by Pwyll Duggan
The little girl laughs at the piano, jumping off her seat.
"Bye Miss." And she waves as she races past, whispering at me as she goes. "You are sooooo dead."
My head whips to watch the kid leave then whips back to the smiling beauty in front of me. Gerald bows again and leaves, he too whispering.
"Behave or she'll eat you alive."
What have I got myself into?
Chapter 16
Marylou walks forward, arms crossing as she puts a hand to her chin, finger on her lips. Tapping her lips, she looks me over, up and down. Her hazel eyes move over me as I notice her pupils change, from round to a slit, cat or reptile like. My head rocks back as I see that, getting me a thin smile from her.
"We may, just, be able to work with this. Lose the dirt in the change room and put on the casual outfit there. Now. Snap to it." She claps lightly twice and before I notice I'm racing thru the door to the change room. Holy shit, she's the teacher of my dreams and nightmares all at once.
My heart’s racing as I doff my gear and see the outfit laid out on the dresser. Looking around I see the dressing room goes the length of the dance studio, a curtained off room at the far end. I bundle and store my gear. Shit, almost no slots left, especially if I get all my Imperial chest tonight. Need to dump some items later. Mind goes back to my situation and I don the dress pants and dress shoes, tying them up quickly. A plain white shirt and a dress jacket to match the pants. I put the shirt on, tuck it all in and put the jacket over my arms, exiting the room.
Marylou is facing away from me, small mirror in hand, checking her hairs. A flat case of makeup and likely items is on the piano, a small metronome sitting proudly in the middle. She flows over to me, inspecting again. She umms and arrhs at a few things and pulls up the hand mirror again.
"Lynnette my dear, this poor fellow needs work. Bring the cart," my stomach rumbles as she talks "and a full lunch trolley. Seems regicide made him hungry." The mirror responds,
"At once my Lady."
"Yes, I know you can fight. That is easy as it is at your own pace. But can you dance, lead or follow someone else, gliding around together, staying in form and showing such grace that all who watch stop in silence?" she turns to the piano, setting the metronome into motion, ticking away at a 3/4 beat. The waltz it is. I step forward as she turns, and as her eyebrows raise. I put a hand on her waist and reach for her other hand. I start, swinging her as we go, rather poorly really, but the better agility saves her toes more than once. Not that I can see them under her dress, but it is refreshing she's my height.
Her ringlets move as we turn at a slow pace.
"My my Mr Walsh. Aren't you full of surprises." Her tone is part haughty, sarcastic and joy. I set her expectations straight.
"Other than this, I'm all out of luck. It's all I know." She starts guiding me more as we move, grace flowing as she moves, me desperate to keep up.
"Well this will keep you out of trouble at least tonight. At least you won't embarrass me when we dance." My turn to raise my eyebrows at her comment.
"So, you’re a Lady, not that I know what that means" at that I get swung a little fast, "but what is your title, to be here at the Peerage Council."
Laughter fills the room.
"Oh my, how precious." She stops dancing, curtsies again.
"I am Lady Marylou Ottoman, Hand Maiden to the Princess Charlotte. Light of the Northern Reaches and Princess Born of Stone." My eyes give me away. I have no clue at all what it means, apart from trouble.
"I dance with you first, so the princess can see if you are worthy of her and check you for weapons as well. She so wants to meet the man that killed her older brother."
Oh fuck.
I stumble back and fall into one of the chairs. She's gasping for air, laughing, leaning on the piano for help standing. The doors open as a maid pushes in a lunch trolley, sees Marylou laughing and just turns to get another trolley, wheeling it in. Seeing me in shock on the chair, she brings the trolley full of plates covered by silver domes next to me, bends and pulls out a tall glass.
"Water or something stronger My Lord?" she asks. I look at her, turn to Marylou and look back. The maid continues. "She'll be some time sir. Roast sandwich first then juice or ale?"
"What am I missing?" I ask as a white gloved hand passes me half a sandwich; triangle cut of course. The short haired brunette in the maid outfit answers while pouring a drink, passing it to me also.
