Message-ID: <6800eli$9712291116@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Remmelt de Haan Subject: Carlin (3/6) (no sex, plot) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199712272000.VAA24378@kosterix.icce.rug.nl> Arrival in Carlin It was a bright and cheerful afternoon that brought Gdansk, Miriam and Dlanor in Carlin. The guards at the gates were in a good mood and let them pass without so much as passing glance. They passed wagons loaded with barrels and sacks, driven by men with smiles on their faces. Children were playing leap-frog in the streets. A fruit peddler leaned against his cart and talked to a couple of street sweepers. A far cry from the cities in the north, where life became grimmer with each passing border skirmish and bandit raid. They passed a number of buildings before Gdansk reined in his horse at a large inn. Sunlight was reflecting off the heavy sign which depicted a beholderkin with seven eyes on short stalks. It was as if one of the eyes blinked at them. They dismounted and stretched their legs. Gdansk opened the front door and stepped inside. A tall and spindly man with a beard approached him. His eyes were like those of a raven, sizing Gdansk up and classifying him: wealthy, authoritative, wealthy, easy-going, respectful and wealthy. "Welcome, traveller, to the Bouncing Beholder. I am Jarvis." "Gdansk of Corinth. Me and my group of friends require seven rooms. For a week." Jarvis broke out in a big smile. The cleric hadn't asked about the rate. "You will have our best rooms. They will be available in a few minutes. Is there anything else? Something to eat or drink?" Gdansk held up his palm and suggested: "Our horses..?" Jarvis nodded vigorously and called a stable boy. Miriam and Dlanor entered and they sat down at a large table near the corner. They ordered grapes and a carafe of cooled water, which was served by a young girl with short blond hair. Dlanor smiled and thanked her and threw her a sovereign. Gods, it was sure nice to be able to throw money around again, he mused. After Gdansk poured their glasses, Miriam, who noticed Dlanor following the girl with his eyes, quipped: "See anything you like, Dlanor?" The mage didn't even take his eyes off of the girl, as she disappeared into the kitchen. "Yeees," he said slowly. "In three, four years she's going to be a heart-breaker." He lifted his glass and studied it in the light. "Look at this glass... high quality. Is everyone in this town well-to-do?" He glanced at his companions who stared at him. "What... what is it?" "You're not going after her? Did I hear that right?" Gdansk said in a voice strained with disbelief. Miriam leaned over and looked at him, worriedly. "Are you coming down with something, Dlanor?" "Of course not!" he burst out. "What do you think I..." His voice faltered and squinted. His friends burst out in laughter. Dlanor took a swig of the water and tried to look indignant. "That look on your face is priceless, my friend," Gdansk smiled as he tapped the rim of his glass against Miriam's. "At least you didn't bet this time," Dlanor muttered. He groaned as Miriam fished a gold coin from her purse and gave it to the priest, who was now broadly grinning. "You were right, Dance," she said. "He /did/ fall for that again." They were still chuckling when a young man entered the inn and walked straight to their table. He wore the robe with the white stripe, the mark of an apprentice. "Gdansk of Corinth?" The priest put his glass down and slowly turned round. "Yes?" The apprentice kneeled before him and recited: "His Holiness Talken Tobit, High Priest of Carlin, requests your presence in a formal hearing. This hearing will commence forthwith upon your acceptance of this message." Gdansk glanced at Miriam, who avoided his eyes. The knuckles of her hand were white from gripping the glass. He stood up and started blessing the apprentice, while gathering his thoughts. The message was a thinly disguised order, the words 'request' and 'acceptance' notwithstanding. It would be a session with closed doors, otherwise the acolyte would've told him what the hearing was about. Perhaps there hadn't been time for that, or things weren't as bad they looked. "I accept your message," he said. The apprentice stood up and said: "I will take you to the hearing forthwith." Dlanor had watched the entire exchange and observed Miriam. Something important had just happened. Whatever it was, given her pale face, it was not very good news. "A few moments," Gdansk told the apprentice. He turned and gave his purse to Dlanor. "Pay the innkee..." "Forthwith," the apprentice interrupted him. Gdansk froze. So did Miriam. Dlanor felt a sudden urge to pull the little bastard over the table, but realized it probably would make matters worse. "Pay the innkeeper, my friend," Gdansk said softly. He emptied his glass and took his robe. He avoided the apprentice haughty look. "Let's go." Miriam grabbed his wrist as he turned to go. They embraced and she whispered in his ear: "Brother, I believe in you." Gdansk stroked her hair and sighed. He looked at Dlanor and hand signalled in Korinthian caster's cant: care for her while I am gone. The mage nodded. Gdansk let go of Miriam and followed the apprentice. As soon as had they left the inn, Dlanor asked: "What was the meaning of that?" Miriam sagged back in her