Carnival of the Soul

by Cebelius

"Walk with me a bit then, Sunset?" Prada asked.

  "Naturally."

  Lee-anne smiled winsomely and threaded her arm through Prada's, and the two walked and talked of nothing in particular after the fashion of any amorous couple. Yesun was skilled in the art of seduction and so too was Prada, but those skills hardly seemed necessary. Lee-anne had definite ideas of where the night would end, or so it seemed.

  Prada attempted to lure her out into a field to make love under the stars, but Lee-anne seemed insistent on returning to his yurt. She admitted to having a husband, and that it would not do to have their tryst observed.

  Knowing that she could not, under any circumstances, lead the amorous minotress back to the real Yesun Tege, Prada's thoughts raced. A lie constructed itself in those thoughts — one that perfectly fit the true Yesun's character — and Prada set it in motion without the least hesitation.

  "I have an admission to make," Prada said with just the right traces of rueful amusement. "I had sport arranged already, and she waits for me in the yurt. While I ordinarily wouldn't mind entertaining more than one lovely minotress, in this case, since you're inclined against the gossip, we should use another spot. One of my lieutenants is out drinking and not likely to return. Does this compromise suit you?"

  Lee-anne gave him a quirky, mockingly judgmental smile as she said, "I knew there was a reason you didn't want to take me home. Hah! Some say you're still single because you're a hard minotaur to impress. I think perhaps it's because you're too easily impressed. Or maybe, too often impressed?"

  "No such thing as too often. The template is proof of that. How many times a day must he get his itch scratched, do you think?" Prada asked, playing it off with a genuine smile, though she acknowledged privately that Terry didn't have nearly as much sex as he could have, or as much as Prada wanted him to have.

  The minotress rolled her eyes, then surprised Prada by giving her arm a squeeze as she said, "Well, however many he gets, or you get, I get less. This is not love, Yesun. Take me to your lieutenant's yurt then, and if he's there kick him out. You have a bit of a reputation to uphold."

  Prada opened the door of the yurt and was unsurprised to find it empty. She didn't anticipate the minotaur she had initially subdued to wake up before the sun rose the next day.

  As soon as the door was closed behind them, all pretense was dispensed with. Lee-anne coiled a hand under Prada's shoulder and up to catch the back of her head as she pulled herself up to kiss her.

  Prada allowed events to play out, letting the memories and temperament she had stolen guide her actions. That was the true secret of the doppelgänger. She did not have to work to maintain her disguise. She took no active part in the actions and reactions of the identity she had stolen. It was an essentially perfect copy of the co-opted mind and memories that she could tinker with at will, or banish with a thought. She, therefore, watched with amused interest as her body — in the shape of Yesun Tege — responded immediately and eagerly to the young minotress' embrace.

  Neither tauren was interested in foreplay, though Prada was further amused that though Lee-anne seemed just as ardent as Yesun, she still stepped away just long enough to get her dress off without any unseemly rips or tears.

  "It wouldn't do to give my husband cause for suspicion," she said with a wry smile.

  Yesun took the opportunity to doff his own clothes, and the two re-engaged as nature intended.

  Lee-anne was a blaze, with a white face and chocolate hide that faded into dark cocoa flesh in front, and had a curvy body with large breasts capped by sizable and obviously well-loved nipples that were several shades lighter than the surrounding skin. She was also almost a foot shorter than Yesun, who quickly took her to the ground and split her thighs, fingers trailing up past her knees to grip and spread her as she caught and guided his shaft to where she wanted it.

  Prada was fascinated by the tacit understanding between the two. Both were herd leaders, and there would be no involved foreplay for either, as neither wished to concede pleasure to the other. Neither tauren was interested in the other. This was a mutual taking, and it was unlike anything Prada had experienced with Terry.

  Yesun grunted as his shaft split Lee-anne and sank slowly inward. She had obviously been in anticipation of this, for she was ready for him and Prada reveled in the liquid feel of her insides clamping down around Yesun's shaft.

