Clockwork Goddess (The Lesbia Chronicles)

by Loki Renard

  Grimacing, Liz began to slowly grind the leaves. They were surprisingly resilient to her efforts. It became obvious that it was going to take some time to make it fine.

  "Tell me about the lady you saw," Ayla said, sitting on her bed.

  The stretcher Liz was on put her at a lower level so she was forced to look up at the witch. "What about the lady?"

  "You saw her before or after you decided to chew leaves? Keep grinding."

  "Ugh... before," Liz said, grinding slowly as her stomach cramped and churned.

  "You're sure she was there before you ate any leaves?"

  "Very," Liz replied.

  Ayla nodded. "Keep grinding."

  Liz kept grinding, the sound of the pestle against the mortar filling the silence between them.

  "You're not magically talented," Ayla said. "Potions don't have their usual effects and yet you see things most cannot."

  "The lady?"

  "The lady," Ayla said. "The plant is her namesake. Keep grinding."

  The leaves had broken up into little pieces, shards of dried fiber. Liz looked up at Ayla plaintively. "Is this not enough?"

  "Finer," Ayla insisted. "And then finer still."

  Liz sighed and continued grinding. The leaves soon began to release a soft perfume, wafting gently up into her face. It made her eyes water a little and her nose drip.

  "What did the lady tell you?"

  "Just that I should eat the leaves," Liz said, putting more strength into the grinding. "She thought it would be a very good idea."

  "And when you ate them?"

  "I felt good at first," Liz said. "Better than I ever did before. And then I felt sicker than I ever felt before." She kept grinding, until some of the leaves started to turn from flakes to powder.

  "In the future," Ayla suggested, "don't eat anything simply because a strange woman tells you to. There are many entities in this world, and many are hostile."

  "I figured that," Liz said, grinding the pestle round and round. The leaves were getting very close to dust now, the majority of the mixture was the size of sand. "Am I done now?"

  "How does your stomach feel?"

  "Better," Liz said, surprised. "Was there magic in the leaves?"

  "Of a kind," Ayla said, taking the mortar. "Distraction is a kind of magic, I suppose."

  "You are full of tricks, witch," Liz said as Ayla poured the powder into a little bag and put it away. "I wonder if you are a witch at all."

  Ayla smiled to herself. "Does it matter if I am not?"

  "I suppose not," Liz said, laying back down and covering herself with her blanket.

  Ayla began preparing for bed whilst Liz watched, a small scowl on her face. "I never know when you will be nice or mean."

  "I am rarely mean," Ayla replied as she shrugged her outer robe off and folded it carefully. "You confuse discipline for cruelty."

  "I do not need discipline," Liz replied. "Discipline is for people who live by the rules of others. I live by the rules of myself. Not the rules of yourself."

  "Fate has seen to put you in the realm of my influence," Ayla said. "As long as you remain in it, you can expect discipline when I see fit. Now hush, it is time to sleep."

  "If you can't sleep, will you pointlessly grind herbs until you forget you can't sleep?"

  "If I can't sleep, I'll see what effect my good slipper has on your behind," Ayla said, slipping into her bed. "I would find that most soothing."

  Liz scowled up at her, most unimpressed by the witch's attitude. "One of these days, you're going to come across someone who treats you like you treat me, and then you'll be sorry."

  "Good night, little giant," Ayla replied, ending the rebellious conversation before it had a chance to begin. Sick, but no longer sore, Liz fell asleep before she could get herself into any real measure of trouble.

  *****

  On that same evening Moon and Vix were in their tent, sitting on the bed Moon and Trebuchet shared. Trebuchet was still in conference with Kira, and the friends were getting tired.

  "I should go," Vix said, starting to slide away. "It's getting late."

  "Stay," Moon insisted. "This is your tent as much as ours."

  "No it's not," Vix smiled wryly. "Not when you and Trebuchet... well.. you know..."

  "It's not safe to go sleeping in the bushes," Moon said reprovingly.

  "I didn't sleep in the bushes last night," Vix revealed. "I slept with Ayla."

  Moon's eyes went wide. "You slept with Ayla!?"

  "I mean, in the same bed, not in the way you and Trebuchet sleep together."

  A slow smile spread over Moon's face. "You kept that quiet."

  "It's been a busy day," Vix shrugged. "There wasn't much time to talk, or much to talk about."

  "I wonder if she is missing you tonight?" Moon mused, an arch smile on her face.

  "I doubt it. She has Liz."

  Moon screwed up her face and shook her head. "You are not in competition with Liz. Liz is... she's a puddle you have to pay attention to otherwise you'll step in it, but she's no substitute for a skin full of clean refreshing water."

  "I think you're thirsty."

  "A little," Moon admitted, pouring herself some wine. "But I'm right. If you like Ayla, you should let her know."

  "Even if I did like her that way... it's like a puddle falling in love with the ocean. She is so much more than I am or ever could be. She has lived longer than we can even begin to understand."

