The Use

by D. L. Carter

  Privately, Halidan considered that it would be very difficult to ignore Tribel. She had been in the main hall and had seen all the servants obey Tribel even when the High Lord stood before them. And she'd thought that having the High Lord interested in her was her most serious problem. She'd had no idea how much worse awaited her.

  “Come, let me show you to your chamber.” When Halidan hesitated, Eioth continued. “I think it is better to make it clear you are under my command and protection; therefore, you will have a room in my personal wing. Here.” He pushed open another door. This chamber was delicately decorated in the Water Element design, cool, blue, and refreshing. He regarded her intently, moving closer and gesturing her to enter and stand beside him. “Will this do? Will you be happy here?”

  Halidan nodded, aware of that treacherous, unbidden heat building in her core. Strange, beyond understanding. Just moments ago, she'd been discussing uncooperative, insane servants and now with just a look and a word Eioth had distracted her, aroused her. It wasn't fair. It should be more difficult to be aroused. It shouldn't be possible to say so little at this time of the day and have these words have the effect of awakening nipples and setting them to tingle, of weakening legs and softening lips.

  Innocent words said by daylight should not have that effect. Yet they did. She didn't even look around to examine the room and its furnishings. “This will do very well. Thank you, High Lord.”

  “Excellent.”

  Conscious that she was standing a short distance from a large and potentially comfortable bed, Halidan sought for some way to get Eioth to depart. He solved her problem for her.

  “I have duties . . .” he began.

  “Yes. So have I. I will begin at once.”

  “No. The project is large and will not be harmed by you taking a day to rest and recover from the journey.” He crossed to a glowing summoning crystal set in the wall near the doorway and ran his hand over it. The crystal changed color briefly. “When the servants come, tell them to bring your luggage here.”

  “Will they come?” asked Halidan, remembering the silence in the great hall.

  “Of course. If you catch them when Tribel is not around they are obedient enough.” Eioth paused at the door and regarded her solemnly. “Halidan, I want you to regard this place as your home. No one has the power to force you to leave.”

  Privately, Halidan considered Tribel's insubordination earlier. That Elf might have something to say about her staying. Her opinion must have shown on her face.

  “For your whole life, Halidan, I swear to you, if you choose it, this is your home.”

  Halidan inclined her head. “It is much in my thoughts, High Lord.”

  “No. I have not made myself clear.” He crossed the room, took her by the hand, and led her to the window. “Whether you choose to become my lover or not, this is your home. I have placed your name in the grace and favor book. Look out the window toward the river. Those are the grace and favor houses provided for those of my servants no longer able to fulfill their duties. Should you choose to request it in the fullness of time one will be your home. But, if you choose to stay with me as my lover, then you shall always, all the years of your life, have this House as your home. You will never be cast out again.”

  Halidan glanced about the room now, taking in the fine furnishings, the beauty of the hangings, and solidity of the chamber walls.

  Her home . . . forever? She did not dare hope. She should not hope, not while Tribel ruled here.

  “The way I have recorded the entry,” continued Eioth, “is to place the obligation upon my heirs. Even if I do not live to fulfill my promises in person you need not fear. This is your home, Halidan, your home with me.”

  He stared at her with such intensity that Halidan's breath caught in her throat. The man before her was not the same one who'd threatened the body of a servant or the considerate and gentle companion of the processional. This man was all strength and barely-contained passion. It glowed from his eyes, coming in waves of heat from his very skin. Halidan's free hand tightened in the folds of her skirt and she struggled to break her gaze from him, but he would not release her.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked, when the silence had stretched uncomfortably long.

  “I believe that is what you wish, High Lord.” Really, what else was there for her to say?

  “Very well.” He frowned, but raised her hand to his lips. “I must go. Think of me, Halidan.”

  Halidan stared after his retreating back. As if it were possible to do otherwise!

  After the High Lord departed, Halidan explored her room while her pulse returned to its proper rhythm and the trembling eased. There was a small alcove to serve as a study area, a comfortable chair, and a very tiny bathing room, all comforts she welcomed. It was her own little hideaway and sanctuary. She moved one small table into better position to serve as her personal altar to the Elements, then remembered her sacred items had been among the things she had lost when she had been cast out by Netha. Resolving to replace them at the earliest possible moment, she sat and waited for the promised servants to arrive. When an hour passed with no one appearing, Halidan realized she'd had good reason to doubt Eioth's control of his own House.

  Since she was both hungry and thirsty as well as in search of her belongings, she ventured out of Eioth's private wing and tried to retrace her steps through the building. She hadn't wandered for long before she encountered a female servant seated on a tall table, swinging her legs as she nibbled on a piece of fruit. The girl appeared surprised to see Halidan, but recovered quickly. Jumping down from her resting place she swallowed the last of the fruit and addressed Halidan without a bow or any honorific.

  “Come along. I will show you the shortest route to the gate.” With that she turned and headed to a door partially concealed by the decorations of the wall panels.

  Halidan made no move to follow. “I am not seeking the gate,” she said, pitching her voice to carry. “High Lord Eioth has directed that I reside within his House. I wish to have my travel case fetched and brought to the Blue Room in Lord Eioth's wing. And a tea tray, if you please.”

