Glowering, the old warrior came toe-to-toe with the wavering servant. "Well? What is it?"

"I...I am Kafele, Your G...grace..."

"Did I ask your name, fool?" Tarsis bellowed. "Tell me what you know!"

The servant backed up, but whined when Tarsis advanced. "I overhead Lord Gehenna ordering a Temple Guard to fetch him a jar from the Healer. When I heard what it was he wanted, I tried to find you, but you had already gone to the throne room. I--"

"I don't need to know what you did, you babbling hyena. I need to know what they put on the tines of that prophet-be-damned whip!"

"Maiden's Briar, Your Grace," the man whispered, his wide eyes filled with stark terror.

Tarsis staggered back. His ruddy face lost its coloring and the savage scars etched on his flesh stood out in sharp contrast. Aluino covered his mouth with a trembling hand and slumped against the wall. Jubil put an unsteady hand on his brother's shoulder.

Arcan shook his head. "I don't know this brew. What is it?"

"An assassin's weapon," Tarsis replied, shaken by the information. "It is imported from the warthog's part of the world."

Aluino nodded. "It comes from a type of sea creature. The poison's extracted from its flesh, then distilled into a powder. It will cause paralysis, but can also cause death."

"Is that why he's so still?" Arcan asked.

"Aye," Tarsis replied.

"Should we not wash it from his flesh?" Arcan pressed.

"No!" Tarsis said. "We would only rub it in all the more."

"Will it kill him?" Jubil asked, his face pale.

"I believe not." Tarsis looked at Aluino. "But it will be more than a day or two before he'll be able to fetch his woman.

Best you make Sulaimon aware."

"A very dangerous brew to mess with," Arcan remarked. "Is there an antidote?"

"Not for a first poisoning," Tarsis answered. "For a second--"

"If you survive the first," Aluino interrupted.

Tarsis snarled. "For a second poisoning, there's a drug that will help keep you alive and make the symptoms less severe, though convulsions are liable to start with a second poisoning."

"What could the man who first used an evil brew have been trying to accomplish?" Arcan asked.

"It was a man intent on killing his master who first made use of it." Aluino put in. "Today, assassins rub that shit on their hands a little at a time until they are immune to its effects. There's an old tale about a philandering husband and a wife who massaged his cheating member with the powder."

"A rather excruciating way to pay for dallying where you ought not to be dallying," Jubil quipped.

For a long time, Jaelan's ragged breathing became the only sound in the room. All eyes studied the livid redness of Jaelan's back. Purple streaks fanned out from the deeper gashes.

After a while, Tarsis moved closer. "He is a Shadowlord, and his recuperative powers are greater than a normal man's.

I believe he'll be able to throw off the poison on his own."

"So we do nothing?" Arcan inquired.

"We wait," Tarsis grumbled, then looked at the servant. "Your information was invaluable, Kafele. How may I repay you?"

Kafele swallowed. "I wish no repayment, Your Grace. All I ask is that you allow me to stay and help in any way I can."

"Kafele," Arcan said, "holds Lord Jaelan in very high esteem."

"I would give my life for him," Kafele admitted.

Tarsis grinned. "Is that not what your name means, boy--'to die for'?"

The servant bobbed his head, his face reddening. "So I have been told, Your Grace."

The old warrior nodded. "Would you like it if I had you assigned as Lord Jaelan's personal assistant?"

Aluino's brows shot up. "Oh, he'll like that, he will!"

"Keep your opinions to yourself, warthog," Tarsis ordered. "Well, Kafele? What say you?"

The man smiled broadly. "I would be honored, Your Grace!"

"Then consider yourself that one's watchdog," Tarsis said, nodding toward Jaelan.

Aluino snorted. "That is what I thought you meant, old man."

"Make yourself a useful little greaser and ask Sulaimon to tell Lady Aradia that her husband has been indefinitely delayed. Explain to him that he is to allay any fears she might have that Jaelan has left her there and forgotten about her. You know how women can be."

