The Use

by D. L. Carter

  He was so far beyond her usual experience that she didn’t even know any gossip about him. How was she to decide if he would make a good employer?

  And her other choice, to go alone and unprotected with masterless guards to a town she had never visited . . . what would the people at the hiring fair think of her after traveling with them? Would she even survive the trip?

  She was tired, confused, and unwilling to think beyond the moment. Worries for the future would have to wait until morning.

  Halidan smoothed cool water over her father’s lips and stood watching him breathe.

  The next time the door opened it was to admit the Prior just as the light of false dawn was staining the sky. For the last hour her father's breathing had barely moved his chest and his skin was cold, clammy, and grey.

  The Prior gazed down at her father's face for a moment, then whispered, “What said the healer?”

  “Nothing, he never came.”

  The Prior's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. Halidan shivered, thankful that the Prior's ire was not directed toward her.

  “I am so sorry. Our House has failed you, daughter, to my personal shame. I shall speak to the healers later, emphatically. And from this neglect I can assume that Brother Hospitabler did not call upon you, either.”

  “No.”

  “Then you have not eaten as well as not slept.” The Prior shook his head. “I apologize for my House’s neglect, daughter. This is unforgivable. Lord Eioth and his party will be departing today. As soon as they are gone I shall find a room for you and you shall rest. Do not worry, we shall not have you leave until you are recovered.”

  “That is very kind of you, but I cannot afford . . .” Halidan reached into her sash for the money pouch and stopped when the Prior raised his hand.

  “Peace, daughter, I have dealt with the fees. Toward midnight I received a message from Matriarch Pitchuri demanding I confirm that all the proper Rites were performed for the protection of her House and family. Thus she reveals herself to be a person of grace and compassion. I sent back a request for fees.” He smiled and reached into his own sash. “The money came within the hour. I admit I exaggerated the fee so as to have a little extra for you.” He placed five silver coins in her hand and folded her fingers over them, holding her chilled hand in both of his. “And I see that you have set out items to go to the secondhand store. The Sanctuary will take them. We can get the best price. Leave the matter with me.”

  “I cannot thank you . . .” began Halidan, tears forming in her eyes. “I could not think of anywhere else to go.”

  “You just did,” the Prior smiled at her. “Now, if I might have your papers. . .and your father’s . . . I realize that it is impolite to do this while your father still has life within him, but I am uncertain when my duties will permit me to return.”

  Using a pen filled with bright blue ink he wrote for several minutes, first in Halidan’s book, then Ephram's. Once completed he held both books in his hands and recited a few verses in High Elvish. Immediately the ink began to shimmer and glow. When the light faded there was still a faint iridescence to the script. The Prior nodded, then embossed the pages with the seal of the Sanctuary. “There. Now if anyone asks you may answer that the Rites and Rituals of Life's Departure were completed.”

  “But, they haven’t yet.”

  “They will be; I shall see to it myself.” The Prior glanced across at the brier, then rested his hand on Halidan’s forehead. “Dear child, I am so sorry. The time has come and passed. Your father is departed.”

  Halidan spun and ran to her father picking up the cooling hand and pressing it to her lips. “Oh, no, I wasn’t with him. I didn’t see . . .”

  “You were. You were standing at his side throughout. Grieve now. In an hour, brothers will come and carry your father out. We shall make his Departure Ritual part of Sun's Greeting.”

  Halidan could not get any words out. The tears came, choking her, blurring her sight. The Prior handed her a soft cloth to blot her tears, patted her on the shoulder, and departed taking the small bundle of discarded clothing and books with him. Halidan barely noticed. She sank down beside the bier, sobbing.

  The brothers came shortly thereafter, as the Prior had said, and carried her father's body away. Only pride kept Halidan from throwing herself in front of the door to prevent their leaving. Instead she stood, pale and quiet and watched the one person who’d stayed with her, the one person she’d loved her whole life, vanish. Feeling . . . grieving . . . hurt too much. Instead she let grinding fatigue settle over her mind like a soft blanket and smother all thought.

