Mid-Arc
Page 100
“Silence! I have met with the Emperor himself. He is quite displeased with your progress and wishes to know when we will return to a timeline where we can make plans. There are temporal differences to take into account between realms.”
“I am aware, and we are…”
“I will not broker excuses! And I do not appreciate having to be in direct contact with you, but Zbelbuub himself has now made me personally responsible for your failings. I have tried to be understanding, but…”
“But now it is you who looks into the reality of suffering at the hands of the emperor himself,” E’Fenk says interrupting Alistair. “Perhaps your suffering might be considered incentive for failure by an abused underling?” E’Fenk smiles. Yes, he stopped the would be Governor of the Earthen realm dead in his tracks.
A brief moment passes and Alistair collects himself with a smile. “That, Ambassador E’Fenk, is why I am so pleased you are our ambassador on this most serious mission. Your skills of negotiation are unmatched. But do keep in mind that if I go down, we all will. If I know one thing, it is that the emperor does not tolerate failure well. Not well at all.”
“That is so true. Which is why I have never failed him.”
“Jneailith was called to this meeting also. Where is she?” asks Alistair, now acting a little less domineering. “It could be considered disrespectful to the Emperor to ignore his summons.”
“Yes, indeed it could. But, Governor, you must have some trust in the judgment of your subordinates.”
E’Fenk chokes mentally on those words.
“Well do share, in the case I am unexpectedly called to conference again.”
“Sensitive negotiations. She is working with Chinese diplomats at this very moment to overcome the construction obstacles and insure better, smoother relations. We both thought her time was better spent moving the process ahead, than… this.”
“Do you have a problem with… this?” Alistair asks, his earlier tone returning.
“Not at all,” E’Fenk says pleasantly. “So, besides trying to intimidate us into moving ahead brashly, do you have any other real direction or information to share?”
“No, I don’t,” says Alistair returning E’Fenk’s smile. “Do what you need to. You have complete autonomy and do not require my approval for anything. Move as you see fit. But please, report any positive news through the normal channels.”
“We shall, Governor. Now, let us get back to work.”
The screen goes black. E’Fenk fumes for a moment for the disrespect shown him by closing the connection without offering parting words. With the thought of hurling the laptop across the room having passed, he takes a deep breath and stands to check on Jneailith.
He leaves the bedroom of their hotel suite, walks down the hall, and is greeted by a sight that disgusts him: Jneailith on the couch, a naked man half under her dress, her hand caressing where the man’s head appears to be going to work.
“Have you no shame, Jneailith?” he sneers.
She looks at him, holds up a finger, smiles, and leans her head back. Her body shudders slightly and the man under the dress moans in delight.
After a moment, she looks up and asks, “What is it, E’Fenk?”
E’Fenk’s façade of calm has been pushed too far.
“You actually take high pleasures with that...”
Jneailith’s eyes turn deadly and she points at E’Fenk, telling him in no uncertain terms what will happen to him should he say what he was going to. Her finger points deliberately down to the man under her dress. “Ambassador Jun has gone above and beyond the call of duty helping our governments achieve their goals.”
“So, we have progress?”
“We do. Ambassador Jun here has been helping us in the construction issues and in understanding future hindrances which might delay us even more. We are celebrating successful diplomacy, aren’t we, Zang?”
Zang replies with something to the extent of “Ummm… nom-nom” from under her dress.
“Well are you going to keep me in suspense? Please share these developments. That is assuming it is not inconvenient for you, my dear Jneailith.”
“Not at all,” she responds, her face returning to satisfaction. “But I think it best that you hear it from Zang himself. He’s the one with the information and ideas, after all. Zang... darling, stop and tell E’Fenk your ideas for moving the construction ahead.
Zang doesn’t stop, so she smacks the back of his head. He jerks up and out from under her dress. He’s wearing a dog-collar, a leash going to Jneailith’s other hand, and a surprised look. His eyes are wide.
