by JM Guillen
Nearer the main house and out of sight of the fire, the turmoil calmed. Here I grew more anxious that my presence would be questioned, but I needn’t have worried. Obviously a lady, I carried myself with the bearing of one who would not be questioned, and Orin’s servants asked no questions, quite accustomed to his ways. Most pretended not to see me. The few that did actually acknowledge me simply nodded and carried on their way.
I made it to the outer gates, leaving only the simple matter of passing though them.
“Is everything well, miss?” The guardsman peered at the lights flickering in the distance, a sign of the unusual level of nighttime activity.
“The fire has been brought under control now,” I replied, mentally urging the man to open the gate quickly.
“A fire!” He gasped but hurried to the gate lock. “Is it bad? I heard all the commotion.”
How could he not have known?
He craned around, trying to get a better look, but maintained his post nonetheless.
I had to commend the man, not even a fire would deter him from his duties.
I added, “We are lucky; we might just save the garden house. However, since it is unavailable for use at this time, we have deferred my audience with Lord Devariis until a more convenient occasion.” Without another word, I brushed on by, and he let me go, still gazing back at the properties.
I was free. Sire Mattias’s plan had worked.
The night enfolded me like a cloak of velvet. The moment I stepped beyond the gaslight of Orin’s home, I breathed a sigh of relief. Here, in the dark of the city, I was far safer than I was in the home of a man like Orin Devariis. Yes, lawless men found a safe haven in the nights of Stormhaven, but I could defend myself. Even after calling on the fire, I had tapped only a fraction of the strength my Goddess provided me. Her power still pulled at my sigils, a fiery passion begging to be unleashed.
The Mist and Days was only a few blocks from Orin’s manse, but I did not make for it in a straight line. I instead did my best to follow the flow of the townsfolk. A beautiful night in the city meant the streets brimmed full with revelers and street merchants.
Still, I mustn’t take too long. Brys awaited me.
As I slipped through the misty streets, I kept my eyes about me. The last thing we needed was for Orin to know that something had been amiss and have me captured.
Then I saw them, shadows following in my wake.
They were cunning, I could say that much. I hadn’t seen them trailing me as I left Orin’s grounds. Yet two men subtly drifted wherever I turned. They wore dark cloaks with their hoods obscuring their features, which left me little doubt. One had to be the man with the black-streaked death-pallor from Orin’s manse.
They kept their distance for now, but they moved with a lithe cunning that bespoke of training or magic unavailable to simple street thugs.
I shivered, recalling his hissed words:
I am not fooled, Handmaiden. Silence now, and I will send you to the painless blanket of death.
Sire Mattias had been very specific about his goals for my encounter with Orin.
“We must not let him learn you are a Handmaiden.” He placed his hands on my face and kissed my forehead. “You are a witless highborn, just some new dove he has tempted into his bed with empty promises and sweet whispers. Use only a small measure of your strength to gain his secrets, but otherwise avoid the Lady’s power if at all possible. We want no one aware of our intent.”
It was too late for that.
The shadowed not-man had claimed to know who I was and what business I had with the sorcerer. Did that mean Orin knew as well? That would present a problem.
I still held more than enough of the Lady’s passion to handle myself before some street-crow or alleyway thug. I could even probably hold my own against an armed soldier or two. Yet to do so without further calling upon Rydia’s Blessings? That was another matter entirely.
I cast a glance over my shoulder to see if they had tracked me around my last turn. They had. I swore to myself under my breath.
Perhaps I could simply escape them.
Ahead, a carriage for hire ambled down the other side of the street but not out of reach. I ran across the road, waving my arms to alert the driver. As it slowed, I stepped in front of the alleyway, hoping that it would stop between the two men and me.
It did, completely blocking me from their view.
“Need to rest your feet, miss?” The young man was polite enough, but I could feel his eyes on my skin.
