Part 10

Gaav let Zaira lead him through the town, listening to her tell him about this shop or that place and whatnot, and wondered at his words to her. That’s the way I like it. It hadn’t always been like this; merely a century ago, he’d welcomed the challenge of rebelling against the other Mazoku, staying one step ahead of them and their machinations. Of course, things had been different then. Now…

Sighing internally, he wondered at the change in himself. He didn’t like the idea that he was hiding, because that seemed beneath him; an affront to his dignity as a Dark Lord. But, he told himself as he’d done on countless other occasions, he was no longer a Mazoku. He was human and as such, he just wanted to go on living. And for the moment, the best way to do that was to lie low and not attract attention to himself.

His thoughts turned to the boy he’d given Zaira’s leftover cake to. He had no idea why he’d done that; no more than why he’d found himself befriending the red-haired dancer. It just seemed an impulse he couldn’t deny. The same impulse that he had followed when he’d saved a mortally wounded Ancient Dragon and made him his second-in-command. Something his siblings would consider a weakness. Hell, something he himself would have considered a weakness before that damned Ragradia imprisoned him in a human body and given him a human soul. Slowly, though it was taking him more than an eon to do so, he was beginning to understand that compassion wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. How else could one explain how these pitiful humans could survive? What else explained their fierce loyalty to one another? A loyalty that wasn’t compelled like a Mazoku’s. That sort of loyalty—the loyalty and sense of betrayal that Valgaav had felt upon his—Gaav’s—death had nearly destroyed the world. But the part of him that still remembered being Mazoku balked at that idea, and merely confused him more.

“Feh,” he muttered under his breath, deciding to dismiss the whole matter for the moment.

“What did you say?” Zaira asked.

“What? Oh, nothing. Nothing.” He looked around and found that Zaira had led him down to the river at the northern end of town. It was mainly posh residential areas and parks here; it was through one of these that they were strolling. The land alongside the river was lush with greenery and the trees grew tall and provided welcome shade from the wicked sun, now riding high in the sky. “Nice place,” he said.

She nodded. “I like it. It’s not as nice as the island, but nice enough.” She wandered through the dappled shadows, letting her shawl slip off her shoulders. He walked a pace or two behind her, not looking at the scenery, but rather watching her move, the fall of her hair down her back. He wanted to run his hands through it and feel its silkiness. Gather it up into one fist at the back of her neck and hold her still while he kissed her…He grinned at that image. Soon…

Zaira stepped lightly up onto a low wall that ran along the bank of the river and walked along it, a picture of perfect balance. Gaav stepped closer and looked at the sheer drop to the river below. “Are you certain you should be doing that?”

She turned on her toe and looked at him as she walked backwards. “Doing what?”

“Walking on the wall like that. It’s a long drop to the river.”

“Are you afraid I’ll fall?” she demanded. “I’m a dancer. I have perfect balance.” With that, she spun back around and danced lightly along the wall for several feet before she turned on one toe and looked back at him. “See?”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he muttered gruffly. Gaav tried to catch up with her but she danced nimbly away from him.

“Why are you so worried about it?” she asked.

“I don’t want to have to get wet fishing you out of the river,” he growled, finally catching her wrist and pulling her close. The wall was tall enough here that he had to look up at her slightly. He put her hand over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his body. “However, I could get used to this,” he murmured as he tilted his head up to look at her.

“Really now?” Zaira draped her arms over his shoulders and let him hold her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have to bend over to do this.” He pressed his lips against hers.

After a moment, they pulled apart and she looked at him, her lips curving upwards in a sly grin. “And what makes you think you can get used to it?” She looked at him curiously. “Though I must admit I like being able to look down at you.” She grinned at the double meaning in her words.

He growled at her. “You…Because what I want, I get.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’m not a thing.”

“Of course not. But I still want you.”

Her cheeks went even darker as she stared into his eyes. “What did you say?”

Gaav was as surprised as she at her words. He hadn’t meant to tell her that quite yet, but the words had just seemed to come out of their own accord. To cover this, he tightened his arms around her slim waist and kissed her again, this time drawing her deeper into it—a lover’s kiss. He ran his hands up and down her back, holding her firmly and bunching the shawl wrapped around her hips, pinning her firmly against him.

A thrill went through him as he felt her responding, leaning into him and returning his kiss. Her hands dug through his heavy hair and fumbled with his collar. He was about to pull away and ask what she was doing when he felt her fingers slip into the collar of his shirt and gently stroke the back of his neck. Her touch sent ripples of excitement down his spine and he gasped into her mouth, slipping his tongue in past her lips. She stiffened in his grip, fingernails digging into his neck, but that only spurred him on, bringing his hands upwards to gather her cascading hair in huge fistfuls as he’d imagined doing just moments before. Under his onslaught, she turned pliant in his arms. Soon she was cupping the back of his head and giving as good as she got.