chair and swallowed visibly. "They found out," she said. The heavy door slammed shut. Adhering to protocol, Gdansk kept his eyes to the rough obsidian floor. He didn't have to look around to know the interior of this chamber looked like. Every temple of Eesyan had one. It was invariable a dusky chamber with a heigh ceiling. The sparse light would fall through four narrow windows two feet below the ceiling. The black floor echoed his footsteps as he approached the pillow which lay in the center of the room. He knelt and folded his hands, still looking down. He knew what he would see should he look up. The high oak table with seven seats. Every Temple had one. As an acolyte he had sandscraped one of these, a task of days since the legs, twelve in number, were over five feet long. The seven seats were for the group of priests presiding the hearing. Headed by the local High-Priest, this group was chosen in secrecy each year at New Year's Eve. Little was known about this panel, except that they handed out punishments to priests who strayed from the Book. They were simply known as 'the Chamber'. The High-Priest opened the hearing by quoting catechism. "We stand before Eesyan today and read His words. The Word is Reason and Reason begets Order." His voice was high-pitched and wheezy. An affliction to the lungs, perhaps, Gdansk thought. Or he simply might be a heavy smoker. "Gdansk of Korinth, two weeks ago, in the Town of Par Zedek, you blessed and united a couple in marriage. Were you aware of the fact that the woman was expecting?" More formalities. The woman in question had been expecting for seven months. Their informers must have relayed that detail along with their report so they knew his answer before he spoke. "Yes, Your Holiness," he answered. Whether it was plain magic or a trick of architecture he didn't know, but his voice didn't carry like the High-Priest's. "Also, one week ago in the City of Liantral, did you interfere with the law by aiding an Orc criminal?" "Yes, Your Holiness," Gdansk said again. It had been a Half-Orc, hungry and desperate for food. And it had been Miriam who had blocked the door from the guards, who hadn't dared to touch a priest of Eesyan, even if it was a Junior Sister. But as Senior he was responsible for his sister's actions and therefore their spies had named him. "Before this panel announces its verdict, speak before Eesyan if you must." At this time in the hearing the suspect had the opportunity to say a few words to explain his or her actions. Not that it would make a difference because the suspect was already found guilty, or the hearing wouldn't have been scheduled in the first place. "I saw suffering, Your Holiness," Gdansk said simply. The High-Priest paused, apparently expecting more from him, but Gdansk, suddenly tired of this hearing and its protocol, lapsed into silence. "This panel finds you guilty on both counts. You have broken your vows to the Temple and Eesyan and have behaved in a manner not befitting your stature. We send you back to Korinth to atone for your deeds. You will report to the Master Scribe for menial duty." Copying scrolls, Gdansk thought. That could've been worse. "Furthermore, you are stripped of the Right of Assistance, per direct. Your assistent will..." A thunderous storm had suddenly started inside him, blotting out the rest of the words. The semi-darkness and his wide robe hid his trembling hands. They had found the perfect punishment; in other words, they had hit him where it hurt. Miriam. Dlanor hummed a little tune as he strolled towards the harbor district. He had eaten a sumptuous meal, sampled great wine (and the Wine Festival hadn't even started yet), bathed in the hot tub and taken a little nap. Miriam had gone off to the Temple to find out about Gdansk, even though she herself had told him hearings were often followed by several hours of meditation upon ones crimes. She had refused his offer to accompany her but agreed to carry his amber necklace, just in case. He had worried more about her ending up in trouble than about Gdansk. The moon had just risen across the bay and the night air was cool and refreshing. Life was good, he concluded. He was in the mood for some female companionship. While other people might have taken pride in never having visited a house of pleasure, Dlanor had no compunctions about paying for sexual favors. It had some advantages: one could get down to business immediately, without having to play the game of introduction and seduction. And it virtually guaranteed that one's partner was an expert. Recalling the directions Jarvis had given him, he turned east when he reached the quay. Walking past moored ships he looked at the third house past the dockmaster's office. He studied the sign hanging over the door for a while. Apropriately, it depicted a fox devouring a hen. The mage shook his head and went in. A burst of laughter welcomed him. There was a cheerful atmosphere about the place. Men and women having a good time, drinking ale, some smoking a pipe. Dlanor made his way to the bar and ordered an ale. Classy place, he thought. Expensive chandeliers on the ceiling, heavy oak tables which looked polished, a clean floor. The bartender was clean-shaven and well-dressed. It looked like everybody and everything in this town was well-to-do. "Quite a place you have here," he