by Jean Johnson
(Then we should check it out,) Aradin decided. He tried to peer inside discreetly. The sun wasn’t quite at the best angle, but he got a glimpse of a young man with golden hair several shades lighter than his own. At just that moment, the other male lifted a water glass to his lips and looked out the window. Their eyes met.
(We’ve been spotted. Confront, or leave?) Teral asked him.
Aradin decided quickly. (Confront.) Stepping up to the opening, he folded his arms on the sill, grateful the tavern owner had chosen to swing back the windowpanes to take advantage of the warm yet comfortable weather. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Swallowing, the younger man set down his drink with a charming smile. “Well, you do have the look of a stranger to Groveham, milord.” He gestured gracefully toward himself. “I am Shanno of the family Lorwethen, Deacon to the Cathedral of Groveham. And you are . . . ?”
“Aradin Teral, Witch-Envoy of the Darkhanan nation . . . and current guest of Her Holiness, the Keeper of the Grove. I couldn’t help but overhear your claim that you are next in line as a potential Keeper,” he added. Elbows braced on the windowsill, fingers laced together, he eyed the younger man. “It’s strange, but not once has she mentioned this idea to me.”
His comment received a smirk. “Well, she’d hardly mention internal religious structure to an outlander,” Shanno dismissed, chuckling a little. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know.”
“Considering we have been discussing religious structure, and the Keeper’s job in particular, I’m certain she would have mentioned it,” Aradin stated. (I can’t tell if he’s just arrogant or an actual troublemaker. What’s your opinion of the little snot?)
(That he’s an arrogant little snot,) Teral agreed as both of them watched the deacon’s smug expression falter. (But not a deliberate troublemaker, I think. I’d guess he’s just trying to inflate his status in the eyes of the two lovely ladies to either side.)
Aradin honestly hadn’t noticed the ladies, one a brunette, the other a dark blonde. They were lovely enough, he supposed, but he’d rather have looked at Saleria. Out loud, he stated, “Whether or not your claim is true, there are two things that should be considered carefully. If it is true, and it is such a secret, then would Her Holiness honestly care to have it discussed by someone supposedly trustworthy enough to hold the position, and discussed so openly and casually that a virtual stranger could overhear it out here on the street?
“And if it isn’t true . . . have you paused to consider what trouble such false rumors could cause the Keeper, whom I presume you respect?” he asked. “The higher a priest’s rank, the more discretion is expected of him. The higher a priest wishes to rise in rank, the same must be expected from him. With that in mind, perhaps you should find something else with which to impress these lovely young ladies—I’m sure you have many excellent qualities,” Aradin added diplomatically. “You are, after all, a fellow priest, and that alone should be recommendation enough for your good character, yes?”
He aimed a smile at the blonde and the brunette on either side of the deacon. They smiled back at him, trading amused, flattered looks with each other. The deacon, Shanno, gave Aradin a look somewhere between hard and sullen. It shifted to thoughtful after a moment.
“Funny,” he said, eyeing Aradin, “but I hadn’t heard of anyone staying with the Keeper.”
“Well, I’ve just been assigned to Groveham, which means I’ll be here for a long while . . . so I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to get to know me,” Aradin offered, giving all three of them a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, milord, miladies, I need to get back to helping the Keeper now that my errands are done. Have a good day.”
(Not too badly done,) Teral observed. (You no doubt tweaked his pride, but you gave him a few options to save face along the way.)
(Well, I have had a few years’ practice with diplomacy,) Aradin thought back. (He probably bears some watching, though; a young man with ambitions like that—and I’m certain Saleria would have mentioned him being next in line—is someone who might put the wrong foot forward at the least opportune time.)
(Possibly yes, possibly no. We’ll wait and see how he takes your set-down,) Teral offered. (With luck, he’s a good young man who’ll gain a little wisdom from it.)
Aradin chuckled, turning right to head down a side street that connected to the avenue ending in the Keeper’s house. (Optimist.)
