VirtualHeaven (16 page)

“Thank you,” she murmured in his ear as he slowly slid his
feet through the flock. The birds grew more agitated the longer he stayed in
their midst. “Hurry,” she urged him. She could see Vad hopping from foot to foot
in his own turmoil, watching Kered rescue her.

“Think of a way to send them thither,” he said. His hand was
caressing her breast in an unconscious rhythm.

“Stop that,” she ordered, slapping his fingers. He grinned.
So
much for unconscious.
Then an idea struck her. “I have it. When we get
clear, set me down.”

For many slow minutes, Kered waded carefully through the
mass of birds, ignoring their constant attack on his ankles and calves,
grunting once as a beak penetrated the leather.

More birds were winging their way to join their friends.

“Kered. Maggie.” Vad had climbed onto his saddle, which was
fast becoming an island in a sea of birds as the puffins spread out to encircle
him. “I think you should just stand still. There are too many and they seem to be
shifting my way, following you.”

Kered nodded and went still as a statue. Maggie smiled with
an assurance she wasn’t sure she had. “Hold your ears.”

“How can I hold my ears, when I am holding you—” He didn’t
finish, for Maggie split the air with a shrill whistle. The puffins burst into
flight in a roar of wings, splattering the three of them with excrement as they
soared away in fright. A few lone, and Maggie supposed deaf, puffins remained
bobbing and weaving about. She let loose again, fingers to her lips, and they,
too, escaped into the air.

Kered clapped his hands to his ears, dropping her
unceremoniously on the ground. Well prepared, Maggie landed on her feet.

“Well, that worked great,” she said.

Vad jumped off his saddle and grabbed her about the waist,
swinging her about. “Teach me to make that sound.”

“Oh, it’s easy.”

For the next few minutes as Kered scowled at them, Maggie
taught Vad how to whistle. Like a child with a new toy, Vad experimented until
Kered thundered at him to be silent.

“Okay,” Vad said. “See, I, too, can use Maggie’s words.”

“Hmpf. You stood on your saddle like a female,” Kered
snarled, wiping bird splatters from Vad’s shoulders.

Maggie patted Kered’s arm. “Would you like me to teach you,
too?”

“I have no need to learn this skill. I have you, my slave,
to perform it for me.”

“That was really low, Ker. Unworthy of such a noble warrior.
Apologize.”

“Forgive me,” he muttered, then stomped away, leaving Vad
hooting with laughter and Maggie smiling, her spirits greatly lifted.

Vad sat cross-legged by her side at their fire, tending to
his stained tunic. “What else may I learn from you?”

“Can you guys read?”

“Guys? Is this a name for a warrior?”

“Actually, it just means men. Can you? Read?”

“Aye. We ‘guys’ can read. Kered avoids it like the plague
these days. He will not admit to having difficulty seeing the words.”

Maggie looked up the hill where Kered stood outlined against
the darkening sky. “Really?”

“Aye. He hid it from me until the treaties with Einalem.
‘Twas then I noticed him holding the documents at arm’s length. An affliction
of great pain, this failing of his sight, to one of Kered’s stature.”

“Tell me more about Einalem.” Maggie kept her head down so
Vad could not see the jealousy that painted a blush on her cheeks. Kered no
longer remarked on it, but Vad still went into childish raptures over the
phenomenon.

“Conniving bitch.”

“Really?” she said. Vad was a natural-born gossip.

He frowned and picked a blade of grass, which he split with
a fingernail. His long blond hair glistened in the firelight. “Samoht will do
anything to gain his ends. Einalem does as he tells her. A brainless woman who
cannot make her own decisions, and she with two arm rings!”

“My, two you say.” Maggie did little to keep the sneer from
her voice.

“Aye. Two.” Vad leaned closer, one eye on the vigilant man
standing guard upon the hill. “I think there is an unnatural love between
Samoht and his sister. When she lifemates, ‘tis wagered by some her man will
not find a virgin in his bed, but rather Samoht’s practiced lover.”