  "She's still a woman, and women have needs," Moon said pragmatically. "When you have your tongue twixt her thighs, you'll be lapping at the same source that flows in all of us."

  Blushing at the idea, Vix covered her face with a pillow. "You have such a filthy tongue."

  "You should see where I put it," Moon grinned.

  "What are you two troublemakers giggling about?" Trebuchet's inquiry drawled through the air, catching them unawares as the woman joined them in the tent which suddenly seemed much smaller for having a person of Trebuchet's stature in it.

  "Vix has been taking up with Ayla," Moon babbled immediately. "They slept in the same bed last night."

  "Is that so? Good for you," Trebuchet smiled, sliding onto the bed and wrapping her arm about Moon's waist. She used her grasp to haul Moon close and press a kiss to her cheek.

  Vix took the opportunity to vacate the bed, upon which she suddenly felt very much like an intruder. "Sleep well," she said. Her words were lost, for Moon and Trebuchet's lips were already locked in a fashion which left no room for bidding anyone good night.

  Slipping from the tent, Vix made her way across the encampment to Ayla's tent. No light was on inside. She peeked inside the flap, and saw Ayla's form in repose, with Liz snoring lightly on a stretcher at the foot of the bed.

  She had been forgotten. It was no unusual occurrence, she was frequently forgotten and overlooked, but the pang she felt was stronger for the fact that for one night she had known what it was like to matter.

  Sniffing away a sudden running of her nose which coincided with a wetting of her eyes, Vix moved back away into the bushes. She had barely settled herself in when a disturbance ruined her repose.

  "Who goes there! Oh. It's you." Aeron appeared above her, lantern in hand. "You should be in your bunk."

  Vix had never had much to do with Aeron, but like everyone else in the camp she had seen Aeron at her fiercest on more than one occasion. Usually she would have been more cautious in the way she addressed her, but the pangs of hurt playing about her heart made her more bold than usual.

  "Leave me be," she said, turning over in the bushes.

  She did not know what she expected Aeron's reaction to be, but it was not even close to what happened. The soldier's hand came down on the back of her collar, and all of a sudden Vix was transported bodily out of the bushes, dumped at the feet of the blonde who looked down at her with narrowed eyes.

  "You should be in your bunk," Aeron repeated.

  "I don't have a bunk," Vix said, brushing
the dirt from her britches.

  "You should have a bunk."

  "But I don't."

  "Where do you usually sleep?"

  "Trebuchet's tent."

  "Go there."

  "No."

  "No? You defy me?"

  "I defy anyone who wants me to listen to Trebuchet and Moon tongue one another all night long."

  Aeron snorted. "Trebuchet is a fine warrior."

  "Yes," Vix agreed. The conversation was somewhat stilted, probably because Aeron didn't usually spend much time talking to her fellow soldiers. Aeron liked to let her body do the talking, but Vix wasn't sure she would survive the conversation if it went that way.

  "You can't sleep in bushes."

  "Actually, it's one of the few places I can sleep," Vix said. She contemplated getting to her feet, but decided against it. She would probably end up back on her bottom in short order.

  "All persons must be in their bunks after midnight. I can't allow you to break the rules. It dishonors Kira."

  "We can't have that," Vix said dryly.

  "No," Aeron agreed blankly.

  "I will go to my bunk," Vix said.

  "Good."

  Vix got up and began walking to the other side of the camp.

  "Wait!" Aeron reached out and turned Vix around to face her. "You don't have a bunk."

  "You caught me," Vix shrugged. "I don't."

  "You think this is funny?" Aeron's teeth snapped in front of Vix's nose.

  "Not particularly."

  "The witch spoke with me earlier and she said you honored Kira," Aeron said, as if the thought had just struck her. "Is it sleeping in the bushes which helps you honor her?"

  "Yes," Vix said, hoping that agreement would mean Aeron would leave her alone. "It is."

  Aeron grabbed her by the collar and dragged her back to the bushes. Vix put up little fight as she was dumped more or less back where she had started.

  "Show me your ways." Aeron sat down next to her.

  "I just lie down and go to sleep," Vix said. "There are no ways."

  "I would like to honor Kira as you do," Aeron explained. "There must be more to it than sleeping rough."

  "I don't think I honor anyone," Vix said. "Ayla probably only said that to you to get you to behave as she wanted you to."

  Aeron considered that possibility. "You don't seem to have much honor," she conceded. "You are so low ranked you do not have a bunk. You take no patrols and I have never seen you cook nor clean. What do you do?"

  "I serve," Vix said. "As a warning. And I'll tell you something," she added. "The witch will say whatever needs to be said. Do not listen to her words. They are powerful, but when all is said and done there is no honor to be found in a bush."

  It was difficult not to speak without some measure of bitterness, for in her heart of hearts, Vix was feeling abandoned. She knew it was foolish ever to have thought that Ayla noticed her or cared for her, and the knowledge made her more prickly than the brambles poking through her sleeves.

