Whispered Words

City of Morore, Kingdom of Morore. Year 3125, Month of Hot Wind

The drum-shaped tower stood tall and dark against a dusky, azure sky, dominating the blocky little homes that surrounded it. Like many of the noble towers of Morore, Komani nur Vong's house was a citadel of its own, lording over much of the rest of the city like a bird of prey atop its roost.

Whisper slipped along the shadowy street as she approached the tower. Her slim form cleaved to the mud brick walls of the houses she passed. The soles of her feet were silent on worn cobbles. As a girl, she'd largely grown up fending for herself, roaming the rocky Wilds barefoot in the northeast part of the city before she'd ended up working the brothels. That had been an age past. But her toes still grasped the hard stone just as firmly.

In the last three months, so many had abandoned the Upper City. Less light illuminated the alleys. Fewer unshuttered windows looked out on the street. Only a distant torch or a faint candle here or there pushed back the evening gloom. So many had fled the suspicions of Morore's embattled King Yende.

Whisper, however, had earned royal favor. A King's Coin was looped on one of many thongs around her slender wrist. Like everything of value Whisper had, she had bargained a precious secret for it. Holding a King's Coin, she could pass beneath the high walls of the Upper City gates and take to the road anytime she pleased.

She spotted Yende's wardens atop homes nearby, their spears silhouetted by the twilight. They surveyed the streets for anyone who might try to smuggle themselves out. Anyone who might prove their disloyalty by escaping and aiding the king's enemies.

Someone like Komani nur Vong, in fact. The merchant was one of many suspected of disloyalty by the king.

But Whisper was quite certain that she needed something from Komani.

Favored or not, Whisper had always felt safest in obscurity and shadow, where light might not burn so brightly upon her true nature. If King Yende and his wardens discovered that Whisper was the spawn of a demon...

...Well, that would be the end of Whisper.

Reaching Komani's tower, she walked the pitted alley around it, taking note of where and from what angles she might be spotted upon its wall. She examined the tower's base like a skilled craftsman.

Whisper was a miner of sorts. A sapper of secrets. She pried knowledge from every nook and crevice she could find. She delighted in untold nuggets of information. She measured them, hoarded them, and when the time was right, she sold them for a dear price.

Casting a final glance at the dark buildings across the cobbled street, Whisper tied up the thick fountain of ebon curls that hung just below her shoulders with a leather thong. She hitched up her plain dress, baring lissome flesh with the brown hue of ripe tamarind. She dug fingers and toes into the fissures in the tower's umber brick, and began to climb.

Just a handful of months ago, Whisper had a collection of informants all throughout the city. People of every age and stripe, who watched, followed and listened. Her drongos - her little birds - were her eyes and ears. They brought her rumors that she could cut, polish and trade. She'd had a soft spot for her drongos, especially the orphaned children.

Now her drongos were scattered to the winds. Perhaps they worked for new city wardens. Perhaps they begged in the streets, or worked the millet fields. Perhaps they'd gone to the same brothels where Whisper herself had come up. She'd tried to help them. But she'd learned a hard lesson: You could not protect others if you could barely protect yourself.

Now to ply her trade, she had to get her hands dirty.

She climbed meticulously, practiced from years of burglary, working fingers and toes into the crumbling mortar. She kept her weight snug against the wall's surface, testing each foothold before she reached for another.

Whisper had already investigated most of the other Vong clansmen. It had been easy to learn about them. House servants carried their patrons' water, shopped in the markets for them, washed and hung their brightly dyed clothing out to dry. It was nothing to trade a few copper bits with a servant for gossip, to trade that gossip for more gossip, and to discover everything she wanted to know.

But nearly all of Komani nur Vong's servants had left his household, finding work under nobles who held more favor with the king. It was said that Komani's domineering wife stalked the markets herself now, trading precious furs for all the goods she could buy.

Whisper clung to the wall like an old lover. The bricks felt rough through the thin linen she wore, rubbing her in places that were all too sensitive to begin with.

If she looked down now, she'd see the flat roofs of the homes of carpenters, petty traders, shopowners and sandalmakers. Those who'd paid hard-earned coin for a crowded plot and a few bricks atop the mesa in the Upper City.

But Whisper didn't look down. She blew dust off her upper lip, hummed a tiresome children's song in her head, and continued to climb.

