Lizabeth shivered, even though they were out of the cold and the train car was warm. She didn’t like how the darkness enveloped them so completely. There were weak, golden lights near the top of the car but they only served to throw everything into shadow. She moved closer to Lone, being careful not to touch the arrow still sprouting from his arm.
“You were amazing back there but are you all right?” she murmured, looking up at him. “I mean, I guess that’s a stupid question—you were hit with an arrow. But—”
“I’m well, Lizabeth.” The ghost of a smile stole over his lips. “I’ve had worse wounds in battle. Though now that we’re no longer in danger, I think I’ll pull it out.” He gripped the shaft of the arrow and Lizabeth saw his lips tighten as he prepared to tug.
“Nay, lad.” One of the guards who looked to be in his fifties shouldered his way through the crowded train car and came to stand by them. “Gods-damned Friezens use barbed tips,” he explained, brushing Lone’s hand from the arrow’s shaft. “You’ll need to cut it out. Here—move your furs.”
“Cut it out?” Lizabeth exclaimed but Lone was already moving the heat-saving furs aside to expose the dark green of his uniform shirt.
“Here, let’s see where we are.” The guard, who had gray streaks in his short black beard, tore the heavy, silky material of Lone’s shirt open. He made a jagged rip in the fabric which exposed the place where the long shaft of the arrow—which appeared to be made of bone rather than wood, Lizabeth noticed—was buried.
She drew in a sharp breath when she saw how deeply the arrow was embedded in Lone’s arm. She’d thought before that it was in his bicep but now she saw it was on the outside edge of his arm—was that the tricep? Whatever, she was a lawyer, not a doctor. The point was, it looked bad.
“Yuh, that’ll have to come out,” the guard remarked. “Sooner’s better than later, don’t you think, lad?” he asked Lone.
Lone nodded tightly. “If you have a knife I’ll do it myself.”
“Oh, no need for that with old Joren around.” The guard smiled at him. “I’ve cut out more arrows than a gillard has teeth. Just you hold still and I’ll have it out in a wink.”
Matter-of-factly, he pulled out a long, sharp dagger from its sheath at his belt. Before Lizabeth could protest that they needed to wait until they were someplace with antiseptic and pain killers, the guard—whose name was presumably Joren—had made two swift, deep cuts above and below the shaft of the arrow.
“Wait!” Lizabeth protested as the blood began to well up from Lone’s flesh. “Please, you can’t just—”
But before she could finish the guard had taken a good grip on the arrow. With a swift twist and tug, he yanked it free and held up the bloody arrowhead triumphantly. Just as he had said, there were tiny, jagged barbs along the sides, Lizabeth saw faintly. There was no way it would have come out cleanly without the deep cuts to Lone’s arm. But as the dark crimson blood began to well up from the wound, she still felt sick and unhappy.
“Oh, Lone!” Quickly she grabbed one of her furs and pressed it over the bloody wound, holding firm pressure to try and stop the flow. “God, this is awful!”
“We knew it would be dangerous,” he pointed out in a low voice. “I’ll be fine, Lizabeth—Kindred are fast healers.”
“Kindred, are you?” Joren looked up from cleaning the end of his dagger and gave Lone a critical look. “Might have known it from the size of you. No wonder the two of you decided to steal the Snow Queen right out from under the Friezen’s noses. Kindred can’t stand to see a female in trouble—I know that right enough.”
“We couldn’t just leave her there,” Lone said, frowning. “I did my research before I came—I know what the Friezens do to women.”
“Oh, yuh—they’re right cruel fuckers, they are.” Joren nodded darkly and shot a glance at Anya who was sitting against a wall with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Lizabeth couldn’t tell if she was only resting or so worn out from her ordeal that she’d fallen asleep. “Escaped from their ripening hut, did she?” he asked.
“Yes, actually. That is what she said.” Lizabeth kept her voice low. “And when they came after her, she said she’d rather be a ‘gray-face’ than be cut. What does all that mean—do you know?”
