The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

“A Holder’s representative, yes. That one is from Shannamar.”

  “Hmm. Is that usual?”

  “It’s not unusual. But it’s not a scheduled visit. It wasn’t on the shipping lists.”

  Our walk home took us hours. We stopped at the first soup house we came to for food and drink and a long rest for our aching feet. We were so filthy they made us sit outside in the sunshine, perched like gulls on the steps to the warehouse next door. It was lucky no one at the Hold had searched me properly or taken my coin bag.

  It was well into the afternoon when we finally reached the Rillett House, just Mal, Hestaria and myself, the others having vanished into the maw of the black town or up river to the poorer parts of the white town. We trudged along, beyond weariness, even Hestaria silent for a change, and Mal grey with exhaustion. I could barely hold my head up.

  The yard was full of Defenders, with horses stamping hooves, a couple of stable hands racing about with buckets of water for them, clusters of men lounging against walls and trees in a hum of relaxed chatter.

  My heart soared. Ish had come looking for me! For a moment excitement swirled through me, and I felt alive again. Then I realised these were not Ish’s usual protectors. These were Reserves, sloppy and undisciplined, watching us arrive with insolent curiosity.

  “Who is in command here?” I said. They quietened down a little, staring at me. I repeated it more loudly.

  A tall, thin man with bad skin peeled himself away from the wall and took a step forward.

  “State your business here, Commander.” There were times for self-effacing civility, but this wasn’t one of them. I poured two hundred years of unquestioned authority into my voice, and the man responded instinctively, by removing his helmet and making some semblance of a bow.

  “Summoned by the wizards, Mis’ress, wi’ respect. Missing persons reported, wi’ respect.”

  “You are too late. The missing persons have returned. Now go.”

  He sketched another bow of sorts, and with a few hand gestures urged his fellows to mount. In a great clatter they wheeled about and took off at a canter.

  The house door flew open and Losh rushed out at a pace I would not have suspected in a man of his age.

  “Come back, you wart-footed fungus-brained idiots! Where are you—?”

  He caught sight of the three of us, standing limply just inside the gate. For a moment his jaw hung slackly, then he beamed, spread his arms and rushed across to us.

  “No, no, no!” I shouted, and Hestaria squealed and ducked behind Mal. “We’re far too filthy to touch.”

  He hugged me anyway, raising a great cloud of choking dust, slapped Mal on the back, wincing at the solidity of his armoured leather, then stopped.

  “Hesta?” Tentatively. “Is it really—? Hestaria, my dear friend!”

  His voice cracked. Hestaria emerged sheepishly from behind Mal, and then in a rush the rest of the household flew out like bats at dusk, Lenya and her horse-master, Kael, Corsell, the guards and their shrieking wives, the house controller and a whole trail of servants. The servants stood in a respectful semi-circle around us, beaming and awaiting instructions. The rest squealed and laughed and said “Well I never!” a dozen times over, while the three of us bore the glazed expression of sailors after too long a voyage.

  “Come in, come in,” Losh said. “Come and tell us everything.”

  “NO!” Mal’s voice cut across the hubbub so that a sudden hush descended. “We’re exhausted. We need a bath, a meal and a long sleep. We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

  “Of course, of course. Just tell me this – are you all well? Do you need any healing?”

  “We’re fine, just tired.”

  “Then we will talk tomorrow, when you are rested. But there is someone that Fen should meet.”

  Again, my treacherous heart leaped at the thought that it might be Ish, while my head knew that he couldn’t possibly be here without his Defenders and attendants. But I couldn’t guess who else it might be. Someone from Carrinshar, perhaps?

  We drifted into the hall. Two men of my own age stood there, probably the only people in the house who hadn’t rushed out to see us. I didn’t recognise them, but I knew the immaculate white uniform, showing the emblems of Shannamar. They had neatly trimmed beards in the style of high ranking officers. They must be from the flag ship in the harbour. My stomach clenched violently. Were they here to take me back there? Just let them try!