commented. The bartender nodded and served him an ale. "You must make a lot of money here," Dlanor went on. He sipped the ale. Not bad. "Not as much as I would want," the bartender replied. "There are a lot of unforeseen expenses, just to keep running things smoothly." The Temple was probably breathing down his neck, Dlanor thought. And of course, there were always some people that simply wanted a piece of the cake. Pay-offs. "I can see how that can happen," he told the bartender. They chatted a bit and Dlanor asked about the rate. The prices were steeper than he had thought but he felt that bargaining would spoil his mood. He touched his pouch and realized he could still afford it. "And that's for the entire night?" "Until half an hour before sunrise. Time enough to leave discreetly." Dlanor nodded and let his eyes wander. There were enough lovely ladies in the room, to be sure, but the one woman that caught his eye just got taken upstairs by a broad, stocky man with tattoos on his left arm. He followed her step and admired her long black hair as they walked the stairs. He decided to wait for her. In the corner a ruddy man was leaning back in his chair and smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He seemed to observe the patrons and the women. Dlanor strolled over to him and asked: "Mind if I join you? Share a pipe?" The ruddy man grinned and gestured. "Have a seat, stranger." Dlanor took a seat, brought out his tobacco pouch and loaded his pipe. "What do you smoke?" the man asked. "Taplow Blue," Dlanor replied. "That's a bit heavy for me," the other man confessed. "Polly Dodge is about as much as I can handle." The man blew a smoke ring and said: "I'm Barn." "Dlanor. Come here often?" Barn laughed heartily. "First time in town, but I will be." Dlanor muttered the words for a simple cantrip and with a small flash of light he lit his pipe. Barn watched the magic with interest. "Magic sure is handy," he commented. "I wanted to be a mage when I was younger, but didn't have the aptitude. I became a spice trader instead." "Ah, so you're in town for business? Where are you from?" Barn grimaced. "Uhh... I'd rather not tell you that. The last time I did I got into a lot of trouble." Dlanor raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He didn't pursue the matter. They chuckled as two bouncers got rid of a drunken sailor. Two new customers entered and immediately attracted a small group of women around them. Dlanor and Barn cheered with the rest as the two gave a round of drinks. "You see," Barn suddenly started, "I'm the head of a large trading house and a rather public figure in my town." "Married?" "Arranged. Thank the Gods we didn't have kids. How do you tell your son his parents didn't even love eachother?" The trader sighed and sipped his ale. "Anyway, she died six weeks ago so I'm a free man again. Except that I'm supposed to be mourning for another year. The Temple in my town is strict in that." Dlanor nodded sympathetically. "Two weeks ago I was staying at a certain inn and I met this gorgeous redhead. She serves me drinks and talks with me. First I think she's after my money but as the evening goes on we get more intimate and she suggests to go to my room." "And you went along," the mage smiled. "Who wouldn't! So we're in my room and she's all over me and we're getting ready to do it..." Barn sighed and shook his head sadly. He drank some more ale. "And...?" Dlanor prompted him. "The door bursts open and the innkeeper, a big man with bushy eyebrows and flaming red hair... He's got his axe ready and he wants to know what I'm doing to his little girl!" "Ouch," Dlanor winced. "End of the evening, huh?" Barn nodded. "He threatened to expose me to the Temple. He wanted gold for his silence. A lot of it." "Gods," Dlanor breathed. "He rolled you completely, didn't he?" "Twenty-thousand crowns," Barn said unhappily. "Now she might have been worth it, but she never returned to my room. So that's why I'd rather not tell you where I'm from." Dlanor watched as a tall, buxom woman approached their table. "I think your luck is changing, Barn." The trader finished his drink and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice talking to you, Dlanor," he called over his shoulder as they went upstairs. Not long after the raven-haired girl returned and sat down next to him. Dlanor smoked his Tablow Blue and introduced himself. "Want something to drink?" he asked. She shook her head, her tresses dancing on her shoulders. "Why don't we just go to my room?" she said impatiently. Testy, Dlanor thought. Once in her room she wasted no time. She peeled off her flimsy dress, revealing a nice pair of breasts, well-rounded and capped with tiny brown nipples and areolae, a flat stomach, a pair of supple long legs and a dark triangular patch between her thighs. She started undressing Dlanor who let his hands roam over her shoulders and back. Her skin was very soft and very warm. Dlanor moved to kiss her but she turned her face. She looked almost bored. Although he was very much aroused, he became irritated by her lack of enthusiasm. "How much extra for a smile on that lovely face?" he asked. The girl looked at him haughtily. "Your flagpole seems to be doing fine without. Just cut the chatter and do what you want to do." Now Dlanor started to get angry. He knew he was goodlooking