The Use

by D. L. Carter

  “But, to take this book as an example,” said Mitash, returning to his lecture. “Norfarland undertakes a journey to bring back an unwilling groom. He goes, according to the author, from the Village of Tall Falls to the City of Crest upon Flame in forty-five days. Have you reached that part?”

  Halidan nodded.

  “Very well. You were a teacher. Where is the Village of Tall Falls?”

  Halidan was so shocked by the question that she put some of the fine cut meat into her mouth and started chewing before realizing she had.

  During that part of the book both Norfarland and his friend engaged in amorous interludes with three different women on five separate occasions. She had been so distracted by that part of the story – or avoiding reading those sections of the book – that she hadn't paid much attention to the names of the places they'd passed through.

  “I assumed,” she said slowly, “that the author had changed the name somewhat so as not to embarrass the city mothers. I mean, they, Norfarland and his friend, did behave in a reprehensible manner.”

  “Reprehensible? No. No. Say energetic if you must. Indiscriminate, I will grant you.” Mitash laughed so hard it was necessary for him to cover his face with his napkin. “Oh, dear, my poor Halidan. What an education this book is for you. No, those are real place names. Remember the book was written a long time ago. The reason I remember the names and places is that one of the first books the High Lord had me study was the fourteenth Adventure. I suspect, given there was a gap of thirty-seven years between the thirteenth and fourteenth books that the one I read was the first written by the second author. In any event, he had Norfarland traveling back to visit someone he met in the ninth adventure, leaving from Crest upon Flame, traveling forty-five days and arriving in the Town of Raging Waters. What do you assume from that?”

  “That he traveled in a different direction,” said Halidan immediately.

  Mitash granted her a brilliant smile.

  “A clever, sensible conclusion and one that did not occur to me. However, he traveled to meet a person named in the ninth book! Now what do you think?”

  This time Halidan hesitated. Mitash would not be making such a point of the matter if the answer was not significant.

  “It is possible that the person chose to move from one place to another. We are doing so ourselves at this moment.”

  “True, we are. But, in this case, which is one of the proofs that it was a different author and not a story written by the original author and found later, the Village of Tall Falls had grown so much in the intervening time that the town mothers petitioned their High Lord to be reclassified and to be granted a new name. Since they had just finished rebuilding after a great flood – their local weather spells having failed, a dreadful scandal – it was named the Town of Raging Waters. The original author writing so many years previously would not have known of the name change. I plotted out the journey, found copies of old maps marked with the original names and the new ones, and showed the High Lord the path of Norfarland.”

  “Isn't that a lot of effort for a work of fiction?”

  “It is knowledge. That is the entire point. It is information he did not have before. That is what the High Lord has hired you to find.”

  “Oh.” Halidan regarded the book she was reading in a new light. She should consider the time, the history of the era and . . . what? What could she possibly glean of interest from such a time? She already knew the history of the era, had taught it to indifferent and bored Mid Court Elven children. Except . . .

  “I see your frown,” said Mitash. “What have you read so far that made you pause and wonder?”

  Halidan felt heat filling her face again and Mitash laughed.

  “Not that,” he said. “Believe me, I know as much about that as I need. What else?”

  “Well, while I was considering it only as a work of fiction I read a name I did not know and disregarded it.”

  Mitash waved her to continue.

  “Now you have made me think. I have studied and taught history, but I don't remember an old High King Olifeink.”

  Mitash grinned and nodded to her. “Do you not? Now that you mention it, I do not remember him myself. But, that is no miracle. I was an indifferent student of history. Well, now, if you do not wish to be scolded when you mention him to the High Lord be prepared to say who he truly was, what he was famous for, and why Norfarland quoted him. Consider it your first exercise.”

  Halidan put down her cutlery.

  “Not at this very minute,” continued Mitash. “Indeed, there is no hurry. You will find your duties with the High Lord pass at a gentle pace. He rarely commands anything to happen in an instant. He is an easy master to make happy.”

  Halidan couldn't continue this conversation. She couldn't stay. The way the High Lord wanted her to make him happy weighed on her mind every minute and could no longer be borne. “You misunderstand. Mitash, I am sorry to say this. You have been everything that is kind, but I cannot continue. I am unhappy with one of the requirements of my employment and wish to terminate it.”

  Mitash raised both eyebrows. “I do not think any part of your duty is particularly arduous. You have help to carry the boxes, do you not? The High Lord informed me that you have even been granted your own troop of bodyguards to take care of you. Have they offended you in some way?”

  “That is not it.” Halidan commanded herself to be calm. She was sitting at a table discussing a book that both she and Mitash knew contained descriptions of people performing the most intimate of physical acts. That those acts had to have been in his mind just as they were in hers only increased her reluctance to speak. Yet there sat Mitash, his expression mildly curious. He could help her if she asked. He could advise her on where to go to seek other employment, how to travel, who to trust.

  “Mitash, the High Lord has expressed an interest in . . . me.”

  Mitash took a moment to process that comment, then his eyebrows raised. “I do not understand. What is the problem?”