"With a guess, it would be you are the only being in 100 miles that doesn't know she's either the Princess' Hand Maiden or the Daughter of Lord Ottoman's late wife or that most of the staff and the country wanted Karloff dead, especial his youngest step-sister. Just at a guess." I munch away, and she turns to me, smile on her face. A slim smile crosses her face, turning her from a statue to woman.
"Lynette at your service my Lord. Please call me Lyn."
"Thanks for being straight with me." Her smile widens, face softening. Resting poker face all gone now.
"A mutual friend said to be kind with you. He's a good judge of humans and animals both. Plus, I get my 100 Imperials tomorrow, all going well." Her eyes are gleaming now, as we both turn to Marylou, who's leaning and just breathing heavily now, failing to get her composure back.
"That's happening no matter what. Any suggestion on the location for that?"
She's shaking her head at Marylou, now almost back on her feet.
"The staff kitchen here is already been set up for it. Duchess Reynolds has guards ready and a deal on small plots of land for any who want it. Seems she profits from all sides and making all her staff very happy. Duchess Elizabeth that is. Quite a partnership those two. People fight to join the staff here, and you see why now." I just sit and eat as Lyn whips out a napkin and places on my lap, patting down the sides. I stay very still as she does that. She whispers,
"I did see what you were packing earlier. Mirrors go both ways with her, if she wants them to." I resign myself to it all, lean back and start eating with a gusto. I am hungry after all.
I eat my fill, making six sandwiches vanish and a few drinks to match. Marylou stays at the piano, all smiles and grace as I stand, wipe the corners of my mouth with the napkin and hand it to the waiting Lyn. I roll shoulders, crack my wrists and fingers and start bouncing on the balls of my feet. Marylou's smile gets wider, like a cat playing with her food.
"Okay then 'M', my turn to lead." I drop into a boxing style stance, flexing fingers. She laughs, arms flinging at me. Four silver streaks head my way, flat knives not even spinning, aimed for my head. I duck, grabbing one from the air and reverse it back at her, just not at full strength.
It slams into her falling dress as she back flips over the piano, the bottom of her ball gown ripped free, floating down as it intercepts the knife. Her eyes change, hands going claw shaped and she runs around the piano, up and along the mirrored wall, coming at me. I bounce, staying ready. She spins, thigh-high covered legs flying at my face. I block with a forearm. She uses that to spin herself up and under my arm, claws raking across my chest. The shirt's ruined as she kicks off my chest, tumbling back. One claw out reaches out, fingers curl, beckoning me in.
Fine then, step forward, throwing a left right combo, poorly. Watching her dodge is a little distracting, as is her whimsical laughing. She's happy. I keep throwing punches, slowly increasing my speed and strength. She's weaving back and forth, under or around most blows and really enjoying this. I keep pushing her back, my arms losing their coverings, sleeves shredded. Tiny lines start crossing my arms, blood trickling down. My anger recedes as I just enjoy it for what it is, dancing.
She's laughing and slashing, eyes wide and bright. My face turns to a smile and her eyes widen, too late. I snap kick forward, fast but without much power. A foot hits a breast and I push, throwing her back over the piano. As she tumbles over it, I leap forward and push, moving the piano as she falls off the end. It pins her to the back wall as she stands, eyes wide and hair now truly wild a
s her look. She struggles on the piano, sounds like she's hissing. Then she drops and the piano hits the back wall. I leap back, barely dodging the dual kick heading for my shins.
I slide backwards in my dress shoes, leaning forward to stop myself with a hand, other out to the side for balance. M snarls, sees something behind me and stands, face going back to a courteous smile. She walks slowly forward as I stand and hastily turn to see who has entered. M's greeting them as she passes me.
"Duke William! What pleasure brings you here today?"
Duke William is there, suit in his house colours, brown and gold. Greasy hair brushed aside so he can stare at M's scantily dressed legs, daggers lining the side of both ankles and thighs. She makes no move to cover herself, standing beside me. Her hand comes up and rest on my shoulder as she ever so slightly leans on me. The Duke scowls, finally taking in my presence. The guards behind him, pushing a laden cart reminds me why he is here.