“Darling Zang, tell E’Fenk what we talked about with regards to the construction.”
Zang turns to E’Fenk and begins to mouth some words, but looks confused. He looks back at Jneailith. “I...”
“Yes, I understand poor Zang,” she says feigning sympathy. “So much stimulation, so much intensity, it just builds up, doesn’t it? It needs to go somewhere doesn’t it?”
He nods up and down, emphatically.
“Stand up, Zang – I know how to take care of that.”
E’Fenk just shakes his head. At least this will be less repugnant. After all, the use of their talents to manipulate is part of their true nature in his mind. But in his mind they should never, ever take higher pleasure from lesser creatures.
Zang stands and Jneailith sits up. E’Fenk sees her hands reach around Zang, taking him by the buttocks. Skilled moments pass and Zang’s head rocks back, while his body jerks.
“Masterful work,” he notes, admiring her control of Zang.
She looks around Zang’s body, “Why thank you.” Her face disappears again and he hears her say, “Better now, my lover?”
Zang, in between deep breaths, says, “Yes. Thank you. Thank you!”
“Well, do share your input on the construction with E’Fenk, please.”
“Oh yes that,” he says and turns around to E’Fenk. “I think we can get around the hold-up on the electrical installation with substantial bribes to the local officials. We can use incentives for easily met goals of timeliness using local crews that the officials recommend – they, of course, get a kick back from them. As I have not been officially informed of the need to delay matters, I have some deniability in the matter and can facilitate moving the project forward personally.”
E’Fenk nods in acknowledgment to the naked Zang Jun. “Your thinking will ultimately benefit the Chinese people. It is good to work with someone of vision. Now, what about these future hindrances that you two speak of?”
“Yes, that…” Jun collects himself again, “The cargo ship, with your equipment for your gate. They plan to impound it. I was suggesting to Jneailith that you divert it. Once it is in their hands you will have no control over it.”
E’Fenk looks to Jneailith, who dabs something from the corner of her mouth, then meets his eyes and says, “a true friend of his own people and the Dzemond Empire – isn’t he? It appears we have more than construction issues.”
“Yes, it appears we do.” E’Fenk turns his eyes to Zang and pushes his thoughts, telepathically buttressed by his words. “You are one of the most perceptive and visionary people I have had the pleasure of working with in recent memory. You truly serve your people well.”
Zang beams in acceptance of his adulation. That is until, Jneailith pulls his leash, turning him around.
“Yes mistress,” he says anxiously.
“Time for you to clean up and go home. We cannot have you missing your flight. Or having anyone suspect our more beautiful relationship.”
“But I wish to stay with you,” he stammers out.
She pulls him down by the leash and then unhooks it. “Promise me you’ll pleasure your wife more wildly than you have pleasured me tonight. It’s important - she cannot suspect.”
“I will, my mistress.”
“Good, now pick up your clothes and clean yourself.”
Zang does as he is instructed. As he i
s passing E’Fenk in the hall, he is stopped.
“Just one thing, good Zang,” he says as he removes the leather dog-collar from his neck.
“Thank you,” Zang says and ducks into the bathroom to take the shower that his mistress has told him to take.
E’Fenk walks up to Jneailith, who is quite relaxed on the sofa. “Good work. Disgusting personal habits though, really you would…”
“Silence,” she hisses quietly. “Wait until the shower engages so that he can not hear you. I am riding a fine balance between total control and free will. He does not need to hear negativity from us – not at all.”
They stand there silently until they hear the faint sound of the water spray. Jneailith gestures for him to move and he sits down next to her.
“Regardless of my personal distaste for you taking high pleasures with an animal, your performance on this duty is beyond exceptional. The question now is how to deal with this cargo issue. The building does us no good without the equipment.”
“True,” she says quietly. “And the equipment without willing blood donors does us even less good. We need government sanction for that to happen on the scale we require.”
“You have already thought ahead on this,” E’Fenk replies, looking over at her. “Let us not be hindered by seniority or station. Speak freely; what are you thinking?”
