At the head of this riotous crowd rode Captain Izar himself, grinning and in good humor on the back of his dancing white horse. Riding beside him like a brooding shadow to the captain’s bright light was the Legion’s second, Jeric Ballent, who was not smiling at all.
“Hoy!” Jeric called, standing up in his stirrups to glare back at the shouting soldiers. “We’re still in the Legion, you idiots! Ride straight or I’ll send the lot of you right back to the tribes!”
“Easy, Jeric,” the captain said, laughing as he pulled his lieutenant back down into his saddle. “It’s been a long campaign, let them have some fun.”
“Fun is what you’re paying for them to have tonight,” Jeric growled. “We’re still in enemy territory.”
“And the tribes are at their own festivals,” the captain said sagely. “No doubt singing prayers for our defeat.”
“Their prayers will be answered if those idiots keep up like that,” Jeric grumbled, but he settled into his saddle as his captain bade him.
Izar grinned and smacked his friend on the shoulder. “I forgot, you had to mind the camp last year, so you’ve never been to Rosa’s, have you?”
Jeric shook his head and the captain laughed. “No wonder!” he cried. “You wouldn’t be glowering if you’d tasted Ull’s delights yourself. Girls like you’ve never seen, warm and willing and beautiful, and all of them bearing wine.” Izar sighed wistfully. “It’s a man’s paradise, Jeric, and even you will learn to embrace it.”
Jeric’s scowl relaxed under his captain’s enthusiasm, but inside he felt worse than ever. He’d tried his best to convince the captain to let him take the rest of the troops to the winter camp as he had last year. He was the Legion’s second, he’d argued, it was his duty. But Izar would hear none of it, and eventually Jeric had given in. He’d had to. Any more stonewalling might have prompted the captain to ask why Jeric was so determined to avoid a night of food, drink and debauchery.
The truth was that Jeric would rather face a thousand barbarians alone and naked than tell his captain the real reason he was so desperate to avoid the coveted night at Rosa’s. How could he, a soldier, tell his captain and sword brother his great shame? Even thinking about it made Jeric grind his teeth until they ached.
In all his life, Jeric had never had an orgasm. He could get hard, and did frequently, but it was never an act of pleasure. Even with the most skilled women, even by himself, his body refused to cooperate, leaving him hard and desperate and murderously frustrated. After hours of sex, all he was left with was an exhausted woman or his own, aching hand and no relief. No matter what he tried, men or women, the result was always the same, frustrating nothing. But how could he explain to his captain that a night of beautiful women rubbing against him would only be torture? How could he explain that to anyone?
Jeric’s leather gloves creaked as he gripped his reins, causing his black stallion to dance across the frozen road. He would make it somehow. He would find a way to hide. There would be three hundred of his men there and almost as many girls. Surely he could disappear into a crowd that large. Or maybe he would just get horribly drunk and pass out somewhere so he wouldn’t have to see the miles of beautiful, curving, naked flesh Captain Izar had promised at his rally speech that morning. That thought made him feel, if not better, at least a little less doomed. As less doomed was probably the best he could hope for, Jeric closed his mind to the whole messy business and focused instead on the narrow, winding road that would bring them up the mountains to Ull.
* * * * *
The day of the Legion’s coming, all of Ull was turned out in full finery. The street through the center of town had been strewn with fresh sand, the wheel ruts and potholes filled in. Every pleasure house was lit like a bonfire with red paper lanterns, their light flickering on the fresh powder of the first winter snow. Great tables had been set up in the square, their broad timbers buckling under the weight of the feast the city had banded together to prepare. Barrels of beer and great jugs of wine stood along the roadside, ready for the small army of lucky soldiers whose gold had paid for this great abundance.
Of all the decorations in Ull, however, none compared to Rosa’s. The famous pleasure house had outdone itself, dominating the square in pure opulence. Garlands of fall leaves and evergreen boughs laced with lanterns shining red as apples hung from every rafter. The front doors were flung open and hung with scarlet-dyed wool to keep in the warmth from the two great hearths. On the second floor, the windows were swathed with sheer silk and gold-painted leaves, a fitting perch for the women who would soon sit there, displayed in all their glory.
