Desire thrummed like a living flame between them. His hands ran over her body, alternatively pulling her close to feel her heat against his body, and moving her away enough to touch her, and hear her breathing turn swift and shallow as he stroked his hands over her breasts and down.
She didn't fight him, this time, as he lifted her tunic up, then over her head, before tossing it aside. He sucked in an awed breath as his gaze skimmed over her. He'd often wondered what she looked like beneath her shapeless, unisex warrior's garb. He'd fantasized about this moment -- about seeing her body bare to his eyes -- for so long his hands actually hesitated for a second as he lifted them to touch her. He lifted his gaze to her face.
"Are you sure about this?" He met her gaze, and saw passion equal to his own. He resisted the urge to frown when he saw nothing more -- certainly not the love he wanted. That would come with time. For now, her passion was enough, if she truly wanted this.
She hesitated only a fraction of a second, before she nodded, and swallowed hard. Reaching down, she grasped his tunic and lifted, repeating his actions of a moment ago as she removed the piece of clothing and tossed it aside.
His hands touched her arms, skimmed flesh that was surprisingly soft for someone so battle-hardened, and a small shiver work through her body -- a shiver that told him she was as hungry for this as he was. Her eyes glowed in the dim stable, and he fancied not all of it was from her Bathron heritage.
A gentle smile tugged his lips as he breathed her name, and then slid his arms around her bare waist to draw her back against his body as he slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that was both reverent and carnal. This wasn't how he ever planned their first time together to be, but then, Telyn wasn't the conventional wench, either.
She stirred restlessly against him, whimpering slightly, as his chest brushed the hardened points of her nipples, and he grinned wolfishly as he eased her away enough that he could reach her breasts without breaking their kiss. She gasped, and her restless movements grew more rhythmic as he stroked and teased her. Then, when she broke their kiss, her head arching back as she moaned aloud, he took advantage of the shift in her position to draw one turgid peak into his mouth, even as his hands slid lower to undo the ties to her leggings.
She didn't fight him, as he feared she might. Instead, she pressed closer, her breath panting from her as his mouth teased and tormented her even as his hands stripped away the remainder of her clothing. Her hands gripped his shoulders, tangled in his hair, then slid over his back and chest in a dancing exploration of her own, before coming to a stop at the ties to his pants. He sensed her hesitation, and drew back to meet her gaze again. What he saw there nearly took his breath away for good.
She looked vulnerable. Uncertain, and yet the desire and softness in her eyes was unmistakable. If any look could ever give him hope that Telyn might love him in return, that would be the one. She wasn't having second thoughts. Nevertheless, she'd apparently not told him the complete truth when she said there'd been others. Her look was not the confident one of a woman who knew her way around a man's body.
His heart caught, and his touch gentled as he covered her hands at his waist and gazed levelly into her eyes. "As much as you want. Only as far as you want."
She swallowed hard, but nodded, and he felt her hands stir beneath his. "I want."
Two simple words, spoken in a throaty whisper. Two words that had the power to bring him to his knees. He was glad he was already sitting. He helped her remove the pants, biting back a tortured oath when her fingers accidentally brushed him in a way that sent sparks firing against the backs of his eyelids.
She surprised him by applying gentle pressure to his shoulders until he leaned back, almost reclining against the hay pile and stable wall. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what she did next, as she bent her head to the task of kissing and licking her way down his chest, her intention clear. His eyes closed, he savored the feel of her warm lips and tongue for only a moment before he grasped her arms, easing her up until she lay against his body, naked flesh to naked flesh.
"You don't get away from me that easy, lady," he murmured huskily, then brought her face down to his for another kiss as he set about turning a campfire into a raging inferno.
He let her maintain her place atop him, aware that Telyn needed at least the illusion of control, even though he knew passion and control never met. Even when the fire reached its pinnacle, and their bodies joined in its dancing heart, he gave her the gift of that illusion, gazing up at her as the dim moonlight bathed her naked body and turned her eyes to living flames as she rode him into the stars.
At the last moment, when her eyes glazed, and he knew she was about to tumble, he finally brought her down, rolling her to cover her mouth with his own and muffle her cries as the fire between them shattered into a million sparks of perfect light.
