by Terah Edun
Which was precisely the reason that the desert dwellers had traded for her little bit of green magic as a bride gift in the first place. It was a win-win situation in the dwellers’ eyes. They got paid for land they were planning to vacate anyway in their annual pilgrimage farther northwest for cattle grazing on the plains.
But Marian knew that when they came back there would be no home for them to settle back on. Those traders and the buyers they represented would give back the land they bought as soon as a sand snake turned as sweet as pie. Never in other words. The Algardis family had first claimed their fertile lands to the east less than a century ago and they were hungry to extend their imperial reach as far as their very-real claws could grasp. Through the desert and beyond, Marian thought as she gulped.
In her former life she wouldn’t have even thought of protesting such an eventually. It was only right after all that the empire stretch from the edge of the far ocean and onwards as long as the land it could reach continued on. But over the past few months her outlook had changed. She had once been a satisfied Algardis citizen, who looked to her emperor and his family as protectors of their land. To some extent she still was.
But this was different, she thought as she looked around at her husband’s small band of carefree people. She knew that they wouldn’t take well to living under the protection of the emperor, under his rules. Under his will. They were a proud people. A wild people, which was why she was doing her very best to stop this union before it ever began, for their sakes…and for hers. Marian didn’t have to feel magic in her bones like an oracle’s touch or see the future. She knew it because she knew the traders. Just as the Sherinsin were her husband’s family, the traders represented part of her own. A part that she wasn’t proud of.
She didn’t have time to think about it more because at that moment Raydal reached her and swept her up in his tightly-muscled arms with the exuberance only a newly-and-happily wedded husband could show. She smiled as her forearms gripped his shoulders and she let herself fall into his chest with a laugh and a kiss on his lips that was entirely real. For a moment her dark mood lightened. She let herself revel for a moment not in the worries of the day but in the touch of his lips, the flick of his skilled tongue, the firmness of his grip, and the pressure of his body against hers.
For a few seconds, no more, the world was just them as the heat of the sun beat down on them and the dry winds curled around their two bodies like a lover’s caress. As wisps of her hair were pushed upward by a determined breeze, she glanced up to see their heads and the majority of their faces were hidden by her bright-red tresses. At least for now. With a wistful sigh that they had to end their small tryst, she caressed his cheek as she leaned back and smiled up with no little pride into her husband’s face.
She had to admit. She’d chosen well.
From the look in his eyes and the grip that had slid from her arms and down to her waist as he hiked her back up, seemingly unwilling to surrender to the present and reality just yet, he appreciated her just as much if not more so. She swiftly wrapped her legs around his body and slyly crossed her feet behind him to the general laugher of the clansmen who surrounded them. They weren’t gawking, not really.
She knew that because it wasn’t the Sherinsin way. They prized physical and emotional affection between bonded couples. A quick kiss and some playful touches were nothing they weren’t used to, middle of the day or not. The traders across the way on the other hand; she could feel their affronted disgust with almost three dozen feet between them.
For the moment she was content to hang off her love like the famed colored rainbow monkeys from the isles off the Sahalian Sea. And he was content to let her. The love between them was well-known. The entire clan called their match fortunate. But then again, among the Sherinsin fortunate was common-place. They didn’t marry for looks or gold or wealth. They married for a match between the souls. Always. And she had found that match in a foreigner that her people despised as ignorant savages.
It mattered not, Marian thought with a peaceful sigh as she left go and slid down his front with a knowing look in her eye. He responded with fierce grin and tug of her hair to bring his lips back to hers. But this time more than just love passed between them.
“Husband,” she whispered to him in a barely audible murmur.
“Wife,” he whispered back in the same tone. Cautious.
She moved her head to the side so that she was leaning forward a bit and her head was turned so that she could watch the traders standing off to the side and muttering with a careful eye. Her lips were just off the corner of his mouth, so to anyone looking at them from the sides or behind it would seem that they were still sharing an affection lip lock.
To those that had the vantage of standing in front of them, the position was no less amorous if a little more genteel. After all, what better way for a husband and wife to show not affection, but contentment with each other than to stand within the other’s arms with no concern for the passage of time or the heat of the day.
Marian’s actions however had nothing to do with proving her own marital bliss, but rather served the purpose of preparing for her coming battle, physically and mentally.
As they stood there she heard one clansman say “Like newlyweds they are?”
“Disgusting ain’t it?” questioned another in a clearly joking tone.
“Now?” Marian whispered.
“Now!” her husband said as he tossed her away from his body like a whirlwind toy. Into the air she flew as she twisted around to land in the midst of some very surprised traders.
Marian smiled and wasted not a moment. She leapt onto the wagon of the nearest man and slammed a hand down with a resounding thump. The traders cried out in alarm. She didn’t waste any time in raising up an arm bringing down her hand in a vicious and calculating blow upon the head of the mage, leader of the traders’ caravan. She didn’t have the magical means to subdue him or the craft to kill him under the shelter of the night. So she did the next best thing… she attacked in broad daylight while most were lulled into a sense of complacency and others had been fooled by her love-struck show with her new husband.