  Halidan gripped the table with fingers white to the knuckle and fought to keep her voice from trembling. “He . . . he expressed an interest in me that I do not return. I believe it would be best if I leave his service. I wish to stay behind when the procession departs. Perhaps you, as his representative, can sign my papers and release me?”

  “Not I, Halidan.” Mitash investigated the contents of the fruit dish and ladled a little onto his plate.

  “But, you signed my employment, why can't you release me?”

  Mitash didn't even try to meet her eyes.

  “Because the High Lord would have my hide, ears, eyes, and gonads were I to let you go,” said Mitash without humor. “He treats me well, Halidan, but I do not forget who and what he is. Personally I do not think you have anything to fear. He will treat you with respect.”

  “I don't want to be treated with respect!” burst out Halidan.

  Mitash smiled at that.

  “You know what I mean. I don't want to be the High Lord's . . .” she stopped at a loss for words. Her education had not included much information about this aspect of life, so she was uncertain as to the title of what the High Lord was suggesting. “I should not have mentioned his interest in me. You would have let me go then.”

  “It would have made no difference. He and I spent some time discussing you as we traveled yesterday. He has been congratulating himself upon your employment, Halidan. Never has a woman impressed him so much on so short an acquaintance.” Mitash sighed and spooned a few drops of spice onto his fruit.

  Nothing it seemed, interfered with Mitash's appetite.

  “I have been in the employ of the High Lord through two of his marriages. His wives had nothing to complain of, not even when they did not produce an heir. He was uniformly polite, respectful, and gracious. You can expect no less treatment from him.”

  “I have no doubts about his treatment of me. I have no interest in becoming . . .” her fingers tangled together beneath the
table and her breath shuddered out. “I would much rather not have to worry about anything more than the book work we have been discussing. I was hired with the expectation of being his librarian. Nothing more.”

  Mitash frowned at his plate. “I do not understand your hesitation. It cannot be you think him ugly. He is generally considered handsome. Could it be your heart is already given?”

  “No. No. It's just . . . what will people say of him, becoming involved with a mortal. Or of me, if it becomes general knowledge. Or if I get pregnant. Look at the way Norfarland was treated, the way those guards Lord Eioth hired with me are considered so low. Half breed bastards have no rights, no place. I do not choose to be so cruel as to risk bringing such a one into the world.”

  This time Mitash did put down his cutlery.

  “My dear Halidan, if you were to quicken you would be rendered deaf by the sounds of celebration. High Lord Eioth has no child. Do not doubt it; the child would not be counted a bastard. Eioth would claim him in an instant and exercise all his skill and authority to see to it his child inherited all he possesses, no matter what the law says. If this is your only concern then I beg you to put it aside. It is not valid.”

  “But . . .”

  “No, Halidan. I shall not debate this with you. Now that I know the degree of the High Lord's regard for you I have a better understanding of how we shall go on together. It had been a concern of mine, wondering what I should do after the Ladies Worind leave our processional in two days. They shall take the Ladies Carriage with them and it was my thought that asking you to ride all day, every day would be too much. Knowing you have the High Lord's interest I feel confident that obtaining a traveling coach for you will not be counted an extravagance.”

  Halidan went shock white.

  “A travel coach? For me? No, you don't have to . . . I can ride. Or travel with the other servants. Or stay here. I would prefer to stay here.”

  “Permit me to say, as one who has served longer, I have a better understanding of our High Lord than you. A carriage there shall be.” Mitash rose and rinsed in a bowl of perfumed water waiting on a side table. “The longer you know the High Lord, the better you will know the extent of the honor that has been offered to you. Study the book, dear Halidan. Study all parts of it. Read, rest, and enjoy our journey. I shall see to it you receive all the comforts due to your place and station in the High Lord's Household.”

  “That is not my desired station,” cried Halidan, but was ignored.

  Mitash quit the room leaving Halidan seated with the debris of the meal feeling confused and a little helpless.

  Alone in the Ladies Carriage that morning, Halidan picked up The Adventures and contemplated the bland, uninformative cover. One would think given its contents the book would be covered with locks and bindings to prevent silly children like the Ladies Worind from opening it. Or, perhaps, with scarlet-stained leather as smooth and soft as skin.

  Or . . . or she could stop wasting time and read it. The truth of the matter was she was well and truly old enough to consider taking a lover. If she hadn't been living in the same suite of rooms as her father in Matriarch Pitchuri's house she might have found time in the last few years to exchange a few kisses with a stableman or flirt with someone she'd met at the Summer Solstice Ritual. But, since she could not remember a time when her father had not been within arm’s reach, that had not happened. If the Matriarch had discovered she was engaged in such activities with Elf or mortal, they would have been dismissed earlier.

  Those years spent being carefully watched over left her with a significant and serious lack of knowledge. It would be comfortable to continue in ignorance. To state clearly and firmly her lack of interest in being . . . becoming . . . there again her lack of knowledge exposed her. She didn't even know the proper terms for a recipient of the High Lord's interest . . . she was not yet prepared to consider the word lover. Too intimate. Too familiar.