Finally, her hand groped the top of the parapet wall that encircled the tower's crown. She reached for the edge and hauled herself up and over.

She was still whip-strong. But a few years of easy living had left Whisper a bit sore. She brushed grit off of her dress. The tips of her fingers and toes were raw. She sucked on a tender thumb as she stood transfixed by the view.

To the south, east and west, the city spread under the now cobalt sky like a field of twinkling embers. Distant torches glowed like the coals of a dying fire, for as far as Whisper could see. Lamps bobbed as they floated across the Big Mongoose on ferries, flickered as they wandered over the Brassbelt bridge.

Before her life had been turned upside down, she'd had a view somewhat like this. She'd had a roof that just peered over the Upper City walls, laying all of the Lower City's secrets and stories bare before her. Back then, towers like Komani nur Vong's looked down upon her. But she'd been like a queen amongst the common folk and those who went unseen in the city.

Now, atop a spire herself, Whisper felt her springy curls brush the heavens.

It was only then that she noticed that she was not alone on the tower roof.

A heavyset man leaned against the northern parapet wall, searching the skies to the west. A candle burned in a holder beside him. Following his gaze, Whisper saw swarms of tiny black wings flapping against the deepening sky. The faint buzz and the screeches she'd mistaken for night insects took clearer shape now, as thousands of bats streamed towards the great forested valleys of the north.

Komani nur Vong was a trader in furs and skins. His merchants bought from the hunters who roamed the plains, scrubland, and the rugged hills to the north and south. He sold horn, fur, and cured skins far and wide. It was said that he even stuffed and mounted carcasses to sell to wealthy men, his skill so refined that he could bring the spark of life back to a slain beast. Komani was a man who studied beasts out of habit, even when they soared far beyond his grasp.

Whisper padded across the slate tiles of the roof.

What good fortune to find him here alone. Surely the gods, even in their somnolent dreams, smiled upon her.

As she approached Komani, she admired the swell of his calves and thighs, bare beneath a short sleeping tunic. He carried most of his weight above his waist. He was barrel-chested and broad, with what must have been a formidable belly. His bulk reminded Whisper somewhat of Miko, her enforcer and sometime-lover who'd betrayed her, just before his untimely death.

She whistled softly. Komani turned around.

He was bushy of brow and beard. His eyes shone bright and wide against the darkness of his facial hair. "By the Ancestors! Who in the hells are you?"

Whisper cocked her head. She held out her hands. The fall of her thin dress against her slender curves must have made it clear she carried no weapons. What possible threat could she be to a man his size?

"A friend," she replied.

"What sort of friend?" His eyes narrowed as he glanced about. "Are you... from Chide?"

What a felicitous place to start. The neighboring Kingdom of Chide, where the Vong Clan ruled. Truly the gods smiled upon her.

"Let's talk about Chide," Whisper said brightly.

With its spell-casting and infernal allies, Chide had launched a war on Morore. Though King Yende had beaten the Chidean thrust back, he still confined local members of Vong Clan to the Upper City. As far as Whisper knew, Komani nur Vong and his wife had done nothing to support the attack. But Yende still wanted them for potential hostages.

Komani sucked in a breath. "You can get us out of the city? Get us safely to Chide?"

He turned, nervously, looking across the street and to the east at another tower, as high as his own. A spear-carrying warden was visible there, standing sentry by torchlight.

"Don't be frightened," Whisper said, in as soothing a voice as she could. "You're just enjoying the night from your roof, watching the fruit bats fly home while you speak with one of your servants. Or your wife, perhaps. They can hardly hear us from there - nor can they make out faces in the night.

"Tell me," Whisper said, walking closer. "Is there someone in Chide who would pay to get you out? A Vong Clan relative, perhaps?"

"Who sent you?"

"Who do you think sent me?"

She was near enough now that she was certain he could see the curves and hollows of her dress, the plain evidence that there was nothing beneath the thin fabric but her.

Komani shifted slightly. He glanced towards the narrow structure behind her on the roof, where a doorway led down into the tower. Where it would be more private. But he didn't suggest going inside.

His wife would be inside.

"Alone in the shadows," she went on, mischievous eyes locking on his. "No one need know what we say... or do... here."

