by A. S. Etaski
“What’s that?” I demanded, though it was already cooling.
“That’s good, Red Sister,” he reassured me. “It just harmonized with your aura. It’ll recognize you now and will fit well no matter if your fingers are swollen or not.”
“Alright,” I said. “Now share why I’m wearing this.”
Callitro rubbed his mouth, paying less attention to my naked body and his sated prick as he considered his own magical theory. “Well, it’s not quite finished, it still needs more testing. The Headmaster has been helping me with it, since it’s my first serious craft and, uhm, intended for one of the Sisterhood.”
I adjusted my question. “What do you want it to do, once it’s finished?”
“Give you a true aim when you really need it,” he said.
“Huh? When I really—?” I thought about it. “So, not all the time.”
Callitro shook his head, looking shy. “No, I’m not yet skilled enough to create items which offer continuous enhancement when worn, and those that do get made are only commissioned and awarded by the Valsharess, the Prime, or the High Priestess, anyway. But once this is working right, it’ll be useful to you, Red Sister, just as you asked. I only need my Headmaster and your Elder’s permission for you to keep it, if it passes inspection.”
I had forgotten my own nudity by this point, unabashedly curious about a lot of things now. “Continuous enhancement?”
I need permission?
“Wait,” I interrupted myself, “how many wizards here can make magic items?”
“Well… all of us. Mostly potions and spell-gems for the Nobles and army.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I mean things like you’re describing. Something we wear that lasts a long time, for many uses.”
Like the fucking Feldeu.
Callitro grimaced. “Um. I don’t know exactly. I only just got started. I was interested before and now have a reason.”
I squinted my eyes skeptically.
“We aren’t all taught in the same room, Red Sister,” he tried to explain. “A lot of it is private study and coaching, and the older ones keep their mouths shut about things they make. If it’s powerful enough, there’s a gag rule attached, I know that much. I’d never know if a Noble or a Priestess or a Red Sister was wearing something one of the wizards here made for her, because he never brags about it.”
Frowning, I gave that some thought. Sadly, it didn’t take long for me to think of a reason for this type of training. “Blur the line for abduction,” I guessed, “any time a particular wizard is out of the Tower? Especially a battlemage?”
“That’s one reason,” Callitro agreed. “And keep the Houses from trying to use details like that to twist their status. If an item is made for the Valsharess, the Priesthood, or the Sisterhood, it doesn’t matter which House the wizard originally came from.”
I grinned. “And which one is—?”
I saw his change of expression, the instant hesitation and anxiety, and stopped without finishing a question which he’d be required to answer. It wasn’t supposed to matter anymore to me, either, yet I recalled thinking the same thing looking at Raegal and Shyntre without a second thought.
Always the way it had been before, the first question: Which House are you? Hmm. Bad habit I need to break.
I studied the ring on my finger. It was a simple but well-made piece. Only when I looked closely did I see tiny runes etched on its perfectly straight edges, running parallel to each other and framed by the darkness of my skin. For when I needed “true aim.”
I smiled, reaching to tug on the ring, asking a silent question. The young wizard nodded, and I easily slipped it off, handing it out to him.
“It sounds very useful, Callitro. I look forward to its completion.”
He breathed out, accepting it back with a warm smile. “Thank you, Red Sister. It’s an honor.”
“Mm-hmm,” I acknowledged, my smile growing to show teeth. “Would it be an honor to have a Red Sister teach you how to suck a cunt?”
He blinked in surprise at the hard shift in conversation. “I have ssuu…”
I leaned back on my elbows and parted my thighs, feet flat on the floor. Callitro stopped and gulped, his cheeks warming. “I mean, yes, Red Sister. It would.”
“Wonderful.” I bore down, squeezing some of his cum out to freshen the glaze on my netherlips. “Mnh. Want me to wipe down first or do you like it sopping nasty?”
He started at the white globule. “Uhm. I would relish bathing your mind-blowing cunt for you, Red Sister.”
I threw back my head in a laugh of delight. “Now you’re learning.”
Although, he was lucky; my Sisters didn’t give me the choice.
I opened my legs wider, scooting my butt closer to the edge. “Have at it, wizard. Prep it to your liking, because you’ll be there for a while.”
The summons finally arrived. My mouth was full of cock at the time.
“Red Sister, your Elder has called you back to the Cloister.”
Damn.
Callitro was very close, quivering on the tipping point as he kneeled above me with his prick halfway down my throat as he clutched my thighs and sucked devotedly on my crotch. I had already peaked twice from his mouth and had been working toward a third. Alas, I was too far to ignore the summons until I made it.
Callitro might as well, though.
I pushed a saliva-slick finger into his netherhole, surprising him, although I had milked his nut-gland once before. The battlemage cried out with his face still buried between my legs, and his hot seed spurted thick, gliding straight down my throat with me hardly tasting it. I rubbed that familiar spot inside his asshole a few more times, just to get those last shudders of ecstasy out of him. He pulled away voluntarily when he became too sensitive for me to continue.
“Red Sister?”
It was Shyntre.
“The Headmaster is unavailable to see you out, but you need to leave now.”
