“Oh, Lone—no,” she began but Lone shook his head firmly.
“Don’t worry about me. I know you must want to see the view as we get closer to the Tower.”
“Well…if you’re sure you’re okay.” She edged reluctantly away from him, putting some distance between them, Lone saw. His heart burned within him but he said nothing—only watched as she went over to the far window-wall of the train and drank in the view of the great blue-gray castle growing larger and larger as they approached it.
Seven
“You must be Mistress Lizabeth Paige. Welcome—welcome to the Tower of the Higher Mind.”
The Mistress Superior, Lady Verlandah, was a tall, imposing woman who must be over six feet in height, Lizabeth thought. She was wearing a long white gown which brushed the gray-blue flagstone floor and a black vest of equal length over it. The vest—which looked like a cape with arm holes to Lizabeth—had the most intricate embroidery all over it in golden thread. It was fastened in front with a golden broach in the shape of some flying creature that looked a little like a cat with wings.
On her hair—which was iron gray and swept up into an elaborate coif—was a thin circlet which was also gold. It wasn’t exactly a crown, Lizabeth thought but then, it wasn’t quite not a crown either. Clearly Lady Verlandah had the authority here and she wasn’t above using not-so-subtle visual cues to show it.
The Mistress Superior looked to be in her mid-fifties to Lizabeth but her face was remarkably smooth and her skin was almost glowing. Her age showed more in her expression and her eyes—which were iron-gray to match her hair—than anywhere else. She must have a wonderful skin-care routine. Lizabeth wondered what it was.
“Hello, Lady Verlandah,” she said, stepping forward and essaying a short, respectful half-bow, which Lone had told her was the correct way for Mistresses or Wise Ones to greet each other. “I am so pleased to be here. Thank you for accepting my application and allowing me to study with you at the Tower of the Higher Mind. It’s beautiful.”
She looked around the entry way which was vast, with stone walls and a high, arching ceiling. There was a long purple carpet which led from the broad front doors, (made of some thick black wood bound in bronze,) where the train had let them off. Mistress Verlandah stood on the rich carpet like a queen come down from her throne to welcome new subjects to her kingdom.
“Yes, we have spared no expense to make it pleasing to the eye,” the Mistress Superior said. “But I understand that in addition to your Novice…” She looked at Lone who bowed low. “You have brought another visitor to see us.” Here she nodded at Anya, the Friezen woman who ducked her head and crouched in a subservient posture of fear.
“Please, great lady,” she whispered. “Please don’t send me back! They were going to cut me—please!”
Mistress Verlandah exchanged a significant look with Karx, who stood to one side glaring blackly at the Friezen woman. For a moment Lizabeth was certain she was going to throw poor Anya out. But when she spoke, her words were—if not exactly gracious and welcoming—at least not completely unkind.
“Of course we would never send you back to those savages, my dear. I cannot let you live here for free but if you’re willing to do a good day’s work, you can stay on as one of the under-maids. And in time you may work your way up, if you are diligent in the tasks assigned to you.”
“Oh yes, great lady! I promise I can do that. I’ll work hard for you,” Anya exclaimed. “Thank you—thank you a thousand times and may all the Gods rain blessings on your head.”
“That would be lovely, I’m sure,” Mistress Verlandah said dryly. “You may go with Tilly, here—she will oversee you.” She snapped her fingers and a woman in a plain, gray-blue dress came forward and led Anya away.
“Thank you for your kindness, Mistress Verlandah,” Lizabeth said gravely.
“Yes, well I had no choice, did I?” The Mistress Superior raised one iron-gray eyebrow at her archly. “Karx called ahead and told me you were very, ahem, set on having her stay.”
“She was going to be raped and mutilated, Wise One,” Lone said, his voice soft but very deep. “We could not allow that to happen. I hope you understand.”
“What I understand is that an unwashed Novice is speaking to me as though he were my equal!” Mistress Verlandah frowned at him and then at Lizabeth. “How long have you had him?”