But while the outside of Rosa’s was all class and finery, the inside was a madhouse. The wooden floor had been freshly scrubbed, the hearths raked and built up with roaring fires that banished the chill. The strewn pillows and lounging chairs had been stacked up against the walls to make room for the padded benches that had been built just for the occasion. A temporary stage had been erected in the center of the grand hall, complete with a dancing ring and a screen to hide the band Rosa had hired for the evening. And scampering across everything, giggling and laughing and constantly moving, were the country girls Rosa had hired to make this a night the soldiers would never forget.
Zoa leaned on her balcony railing, watching with a knowing smile as the girls roved about in clusters, fussing over the outfits Madame Rosa had given them and tittering in anticipation. She could feel the excitement like a charge in the room, the thrill of making a year’s pay in one night, and, deeper than that, a primal throb of longing and anticipation.
Zoa smirked. She might have had something to do with that last bit. She’d been working her magic since the women had started arriving yesterday, fanning natural desire and drawing out secret hungers until even the shy girls were nearly falling over themselves with lust. Through it all, though, Zoa took care to be as subtle as possible. As an Avatar of Dezira, she could make anyone a slave to desire whether they willed it or not. Such dark forces were also an aspect of the goddess, but Zoa had no taste for heavy-handedness. Instead, she prodded what was already there, gently building on the girl’s natural lust until they were aching for the soldiers to arrive. Such actions weren’t exactly a part of her mission, but she was a servant of Dezira above all else. This night would be a great offering of pleasure to her goddess, it was her duty to make sure everyone enjoyed it as much as possible.
Zoa let her eyes drift shut and opened her mind, reaching out with her magic to stroke the lust in the room again. It shivered with anticipation under her touch, growing stronger, hotter, more pliable. With gentle brushes, she urged the lust higher still, subtly feeding the anticipation back in on itself until the babble of voices muffled as the young women caught their breath.
Zoa opened her eyes again with a smug smile. Crowds were one of her specialties, and this one was more than ready. Her work done for the moment, Zoa pushed away from the railing to get herself ready for the evening. Kneeling on the sheepskin rug beside her bed, she reached into her trunk and began sorting through her silks. Most were tacky gifts from enraptured merchants in gaudy, expensive colors that would never flatter her pale skin. Still, she wore them often enough. Dresses were dresses and her powers as an Avatar could make even a hemp sack appealing. But tonight was special, so she shoved the bright piles aside and dug down, drawing out a long, sandalwood box from the very bottom of the trunk.
She took a moment to stare at it, breathing in the spicy scent of the wood and bracing her courage before sliding the lid off. Inside was a dress so deep purple it was almost black. The cloth shimmered as she drew it into her hands. The fabric was sheerer than shaved silk, sliding weightless through her fingers, but the trim hung heavy against her skin, a glittering net of tiny, beetle-shell beads that clacked as they slid over each other.
Zoa sat there for a long time, sliding the cloth in and out of her hands, marveling at how the mere feel of the silk could still make her breath catch. The dress had been a parting gift from the Avatar who’d brought her into her power, a man whose cruelty ran as deep as pleasure he gave and whose name she still couldn’t bring herself to say, even after all these years. They said an Avatar of Dezira never forgot the one who made them, and Zoa could answer for the truth of that. Even now, years later, the clack of the tiny beads made her shake, but she could think of no better dress for the night she brought a new Avatar into the goddess’ service.
A great cheer from the floor below snapped Zoa from her thoughts and she pulled the sheer dress over her bare shoulders just as Madame Rosa yelled for everyone to take their places. The soldiers had been sighted at last.
* * * * *
Captain Izar’s soldiers rode into Ull like a whirlwind, shouting and laughing as their horses thundered up the steep main road. They circled the town square, led by the captain and his second, in a shrieking, howling mass. But it was all show. The moment the captain reined in his horse, the whole detachment fell silent.
“Friends!” Captain Izar shouted, stopping his horse at the center of the square. “Tonight, your bravery is rewarded. Tonight, by the will and the coin of the emperor, may he live forever, this town is yours!”
