Part Forty-nine
Her husband had been in the ground an hour and Cirsten had already betrayed him three times. She had married young and been a dutiful wife to Odel for five years, and in all that time she had never felt like this before. She had not even known there were other positions. They were as animals; Cirsten felt she had become like a breed mare mounted by a large powerful stallion. Reif's breaths on the back of her neck seemed those of a horse run to a froth. She could not help the low moan that came up from her throat. Her husband had never brought her to feel this. He was betrayed.
Reif collapsed atop Cirsten and then rolled aside. He was spent. It had been a long while since he had be capable of so much in such a short space of time, but Cirsten was young and even more beautiful with her gowns ripped from her body. He wanted nothing but sleep, but Reif knew he had to think of a way to leave her chambers undiscovered...and there was something else he had meant to remember; he could not think of it at the moment. Cirsten was beautiful and deliciously innocent for one so long a wife.
Cirsten siddled up to Reif within her bed; it woke him when she grasped his arm. "I have never felt such things," she sighed.
"I should really go. Could you look to the window and see if there is anyone about?" Reif whispered.
"I did not know it could be done in such ways! How do you know? Is that how Elves do it?"
"Elves?" Reif nearly choked on the word, but he remembered then the thing he was supposed to do.
Cirsten laughed. "I heard a rumor about you once, that you had been a lover to some Elf. Is it true? Was she beautiful?"
Reif cleared his throat and then spoke in his most seductive voice. "Of course, but not so fair as you. Do you know, there are some Elves in your jail?"
"Are there?"
"I heard there were. Arrested for some silly offense. Odin would release them if you asked it of him. Do you not think we should release them? It might be dangerous to keep Elves here. I am only thinking of your safety. You do not wish enemies on your northern border."
"Do you think I should release them, Reif?" She sighed when she said his name.
"It seems wise."
"I suppose I could mention it to Odin. How do you suppose it is done by Elves?"
"They kiss often."
Cirsten laughed a delighted laugh and then inclined toward Reif to kiss his lips. Reif allowed the contact, as his eyes tracked to the window. "How do you suppose Orcs do it?"
Reif's face quizzed, one brow lifting higher than the other. "Whatever Orcs do, I am certain it is quite unnatural."
"Do you suppose they are like animals?"
"Have you seen my boots?" Reif asked quickly.
Cirsten shrugged and turned to stretch out languidly upon the bed. "If you do not find your boots, you can stay here and take me at your pleasure. I would have meals sent in."
Reif sat up and pulled on his shirt. "I would like nothing better, My Lady, you know that, but I have duties."
"Yes," Cirsten pouted. To Reif, she was seeming strange. He was beginning to regret his loss of control. There was such a thing as seeming too good a lover. But, she was beautiful.
Reif soon gathered up his things and made his escape by way of the window. No sooner had he belted his sword and rounded the corner of the building, than he ran into Odin and a group of his guardsmen. Reif was certain he was to be joining Tsuki in the jail, especially when Odin said he wished to speak of Cirsten.
Odin looked at Reif as the guards gave them space to speak in private. He noted the older Man's disheveled appearance and assumed he had been off making love to some tavern maid. Distasteful, Odin thought, so soon after a burial. Surely there were better forms of consolement. That, or Reif was much more a rival than a fellow countryman and had been celebrating Odel's death.
"I am concerned for Lady Cirsten," Odin confessed at a whisper. "I think she is taking my brother's death quite badly. It is understandable a widow should mourn, but she took herself to her bedchamber directly after the burial, and when I went there to seek her, the maids told me she had forbidden anyone to enter. As I stood with them, I heard her moaning within."
"Moaning? Really?"
"I fear..."
Reif swallowed.
"She may...do something drastic?"
"What mean you by that?"
Odin lowered his voice further. "Harm herself. There, it is said. It seems unthinkable, yet I fear she is so grieved. Do you think...I mean to say...if you recall your previous suggestion...not for my sake you understand...might it help if I went to her...?"
"Yes!"
Odin was somewhat taken aback by Reif's immediate response. "You are certain? I know we have disagreed over certain matters, but, as a peer, a nobleman, do you think it proper? Would it not seem improper to some if later discovered? So soon after his death?"