"You were sent by King Yende," he guessed, "to see if I am loyal."

"King Yende is a fool," Whisper said. "But he surely already knows who your foreign kin is. He did not send me."

She'd considered this, of course. Counted on it, in fact. If Yende went through the trouble of holding these people, there must be influential clansmen in Chide who would ransom them.

Her gaze dropped down to the outline of his swelling cock, just under the hem of his tunic.

Yes. Komani desired her. Good fortune indeed.

She saw his throat roll as he swallowed. He smelled faintly of coconut oil. Less faintly, of beer.

"Do you have a name?" Komani asked.

Mother hadn't named her Whisper, of course. Long ago, there had been a proper Nubic name. A proper human name. But then, Mother had noticed how, from the time the child could walk, she coveted knowledge. How no secret, no matter how hushed or how carefully spoken, was safe around her.

"Yes," Whisper replied, waggling her eyebrows.

She was close enough for him to smell her scent. Close enough to touch. She knew he wanted her. His lower lip trembled as much as the bulge under his tunic. He was both aroused and afraid. He still didn't know whether she was friend or foe.

"Tell me who your kin are, and I'll tell you if I can help you," she offered.

He began to shake his head. Whisper reached for his hip, drawing herself near enough that their breaths mingled. "Don't say no, until you've heard my offer."

It had been so long since she'd had a hard cock between her lips. At least since yesterday.

Giving head was like making music. Like playing a reed flute or a kalimba. Each person she pleasured was an instrument, with a distinct tone and resonance. Each one made her spirit dance in a different way - whether it was the simple satisfaction of making them sing, or the burst of infernal vigor that rushed through her blood when they reached their climax.

Komani gasped as her questing fingers found his hardness. Wrapped around the thick shaft. He was warm, pulsing in her hand with new rhythms to explore.

Her other hand reached for him, long fingers brushing over his lips and the bristles of his beard.

"Keep talking," she urged softly. Her hand trailed down his broad chest to his belly as she sank to her knees. "I won't say a word... as long as you keep talking."

His mouth opened, but no words came forth. Whisper knelt before him and nudged the hem of his tunic up over the swell of his belly. His cock throbbed, firm and weighty in her hand. She licked her lips and looked up at him.

"You were saying?"

"You couldn't have been sent by my kin." Komani managed to choke out the words. "My brother in Chide is practically a commoner."

Whisper's mouth hovered over the head of his cock. She stuck out her tongue and licked a pearl of liquid from the quivering tip, noting the faint flush of heat in her throat as she swallowed it down. Her free hand squeezed the curve of his butt. She adored corpulent men and women, their shapes in such contrast to her own. They had so much to offer.

"Names," she prompted.

Komani told her a name.

"I have distant cousins in Bocha, but they support King Yende... as do my children," he went on. "They all are beyond suspicion."

Whisper's lips closed around the spongy, mushroom-shaped head, even as she locked her gaze on his and arched her eyebrows in expectation.

He told her every name, starting with his sons who bought carcasses for him. The merchant struggled to speak as she sucked softly. She stashed each name away in her insatiable memory. She fondled his balls as she drew him deeper into her mouth, thirsty for what he had to offer. She inhaled the scent and salty taste of him even as she cherished his words.

If she could only be patient, he would tell her everything.

He rambled on in a stuttering voice, as the sounds she made grew increasingly wet. Komani hips began to gently thrust. His hands slid into her thick curls as he tried to guide her head, tried to draw her into the motion of his hips.

But Whisper resisted, with physical strength that might have surprised him. She tugged on the root of his cock slowly, tantalizingly. He had more to say. He was holding something back.

"If you've come from Chide, it must be my wife's people who sent you," he finally said.

Ah.

Whisper's lips relinquished his cock with a soft pop. She looked up at him, waiting. When he began to speak again, she returned to sucking. This time she moved with him, nearly as eager for his climax as she was for his secret.

"Megai... my wife... she has a cousin in Chide... they were raised together, like sisters. She speaks of her cousin all the time, of how they often visited the Spire in Chipele. Of how... of how much more beautiful... it is there than here."

The words tumbled from his lips as he thrust deep into her mouth. He was desperate for his release. His hands returned to her head. This time she did not resist, even as his rhythm grew erratic.