Maggie was shocked. “Are you saying that she sleeps with her
brother?”

“Sleeps? No. I am quite sure she sleeps in the women’s
quarters.” He tipped his head, puzzled.

“That’s not what I meant. Where I come from, to say a woman
‘sleeps’ with a man, means she is making love—copulating with him.”

“Then aye. Some say she ‘sleeps’ with Samoht.”

“What about a baby?”

He flicked out a negligent hand. “Any good herbalist has
ways to prevent that. Do you not have such potions in your place?”

Maggie sighed. “Some things are the same everywhere. So, how
did Ker feel about lifemating with a woman who might be making love to her
brother?’’

“Kered’s pride will not let him speak his inner thoughts on
the matter. But he is my brother for all intents and purposes, and I am not
blind to his faults. He often does not see the scheming behind a woman’s bright
smile. And then—” Vad lowered his voice.

“Yes?” Maggie edged closer to hear.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. She rose on her knees, her
curiosity forgotten. Memory of the night she’d met Nilrem and Kered came to her
with vivid, stark pain. She stood and cried out as lightning pierced the
heavens, throwing Kered’s silhouette against the indigo sky.

She tried to run forward, but Vad restrained her, one arm about
her waist. “Come, you will be drenched,” he cried.

“No.” She wrenched away and ran, oblivious to the rough turf
tearing at her soles. All she could do was run, run to Kered. Each time
Tolemac’s thunder and lightning came, some frightening magic occurred.

She leapt into Kered’s arms and he held her tightly to his
chest. The rain poured down, soaking them to the skin. As she shivered in his
arms, she realized that nothing had changed. She was in Tolemac despite the
jagged display of nature going on over the distant hills. Reluctantly, she drew
back from him. The only magic was the scent of his skin and the raw power of
his strength beneath her hands.

“Come. We will need to find shelter.” He lifted her into his
arms and, as if she weighed nothing, loped down the hill to where Vad had
gathered their belongings. Vad looked like a drowned angel at that moment,
blond hair straggling on his cheeks, his tunic clinging to his muscular form.

“By the sword,” Vad said, rubbing his thumb up and down
Maggie’s forearm.

“Just bumps of the goose,” Kered answered casually as he
removed Vad’s hand. “‘Tis a change in Maggie’s skin when she is cold. Do not
touch her.”

“Must you wear a knife? Even to sleep?” Maggie complained as
she wriggled against Kered’s warm body. The two men had made a sandwich of her
in the shepherd’s hut.

“‘Tis not my knife,” he muttered, shifting her position.

“What did you say?” she whispered, conscious of Vad snoring
at her back.

“Nothing. I said nothing. Can you not stop squirming?”

“You don’t have to get crabby.” Maggie curled her chilled
fingers into her armpits and tried to fall asleep. In a few minutes she gave it
up. If Nilrem’s hut had been primitive, this was prehistoric. Across a short
distance of muddy floor lay the shepherd, adding grunts and snufflings to Vad’s
snores. The stink of the hut was enormous, for several of the shepherd’s sheep
had bedded down with them. Every now and then a drop of icy water crept through
the thatching to plop on her shoulder. “I can’t sleep.”

Kered sighed. He drew her closer and began to kiss her hair.
“Perhaps I may distract you.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.” But she edged nearer and
raised her lips.

He whispered against their softness, “Touch my tongue with
yours, Maggie.”

The air between them sparked. Her breasts swelled with a
sudden heat. She fought a maddening desire to rub like a cat against his hard
chest. “I want more than touching tongues,” she said into the charged
atmosphere, spreading her hand on his hip.

He growled.

Their mouths met in a slow, sensuous mating of tongues. She
led him and taught him, taking cues from the catch of his breath or the clench
of his muscles beneath her fingertips. With deliberate finesse, she stirred his
senses. That she was the one ensnared, captivated by the tastes and textures of
him, eluded her. She was lost in a slow-burning fire that crept from every
point their bodies touched to settle like a lance of pleasurable pain when he
brushed his hips against hers. She lost track of conscious thought in the throb
of her blood in her veins.

