Palace of the Amazon Queen

"Very well," the queen said with a heavy sighed. "Send her over and let's get this done with."

With a sigh of her own, Pythira fell in behind the queen as they marched toward the palace. Lahana and her weakling son waited just beyond the gate, shaded under the roof from the midday sun.

"Your Grace," Lahana began, bowing her head just low enough not to break royal etiquette. "I must again advise you that it is past time you were married. Without any sisters or daughters, the people fear that we might see another time of strife, should the worst happen."

She bit off her final words, as if she thought the worst might not be so bad, after all. After years of dealing with Lahana, Kannitara supposed being dead might be preferable after all.

"I am young enough yet," Kannitara replied as she strode past the older woman. The palace's red roof rose high overhead and she could hear her voice echoing off it as she walked.

"Your cousin was a young woman as well, but that is what the marauders liked in her, your Grace."

"I am not my cousin," Kannitara snapped back. "Did you miss my procession? I have proven my skill in battle well enough that I need not hear these concerns of yours."

"Your cousin won many victories and thought herself strong enough. Until one day she didn't."

"You are Mistress of Spears, Lahana, not the nagging thoughts in my mind. Spit out your offer so I can reject it and be on my way again."

Lahana scowled deeply. Her fists clenched beside her and she glared hatefully from Kannitara to Pythira and back.

"Your Grace, I most humbly propose a match between your royal self and my son, Lahuzzzar." She raised a hand, and the young man came scurrying over. He knelt on the floor before her, his head stooping low enough to touch the stone.

"You would do me a great honor, your Grace," the young man intoned.

"And myself a great disservice. Look at him, barely strong enough to support all that gold on his chest. How is he to give me strong daughters, Lahana?"

Lahana had approached her before the expedition with the same offer and received the same response. Kannitara impatiently drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword as Lahana fought to form the words of a reply.

"My bloodline..." her face twisted with fury. "My bloodline stretches back to Queen Zhula herself. You will find no more noble a match in all the Isles than my son."

Kannitara rolled her eyes. "Who his ancestor was makes little difference to me. He is a weakling, and I will have no daughters by him. You have your answer. Is there anything else?"

Without another word, Lahana seized her son by his hair and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, wretch." The poor lad shot Kannitara a pleading look as he stumbled away in his mother's grasp, but the queen only sighed. The mistress of spears' angry footsteps receded until the sound of a door slamming echoed throughout the hall. Then all was quiet.

"For all her damnable arrogance," Pythira said quietly once they were alone in the hall, "she is right. You should have an heir."

"Not from her son," Kannitara replied. "And the other queens have not been forthcoming with matches from their own families."

"Take a concubine, then. The blood of the father matters little; you are the queen."

"A concubine?" Kannitara mused. Pythira's suggestion was not terrible. "A concubine would not bring an alliance, but a foreign concubine of strong blood would do nicely. Oh, won't that make Lahana just furious!"

"Her new pet is what made me think of it, your Grace."

"He is a strange man, isn't he? What do you think she sees in him?"

Pythira shrugged. "He is tall and foreign. Some women need nothing more than that."

"Tall, foreign, and half her age," Kannitara snorted in derision. "But no matter. Yes, you have the right of it. I think I will take such a concubine."

"I am glad to be of service, your Grace."

"The moon is in the right phase tonight and I still feel the rush of victory. Are there many foreigners in port today, Pythira?"

"There are, my queen. They have come to shelter from the winter storms and fuck our warriors for money. It's the usual for the intercalary days."

"Go out into the taverns, then. Find me a strong, brave man who sire good daughters. No... find me three. Then bring them here and I will let them spill their seed in me."

"As you command, your Grace." Pythira bowed and left the hall. Kannitara smiled to herself. A foreign man, strong and brave. That is the answer to my problem.

Bromm comes downstairs and goes back to storytelling

Brand approached him in the hall, shirtless and with his arm around an Amazon who had entered with Turasi. He gave his captain an anxious smile and Bromm nodded approvingly as they passed. Turning to watch them go, Bromm could see the slave brand on the lad's back. A man's luck can change in an instant, he mused.

Descending the stairs, Bromm found Caturn seated at its foot with a trio of younger sailors. The older man was engaged in more tale-spinning, though this time he had his audience thoroughly enraptured.

