Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  The door slid shut behind us, she called light to her heatless candles, and I looked around the spacious room more familiar by now, even unusual as it was in the Cloister. The high bed, the bath, the bookshelves, the enormous desk, the tidy counter with a mirror, used either to dress or to store and prepare a small snack or a drink of wine, and a bench set at waist-level, with two chairs nearby. If D’Shea had a collection of vials and magical components and small burners at her disposal in her quarters, they could only be in the locked closet built into the stone.

  Rausery’s quarters had been a touch smaller, with a low pallet, basic square table and two chairs, a standing chest used for hygiene but not storing food. Hers had no bookshelf although she had a desk just as large, and there had been a tall pile of pressed parchment that looked like maps, plus a few way-finding tools.

  It was plain that the Elder Sorceress spent quality time here, where in contrast, I hadn’t seen much evidence that Rausery stayed in her quarters a moment longer than she had to.

  “Bathe, Sirana,” D’Shea said with a little wrinkle to her nose as she began the water flowing in her tub. “Set all equipment on my bench.”

  I did as she said. My skin was cool and sticky in places where I’d sweated through, and some grit had even gotten into the few breaches in the armor, but there was no blood or damage. I had no conflict or execution to report on this time. I untied my braid, letting it fall, and began to comb it out with my fingers. D’Shea nodded in satisfaction and indicated that I should sit in the tub even while it was still filling.

  As I cleaned myself using her soaps, silently enjoying the warm swirl around my legs climbing up my torso, D’Shea inspected my uniform, weapons, and other equipment, muttering a few magical words. Seeming to find nothing of interest, she undressed as well, trading out her armor and uniform for a soft and comfortable, pale purple robe. It didn’t resemble the wizards’ robes in appearance, but its elegance suited her, and she seemed to prefer it.

  By the time my Elder sat with a glass of wine with her desk’s chair turned toward me, I’d finished scrubbing my skin and hair, had dunked myself to rinse. I sat a moment longer before she said to empty the tub and dry off. A towel was within my reach, folded on a low caddy next to it.

  I observed her as I ran the absorbent cloth over my dripping body. She didn’t speak to me, and she seemed low on energy. It was hard to decide the difference now, as normally she stood or sat calmly, rarely paced, never fidgeting. She was like that now; she did not slump, sag, yawn, or do anything that made me think she was worn out.

  Yet she still seemed that way.

  My Elder turned her head to look at me with that face clearly from Nobility and smiled. “Good. Now, come sit. Have some wine.”

  I blinked as I realized she had moved one of the bench chairs to sit at a right angle from hers. As she lifted her glass to her mouth, I saw the second, empty glass on the edge of her desk beside the open bottle. That was a first.

  “Come sit, Sirana,” she repeated.

  She hadn’t instructed me to dress, and I knew enough by now that it wasn’t an oversight. A creeping feeling crawled up the back of my neck as I wondered if she intended to fuck me this eve, this many quad-spans after my initiation, long after I had my own uniform and was fully of the Red Sisters. Perhaps the set up suggested it, but her languid motions and drifting eyes didn’t.

  I accepted the chair but hesitated at pouring any wine for myself. The open bottle missed roughly the same amount as was in D’Shea’s own glass, but it meant nothing as I hadn’t watched her open the bottle and pour to drink it straight.

  D’Shea watched me and softly chuckled. “No other way to test, Sirana?”

  She lifted her glass toward her mouth. I smiled. “No, Elder.”

  She shook her head, tilting it and letting the transparent, brown-tinged liquid slide down her throat as she swallowed twice. Then she reached to pour another half-glass from the same bottle and emptied that as well in three large gulps. I stared at her, and her smile was impish as she set down her glass and leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over another.

  “How long will you wait now?”

  My fingers closed on the seat beneath my bare ass. “Until my report is over, Elder?”

  Her mouth twisted with silent laughter. “Sufficient. Tell me about your trip to House Itlaun.”

  That was easy as I told her everything I had observed, which was very little.

