The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Eyna traveled through the night, Xia at her side.

In the rosy rays of dawn, they crested a burned-over hill (already thick with regrowth) and found themselves at the edge of the plantations of Vegenen Xuul.

As they passed through the well-tended orchards, Eyna stared at the glossy green of the citrus leaves. It had not been long at all since Eyna had walked through these fields, and yet doing so seemed as distant as a dream from years before.

The two of them passed out of the orange orchard and into long lush rows of qulat. As they did so, a man rose from between the bushes, straightening his back with a groan.

He spied them and his eyes widened. The women paused as he hastened over, hoe in hand, and dropped to a knee.

“Priestess. Xia. I am blessed by Khuluub to see you again.”

“Serve Khuluub, " Eyna greeted him. “Rise. Walk with us.”

They resumed their progress towards the settlement. The man fell in beside Eyna, Xia trailing behind.

“How has it been here?” Eyna asked him.

“Glorious. The sacred vine bore fruit, as you foretold, and all partook. When we awoke, we found that we could... sense, and instruct, the plant-men you had left behind. The creatures that the foremen and the overseers had been turned into by Khuluub’s blessed vine.”

Eyna nodded. “And?”

“We work, and they join us in our work. As you instructed, priestess, we tend the fields as we did before. Only with a will, now, as all our work is for the glory of Khuluub.”

“Khuluub wishes you and your families to be strong,” Eyna replied. “Your service to her is her glory.“

“Glory to her,” her replied in heartfelt tones.

They walked up the slope, passing out of the qulat fields and into long lines of row crops: cassava, breadfruit, melons. The sun shone down fiercely.

“Priestess...” the man began.

“What is your name?” Eyna asked him.

“Khellor,” he replied.

“Khellor. What is it you wish to know, Khellor?”

He gestured, hoe still in his hand. “So many things. Most of us worshiped Ybella, kept her rites. Now we love—we belong to—Khuluub, but we know nothing of her ceremonies, her sacraments. We wish to please her through worship. Will you teach us? Will you tell us how?”

Eyna frowned, but behind them, Xia spoke.

“I will instruct you,” she said. Eyna turned her head to look, and saw the green light in Xia’s eyes.

“There is much we humans must re-learn, about our goddess,” Xia said in a strange voice. “She will teach us. My mind is open to her, and my mouth will speak with her voice. I have come to you now, to teach you her ways. This is my purpose.”

Xia pointed at Eyna. “She has a different purpose. It is within her mind; she shall speak it clearly. But I am Khuluub’s voice to you, now, Khellor of Vegenen Xuul, to you and your people. I shall nurture you in her ways.”

Xia fell quiet, blinking and shaking her head.

“Praise be to Khuluub,” Khellor said in a low voice.

Eyna wiped the sweat which had gathered in her eyebrows. The tall fence of the compound drew near.

They entered through the front gate. Immediately Eyna’s eyes were drawn to the vine in the center of the compound, the vine which had sprung from the body of the factor. It was a stalk more than a vine, now, as thick and tall as a jungle tree. Around its base were smaller vines bearing blood-red fruit. At the top, the flower which Eyna remembered had withered, and what now there dangled a glossy fruiting body the size of a man.

Beyond the giant stalk, the factor’s and overseers’ houses were still lush tangles of green. The slave quarters, running alongside the left part of the dusty square, was less overgrown—the vines which Eyna had fertilized had formed a canopy, shading the structure beneath. They were still gaily bedecked with large, yellow flowers.

Eyna, Xia, and Khellor stopped an ell or so from the base of the stalk. Eyna continued to look around—she was struck by the normalcy of the place. Chickens clucked and pecked at the ground, unconcerned. A dog looked up from a shaded spot under a wagon, then let his head back down. Horses whickered in the barn.

People began to emerge, coming out from the slave quarters where they had been spinning cloth, or from the kitchen, or the workshop, or the forge. “Priestess,” they whispered as they approached, eyes wide, their faces taking a serious mien.

The last time she had come, Eyna had broken their chains, cast down their captors, and gifted them all with knowledge of Khuluub. What might she do this day?

The pregnant woman Eyna remembered well reached her first. “Priestess,” the woman said. “We thank Khuluub that you have returned.” She dropped to her knees and took Eyna’s hand. “Bless you for leading us into her service.”

Eyna opened her mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. Perhaps Xia...

