Free The Book of Fire by Marjorie B. Kellogg

after is their only hope, as we race hell-bent toward Armageddon. A hope only I can offer them.” He rises up on one elbow. “Are you having another crisis of faith, my priestess? Over the life of one peon?”
    A crisis of faith?
Paia stills. Could he have read her mind, as he often claims? Desperately, she blocks all thought ofthe heretical painting, distracting herself with how much she hates it when he mocks her for what he calls her ‘womanly compassion.’ “I see we are not to agree tonight, my lord.”
    “I hope that will not be the case . . . my love.”
    Paia’s throat tightens as the banter ends. “You wish something of me, then? What is it?”
    A smile. “You.”
    With effort, she controls a tremble. “How about something you can actually have?”
    His smile clicks off, like a light. He does not appreciate being reminded. “All right. A child.”
    Not wanting to shatter her ancestral crystal, Paia sets her glass carefully on the table. “You . . . a what?”
    “A child. You heard me.” He rises, quick as a snake strike, and crosses the room. He looms over her, traces the line of her jaw and lip with a long nailed finger. Paia feels nothing but heat, a faint current of air and electricity. Still, it requires every ounce of will she possesses to remain calm.
    “Your child, my love,” he murmurs. “As soon as you can possibly manage it.”
    “. . . uh . . . how can we . . .?”
    “Oh, not mine. Unfortunately.” He turns away, flicks a gilded fingernail. “One of those Suitors, pick one, I don’t care. It’s time.” He levels his bedroom eyes on her again. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you
how
, do I?”
    “What do you mean, pick one? Any one?”
    “A healthy one, naturally.”
    “Up till now, you’ve been rejecting them as often as I have. Now suddenly any one will do?”
    “I could choose for you, if you prefer.”
    “I don’t think I’m . . .”
    “You are. Ready, that is. Or I am, which is the same thing.”
    “Wait. This is . . . I won’t do this.”
    The God laughs lightly. “Of course you will.”
    “I won’t.”
    “But I am your God, my priestess. It is your duty to serve me.”
    “Not this way.”
    “In all ways.”
    “NO!”
    He shrugs. “Must we descend to melodrama? There are ways, you know . . .”
    “You wouldn’t dare!”
    He gives her a thin, chill smile. “Choose someone you’ll tire of quickly.”
    Meaning that once he’s served his purpose, this Suitor won’t be around for long. “Are you doing this just to punish me? What could you want with a child?”
    His golden eyes blink slowly, in a time frame not her own. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    “Try me.”
    “It’s time, that’s all.”
    “Time for what? What’s different? What’s changed?”
    Without seeming to have moved, he is at the door. “You have,” he says, and vanishes.

C HAPTER S EVEN

    N ’Doch can feel the girl’s eyes on him, once the song is ended and the dragon-as-Sedou is busy chatting up the women. She understands a little about him now, must be, since she’s waited until he’s done singing before bobbing up at his side to hang on him like she’s his kid sister or something. Which, he guesses, after all they’ve been through together, she sort of is. He’s surprised she seems so glad to see him, and besides, he’s grateful for a familiar face, so he can’t resist slinging an arm across her thin shoulders and giving her a hug. To his surprise, she lets him, though he knows her well enough to do it quick and back right off again.
    “N’Doch!” she beams. “We were so worried about you!”
    Her understatement makes him laugh. “Me, too. Not every day a guy gets blown to bits and wakes up to tell about it!”
    Her little nose puckers. “Not to bits, really. But it was bad. Blood everywhere! Those gun-things are a dreadful weapon, N’Doch.”
    She’s speaking French, he notices. Not Rose’s antique Frankish, but real