Under A Velvet Cloak (2 page)

“Think of it this way: you are controlling them, without being affected yourself. It is a worthwhile ability.”

“And will you be slavering too?”

Oops.
That thought must have slipped through.

Morely glanced at her, and for a moment Jolie feared he had perceived the ghost. Then he chuckled. “I will be enchanted by your presence.”

“Thank you.”

“A lesson in observation and judgment: what just occurred?”

Kerena considered. “You just lulled me by saying the same thing in palatable language.”

“Very good. All things are as they are, but perception is largely guided by language. Never be fooled unless you want to be.”

“When should I ever want to be fooled?”

“When I tell you I love you.”

Oh, this man is sharp!

Kerena considered again. “Because that would justify giving myself to you.”

“Exactly. Always be guided by reality rather than passion. But at such time as you desire it, let the passion flow.”

“But when you speak of love, it will be true.”

“Not necessarily. I will speak love to you, but I will say it to others too, so my words are not to be trusted. Men speak of love when they want sex. They are not at all the same thing. So heed your own feelings, understanding the deceptive conventions. Words and feelings differ, even when they are the same.”

Kerena wrestled with that. “As the word for a stone is not the stone itself, the words of love are not love itself?”

“Correct. The words are merely a guide, and can be true or untrue. Always be aware of the distinction.”

“I will try.”

And that awareness will be one of your defining aspects.

“You are an apt student.”

Kerena felt a thrill. Then she quelled it. She might be apt, but should not believe it merely because he said it. “Thank you for those words,” she said carefully. “I appreciate the compliment without necessarily believing it.”

“Exactly,” he repeated, seeming pleased.

“But please, what is the distinction between love and sex? I have heard of sex as making love.”

“Love is an emotion. Sex is an action. Love can’t be forced. Sex can be, either by violence or seduction. The two can overlap, but their underlying natures differ. Love cherishes the welfare of the other person; sex is for oneself. A man demands sex of a woman; a woman grants it to a man. You must learn and heed the signals of friendship and desire, and always know them apart, for you own comfort and safety.”

“My comfort? My safety?”

He shook his head, nevertheless pleased with her again. “Use your Seeing. You are or soon will be sexually desirable. You must anticipate a man’s approach in time to escape it, lest you be caught victim of molestation.”

Kerena used her Seeing, and was amazed by the graphic accuracy of the warning. What he said was absolutely true. She was in potential danger from any man, except Morely himself. He desired her but would not force her. Not that he would need to.

Still, she slept alone, on his velvet cloak. Her nervousness about the night diminished but did not entirely fade. She wished he would join her there, and not merely for that reason. She was thoroughly smitten with him.

Morely also taught her the value of logical thought. “Most people believe in magic, but they are too credulous. Real magic is hard to come by, and it accomplishes little that could not as readily be accomplished by ordinary means. You must learn the techniques of extrapolation and interpolation, then how to go beyond their boundaries through inspiration and intuition. Form a solid basis of logic and sense, then build on that as necessary. You must always be rational at the root. Fool the others if that is necessary; never fool yourself.”

“I love your mind. You know so much.” Kerena was not trying to flatter him; she was speaking her thought as it occurred, a liability she would have to learn to control.

“You are able to understand. That is a significant part of what makes you worthwhile to train.”

“And you will love my body, soon.”

Stop that, girl!
But Jolie was already becoming fond of her innocent directness.

“Soon,” he agreed. “It is not too early for you to learn the ways of flirtation. They will work only partially now, but when your body arrives, they will be extremely effective.”

“Teach me!”

He nodded. “When you walk, move your hips, so.” He demonstrated.

She laughed. “That’s ludicrous!”

“To be sure, on a man.” He fetched the blanket and draped it around him. “Picture me as a woman.” He moved his hips again. Masked and exaggerated by the draping, they suddenly exuded sexuality.

Kerena appreciated the effect. She imitated the walk, thinking of her sister, who did it whenever in the presence of a man, even one she didn’t want.

