Authors: Bertrice Small
The Shadow Prince laughed, and, raising his hand, he said,
“Return Skrymir from whence you came. Come back when once I call again.”
And the giant was gone from the garden. Kaliq sat down on the marble bench next to the pond and considered what should be done next.
He’d virtually found Kolgrim, but Kolbein’s Wolfyn protector would prove a slightly more difficult creature to locate. While the Wolfyn were more numerous now there were only but half a dozen or more dominant families where Kolbein could be safely fostered. Kaliq called a servant to him, instructing him to send to his brothers inviting them to a feast on the morrow. He would tell them of what was transpiring, and then ask for volunteers to go into the Dark Lands and seek out Kolbein. Once both boys were located Lara would observe them and make a decision as to which would rule in place of his father.
That decided, Kaliq took himself to the Hall of Arild. It was early evening, and servants moved about the large hall setting the High Board for the meal. In a corner by the great hearth two women sat talking while they sewed. At their feet three small children, all girls, played. Clothed in shadows, Kaliq listened to their chatter, for women’s chatter was often quite informative.
“Kolgrim grows more determined to learn who his parents are,” one of the women said. “Arild does not know what to do. He has sent to Chancellor Alfrigg for instructions. We should hear within the month.”
“Do you know who Kolgrim’s parents are, Broska?” the younger woman asked.
“Nay, I do not for certain, but I have my suspicions, Guri,” came the reply.
“Oh, tell me!” Guri whispered excitedly.
“I think he may be the son of the Twilight Lord himself,” Broska whispered back, and then she placed a quick hand over Guri’s mouth. “You can say nothing!” Then she nodded her head toward the little girls. “Little pitchers have big ears, sister.”
Guri pulled the hand over her lips away. “Why do you think that?” she wondered.
“You know the tale that is told of how he got his son on a faerie woman. They say she was very beautiful and very powerful. He wanted her, and he wanted her powers. After Lord Kol’s son was born she died, or ran away, I do not really know. But the child would have needed fostering since Lord Kol disappeared from the Dark Lands, wouldn’t he? And if Kolgrim isn’t the Twilight Lord’s son why would Chancellor Alfrigg be involved? Arild knows, but he won’t say anything about it even though I’ve asked him,” Broska said. “But I am certain that I am right, Guri.”
“Then should not Kolgrim be his father’s heir? And if that is so will we not be among the highest in the land, for we have raised him? He even sucked at your teat, Broska. You fed him and your own son, Evert, together.”
“They are like brothers,” Broska exulted proudly. “And if I am right will not my son be among Kolgrim’s closest advisors?”
“You have always been so fortunate,” Guri said. “All I can give Arild are daughters although hopefully this child in my belly will be a son. It is far more active than they were. I am certain it is a giant and not a giantess this time.”
“You are so pretty,” Broska said, “that he will forgive you anything, Guri. Even another daughter.” And Broska laughed. “I may have given our husband two sons, but our elder, Vili, is useless. He does not fight. He will not kill. All he wants to do is stick his nose in books. Praise Krell for our Evert!”
Kaliq had heard enough. Kolgrim was here. Although he had not seen the boy himself there would be time enough for that. He returned to his privy chamber where, using the silent language of magic folk, he called to Lara to come to him. She did not come immediately, but he knew she had heard him and would come as quickly as she could. How difficult this would be for her. But Lara would do what had to be done. She had never been a creature to shirk away from duty.
And then she appeared in a puff of pale green smoke. “My lord, you have news for me,” Lara said. “I am sorry I could not come immediately, but I was with my lover, and I needed to see he slept before I left him.”
“You have taken a lover?” He swallowed his jealousy.
“Why are you surprised, Kaliq?” Lara said. “You know my faerie nature.”
“Who is it?” he demanded, unable to help himself.
She laughed. “Oh, Kaliq, do not look so fierce. It is Roan of the Aghy. He has lusted after me for years. He is vigorous, and offers rough pleasures, but he will never engage my heart in any way. You need not be jealous. Am I jealous when you take lovers of pretty mortals? Nay, I am not.” But Lara lied, for she had always been jealous when he took other females to his bed. She never understood why, but she was.