“I have come for a moment only,” a voice said, and Eyna realized it was her own. “I return to you this woman of yours; she shall be Khuluub’s voice. She shall dwell with you and teach you the ways in which you shall worship her. Later she shall travel among the other humans in this land, and spread Khuluub’s word, and her glory. But first she shall start here, so that you may learn how to revere your goddess.”

There was a general moan of satisfaction and all of the former slaves fell to their knees. Many of them leaned forward, touching their foreheads to the ground, arms outstretched.

“Your devotion pleases Khuluub,” Eyna said, feeling the truth of it throughout her body. “Vegenen Xuul shall be a place blessed by her hand. But now...”

Eyna looked across the yard and raised her arms. She felt her nipples stiffen.

The doors of the three overseers’ houses opened as one. Through the clutching vines emerged the former masters of this place.

The women approached first—not only the two from the factor’s residence, but also eight more. The former humans were now entirely vegetable, their skins glossy green, their eyes blank yellow orbs. They seemed almost identical, a matched set of fruiting bodies, with only tiny, meaningless traces of individuality left. Their hard, fat breasts wobbled as they approached Eyna. Their swollen mouths hung slightly open, betraying the complete lack of thought behind their slick blank eyes.

Eyna could feel them in her mind and understood that she could easily control them. Their brains were so simple, now, vegetative rinds, utterly docile, knowing nothing other than to obey. She could feel their minds with her own, almost like stroking the skin of a qulat fruit, her senses sliding over the smooth ridges locked in complex, immobile whorls. There was no heat within them, no capability for generating thought. She would slide her instructions into them; and the vegetable beings guided by those reshaped minds would obey totally and without reflection.

The once-women approached Eyna through the kneeling ranks of the human slaves; the humans had begun to chant “Khuluub, Khuluub.” The humans could feel her touch, guiding the minds of her reborn victims. Eyna realized that many of them wished to be as obedient, as guided, themselves.

Behind the round, smooth bodies of the females came the males. They were the seed-pods’ opposites, withered where the plant-women were full, ropey where the plant-women were curved and smooth. The vines had grown throughout their bodies; their brains were not fruit, but vine, tangled floral nerves that responded to the will of Khuluub as well as, but differently from, their smooth green sisters.

There were more of the once-men, the vine zombies; almost a score. They stopped behind the rounded bodies of the seed-pods and awaited Eyna’s command.

She smiled. Khuluub was no longer possessing her, but she had left in Eyna’s mind clear knowledge of what she would do.

“Come, slaves,” she said to the plants in the shape of people. “We have a city to remake.”

Having paused only to give Xia a long, lascivious farewell, Eyna took her retinue and marched for Torr Gyn.

There was only one night left to prepare. The blood star was almost ascended; the world, on the cusp of renewal. Tomorrow night it would be reborn.

All must be ready for that new world to be given to Khuluub.

Eyna led the ten seed-pods and nineteen withermen through the jungle. The sun rose, and peaked, and fell. The creatures of the night began to stir. The moon was the barest sliver, giving no light, but Eyna found that she could see by the light from the stars alone.

She could feel the brains of the florae behind her, the brains that had replaced those of the humans they had transformed. Like plants, they obeyed the instructions within them and did not think at all. When the time came, they would grow; for now, they walked silently behind Eyna, another servant of she who had given them life.

They emerged from the forest canopy and Eyna saw the few dim night-time fires of Torr Gyn. The watchmen at their gates, flanked by torches; a few candlelight windows above the palisade walls. Eyna smiled, a wicked smile.

It was time to plant.

Quietly, their feet barely scuffing the damp earth, Eyna and her followers approached the walls of the city. She would plant between the gates, where the shadows were deep and the seed-pods could root unobserved. It was not time to deal with the guards; not yet.

A shadow suddenly rose from the ground before her and took the shape of a person, two people, but Eyna had sensed them through Khuluub, and she spread her arms in welcome.

“Esmerill. Yliss.”

The two women approached Eyna and embraced her. “Eyna,” Esmerill said. “We are here for you.”

“She spoke in my mind,” Yliss added. “It was bliss to obey.”

“Yes,” Eyna nodded, and the reasons for their coming opened within her. “Esmerill—you shall help me plant. Yliss, you are to take the withermen back to the Red Sail.”

“Yes,” the two women chorused.

Esmerill and Yliss looked with curiosity at the seed pod closest behind Eyna. “This is...?” Esmerill asked.

“Yes,” Eyna replied. “Once a human, she has been remade by Khuluub into something more glorious. Reach out—you can feel her mind.”