I looked up at him, apologetically. “I thought I did, but I seem to have dropped my purse.” I gave him a frustrated shrug. “Sorry to trouble you.” I stepped into the alleyway before he offered to take me for free. That ride wouldn’t actually be without payment, I knew.
Not that I would have minded. Ouigiin continued to pulse in me, a warm presence I couldn’t ignore. It drew my attention to the driver’s smooth, golden skin, no doubt a gift of being in the sun all day. His strong hands waited on the reins. I took in a swift breath as thoughts of what he might do with those rough hands hit me. Quickly I moved away before I did something I might regret.
The natural shadows of the alley swallowed me into their soft darkness. I moved to the other end, where it opened onto Arbor Road. I peered behind myself, hoping those two aberrant shadows no longer followed me.
The alleyway held only emptiness and darkness.
Smiling to myself, I hurried down the road, past the drunkards and street-crows.
A man tried to stop me, calling out, “Winterbloom for the lady’s hair?”
“Not tonight, thank you.” I smiled but kept my voice firm. Typically, I enjoyed the blue flowers, but I had no time for such indulgences.
When I realized he intended to push for the sale, I walked on, ignoring him and his broad shoulders, his kind eyes, his thick chest…
My steps slowed, reluctant to abandon him. I felt the flower man’s eyes on my backside and allowed my hips to develop a subtle roll. I took in a deep breath, holding it before letting it out.
Then, I saw one of my pursuers.
If the flower man hadn’t stopped me, I might never have glanced to my side. There, lounging in an alleyway, stood one of the men wearing a cloak with the hood wrapped tightly around his head. I still couldn’t see his face, as the hood opened away from me, so I didn’t know if he had seen me as well.
Hoping not, I picked up my pace. People were just exiting one of the dumb shows at a small theatre ahead. I melded in with them, moving as quickly amongst the crowd as I could. Obscured in the throng, I glanced behind me.
Yes. He followed me.
Cursing, I sprinted ahead, running into a street cafe. I nearly bowled over the young woman who served drinking chocolate, and I pushed past several people who were trying to find seats. I searched for the door to the kitchens, and once I had found it, I quickly stepped through, surprising the spice-skinned man working the chef’s board.
“I apologize.” I gave him my most winning smile. He had nothing to say, stunned by my sudden appearance.
As quickly as I had stepped in, I found a side door and left the cafe.
In the alley, I ran. I ran as if chased by savage cannibals.
After winding my way down Yrrim Street, I neared the quarters where Brys ought to be waiting for me. I took an arching bridgeway over to Mercantile Road. Looking carefully up and down the avenue, I saw nothing unusual, just the typical crowd out for a night of drink and distraction.
I was in the clear.
Even though I was considerably late, I was still more wary than hurried as I walked through the streets. Yet caution became more difficult as time went on. The Fervor of my sigils was always at the edge of my mind, always teasing me with whispers I could almost make out. My eye was drawn to the shape of a young man’s shoulders, and I felt a gentle caress as the wind teased at my skirts, pulling the soft fabric against my skin. The slightest sensations became erotic.
I needed to m
ake my way back to Sire Mattias. He would grant me ease.
I wended through the crowds, every bit the highborn lady out for a night of drunken revelry, bawdy songs, and carnal adventure. I kept my eyes on the crowd, however, always seeking one of the night-cloaked men. Twice, I felt eyes behind me and turned, expecting that I would need to run again.
But no, behind me was the usual throngs, the night, and the gray of the city with the smell of the ocean wind.
When I saw the cheery, stained glass of Mist and Days, I breathed a sigh of relief. With one last look behind me, I slipped into the alleyway.
“There she is.”
That wasn’t Brys’s voice. I peered through the darkness and saw neither Brys nor the carriage. Instead, two men leaned in the alley.
I stepped back involuntarily, immediately defensive.
“Where is Brys?”