When they finally parted, they stood looking at each other for a long moment. Zaira’s lips were moist and darkened from his kiss, still parted; her eyes were heavily-lidded and bright with emotion. She was leaning into him and he had the sneaking suspicion that if he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have slumped to the ground. Or, since she was still standing on the wall, fallen into the river below. Her hands were still buried in his hair, clutching it tightly as she searched his eyes. “I…” she breathed softly.

“You what?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“I…I don’t know,” was all she could say.

“Damn it, woman,” he said in mock anger. “You’re supposed to tell me that I’m a wonderful kisser.”

“How can I do that?” she said, pulling herself together. He noticed that she had no more released him than he had her.

“You say, ‘You’re a wonderful kisser.’ It’s easy. I know you can do it.”

She shook her head and grinned at him. “Can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because I need another sample.” And with that, she leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes went wide with surprise, but not for long. They kissed again for another long while; she tugged almost painfully at his hair as he let his hands move downwards, tracing the curve of her hips.

When she pulled away, he fixed her with a sharp stare. “Well?”

“I…” she said as she pretended to think about it.

“Well?”

“You’ll do.”

“Is that all you can say?” he demanded.

“That’s about it.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

She grinned and nodded. “So you’ve told me.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Gaav stepped back with the intention of swinging her down off the wall, but she pulled away at the same moment. Unbalanced by the sudden lack of support, she swayed backwards out over the long drop. Still holding onto her wrist, he halted her fall, but didn’t pull her upright. Instead, he grinned as he held her there, angled out over the water, with only his hold on her wrist holding her against gravity. “Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “What do we have here?”

“Gaavan,” she pleaded with him, glancing down at the water beneath her.

“What?”

“Help me…”

“But I thought you said you had perfect balance.” He loosened his grip and let her slip another inch or so.

“AH! STOP THAT!” she screeched, flailing around and trying to pull herself up.

Grinning, he let her hang like that for a few moments longer before pulling her upright, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the wall. He found she weighed hardly anything and at first he wasn’t sure he’d gotten all of her and had to check to make sure.

“What are you looking at?” she asked as he set her on her feet.

“Nothing.” He grinned at her and ruffled her hair. “Just didn’t realize you were so short.”

“Oh, really?” she said darkly.

“Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile.

“You want to get kicked in the shins, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t kick me.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Zaira drew herself up to her full height and stood there, hands on her hips and glaring up at him. “Try me.”

He leaned down and tweaked her nose. “I’m bigger than you are. I can put you over my knee quicker than you can blink. And don’t think I won’t.” He winked at her, straightened and walked past her, slipping his hands in his pockets and whistling through his teeth. He heard her hiss under her breath and felt her glare as sharp as a dagger between his shoulder blades.

“Ooo! You make me so angry!”

“I know.” Gaav grinned and kept walking. On days like today, it was indeed very good to be alive.

About a quarter of an hour later, they reached the northern gate to the city. Gaav had passed this one on his approach to the town, but had not entered this way. Instead, he had bypassed the well-to-do section of the town and entered the eastern gate, lying beyond the docks on the river. He’d prowled out these streets in the months since, so he was familiar with them, but he let Zaira lead him along as if this was the first time he’d been through here. She strode along in front of him, her head held high and pointing out the sites in a condescending tone of voice; she still hadn’t forgiven him for his little joke. That was all right with him; he wasn’t listening to her anyway. Instead, he just watched her as she walked.

The swank neighborhoods gradually gave way to a more middle-class business district where the upscale shops and merchants that catered to the wealthy had their places of business. The streets, like those of the northern section, were wide and cobbled, lined with trees. Gradually, as they neared the center of the city’s business district, the shops crowded closer and the streets narrowed. Zaira had stopped her commentary and was busy window-shopping, having been distracted by richly colored bolts of silk and cotton on display in a textile dealer’s shop. Gaav stood nearby, letting her have her fun, suspecting that this was a rare treat for her. As she drew the shopkeeper into a protracted discussion regarding the price of a particular bolt of silk, he leaned against the wall and put his hands behind his head and just…waited. Surprisingly, he found that he wasn’t irritated or in any hurry to move along at all; he was enjoying just wandering around purposelessly. It wasn’t something he wanted to do every day, but once in a great while, he mused as he pulled a splinter of wood out of his pocket and used it to pick his teeth. Wandering around the city with Zaira was more than he usually did, anyway. Grinning to himself, he chewed on the toothpick and listened in fascination as Zaira managed to beat down the shopkeeper to a more reasonable price for the silk.

Movement up the street to the north, gatewards, caught his eye. A caravan, several camels and four guards mounted on the spindly-legged horses they favored, turned the bend in the avenue as it led from the northern gate to the market. They were moving slowly, due to the pedestrians who milled about blocking their passage. The guards and drivers didn’t seem in too much of a hurry, however, and were content to let the huge desert beasts pick their way through the crowd.

