Scream of Stone

21

2 Marpenoth, the Year of the Unstrung Harp The Canal Site

Though she had spent only a short time in the company of humans, T’juyu had gotten to know much about them. Within the first few heartbeats after stepping into the little clapboard shack that Senator Horemkensi called home, she knew he would be easy to get close to, and all she had to do was get close.

“Well, now,” the man said, his voice throaty and not unpleasant, “what do we have here?”

T’juyu smiled and pulled the door closed behind her, letting her gaze dart across the confines of the cabin, reassuring herself that they were alone.

“What is your name?” he asked, his smile matching hers, his teeth bright, his eyes dull.

“T’juyu,” she said, using a simple cantrip to make her voice higher, almost squeaky. She knew that sort of thing put human males off their guard.

The senator sat at a small table on which was set a silver service and a half-finished meal T’juyu didn’t like the smell of. She knew that by brutish, human standards the man was considered handsome. His clothes were all silk and soft linen, his black leather boots so shiny T’juyu could see the curve of her own hip reflected in the uppers.

“Ah,” he breathed, “where are my manners?”

He rose but didn’t approach her. She made a sound she’d come to know as a “giggle” and it seemed to please him.

“You’re Senator Horemkensi?” she asked. She knew who he was, but still she felt she had to be sure. She had to hear him at least admit to who he was, if not what he’d done.

The senator dipped into a low bow, sweeping his arm down as he went and said, “At your service, fair lady.”

“And there was to be someone else,” she said, brushing an errant hair from her forehead, though her hair was short, almost like a man’s. She’d tried it long but hated the feeling of it brushing her shouldersnot to mention the feeling of having shoulders in the first place. “Harkhuf?”

Horemkensi blinked and said, “Alas, he is in Innarlith on an urgent errand. But what could we two possibly require of him?”

T’juyu fought not to let her disappointment show. No matter, she thought. She had the head, so what of the fate of the tail?

“You have very lovely skin,” the man said, leaning against the little table, his meal forgotten. “Where are you from?”

“The Chondalwood,” she said, not even bothering to lie.

He didn’t seem to have heard her anyway, as though he had asked the question but had no interest in any answer.

“What brings you to my door this evening, T’juyu?” he asked, and she was surprised that he’d remembered her name. “All this way from the city…”

“Not what,” she replied, “but who.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

“I am a gift, my lord,” she said, pleased that she managed not to choke on calling him that. “I was sent by Ransar Pristoleph with his thanks for your efforts on the city-state’s behalf.”

Horemkensi burst out laughing and brought his hands together in front of him with a loud slapping noise that startled her.

“That old scoundrel,” he said. “And here I was worried that that street urchin cum king was going to have me sent home in disgrace, if not killed.”

“But you have done so well here. The whole city is talking about it,” she said, and again it wasn’t easy for her to keep up the pretense. She knew full well that it was another who had brought the growing canal back from the brink of disaster.

He stopped laughing, but smiled still and nodded. He took his eyes away from her and she took that opportunity to move closer to him in just a few small steps. He didn’t look up when she stood only inches in front of him. His eyes traveled up her legs slowly, then lingered in her middle. Uncomfortable in the rough fabric anyway, she let her simple woolen gown fall from her shoulders. He drew in a breath.

“You like what you see?” she asked. “My form pleases you?”

“My compliments to the ransar,” he whispered.

And something about that, and the way he said it, drove the last sliver of patience from T’juyu. She couldn’t wait for the man to look her in the eye on his own accord. He obviously had no interest in her eyes or her face. He reached out to touch her and she let him, forcing herself to lean in closer. With the tip of one finger under his chin she drew his face up to meet hers. He smiled playfully and she thought again how handsome he was, but how dull and lifeless were his eyes.

She stared deeply into those dull orbs and held him, reaching out with her gaze, then with her mind, then with a power that rose up from the core of her being like a tide slowly rising under the gentle but relentless influence of Selune.

T’juyu wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when the man fell under her spell. She robbed him of the ability to move.

“Don’t be afraid, Little Lord H,” she whispered into his still, confused face. “To be quite honest, this is more about me than it is about you.”

He could hear her, she knew that, but she didn’t get the feeling he quite understood what was happening to him, let alone what was about to happen.

“I came from the Chondalwood,” she told him, “because the water nagas had made an arrangement that made my kind very, very nervous. We don’t like water nagas, you see. But then I spent some time listening, some time understanding, and it’s occurred to me that, despite how this hole in the ground might benefit the naja’ssynsa it seems I was on the wrong side.”

He tried to shake his head, to tell her he didn’t understand, not to break the eye contact that held him rigid and helpless before her. The spell wouldn’t let him look away.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” she asked.

His eyes told her she was right.

“That,” she whispered into his ear, letting the eye contact break, “is only one of the reasons why I’m killing you.”

He started to move, but only the slightest twitch before T’juyu let her fangs grow out from her human gums. The long, needle-like teeth sank deeply into the warm, soft flesh of his neck and she let her venom pour into him.