"Be discreet. Also, I warn you, that I have heard women who are greatly grieved may have strange appetites. If you are honorable, you will surrender to her whims and say nothing to others that would tarnish her reputation as a Lady and a noble. If she is as distressed as you believe, she may feel strange urges."
"Strange urges?" Odin whispered.
"You are correct, you must protect her now your brother is gone. Do what you must. You have my silence!"
"You are a good Man," Odin said.
Reif made a slight and brief bow and then hurried on his way, meaning to have at least one ale. There was a thick crowd gathered in the main thoroughfare when Reif came to it, and he could not simply get around it, but had to push his way through in order to get by. He supposed there might be a nearby game of sticks and wickets, which was a strange but popular game played by those in this northern part of the country, but it was soon clear the crowd surrounded a merchant's pony-drawn cart.
As suspicious of outsiders as the locals were, they were interested in foreign trade goods. They resented their dependence on their fellow countrymen to the south for imported materials and wares, but it would not be helped, so long as merchants stayed along the trade roads and did not venture to towns along secondary roads.
Of more interest than the items for purchase were those vending. A Halfling, an Elf, and a Southerling woman were positioned in and about the cart. A few people of Ebbettsfield had seen a real live Elf before, a couple had glimpsed a Halfling, and none had seen a woman from lands to the distant south, though their Riders who had ridden to their allies defense had faced some Southmen warriors. They had heard enough tales of lore to know what a woman of the south ought to look like; this one was veiled and decorated with ornaments of gold, as they expected.
Ugarit's amber eyes tracked the movements of the crowd from the narrow opening between wound layers of her crimson mantle. She wore enough of Beryl's face paints that her skin did not appear blue, but tan, where her eyes and hands were bared by the strange garments. The fabrics had appeared from Kato's luggage. Even with the disguise, the crowd worried her. She had never been so close to so many Men.
Kato stood beside Ugarit, within the cart, extolling the virtues of Elven garments, Halfling-grown pipeweed, Easterling artifacts, Southerling textiles, and various herbal remedies. He had drawn from the baggage of his friends to create their disguise and hoped they would not be angry he sold their belongings. That was, assuming he could free them. They could do him no harm if they remained in jail, even if he sold everything they owned.
Duma stood, in clothing borrowed from Beryl's packs, trying his best to seem Elven as he held their recently acquired pony's lead. He had surrendered various trinkets from his horde to make the collection Kato was then describing as Elven charms and amulets. What Duma had not grudgingly donated, he had hastily made from found river rocks and what wire, cordage, and thread could be found between the various pieces of baggage.
Reif did not recognize Duma, as he was larger and differently dressed than he had last seen him, but he recognized Kato immediately. Reif desired to speak with Kato, to learn why he was there selling wares, when his companions were prisoners. Perhaps it was a plot to free them, Reif thought; in that case he did not trust Kato would be successful.
Lady Cirsten and her maids came from within the Marshal's Hall to the street, all veiled in black. Reif wished to avoid her, and so he pressed on through the crowd, thinking he might find Kato later and speak to him more privately. In his haste, Reif bumped into another in the crowd. He pardoned himself. "No trouble, Brother, quite understandable, go with the gods' blessing," came the response.
Reif was not a firm believer in the gods, though he had heard much lore of them, and so he found the comment strange and turned. He saw only Mannish, black clothing, a wide brimmed hat such as peasant farmer wore, and a staff. A Cleric, he thought. They were as troublesome as Wizards, in Reif's thinking, only they seemed to lack any real power to help when danger did arrive on their coat tails.
The Cleric straightened Duma's shirt collar as he passed; his hand moved so quickly that it startled Duma, but the hand was already gone before he could swat it away. Some women were discussing the fine Elven garments as the Cleric came to the cart. "Man has no need of such excesses. The gods have endowed women with nimble enough fingers for the wheel, loom, and needle. Have pride in what mortal hands can craft, Sisters, and leave the mysteries of Elven tailoring to the First Race."
