The wounded man's sword bounced with a clang into the alley and landed near the stunned pair.
“Pursue that thing!” The woman yelled to the two men with her.
“Yes, Ma'am!” They saluted and ran down the street.
She pointed the light downward and spoke into the other end. “We've found a Kryss here. My men are pursuing, one man's dead. It's heading east on the rooftops between Vacor Street and Turland lane.”
“Understood. We're sending reinforcements,” came a thin voice from the rod.
“He isn't dead ma'am! Look!” Nigel pointed to the wounded man who was starting to regain his senses. They could see the bone through the wound on his face. Thorel caught the nearby wall quickly as his stomach revolted again at the sight.
She sheathed her long blade and pulled a short sword quickly from her right side. She stood and pointed it at them, keeping her attention on both them and her fallen comrade.
“Are you hurt?!? Did it spit on you?” She demanded.
“No Ma'am,” Thorel said holding himself steady on the alley wall.
“No Ma'am,” Nigel said with a sickness twisting his stomach now.
“Aah!” The wounded man wailed pitifully.
She sheathed her light. “Run home quickly, it isn't safe,” she said, removing her comrade's helmet.
They stood looking dumbfounded.
“GO NOW!” She commanded taking his hair into her mailed hand.
At the fierceness in her voice, they bolted quickly.
Then they heard the huge speaking stones on top of the towers scattered throughout Vallad activate with a crackle.
“Attention citizens. A Kryss has been sighted in the southeastern octet. Seek shelter and lock your doors. Anyone hiding their faces will be killed on sight. East Vallad is being sealed,” the message repeated, and bells began tolling.
They fell in with other panicking citizens and ran directly towards Central Vallad. On their way, they heard four distant thunderclaps, which just quickened their pace.
Friday May 3rd 1624th year of the First Great City
The Banquet
Thorel was happy when the instructor of his first class announced that the Kryss had been caught and killed last night. It had been the most frightening experience of his life, and this knowledge made the rest of his day go much more smoothly despite the weakness he felt from drinking too much last night.
Thorel came out of his last class of the day and saw the tall, regal figure of Ari Dothranan holding an umbrella to shield her from the downpour. Most of the students took the time to avoid getting near her. Those who couldn't, bowed or curtsied quickly before moving along. Her eyes fell on those who did briefly, but she did not acknowledge them.
Her four guards were being rained on, but that did nothing to detract from the feeling of deadly competence emanating from them. Or their strict attention to everything around them.
“Have you made your decision?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to the downpour. Thorel noted one of the spirits he had seen before was gone, and that two others had been added.
He was surprised that she had come to him like this, and asked for his answer. Thorel took a deep breath, and answered. “I have, Milady. I will swear to your house.”
“Good. Come with me,” Ari said, her eyes lighting almost pleasantly.
“My friends are waiting for me, Milady. What would you have me do?” Thorel asked, shielding his books from the downpour with his body.
“Tell them you have duties,” she replied in a serious tone.
“Very well,” Thorel said. “If you'll follow me, Milady?”
“Of course,” she said and fell in behind him with her guards as he began heading to the rendezvous with Nigel and Eliel.
* * *
Thorel led the Great Lady and her guards to the tree behind the Master's office. His jacket was nearly soaked through by the time he arrived.
Nigel and Eliel looked almost as surprised at his arrival with the Great Lady as he had felt when she was waiting outside his classroom.
“I'm sorry, but I have duties to perform,” Thorel said to Nigel and Eliel, as he came under the shield of the tree's canopy.
“I'm sure you do,” Eliel replied coldly. She looked at Ari unpleasantly as she curtsied to the Great Lady properly. “Milady,” she said almost belatedly.
Thorel looked at her in surprise; this was not at all like what he had seen of her. She hadn't said she disliked her when he'd told them about the Great Ladies offer. And while her address had been proper, the timing was notable, even to him. He waited apprehensively for the Great Lady's response.
“I'll go with you man, maybe I can help you get it done! By your leave, Milady,” Nigel said with a bow into the uncomfortable silence.
“We welcome visitors,” Mistress Dothranan said without feeling. She seemed to ignore Eliel's slight. Thorel was beyond relieved; he didn't want to see Eliel get hurt even though she had chosen to be disrespectful.
“Come with me,” she said quietly, holding her umbrella.
“I have work to do,” Eliel curtsied and asked, “By your leave, Milady?”
“Of course,” Ari nodded with a discerning look that seemed to note her specifically. Thorel didn't like that look. The Great Lady may have let her slight pass, but she obviously noticed, and intended to remember it.
Eliel removed herself quickly. She lifted her dress, and ran through the rain without a word.
Thorel and Nigel both called their goodbyes and safe wishes.
Eliel ignored them completely.
“This way,” the Great Lady said, and started walking towards the Academy's gates.
Thorel followed her, wondering what just happened with Eliel.
* * *
Thorel had never been in a carriage so large. Her four guards stood dripping with wetness, two by each door. He and Nigel sat together on the soft-cushioned bench on the front side, the water from their clothes soaking into towels her guards had placed on it.