"The island is populated with an unending bounty of lusty young girls who eat only cock and drink only cum. Day and night, they frolic in the woods and streams, always searching for some new man to satisfy them. They roam from one end to the other, nude and in sheer silks that tantalize your eye with the sight of their bodies beneath No matter how ugly or haggard a man, they will stretch out their young, supple bodies for his cock. The girls are always ready to fuck, no matter how ugly or fat the man is. And when you're fucked out, the island's bounty stands ready to rejuvenate a tired soul. The fattest, juiciest fruits grow on its trees and the water always runs cold and clean in its streams."

"It is a paradise brought down to the mortal realms," one of the men gasped.

"A paradise?" Bromm asked from the stairs. Caturn glowered up at him from his bench while the other sailors turned around to face Bromm. "Or a lotus dream you had in a dingy Torvuls smoking den?"

"I only tell the truth captain. I fucked them. I fucked them until my cock ached and my heart felt about to give out. I filled them up to their eyeballs with my cum, and still they wanted more. Begged me not to stop. Squealed under the trees and palms for hours."

"Where is this island?!" one of the younger men leaned forward with his hands on his knees. Caturn sighed.

"It is a mystical island, and like so many in the sea, it defies attempts to chart it. The islands drift in and out of this world, appearing here and there in different phases of the moon."

Bromm laughed. "And so we must take you at your word? How convenient."

"Any man will tell you of the Shifting Isles!" Caturn insisted with a darkening scowl. Bromm knew he was right, for he had set foot on such isles before, only to see them turn to mist the next morning.

"Aye," he conceded, "but I've never heard of anything like what you speak of. Take everything the old man says with a grain of salt, lads." Bromm chuckled at the younger sailors and turned away.

"Could we find this island?" he heard one ask as he walked away.

As evening set in over Skyrra, Pythira entered a tavern in the middle of town called the Diving Dolphin. She and her lieutenants had divided up the city into search areas, each charged with bringing back a worthy mate for the queen.

This tavern looked promising enough. Many ruder establishments were overrun with the lowest order of scum. Known to foreigners as sea rats, these men were the basest form of life that still possessed enough wits to speak. Perpetually drunken, half-clothed, and possessed of a bestial lust, they were a great nuisance in the ports that had prompted more than one queen to ban them entirely.

But here, under a roof that did not leak, were what Pythira supposed were the men of quality. Yet even this place was no stranger to debauchery. Some sea rats still lurked in the corners. Other sailors had their shirts off and drew close with Amazons, some of whom were naked from the waist up. Pythira watched one Amazon lead a strapping young sailor up the stairs behind her, bound for a private room above and a good rutting. Thoughts of her queen indulged in the same activities darkened Pythira's mind. Foreign men lead to trouble, she thought. Bad enough that her grace lets Lahana's wastrel lay about court, leering at the women and prattling on about sorcery.

In the middle of her thoughts, a young Amazon spotted her and approached deferentially. Pythira knew her face from the garrison but struggled to put a name to it. The woman stopped and bowed her head.

"My lady, might I be of service?" she asked, and Pythira suddenly remembered her name.

"Turasi, daughter of Nesza, is it?" the young woman nodded. "Are the men to your liking? Don't be shy, all of us in the palace know why warriors come here."

Turasi showed a mixture of shame and relief. "They are, my lady."

"Any you would point out as especially worthy?"

"They are all foreigners, and men at that," Turasi replied, "But the worthiest among them is that one there, Bromm of the ship Fortune."

She pointed to a tall, broad-shouldered, and black-bearded man in a black coat who was seated at a table, in the midst of telling tales.

"You have tested his worthiness?" Pythira asked and Turasi averted her eyes guiltily.

"I have heard his tales of bravery and taken him to bed, yes. Or something close enough to it. And he is a worthy mate, even for one of your status."

"Good. That is all I need to hear." Turasi understood what was meant, despite her rebellious youth, and turned away. Pythira straightened her cloak about her, set one hand on her sword and marched toward Bromm and his table of rowdy sailors. As Pythira approached the table, the black-bearded sailor was finishing his story.

"What did you do with it?" one of the foreign men asked.

"What else can you do with a jewel like that? I sold it for enough money to spend a month fucking in the Black Lotus!"