“I can,” Esmerill breathed, reaching out to stroke her fingertips along one of the plant-women’s bare arms. “She is so... docile.”

“She is a pod, bearer of the seeds that shall remake this place.” Eyna raised a hand and the withermen came forward. “And these are the males,” she said. “The females shall spawn—the males shall fight. Yliss, take them.”

Yliss licked her lips, her solid-green eyes dark in the night. Her slit pupils were wide, and Eyna suspected that she could see much better then Eyna herself. “Yes,” Yliss said, “I have them. I can feel them. They open to my command. Come, slaves. I shall bring you inside.”

Eyna and Esmerill stood as Yliss walked away into the dark, and the withermen passed by them silently, following. Esmerill slipped a hand around Eyna’s side, resting it on her thigh, and Eyna turned to give her a crooked smile.

“You shall need your libido,” she said. “For now we plant.”

Eyna gestured and a seed pod came forward. For a moment Eyna savored the once-woman’s empty eyes, her slack, emotionless face. She stroked a hand across one swollen breast, felt the cool nub of the pale green nipple.

She sent an impulse into the seed pod’s vegetable brain, felt its brain twitch slightly in response. The impassive face turned toward the palisade wall. It began to walk, approaching the wall. Eyna and Esmerill, and the other nine husks, followed.

At the base of the wall, the once-woman stopped, her face tilting down to look at the ground. She dropped to her knees, and her limbs began to shake and twist back and forth; sinking down into the wet earth. Her arms sank down, down to the elbows, down to the shoulders, and the pod pushed downward with her head, pushing it into the soft ground, burying her smooth features forever. Her legs pushed in at the knees, calves folding up against her thighs, feet pointed upward, as she shivered and shuddered and burrowed her legs downward.

A few moments later, the pod was still. Her shoulder blades were just above the earth, her arms and head buried, her back speckled with wet dirt; her breasts were underground as were her legs below the thigh, but her buttocks were raised in the air, swiveled up and out, and her open, available sex was a pale fruit hovering in the darkness.

Eyna could smell it, a slight floral musk that sent a tingle through her body.

Eyna felt her tongue pushing against her teeth and parted her mouth to let it extend. She heard Esmerill give a soft grunt, and turned to see her sister slave looking as she must look, tongue swollen and protruding from her mouth.

With some effort, Eyna pulled her tongue back inward. “Go aheb,” she said. “Firtht oneth yourth.”

Eyes filled with need, Esmerill dropped to her knees behind the wantonly presented ass of the huskgirl. She crooned softly as she crawled forward, her tongue sliding wetly across the cool, firm sexlips. She lapped at them for a moment, then firmed the tip of her tongue and began to worm it inward.

Eyna’s hands cupped her breasts, and her tongue pushed back out of her mouth as she squeezed them.

Esmerill continued to emit soft noises, almost a lullaby, as she worked her tongue inward until her mouth was spread wide, lips pressed against the plant-woman’s pussy, tongue curling and straining; her crooning turned to soft whines as the new glands in her tongue suddenly squeezed, and Esmerill sent her wet pollen deep into the huskgirl’s core.

Without realizing, Eyna had mentally pulled a second seed-pod close to her, and now found herself reaching around the plant-woman’s cool, hard skin to run her hands across her swollen breasts. She turned to suckle on one of those breasts, her hands sliding to the plant-woman’s hips, and then her mouth popped off and she kissed the plant-woman on the lips, her fat tongue pushing its way inside the seed-pod’s cool, unresisting mouth.

Eyna drew one of the seed-pod’s legs forward and began to rub her pussy against it, sliding back and forth, sucking on the plant-woman’s impassive lips. She opened her eyes and stared into the slick yellow orbs, feeling the silent brain behind them, suddenly wishing that she could be a plant-slave, that she could serve without thought, staring blankly, obeying the pulsing of a mindless, vegetable brain.

But that was not her role. Hips twitching, Eyna regained control of herself. Her role was as glorious; she would equally serve the will of Khuluub.

Turning from the seed-pod she had been rubbing against, Eyna found Esmerill had finished, and risen, and was watching her.

“Thorry,” Eyna said. “Watching you made me horny.”

Esmerill smiled. “So did watching you,” she said. “Let’s go plant another.”

They circled the walls of Torr Gyn, planting once-women.

Eyna had not realized how large the colony actually was; as a slave, she had only left the whorehouse on specific errands. Now, circumnavigating the entire palisade, seeing the wooden buildings already crowding the walls, she realized that Lord Feyne’s enterprise was truly thriving. Not even counting the plantations, there must have been near seven thousand souls, where mere years ago there were none.