  Once they were gone, Halidan changed into the dress she’d washed, though it was still damp and badly crushed, and put on her only clean headscarf. She tied her belongings into a bundle using the remaining sheet and made her way to the east wall of the Sanctuary.

  The Sun's Greeting Ritual was by tradition performed outside the Sanctuary walls in an ancient grove of evergreens. Usually a small candle or incense burning in a stone bowl was all that was needed to represent the Sun’s Element here at the Water temple, but today the brothers raised a platform of wood worthy of a lord.

  Her mind and spirit muffled by fatigue and grief, Halidan did not see the early morning worshipers enter the grove, pause at the sight of the pyre, and retreat. Instead, she stood dry-eyed throughout the ritual and didn’t blink even when fire was cast onto the kindling.

  The magic augmented fire burned fast and hot. Too soon there was nothing more than a hint of ash scenting the breeze to say that Ephram, father of Halidan, had existed. Halidan didn’t turn or blink until the Officiant came to stand before her. She barely heard his formal words of sympathy; she did not feel the droplet of blessed Water placed on her cheek.

  She didn’t move until some unmeasured period of time later when a tall Elf unknown to her appeared at her elbow, bowed, and spoke, “Tor Halidan, not for anything would I intrude upon you at this time unless it was of great importance. I have sincere sympathy for your grief.”

  Halidan shivered. It was comfortable in her small, private fog and she didn’t want to think or to speak, but manners trained into her over years by a loving parent, now departed, had her replying automatically through numb lips.

  “I am greatly honored by your kindness.”

  “I am Mitash, private secretary and companion to High Lord Eioth. I am informed that you will be joining his employ, as private librarian and companion.”

  “Uh, yes, only . . .” Halidan blinked and tried to focus on the Elf standing before her. He was just a few inches too tall for her to face comfortably, but she was reluctant to step back. “I was honored by High Lord Eioth’s words last night, but I haven’t decided, that is, the Prior has offered to let me stay here a few days before I make any decisions about my future.”

  “You cannot be considering refusing this offer. Do you imagine you will ever be honored with another situation to compare with this?” Mitash stared at her in blank astonishment. “Even the Prior would admit that this is not an opportunity to be lightly cast aside. Only consider, I am to inform you that your salary is twenty silver per quarter, and as the High Lord is aware you were cast out without proper preparations, I am to give you one month’s salary in advance.”

  “I have some money,” said Halidan. Her tongue was so thick and slow in her mouth; she barely understood her own words and she swayed, reaching out to the nearest tree for support.

  Mitash tucked one hand under her elbow and assisted her gently toward a bench.

  “Child, you are barely able to stand, let alone make decisions.” He sat beside her and waited until Halidan focused on his face. “Listen and be guided by me. If necessary, appeal to the Prior for confirmation. You will never find a better employer than High Lord Eioth. He is loyal to friends, patient with the foolish, and a wise leader of many. If the Synod were ever to learn sense he would be acclaimed . . .” Here he paused and reconsidered. “No, you do not need to know that to make y
our decision. Let it be instead that you have the time you need to rest and consider.”

  “But, you are leaving this morning, the Prior said . . .”

  Mitash smiled down at her. “Leave it all to me. I think we have time yet for you to bathe, eat, and refresh yourself. I shall make the arrangements for your comfort.”

  “I haven’t agreed yet.” Fatigue was making her tongue clumsy and she sounded young and petulant even to herself. Distantly, she knew she was being foolish. The High Lord had personally offered her employment. Why, by all the Elements, was she bothering to protest?

  Then the breeze changed direction bringing the faint scent of ash to her and tears welled and overflowed. She covered her face with both hands and rocked back and forth as she wept.

  “Oh, child this will not do,” said Mitash. “You are in no fit state to be seen today. Wait here.”

