Lara (53 page)

“My wife will see you have your bath,” Rendor said jovially. “I have sent a message to King Archeron that you are coming to meet with him, Vartan. We will depart on the morrow for his palace. It is but a day’s travel.”

“Should we not wait for his permission?” Vartan asked.

“Nay, I told him I would send word when it was decided how you two would meet. By tomorrow evening you will be welcomed into King Archeron’s palace. I will come with you. I always enjoy the company of these Hetarians.”

Lara enjoyed the bath which Rendor’s wife, Rahil, provided for her guest. She poured a small bit of scented oil into the hot water, pinning up her hair so it would not get wet. Rahil sniffed appreciatively as the perfumed steam arose from the water. Seeing her Lara said, “Do you like it? Here.” She handed the small vial to the woman. “I think a woman should always have something lovely to enjoy.”

“My thanks,” Rahil said smiling. Then she added, “I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, lady. You are careful to hide it in your warrior woman’s garments, but here in your bath, as the Celestial Actuary created you, I see how dangerous a burden that beauty is for you to bear. Will you display it before the Coastal Kings?”

“I must, for my legend precedes me,” Lara told her as she washed herself. “Like all Hetarians, they will be impressed with Vartan for having such a wife. Because of your good husband they have already begun to make friends among the Outlands. Now we must obtain them as allies, for if I remember Gaius Prospero’s passion for profit, his incursion into the Tormod and the Piaras is but the beginning of our troubles.” She stood and wrapped herself in the drying sheet Rahil handed her.

“You think Hetar will attack us again?” Rahil said, wide-eyed.

“Yes, I do,” Lara replied. “I will know more after we have spoken with the Coastal Kings and I have heard the story of the carts entering the City. That was a very powerful lesson. People in the street, ordinary citizens in the City saw those carts with their dead. More families than not have blood kin among the Guild of Mercenaries. And those among the dead with others dependent upon them for their daily bread would have those family members, wives, children, parents, left now without a home, or a means of support.”

“They would lose their homes?” Rahil was aghast.

“There are only so many hovels, and they must be kept for those who give service to the Guild,” Lara said.

“And they call us barbaric!” Rendor’s wife said angrily.

Lara slipped into a simple gown, and braided up her hair again. “I have found the Outlands more civilized than the City,” she said quietly. “Now, how may I help you with the supper?”

“My servants are well-trained and have it all in hand,” Rahil said, “but you could pour the Frine.” She was impressed by the fact that Lara had offered to help. She might be a great lady, but her human side was mannerly.

After the meal Vartan and Lara were taken to their host and hostess’s own chamber. When Vartan protested, Rahil told him it was an honor for the Felan that the new Head Councillor and his wife would sleep there. Then bowing, she left them. Vartan, cautious by nature, threw the bolt on the door, and turning about found that his wife had shed her garment. He smiled a slow smile. “You mean to palliate me, wife.”

She smiled back holding out her hand to him. “Yes,” she said.

He pulled his own garments off, dropping them upon the floor. “When the Coastal Kings smile at you I will want to kill them.”

“I know,” she replied.

“When they gaze upon your beauty and desire it for themselves, I will hate them for it,” he told her.

“You will,” she agreed amiably.

“When I see in their eyes the image of the dreams they will have of coupling with you I…”

She put her hand over his mouth. “But you are the only man I desire, Vartan,” she told him. “They cannot have me if I do not wish it, and I do not.” She stood before him, and pressed herself against him even as she took his sinewy arms, and wrapped them about her. “I desire you, and you alone, my husband.”

“But you do not love me,” he said looking down into her small upturned face.

“You know I do not believe in love,” she replied.

“Then how will you give me the son I desire of you?” he asked seriously. He could feel every inch of her delicious flesh as it pressed against him seductively. “I know that faerie women do not give children to those they do not love.”

“I am only half faerie,” she responded softly, her pointed tongue encircling the shape of his ear teasingly. “Do you not want me, husband?”

