Drink of Me

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “All right, my friend,” he said to the animal, “now I need you to take us home.”

  Reule finished the request with just the smallest influential mental push. Fit nodded before shaking out his reins and harness, his way of acknowledging the command and his willingness to perform…this time.

  When the others finally appeared, Chayne was grunting animalistic sounds of repressed torment even though his Packmates carried him as gently as they were able. They’d bandaged him as best they could, but Reule could see that Delano and Rye were already covered in blood. They’d have to travel fast for the sake of both victims, but it would make the trip agonizing for Chayne.

  Reule turned hard eyes onto Rye, who jerked up his head when his Prime’s message reached him and him alone. Rye braced himself as Reule turned his attention onto Chayne. He was gentler this time as he invaded Chayne’s weakened defenses and whispered the soft suggestion of sleep into his mind. He reinforced it just as gently, and the wounded man was ninety percent there when Reule brutally slammed his will down over the other Sánge’s and forced obliterating unconsciousness on him. He knew Chayne would despise having his choices taken from him, especially after he had struggled so long and hard to withstand the Jakals’ torture. However, a mere sleep suggestion would never have lasted. Chayne would have been jarred awake at the first rough pass.

  Having the others believe he’d succumbed to exhaustion would be more acceptable in Chayne’s eyes than the knowledge that he’d been mentally manipulated by a stronger male, even if that male was his Prime. Reule had chosen Rye as the only other to be aware of what he was about to do because as the second strongest male in the Sánge people, he was the only one guaranteed to be able to keep his thoughts protected from all the others, including Chayne.

  They were under way shortly, soft discussions between riders and their horses filling the predawn darkness as the golden moon faded. It was Delano who rode tandem with Chayne. Delano had by far the most powerful horse as well as the physical strength it would demand of him.

  Luckily, the house had been at the leading edge of the damplands, so they slogged through mud and mire for only a short time before hitting the harder-packed ground of the plains. They rode quickly for the distant mountains.

  All of this land was Reule’s province—the inhospitable damplands, the fertile flatlands, and the dense and dangerous forests that stretched endlessly behind the riders’ backs. It was all a wilderness, hostile and hazardous, but it belonged to him. Him and his Sánge people. Possessive and protective of it as he was, Reule still turned an impartial eye on any who risked traveling the perilous country. So long as they didn’t harm the land or the Sánge, travelers could pass or even hunt in peace. But the Jakals had abused his hospitality. Reule made a note to himself to check with Saber, his Prime Defender, about the patrols in the outer province. Once the snow fell, there would be no need, but until then…he wouldn’t tolerate his people being endangered by two-legged enemies if they could be controlled by vigilance. There were enough natural dangers in these lands without adding invaders.

  Dawn drifted past, as did early and mid-morning, and their pace across the flatlands remained quick and steady. Neither patient stirred during the entire passage. It was just before noon when they entered the Jeth Valley and saw the walled Sánge city of Jeth rising up from its snug position against the Hattera Mountains. The mountain range was infamously impassable, though not so much so to those who dwelt in this valley. Nevertheless, the mountains discouraged marauders and those who weren’t easily cowed by the reputation of the Sánge. Only the Jakals regularly thought themselves superior warriors to the Sánge, and only the Jakals had ever tried to threaten Jeth or its outlying farmlands.

  The Pack had been passing farms for the past hour, small wood and brick houses settled warm and snug in the midst of the bare fields, prepared for the coming cold of winter. Stubble from the harvested crops stuck up around them. Steel silos and granaries had been bursting from the excellent harvests, and now the last of the fall shipments were headed out for trade in other lands. The city’s coffers would burst afterward. Other breeds might loathe associating with the Sánge, but they’d always gladly trade gold for the precious grain the Jeth Sánge risked their lives to cultivate. So long as their money was good, the Sánge couldn’t care less what outlanders thought of them. The prejudice was the same all over, and there would never be anything they could do about it.

  Reule watched the walls of his small city grow in majestic height as they drew nearer, feeling the familiar explosion of pride and satisfaction at what they’d made of this wild land. It was a home. A grand and productive home with contented people he was able to keep safe. For the most part, he thought grimly as he glanced at Chayne.

  Perverted Jakal bastards. Their need to gorge on emotion made the Sánge ripe targets because of their emotional complexity as telepaths and empaths themselves. Reule’s people were almost universally reviled in the world outside of Sánge-controlled lands, but at least most breeds tolerated or were too afraid to make threats against them. They were also reluctant to go without the crucial grains that fed them. The Sánge had proved themselves to be the only ones hardy enough to survive in the wildernesses where the most valuable crops grew best. The canyons of the Gemin and the rainforests of the Opia had their own resources, of course, but neither was conducive to growing grain.

  The Sánge had dangers to contend with as well. Hard winters, the beasts of the dark and fertile woodlands, and those of the damplands that they hunted, which hunted them in return if they weren’t careful. There were poisonous molds, blights that threatened crops, and dozens of other risks.

