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The Eunuch's Heir
By Elaine Isaak HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2006 Elaine Isaak
All right reserved. ISBN: 0060782552
Chapter One
Year 1248
City of Lochdale
In the darkest valley beneath the foot of the castle, Prince Wolfram finally cast the demon from his mind. It would not come tonight, not on his way to visit the best lover a man could find. He slapped Dylan on the back, grinning at him in the darkness, and the restlessness receded but did not disperse. Perhaps another drink would banish it completely.
"How about the Copper Kettle, before we go our separate ways?" Wolfram wriggled his eyebrows.
Dylan laughed, tossing back his head to shout his laughter to the night. "Have you not had enough then, Wolf? Aren't you afraid you'll not--" Dylan broke off, waving a suggestive hand below his belt.
Wolfram growled back at him, teeth snapping the air.
"Oh, no, not you!" Dylan waved his hands a little more broadly than usual, then paused to steady his swaying steps. "I forget myself, my liege!"
Chin held high, Wolfram struck a regal pose. "You do indeed, my good man. Am I not the finest sower of seed across this great city of mine?" He waved a hand and nearly toppled, but Dylan caught him.
"Aye, Wolf, the greatest. You must be the luckiest man I know." He paused to peer at a street name roughly painted on the stone wall.
"I have just been thinking that very thing." Wolfram leaned closer, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders."You're not using your wizard-stuff to spy on my thoughts, Dylan?"
"What, me? Would I do that?" Dylan laughed. "I'm just a bloody 'prentice anyhow. What could I do without my master getting on my back? You're the prince, after all."
" 'Sright! You can't touch me! Nobody can." He smirked. "Excepting my lady, of course."
"And which one would that be?" Dylan started their steps down a brightly lit street where buxom whores leaned out the windows to call to the pair.
Ignoring them, Wolfram cast his friend a warning glance. Uneasiness began to chill him again, but he shook it off.
"This one tonight, I suppose," Dylan went on, returning the kisses the women threw down to him. "Though I think your mistress touches you more deeply." He poked the prince lightly in the ribs.
Wolfram glowered. "You're not to mention that. I only told you because I can trust you to keep a secret."
"Oh, I'll keep it, Wolf. But every now and then, I take it out and marvel at it. The prince seducing a woman twice his youthful age, a woman who turned her back on marriage, a woman who--"
"A woman of the Goddess, Dylan."Wolfram's cheeks burned, he glanced about wildly, but no one here could listen in, or understand their meaning. "It hasn't happened yet, Dylan, and if anyone suspects, it could ruin her."
"I'm sure it happens all the time, Wolfram, but you and her would be something special--"
Wolfram punched Dylan's side, eliciting a wince and stifling the proclamation.
"Hey, you didn't need to do that," Dylan griped, kneading the bruise and eyeing him darkly. "Tell me you're not getting into one of those moods, Wolf," he added, voice cajoling.
"I'm not." Wolfram stalked on, regretting that he had ever spilled his secret dreams, even to his best friend. Suddenly a rabble of dark faces swarmed down the street, a group of Hemijrani refugees dressed in colorful rags and carrying bundles on their heads. Without their bundles, they would hardly have reached the prince's chin. For a moment, Dylan was lost from sight.
"Watch your purse, Wolfram!"
"I'm watching," came the reply as Wolfram pushed his way through the mob. Most of the men looked down, perhaps ashamed of the eye patches so many wore.
Dylan followed more gently, letting his eyes linger on the dark eyes of the foreign girls, who turned to smile back shyly.
Wolfram dusted himself off. "Bury the lot of them." He checked his dagger, relieved to find it still in place.
"It's war, Wolfram, or so they tell me. These people have no place to go. Your mother's compassion--"
"My father's legend,"Wolfram snorted.
Biting his lip, Dylan gave a half shrug, acknowledging that he trod too near his friend's sore spot. "Whatever the reason. They do mean cheap labor, and the women--" He sucked in a breath and let it out slow, shaking his head.
"You think so?" The prince looked dubious.
"Oh, I know, you prefer redheads."
"Watch it, or it's you your father may be finding in the street in the morning!" He raised a threatening fist.
Dylan backed off, holding up his hands. "It's not my fault he dragged you in that time!"
"Well you didn't have to rub it in quite so much." He scowled.
"I was joking!" Dylan's face lit with a smile. "Just a joke."
Wolfram scuffed his boot in the muck of the street. "A joke? 'He's the guard captain, not the garbage collector,' I think you said."
Biting his lip again, and letting it go, Dylan pointed out, "I also said I was sorry."
Glancing away, Wolfram raised one shoulder and let it drop.
Dylan sighed. "Anyway, this is where we part company. If I'm late, the astrologer will have my hide."
"What, you'll miss seeing the moon with one of those gadgets?"
"It's important work, Wolfram," Dylan said, scowling. "We're plotting the most complete map of the stars ever made, and constructing this clock--Oh, you don't care, you're just after the Love Star. When I'm done should I meet you?" He nudged the prince with his elbow, attempting a more cheerful tone.
"No, I might be a while. I'll walk back alone." With a halfhearted wave, Wolfram turned away. "Maybe I'll meet a friendly pickpocket to lighten my way," he called back over his shoulder.
"Goddess walk with you!" Dylan called after him.
Wolfram waved again without turning. Dylan's mind was already off in the stars, he knew, following their patterns . . .
Continues...
Excerpted from The Eunuch's Heir by Elaine Isaak Copyright © 2006 by Elaine Isaak. Excerpted by permission.
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