Soon they all would belong to Khuluub.

She and Esmerill alternated fertilizing the seed-pods; even after her third, Eyna found that she was still eager to force her tongue into the smooth snatch of the next. She did feel tired, and perhaps a bit dizzy; the pollen-fluid she was injecting into the nether portals of the seed-pods was being generated by her own body, and Eyna could tell that producing so much of it was wearing her out. Perhaps she would finish a desiccated husk, lying down to die next to the last of the pods she serviced.

She smiled at the thought. Dying to serve Khuluub had its appeal, but her role was greater. She wasn’t that dizzy.

Besides, only two more each, and then she and Esmerill could return to the Red Sail to rest.

It was, however, probably the fatigue that dulled her senses. As she and Esmerill descended into a shallow, muddy gully—a fine secluded spot for Esmerill to plant her next pod—she didn’t notice the shadowy shapes of men until too late.

“Ey!” came a hiss.

Then there was a rush, and figures sprang up from the darkness, glinting steel in their hands.

Rough hands grabbed Eyna’s arms and clapped hard over her mouth. “The fuck?” someone asked in a loud whisper. “Women?”

“The fuck are they—give us a light, there—" said another voice, and a faint, bullhorn lantern was directed onto Eyna’s face. She squinted and looked away.

“They are fucking women,” a voice hissed again. “Fuck are they doing out here?”

“Please,” Esmerill said, “Don’t hurt us. We don’t mean any trouble.”

The man holding Eyna snorted, and two others chortled. “You couldn’t cause trouble if you wanted to, sweets. Ain’t no one knows we’re here... hm. Who knows that you’re here, then, eh?”

Eyna heard an intake of breath. The smuggler must have pressed his knife into Esmerill’s flesh.

“N-no one,” Esmerill said. “We’re just... we didn’t want to pay the tax to bring in our ikhat. The guards always steal most of it.”

The lantern snapped shut, and the man laughed quietly.

“Well,” he said, “we wouldn’t want that. Stolen ikhat. What do you think, boys—honor among thieves? Shall we let these ladies in through our little rabbit hole?”

There was general sniggering.

“Oh sure, Nevvin, that sounds fine. ‘Course, there might be a small toll.”

“Smaller than the guards’, Borgen?”

“You might be!”

More sniggers.

“Cunts like these,” hissed the man holding Eyna, “I’m sure they won’t mind paying.”

“It’s what they’re good for,” came a fourth voice. “And- what the fuck?”

All the men turned to look up the slope behind Eyna, squinting in the darkness.

“What in Atra’s bleeding mercy...?”

Eyna felt it in her mind as the seed pods came forward; Esmerill was guiding them.

“Rutting fuck,” one of the men whispered. “What the twice-fucked damn are...?”

Then there was a faint smell, floral, slightly bitter. Eyna smiled.

“What—” the man holding Esmerill coughed, “what—”

All four of them began to cough. The man holding Eyna’s mouth let his hand slip, and Eyna pursed her lips and began to gently blow—not on him, simply up into the air.

The paralytic mist spread through the air.

“Fuck are they—” a man gasped, coming towards Eyna, then he pitched over. The one holding Esmerill collapsed; the two others turned towards the palisade wall, releasing Eyna and turning to run, but after only five staggering steps, one of them fell, and dragged his companion down with him.

Esmerill stepped forward to where Eyna could see; her lips were pursed, and Eyna could see the soft stream of smoky mist spraying from her mouth. Esmerill puckered her lips, and snapped them outward with a soft ‘pop’. A faint ring sprang out, and slowly widened in the night air. She looked at Eyna, and winked.

Eyna smiled at her. “Khuluub is great,” she whispered.

They looked down at the ground. One of the men lay there, between them, his eyes wide and terrified. His arms and legs were twitching as he tried to run, crawl, to do something, but all he managed to do was to shiver in the mud.

Eyna knelt down and stroked his forehead.

“N-no,” he whispered. “Pl-please...”

“You, too, shall serve,” she said in a quiet voice. “And sooner than your fellows.”

Eyna looked up, and the man’s eyes followed her. A seed-pod had come near and now loomed over the two of them. The pod looked down with blank yellow eyes.

Eyna gave it a command, and the pod stepped astride the man, and squatted down.