"Megai's cousin... is a close friend of Princess Eleja's."

Whisper's eyes grew wide. She almost gagged on him.

Princess Eleja was betrothed to Prince Kandu of Morore, the man who'd forsaken his father's kingdom before the war. Komani's wife was dear to someone at the heart of the Chidean royal family? Whisper struggled to concentrate on what Komani said. The thick column of flesh in her mouth began to twitch.

"Her name is... is..." Komani gasped, looking past Whisper in horror.

"By my honored Ancestors! What is this?" cried a woman's voice from behind Whisper.

That would be Megai.

Komani groaned, in an odd mix of relief and horror. He was too far gone to stop now, even in his shame. Whisper was too hungry for his seed to let a drop of it go to waste. The merchant gripped her scalp, seizing her as he came, flooding her palate with creamy, hot spend.

Whisper held him steady on his feet, strong fingers dimpling his buttcheeks, cockhead slotted into her greedy throat, as he completely lost control. When his body stopped shaking, he relaxed his hold on her and sank to his knees. Still panting, he crumpled back against the parapet wall.

"Who in hells is this woman?" Megai demanded. Her tone revealed that she was unused to having to ask a question twice, even of her husband.

Whisper wiped drool from her chin, swallowing the last bits of Komani's load. In the distance, she could hear the wardens on the other roof, snickering at the scandal that unfolded before them like a stage drama in a Brassbelt festival.

In Whisper's trade, it was best to say as little as needed. Otherwise you might give away more than you got.

Whisper never gave away anything.

"She is from Chide..." Komani tried to explain. "She brings aid."

Whisper finally turned around. There was a pause, as the women took each other's measure. Megai nur Vong looked formidable; as stocky as her husband. She wore little more than a headwrap, a thin robe, and what appeared to be a permanent scowl.

Hot Wind was a warm month, and a dry one. While the common folk might sleep atop their houses to avoid baking in the heat, the nobles considered themselves too dignified to sleep on a roof. Instead, they piled into their bedchambers wearing little or no clothing.

Whisper peered at the barely covered junction of Megai's thick thighs and felt a hungry throb between her own. Komani's seed warmed her belly, infusing her demonic blood with fresh vigor. Yet true satisfaction eluded her.

"That skinny little whore is not from Chide," Megai spat, looking Whisper up and down. "And swallowing your faithless cock is not aid-"

The Vong Clanswoman's gaze seized upon the glint of brass attached to Whisper's wrist. She covered her mouth in shock.

"Get inside!" she ordered. "Both of you."

Komani stood hastily and grabbed the candleholder. He straightened his tunic, striving for dignity despite the sandal he'd kicked off and the lines of drool that glistened on the inside of his leg.

Whisper rose lightly to her feet. She casually followed the couple inside. A large antelope skin curtained the doorway, leading to tile steps down into the tower and a dim corridor. She trailed the couple in, her eyes locked on the swinging expanse of Megai's hips under the robe, as she listened to their hushed conversation.

"How did your cock end up in her mouth?"

"She asked me to!"

"You idiot. Didn't you see that she has a King's Coin?"

The merchant glanced back at Whisper, searching her slim form until he spotted the brass medallion dangling beside her hand. Whisper pretended not to notice, admiring the stuffed head of a leopard on the whitewashed wall.

"Of course I saw it!"

Megai cleared her throat and turned, ushering her husband and Whisper into a bedchamber. The merchant's wife peered quickly down the hall before she shut the door behind her.

The room was a bit stuffy, but smelled of musky sandalwood. The outer wall was curved; its narrow windows hung with mesh to keep out flying insects. Finely crafted furniture and carved coffers made for a sitting or dressing area near the windows, but the corner beside the door was reserved for a massive bed of cushions and goatskin throws.

Megai put her back to the door, legs spread slightly to block any escape. Whisper grinned at the woman, licking her lips. She had no intent of escaping, not just yet.

"How much do you want for the King's Coin?" Megai demanded.

Komani sighed, with a note of helplessness. He sat down with the candle on the edge of the bed, his sated cock flopping wetly between his legs.

"All I ask for is information," Whisper replied, stepping towards the woman. "I'm not after your wealth."

Megai's eyes narrowed. She threw an accusatory glance at her husband. "What information?"