Even as they lay spent in the aftermath, Nacaris fought the darkness that threatened to intrude, and feared what they shared would send Telyn running from him faster than any threat to her life. Letting this woman go was a gift he simply couldn't grant her. Not this time.
*****
Telyn sighed and stretched as she made her way down Baker's Lane the next morning. Her stomach growled lightly, and she grinned. She hadn't been able to eat much, last night, and her nocturnal activities with Nacaris left her ravenous. The scent of freshly baked bread wrapped around her, and Telyn's mouth watered. Time to get some provisions. She'd rather face Seoman on a full stomach.
She headed toward the most inviting-looking baker's shop, but a voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.
"Telyn! Sera Telyn, hold!"
She turned in surprise to face the source of that familiar voice. All twelve hands of leathery skin and long, sun-bleached hair.
"Lysha! What are you doing here?"
Lysha sucked in several breaths of air, which told Telyn that the other woman had spared no time in getting to Brassanburg.
"Mistress Lanoki sent me ta look fer ye. We've a grave problem."
Temper gripped Telyn. She'd been released; why was Lanoki doing this to her? "I am no longer at Lanoki's beck and call. Let her solve her own problems."
Telyn spun on her heel and started away. Lysha's grip on her arm brought her back around in defensive stance.
"Hold, dammit!" Lysha hissed. "Leastways hear me out afore ye bark at me like a wounded Letheri."
Telyn sighed. Lysha was right -- this wasn't her fault. "All right. Forgive me, Lysha. I have things to do, and not much time before I plan to be back on the road. What is the problem?"
"First," Lysha started cautiously as they entered the small bakery, "I'm s'posed ta tell ye that Lanoki sends this duty as a mercenary fare. She wants yer aid, an' she's willin' to pay for it."
"Why me?"
"Ye've the ability, knowledge, an' principles o' the situation."
Telyn raised one eyebrow skeptically as she approached the baker's counter. She wasn't sure she accepted this explanation. The Gildgarda usually handled House matters.
"One loaf of travel bread," she requested of the baker, a stout man with a balding head and flour-covered features. He nodded and went to fill her order. Telyn glanced at Lysha again. "I'll be the judge of that. What's the situation?"
Lysha cleared her throat, and glanced nervously around the busy bakery. Then, with a shrug, she lowered her voice and said, "At the time Brun-Gild bailed us at Raiador, Lanoki sent a runner ta Flinthead ta send ta Colandra about 'is replacement. That replacement, the ScholMistress Sele Tora-Gild, was sent out rightways from 'er studies at the Cloister o' Scholars ta Raiador, under armed escort."
The baker returned with Telyn's bread, and she handed him a quarter-round of gele. With the cloth-wrapped package making her mouth water and her stomach growl louder, she looked directly at her companion. "So, what happened?"
"Two days ago, we got word, by messenger hawk, from Fort Myros, on the Borderland border. Mistress Tora-Gild's escort arrived at thei
r fort, right buggered. There was nah sign o' the Mistress, nor her belongin's. All they could figure, from the survivors, was that she'd been nabbed up along the road."
Telyn, already headed out of the bakery, stopped dead, her blood halting in her veins as the implication of that statement settled over her. Not just anyone could abduct a Majin. Moreover, it took real brass to abduct a Master or Mistress in Gild territory. Not many would even dare try.
"What does this have to do with me?" she asked quietly, even as her mind worked overtime, trying to think who might want to kidnap Mistress Tora-Gild. "Why wasn't a Gildgard troop summoned to the search?"
Lysha shook her blond head. "There's nah time ta go ta the Council o' Elders, though Mistress Lanoki's tryin' ta reach any she c'n find. An' even a whole troop o' Gildgards wouldn' accomplish anythin' without what ye've got, Sera Telyn."
"What's that?" She didn't have to ask. Suspicion already kindled in her gut.
"The World Majik."
She was right. Knowing that didn't make Telyn feel any better. "What does any of this have to do with the World Majik, Lysha? Just who is this Sele Tora-Gild?"