With a satisfying ‘thunk’ the mage fell back and hit his head on the hard wheel of the wagon underneath her. He slumped down in a pile and with his abrupt unconsciousness other things fell with him, namely a certain magical barrier neither she nor her husband had had any hope of getting around otherwise. It prevented non-humans from venturing too far from the clan terrain while negotiations were going on.
It had finally come down.
Calling what little luck she had, she let out a piercing whistle and from the sky flew a bronze hawk to land on her upraised arm. Looking into the hawk’s eye Marian wished that she had the gift of telepathy, the ability to speak mind-to-mind with animal, kith, and human. Unfortunately she didn’t, so this would just have to do.
The hawk alone was the message she would send.
She jerked her arm up with a sharp two-tone whistle and threw the hawk into the air on a northern trajectory.
With a whoop and cry she stood all the way up on a perch and looked to her hawk flying, jesses snapping wildly in the wind as it carried her own hopes with it, towards freedom.
That hope died in her eyes as she heard the thang of a bow sending an arrow into the wind. It cut through the air like the weapon of war it was and before she had the time or inclination to cry out, her proud bronze hawk was falling from the wide skies to the unforgiving desert below.
Marian’s jaw dropped in horror as she turned her body from the spot where her loyal companion had died an ignoble death to where she guessed the arrow had first started its flight. Her mouth dry and her face twisted in hate, Marian wasn’t surprised when the owner of the bow lowered her arms and saluted her with one sleek remaining arrow that until now had been knocked and ready to fly once more.
Dark blue eyes seething with hate met the cocky smirk of a woman with skin of a weathered acorn, w
ild and dark hair not unlike her son’s wrapped up in a loose knot, and the wisdom of her foremothers in her smile. Her mother-in-law.
Fists tight Marian jumped down from her perch with teeth clenched as she stalked across the sands. Any traders who had though to object to her previous actions took one look at the fury and pain etched on her face and stepped back, wary and more than willing to let her meet her adversary without interference. They were just glad that they weren’t her chosen destination.
To her surprise, that she filed away to pick apart later, the people she’d been trying to protect had lost their smiling faces and carefree visages. Instead she glanced from eye-to-eye and saw a hardness that she hadn’t seen before. And something else that she couldn’t precisely fathom. Approval? Marian wondered as she stepped before her adversary.
Marian’s husband didn’t bother stepping in her way. Instead he took up a solemn place beside her although he made sure that he was turned so that he faced the eastern horizon. He stood between them like a lone pillar, neither near his wise but wrathful mother nor over at the side his proud but young wife. He was a neutral zone. In this matter at least. Marian respected his unique position as did his mother.
That was the only matter they seemed to agree on however. “Why?” Marian lashed out through gritted teeth.
Her mother-in-law smiled and looked up into the sun with a peaceful gaze. “You have much to learn.”
Marian scoffed and tossed her head. “I was saving us all.”
“No,” her husband said with a gentle look, “Listen to her.”
Marian cut him with a sharp look. “You too, dear husband? I thought that you and I were on the same side.”
Her mother-in-law cut in as she said, “You are. You were. But your people aren’t as stupid as you seem to think.”
Marian shook her head fiercely. “I think you’re wrong.”
“About which part?” her mother-in-law said blithely as she waved her hand. “Your intentions were pure. Your heart is strong. You have proved yourself worthy of the name Sherinsin by fighting to protect this clan in the face of adversity.”
Marian squared her shoulders. This sounded suspiciously like praise. Her mother-in-law paused to take her in. Then with a small wave of her hand Marian felt rather than saw clan members gather to form a living barrier between the three conversing family members and the curious traders murmuring off the encampment’s edge. Marian didn’t fail to note that they moved with soundless efficiency. Perhaps it was she that was wrong.
Still her mother-in-law said nothing more until her husband clicked his teeth and chided his mother, “Mother.” The warning was enough.
The older woman shrugged her shoulders. “This was a test. A test in which you passed.”
“What kind of test?”
“The kind that you either pass or fail,” her mother-in-law said flatly. Marian opened her mouth to further question her.
Her husband once more intervened, his face still neutral, “You two are worse than dickering stallions. Mother, she has proved her loyalty, has she not?”
“She has proved it to the clans,” his mother admitted reluctantly.
“Wife, do you not seek the protection of the Sherinsin against all foes major or minor?” he contested.
Marian frowned but said, “You know that I do.”
He nodded and took both their hands to push them together into one grip. “Then we are one in that accord. She is no longer a foreigner. She is family.”
The emphasis on his last statement was clearly meant for his mother. Marian looked into the eyes of her mother-in-law. Her mother-in-law returned her gaze. Both of their grips were fierce as they tested the mettle of the other. Neither could find slack in either grip. Finally her mother-in-law released Marian’s hand.
