Enchanter (Book 7) (17 page)

An unfathomable amount of time later – thousands of permutations of the Snowflake’s six-sided simultaneity – I realized I wasn’t alone.  Again.

My consciousness became aware of someone else in the room, someone standing behind the Snowflake . . . only from my vantage point, as mesmerized as I was, I could see the entrance to the room and knew no one had come in through the doorway.  But there was a shape, and eyes peering at me through the shifting construct.

The other person quietly and with deliberation walked around the Snowflake to address me more directly.  It was a woman.

A naked woman. 
The most beautiful naked woman I’ve ever seen.

Don’t misunderstand me – I’m enraptured by my wife’s face and form, and I have a fine appreciation for feminine beauty I’ve inadvertently cultivated since I was old enough to appreciate it.  From surreptitious peeks at forbidden flesh behind the millhouse to watching with unabashed delight the grand white beaches of Farise, where bronzed commoner and pale noblewomen alike doffed their clothes to bathe in the warm ocean surf, I’ve enjoyed every element of feminine beauty I’ve witnessed.

But she surpassed them all.  The wholesome beauty of Alya, the winsome allure of Pentandra, the intoxicating exotic glamour of the transgenically enchanted forms of the Alka Alon emissaries . . . even, damn her, Isily’s seductive charms paled in comparison.  This woman was the pure perfection of the human feminine form.  Her face, her golden hair, her bright blue eyes, her perfect lips, her utterly flawless proportions, and her exquisitely ideal breasts.  Indeed, apart from her eyes, the two globes that hung near-weightlessly in front of me captivated my attention.

She noted my staring.  She glanced down at them, then looked back up to me and smiled.  It was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

“Go ahead and look,” she said, in tones like liquid love.  “You deserve it.  You’ve mentioned them often enough.”

“Huh?” I managed.  It was about the most eloquent thing I could muster, under the circumstances . . . that is, paralyzed, despoiled, and laying in a cave with my willy hanging out in front of a strange, naked woman.

“You are the famed Minalan the Spellmonger,” she said, walking toward me slowly, her hands behind her back like a schoolgirl reciting in temple.  That made her boobs push out in the most delightful way.  “Greatest wizard of your era, creator of this marvelous mountain, defender of humanity, savior of the Kasari, and, apparently, well on your way to single-handedly siring an entire new generation of magically-gifted children.”

I didn’t say anything.  I couldn’t say anything.  I didn’t know what the hells
to
say.

“You may not know me, personally, but I suppose you could say we’re acquainted with each other’s work,” she said, smiling provocatively, her blue eyes twinkling merrily.  “You are, of course, familiar with the basic procreative process.  And I have been made aware of your recent experiments in enneagramatic cohesion.  So . . . I thought we could perhaps work something out . . . which, I’m realizing,” she said, rolling her eyes, “would be easier if you
weren’t
under the influence of all of that mess.”

She leaned over me, crawling up my body from below, until her incredible bounty rested fully on my chest in the most utterly pleasant way possible.  She smelled profoundly intoxicating.  As her beautiful face came closer to mine, I could feel my heartbeat quicken despite the drug in my blood.  All memory of Isily’s violation was blotted out.  All memory of my wife’s beauty was chased away.

Then her lips touched mine.  I could taste her breath.  She whispered something in a language I didn’t know into my mouth as she kissed me . . . and suddenly my brain kind of exploded into a blast of bliss the likes of which I had never experienced.  I could move again.  And think.

And speak.

“Ishi!”
I exclaimed quietly as her lips broke away.

“In the divine flesh,” she acknowledged, springing back to her bare feet with a playful bounce that made her considerable charms gyrate merrily.  “Goddess of Love, Sex, Beauty, Feminine Sexuality, Glamour, Deception, Seduction, Procreation, and all that goes with it.”

“How did you . . . ?” I asked, confused.

“You
invoked
me, silly boy!” she pointed out.  “You invoked me, and then had the good sense to screw in front of
that
thing,” she said, glancing at the ever-evolving Snowflake.  “I’ve been keeping an ear out for your summons for awhile.  When the chance came, I figured it was time to introduce myself.”

