The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (42 page)

think I’m going to say hello and find out what’s what for myself,” she

added.

“Oh, Londo, no, I really, really wish you wouldn’t, or if you must,

please, behave, will you?” Rahendo whimpered, his dark mood

suddenly back in full effect.

Chulonda winked at him.

“Am I not always the very model of a sophisticated, soft spoken

lady?”

With that she turned around and walked sluggishly over to the

tower. When she set her first foot on the stairs, Arranulf greeted her

with a charming smile.

“You must be Chulonda. Rahendo told us so much about you,” he

said pleasantly.

“All lies, no doubt. And call me Londo, boy.”

“Londo? That’s a guy’s name,” Obyann said indignantly.

“So? Who died and made you lord of first names all of a sudden?

Wait, wait, that surly look on your face and that greasy animal that

died on your head… Ha. You must be Obie-Wobie, the one who let

little Ferret sleep with him during that stormy night.”

She gave him a radiant smile, managing to make it somehow into

an obscene leer.

“First of all, young lady, I don’t let thieving weasels that reek of

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urine sleep in my bed and second my name is Obie… damn it, I mean

Obyann.”

Chulonda grabbed him in the crotch, and with a hand like an iron

vise wrung his pants and their contents a quarter turn. Obyann’s

eyes became twice as big, and it was all he could do to suppress an

anguished yelp.

“We seem to have a few small misunderstandings, sir Obie of

Wobie, my boy. My kid brother, whom we call affectionately Ferret,

isn’t a thieving musteline mammal who stinks of piss. And
who
the

fuck
are you calling young lady, baby dick? For your information, I’ve

seen more meat on a pee shy lapdog than that pathetic morsel of

slaughter waste I’m tenderly holding and that barely fills my hand.

Ah, do promise me you’re going to be a good, polite little bitch from

now on.”

“Oh, Chulonda, please, he didn’t mean anything by it,” Arranulf

said pleadingly, trying to help his friend in his hour of need. “It’s just

the way he talks.”

“Not to me it is, pretty boy. And the name is Londo.”

She seemed to think for a while and then relented, removing her

hand.

“I hope you weren’t planning on using that any time soon. Sorry,

boy.” She smiled lopsided. “I have a bit of a temper the girls tell me.

But I suddenly remembered little Ferret writing to us that not only

did you let him sleep with you during that storm, but that you fought

off three men, quintuple your size, who were about to rape him.

You’re kind of his hero and I guess that makes you all right in my

eyes too.”

She grinned at Obyann who was gasping for air and fighting off

the urge to nurse his crushed body parts.

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329

“And here was me for one moment thinking you saw me as your

mortal enemy,” he managed to say through clenched teeth. “Silly me.”

“Yeah… and sorry about the baby dick. As far as I could feel it was

actually medium sized. Respectably medium sized.”

“So glad you approve,” Obyann replied, hissing in air.

“Aren’t there supposed to be five of you,” Arranulf tried to change

the subject.

“Yeah, but she is finishing of the last honey rolls cook gave us.

As if she needs to be any fatter. I expect we’ll hear her fall out of the

wagon soon enough. Expect a minor earthquake.”

Obyann, although still smarting, descended the stairs and ran

towards the gate.

“Damn and triple damn,” Chulonda said, following him with her

eyes. “Where is he going to? I was just beginning to like him. Him and

his medium sized cock.” She looked at Arranulf. “The greasy, dead

animal was too much, maybe?”

“Maybe. You grabbing his reproductive organs, which he treasures

and is very chary of, wasn’t maybe the right move to endear you

to him. Crushing them like a bunch of grapes couldn’t have helped

either.”

“Damn and quadruple damn. I always do that. I swear I was

planning to do totally different things with them later on. By way of

an apology.”

Out of breath Obyann reached the wagon, just when a gingerly

probing foot, followed by an impressive backside in a light-blue

dress appeared out of it.

“Can I help you, my lady,” Obyann panted.

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The backside stopped moving. The foot lost it’s precarious

balance on the makeshift little ladder, and an avalanche of blue silk

and brocade descended upon the head page. It took all his force to

remain standing and at the same time catch the falling girl.

“Oh my,” Berninda gasped, “I almost fell. If you hadn’t caught me,

kind sir, I could have hurt myself.”

A friendly, almost perfectly round face with blue eyes, matching

her garments, rosy colored, plump cheeks and full lips looked up

at Obyann. She looked nothing like Rahendo, he found to his utter

satisfaction.

“It was entirely my pleasure,” he answered, trying to make light

of it, although his muscles almost gave out under her weight.

A bit ungainly she regained her balance and stood upright,

straightening her dress, then her hair. Obyann looked at her with

open mouth. She was the vision of his fondest dreams. She was

perfect. She was the sturdy stem upon which he could graft his many-

branched progeny. She was the mother of his many, many sons. His

many, many, very legitimate sons.

“Ha,” she puffed, “that’s better. And who are you, my brave savior?

Wait... don’t tell me... You must be Obie-Wobie.”

Hearing for the second time that hated sobriquet and this

time out of the mouth of her, who he knew was the love of his life,

dampened his spirits somewhat.

“Well, actually—” he self-consciously tried to protest.

