Imperial Fire by Lyndon Robert

Author:Lyndon, Robert [Lyndon, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780748128457
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2014-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

For a few bolts of cloth and a bag of faience beads, the expedition purchased half a dozen sheep which they roasted in firepits over glowing beds of saxaul branches. After feasting, the troopers sat talking quietly under the stars until a three-man orchestra drawn from their company struck up an impromptu tune on syrinx, flute and zither. Well fed, pleasantly drowsy, Wayland flicked a finger in time to the melody.

The music faltered and the audience stirred. Wayland opened his eyes to find Zuleyka occupying the space in front of the ensemble. Since landing, he’d kept out of her way, but she hadn’t stayed out of his thoughts. She took the flautist’s instrument and blew an air that seemed to have been playing in Wayland’s head all his life. She handed back the flute, spread her arms wide and tapped one foot while the musicians struck up. She looked at the ground, nodding until they’d found their tempo, and then tossed back her head, clicked her fingers and went into a rapture.

Wayland rose and so did every other man. It was as if the music travelled up Zuleyka’s body. First her feet seemed to levitate, then her hips shivered before the current reached her arms. They waved in graceful articulations, suggesting all manner of images, sacred and profane. She dropped her arms to her side and swayed like a flame, her shoulders performing a dance of their own. A sharp cry from her, a lover’s exhortation, quickened the music and Zuleyka’s movements grew more ecstatic.

She wore only a pair of thin bloomers and a top cropped below her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. She began to rotate her belly, at the same time fluttering her hips. Both gyrations settled into voluptuous undulations that left nothing to the imagination.

Outlanders and Vikings both drew closer like moths to a lamp.

‘Imagine a night with her,’ said a trooper. ‘She’d suck out your soul.’

Wayland shot an angry glance at the speaker. Zuleyka’s performance amazed him more than it aroused. How could she move one part of her body independently of the rest?

The audience beat time, more than a hundred warriors exhorting Zuleyka to a climax.

‘She’s looking at me,’ said a man to Wayland’s right.

‘No, she isn’t. Her eyes are fixed on the Englishman.’

Wayland’s skin tightened. The gypsy girl’s eyes were indeed looking in his direction.

‘Stop this obscene display!’

Vallon strode into the circle, rigid with anger. The music ceased and a sigh went up from the audience. Zuleyka relaxed, sucked in breaths and walked away on quick feet, the dog appointed to protect her virtue ambling at her side with its tail wagging like a banner.

‘Get to your beds,’ Vallon ordered. His gaze scoured around and settled on Wayland. There could be no doubt who he blamed for this assault on discipline, this flagrant undermining of the Outlanders’ moral health.

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