  This was the first time she had made proper use of a doppelgänger's disguise, and it was fascinating to watch from within the shell of another's being. It was similar to and yet different from her experiences within Terry. With him, she could only watch.

  Yesun, while seemingly free-willed, was merely an illusion that remained under her total control. She felt the thrill of complete deception. Her disguise was perfect.

  And, of course, there was pleasure. Yesun was grunting in animal satisfaction as he plunged his shaft into the willing minotress. She shifted her arms up, caging her plump breasts as they wobbled and rippled with every hard thrust, and her fingers worked furiously at her clit, her eyes bright and eager as she stared up at him, lips parted, sighing and gasping with pleasure.

  It was another first for Prada. She had pleasured Volai Hart several times at the great naga's request, and that had been entirely selfish, though her connection to her contractor had given her some satisfaction. Then she had encountered Terry, and an entire world of pleasure had opened up before her. Not just the taking of it, but the pleasure of giving to another. Terry could be extremely aggressive, and his temper tended to flare, but Prada knew that the women in his life would always be protected by his deep-seated revulsion when it came to takers.

  Yet here were two consummate takers, rutting with wild abandon on the floor of a stranger's yurt, one desperate to gain satisfaction before the other could finish, that other uncaring.

  It was curious to Prada, and while she enjoyed the pleasure her disguise brought her, she found it to be of a hollow sort compared to what she gained with Terry.

  It is desire, she realized. Terry wants me ... he wants my pleasure, and glories in my satisfaction. These two animals have everything backward. It is no wonder one is a cheat, and the other unattached. Neither has anything truly worthwhile to offer another. Both are entirely self-absorbed, and so are left forever hungry.

  It was not lost on Prada that she had similar drives. As her disguise splayed the legs of his most recent conquest and thrust hard, Prada pondered those drives. As Lee-anne stifled her pleased moans to keep her infidelity a secret, and her fingers riffed over her clit frantically so as not to fall behind, Prada felt her understanding reach a new level.

  She would never be as self-sacrificing as Terry Mack. She didn't have any desire to live up to those sorts of expectations. But she recognized the value in giving pleasure, rather than taking it. She understood that friendships were built on favors, piled up on either side. Favors remembered, but never counted.

  Yesun grunted and bared his flat teeth as he came, pleasure washing through his husk and so through Prada. She paused in her ruminations to bask in that pleasure, and was amused to feel that, though she fluttered and was close, Lee-anne did not manage to finish.

  As Prada's body shuddered with climax, she felt Lee-anne wrap a leg around him and shift him neatly onto his back, rolling atop him without letting his cock slip free from her.

  Opening eyes closed previously in climax, Prada saw Lee-anne's hands weaving, and realized too late what was happening.

  Sign language! Lee-anne is a mage!

  Abruptly, Prada was almost completely immobilized. It felt as though the air around her had turned to crystal, and she could not shift even a little. Only her chest and face remained free, and Prada understood the nature of the cantrip.

  Lee-anne had cast a spell of holding, one specifically designed to take prisoners rather than kill through suffocation. Prada began systematically testing the spell for weaknesses.

  "Mmph. You're too quick, Yesun," Lee-anne said with a sultr
y smile and a languid rolling of her hips. "You got yours, now I'll get mine. While I take it, we can talk."

  Yesun's mental image was no more alarmed than Prada, though for entirely different reasons. He was secure in his position as leader of the Temujin. He knew that if he were killed, Lee-anne's actions would be discovered. The sensations on his cock had become uncomfortable though. After orgasm, the male organ grew hypersensitive, and his face twisted in discomfort as he said, "Speak your piece, and finish quickly!"

  Lee-anne ignored him, or seemed to, as she rolled her hips, grinding her crotch against his as she leaned forward, settling hands on his frozen shoulders as her breasts bobbed tantalizingly close, yet out of reach. Caught by her spell, Yesun's shaft was kept erect, because there was no way for it to deflate. Doing so would create a vacuum against the hard wall of the spell. The fact that sensations and touch seemed unaffected only increased Prada's respect. The spell was truly sophisticated.

