Ori kept playing, fingers flying anew. “I hate it here. I can't fly. I'm going to go crazy if I stay here any longer.”
“But you just met us,” Janaza said.
“And?”
“We're kinda sorta on a mission,” Vann said.
“I don't care. Literally anywhere is better than here. The only reason anyone gives me any time of day is-”
“Orianthi!”
The three of them whirled around. Standing at the entrance of the hidden chamber was the harpy Matriarch, looking very cross. She was flanked by a pair of attendants, as well as Arielle. Rorzan floated behind the whole group, his ethereal blue body almost blending into the light from the walls. His gaze was fixed on the guitar in Ori's hands.
“I told you to show them around, not to just bring them down here,” the Matriarch said, her voice sharp.
Ori still didn't stop playing, the sound of her song bouncing off the walls and doubling back on itself. Vann felt the familiar crackle of power in the air, and saw beads of water begin to rise from the lake around them. “You were just going to give them this thing anyway. Why go through this whole rigmarole?”
The Matriarch narrowed her eyes, the orange orbs seeming to glow for a moment. “Because it is important to me, Orianthi. You know this.”
Ori's playing turned sharp, and Vann blanched as he felt something unseen shift, like the earth during a quake. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the droplets of water begin to ripple and pulse in time with the music. Then all at once they froze into jagged icy balls. His inner senses were screaming at him to take cover. Whether she knew it or not, Ori was an extremely powerful magician. From behind the Matriarch, he saw Arielle and Rorzan exchange a look and a nod.
The harpy's playing reached a crescendo, and she held a high note for what seemed like forever. Janaza shuffled in front of him a little bit, ready to shield him from any wayward magical mishap. Then Ori let the string go, the sound faded away, and the ice balls liquified and plopped back into the still pond, sending a crisscross of ripples through the surface.
“Fine.”
Chapter Five – The Arrangement
The inside of the Matriarch's dwelling was spacious, the floor plan open to allow air to flow through the windows and cool the space. There were no walls on the first floor, the entire space one giant room. A large circular slab of stone served as a meeting table in the center, ringed by stools made of the same hard material adorned with plush cushions. The Matriarch herself had a proper throne, though it was far less ornate than the ones that Vann had seen in the lands of the High Lords.
Their host's attendants had brought in large plates of fruits and nuts for them to snack on, but as their group and the harpies sat around the table, the atmosphere was decidedly chilly. It seemed as though Ori had broken some tenant of harpy culture by just taking Janaza and him into the hidden chamber, and Vann could hear her and the Matriarch arguing loudly in the harpy tongue upstairs. Despite that, they'd brought the guitar back up with them, so it seemed Ori had been right about that at least. It rested on the table in front of them.
“I think she'd make a great addition to the team, actually,” Rorzan said, floating above them in lazy circles with his back to them.
“You do?” Janaza said.
“Of course!” Rorzan flipped over and floated down to their eye level. “She's an absolute beast on the guitar with almost no proper training, so we have a ready-made shredder in her. All we have to do is sharpen up her fundamentals a little, which should be easy given the talent sitting at this table.”
Vann felt an unexpected surge of pride at the compliment. “She seems a little hot-headed though.”
“All the better,” Rorzan said. “We need more people like that. She's an outcast owing to the fact that she can't fly, and she's basically telling the Matriarch she doesn't give a damn about anything right now.” He pointed up to the ceiling. “We need a no-bullshit gal like that running with us.”
“Do you think they'll let her come with us?”
Arielle smirked. “Do you think they can stop her? I know you felt it down there, Vann. Does Ori even know how much power she's sitting on top of?”
“I don't think so,” Vann said. “She doesn't have any training, but damn she's got some might in there.”
“I may have to butter up the Matriarch some more to make it happen,” Rorzan said, stroking his chin. “I already had to concede a bunch of things just to get her to give the guitar up.”
“I thought you went back a long way with these harpies?” Janaza asked, arching an eyebrow. “Don't they owe you?”
