by J. Hepburn
"You are my build. You can wear my city clothes. I brought some here last night."
Kalle chews his lip thoughtfully. "It could work. But I might just look like you."
"Ha! With your hair? With your smooth face?"
"Yes, the only smooth face in Molos," Kalle says. "What do you suggest, your beard?"
"Kalle, my darling, have you never found it useful to pass as the boy you look like?"
Kalle stares at Tiglis for several heartbeats, then bursts into wild laughter. "Excellent! I shall go as a boy, then! Although my hair is still unusual for this desert-bred city."
"We shall cover it, then. Even city men know the value of covering their heads from the sun."
By the time they are finished, Kalle looks like one of Rasil's ruffians wearing handed-down or purloined clothes. Only his boots look out of place, as his feet are a little too large to wear any of Zerris's. He covers the boots in wet ash and dirt.
He manages to restore most of his weapons, and arrange easy access to them.
"If you need any more than that, flight will be our best option anyway," Tiglis says.
She then tries to teach him how to wind a scarf properly about his head.
"This seems a very desert thing for a city boy to do," Kalle says.
"Have you not noticed that city men and boys do this also?"
"I have, but my comment stands," he says.
"It is the one part of the desert that city men have adopted," Tiglis says. "It says 'I am Molos.' We are proud we are not from the soft, wet cities of the rest of the Empire."
"Hats are soft, wet things?" Kalle asks, shaking his head to see if he has the scarf right. It slips over his eye.
Tiglis sighs and adjusts the scarf. "They are worn by soft, wet men."
Kalle eyes her, but says only, "And who will you be going as?"
Tiglis frowns, looking at him. "I don't have time to create someone new, and any other face might be recognised as one of Zerris's associates. No, I will go as Tiglis disguised, and alter my voice only a little. Besides, if you are recognised and we are caught, I suspect no disguise will hold."
By the time Tiglis has finished dressing, she looks like any city-dwelling, desert-bred woman of poor means. Kalle looks like an arrogant boy who is about to be cuffed about the ear by his betters. Tiglis gives him a thoughtful look, then adjusts her expression and her posture until she looks like the elder sister who is about to cuff his ears for him.
Kalle shakes his head. "I was taught a great many skills of deception, and learned many more, but by the Gods, I have no idea how you manage such a complete change."
"Do you not remember what I told you?" Tiglis asks. Her voice is changing as she layers on different timbres, pitches, and resonances.
Kalle sighs. "Yes, you haven't had a choice. Discovery would mean death. That does not make it any easier to understand.
"I bow to rare expertise," he says, suiting actions to words. "What should I call you in case we are overheard?"
"Call me sister, little brother," Tiglis says, with a weary sigh.
*~*~*
They set out with the sun dropping towards the horizon, a brother and sister of poor means, he young and cocky, she already worn from caring for him and yet barely a woman herself.
Kalle has difficulty pitching his voice as a boy, so he resolutely says nothing—which has Tiglis restraining mirth—as they hurry, as briskly as will attract no attention, straight to the Merchants' Quarter, circling Market Square, and thence straight to Saradakh. His walk is convincingly different, with none of the dancer-like prowess and ever-present lethality, but Tiglis must frequently remind him when he forgets and resorts to comfortable habit.
When they get to the eastern side of Saradakh, they blend in with those few on the streets. Saradakh is large and populous enough that nobody, not even Zerris, claims to know all its inhabitants.
They hurry past Tiglis's rooms, turning up another street, then on before sheltering in a doorway.
"Melech's men," Tiglis says shortly. "I saw nobody likely to be any of Kedar's associates."
Kalle nods. "How much time do you need?"
"Fifteen minutes. Draw them off, and I will pack two bags, leaving one in the closet upstairs, in my room. You will see which one. I will leave the door to the courtyard open. Circle back, collect the bag, and meet me at your house. Latch all the doors after you."
"Devils and Demons, I do not like having to split again like this. If there are more watchers?"
