She must be joking. How could she take it seriously when he, himself couldn’t believe it? He looked over at her, expecting her wicked smile, but it was her serious eyes that caught him first. “I’ve seen strange things happen around you,” she shared. “Things I couldn’t explain, so I pretended they didn’t happen, or that I just saw them wrong.”
“Things?” Dartan’s mind was racing, trying to think of what she could have possibly seen. And how many times had she seen them? “Like what?” he asked tentatively. She heard the uneasiness and saw the dread on his face, and then she did smile.
“Nothing you would have noticed, or even realized you were doing,” she soothed. She thought for a moment. “Tools you reached for seemed to jump out and meet you halfway, the ground split open before your plow even touched it, and I swear if you had just put baskets on the ground the crops would have fallen right in them.”
“You make it sound like I didn’t do any work at all.”
“That’s not what I said.” And you know it, her eyes finished. “All I said was that I’m not surprised to find out you have some magical ability. What does surprise me is that you don’t seem to care.” She leaned closer in to him. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what you can do? Or even how to do it?”
Dartan simply shook his head. “I know magic has a place in this world, but up to this point it’s been more of a nuisance than anything else.” He placed his hand on the hilt of the sword slung across his back. “I’d rather place my trust in something a little more solid.”
Aliet didn’t even try to conceal her laughter. “Well, I don’t think it will come to that just yet. Two men and a woman, each with one bag and a single horse between them, are hardly a tempting target for bandits.” Her smile disappeared as she draped her hand over the hilt of her own sword hanging from her waist. “But if it does get rough, remember, you might want to just stand behind me.” Dartan gave her a playful shove and both of them laughed.
Dartan was a little better than average with the sword, but he was no match for Aliet. He had always teased that it was her small stature which gave her an unfair advantage, but they both knew the truth. She was just better than him, and most everyone else. In fact, the only person Dartan knew of better than Aliet was their teacher, Marcus.
Marcus walked at a steady pace nearly twenty meters ahead, oblivious of them, while they both looked at the broad sword sheathed across his back. Aliet looked back and forth between Dartan and her brother a few times.
“You know, since you’re not getting any magical training,” she reasoned, “you could probably get some more sword training.”
Dartan raised his eyebrows. “Really? Have you forgotten my last lesson?”
There had actually not been a lesson, she recalled. They had been late, and her with blood on her shirt and a swollen nose. It had been her own fault, falling from the fence, but explaining it to Marcus had not been easy. As soon as he saw her, the look of irritation on his face changed to anger nearly as fast as his sword was unsheathed. Dartan would have been dead had Aliet not stepped between them. Somehow she had made Marcus listen to her, but that had been the end of Dartan’s training.
“How exactly did you fall off that fence?” Dartan was thinking of that day too. Her smile faded and cheeks flushed as she let her mind go further back.
It was late afternoon, the sun behind her, setting the field ablaze with golden light. She watched Dartan finishing his work in the fields from her perch atop the fence. He stood, stretched, and began walking towards her with squinted eyes. The sun lit his face, but it seemed dull compared to the brightness added when he smiled.
He reached her, placed a hand on the fence on either side of her, and leaned forward. She breathed in as he drew close, smelling the sweat, grass, and earth clinging to him. It was intoxicating. She barely heard his voice over her pounding heart.
“I can’t see your face,” he said, moving closer, searching for her shadow. “I’m getting the feeling you’re making fun of me.” Aliet leaned closer, drawn in by his eyes, but found herself focusing on his lips. It was the first time she had ever felt the pull of them, and somewhere her clouded mind wondered how she had never noticed them before.
“There you are,” he said, his eyes finally adjusting. His smile disappeared when he met Aliet’s eyes, and his own grew wide. “Did you see that?” he asked turning and pulling away from her. It was too late for Aliet. Her forward momentum couldn’t be stopped, and instead of falling into Dartan, she crashed to the ground.
She blinked and the memory faded, leaving only Dartan staring at her, waiting on an answer. “I’m not sure how I fell,” she answered quietly, avoiding his eyes. Then, “But what was it exactly you saw that day?” It was Dartan’s cheeks that turned red this time.
What he had seen was his best friend about to kiss him. The problem was he had no idea why, or what he should do about it. He had panicked. “That was a long time ago,” he said, now cursing himself for bringing it up. “I’m sure I have no idea what caught my eye,” he lied. He cleared his throat, then looked at her again. “Now, stop trying to change the subject.” He looked ahead at Marcus then back at Aliet. “We were talking about more sword training.” Marcus grunted from up ahead, shifting his pack and sword a bit. His hand played along the hilt for a moment, and Dartan wondered if he might be listening to them. “I think you should ask him.”
Aliet opened her mouth, ready to protest, when she saw Marcus again reaching for his sword. This time he pulled it free from the sheath, and swung it back and forth, slicing the air in front of him. They both heard it more clearly than they could see the blurred blade.
“We should probably wait a couple of days,” Aliet suggested. “He’s always loved to travel, and a few days on the road should do wonders for his mood.” She nodded her head, “Yes, just a couple of days and he’ll be right as rain.”