“Yuh, I know. The Friezens call themselves ‘gray faces’ because their skin gets hard and gray from allus livin’ in the cold. It grows a protective covering-like.” Joren motioned to his own face with the hand not holding the dagger. “But they believe they need a woman with a smooth face for the Snow Queen. So they take one who’s in her second fertility and shove her in a heated hut to stay for months and months until her skin gets soft and clear and smooth again.”
“Her second fertility?” Lizabeth frowned. “What’s that?”
“You don’t know about the second span?” Joren looked surprised. “I kind of thought you might be in it yourself, m’lady,” he added, giving her a penetrating look.
“I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of it before,” Lizabeth said. “Could you please explain?
“Yuh, sure.” Joren shrugged. “Well, the Friezen women only have two periods when they can have children. Once in the second decade of life and once in the fourth. Those in their second fertility are highly prized, don’t you know. It’s said that all the greatest Friezen leaders were born to mothers in their second span. Their children are smarter, stronger, and longer-lived. So say the legends, anyway.”
Lizabeth shot a glance at Lone.
“Is that why you thought I might be extra-attractive to the Friezens? Because of my age?”
“That and your beauty, Mistress,” Lone murmured. “It’s one reason I wanted to be certain your face was covered before we went out of the shuttle,” he added, frowning unhappily. “Unfortunately you took off your scarf. I don’t like the fact that they saw you.”
“Never fear, your lady will be safe at the Tower of the Higher Mind, lad,” Joren said comfortingly. “The Friezens can’t get to us because they have no access to the train and it’s the only way up.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” Lizabeth said. “But tell us…” She dropped her voice even lower. “What exactly do the Friezens do to their Snow Queen? Poor Anya seemed to be running for her life and she kept saying she didn’t want to be cut.” She nodded at the woman who was plainly asleep now, her face creased with worry, as though she was having bad dreams.
“You sure you want to know, little Mistress? Very well then,” Joren continued before she could answer. “They have this belief that the Snow Queen can conceive better if they cut out her pleasure pearl. Some kind of damn-fool idea that if she has pleasure in the act, all the life-force that ought to go into her child will float out into the wind instead.” He shook his head gravely. “So they hold her down and spread her thighs and…” He didn’t finish in words but made a graphic cutting motion with his dagger.
“Oh, that’s awful!” Lizabeth pressed her own thighs tightly together in horror.
“I told you they practiced female mutilation,” Lone said in a low voice.
“The mutilation’s bad enough but afterwards the shaman and the head of the tribe and just about any other damn male that wants to has a go at her.” Joren’s previously friendly face was dark. “Trying to get her pregnant, y’see. The poor women that go through it don’t always survive the process but if they do and they conceive, the Friezens think they’ll have good hunting out of it all year. And the child that’s born of it—if it’s male—may grow up to be the next leader or shaman of the tribe.”
“God,” Lizabeth breathed, shaking her head. She was doubly glad now that they’d insisted on taking Anya with them. She cast another glance at the sleeping woman. No wonder she’d decided she would rather freeze to death than go through what her people had planned for her! Lizabeth would rather freeze to death herself.
“This practice of the Friezens—haven’t the people of the Tower ever had a thought to stopping it?” Lone asked. H
is voice was low and angry. “We Kindred worship the Goddess and revere all things female—such mutilation and rape should not be allowed to continue.”
“Ah, we’ve talked of it before.” Joren shook his head. “Unfortunately, there are a lot more of those bastards out there than you saw today. They outnumber us twenty to one—maybe more.”
“But you have superior weapons,” Lone objected. “A blaster is worth ten bows, surely. Hasn’t Mistress Verlandah, the director of the Tower, even considered it?”
“Well, to tell you the truth…” Joren’s voice dropped low. “There’s rumors that she has. But there’s further rumors that she’s reluctant because she’s afraid it might upset her Novice.”
“You mean Karx?” Lizabeth cast a sidelong look at the heavily bearded head of the guards. He was standing in the corner of the train car, his heavy dark brows pulled low, glaring off into the distance as though deep in thought.