The Cleric glared then at Kato, for selling the garments. Kato looked into his very green eyes and laughed. Beryl was angry his garments were being sold. "A Cleric are you?" Kato asked, "I never thought to see one so far out in the country."
"I never thought to see a merchant so far from the trade road."
"If there is trade to be had and a road, it is a trade road."
"Beware of greed, Little Brother!" Beryl said loudly, "I must now to the sad place of burial to say the gods' blessing over the fallen, and then to the jail, as the gods will all who are wicked to confess their wrongs and repent."
As Beryl left, some local merchants approached, wishing to draw Kato and his cart closer to the market, where their shops and stalls were located. The local businessmen did not view such traveling merchants as competition, but welcomed the opportunity to trade with them, in hopes of supplying the town with imported goods after the travelers had departed, and at substantial profit. These Men bowed or clasped Kato's small hands. Some were awed to meet a nine-fingered Halfling, though Kato assured them he was likely not the one they suspected. He had only lost his little finger battling Orcs, he would explain. This sounded impressive enough to the locals, who feared Orcs, but had not faced many in battle, even if they all knew a grandfather, uncle, or brother who had ridden off to war or defended the town in some historical Orc invasion during a bad winter.
The marketplace was just outside the storehouse, which included the jail. This was a useful arrangement in distribution of goods, as well as in dealing with thieves, as guards and cells were close at hand. The shopkeepers and vendors sold everything from decorative wood carving to livestock. They lacked only the items that seemed exclusive to large settlements, such as scrolls, matched tableware, fine musical instruments, and fancy clothing.
Kato stood in the cart making deals. He put Duma in charge of holding the coins and appraising stone and metal trade goods. Ugarit was charged with appraising garments and textiles, though Kato was not certain she had real qualifications. He told her to value Beryl's clothing greatly and to retain as much of it as possible. Ugarit would not speak, as Kato had pronounced her accent atrocious and worse than Duma's, but she held up stained fingers to show amounts and demonstrated skill at calculating.
Tashmetum was bundled within her basket, beneath the cart seat. When she woke and cried, Kato announced that it was time his party found a place to rest and have a meal. A local inn was recommended and it was suggested that Kato store his cart and merchandise in the storehouse, for a small fee.
Beryl had already gained access to the storehouse and the prisoners in his guise of Cleric, when Duma led the pony and cart inside. Kato walked alongside, and several paces behind, Ugarit came carrying Tashmetum's basket.
"Who is that?" Dale asked. The Warden had been told that the Cleric was educated in Elven and it seemed reasonable to let the impartial Cleric speak to their prisoner. As an extra precaution against eavesdropping, Beryl and Dale used an ancient dialect, as the Vale Elves had been little influenced by the language and culture of Elves who had dwelled long in the western parts of the land and their speech was closely related to the ancient form of Elven. The other Elves understood many of the words, as roots had been passed down to the Common Elven they spoke daily, but the conversation was difficult to follow.
"I am not certain," Beryl told Dale, "I failed to notice the babe, when I sighted them on the street."
Dale snuffed the air. "Ugarit. I am fairly certain."
"Is it? She seems much taller than last I saw her."
"Tsuki and I looked at her when we spied upon Duma's confrontation with her and that one called Dog. They grow quickly, though I do not think the baby can be hers. Perhaps this means one of their females died. Do you hear anything from the Men? I wonder how many Orcs survived, and if we still must be wary of Marduk. Do they mention the number they found dead?"
"I would expect them to exaggerate the number," Beryl said quickly. He flashed a smile to Tsuki, to show he did not mean offense toward all Men. "Reif is here."
"We saw him also. I think he will try to aid us, if he can. They did bring better food after his visit, but they do not let us outside."
"I may ask him. It would seem he and his Men did a great deal of the work after the battle ended."
"If Ugarit is with Duma, perhaps they know something. Can you safely speak to them?" Dale looked past Beryl into the storage area, where Kato was overseeing the storage of his cart within a stall. "She is limping badly. Perhaps the Men did kill most of the Band. They would have surely protected a female or one of their babies, if they were able. I believe the Orcs are quite proud and possessive of them."
"I will contact them if it is safe, in any case, though they seem to be here with the purpose of finding and freeing you, I will look after them."
