The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2)

by Russ L. Howard

  “That’s because it’s his favorite. Be so kind as to not give him anymore. He loses control and none of us want that.”

  The silver-coated chamberlain bowed slightly in acquiescence. “My lady, your clothes have all been hung in that cedarwood press. Over here is a basin of water, and there is more in the pitchers beneath the table. Should you require more warm water use the bell pull to summon a steward. You’ll find more beeswax candles in this chest should you require. The oil lamps should burn softly throughout the night, and there is an extra feather comforter if the night air grows too chilly. As head chamberlain of the royal household, I am dedicated to see to your every need. You have only to ask.”

  “This is certainly more than I am used to, and sister-brides chide me for being too simple. I think I’m going to enjoy being pampered tonight.”

  At that moment, a green beetle, a young boy in service training dressed in the customary green tunic and leggings of his office appeared at the door and presented, “Here is your basket, Lady Lana. The Lady Donya has bid me deliver this basket to you. Where shall I place it?”

  Lana said, “Please set them on that drawing table young man.” Sur Sceaf caught a certain twinkle in her eye.

  The chamberlain said, “We will leave you now. Ring the bell pull beside the bed should you want for anything. I’m just across the hallway.” He waited till the beetle left, bowed and exited the door backwards.

  “Thank you, thou hast served us very well,” Lana nodded.

  As soon as the door closed Sur Sceaf became aware of the lush seductive smell of copal incense burning in the brass censers. The room was richly furnished, with chests and mirrors and a variety of comfortable chairs and divans in the rich aubergine, silver, periwinkle, and lavender colors his sister always favored. Shining wood floors, lodgepole pine columns, and a massive stone fireplace with axe-hewn mantel, which sported a warm pine wood fire set the mood for opulent comfort.

  He recalled how Muryh had agonized over making it a model of comfort, with rafters of hand-peeled logs supporting the huge wrought iron chandelier, which provided ample candlelight to illuminate the large room’s interior. Then through the open door to the bedroom was an oversized walnut sleigh bed. Over the thick feather tick was a lush aubergine canopy, a token of the Herewardi’s vast commercial empire built from the secret of harvesting and spinning the highly prized worm wool known as silk. A tapestry of El and Fae, the queen’s otter cats hung on one wall. On the other wall was an artist’s rendition of the culture-crossed lovers of Maiden Head’s legend, Elflocks and Faelocks reaching yearningly for one another above a crashing wave, the beach aflame.

  Sur Sceaf eyed the painting. “A tragic tale. ‘Tis the tale of two lovers, one Herewardi and the other Hickoryan. Tragic and sad.”

  “Not unlike us, lovers from two different cultures. Though we didn’t die,” Lana said with an up turned look. “I wish I could share this with my bride-sisters.” She scanned the spacious room, looking head long out the rare diamond-shaped multi-paned leaded window at the massive gates, the armed guards on the parapets above, and the cobbled stone street below with its teeming denizens strolling under the whale oil street lamps. She took a final look and then pulled the dark maroon crushed velvet drapes slowly closed.

  “My lord, thou didst tell me I’d have eye-opening experiences when we married, and I have, but this tops them all. Witan Jewell was miraculous, but the might and grandeur of these stone structures and the beauty of the desert are overwhelming.”

  “I first saw this place when I was fourteen winters with Grandfather Ludwig. At the time it was like a crater with one large opening to the south. Ludwig was the one who convinced my father and Rusyrus into transforming it into a desert stronghold. It took Muryh and scores of masons and carpenters and blacksmiths three years to transform it while alternately assisting Pyrsyrus in the building of his palatial castle. I’d challenge even a dragon to breach the south gate.”

  Lana laughed as she unfastened her cape and carefully placed it in the press. “Holy honey bees, this taketh me back to our honeymoon when thou wast but a lad, and I that silly freckle-faced maid.”

  “You were not silly, just not used to luxury in its diverse forms. Your people take pride in living a simple life. The Herewardi enjoy living in more opulent ways as a sign of progressing civilization. As a people we went from an opulent civilization to grass huts, to stick buildings, and now we are returning to stone. It is our progression. Even the poorest among us can be inspired by those who have achieved wealth and aspire to do as well through their own labors and exertions. There are no barriers to wealth in our culture.”