  They smiled at me benevolently.

  “Fen!” one said. “Goddess, but it is good to see you again after so long.”

  “I would like to say you look remarkably well,” the other said, “but it is hard to tell under all that muck. Have you taken up mining as a profession, aunt?”

  Aunt? For a moment I was flummoxed. But weren’t those beaming smiles familiar? No, surely it couldn’t be. “Arin? Drin? Is it really you?”

  They roared with laughter, and moved forward to embrace me. I stepped back just as smartly. “I am filthy, and I would hate to get dirt all over those fine uniforms. Would it be unbearably rude of me not to entertain you tonight?”

  “You go and get cleaned up,” Arin said, smiling affectionately at me. “We have waited twenty years to find you again, aunt, we can wait a day longer. And when you have told us everything that has happened to you, then we can talk about the future.”

  26: An Arrangement

  “Aunt?” Mal said. “They’re older than I am.”

  We were plodding up the stairs to our rooms, trailed by a line of servants with hot water jugs.

  “I suppose they’re your sister Luca’s boys,” he added.

  I looked at him in surprise. “You’ve been looking up my family?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to know about my wife’s kin? I asked at the library, and they have books with all the Shannamar information. The librarian was most helpful.”

  Mal organised food to be sent up to us while I went into the bath first. I took off the jade pendant, now devoid of its magic, and I looked around for a safe place for my precious glass ball. It needed something solid to support it so I placed it on top of the largest of my pewter jugs on the mantelpiece. Then I tossed all my filthy clothes into a corner.

  There is nothing in this world quite so wonderful as sitting in blissfully hot water soaking away the travails of the day. Or several days, in this case. I sat until I was quite wrinkled. Only the servants arriving with more hot water reminded me that Mal was still waiting to get clean.

  He smiled away my apologies. “No rush. Now, come and sit down.”

  He had organised a table, neatly laid out just like a platter house, with candles and a white cloth.

  “There is soup, and some stew from the noon meal, and cold meat and cheese. Tonight’s meat isn’t ready yet, sadly. Some cakes in the box over there. And wine – but eat something first.”

  “I know that.”

  “Don’t wait for me, I’m planning to sit in the bath until the water’s stone cold. Oh, and here – hold this.”

  He set a large jade stone on the table beside my plate.

  “What’s this?”

  “One of the belt stones. You could do with a little burst of magic. You look shattered. Here, just hold it.”

  He placed it in my hand and gently folded my fingers around it. I could feel the tingle of magic, like my pendant only a little stronger.

  “It will help just holding it like that, but if you want a sharper burst, you’ll need to call it.”

  “Call it?”

  “I can’t really explain. You have to summon it, somehow.”

  I held the stone and tried to summon its magic, while Mal stripped off his filthy clothes and added them to the pile. Then he walked naked across the room and into the bathing room. It made me smile, remembering our first night in the inn on our journey to Dristomar, when he’d demurely undressed behind a curtain. He wasn’t shy now.

  But then he had nothing to be shy about. He had a perfectl
y manly figure, muscled in the right places, and – I had to admit it – very desirable. I watched his rear vanish into the bathing room with some very wifely thoughts bubbling in my head. And not just my head, either. Mal was a fine man to have around, in certain respects, and those strong arms were good for more than swordplay.

  Ish was never well-built in that way. As a young man, he was downright skinny, and under the fancy clothes he was still slender. But in bed he—

  I stopped myself with a cluck of annoyance. I was not going to think about Ish for one second more, not after the last few days. I’d spent twenty years dreaming about him, waiting for him, pretending he hadn’t deserted me, and now, for all he was friendly and welcome and even affectionate, he’d left me in the lurch again. Left me to die. How could I possibly love a man who would treat me that way? I was done with Ish.