(Mage,) Teral corrected. (Our thoughts literally shape the world, so why not think happy ones?)
(Optimist,) Aradin concluded, teasing his Guide.
ELEVEN
Touring the Grove while in charge of one third of its energies was a new experience for Saleria. A mostly pleasant experience, since when she walked through it with Aradin Teral, the plants and animals actually behaved around them. Unnaturally so, which was ironic, considering nothing about the denizens of the Grove was natural anymore. But the thettis-vine did not attack them, though it had regrown since the last time it had been trimmed; the ambulatory marigolds swerved around them rather than just blundering forward blindly; and they were able to actually catch a not-rabbit for examination without it trying to bite anyone.
Saleria figured it out within an hour of Teral attuning himself to the last of the rifts, when they had retreated to the Bower to conduct more experiments. “We finally belong here.”
“Hm?” the Guide asked, still in control of their shared body. He was the one examining the not-rabbit on the middle table, since he knew more of diagnostic spells than either Aradin or her. “We finally belong here?”
“We’re no longer foreigners in the Grove. Our energies match the magics that have soaked into every living being within the Grove walls,” Saleria told him, standing at the left table, the one with the flasks and jars. “It just came to me. That’s why we’ve had a peaceful day, relatively speaking. That’s why most of the plants and animals are getting along, rather than trying to tear each other to leafy shreds.”
“That . . . makes sense,” Teral replied thoughtfully. “Hold on . . . Aradin’s going into the Dark to ask a few questions for us. . . .”
“Of course,” she said.
Her own task, the daily petitions, had gone quickly. Used to gauging how much power to push into each prayer, Saleria had discovered it took only a fraction of what she had done before. More of her concentration was required since the energies were now concentrated, but less power while applying it. That freed up more of her time to work as an assistant in turn to the two men. Her current task was the tedious chore of gently grinding up plant matter in a mortar and pestle and staining sheets of absorbent paper with the liquefied remains, so that the spells Aradin had scribed upon them would sort the various components into their individual categories: toxic to humans, not toxic, alkaline, acidic, nutritional, medicinal, and more.
From there, they would be tested on other spell-scribed papers, breaking down their components further into categories of usefulness. Enchanting the papers alone had taken Aradin and Teral two whole days. Tedious work, and boring enough to allow her mind to wander freely. It wandered now to this morning, and the surprise early round of lovemaking in her bed.
Rather than being woken up with the light of dawn filtering through her curtains and the yank of the covers being stolen by her housekeeper, she had awakened in the dim gray light of still-barely-night on her back, with Aradin buried deep under the covers. With his mouth buried between her legs. Just thinking about it, about those lips and that tongue, and the stroking of his fingers up into her depths, questing for that dear-Gods-in-Heaven spot . . .
“Blushing cheeks, far-off gaze . . . idle fingers on the pestle,” Teral teased her, his voice dipping almost as low as Aradin’s could get. “Did he do something this morning that you liked? Or is it just a general memory?”
She blushed and resumed grinding the current batch of leaves, trimmed from a tree that might
be useful as a new kind of cold medicine, given the two plants that had been its magically conjoined parents. “This morning.” She debated a long moment, then asked, “Teral, do you . . . strongly miss physical intimacy?”
“Now that’s a loaded question,” he murmured, stroking the antlered rabbit-thing before lifting it off the worktable an arm’s-length from hers. He carried it to the edge of the Bower. Releasing it, the Darkhanan Guide came back to her table, not to the one he had been using for his examination. He leaned his hip against the stout wood, watching her work. “For a man, the physical urge is very real, a literal pressure for release. It doesn’t harm a man not to achieve release—no matter what capricious young lads may try to tell a young lady to get into her bed—but there is always that urge. It diminishes as one gets older, of course, but it is always there.