One of the men spat. “Yer little friend won’t be makin’ it, I’m afeared.” I could see his rough face in the flickering light from the pub. “You been playin’ where you shouldn’t, girlie. Taken what’s not yers.” He grinned. “We need to make certain you stay safe at home next time.”
A third man, showing his dusky skin, stepped from a side door of the pub. The laughter and lantern light spilled into the alleyway with him. He shut the door and nodded to the others.
My mind raced, searching for a way out.
Sire Mattias’ words rang in my head. “Remember, you are what matters. Don’t risk yourself. Do what you must to escape.”
I backed up against the wall. “What are you going to do?”
The man who had spoken stepped closer. “I thought we might teach the lass a lesson. It’s dangerous out here in the night.” His grin was a hungry leer. “You never know what men might do in a darkened street.”
My voice was a shadow of a whisper. “Don’t.” My eyes darted around. “I’ll scream. I’ll scream, and the guard—”
“If she screams we’ll have to have her tongue out, won’t we?” That was the second man, standing behind the first. “Although, with her mouth painted up like that, a man can think of other things her pretty tongue might be good for.”
The first one grabbed for me. I flinched back, and he caught the top of my dress. He pulled, and it tore even further, showing far too much skin.
“That’s all we needed to see, pet. Lil’ whore like you shouldn’t be flauntin’ her wares out where honest men can see her. Girl like that deserves to be taught a lesson.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off my chest. I arched my back just a touch and lowered my voice to a kitten’s mewl. “Please. Please, don’t—”
Ouigiin still burned with power, rippling through my body with pleasure. It begged for release.
“I’ll do what I like.” He reached for me, dark hunger plain on his face. When he touched my skin, I turned my green eyes toward him.
I smiled.
As the man lay a rough hand on my skin, his desire formed a bond of passion and duty between us. With less than a thought, I released the power of Ouigiin. No minor bond this time. Where Orin had sipped at a stream, this man was forced to swallow an ocean.
I let the silver and red power burn.
His eyes widened.
His lust turned to horror, then to awe as Rydia’s power flowed through me. I used his emotion as tinder for my Goddess’ Flame. It burned away his strength, his resolve to harm me. I watched as the man he was fell away to ashes of his broken will.
In my mind, the sigil danced. It sang my name and whispered secrets. As I called on it, the memory of my time with Sire Mattias rippled through my body and mind.
“Focus, Handmaiden. Breathe. I don’t want you to find your pleasure yet.”
I reached for my attacker and pulled him to me Neither an act of submission nor weakness, I kissed his rum-soaked mouth. I took control, overwhelming him.
Men so seldom understood how fierce desire could be.
I broke the kiss and peered into the man’s brown, muddy eyes.
He peered back, his gaze lost, confused.
The silver and red bond had formed heaven’s thunder, which drowned out the sound of his own will.
“Kill them.” I commanded.
He spun around, pulling the knife from his belt.
His first friend, the one who had been in the alleyway with him, stepped back, bewildered.
“Rand? What are you—?”
He never had a chance to finish. Rand was on him in a heartbeat. With the kind of ferocity that only appeared with the loss of thought and fear, he swung his small knife. His friend’s throat opened in a dazzling, brilliant spray of gurgling red.
In the confusion, the man who had stepped from the pub ran upon me.
“She’s a witch! What did you do—?”
Behind him, at the edge of the alleyway, stepped a fourth opponent. He had pale skin and wore a cloak the color of night.
I could see his wicked smile, his gleaming red eyes.
I dodged as the dusky-skinned man clumsily swung a fist. He went for another strike, but I reached out, grasping him firmly on the arm.
In the space of less than a breath, less than thought, I released the power of the Doch sigil into him. Memories of my Sire coursed through me as I released the flame.
“Show me, little Handmaiden. Show me how much you enjoy this.”
I bit my lip, moaning.
