One point was clear, though. It was mages, it seemed, who claimed the power of distinguishing truth from falsity, although many could only do so hazily or sporadically, I wasn’t quite sure which. I threw Mal a quick glance, but his head was down, studiously examining his fingernails. He wasn’t a mage. How, then, did he claim such an ability? I could make no sense of it.
Gret was fired with enthusiasm for the idea of invoking the Drashon’s power, and wanted to leave for Bennamore at once. Even Losh blanched at the idea of travelling at night during darkmoon. I left them arguing over it. The fog was returning to my head, and I needed to get away.
I went to my room and undressed ready for bed, but I couldn’t begin to think about sleep. I sat on the window-seat, chin resting on my knees, trying to make sense of what I felt. Every part of my body was wrapped in an aching glow. When I closed my eyes, all I was aware of was Ish’s hands around my face, his lips on mine, his beard brushing my cheeks with the airiness of silk sheets.
I couldn’t understand it. I’d never felt like this when we were married, so why would I react so strongly now? What I felt was not love. I knew exactly what that felt like and my anger still kept it suppressed. This was something more physical, more primitive. I wanted him in my arms, in my bed, inside me.
After some time, Mal came upstairs and passed through to his room.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and of course I told him I was. I may even have smiled, I can’t tell. But I wasn’t all right, nothing like it. I heard him moving around in his little room as he undressed, the creak of the bed. Then silence.
I prowled around the room, willing myself to calmness, but I only had one thought in my head. I needed a man, and there was my husband right next door. He’d proved he was willing after the moon feast, but what would he think of me if I turned to him now, after rejecting him only a half moon ago?
I didn’t care. I had to assuage this overpowering need.
A few quick steps across the room, then a brisk tap on his door. No answer. I went in. The room was in darkness, but there was enough light from the door to make out the low bed. He was curled up on his side facing the wall, showing no sign he was aware of me.
“Mal? Are you awake?”
“Yes.” Still no movement.
This was difficult. No point prevaricating. I sat down on the floor beside the bed, hands resting demurely in my lap. “I’d like to ask a favour of you.”
He rolled over onto his back then, flopping one arm across his eyes. “Fen, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Sorry.”
“Is the house on fire?”
“No.”
“The Six Serpents rampaging through the streets?”
“Seven Serpents, and no.”
“Are we at war?”
“No.”
He lifted his arm from one eye to look at me enquiringly. “Can it possibly wait until morning?”
Deep breath. “Will you come to my bed? Please?”
Now both eyes gazed at me. “If you expect me to cuddle you chastely while you talk about your lover at the Hold…”
“Goddess, Mal! I’m asking you to fuck me!”
The eyes widened. In one smooth movement the blankets were tossed aside and he sat up. “Kiss me, then.”
So I did. I kissed him with all the ludicrous passion that had been boiling in me the whole day, kissed him hard enough to wipe Ish from my mind altogether. Mal needed no second invitation. In an instant, we were pulling at clothes and pawing each other like animals, all the while trying to keep our lips clamped together. When my nightgown was finally tossed to the floor he pulled me to him with a groan of anticipation.
We didn’t make it to the bed. We’d barely got through the door into my room when he picked me up, and pushed me against the wall, slamming himself into me with such glorious energy that I think I screamed. Then there was nothing but that surging tide of pleasure. The moment of release was magnificent.
I’d assumed he would take himself back to his own room, but I was wrong. Without a word he carried me across to the bed, and solemnly began all over again, slowly, gently, carefully. I didn’t mind. I liked the intense way he applied himself to his work, moving methodically all the way up and down and around my body, finding any number of interesting corners. Who would have thought earlobes could be so sensitive? Or that after such an overwhelming experience the first time round, he could bring me to the exact same point again?
He was an irritating man, my husband, when he leered and teased and flirted and preened, but in bed he was quite tolerable. More than tolerable.
I slept well that night. I half woke in the early dawn to noises below the window, bangs and voices shouting and horses’ hooves and wagon wheels. Gret leaving. Then quiet fell, and I slept again.
Mal was still fast asleep when I woke again. Unlike the previous time we’d slept together, the girl had already been in to build up the fire and set a pot of brew to heat. She wasn’t the brightest girl I’d ever encountered, but even she must have drawn conclusions from the trail of discarded clothing and two inert shapes in the bed. By now the interesting news that the mage guard was finally bedding his wife would be all round the kitchen.
I wasn’t sure whether I minded or not. I’d never much cared what the servants thought of me, so long as they fetched and carried and attended to my needs. Still, it made me look stupid, after making so much fuss about Mal not touching me. I had an uneasy feeling, too, that I’d been quite noisy the night before. If I were honest, I’d probably been yowling like a cat. Even without the girl catching us in bed, there was no possibility of secrecy.
Yet I didn’t want to give Mal complete freedom to make use of my body. Much as I’d enjoyed his endeavours, I still valued my privacy. Besides, we were only married to comply with the law, there were no obligations or rights on either side.
Fortunately I didn’t have to argue the point with him.
When he eventually surfaced and got his thoughts straight, he looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “I suppose you’re going to say that doesn’t change anything, aren’t you?”
