Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  The dark Tower door closed, and I headed back to the Cloister with male cream gradually staining the crotch of my leathers. I received the message by pellet that I’d just missed my check-in.

  Elder D’Shea was very annoyed with me.

  CHAPTER 4

  “By the metal web, Sirana, what have you done?”

  I drew a blank card on how to answer that question. The Elder Sorceress held me in her quarters after instructing I speak to no one in the Cloister and not stop until I reached her. She had commanded me to stand still in the center of her floor after lining up all my equipment on her workbench. I had, wearing only my shirt, leathers, and boots. She had walked around me three times as if she wasn’t clear in what she saw. Whatever it was, I couldn’t see it.

  “You’ve been fucking a mage,” she answered her own question as a growl. “Pull down your leathers, novice. Now.”

  I reached for the ties at my hips, noting with a dry smile that my crotch tingled at the demand. “You can tell just by looking, Elder?”

  “I can. A powerful enough sorceress or Priestess can, Sirana, if she knows how to spot it.”

  Good to know.

  She scowled deeply, dark red eyes snapping with her words as I pushed my leathers down to mid-thigh.

  “Bend over.”

  I obeyed, but tried to speak. “Elder, I drank a—”

  “Silence.”

  Her finger slipped between my netherlips with ease; she pressed in, and her touch was examination only. She murmured something, but I felt no magical effect. She tested the stretched gusset of my pants. She said, “Did I not instruct you to find release only among Sisters, Sirana?”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “Did you imagine the order had simply expired? Or that I had forgotten to lift the restriction?”

  I had probably convinced myself of one or both of those things, yes. “No, Elder.”

  She probed my ass with a dry finger and I flinched; she didn’t bother to murmur an arcane word that time. She sounded incredulous.

  “Semen in your cunt, Sirana? Is this deliberate insubordination?”

  “No, Elder,” I said with force, thinking I should believe it myself before anyone else could. “Not to you.”

  The Sorceress gave me a narrowed, dangerous look. “Pull up your leathers and explain, novice. Report.”

  Relieved to hear this, I reseated them without delay. She was ready to listen, and my bare ass and sensitive parts wouldn’t be exposed the entire time. Yet another difference between her and the Prime, who was at the center of my fear and my decision, if I were truthful.

  “I spoke with the Consort again,” I began. “I confirmed his cooperation for the time being, confirmed he is willing to keep secrets from Priestess Wilsira as he does not have strong loyalty to her. He’s agreed to answer any question truthfully for any Red Sister, as far as he knows it.”

  “Oh?” she said blandly. “Why? In exchange for what, and what proof do you have?”

  “Nothing tangible on either account,” I said tightly. “He said…he desired me but is afraid Wilsira could detect his dalliance—” I blinked as a thought struck me. “The Consort told me that Wilsira would be able to tell if he fucked females outside House Itlaun. Why he wouldn’t risk it with me. He begged me not to force him.”

  D’Shea’s nose wrinkled. “So, he has meat between his ears as well as his legs. Yes, that one is a stronger mage, and mature enough to show it.”

  “How?” I asked. “How does that work? What are you seeing that I can’t?”

  My Elder shook her head. “Finish your report, Sirana. I recall giving you this objective, but why do you believe him now? Why should I? Consorts survive by telling a Matron what she wishes to hear. They perfect the craft. I see no reason to trust his word here.”

  “If it were just words, I wouldn’t, either, Elder, but it was much more. His whole body. His scent, his tone, his heartbeat. You understand reading beneath Court veneer, Elder.”

  “Did you touch him?”

  “Yes. And kissed him.” I paused. “He liked it. Even if he put on a show for me, he still liked it enough to offer me the exchange if only I wouldn’t keep doing it or push him farther.”

  D’Shea paused. “Did you ‘like’ it?”

  I hesitated then grinned. Fuck it. “If I were offered both his pretty mouth and your wine, Elder, I’d get drunk on him first.”

  A roll of my Elder’s eyes. “Charming aside. And you obliged him by walking away. I assume you went to find another bua then, since you can’t have your Consort.”

