by Sharon Lee
Droi rearranged the blankets to better use over both, then moved to the back of the hearth, as silent as the plentiful shadows.
Carefully, she made the tonic, and knocked it back, swallowing without tasting, as experience had taught her that such draughts were prone to be bitter.
She smiled at that thought, and washed the glass.
Then, she moved to her chest, opened it, and sorted fabrics by touch before undressing and dressing again. She unwound her hair, brushed it out, then pinned it up loosely. The tonic by this time was making its effects known, and Droi smiled as she worked.
In the shadows around her, half-seen things moved; that was as usual, and comforting in its way. Prudence, though, prudence had her leave her knife behind her, when at last she left her hearth, the hem of the bright skirt brushing bare ankles, the coins on her belt chiming with every step.
* * *
Udari left the child and the dog at her cousins’ hearth, with a promise that he would be ready when she called him to walk out with her on the following morning. From there, he betook himself to the equipment locker, where he withdrew a timer; and went on to the gate he and the child earlier entered. He donned a coat, pulled a dark hat down over his head and let himself out, clicking the timer on.
When he returned, it was to find Pulka just inside the door, frowning and chewing on his mustache.
“Brother,” Udari said, pulling off the hat off, and hanging the coat on a hook. He glanced at the timer, and slid it into his pocket.
“Brother,” Pulka answered. “Did you meet anyone on the street?”
Udari frowned. This was abrupt even for Pulka.
“No, Brother, I met no one. Why?”
“Come with me.”
- - - - -
“Here, then here, and later, here.”
Udari watched the play-back from the watch-cameras. The shadow was circumspect…and had by the cameras’ evidence, completely walked around the buildings under which the Bedel held camp.
“Did he make any attempt to enter, or to force the gates?”
“No,” Pulka growled, and shook his head. “Brother, you know that we’ve already sealed too many gates. If this one comes back…”
Udari reached to the console and triggered another playback. There was something about the shadowy figure that seemed familiar—the walk, the particular bulk, the—
“Hah!”
“What?” demanded Pulka.
“It’s Mike Golden, who…who is under the study of the luthia.”
Pulka’s frown became ferocious.
“Does she bring him in to us?”
“No, but I think…I don’t think that he means us harm, Brother. I will tell the luthia—tonight, if she’s not already asleep.”
“It can wait on the morrow; he’s gone now,” Pulka said gruffly. “Before you find your own rest—and if it can be told in a moment—how goes Rafin’s work?”
“He believes it will be ready tomorrow.”
“So soon? I’ll be there, tell him. I must see it done.”
“He knows it. We will all three be there, to witness, and to support our brother.”
* * *
Rafin was banking the forge, and looked ’round with his eyebrows well up.
“Sister?”
“Where’s Rys?” she asked. The tonic was well in control now, her nerves were bright with desire, her companion shadows nestling dark around her shoulders.
“Rys, is it?” Rafin came forward, his fingers flexing. “I’m awake.”
She shook her head, feeling the pins slip in her hair.
“I come as the soul of the kompani.”
“Do you?”
That quickly, his fingers were ’round her throat, his grip tight enough to bring her breath short. Droi stared up into his eyes.
“Within the next day, Dmitri will pass into that Other Place,” she said calmly. The numbers will be unbalanced; the kompani placed at risk. The headman and the luthia between them see the danger. What they do not see is that the tool is to hand, needing only to be grasped—and used.”
His gaze dropped to her naked shoulders, and her breasts but half draped in filmy purple.
“Rafin, release me.”
He again raised his eyes to meet hers, opened his fingers, and shrugged.
“The kompani could do worse. The cock is small, but never have I seen a heart as bold.”
“So, we agree, and again I ask—where is Rys?”
He jerked his head toward the small tent, which place was known to her.
“Will you eat him here?”
“Shall I carry him out to the common and call the kompani to stand witness?”
He snorted.