by anybody's standards. Throughout his studies he had managed to keep his body in shape. He also had plenty of experience wooing and entertaining women. And yet his charms seemed to slide off this girl like water from a rock. "Is there something I've done wrong?" he asked slowly. "Some custom I am unaware of..." "It's not you," she said curtly. "I'm just having a bad night." "Is there something I can do to improve the evening?" She barked a short, dry laugh. "You want to talk all night?" I paid a heap of crowns for this girl and she starts an argument, Dlanor said to himself. There are some really weird people living here. "I mean it. What do you want me to do that will lighten your mood?" he persisted. She sat on the bed and crossed her arms. "Leave. I want you to leave," she said curtly. Dlanor considered this. He loved women, adored them and liked to think he was a gentleman. Perhaps he should go. Get dressed, go back to his room in the Bouncing Beholder and get some sleep. The alternative was that he would push her back onto the bed, spread her legs and do what he wanted to do. The way her arms pushed up her breasts made it so very tempting. Then he made up his mind. He was not that kind of man. He had never before needed to force himself onto a woman and was certainly not about to start now. Even if he had paid for her. "Alright," he said. He reached for his trousers and started to dress himself. She watched the proceedings in stunned silence, he noticed with satisfaction. She looked a lot better without the attitude. "You're leaving," she stated, her eyes wide in disbelief. "I am." "But you paid for the entire night!" she said. "Then you have the night off," Dlanor concluded. He tucked his shirt back into his trousers. "Why would you do that?" she asked again. Dlanor sat next to her and put on his mocassins. "To improve your evening," he repeated. He grabbed his tobacco pouch and pipe. "I'll stay here for a few minutes so we can keep up appearances. I'll put in a good word with your boss." After a few moments she put her clothes back on. "You don't look rich," she said. "I'm not," Dlanor replied and puffed out some smoke. "You are weird." "So my friends tell me." She rolled her eyes. They sat a few minutes in silence, both looking the other way. "The man before you," she suddenly said. "I wanted to be polite so I asked for his name. He told me to lie back and be quiet." Dlanor understood how that could've ticked her off. "Some of us do respect women, even when they earn their keep on their back." He got up and stretched. "What are you going to do now?" she wanted to know. Dlanor considered her question. It was still early. He could try and find another house of pleasure... Even as he considered it he knew he probably could no longer afford it. He'd probably eat a late snack in an obscure inn, drink some more ale and then go back to his room. Her dark, searching eyes on him started to weaken him. He had to leave before he changed his mind. "Getting some fresh air," he said noncommittally. "Can I walk with you?" she asked, surprising him. "If you don't want to be compromised, I understand," she added quickly. He briefly considered bumping into one of his friends whilst walking with her. After running a few possibilities over in his mind he decided he wouldn't mind if that happened. At all. "You better wear something else if you want to go outside," he told her. "It's chilly." A few minutes later they walked down the embankment. Dlanor wondered if she had joined him in case he changed his mind. Had she only been interested in crowns she would've thrown him out and invited the next customer. But here she was. They talked about the Wine Festival, the weather and the sea. "You can watch the sun rise from across the bay," she told him. "I watch it as often as I can. It's the perfect end of a good night... and it makes up for a lousy one." "I find sunsets as satisfying as sunrises. They don't make me get up so early." Dlanor was rewarded with a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth. "When we're on the road I always take the first watch. I like to sleep long and uninterrupted." "You're an adventurer?" she asked. "A free mage. 'Adventurer' implies I would do exciting things. Most of the time its just tedious." "What is it like?" Dlanor looked at her. Her expression was different from that of the enthusiastic adolescent who doled on 'adventurers'. It was rather one of a student asking about the habits of a new teacher. "Sleeping when someone else watches over you," she added. "Oh, most of the time I sleep like an infant," he told her. "But when we expect trouble none of us gets much sleep, whoever stands guard." She nodded thoughtfully. "A life of uncertainty," she added. "Not more uncertain than that of the farmer whose crop may fail or that of the enlisted private who may be called to war," Dlanor said, somewhat defensively. "Somewhat more colourful though," she teased. He nodded and smiled at her. "It's what I'm good at." "Is it true what they say? Adventurers slay dragons for breakfast and have lunch with kings..." "Just rumours. I've never met any royalty or dragon. Koriel guard me from them!" She laughed softly. "Dragons or royalty?" she asked coyly. "You figure it out," he chuckled. He was beginning to like her. "I might, someday," she told him. "I'm