Her desire for him drove all sense away. It didn’t matter
that two men lay close by. At that moment no one existed except him. She
breathed in the heady scent of him and savored the salty delight of his throat.
He pinned her against the dirt floor, settling himself between her thighs. She
lifted her hips, seeking his warmth and whatever gifts he could offer, maddened
by the separating layers of leather and wool.

“Do you think you could wait until we reach the capital?”
Vad complained. “I am neither blind, nor deaf.”

Kered rested on his elbows and stroked Maggie’s cheek with
the tips of his fingers.

She wanted to scream with frustration, but instead pulled
Kered’s head down and gave him a wet, smacking kiss on the lips as if it were
all a meaningless game. Vad snorted, then edged away, wrapping himself in his
cloak.

“We can wait, can’t we?” she lied.

In truth, her heart was racing, and she wanted to whack Vad
over the head with Kered’s sword. He had interrupted something she’d craved for
so long that she felt as one must when starving and food is offered and then
withdrawn.

“Aye. I can wait.” Kered’s tone made it a promise.

Maggie held her breath. The dim light of a few remaining
coals in the shepherd’s fire lit Kered’s turquoise eyes with an inner glow that
hypnotized her.

She had been wrong. The thunder and lightning
had
brought
magic, Kered’s magic.

His body moved with subtle undulations against hers, denying
his words. They danced a silent and almost imperceptible ballet, first one
sliding against the other, then the other answering. It was subtle, but potent,
in its arousal.

He played the game lazily, propped over her on his elbows,
his fingers drifting back and forth across her cheeks, tracing her ears and
teasing her neck. She played it more boldly than he, soothing the ache of her
breasts against his rough shirt, caressing herself and him with deep intakes of
breath. Her hands repeatedly played through the silky-rough tangles of his
hair.

This was real. He was real.

Tears welled in her eyes and slipped over her cheeks. He
caught them on the tip of his tongue and smoothed away their tracks with the
tips of his fingers. Words of love clogged in her throat, unexpressed.

Where they touched, heat sprang up, flames licked along
nerve endings, sending sensual messages racing along thighs and breasts. A
warmth had built within her, needing release. An urgent beating and throbbing
of blood snatched her breath. She caught his fingers as they moved across her
lips and bit down hard to keep from screaming as wave after wave of lightning
streaked through her body.

Kered dropped his head beside hers, gasping in air as if he,
too, had run a race. Maggie knew they’d played the game too long and untangled
her fingers from his hair. She slid her hand between them to press against his
heat. He pinned her palm with his as long shudders ran the length of his body.
Every muscle in his back and arms went rigid; his chest heaved. When at last he
relaxed, falling to his side, Maggie rolled over him to see his face, to judge
his mood, and to assess his reactions to what had passed between them.

They stared at each other.

“You have bewitched me,” he whispered.

“You’ve enslaved me,” she answered.

They buried the sword and cup, along with the gun, in a
narrow crevice by a beautifully blooming rosebush. Maggie thought of her
mother’s summer roses, full-blown, fragrant, and heady with scent. She looked
about and treasured the moment, for she felt a sudden apprehension in her
stomach, knew fear.

They would no longer be alone. Even the band of little
beggars seemed unreal, something a dream conjured up. Other people would see
her, remark as Kered and Vad did on her lack of arm rings, her unusual
coloring. Vad did not delve too deeply; he respected her silences. Would
others? Would she be put to a close scrutiny? Would some stranger know the land
beyond the ice fields?
Would she ever see home again!

“You are afraid?” Kered asked as he mounted Windsong behind
her. “Do not fear. I will say you are my slave and naught will happen to you.”

They did not ride the coast for long before the city loomed
before them. She gasped aloud.