He sounded impatient in his endless, reluctant duties. What a sack.
I sighed audibly, lying askew on the bed, staring up at the decent height of the ceiling. “Coming!”
Callitro cleaned up and dressed as I did and beat me only because he didn’t have so many pieces to put on. He came with me to the door.
“I could see her out, Shyntre,” the battlemage offered, breathing deep and still a bit unkempt. He looked adorable; my chest puffed up with pride.
The older bua made a face. “I would take you up on it, given the option. Sorry, you stay here and stay quiet. Like before.”
Callitro pursed his lips, breathing a sigh out his nose, and looked at me. He grasped for some type of farewell but was careful to say anything about our visit with the door open to the hall. Small wonder, as I heard a few others open around the circular level.
Subtle.
I grinned and tugged on Callitro’s forelock of hair that had escaped his tie. “I’ll be back.”
The bua smiled at me, and that had to be good enough for both of us.
I left with Shyntre to go to the jump circle. After we stepped inside and before he could concentrate, I said, “You need a bath.”
He blinked in surprise, tossed a scowl at me, and replied, “So do you, Red Sister.”
Goddess, he’s got spine. Not a glimpse of worry for the risk of insulting me.
I smirked and kept my mouth closed while he worked his magic, getting the both of us down to the main floor in two heartbeats which always seemed to last a bit longer. I gulped my stomach back into place and took a deep breath, waiting to see if I would puke.
“Rough trip,” I commented. “Still practicing?”
“Says the Sister who distracts the mage at a crucial moment.”
As Shyntre stepped out, his voice sounded odd. A little different from before; it wavered, like it wanted to be lower than Raegal.
I shrugged. “Like I said. Still practicing.”
I saw his fist close with irritation as the barb hit. He made as if to speak, coughed and touched his throat, then said nothing as he led me to the front door. I was still staring at his bare hand when we reached it, and he lifted his hand to place his palm upon some runes. I peered at his frowning, focused face as he cast a silent spell to open the door as easily as Phaelous.
Huh. So, this wizard could let me in, too.
He just wouldn’t want to.
“Sire teach you that?” I poked, trying to get him to speak again.
Shyntre stopped moving for a moment, drew in a slow breath and let it out as he chose not to reply. It took effort, I could tell. He stood at the door and bowed respectfully to me; it wasn’t bad, a solid effort, even though I knew he didn’t mean it. He signed with his hand.
*Your Elder summons you, Sister.*
Stubborn wizard.
There was plenty of space for me to leave; for how wide Shyntre had opened the door, two Sisters abreast could walk out comfortably, three, if a bit snug. But I noticed how the wizard hugged the frame, keeping back as if I had a disease, ready with his hand upon the panel. It was clear he was going to close it as soon as my bootheels cleared the line; he wanted me out, so he could go back to whatever it was he had been doing before I had arrived with the Dwarf stones.
I took a detour to the far right and came very close to him.
I said again. “I’ll be back to ask after those stones.”
He nodded but didn’t look at me, just the panel, and though I tried, I couldn’t hear his heartbeat this time.
“Hmph,” I grunted, finally stepping out.
That was when I caught a whiff of his real scent, not the spell he’d been using to mask it, and I froze in place. The door closed behind me, nearly catching my cloak as I whirled around. I heard nothing, then. The Cavern was silent as the wilderness after the spell locked into place.
My heart pounded in my chest as I stood with my mouth open. His voice returned to me, too. Recognized too late, but hinted at when his spell used to change it had broken down after that “distracted” trip through the jump circle.
The invisible wizard from my trial.
Shyntre. The Headmaster’s son.
Fuck!
CHAPTER 10
*What’s wrong?* Gaelan signed.
I jerked my hand. *Nothing. Can you show me again?*
She and Reishel exchanged a glance, and Gaelan demonstrated the proper motion to flick coughing powder with more precision and control than I had against the Tragar. I practiced with an inert equivalent, taking it from my belt and trying to tag a moving target without also enveloping myself.
Reishel smiled as she protected her eyes from the floating dust, coughing from simple irritation. *You’re getting it.*
*Again,* Gaelan instructed. *This time, we come from behind.*
I pursed my lips and nodded, somewhat satisfied.
But still distracted.
Gaelan ended up knocking the entire pouch from my hand.
“Fuck!” I hissed as she counted coup with a hard jab of her sheathed dagger.
I was dead. Sourly, I retrieved my pouch.
*Again?* Reishel asked, but Gaelan motioned against it.
*Not where her head is at,* the mage said. *We’re wasting our time.*
Neither of us argued, and Reishel asked me, *Where is your head?*
Gaelan guessed, *Either the novice in the Cloister or someone in the Wizard’s Tower.*
*Or both,* I grudgingly confirmed.
*Not the best place to be,* she signed wryly.
*Our Elder still hasn’t asked me about the latter!* I vented.
*It’s only been three cycles,* Reishel said.