  She could inflict some amazing torment with this, Prada realized as she continued searching for weaknesses. She knew that she could escape by simply distorting through the open space left for chest and face, but she wanted something more subtle.

  "You mentioned ... mmmm, that you have people in Temujin suited to taking care of the templates more dangerous wives," she said. "I want to know more about these. What are their methods?"

  "Poison, spellcraft, bladework," Yesun said. He'd intended to shrug but was prevented by the spell so he made do with lifting his eyebrows. "Why do you care? Is there a particular method you'd prefer be used?"

  "One for each?" Lee-anne asked, panting a bit as she shifted her hooves underneath her and began to bounce on his cock. Her breasts bounced along with her, and Prada's disguise fixated on that as he said, "One poisoner, two spellcasters. Four bladesmen."

  "Names?"

  Yesun Tege's mind had already been suspicious. Now it became virtually certain, and if allowed to continue without interference he would never have given up those names. Prada however, was not Yesun Tege. She gave the names, her eyes remaining riveted on the plump, bouncing breasts of the minotress.

  It's obvious she is not terribly experienced at this, or she would have done her questioning before my orgasm, Prada mused. Even if she had been that experienced, Lee-anne would never have gotten those names from the real Yesun without genuine torture. He was too jaded, too cautious. It was immaterial though. Prada had found the weakness in Lee-anne's spell, and was already making use of it, having long suspected that Yesun was not meant to leave this yurt alive.

  "Thanks ... now I'm going to finish ... and by then you will be finished," Lee-anne said, flicking her fingers in another rapid series of gestures. When she finished, the spell's gap that allowed Yesun to breathe and speak was closed.

  Prada didn't have to play with the face of her disguise to make it appropriately fearful because it was completely frozen by the spell. She found that to be an oversight. Whoever had allowed sensation to get through should have made allowances to see the fear on the victim's face. No matter. The spell relied entirely on the element of air. Thus the weakness was still there, and she exploited it as Lee-anne's gasps became more pronounced.

  The dirt was hard-packed, but Prada broke through just as she felt Lee-anne ram herself down hard on Yesun's cock, the walls of her sex pulsing strongly with her orgasm.

  Having already made a connection to the mage through her ankle and infiltrated her body, Prada allowed the orgasm to peak so as to enjoy it herself, then flooded Lee-anne's brain, shredding every blood vessel and capillary, killing her instantly at the height of her bliss. She had already taken the other woman's memories, and the rest of her flooded out of the spell's cage through the ground, leaving a gap so that air could fill in the space she left behind.

  She flowed into the body of Lee-anne, consuming the blood immediately, then setting to work dissolving the tissues, replacing them with herself. She had plenty of time, and no one to bother her.

  The bones would take several hours and the horns at least a full day, but she didn't need to wait for them. She simply used them as a convenient framework and got up off the now completely invisible spell, shaped like a minotaur laying on the ground with a raging hard-on.

  She found it interesting that the spell had a set time limit. Some spells were tied to the casters, and would continue as long as there was mana in the caster's pool. This one had a set reserve, and Prada knew from Lee-anne's memories that it would last another fifteen minutes or so.

  Hopes that Lee-anne had known the actual sign language rather than a collection of set spells were in vain. Her art had been passed down through the generations, but the originator was not known and the spell list had dwindled somewhat, but still, there were a wide variety of spells available. Prada had no affinities, so any spell she cast would have a reduced effect and greater cost, but having these completely silent spells in her back pocket might come in handy someday. Having killed Lee-anne, she would retain the minotress' memories and skills permanently.

  Thoughts of killing made her shift back into the image of Yesun Tege as she reached up and snapped the real horns of Lee-anne off the dwindling remains of her skull, pushing them into her chest cavity to hide them until they could be dissolved or buried. As her substance pushed out and shifted into the form of Yesun's horns, she pondered her targets and the order in which they should be taken. Seven more tauren, six minotaurs and a single minotress, would disappear without trace before the sun rose.