  “Yes, Elder. Callitro at the Wizard’s Tower.”

  The Sorceress watched me steadily. “Is that whose semen you have inside you?”

  “Yes, Elder. Only his.” A pause. “I haven’t found the invisible wizard yet, but I will.”

  So many thoughts passed behind her eyes that I kept talking.

  “Headmaster Phaelous gave me an infertility draught as soon as I arrived,” I said. “I was not allowed to enter without drinking it. He said that was how he protected his students, and it only lasts half a cycle.”

  D’Shea’s jaw firmed up and she shook her head in disappointment once again. “Do not believe everything the Headmaster tells you, Sirana. He is known for lulling females into a false sense of safety. His loyalty is only to the Valsharess. Drink no more potions of his making.”

  “Callitro will be crafting me a ring,” I blurted. “I’d like to claim it. I want to go back. I’ll just use my mouth and ass, no cunt.”

  “Phaelous will not allow you in without magical protection, Sirana. Too much risk.”

  “You can order him to let me in, can’t you, Elder?”

  Again, the Sorceress shook her head, and with how harshly her face tightened, I believed she would uniformly deny any and all goals I had toward that Tower. I felt my resistance rise, already listening for ways around her coming edict. D’Shea seemed to notice my expression and frowned in more thought than disapproval; she reconsidered what she’d been about to say. She moved her hands from her hips to the small of her back, drawing in a long breath to release quietly. My own shoulders lowered some, and I waited.

  “Rausery warned me you’d seek release outside the Cloister sooner than some recruits,” she said, lifting her chin. “So be it. If you intend to receive a new magic item from Callitro, you shall need to return to the Tower. You will coordinate those visits with me from now on, and I shall give you a prevention potion to drink in front of Phaelous, so you may decline his.”

  My heartbeat had quickened to hear this, and I tried to pick a question. You knew? You have them? Or can make them?

  I asked, “Will he be able to tell what it is, Elder?”

  “With a glance, yes. It shall be what I tell you it is. Nothing more, nothing less.” She paused to let me absorb that. “What is Callitro making for you?”

  My face flushed. “I…don’t know. Something to help in a fight. He suggested a ring.”

  D’Shea began to smirk. “You had nothing in mind when you asked?”

  “I wanted his cock, Elder. I reported to you that he had made the offer half a turn ago at the Worship Ball.”

  “At least you’re being truthful.”

  My Elder scanned me head to toe, appraising… something.

  “Should I continue my report, Elder?” I asked.

  “I don’t need a blow-by-blow of your rutting, child. Was there anything of particular interest that either Callitro or Phaelous said or did that I should know?”

  I thought back. Callitro, nothing; I’d pounced and pushed him past the point of any coherent gossip. Neither of us had cared for anything but coupling. Phaelous had barely spoken after negotiating the infertility draught and being assured I wasn’t there to cripple or kill any of them.

  “Mm. The Headmaster asked me to send his regards to my Elder.”

  Her jaw tightened again, and she exhaled through her nose. Clea
rly, she didn’t think well of him, and I wondered if I’d just delivered a subtle taunt? I could even see the two being rivals, in a way, but dared not ask about it.

  “Is that all?” she asked with an edge.

  I didn’t feel like explaining the motives that sped me toward the Tower after visiting Auslan: the possibility of the Prime ordering my first rape of a bua after the one to kill my Sisters; the confusion of losing myself while wearing the Feldeu and expecting to repeat it multiple times while under study.

  I hadn’t even mentioned that I had named my Consort, and that he had accepted.

  Insubordinate, secret-keeping, Dwarf-fucker…

  “Very well,” the Elder Sorceress announced, moving to don her red cloak and begin making a pack of items from her mage’s closet. “Gear up, Sister. You will escort me through the spyways until we reach the Sanctuary.”

  I paused mid-reach for my bracer. “Sanctuary?”

  “Yes.” She observed me in silence until I attached my bracer. “It is time for you to speak with Lelinahdara again. You have several demons distracting you now after Jilrina was exorcized. We shall observe where your mind is at presently.”

  Damn. That was fast.