  I clutched my jade stone, savouring its gentle buzz of energy, and willed myself to calmness. Mal was not the husband I would ever have chosen. He had his faults, the Goddess knew, but he’d treated me well, all things considered. And I’d given him nothing but grief in return. I’d used him when it suited me, and rejected him when it didn’t, and that wasn’t fair.

  He’d told me he loved me, too. I wasn’t sure if that was true, or just the relief of the moment, but he certainly had some affection for me. I could never love him, I knew that. He was just too different from me, we had so little in common. In a few moons, our marriage would reach its conclusion and I’d go back to Carrinshar and that would be the end of it.

  But in the meantime, I determined to treat him properly, as a wife should treat her husband, starting tonight. I hadn’t managed to call the magic, whatever that meant, but even so I felt much better than I had for days, not tired at all. A little bed play would do us both good, I decided. So as I drank my soup, already cooling, I allowed myself to anticipate the pleasures of the night to come. And if a small voice at the back of my mind suggested that this would be a good way to get Ish out of my head, I ignored it.

  Mal was ages in the bath. He dried himself in front of the fire, giving me another opportunity to admire his physique, and then wrapped himself in a simple cotton robe, before sitting down to eat. I’d probably eaten more than my share, but he made no comment, working his way with systematic seriousness through every dish, not saying a word.

  I poured wine for us both, but the silence began to unnerve me. I wanted to be sure that he would end up in my bed, but I’d rejected him so often that perhaps he wouldn’t even think of trying. I’d never had to seduce a man, and I wasn’t sure I knew where to start, but I thought if I entertained him, it might put the idea into his head.

  So I rattled away, telling inane little stories from Carrinshar or even from Shannamar, usually with a somewhat lascivious twist, and gradually he began to relax, twirling his wine goblet and telling a few lewd stories of his own. It felt very intimate. I hoped it was enough.

  Eventually there was no food left. Mal silently stacked platters and bowls, and tidied away while I finished my wine.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to yourself,” he said. “Goodnight, Fen.”

  My stomach sank. After all this, he wasn’t even going to attempt to sleep with me. I’d be alone again and I couldn’t bear it.

  “You can stay,” I said hesitantly. “If you want.”

  His face darkened, not the response I’d expected. “If I want? What about what you want?”

  “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing. It’s up to you, but I thought you’d want to… after what you said.”

  “I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have,” he muttered, shuffling awkwardly.

  “So you didn’t mean them?” This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Just don’t feel sorry for me, all right? I don’t want you sleeping with me just because you feel sorry for me.”

  “I can’t win, can I?” I said, exasperated. “If I jump on you, I’m a selfish bitch for making use of you. But if I ask if you want it, I’m offending your masculine pride, or something. It’s not complicated, Mal. Do you want to lie with me or not?”

  “What about him?”

  “Don’t make this about Ish! It’s nothing to do with him. This is between the two of us. But if you don’t want to—”

  “I just want to know why!” he burst out. “You made it very clear you weren’t part of the deal, and I didn’t mind that. Even after those other times, you said nothing had changed. That’s fine. But now something has changed and I want to know what, that’s all.”

  It was a reasonable question. I didn’t have to think about my answer, for his words still burned in my mind like a brand.

  “You told me I was a stuck-up, cold-hearted bitch, that’s what changed. In all honesty, I suppose I have been. I’ve treated you callously and you’ve always been kind to me, and generous. I don’t want to be like that any more.”

  I hesitated, but we’d already said too much to hold back now.

  “And I’ve had a horrible few days, and I’m scared and lonely and miserable, and I don’t want to be alone tonight. Or any night. It’s comforting to have you in my bed. It keeps the nightmares away. You make me feel alive and young again, and not just a plain middle-aged woman whose life is over. I like what you do to me, the way you kiss me, the way you touch me, as if I were the only woman in the world. I want to give some of that pleasure back to you.”

  His eyes were wide with surprise, but he said not a word, didn’t move.

  The silence lengthened, and I was the one who broke it, my voice cracking a little. “Is that enough for you?”