His length was hard. It throbbed between them. “Witch!” he groaned. Yes, he wanted her! More at this moment than he had ever wanted her, but it was always that way each time they lay together. No matter how much he took of her, no matter how much she gave of herself, it was never enough for Vartan. He wondered if it ever would be. He wanted to hear her tell him that she loved him, but it would seem along with her faerie beauty she had inherited a cold faerie heart. Nonetheless he could not resist her. “I love you, Lara,” he told her, and then he picked her up and laid her upon the bed that awaited them. His big hand caressed her small heart-shaped face, his mouth taking hers in a passionate kiss. His long fingers tangled in the soft golden hair with its gilt highlights.
So soft,
he thought as their mouths drank of one another. Everything he touched was soft and smooth, and yet beneath it she was like iron.

He rolled onto his back, drawing her atop him as one kiss blended into another and another. Then she drew away from him, and sitting up, began to caress his broad smooth chest with her hands. Her emerald eyes gazed into his meltingly, and he felt weak but for his manroot which raged, pinned beneath her round buttocks. Reaching up, he began to play with her breasts, and when he teased at her nipples she teased at his in exchange, pinching them lightly, bending to lick at them.

He lifted her up, and impaled her slowly upon his manroot. With a deep sigh she sank down, enveloping him within her body. Taking him deep into her heated flesh, leaning back and sighing again. “Ride me,” he growled at her, feeling her thighs close against him as she steadied herself with her hands, tightening her sheath around him as she pressed and released, pressed and released until he began to make whimpering sounds for she was not yet ready to allow him his fulfillment. Raising herself, she leaned forward so he might have the pleasure of her breasts. His mouth closed about a nipple, and he sucked on her hard until Lara began to feel the tension building.

She leaned further forward, burying her head in the space between his shoulder and his neck. She felt his hands closing about her rounded buttocks, kneading them as she thrust, and thrust and thrust against him. Finally unable to endure any more of her sweet torture, Vartan turned them so that Lara now lay beneath him. He thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew until it was she who now whimpered. He was so attuned to her that he could sense her impending crisis, and held himself back until they could attain pleasure together. And then the heat enveloped them both. They were filled with their passion, and finally collapsed from their delightful efforts, without another word falling into a peaceful sleep. But Lara, before she closed her eyes, touched the crystal she always wore, as if seeking a reassurance from Ethne that she would not allow herself to find with Vartan.

In the morning she awoke before he did, and she wondered if perhaps these feelings of protectiveness toward her husband, and the yearning she had for his touch, were not perhaps the beginnings of that so human emotion known as love. She was not all faerie, after all, and if she had hardened her heart against love was it possible she had done it in order to survive what she must, in order that she reach her destiny? She was weary, she realized, of the knowledge she carried. She suddenly had a great yearning to be just a simple woman. To carry her husband’s child within her body. To birth that child, and care for it.

Stirring, Vartan drew her into his arms, and she laid her head against his heart. “What are you thinking?” he asked her softly.

“Woman’s thoughts, husband. Thoughts best kept to myself for now,” Lara told him. She wanted to spend the rest of the day in his arms, and not be bothered by anyone, but they had a long ride ahead of them.

“Give me a child, my life,” he said softly to her, and he kissed the hand on his chest. “A beautiful little girl like her mother.”

“In time I will give you a child, Vartan, I promise you. But now we must meet with the Coastal Kings, and settle this matter between the Outlands and Hetar,” Lara said.

He groaned. “Today I am not of a mind to be diplomatic,” he said.

“Neither am I,” she agreed, “but we must do our duty. And when we have made this fragile peace we will go back to Camdene, and settle in for the long winter. And on the dark mornings we shall not get up at all, but lie in each other’s arms and make love the whole day long.”

“And you will give me a child,” he repeated.

“I will give you a son, husband, who will one day lead the Fiacre as you now lead it,” Lara told him.

“And a daughter,” he reminded her.