  D’Shea led me as close as possible to the Priestess’ quarters before we climbed out of the spyways into a storage room and then slipped out into the hall on the sixth floor of the Sanctuary. Lelinahdara had been expecting us; there was no delay sliding inside despite the masking spell of my Elder.

  I smelled incense lingering everywhere, many different scents shared over time, and it reminded me of Qivni. The Priestess before me wore her purple robes with the silver thread, but not all the jewelry and heirlooms as when she’d been performing before the Sisterhood—both my trial and the Ornilleth battle.

  She was tidying up a mirrored vanity when we entered, the door sliding shut behind us. My eyes couldn’t help drifting over it, displaying a mix of beautifying items and others I guessed were spell components. Otherwise, they made no sense being there. The rest of the room resembled D’Shea’s quarters in the Cloister more than I cared to think about, but with many more shelves for scrolls and shuffled notes. Lelinahdara turned to my Elder and smiled, bowing her head.

  “Varessa. A pleasure as always.”

  “Tarra.”

  Those strange, green eyes flicked my way. “And, Sirana. Again.”

  “As I informed you,” D’Shea answered with stiff patience.

  Tarra grinned. “Yes, but I’m still not certain what you described, or what I am to do for her.”

  “It was your magic which snared the Dwarf’s mind. We require your insight.”

  Nope.

  I’d have been content with leaving right then, the moment the Priestess shrugged her shoulders and claimed she didn’t grasp our point in being here. A few more exchanges like this, and I spotted a Court-like ritual between them, and a familiar one; oddly indirect, coaxing, flattering. I’d always been bored by these exchanges before, but after my initiation and training in the Sisterhood, that feeling fruited tenfold in my chest.

  Goddess damn it…

  I stood at attention and waited for it to end. Eventually, Lelinahdara stepped closer to peer at me. I looked back, meeting emerald eyes.

  “My spell snared him,” she repeated softly, fascinated. “Braqth’s Blessing protected you when otherwise you would have been another simple mind-death like Feini and Berayne.”

  Hardly simple. My stomach quivered from the memory of the Prime’s blade.

  I stared at the Priestess directly, not caring if I challenged my betters. She knew what had formed my youth. Lelinahdara had stripped me of all mental protection upon her altar, had left me that quivering mass in heat out in the tunnels.

  Only to be reformed into …something else. Now D’Shea wanted her to strip me down again, to learn how that twitched as well.

  ~Never again…~

  “Let us sit her down, Varessa,” Tarra said. “I shall examine her. Did you bring the catalyst?”

  “I did. Sirana, leathers down to your boots as you sit.”

  “Elder,” I protested a last-instant appeal.

  The Sorceress acknowledged my expression only by stepping up close and mouthing words which weren’t even a whisper, yet I understood. “We must learn more. Or no shield from the Prime.”

  Lelinahdara would not have been able to read lips from this angle. This was between us. Rather than making my Elder appear weak in front of the Priestess, I obeyed her, drawing down my red bottoms and tucking them just beneath my knees as I sat in the padded, armless chair offered.

  From her satchel D’Shea removed the large Feldeu—the very same one I’d worn to know my first cunt—and nudged my pants farther down, tapping my knees wider. I scooted my ass to the edge of the chair without being told. D’Shea caressed my slit gently, testing the moisture. Callitro’s presence could still be felt, and she used that to her advantage. Within moments I grunted, the hard bulb again lodged inside me, and Tarra chuckled as she observed us.

  “Such strange creatures the Sisterhood makes,” she remarked as my Elder tested the fit and angle of my cock.

  “Where is your Sathoet, great Priestess?” I muttered.

  D’Shea’s mouth twitched at one corner, and she stroked my netherlips wrapped snugly around the phallus. It felt very pleasant, encouraging. Had I just amused her?

  “Where he always is,” Tarra said, blithe and aloof.

  “Oh?” I leaned. “Hidden behind purple robes?”

  D’Shea cleared her throat before we could bicker. “Ready, Tarra?”

  Those green eyes narrowed at me. “Shouldn’t we bind her, Varessa?”