“Why would it offend him?” Lone murmured.
“Why, because he’s Friezen—born and bred, lad,” Joren exclaimed, still keeping his voice low. “About a quarter of the guards are and though they’re willing enough to fight against their own kind in a skirmish or two from time to time, the idea of changing the entire Friezen way of life, well…” He shook his head. “That’d fly about as well as a gorock with lead wings, don’t you know.”
“But…how can a place which is supposed to revere women and holds them superior to men allow males from a misogynistic culture to live and work with them?” Lizabeth demanded.
“Well, once they walk through the waters and swear the oath of loyalty to their chosen Mistress, they’re considered purified of their past life. And as long as they keep bending the knee to their female and performing the kiss of obeisance properly, nobody’s allowed to question their devotion.” Joren leaned close. “But it’s my opinion it shouldn’t be allowed,” he muttered. “I do think some of the ones who wind up at the Tower genuinely love and cherish their Mistresses but there’s plnety I’m pretty certain are only there because of the three square meals a day and the chance to get out of the Gods-damned wind that blows all the Gods-damned time on this rock.”
“Whatever the nationality of your guards, the rape and mutilation of the Friezen females should not be allowed to continue,” Lone growled, frowning. “Not when they could stop it.”
“Oh, I’m of the same mind you are, lad,” Joren agreed, nodding vigorously. “Your lady’s pleasure pearl is to be treasured…worshiped with your tongue every chance you get—not hurt or mutilated.” He gave Lone a conspiratorial wink. “I know I spend as much time as I can between my own Mistress’s thighs as I’m sure you do as well.”
Lizabeth bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably, wondering what Lone would say. Just the thought of him between her legs licking her made the needing feel very close. Her breasts and pussy ached at the thought and she hoped she would be able to get a little alone time to use the pump and vibrator she had packed in the tiny miniaturized cube she had in the pocket of her furs.
“I love tasting my lady,” Lone said softly, his eyes flicking to her briefly and then looking away. “You’re right—a male can never get enough time between his Mistress’s thighs. I would spend all day and night there if only she would allow it.”
“A male after my own heart!” Joren laughed and clapped him on the back. “Well, you two just sit tight. We’ll be up at the Tower before you know it and then you can meet my lady—Mistress Anarrah, the Teacher of Law.”
“Oh, I think that’s the Mistress I’m coming to study with,” Lizabeth exclaimed. “Have you been her Novice long?”
Joren nodded. “I’ve been with her for years—since I was a lad in my second decade and she was but in the middle of her third. She taught me how to please her and it’s a lesson she still teaches me well-nigh every night.” He laughed and slapped Lone on the back again. “It’s a lesson I never get tired of learning, I can tell you that.”
“I can imagine,” Lone murmured, smiling.
Lizabeth shifted uncomfortably again as the image of Lone and herself in bed together rose before her mind’s eye. God, her breasts were really aching! Her hands itched to reach out and caress his cheek…to run her fingers through his dark hair. But that would be inappropriate—she was his boss and he was her assistant. And besides that, she was much, much too old for him.
But though she told herself again and again not to think of it—not to think of Lone—still the needing persisted. She was glad for the heavy furs she wore. Even though she was beginning to feel over-warm at least they were too thick to leak through.
“Well now—we’re coming out of the mountain,” Joren said, breaking into her private little hell. “If you’ll look out the windows yonder you’ll see the Tower as we come up to it.”
As he spoke, the train car suddenly broke out of the black gloom and emerged into a clear, blue-gray sky. Since the sides of the car were mostly glass, their surroundings were immediately apparent.
Lizabeth caught her breath at the view. The bronze rail the train was suspended from curved high over the jagged peaks of the mountains below supported by only a few incredibly long trestles here and there. She felt her ears pop as they do in a plane when you reach a certain altitude and when she dared to look down through the window-wall nearest to her, she could tell they were thousands and thousands of feet up.
“Here it comes now,” Joren said.