Morely nodded. “Practice it when alone, but avoid it when in public.”

“Avoid it?”

“It is already effective. I don’t want you attracting men until you are ready to handle them.”

“But no one ever notices me.”

“Past tense, girl. No one noticed you when your sister was near. But we will encounter groups of men. They will notice you as the only person of the female persuasion, and some are more than ready to relate to a girl your age. Be a child, for now.”

Oh. “Only when with you,” she agreed, walking in a circle, moving her hips
so.

“I spoke of two years,” he said sharply. “Do not make me think of one year.”

Oh, again. Her Seeing and his Seeing saw their future, and already it seemed much like the present. It tempted her, as a challenge. She pondered, and decided to see if she could make him think of less than a year. He would know what she was doing, but might not object. Why wait unduly for the inevitable?

Faulty logic, girl. Death is also inevitable.
But Jolie read the determination in the girl: she wanted to impress Morely, and fancied this was a way.

Yet there was a reservation. It was sex she would use to capture his fancy. She wasn’t sure she knew how to
do
it. Oh, she knew the motions, but what about the essence? Suppose she stiffened involuntarily, turning him off? She wanted very much not to have an initial failure.

Ask him, girl,
Jolie thought, amused.

“Morely, when-when the time comes-how can I be sure to please you?”

He laughed. “Be assured you will please me, just by being you.”

“But because of my inexperience-”

“Inexperience is a virtue, in a maiden.”

“Still-”

“You are really concerned,” he said, frowning.

“I confess it. I want-your love-yet I fear it. I don’t want to scream or cry and make you regret it.”

“I think this is unnecessary,” he said, rummaging in his pack “But it’s something you need to know anyway, to help girls who have similar concerns.” He brought out an object. It was a small figurine, a plump bare woman. “This is an amulet, an ancient love goddess, carved from a mammoth bone, imbued with magic. I suspect women have used it to facilitate love for twenty thousand years.”

“An amulet? Is this a matter of faith?”

“Faith never hurts, but no, this is real magic. A woman puts it in her love channel at night, and it matures her internal configuration, so to speak, making her capable of handling almost any size or shape of male member. Try this tonight, and you will have complete confidence.” He handed it to her.

Kerena studied it. The thing was, yes, about as long and thick as an erect male member; it would no doubt fit, if she applied it firmly. But it was hard and irregular, surely uncomfortable. She distrusted it. “I don’t know.”

He shrugged. “There is surely no need. I was wrong to suggest it.” He reached for the amulet.

She snatched it away. “No, I’ll try it. I want to know. As you say, if I am ever to advise a wary girl.”

“As you wish.” His mild amusement remained.

That night she tried it. She put the figure to her cleft, expecting discomfort, but discovered that its touch in that region generated immediate warmth and moisture. Encouraged, she poked it at her vagina, and it slid inside, summoning further warmth and moisture. Soon it was all the way in, with only the base outside, not uncomfortable at all. She had more room in there than she had thought, or it had caused her to expand.

She left it there, basking in the muted pleasure of it. And dreamed of having sex, over and over. The amulet not only made her ready, it made her want it for itself.

She removed it in the morning, cleaned and pocketed it. Morely seemed to have forgotten the matter, as he did not ask for it back.
The hell he’s forgotten, girl! You have already made him desire you, but he doesn’t want to demand it, so he’s letting you come to him when you’re ready. This will make you ready sooner.

The fact was, Kerena was already more than ready; she was eager, thanks to the amulet. But she fathomed that Morely was not yet ready, perceiving her as still a bit young. So she bided her time, awaiting the right moment.

They traveled from village to village, entertaining and educating the villagers, making a living. Kerena learned the multiple minor ways of magic and superstition, making sure she knew them apart even if the villagers didn’t. Meanwhile Morely did teach her the techniques of extrapolation and interpolation he had mentioned, broadening her mind. She soon discovered that when she learned a fact, she pleased him somewhat; when she learned a technique, she pleased him more; and when she learned a better way of reasoning, she pleased him greatly. He liked her to be savvy as well as talented.