“From what I learned while sharing my body with my Guide, Alaya, women don’t have the same pressure, as it were. Urges, oh yes,” he agreed. “A woman seems to have a lot more capacity for pleasure than a man. I was privileged to learn these things from her as we shared her form, even if it was my body while making love with friends and dear companions. Of course, our tastes varied; I still prefer making love to a woman as a man over making love to a man as a woman, naturally. And it’s very different while wearing Aradin’s body than when I wear my own . . .”
At her wide-eyed look, Teral leaned close and murmured in her ear.
“He might get mad at me for telling you this weakness, but if you take your feet and gently stroke his manhood with them, he’ll be delirious with pleasure. I myself am more of a breasts-to-manhood type. That really gets my blood flowing,” the older Witch added candidly, straightening back up. He smiled at her, enjoying her flustered blush. “So I suppose the answer to your question is yes, I do miss physical intimacy. But it is Aradin’s life, not mine.
“And as lovely and charming and wonderful as I find you, too,” Teral added, lifting a hand to brush back a wayward curl of her hair, gently tucking it behind her ear, “it is still his life, not mine. I knew it would be, long before I ever met Aradin and became the Guide to his Host. And I knew it long before I became Host to Alaya as my Guide. This is the way life is, as a Witch. Of course, given how strongly the young man is falling for you, this means that you have more say in what happens in any ‘physical intimacy’ than I do.”
She considered his words for several seconds, until the leaves were a well-ground paste, then reached for the purified rainwater to dilute it into a liquid for the testing sheets. “Kata and Jinga have declared that . . . male-and-male pairings, and female-and-female pairings, are just as acceptable as male-and-female pairings. But it’s still just two people. Three and more are . . . Well, they’re not directly discouraged by scripture, but it is considered implicit, since we only have a God and a Goddess in marriage, not . . . well, a God and a God and a Goddess.”
“I wouldn’t build a long-lasting relationship like that unless all three were equals and equally amenable,” Teral agreed, shifting to lean back against the table again, giving her a bit of room. “They say that a triangle is the most stable form of structure . . . but it is only for a physical structure. Two people manage a relationship much more easily than three. There are some lands where they manage three or more in a relationship, but they are rare. However, for a bit of physical fun, if all are agreeable . . . it can be quite pleasurable.”
“I’ll presume you speak in general, since there’s no way for the two of you to ever be in two places at once,” Saleria said. A corner of her mind did wonder what it would be like to be with two men at once, but she wasn’t about to share Aradin—who already carried Teral more or less everywhere he went—with a third man in the equation. That would be more than unfair to Teral.
“Not exactly,” Teral said. “It is possible, if rare, for there to be two of us at once.”
“You mean, in the Dark?” Saleria asked, dubious. “I wouldn’t think anyone would want to make love in a place where the dead roam.”
“No, I meant in life, in two separate bodies.” At her sharp look, he folded his arms across his chest and rubbed at his gray-streaked beard. “It’s not often discussed with outsiders, but there is a way for a Host and a Guide to manifest in two separate bodies. We call it the wedding-gift of the Moons, for in the light of both Brother and Sister Moon—reflected via mirror or spell onto both sides of a Host’s body—the Host and Guide can separate physically.
“It is doubly exhausting for the Host, and isn’t done casually . . . but the power of temporary separation was granted unto our Goddess, Dark Ana, so that She could enjoy the delights of being husband and wife with Her beloved Darkhan. Most of the time They are the Dual One, two Gods in one form . . . but sometimes They are the Dual Ones, and we rejoice whenever They appear side by side,” he said.
She blushed at the thought, then paled at the implication . . . then blushed again. In the light of the Moons . . . say in the Grove . . . with just Aradin and Teral, and me . . . oh my.
Clearing her throat, she muttered, “I wouldn’t think you’d, ah . . . That is . . .” Gathering her wits, Saleria asked, “Teral, why did you tell me this? Why not earlier than now, I mean?”