  In any event it would serve her well to know more about the subject on general principle. Sometime in the far distant future, she might meet a man, a mortal man, that she desired, and then she would want to know more about that so as not to disappoint him. Right now she didn't really know if that was something she wanted to engage in. Just thinking about it was like asking someone if they enjoyed being dead. How could they answer? What would you compare it to?

  The problem with approaching the High Lord or any male for that matter with her questions was that the technique they would no doubt recommend for her edification would quickly leave her reluctance moot. Once engaged in sex in order to learn about sex, one had to have had the sex, and that was not something to be wished undone thereafter.

  Certainly she was not interested in dying in order to learn what death was. Therefore, it would serve her to learn as much as she could about the subject while still not engaging in the actual act. Both the High Lord and Mitash had urged her to read The Adventures and learn.

  Halidan pulled the page turner out of the spine of The Adventures and started flipping through the book. On her previous passes she'd stopped reading at the first hint that Norfarland was about to remove his clothes and quickly turned the pages only allowing her eyes to fall briefly on the words. If she saw any hint that the characters were still naked, she continued on until the actual story resumed. Now, courage in hand, squinting and holding the book at arm’s length, she sought out an illustration of Norfarland alone.

  Chapter Seven

  “My Lady,” said Norfarland, rising from his chair to bow and retreat from the pool of light.

  The Lady Risha must not see him! She must not be able to cry “Foul, this is not my groom,” when Baeth returned to claim his bride. If she did, Norfarland's life would be forfeit for his part in the deception. Norfarland turned his face toward the window, drawing the curtains forward to shield his face.

  “You should not be here. This is the Bachelor Retreat.”

  “I know what it is,” replied Risha, “and I know that you are not my betrothed groom. He has fled rather than be burdened with the necessity of marriage to me.”

  The window, decided Norfarland, was the only avenue of escape. If he took a running start he could leap out and be gone before the lady could cry out. With luck her brothers would be slow to wake and he would be out of the garden and hidden before the chase began. He glanced down. The ground was too far away and the lady was between him and the door. Words would have to serve for his escape!

  Turning, Norfarland extended a hand to the abandoned bride.

  “Lady, not so. He is young and foolish and has gone to do what foolish men do. Do not fear, he shall return at the proper time to fulfill his duty, a better man for having rid himself of his degenerate youth.”

  “Duty?” cried Risha. “Duty? What woman wishes to be bedded out of duty? What woman wants to receive a man after he has left the bed of another he loves more? No. I despise him for what he has done. Now all my thoughts are upon achieving an appropriate revenge!”

  Norfarland, aware that it was his fragile body that stood before the angry woman and that it was her brothers who held the key to his chambers, flinched.

  “If it is your command, I shall leave at once to find him and bring him back to face your justice . . .” he began.

  The Lady Risha smiled. A gracious bend in the lips that did not reassure the worried Norfarland.

  “Oh, no. I have no wish for you to depart. Baeth has chosen his path and I shall create my own. When Baeth returns, as no doubt he will for his family is poor and needs what marriage to me will bring, I shall inform him that I have been your lover and with luck I will already be pregnant with your child. I shall refuse him my bed knowing that he will never dare complain of any action of mine for our entire marriage.”

  Norfarland paled. “Lady, I urge you to reconsider. Such an unequal marriage cannot survive.”

  His voice caught in his throat and any further sound would have strangled him for at that point the Lady Risha stepped out of the d
oorway and into the pool of light cast by his lantern, casting off her clothing as she moved.

  First to go was the blouse. Without it her breasts shimmied gently. Risha was no freshly nubile young miss, but in the full bloom of her womanhood. Her breasts, ripe and full with nipples rosey, round and firm as fresh-picked raspberries, undulated before him. Her skirt she discarded without shame. Hips curved, flared, and well-fleshed beckoned to him. Thighs firm and rounded as any sensible man would desire. Here was a body a man could hold in both hands, squeeze for arousal, and grip for security in the throes of release. Soft and supple and deep enough for him to thrust and know that his fiercest passion would be welcomed. Would be needed.

  “You will please me, Norfarland. You will pleasure me or I will see to it that you suffer worse than the faithless Baeth. You are here and your guilt cannot be denied. One word from me and my brothers will strangle you where you stand. No one would declare their actions unjustified.” She seized his hand and raised it to press against her breast. “You will make love to me as if your very life depends upon it for, be assured, it does.”

  The Adventures of Norfarland the Bastard ~ Book 9

  Halidan dropped the book as if it were on fire. Her breasts were tight and warm. Her thighs clamped to each other as if to force out the heat she felt building between them. Outside her carriage she could hear the voices of the guards calling to each other and people along the roadside chattering about inconsequential things. She gave thanks that no one knew what she was reading behind the shelter of the fabric walls. Halidan shifted away from the book and ran her fingers down her blouse to settle the fabric, but as her hands moved over her breasts she jumped. Never before had her nipples caused her any difficulties. Now they were sensitive spears visible through the fabric. She pressed them, trying to flatten them again, but the contact only had them firming further.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and let the swaying of the carriage rock her body. If she was lucky her body would calm down before she had to appear in public, again. But, no, the rocking sent ripples of unfamiliar sensation through her body and her groin ached heavily.