He followed her pointing hand and grunted. “Some say ‘tis
lovely.”

“Lovely? It’s frightening,” she said, pressing back against
his chest as if to distance herself from the approaching capital. Gray stone
buildings blended with forbidding rocky hills. The only relief from stark and
windswept were the flowering gardens edging the street.

People hurried along, intent on their tasks. A man drove a
pig with a stick, another carried two chickens squawking under his arms.
Children dodged across their path.

Women stared openly at her, and Maggie found herself
watching the saddle’s pommel to avoid eye contact. As they neared the center of
the city, gray stone gave way to stuccoed manors, trailed with flowering vines.
The roofs here were thatched with elaborate designs of scallops and weavings.

She admired the artistry of each roof. Shutters were flung
open to the red Tolemac sun, and it painted a copper glow on the thatched
roofs. “They’re beautiful,” she admitted, relieved.

‘“Tis just buildings. Too many buildings, too many people.”

They trotted through a massive town gate with a great,
toothed portcullis, and clopped across a short stone bridge over a river that
flowed a deep purple, nearly black, as it wended its way along the city’s
edges. Ravens vied with puffins for space upon the banks. Maggie thought they
watched her with cunning, craning their necks and ruffling their feathers as
she rode by.

The people were very homogeneous, fair-skinned, and in most
cases their hair ranged from nearly white blond like Vad’s to brown. No
redheads, no black. The elderly were sometimes bald, but often had full heads
of white hair. Kered no longer seemed gigantic to her, rather one of many.

Kered drew Windsong to a halt. He helped Maggie dismount,
but she noticed a distance in his behavior as a man took the reins. When Kered
bent toward her, she understood.

“Slaves walk behind their master. I do not want trouble
before I present the cup and sword. Please, I ask your forbearance to tolerate
the position.”

She nodded and kept her head down as they climbed a steep
hill next to a high stone wall. This was not the place to exert her
independence.

“No,” she gasped when they reached the top. There, across a
narrow strait, loomed a great mountain. Atop it stood more buildings clinging
to the steep slopes, resplendent with high towers and pennants snapping on the
wind. The only way to the mountain was down a long, wooden stair, across a
short bridge, and then up another steep staircase.

“Behold the seat of Tolemac’s council.” Kered plunged down
the steps. Maggie gulped before stepping gingerly off into what felt like open
space. The steps were sturdy, but clung to the sheer wall of the cliff down
which they climbed. She imagined that the defense of the council was simple.
Once the stairs were burned, it would be impregnable. Her imagination placed
men with clashing swords on the bridge that spanned the roiling purple sea. It
didn’t take much more to see them crushed against the great black boulders that
rose like jagged teeth below. The beauty of it awed and frightened her.

The climb up the other side stole her breath. Her hands grew
wet with sweat as they passed sentries in white and red and black who stiffened
to attention as Kered and Vad passed. At the top of the stair stood a tall
temple-like building, this time in a soft cream color with a stone roof. A
dolphin arched in the frieze and the sun dominated the peak. Tall round
columns, ponderous and weighty, held the temple’s roof aloft. Long narrow steps
led to the portico. “The bathhouse,” Vad said.

Kered grasped Maggie’s hand and walked with her up the
narrow stairs, nodding to men and women as he went. These folk were less
circumspect than those of the outer city, for they turned and openly stared at
the new arrivals, and Maggie hoped it was just because of their extremely dirty
appearance. All looked prosperous, their tunics of bright colors, some in
jerkins, were decorated with gold and embroidery. The women wore long-sleeved
gowns with elaborate belts and brightly embroidered flat shoes. The weather was
cool, so their sleeves were long, and Maggie could not see many arm rings.
Those whose arms were exposed to view had an assortment of one, two, or three
bands. She saw no fours and no fives.

Vad clapped Kered on the shoulder, then picked up Maggie’s
hand and kissed the grimy palm. “I bid you farewell for now,” he said, then
turned and stumbled, catching himself and taking the steps two at a time in a
great hurry.

