By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought)

by Crandall, John

  Selric had spent the last week away from home, afraid to take Alanna back there. Aside from taking Cinder and Fiona each on a date, he spent every other moment with Alanna. He moved her into The Unicorn’s Run, and though she did not actually work there, her beauty shone now that she had been cleaned up and dressed as someone befitting a paramour of the young Stormweather. She was repeatedly propositioned, rivaling the pleasure girls of The Run in attractiveness. Naturally, she declined.

  Life for Alanna was easy, if a bit boring. Her bed was free, her food was free and when Selric was away, she would mostly sit quietly in her room and wait solely for his return.

  When the couple had overcome their initial shyness toward each other, which was a trait rarely seen in Selric, he found that Alanna was funny, sly, caring, and extremely intelligent; as great as anyone he knew, except for perhaps Fiona and an old acquaintance, Delia the Mage. “With proper schooling, she could have learned the art of magic,” he told her one afternoon. But it was an unrefined intelligence, and she was still often as crude as her upbringing. It was hard for him to believe she had been kept by the leader of their band, when she clearly possessed the intelligence to rule them all. He thought, perhaps, it was because she was only nineteen years of age. But when he thought of equally young Fiona’s fire, he knew were their positions reversed, Fiona would have been ruling that band of thieves.

  Alanna was attractive and alluring, possessing a simple charm over men, brought on by being both straight forward yet yielding: she enjoyed the same topics and pastimes as most men of her station and could hold her own amongst them. But she was wily enough to always let them think her subservient, her beauty winnable. She let them have their way, or at least think that they did, while she subtly set them straight to her thinking. Males could talk to Alanna about anything; she never blushed nor withdrew. She was tall and, when properly attired, extremely elegant. She had grace and a sweet smile. She was quiet and loyal and supported her man—currently Selric—in all he decided. But for this one, Alanna would do anything, even kill, which wasn’t too surprising, since she had been a street thug nearly her entire life. But, best of all to Selric, Alanna was at home in all the circles where he moved: she knew the back streets at least as well as he did, maybe better. And she was able to blend in, much like Fiona, at the gatherings he was hoping to take her to in the future.

  To Alanna, Selric was unbelievably kind, handsome, and rich, more in any one of the three than she thought she would ever find combined in one man. Selric seemed completely taken with her, but she knew it could never last, especially into marriage. Those things just did not happen to girls like her. But she liked him, without a doubt: she was drawn to him and she knew she could easily grow to love him, again, love being something that could not happen to someone born into her lot of life. So, Alanna decided to enjoy the fairy-tale time she spent with her charming prince, enjoying the days and nights, until the destined day of their separation must eventually arrive.

  Just one short week after Selric had walked out of the hearth room under threat of expulsion, he walked back in, Alanna on his arm. She was wearing a long golden dress; her straight yellow hair hanging down behind her. She was adorned with a dab of cosmetics to color her face and a smattering of jewels, many from the coffer Selric had taken from Alanna’s former compatriots. What she wore, though, that drew the most attention was the broad and nervous smile on her frightened face. As they approached the family, Alanna bit her lip and trembled nervously, clinging to Selric’s steadfast arm.

  “Hello everyone,” Selric said gaily. They, except for Helmric, replied with “Hello.”

  “This is her,” Selric proclaimed. Everyone, even Alanna, wondered what he meant by his words.

  “This is who?” Violet asked nervously. The Stormweathers awaited his answer. Selric smiled, goading them all with his patient grin.

  “Alanna,” he finally said. “The girl who was here last week, and an important person to me.”

  “Oh! The...” Violet started, her eyes wide with recognition. But she did not finish her thought.

  “Didn’t recognize her with her clothes on, eh?” Helmric said, laughing. Alanna turned several shades of red and looked ill, trying to pull away and run out. Grandfather, gruff as he was, did not wish to embarrass her, and hurriedly continued when he noticed her discomfort. “I wish I’d gone into the room myself. She’s a beautiful lass, Selric.” Alanna looked up and smiled at him to which he returned a friendly wink. Andric, Violet, and Mendric were shocked at his hitherto uncommon frivolity.

  “Father!” Violet urged in a hushed but concerned tone.

