Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

them to his back, where she bound them with another scarf. Too much more of this and I won’t have a skirt. Not that it was much of one to begin with.

She moved back in front of the kneeling lad, who looked up at her worshipfully. “This is how the savages do it,” she whispered. “Close your eyes.” He did so with a rapturous sigh, and she pulled off her gloves. Time to try something new.

She touched one finger to each of his temples. His skin was greasy and soft, and he flinched at the contact. She had been thinking about her power over the last few weeks, wondering about its limits, and now she was going to test them. She thought in images and sent them coursing through her fingers.

– THE TOUCH OF A WOMAN NO NOT ONE WOMAN A DOZEN WOMEN A ROOM FULL OF WRITHING FLESH AND CROSSING LIMBS SOFT LIPS AND CARESSING FINGERS ALL BENT TO YOUR PLEASURE TO YOUR WILL ALL FOR YOU MOUTHS AND HANDS AND LIMBS INTERTWINING AND THE LIPS OPEN BUT THE TEETH ARE SHARP AND THE TONGUE IS FORKED AND THE LEGS ARE GONE AND THE NAGA HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU AND BLOOD RUNS IN RIVERS ACROSS BARE SKIN AND IT IS YOURS AND SCREAMS ARE ALL YOU KNOW AND THE TEETH PIERCE YOU AND THEY LAUGH AT YOUR PAIN AND –

With a strangled cry, the fat lordling jerked over and slumped to the floor, his eyes rolled back in his head, a fresh stain on his trousers. Nira wiped her hands on her skirt with displeasure, wishing she could take a bath. Everything about this is dirty. Nobody should live like this.

Still, when she looked at what she had done she felt a surge of pride. She had manipulated her power! She had made up something out of pure cloth and made someone else see it! She doubted that she could make a person faint on command that way unless they were under the influence of strong drugs, but it had worked, and it was her own idea! Always it’s someone else making me do things, but this time I took charge. I used my power and made things different. Me. It was a heady feeling. The fellow deserved a few nightmares.

“How did you do that?” Guyrin asked curiously. She jumped, looking behind her. The chaos wielder was watching her from within his pile of pillows, fascinated, his bright yellow eyes aglow. “You hardly even touched him. I thought maybe you were going to whip him or some such, but… is that a country thing? Or a savage thing? Do you really know how they do it? I thought you were just playing.”

Forcing her heart down from where it was thudding in her mouth, she managed, “I have powers, my lord.”

He looked baffled. “No, that’s me. The Chaos. I went and found it.” He looked alarmed. “Do you hold Chaos too?”

“No, my lord,” she assured him. “I don’t.” She didn’t want to scare him. Shouldn’t have said that. What was I thinking?

“Of course not,” he sighed, relieved. “You don’t have the eyes.”

“It’s just a trick I have. Would you like to see it?” Have to get closer. He nodded eagerly, and she clambered up into his castle of cushions with difficulty. She tripped over one of the other prostitutes, but she was fast asleep and didn’t even murmur when Nira trod on her stomach. The girl was naked, and she moved away from her as quickly as she could. Guyrin waited there for her. He was naked too, soft-bodied and paunchy as only the rich and pampered could be. There was an unsightly, discolored growth jutting from his ribs.

Trying to keep her traitorous eyes on his face, she gave him a smile. He smiled back, seeming simple and maybe just a little bit needy. He was lying prone on top of the other girl, using her like a couch. That one, at least, had some clothes on. Seeing the boy using a woman as living furniture steeled her resolve. You’re coming with me out of here whether you like it or not. “It feels good,” she promised. “Do you want to try?” He nodded eagerly, and she shifted herself over to him. “Close your eyes.”

He did, but then opened them again immediately. “It won’t hurt, will it?”

“Not at all,” she assured him.

“Promise?” he insisted.

“I promise,” Nira answered in her most assuring voice. This man doesn’t need a prostitute. He needs a mother. He closed his eyes, and she deftly slipped the packet out of her bustier. She flipped the mouth of the envelope open with her thumb, held her breath, and poured the powder onto his face.

He gasped and thrashed, and she threw herself over the edge of the pile of pillows, tumbling down to the floor, still holding her breath. He was coughing and sputtering as he tried to rise. She threw the packet away from herself and wiped her hands carefully on a pillow, not letting herself breathe. Her lungs were screaming for air. It hadn’t been that long, but the stress of it all made her want to gasp and suck in new air. She backed up to a window and pried at it. The noises behind her were diminishing.

She heaved at the window with all her strength, but it didn’t open. Desperate, she tried again, and then again. It wouldn’t budge. It will be all right. Just take a breath. You probably got it all off. But ‘probably’ wasn’t good enough. She scrabbled at the edges of the window, spots of light dancing in her vision. There. A peg had been inserted into the frame to hold the lower half of the window in place. She plucked it out with a thumb and forefinger and rammed the window open with all her strength. She thrust her head into the bright afternoon air and sucked in the sweetest breath she’d ever taken.

Gasping, she slumped against