“It really wasn’t my decision,” I said, wryly.  I glanced down.  My hose were still pulled down along with my underwear, revealing my procreative organ.  I embarrassedly pushed it inside and pulled up my hose.

“Oh, don’t bother on
my
account,” she chuckled.  “I consider it a due honor.  But I hope you don’t mind me taking the trouble to negate the effects of the poison.  It’s just temporary, but it does make actual conversation easier.  And we have
much
to discuss, Spellmonger,” she said, with a mixture of playful seriousness.

“We do?” I asked, struggling to my feet.

“Why yes, we do,” she cooed, folding her arms under her boobs.  If she was trying to hide them she was doing a poor job.  “You have something I want.  And, now, I have something you want.”

I sat up, slowly, my head still spinning.  She may have abated the effects of the poison, but it was still in my system.  “What do you have that I want?” I asked.

“Why, understanding and power, of course,” she said, serenely, as I put my clothing back together.  I felt shaken and shocked by what had happened, but I also understood that my focus and attention needed to be here right now.  Ishi had a reputation of getting her way through confusion and misdirection.  Whatever my trauma, I had to focus on what she was saying or risk the consequences.  “You need the understanding, and of course you need the power.”

“What understanding?” I asked, still shaking off the taint of the poison.

“Understanding how men and women work – how human hearts collide and combine.”

“That’s Pentandra’s specialty, not mine,” I said, warily.  “At most I’m a talented amateur.  Who is also happily married.”

“Yet that didn’t stop you from enjoying what just happened,” she pointed out.  “Some part of you, at least.”

“That’s not entirely true,” I said, my heart hardening.  “That was not pleasure.  That was assault.  She stole something from me.”

“Your precious virtue?” the goddess of love mocked with false sympathy, leaning on her arm and wiggling her juggs at me.  “Your battered fidelity?  Your innocence?  You’ve had small claim to any of these, Spellmonger.  Just what did you lose from her seduction?”

“Dignity?  Respect?  A sense of security?” I countered, angrily.  “That was a deliberate and calculated assault, not a drunken moment of passion.  Surely you know the difference,” I said, accusingly.

“Of course I know the difference!” she cooed, indignantly.  “But all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals.  And that girl plainly loves you, bless her insane little heart.  When she realized that you did not hate her, during the other night’s truthtelling, her plans shifted.  She had originally planned on seducing one of your colleagues, but when it came to light that you were working on this,” she said, nodding toward the Snowflake, “she couldn’t help herself.  She succumbed to the erotic temptation of making you her tool.  Literally.”

“And impregnated herself without my consent!” I reminded the goddess, angrily.  “She stole a child from me!”

“Yet you’ve experienced naught that many a maiden half your age hasn’t,” she pointed out, coolly.  “And as far as the child goes, it’s hardly the first bastard you’ve sired unwillingly, if not unknowingly.  You’ve three children in the world you have never met,” she said, smugly.  “You certainly conceived them consensually.  Though the occasion might have been unpleasant in its execution, it is by no means rare or even uncommon.  How many poor maids have endured worse than that, on a regular basis?  How many innocent lads?”

“That does little to sooth my wrath,” I said, darkly, holding out my hand for her assistance.

“It wasn’t intended to,” Ishi pointed out, helping me to my feet – and nearly causing a collision between my face and her bosom.  “It was to help you appreciate the experience in a wider context.  When it happens, it is a violation of the lifeforce, regardless of the sex of the victim.  But as it is also an act of love and pleasure – to Isily, at least – then it falls under my sphere of influence.  So . . . here I am,” she said, presenting herself in her glory.

“To what end?” I asked, though I could not take my eyes off of her.  “Or do you just like to watch?”

“Oh, more than anything but doing it,” she agreed, dreamily.  “But it wasn’t professional curiosity that brought me here to witness your ravishment.  It was merely an opportunity.  I wish to plead with you to use your craft to bestow upon me the same gift you gave to Herus and Briga,” she asked, respectfully.