“I seek my own bed. Try not to kill him. It would break Udari’s heart.”
* * *
Momma Liberty was at dock; crew enjoying off-duty until the inspection team requested entry—and them a half-day down on the roster. Incoming had been tense, and Rys had been glad enough to go off-shift, shower, and stretch out on his bunk for a nap. Vern—Jasin’s brother—had been more particular in his attentions to himself than usual. The loss at Ondileigh had not made his temper any sweeter, and though he had nothing to do with the trade, still Rys bore the brunt of the trader’s displeasure, until Jasin had snapped at him to have done.
It was warm in his bunk. He sighed, and spiraled into sleep…
“Rys.” A soft exhalation of breath, warm against his ear.
“Jasin?” he murmured, his mind weighted with sleep.
“Rys…” the voice said again, accompanying a gentle stroke down his cheek. “Open your eyes, Rys, and let me see you.”
He struggled to throw off the heaviness. Her fingers were in his hair now, pulling a little where the curls knotted, and he felt the damp tip of a tongue or finger tracing the edge of his ear.
“Jasin…a moment.”
He gasped as teeth indented his ear lobe, his eyes snapping open to behold a face at once beguiling and dangerous.
“Droi.” He took a breath, remembering now that he was at the forge, in the small tent, and that it had been late when he took his leave of Rafin—
And it was by no means morning now. The forge was silent; the darkness dyed a tricksy grey by the dim light above him.
He was stretched on his back, Droi’s knee between his, and one hand on his shoulder, pressing him down onto the cot.
“Rys Dragonwing,” she crooned. “Sweet morsel.”
Her fingers twisted in his hair and she leaned down, smiling, her eyes glowing cat-green in the slender light.
Rys took a breath, recalling Silain’s warning regarding this woman whom even Udari found unsettling.
“Sister,” he said, lifting his ungloved hand softly to her shoulder. “My sight is not as long as yours.”
She smiled, showing sharp white teeth.
“Then I will see for both.”
Her lips were warm and moist; her kiss so cruel that he moaned against her mouth, aroused in the instant, his traitor hips moving. She laughed into his mouth, bit his lips, and kissed him again, more cruelly still, her hand leaving his hair to guide his hand to one full breast, moaning in her turn as his kneading gave her pleasure, and…
“Harder,” she ordered, nipping his throat, and he tightened his fingers in a violent caress while she plundered his mouth, and her hand slipped down to where he strained against the confines of his clothing and with a cunning twist freed him to spring against her skirts.
“Now,” she murmured, and moved fully over him, skirts spread, hot, naked thighs gripping his, but not engaging, not yet. Instead, she knelt above him and pulled her thin blouse over her head, exposing herself. She looked into his eyes as she cupped her breasts. Slowly, she put one hand down to grip his other wrist. Her eyes widened, breasts lifting with the intake of her breath, as she raised the gloved hand and guided it to her throat.
Horror lent a dark frisson to passion.
“Have a care! That’s dang
erous,” he gasped, and swore he grew harder.
Droi laughed, a low growl in her throat.
“Yes, it’s dangerous,” she whispered. “I want to feel your fingers around my throat. Those fingers, broken and beautiful. Do it now, Rys.”
As if her will commanded them, he saw his sparkling fingers enclose the dusky throat. Eyes half-closed, she licked her lips.
“Harder.”
Excitement lanced through him; he gasped, watching as his deadly fingers tightened, and deliberately raised his ungloved hand and pinched her nipples.
Droi moaned, her eyes fully closed, swaying above him for a timeless interval, and he about to spend, only watching her, until she raised one hand to his gloved wrist and he opened his fingers. Keeping her grip, she used his hand as if it were a paint-brush across her breasts and belly, and it seemed that he felt more through the mesh palm than through his own skin.
“You are the most powerful man who has ever touched me,” she crooned. “You might break with me with a finger, and yet you tremble, little brother.”
