Chapter VIII #2
“I am no altruist.” She bit the head off another asparagus stalk. “I anticipate heavy lifting in the coming year. I am feeding you up so that you do not feel like making a meal out of me when I ask too much of you.”
His mouth lifted in a momentary smile, but their conversation died there.
She suspected their awkwardness, rather than lack of things to say, had been the killer.
For her part, she possessed a thousand and one questions all begging to be asked.
The campfire stories of the Fir’Darl varied on so many points that she had no idea what to believe.
The Fir’Darl twined himself in their histories of the Great Persecution, the Varnasian kings, the Rivan Prince, and their prophecies until he had become so integral a deity that he overshadowed the stories themselves.
The questions overwhelmed her, but she behaved herself, eating with him in silence as if dining with one of her gods happened daily. She supposed now it might.
They addressed the buttery after their meal.
The Fir’Darl used it as a food storage facility for the carcasses of animals he had not divested of meat.
The bodies hung along hooks only someone of his stature would be able to reach without aid.
He did not keep much, enough to get him through a week on starvation rations.
When she asked him why the buttery had been locked, he explained it was to keep wild animals from entering.
He adjusted the magic on the door to enable her access whenever she wished.
“Y keep no locked doors yn the whole of the grounds,” he explained as they finished their explorations of his storage and ascended the stairs again.
“Except my room,” she added, following behind him.
She watched his back, fur-covered like the rest of him, his chest and abdominal scars from the front wrapping around his side and spreading out across one side of his back like many tendrils of lightning up to his shoulder blade and down below the line of his trousers.
Along his spine, darker luxurious fur, the color of his hair, traveled from beneath his hair to under the band of his bottoms. All her studies ended there.
“Nay, thy room locketh not. Thou mayest wysh to lock yt and thou canst do such, but ‘tis not locked. ‘Tis barred to me, that thou mayest have complete pryvacie.”
“Your room is not locked?”
“Nay, my rooms remayneth accefsible, but Y woldest request that yf thou wyshest to explore, thou woldest ask.”
That was courtesy, but that he did not keep his own doors barred surprised her.
“Do you not care for your privacy?”
He reached the top of the stairs and allowed her to pass before closing the door.
“Thou mayest thynk of yt as one of two ways — Y pofsefs no pryvacie or else mooste tyme Y pofsefs more pryvacie than any creature needeth.”
She had spent only a few days here alone, or at least she had believed she was alone, prior to meeting the Fir’Darl.
In that time, though she found peace and delight in the unexpected luxuries and sense of safety, the fortress always retained a haunted atmosphere.
She could now account for the sensation of something otherworldly dogging her steps, but with him beside her, she still maintained the impression of something else listening.
The Fir’Darl, though frightening to look at and terrifying in concept, did not give the fortress its eeriness.
A year with him here sounded like an intolerable price, but she began to appreciate his company.
She found his conversation genial and his manner easy.
A year alone on the other hand, such as she imagined he had spent many, would drive her to madness.
Their shared breakfast platter had been removed by the time she moved beyond him into the kitchen. She ran her hand over the spot.
“Determyne thy need for thy jars and whan known, Y shall have them for thee yf pofsyble.” He moved around his side of the table, keeping distance between them and heading towards the doorway. “Y take my leave, Rivani.”
“No, wait,” she blurted and then flushed because she had not meant to keep him for anything specific. She enjoyed the light conversation even if all she wanted to do was ask penetrating questions.
“Didst thou have further need of me?”
“No.” She took a step toward him. “Will I see you tonight for dinner?”
“Y thynk yt best that Y not joyn thee tonyght.”
“Tomorrow then, to break our fasts?”
She refused to let him leave without setting some time that they would see each other. She wanted the groundedness of the company. She had spoken to her horse before in her solitude. The Fir’Darl would have to do for now. When he did not respond, she crossed her arms.
“I will not give up, you realize. You requested my company. I mean to make you endure it.”
“Yf thou desyrest, thanne yn two days Y shall joyn thee to break our fasts.”
His day had not gone the way he planned.
Indeed, his morning exceeded his expectations in every possible way.
Better yet, She had not interrupted although he anticipated it.
Perhaps he had been wise not to accept the Rivani’s offer of sharing dinner as that might have caused Her to comment.
He stopped his progress when a hand twined in his hair.
She may not have commented, but She noticed.
There would be a price for what happened.
He sighed, the noise coming out like a growl as he sat on his haunches.
He glanced back to the fortress to see how much distance he had put between him and the kitchens, hoping this would not be witnessed by the Rivani.
“What woldest Thou have of me?”
You need to ask Me for jars, do you not? She purred in his ear. Or did the Rivani have you so addlepated as to make you forget already?
“For her, Thy Magyc addrefseth yt freelie. Y need not ask Thee for such.”
The intangible hand ran down his cheek in a seductive caress.
Pity, She said. I enjoy it when you are in My debt. You fight yourself in submitting so beautifully. However, I may have to visit you anyway. You know better than to benefit from the Magic here.
“Y dyd not ask.” He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat as his cheeks burned. “Y dyd not suggest yt. Y dyd not ymply that Y should lyke to share wyth her. She ynvyteth me. She expresslie consenteth and affirmeth that Y dyd not coerce.”
Her caresses ceased. He waited, breath caught, praying to the gods that had long ago abandoned him that She would spare him. After long moments of nothing, he attempted to resume his wanderings. She caught him by the throat. He gasped, but did not fight.
Her non-voice laughed in his ear. Do not grow too comfortable. You must confess yourself still which will put an end to any little spark of hope you may have. And if she still stays afterward...Well, I will just have to make things interesting and see how much of a monster she can tolerate.
His reprieve turned into a promised threat.
His heart sank. He would change again. What he would lose this time?
The hooves hobbled him for months afterward and although he had been able to resume walking upright, they still caused him to take greater comfort on all fours.
The horns started small, like the velvet antlers of young bucks, until one morning he almost could not raise his head for the added weight.
Scars crossed his scalp from that unanticipated change.
“Prithee,” he asked, “she sycketh at fyrst syght of me. Pray, no more. Whan she leaves, Y styll must bear what Thou ynflyctest.”
Precisely, she said. That is the idea. Fear not because it will happen whether you fear it or not.
“Dost Thou yntend to contynue to ynterrupt whan Y am yn her companie?”
Is it distracting? I have so much to say when you are in possession of your faculties that I cannot control Myself.
“Thou pofsefsest plentie of tyme to comment to me whan Y am yn solytude and yn sleep.” He growled deep in his throat.
And it is not the same! I do so enjoy seeing you torn between your duty to Me and your desire to give her your attention.
There was a pause. You may not need Me now, but your guest does, doesn’t she?
When you cease to owe Me anything, then I will no longer require your conversation or nightly attentions.
The heaviness lifted. The pressure on his throat dissipated.
If they stopped using the Magic altogether...
He could never have done it with the others, but the Rivani might be capable. Just maybe, magic could become a thing of the past.