“Oh, but you
must
be. You simply must be, or I shall be so

disappointed. But you go by Obie nowadays I understand, or so little

Ferret calls you in his letters. I’m his favorite, you know. He tells

me everything. How kind you are and how brave and how smart.

It seems you could read and write in no time, although all kinds of

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manly duties had earlier prevented you from studying much. What

he didn’t tell, the little sneaky rascal, was how handsome you are. He

must have wanted to keep you a secret from me. Just for that I would

spank him if I didn’t suspect that he secretly likes it.”

She laughed. Obyann saw perfect, white teeth and heard a silver,

sparkling sound.

“I’m sure he exaggerates,” he croaked, flushing. “Just a bit.”

“If anything he was being too modest. Oh, please, say that you are

Obie.”

Obyann gulped.

“Why, yes, indeed, I am, my lady,” he uttered in a rasping voice,

surmounting himself. “I am, eh, that is, well, yes, I am Obie. Yes, I am.”

There would be time enough later to correct that little

misunderstanding, he reckoned.

“Oh, please, do call me Ninda.” She giggled.

While they walked through the gate’s passageway, Obyann, who

walked beside her, couldn’t help leaning slightly forward and gauge

the width of her hips.

“Oh no,” Berninda exclaimed. “Is there something on my dress?

Cook’s honey rolls are delicious, but she tends to overfill them. Damn

her and her scrumptious, leaky honey rolls.”

“There’s nothing, absolutely nothing,” Obyann reassured her

quickly. “Must have been a fly or so.” Not only to distract her, he

added, “Ninda, what are your sentiments about children?”

“Oh, I love children. I plan to have quite a few myself actually. At

least five girls. Just like me and my sisters.”

She looked at Obyann with an unsure expression on her face.

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“You probably just want two boys, I suppose,” she added dejected.

Obyann laughed.

“You wouldn’t say that if you could have asked around here. Mind

you, people tend to exaggerate. It’s not like I really want twelve sons.

Eight will be quiet sufficient, thank you very much.”

“Really?”

“Five girls and eight boys. I am fifteen. With any luck I could be done

before I’m thirty. I’ll be almost fifty when the youngest leaves the nest,

but by then the oldest will undoubtedly have given us grandchildren.”

She looked sideways at Obyann.
“And that hair of his is perfectly

fixable.”

She gave Obyann a radiant smile.

“That seems quite feasible, Obie. Quite feasible.”

Exiting the passage, they saw their way blocked by Chrom.

“Young sir, you know very well that unannounced visitors are

strick—”

“Oh, Chrom, get a life, will you? Can’t you see the young lady is

with me? Lady Berninda of Eldorn. There. I’ve announced her. She is

now officially un-unannounced. Now, get out of the way.”

Chrom returned to the little watch house from where Fraydir

had carefully observed the proceedings. He looked at Chrom with

vacuous eyes.

“Well, all seems to be going well,” Chrom said. “Hm. Very well,

indeed. I’d like to stay, but, actually, I can’t waste my time here any

longer. I trust you will have no further difficulties. Hm. Yes. So. Well,

I’m off then, young sir. I leave the gates in your care.”

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Fraydir nodded with open mouth.

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The caravan to the north had halted for midday at a big roadhouse.

The less well-off travelers stayed outside and cooked their meals on

improvised campfires. Richer merchants had hastened inside, where

it was warm and a hot meal could be purchased. Nobody thought

anything of it that the two Avadesquan women kept to themselves

and sat together at a table, out of earshot of the other patrons.

One of them looked with badly concealed revulsion at the chaotic

goings-on of several people trying to get served at the same time.

“He must be one of them. He just must be,” she said to the other.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure he is. A pity we don’t know what he looks

like.”

“It seemed so simple. Join the caravan, find out who he is, and

wait for an opportunity to isolate him from the group, overpower

him, and that would have been that.”

“Except finding out who he is proved more difficult than we

expected.” Sobrathi sighed.

“Yes. That’s why I can’t put it off any longer. I must inform

Anaxantis. I had so hoped that at the same time I could have given

him the assurance that Damydas would never reach the Marches. As

it is he must prepare himself for a confrontation.”

“You’re sending a living letter?”

“Yes. He is traveling with the group that follows us. I’ve sent for

him. He should be here any minute now. I hate to do this, but I can’t

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risk sending him a cryptic message so I’ll be as outspoken as I can.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? What if the letter is caught?”

Emelasuntha shrugged.

“So what? They’ll know that we know. They must suspect that

already. In fact there is more than an even chance they’ll catch him.”

Sobrathi looked at her friend.

“But, dear, how terrible. You’re sending the poor man to his death.

His painful death, probably.”

“And what else would you have me do? I must warn Anaxantis.

Or protect him.”

“Yes, but is there really no other way?”

“If there is, I would be glad to hear about it.”

Emelasuntha’s eyes suddenly seemed to stare right through

Sobrathi at a distant horizon, only discernible for her. Sobrathi

hated that look. It meant her friend had suddenly seen a new realm

of possibilities and what exactly that entailed was impossible to

predict.

At that moment two men came in the establishment and made

their way to the table of the women.

“This is the man you have asked for, my lady,” one of them said.