Camara: Lady of the Sword - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Bard:

< Sitting in the tall padded chair beside the fire, he sips on his newly filled flagon of fine ale. The small goblet of fortified wine is now about a third finished. The lords, ladies, gentlemen, and their companions, sit comfortably, idly chatting, waiting for him to continue. A servant brings in a tray of meats and bread for those who hunger, and others refill wine glasses and flagons. He clears his throat, causing all to settle back in silence, listening carefully >

It was about two sevendays after their rousting of those assassins, still a half-day outside of Gedren, when Camara and several of her companions decided to visit a tavern ...

Lady Camara found it strange to be following their usual information gathering routine with Lydia by her side rather than Briana. Not that Lydia didn't look the part. The red-headed lady was young looking despite her twenty-seven summers, of medium height, and quite cute. Her body was well-formed if not overly curvy, and her laughing green eyes betrayed the good humour in her heart. Yes, many eyes would have turned her way, if not for the woman walking by her side.

No, the strangeness was simply the lack of that spark, that interplay of expression and emotion she had been used to. This lessened any joy M'Lady would normally have felt in the minor adventure.

Their plan was simple, yet devious, and had worked many times in the past. Taggart and Trieste had entered the town's larger tavern several hours prior, trying to attract only a little attention, eating, drinking a little, but insinuating their presence into the talk and minds of the locals. Camara and Lydia would soon be there, being near the supper hour, entering loudly and flashily, giving the locals much to wonder about, and removing from their minds the newness of the first two. Some time later, Lord Verran would arrive, dressed down for the occasion, trying very poorly and obviously to blend in with the locals and pump them for information. With not-so-subtle glances and body language, he was to hint that he and Camara were somehow tied together.

This ploy worked on several levels. If the local was stupid enough not to recognize what Verran was doing, he would get some information. Loud and flashy Camara would distract many men's, and some women's, attention, allowing Lydia the opportunity to talk and flirt with the more besotted of them. Taggart and Trieste, by now seemingly almost a part of the tavern in comparison to the other three, would listen in on the locals - asking questions and receiving answers they could never have gotten as lone strangers. Later in the evening, if M'Lady found someone worthy of a dalliance, she would retire with that person to a suitable location, as would Lydia. That was new to the plan, being reinstated from the time before Briana. If one or the other did not find an interest, they would return with Lord Verran to camp. Subtle and effective. Any who were wise enough to see through all levels of their plan would certainly not divulge anything of import in a tavern anyway.

For M'Lady, the enjoyment she would receive from her evening's exploits would be tinged with sadness. This was the first time in well over a year that Briana was not her partner. She sighed, missing her friend, but then turned her attention to the matter at hand. Smiling at Lydia, receiving another in return, they entered the building.

The tavern they chose was an older one, the seedier of the two in that small town, fairly large, and well frequented, judging by the number of patrons. The common was a long, low room, somewhat wide, with a bar running down the left wall, and two stairways on the far wall leading to the upper floor. Also on the far wall, between the stairways, a number of curtained booths allowed for some slight privacy for those wishing it. The beams overhead were dark with age, and dust and cobwebs were testimony to the lack of proper care given to that once fine building.

Camara walked in a half-step before Lydia, stopping inside the entrance to both survey the common room and allow everyone to notice her. She stood there, meeting as many eyes as she could, until the usually noisy atmosphere dropped down to a few muted whispers. It would be hard for any not to notice the tall, well built, beautiful brunette, dressed in leathers and plate, with a number of well-used weapons strapped to her person.

Suddenly smiling with that come-get-me-I-dare-you look, she strode over towards the bar. There were several eager toughs willing to try out the amazing new woman, certain in their small minds that with their charm and wit they could conquer any mere female.

The first was an odoriferous and dirty rat-like man who asked if M'Lady would like a drink. She looked at him with repugnance, and, luckily for him, he took the hint.

The second was more brazen, asking if the lady was looking for a good time, because he was the best in town. Her look of amusement caused ripples of laughter in the room. All got the joke but him, and he found it so unamusing he pulled his dagger. Camara simply grabbed his wrist tightly, twisting it in such a way that he was forced to drop his weapon, pulled him into a hammerlock, then booted him towards and across the table he came from. His companions prevented him from going back after her and doing something really foolish.

The last before she reached the bar was another of the large, lumpy, less than wise types, the ones who move to the top of their small hill by dint of brute strength and bullheadedness rather than by any innate cunning. He was apparently more interested in relieving M'Lady of her fine sword than anything else. The entire room seemed to hold its collective breath when the brute approached the lady. Wanting to make her point clear, she decided that Sir Fathead would do nicely. With three well-placed and well-executed kicks, one to his groin, one to his oversized belly, and one to his temple, she laid the cretin out cold on the floor. The patrons, silent for a few more seconds, suddenly resumed their chatter, returning the room to its former level of noise, only with a nervous and excited undercurrent. Their object of rumour and speculation for the evening had arrived.

Finding an empty table, by way of frightening off the toughs formerly sitting there, she ordered two ales, one for herself and one for Lydia. She surveyed the room, waiting for the more intelligent, and more dangerous, of the local sharks to make their assessments and move in. She would not have to wait long.

Camara spotted someone who could prove interesting. He was sitting several tables away, eating his meal with a few other men and women, yet seemed somewhat detached from that group, as though he were there only in body, not in spirit. Catching her eye for a second, he smiled. It took only a few minutes before her possible prey approached.

The gentleman was tall, several inches taller than M'Lady, and was rangy, well-muscled and good looking, with dress and appearance speaking of good breeding. He was obviously dressed down for the evening. A gentleman in more ways than one, he showed manners and good taste in his actions and his conversation. If not a lord himself, the man was at least raised and living in a like manner. His presence in that seedy establishment went unexplained.