  “Some poverty comes from indolence and laziness, but I have seen sickness and circumstance trip the mightiest.”

  “Why the commonwealth provides indigent funds to get citizens back on their feet.” Sur Sceaf pulled his arms carefully out of his borrowed coat. “This silk coat of Rusyrus’ would be the envy of anyone.”

  Lana took the coat and hung it in the press.

  Carefully, Sur Sceaf pressed Lana against the back of the large pinewood door and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. A sudden twinge of pain reminded him that his mouth was still tender, but the pleasure overrode it. Drawing back, he looked into her deep green eyes that had mesmerized him since the first time they met. Even though the rope burns on his wrists still pained him he could not resist fondling her soft red haired tresses in his hands. Her face flushed and she began breathing more heavily as she closed her eyes in surrender to his caresses. He felt his body reacting to her presence. Even battered and bruised, he still wanted her. He had been too long deprived of the conjugal bed.

  “I can’t tell thee how much I have missed thy touch,” Lana murmured. “Oh! My lord, let’s not forget our honeymoon.” Lana ducked under his arms, took his hand and led him over to the ale table. “Thou didst not rush things then. No need to now.” The queen has gone to so much trouble to prepare ale and elegant tidbits for us and I have some of my own. Let’s enjoy them while we may.”

  “I’ll slow down, but just for you, my love.” Sur Sceaf winked.

  “Please, dear, sit thy battered body down.” Lana took his hand and led him to the brocaded divan.

  Lana walked over to the drawing table. “I have a surprise for thee which I had to guard with my life,” she said as she opened the lacquered wicker basket. “Here are some walnut cakes and dainties I baked for thee. Each wife took special care to bake thee some of thy favorite goodies.”

  She began lining the treats out into sections according to the individual wife. Each was individually wrapped in several layers of wax paper to keep the contents fresh on the journey.

  Experience had taught Sur Sceaf to eat sparingly after fasts or forced hunger. He had recently been able to partake of a little barbequed mutton and some leek and onion soup, but now as he watched her laying out the dainties, his mouth watered. He was ready for the variety of treats his wives were famous for. “I’m grateful for the bounty, but it’s your presence I feast on the most. I can’t tell you enough times how glad I am that you have joined me in the trek, my Lana Liebchen. I could not have borne sleeping alone for another moonth without you.”

  Lana offered him a dimpled smile. “I must tell thee how much we brides missed thee, my lord. All of my bride-sisters have been plotting what we were going to do to thee when thou didst return. We wanted to make it very special.” With a look of bedevilment, she added, “What’s the matter, Mendaka gave thee no pillow talk?”

  Sur Sceaf laughed, only to wince as his ribs protested. Although he had been confined to his bed for three days, he had never really experienced comfort. Now, for the first time since leaving DiAhman, he felt himself utterly relaxed.

  “Mendaka gives great talk, but is too hairy to snuggle up to, unlike you my sweet freckle fox. Besides, I am never whole without my family. I so love and miss every one of you.”

  “Thou knowest Paloma, she was very worried about thee having to
manage on thy own, and thought it best if at least one of us was to accompany thee to keep thee from starving. She and Redith prevailed upon Sur Spear to send one of us out along with Pyrsyrus to come and render thee comfort.”

  “Well, this is an unusual circumstance. Did you use the sticks to decide?”

  “Yes, we used the sticks as is custom, but Shining Moon decided she was too close to delivering the baby to risk travel and Faechild is still nursing her latest. It was another story for the rest of us. We were all too eager. My stick was chosen and Paloma arranged to take the kids for me.” A concerned look crossed her face. “I do hope my little ones will be alright. I was a bit concerned with Baldur because he just got over the croup. Fae-Mother Paloma assured me she would take him everywhere with her. He already doth favor his nigh-mother almost as much as me.”

  “Brekka, I’m sure, was just happy as the lark to be with her brother, Ary.”

  Lana grinned. “Oh, yes, she was! But home without thee is like a fireplace on a cold day with no fire in it.”