She laughs, “I think it’s been far too long since you’ve had a proper release.”
“You are correct, but we must focus on the matters at hand…”
“I think we need to be more flexible,” she says turning herself to him and fixing her eyes to his. “Our plan was to bring the engineers through when the main gate was established. We bring them now, through the small gate, and have them bring weapons – only older ones. Older armor too. Gift them to the Chinese, put ourselves above reproach. The engineers will have advance time to establish a stable, ongoing portal to our world and to T’uel Faedun. And truth is, when our forces arrive, a few outdated weapons will make little difference against our legions. They won’t have the time to decipher our technology.”
They sit there in silence for a few moments.
“I agree with your direction,” E’Fenk says. “We stand for great reward with little risk - a wise course. Let them choke on their choices.”
Jneailith smiles, “Good. You are seeing matters clearly. Now maybe we should speak of your needs E’Fenk? I feel you have eased your disapproval of me. Maybe I should allow you some proper release since you so stubbornly insist on taking high pleasure only with your own kind?”
E’Fenk smiles back at her. “That is something I would appreciate greatly. But make no mistake my dear, the pleasure in the end will be all yours.”
Chapter 63
Bobby and his wife excuse themselves and strongly encourage Mark to do the same. Pffif introduced Mark to his flask. Mark is probably not going to be feeling chipper in the morning based on his condition now.
I opt to join the crew around the ad-hoc fire pit, which includes Edgar, Clyde, Jason, Johnny, and my crew sans Vets, who has also decided to turn in. I could include Mark in the fire pit list, but he's really only there in body.
Kids will be kids.
“I know a great game,” says Edgar. “I'll tell you all something that may surprise you. Then we all take a turn surprising each other. You may not know this, but for the last seven years Clyde here has been acting as a double agent for me.”
Yep, everyone is surprised. Jason is shocked.
“And just to clarify,” Clyde says. “I was a double agent for Mr. Tinkerman, not The Protectorate. And Jason, my boy, don't look so shocked. I fully practice the one true law. Clyde takes care of Clyde, always. And I do not trust the Dzemond to look out after me. Especially the Lady Jxsiga.”
That outburst makes me look over at the picnic table. Jxsiga turns around and takes bead on Clyde’s back.
“She’s looking at me, isn’t she,” he says in a more subdued tone.
“Yes I am, Clyde. Is there something you wish to share?” she asks.
He smiles and says loudly back, “Not really, other than that I’m a double agent for the Techno-Mage guild.”
“Figures,” is all she says in response, returning to whatever conversation she has going on.
“My tuuurn,” says Mark, “Here’s my shurprise. I’m freeeekin’ toasted!”
That gets Pffif rolling with a hearty, “Bwa ha ha ha,” followed by an, “I’ll toast ye to that.”
Not really a surprise.
Ahzna strolling out to the back porch is a surprise. She pauses and looks at us around the fire pit with disdain. Her eyes look over at the picnic bench and something catches her interest.
“What, I do not have to be confined by this ugly form? Are we free to be as we truly are?” she says in her Russian accented English at Znuul.
Znuul doesn’t even turn around, “Yes, just know that tomorrow you will be presentable again. If you don’t mind the change back, feel free.”
Ahzna smiles at us and begins her change. Her skin turns that dark color of purple, horns sprout, wings grow as does her tail, punctuated by the sounds of bones forming and skin expanding.
“Ah... much better,” she says turning her red snake-like eyes on us and flexing her wings.
Seeing her in her natural state, I can’t deny that she is a chip off of Znuul’s block. Not nearly as large as he is and obviously very female, but still, there are so many similarities. She bends her knees and takes to the air hovering above us, wings flapping lazily. Then, just as suddenly she folds her wings and drops to the ground.
“So nice to stretch properly.”
Our attention on Ahzna sweeps back over to the picnic table with Jxsiga’s loud declaration, “That’s a great idea! We should all go flying. Miles of nothing and no one to see us!”