thinking of joining the Academy next fall. A friend of mine is teaching me to read and write and I'm taking weapon lessons." Dlanor stared at her in surprise. "But..." He managed to swallow the rest of his words. She sat down on a low bench near the waterfront. "But you're a pleasure girl?" she challenged him. "A whore?" "Well... uh..." "You're right. But I'm not stupid." She patted the bench next to her. He sat down next to her, trying to hide his embarrassment. For a while they watched the moon ripple in the water. She put her head on his shoulder. Dlanor wondered if she'd moved back into her routine, if his question had broken the casual atmosphere. He found he liked the closeness, even if it was an act. "This pretty face is temporary," she went on, bringing him out of his thoughts. "The pay is good, most of the other girls are close friends and I'm good at what I do. But it's not what I want to do forever." Her hand moved over his. "I want to go places, Dlanor. Meet new people and do... unexpected things!" Her breath came out in little puffs of smoke as she spoke of her plans and ambitions. She was not unlike himself, he thought. Only more calculating, planning ahead. "I want to see the Elven Reaches and learn the language of dwarves..." "I learned Elvish at the Academy," he told her. "It's a lot easier to understand the magic of their spells if you know their language. Dwarf magic seems to involve arcane forms of Dwarfish, separate from the spoken language." They talked some more about dwarves and elves and people in general. Later, when it got colder, Dlanor suggested to find a place with a warm fire and a good kitchen. They walked towards the better part of town and ate soup, chicken and fruit cakes in a small, quiet inn near the Eastern Gate. Their talk got more personal as the evening progressed. She told him her name was Keri and that she had grown up a farmer's daughter. "I did my share of the work, always did what my parents wanted me to do, preparing to be wed to some rich farmer's son," she told him. "I think mom and dad gave up hope of a boy after my sister was born. Tried to find me a good match... talked about the family line..." "What happened then?" Dlanor asked curiously. "During harvest I watched some harvest girls getting it on with a few of the hired hands. They looked like they had a lot of fun and I knew I had something to try out during the long, boring evenings after harvest." "Wow," Dlanor managed to say. He hadn't expected her to be so frank about those matters, even if she was a girl of pleasure. "So one stormy evening I took one of the stable boys up in the hay loft and seduced him," she said, smiling whistfully at the memory. "From that moment on we spent every free minute in the hay. It was a great time. Then at the Midwinter Fest I met some of the harvest girls again. They told me about safe periods and getting pregnant and all that. That's when I knew something was wrong." She was smiling still, but the sparks had left her eyes as she related her story. "After four months I should've been expecting three times over. So once I knew I could never have children, I decided to run from home, leaving my sister to carry on the family line." A silence fell. She popped a few dades into her mouth and washed them down with wine. Dlanor was still digesting her story. He wondered how he would have felt in her place. It would probably feel like being robbed of something you never knew you had, he thought. And taking off in the middle of winter, like a thief in the night. A childless wife was a source of embarrassment in an environment where rich blood lines meant power and distinction for the family. Keri read his face and said: "Don't be sorry, Dlanor. I never got along with children anyhow." As he still tried to form a response she reached out and squeezed his hand, as if to comfort /him/. "I joined a spice caravan to Carlin and stayed in inns for a while," she continued. "Most men were friendly to me. When they were goodlooking I spent the night with them. It never occurred to me to ask sovereigns for what I enjoyed doing, but a wine trader told me about places like the Hungry Fox. He introduced me to the owner and I've been there ever since." Just then the innkeeper announced the final round. "Let's walk some more," Dlanor suggested. They paid and left the inn. By silent mutual agreement they walked north along a wide lane guarded by tall, dark trees. Dlanor was pleasantly surprised when she held his hand. Now we look just any other couple out on a late walk, he thought. Clever. For a brief moment he allowed himself to pretend that they were. His attention was drawn by a staggering figure in the distance. Probably a drunk, the mage judged. As they were approaching the drunk, the poor sod slipped on the tip of his robe and fell to the ground. Dlanor sighed and helped the drunk to sit up, wincing at his breath. Keri squatted next to them and asked: "Are you alright?" The man clung to Dlanor and whispered: "They took her, Dlanor... They took her..." With a shock Dlanor recognized his friend. "Dance? Gods, what happened to you!?" -- web: www.icce.rug.nl/remmelt/index.html "We all need to be told where we are very good as well as where we are very, very bad. We cannot grow, otherwise." --Pete Murphy -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |