Back to the safety of Chapter 58.
The next day was going to be First Feast. The push for the household’s celebration of the coming of Winter was taking everyone who could cook or clean. Others were out looking for everyone’s favorite Winterberry. The bright orange fruit could only be found after it had not just frozen but snowed. The thick shell cracked and peeled back showing that they were ready.
Laun was outside with the harvesters leading the wagon as others cleared the road and trails to search for the known groves of Winterberry. The snow had stopped, but the wind drifted the snow into impossible to climb banks. In the courtyards with the slight wind protection, the snow had stopped at about waist high to Laun. Outside the main gate, there were some drifts that were over her head.
There had been people in the garden tents all night and into the day until the snow had stopped falling. There was a wall of snow outside the canvas. The sticks and brooms that had been used to pop the roof up to keep the snow from accumulating had worked. It was cold but protected in the tent.
The walkway along the wall, on the other hand, had taken most of the day to shovel out so that it could be patrolled. It would be easy to see if anyone approached. The snow, though, had made it so that the crust was only a few feet from the top of the wall. If there were inventive attackers, they could find a way to use that.
Even as Laun was helping to keep the mule and cart moving in the cold and snow, her mind kept working on household things. Her hands hurt, even with a warmed stone in a pouch at her belly to put them by. But that just made her think of how the next few loads of wood for the fires would be harvested. They had lain in some, but it would be gone after First Feast.
One of the groups came from the trail carrying bushels full of the loved berry. “How much more from that grove?”
One of the heavily bundled men said, “Maybe another bushel.”
Laun smiled and watched her breath as she said, “Good! Bring any deadfall wood you find back with you, too.”
The group nodded in unison and went back up the trail after loading full and taking empty bushel baskets. She pulled the lead on the mule and it stepped forward, pulling the cart a few more paces back towards the Keep. It had a thick blanket draped over it’s back and didn’t seem to be feeling the cold as Laun was.
She had to get out of the Keep. The staff had been trying to fuss over her without fussing for days, making last minute measurements and asking her to join them in areas to look at things so that other staff members could bustle things past her. She knew what was coming, but Orgia wanted to at least make it look like it was a surprise. Laun had finally been fed-up enough to just go out with the harvesting mob.
It did make her feel somewhat useful. She could keep track of the mule and cart and watch the crystals of snow shine back at her in the sunlight. It made her think of sugar lace. She remembered helping to pour the hot sugar over snow in buckets. She never had the touch for it, but they only were able to do it a few times a year.
She had a feeling go through her that she did not like. She looked at it and found that she was feeling as though she had been shown all these things in her life, but did not know how to do any of it. Not really. She had to tell herself, firmly, that she may not know how to do it well, but she did know how it was done. That was more than most of the people in the household.
Another group of harvesters came up from another trail, bushels loaded. “Any more up there?”
“Not really. Just enough for the spring drop,” came the answer from a female voice. They were all bundled up so much that no one could really tell.
“Half of you go back and dig out deadfall and kindling, the rest of you go to the next grove.” Laun pointed to the next trail through the snow and woods and about half of the harvesters grabbed new baskets and went off. Laun pulled on the lead and the cart moved another few paces closer to the keep.
It was a long process. Her feet were not being happy with the cold and she walked in place to keep warm. At least the chalky stuff Lucaris had given her was working for the heartburn. It tasted better, and she did not have the burning sensation going down her throat any more. She could still feel that her stomach was not happy, but it was not making it’s self known as much.
The harvest had twenty full bushels of winterberry and half a cord of wood brought back to the keep. It was enough that Orgia was beaming at the harvesters as they drank sweetened hot tea around the fires.
Laun put the soles of her boots dangerously close to the flames and felt her feet thaw. She heard something and turned, raising her hand just in time to catch a piece of fruited bread. She waved her thanks and broke it in half, sharing it with the woman next to her.
The harvesters were tired and cold. Laun had not done much, but she felt that it had been a good day’s work. She was looking forward to the jam, but she was also content that they had enough for right then.