"This one isn't like the women of whom you're accustomed, old man," Aluino quipped. "She's steel instead of silk.

She'll question where her Shadowlord is and why he hasn't come for her."

"I'm acquainted with Amazeen women, warthog," Tarsis sniffed. "I had one once. She was the only woman I ever loved." At Aluino's openmouthed stare, the retired warrior shrugged. "You know only what you've heard rumored of me, Vasquez. Had I trained your sorry ass, you might have learned more."

"Be glad you did not train under our venerable warrior," Jubil stated. "You might not have survived the teaching!"

"What happened to your Amazeen?" Aluino asked, ignoring Jubil's insult.

Tarsis frowned. "She was taken from me and placed in a convent. I never saw her again."

"Though he tried to rescue her," Jubil remarked.

"And was punished for it," Arcan added.

"Our father helped Sir Tarsis free his lady," Jubil said.

"I never saw her again," Tarsis repeated, his gaze clouding with the memory. He seemed to mentally shake himself, then turned a stony glare on Aluino. "Did I give you an order, greaser?"

Aluino ground his teeth, but made no reply. He walked to the door, his shoulders taut.

Tarsis put his hands on his hips and rolled his head from side to side, the bones popping loudly. "It will be a long afternoon and night, warriors. I suggest we make ourselves comfortable."

"Can I get refreshments for you, Sir Tarsis?" Kafele asked.

"I could use a beer or two or three. I've had no mid-day repast, so gather what you can from the kitchens and bring enough food for the five of us. The boy won't be eating or drinking any time soon."

Kafele bowed and hurried to do the old warrior's bidding. On the way out, he nearly bumped into the Shadowlord's concubine and stepped aside for her, dropping his head in respect, though he hated the woman as much as any female he'd ever encountered. "Greetings to you, Lady Saahira," he said loudly to warn the men of the prostitute's arrival.

Saahira disregarded the salutation, her green eyes flicking contemptuously over the servant. But before she could enter Jaelan's chamber, she encountered the solid, frowning bulk of Tarsis Khnumisi, who silently blocked her entry.

"Stand aside, warrior," she dared to order. When the old warrior ignored her command, she lifted her chin. Wrapped in a dark red cloak pulled around her body, her hands hidden, she stepped forward. "Get out of my way!"

"The Shadowlord has no further need of your services, whore," Tarsis stated, his gaze lowering to her midsection before lifting to lock with hers. "You no longer have his permission to enter these quarters."

Saahira Ahumnnani's emerald green eyes widened with fury. "I donot take orders from you, Khnumisi! Let Ben-Ashaman tell me his wishes, then I'll consider whether I'll abide by them!"

Tarsis' expression hardened at her blatant disrespect. That she dared call the Shadowlord by his surname infuriated him. He reached out for her. "What have you beneath the cloak, Saahira?"

She twisted away, but as she did, liquid splashed the front of her cloak. She shrieked, shrugged it off, and backed away as though the flames of a roaring fire had kissed her. A crystal bowl fell out of her cloak and shattered on the terra cotta floor. When the contents spread toward her, she jumped back, her eyes bulging.

"More Maiden's Briar to rub into the Shadowlord's wounds, bitch?" Tarsis roared, grabbing her flowing red hair. He jerked her backward, grinning maliciously at her yowl of pain. "Return to your Whoremaster," he snarled, yanking her hair for emphasis, "and tell him Lord Jaelan is being guarded day and night, and anyone unauthorized to enter his chambers will be gutted on sight. Do you hear me?"

"Aye," Saahira whimpered, tears cascading down her pale cheeks.

Tarsis released his grip on her hair, lifted his foot, and planted his boot on her shapely derriere, pushing her away. When she fell to her hands and knees, scrambling not to touch the puddle of liquid, Tarsis threw back his head and laughed. "I should dredge your whoring face through that stuff, then sit back and watch you breathe your last."