  “Very well. Now let’s talk a little about House Aurenthin,” she said. “You wandered out that way recently, did you not?”

  Damn. Had someone reported on me?

  “Yes, Elder. Just now, after my last check-in.”

  “Why?”

  “You were still in the city, Elder, and no one gave me a specific task.”

  “A little evasion helped, I’m sure.”

  The Sorceress leaned forward to take the wine bottle again as she made that remark. She filled the empty glass nearest to me then upended it to fill hers near to the brim. I watched the last couple of tan drops land in her cup before she set the bottle down. She leaned back in her chair again, leaving both glasses full between us, and my eyes chose to study her breasts beneath the robe instead. I could see her nipples standing up, and the dark arrowhead of skin coming to a point. I knew she wore nothing underneath; a shrug of the shoulders and a loosening of a knot, and she’d be nude like me.

  I figured she sensed my confusion, or at least my tension.

  “You are off task, Sirana,” she said, “yet I never see you drink any spirits. You’ve even refused when Jaunda offered.”

  I shrugged. “Too many burning tonics forced down my throat as a child, Elder, and more than one tampered with at Court. I don’t understand compromising my wits with intention and leaving myself vulnerable.”

  My Elder nodded thoughtfully, resettling to look comfortable, and her gaze was far away for a few moments. She blinked and focused on me. “I’ve heard this before. We’re agreed. Anymore, I partake of a substance too restful only while sitting here. Locked in and secure.”

  I frowned a bit. Where else did you ‘partake’ that you don’t anymore?

  This was what I wished to ask but it was too specific about her past. I knew nothing of where any of my elders had come from, not even Jaunda, and Qivni had kicked me in the head when I probed her about a link to the Sanctuary. The most I knew of any Sister was that Gaelan had been a commoner with a bua she still thought about—but she refused to tell me anything about him.

  Instead, I asked, “Why imbibe at all, Elder?”

  D’Shea smiled, relaxed yet sly. “A necessary part of any mage perfecting their craft, Sirana, whether or not they brew potions. Testing and confronting magical effects of any kind is not unlike swallowing a liquor or eating a mushroom which changes your senses, placing us in an altered state. It can compromise the body, and a mage best not forget this, but if we are to learn magic, if we are not to stagnate, we cannot afford to fear those altered states of mind and body, or losing control of them on occasion.”

  There was a clear warrior’s parallel there, I didn’t miss it. This was no doubt why Jaunda sometimes indulged in recreational “alteration.” And D’Shea was correct, my Lead had offered the same to me, and I might have been safe to try, but…

  I was afraid.

  I didn’t trust even my Sisters to pick me up out of the hallway if I collapsed, as I had once chosen to do for the young Noble, Micraen. Upon waking, he had rewarded me with my first ride upon a young pole; he had given me the pleasure of the body I had protected, but that hadn’t been my purpose at the time. I’d only been afraid of what others would do to one who couldn’t defend themselves.

  Afraid and angry.

  As I’d been for so much of my youth.

  My Elder reached for her glass and changed the subject, still watching me as she took a sip. “Do you remember the young fighter from the Ornilleth skirmish? She broke rank
and assisted you with defending the mages.”

  I saw where she was going with this from a cavern away.

  I nodded. “Yes, Elder. We spoke again briefly after the battle. I saw to her healing, among others.”

  “Of what did you speak?”

  “I asked her name. Complimented her fierceness.” I thought back. “That was all.”

  D’Shea’s dark red eyes did not blink. “What is her name?”

  You already know, don’t you?

  “Jael Aurenthietti,” I said, pausing. “Is that the first you’ve heard her name?”

  D’Shea half-smiled. “No.”

  “She is someone of interest to us?”

  “Perhaps. She is to you, yes?”

  “Not her alone, more what made her. I’m curious about the bottom House.”

  “That’s why you took your own task after House Itlaun, waiting for me?”

  Just spill the ‘report,’ Sirana.