Chapter Eight
The rain had started the previous night and fell steadily all day long, leaving them standing ankle deep in what Aliet insisted was only mud. The Scales Tavern wasn’t much more than a two-story wooden shack, but it had a roof, and that was good enough to quiet even Marcus’s grumbling … a little.
“The wizard better have our room ready.” They were the first actual words he had spoken all day.
“No argument here,” Aliet agreed, pushing past him with Josie in tow. “And they better have stables,” she added, to which Josie neighed, and shook a hide full of water onto Dartan. Had there been anything on him not soaked completely through, he might have minded, as it was though, he barely noticed.
They all floated towards the lit windows like moths and drifted through the doors, towards the bar. It was late, and only the tables at the back of the room were still occupied. No one except the bar keep paid much attention to the three dripping patrons who silently made their way to the large fire on the far side of the room. Steam began rising from their clothes almost immediately, and they all laid their packs on the hearth. The keep made his way lazily over to where they seated themselves.
“What can I get for you?” he asked.
“Ale,” Marcus barked, and tossed a coin onto the table.
“And a room,” Dartan added.
The keep pocketed the coin then replied, “Sorry. No rooms here,” and headed back to the bar. Marcus moved to stand, but Aliet put a gentle hand on his arm.
“Wait on your ale,” she whispered.
“No rooms?” Dartan repeated. “Not even for Alain?” The keep stopped, as did the hushed conversations at the back of the room. The keep turned slowly and walked back to the table, taking the time to look more closely at the three of them.
“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” he mumbled, his eyes nervously bouncing to each of their faces.
“Yes, well, with such fine travelling weather, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to stop.” Dartan peeled off his still dripping cloak and threw it down next to his bag. “Does that mean you
don’t have a room for us?”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he stammered, as a small bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. He turned his head to the side and through clenched teeth called back to the bar, “Mary!” He turned back with a smile. “Of course we have your room.” An anxious glance back at the bar was followed by a louder, “Mary!” Then back to his guests, “We just need a few minutes to clean it up.”
“Take all the time you need,” Aliet said, glad to just be out of the rain.
The keep flashed her a quick smile and a nervous chuckle. “It won’t take but just a moment, ma’am,” he assured her. He turned, took two steps towards the bar, and yelled loud enough to startle even the most inebriated of his customers. “MARY!!”
Muffled swearing came from behind the bar, moving towards a narrow door just to the right of it. The door swung open, revealing a woman in a nightgown and a sour scowl on her face. She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye, and in a surprisingly even tone asked him, “What part of ‘I’m going to bed now’ did you not understand, Harold?”
Harold pointed at the table behind him and said, “Look, dear. We have guests.” She stared at him silently for a moment, then leaned to one side and looked around him. Dartan, Aliet, and Marcus stared back at the unimpressed woman.
“Well, good for them,” she said to Harold. “They can have your spot on the couch and you can sleep on the bar.” She started to close the door, but was stopped in mid-swing.
“Mary, these are our special guests.” The door was still for a moment, then slowly opened. Mary peered out from the darkness, the scowl replaced with wide eyes and pale face.
“But they’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow,” she insisted.
“But they’re here now,” he said.
“The room’s not ready,” she whispered.
“That’s why I called you, dear,” he hissed back. Her eyes widened even more.
“Yes,” she said quickly, “of course. The room. I need to get it ready.” She practically ran to the stairs, her gown billowing out behind her like a ghost, befitting of her pale pallor. She took the stairs two at a time, and disappeared down a darkened hallway. Harold reappeared at their table carrying three mugs, which he placed in front of the three travelers, along with Marcus’s coin.
“On the house,” he said with a broad smile. “The room will be ready before you can finish those mugs.”
“We have a horse, too,” Aliet said.
“William!” Harold called out, and a boy quickly appeared in the still open doorway. “Take care of our guests’ horse, boy.” William nodded his head and bolted out into the night. Harold turned back, still wearing his smile. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Marcus pushed his empty mug towards the bar keep. “Another,” he said. Harold’s smile faltered a tiny bit as he reached for the empty tankard and threw a glance towards the upstairs hall.
“We’re also supposed to be meeting someone here,” Dartan said before Harold could leave to refill the mug.
“Logan,” he said, nodding his head. “He knows you’re coming and will be here tomorrow.” He started to turn, then stopped and added in a low voice, “Be careful around that one. The only reason I’m even allowing him in here is because of the Great Wizard.” Satisfied he had delivered his warning, he started back towards the bar.
“I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anyone who didn’t know we were going to be here,” Aliet said.
“Probably not,” Harold called back over his shoulder. “Word travels fast when the Great Wizard makes an appearance.” As he poured the drink, Mary came gliding down the stairs. She was out of breath and patches of red now colored her previously white face. She moved to her husband’s side, whispered into his ear, then disappeared back through the door beside the bar.
