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eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: No one may look upon the face of Sahtiel, the beautiful and cruel lord of the empire of Aerhad-el-Raas, and live. The woman Lyren, a thief and stranger to the city makes the grave mistake of raising her eyes during a procession, boldly daring to sneak a glimpse of the demon-lord whose mother is none other than the moon herself. [This is Vera Nazarian's first published story, when the author was seventeen. Cover image photo by Lazette Gifford. Used by permission.]

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Sword and Sorceress II, ed. Marion Zimmer Bradley, 1985
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2002

33 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [35 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [39 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [21 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [88 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [22 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [70 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [93 KB] , hiebook (KML) [80 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [93 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [18 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [23 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [101 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [34 KB]
Words: 6603
Reading time: 18-26 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

As the late afternoon sky stood lavender upon gold in the great city, the thief was imprisoned for the highest crime there was. The stranger had raised her eyes and gazed at the Al-Eralir, lord of Aerhad-el-Raas, as he rode by in a procession, surrounded by obeisant slaves, haughty, beautiful, and cold as death.

The great multitude all around had sunk to the earth in worship, the faces of men and women hidden, the eyes shut tightly, so as not to risk a sacrilegious glimpse of the Al-Eralir, demon lord. But she, an outsider, had stared in curiosity first at the graceful magnificent stallions which walked, bejewelled, and barely under control of the crimson warrior guards of the Al-Eralir.

And then her gaze had slid higher, from the mirror-bright trappings of the great black beast in the center of the procession to a mounted figure of stonelike bearing. She was stricken by the sight of empty amber eyes in a perfect face. After he had passed by the blood-clad warriors of his guard brutally captured and manacled her, not giving her an instant to react.

Under more normal circumstances the thief could react, swiftly and ferally. She could, when provoked to physical violence, move lithe as water to strike and leave no trace. Only this time she had looked and tarried much too long, as if something in the air of this huge city dulled her wits. When they took her, she did not even desire to resist.

From the start, she had never admitted that she was a thief.

It must have been the agility in her eyes and the brightness, that made them all assume, and she went along, passive and uncomplaining. They were intense gray-blue, those eyes of hers, and peculiar in their own way. Peculiar, maybe, because neither the jailer nor the guards had previously seen such eyes in a commoner, and even less, a thief.

The jailer also noticed her oddly fine looks, as he searched her for valuables. She had then, to facilitate his efforts, surrendered two rings, a neck chain of precious metal, and the ready information on the nature of her occupation. All this to end the further probing of his lecherous fingers. The jewelry took its permanent place in the jailer's collection, but he only guffawed when she told him she was a warrior. And the thief was moved on for further inspection by the jailer's next superior.

One of the crimson guards believed he saw a glimmer of a dagger in her boot. But that came as a second thought, after the definite stirring of desire at the sight of a slim leg and calf encased in masculine trousers. Her body was limber and well-formed.

The dagger was confiscated. And then they had wheedled a name out of her, Lyren, by force of threats. That had been one thing she was loath to part with. However, threats were threats, and for one who was dead in Law already, cooperation meant an easy or not-so-easy way to end.

Knowing what was good for her, Lyren did not resist when they stripped her and gave her a penitent's rags to wear. Thus she was to appear before the demon lord himself whose lips were to utter her punishment.

"When you are summoned, bitch, dirt beneath His feet, you shall fall flat on your face. Then you shall crawl to His Seat, never lifting eyes from the floor," she was told, and a guard dealt her, as a reminder, a lash of the whip. It fell across her cheek, cutting a thin crimson welt that burned like hot coals. She never flinched.

Afterward they threw her into a cell, dark with rotting night. And when true night came to lie over the city, she slept, knowing what was to come.