Mistress Dothranan sat nearly three yards away on the opposite cushioned bench. The benches were almost long enough for Thorel to lay down comfortably. It was longer than his bunk in the Academy dorm.
Ari Dothranan sat with her hands in her lap and her exceptionally long legs crossed. She looked at them without expression. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her black clothing. Thorel noticed black lace poking out from the end of her sleeves, with matching lace coming from beneath the coat.
Nigel shifted uncomfortably, wet but not soaked like Thorel was.
Thorel looked back at her but avoided the gaze of the woman's spirit beside her. It chilled him more than all the others together.
“Do you have skills to offer my house?” The Great Lady asked looking at Nigel.
“Um, well Milady, I'm going to take the culinary course at the Academy, but honestly I can already out-cook most chefs I've sampled,” Nigel replied nervously.
Thorel had no idea that was Nigel's path. He'd obviously been too preoccupied with enjoying his company, it hadn't come up.
“Indeed. I will consider your service if you wish to offer it. I have grown tired of the chef who serves me now,” she said flatly.
“I would be happy to make a meal for you, Milady,” Nigel bowed his head respectfully.
“Very well. Tonight I cannot sample it, as there is a banquet for the wake planned. I also have a meeting with the guild masters of my Hold,” she told them.
“Of course, Milady,” Nigel said, surprised she would even consider it.
“Wake, Milady?” Thorel asked, curious.
“There was an incident last night. Some of my holders lost their lives, and it is my duty to recognize their service and console the grieving,” Great Lady Dothranan said without any hint of emotion. She sat there even with the slight bumps of the carriage rolling along nearly as still as a statue.
“I'm sorry, Milady,” Thorel said sincerely. “May I ask what happened?”
“You ma
y both attend if you wish. Learn what you will, but you do not serve me yet,” she said seriously.
“Of course, Milady,” Thorel replied. Nigel nodded in agreement with Thorel.
“The weekend is here. Since you will have two days off from the Academy, I will teach you what you have missed in your first three days of the Apprentice's curriculum,” Ari said to Thorel.
“You can do that, Milady?” He was surprised; wasn't she just an apprentice herself?
“Yes, I acquired the lesson plans of the teachers so I could do so more easily. Master Rema recognizes my ability in such simple matters,” she stated dryly, not having shifted a muscle the entire time.
“I am honored, Milady,” Thorel couldn't think of anything else to say to that.
“If you cannot fathom my instruction to my satisfaction, I will not accept you,” Ari said with a look at Thorel.
“I will do my best, Milady,” Thorel said seriously.
“If you did less, I would punish you for wasting my time,” the Great Lady Dothranan replied icily.
The remainder of the ride was very quiet after that.
* * *
The carriage came to a stop, and the guards opened the doors and exited. They called out: “Clear!” On both sides before the Great Lady stood gracefully. She looked at them and gestured to the right. They got up to disembark quickly at her silent command.
They were not prepared for the spectacle that awaited them. The one-hundred-twenty mounted guard of the Great Lady's escort were dismounting and handing their steeds off to stable hands. There were so many stalls that they could see; they couldn't count them all. They couldn't even see the other side of the stone pillared room. Slaves cleaned stalls with water hoses and pitched used straw into carts. Other carts had fresh bales that were being tossed into clean stalls, with more slaves following to unpack them and lay it out for the horses.
A tall, slender bald woman with two guards and another attending her greeted the Great Lady. She was not as tall as the Great Lady, but still taller than most women. She wore a gauzy sleeveless white dress with white clothes underneath covering her womanly parts. Her muscles were well defined; Thorel had never seen anyone with muscles so defined, let alone a woman.
Her eyes fell upon them only briefly, noting them. “Mistress. All is ready for the banquet. I have your speech here,” handing Ari a paper.
“I will study it while I change. Have appropriate clothing found for these men; they will also be attending. Tell her your names,” the Great Lady said.
“I am Thorel Tangarth, ma'am,” Thorel replied.
“I'm Nigel Riks, ma'am,” Nigel responded.
“Spell them, please,” they did so. The bald woman quickly noted their names on a parchment that was covered with other notes on the wooden case she cradled in one arm. “I am Siri Fenel. You may address me by name or ma'am,” she said calmly.
“Yes ma'am,” they said together. They were of a mind that it was better to go to with more respect. The woman had a bearing about her that demanded no less.
Great Lady Dothranan walked away without a word, her guards falling into their positions precisely.
Siri said, “Walk with me, I will take you to the household staff. They will see to your needs.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Thorel said as they fell into step with her.
* * *
Eliel said her lines, to please her customer.
He pounded her with what little manhood he possessed, and she said, “Oh, Milord! Have a care! You're so big!” She used the moans and cries she'd learned over the years to make these men happy.
She made enough money, but she wasn't going to be young forever. She'd made ten times on her first as she was making now. And she knew well what her mother makes.
She wished she had more women as regulars. They usually at least liked a kiss and a cuddle first. She could please women, but didn't like them the way she liked the rare gentle man that took her seriously. It was unfortunate she didn't see their kind more often.