Harold returned to the table carrying two full mugs and sat them in front of Marcus. “Your room is ready when you are,” he announced. “Please just leave your bags where they are, and we’ll take care of them for you.” Mary reappeared beside him, now carrying an armful of furs, which she handed to him before retreating back to her room. Harold held them out. “These should keep you warm, and if you leave the wet clothes you’re wearing now outside your room, we’ll have them dried for you by morning.” Marcus pushed his two now empty tankards back across the table, stood, and took one of the furs from him.
“Did he drink yours, too?” Dartan asked Aliet, holding his empty mug upside down.
“Apparently,” she answered, looking at the bottom of her own empty cup. They both looked up at Marcus, who was swaying slightly, staring at the fur in his hand. He opened his mouth, let out a belch that echoed back off the walls, smacked his lips together, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He put the fur down on the table, and then stripped off all of his clothes.
Aliet turned a shade of red Dartan had never seen on her before, and they both found the table top in front of them extremely interesting. Marcus shuffled forward, holding his clothes out to Harold, who took them without saying a word. He then turned back to the table for the fur, and threw it over his shoulders.
“See you upstairs,” he slurred, and wobbled away.
“Let’s give him a few minutes,” Aliet whispered, and Dartan nodded his agreement. Reading their minds, Harold arrived with two more mugs.
“Drink until you forget,” he said with a wink. “I know I will,” he added on his way back to the bar.
“I’ll drink to that.” Dartan clinked Aliet’s mug, and they both took long draughts of the strong ale.
“Keep them coming, Harold,” Aliet called out. “That’s quite a memory we have to drown.”
Four drinks later they were sitting in an otherwise empty room, next to the embers of a dying fire, naked, except for the thick furs in which each was wrapped. They were both laughing, although Dartan had no idea what was so funny. He only knew her laugh was infectious.
“You know,” Aliet said, a little out of breath, “I could really get used to this kind of treatment.” Dartan nodded as he finished off the last of his ale. “I suppose you should get used to it,” she added, giving Dartan a small shove on the shoulder. As she moved, the fur slipped from her shoulders, but she didn’t notice and let it lie where it rested.
“What do you mean?” Dartan asked, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to her now exposed cleavage.
“You’re the next king of Pavlora. You’ll be treated like this for the rest of your life.”
“However long that is,” Dartan added grimly. Aliet leaned closer, and again Dartan found his eyes drifting south.
“So we’re just going to accept you’re the heir?” She was so close now he could almost feel her warm breath in his ear. Without the ale working its way through his body he would have been uncomfortable, and possibly would have even moved away. With it, however, he could feel his body melting against her. Well, most of it melted. Some parts were becoming rather solid.
“Why would he make that up?” Dartan managed to say. “He claims to need our help, and lying about who I am doesn’t serve any purpose. Until he tells us exactly what he wants, I don’t see any reason not to believe him.”
“And what about you being a wizard?” Aliet asked as she idly rubbed a finger over his bare arm. “Still not feeling any magic?”
Magic? No. But there was certainly a tingling he couldn’t deny. The best answer he could manage was a simple shrug of the shoulders. Then, to get the subject off of himself, “Sounds like you don’t think we should trust him.”
“Me?” Aliet leaned back and Dartan fought the urge to follow the heat of her body. “I believe he needs our help, and your mother certainly trusted him enough to leave you. What worries me is what he’s not telling us.” They were both silent for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Although, Dartan’s seemed to be focusing more and more on Aliet’s exposed skin.
Her bare shoulders begged to be caressed, and he barely caught his outstretch
ed hand in time to divert it to the task of rubbing his chin instead. His eyes, however, roamed freely from her shoulders, down her exposed arm, and across her chest. Her bosom rose and fell with each slow breath, even as he felt his own quickening. He imagined how smooth her skin would feel under his fingertips, the warmth of it, and the contrast of the coarse fur as he pushed it from her body.
As he stared, he actually began to feel the fur under his fingertips, and when he moved his hand he saw the fur slowly slide further down her arm. He focused, feeling his desire for it to hasten its descent, revealing even more skin. It reached her elbow and Dartan felt the sweat trickle down his face. The only thing keeping her covered now was the handful of fur she held in the middle of her breasts. He focused on her fingers. Could he pull the fur from their loose grip? He gave a tentative tug in his mind and saw the tiniest bit slip free. He focused harder, working not only on the fur, but relaxing her fingers as well. He stroked and coaxed them open, watching as the knuckles moved. Her chest rose suddenly, her breasts pushing against the fur as she let out a sharp laugh. Dartan’s concentration was broken.
Aliet leaned forward again, casually pulling the fur back up over her shoulders. Dartan’s breathing was heavy, and his head felt light, but he managed to hide it from her.
“Do you remember the last time we had a drink together?” she asked him, her face mere inches from his own.
Of course he remembered it. Until recently he barely went a day without thinking of it. Now he could think of nothing else.
Aliet had grown tired of living with Marcus. Tired of the way he treated her like a child, she was ready to leave for just about anywhere else. She talked, Dartan listened, and they both drank. The ale quenched her anger, but the burning desire for something new and different still raged. Much like tonight, they had drawn close together, co-conspirators in planning new lives.
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