  "If the witch's words were untrue, then I have not dishonored Kira," Aeron said slowly.

  "Aeron, you are the strongest and the bravest of us all," Vix replied. "You could not dishonor Kira if you tried. Your mere existence in this camp honors Kira."

  "I like what you say," Aeron said. "I like it, therefore I think it true."

  She got up and wandered away with a smile on her face, one which boded ill for Kira and the general contentment of the camp, but which left Vix free to sleep at last - or so she thought.

  "Proud of yourself?"

  Ayla's tones ran through Vix's veins with chilling cold. Vix looked up to see the tall, sybaritic witch standing outside her tent. Apparently she had listened to all that had taken place.

  "You've undone all the good I did with that one," the witch said. "She will no doubt end up beaten because of your words."

  "Nothing happens because of me," Vix said stiffly, pushing up from the ground. There were plenty of other bushes to sleep in where witches didn't loom. "Excuse me."

  She did not want to converse with Ayla, for her feelings were a source of shame. When she looked into the witch's face, she realized just how outrageous it had been to presume any tenderness on the woman's part.

  "Do not go so quickly, Vix," Ayla said, taking strides to put herself in Vix's path. "Why would you say such things to Aeron? Do you wish to see her in trouble?"

  "I wished to get some sleep," Vix replied. "Nothing more."

  Ayla's crystalline gaze narrowed slightly. "Do you think you can tell me untruths and fool me?"

  "You do not want to know what I think," Vix replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "It should not interest or trouble you."

  "You are being rude."

  "I apologize," Vix said, feeling not the slightest bit sorry, but saying the words as was expected. "Please, allow me to remove myself from your presence."

  "I will allow you only to go into my tent, remove your outer clothing and get into bed," Ayla said. She spoke quite curtly, without any trace of softness. "I will deal with you in the morning."

  "I cannot do that," Vix replied. "Unlike some, I will not allow myself to be defined by my ill-deeds. If I had not run afoul of Aeron, I would be asleep in the bushes, and you would not be concerned in the slightest. Do not concern yourself dealing with me. I will deal with myself."

  The witch looked down at Vix from her superior height in a fashion which Vix could tell was supposed to elicit compliance. Vix was too tired and too annoyed to respond to it. What point was there in taking to the witch's bed when she would be forgotten the very next day? The witch might have lived many years, but her memory seemed short and shallow.

  "Good night, witch," Vix said, taking refuge in the appearance of politeness as she backed away from Ayla a final time. "I hope you sleep well."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "I bring you honor."

  Kira opened one eye to see Aeron standing at the end of her bed. The young soldier was in her full leathers and wearing an expression of pure determination. She was pretty as always in the half-light filtering through the tent, her fierceness somewhat tempered by the vulnerability in her gaze.

  "Excuse me?" Kira blinked the fog of sleep away.

  "I bring you honor," Aeron repeated.

  "You woke me to tell me that you bring me honor?"

  "I woke you to tell you I will not be ashamed of my strength. I will not bow to witches or weaklings."

  "Is that so." Kira's tone was grim as she sat up. She was clad in a simple tunic, but the musculature of her tattooed arms made her warlike even in repose. "Sounds to me like you've come here to pick a fight, lady Aeron."

  "I tire of tending camp, of wasting whilst the battle rages elsewhere. We are warriors, but we are as useless as warts on a hog."

  "Sometimes a warrior waits," Kira said. "But you are a solider in my armlette. And though a warrior might grow impatient, a soldier knows well enough to heed her commander."

  "A commander who sends a witch to chastise her soldier is not much of a commander." Aeron lifted her chin, speaking boldly.

  Kira moved swiftly to her feet, crossed the room and caught Aeron by her shoulders. Her legs were bare, thick thighs hard as tree trunks as she stood before the impudent soldier.

  "Do you want a beating? Do you want me to thrash you until you are as helpless as a kitten? Is that what you need?"

  Aeron replied not with words, but with a blow. She bought both her hands up, knocking Kira's grasp away and aimed a kick at Kira's midsection. It connected, pushing Kira back a foot or two.

  Eyes narrowed, Kira cracked her neck and her knuckles. "So this is how you want it to be, little soldier. You have grown bold and arrogant in your boredom, and it has made you forgetful."

  "Shut up and fight me," Aeron growled. She came rushing forward, fists clenched. There was real intention in her eyes. She had come to throw herself upon the pyre of battle and sacrifice her body on the altar of the immortal. She must h
ave known she could not win, but that made no difference to the vigor with which she attacked Kira, throwing blow after blow so fast the eye could barely catch the motion.

  Not a single punch connected and after several seconds of letting Aeron flail furiously, Kira took hold of Aeron's wrist and tugged sharply. The motion sent Aeron tumbling face down on Kira's bed into a position which was as undignified as it was vulnerable.