  “Hello dear, I’m Andric. The lecher is my father, Helmric. This is my wife Violet, and son Mendric.” Alanna smiled at them all but when her gaze fell on Mendric, he turned away.

  “Well, Alanna,” Violet said. “What do you do?” she asked, giving up on asking Selric’s girlfriends about their families, because none of them ever turned out to be noble born.

  “Nothing,” Selric answered. “And she has no family either. Not yet.” Violet turned to her husband in shock, though trying to hide as much from Selric and his guest. “Well,” Selric continued, “is all you four do sit in here?”

  “No,” Mendric said. “I actually do have to go to the academy.” With that, he said farewell, turned and went hastily into his room.

  “No is right,” his father said. “Actually, we’re planning our voyage to our winter estate.”

  “You are coming, aren’t you?” Selric’s mother asked.

  “I don’t think so, Mother. I haven’t spent a winter at home in years. I’d like to stay,” Selric said.

  “Fine,” his father said eagerly.

  “No it’s not,” Violet protested. Alanna clung to Selric’s arm, awaiting a buffeting slur against her from Lady Stormweather for poisoning her son’s mind or some other motherly tirade. But one did not come. “Selric, I haven’t seen you in two years. I thought we’d spend the winter as a family, with no outside distractions, no academies, no parties.”

  “Oh, Violet,” Andric protested. “In one month you’ll be at every social gathering in Gelton. You’d never stay out on the estate for more than three days at a stretch. Let’s leave the boys here alone this year. The gods know they’re old enough. Let us go alone.” He knelt and took her hand and kissed it. “We can go out with no relatives, no visiting nieces or nephews or distant cousins. Let’s renew our love and our passion.” Violet blushed and Alanna leaned closer to Selric, the talk of romance melting the ladies’ hearts.

  “What about that piece of baggage there,” Selric said, pointing to his grandfather.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” Helmric said, throwing his hands in the air. “Your father hasn’t listened to me since I outranked him. Ever since I retired from the service, he’s taken advantage of, and pulled rank on, me. They’ll set me in a corner and throw a sheet over my head or something like the piece of unused furnishing I have become to the great Stormweather clan.”

  “Yes, Dad. And you’d sit there talking to yourself,” Andric said.

  “Why shouldn’t I? It is the only way I’m guaranteed an intelligent conversation.” He mumbled to himself and walked off to his room. Once in the far room he turned and spoke through the open doorway, “Nice to meet you, Alanna,” then he shut the door.

  “I don’t know,” Violet said to her husband. “You know Brandon is going away. He was to be here to help Mendric.”

  “It will be fine. Mendric will do fine. It will all be fine. It is settled: I want you to myself. Make your list and have the servants begin fetching it all. We’re late this year and winter’s coming early. I’ll get the ship in order and ready to sail. We leave within a week.” Mendric was peeking out his door. Selric saw him and waved coyly; all he could see was his brother’s eyes.

  “Excuse me, but I could use your help, Selric,” came Mendric’s muffled voice, from where he seemed to be actually hiding behind the portal.

  �
��I’m busy just right now, Mendric. Momentarily.”

  “No. Right now, Selric,” he said, sticking his whole head then out the door.

  “I’m sorry, Alanna, but excuse me. This won’t take long. Maybe you’d like to wait in the foyer?” Selric asked, knowing that she must be uncomfortable alone with his parents.

  “Yes, I would,” she said.

  “No, no, Alanna. Stay and talk a minute,” Violet said in a friendly manner, a polite commandment issued from the lady of one of the greatest families in the kingdom. She rang a bell for the servants. Selric left as Elgorn, the chief servant, entered from the kitchen. Selric heard his mother speak, “I don’t know if you’re old enough for wine, are you? How about some fruit juice?”

  “That would be wonderful,” said Alanna, smiling nervously at Selric as he disappeared into Mendric’s room. Mendric slammed the door behind Selric; he had been hiding behind the portal.

  “That’s who you’ve been with? That’s where you’ve been all week...who you gave Angelique up for?” he asked angrily. “You might think you’re playing with the others, but I know you’re bloody serious. I can read it in your face.” He poked his brother in the chest several times more forcefully than he actually intended.

  “So?” Selric said.