“He is not worthy of you,” Kaliq replied stiffly.
“Nay, he is not, but his curiosity is now satisfied. No woman ever satisfied him before me nor will any do so after me. But I could hardly take a lover from among the Fiacre clan, and I certainly could not take one who was not of noble blood,” Lara said casually.
“Faerie witch!” the Shadow Prince swore softly at her.
And Lara smiled at him wickedly in return. “Now, my lord,” she said, “what have you to tell me that you have summoned me here in the middle of the Terahn night?”
“It is still late afternoon here,” he remarked. “I have found Kolgrim.”
“Have you indeed?” she replied. “What is he like?”
“I have not seen him, but I have visited his home, and his foster mother positively dotes upon him. She suckled him along with her own son. He was out hunting with his foster father and brother.”
“Who are these people who fostered the boy?” Lara asked, unable to restrain her curiosity. “Most in the Dark Lands would not have had the means to take Kol’s sons.”
“Kolgrim is with a Forest Giant and his family. They are kin to Og’s father, but refused to leave the Dark Lands, and remained loyal to Kol. The giant is called Arild. He has two wives, five children, an enormous hall even considering his size and a large, isolated holding. The boy does not know who his parents are, but has recently become curious, and demands answers Arild dare not give him. The wives do not know the boy’s parentage, either, but the elder of them has guessed though she says nothing. Because of Kolgrim’s curiosity they have sent to Alfrigg for answers. Consequently we do not have a great deal of time in which to act. Better you choose than Kol’s chancellor.”
“Where is the other?” Lara asked him.
“All we know right now is that he is with a Wolfyn family. I have invited my brothers to a feast tonight, and will ask for their help in this matter. Will you remain and join us, Lara?” Kaliq asked her.
“Yes,” she said, “I will. Now if that is all you have to say to me I shall go to my chamber and sleep for a few hours. Send a serving woman to me, my lord.”
“What of Roan of the Aghy? He will awaken to find you gone,” Kaliq said.
“We share pleasures, my Prince, nothing more. If I am gone he will go. He will not question, for Roan knows he has no right to answers from me,” Lara said. Leaning over, she arose from the bench next to him, kissed his cheek and found her way to the chamber that was always kept ready for her. She smiled to see a serving woman waiting for her. Kaliq was so marvelously sensitive to her needs.
“How may I serve you, Domina?” the servant said.
“I will attend tonight’s feast. Waken me an hour before the guests will arrive. I will want to bathe. Tell the bath mistress to use oil of freesia.”
“Of course, Domina, but may I suggest you awaken an hour and a half before the feasting begins. You will have time for a massage then,” the servant said.
“Aye, ’tis better. Thank you,” Lara replied.
The serving woman bowed from the waist, and left her master’s guest alone. Lara immediately lay down upon her bed, and was quickly asleep. She did not dream but awakend naturally just before the servant returned to rouse her and escort her to the bathing chamber. When she arrived her sleeping garment was taken from her, and she was scrubbed with a rough cloth to remove dead skin and dirt. A stream of warm water rinsed her. Next she was gently washed with a soft sea sponge and fragrant soap redolent with the scent of freesia. Her long pale gold hair was washed, too. Another rinse followed, and Lara immediately went to sit for a few minutes in the bathing pool, her long hair spread over the marble edge to be toweled, then brushed damp dry and pinned with a silver pin atop her head.
After a short time had passed the bath mistress came to help her out of the perfumed water. “The masseur is awaiting you, my lady Domina,” she said as she led Lara from the bathing room into a small square room lit only by a single light.
Lara climbed onto the high marble table with its soft feather mattress. “You may begin,” she told the masseur, and, lying facedown, closed her eyes.
“The prince says I am to massage
everything,
my lady Domina,” the masseur said.
“I will permit it,” Lara responded, “but you would do it anyway, for he has commanded it.” Then she laughed softly. “Begin!” she repeated.