Lysha shrugged. "Ye know rumors're ne'er completely reliable. But word 'as it Mistress Sele's knowledge o' World Majik may've been why she was nabbed up. 'Tis said 'er Cloister time was spent studyin' the times afore the Wars o' Majik, when the Aerai Majin was gatherin' 'is sacred works ta renew the world. E'en Mistress Lanoki acknowledged Mistress Sele's extensive knowledge o' the World Majik. She said Mistress Sele's studied e'ery scroll an' book the Gild possess on the Aerai Majin an' 'is Arts."
Telyn's eyes widened as surprise plunged through her. Was it possible that Sele had found the Phoenix Book, in her search? That, alone, would be reason enough for her abduction. Telyn started walking again, the loaf of bread in her hands forgotten as she turned over the possibilities. She tried to appear as though the answer to her next question was a mere curiosity.
"What do you know about Sele, besides her studies into World Majik?"
Lysha shrugged again. "Only what Mistress Lanoki's told me. She said Mistress Sele was born under Cetus, the Grave Robber. Ne'er a good sign. Her ma died when Sele was a wee mite o' five cycles, an' her da, a MajiMaster o' the Council Fourth Rank, disappeared shortly after, ne'er ta be seen again. Mistress Sele was taken in by the Cloister o' Scholars then, an' her education inta the arts o' Majik an' history begun. She's been in Cloister e'er since, 'til she was called up ta post at Raiador."
That brought Telyn up short. That didn't sound right at all. "They gave the leadership of a vital mining operation to someone who spent her entire life in Cloister?"
"Temporarily," Lysha amended, emphasizing the word with a wave of her war-callused hand. "Mistress Sele was ta see o'er the runnin' o' the mine, with my aid, 'til Master Wylir's most advanced 'prentice finishes 'is trainin', next cyclath."
"I see." Telyn resumed her walk as she digested this information. Nothing about this was feeling right. "And now, Sele's gone missing."
Lysha nodded. "Aye, that's the sum o' it. Mistress Lanoki's right raged that anyone dared make off with a Mistress o' the Gild, an' specially this one. The escort troop's like to face charges o' negligence in duty, an' if they do, it'll tarnish the Gildgarda as a whole. Ye know what that could mean."
Telyn nodded. A charge of negligence from the Council of Elders was a serious thing, and when made against any Garda, it meant immediate dishonor. To have that dishonor heaped on the Gildgarda could compromise the entire structure of the House of Gild.
While the Gild didn't hold personal, or even family, honor as highly as the Bathron or Borderlanders did, most of those drawn to service of the sword took personal pride in their duty. Dishonor was a warrior's curse of death. In fact, to many Gildgard, death was a preferable punishment to a Council charge. To have the entire Garda under that cloud could strike a terrible blow to the fabric of safety and peace within Household territory. A great number of Gildgards would likely commit suicide rather than face the blemish on their Garda. Telyn couldn't help but wonder if that was the plan of whomever abducted the young ScholMistress.
"How many in her troop?"
"Still alive, ye mean? About twelve o' the twenty, fer now."
Telyn blinked in surprised, before her brow furrowed. "They lost lives in the battle? Why in Helios' name would there be a charge?"
Lysha shrugged, and shook her head. "There's nah skirmish involved. The dead're result o' shame, or lack o' wits, or both."
Telyn's gut clenched, and it wasn't just with hunger. So, the self-sacrifice had already begun. And yet... She frowned. "What do you mean, lack of wits?"
"The Garda Commander at Fort Myros reported the escort arrived right buggered. Took nearly five hours for 'im ta establish who they were, an' even longer ta sort out what brought 'em ta 'is fort."
This was making less and less sense as Lysha revealed more. A Gildgard troop wouldn't lose focus like that -- they were trained not to -- unless their commander had already begun to lose his or her mind. "Who was the troop commander in charge of the escort?"
"Ser Bortand, I'm told."
Telyn's head shook as she tried to process this news. She couldn't make any sense of it at all. The image of the gruff old Gildgard, so decorated for his steadfast loyalty and unswerving deductive reasoning, swam through her mind. There was no reason for Bortand -- a man who made the duty and code she always shunned his life's blood -- to ever be charged with the greatest negligence, and have the word dishonorable spat at him like a curse. Anger bubbled up in Telyn. Bortand wasn't losing his mind. Which meant that something was going on, and it smelled distinctly of Majik, to her.