“Lone has been my assistant, er, Novice for the last two years,” Lizabeth said. “But—”
“And you still have not trained him properly? Well, we shall have to remedy that. No, no—do not apologize,” she said, holding up a hand to stop Lizabeth from speaking, though an apology was the last thing on her mind. “We have Initiates to Knowledge come here all the time with untrained Novices, more’s the pity. Which is why we hold classes on the proper training and deportment of one’s Novice here on a regular basis. I’ll see that you’re enrolled in one as well as the legal studies you wish to undertake."
She sighed. "Now, then, we must get the two of you cleansed and robed properly. But first perhaps you’d like to meet the one who will guide you in your journey to knowledge?”
“Yes, please,” Lizabeth said, swallowing down her anger with some difficulty. She didn’t like to see Lone treated like a second-class citizen just for speaking his mind but it also didn’t seem like it would do any good to make the Mistress Superior angry.
“Very well—this is the Wise One, Mistress Anarrah, the Teacher of Law. She is in her seventh decade of life and five of her decades have been devoted to the law—I think you will find her an excellent teacher.”
Mistress Verlandah made a graceful motion and a small woman came forward. If what the Mistress Superior had said was correct, she was somewhere in her seventies but she certainly didn’t look it to Lizabeth. She looked to be in her mid fifties and was also wearing a white gown and a long black cape-vest, though her vest was much plainer than Mistress Verlandah’s. It only had a bit of silver embroidery on the edges and was held closed by a silver broach.
Her hair was also silver and swept up in a soft cascade of curls at the nape of her neck. Like the Mistress Superior, her skin was remarkably smooth and glowing—even the flesh of her neck and exposed arms was firm and wrinkle-free. Once more, Lizabeth thought that her age was mostly expressed in her eyes and she wondered again what kind of skin-care routine they had around here.
“Greetings, my dear,” she said, smiling warmly at Lizabeth and holding out her hands. “I’m so glad you’ve come to study with me.”
“Thank you, I’m eager to learn,” Lizabeth said. “And we already met your Novice, Joren, on the way up. He removed an arrow from Lone—from my Novice’s arm,” she added.
“Did, he now?” Mistress Anarrah smiled.
“That I did, my Lady.” Joren came over and bowed low before sinking to his knees before his Mistress. “I have missed you, my Lady Anarrah,” he murmured huskily, looking up at her. “I would give you the kiss of obeisance if I may, so I would.”
Mistress Anarrah let out a tinkling peal of laugher.
“Ah, Joren—after so many years together you are still so eager!”
“Because you are still so beautiful, my Lady,” Joren murmured. “Please, may I greet you properly?”
“Very well, but come away a little—our new Initiate to Knowledge, Lady Lizabeth, is still unused to our ways.”
Mistress Anarrah turned her back and Lizabeth thought she saw her opening the long black vest that covered her white gown. Joren was still kneeling in front of her and he seemed to be doing…something, though Lizabeth couldn’t tell what it was since Mistress Anarrah’s back was to them. But she heard the other woman murmuring soft, caressing words and she seemed to be stroking Joren’s hair. His arms were locked around her waist and he seemed to be very into whatever he was doing.
Lizabeth wondered uneasily what the two of them were up to. What exactly did the “kiss of obeisance” involve? And would she have to make Lone perform it on he
r, whatever it was? The thought made her over-full breasts ache even more strongly for some reason and she wondered again what she was going to do about the needing which was growing painful now.
“My Lady Verlandah,” Karx growled, speaking to the Mistress Superior and drawing Lizabeth’s attention away from the strange scene with Joren and Mistress Anarrah. “I would give you the kiss of obeisance as well.”
He came and knelt before his tall mistress but the Mistress Superior frowned and shook her head.
“I think not, Karx. I am none too pleased with you at the moment. You do not deserve to do me the honor.”
“Then let me kiss your hands, at least,” he demanded. “I went out and risked my life to bring these two to you.” He jerked his head at Lone and Lizabeth. “I did that for you—and killed many of the Friezens who used to be my own people. You cannot deny me a kiss of greeting at least.”