  Lana continued unwrapping the treats and placed them on one of the delicate porcelain plates the chamberlain had provided. She offered him the plate of morsels and sat down next to him. “Take thy pick, my lord.”

  He deliberately took one of her miniature walnut cakes, knowing full well that they were her specialty. “These cakes are my absolute favorites, Lana. You are so good to me. You always know just how to please me. I can see I shall cherish your company very much.”

  Finishing the walnut cake, he let his hand swoop over the plate before choosing another delicacy. “Here, I recognize this persimmon treat as Faechild’s, have a bite.”

  Lana took a bite, licked her lips and said, “That was so delicious. How doth she do that?”

  Sur Sceaf leaned in for a kiss as she put another treat to his mouth.

  “But canst thou tell me which of thy wives made this fig bar?”

  “Milkchild, of course. Figs have always been her favorite. And these apple strudels are Swan Hilde’s.”

  After they finished with the excellent offerings of Paloma and Shining Moon, Sur Sceaf gestured towards the drawing table. “Now we need some high desert ale.”

  “Of course, let me serve thee.”

  “No, no, no, let me serve thee, my lady.” He handed Lana a cup of the smooth ale. “How long will it take me to teach you that herewardi men don’t need to be waited on hand and foot? Not that I mind it. If you remember, I served you on our honeymoon and you were shocked speechless to be offered strong drink. It was so funny watching you cautiously taking your first sip. You looked at me like I was serving you a witches’ brew. But your tongue did not lie and I even had to stop you from drinking too much.” He tapped his flagon to hers. “Here’s to our second honeymoon.”

  “I would like to drink to those ravens that saved thee. They were surely sent by the gods that love us.

  “This is some fine stuff. Thou art right, I keep falling into my mother’s entrenched Quailor upbringing. My mother would die if she saw thee serving me, but that was one of the things that first impressed me about the Herewardi. The men could cook.” She smiled. “Chust give me a small drink. I chust need to wet my lips and thou canst finish it for me. Thou knowest, that stuff maketh me too silly. Come to think of it, Mother would have a cow if she knew her little girl had ever drank to drunkeness.”

  “Oh, get a little silly, Freckle Fox! That’s what you’re here for. Besides you are so adorable when you loosen up.”

  “That’s not what my mother would say. She would say I was being carnal, sensual, and devilish.”

  “Sometimes with the way you talk, I think your mother lives inside of you. You are always weighing yourself by what she would say. And now that we are going to see your parents, I think it’s getting worse.”

  “Alright, I suppose. It’s when I feel a little naughty that I feel my mother’s presence creeping back inside of me.”

  “Why not be a little naughty? Are you not taught that the marriage bed is undefiled? There are no kids to worry about, and I’m more than thrilled that you’re here.”

  She took two gulps of ale, before offering him a mischievous grin. “But, chust remember I warned thee, my lord.” She handed the flagon back to him.

  “Drink deep, my red haired beauty. The night is young and I feel wild horses surging through my veins.”

  Sur Sceaf took a chug of his ale and moved closer to Lana.

  She took the flagon to her lips, once again downing a fourth of it in one swig. “Woo! Is that ever good. Now I know why thou and Dak were nursing it so much at the queen’s festive board.”

  Fanning herself, she exclaimed, “Woo! It’s getting hot in here. I think I’ll part with this dress.” She stood up and walked over to the cedarwood press, untied the sides of her dirndl, pulled down the straps, and stepped out of it, while sneaking peeks at him. At the same time Sur Sceaf divested himself of his fine silken shirt and unlaced his sheepskin moccasins. He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants with aching fingers and let them fall to the floor. Stepping free he kicked his pants off not bothering to pick them up, as to bend was still too painful.

  Seeing her standing in her silken chemise, he perceived in the softly flickering candlelight her comely, feminine form, was bursting to escape its confinement. Sur Sceaf pulled her to him for another lingering kiss and nestled his nose in the fragrance of her hair. “You’re more beautiful than ever Lana.” He pressed against her again to kiss her on the neck and nibble at her ear. “As I recall on our honeymoon this is when I carried you to bed.”