  “Come on, Selric. Open your damned eyes! What can she possibly have?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Because you’re my little brother, and I don’t want to see you make any stupid mistake that you might regret for the rest of your life just to prove something to them,” he said, meaning their parents, “to us. You have the love of one of the most—the most—sought after maiden in this city.”

  “It’s not a mistake. Alanna is lovely, smart, witty, funny, great in bed, and she’s not nobility.”

  “Are those really that important?”

  “Yes!” Selric gasped with incredulity, chuckling at the absurdity of his brother’s question. “Extremely.”

  “You’re just being stubborn...trying to spite us all,” Mendric argued.

  “Maybe she’s not stunning like Angelique, but very few women are. Alanna is beautiful, more than beautiful enough for me...by far. The most beautiful to me, by far,” he said concretely. “Why does she have to be compared with Angelique?”

  Mendric held his head. “Whatever...I tried. If that is what you want, that is what you get. I will say no more against her.” He held out his hand and Selric shook it firmly. “Oh! Did you hear that? Alone, you and me, this entire season! Fun, fun, fun,” he said, brightening as best he could.

  “Yep,” Selric said, “and to think I was dreading this upcoming winter!”

  Dirk had gone for another of his deep-thinking walks. He hadn’t seen Tallow in over a week when he found himself there again, making passionate love, repeatedly; for hours. Rough at first, growing more gentle as his lust and frustration were slowly eased. This time, no matter what he thought or what excuses he made, Dirk could not shake his guilt, though this time not guilt for merely using a prostitute. He truly liked Tallow and didn’t feel he was using her beyond how she was used by others. Maybe, he wondered, that was why he did it.

  Dirk was currently still disgruntled with Cinder, Fiona and Melissa, and relating to them in any way, upset him. He felt guilty he was using someone the way those three used him—not for sex necessarily, but his affection—and he didn’t want to be like his friends in that regard. They cajoled, guilt-ed, manipulated and even browbeat him into saying yes when told and doing naught when told.

  Dirk took Tallow to dinner at an expensive inn and afterward bought her the dress of her choice. It didn’t occur to him that he was doing the same for her as some of the men in Cinder’s life did for her, the same situation he had chastised her for repeatedly and the greatest reason he resented her and how she refused to love him as he loved her.

  While at dinner, Tallow grabbed Dirk’s hand tightly. “Oh Dirk,” she said nervously, “let’s get out of here.” He noticed her gaze was riveted fearfully across the room.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “No one will hurt you. Not with me here.” When Dirk turned he saw, surprisingly, Fiona and Melissa standing near the door, and there were two men by them. “Did they hurt you?” Dirk asked angrily.

  “Yes, one of them did. But the other one was there, too,” Tallow said. Dirk rose up. “No. Don’t make trouble. Let’s just leave.”

  “Nonsense,” Dirk said, walking straight to Fiona and Melissa. “I may need your help,” he said.

  “Oh hi!” Fiona said, seeming intoxicated.

  “Sure,” Melissa said. “What’s wrong?”

  “These two bothered a friend of mine.” Dirk turned to face the men. “Excuse me, but that lady says that you’ve been bothering her,” he said, motioning to Tallow. Fiona looked at Melissa and giggled.

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” the first said. “I don’t even know her.”

  “Me either,” said the other with a shrug. Dirk looked at Tallow; she was waving frantically and pointing behind him. He spun. Fiona was smiling while Melissa looked dumbly at him. Then Dirk realized the truth and nearly fainted. He stared at Fiona as if he wished he could smack her.

  He didn’t know what to tell Tallow. He worried that she would think he and his friends were evil fiends for how he was occasionally risqué and rough with her and what he could only imagine Fiona, priestess of pain, had done to his new friend. He was tempted to fight with the two women to make it look to Tallow as though he didn’t know them. “What else can I do?” he thought with dour sarcasm, but he knew eventually she would find out who his older friends were.

  “You know her, don’t you?” Dirk asked Fiona, to which she smiled simply and nodded her head. Fiona’s face darkened and she pushed past Dirk, Melissa following as Dirk stood dumbly. “What else could happen? I was so happy to have all these friends and now I can’t lose them,” he muttered. The men he had questioned laughed and Dirk glared at them for finding his trio of lovely acquaintances amusing when to him they often seemed to have more drawbacks than boons.

