Agent of the Dragon

Lady Rhysa Kasteryn returned the courtesies of Lord and Lady Bakrys, and the older First Circle couple disappeared into the throng. From her place on the dais in the Royal Fest Hall, Rhysa cast her eyes over the riot of elegance that constituted her Presentation as a noble. Now was the time for the nobility of Ellendahl to meet and recognize her as a noble in her own right.

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Prince Hallyk’s voice was quiet, calm, and vibrated with mischievous humor.

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Actually, I find it a bit enthralling.” She laughed quietly. “After all, I was only allowed out of my recovery bed a couple weeks ago.” The slightest movement of her head indicated an older man standing just to the side of the dais. “And Bryn is still looking a bit anxious at having me up and about.”

Bryn Hermestus had aged considerably since she’d had dinner with him and Jayse. The last two months had taken its toll. It was Coramin’s opinion only Rhysa’s sudden and dire need for Bryn had kept the prematurely old man from willing himself into death. Rhysa had always looked on Bryn, Jayse, and Amelia as beloved mentors; she’d never realized she’d become their daughter.

The revelation his wife had been a leader of the portion of The Primacy intent on overthrowing the throne of Ellendahl had nearly killed him. The mixture of relief and horror when Rhysa told him Emylie had been re-conditioned reassured Rhysa Bryn no longer wished for death. She hadn’t told him any details, yet, but he would have to know eventually. Maybe he could redeem his wife if he could find a way to reverse the effects.

Another noble drifted in range of the dais, made his acknowledgements, and was carried away by the current of the crowd. She leaned towards Hallyk slightly. “Who was that?”

“Lord Elman, Third Circle. His family earned nobility by breaking the blockade around the harbor in the last war.”

“Hmm.”

“Catch your eye, did he?” Hallyk’s tone was teasing.

Rhysa snorted. “Hardly. At least not in the way you’re concerned about.” She, herself, didn’t understand what had made him stand out. It was a feeling bordering on familiarity. She dismissed the noble from her mind as Jayse approached the dais.

Jayse grinned, bowed, and made an exceedingly formal acknowledgement. Rhysa made an overly formal response, then returned his grin. “You’ve been busy, Jayse.”

“Indeed, I have. His Highness, there, has kept me digging in the mines of perfidy. I expect he wants me to excavate an entire civilization of sneaking bastards.”

Hallyk couldn’t quite contain his snort of amusement. “Best way I know. Send a sneaking bastard you trust to find sneaking bastards you don’t.”

Jayse laughed, and Rhysa heard Jagun choke down his own amused snort. Rhysa looked past Hallyk to see, despite his amused noise, Jagun had managed to keep his face absolutely still. Rhysa had to admit Jagun was impressive to look at. Icy blue eyes gleamed over a bottomless-black uniform of military cut. She remembered her conversation with Armina about betrayal. She’d have to deal with Jagun sooner or later--but now was not the time.

Rhysa exchanged a few more pleasantries with Jayse, then he left to make room for others. As they waited for another noble to come and acknowledge Rhysa’s status, Hallyk asked, “Have you started work on a manor?”

“I’ve decided on a design, and the workers have finished clearing the site of debris. I expect they’ll begin construction soon.”

“Good.” He paused. “I want you to know. If we could publish what you’ve accomplished, you would have earned your personal sigil.” He shook his head. “Most members of The Primacy are non-militant and had no clue what was planned. If we revealed it, there would be a backlash against the remaining members that would destabilize the kingdom. We would accomplish what the militant branch failed to do.”

Rhysa blinked. She kept forgetting, as deep as she’d been involved, less than one percent of the kingdom knew about The Primacy. The movement hadn’t spread beyond Mestin Reach, and even within the city, less than ten percent of the population had been involved in the movement. Perhaps twenty percent of those had been militant. Hallyk and Ekrania had cleaned out the militant branch during the month and half she’d been stuck in bed.

No, it wouldn’t be fair for the innocent members of The Primacy to suffer--even if they did hold opinions inherently anathema to her. “I understand. As much as they may dislike non-humans, those that choose to live in the city still tolerate them. Perhaps that is a foundation we can build on.”