  “Dare not! Thou couldst injure thyself.”

  “Lana,” Sur Sceaf said, staring into her warm eyes, “you are always so understanding and comforting. It’s why I love you so much.” He drew her to himself for another gentle squeeze and kiss.

  She squeezed back. “Oh! I forgot thy wounds. What will it be? Sun up or sun down with thy wounds,” she said with a glint of seduction in her eye.

  “You choose.”

  * * *

  It had been a long time since Sur Sceaf had felt so relaxed and happy. Lying next to Lana, he turned his head and drew in the scent of her rose fragranced hair. To Surrey, there was nothing better than lying in a soft bed, resting in the warmth of his beloved wife. Worries of the day were utterly forgotten. And the comfort of a woman never came so timely as Lana’s arrival now at Fort Rock. “This must be what Heaven is like.”

  Lana looked across the pillow. “Now that thou art nice and relaxed, I need to ask thee something very important.” She pushed back for a moment and the laughter in her eyes faded, “I’ve been waiting to ask thee this all day.”

  Sur Sceaf sighed, “Why do I feel like something unpleasant is coming? Don’t tell me another conflict has arisen in the covey of bride-sisters. Has Swan Hilde’s jealousy and snappiness kicked in again?”

  “No, no, nothing to do with her. Thou knowest Paloma can keep us all harmonious, despite Swan Hilde’s perpetual moodiness. No this has to do with something I chust learned. Long Swan hath informed us that thou art courting a new bride.”

  His eyes widened. “Then let me tell you. He speaks true. Though I must say, I never suspected Long Swan to be the one to spill the beans. I have indeed met a Sharaka maiden that I am seriously thinking of taking as my seventh wife.” Sur Sceaf pulled up the covers, then ran an arm under Lana’s neck and looked into her eyes. “We met by surprise my first morning in DiAhman. In that moment, we entered holy space. It was like receiving a marvelously wrapped gift that I knew was mine and she seemed to take it the same way. But no sooner had I opened it, than a screaming slashing wildcat sprung out at me. It seems her tribe from the Tahlequah had no direct exposure to our practice of multiple wives and she turned her fury on me. But in time, day by tedious day, she warmed back up to me.”

  Lana opened a dimpled smile, her eyes sparkling with teasing humor. “Well, how could she not, my lord?”

  “Now, no more teasing, I thought you wanted
to know about her.”

  “I’m sorry, I do. Couldn’t resist tweaking thy pride. Thou sayest her name is Ahy.”

  “Her full name is Ahyyyokah Taneshewa, the youngest daughter of Onamingo.”

  Lana’s eyes brightened, “Oh, I know. I’ve met her. We even shared a feast with her. She and I had a lovely talk. She’s delightful, very pretty.” She paused unusually long like she was doing an internal search. “And so very young. How old dost thou think she is?”

  Surrey was shocked. He felt a little tricked by Long Swan and Lana. “You should have told me you had met her. She is on the edge of eighteen winters, but she is spiritually mature beyond her tender years.”

  “Well that is old enough for marriage, of course, but young for one of thine age of thirty-three winters. Surrey, thou art almost double her age. Why dost thou think she’s a spiritual match?”

  Sur Sceaf cautiously eased himself to a sitting position against the piled pillows. His body was aching from the exertion of the love making, although the ache had been worth it. Slowly he reached for the flagon of ale and proffered a drink to Lana.

  She put her hand up and said, “No, no, no more, my love. I want to be able to get up in the morning.”

  Sur Sceaf took a gulp before returning the flagon to the table.

  “It’s true she is young according to the reckoning of this life. Before I even laid eyes on her, her spirit was revealed to me in a dream or actually it was more of a night vision. I knew her to be one of the Great Ones from before this life. Her spirit had the power of a panther in it, but the gentleness of a deer and the Ur Fyr burned in me like a consuming fire when I met her. I knew she was destined to accompany me in my final journey.”

  Lana said, “While I was with her I observed her lovingly serving her family and tribe. She appeareth so giving and selfless.” She stopped and postulated, “And she is a princess to the Sharaka king. This meaneth thou shalt now have her, Paloma, and Faechild as three royal wives.”