The masseur’s hands were skilled. They began with her shoulders and neck, digging lightly, then more strongly as they moved down her torso. He kneaded the silken oil of freesia into her shapely buttocks, pulling the twin halves apart to fully attend to them. A single digit rubbed oil about the opening to her second passage, then the thick finger pushed slowly into her, sheathing itself to the knuckle. He worked the finger inside her carefully. Then, satisfied, withdrew it, washing his hands before continuing on down her lush body. The masseur released the tension in her thighs and calves, finally reaching her small, narrow feet. His large thumbs pressed into her heel, the arch of her foot, the pads of her feet before gently massaging each toe. Then he paid the same careful attention to her other leg.
“If the Domina will turn herself over now,” he said politely.
Lara rolled over with a sigh, and the masseur began anew with her neck and shoulders. Next he moved on to her breasts, massaging each one in turn, drawing the nipples out and pinching them gently to stimulate them. Her torso and belly were then attended to before he reached her silky, smooth female mound. Pulling her legs apart, he massaged the mound, drawing her nether lips apart to rub a goodly amount of oil into them. He ceased but a moment to reach into a small open jar, taking a bit of white powder upon the tip of his finger. Then he carefully inserted the finger into her main female passage, spreading the soft powder into the walls of her sheath.
“What is it?” Lara asked him.
“Alum to tighten you,” the masseur told her, rubbing gently.
“What else?” Lara said.
“I would not know, Domina,” the masseur answered.
“Did your master give it to you?” she queried him.
“Aye, he did,” the masseur replied, withdrawing his finger, washing his hands again and then continuing on to complete the massage.
Lara closed her eyes again and smiled. If she knew Kaliq he had mixed something with the alum to make certain her arousal was complete this night, for Lara knew before the banquet was over she would share pleasures with several of the Shadow Princes, for that was the custom at these feasts. She had not attended such an event in many years, but she remembered the last one as an incredibly pleasurable experience. The Shadow Princes were sensual and skilled lovers of women.
“I am finished now, Domina,” the masseur announced.
“Thank you for your attention,” she said to him. “Your fingers are most skilled.”
The masseur bowed in response, and departed the room even as the bath mistress reentered it to escort Lara back to her chamber where the serving woman awaited to help her dress. The gown she held out for Lara’s inspection was of the finest silk and as sheer as a cobweb. It was midnight-blue in hue, but she would not don it until her hair was done. But first Lara sat while the servant painted her nipples a carmine-red.
The color was made from a sweet fruit that came from Umbra trees, which were native to the Desert Kingdom’s gardens. It was, along with the horses raised by the Shadow Princes, highly prized by the people of Hetar, but so rare that it was available to only those magnates and a few Pleasure Mistresses who could afford to purchase it. Lara sat quietly while the serving woman blew the dye dry.
Next the servant dressed Lara’s beautiful long hair, brushing it and then braiding two narrow plaits intertwined with slender chains of jewels on either side of her head while leaving a long swath of golden hair to stream down her back. Then she slipped the gossamer gown onto the faerie woman’s form. A loose-fitting thin gold chain was fitted about her waist as a final adornment. “You are ready, Domina,” the serving woman said. “Shall I escort you to the banqueting hall?”
“Nay,” Lara responded. “I know the way. Thank you for your service.” Then she left the smiling servant, walking across Kaliq’s private garden to the main corridor of his palace. She looked over the marble balcony that opened out to the Valley of the Horses below. The herds of the Shadow Princes, sleek and beautiful as ever, grazed in the early-evening sunlight. Lara sighed. What memories she had of that valley, of traveling across it with Noss, and through its magical cliffs into the Outlands once populated by the clan families. Now, of course, it was all changed because of Hetar’s insatiable greed.
“You will be late for the banquet,” a familiar voice murmured in her ear.
“Lothair!” Lara turned to greet her old sword master.
“How is Andraste?” he asked as he escorted her down the wide corridor to the banquet hall.
“Cranky, for there has been nothing for her to do in these last years,” Lara said.
“That will all change soon,” Lothair said dryly.
“What do you know?” Lara was immediately curious.
“What you will eventually know,” he teased her. “You are Kaliq’s protégée, not mine, beautiful faerie woman, and he is jealous where you are concerned, as you know.” He led her to where Kaliq was seated and greeting his guests. “Brother, I bring you Lara,” Lothair said, seating her next to his fellow prince. “Now I must leave you, for there are two delightful little beauties eagerly awaiting me.” He bowed and walked away.