Alone for the first time in months the Coastal King sighed audibly. He did not need to be told that Gaius Prospero was through. Lord Jonah’s careful and reasonable speech had already begun rallying the Crusader Knights away from the emperor. But he would lobby with others to prevent Jonah from becoming the next emperor. Hetar needed to return to its old way: a new High Council was needed. That was an idea he would most certainly get behind and so would his brother kings.

But now while the rest of Hetar was busy fending off the forces of the Twilight Lord, the Coastal Kings would meet together and begin ridding their territory of those Hetarians who had usurped their lands. The manufactories attempting to replicate cheap luxury goods in a bad imitation of Terahn products would be torn down. Greenery would be planted again and the sand dunes would protect them once more from the winter seas. The beaches would grow wide as they had once been. It was time to slough off the invaders and return to what they had once been. The new government would be so busy repairing the damage done to the Midlands and to The City itself that little thought would be given to the faraway Coastal Kingdom.

King Archeron smiled to himself. It would soon be time to bring their living vessels from the sea caves where they had been hidden from Gaius Prospero and his minions. Had they possessed such vessels they would not have lost half of their army. It would soon be time to set to sea again and meet the Terahn traders at the midpoint of the Sagitta. Aye, in just a little while life would be back to normal once again.

16

THE FOUR WOLFYN MOVED carefully through the tunnel beneath The City. It had been carved from rock and was dry. How long it had been in existence they did not know. They had found its entrance only by chance when digging a foundation for one of their fire machines for their master, the Twilight Lord. The four Wolfyn were curious to see where the tunnel ended and if there was an exit into The City. If such an entry could be found it would save a great deal of damage and they might present The City intact to Kol.

At last the winding tunnel came to its end and before them was a narrow stone staircase. Cautiously the four made their way up the steps and there at its top was a door. It was locked, of course. There was no key but one of the Wolfyn took his knife and thrust it into the lock, wiggling it this way and that until they heard a distinct click. The Wolfyn placed a hand on the door and it opened, its hinges creaking noisily.

Quickly they stepped through the door to find themselves in a cellar filled with wine barrels. They could see on the other side of the chamber another set of stairs.

“Where are we?” one of the Wolfyn asked softly.

Their leader, Ulf, signaled for silence for his sharp ears had picked up the sound of feet coming toward the cellar’s door. He stepped back into the dimness with his three companions. The door at the top of the stairs opened and a pretty female carrying a silver pitcher hurried down and went directly to one of the barrels. Turning the spigot in the barrel’s head to one side she thrust her pitcher beneath it. When it was obviously full the girl closed the spigot, turned and went back up the stairs. Before she closed the door sounds of merriment could be heard coming from above them.

“It is a Pleasure House,” Ulf said. “We must wait for a bit, then we will venture above to see what we can see. Hrolf, go back and tell Lord Hrolleif that we have found a way into The City that has not been enchanted against us. When we know a little bit more of where we are we will come back and tell him.”

The Wolfyn known as Hrolf detached himself from their party and made his way back down the tunnel staircase. The three remaining Wolfyn waited patiently. Several times in the hours that passed a servant girl carrying a pitcher or two would come into the wine cellar to fill her vessels and then hurry out again. And as the cellar door opened and closed the Wolfyn listened to the sounds coming from above them.

Eventually some time passed without anyone coming for more wine. Ulf climbed the stairs, then slowly opened the door into a hallway. It was deserted and the sounds of revelry were now silent. He signaled to the two Wolfyn below to join him.

Cautiously the trio made their way through the corridor until they entered a kitchen. There they found a single servant woman taking loaves of bread from a warming oven and placing them in the baking oven. Coming up behind her they caught her, muffling her cries and forcing her into a chair. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as she recognized what they were and almost instantly she fainted. They roused her with a bucket of water.

“Whose house is this?” Ulf asked low. “And if you make any attempt to rouse help you will be killed. Cooperate and we will spare you.” He nodded and the Wolfyn whose hand covered the serving woman’s mouth removed it.

The servant’s mouth opened and closed several times with her fright.

“Speak up, woman! I grow impatient,” Ulf growled.

