“Then what happened?” He asked after her sobs abated to a degree.
“Legionnaires found us. The other girls ran, and I broke the little bitch's nose, that's what,” Eliel said with strange laughing sob.
Thorel let out a sigh of relief. “What did the Legionnaires do?”
“That's between me and stoned bitch,” Eliel said firmly, her crying done. She let go of him with a look of rage on her face and drank more of her wine.
“I hope they punished her for this,” he said sincerely, sitting on the bed and taking his glass.
“Oh yeah, they punished her alright. Fucking bastards,” she refilled her glass again.
“What do you mean?” Thorel asked, confused. What could they have done to make her so angry? Didn't she hate the woman?
“It doesn't matter, you wouldn't understand,” Eliel said sadly.
“I can try,” Thorel said looking at her.
“It is what it is. There's nothing to do now, and it's between me and her,” she said.
Thorel wanted the answer, but he could tell that prying wouldn't help. “Well, I think I might be able to help you at least. Come here.”
Eliel eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
“I think I can heal that wound for you. I'd like to try at least,” He said.
“If you can do that, I'll let you put a baby in me, man.” She laughed hoarsely.
“I'm not ready to be a father yet, Eliel, but I do want to help if I can,” Thorel took a drink.
“Just my luck. The only man I want to fuck doesn't want me,” she drained her glass and set it on the stand.
Thorel felt a bit frustrated. “Eliel, I like you, I'm just not ready to be a father.”
Eliel sighed. “What I like about you is what's frustrating me now. You're a good man, Thorel. So what do you need me to do?”
He wasn't sure how to answer that, so instead he said: “Just come here, please.”
Eliel walked over with irritation plain on her face and knelt in front of him. “How's this?”
“Perfect,” Thorel put his hands on her head and drew power from the Lamb: It just felt right. The little Lambs apparition leaped onto his arm and began licking Eliel's wound. The wound started closing almost immediately.
Eliel's face scrunched up. “That tickles man.”
“Sorry, I'm almost done,” Thorel concentrated on healing the wound and took care of the partly healed bruise from the guard while he was at it. That was a lot easier than trying to make a shield; he found this didn't even tire him.
“Ok,” Eliel giggled with her face still scrunched almost comically.
“There,” Thorel said and brushed the scab from her forehead that was now completely healed.
Eliel touched her forehead gingerly, then more firmly. “You healed it! I can't believe it!”
Thorel just smiled. “I didn't think it would be so easy; some things I've learned are so hard.”
Eliel stood on her knees and pulled him to her. She kissed him hard, and long. He returned the kiss after a moment of confusion and embraced her.
“I love you, man. I want to have your babies,” Eliel said looking into his eyes.
“I wouldn't mind that. Just not yet, ok?” Thorel said looking into her big beautiful green eyes.
“Ok,” she said and snuggled into his chest.
* * *
Ari handed her bag and coat to one of her guards when she exited the tower. The sunshine invigorated Ari; she nearly skipped away in her black dress. She giggled in forgotten delight: she hadn't felt so light in years. Rema's words and Ricard's actions had only strengthened her resolve.
While she had laid down waiting for sleep to come last night, she had decided that Thorel belonged to her. She was going to give him her love today. She would pull him to her and kiss him. Almost involuntarily, she skipped at that thought. It felt different from the way it had when she was a child because of her boots though.
Several of the students and guards looked at her oddly. She could forgive them that: and unless they were extremely disrespectful she might not even beat them if they forgot themselves.
Ari came to the door of the house. “Mistress,” the guardsman nodded to her with a look of surprise at her broad smile.
“Hello!” Ari said cheerfully and entered.
“Wait here,” she told her guards with a smile. “I may be awhile. Enjoy yourselves.”
“Yes Mistress!” Silene, the new head of her personal guard, saluted.
Ari walked upstairs slowly, giving herself time to think about how she was going to tell him. Just a declaration of love? No, that would be too forward.
Maybe she should tell him that he would have to serve her in her bedroom now. Where the hell did that come from? She wondered. She giggled at how silly that was.
No keep it simple and honest like Siri said. You make me so happy, I didn't even know what happiness was before I met you. That was perfect.
Ari reached the third-floor landing and could hear a woman's voice faintly. No one was in the sitting room. Then she heard Thorel's deep voice saying something: they must be in his room. Ari softened her steps to be quieter. Who is that? And what is she doing with him?
Ari crept to the door and peeked through the opening: it wasn't closed completely.
Ari saw the red haired girl that she had met with Thorel. She stood on her knees while they kissed. Thorel wrapped his arms around this woman while Ari's heart broke, and her tears started falling. She gripped her dagger so hard her hand started numbing.
I only have to kill her now, and he will be mine! She thought viciously. She drew her blade and shoved it back into the sheath. I cannot have the blood of murder on my hands. If I do, I will lose everything, including him.
“I love you, man. I want to have your babies,” the woman said looking into his eyes.
Ari let go of her dagger and staggered away from the door, in more pain than her stepmother had ever inflicted upon her. She invoked Magikal silence upon herself and screamed at the top of her lungs, unheard. She clawed at her right eye, trying to erase the image of Thorel kissing that woman. She could feel the blood and liquid running down her face: it paled next to the horrible pain in her heart though.