“Technically yes, but that's how things work in human lands and not here,” Rorzan said. “I made promises to the harpies centuries ago during the Rebellion about things that I'd be able to accomplish before the Lords allied with the elves and rolled over us. Harpy culture has a long memory, and they still consider those promises unfulfilled, even though I was technically unable to fulfill them due to being, you know, mostly dead.” He waved a hand at his severed lower half.
“That sounds a bit unfair,” Vann said.
“It's just how they are,” Rorzan said. “We're not getting shafted because we're not harpies, they'd do the same thing to their own kind. That's why she's so pissed that Ori just went down there and was going to just hand over the guitar.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them against one another gleefully. “However, that 'I don't give a fuck' attitude is just what we need, I think.”
“Need for what?” Vann pressed.
Rorzan and Arielle glanced at one another. The elf shrugged one shoulder, and Rorzan shrugged one in return. The ghost opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the click of claws on stone.
The four of them turned to watch Ori and the Matriarch descend down the steps into the main room. Ori didn't look cowed in the slightest. She held her head high, her thumbs hooked into the waist of her pants. The Matriarch's face was even as they came to the table and sat down. Ori took a seat away from the Matriarch, closer to them, which the older harpy took her throne. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”
“No trouble,” Rorzan said, hovering above one of the stools as if he could actually sit down in it. “Where were we again?”
“We were about to finish,” the Matriarch said. “You needed transportation to the continent?”
“Aye,” Rorzan said. “I mean between Arielle and Vann we could probably make enough platforms to reach the shores in... oh a few days, maybe? Easier just to get there by other means.”
“I can do that,” the Matriarch said. “Tomorrow morning, at the earliest.”
“That sounds excellent.” Rorzan stroked his chin again. “In return, I'll increase the offer I made earlier on import tithes.”
“I'll accept that.”
Vann shot Janaza a curious glance. She made a face and shrugged, just as confused as he was. Import tithes? What was Rorzan talking about?
“And lastly,” Rorzan said. He glanced over at Ori. “Would you be willing to allow Ori to come with us on our quest?”
The Mariarch looked at Ori, who had her feet up on the stone table and was flexing her talons. “That depends on what she wants.”
Ori's eyes looked up from under her veil of hair. “Do you even need to ask?”
A look of immeasurable sadness passed over the Matriarch's face before she composed it again. “Very well. She will join you.”
Rorzan looked like he was about to whoop for joy before he got himself under control. “Very good. That about wraps it up, I think,” Rorzan said. He reached out a ghostly hand towards the older harpy. “Do we have an accord?”
“Yes,” the Matriarch said. “I believe we do.” She extended one of her large, lustrous brown wings and touched the tips of her flight feathers to Rorzan's fingertips. The harpy equivalent of a handshake, it seemed.
Rorzan relaxed visibly, grinning from ear to ear. “Excellent.”
“I will give you time to inform yo
ur companions of the finer details,” the Matriarch said, getting to her feet in a billow of loose shift that once again drew Vann's eye to her maternal curves concealed beneath the fabric. Then the Matriarch's eyes fell upon him and lingered, and he felt as though he were a cut of meat in a butcher shop window. He shifted slightly, but got a smile out of the older harpy as she turned and walked away from the table.
“So, here's the deal,” Rorzan said, drawing his attention. “The Matriarch has graciously given us hospitality for the evening, permission for Ori to come with us, and transportation to the Continent tomorrow. In the future though, we'll owe her some favors, which I'll keep in the back of my noggin for when the time comes.” He tapped his forehead.
“What kind of favors?” Vann asked.
“That, Vann, is something for discussion on another day.” Rorzan looked at Ori. “Is there a place we can crash tonight?”
She nodded. “I'm sure I can find you a spare cave.”
“Excellent. You take Jan and Arielle to do that, I need to talk to Vann for a minute.”
The three ladies left the dwelling, leaving Vann alone with the ghost. “What kind of favors have you bandied about?” Vann asked him in a low voice.