“Lady Gillian!” the woman finally managed to gasp. “You are in Lady Gillian’s house. Ohh, do not kill me!”

“It is a Pleasure House?”

“Yes! Yes!” the servant said.

Ulf nodded curtly and the Wolfyn behind the woman quickly strangled her. She slumped forward in the chair. “The Pleasure District is near to the center of The City,” Ulf said. “If we can secure this house then the tunnel may be used freely by our soldiers. With enough of us inside The City we can fight our way to the main gates and open them. First we must take all here prisoner. We will go floor by floor.”

“What will we do with those we find?” one Wolfyn asked.

“Kill any men. Put the women in the cellar. Pleasure Women are valuable,” Ulf said and led his men upstairs. But to their surprise they found no one in the house until they reached the top floor. There, in a spacious suite with a large terrace that offered a magnificent view of The City, they discovered two women whom they roused. Both recognized them for what they were, yet neither screamed.

“Who is the lady of the house, and if this is a Pleasure House why are there no other women here but you two?” Ulf demanded. “We heard sounds of merriment last night as we waited.”

“I am Gillian and this is my sister, Vilia. We have just been retired by the Guild. Last night we were feted by our women and clients. The house is empty because it will be given to another Pleasure Mistress to run and she will want to choose her own women. Now I have answered your question, you answer mine. How did you get in here?”

“I do not have to answer your questions, Pleasure Woman,” Ulf told her. Then he reached out and drew Gillian to him. His hand fondled her large breast. “I have always wanted to take pleasures with a Pleasure Woman,” he said. “And if you were the mistress of this house then you must be skilled beyond an ordinary female.” He ripped away the sleep garment she had been wearing and, pushing her away, looked at her admiringly. “You have a fine body, woman.” He grinned, showing his sharp teeth. “What think you, Fernir? Rolf? Shall we have a little taste of one of The City’s Pleasure Women for ourselves before the rest of our Wolfyn arrive to enjoy them?” He fumbled with his garments and drew out his male organ. “What think you of this, Pleasure Mistress Gillian? Is this not a fine sight to set a woman’s heart aflutter?”

Gillian reached out and stroked him. “Indeed it is, but of course I have seen bigger,” she smiled as she moved next to him and stroked his face with a silken hand. “Vilia, go and fetch us some wine and bring some restoratives for I expect we are in for a long session, are we not, my lord Wolfyn?”

“Rolf must go with her,” Ulf said.

“Of course,” Gillian purred, turning to face him, her large breasts rubbing against his leather breastplate. “Ohhhh, I love the hard feel of leather on my nipples.” She cast Vilia a look that told her companion she was going to have to save herself and if possible go for help.

“Do not use them all up,” Vilia responded provocatively. “I want my share, too, Sister.”

Ulf growled his laughter and, twisting Gillian about, bent her over the arm of the salon’s couch, kicked her legs apart and thrust into her. “You won’t miss a thing, Pleasure Woman. I have plenty for you both.” And then with a grunt he began to move himself upon his helpless victim.

Her heart pounding with a fright she managed to conceal, Vilia walked from the apartment in the company of the Wolfyn called Rolf. She almost ran the three flights down the stairs, her companion right behind her. When they reached the bottom of the staircase he grabbed at her, ripping the front of her night garment away, and pawed at her breasts as she struggled. “We must get the wine, you wicked beastie,” she protested.

“Let me have a little taste,” he growled. His fingers pinched at her nipples.

“Oh, you are so fierce,” she flattered him as she attempted to squirm out of his grasp. “But we must fetch the wine and the restoratives if we are to spend time enjoying ourselves. Pleasures are best enjoyed over a long period of time, Rolf.”

His hand pushed between her legs and two fingers dove into her love sheath. “You’re wet!” he growled low. “Take my member in your hand, woman!”

Vilia saw a slender brass vase on the table near where they now stood. If she could just get her hands on it. But until then the Wolfyn had to be distracted. She reached down and drew his male organ from his leather trousers. “Ohhh, you’re so big,” she cooed at him. “I am so little and you are so big. Oh, I do not think I can take such a big rod in my tight little sheath.”