“You have much to learn, daughter, I shall teach you.”
Marian blinked at the endearment. Her husband’s mother had never acknowledged her new family ties. Not in all the time she had known her. It was enough to halt the automatic objection in Marian’s mouth unspoken. What could I learn from her? Marian wondered.
But she was no fool. Her husband’s mother was formidable. What’s more—Marian might have been new to the clans but even she recognized the age-old introduction of one clan mistress…to another. Stammering over her pause after a nudge from her husband, Marian said, “And I will learn.”
“You have much to see, daughter, I shall show you.”
“And I will seek,” Marian responded a bit hesitantly.
“You have much wisdom to discover, daughter, I shall prepare you.”
“And I will absorb.”
Her mother-in-law’s eyes gleamed as the noon-day sun reached its zenith high overhead. “You are welcome to our fold,” her mother-in-law said formally, “Daughter of my heart, mistress of the clans-to-be.”
Marian squared her shoulders. This wasn’t exactly how she had imagined her efforts to strike down her mother-in-law’s plans at their core. But it would have to do, for the sake of the clans. For the sake of peace. “I thank you,” Marian said gently, “I join with whole heart and fierce mind.”
Her mother-in-law let go of her hand and turned away. Over her shoulder the woman who had beaten her without raising a hand in protest said, “You’ll have to be…to survive in my lands.”
4
Lillian In Heels
“I'm bored!” Lillian Weathervane announced with an expectant pout on her face as she lounged on a dais and contemplated the man that sat across from her.
His lazy slouch was a mirror image of her lackadaisical repose.
But unlike most of her would-be suitors, Matthew didn't bother turning his eyes away from his prized papers.
She waited a moment and repeated her exclamation with far more intensity.
The object of her attentions didn’t even stir his gaze.
Lillian however did hear a suspicious cough a few feet away.
When she turned to look out of the corner of her eye at the person who had caught her attention, Lillian saw the Barnonet of Verne flush from the top of his scalp to the edges of his very pudgy fingertips. Apparently, now that he had her partially divided attention he had no idea what to do with it. As Lillian turned her full, imperious attention on him he almost dropped his sheet music in his desperate bid to play lively tunes under her wilting gaze. As if she was fooled.
Lillian set her jaw as she looked around the room. “Simpleton,” she murmured as she checked on the positions of her admirers and would-be detractors.
She didn’t like being ignored, but she was even less inclined to let someone else command her stage. And it was clear even to her that was just what she had done by begging for the attention of the young man in front of her. The court would be alive with malicious whispers before the night time was done. Lillian could shrug off a few whispers though. If it got her what she had wanted in the first place.
So for the moment, she let their murmurs slide. She would wait and see how it played out. If it didn’t play out in her favor, well then she’d just have to corner the individual who had thought to plant the whispers in the first place.
But that’s later, Lillian thought with a satisfied purr as she finally turned back to the one who commanded so much of her attention lately.
She shifted her body, did her best to thrust her chest out in an appealing manner, and tried for a flirtatious but approachable look.
He could be afraid to return my affections without a more direct invitation, Lillian thought confidently.
Apparently her looks were working on someone because the rich trader from the desert lands across the room flexed his muscles with an all-too-suggestive leer. Him however she didn’t care about. His companion was even worse. The first was too much of a daredevil for her tastes and the second…too much of a cad. She only had eyes for the man in front of her.
But just as she ignored the others, he too ignored her.
Imagine! A musician too busy for the likes of
a Weathervane, she scoffed in her mind as she sniffed loudly to get his attention.
No such luck.
The man was acting like the sheet of music he was slowly reading held the very secrets of the universe from the way he furrowed his decadent brow in concentration and his onyx stylus traced every line of notes.
“I don’t have time for this,” Lillian announced finally as she sat up and did what any spoiled court woman who was being ignored would do. She reached behind her, grabbed a suitably heavy satin pillow and lobbed it straight at his curly head.
Matthew had clearly been in his own world because he didn't see her attack coming at all. He didn’t move as the large pouch of fluff hit him squarely in the head and knocked his loose papers off the table in front of him.
He sat up with an offended frown and looked over at her with ire in his eyes. She had a moment to admire the irate look on his beautiful brown face.
So luscious, she thought with an appreciative look.
That is before Matthew exclaimed, "What was that for?"
Lillian had been feeling a tad remorseful at catching him so unaware. But any remorse died with the tone of his voice. Gratitude would have been more in line for a man of his station.
Still she didn’t let that dissuade her. At least now she had his attention. So Lillian sat back with a satisfied smirk plastered on her face and counted down the seconds before answering his question.
"I'm. Bored," she said with a daring smile. "Do something about it."
He narrowed his eyes and she waited for the feline look of hunger to cross his face. The look that all the ladies and men of court got when they were the recipient of her unwavering interest. Except it didn’t appear.