No doubt fearing just such a reprisal, Saahira pushed up from the floor and ran.

Aradia woke the next morning with a slight headache, teeth that felt coated with a blanket of fuzz, and a detached feeling that made her listless as she threw back the covers. For a moment, she stared down at her nakedness, then remembered being wrapped in the fleecy towel. Looking around and not seeing it, she realized the servant girls must have taken it. Upon viewing the gauzy pantaloons and embroidered vest draped over the lower mattress, her lips tightened.

"I'll not wear that lewd thing."

Snatching the silken sheet from the bed, she wrapped it around her and headed for the bathing room in search of a chamber pot.

Dizziness made her trip a bit unsteady, but once she had relieved herself and splashed water on her numb face, she began to suspect her deep sleep had come from some Healer's bottle.

Though she searched the chamber, she could find no clothing other than the indecent scraps of material on the bed.

Still wrapped in the sheet, she plopped down on the mattress and waited for the servants to return.

But it was not the servant girls who scratched at her door, but the dark mountain that called himself Sulaimon.

Glancing at the proffered clothing the Shadowlord's lady had deigned not to don, Sulaimon smiled. "There will be no other garments provided for you,anide ."

Aradia narrowed her eyes. "What did you call me?"

"Anide," Sulaimon said, folding his muscular arms. "It is Rysalian for 'stubborn.'"

"What does 'aziza'mean?"

Sulaimon's smile widened. "The Shadowlord has called you thus?"

Aradia nodded warily.

"That is a Hasdu word. It means 'precious.'"

A little smile tugged at Aradia's lips. "Oh..."

"There are terms of endearment the Shadowlord might like to hear from your lips.Hasani means 'handsome,'jabari means 'brave one,' andzuberi means 'strong.'" A wide grin stretched the ebony face. "Or you might call him Heh-Matsimela ."

"Which is?"

"'God of the Immeasurable Root,'" Sulaimon defined with a wag of his brows.

Aradia blushed to the tips of her toes. "Ah, I don't think I'll have a reason to use that one."

"One never knows, does one?" The smile slipped from his face. "Lord Jaelan sent word he will be delayed, and asks that you trust he is doing what needs to be done." He turned. "The Lady Orithia has sent me to bring you to her. I will leave you to dress."

"I'll not wear that thing," she said, pointing at the flimsy clothing. She felt more upset about having to wear the lewd garment than concerned that Jaelan would be delayed.

The dark man shrugged. "Then you will go naked." He clapped his hands.

The two servant girls from the previous evening appeared at his summons. Their faces grim, they headed toward Aradia.

"Remove the Lady Aradia's sheet and strip her bedding," Sulaimon ordered. He nudged his chin toward the bed hangings. "Take those, as well."

Aradia ground her teeth. "If it's your intent to humiliate me by having me wear those offensive garments, you'll certainly gain your objective."

Sulaimon held up his hand to forestall the servants. He shook his head. "It is not meant to shame you, Lady. It is the required clothing within the seraglio. The other women find the garments pleasant to wear."

"So it's your belief the Shadowlord will find my shame of such little account that he'll not mind you forcing me to wear such lewd attire?"

A deep frown creased the dark man's face. "He left no instructions regarding your apparel, Milady. I can not speak for his personal taste in the matter, but--"

"Let's compromise. Give me clothing such as these women are wearing, and I'll be content."

Shock passed over Sulaimon's broad features. The servants giggled at the suggestion. The three of them stared at Aradia.

"You would lower yourself to wear the clothing of ajariya ?" Sulaimon asked, his voice rife with disbelief. "A harem servant?"

Aradia looked at the long-sleeved, ankle-length, white muslin outfits. Intricate embroidery bordered the sleeves and hems of the long tunic, under which the banded cuffs of muslin pantaloons could be seen. A long white veil hung down their backs.