The men roared with delight, banging their fists on the table and setting the cups rattling. Pythira stepped up to the table and thrust a finger at Bromm.

"You, Bromm of the ship Fortune, I would speak with you." The man did not move, regarding her with curious amusement. His fellows chorused gasps, and Pythira was reminded of an unruly student confronted by her elders when her misdeeds had at last been uncovered. But soon enough, Bromm of the ship Fortune arose and stepped around the table. He was tall, able to look down into Pythira's eyes, something she was unaccustomed to.

"What do you wish?" Bromm asked. Pythira misliked his irreverent tone, but the queen's orders were not to be taken lightly.

"I am Pythira, second to the queen Come with me. Her Grace has need of you."

"The queen?" Bromm asked incredulously. "What does she need me for?"

Pythira clenched her jaw and looked around. "Her Grace demands your presence, is that not enough? Your safety is assured, have no fear."

"I am afraid I must ask for more than that. Should I bring anything? Anyone?"

"Just yourself and your discretion," Pythira replied, but realized she had said too much. The foreigner knew.

"She wants what all your women want, but without the annoyance of leaving her palace. Very well, I will go."

"Then follow, and keep your mouth still."

As they headed for the door, Bromm grabbed a short, wiry sailor with the look of an easterner. In the Common tongue, he gave short instructions. "Tell Serris I've gone to the royal palace, and to look for me tomorrow morning."

Pythira scowled at him.

"The royal palace, captain?" the sailor asked, but Bromm merely nodded in affirmation and fell in behind Pythira again. "Is that another tavern?" the sailor called after them, and Pythira shook her head in frustration.

Outside, she whirled on Bromm and pinned him against the wall. "Did I not say to keep your mouth still?" she snapped.

"I am a ship captain," Bromm replied easily. "I cannot just disappear on my men. Still your hand, I said nothing of why."

Pythira scowled again and turned toward the palace without another word.

His head full of possibilities, Bromm followed the tall, imperious Amazon through the evening streets toward the palace on the hill. It was a sprawling structure, visible from nearly everywhere in the harbor. It was flat-roofed and surrounded by a wide arcade supported by many red painted columns. Torches burned all along the perimeter, casting a warm glow on its stone walls.

Pythira set a brisk pace, and soon they reached a wide thoroughfare that cut straight through the city to the front gate of the palace. Carts clattered up and down the street in the evening light, but they all made way for Pythira.

The cart and foot traffic thinned out as they neared the palace, and the street turned steeply up the hill. They passed the outer wall and entered the palace gardens, where southern trees flowered even in the midwinter chill.

The palace walls were covered with frescoes showing the queens and their entourages hunting, making war, and worshipping. The main entrance was flanked by a pair of leopard carvings, and the face of an ancient Amazon queen stared down at Bromm from her perch above the gate. For all her baleful stares, Bromm passed beneath it unharmed and unrattled. Pythira led him into a courtyard where two other Amazons waited, accompanied by Broceld and a tall Varayazdhi stranger he did not know. The courtyard was ringed by a narrow rain pool and a colonnade, and centered around a bronze statue of an eagle in flight.

Pythira conferred with the other amazons quietly and then turned to Bromm and the other men. "Your weapons," she demanded. Bromm and Broceld exchanged looks, but the Varayazdhi man handed over his shamshir without hesitation. After silent debate, Broceld reluctantly handed over a pair of pistols and a knife. Bromm unbuckled his sword belt and held it in his hands. Pythira stood in front of him and held out her hands.

"Your sword," she demanded. Bromm slowly handed over his prized blade.

"Be careful with it, it's quite valuable." He decided not to mention its enchantment. Amazons were not known to steal things, but it never hurt to be careful. Pythira handed his sword off to one of her guards without a word. Then she took a position in front of the three of them, her hands behind her back.

"You have been summoned to please her Grace, Queen Kannitara. She requires of you only that you bed her and spill your seed in her. You will then be compensated and sent on your way. None of this is employment or a right to see your daughter when the time comes. Understand?"

Bromm and the others nodded. It was as he expected, except for the other men. Bromm hoped he would get to go first. He always disliked getting sticky with another man's sweat and cum.