“You suppose correctly.”
He grunted. “Shame, but it shall be as you wish, my love. You know where I am whenever you need me again.” And he grinned at me.
~~~~~
The house was more settled after Gret’s departure for Bennamore. Losh wasn’t hopeful for the scheme, and had no expectation of seeing her again for several moons.
A quarter moon later, I went back to the library, nervous but determined. I barely had time to warm my chair before Ish appeared, alone this time, apart from the ever watchful guards loitering discreetly behind pillars.
He made no reference to our previous encounter, sitting down opposite me with his heart-stopping smile, and spinning my books round to examine.
“Ah, you are studying maps of Bennamore. There is Kingswell, the capital. I spent some time there, you know, three years or more. We only came back to Dristomar two years ago. Before that…”
His words faded, and I heard only one. We. Ish, the foreign wife and the child, the all-important child who proved his value to Ish’s father. But his father was long dead by that time, and the Holder was Ish’s aunt. The child had allowed Ish to return as his father’s son, had restored his title of ‘Honourable’, but he could never again be the heir, could never be Holder. Yet here he was. How had that happened?
I pushed the anger back down, deep inside, left it to fester a little more. One day it would boil over, but not today.
Ish could always charm me with his words. Even when he was only talking about his travels, I readily fell under his spell, mesmerised by his melodic voice, those expressive hands. He had been everywhere, it seemed. From Dristomar he’d gone north through all the sun-blessed lands, right to the northern coast, then eastwards, never staying long anywhere. Eventually he’d headed south again, lingering in the Karningplain only long enough to conceive a child, then on to Bennamore, wh
ere he’d had word of the child’s birth, and she and her mother had joined him. There they had settled for a time, until his aunt summoned him back to Dristomar.
He didn’t tell the story so neatly, of course. He talked about hills and rivers, cities and lakes and strange foods and bizarre customs and the difficulties of interpreters. Only here and there did he drop little mentions of his wife and the child, so that I was able to piece together the story.
The bells sounded. It was well past noon already, and I was late for table. I must have been truly spellbound to risk missing a meal. I scrambled to my feet, hastily closing books, gathering my papers.
“Eat with me, Fen-la!” Ish said, reaching for my hand. “There will be something light waiting for me in the family tower, and my wife is away today. I hate eating alone.”
I had no one to share the noon table with either. The mages were out for the day, and Mal wouldn’t be back until mid-afternoon. I hesitated, but the offer was so tempting. Ish’s ‘something light’ would be better than the bread, cheese and cold meat I would get at home. Besides, I felt quite comfortable with him today. Whatever had happened the last time we met had not recurred, and I was in control of my emotions.
“Please?” he said, and helplessly I nodded.
He took me to a different room this time, a plain table room laid out with a modest repast, and already set for two, I noted. He had planned for this, and anticipated my acceptance. I wasn’t sure I liked that.
The food was everything I’d hoped for, plentiful and rich and flavourful, an array of the best Dristomar could offer, although I noticed a few favourite Shannamar dishes too. Almost I could imagine myself back there with Ish, sharing a quiet meal together between formal engagements. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the silk gown under my fingers, my hair bundled into a knot on the top of my head, the marriage brooch at my throat. Almost. Even in the new skirt and blouse Mal had bought me, I was a long way from that innocent young wife.
I ate well, sampling everything, although I was cautious with the wine, trying no more than a mouthful or two. Ish kept me well entertained with scurrilous tales of the important names of the town, which would have been more amusing if I’d known who they were.
Half-way through the meal, he changed tack somewhat. “So you are well settled with these mages by now. You like them?”
“Well enough,” I mumbled, my mouth full of sweet red fruits. Such a treat so early in the year.
“And your… husband. The guard. You are liking him better now, I think.” His tone was cold, almost disapproving.
I hadn’t drunk as much of Ish’s good wine as all that. Instantly I was alert. “What do you mean?”
He reached for a jug of cream, eyeing me sideways. “Well, you seem to be quite close for a marriage of legal arrangement. Or so rumour has it.”
It took me a moment to catch his meaning. The whole household knew that I’d slept with Mal, that must be the ‘rumour’ he was talking about. Clearly the news had reached the Hold, somehow.
I slammed my spoon onto the table, making a smeary red stain. “That is between me and my husband, and no business of yours.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly, pouring cream into his bowl, then offering the jug to me. “Would you like some?”
I gave my head a quick shake. I couldn’t speak, I was so angry with him. He had long ago forfeited any claim on me, and had no right at all to question my arrangements. If I’d wanted to walk naked through the streets and fuck every man in Dristomar, it was no concern of his.
“How are the strawberries? There are peaches from the forcing houses in that bowl over there, if you prefer.”
He burbled on about the food, and then the new ships arrived at the harbour, and gradually I calmed down. I remembered that the two original guards were married to needle-workers helpfully supplied by the Hold. The women had little enough to do, so most afternoons they walked over to the Hold to gossip with their friends. Inevitably, choice information was passed along, and found its way to Ish’s ears. Although I never remembered him listening to scullery gossip before. That was a new trait.