Hallyk nodded and looked out on the crowd of nobles and guests. Rhysa, too, cast her eyes over the crowd. Even in so relaxed an atmosphere, her experiences had made continual scanning an unnoticed habit. She caught a slight ripple in the crowd approaching the dais. Venusia stepped out of the crowd and approached the dais. Rhysa smiled.

Venusia moved with a liquid grace Rhysa envied. When she reached the dais, Venusia curtsied. “I acknowledge Lady Rhysa Kasteryn as a noble of the Fourth Circle.”

“I accept your acknowledgement, my Lady Venusia.” Rhysa’s response was just as formal as Venusia’s acknowledgement; nevertheless, there was a warmth to her voice she had no desire to hide. In a more normal voice she continued, “I need to speak with you--” she glanced at Hallyk. “Tomorrow?” Hallyk nodded and Rhysa looked back at Venusia. “--tomorrow.”

Venusia nodded. “Same time?”

“That’ll do.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Venusia curtsied once more, and the crowd rippled around her as she lost herself among the people.

Rhysa looked at Hallyk. “Thank you for sponsoring my Presentation.”

Hallyk gave her a wry look. “After what you’ve done? Don’t be silly. Besides, if I hadn’t, Bryn or Jayse would have leapt at the chance.” He chuckled under his breath. “They tried anyway. I don’t usually claim Royal prerogative in personal affairs, but I had to pull rank to keep them from meddling.”

“That must have gone down hard.” Rhysa’s voice carried a slight worry. Bryn was First Circle. Jayse had refused elevation from Second Circle from fear that being First Circle would draw too much attention to him.

Hallyk shrugged. “Only until they realized the implications of you being sponsored by someone who could pull rank on them. Neither of them is stupid.”

Rhysa nodded slowly. Sponsoring someone’s Presentation of Nobility associated that person with the sponsor in the minds of the other nobles. One of the implications of such an association is protection and favor. Since Hallyk had sponsored her, every noble in the kingdom would assume she had the protection and favor of the Royals. Which is probably true, she acknowledged to herself, though I’d never presume upon it.

Aryn Cavass stepped from the crowd to make her acknowledgements. Rhysa stepped down from the dais and hugged Aryn. “Thank you for my gown.”

Aryn returned the hug. “You look wonderful in it. I’m sure your father would be proud.”

Rhysa looked down, her eyes tearing, and nodded. Then she looked back at Aryn. “Thank you.”

Aryn touched Rhysa’s cheek. “You’re welcome.” She disappeared back into the crowd. Rhysa remounted the dais and met Hallyk’s raised eyebrow with a shrug.

“Getting tired of just standing around?”

“A bit.”

“Well. I think the last of the nobles who could make it are approaching.” He nodded amiably at two ancient nobles slowly making their way to the dais. Their shoulders drooped under the weight of years and duties. “Lord and Lady Verithen, First Circle. Lady Verithen’s nobility is hereditary, though she would have earned it when she uncovered and freed slaves being tortured and sacrificed. Lord Verithen earned his nobility when he took charge of a military unit after his entire command staff had been destroyed. He then led his troops to successfully rescue two captured units.” Hallyk snorted softly. “He’d never been promoted out of the ranks because he’d always pushed others ahead of him. As I recall, he skipped a few grades after his actions in rescuing the other two units. Very intelligent and subtle. I suspect he and Jayse would agree on many things.”

Too stiff to bow or curtsey, the heads of House Verithen bowed their heads respectfully to acknowledge Rhysa. She responded formally, then stepped down and took their hands. She looked into their eyes. “Thank you.” She tried to put as much sincerity and gratitude in her voice.

Her words had the effect she desired. Their shoulders straightened as they remembered their pride for their accomplishments. They beamed at her, and their eyes shimmered. She curtsied to them, then rejoined Hallyk on the dais.

She watched the two nobles leave with more life than they’d come. A glance at Hallyk showed his approval, and when she looked at Bryn, tears marked his cheeks as he beamed at her.

Hallyk signaled the majordomo, who rapped on the floor with his steel-clad staff. When the room had quieted, the man announced that dancing would begin shortly, and that Prince Hallyk invited them to take refreshment in an adjoining room should they wish.