"Though the queen demands you bed her," Pythira continued, "you will treat her with the appropriate respect at all times. Disrespect her and you will be flogged, or even beheaded. I know how women are treated in your lands, but you are on the Isle of Serpents now. Amazons rule here, and we will not tolerate men who cannot learn their place. Understand?"

The three of them nodded their assents.

"Good," Pythira pronounced. "You will begin showing respect by bathing yourselves before you come to the queen's bed."

Lahuzzar watched from the shadows, anger building up within him. The men Pythira led the men into the courtyard's rain pool and stood watch as they bathed. From behind a tall pillar, Lahuzzar studied the foreigners' bodies jealously. They were to a man tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. He looked down at his own slender arms underneath his tunic and felt a tear run down his face. Choking back a sob of rage, he ran to his mother's chamber in the south wing.

He burst through the doors without knocking, his vision blurring with tears.

"Mother!" he cried, bowling over a servant as he rushed into her bedchamber. "She brings foreign men into the palace!"

His mother was sitting upright in bed with her foreign lover. They were both naked, thankfully half-hidden under the sheets. Lahana scowled at his interruption, but his words moved her from the bed.

"What sort of foreign men?" she demanded, stepping from the bed. Lahuzzar was too angry to be scandalized over his mother's nakedness, but another servant rushed to clothe her in a robe. Her lover simply lay back in bed with a lazy smile on his face.

"Sailors, by the look of them. The same filthy man-sluts who come to our ports to whore themselves out to rowdy warriors. She brings them here, to the palace, to bed her!" Lahuzzar grabbed a copper bowl from the low table where it stood and hurled it against the wall. It struck the wall with a great clang and clattered to the floor. The good feeling was fleeting.

"How dare she," Mother hissed. She shoved her servant away as he tried to close her robe about her. "Bad enough that the arrogant pig refuses you. But on the very night she declines my offer, she brings foreign whores into the palace to rub salt in my wound?!"

Her servant tried again to close up her robe, but Mother slapped him across the face. He retreated submissively, his face reddening. She stared fury at him, and he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"You dare touch me?" she snapped.

"Apologies, my lady, but I thought you wished to be dressed in front of your son."

Mother slapped him again. "I know what is proper! What is not proper is for a queen to be lying with foreign whores!" Another slap sent the servant reeling. Mother snatched her belt from where it had been discarded next to her belt and struck the man twice over the head again. "Stupid whelp! Stupid, stupid, stupid whelp! Don't ever touch me again! I'll have you flayed alive and your skin fed to the dogs!"

"Lahana, my dear," her lover crooned from the bed, "be reasonable. Your servant only meant to do his duty."

"His duty?! Nabolazur, you foreign dog, don't speak to me of duty. Your duty is to please me, not make pathetic entreaties on behalf of my incompetent servants."

"Of course, my beloved." He slid languidly from the bed and crossed the room to stand nude beside her, his cock swinging between his legs, half-hard. Lahuzzar averted his eyes from the sight. "I only wish to help you."

"Help..." Mother sneered. At last, she closed her robe and bound it with the sash. "The only help I need right now is a knife. I'll put it right through her smug, sneering face, the swine! Bah!" she kicked over a cushioned footstool and Lahuzzar cringed at the clack of it hitting the floor. "A knife!" Mother roared suddenly. "Bring me a knife fit for killing a queen!"

Lahuzzar blanched. "Mother, no! She'll have you killed!"

"Tarnilaen eat her eyes!" Mother roared back, "I'll do her in first and throw the corpse into His darkest depths! Refuse me? My son?! She will pay!"

"Lahana, listen to yourself," Nabolazur soothed. He put a hand on each shoulder and held her fast. "Making enemies of queens is no path to a long life."

"Men," she sneered back at him, knocking his hands away. "You are all cowards. Are all men in your lands like you? I could conquer the world if they are."

"Not all," Nabolazur replied quietly, though a sinister tone crept into his voice. The beaten servant approached cautiously, holding out a robe to the foreigner, who merely brushed it away. "I have talents that put my countrymen to shame. The same talents that brought me to your attention."

Mother's eyes flicked sideways to look at him under an arched eyebrow. "The talents that brought you here are not the ones that keep you here." She grabbed at his hanging cock and Nabolazur smiled. Lahuzzar covered his eyes with one hand, his cheeks burning hot.