“First a son,” she said, and then she climbed from the bed to wash the excess of their night’s passion from her skin. She would not meet the Hetarians with the scent of lust on her body. After she had bathed she donned a simple gown. It was white, and the skirt was fashioned in tiny pleats from her waist to her ankle. There was a golden cord twisted about the waist that had tassels at each of the two ends. The bodice was draped from its soft rounded neckline, and the sleeves were full and floated to just below her elbow. About her neck the golden chain with the crystal glittered. She brushed her hair out so that it sat like a mantle about her.

He watched her dress, fascinated. “I have never seen that gown before,” he said. “How were you able to carry it with us?”

Lara smiled at him. “Kaliq gave it to me. It is magic, and made to fit within this small coffer,” she said holding out her hand to him. In it lay a round wooden peach, perfectly represented, and polished so that the wood glowed with its natural beauty. “The gown can be anything I wish it to be. In this instance the Coastal Kings wish to see the woman who was so beautiful that the Head Mistress of the Guild of Pleasure Women would not allow her to be purchased. The Taubyl Trader who took me from the City meant me for one of the Coastal Kings. I am sure that Rolf Fairplay told them the story.”

“Now I am indeed jealous,” Vartan said as he arose from the bed, and began to wash himself. “But having a wife whose wardrobe can be carried in a hollow wooden fruit is indeed a great advantage.”

Lara laughed. “Our love play has improved your mood,” she told him.

He grinned back as he began to pull on his clothing. “It has,” he agreed.

The inhabitants of Rendor’s hall could not help but gaze in wonder at the halfling wife of Vartan of the Fiacre. But they were also a bit afraid. She had not looked so beautiful the night before, it seemed to them. Her magic was now quite obvious. When they had refreshed themselves at Rendor’s board they prepared to depart. The horses were brought from the stables.

As Rendor approached his own mount, Lara’s stallion, Dasras, put a leg forward and bowed his head politely. “Your hospitality was exceptional, my lord of the Felan,” the stallion said. “I offer you my thanks.”

Rendor bowed in return. “I am grateful it met with your approval,” he replied. Then he said to Lara as he helped her into her saddle, “I do not think I shall ever get used to hearing that beast of yours speak with a man’s tongue, lady.”

Lara laughed. “His speech is a comfort to me,” she said, adjusting her skirt, which was hiked to her thigh. She patted Dasras lovingly. “We are friends, you know.”

Shaking his head, Rendor mounted his own horse. “It is a short ride to the sea, and then we shall ride along the beach until we reach the Coastal Kings. Have you ever seen the sea, lady? I know Vartan has not, for he has never before enjoyed the hospitality of my house. I think it will amaze you with its vastness and its beauty.”

Though it was winter the air was very mild, and the sun warmed their shoulders as they rode. They rode first through grassy meadows filled with sheep, shepherds and dogs who loped along with them for short distances, some barking. One irritating animal kept snapping at Dasras’s heels until the great beast stopped dead in its tracks.

The stallion turned his head, and looked down at the yapping dog. “Go home!” he said in a firm voice, and stamped a single hoof. The dog stood stock-still for a moment, and then turning, ran yelping back to his master. “Dogs,” Dasras said scornfully, “are more trouble than they are worth. Give me an elegant feline to keep me company in my stall. Cats are far better companions, I assure you.”

They laughed at the incident and moved on, finally reaching the grassy bluffs overlooking a wide sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. The horses slowly picked their way down the narrow path, Rendor leading, Lara behind him and Vartan bringing up the rear. There was no need for men-at-arms to ride with them here in the Outlands.

Gaining the beach, Lara brought Dasras to a brief halt and stared in amazement. The waters seemed to go on forever. Where did they end, she wondered? Frothy white waves rolled in from the blue sea, racing up the sand and then withdrawing. The sound never ceased, but it was pleasant, and soon she did not notice it at all. Screeching birds hung in the air above both beach and sea. “What are they?” she asked Rendor. “They are beautiful. Look how they soar and dive!”