"I am a little surprised that Duma and Kato are working together."
"Do not worry. I will look after them as I said, but they are both capable individuals and I believe Duma respects Kato, though he must seem weak by Orcish standards."
"Thank you."
"I will return If I am able," Beryl said, "at worst I shall arrange a jailbreak. It is just a matter of getting the horses into town."
"We suspected they would find you," Dale said.
Beryl gave a nod and then turned to the Warden. "This Elf does not understand the crimes he has been charged with. He may well have broken our laws and offended the gods, but he claims he has broken no law that is known to Elves."
"These are our lands," the Warden said, "He can make any claims he wants. The Marshal will still hold him accountable to our law."
"Of course!" Beryl agreed, "Please call on me at the inn if you have need of an impartial translator for these Elves."
"Thank you, Brother Gawain."
Beryl made a small bow and then left to the street.
Ebbettsfield was not so large or rough a town that there was more than one place to meet and buy a drink. The common room of the inn suited most, and those who had a bit too much to drink or did not wish to face angry wives could easily find a place to sleep off a night's drunk. They did not get many travelers and the inn mainly did business at bar and dining room, while rooms were most often occupied by farmers from across the river coming to trade, and ranchers who rode into town from the surrounding areas to spend several days trading before they returned the next season.
Master and Mistress Dormar, who owned the inn, were pleased to have their rooms filled with paying customers for a change. They had rooming there visiting Riders from the south, a wandering Cleric, a traveling merchant and his employees, and two ranchers on business. The rooms downstairs were filling as well, as the locals wanted to hear news from the visitors and catch a glimpse of the foreigners. In their country, it was considered good fortune to meet a Halfling.
Kato paid in advance for two rooms, and then asked that a meal be sent up to one of his rooms, where his servant would be caring for the baby in privacy. Duma had not thought Ugarit deserved her own room, as she had no money, but Kato agreed with the female Orc in this case. It would seem proper enough to pay for two rooms and as Ugarit had worked with them, she could take her room and board as fair payment.
Kato and Duma were to have their meal in the dining room, as there they had a better chance of learning more about the prisoners. They had seen into the cells wihle in the storehouse, but could not safely make contact. They both knew now that Beryl was in town disguised as a Cleric and had seen him speak with Dale. Soon, they hoped to meet with Beryl and learn the condition of the prisoners from him.
Beryl and Reif both stood near the bar, pretending not to be well acquainted with each other, but carrying on conversation with Master Dormar, who tended the bar. The people of Ebbettsfield tended to be more antiquated and to keep the traditions of their ancestors that had lived in the north. They would drink ale, but it was considered much more proper and masculine to drink mead. To get any information from a local, one had to buy flagons for others and drink the liquor of fermented honey themselves.
Beryl wished to go sit with Kato and speak with him, but he had other friends held prisoner, fellow Elves even, and it was more important he gain information from Reif and the other Men. This was complicated by the fact that Reif, and many others, had seen a female and infant accompany Kato and Duma, and that allowing Reif to learn that there were female Orcs seemed likely only to cause further panic and hatred toward Orcs among Men. Beryl had his own reasons to do battle with Orcs, but he had lived long enough to understand that peace was preferable to war and that there were times when kindness accomplished a goal tthat violence could not. Generally, actions were repaid with like reactions, and though there were many notable exceptions, Beryl was not ready to betray the ssecret Dale wished to be kept.
Beryl was not a god, and though only pretending to be a Mannish Cleric, he did believe in the gods, had even seen some during his life, and left it to them to judge whether it was right or wrong that Orcs should have females and become more Mannish in nature.
Beryl's suspicion was that the former White had, in betraying his previous beliefs, accidentally redeemed himself by enabling the creatures wrought by sorcery to free themselves and learn what it was like to have females and children to protect. Perhaps, in time, Orcs would regret raids and pillaging without the Orc hunts and battle that came afterward. Perhaps they might become just another race trying to survive a future certain to be dominated by Men. If Orcs, who had been spawned by Dark Art, enslaved and abused for ages could learn kindness and regret, then there was certainly hope for Men, and those Elves who remained could live in peace and not have to constantly feel like they were minding someone else's children.