Tremble? Yes, he trembled. More—he was panting with desire, and she in like state, both as near conflagration as consummation, and yet still she held them apart.
“There must be another, to fill the gap Dmitri will leave in the kompani,” she whispered, her eyes holding his. “This child that we make, soon, sweet brother, I promise…” She raised a hand and traced his lips. “This child will preserve the numbers, and keep us safe…for a time. Now…”
Her nails scored his cheek; and this kiss was the cruelest yet, robbing him of both breath and sense. All he knew was need, and the hard drive of desire, upward. She met him, twelve times crueler than her kiss, taking him, and draining him, wringing him until he cried aloud, weeping in mingled exultation and anguish—and at last was done, spent, exhausted, her weight crushing him flat.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They were nearing the street on which the school stood, she and Udari, and Malda, pushed along by the brisk wind. Kezzi fished her watch out from beneath her coat, and considered it, frowning.
“How can I know if I’m late or early?” she asked. “Mike Golden said he had put in his best guess of how long it might take me to walk from home, but he doesn’t know where home is…”
“And so guessed generously,” Udari interrupted.
She turned her head to glare at him, but he was smiling, so she smiled, too.
“He said, if I was too early, someone would let me in and give me ’toot and a donut.”
“And your brother, too?”
“If they give you food, they’ll make you stay for school.”
“I might be interested in school,” Udari said thoughtfully. “But today, I am promised to my brothers.”
“Maybe tomorrow, then,” Kezzi said, teasing him.
“Maybe so,” he answered, calmly, as they turned the corner into Rendan Street. Barely six paces ahead was a boy in a blue jacket, his bright hair gleaming in the grumpy sunlight. With him was a man wearing a gun openly on his belt and a resigned look on his thin, stubbled face.
“There, what did I say!” the boy cried and ran forward.
“Your new brother is devoted to you,” Udari remarked, “as all of your brothers are.”
Kezzi ignored him, all of her indignation for Syl Vor.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you think I’d come to school?”
“No, I was afraid you would be too early and have no one to wait with you,” he answered. “Good morning, Nathan and Rascal.”
“Good morning, brother of my sister,” Udari said courteously. He met Gavit’s eye, and nodded agreeably.
Gavit returned the nod, with a lift of his shoulder.
“Least it ain’t snowing,” he observed.
“I agree. It’s a fine morning for a walk.”
“Am I early?” Kezzi demanded, still curious on this point.
“Yes,” Syl Vor said, falling in beside her. “Though not as early as I had feared. And I only let Gavit have a cheese roll for breakfast, while we walked!”
“It was nice a you to make it for me,” Gavit commented, dropping back to walk with Udari. “And you can’t beat Beck’s rolls, not with a stick.” He delivered himself of a sharp glance.
“You got the timing down, so’s we don’t hafta to go through this tomorra morning?”
“I do. Your care of my sister and her brother is appreciated.”
“Ain’t been a problem so far.”
Udari nodded, and raised his voice somewhat.
“It’s fortunate that we met, Syl Vor yos’Galan. Our sister tells me that you’re a dragon. Is that so?”
Kezzi caught her breath and shot a quick glance at Syl Vor’s face. If Udari had just said on the street something which was for the kompani, only…
And indeed it must seem that it was so. Syl Vor blinked, and threw her a look, then turned to face Udari, which meant all four of them had to stop, right there in the middle of the walk.
“It’s true that I am a dragon,” he said, sounding even more solemn than usual. “I had heard that there was someone who was afraid of dragons. Do you know that person?”
“I might,” Udari said, sounding almost like Droi when she was trying to draw out a fortune for more coin. “Say that I do know such a one. What advice would you give?”
“I’m a very small dragon,” Syl Vor said. “Advice is difficult, without knowing the circumstances, or the person. If this person has done something to harm dragons in general…”
“Then they might have a reason to fear,” Udari finished.
Syl Vor wrinkled his nose, his head tipped a little to one side.