A roar went up from every throat as the soldiers jumped off their horses. Some ran straight for the tables where the magnificent feast of roast boar, deer and quail, stewed potatoes, green shoots and sweet beet soup lay spread out in delectable glory. Others ran straight up the steps of Rosa’s itself, charging through the dyed curtains to the delighted squeals of the girls inside. Jeric dismounted more slowly, handing his reins to one of the town boys earning his keep tonight by gathering the horses and taking them to the tented corral. His boots firmly on the ground, Jeric took one final moment to steel himself before looking around for his captain.
Izar was on the steps of Rosa’s, talking to an older woman dressed in red lace and wearing a crown of silk roses in her hair. This, he reasoned, must be Rosa herself, a suspicion that was confirmed a moment later when the captain handed her the heavy box of gold coins he’d had the quartermaster pack that morning. The old woman took the coins with a wide grin, though she had the good manners not to count it in front of them.
The captain’s back was to him, and for a moment, Jeric though he might be able to lose himself in the mass of men around the banquet tables. But he was too slow. By the time he’d turned, the captain had spotted him, and any hope of a quick escape was lost.
“Jeric!” Izar shouted. “Get up here!”
With a bitter sigh, Jeric obeyed, climbing the wide wooden stairs with no small amount of trepidation. Overhead, women hung out of the windows, their low-cut dresses leaving little to the imagination as they beckoned the soldiers at the tables to forget the food and come inside. They cooed at Jeric, waving and preening, but Captain Izar grabbed his arm as soon as he was close, pulling his second up to stand on the step beside him.
“Madame Rosa,” the captain said. “This is Lieutenant Jeric Ballent, my second officer, best friend, best sword in the Legion and the savior of my life more times than I can count. What have you got for such a man?”
“I’ve a girl for every taste, my dear Captain,” Madame Rosa said slyly. “You should bring your friend in and let him choose for himself. Meanwhile, let me show you the treat I’ve saved just for you.”
With that, she took both their hands and led them up the stairs into the great hall. Inside, the soldiers were pressed around the stage below the upper gallery, shouting up to the girls teasing them atop it. Jeric let Rosa lead him around the crowd to a small set of stairs on the other side of the room, doing his best to think about serious, nonsexual things like saddle cleaning and food shipments. But the sight that waited for him at the foot of the stairs put every thought, nonsexual or otherwise, completely out of his head.
“Captain Izar,” Rosa said. “Lieutenant Ballent, may I present Zoa.”
The woman standing before them was like nothing Jeric had ever seen. Her skin was pale as new snow, her hair deep, black mahogany cut into a million strips of silk. Her figure was full and clothed in the most lovely color of purple he’d ever seen. The sheer fabric clung to every delightful curve, peeling away at the waist to reveal acres of thigh and diving into the deep, inviting valley between her round breasts. The instant he saw her, a longing greater than any he’d ever experienced welled up inside him, bringing with it a painful need to wrap that white body in his own, to make her dark, burning eyes close in ecstasy.
Jeric watched with near religious fervor as the woman, Zoa, reached out to take the captain’s hand, her long, white fingers threading through his. Jeric bit his lip. He loved Captain Izar better than any man living, but when Zoa smiled like that, he almost hated him. But then Zoa turned that smile toward Jeric, and all was instantly forgiven.
“Jeric, was it?” she said, her other hand lighting on his. Her touch sent shivers of fire straight to his groin, and suddenly Jeric was shaking. “Come with me,” she purred. “We’re going to orchestrate this first bit from my balcony room.”
Her words confused him and Jeric suddenly realized that he’d blanked out through Zoa and the captain’s entire conversation. But it was far too late to ask now, so he nodded silently and let Zoa lead him up the stairs.
It was the hardest climb of his life, in more ways than one. He struggled every step to get hold of himself and the raging lust that threatened to overwhelm his senses, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Zoa’s beautiful backside as it moved beneath the thin dress. After his third stumble, his self preservation finally kicked in and he set his eyes resolutely on the floor. But he could still hear the rustle of that beautiful, sheer silk, still smell the soft, sweet scent of her hair pulling him up. Each new hint of her went straight to his core, but even as desire threatened to cut off his breath, Jeric remembered bitterly that it was all for nothing.