The Use

by D. L. Carter

  She couldn't imagine acting like the fictional Risha. Being so bold? Never. Stripping off her shirt before a man! Declaring her need for him and demanding her pleasure! As if any pleasure could counter the embarrassment of nakedness or any man’s touch compensate for the humiliation Risha had suffered.

  Halidan would have both Norfarland and Baeth strangled and left beside the road to rot as a warning to others and gone to do something more worthy of her time and effort.

  Even so.

  After a moment, Halidan picked up the book again with a sigh. There must be something to this sex thing that everyone in the blasted world seemed so preoccupied with obtaining it.

  A woman well loved would sleep, Norfarland knew and his best hope for escape was for Risha to sleep long and deep.

  Accepting his fate, Norfarland stepped into Risha's embrace. His hands slid with bruising passion over her curves to clutch the globes of her buttocks and he lifted her and claimed her mouth with his own.

  Risha met each thrust of his tongue with her own, tangling, drawing him into her mouth, pressing down none too gently with her teeth. Her clawed hands dragged down his back then apart, tearing his shirt from hem to collar and casting the fabric from him.

  Disdaining delicate brushes of fingertips, Norfarland used his entire hand to clasp and massage her full breasts. An arm flung around her waist held her tight against his cock and he rocked their bodies together, his arousal trapped between their bellies. With bruising passion he ran his fingers along her curves, grasping, invading and still she writhed in his arms, demanding more.

  They fell to the floor, each struggling to be uppermost. For a moment, it was Norfarland and he seized her hands, raising them over her head and pressed his full body weight over her as he feasted his way along her neck and jaw. She pressed her body against the length of his, her breasts crushed against his chest, and her belly cradled his arousal. Her mouth consumed his. Her tongue invading, claiming him in ways he had never imagined, overwhelming what little remained of his control. With a thrust of her hips and legs, Risha rolled them over and once in command she straddled his thighs and ran her hands over his chest and down, dragging his trews down, freeing Norfarland's rising arousal. Her hand enclosed him as Norfarland reached up, thrusting both hands into her flowing hair. He pulled her head down, bonding lip to lip with kisses that spread fire through both. While Risha worked his cock, they rolled across the floor. Neither knew which was the one who directed the joining. Between one breath and the other they were linked. They battled to control the pace and rhythm, striving with and against each other in the private, primitive race toward pleasure.

  Release sang like lightning through his veins as Norfarland clung to her rounded hips, his fingers pressed deep into her flesh while Risha clung with both arms and legs around his torso and still they thrust, heartbeat to heartbeat. Risha rose up one last time to shriek out her pleasure as Norfarland collapsed, body quaking upon the floor.

  Flushed and panting Halidan sank back on the cushions and stared up at the swaying canopy. Her legs were so tightly pressed against each other that she could feel the pressure on her swollen and overheated sex. The weight of the book on her belly was almost comforting and she pulled on it, pressing it harder against her loins imagining the weight of a man there. Of the High Lord. . . Her eyes snapped open and she almost threw the book from her, rolling to her knees and staring blankly at nothing.

  How could reading disorder her thoughts so much? And if having sex was anything like the author described, why would anyone do such an undignified thing? So violent! So . . . so . . . confusing.

  It could not be as the author described. It simply did not make any sense. If the body reacted with such intensity to touch why was it possible to wear clothing? Although, at this moment Halidan was not in favor of her own clothes which felt constricting in some places and too loose in others.

  She could weep from the frustration of not understanding.

  Kneeling amongst the cushions was not helping. She shifted about, vainly seeking a comfortable position, all the time aware of the ache between her legs. Sitting, kneeling, half reclining, there was no position she could assume that did not remind her of something Norfarland and Risha had done.

  She was beginning to fear that she would have to seek out a man for . . . something before she returned to normal when the unsettling sensations began to fade. She refused to pick up any book or even think until her breathing slowed, her heart returned to its normal pacing.

  Even though she did nothing, read nothing until they stopped for the evening she was aware of a very odd, persistent ache deep within each time she shifted position or the carriage bounced.

  It took all her strength not to blush as Cris handed her down from the carriage and all her will not to run when he inquired if she'd had a pleasant day’s travel.

  “Is there anything you need?” inquired Nittel.

  That was a question she did not want to answer. Glancing up she saw the High Lord standing on an upper balcony of the inn, one hand resting on a balustrade, staring down at her. Knowing she was going to have to face him over the luncheon table she was determined to have a different answer if he asked her what she had read. Certainly she did not want to say chapter fourteen of The Adventures. For all she knew the High Lord had memorized the whole book and would know instantly what Risha and Norfarland had done. He'd given her the book from his private collection, after all.

  Of course he would!

  “I need a few more books from the High Lord's collection,” said Halidan.

  “Any book in particular or shall we bring a certain number?” asked Cris.

  “I shall look in a few boxes and if what I need does not immediately come to hand I shall make a selection.”

  “As is your command,” said Cris with a bow and a grin.

  Cris led the way down the length of the processional toward the storage wagons. With Cris to act as herald Halidan had no trouble with the wagoner. Laughing and teasing each other as they tried to guess the contents from the decorated covers, her three bodyguards climbed over the boxes, opening the tops, and holding up the first book they saw for her examination.