That would be a world worth witnessing, Beryl thought. For that reason, Beryl would stay close to Dale and see that things did not go to far astray from that future, as Dale was certain to influence what came of the Orcs. A little more meddling on the part of Elves, and then they could rest, depart to the west if they liked, or just dwell on in the shrinking places away from Mannish civilization, just in case Man doomed the land such that they had to reappear to mend things. But, at least one Elf should see that flowers, trees and lesser creatures were not forgotten in the building of cities.
He could not tell Reif about the female Orcs, but he needed Reif to tell him how many Orcs had died and if his Men had hunted down any more.
Kato watched the Elf and Man at the bar as he waited for the serving maid to bring their food. He was fond of Beryl and remembered how differently he had acted when they had come across Reif in the King's city. Beryl was pretty too look at, enchanting, an excellent protector, and had the wisdom of many ages besides, but all those ages seemed to leave him with a sort of vulnerability. Elves were immortal, but they did age; they only aged differently than mortals. Kato had seen elderly Men and Halflings in the town where he lived and knew that their wisdom may come along with certain irritability, or turbulent emotions and perhaps longing and regret. Sometimes, Beryl was the one that needed protecting, and Kato could see it. A Halfling could easily remain unnoticed by Big People and if one was observant, they could learn a lot of people, no matter their race. Kato was a very observant sort. He was young, but he could read many people at first glance, almost as if sensing their nature. Reif was no good for Beryl.
"I do not know if we can trust that fellow, but Beryl will help us, if we can speak to him," Duma said. "Beryl wants to free Dale, right?"
Kato nodded slightly. "You should wash your hands. If you have noticed, Elves wash their hands before eating if they are able, and afterward."
"Watch yourself," Duma warned. He rose then from the bench and went toward the back door, suspecting that if like other Mannish settlements, they might have some well, barrel, or trough of water in the yard behind. As Duma came from inside, he saw three veiled women in the yard. He had seen them also on the street near the cart. They had purchased one of Lenaduiniel's gowns and Duma did not think she was going to be happy about the sale if she was released and learned of it; the gown had seemed beautiful, though Duma could not recall Lenaduiniel wearing it.
Duma bowed and tried to act as Beryl would at his most Elven. "Good Afternoon, Ladies, do you know of a place I might find water? I wish to cleanse my hands before I have my meal."
"My Lady, please continue inside, I will show the Elf-Lord to the well."
"Yes, we will wait for you," another woman said, as Duma wondered if he should correct them regarding his title. Then, he thought, he might be like a Lord, as there were not many Vale Elves left to have titles. It might, he thought, be advantageous to act as if he were a Lord. He was not certain of Mannish customs; it might be acceptable for the maid to escort him, but a Lady would probably need a chaperone.
"If you would just show me where I may wash, you may be on your way. I would not wish to keep you from your Lady," Duma said as politely as he could.
Kirsten laughed gaily and lifted her veil. The Elf's face expressed no emotion that she could detect. He seemed not to recognize her face at all. "This way," she said. "Do you travel through our town often?"
"No, Miss, it is my first time," Duma said slowly. The woman was really quite beautiful; it stunned him when she lifted the veil, and he had to shake himself to keep from being too distracted by her. "Just...the water," he whispered.
"Are you from the wood to the north?"
Dale would probably say that it was best to tell the closest thing to the truth as possible, so as to not be caught by a lie. "My people are Vale Elves. We wander, but sometimes settle near rivers, if there are many fair trees there."
"Here is the well, I will draw water for you."
"It is not necessary."
"Please, allow me to serve you, My Lord."
Duma wondered if his skin seemed blue. Others told him that his skin colored blue when he felt nervous or embarrassed, though he could not see it himself. The woman seemed to look at him strangely. Duma looked around. They were alone in the yard. He felt suddenly uncomfortable. He felt he should forget dinner and freeing Dale and his companions and find words to ask this woman if she would not mind sharing a few pleasurable moments alone somewhere, yet at the same time, he had this feeling of dread, almost as if his Master were stalking through the tunnels on his way to the furnaces in search of him.