Looking up to where he was pointing, Lizabeth saw that they were curving around the side of the biggest mountain she had seen yet. It made the other mountains around it look like children playing at their mother’s knees. As the glass and metal car rounded the bend of the jagged peak she saw a huge stone fortress—almost a castle—built right into the side of the mountain. In fact, it almost seemed to grow out of the mountain since the stone of its towers and turrets were the same grayish-blue color as the mountain itself.
“Goddess,” she heard Lone murmur and she couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise herself.
“Oh, it’s breathtaking,” she exclaimed. “I never imagined it would be so beautiful.”
“Yuh, that’s our Tower.” There was definite pride in Joren’s voice. “Most of it was all hollowed out inside naturally. By the hot-streams, y’know. The first Mistress—she who founded the Tower—saw its potential and had it carved out and made into what you see now.”
“I can’t wait to see the inside of it,” Lizabeth said sincerely. But she was anxious to get inside the Tower for more than one reason. Being this close to Lone for so long had made the needing almost unbearable. Her breasts were filled to the brim with nectar and her pussy was aching with emptiness. She hoped desperately she could find a quiet, private spot to take care of herself as soon as they got inside.
It was a good thing she’d decided to double miniaturize the carry-all cube that held her breast-pump and vibrator, Lizabeth thought. Who knew what would and wouldn’t be allowed at the Tower of the Higher Mind? But she’d made her necessary implements so small she was certain she could hide them with no problem.
Absently, with the hand that wasn’t still holding the fur compress to Lone’s arm, she felt in the pocket of her heat-keeping furs to reassure herself that the cube was still there.
But all her seeking fingers felt was the soft, furry inside of the pocket. Lizabeth frowned. Had she missed it somehow? After the double miniaturization process the cube wasn’t much bigger than a golf ball and the pocket was big and roomy. But after a thorough exploration, she determined it wasn’t there. Well then, had she put it in the other pocket?
Switching hands on Lone’s makeshift bandage, she felt in the other deep pocket…and felt her fingers go right through a large hole in the bottom.
“Oh no!” Lizabeth gasped involuntarily.
“What is it? What’s wrong, Mistress?” Lone asked. Plainly he was already playing the part of the Novice since he hadn’t called her by her name once since they’d entered the train car.
/> “Oh, uh…nothing,” Lizabeth said miserably. “I just…I, uh, lost all my note-taking supplies that I packed and miniaturized to bring with me. They were in a blue carry-all cube and I think it fell out of a hole in my pocket.”
“Don’t have a care for that, m’lady,” Joren said. “You wouldn’t have been allowed to keep anything you brought with you anyway. Y’must be stripped bare as a babe, bathed in the cleansing waters, and clothed in the proper robes of an Initiate to Knowledge before you can enter the Tower. And any study materials you need will be provided, I can promise you that.”
“Thank you.” Lizabeth tried to smile but she found the guard’s words to be cold comfort. She was certain she could have found a way to hide the tiny cube with her vital supplies in it if only she hadn’t lost it. How was she going to manage without the pump? Her breasts might very well explode—they certainly felt swollen enough to! The emptiness in her pussy was painful too but not nearly as bad as her full breasts.
Lizabeth was in real pain and she had lost the only way she had to help herself.
What was she going to do?
Lone watched her from the corner of his eye and noticed her wince of pain when her arm brushed against her too-full breasts. Was it possible they were filled with nectar again? But Lizabeth had told him she had only had the one needing attack—the one he had helped her with. Had she been lying to him? But why?
She probably doesn’t want your mouth and hands on her again, whispered a dark little voice in his head. She doesn’t want you anywhere near her—hasn’t she shown that in the past few weeks?
It was true—even now Lizabeth seemed to be edging away from him though she couldn’t go too far since she was holding the makeshift fur bandage against his wounded arm. The knowledge that she didn’t want to be near him—even after what they had just been through together—tore at his heart.
“Here, Mistress,” he said roughly. “I can manage this myself.” He took over holding the fur bandage to his wounded arm.
Instructing the Novice Page 6