"My Lady Ottoman." He bows barely. He is fat, but not toned like Lord Smythe, just jiggling like a Jigglypuff. Wait, Jigglypuff wore it much better. Much better. I'm staring at him, thinking about a microphone in his hand and giggle a little. He glares at me.
"What's so funny Shielder?"
"You must kill it at Karaoke." He stares at me blankly, then turns to M, eating her up at a distance.
"My dear Duke, as in the Capital, you can look thru the window at what you will never get." He's taken back, as if water just got thrown on his face. She pushes his buttons again, moving her free arm across her body, blocking the view, and stroking my arm. Small furry ears have slipped up thru her hair, now twitching. I resist the urge to look behind her, just to spot a tail. With a red face the Duke turns to me.
"I have your Imperials." He looks around. "If you have the tokens that is."
I reach around to the small of my back with my free left arm. I point my fist out and summon Princess, pointing out to remain unseen. I pull her around, blade flat and ready. His guards stiffen, hands to their hilt as I say.
"Whoops. Wrong thing. Hold this for me please Doll?"
M goes to move but stops and stares as a vine pushes out of my neckline, twisting up and taking Princess, putting her to rest on my back. I do the same trick again, pulling out the sack of tokens this time.
The Duke's sweating form relaxes, and his guards do too. I pass the sack to him and he opens them.
"If these are fa..." my voice is firm and unwavering.
"Don't even go there. If there is even one Imperial missing, I'll take your head before I even think of recounting them. And unlike me, you can't fly away."
He gulps, all bluster lost and backs out as the cart is wheeled inside, followed by three more. Ten small chests per cart, forty in total. 2000 imperials per chest then.
The duke is walking back down the hall as I call out behind.
"I guess we'll see what happens at the ball then!" and he scurries off faster.
I turn to see M has one of the chests open, gold reflecting off her face, eyes wide.
"Do I need to count it?" she doesn't even look up, hand brushing the top of the coins lovingly.
"He can't afford to lose more face and allies if he does that. Besides, these are from Duke Reynolds vault, and him I will always trust."
Her head whips around to me, eyes wide, blinking. Her voice goes sweet and deep, purring almost.
"Take a girl shopping?" I laugh and close the lid, almost catching her fingers, claws out from her nails.
"That you have to earn."
"That I can do." She responds with all honestly, like a cat looking at a mouse, licking her lips.
Shit. Witty comments are so not the same here. Now I'm the canary on the run.
Chapter 17
M sashays away from me, bottom waving side to side. Her half tail does the same, flicking back on forth as she disappears into the change room. Lyn is still standing there. I look over at her and ask.
"Half a tail?" she shakes her head.
"Not my story to tell Lord." She pauses then points. "What shall we do with that."
I grin and walk over, hand hovering over the top of the first cart. I touch each chest in turn, and they disappear, two small chests per slot. That leaves me with three left, with all the various cloths and armour, camping gear and magic items and gold already stored. Need to clear some of that out.
M returns wrapped in a long robe and pouts.
"Where's all the gold gone? I wanted a bath. imagine all those coins covering little ol’ me." She runs her hands down her sides and to her long legs as I turn away, shaking the image from my mind.
"Later M, need to bathe, clean and get prepared for tonight." I say as I leave the studio. I get outside, stop and stick my head back in.
"Know where my room is?"
So, Lyn is leading me on, pushing a small trolley as I watch the walls, my shredded shirt getting looks from everyone. We arrive at a door in the far corner of the second floor and Lyn raps twice, quietly. She pushes it open, trolley behind her as I follow.
The room is bigger than my house in Sydney. Tall ceiling, impossibly large four poster bed, lace and trimmings hanging all over it. Chairs, small tables and a couch in a corner, facing an open fireplace, wood cheerfully crackling away. Large wardrobes, all open, some displaying outfits for my viewing pleasure. Full length windows running the whole width of the room. Doors at each end of the far wall, meaning there's more to it all. Thick glorious carpet extends after a large tiled square at the door, small racks nearby for boots and coats. Full bar on this wall next to the door, glasses and wine already chilling.
Standing in the centre is another maid, sandy blonde hair matching her tanned skin, what I can see of it. Hair hidden, mostly in a bun up high, held by sticks. It’s a shame that I instantly think weapons when I see that and stiffen involuntarily.