“Nnngg—” he groaned, as the vine reached down out of the once-woman’s pale green sex. It crawled into his open mouth, reaching down his throat. The husk squatted further, until her sexlips touched his mouth. She paused there for a moment, then slowly rose back up. As she did so, the root which had extended deep into the man’s throat pulled taut, and a single heart-sized seed pulled wetly out of the seed-pod’s vagina.

The man was gasping quietly through his nose; his wide-spread mouth was now entirely filled by the oblong black shape of the seed. His eyes were almost mad with terror.

The seed-pod stepped impassively aside. Eyna leaned back over again, and his painfully wide eyes rolled to fix on her.

“Grow,” Eyna said; not to him. She blew a small puff of pollen onto the black shape of the seed.

It shivered, then began to move. The man’s scream was a muffled hiss.

Eyna stood up and looked over her shoulder. Esmerill had a second seed-pod already laying a seed in the mouth of a second man. With a smile, Eyna walked towards the twitching form of the man who had grabbed her, mentally summoning a third huskgirl to her side.

Together, Esmerill and Eyna passed through the vines that masked the ruptured sewage grate. How long ago had her first offspring done that, Eyna wondered idly—four days ago? Eight? A lifetime? They walked together up the stinking ditch.

Time was hastening. Eyna felt as though she were on a wagon, speeding down a hill—and tomorrow night it would reach its glorious destination.

One at a time, they slipped into the rear of the Red Sail’s yard. Since Tremona and the bouncers’ conversions into slaves, there was no longer a reason to sneak through the garderobe; Eyna had directed Aric to turn part of the rear fence into an inconspicuous gate, a task he had seen to quickly. Without a need to police the whores, he had plenty of available time for whichever activities he was set to.

As they crossed the yard, Eyna looked towards the warehouse. She burned to see what was there, what Khuluub had transformed Noebe and the others into, but first she had to speak with the other willing slaves and discover what had transpired in her absence. She could feel them in her mind, but not speak to them, not yet.

Eyna and Esmerill entered through the kitchen and found Princess sitting at the table, idly rotating a carrot on the tabletop with a finger. She looked up at them, and Eyna saw that her eyes were once again nut brown irises set in white, rather than emerald green orbs with black slits. As she looked up at Eyna and Esmerill, she inhaled deeply.

“It’s all so... different,” she said, looking down at the carrot slowly revolving. “I need to eat, and food tastes good, but it’s so... unimportant. Next to serving her.”

Eyna smiled, walking forward and running a hand through Princess’ hair. “Indeed,” she replied. “Everything is the same, and everything is different.”

“Princess, you vapid hole,” Esmerill said, crossing to the hearth, “did you actually cook any food, or did you just sit here, spin your carrot, and philosophize? I may be Khuluub’s mind-slave, but that doesn’t mean I want to skip dinner.”

Princess snorted, pointing at the hearth. “There’s stew right there, belly-slave. Fill yourself up.”

Eyna stroked Princess’ hair some more as Esmerill took two bowls and ladled them full. She brought both bowls to the table, taking a small loaf of bread from the hanging basket as she passed, and set the bowls down. Eyna sat next to Princess and tore the loaf in half.

“All is in readiness?” Eyna asked, mouth half full of bread.

“Yes,” Princess replied. “Yliss returned some hours ago with the vine-men. They are in the flower garden, out of sight. We conducted our business this evening as usual; the last of the customers were shown out only twenty minutes ago. Most of the girls are resting in the salon, awaiting word from you.”

Eyna nodded. “Good. Tonight was the last night any of us shall slake mens’ lust in exchange for coin. Tomorrow, this entire settlement—this entire realm—shall once more belong to Khuluub.”

“Yess,” Princess hissed rapturously. “All shall belong to her.”

Jerreth suddenly stuck her head into the scullery. “Eyna,” she said, her eyes worried, “we need you.”

All three of the women stood up quickly and followed Jerreth back to the salon, Esmerill still chewing on her bread. As they entered the room, Eyna saw with surprise that the front door was open.

Aric and Horr Hen stood in front of the door; beyond it, the light from a dozen torches flickered.

“—come out one by one or we shall burn the building down with you inside,” came an imperious voice.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Eyna heard Tremona reply. “The fire would spread to half of Torr Gyn before the sun rose.”

Eyna hurried between the nervous women in the room. They looked up as she passed, then resumed staring at the door. Then Eyna heard a sudden blow and an intake of breath.

“Subdue her,” came the man’s voice, dripping with scorn, and as Eyna pushed past Aric and Horr Hen and out onto the front step, she saw three guards with sticks begin to beat Tremona’s prone form.