The protectors that had dug their way through to the trading post had happy, if cold, faces as they came in. The covers had gone over the windows and doors when the snow started and the team had hunkered down. The goods that could not be hauled back to the keep were left and the buildings that were now mounds of snow were as locked up as they could be. Laun was both happy that they had survived the snow, and unhappy that they would not be there as an early warning system for the keep. But she was also very happy that they would not be stuck alone in the trading post if anyone hostile did come past.
Hostile. That was a word that had been banging around her head for about a week. Yes, they were the enemy if they worked under Falmir’s colors. But they were still Midlanders. Hostility could be changed. Laun did not know how that could happen.
There was one thing she had to do that day that was at the tip of her mind. She had been going over what she wanted to do to and with the prisoner for quite a while. She was confident that he would do what she wanted, or die trying. Today was the final test and seal of Hazalam.
Laun had thought ahead and had allowed a set of brasiers to be put into the Chamber of Death to warm it up. She had also sent him a light tunic and knew that two of the dancers had already cleaned him and massaged him with some of the good oil they still had left. It had been done under the protective eye of Edgar. Laun had instructed the women to be in their slave skirts and not to talk to him. If he made any move against them, they were allowed to take any action they wished.
There hadn’t been word of his death or any trouble, so she was pleased that he had not gone against her people. He had either restrained himself well or was really ready for her last test. Knowing who she had sent to touch him, possibly both.
It was getting to the time where she should get ready herself. The fire and people were wonderful and made her feel comfortable. What she was about to do was for them as much as for herself.
Laun raised herself from the bench and went to the bathing chamber. There had been things arranged and she knew that some people did not approve of what she was going to do. It was what she needed to do. It would continue the farce and push him towards what she wanted.
What she wanted. It was always what she wanted. She had grown into expecting the people around her to do as she wished. It was dangerous. She thought of Dreng and felt that she had to fight to make sure that she did not fall into his acceptance of the universe around him being just for him. Though, as Laun smiled to herself, she had poked a few holes in that sail.
She was scrubbed and washed and soaked and dried. The tunic she had picked out herself went on and her hair was simply put up. She had slippers and a robe on over the light tunic. She even let Disa put color on her face to enhance what she had.
A hush went over the Great Hall as Laun went through. She greeted people as she went, ignoring the glances and quiet of her people. They all knew something was going to happen, most did not know what. They all knew that they hoped that she did it well and that the prisoner was gone that night.
Laun was at the door to the Chamber of Death. She had to keep her breathing under control as her heart was trying to beat through her chest. The door opened for her and she walked in.
There were people who came in behind the Lady, but his eyes were all for her. He stood on the blanket, wearing the bare tunic that she had her slaves put him into. He was warm, was fed and had been cleaned intimately and thoroughly by them. He had grown some of a beard while at the Lady’s mercy and his hair had also started to brush his shoulders. The beard was still there and his hair had been braided back by the slaves, the feeling of being pampered dulling his senses and relaxing him.
She was wearing a long, thick woolen robe over her. He could see that her hair glistened in the candle light and a rose tint had been put artfully on her cheek. Her eye was steady, cold as she stepped closer to him. He could smell the perfume from her bath, the flowers of summer coming to him off her skin. She stepped even closer and she looked at him. He hoped that she was pleased.
There was a small smile. “I usually ask you this at the end of our sessions, but-”
“Yes, Lady. I wish to live today.”
Her eyebrow went up and the smile was a little bigger. “You overstep.”
His eyes went down and he waited. He had seen a flash of her anger a few ... days? ... before when he had displeased her. Her hand had been quick and accurate, the sore spot on his back on his kidney still a reminder.
She brushed against him and put her hand gently on his cheek. “This once, you are forgiven. I am in a good mood, and have been thinking of this for a while.” Her fingers went down his face and traced his chest under the light fabric. She stepped back and made a signal.
Two of the slaves came and took off the robe from her. She was dressed in a long tunic with the Dark colors of King Falmir particolored on either side. The dark blue and grey flowed down her from neck to floor, a rope belt at her hip and laces holding her breasts in. She raised her hem slightly and the slippers were taken from her feet.
She silently circled him, her hand lightly floating across him as she went. The touch was different with the tunic on. More restrained. But it still had the same effect.