I considered the matter, while my eyes remained focused on her assets.  “They each pledged assistance for my desires,” I pointed out.  “Can you do likewise?  If so, how would you?”

“Me?  I control the waxing and waning of the human heart and erotic desire!  How could I NOT help you?” she asked, sounding a little hurt.

“Because I do have some knowledge of your methods,” I replied smoothly, settling back into my chair.  I wasn’t certain of my knees’ capacity to support me, right now.  I suppose I was in a state of shock.  “I know just how chaotic your work can be.”

“Oh, that’s just the conservative clergy spreading false propaganda!” she demurred.  “I am at the heart of every baby born.  Of every young love.  Of every marriage that is sustained by passion.  How could I be a force of chaos?” she asked, innocently.

I wasn’t convinced.  Apparently my face showed it.

“You’re just upset because you had a bit of a bad night,” she pouted prettily.  “If I had interrupted you and your wife, this conversation would be going in a far better direction!”

“Ishi, you’re one of the most popular and prominent goddesses among my people,” I sighed.  “Everyone loves you, except a few small sects.  But what you do is hardly orderly.  By giving you continuity, I am unleashing the raw libido of human sexuality on the world in a way that even I can see would be problematic.”

“But what if I could promise you love?” she countered.

“I’ve got love – more than I deserve,” I answered evenly.  “And ‘love’ is what inspired my attacker tonight.  If you want to prove your value to me, strike her down.  Undo what she has done to me,” I pleaded.  I was starting to think I’d do just about anything to keep the shameful episode from happening.

Ishi shrugged apologetically, once again sending that magnificent rack into a highly distracting gyration.  “I cannot, Spellmonger.  Alas, she has transcended my sphere, after tonight.”

“Wait,” I said, confused, “I thought you had dominion over all sex and love?”

“Aye,” she admitted, “but when there is a conception involved, my sphere ends and Trygg’s begins.  In this particular case, the child you just conceived is going to be special.  So it’s ‘hands off’.”

“You . . . know all of this already?”

She shrugged again.  It was even more distracting.  “In a manner of speaking.  Isily’s assault brought a new life into the world.  Until it is delivered, I cannot touch it – or her.”

“Well, that seems a pretty lousy way to run a pantheon!” I objected.

“Gee, you think so?” Ishi shot back, putting a hand on her bare hip indignantly.  It was sexy as hell.  “That’s what happens when you have powerful gods with no continuity!  We become mere archetypes, without consistent goals or personality.  Without history and experience we are limited merely to what humanity’s collective unconscious provides us.  Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?” she asked, tossing her hair.  “It’s like waking up every morning with the same set of memories you did the day before . . . and the day before that!”

“I understand your frustration,” I soothed tiredly.  “But . . . I’m not exactly in a mood to be magnanimous, right now,” I said, darkly. 

“Oh, I do understand that emotion!” she nodded, her smile not entirely pleasant.  “But we must do what we must.  I need this continuity, Minalan the Great, and only you can provide it!”  She faced me defiantly, legs spread, her pure, unstrained and unrestrained sexuality radiating from her.  But I was not, as I said, in the mood.

“The flattery is a little strong,” I said, gently.  “And unnecessary.  Convince me I should do this thing,” I sighed.  “Tell me why it will serve humanity, and I might consider it.”

“I can . . . well, I know you are at war – and wars need soldiers.  Grant my desire and I will see all of your kingdom fecund!”

“There doesn’t seem to be any lack of desire of folks to screw, at the moment,” I pointed out.  “Babies without the means to feed and raise them?  We have enough hunger and poverty at the moment.  Perhaps in a few years . . .”

“Then what do you want, Minalan?” she asked, frustrated.  “Can I not tempt you with my charms?  I can be any woman you desire,” she said, her form shifting to resemble a statuesque brunette of uncommon beauty . . . then a redhead with pointed features . . . then a dusky bronzed Farisi maiden.  Then she was Pentandra.