"Tell Mistress Lanoki," Telyn grated out through clenched teeth, "that I will return Mistress Sele to her, unharmed, and see the wrong righted, or I shall not return at all."
Chapter Nine
Back at the inn, Telyn sank onto the wooden steps leading up to the door and sighed heavily as she looked down at the loaf of cooling bread in her hands. Her gut roiled, and she wasn't sure she could eat. She knew her impulsive nature would eventually get her into big trouble. Now, she was there. She had no idea where to start looking for the missing ScholMistress. Yet, she had a strong feeling that where she found Brun-Gild, she would find Sele.
"You look serious."
She glanced up at that familiar, masculine voice, and forced a smile she didn't feel to her lips, but she couldn't maintain it. With a shrug, she returned her gaze to her hands.
"Telyn." Nacaris sat down next to her on the steps, his large, war-callused hand gently massaging her thigh. It was a motion of comfort, and she appreciated his concern, even if it wasn't necessary. "What's going on?"
"I ran into Lysha Darl." Belatedly, she realized she still held the loaf of bread. She held it out to him. "Want some?"
He tore off a piece, and handed it back with a grateful nod. "What's Lysha doing in Brassanburg?"
"Raiador's new Mistress has been kidnapped. Lanoki wants me to find her."
He stilled. "I see."
"No. You don't." She cast him a sideways glance. "Someone kidnapped her. And I still have to see Seoman."
Nacaris frowned, and the concern in his eyes both warmed and unnerved Telyn. That look nagged her, the expression on his face tugging at deeply buried memories.
"If it bothers you so much to visit this Seoman, then why go?"
Telyn glanced away. She didn't want to tell him about Seoman, but she knew he deserved to know the truth.
"Seoman is a MajiMaster. But he's more than that. He's an Oracle, and he can trace any Majin in the world with his mind. I don't know how, exactly, but that's what I was told in Colandra when I asked about him."
"So you think you can get him to help you find Brun-Gild?"
She sighed. "I'm hoping so. I owe Seoman the chance to help me."
"But you're not sure he will."
It didn't surprise her that he'd figured out she didn't trust Seoman. Nacaris was an intelli
gent man, and she knew her troubled feelings weren't easy to hide.
"Not after what Carmyd said yesterday. What if he's really changed, Nacaris? What if he doesn't even recognize me?"
Nacaris' gaze dropped to his hands, and a sudden, sickening feeling clenched in Telyn's stomach. Why did she keep feeling like he was keeping a secret from her?
*****
Nacaris resisted the urge to swear as he pushed up from the step and looked down at the woman who meant so much to him. He couldn't even tell her how much. "You're unforgettable."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away from her. He wasn't angry, but he had to get away before he gave into the impulse -- to the words that pushed against his tongue. Those would spell his doom, with this woman.
"Cetarac!" He swore in his native tongue, his hands balling into shaking fists as he wished fervently for something to punch. This was an impossible situation. He hadn't lied to Telyn -- she was unforgettable. The moment he'd seen her, standing there looking up at the imposing beauty of Raiador, he'd been unable to believe his eyes. He'd certainly never expected to see her again, but he'd never forgotten the girl Dariadus brought back to the camp.
They'd been fast friends, though he was nearly eight cycles her senior. Then he made the mistake of falling for the girl as she blossomed into a young woman, and his fate was sealed. One kiss, and she'd been gone, forever. She'd disappeared in the middle of the night, and it was clear that she'd quickly forgotten him completely.
"Ho, there, lad." The deep voice jerked Nacaris' attention to the left, to find himself facing Telyn's friend Carmyd. "What's got you in a twist?"
Nacaris sighed to himself. He couldn't afford to let anything slip about himself. But he could question Carmyd to find out more about Seoman.
"What do you know about Seoman?"
"Ah." That one sound spoke volumes, even as the old stablekeeper nodded. He clapped one heavy hand on Nacaris' shoulder. "Come with me, lad. It seems we need to talk."
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