  The girl paused and gave her a blank stare. “Oh, Tribel won’t allow that. You’d best come along with me.”

  “I think I saw you in the main hall when we arrived,” said Halidan. “If you were there, then you heard the High Lord's declaration. I am his private librarian and I am to live inside the House.”

  “Oh, I heard. It’s just that Tribel is in charge here. It’s not too bad if you do what he says and impossible if you don’t.” The girl turned and strolled down the corridor. “This is the most pure House of all the High Houses, you see. The High Lord's ancestors are descended from the High Kings. Tribel sees it as his duty to maintain its pure state.”

  “All of the High Houses are related to the family of the High King to one degree or another,” said Halidan, angry color climbing her cheeks. “As for purity, I do not believe that was a concern of Lord Eioth's when he hired me. He was seeking someone skilled in the care and maintenance of books. Since he is the High Lord and this is his House, you should obey his commands.”

  This time a small amount of color did stain the girl’s cheeks. Becoming aware of the heat in her face, the servant covered her face with both hands and glanced nervously about.

  “Tribel punishes anyone who deviates in the slightest degree from the House Rules.” She moved a step closer to Halidan and lowered her voice. “It would be better if you do as I tell you. Tribel will not permit you to stay. If you defy him, you will regret it. Remember. The High Lord is in residence only a short time of the year, the rest of the time it is Tribel who rules here.”

  Halidan considered this for a moment. She could protest that she expected to travel with Eioth as one of his companions, except that would just allow the servant to repeat, Tribel ruled here.

  After a pause the servant continued. “It really isn’t so bad. There really aren’t any barracks. You can re
nt a room or a house in the village.”

  “And how, pray, am I to care for the High Lord’s books if I am not permitted under this roof? No, do not answer, that question was not sincerely meant. Wait here,” she commanded and hurried back to her chamber.

  In her saddlebag was the book she'd been reading most recently. From within its pages she withdrew her father's book brace. Slapping it against her palm, Halidan smiled and gave a moment’s thanks to the memory of her father. Working for House Pitchuri had given her a good understanding of how a House should be managed. Matriarch Netha was both ambitious and unreasonable, but she was not insane. Her House had been well managed with both mortal and Elven servants working well (most of the time) together. Even Netha would have dismissed Tribel in an instant. The fact the obnoxious servant resided, all limbs intact, under the High Lord's roof was another proof of the trustworthiness and generosity of the Elf.

  But, Tribel was acting far beyond his authority and his prejudices and insanity could not be borne.

  Tucking the book brace into her sash Halidan went back to where the Elven servant waited.

  “First,” said Halidan firmly, “my luggage is to be found and brought in. Then I will want a tea tray brought to the High Lord's private library. I shall explain myself to Tribel in person if we meet him. Lead the way.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sex Magic is a term for various types of sexual activity used in magical, theurgical, or otherwise religious and spiritual pursuits. In short, sex magic is the application of the energy of sexual arousal and/or orgasm, impressed with the strongly visualized image of a desired result into the sphere of causal energy with the hope of producing a desired change in the realm of manifestation.

  The fundamental premise of Sex Magic is the concept that the sexual energy or libido of the living body is the most potent force it contains, and harnessing the unique states that arise through sexual activity provides a special experiential conduit for the transcendence of nominal reality.

  It is, however, most undignified, distasteful, and unreliable, and Magical Practitioners of the Elements should spurn it for the base and degenerate actions required.

  Elemental Magic, an advanced practitioner’s guide

  Halidan declined to travel through the servants’ staircase, instead she tried to follow the same path through the House that Lord Eioth had used. It was a good thing she did. From one of the corridors she could see down into the courtyard. There at the side of the main staircase she saw her three friends, more loyal to their duties than anyone could hope to expect, standing guard over her travel cases.

  Yes, cases. Somehow, through no effort of hers, her luggage had grown to three cases and more clothing than she had previously possessed. Although none of it was of her choosing she was still unwilling to have another wardrobe stolen from her by the actions of an unreasonable Elf.

  Now confident of her location in the building, Halidan hurried down another staircase and out onto a balcony with stairs leading down to the forecourt, waving her hand to attract the her guards’ attention.

  Cris raised his hand in acknowledgment, then his friendly expression changed to shock and he pointed past her. Halidan turned to find several servants closing the door behind her; Tribel bouncing from foot to foot beyond them was exhorting them to hurry. Halidan didn't hesitate. She ducked between the door and servants and came to stand before Tribel.

  The Elf turned pale as ice to find a mortal breathing his air.

  “No mortals beneath High Lord Renthi's roof,” he shrieked.

  “High Lord Renthi is dead,” shouted Halidan, just as loudly.

  Just as Tribel raised his hand as if to strike her a hand reached to pull Halidan aside as another arm came over her shoulder and gripped Tribel about the neck. She was lifted off her feet and the next thing she knew Cris and Nittel stood as a barrier between herself and Tribel.

  “Honored sir,” said Cris in his softest, smoothest voice, even as his fingers pressed on the old Elf's neck. “Please understand. The High Lord Eioth himself commanded me to see to it that no one disturbs the peace of tor Halidan's day. Are you disturbing tor Halidan's peace?”