  For answer he opened his arms and I walked into them. For a long, long time he held me tight, gently rocking me and stroking my back and kissing my hair. Then he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

  He took my robe off very slowly, kissing and stroking each part of me as it was revealed. He let me untie his robe, and when everything was removed, he laid me down on the bed and took me in his arms again.

  It felt so good to be kissed, not with urgency but with gentleness and affection and simple pleasure. Then he would stop for a while, and stroke my breasts or my stomach or run his fingers down my thigh, watching his hands moving over my skin with utter absorption. When I tentatively tried the same things on him, he smiled and closed his eyes. It felt as if we had all the time in the world.

  It was wrong of me, I suppose, but I couldn’t help thinking guiltily of Ish. If I shut my eyes, I could almost imagine it was his hands moving gently across my body, his lips sucking at my nipples. Almost I could feel his soft beard on my skin, smell his perfume, ignore Mal’s earthier smell. Almost.

  But I couldn’t quite convince myself of the fantasy, because Ish had never done any of those things. He’d never explored my body the way Mal liked to do, he’d never kissed me anywhere but my mouth. Ish liked to build up to sex by talking; whatever was on his mind, he’d chatter away as we lay on the bed, and he’d gaze into my eyes and pull me close. Whenever he was ready, he’d stop talking and pull up my nightgown. I don’t ever remember being naked with him. It was always quick and urgent, soon over. Then, with a sigh, he’d roll off me and carry on talking as if nothing had happened.

  I never saw anything odd about it. But then, I had no point of comparison. Maybe Ish was different now, maybe he’d learned a few things on his rovings around the continent. He’d have to learn a lot to match up to Mal’s skills. Those giant hands that wielded a sword so magnificently were equally effective with me. The mouth that so irritated me when he talked, I had no complaint about in bed. It was lovely.

  After a while, I forgot about Ish altogether.

  ~~~~~

  When I woke the next morning, Mal was already up, not dressed but sitting in a chair with a mug of brew in his hands.

  “Want some?”

  I nodded. He fetched a mug and filled it from the pot on the fire, while I visited the bathing room. I climbed back into bed, propping myself up wi
th pillows, and sipped gratefully.

  “Fen—” He had that nervous look on his face, as if he was going to say something that would make me angry with him. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I said a lot of things. Could you be more specific?”

  “About… about wanting me in your bed every night. Or are you going to say nothing’s changed again? Because I don’t mind, not… not much, I’d just like to know where I stand.”

  “Oh, that.”

  For a moment, it hung in the air between us. I could draw back, I could reclaim my solitude, I could shut him out again. Last night was an aberration, a need for comfort after a traumatic few days. I was so tempted. But I couldn’t do that to him. It wasn’t fair. I’d made my decision, it was the right one and I was determined to keep to it.

  “I meant it.” Across the room, the glass sphere flared blue for a moment, then died down. Just as Ish’s did, I remembered. “You can share my bed whenever you want.”

  “How about now?” he said, and I had to laugh at the hopeful expression on his face.

  “What hour is it?”

  “Still early. The kitchen’s not stirring yet.”

  “Well, then, why not?”

  He cast his robe aside and slid in beside me, already well aroused, and pulled at the ties on my robe so that he could slide his hand inside with a pleased sigh.

  My stomach felt like lead. It wasn’t that I minded the sex. It was the thought that I was now committed to accommodating his every male urge. Whenever he wanted it, I would be expected to comply or I would be the selfish bitch he’d once called me. It was disheartening, and my spirits sank like a stone.

  “Sweet Fen,” he murmured, massaging my breast. “Isn’t this lovely?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Above the fire, the glass ball flared again.

  After a while, he slid his hand between my thighs and began rubbing me. I stiffened. “There’s no need for that.”

  He pulled away and shifted his gaze to my face. “No? Don’t you want me to?”

  “I’m not bothered. Last night was enough. You just do what you want to do.”