“Very well.” Lady Verlandah extended her long, pale hands and Karx took them and began to kiss her, starting at the backs of her fingers and then her palms and pulse-points.
Lizabeth, watching, thought his kisses looked both sensual and angry, though never rough. She wondered if his thick, heavy beard was scratching the sensitive skin of the Mistress Superior’s slim hands.
“Thank you, Karx—that will do,” Mistress Verlandah withdrew her hands at last and motioned for her Novice to rise. He did so but then glared down at her from his superior height in an almost challenging way, Lizabeth thought as she watched from the corner of her eye. What was the power dynamic between these two? She found watching them both fascinating and unnerving. A sidelong glance at Lone proved that he was watching them too, with a small, puzzled frown on his face.
Just then, Joren and Mistress Anarrah finished…whatever they had been doing and she refastened her long black vest with the silver broach. Joren rose and they both turned around to face Lizabeth and Lone again.
Lizabeth couldn’t help seeing that their eyes were bright and their cheeks were flushed with pleasure—both of them. What in the world had they been doing together? She thought she could guess at least in part but was it really the custom to do such things in public here?
“You must excuse us, my Lady Lizabeth,” Mistress Anarrah said, giving a little embarrassed laugh like tinkling chimes. “My Joren is as lusty as he was when I first took him as a Novice, so long ago.”
“Yuh—I was but an untrained lad at the time,” Joren said, smiling down at her. “But you taught me, my Lady. Trained me how to please you.”
“And you please me still, my Novice.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “But now I must escort these two to the cleansing pools and then give them proper attire. Your further obeisance to me will have to wait until later.”
“I await it eagerly,” Joren murmured, giving his Mistress a knowing smile. Then he turned to Lizabeth and Lone. “I’ll see the two of you later.” He bowed and smiled.
“Thank you, that would be nice,” Lizabeth said, not sure what else she could say.
“You are dismissed,” Mistress Verlandah said abruptly. “Anarrah, take them to the cleansing pools. I don’t wish to see either of them again until they’re properly attired. Come and find me when you’re ready and we can do the oath.”
“Yes, Mistress Superior.” Mistress Anarrah gave a little half-bow and motioned for Lizabeth and Lone. “Come my dears—you must be half dead with cold and fatigue. Let’s get the two of you warm and clean and decently dressed.”
Lizabeth smiled and she and Lone followed her new teacher deeper into the bowels of the Tower of the Higher Mind.
What else could they do?
Eight
Lone watched as his lady paced ahead of him, staying one step behind her as he had read was the proper etiquette for Novices with their Mistresses at the Tower. He had been watching the interactions between the Mistress Superior and Karx and Mistress Anarrah and Joren as closely as Lizabeth and he wondered exactly what was going on here.
Why had Joren been so pleased to give his Mistress the kiss of obeisance and why had Karx been so angry when his Mistress denied him the same? Were these some of the hidden customs and unwritten rules that had been hinted about in the literature about the Tower? And would he and Lizabeth be expected to perform them too—whatever they were?
He was perfectly happy to kneel before Lizabeth and kiss her hands—or any part of her anatomy for that matter. But he wasn’t sure how Lizabeth would feel about it. She was still keeping her distance from him though the two of them occasionally exchanged glances and then looked quickly away.
The distance between them hurt Lone’s heart. He knew that at any other time they would have been eager to compare notes about the vast stone castle and its strange occupants. But now he felt as though there was a wall between them—invisible but impassible all the same—and he couldn’t reach Lizabeth through it, no matter how hard he tried.
At last, after walking down a long stone hallway with immensely high ceilings, they came to a door made of the same black wood that composed the front entryway.
“Here are the cleansing pools,” Mistress Anarrah said, pushing open the door and beckoning them inside.