  “I realize I am asking a great deal expecting a book from the appropriate era to be here, but I thought I might have some luck,” said Halidan after she had rejected the tenth box. She was assuming that whoever had packed the books away had kept them with similar subjects. “I am searching for a history book from four hundred to six hundred years ago.”

  “History? Are you seeking that era for any reason in particular?” inquired Lord Eioth.

  Halidan spun. The High Lord stood behind them, his arms folded into his sleeves.

  Cris and his friends froze in place, then silently resumed work when Eioth nodded in their direction.

  Halidan turned back to face the wagon. “Mitash suggested it as a project. In the book, Norfarland makes reference to an old High King Olifeink, but I don't remember him. I know it is unlikely that we shall have anything from the appropriate era, but it does no harm to look.”

  “Greasy hair,” said Eioth.

  “Your pardon?” Halidan's hands rose to her headscarf.

  “No, not you. Olifeink isn't a High King’s name; it's an old insult meaning greasy hair.” Eioth smiled and watched the half Elves work. “I found a book near seven hundred years old, full of recipes for things I didn't recognize. One was for the treatment of Olifeink. I studied that recipe for weeks before discovering in the end I had a hair cleaning solution.”

  “How did you recognize what it was for?”

  Eioth lowered his voice to a whisper. “I spilt it all over myself and my desk. When my maid finished cleaning me up, she made the observation that my hair had never been so clean. After that I did some experimentation on some servants in the House.”

  Halidan’s attention was caught. “How old were you?” she demanded.

  Eioth considered for a moment. “Ten, I believe.”

&nb
sp; “Ten!”

  She almost laughed, then realized he was perfectly serious. What an intelligent child he must have been. His tutors must have been proud. She tried to imagine Eioth as a small boy, his face serious as he worked apprentice spells. The vision amused and pleased her.

  Eioth inclined his head. “It took me a further six years of reading and study to confirm it.”

  “Oh.” Halidan glanced up at her laboring friends. “Then you already know who High King Olifeink is.”

  “Not I. I do not even remember that passage in the story. I encourage you to continue.” He pointed at the book Cris held. “That one might do for a beginning. It is older than what you requested, but will give you an idea of the era. Do continue your project. At the very least it has the virtue of being an era I have not studied extensively.”

  “As you command, High Lord,” said Halidan. “Cris, I will need that one and the box it was in brought in with my travel trunk when we stop this evening.”

  Cris nodded and he and his friends descended from the wagon. Halidan wasn't sure how it happened. Maybe it was a trick of the arrangement of the stacks, or the High Lord not realizing which would be the easiest path for their descent, but each of the half Elves climbed down and landed close to his employer. She watched as each halted, met the High Lord's eye, paled, then bowed and hurried to move away. Halidan wasn't sure what she'd seen. Eioth had not so much as changed expression. All he did was look at them, but her bodyguards hastened away as if fearing some discipline.

  “Luncheon awaits,” said Eioth and with one last look at the guards, returned to the inn.

  Halidan waited until he was out of earshot.

  “What was that all about?” she whispered. “I am sure I have permission to use these books. He would have said otherwise.”

  All teasing had left his manner. Cris shouldered the selected box, but would not meet her eyes.

  “The message was not for you, tor Halidan.”

  And with that he bowed and waited for Halidan to precede him. No question from Halidan would gain any clearer reply.

  At dinner that evening, Halidan listened to Mitash and Eioth debating the skills of various other magicians. The local Earth Magician whom Eioth had met with that morning had requested assistance for a great working, locating a new seam of ore to replace one that was played out, and wanted the High Lord's recommendations.

  The hammer of feet on the steps had Halidan turning toward the door just as it burst open. Several full blood Elves, attired in their festival best, including decorative knives at their waists, charged into the room to kneel in ranks before the High Lord. Sigils on their sleeves declared they were from the East, North, and South Demesnes. Each held rolls of paper in their hands similar to the ones Halidan had seen others use to place petitions before the High Lord. Barely a heartbeat behind came Eioth's private guards, weapons drawn. At a gesture from Eioth, they paused and blocked the door so that none could exit.

  Halidan froze in her chair unable to draw breath as the strangers surrounded them. Eioth lowered his cutlery, but Mitash barely glanced up from his plate.

  “What is your purpose here?” demanded Eioth, rising from the table to face the intruders.

  “High Lord, aid us,” their leader all but shouted.

  Eioth scanned their sleeves, his arms folded. “I do not know you.”

  “I will tell you all, High Lord,” was the reply. “Our need is both great and urgent.”

  “You are not a resident of my demesne; therefore, I cannot adjudicate upon your issues.”

  “Our High Lord cannot hear this case without your aid and we need yo . . .”

  Halidan's heart unfroze enough for her to notice that the speaker's manner was a little too theatrical for sincerity. He knelt, both hands raised, and looked for all the world as if he expected a portrait painter to appear from behind the curtains to immortalize the scene. Eioth seemed unimpressed by the whole production. He didn't listen to the end of the speech, instead waving the Elf to silence.