  Being face to face with a mortal was disturbing enough for the prejudiced Elf, but to be touched . . . touched . . . by a half Elf – half mortal, that was too much. To everyone's surprise Tribel fainted.

  “I didn't squeeze that hard,” said Cris, catching Tribel about the shoulders and lowering him to the stone floor.

  “I know you didn't. He is old and overexcited.” Halidan gestured to the watching servants. “See to it he is carried to his room to rest. He should be watched over.”

  One of the servants shook off his astonishment enough to gasp, “He is going to be furious when he awakens.”

  Cris shrugged, unimpressed by the threat. “Then make sure it isn't you who's near when he does.”

  Staring at Tribel laid out on the floor, Halidan realized two things. One, no one was in any hurry to provide aid to the unconscious Elf and two, no one seemed to want to be the one to stand watch over him. She tucked that piece of information away for private consideration.

  Later, when Cris and the others had carried Halidan's cases to her room as none of the servants would touch them, Halidan caught Cris by the arm.

  “It occurs to me that you might get in trouble for your intervention. If you are reprimanded, please refer the High Lord to me.”

  Cris smiled as he moved his arm out from under her hand.

  “Honored Halidan, be at peace. I had no wish to face the High Lord with an explanation as to why I did not act. I have no fears on this regard since I know which would make him angrier. We had not yet been relieved of the responsibility of protecting you. Indeed it has been hinted that we will continue as your bodyguards, go with you on daily rides, and accompany you when you visit Swift Breezes shopping.”

  “That sounds a little dull to me.”

  Her guards exchanged glances and laughed.

  “We think it paradise,” said Cris who did a poor imitation of a High Court obeisance.

  “What about the long distance guard bonus?”

  “Our salary has been raised,” said Morae.

  “If that is the case, then I am grateful for your service.”

  Nittel and Morae both bowed. “It is our honor.”

  And they departed together, laughing and joking, leaving her feeling as lost and alone as the first moment she'd met them.

  Unpacking took no time at all. Lacking anything else to do and curiosity nagging at her mind she went back to the room that she would turn into a private library. She sifted through a couple of boxes until the dust made her sneeze. Hands on hips she regarded the piles of boxes and dust of what must be decades. If she was going to do this job she was going to do it logically. Seating herself on the High Lord's couch she settled herself to create a list of needed assistance and equipment.

  That was where Eioth found her hours later. She'd curled herself sideways on the couch, the better to hold her papers to the dimming light from the windows. The common black stylus in her hand moved slowly over the page forming, Eioth was certain, perfect, even script. Her shoes, discarded, lay untidily beneath her bare feet. A faint sheen of perspiration caused her summer clothing to cling to high breasts, her sash belt emphasized the curve of her hip and thigh. She was beautiful and did not know it. She was his . . . Eioth smiled . . . and would soon learn what that meant. Commanding his body to be patient, Eioth stood in the doorway waiting to be noticed.

  Halidan had a habit of pushing out her lower lip when she concentrated. Right now, in addition to the pout, the tip of her tongue extended, soothing dry lips. Unconsciously, Eioth moistened his own lips. The kissing practice had been both torment and joy for him. Each evening after the first, she had come to stand before him without the least hint of protest or reluctance. At first she had barely touched him, but with each encounter she had moved closer, mostly because he moved just a little away. When she ventured a fir
mer contact, he'd shifted his head aside so that she must try harder to maintain the touch. Then before she was frustrated by his withdrawal, he'd close the distance again taking the kiss deeper than she intended.

  Thus he had guided her into deeper explorations of each other's mouths until they'd part of an evening breathing hard, fevered, and in agony. At least, he had been in an agony of frustration. He had little clue as to her state of mind and body.

  Even so, he was content with his progress.

  Grief still passed across her face when she was reminded of her loss, but less and less as days passed and her willingness to return to life reasserted itself. His hope now was for the reward for his patience.

  Soon.

  It was agony, but he kept his promise. He gave her the duration of the processional to grieve. Now she was in his House and could see he had true employment for her, duties that would be stimulation for her mind. Now if she would only consent to the stimulation of her body.

  The thought of holding Halidan beneath him, naked, helpless, guiding her into the practice of lovemaking sent heat to his groin. Sex Magic was no longer his primary interest with Halidan. She suited him too well. Had any of his wives been of similar intelligence and interests he would have kept them, fertility issues or not.

  After only a month, Halidan occupied more of his thoughts than seemed reasonable. He'd found himself turning, seeking the reassurance of her presence on horseback behind him or competing with her assigned servants to aid her down from the coach of an evening. Poor Mitash had been sorely neglected and had had to make decisions for the processional without benefit of Eioth's instruction since those orders were usually issued over meals and Eioth had spent as many of them as he could alone with Halidan.

  Some instinct awakened her to his presence and she came out of her chair to make the bow that was beginning to annoy him. Every gesture of respect only served to reinforce the formal distance between them. He hungered for the basest displays of liberal exercise – free exchange of touch, kiss, and caress.