Kirsten offered the bucket filled with water. Duma put his hands into the cool water and then splashed it upon his face.
"Are you married?" Kirsten asked.
Duma raised his eyes to her and said nothing.
"Do Elves wear rings when they are wed?"
Duma honestly did not know the answer to this question. He had met no Elves that were married. He looked at the ring upon his hand. "My ring is only decoration," he whispered, honestly.
"I am widowed."
Duma suspected the black veil signified she was recently widowed. He meant to ask if her husband had been slain by Orcs, but somehow, his mouth formed, "You must feel lonely now."
Kirsten leaned close to Duma. "Is it true Elves kiss often?"
"What do you say?"
"I heard it said." She touched fingertips to Duma's face. He looked strangely colored to Kirsten.
"You are very beautiful for a woman," Duma whispered.
"My grandmother was said to wander across our northern border and near to the golden trees."
"It is not proper," Duma said. "I am sorry. I have kept you from your Lady. I give you leave. Please go."
Kirsten leaned closer still and kissed Duma. It did not seem proper at all, but Duma supposed that if the woman kissed him, it most definitely meant that she was willing.
"I want to..." Duma started to speak. This was unlike the last time he had been alone with a woman. That time had had really tried to make his intentions known and the settlements had been smaller and not so concentrated in population of Men. He would be a fool to risk a woman here learning that he was an Orc. Women in this country learned to use swords as well as the Men.
"I know a place we can be alone," Kirsten said. She moved and Duma followed. There was a smokehouse in the yard, which was not presently in use, except to store some beef, which had already been treated and would be removed to the larder when the stores there were lower. The scent of fire and meat did nothing to aid Duma in resisting temptation.
As soon as the door fell shut, Duma drew Kirsten into his arms and kissed her. It felt strange, not to have the barbell through his tongue, but Kato had said it might be visible when he spoke. Perhaps it was true Elves kissed often, for Duma did enjoy it.
Within a few minutes, they were out of much of their clothing and laying upon Duma's jacket, on the dirt floor. "I want you to take me," Kirsten said. Duma knew what she meant. He wanted to do it, but he had such a horror of conceiving half-breed offspring that he was able to resist that temptation.
"It is not proper for Elves who are unwed," Duma said uneasily, wondering if this was entirely true, "but I know there are other activities we may share that would seem pleasurable to us both."
Kirsten smiled wide. Other activities sounded interesting. Perhaps this Elf, she thought, would teach her as much as Reif. "Show me," she said.
Duma thought to pleasure her with his mouth, but as he shifted position, he caught her scent more strongly. He growled softly and lifted his head. Kirsten saw his glare and bit her lip. "You cannot be very lonely," Duma snarled. About half of him wanted to put the bitch in collar and leash and take her every night for a month, knead her stomach until she bled, then take her every night for another month. The other half of him simply found it distasteful that he could still smell Man on her and wished to leave.
Kirsten slapped Duma across the face for daring to question her reputation, whether he had done it allowed or not.
"Put on your clothes!"
Kirsten pulled the scarf from Duma's head. She looked and then slapped him again.
Duma knelt in submissive posture. He understood his peril. She was offended that he did not want her anymore and she would use whatever she could against him to make him comply. If he hurt her, put one mark on her, his life was forfeit. There was no possibility of resisting if she made further advances. If he ran without surrendering to her, a word from her would end his life. The prejudices of Men would ensure that he would never be believed. They would kill him and never suspect her reputation.
An Orc. He had to be some manner of Orc, Kirsten thought. How could an Orc refuse a woman? Did they not like them willing? Had Orcs ever been known to care that women they took and slaughtered had Men? How dare he, she thought, an Orc, refuse to take a woman. "Why do you not take me?" Kirsten hissed. "Do you know who I am? You want me! You want to take me!"
Duma closed his eyes. How could one who was an Orc not respond to a naked
woman in a smokehouse? He said nothing. His life was hers. His eyes were
closed, and he saw his Master standing squinting at the light from the
fires. Kirsten crawled toward Duma and seated herself upon him. He wanted
to kill her, but he knew that would end his life more surely than doing
nothing. He did not dare tell her stop, because his life belonged to her.