  “I wonder why have you come in so public a manner to lay your case before me? Could it be you wish to create discord between myself and your High Lord? If he will not hear you, your only recourse is to place your needs before the full Synod. Have you petitioned to do so?”

  The Elf's chin came up. “I have not.”

  “No, I didn't think so. Since your coming to me would insult your own High Lord, embarrass me, and potentially cause an inter-demesne conflict, I must assume you have a good reason for making such a production about your case.” Eioth shook out his sleeves and scowled down at the kneeling Elf. “Whose cause do you promote?”

  There was an extended silence while the interlopers considered their options. Eventually their leader must have decided that prevarication served no purpose. Abandoning his dramatic pose, he rose and bowed.

  “We have come because the Empire needs a High King,” responded the Elf calmly. “The land languishes in the absence of a guiding hand.”

  “Languishes?” sighed Eioth and continued scathingly. “Oh, yes, the land suffers greatly. Rain does not fall in its proper hour, the seasons do not one after the other follow in their proper order. The roads are overrun by brigands and the blood flows from rock. Yes, the land suffers.”

  The Elf paled at the sarcasm and glanced back toward his friends for support. None was forthcoming as all those ranked kneeling behind him kept their eyes directed toward the ground lest they receive High Lord Eioth's undivided attention.

  “Do not imagine,” continued Eioth in a conversational tone, “that what you are proposing has not been attempted before. Indeed, I do not believe that there is any original idea in the whole of the Empire. There has been no High King on the throne for one hundred and fifty years and I suspect that for every year there has been one person trying to advance himself to be considered for the role. If matters follow their usual pattern, I expect that over the next few days the one you represent will send me petitions from landowners and magicians from all eight demesnes, the poor and the powerful, the suffering and the needy, all declaring that a single Power is needed. A single voice who can direct the High Lords to serve the interests of all. Someone we can all appeal to as the last voice of reason and justice before we are called into Unity with the Elements! I am expected, no doubt, to work out from his self-evident, manifold skills and undoubted intelligence whom you represent, and then astonished that I hadn't thought of it before, bring all my influence and support to his side.” Eioth straightened and his manner became hard. He glared across the room at those who had presumed to disturb his meal. “Know this! I do not need to know who it is that you are promoting. Indeed, I find that I do not care. Go. Send messages to the others who are supposed to follow in your footsteps. Tell them to be gone back to whoever sent them! Tell them the Synod will vote only when there is one on whom we can all agree and not one moment before!”

  With that Eioth turned his back on the intruders, resumed his seat at the table, and gestured for Halidan to refresh his tea.

  Halidan found her hands were shaking, but she obeyed while the petitioners rose to their feet and retreated from the chamber as quietly as they could. Mitash, more accustomed to such scenes Halidan assumed, didn't glance up from his plate. Throughout the entire interlude, he had cut meat and taken it into his mouth without acknowledging the presence of the others in the room. Now, however, he glanced up at Halidan with amusement in his eyes.

  “My dear Halidan, you may stop shaking now,” said Mitash. “This was not entirely unexpected.”

  “I didn't expect it,” cried Halidan, surprising herself with the panicked note in her voice.

  “Be at peace, Halidan,” said Eioth, discarding his posture of indifference and covering her hand with his. “I had intended to warn you we would be approached soon. We had reports that this group was following our train. I expected they would range themselves along the roadside or approach us in a more traditional manner tomorrow morning. I did not think for
a moment they would be so rude as to intrude upon us at dinner.”

  “I could tell from their manner they had no real expectation of gaining your cooperation, High Lord,” replied Halidan slowly. “Why should they pretend that they were petitioning you? Did they wish only to have you turn your thoughts toward the appointment of a High King?”

  “As if any member of the Synod lets a day go by without contemplating the absence of the High King?” Eioth patted Halidan's hand. “I apologize for your surprise, Halidan. In future, trust me. If I have any fears for your safety, then be assured you either will not be in the room or your personal body guard already will be ranged about you.”

  “But, this band made it all the way into your presence without warning,” protested Halidan. “Why didn't your guards stop them?”

  “Do you imagine that they were not examined by my guards? That they didn't pass through my wards?” Eioth shrugged. “My protections are quite good, Halidan. I would have been informed if they carried anything more dangerous than their ideas and short knives long before they entered the building, let alone set foot upon the steps leading up here. My orders were that they were not to be prevented. Obviously, at the time I gave the order I expected to meet them upon the road.”

  “Be guided by my example,” added Mitash with a grin. “If an unknown group enters the room and I do not react, then all is well. If I jump up and leap out a window, then you should do the same.”

  “This is not a matter for joking,” declared Halidan.

  Eioth and Mitash both laughed, but subsided quickly when they saw Halidan's pale, pinched face.

  “Halidan, again I apologize,” said Eioth, running a soothing hand along her arm. “Not for the worlds would I have you be frightened. Those men represented no serious threat. In future, I shall see to it that you are advised well in advance if such incursions are expected. Tomorrow when we ride out you shall be accompanied by all three of your guards as a precaution.”