Maggie smiled at his haste. “I suppose poor Vad hasn’t been
this disheveled in his whole life.” She gripped Kered’s hand tighter as they
followed Vad. “What’s going on there?” Maggie asked as they passed between the
central pillars of the bathhouse. Men were lined up in twos and threes on the
low steps. Simple stall shelters of striped material had been erected between
the pillars, and they had a drawstring curtain for privacy.

“Fornitrix,” Kered said, yanking her forward. “If you have
not the coin for a pleasure house, these free women will serve you for a few
pennies or a chicken.”

“You mean—’’ Maggie flushed hot and scurried after Kered.
She hissed in his ear. “You mean men and women are…those men are waiting to—

“Copulate? Aye.” He pulled her into the chilly shadows of
the bathhouse portico. “When we enter, the proprietor will ask our needs. I
will answer for us. Slaves do not boldly meet a free man’s eyes. Look down and
do not speak. If addressed directly, look to me before replying. There is a
slave chamber set aside where you may bathe. After my bath, I will meet you in
a robing chamber.”

“I’m very hungry.” Maggie’s head reeled from the myriad
scents of the city, and the aroma of roasting meat made her mouth water. She
had a sudden craving for a platter of steak.

“I will hurry and see that you dine well tonight. If anyone
questions you, just stare blankly as if you are simple and invoke my name. I am
well known and few will trespass on what is mine.” He leaned down and stroked a
finger along her cheek. “If you wish protection, you will do as I say. Choose
another course and I cannot help you.”

“Ker. Don’t go! Let’s skip the bath.” Maggie felt a sudden
rise of fear. They’d not been parted for so many weeks. She clung to him.

“Do not slur your words.” He drew her inside. It was dark
and cool in a lobby the size of the Capitol. Beneath their feet stretched a
beautiful mosaic floor of cavorting sea monsters curled about colorful fish and
amethyst waves. As they crossed the expanse of artwork, a man of great weight
hurried to them. His belly, draped in a long black robe, led the way. Maggie
gaped as she saw that his bare toenails were painted a bright orange to match
the nails on his fingers. She thought of a great, stuffed puffin.

“Kered.” The man bowed as best one could with a sixty-inch
waist. “A long time, a long time. How may I serve you?”

Kered bowed back. “A bath for me and my slave.”

The man did not look at her, but snapped his fingers. A
young girl, tall and garbed in a lavender robe, glided forward soundlessly on
bare feet.

“Take our esteemed guest to the changing rooms,” the
proprietor ordered. The girl bent in a low bow to Kered and then walked off to
an arch that opened off to the right. Kered gave Maggie an encouraging smile
and left. Maggie felt deserted.

“This way,” the puffin-man directed, motioning for Maggie to
follow. Maggie trailed his waddling figure. They passed through a small, wooden
door. The room she entered was whitewashed, humid, and smelled like every other
health club she’d ever been in. At least this part was familiar. A tall blonde
of Junoesque proportions looked Maggie up and down, her eyes widening and then
becoming blank. A jerk of her chin was all the hint she gave for Maggie to
follow.

At the end of a corridor, they entered a room with small
cubicles, hung with brightly striped curtains. The woman handed Maggie a soft
linen towel and held back a curtain.

“Disrobe.”

Maggie took off Kered’s shirt. She edged her tattered
panties down and hung both on a hook, then wrapped the scanty towel about her
as a cover-up and opened the curtain. The woman led her to a terra-cotta-lined
chamber in which steamed a pit of dark water that bubbled and gave off vapors
of sulfurous, lavender steam. Sweat instantly broke out on her skin. There were
no other people for her to imitate or observe, so she waited.

The woman snatched away her towel and proceeded to scrub her
down and rinse her off like an old wreck at a self-serve car wash.

“Who is your master?” the attendant asked, lathering
vigorously.