The Lady stood, her hands on his chest. “Who is your mission?”
“Bregnan, wiseman to Falmir.”
“When are you to kill him?”
“If he shows himself for the traitor Falmir suspects he is.”
“Or...” Her head tilted. Her eyes never left him and he started falling into those eyes before he pulled himself out.
“Or, Lady, word comes that Salam-Dir has been captured. It is the code phrase.”
She stepped back and smiled. “Good boy.” She made some sort of a signal and the slaves brought several things into the light. One was a stack of clothing and light armor. One was a padded quilt.
The quilt went over the Altar of Death. Dried rose petals were scattered along the quilt and a small pillow was placed at one end.
The slaves stepped back and two of the blue and yellow clad figures stepped out. Hazalam tried not to show his fear at the sight of them, the blue hoods pulled up so that he could not clearly see their faces. They went to either end of the altar and waited.
The Lady put her hand on his chest and pushed back. He stumbled slightly but walked backwards until he hit the stone of the altar. Her hand traveled down. She touched his upper thigh and he felt himself twitch. She was so close to-
His head went up and back. As her hand went around his manhood, he gasped. She was warm and soft and it had been a desire that had kept him wanting to live for the next day, the next touch of her hand. Her hand was touching him and taking his breath away.
“Yes. You seem to be ready. Hazalam, lay on the altar.”
He scrambled up and lay down. The tunic rode up slightly and his manhood popped up under the hem. It felt so good to be laying on something soft and warm. Her hands were again trailing up and down his body, but she had more access to him. She was sending shivers through him, his erectness bobbing with the sensations.
He had to pay attention to what she was saying. He did not want to displease her.
“How does Bregnan treat the women he beds?”
He had to clear his throat. “Roughly. He beats them and rapes them. He never uses the same woman twice.”
She continued to move around him, her touch hitting skin on his legs. “What is his favorite way to poison?”
He knew this one. It was a sweet, it was- “In a rhubarb pastry. It makes the person bleed inside.”
She was near his feet. He could feel her trace from one ankle to the other. “Who are the Nobles he is thought to be conspiring with?”
“Maelius from Rosemond. Nimbh from Rosemond. Dresden from the Midlands.”
She was even with his shoulder again. “Very good. And if you complete your mission,” She leaned close enough for her whisper to be hot on his cheek, “What is your completion message to your King?”
“The daughter of Lennie sends sweet regards.” He was breathing heavily.
Her mouth came very close as she said, “Very good.” Her mouth touched his and pressed in. The desire he had was overwhelming him. After what could have been weeks or months in the darkened, cold room, she was allowing him a kiss. He started to reach for her and found that a strong hand was restraining him before he could touch her.
The yellow and blue clad figures had hands now on his wrists and his ankles. He could not move. His Lady moved around to the other side again and the slaves came to her. There was a small step and she was towering over him.
It was as if she was mounting a horse. Her saddle was to be his manhood. He felt a rush go through him when he realized what she was about to do.
Her knee went into the padding and then, while holding the skirt up, she straddled his legs right below his erection. The skirt bunched up slightly as she sat there, her weight and warmth almost enough to touch him off. The slaves draped her skirts around her and stepped back.
“Are you ready for your mission?”
A bit loudly, Hazalam called out, “Yes, my Lady!”
She moved up, the skirt over him, front and back of her. He tried to not close his eyes as her heat warmed him, the throb of his erection almost painful in response. She barely leaned forward as she lifted herself up with her legs. He felt her fur and then her wetness and then she did a move with her hips and he was in her. She sank down on him and just sat there.
There was a cold edge to her soft voice as she said, “If you come before I wish it, all this will have been for naught.” She unsheathed a knife from the back of her rope belt and leaned forward. The motion made him pull against the men restraining him as he was already very close to the edge.
Then he saw the knife’s decoration as it came close and then to his neck. It was yet again an assassin’s blade. The onyx on the pommel was recognizable to any who knew. But the other gems she had... Those were noble kills. Each one. Only those who were sanctioned by the King could openly display...