She staggered down the stairs. “Mistress!” The maid cried when Ari saw her.
She activated her bracelets of speed and strength, grabbed the woman by the throat and picked her up. The woman couldn't even squeak. Her personal guard and the other two guards present jumped up: With a gesture Ari evoked silence on them all. No sounds came forth when they moved their mouths.
Ari dropped the woman and looked at them with her left eye while the blood ran down her face from the other.
“I was not here tonight. If anyone speaks of this; kill them,” she released the silence. The maid choked and wept while Ari's tears still flowed.
“Yes Mistress,” all the Guards present replied with concern and confusion.
* * *
Siri rushed down the spiral staircase into the stables taking three steps at a time. The Mistress's message was extremely odd. Siri, I need you. I'm in the stables. Please come to me. Please. The Mistress had never said 'please' to her since she'd known her. She knew something had to be terribly wrong.
She reached Her Mistress's armored carriage. She slowed herself to a more dignified pace and approached Silene.
“Commander, is the Mistress still inside?” She asked tersely.
“Yes ma'am,” Silene saluted. “She is injured and refuses to come out. I don't know what happened, she won't say.”
“When did this happen?” Siri asked, holding her case under her left arm.
“I cannot say, by the Mistress's command,” she said resolutely.
“I am a seventh tier Master of the arts Commander. If you won't answer, I will kill you and ask another,” Siri said coldly and watched her eyes. She knew she would see her decision in them before the woman could act on it.
She saw the surrender in Silene's e
yes. “We went to the house on the Academy grounds ma'am. The Mistress went upstairs alone and came back down in less than five minutes. That was when I saw her injury ma'am. She was very angry and choked the maid that cried out. She used her Magik to silence us and commanded all of us to not speak of the fact that she was there at all, ma'am,” she reported succinctly.
Siri didn't like this one bit. If that Tangarth has hurt her, she would feed him feet first into a steam powered composter. Siri pulled a speaking stone from her pouch and spoke: “Yagi, go to the Mistress's house on the Academy grounds and set up surveillance there. Do not be seen.”
“As you command, Mistress,” The thin voice replied. If time were not critical, she would never have contacted one of her sworn people in front of another. But she had no time now.
Siri took a deep breath to steady herself and stepped up into the carriage.
She saw her Mistress laying on the floor of the dark carriage, with blood crusting on her face. The only sounds she heard was her ragged breathing and weeping.
Siri stepped to her quickly and knelt, taking her hand. “Mistress, I'm here. What happened?” She placed her case on the floor.
“Siri..,” Her Mistress looked up at her, and she could see her ruined right eye: her eyelid had been torn in half, and deep bloody gouges were above and below it. Her hair had been over her face and was stuck in the coagulated blood. “I lost him. I'm such a fool; you were right, I'm so foolish!” She wept.
Tangarth. She thought angrily. “What did he do?” Siri asked, letting her anger to the surface. The Mistress was the closest thing she would ever have to a daughter. She couldn't stop her stepmother's abuse, but she had at least been able to lessen it to a degree. The Mistress would never know how she had worked within her vows to House Dothranan to diminish it. But she didn't have to. She didn't do it for Ari's thanks; she had done what she could because it was right.
“He was kissing another woman!” Ari wailed. She pulled herself up onto Siri's lap and wept inconsolably.
Siri now understood her Mistress's anguish. “How were you wounded, Mistress?”
“What wounds? I want that bitch dead! Kill her for me, just like you killed those men, please?” Ari sobbed.
Siri was worried. What wounds? The Mistress's mind was clearly breaking. Marilyn Dothranan had trained her too well to ignore agonizing wounds that would fell most men instantly.
She knew very well her Mistress had murdered Marylyn Dothranan. She was proud of her, proud of this woman for not only being able to kill arguably the most skilled battlemage in the realm, but for getting away with it. Siri could have done the same, but she'd had years of practice and training in such things. This young woman, without the benefit of that knowledge, training and experience had done it herself. Without giving the slightest clue to anyone that it was about to happen.
Marylyn Dothranan had been a cruel and vicious woman, but she would never have been stupid enough to kill Arayan Dothranan in front of witnesses. She would have had me do it. And the timing of slave master Cirrus's murder, the only witness was too perfect. The only question unanswered is how was she able to lie to the Council Master that investigated her stepmother's death? Siri didn't want to know. The less she knew, the better.
“She has red hair. Like my step-bitch. She told him she wanted to have his babies!” Ari wept.
“Mistress, we can discuss this once your wounds are tended. I promise we will devise a fitting punishment for her,” Siri said more calmly than she felt.
“We can burn her!” Ari's mutilated face gleamed with disturbing ecstasy. She sat up and looked at her. “We can put hooks in her flesh and tie them to dogs! They'll flee the flames!” Her eye lit up.
Siri couldn't help but smile at Ari's vicious imagination. Whether her Mistress would admit it or not, she was very much her stepmother's daughter. “Yes, we can. But first, you need to heal your wounds, Mistress. Then we can take a bath and talk about it, alright?”