  Mitash crossed the grove in a few strides coming to stand behind Lord Eioth where he was taking leave of the Abbot and Prior.

  “. . . grateful that you chose to find the decorations amusing rather than insulting, High Lord,” said the Abbot.

  Eioth permitted a slight smile to cross his lips. “Amusing? Not exactly, no. The abuse of my personal sigil for decorations of public rooms? That is not appropriate. But, I shall not take formal notice of it with the expectation that the next time I pass this way, the situation will be corrected. The old furniture returned to its place.”

  “Be assured that it will, High Lord,” said the Abbott. “Within the hour, Brother Hospitabler will be shoveling out the stables.”

  “And the offending furnishings will be burned?”

  “We will have him construct the pyre himself,” said the Prior, with an evil grin.

  “Perhaps this will teach him a sense of proportion,” suggested the Abbot.

  “When the High King returns,” sneered the Prior.

  “If he will not learn faster than that it may be necessary for him to leave,” said the Abbot, without regret.

  “Then I am satisfied,” said Eioth and turned his head enough to acknowledge his patiently waiting secretary. “Do you require something, Mitash?”

  “High Lord, as you directed, I have spoken to Halidan tor Ephram and tried to give her the details of your offer of employment. But, I cannot bring her to an understanding of the honor or gain her assent to the duty. Not through any disrespect, I assure you. It is that she is so tired and overwhelmed with fresh grief, she can barely form thoughts.”

  Mitash inclined his head toward where Halidan sat slumped on the stone bench.

  “I am not surprised,” said the Prior, folding his arms into his sleeves. “Her father did not pass until bare moments before dawn. She attended him through all the night hours and I cannot imagine so caring a daughter slept even an instant.”

  “No decision she makes in this state could be considered legally binding,” remarked the Abbott.

  Eioth nodded. “You never bring a problem to my attention, Mitash, where you do not also have the solution. What is it your plan?”

  Mitash bowed to acknowledge the compliment. “It occurs to me, High Lord, that seven progressions have passed since you took the opportunity to call upon Lord Thref who orders Fire Elemental matters, hereabouts.”

  “He manages his responsibilities well and has not had need of me.”

  “Ah, but must only the feeble, the weak, and the incompetent have the benefit of conversation with you, High Lord? I am certain he would be honored by the attention if you would consent to pass the afternoon and evening with him. And the remainder of our party who had to stay awake until an unreasonable hour last night to dine will spend today resting and enjoying the hospitality of the Sanctuary. Tomorrow when everyone is well rested we can proceed. We shall not have lost much time since in a few days we will catch up to the luggage carts and our progress thereafter will be slow.”

  Eioth folded his arms and inclined his head to consider. He was positioned so the slightest movements of his eyes were enough to watch the mortal woman. She was curled around her grief, her body huddled in on itself with her hands pressed to her face. Pale and still, the only movement was the trickle of tears down her cheeks. Strange that such obvious grief should be . . . beautiful. In the past he had never considered it possible. In his father’s House, strong emotions were to be contained, concealed. Certainly he had experienced no grief at his own father’s passing, but this woman’s naked suffering did not ravage her beauty; instead, it elevated her to delicate. Ethereal.

  His decision to approach her last night was driven by an impulse he had not experienced for a very long time. True lust.

  It may be that if he hadn’t been reading the Essay’s description of the perfect Sex Magic partner that he would have passed her by with the barest glance, but the Elements had conspired to place her in his path at just that time. There she was, a woman of grace and dignity, of language skills and apparent strength of spirit, and of course, didn’t mumble or slur her words; she would be perfect for an experiment in this different branch of Magic. She was also, as the Essay phrased it, instantly arousing, being almost Elven pale with silver-blue eyes and well-formed limbs. And with her education she would still be a useful addition to his household once the experiments were done.

  A short delay now would not inconvenience him. Not really. Although usually he resented any change to his schedule, he would do it this time since gratitude was as good a basis for loyalty as any.

