The Pharoah Contract

A woman came for her, finally. She was enormous — tall, broad, and muscular, with great thrusting breasts and vast hips. The woman wore a gown of transparent silken stuff, and knee-high leather boots, polished black. The only tiny thing about the woman was her face; her features clustered tightly together in a broad expanse of smooth flesh. She wore an expression of simpering madness, and she jerked roughly at the lead as she led Nisa into the dim depths of the room.

At the far side, on a couch piled high with velvet cushions, Corean waited. She was naked to the waist, and attended by two smooth creatures of uncertain degree of humanity.

The monstrous insect stood behind her, in a darkness between the lights, still as a statue. The big woman unsnapped the leash, and Nisa rubbed her sore neck.

“Come to me,” the woman called, in a voice like music. She smiled and Nisa moved closer, as if sleepwalking. She stopped just out of reach.

Corean patted the cushion beside her, smiling. The creature on her right hissed, and Nisa saw that they were some sort of human-shaped cats. Their faces had a foreshortened look, their noses were black stubs, and their teeth were white and jaggedly sharp. A gloss of short black fur covered their otherwise naked bodies, except for muzzles and pink palms.

A look of vexation touched Corean’s perfect face and she made a shooing gesture. Immediately the two attendants slunk away, seeming to flow from the couch. Nisa heard a tiny snarl as one passed her, and she saw a casual hatred in the bright eyes.

Nisa sank into the soft cushions, and Corean shifted to make room for her. At close range Corean’s beauty was even more devastating. Her skin seemed almost poreless, and it had a silky gloss that made Nisa want to touch it, just to see how so unusual a substance might feel.

“Nisa,” Corean said, “I can’t say how happy I am to see you. Did you know, you are the first phoenix I’ve ever met?”

Nisa could say nothing. Corean’s scent was subtle, a warm ghost of scent, so tantalizing that it made Nisa want to bury her nose in Corean’s flesh, to find where that delicious odor was strongest. Stop it, she said to herself. Have you learned no lessons at all?

“Well, you are. I’ve seen other phoenix troupes, oh, many of them, but no other phoenix has lived.” Corean smiled again, showing small sharp teeth. “If they had, I wouldn’t have been half so pleased by them as I am by you. Flomel tells me much about you. That you’re the daughter of a King. That you are the finest phoenix that he has ever worked with, dignified, beautiful. Full of that brave acceptance that means all to the connoisseur of phoenix plays.” Corean seemed to be orating a carefully composed speech, though her voice never rose above an intimate purr.

Nisa responded to the one oddity she’d felt in that speech. “I’m the only one that lived? Why would that be? Wuhiya says…” She trailed off, sensing that she was on treacherous ground.

Corean leaned forward, so that one small white breast touched Nisa’s arm, a soft caress. “Wuhiya says…?” Corean prompted. “Go on, Nisa.”

“Wuhiya, he’s the man who cared for me when I was sick,” she temporized.

“Yes?”

“Well, he said, when I asked him why I was alive, why the scars were going, he said he thought that they must have very good doctors here. Is that true?” Nisa was a little less rattled. “And can you tell me, where am I?”

Corean sat back, a flash of irritation crossing the perfect features. It was only for the briefest instant, but Nisa was suddenly not so completely overwhelmed with Corean’s beauty.

“One question at a time, Nisa. Yes, we have very good doctors here, but the other phoenixes were dead before they reached us. Perhaps you are specially favored by the gods. That could be it. Or perhaps you had help that the other ones never got, a hidden friend. What do you think?”

“I don’t think of it at all if I can help it,” Nisa answered honestly.

Corean laughed, a soft practiced sound. “So? Well, as to your other question, here is Sook, the Bargerell Plate, the Blacktear Pens, my apartments.” A pause. “My couch,” Corean said.

“Oh,” Nisa said. Much of what Corean had said made no sense to her. “I’ve never heard of Sook. Is it far from Pharaoh?” In her childhood, Nisa had had a constant companion, an old woman who’d cared for her, soothed her hurts, and told her fanciful stories about magical lands that rose above the mists of Hell, far around the breast of the world.

“Yes, far. Now tell me: What of this Wuhiya? What manner of man is he?” Corean moved closer again, and Nisa felt Corean’s interest intensify. “Has he any other theories about you? Or me?”