  There were the gypsy Jakals and nomadic Pripans as well. The Pripans stayed in the deserts mostly, but occasionally the tribal leaders staged raids on the nearby flatlands to steal grain or women. Pripan males weren’t as picky as those of other breeds and considered the quelling of a powerful and deadly Sánge woman to be a conquest that advertised their supremacy and sexual prowess. Grain Reule could forgive, but kidnapping wasn’t to be tolerated. Unfortunately, the Pripan tribes were large and numerous, and he had to be careful not to commit an act of aggression that would cause them to combine resources and go to war against him. So, often it was a matter of kidnapping their women back, like boys playing war games of stealth. Luckily, the Pripans had a sense of humor about being outsmarted, as long as Reule stuck firmly to only reclaiming what had been stolen in the first place. His success varied, so he found it best to protect his people from such dangers to begin with.

  Their key protection, the monstrous walls rising up from the bedrock of the mountainsides on the north and south slopes, soared above them as they neared. The city sprawled behind the cement, a fair three miles of farms, homes, and merchants before it butted up against Jeth Keep, which in turn butted up against a mountain to the west. There was a northwest wall as well, and a gate, far smaller in width than the one they approached, that led into a treacherous pass with no obvious exits after the first few miles. It was the perfect getaway route in case of seige, and only Reule and his Packmates knew the secret of the escape.

  “Hallo!”

  The cry echoed over their heads from the guards atop the wall and in the central lookout positions about halfway up the sheer surface. Reule smiled when they set up a cheer for the hunters without even knowing if they’d been successful. Those with the sharpest eyes and minds were the first to fall quiet, however, as they noticed Chayne’s empty horse, two of the returning Pack riding in tandem, and an extra body amongst them. Not to mention a decided lack of game hanging from their saddles. It was to have been the final hunt before winter set in, meant to provide meat for the hard months to come. The horses ought to have been laden down with game. Instead, there was no sign of success and all the signs of trouble. Reule felt the buzz of thoughts extending from friends on the walls to those of the party, curious and questioning. Reule put a sharp end to the questions by quickly emanating a warni
ng to silence the Pack. Gossip would abound, but he’d save fact sharing until he could address the province himself. He didn’t need rumors exacerbating fears in the city.

  There was a hum as the electricity powering the steel portcullis gears was turned on, producing the energy needed to raise the heavy gate. The refined fuels used for the generators came from trade with the Pripans, even more reason not to incite wars with them. The precious convenience of electricity was highly coveted by the Sánge, especially in the winter when the idea of the cold was intolerable. It was the only characteristic of the wilderness that they found nearly impossible to bear. Fuel for electricity was worth every piece of gold or sack of grain they traded for it. Only the wealthiest in the city could afford fully electrified homes all through the days and nights of winter. Many had electric heat and light in a single room. Otherwise it was wood, peat, and coal fires that warmed them, especially in the farms outside the city walls, where there was no access to electricity as yet. It was one of Reule’s goals to provide the necessary generators as soon as he could.

  He was strongly hoping that Amando, his Prime Envoy, would have great success in his trading this season. He would soon find out, as he expected Amando any day. The final transactions across their trading route must be completed before the first snows flew. Reule couldn’t rest until the autumn trades were complete and the winter coffers were full.

  For the moment, there were other concerns drawing his attention. The riders broke into a canter once the gate was raised enough for them to pass. They thundered along the main thoroughfare of the city, calling ahead so that pedestrians scattered out of the street. Jeth Keep, stone and steel built to withstand a hostile world, loomed taller even than the city walls. A second portcullis guarded its bailey, but it was raised for the day’s business. Reule led the Pack in. Stablehands rushed out for the weary horses, and Reule saw Amando and Saber hurrying from the training yards to see what commotion had arisen.

  The Pack dismounted, none of them bothering with explanations. They pushed their way into the castle, Reule shouting out as he entered.

  “Drago! Pariedes!”

  Reule’s manservant and the principal housekeeper appeared instantly.

  “Pariedes, send a lass to fetch the apothecary. We’ll need medical supplies, blankets, fresh clothing for Chayne and for a petite girl, and hot food. Make certain some of it is soft. Drago?”

  “At your service, My Prime,” the elder Sánge said quickly, hustling after Reule, who never once broke his step.

  “Wait for the apothecary yourself. When he arrives, bring him to the baths and assist him with Chayne. I only want you and Rye in the bath with him besides the apothecary. You know how Chayne can be. The less exposure, the better.”

  “Understandable and quite wise, My Prime,” Drago agreed gravely.

  “See to it, Pariedes, that you attend me and the girl in the Prime’s bath yourself. No other.”

  “My Prime!”

  Pariedes’s exclamation of shock finally drew him to a halt. The entire hall grew quiet as Reule turned to face the flushing housekeeper, who squared her shoulders in a familiar sign of stubbornness that made him sigh loudly.

  “What is it, Para?”

  “Surely you don’t intend to bring an insensate woman into your bath,” she whispered, even though whispering was ridiculous in a hall full of men with sharp hearing and sharper telepathic ability. “There is propriety to be considered.”

  Reule’s burst of laughter heightened her blush, but she only stood straighter.