  “Yes, Elder. The Valsharess’ Army drills on the Matron’s lands and she cannot refuse. The Fourth Daughter of the Twenty-Fourth spoke to a Fifth House healer like she was nothing. More of them seem outspoken, probably due to their severance from the Court. They are vulnerable to retaliation, petty or devastating, yet seem active on poorer lands.”

  The Elder nodded, slow and thoughtful. “Active. How is that?”

  I tried to put what I’d seen into words. “They live in a slum, like the Lowgate on the other side of the Great Cavern, but not so cramped. I didn’t observe the same… slinking lethargy. They didn’t so much hide in holes as stay alert on an open expanse doing things. Sneaking scouts seem a regular thing.”

  D’Shea was smirking. “You deduced all that from a single observance?”

  “I admit it took more, Elder.” I smiled back. “Three times.”

  She huffed. “Without explicit instruction.”

  “You don’t want me to cling to explicit instruction, Elder. I did not interact.”

  “Heh. Nothing so blatant as kissing Callitro on the battlefield?”

  My face flushed. “No, Elder. They didn’t see me. I never spoke.”

  She stared at me, wine glass in hand. The silence stretched.

  “Are you displeased, Elder?”

  She inhaled, the shape of her breasts apparent beneath her robe. “Yes, but not entirely. Perhaps I should consider this a genuine mark in her favor.”

  “Her favor?”

  “Aurenthietti. The Fourth Daughter.”

  A sudden possibility settled in my mind. “Recruitment?”

  “Perhaps.” D’Shea’s expression was hard to read yet her words struck hard. “You are aware we are two Sisters down.”

  I looked at the floor, folding my hands. “How is Reishel, Elder? I haven’t seen her.”

  “Retraining. We’ll get her back.”

  “Is she the first one, as Elder Rausery said?”

  The Sorceress nodded, her mouth solemn. “True clashes with a mind flayer are rare, but all our Sisters struck down before were killed either where they fell or soon after being pulled out.”

  Rare? A mind flayer is rare?

  “Why did three of them attack us, Elder, with an entire mob of thralls?”

  “Unknown.” D’Shea took a drink and gestured with her glass, swirling the liquid. “Have the wine I’m offering before I take offense, Sirana.”

  A Noble at Court would have already.

  “Yes, Elder.”

  I lifted the generous helping, held it beneath my nose. I could smell nothing unusual until I tasted it. The mushroom wine had a tart bite to it that I wondered how it had been done. Bitter was the most common undertone, and sweet because of the need to add consumables other than fungus to the process. It was sour enough to cause the inside of my mouth to pucker and salivate; that was an accomplishment.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Different,” I responded, smacking my mouth once, holding up the glass to note the coloration.

  She laughed quietly and sipped; she was on her third glass, and I could see the relaxation in her shoulders and her eyes. She felt the effects and kept watching me sip from the glass. She was silent for quite a while, and her copper eyes drifted over my breasts and belly, my legs and back up. I hadn’t done more than finger-comb my hair from being in the tub; it was unkempt but not in total disarray as it dried, but she studied that, too. Over that quiet time, I could feel the wine warm my insides.

  “Do you still prefer males over females, Sirana?”

  I swallowed the wine on my tongue and wondered whether there was a right answer to this one. “I’ve had only females since joining the Sisterhood, Elder.”

  “I’m aware, Sirana. And you failed to answer the question.”

  I gathered my wits even as they’d grown fuzzy around the edges. “I prefer living erections to numb appendages, Elder.”

  “Living erections?”

  “Real, or magical. The sex doesn’t matter.”

  “You don’t care for the synthetic rods.” Her tone was wry, and she rolled her eyes upward. “Few females do, given their position in being forced to wear them. What about wearing a Feldeu yourself?”

  My mouth was open, but I paused. My Elder rested her cheek on two elegant fingers.

  “Have you thought about it?” she added.

  “Of course, l—”

  “—especially when you made a vulnerable and altered mage take the one she should be using on you?” D’Shea lifted an eyebrow. “That was the ‘numb appendage’ that came to mind, I take it?”