Men like him are rare treasures,
Jolie remarked.

He also taught her rudimentary magic of the elements: fire, water, air, and earth. Her nature as a Seeress hinted at her larger potential, and this was part of that: the talent for invoking the inherent magic of nature. She was an eager student.

The right combination of focus and spell could ignite tinder. “But mask it with a spark from a stone,” he advised. “Do not let others know you can do such invocations. Some have very negative attitudes about it.”

“Like the church,” she agreed. “Though I don’t understand why.”

“Because it wants to have control of magic,” he said. “If too many others learned to do it, they would no longer need the church for spot healing or miracles.”

Another focus and spell would cause water to flow from the ground. “But say you have talent in finding springs,” he said. “Find it, do not openly make it.”

“Maybe that’s what the spell actually does.”

He tapped the top of a projecting stone. “Perhaps.” Water spouted from a hitherto unseen crack.

With air, it was a swirl that could stir up fallen leaves and dust, making a little funnel shape. With earth, it was a vibration that could shake foundations. “Do not overdo any of these,” he said. “Keep them limited, for they are dangerous when overdone, apart from branding you as a sorceress.”

“I can see how fire can spread and become dangerous,” she said. “And too much water could make a flood. But where’s the harm in a little swirl or vibration?”

“A big swirl can fling cows around and destroy huts. A big vibration can shake down all the houses in a town.”

She was amazed. “All that?”

“If you have enough power. Not many do, but you have such aptitude you may. Never test your limit except when the need is dire.”

She was happy to agree.

There was immediate application for the things she was learning. At one village, there was a problem with fire; several houses had burned, yet the people were not at all careless with their hearths. Morely was busy with others, as the villagers flocked in to demand his services, so Kerena tackled it alone.

Her Seeing gave her the hint, and her new technique confirmed it. “You have a salamander,” she told them. “This is an elemental fire spirit that plays joyously in natural fires, and shows sometimes as the Will
_o
the-Wisp. This one is a rogue, spreading unnatural fires. You can see it if you focus properly.” She showed them how to
do
that, taking deep breaths, observing the tongues of flame closely, listening for the salamander’s crackling smoky voice in the singing embers. Once observed, it could be dealt with, either tamed or banished. Soon the villagers were seeing it, and knew their problem would be solved.

At another village there came a messenger from the estate of a wealthy trader: “Master wants to know do you interpret dreams?”

“Of course; we are expert,” Morely said with his public air of confidence. “My girl will handle it.”

Thus rapidly, and not quite confidently, Kerena found herself following the boy to his master’s house. She had memorized the dream symbols and standard interpretations, because Morely had impressed on her the importance of dreams in the popular mind. “I think they mean nothing, other than fragments glimpsed as the mind sorts out feelings,” he said. “But there is extensive literature, and belief is strong.” So she was prepared, but not at all sanguine about tackling it alone.

“I dreamed I was in a garden surrounded by marvelous blooms,” the merchant said. “But when I went to take one, lo, it was an arrow. Then it was a thread, which wrapped around and bound my hands, and I felt horribly helpless and afraid. I woke sweating and uneasy, but I have no idea why.”

Kerena’s apprehension faded. There were symbols here, and she could work with them. “I will not presume to question your business,” she said. “I know nothing about it. But I can tell you that blooms indicate productivity.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “I am quite successful.”

“But an arrow means sending a letter which you may rue.”

He winced. “I did write a letter to a prospective client, but it was very positive. I have new exotic cloth from afar that is not only better than local cloth, but cheaper. He can do very well with it.”

“And thread means tangled situations. Tied hands is difficulty in getting out of trouble.”

He looked stricken. “I just remembered: his wife weaves similar cloth. He will not be pleased by this competition. He may cut me off entirely. Why didn’t I think of that before?”