Rhysa entered one of Venusia’s private reception rooms the next day. Her hostess poured tea and made them comfortable with small talk while they sipped. When the tea was gone and the small cakes had been eaten, Venusia sat back. “So. What was it you wished to see me about?”

Rhysa sighed. “How much do you know of what happened with Amilar?”

“Not much. I know he disappeared, and parts of his manor were thoroughly trashed.”

Rhysa nodded and chose what to say. “Normally, I wouldn’t tell you, but I’m going to ask a favor of you, and you need to know some of what happened.”

Venusia nodded her understanding.

“Amilar figured out a way to use sex to re-condition people. He drastically reduced the amount of time necessary to brainwash someone using a combination of extreme pain and extraordinary pleasure.” Rhysa took a deep breath. “I won’t tell you everything he did to me, but the core is this: he tortures the person until their conscious, rational mind runs away. Then he pleasures them to attract the person’s primal mind. He links the pleasure to himself so the person fixates on him, and can’t be satisfied with anyone else. He creates an addiction so the person will do anything he wants in order to feel the pleasure again. Once he holds the keys to the person, he permits the conscious mind to return so memories and skills are in place when he sends them out into the world.”

Venusia paled. “And you?”

Rhysa clenched her jaw. “Without your training, I would have fallen. Quickly. Anyone with nymph blood is extremely susceptible. I want you to help Bryn find a way to break the conditioning.”

“Of course. Using sex to manipulate is one thing, we all do that to some extent. But to use it to remove someone’s will?” She shook her head.

“There’s one other thing. It’s more in the nature of a confession, nymph to nymph, than anything else.”

Venusia smiled slightly. “Go on.”

“I discovered a way to use the aura as a weapon.”

“To create adoration so strong it immobilizes the target?”

Rhysa gaped at her, and Venusia laughed. “Nymphs in the wild use it to deal with admirers who are so ardent they become dangerous.” Venusia grew serious. “Make no mistake, Rhysa. We can most definitely use sex as a weapon--and some of the ways we can wield that weapon are very unpleasant. How did you use it?”

“I immobilized him. Then stabbed him. Not a death stroke, I was too weak, but he won’t be able to use one lung for a long time, if ever.”

“Hmm. It’s one of the more merciful ways I’ve seen. Or at least it was intended to be.” Venusia shuddered slightly. “You’ve studied at House Hermestus. You know something of the mind and heart?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what happens when someone has an imperative so strong it overrides every other instinct, and then an equally strong imperative is induced that is directly contrary to the first?”

“It causes a conflict.” Rhysa worked through the hypothetical incident. “Imperatives strong enough to overcome basic instinct do exist. The mother who sacrifices herself, and all future progeny, for her current child, for instance. If that imperative were countered with an equally strong imperative not to save the child.” Rhysa looked at Venusia. “Catatonia at best. More likely some form of insanity.”

Venusia nodded. “When we use our aura as a weapon, we induce the first overriding imperative. They’ll do anything in order to keep looking at us, including doing whatever we say. I’ve seen nymphs who then introduce the second imperative by telling the person to go away and never see her again. The internal conflict usually results in suicide after days of heart rending agony.” Venusia took a deep breath. “The necessity to take such steps doesn’t happen very often, fortunately.”

Rhysa frowned. “It sounds very similar to what Amilar was doing.”

“No. When we do things that way, the conscious and rational minds don’t run away--they are destroyed. The person can never operate in society again. You never introduced the counter imperative, merely tried to kill. What makes Lord Amilar’s technique so terrible is it allows the person to function normally, except for being driven to follow his instructions to the best of their ability.”

“Well. At least there won’t be any nymph-led armies.”

Venusia snorted. “No. As much from temperament as anything else. While individual nymphs may have ambition, our nature is to give and receive pleasure, not pain. Every now and then, a nymph goes bad, but we usually deal with it quietly on our own. We even have a group whose entire purpose is policing the nymph community.”

“Isn’t that a little tyrannical?”

“It’s not really any different than the Royal Agents.”

Rhysa considered that and nodded--then changed the topic to a more congenial one.

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