“Relax!” Rorzan said. “It's nothing that needs to concern you at the moment. Well, save for one thing.” He shifted his shoulders, making nervous motions with his hands. “It's a bit awkward. Well, sort of awkward. You'll probably enjoy yourself.”
Vann gave him a flat look. “Rorzan.”
“So, part and parcel of harpy negotiations is the ending stage. It's a time honored tradition that a representative from both parties... seal the deal.”
“I don't follow.”
Rorzan sighed heavily. “Denser than a troll's skull,” he muttered. “Let me put it like this – the harpy word for 'sex' is the same word as 'agreement'.”
Vann scratched his head. “I still don't...” He trailed off. “Oh.” The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Yeah. And since the Matriarch likes males exclusively, and of the two of us you're the only one with the working cock...” He looked down and back up again. “Well, a cock period.”
“But that's...” Vann felt conflicted. As a male, of course, his body responded to the prospect of sex in the way you might expect. But despite the uptick in his heartbeat and a stirring in his loins as he thought of those curve that the shift had billowed around, a small part of him was uncomfortable with it. Not so much the fact that he was about to bed a woman that he'd barely spoken to, but the fact that Rorzan hadn't warned him about this, and that he had made the arrangement without talking to him. It felt a little skeezy, and a part of him wanted to tell Rorzan no.
But another part of him focused on the stirring in his loins, and the brief flashes of the Matriarch's figure highlighted by her shift billowing around her. A woman such as her had to know things. Things gleaned from a lifetime of 'arrangements'. Plus, it was Rorzan. The ghost had made a promise to look out for him, and wouldn't do anything untoward that would be bad for him in the long run.
So Vann pointed a finger at him. “Warn me about things like this next time, okay?”
Rorzan crossed his chest with a fingertip. “Will do.”
“So do I just... go up there?”
“Yep!” Rorzan floated around him and mimed putting his hands on his shoulders. “She'll probably ply you with some food and drink first, and then you get down to business.” He made a clicking noise with his teeth. “I'll go find the ladies and fetch you in the morning. Have a good night!” With a jaunty wave, Rorzan did a flip and zipped out the door of the Matriarch's dwelling.
Vann sighed as he watched the ghost go. He wondered how well Ori would get along with Rorzan. The old lord was definitely an acquired taste. Then again, the harpy seemed to have a similar acerbic flavor to her speech. That either meant that they were going to get along swimmingly or they'd be at each other's throats in a week.
Faint sounds from upstairs trickled down the stairs to him, and Vann realized that he was stalling for time. He walked to the steps and ascended to the upper floor, his boots clicking on the stone.
The second floor of the structure looked more like a proper home than the first. The floors were covered in thick mats made from dried plants, which were likely the source of the herbal fragrance that tickled his nose as soon as he stuck his head into the room. There was a system of heavy ropes anchored to the walls with metal spikes, a series of curtains strung up on them that intersected at several points and weighted down with stones. Vann spotted several more metal spikes in the floor, likely tie-down points for the curtains. Through the gaps in the gently flapping fabric he caught glimpses of homely things – a grille on the far wall with hot coals glowing inside it surrounded by cooking implements, a wicker chair by the large window with several scrolls resting in the seat, and, near the window, a rather comfortable looking bed.
The Matriarch strode out from behind one of the curtains, her head turning towards him. “Greetings,” she said, her voice soft and full of warmth.
Vann nodded, then bowed, unsure of the protocol and defaulting to what he thought was best. “Greetings,” he echoed.
She laughed softly. “So proper. Rorzan told me your upbringing was steeped in such manners.”
“That it was,” Vann said, hugging his upper body as uncomfortable memories pressed in of an endless litany of chores and being used as a fucktoy by the Lady of the house.
“Oh, here.” The Matriarch strode over to the window and took hold of two rolled up pieces of rubbery fabric at the sides. She drew them together and secured them in the middle with a tie, then hooked the edges around small spikes that ringed the window. “Better?”