But by the spirits, she'd done it. She'd made it into the Academy. But she just hadn't expected the steep fine the Headmaster had put on her for smacking that bitch. Okay, she had used a rock, it wasn't her fault the dumb cunt wasn't smart enough to use one, too. Eliel knew every girl who likes boys would be after him. She did it right then to lay her claim solidly. Fuck the rest of those bitches.
But it only took one night in the woman's dorm to tell her she couldn't stay there. Guards or no, they couldn't protect her. There were at least a dozen women as interested as she was, and she was their obstacle. She knew it was likely they would gang up on her, and then settle things among themselves. She'd even seen one of them tailing her at the pub.
“Oh yes! Oh, Milord!” She cried, grinding him specifically to finish him off. She was so sick of this life. This one liked to play the rape game. He'd hold her down and cut her dress open, but pay her twice what it cost. He liked her to struggle and then accept him. Easy. She'd done it enough, he wasn't the only one who liked this play.
Sick fucking bastard. She reviled inwardly. Thorel would be gentle, I would matter to him. She thought.
He finished inside of her, as she'd intended. Her charge doubled if they did so, to cover the cost of the medicine needed if their seed caught. She still came out ahead, either way. Not like she hadn't done it before.
She clung to him and whispered the obligatory honorifics in his ear, grinding his rapidly shrinking manhood until it simply fell out.
“You're the best,” he said quietly. “I would marry you if you would have me,” the older man said quietly.
“Then I'd be out of a job, Milord,” she whispered.
“I would take care of you, forever,” he said breathlessly.
“I'll consider it, Milord,” she said automatically. She rubbed his chest lightly.
He started dressing himself. Eliel lay there nude, looking up at him like he was her world, her big green eyes wearing look of vacuous adoration. One hand was touching the dagger's hilt under her pillow.
He put his two silver marks down without complaint and added a silver coin as a tip. “Please consider seriously. I will see you again, either way. I would not be without you.”
“I will Milord,” the often told lie came to her easily. She'd only received one-hundred some such proposals.
He left, and she was left alone with her thoughts. She used a hand towel to wipe herself, and then tossed it away angrily.
Her thoughts turned to the Great Lady. She hadn't realized when Thorel had told them about her offer that she was a young, strikingly beautiful woman. She'd imagined an older woman that sought his service, not one that was of an age with them.
I can't compete with her at all. I have nothing to offer him, compared to her, Eliel thought helplessly.
Lady or no, she would want him if she liked men. He was just too handsome. She was even nearly of a height with him! Eliel had never seen a woman that was so tall in her life.
She knew her law well enough, and she'd asked around about House Dothranan tonight. The woman was unmarried. If he had the Wizards potential, it was an obvious match.
By the spirits, she is beautiful, she thought. Eliel felt ugly next to her. She could hardly bear looking at her. It had taken all of her will to keep from running away. The bitch didn't even wear makeup and still bested her easily.
Beauty, money, and power, or me? She knew where that went, she lost every time.
She pulled the sharp dagger from under her pillow and looked at it. For a moment, she considered giving up. She knew how to end this.
He hasn't committed to her. He isn't worth killing or dying for. She thought. She felt like a fool for even letting such an unworthy thought cross her mind.
But she curled into her pillow with her dagger and wept anyway.
* * *
Thorel and Nigel stood in the fine clothing that had been provided for them. The household staff had altered a shirt right there for Thorel, ev
en though he insisted it was fine the way it was. The only shirts he ever had that fit right were ones made by Korin's wife, Laren. He was just too big for ones made for general sale. He was used to that. The seamstress would hear none of it though. “It'll fit properly when I'm done. I'll not displease the Mistress on your account sir,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
The size of this place was mind-boggling though. They had been seen by the seamstresses of household staff on the tenth floor, and then a maid took them by lift to the nineteenth floor.
At the maid's direction, they fell in with slaves that were being escorted under guard to the banquet hall. The men and women they walked with were unmarked and attractive. They wore simple, well-made clothing. The Sigil of House Dothranan was engraved upon the collars they wore on their necks. Thorel had never been this close to a slave before. The way they were regarded legally, he'd always thought that they wouldn't be just people. For some reason, he'd thought that they would obviously be inferior to commoners like himself.
But without that collar, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between these people and any other.
They entered the huge dining hall, which was easily four times the size of the meal room at the Academy. Only a quarter of it was occupied at the moment though. Thorel guessed it could seat a thousand people.
A guardsman walked up to them when they entered with the slaves. He looked to be only a few years older than they were, wearing armor with the Dothranan sigil engraved upon it. He had a long blade and a short sword worn in the Legion fashion on his hips.
The armor looked like any male Legionnaire's armor; it was a half-plate with a solid breastplate and pauldrons covering his shoulders. He had plates strapped to his forearms, biceps, thighs and shins. Between those plates was the flexible chain mail. He'd read about Nobles in suits of hard full-plate armor in stories, and asked Korin about it. Korin told him that the only place he'd ever seen such armor was in a museum, that it wasn't practical because of expense and how much it restricted the men that wore it. He told him he wouldn't be surprised if some Nobles still had such suits for themselves, but he'd never seen one in use.
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 10