Loosing interest in the caravan, Gaav let his attention drift. Zaira was still finalizing the deal on her silk. As his gaze swept along the storefronts, he could see a baker’s shop, a butcher, a book shop, a shop that appeared to sell trinkets and junk (he got a funny feeling looking at this shop—he could have sworn it hadn’t been there when they walked down the lane). In quick succession: A cobbler, tailor, an herbalist, a wizard and jeweler. Looking up the lane towards the market, there were more of the same. Just two doors up from the fabric merchant, he could smell the acrid fumes of an alchemist’s shop.

“Ready?” Zaira’s voice brought him back to himself and he peered down at her and nodded, toothpick still between his teeth.

“You finished?” he muttered, pretending to be put out by the amount of time she’d kept him waiting. When she nodded, he grumbled, removed the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it into the gutter. “Took your time.”

She made a face at him and spun about on her heel. “If you’re going to be that way about it, I’ve got some more shopping I can do while we’re out.”

“Hey, I didn’t agree to turn this into a shopping trip,” he said with a growl as he pushed away from the wall and followed after her.

“I don’t recall asking you,” she shot back over her shoulder.

“Why you…” he muttered, taking a quick step forward and grabbing her shoulder and pulling her around. “Do I need to teach you a lesson in respect?”

Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him. “Respect for whom?” She looked incredibly impish with that sparkle in her eyes.

“For me, wench,” he said in his low thrumming voice.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” she whispered, reaching up and tugging on a bit of flyaway hair. “Now be a good boy and maybe I’ll buy you a treat.”

He blinked, unable to believe what he’d just heard, then found himself staring after her, yet again. This time, however, instead of that flash of anger, he just grinned and hurried after her. He caught up with her, draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close in by his side. “Izzat a promise?” he asked, his voice pitched so only she could hear. He winked at her as she blushed deep crimson at the innuendo.

“Gaavan!” she cried pulling away. “You’re terrible.”

“I know I am,” he agreed, letting his hand trail down her arm and catch her wrist. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“About buying me a ‘treat.’”

Her cheeks went a shade darker but she grinned up at him coyly. “Perhaps. But you have to be good.”

“I’m always good,” he purred, lacing his fingers with hers.

“You’ll have to prove that before I’ll believe it.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that,” he said, tugging her along beside him as he set off towards the market. She hurried along beside him, trying her best to keep up.

“Please slow down!” she cried, tripping and losing her shoe in the process. Gaav paused and turned back to her.

“You’re not only short, you’re slow. Must be those short legs.”

Bending over and grasping his wrist for support, she peered up at him as she replaced her shoe. “That’s not what I consider being a ‘good boy,’” she reprimanded him.

“Funny,” he said, considering her words a moment. “It is to me.” He grinned at her. She opened her mouth to retort, but he never heard it. Her words were lost as an explosion rocked the lane behind them.

Knocked off his feet by the shockwave, Gaav was slammed up against the wall of the building behind him and he slumped to the ground. Groggily, he pushed himself onto an elbow, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and stared at the ever-expanding cloud of evil-smelling smoke. It rolled out of the ruined storefront of the alchemist’s shop and filled the street with acrid fumes; even from this distance, the stench caused his eyes to burn and water. Thick purple and green plumes shut out the light.

Inside the thick clouds, human screams mixed with equine. The clouds thinned enough for him to see that the caravan had passed in front of the shop just as the window blew out. Two of the four guards were down. The horses, already crazed by the sudden explosion and further blinded by the smoke and fumes, screamed as they scrambled to their feet, now riderless. Their hooves slipped on the slick cobbles, which served to compound their fear. Eyes rolling back to show the whites, they lumbered upright only to stumble into the camels, which started a panic among the already wildly spooking beasts. Throwing their heads back and roaring, the camels and horses plunged down the street to escape the smoke and burning debris.

All this happened in a blink of an eye. The crowd melted away before the thundering beasts. Gaav put a hand to his head and looked around for Zaira. He spotted her—lying in a heap right in the path of the crazed caravan animals.

“Zaira!” he yelled, using the wall to propel him to his feet, only to stumble as the world tilted. Landing heavily on his hands and knees, he felt the burn in his palms as the cobbles scraped them raw. The horses were bearing down on the unconscious woman and if he didn’t do something quick, she’d be lost to him. Without thinking about it, he pulled the reality of this plane around him, formed a fold and forced himself through. It wasn’t as easy as it had once been, but still, easy enough. He tumbled out of the rift beside Zaira, right in front of the rampaging horses. That spooked them more; the lead animal reared back in fright at the appearance of a new obstacle in its path. Gaav got a good look at the bottom of those flailing, steel-shod hooves; the light glinted off the edges dangerously. So close they were, he could hear their panicked, labored breathing and see the terror in their eyes.

Slayers copyright 1991-2000 by Hajime Kanzaka/Rui Araizumi/Kadokawa Shoten/TV TOKYO/SOFTX/Marubeni.
The other characters copyright Wendy W Lee.