  “No. That only makes it worse.”

  “If you say…”

  “I do say.”

  She could.

  D’Shea focused on me, the large toy resting in her hand. “Yemennija.”

  Scalding magic flooded my guts, and I gasped as the Feldeu retook its hold on me. Without pause, D’Shea stroked it for me, and I whimpered in pleasure.

  “Ready,” the Sorceress said.

  “Very well,” Lelinahdara replied, as she thumbed a simple, silver ring on her right hand and stepped closer. “Now, show me this Tragar seared into your mind, Sirana. Let me in as you did before upon my altar. Don’t fight.”

  ~Ha.~

  She laid her right palm across my forehead. Green eyes stared directly into mine. A memory of Kain’s blank, white eyes narrowed back at us.

  ~Challenge, ulkhein? Understood.~

  I heard the thought rise as I struggled to keep myself afloat. It still sounded like me.

  “Shunvil ssigris dosst,” the Priestess intoned.

  The ring on her finger struck like a dart stabbing into my skull. I flinched as magical claws ripped at the air between us, lunging forward. I blinked, aware I still gripped the padding of the chair, my erection trembling in the open air. I was surprised how soon the sensation stopped. From the look on the Priestess’s face, so was she.

  The Tragar chuckled deep in the dark.

  Tarra neither took her eyes from me nor let her guard down after she lost the spell, proving herself a competent mage, at least. She removed her hand from my head, folding them together in front of her. “I asked you not to resist, Sirana.”

  “Can’t do it,” I said. “You want it, Priestess, you earn it.”

  “Old habits won’t help you now.” Tarra tilted her head. “I am the Sanctuary liaison with the Sisterhood, your Elder’s ally. I am not your enemy. Varessa would rather I not harm you by forcing this.”

  “Try,” I growled, my body shivering. I stared; I pictured how much less intimidating she’d be without those robes. Just another naked, dark-skinned Elf.

  All can be stripped naked. Some way, any time.

  The Priestess frowned at my rebellious expression. “You want to learn more about what my ritual did to you, do you not?”

 
“Not really.”

  “Regardless, you must yield to avoid injury.”

  “You could suck my cock instead.”

  A pause. Quiet enough for me to wonder what was wrong with me.

  “Varessa?” the Priestess asked nonspecifically as she checked that I kept my own hands in place. Maybe we shared the thought that I’d want to strangle her.

  D’Shea smirked a little. “This isn’t the Dwarf. I believe Sirana speaks without barrier.”

  Tarra shook her head. “If that is so, you must temper her behavior. Any other Priestess will be eager to break such defiance. You know it.”

  “She’s not stupid, Tarra, but I believe the Feldeu makes the old harm worse.”

  “Should we remove it to continue?”

  “That’s one way. She suggested another.”

  After a pregnant pause in which I grinned, my Elder shrugged. “Red Sisters get dirty making their discoveries.”

  The Priestess sounded chilly in her reply. “As do the Daughters of Braqth, Elder.”

  “It’s your magic,” D’Shea repeated. “Explore its aftereffects while it’s at the surface. There is no formal ritual to follow here, but surely, you’ve not forgotten the arcane already. I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “Yeah, Tarra,” I rumbled, lifting my hips to present my pole. “Explore it while you can.”

  Lelinahdara’s green eyes crackled with insult. “You act possessed because you believe you can avoid the consequence. You’re not clever, Sirana, I have seen it many times.”

  “I don’t care.”

  As I scowled, my shaking became visible even to me; I couldn’t stop. My Elder reached down to gently stroke my huge phallus, and the soft leather of her grip claimed my focus. I sucked in with astonishment and then sighed. Goddess, how much that helped the tension! I’d been developing a headache without realizing it.

  My Elder leaned and kissed me lightly on the mouth, and I returned it on impulse. I liked that she smiled.

  “See?” D’Shea said, keeping her soft voice. “Bend a little with her, and she will yield. Force her to bend, and she whips back to strike your face. The only other response is to cut down her will, and I’ll not allow you to make her useless to me. You want to know as much as I do. I need never have told you about her trial after your involvement.”