  When Dirk returned to the table, the two women were sitting on each side of Tallow; she was cowering. Dirk decided he must tell the truth.

  “Don’t touch me,” Tallow begged with a touch of anger, her arms folded tightly over her breasts.

  “This is Tallow. She’s a good friend of mine. You will apologize to her and never hurt her again,” Dirk said, grabbing Fiona’s arm with such force, she was stunned. “Got it!” he said.

  “Sure,” Fiona answered smartly. “Whatever you say, Dirky-poo.” She stood and whispered in his ear, “But if you like her, really like her, Melissa will do worse than I ever did.” She winked and pinched his behind, then turned to Tallow. “I’m sorry,” she said insincerely. “If I’d known you were Dirk’s friend, I wouldn’t have done it. See ya.”

  “Bye Dirk,” Melissa said, as if she had no idea what was going on. She looked winsomely at him as if she had wanted to visit, but she followed Fiona and left Dirk with his company.

  “Good-bye,” he said angrily and with finality, as they walked away. He turned to Tallow. “I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I know them. They’re who I went into the Wild with. Well, two of the people, anyway. I’m really sorry that they did…that. Did they take you to some temple?” She nodded and Dirk knew why she covered herself. He remembered some of the disturbing things they had done to their “sacrifices” during the sermon, though not one had ever been killed in the true meaning of sacrifice. “When did this happen?”

  “About two weeks ago. I remember the pain, but when I awoke, I had no wounds. I thought it was some bad dream or something. Don’t worry Dirk,” she said, changing her expression, “I don’t judge a person by his friends or occupation.” She smiled and Dirk knew she made sense and was dropping a hopeful hint on how she wished he might think of her. He smiled back and, after that moment, a little respect for the prostitute grew in his heart. “I couldn
’t expect anybody to like me if they were close-minded. Look at my friends and my job,” she explained, smiling again and Dirk knew she was referring to his tolerance—of her life—at least on the surface.

  Two major attributes of Tallow made her attractive to Dirk: her dependence and her femininity. Cinder was as feminine as a woman could be, but she knew what she wanted and that she could get it from any man. Dirk would give Cinder anything to be her only man, but she refused and he knew it was only a matter of time before she moved on and up with her life to some diplomat, noble or rich merchant. But Tallow needed Dirk; he seemed her whole world. Her own goals were either unimportant or perhaps he had become her only one. She always seemed to Dirk to be content, bright and happy. But when he would show up unannounced he could notice a forlorn look of absence on her face, replaced for the rest of his time with the sheerest joy.

  From dinner and the dress shop, Dirk took Tallow to Bessemer’s and they made love again. She slept with him overnight, both of them staying in bed until late morning. Dirk took Tallow for lunch and when they were finished he walked her home and left her with an engagement for the following eve. It never occurred to Dirk that he might be seeing too much of Tallow. But truly, that was another major quality he liked in her: no matter when, where or how often Dirk wanted to see her, Tallow agreed, never having other engagements or priorities or men. From her house on Crescent Street, Dirk walked to Sellore’s for his training, which he still managed to do at least four days a week. On the way he began to wonder about Fiona. He wondered was it a coincidence that out of all the people in the city she had managed to wrangle Tallow to her sermon in exchange for gold? Or had she been spying?

  The Unicorn’s Run was bustling with business. There were tables of boisterous men with beautiful women on their laps, gambling, drinking, and otherwise having an entertaining evening. Scantily clad serving girls were kept busy as they tried to keep every mug and glass full, but they were constantly pulled onto laps, or had their rumps pinched or slapped, or found themselves distracted or disrupted from their work in some other way. Now and again, the Stormweather guards would toss out an inebriated patron, but generally, it was “anything goes.” That is what the guests were paying for, and what the girls were paid very generously to do as well. As long as the girls did not complain and no one bothered the other guests, a degree of rowdiness was allowed, but as with any Stormweather owned endeavor, it’s overall flavor and outlook was one of respect and honor abiding by what was considered acceptable in their society. Everything was by consent only and while compared to establishments in the Docks District The Run was quite mild, it was boisterous and downright bawdy at times in the eyes of the middle and upper-class patrons for whom the business was established.