  Gaelan. Flustered, I swallowed my answer mid-thought. “Yes, I’ve tried it. Only once. I won’t do it again.”

  “Do what? Pump a Sister’s cunt for her without feeling anything yourself, or take her while she’s ‘altered,’ as you dislike yourself?”

  Fuck.

  “Take her while she’s altered, Elder,” I answered with sincerity. “I haven’t ever… i-it’s happened to me a lot, but she didn’t like it after, and it wasn’t the best idea I’ve had—”

  “You realize saying that won’t stop another from taking you while altered again, and I guarantee you won’t be able to keep that boundary yourself as a Red Sister, Sirana, so don’t attempt to think so.”

  “I mean Gaelan only,” I pressed. “Just between us, as Sisters. I never equated mage spells with potions and liquor, Elder. I won’t do it to her again.”

  “Hm.” D’Shea smirked. “And if she asks you to use her Feldeu on her and work her to climax while awake? Serving her needs with a numb appendage? Never your preference at Court, we know.”

  “We’ll find something that works between us, Elder. I can’t say what it is.”

  The Sorceress considered me as though I had suddenly said something intelligent and it surprised her. Briefly, she shook her head as if to refuse a request I hadn’t heard spoken.

  “Touch yourself, Sirana.”

  It was an order that sent tiny bumps of surprise spreading over my shoulders. My heart beat harder as I opened my legs a little and touched between them, my fingers slipping between my netherlips. She watched for a bit but then gauged my glass beside me on the corner of her desk.

  “Finish your wine.”

  I knew better than to take my hand from my crotch. I reached out with my other and gulped it in four large swallows before setting it down again. The brown liquid coated my stomach, which heaved a little. My mouth puckered, D’Shea sighed in mild disappointment but otherwise didn’t comment.

  As she watched, and to help my responsiveness, I imagined Jaunda and Delia, recalled their recent “surprise” quickie, jumping and wrestling me to the ground in the Mess Hall. I’d used some of what Elder Rausery had taught me, what I’d been practicing, and I almost got away. Almost. Other Sisters had heard my Lead compliment me as she jerked down my leathers and I stayed in position with legs open.

  “Goddess-damn. Making us really earn it no
w, eh?”

  I had taken them both at once, deep and willing. I’d sucked Delia with such enthusiasm, flicking my bean with one hand while Jaunda determinedly reamed my backend. I’d cum so hard for them as others watched, as several bent over a table to join. My Sisters were so different from seducing and climbing on top of coy, Noble buas.

  As soon as my Elder heard my touch as well as saw it, she spoke.

  “Show me your fingers.”

  A hot flush swept over me, and my mind had fallen in a heavy haze just in that short time. I held onto the seat with one hand, to make sure I did not tilt too far off center; I drew my first two fingers out of my hole and showed them to her. My Elder straightened up and smoothly leaned forward, her mouth capturing my fingers, tasting my juices. I felt her soft tongue swirl around them, hot lips press and suck the fragrant fluid off my skin. Her robe was looser in the front and I could see the curves of her breasts, naked nipples teasing me, not quite in full view.

  There was no doubt in my mind now, when I least expected it, that D’Shea had decided it was her turn to sample me.

  “E-Elder?” I whispered.

  She offered a pleasant hum as she sucked my fingers, her inebriated eyes low-lidded and glazed. She stood up slowly, untying the sash at her waist as she stepped to the side and walked to her closet.

  “On my bed, Sirana. Upright. Sit on the edge with your legs parted.”

  There had been a little shake in her voice. Anticipation?

  My gut was tight for not knowing what she planned, what she liked, how she intended to enjoy herself. It was hot as well, my slit swelling, engorged to an ache to think that the only Red Sister who hadn’t fucked me yet genuinely desired me now.

  I sat on her bed. She had blankets softer than others, and the mattress beneath gave comfortably. I had lain here before, my very first eve inside the Cloister and a few times after. It hadn’t felt different then—just the bedding I was used to myself as a Noble.