Eventually my appetite was sated and the servants removed the debris, retreating behind the screens hiding the doors to the kitchens. Then we were alone. I no longer had any fear of Ish. Whatever had happened before, I was in full control of myself now, and I was sure Ish couldn’t affect me that way again. Still we lingered over the last sips of wine.
“I suppose I should go,” I said, although I imagine my reluctance was obvious.
“If you must,” he said, rising.
Then it happened again.
This time it slammed into me like a tidal wave, almost knocking me from my feet. One minute I felt perfectly normal, the next my head was aflame and I was engulfed with desire. I gasped, and before I was aware of my actions, I was on my feet, racing round the table to him. He backed away, his eyes widening, but I caught him in my arms and reached up to kiss him. All rational thought was abandoned; I had to have him that moment or I would die. I pulled his head down and latched onto him.
For a moment he was immobile in my grasping arms, but then he softened and leaned in to my kiss, responding to my desperation.
The door crashed open.
“Papa! It’s time for my story!”
We jumped apart, gasping for breath. My heart was pumping wildly, and I can’t guess how distraught and wild-eyed I looked.
She was as pretty as a flower, his daughter. She was white blonde, just as he is, with the blue eyes so common along the coast, but her skin was her mother’s dust-brown and the tangle of unruly curls owed nothing to Ish.
He hardly missed a beat, his face lighting up like the moon. “Jinnia, my angel! Am I late? A thousand apologies.” He scooped her up into his arms, and turned to me with a soft smile. “You will forgive me, Fen, I am sure? As you see, I have another appointment.”
I could barely speak. I nodded, I think, and he carried his daughter out of the room without a second glance. Almost he seemed relieved to be rescued from my passion. I stood for some time, quite alone, willing my racing pulse to calmness, my flaming cheeks to coolness. It was no good. I was a bonfire of churning need and I knew only one way to douse the raging flames.
I raced out of the tower, across the courtyard, through the gate. I tore oblivious through the streets and in to the yard of the Rillett House. Please the Goddess, let Mal be home! The first servant I asked looked at me as if I were insane, and perhaps he wasn’t far wrong. The second was no more use. Eventually, I stumbled across the house controller who directed me to the basement.
Beyond the servants’ quarters was the wine cellar, laid out in a series of locked cells where the most valuable foods and wines were kept, as well as the household silver. The guards had commandeered a cell to store their weaponry, and it was here I found Mal, all alone, bent with focused concentration over an arrow. He looked up in surprise at my precipitate arrival.
“Gods, Fen, whatever’s the matter?”
I snatched the arrow from his hand and advanced on him with determination. He leapt up in alarm. “Fen? What is it?”
I reached for him, but he was too quick, his strong arms easily holding me off. I whimpered in frustration.
“Please!” Even my voice was different, thick with desire.
His face changed, understanding, but he still held me at arm’s length. “Fen, I don’t think -”
“Don’t talk. Just fuck me! Right now!”
Bless the man, he said not another word, letting his arms drop to his sides and allowing me to scrabble at his trousers in a humiliating frenzy. Then he swept me into his embrace and bent to kiss me, and after that I hardly remember what he did, except that the relief was bliss, like scratching an unbearable itch.
Afterwards, we collapsed into a corner of the cell and he held me tight while I sobbed and railed at my miserable lack of control.
“I don’t understand why!” I wailed, tears dripping into
his shirt. “I was fine, but it was so sudden, this warmth in my head and then I just had to have him. It. You.” Then I sobbed some more.
“Hmm. Sounds to me like he used magic on you.”
“Magic? Ish doesn’t have any mages! And why? Why would he do that?” I buried my face in his shirt, clinging to him as if my life depended on it.
He kissed the top of my head and murmured, “My poor sweet Fen,” over and over.
14: A Theft
Less than a quarter moon later, I had to face Ish again at the next moon feast, and I was terrified. What if it came over me again? I had always prided myself on my self-control, and now I couldn’t trust myself not to start screwing my former husband in a public gathering.
Mal came to watch while my hair was dressed, sitting in silence as the three servants fussed and tied and curled and fussed some more. He’d bought me another gown for the occasion and I’d had no say in this one. He’d gone back to the same tailor, who already had my measurements, and I had to admit that it was perfect. It was a little more flamboyant than I would have chosen, but he’d taken the shop owner’s advice and selected a gorgeous deep rose silk, which I loved. He seemed to enjoy buying clothes for me, and hardly a quarter moon went by without him arriving home with a package under his arm. He smirked outrageously at his own cleverness, of course, but I wasn’t about to complain. I hadn’t been so well-dressed since I’d left Shannamar.
When the house controller and the two maids had left, I looked at myself in the mirror and had to smile. Even to my critical eyes, I looked very well.
“You like it?” Mal said, as I preened, turning this way and that, the silk as cool and soft as cream under my fingers.
“Very much. Thank you.” Remembering the price he’d extracted for the coat, I crossed the room and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. Then, guiltily, a real kiss.
He laughed at that. “A very proper way to thank your husband, wife. Now, just one small change to your decoration, my lovely.”
He unfastened my necklace and locked it away in its drawer.
The Mages of Bennamore Page 14