“Maybe—or not. Without knowing the circumstances, I would advise that the best thing, for a person who fears dragons—the very best thing to do is to speak with my Uncle Val Con, who decides for all dragons. It may be that Balance will need to be made, and that Balance might be—hard to make. But…my grandfather says that it is better to live in honor than in fear.”
“This sounds like something our grandmother would agree with. Am I correct, little sister?”
“Yes,” Kezzi said, and pointed. “There is the school, Brother.”
“I see it,” Udari answered. “What a handsome knocker! Do you go and raise it, sister, and see if there is any to let you in.”
“Bit over half-hour early,” Gavit commented. “Still, there oughta be somebody on the door.”
“Let us find out,” said Syl Vor. He grinned as he walked past. “Come on, Kezzi! Don’t you want a donut?”
As it happened, her stomach having gone through more than one upset during the last few minutes, Kezzi wasn’t sure that she did want a donut. She bent down to rub Malda’s ears, then ran for the stairs, mounting them two at a time, so that she was standing at Syl Vor’s shoulder when Sheyn opened the door, and stood blinking down at them.
“And who are you for?” He asked, sounding stern.
“For school,” Kezzi said
“If you please, Sheyn,” Syl Vor added. “We know we are early, but we had to be certain Anna’s watch worked.”
“Works a little too good, you ask me,” Sheyn said, and looked over their heads, to Udari and Gavit, down on the walk.
“Either one of you here as patrons of the house?”
“’Fraid not,” said Gavit, and, from Udari, “Not so long as we may leave our young students in your care.”
“Oh, sure, they can come in,” Sheyn said, stepping back to allow it. “Ain’t even the earliest, today.”
He closed the door and turned to look at them.
“You two had breakfast?”
Kezzi’s breakfast had been more than she usually ate—a flapjack left over from last night’s dinner had joined her apple and tea.
“Yes,” she told him, and Syl Vor said the same.
“You need anything else to fill in the corners?”
“No,” Kezzi said firmly, having listened to her stomach.
&nb
sp; “No, thank you,” said Syl Vor. “May we go into the classroom?”
“You’d better go into the classroom,” Sheyn told him. “Can’t have you wanderin’ all over the house and scarin’ the guests, can we?”
“Would we scare the guests?” Syl Vor asked with interest.
“Well, you scare me,” Sheyn told him. “Now get outta here, and don’t break noth- anything, all right? Just…read or something until the rest get in.”
“All right,” Syl Vor agreed sunnily, and led the way down the hall.
The lights were on, though the room was empty. It was also cold, Kezzi thought, as if the hearth hadn’t been properly banked overnight. Beside her, Syl Vor shivered.
“There’s a breeze,” he said. “I wonder if someone left the back door open.”
He crossed the room with purposeful strides, and Kezzi, interested in the existence of this back door, followed him out of the room and down a short hallway.
At the end of the hallway a door was open, showing tarmac and shadows beyond.
“Ain’t got it,” a boy’s voice said, sounding breathless. “I’ll bring it soon as I can—”
“You was supposed to bring it today,” another voice interrupted.
“I told you! I ain’t—”
There was a sound, like Droi’s palm striking Vylet’s cheek, a grunt—and Syl Vor was through the door.
Kezzi stared at the place he had been and did not follow. This was some quarrel between gadje and nothing to do with her. If Syl Vor wanted to involve himself, then he could! He was gadje, but such an argument had nothing to do with her, a Bedel.
“Peter—stop,” Syl Vor’s voice was perfectly calm, and it was—it was Pete he was challenging? Pete, who was three times his mass and twice his height? Had he lost his mind?
Somebody laughed—not Pete, because it was Pete who said, “You gonna make me, Syl Vor?”
“If I must, but there should be no need. Rudy, come inside with me.”
Worse and worse! Rudy was no friend of Syl Vor’s; he was—
“No bidness of yours, Boss’ Brat. Go back inside yourself!”