The man shuddered, moaning as Her pleasure tore through him, sharp as a blade, fast as any arrow. “Saryna.” His eyes glazed. “Oh, sweet girl…”
His body convulsed, his muscles dancing in fits as the fire of ecstasy burned through him. Pleasure overtook his entire world, and he sank to his knees, stupefied, his body betraying him.
Until Rand ended that with one quick slice, the man who so loved Saryna lay motionless on the paved cobbles.
Rand and I faced the man cloaked in night.
“You led us on quite the chase, pretty doe.” The man’s voice rustled like silk pulled over steel. “I think you are more than we believed.”
“Yours.” Rand’s voice came in a husky whisper. “I belong to you, Mistress. What shall I do?”
“Kill him.” My grin turned feral. “He doesn’t leave this alleyway.”
Rand turned on the man, knife in hand, but the night-cloaked man danced around Rand’s advances, gone before every strike. He was like the wind in autumn, like the grace of a raven’s wing.
Now.
I stepped in, my Lady’s power burning on my fingertips. I missed my first grasp, but the second caught a pale arm as he reached for me. I looked into his cloak, close enough to see his porcelain skin and angled, strong jaw.
I released my Lady’s power into him.
Instead of enveloping him, thunder and fire slapped me in the face. My head felt crushed. Lightning tore through my skin.
I blinked, then landed on the ground four steps from the night-clad man.
“I may also be more than I appear.” He smiled smugly. “You will not be returning to your temple this night, I think.”
Then, Rand appeared behind him, a broken cobblestone in hand. He swung as the cloaked figure gloated and caught him full on the back of the head. With a sickening crack, the not-man staggered.
Rolling, I pushed myself to my feet, holding my torn dress in an effort at decency.
Dazed, the cloaked man still moved. Goddess above, a strike like that should have—!
Rand swung a second time.
I did not wait. I ran for the alleyway.
They had ambushed me only thirty feet before the alley, but the streets bustled with throngs of people. I stepped into the crowd, watching the mouth of the alleyway. If the cloaked man came out of the alleyway, I would not run. This time, I would stay with the crowd and let the city watch intervene if he attacked me.
A long moment passed. Then another.
Rand stumbled from the alleyway. He cast his eyes about, seeking me.
“Rand!” I waved my hand at him, unw
illing to step from the street.
He saw me and staggered over.
I sat on a bench next to a fountain. “Where is he?”
“He ran off, didn’ he? Jumped on a rain barrel and pulled up on the roof, quick as spit.” Rand panted. He looked at me, his eyes hangdog and stricken.
I cursed.
Rand winced at my anger.
“I’m yours, Mistress. What will you have of me?”
I pulled my torn dress back up. It was a bit ragged, but it would hold until I was back at the House of Pleasure.
“You can tell me who hired you fine men for one thing.” I narrowed my eyes. “Was it Lord Devariis?”
He shook his head emphatically. “No, Lady. T’was that man, the one in black. Came into the pub not an hour ago. Don’ know his name, but I saw his badge. A silver eye, it was.”
How very odd. The Silver Eye was the symbol of House Marklus.
Each of Stormhaven’s seven royal Houses had their own house badge, a symbol that those born into or adopted by that House proudly displayed. Of course the ruling Houses were a political tangle of snakes so intertwined that they were impossible to completely unravel.
Each House maintained various contacts and supports for all their major endeavors. House Gwen’Dyrin, for instance, employed the Runners of the Merchant Guild putting the current Guildmaster in charge of the flow of information around our sister city, Wintersedge, a very profitable endeavor.
I wasn’t involved with any of the Houses. The most familiar to me was House Padronsdotter. They held many intricate ties to the various temples throughout the land. It was the source of their very name, and they took their piety very seriously.
While House Marklus tended to be quiet, more secluded and secretive in its dealings, I knew their badge. They had no ties to our temple or any other to my knowledge. Why would one of them try to kill a Handmaiden?
“No one told you I served the Goddess Rydia, did they?”