“Lady!” His head went back as he felt her move her hips, the little nick on his skin nothing to the sensations from her cunt.
“Who is your mission?”
He had to concentrate on his words. “Bregnan.”
She moved a little and he saw pleasure on her face. Her hand was supporting her on his chest and the other supporting the knife at his neck. The laces down the front of the tunic were being stretched as she breathed in. He saw a little flicker of a snarl on her upper lip as she raised herself up on him slowly and hovered there.
“How does he kill?”
“Rhubarb pastry, Lady!” He bellowed out her title as she thrust down on him. He was so close to going over the edge that it was painful. He tried to look at anything but her, but she was everything.
Like her spine was a snake, she wiggled and slithered up his shaft until he could feel he was almost outside of her. She sighed and it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. She paused and must have felt his need to get back into her, to move on his own and grab her. Her smile was not the nice one where he knew she was happy. It was the one that he knew from when she was not feeling kind, but the heat that was behind it was full of passion and he was sure the next thrust down on him was going to kill him.
“One more question, my little quail. Who are the others?”
“Maelius. Nimbh. Dresden!” She had sat on him and was crushing into him. He could not hold back much longer.
“Lady, please! I want to live for you!” He held as still as he could, tensing to try to delay what he desperately wanted.
She paused. It was the longest pause in the world as his body tried to thrust into her and he had to stop it. He was trembling and pulling against the men.
“You are mine.”
“Yes! Lady!”
She leaned back and took the knife from his neck. “You may come.”
He took in a short breath and without any other prompting, his body let loose. He bucked and thrashed under her. He heard her moan as his thrusting went wild. That sound made him arch his back, lifting both of them off the padded stone. He felt every desire, every touch from her shoot out of him and back into her. It was hot and powerful and he wanted it to last forever.
He was still trying to move, to thrust into her, to please her. But he was spent. He knew it, but he was trying. She put her hand on his chest and the look he saw made him stop.
A slave came forward holding a cloth. The Lady dismounted and she was cleaned by the slave as she stood on the stool at his side. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her to promise that he would do anything for her. All he could do was watch.
She stepped down and turned to him. She flicked her fingers in a way that released him. He felt the strain in his arms and shoulders as he lowered his arms. His body, even though he had not been doing much of anything for most of the time, was shaking from the release and strain.
“Get dressed. You will be taken to the road. Head for the Capitol City.” She approached his face and leaned down. “You did well tonight. I hope you do well on your mission.” She took a finger and went down his bearded jawline with it. “It would be a shame to put this much effort into you and not see you again.”
Even spent, he felt a twitch in his crotch. “Yes, Lady. As you wish, I do.”
He saw her eye glance to the figure at his head and then back to him. “I reward loyalty.” She placed the wet cloth on his chest and turned from him.
He rolled slightly and started to get up, his body not working quite right and his mind spinning. He held the cloth to his face and breathed in their scent.
She made some gestures and all of her things were picked up and gone. She turned and paused, looking at him. He kept his eyes on her and bowed the best he could. And then she was gone.
The two in the blue and yellow stepped towards him. He slipped off the altar and was on his hands and knees. He thought he heard a snicker from one of them, but couldn’t tell which one. They were quiet, but he saw the clothing and armor in Falmir’s colors near him. She had said to get dressed.
They just watched as he put on the layers of the scout’s uniform. It was clean and smelled of soap and oil. He felt bruising around his wrists as he buckled the vambraces on. The boots almost fit. He had to push into them hard to get them on. All the sheaths were empty. He had everything on, even a pouch full of a mixture of Midlands and Rosemond coin.
One of the figures had a black sack in his hand. Hazalam took it and willingly put it over his head. He felt rope around his wrists and he was pulled from his confinement.
There was a journey through the keep, as long and convoluted as before, so perhaps it really was that big of a place and he had just not seen all of it. It was cold when they reached outside. A cape was put around him and he was put into a wagon. It was a jumpy journey with several stops and odd noises from around him.
None of that mattered. He was out. She had found him worthy and he was out. She wished him to protect the King by keeping an eye on these four men, especially Bregnan. And kill him if he showed himself to be a traitor.
He would do it. For her.
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