Now the the chilly sea air wasn't blasting him in the face through the window Vann was much more comfortable. “Much.”
The Matriarch inclined her head, lifting her chin a little to show off the downy fluff on her throat. Vann was immediately filled with the all-powerful urge to kiss that little patch of soft white feathers. “Do you wish to bandy words?” the Matriarch asked. “Or shall we get right to it?”
Vann thought of Janaza, and the memories of the orc filled him with confidence. He stood up a little straighter, and knelt down to take his boots off. “I'm down for a little bandying.”
She laughed, a light trilling sound. “Very well.”
“Is your title an inherited position?” Vann asked as he undid the laces.
“Nay. When a Matriarch passes on, the aerie convenes to choose another. However, in many cases if we have a daughter, we make a point to pass on the skills needed to do this job, and in some cases, the position has passed from mother to daughter.” She reached up and ran her fingers along the jade stone around her neck. “Such a thing hasn't happened in several centuries, though.”
Vann flexed his toes and sighed, peeling off his socks. When he put his bare feet on the floor, the mats were warm against the soles of his feet. “So you run the aerie?”
“This one.” The Matriarch clicked over to him, her talons managing to not get tangled into the woven mats. “And only in the sense of the biggest decisions. There are many others who handle the more day to day aspects.”
“And what does Ori usually do?”
She laughed again. “Makes trouble, for one thing. The more I've come to think about it, the more I think going with your group might be good for her. She's rather cooped up around here.”
Vann stood. “I think she'll make a good addition to the group.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of them coming close together without that much space between them. Her scent came to him, strong over the herbal smell of the mats. It was pungent, sharp, and slightly damp, but in a good way, like the grass in the morning after a rainstorm. As they slowly came together, Vann saw a beautiful bouquet of browns in the Matriarch's feathers, ranging from a light ran around her downy throat down to the deep browns that streaked d
own her arms in lightning bolt patterns.
“So...” Vann began, trying to come up with a good lead-in. “How far down do the white feathers go?”
The Matriarch churred softly, a low, cute noise deep in her throat. “You know, you're the first in a long while to think of this as something to be enjoyed.” She reached up and took hold of her shift. “Allow me to show you.”
With one smooth movement she pulled the shift up and over herself, as if dropping the curtain on a hidden, tantalizing secret. Vann marveled at the simple, fluid motion, the quickness of how fast the harpy went from clothed to nude. Physically, the Matriarch reminded him of Lady Branna in some ways. Her body was curvy and thick about her chest and hips, her breasts full and hanging with natural sag. But there was luster to her feathers and down, a sheen that was accented by the evening sun dusting the brown of her feathers into gold along her shoulders and neck. Her nipples were hidden amongst the down, peeking out of the fluff. Further down, her down grew thicker around her groin. She rolled her shoulders and shook her wings out slightly, spreading them slightly.
Vann took a deep breath as he drank her in. His pants grew tight quickly, and he felt his cock pressed against his inner thigh by the confining fabric. The Matriarch swayed her hips back and forth, allowing the light to play off her feathers more. Her wings flared out wider, until they were at their full extension, as wide across as she was tall. She sighed, making another happy churring noise. “Oh, it's been far too long since I've stretched my wings all the way out.”
“Do you still fly?” Vann asked.
“When I get the chance,” the Matriarch said. She stepped closer to him, the top of her head coming up just under Vann's chin. She stood on tip-toe to give him a quick nuzzle across his throat, her wings curling around to brush against his back. Her fingers brushed along the front of his pants “Which isn't often, I'll admit.”
Vann looked down into her wizened, golden eyes. His breathing was deep and heady, desire flooding his being. This encounter may have been set up in haste without his knowledge, but he was still male, and the harpy in front of him was beautiful in her own right. He wanted her more with every passing breath, every gentle intake of air that was tinged with the sweet scent of the plant mats and the sharp tang of her own scent. He put his hands on her hips, her down parting easily for his fingers so they rested on the warm skin underneath.
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