  “Para, my fierce lioness, she’s but a cub. I’ve no interest in a child. Besides, you will be with me. I would also limit her exposure to just you and myself. She is not Sánge.”

  “Not…?”

  That seemed to paralyze Pariedes for a moment, though her mouth continued to try speaking for a good twenty seconds. Finally, she covered her womb with both hands, a longtime habit she had picked up, and inclined her head. Then she was off with a flounce of skirts and a stream of russet hair. The Pack entered the royal receiving room, the sound of boots on the gleaming marble floor thundering off the high ceiling. The marble had been mined from the surrounding mountains, a beautiful metallic red. The royal chamber had been paved with it, except for a border of golden stones that edged the entire room, and the dais where Reule sat in state.

  They didn’t pause but headed straight out the rear of the room, where a large stairwell was situated. They all marched in resounding accord down into the bowels of the castle. They were well underground by the time they struck the basement’s ceramic tiled floors. The Hall of Baths was just around the corner. There were over a dozen doors, big and small, down the long hallway. These were the private baths. There was a set of double doors at the end that led to the communal baths. Opposite the public hall was a private entrance leading to the Prime’s Bath.

  Here the Pack divided. Rye and Delano took Chayne into one of the larger private chambers. Darcio headed for the communal bath after only the briefest look at Reule to see whether he might change his mind about needing any assistance with the outlander girl. Reule turned to the Prime’s bath, kicking the door shut quickly in his wake. He was greeted by a wall of hot steam that he inhaled deeply. He smiled. The baths were naturally self-replenishing hot springs and the best way Reule could think of to warm a girl suffering from exposure. He walked over to a bench close to the edge of the gently bubbling water in the large pool.

  He laid the girl out on the bench, intending to warm her with the steam first before introducing her to the water. He didn’t want to shock her systems. He figured he was going to be on his own for some time before the apothecary arrived, and Para would have her hands full for a little while before she could come to play well-meaning chaperone. Reule chuckled at the idea. Para was still a reasonably young woman, but she was ferociously protective of anyone she deemed in need of mothering, which tended to be just about everyone. She was perfect in her role of head housekeeper, guarding the undermaids from the roaming hands of the under-butlers and soldiers constantly roaming the halls. She ran the household impeccably and Reule had never had a complaint, except perhaps when she tried to mother him as well. He’d never been comfortable with a woman’s concern.

  Reule shrugged off the distracting thoughts and concentrated on unwrapping the bundle in the blanket. He pulled back the wool horse blanket, and the stench of mildew struck him again with its pungent odor. The room was lighted by electricity, so Reule got his first real look at the young female. Her small body was curled up tight in a fetal position, and her tangled brown hair was plastered across her face just like her stained shift adhered to her body. Reule lowered himself onto his haunches so he could study the knots and webbing of the hair wrapped around her head and face. He sighed, realizing there wasn’t much he could do until after he had her in the water and they’d begun to wash away the dirt encrusted on her. He hoped they wouldn’t be forced to cut off her hair. There were Sánge superstitions about cutting a woman’s hair. Bad enough to be an outlander in Sánge territory with winter about to trap her inside the city for several cycles, but with the bad luck of shorn hair besides?

  Not for the first time Reule wondered how long the girl had been confined in that attic. Had she been a prisoner? Had they thrown her away up there after they’d finished using her?

  The thought ripped a furrow of rage in his gut, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fought back the rushing fury. Often, his most potent emotions would spill over, emanating without his intention to those surrounding him. Though normally no one could read his thoughts without his permission, his unique power of emanation took some effort to control. With emanation, Reule could make those around him know and feel his needs. Just as, without a single spoken word, the slamming of a door could leave a perfect impression of the departer’s displeasure, he could create the same effect with the flexing of his mind. The trick was preventing it when it wasn’t desired.

  The Sánge leader reache
d out to touch the exposed skin of the girl’s hands and arms. She was still chilled, but nowhere near as cold as she had been. The blanket and vigorous ride had done their part, and now the heat of the steam seeped into her as well. Reule stood up and ran a hand through his dampened hair, the steam curling the black locks into the natural waves that he usually brushed out or braided back. He grasped his short, brown fleece-lined jacket and his tan hunter’s vest, shedding them both into a careless pile at his feet. His coffee-brown leather knee boots were the next to go, their perfect cobbling allowing him to slide them free without Drago’s usual assistance. He stripped off his beige linen shirt, the fabric already soaked with moisture from the steam and his sweat. He was three days out from his last bath and he was looking forward to shedding the grime of riding, stalking, and death.

  Just then he heard the click of the door opening and shutting, and though it wasn’t far from where he stood, he couldn’t see who entered through the dense wall of white mist. But he could feel her well enough.

  “Come here, Para.”

  Pariedes moved unerringly through the fog of moisture to find him. When she caught sight of him half naked and standing over the girl, he could feel her disapproval even without seeing the prim press of her lips.

  “Now, now, Para,” he teased her, “I still have my breeches on. Isn’t that what covers all the important parts?” When Para blushed from neck to hairline, Reule threw back his head and laughed. The housekeeper recovered quickly enough to wave him back with a threatening swing of her hand.