"Are you so bloodthirsty you are hoping for a fight? If there are more watchers, dissuade them!"
Kalle throws her a flamboyant salute.
They slip back towards Tiglis's house like ghosts.
Kalle pulls the scarf off his head and wraps it about his waist as a sash instead, shifts the knife at his belt and adds another, short knife he has been keeping concealed, then steps out as the cocky, dangerous, short-tempered Kalle once more.
He hurries openly past Zerris's rooms, eyes intently forward.
Melech's men, lurking in what they no doubt think is an unobtrusive fashion, spring out behind him.
Kalle picks up his feet, gradually enough to avoid attracting attention from unobservant men. Melech's men run after him.
Tiglis hurries out of hiding to Zerris's door, knocks rapidly, glances around as anyone might while waiting for a door to be opened, then is inside in the blink of an eye, her management of the key and the lock so adroit as to be entirely invisible.
She wastes no time in retrieving her last small boxes of jewellery and putting together two bundles of clothes. One is mostly Zerris's clothes, for her to take should the change be necessary before they leave Molos; one of Tiglis's, to leave for Kalle to fetch. But she puts one set of her robes in the bag she will take out.
There is no expression on her face as she takes one final look around before dousing the lantern and unlocking the courtyard door for Kalle.
A knock sounds downstairs.
Tiglis is down the staircase and against the wall next to the door, a knife in either hand, as quickly as breathing.
The knock sounds again.
"Zerris! Kedar sends greetings!"
Tiglis snarls. She cannot take the chance that she was not observed entering at all, that no noise she might have made was heard outside, nor that her light was not seen. Kedar's men may know someone is home.
Melech's men would force their way in or depart, perhaps to loiter across the road, to watch once more. But Kedar's men will have patience. If there is no answer, they might squat by the door all the night, whether they think there is someone inside or not. True, she could leave by the courtyard and the rear wall, but there is too much risk while the house is being watched on at least one side.
She uses the handle of one knife to lift the latch and lets the door swing open.
After a brief pause, desert politeness warring with the imperative of whatever their orders may be, two men step cautiously inside.
The second one proves difficult to kill, and leaves Tiglis with a sore left wrist and a limp from a bruise on her previously uninjured thigh.
She restores her clothing while snarling imprecations at having both legs now injured. Then she hauls the bodies to one side, arranges them neatly so Kalle will know that she is still healthy, and takes the contents of their money pouches, and their knives.
There is nobody else outside, nor anybody who appears to be watching the building.
She hurries away without detecting any watchers, although she begins to imagine them in every shadow.
She is almost sweating as she leaves Saradakh and skirts the outside of the Merchants' Quarter. She sees men she knows to be Melech's, and even some of Kedar's, but detects nobody watching her.
Long experience and discipline means she does not act terrified, or hurry her pace, or in any way attract attention.
She automatically dodges groups of people, and, once, a patrol of guards.
In the Artisans' Q
uarter, there are fewer people, but she looks no more out of place.
On the street by the wall leading to Kalle’s hideaway, she has to hurry past, then double back twice until the street is clear, by which time her nerves are twanging like sitar strings.
Once inside, she changes her clothes and lights the dark lantern so she can douse the others if she needs to. Then she has little to do but to wait, and to worry about Kalle.
*~*~*
She has not been waiting long before she hears a soft but distinctive knock upon the storehouse's door.
Kalle cracks the door slightly. "Ho! It is me!"
When he slips inside—holding Zerris's second bag casually in front of him as he might a shield—he needs no time to see Tiglis waiting for him.
His eyes widen.
Tiglis raises her hands and twirls, laughing happily, her bare feet dancing over Kalle's rugs. The intricately embroidered, bright-red dress she wears flares up, exposing her calves.
"Gods above," Kalle whispers. "You look..." He trails off.
"Good enough for the Scented Garden?" Tiglis asks with affected innocence as she continues turning more slowly, her arms moving into the gestures of a dance above her head.
