flat on his back, she was able to ease his trousers completely off, never detaching from his twitching popo for an instant. She stroked him while she licked beneath his balls, and then she brought the spongy head to her mouth.

Zhura had come to love many things in the year and a half since she left her village of Boma behind. First and foremost of these was the Ikanjan priestess. But not the least of Zhura's loves was the feel of a fat cock in her mouth, steely and silken smooth at the same time. It throbbed like a living, vital thing, especially when it was ready to relinquish its luscious seed.

Keya was now naked from the waist down. She squatted over Emmi's face, eyes closed as she rode his tongue.

Zhura felt someone push her skirt up to her waist and pull off her loincloth. She complied as best she could, extending her legs in turn until the offending garment was gone. A warm tongue replaced the cool evening air on her nether lips. She wagged her hips in response, redoubling her efforts. Her eyes rolled back as the tongue lapped her, even laving the tender divot of her ass. From the brush of hair against her yoni, she guessed it was Musa pleasuring her.

Emmi's cock, however, stood tall like a pillar, and Zhura wanted to feel it. She eased away from Musa and squatted over the prone Caster. She rubbed the helmet-shaped tip of his cock against her wet lips and then to the entrance of her yoni. Then she slid down, echoing his muffled groan as he filled her.

Keya, alert now, bent forward to kiss Zhura as they both rode the brawny Caster. Musa joined in their kiss. Zhura tasted some of her own juices on the hunter's lips, and the brief spark of power that followed. Then Keya rose up and took Musa's hand, and Zhura claimed Emmi to herself.

She hunched over him, until their faces were close. He smelled of Keya's pungent nectar. She resisted the urge to lick him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed with pleasure as Zhura bounced on his cock. She took him to the root, then lifted her hips until only the head of his cock was clutched inside her. He groaned.

"You will follow me," Zhura said softly as she rutted him. It was a statement, not a question. It belied a throbbing need that she could only barely restrain.

Emmi's eyes focused on her, locked upon hers. The chamber resonated with rhythmic slapping and slurping, but he stared only at her.

"Yes," he breathed.

"You are certain?" she asked, her hips still rising and falling.

"Yes," he growled.

His hands gripped her ass. He thrust his hips upward, even as he slammed her down upon him, intent upon power-rutting Zhura to oblivion. The sounds of their joining mixed with the others, and Zhura smothered his lips with hers.

She came then, as sudden as a rainstorm in the month of Praise. As she was still crying out, Emmi thrust deep inside her and flooded her with his seed.

They lay there, panting and kissing for a minute while he still twitched inside her. "You won't regret it," she whispered finally. She rose up off of him.

Ngo sat on the bed, his hands in the spiky twists of Lila's hair. She was on all fours, head bobbing in his lap. The priestess, on her back, lay with her face between her former maid's splayed legs. Lila shuddered as Keya lapped at her from beneath.

Musa held the priestess's pallid legs on his shoulders. Her newly painted toes twitched in the air as he plowed her yoni with enthusiasm.

Emmi took a draught of his millet beer while he sat naked beside Zhura. She dipped a finger into her sodden channel. A dollop of pearly goo came out on her fingertip. She sucked it off.

The Caster chuckled as he took in the scene. "Musa is Keya's former servant?"

"As is Lila," Zhura felt the rush of power as she ingested their combined juices.

"You are truly remarkable people. I should like to hear the story of how all this began."

Ngo roared as he came. He threw his head back on the bed. Lila didn't release his cock, continuing to suck until his hips stopped jerking.

"We all have our stories to tell," Zhura said.

She thought back to the woes of her earlier years, how so often she'd felt neglected, alone and misunderstood. She'd come so far from there. Now she was in the company of those she loved, those she trusted and admired, and those who'd accepted the dangers of their journeys together.

Emmi was not that, not yet. But his intentions seemed good, and the others were comfortable with him. She hadn't even needed to impress or intimidate him.

Lila stood up, leaving Ngo sprawled on the bed, and Musa and Keya to their frenzied rutting. With a smug look on her face, the little maid picked her way over empty bowls and jugs of beer to where Zhura sat. She bent to kiss the herb-witch, both hands gently holding Zhura's face. A mouthful of Ngo's seed poured into Zhura's mouth. Zhura savored it and swallowed it down. Her body thrummed with potency.