  Prada wondered if she should reveal what she was about to do to Terry later, and decided in the moment that she would not. If they fused again he would learn, but neither of them had any intention of doing that again.

  She knew that Shy intended to make a king of him. She knew Asturial would likely adopt that plan as well. A king did not need to know all that went on in his kingdom. He only needed to know that the lives of his subjects were safeguarded. Terry would wait to be attacked, believing that it was any given individual's choice, and that given the chance they might do the right thing and be spared.

  Prada lived under no such illusions. The people arrayed against them might be only tauren, but to say they were merely that was to underestimate their ability. Terry was only human. Strength could be hidden anywhere.

  No, she would act. She would kill Yesun's assassins despite the fact that they knew nothing of what was to be asked of them. She would eat the bodies, bury the horns, and tell no one. They were in that same business themselves, and not inclined to give warning of their intentions.

  She had been seen briefly, and might be remembered, but she would not rejoin the group until they had left the carnival, and they would not be held accountable if she could not be found. After all, what they had said of their plans to get rid of the other women was true of her as well. With Terry gone, who was to say she had not simply gone her own way?

  I kill so that those I love will live. The fact that it's fun is just a pleasant bonus.

  Yesun's lips curled ever so slightly in a smile as she was forced to admit to herself that she was looking forward to the rest of the night. Just because her husband was her favorite meal did not mean Prada didn't like a little variety in her diet from time to time.

  15

  Chicken-Legged Hut

  Over the course of the next four hours as Terry and his companions wandered the Wildervast woodland, the sun rose, went back down, then came up again. Whether the moon ever bothered to leave the sky was unclear.

  The woods themselves were surprising only in that they were exceptionally ordinary. Were it not for the crazy changes in the light and the complete lack of trash, Terry might have mistaken it for a woodland park near his house, back when he lived in one.

  Birds sung in the trees, and Terry caught glimpses of squirrels, a raccoon, and several rabbits. At first, he thought it was just the same rabbit, but while several of them had brown fur, one had a black face and head with a white body, and another was brindled black and red, which
Terry was pretty sure weren't natural rabbit colors.

  After he saw what he felt was probably the eight or ninth different rabbit, he asked, "Is there anything I should know about all these rabbits?"

  Without even glancing his way Asturial asked, "What rabbits?"

  Terry stopped to stare at her, and after a moment she snickered as her expression cracked. She grinned openly as she said, "No, Terrence. There is nothing untoward about the rabbits. At least, not that I can see. There are quite a few of them though, and they do seem rather bold all things considered."

  As she said that last she waved a hand at Yuri, and Terry got the point. Yuri was a tiger. He looked like one, he smelled like one, and that scent should have sent the rabbits to ground, not brought them out to stare.

  "Baba Yaga is probably watching us with them," the dragon mused as she glanced around. "Witches tend to have an affinity for lower animals, and if the forest creatures around here like her, they'll do things for her. If they don't, she can still control them, but these don't seem upset, so I'd say it's probably voluntary."

  Isthil glanced around and said, "As I say, Baba's always been kind t' me."

  Terry glanced up at her and almost asked, but bit back what to him seemed the obvious observation.

  Probably wouldn't go over well if I pointed out Baba Yaga might just be essentially a nightmare herself, he thought.

  Part of him hesitated, waiting to hear from Prada, but she wasn't here, and Terry felt a pang of loneliness as he realized that — for the first time in a while — he truly was alone in his own head.

  "Ah, we're gettin' close," Isthil said, and when Terry looked she pointed through the trees and said, "See them?"

  Tipping his head to see around Isthil, Terry made out the shapes of several horses grazing in a small clearing about twenty yards off through the trees. As he saw them, Isthil said, "Those're Baba's horses. Fastest things on four hooves you'll find ... at least, that isn't a Nightmare."