“Stop!” Eyna called out.

A lean guardsman, in breastplate and leathers but without helmet, turned from watching the beating to face Eyna. “Ah,” he said, and Eyna recognized him as the same guard officer who had come demanding answers from Tremona earlier that week, “the helpful whore.”

“She is the one,” came another voice, and from the throng of guardsmen stepped: Jalanea, priestess of Ybella. She leveled a finger at Eyna. “She is the head of their cult.”

Eyna held out her hands, palms up, an innocent surprised—but in her mind she was moving fast.

“Please stop hurting Tremona,” she said in a quavering voice.

For a moment she considered attacking them. The whores had fangs, now, and poison, and with the withermen they could certainly overpower this small band of guards. They could kill them all and drag them inside...

But the time was not right. There were too many eyes; other guards would come, and even with the withermen, even with the gift of Khuluub that smoked from the girls’ mouths, they could not fight sixty or eighty or one hundred men. They could not fight crossbows and fire and swords in the hands of those who knew how to use them. And then they all would be dead—and unable to serve Khuluub.

And failing Khuluub was the worst thing imaginable.

No. The time to fight was not now.

Esmerill, Eyna thought hurriedly, reaching out with her mind. We are discovered. They must not find our sisters in the warehouse. Go there now, alone. Lead the withermen into the jungle; have them carry the pods. Go now.

The sneering guard captain stepped forward, looking down at her. “So the naif is really the head witch,” he said. “I am not surprised.”

“Arrest them all,” Jalanea urged. “And burn the house. There is great, great evil here. Great danger.”

“Yes, yes,” the captain said, waving a hand. “I’m sure these whores and their little whore cult are of great concern to you. Don’t worry, you’ll have lots of time to find out exactly what they were up to.” He looked down at Eyna with cold eyes. “Anything to say, little whore?”

Eyna shook her head. “I... no, sir? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good,” he replied. He gestured and the men stopped kicking Tremona’s prone form. “Now then, you and your whore friends are all under arrest. Either you can come outside, quietly, one at a time, or I can have my men draw swords.”

“We’ll do what you say, sir,” Eyna replied desperately. She turned around. “Aric, Horr Hen, have everyone come outside.”

“Everyone?” Horr Hen asked.

“Everyone,” Eyna nodded. “You too.”

One after another, the women began to emerge from the building. “Eyna, what’s going on?” Yliss asked.

“Shut it, whore,” the captain replied. He gestured at his men. “Bind them in a line. We’ll put them in pen two until his Highness decides what to do with them.”

Eyna took a step towards where the other women were being tied, but the captain seized her arm. “Not you,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

Be calm, Eyna thought, and from the way the other women turned to face her she knew they could hear her. Our Queen will soon rise. Serve her.

There was a scuffle and Eyna saw guards bringing out Aric and Horr Hen, their arms forced roughly behind their backs. “Bind them,” the captain directed.

“Captain,” Jalanea said, drawing near, “these women are... dangerous. Evil. I urge you to force them from the city. Stake them out in the fields, bound and gagged, until his Highness can properly condemn them. Don’t take them to the keep. I know they look harmless but—”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, and we should also free the slaves and while we’re at it, give them a hot meal. Your help has been invaluable, Kind One, but his Highness is not afraid of such hedge witchery as is available to whores. My men will investigate and if we discover evidence of idolatry, they will all burn. If not, well, women like these won’t last too long working in the saltworks. In any case, priestess, it’s not your problem any longer.”

Jalanea shook her head. “But, captain—”

“Ho, captain!” a guard called.

Eyna saw with worry that the man was standing at the warehouse’s door. “This is theirs, too—and you should see what’s inside.”

The captain gave a curt nod to Jalanea and, Eyna’s bicep still in his hard grip, strode to the warehouse. The door was open, the soldier having emerged from the interior.

Eyna bit her lip. Of course they would have surrounded the buildings before approaching to make any arrest. Had Esmerill gotten the enfolded women out? And the withermen? The stars were not right, Khuluub’s power was not absolute, not yet—if they were found out now, fire and axe could destroy them all...

The captain stepped into the warehouse, and his lip curled. “Six Gods,” he said, looking around at the vines shrouding the interior. Eyna looked around frantically. Vines, and flowers... and no human-sized pods.

The captain looked sourly at Eyna. “Unnatural indeed,” he told her. “I hope whatever demon you worshiped here will take your soul, whore, because I daresay on the morrow you will burn.”