*Yes, and Sivaraus goes on even with a new Sister to initiate,* Gaelan said. *The Sorceress is always busy anyway. What’s wrong? Ready to burst in the telling?*
I narrowed my eyes at her. Not an invitation, but fuck it. I checked around us. We weren’t far from the quiet cave where my Elder had debriefed me after my first mission of execution at my former House. I knew this place was difficult to find and had wards to warn us of approach, but I still didn’t want to talk out in the sparring area.
I exhaled and signed, *Crouch with me?*
My Sister nodded and motioned to Reishel, leading us into a protective gap where we couldn’t be seen if someone stumbled in, but we would see them. Gaelan didn’t even have to prompt me once we were there.
“Remember my trials in the candle chamber?” I whispered, and both nodded. “I found the wizard who force-fucked me. I remember his scent. His voice.”
All of it had come back in vivid detail while I had stood slack-jawed outside the door Shyntre had closed in my face. My head and heart had been furious, but my stupid cunt had been hot and aching to play rough again. I figured that response wouldn’t be a one-time thing, and it annoyed me to no end as I awaited D’Shea’s attention.
Reishel showed an innocent surprise while Gaelan’s eyes flicked to one side.
The former asked, “So? You can’t do permanent harm to the wizards.”
“Nothing permanent,” I repeated with a devious smirk.
“He was ordered by the Prime to participate, Sirana,” Gaelan said. “He couldn’t refuse.”
I sneered. “The bua enjoyed it too much.”
Gaelan’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. As much as a caged canurso enjoys being thrown scraps and then whipped until he eats them.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Him, a hunter?”
Gaelan shrugged then shook her head. “Could’ve been one, maybe, if he’d been born a cait.”
“You know who he is?”
My elder Sister bit her lip, glancing at Reishel as if passing the question to her.
“That was Phaelous’ son, right?” she said, crossing her arms with a casualness that looked genuine. “I heard he has a temper but rarely gets put in his place because he’s a Priestess favorite.”
“Which Priestess?” I asked with interest. That matched what he’d said about “catching up” after coming back from the Sanctuary.
Reishel shifted. “Erm. I don’t know. Maybe more than one.”
Bit of a slut, then.
Gaelan looked at her, shrugged noncommittally, then her eyes were back on me. “I’ve never spoken with him, just watched your trial. It was the only time I’ve heard his voice. I still don’t know his face.”
“Either of you know which House he came from?” I asked. “Which Matron or Noble bore him?”
They shook their heads. Disappointingly, I had to believe them as neither of them had been Nobles before the Sisterhood. They wouldn’t have been to Court or been in position to hear much gossip about bloodlines.
“What do you want from D’Shea once you tell her?” Reishel asked curiously.
That was the frustrating part. At first, I thought the satisfaction of discovering him and receiving praise from my Elder in tracking him down would be enough. I already knew it wasn’t, but I didn’t know what to ask next. I had promised to play with him, to pay him back in my time, but the difficulty and distraction of that was significant and less desirable now than it had been at the time.
I have much more to which I should pay attention. I’m walking a fine line with both Elders, and they protect me from the Prime. The Dwarf stones, Callitro’s ring… I have reasons and excuses to visit, but what to do, now knowing both much more and still not enough about him? No wonder D’Shea was smiling like that.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Maybe forget it, then,” she suggested.
I ground my teeth. “Maybe.”
Not likely.
“Can we practice holds instead?” I asked.
We were back to the Cloister in time for more tasks, more chores, more shoveling down “dung-spread fiberstalk” in the Mess Hall. The food was warm, at least, if not inspired.
Gaelan, Reishel, and I received our first in
terrogation mission together from Elder Rausery, who hooked us coming out of mess, asking us to step into her quarters. I took a deep whiff when we arrived but didn’t smell Jael here recently.
“Servant’s been softened up,” the General said, seeming to think about three other things as she briefed us. “Paranoid, catching a glimpse of red here and there. Fairly sure she saw whoever grabbed their healer. Get what you can out of her. A name or symbol would be great.”
“Yes, Elder.”
On our way out, as we collected our gear in a stock room, I commented, “Didn’t know Matron Shenpra had a healer.”
The House was Fourteenth, only two below mine.
Gaelan nodded, focused on her hands. “A bua. Her nephew. You don’t hear about the ones that can heal by touch instead of brewing. Otherwise this happens.”
Reishel nodded. “Almost guaranteed that another House abducted him. He’ll be buried deep by now. Whoever’s got him will try to warp him to serve only her. It’s a short window before he’s broken and useless to everyone.”
And the Sisterhood is looking for him. I pursed my lips. We were only one small team, available for some less urgent branch of the investigation, but we might get lucky.
“If his House can’t hold him,” I asked, “why are we being sent to get him back for them? He’ll just get grabbed again, now that someone knows.”
“We’re not bringing him back,” Gaelan said, keeping her eyes on the floor. “The Elders will take him to the Valsharess if he still has a mind, and then She will probably give him to the Priestesses. There’s a reason they call them ‘divine healers.’”
“He’ll never go home,” Reishel added. “I can count the number of touch-menders who’ve been born in my lifetime on one hand.”
“That you know about,” I added.
Her smile was grim. “All of them are in the Sanctuary now, and of Noble blood.”
“Huh. Nobody really important, I take it?”