“Oh, they’re lovely,” Lizabeth said as the two of them took in the vast, echoing chamber. There was a long, narrow rectangular pool of water, much like a lap pool on Earth, Lone thought. Though there was no obvious division between its two halves, the right side of the pool was brilliant pinkish-red and the left side was aquamarine-blue. Steam was rising delicately from the surface of the water on both sides and a warm, delicious aroma filled the air. It was both sweet and spicy and for some reason just breathing it in seemed to clear his head and make him feel better.
“Yes, we are quite proud of our amenities here at the Tower.” Mistress Anarrah smiled. “Now please remove your clothing and step into the water, the both of you.”
“Remove our clothing?” There was a slightly panicked sound to Lizabeth’s voice. “All our clothing?”
“Well of course, my dear. How else can you be properly cleansed?” Mistress Anarrah looked puzzled.
“I don’t know if we should,” Lizabeth said quickly. “I mean, Lone—my Novice—has a deep wound in his arm where Joren cut the Friezen arrow out. I think we need to get medical attention for him before we do anything else.”
“Actually, Mistress, the wound is closed,” Lone informed her.
“It is?” She looked as though she could scarcely believe it.
Lone nodded. “See for yourself.” He removed the long fur that she had used as a bandage and let her see the healing marks on his arm. “I told you Kindred are quick healers,” he reminded her. “And Twin Kindred especially—we have self-sealing organs and flesh.”
“Oh,” Lizabeth said faintly. “Oh, I just thought…”
You thought you’d found an excuse for us not to be naked together, Lone thought. But though he wanted to see her beautiful body so badly he ached, the last thing he would ever wish to do was make her uncomfortable.
“It’s all right, Mistress,” he said softly. “I will go first if you prefer and then avert my eyes when it is your turn.”
“What nonsense is this?” Mistress Anarrah exclaimed, frowning at them. “The two of you must go together into the cleansing pools! That is the way with Mistresses and Novices.” She looked at Lizabeth who was biting her lip. “You’re not ashamed to be seen naked by your Novice, are you my dear?” she asked.
“Not exactly, I just…where I come from the relationship between the Mistress and Novice is not quite so…intimate.” Lizabeth’s changeable blue-green-gray eyes flicked up to him and Lone wondered if she was remembering the way he had sucked her nipples when the needing came on her. “Lone is really more of my assistant at work,” she further explained. “We are close, of course but not…not get-naked-and-take-a-bath-together close,” she finished in a rush.
Mistress Anarrah shook her head and clicked her tongue.
“I’m afraid your re
lationship must deepen if you are to stay here in the Tower of the Higher Mind, my dear. A Novice must be everything to his Mistress—he must tend to her needs—spiritually, mentally, physically, and sexually. And in return, he will gain valuable knowledge of the subject she studies and the ways in which he may please a woman.”
“So you’ll kick us out if we don’t follow your rules exactly?” Lizabeth demanded. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not I, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah raised her hands quickly. “But I am afraid that the Mistress Superior doesn’t allow much in the way of dissent among the Initiates to Knowledge. She, ah, ‘runs a tight ship’ is the way my dear Joren puts it. Now please…” She motioned at the heavy furs that Lizabeth still wore. “I must ask that the two of you strip and enter the cleansing pools—your Novice on the left and you, my dear, on the right.”
Lizabeth took a deep breath and Lone saw a look of pure misery pass over her face. His heart fisted in his chest at the sight of her unhappiness. Was she really so unwilling to let him see her naked? Was she ashamed of her body? He knew she was older than he was and was what Earth women called “plus-sized.” But what humans called “plus-sized” Twin Kindred called “Elite”—a female blessed by the Goddess with extra-full curves. How could she be ashamed to show off such beauty?
“It’s all right, Mistress,” he murmured, barely moving his mouth and speaking for her ears alone. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”
Lizabeth shot him a grateful glance.
“Thank you,” she breathed. Then she looked up at Mistress Anarrah. “All right, we’ll do it.”
“Good, my dear. Then I shall await you at the other end of the pools, in the clothing room.”
With a graceful sweep of her silver-haired head, Mistress Anarrah walked down the length of the pool, her long skirts making a rustling sound as they trailed along the flagstones.
Instructing the Novice Page 7