“Wounds?” Ari said in confusion.
Siri sighed. “Here, Mistress,” she poked her right under the eye with her finger.
“Ow!” Ari exclaimed.
Siri smiled sadly. “I didn't mean to hurt you, Mistress,” she embraced Ari tightly.
“I remember now. I tried to take my eye out... I didn't want to see him with her anymore,” Ari said quietly.
“Did it help, Mistress?” Siri asked.
“No.”
Ari embraced Siri, and they held each other for a time in the carriage. And Siri thought: This half broken woman is my best hope. The only hope that no other women will have to suffer what we have.
Wednesday May 15th 1624th year of the First Great City
Observation
Ari sat with Siri after dinner in her office on the fifth floor. She was fully healed and calm after a long talk in the baths and the passage of time. They watched the images in the crystal intently. It was always distracting for Ari to watch the images from a record stone played back in a viewing stone. She could see her spirits reflected in the crystal. A reflection in crystal was the only way for a person without the sight ever to see a spirit.
Ari wondered suddenly: if those without the sight could see a spirit reflected in crystal, maybe she could see Thorel's animal spirits reflected the same way! She felt truly foolish for not having considered this before now. She would wait until she had dealt with this poacher named Eliel Kwinn though.
They watched yesterday’s surveillance records. Siri used the viewing stone to speed over the parts where this woman was in class.
Ari yawned and took a drink of her wine. “This is boring,” She said lazily.
Siri smiled. “It is, Mistress. Imagine how bored my people must get filling these stones.”
Ari smiled back. “I hope they are well paid.”
“Oh yes. Have you ever read my Oath of Service, and the attached contract, Mistress?” Siri asked.
“No, I haven't, Siri. Should I?” Ari wondered out loud.
“I would recommend that you do so sometime, Mistress. I wrote it myself when your stepmother approached me. It is not standard. It accounts for the pay of my people as well,” Siri said quietly.
“Siri, who are your shadows? I mean I don't need to know their names, but where did they come from? Why do they follow you?” Ari asked, insatiably curious on this point.
“It is good you didn't ask me their names, as doing so would be a violation of the contract between us, Mistress,” Siri smiled watching the images flow by.
“Really? I guess I should read that sooner rather than later,” she laughed.
“To put it simply Mistress, they are the few men and women that swore to me when the King dissolved my house,” she said with a hint of anger.
Ari frowned. “I am sorry, Siri. I know you don't like talking about that.”
“Nor would you, if you had seen Legionnaires come in force to seize all of your lands and assets, Mistress,” she said bitterly.
Ari frowned while watching the images. “Stop, go back,”
Siri spooled the images backward. “There. I saw them yesterday, on Monday’s surveillance. Who are they?” She pointed to the frozen image of four women: one was small and used a walking staff.
“I don't know Mistress. But I think they may be watching our target as well,” Siri said scrolling forward again.
“Find out who they are, and what they are doing,” Ari ordered.
“Yes Mistress,” Siri said as she pulled a stone from her pouch.
Thursday May 16th 1624th year of the First Great City
Contract
Eliel sat at the bar in the tavern. She watched the patrons coming in and sized then up as they did. Men with a woman she left alone. Single men were her targets. There was another whore here named Moreen. She was older than Eliel was, but she was still pretty. They discussed it over a drink: whoever got to them first would leave the other to it.
Moreen was speaking with a well-dressed man. They seemed to b
e having a fair conversation. Maybe she had scored. Good for her, he had money. He likely worked for the nobility of Vallad by Eliel's estimation. Moreen walked with the man back to the end of the bar where she was seated.
Eliel wondered why they weren't talking to the owner now so they could get a room for an hour. Then she realized, if he has this much money, maybe he's looking for two woman to satisfy him. Hah! This one must fancy himself a real lover! Eliel thought with a smile.
“Thank you ma'am,” the middle-aged plain looking man said to Moreen. He had brown hair and was of average height. He placed a copper mark in her hand. “It's a pleasure, Milord,” Moreen said with a curtsy. Eliel saw Moreen give her a questioning look when he turned his attention to her though.
What was that look for? Eliel wondered for a moment: then he spoke to her. “Ma'am, could we speak privately?” He asked her.
Eliel was not prepared for that question. But she was able to swing with it. “Of course, Milord,” she smiled prettily as he offered her his arm.
She followed him to a corner table. He pulled a chair out for her, and she sat delicately, not liking the fact that he was behind her. That felt a more than a little strange to her: he was treating her as if she were a Lady or something. Some customers acted this way of course, but she could always feel that they were just putting on airs to make themselves feel superior. When this man did it, it felt natural somehow.
He stopped a barmaid and said: “I'd like a glass of your best year Dothranan, please. And whatever my lady friend would like,” he nodded to her.
“Milord, I'm afraid we don't have any Dothranan wine here. There are some other wine choices though,” she replied nervously.
“Very well, whatever wine you would call your best then. But no Quarrel, please. I find it to be too bitter,” he said without offense.
“I'd like an ale, please,” Eliel told the barmaid.
“Of course. I'll be right back,” she smiled and ran off to her next table demanding attention.
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 26