Sense prevented the truth from tripping off her tongue.
“Kered,” Maggie said, gritting her teeth and hoping she’d still have skin when
the torture was over.

“The warrior, Kered?” The attendant paused in her hearty
scrubbing.

“Aye.” Maggie was speaking as he did now, just as he was
picking up her slang. She smiled, but the woman did not respond.

“He is much esteemed. ‘Tis an honor to serve him.” Maggie
suspected the woman was not speaking of Maggie’s honor but that of the women of
the baths.

“Will I see Kered? Can men and women bathe together?”

The woman looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. When
she spoke, her words were dripping with ice. “You think to bathe with the free
men and women?”

Maggie decided on silence. Her questions had aroused more
than suspicion. The woman plucked at her hair and turned her about like some
oddity. A scathing remark about the service entered her mind, but Maggie held
her tongue. The woman’s curiosity seemed well-piqued and her hands had grown
bold, touching and lingering with familiarity.

“Put this on,” the attendant directed after toweling Maggie
dry. Despite the rough scrubbing, Maggie felt wonderful and clean. Her skin
glowed and a renewed vigor swept through her. She took the proffered shift and
slipped it over her head. It came to mid-thigh and was of the sheerest lawn.

“Follow me.”

Maggie attempted to act subservient as she traipsed down a
hot, dank corridor. In the distance she heard laughter and voices murmuring.
Somewhere water rushed like a trapped waterfall.

At the end of the corridor, the woman turned a key and
opened an arched wooden door. She shoved Maggie in and slammed the portal.

Maggie whirled around and grabbed the latch, shaking it
frantically. Locked. She could only go forward. This corridor was cool and the
tiles beneath her bare feet, cold. She curled her toes and headed down the
length of the hall. As she neared the end, the sounds condensed into male
voices, arguing, chatting, and laughing. A prickling of apprehension came over
her. One end was locked and the other must go to a crowded chamber. She was not
ready to face a multitude of people alone. “Damn you, Ker!” she muttered.

She had little choice but to move forward. Within moments,
she stood at the entrance to a torch-lit bathing chamber, her eyes searching
for Kered in the dim interior. The room was so thick with steam it caught at
her throat and clogged her nostrils. She watched a young girl of no more than
fifteen or sixteen pour an earthen jar full of water on heated bricks, sending
a cloud of steam aloft to wreathe a delicate mosaic on the circular room’s
ceiling. The tiles depicted strange birds and flowers, a poignant reminder that
she was far from home.

All the patrons were male—and naked. Some sat, some reclined
on cloth-draped stone benches. Each had a young and lovely naked girl attending
him.

Except Kered.

Kered had two.

He sat on a stone bench and smiled broadly at the two girls
who were fussing over him, rubbing his broad chest, shoulders, and back. As
they worked, they giggled and played, caressing him with oil, and bending and
stroking his arms and neck.

He was aroused. Maggie, who’d imagined him in many nightly
dreams, who’d felt every contour of his hard body pressed intimately to hers,
had never seen him fully naked. He had always been circumspect in his personal
habits. Here, he sat boldly before a roomful of strangers, aroused by the play
of the slaves.

Maggie hung her head and clasped her hands to the sheer, and
damply clinging, shift. It occurred to her that she’d been sent here
deliberately and inappropriately. She was the only person who was clothed. A
small commotion made her look up. The girls were pouring jugs of heated water
over Kered to soak his hair. She realized the slave girls were twins. One
stepped between his thighs and began to soap the dark hair of his chest.

She couldn’t stand it.

Jealously flared and ignited. She wanted to charge the girls
and fling them aside and take their place, or crack a jug over Kered’s head. The
jug idea sounded best. How could he do this? After their tender times together?
For a moment she thought of Tony. Tony, whom she’d not thought of for many
weeks. Tony bent over his secretary. This was not the same feeling. This was a
deep pain, a full agony. This pain had sharper edges, honed by Kered’s warm
smile.