Irona 700 by Dave Duncan Page A

thrusting, becoming stronger, longer, fiercer, and finally a mad combined hammering like mating walruses. Then Vlyplatin collapsed on top of her.
    Irona wailed. “Don’t stop!”
    â€œSorry,” he mumbled into the space between her breasts. “Couldn’t hold back any longer. Wait until next time.” He did have a wonderful growl; in this position she could feel it as well as hear it.
    Now she knew why people worshipped Craver, the mad god.
    â€œWho says there will be a next time?”
    â€œI do. Soon.”
    Another surprise there: that an escort could be diffident, attentive, and obedient in public, but insistent, tyrannical, and irresistible in bed. Not that anyone seriously tried to resist.
    Perhaps because she had grown up in a chicken coop, Irona disliked fluttering around like a trapped swallow in Sebrat’s cavernous halls. Her favorite room, where she studied reports and ate most of her meals, was a small dressing room next to her bedroom, which she had converted into an office. It shared the ballroom’s God’s-eye view of the city, was easily heated in winter, and had windows on two sides to provide cross ventilation in summer. Usually she left the door open; when it was closed, she was not to be disturbed except for a Chosen in person or a courier from the Palace.
    It was her custom to eat her morning snack there, and to let Vlyplatin join her, so she could give him instructions for the day. That day he arrived a little later than usual and his smile seemed more beautiful than ever. But he closed the door.
    â€œOpen it!” she said.
    He shook his head diffidently and came to sit at the table. “In a moment.”
    â€œI have no intention of acknowledging you as a gigolo. That would demean both of—”
    â€œI agree. Have you ever seen one of these?”
    On his palm lay a small medallion bearing a bas-relief of a face, a hideous face, apparently carved from some sort of brown stone.
    â€œUgh! No! Put it away. It’s hideous.”
    â€œOf course. It’s from Eldritch.”
    â€œAre you crazy? A fix? You must know what they do to people who own such things.”
    He shrugged. “Are you going to give me a son or a daughter? Have you decided?”
    â€œI have no intention—” Oh, Goddess! It might already be too late for intentions.
    â€œHow many children did your mother have?” he asked.
    Far too many. If his children were as beautiful as he was …
    â€œMine had only two,” he said. “Soon after doing what we did last night, no more than half a day, you put this under your tongue and touch your toes three times. Then you don’t conceive. Take it.”
    She just stared at the horrible thing as if it had petrified her.
    Vly said, “Every rich man’s wife in Benign owns something like this.”
    She wondered where he had gotten it. Almost certainly from his mother. Mustn’t ask. She took it. The medallion felt cold and soapy, like lead. “Under my tongue?”
    â€œBe careful! Watch you don’t choke on it, because I’m told it gets very slippery. There are always dangers to using anything like this.”
    Irona did as he had told her and quickly spat the horrible thing out into her hand.
    â€œYou’d better keep it,” he said, “if you’re going to let me make love to you very often, as I hope you will. If you don’t, I shall jump off a cliff.”
    â€œThat will not be necessary. Thank you for the gift. Now open the door.”
    He did and returned to join her as if the earlier conversation had never happened. “Another terrible day, ma’am.”
    The rain was beating on the windows, and most of the city was hidden by fog. She did not comment, but it was an ideal day for what she planned. Again she felt the favor of the goddess.
    Vly poured himself some water and flavored it with wine. “Orders, ma’am?” There was not a trace of a