“Because before, you were not open to the idea. Now, you don’t seem to object to my presence anymore,” he stated. “And because if things keep progressing as they have between my Host and you . . . well, Aradin’s a bit of a romantic deep down inside. He’s been thinking vague thoughts about you and him restoring the Grove well enough that the very first new wedding to take place within its walls would be yours and his. And vague thoughts of raising children, should you be amenable.
“You see, in this place, with you,” Teral said, gesturing with one hand at the Bower, the Grove, and her, “he has all of the great loves in his life combined. The man is besotted with the idea of spending the rest of his life here, working on this place, the ultimate Hortimancer’s dream task . . . and with you in particular. The more he helps you with the Grove, the less likely you are to ‘burn out,’ as you once said all Keepers do, within an average of ten years—I think you will find that the rift now tied to you will make all the magic you have been marshaling and expending that much easier to manage. You will be able to last for scores of years as one of its Guardians. So will he. And so will I, as his Guide.”
“Yes, I’ve already noticed the boost to my powers, though now I’m worried about accidentally sneezing while walking through the Grove, leaking a burst of magic, and creating some new blend of species,” she agreed dryly. “So you’re telling me this, about how you and Aradin can become two separate men, because . . . ?”
“It is an option, nothing more,” Teral stated, refolding his arms.
She couldn’t quite believe him. She was ignorant of other lands and customs, not naive. “With no personal agenda, or ulterior motive?”
Leaning over, he gave her a direct look. “So long as you keep Aradin sexually satisfied, I will feel no physical pressure while I’m in control of our shared flesh. And so long as you do not hate me . . . if you can, in fact, feel and express some level of kindness and caring toward me . . . then my emotional needs will be met. That, above everything else, will satisfy me.” His brown gaze softened. “Do you feel some small affection for me?”
It was a wistful question. Despite the gray streaking his dark hair and his beard, Saleria could see for a moment the younger man he had once been. On impulse, she rose up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “I feel a lot of affection for you, Teral. As much as you are technically two separate men . . . you are a package deal, and you are very much a part of what makes Aradin the man he is today. And I do care for you as you, yourself. As Teral.”
Unfolding his arms, he wrapped them around her, embracing the young woman. She returned it, gripping his ribs with a snuggle of her cheek against his collarbone. Teral rested his own on the top of her head, enjoying the soft s
trength of her body. That was when he felt Aradin return from the Dark.
(What the . . . Teral, is there something I should know?) Aradin asked, his mental tone amused by the situation in which he found his Guide and the woman he loved.
(Hush, or you’ll embarrass the woman. I explained and reassured a few things for her, then asked if she has any emotional affection for me. She stated that she does care for me, and I hugged her for it,) his Guide calmly stated. (And I am quite enjoying this hug, thank you for asking.)
Rather than take offense—or worse, feel jealous—Aradin instead laughed. (Marvelous! I’m glad she’s taking to you so well. I suppose you’ll want the body for a little bit longer?)
(Yes, please,) Teral decided after only a brief moment of thought. (She smells wonderful, feminine without being overpoweringly flowery, and she feels . . . ! You know how she feels in our arms. So, yes, please.)
(No worries. But eventually I’ll want to explain what I found out about reverting all these magical mistakes.) Aradin let his inner laughter fade. (I’m afraid there’s not much we can do to separate the animals from the plants . . . and that over seventy-five percent of whatever’s in the Grove in this day and age is too dangerous to let loose on the rest of the world. On the bright side, somewhere between thirty-five and forty percent of it will be useful. Particularly the saps, when added to potion bases. We just have to be extremely careful about not letting certain plants out of our control.)
(I’ll let her know in a few moments,) Teral stated.
Saleria was the one to break the hug. Inhaling deeply, she let go of her breath and the Guide. “Thank you. I think I needed that.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. I haven’t had a good long hug in quite some time. By the way, Aradin is back,” he told her. “And before you ask, he approves of me hugging you. Now, the rest of his news isn’t quite so happy. If you both like, I’ll hand the body back over to him now.”