"The Scented Garden?" Kalle asks, with equally affected ignorance. "Oh. I told Zerris about that, didn't I? Damn."
Tiglis smiles sweetly at him. "Which he already knew."
"The Devil he did!"
Tiglis drapes her arms over his shoulders. With her in bare feet and him in boots, she must rise onto the balls of her feet to look him directly in the eye. "When Zerris was looking for you, seeking the key, he went to see Kedar. Kedar told Zerris you might not be a man, since Phaere failed to quite catch your attention."
Kalle draws himself up. "I had pledged myself to another," he says haughtily. "Besides, she was too soft for my tastes."
"Hmm, Zerris did tell Kedar that you had most definitely given your attention to at least one lady," Tiglis says. "Kedar asked if such a lady would dance for him."
Kalle raises an eyebrow. "Dance in the Scented Garden? In Saradakh? You or Orianna could dance in much wealthier establishments if you deigned to stoop so low."
Tiglis giggles, presses herself against him, and kisses him softly.
He returns the kiss enthusiastically.
"I have never seen a dress like this," he murmurs, leaning back a little to get a better view.
"Some wear it under their robes," Tiglis says. "Or we wear it at home for only our men to see. You would not have seen such. City styles have copied it sometimes, but there is nothing quite like desert make."
"Or anything quite like desert bred," Kalle murmurs as he takes another kiss, which Tiglis accedes to.
"Was there any trouble?" Tiglis murmurs when at last they separate. When she sees his eyes flicker, she pulls back sharply, the better to glare at him.
"Melech's men did not wish me to evade them. They became forceful. You would think they would have learned something by now. I decided I did not wish to have them scurrying back to Melech so quickly, so I hid their bodies in a rubbish pile. You did a very neat job of the other two—Kedar's men, I take it."
Tiglis scowls, pulling up her dress to show the purpling bruise on her thigh. "I tried to do a neat job, but the second was too quick."
"Curse them!" Kalle cries, dropping to his knees to tenderly kiss the contusion.
Tiglis giggles, then sighs.
Kalle looks up at her, a question in his eyes.
Tiglis sinks to sit cross-legged in front of Kalle, propping her chin on her hands. "Melech and Kedar will both be after Zerris's blood now, and I am no safer. Gods below and Demons above! It is past time I was gone from Molos. When we leave, we will need to be nearly unrecognisable."
Kalle purses his lips. "In my experience, caravan drivers are uncomfortable when guards or paying passengers change their names when outside city walls."
Tiglis snarls. "I can become someone else for the duration of a journey, but it is not my first choice."
"This Alia you mentioned?" Kalle asks.
She shakes her head. "Alia trades love for coin—she is not a fighter and cannot convince anyone she is the sort of fierce woman of the desert who can become a guard."
"I will be yours, then," Kalle says, drawing himself up and placing his hand over his heart. "We will travel together, and I will be—"
He stops abruptly when he sees the full force of the glare Tiglis turns upon him.
"Nobody is my protector," Tiglis spits at him. "I stand on my own feet. No, I will go as Tiglis, but I will go dressed in desert indigo robes. I have some I have never worn in public. They are rarely seen in Molos. Those who keep such an old tradition alive will have little to do with cities or those who are not of the desert. Melech's men will know better than to speak to me, and Kedar's men will be too cautious."
Kalle, chastened, nods in approval. "Why do you say that?" he asks.
Tiglis glares at him. "Say what?"
"'Gods below, Demons above.' I've only ever heard it that way around in Molos."
"Because in the desert, the earth offers shade, coolth, and water. It is the sun that tries to kill you with merciless heat, and the night that tries to freeze you."
"Ha! Of course! But the sun has been gone too long tonight to arrange passage for the morning. We must be at the gates with the first stirring of commerce, and seeking a berth as soon as the caravan masters are at work. There is nothing more we can do tonight, so we can relax. Do not worry about those who seek us futilely out in Molos."
Tiglis eyes him with her head on one side. "And when should I start worrying, sir?"