“Yeah, we can play tag like younglings do,” Sil pipes up enthusiastically. “I want to see your wings Karen, you promised. It’ll be fun.”
Good to know Znuul and I aren’t the only ones having troubles with the new name.
“I can fly too,” says Sheyliene quietly, sitting next to me cross-legged.
“Well go on and join them,” I tell her.
To her credit, Shey gets up and walks over to the table, stopping for a moment as Karred undergoes her transformation to her new self. “Can I fly too?”
Karred turns around to her, “Of course you can. And I promise not to swoop down and runaway with any children. Bring out your wings, dear.”
That's our Karen, damn, Karred. Never one to forget anything. Forgive, sure - but forget, never.
“Yeah twerp, let's see how well those little hummingbird wings do against real wings,” says Sil standing up and unfurling her own.
“Sorry to bust your bubble there, Silithes,” Znuul says, “but she has more maneuverability than any of us.”
“Maybe so. We'll just have to see, won't we?”
Sheyliene takes the bait, of course, with a “you Betcha!” She reaches up to her hair and transforms to fairy-Shey in a cascade of glowing dust.
It makes me smile to see them playing nice. Maybe there is some hope.
Jxsiga appears to be harassing Paul with playful shoves, “come ons!”, and the occasional “you never could catch me” kind of taunts. I don't see him going to take his shirt off, a tell tale sign of incoming transformation, despite Jxsiga being so very animated.
Clyde has a concerned look on his face, or is it dumbfounded? I can't tell, his poker face is way better than mine. I look over at him and he shakes his head in a “no,” meaning he's not going to say a thing.
Looking away from Clyde I see that Znuul is being ganged up on by Karred, Sil, and Shey - all wanting him to join in the flyery. He stands, grabs up Karred by the waist, and plants a kiss on her cheek.
“I'm staying here with Paul and the guests. Period. You and I fly the property all the time,” Znuul says in that way of his that lets you know his mind is made up.
“I told you…” Sil says.
“Don't call her that,” Jxsiga says finishing the thought.
Sil and Jxsiga begin cackling at each other and share a hug, followed by a short affectionate kiss on the lips. All kinds of feelings bubble up in an unpleasant cocktail of emotion - jealously, anger, loss, and the worst; uselessness.
“Nobody's losing their sexy robe... or their frumpy one. Are they dear?” says Silithes back to Shey, though looking at Jxsiga.
“It's not frumpy. It’s comfortable, thank you,” Jxsiga says in defense of the flannel night robe. Her face breaks out in an incredibly mischievous smile. “And we're not losing a thing.”
“But...” is all little Sheyliene gets out of her mouth before Sil steps over to her, pulls the tie-down on the robe and dumps the whole thing to the ground.
“Silithes, you tart,” cries out Karred, half laughing.
“Gawd damn yeah momma show itsh off,” yells drunken Mark at the naked succubus. He stands, then stumbles back a step and falls back over his own chair.
“Can't catch me,” cries Jxsiga who doffs her robe too and promptly takes to the sky. Sil is up like a flash after her.
Karred reaches up and pulls Znuul's head down, kissing him on the cheek. Then she turns to Sheyliene, “That's enough of a head start, don't you think, Sheyliene?”
“Yeah!”
Just like that they're off into the night.
Paul stands and shrugs at Znuul, then goes about picking up the doffed robes. Znuul turns and walks back to us, taking stock of Mark trying to untangle himself from the folding chair, then turns his eyes over to Pffiferil.
“You need to clean up your mess, leprechaun.”
“It’sh not bein my mess. No one held him down ana poured the drink ins his throat.” Pffif loses all semblance of authority with a slight teeter to the side. “Sides, I canna be carryin’ him. Drag him, sure enough – but he donnae be deservin’ that.”
Znuul helps Mark up, then begins escorting him to his room. Well, carrying him is closer to the truth.