  “It will also give me time to arrange how she is to travel with us,” continued Mitash.

  “Lord Thref has an impressive library,” offered the Prior.

  Eioth gave a barking laugh, “Am I so predictable? Must I be tempted and bribed to do what is courteous?”

  All three Elves shook their heads to refute this and Eioth sighed theatrically.

  “Predictable. I have become predictable as my age advances. Oh, very well, Mitash, let it be as you suggest. Have my horse prepared and select a small party to accompany me to Thref. I shall return early this evening, though, to be rested for tomorrow’s journey. You, yourself, stay and order matters here.”

  “I would be honored if you would dine with me in my residence tonight,” said the Abbot, “as I have not had the benefit of your conversation for a year or so. Do not think I am offended or neglected as I know I am not feeble, weak, nor incompetent.”

  Eioth grinned and nodded.

  As he turned to go he glanced back at the mortal girl. Last night his impression was that she was tall or, at least the right height for him. He need only tilt his head forward and her to look up for them to be able to exchange a kiss. Her head would tuck neatly under his chin when he embraced her. Her ice-blue eyes pleased him and the pink of her skin did not detract from her beauty since she was paler than he was himself. Moreover, she was slender enough for him to support for the more advanced Magic postures.

  But at this moment, she looked so very small.

  “I shall tend to her,” said Mitash gently.

  Eioth had to think for a moment to recognize the tight, vicious emotion that seized his throat at the thought of Mitash spending time tending to the mortal woman. Was this jealousy? How odd.

  “Do so,” said Eioth with a coldness that obviously confused his secretary. “I leave it all in your capable hands.”

  Chapter Four

  Norfarland strained against the ropes that bound his wrists to the bedstead. The woman seated on his lap leaned away keeping her breasts just out of his reach. Laughing, Norfarland relaxed against the piles of pillows.

  “Do with me what you will,” he said, and groaned as the girl lowered herself onto his straining cock. “Only, have mercy on me.”

  “No,” she replied as she raised herself up until the barest tip of his cock was all that was within the furnace of her body, then slowly descending. Enveloping. Enfolding.

  With his legs bound to the end of the bed Norfarland could not raise his hips to thrust so could only bite his lip and
endure the slow pace the woman set.

  “Faster. Faster,” he begged as his hands clenched at the beat he desired and could not achieve.

  “No.”

  She settled her soft hands on his shoulders, descending to completely envelop him and rising until he feared his poor aching cock would lose its soft, moist home. She kept them at the slow pace despite his cries and pleading, tormenting, torturing him with the agonizing slow pace. She took his mouth with hers and matched the thrust of her tongue with the clenching of her tight sheath's muscles. Tears leaked from Norfarland's eyes at the exquisite pleasure. With sure movements she held him just at the point before pleasure, gloating at his gasps.

  “Beg,” she commanded.

  And he did.

  “More,” she demanded.

  And he promised eternal desire.

  “Stay with me forever.”

  And he laughed.

  Clutching his face to her breast she rode him, hard, fast, bruising, the vigor of their joining shaking the bed. He drew her nipple into his mouth and matched her rhythm with his tongue. Heat tore through him at his release, in the same moment she arched back, shouted her joy, then sank down to rest against his chest.

  As light began to fill the windows behind her, Norfarland stirred.

  “Release me, love,” he said. “Morning comes and I must be gone.”

  “Do not go,” cried the girl, pressing soft hands against his bare chest. “Please, I beg you. Stay with me!”

  “I dare not,” said Norfarland. “With the dawn come your brothers. They cannot find me here.”

  “Stay. There is time yet.”

  “Not I. If your brothers find me here they will kill me at an instant.”

  “Stay in my closet. It is big enough. I will bring you food and tonight, we can be together, again.”

  Norfarland regarded the small clothes closet with amusement. “I assure you, my dear, I am much larger than that. Nor may I hide beneath the bed. To do so lacks dignity. No. This will not do.”