Kalle shrugs. "When we next must leave this place. But that will not be for many hours."
Tiglis snarls, but nods. She clutches at her head. "So close! I have worked for this for so long, and am now denied the chance to sneak out in my own time! No, those dung-eating shahs want to take it from me!"
Kalle grabs her head between his palms, knocking her hands aside, tilts it up, and kisses her.
For a second, Tiglis tenses, and her fingers curl into claws, then she seizes his torso to return the kiss.
After several seconds, she pulls back abruptly, staring at him.
"We will leave, and we will leave safely," Kalle says. "No dung-eaters will take that away from either of us."
Tiglis barely hears his reassurances. The fact he is here, has helped her and stood beside her and is with her, says far more than his words. The only assurance she is interested in is Kalle himself. She plucks at his jerkin. "Take your clothes off!"
"Your wish is my command, my lady," Kalle says, his cocky grin restored to his lips in full force. "But it may take some time."
"We have time, you said so yourself!"
Tiglis opens Kalle's jerkin easily. He grabs her wrists. She goes very still, eyes instantly guarded, teetering between sudden panic and violent defence, and the realisation that Kalle is only reacting the way she would, and for the same reasons.
"Allow me," he says.
Tiglis returns his open gaze levelly for several heartbeats as she fights down the urge to fight, to try to break his grip and then his wrists, before smiling coquettishly.
She gently pulls her hands back. He releases her. With his jerkin hanging open, she reaches out caressingly to push it off his shoulders.
"Take your boots off first."
"A gentleman always does," he says, bending to his laces.
"A gentleman? I'm not sure I've met any of those."
Tiglis easily shrugs out of her own dress as Kalle divests himself of his weapons before dealing with a combination of his own, familiar clothes, and Zerris's less-familiar garb.
Underneath her dress Tiglis is naked, a sight that distracts Kalle long enough to bring an impatient look to her face and make her hands itch to continue the undressing he has halted.
Tiglis can see Kalle's desire for her in the set of his eyes and in every look he gives her, and sees it as a na
ked emotion with none of his usual masking verbosity and misdirection. He is as entirely focused now as he was in Gabrio's house, but his intent amorous, not lethal. The comparison occurs to her with a thrill, not a warning; his self-control, and the way he behaved the first time she took him, speak too well of his character.
Her last doubts evaporate, leaving only a very specific desire.
When they are both naked, Tiglis lies on her back, inviting Kalle to crouch over her. Their bodies are similar in build and in the tone of their muscles, yet appear little alike.
Tiglis's cock lies hard on her belly. Kalle's droops down to touch it as he leans to kiss her.
Her fingertips rise to stroke Kalle's thighs and hips as his tongue explores her lips. One of his hands trails down her chest, his fingertips finding a nipple. She shivers as he teases it erect.
Tiglis abruptly breaks the kiss and scrabbles among her clothes to retrieve a small bottle of oil.
Kalle's blank look clears as she begins anointing his cock. "Oh! Are you sure?"
Tiglis twists to lie on her front, then smiles back at him over her shoulder as she lifts her hips off the rug, settling her knees apart to brace herself. "I've never been fucked by someone I liked, before."
Kalle bites her shoulder, then kisses the mark as his cock presses between her buttocks.
He enters her slowly, but she takes him easily, biting her lip but making little grunts of pleasure. He does not let himself relax until he is fully inside her, when his entire body shudders in time with a long groan of his own pleasure.
For Tiglis, the sensation is extraordinary. She had not been lying when she said she had never lain with anyone she cared for. Every carnal encounter in her life, while wearing any name or face, has been for coin or advantage. She is no stranger to desire, but has always kept it carefully private. The arousal she has felt with others has been mechanical—desire of the flesh, not of the soul. It had made those moments easier, and even helped build a career for Alia and Fath, but she has always stood emotionally apart, if not actively contemptuous of her partners.
There is no remoteness now, no contempt, and considerable arousal in body and soul both.