The maid instantly bows her head, as if ashamed. Hazel eyes I thought, above a wider nose before her head bowed down. Lyn steps up at once.
"If she doesn't please you my Lord, I can arrange a non demi-human." I stammer.
"That's not it. It was just her hair bun. Brought back memories, that's all. She's demi-human?"
"Yes, my Lord." She continues. "Sonya is one quarter Desert Lamia. Some find that... offensive, what with the ongoing desert conflict and Portal Wars." Whatever those are. Really need time in a good library. Maybe tomorrow?
"She will be fine. Perfect." I keep looking around, closing the door behind me. It clicks as it locks. I glance at it and move on. Sonya notices this as her head is a little higher, eyes peaking from behind her hair. Okay, good or bad there.
"Sonya will get you prepared for this evening." And with that Lyn leaves the cart and exits the room, door instantly unlocking for her. Sonya speaks, quietly and slowly, head still down.
"The doors are linked to the gecko's stones. If they recognize you, you can enter or leave." I appreciate that and the answer I am given without being asked. I step over to Sonya, who's just a fraction under my height, but slouching down, making herself smaller. I put my hand out to shake.
"I apologize for my reaction. But it was not at you, just the hair sticks in your bun. Seems a few people are out to get me and I'm a bit jumpy." She curtsies very gracefully as her hands go to her bun, sticks pulled out and used to control her hair as she ties it quickly into a ponytail, going most of the way down her back.
Quietly she responds.
"If my Lord would follow me to the bathing area, we shall get you prepared. Making your hair presentable, then a massage and a bath would be in order." She controls the trolley thru the side door with a single arm. I follow dutifully. The tiled room is again huge. Twin massive tubs on the far side. Wooden door to a sauna? On the far side are tables and chairs, all marble and a long flat table, split down the middle. She rolls the trolley next to a chair by the flat massage bed.
"Please disrobe and I can begin on your scalp and beard."
She passes me a loose bathrobe and turns away. I str
ip, taking everything off and lightly tie the robe on. I sit in the chair.
"Ready Sonya. No need to be so formal." She walks behind me, trolley moving a little.
"If you say so Lord." Oh well, quiet and still it is.
She runs a hand along my scalp, hair now a few millimetres long. She is a little rough, either on purpose or just her hands are that way. Scales perhaps? I close my eyes, letting her work. The thought enters my mind that she's going to kill me. I don't even flinch as I hear metal on metal, she’s running a hand thru my beard, trimming with scissors.
Something small whips past my ear and I can hear a very faint hissing. Opening one eye I see her tongue, gently parting her lips in short burst, tasting the air. She's a snake alright, forked tongue and all. I think she notices me looking and I just shut the eye, leaning back.
"There is something primal, ancient about you my Lord."
"Paul, my names Paul, Sonya. That would be the Heartwood on my back."
The cutting stops and the hissing grows louder. Her voice goes lower, more slurring the s's than before.
"My I pleassse ssee it?" I nod, keeping my eyes closed as I untie the robe and roll it down my shoulders, bundling at my waist, top free.
Leaning forward to expose my back I feel her lean in, tongue flickering around Doll, even lightly licking my back.
"Her name is Sonya and she's a friend. Sonya, that's Doll, the lady who tries to take care of me sometimes. When I've be good anyway." A hissing chuckle or laugh starts and stops suddenly. I feel a claw on my back, picking at something. I hear a metallic sound, like a pin dropping and running around a bowl.
"My Lor... Paul. What level are you? 8 or 9?" I sigh and wait for the demands once I say it.
"19." She pauses and then a long hiss comes from her.
"Is no-one looking after you?"
"What?" I sit up suddenly, sending her backwards a step, head turning to her, eyes open.
"What do you mean by that." Her eyes are downcast again.
"You are not really human anymore. Your muscles are stronger, thicker. Tougher, like your skin. It feels normal, but it is now a form of armour. See the cuts Lady Marylou couldn't make on your arms. She always does that the first time she teaches someone. You barely noticed them, correct."