Lydia, meanwhile, had moved on to the next table, one occupied by several decent-looking gentlemen and two ladies. Her entryline was that her friend was, well, occupied, so did they mind some company. It sufficed, since she was in truth a cute, charming, and intelligent lady, dressed well but conservatively in travel clothes, with only her knife and staff as an evident weapons.

Summoning a barmaid, M'Lady ordered dinner for herself and Lydia, and ordered a round for the table the redhead was now occupying, giving both her and that entire corner of the tavern a knowing wink.

Listening to the gentleman's conversation was easy, as his smooth voice and calm manner eased one's fears and led one to relax. M'Lady listened for a while, prompting him with the odd comment and question, and learned a great deal about him from what he said, but more importantly from what he left out. She ate her meal while he spoke of himself.

The man was the son of a local merchant who had been boarded for a time at the castle in Gedren. He has been out of that city for some years, and had lost all real contact with those inside. He had a good knowledge of the locals and their webs, but none of the place she wished to learn of. His purpose with her, she had accurately guessed, was to lure her to his bed, simply because she was a beauty and would earn him status with the other would-be lordlings in town. She then resigned herself to returning to camp since she saw no others in the tavern who interested her. That man's mind was more repulsive than the smell of the first cretin who had approached her.

Lord Verran had been in the tavern for some time by then, and had exchanged a number of meaningful glances with M'Lady, ones that the gentleman couldn't miss. He asked her who the other man was, and she lied that she didn't really know. The man made some noises about seeing the interloper off, but she told him to keep his bloody nose out of her business or she'd remove it for him. That sent him packing. M'Lady was becoming bored. A tavern filled with less than savory characters, and she was unable to find anyone worthy of her time.

Sitting alone, she saw, or rather heard, a new amusement. Faint sounds of lovemaking were coming from one of the curtained alcoves near her. Standing and walking closer, the sounds were a little louder, and unmistakable. Few but her would have noticed the slight sighs and pants of pleasure over the loudness of the crowd. A smile came to her lips as she imagined the scene.

Gesturing to the two nearest tables, she motioned for them to be silent and listen carefully, pointing at that alcove. The sounds were now slightly louder and easier to hear over the lessened volume in the tavern. Moving to the next nearer tables, she did likewise. Yes, the sounds were distinctly easier to hear. Not much louder, but the background noise level had dropped. The quiet began to spread, as other tables noticed something happening. Very little time passed before the tavern was almost silent and all could hear the impassioned groans and whimpers and the slap of flesh on flesh as the two in the alcove continued on, oblivious to the aural display they were providing. Soon, all could hear the level of grunting increase, as one or the other approached orgasm. It was the man who finished first, with a long shuddering groan, followed closely by the woman, who's long, weak, wavering cry would not have been heard over the normal tavern noise. It was only after they finished that everyone in the tavern heard the woman whisper "Oh, by the gods, it's too quiet out there!"

A loud round of shouting and stomping was given, as a man seated at the table nearest that alcove opened the curtain, displaying to all two young people quickly trying to dress, both red-faced with embarrassment. M'Lady had by then removed herself to a distant table to enjoy the entertainment. Listening to the comments made by those around her, the two were well known and fairly well liked, so her actions would probably do little to detract from their lives.

Close to an hour later, another hush slowly fell over the tavern as a lady entered. A simple, yet well-made travelling cloak covered her completely, other than her face. A dusky-skinned woman, with long wavy black hair, late in her middle years, yet still fine looking, she was accompanied by a distinguished man early in his middle years, and by two others who were obviously personal guardsmen.

Her gaze swept through the tavern, from table to table, seemingly searching for something. When her eyes met Camara's they lingered for a second, sparkling and widening slightly, then continued past to the other end of the room. Followed by the gentleman and their guards, she sat at the empty table M'Lady had occupied before.

Asking the man she was seated beside of the lady and her companions, Camara learned much.

She was Ivana, the Duchess of Fawnmoor, one of the wealthier and more powerful nobles in the province, and a frequent guest at the palace in Gedren. Her gentleman friend was her current paramour, a fourth son of some minor lord in a distant district. Her sons were away, either at the palace or visiting distant friends and relatives, and her daughters were all safely married. She was not in the habit of dropping into taverns.

Giving in to her curiosity, and to the glances received from the lady and her gentleman friend, she walked over to that table for a greeting. Both guards stood at the ready until the lady gestured for them to be seated.

"May I join you?" asked Camara.

"Be our guest," replied the gentleman.

Introductions were made.

The lady spoke. "So, you are Camara. I have heard much of you. When my lackey spoke of a fighting woman in the tavern, one so closely matching the descriptions of this amazing person, I had to see for myself if it was true. And here you are. What brings you to my small town?"

M'Lady looked closely at the woman. She looked intelligent and curious. There was also a hint of amusement in her eyes. Camara decided to play a different game.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private to discuss the matter. Is there a place nearby where we could talk?"

That touch of amusement changed to laughter.

"Of course. My guesting house is not far from here. Igrain, go fetch the coach. We shall be leaving immediately."

Lady Camara stood with the others and looked around, both to see how her companions were faring, and to make certain they knew she was leaving. Lydia was laughing, seated between two gentlemen, and all three were acting quite familiar. They exchanged nods. Lord Verran was seated at a table, acting quite inebriated, fitting in well with the other drunkards there. They exchanged glances. Taggart and Trieste were seated at a large table and another glance informed them of her planned departure. All was going well.

The carriage ride was thankfully brief, for their vehicle lacked any proper cushioning, being the most nondescript of her various conveyances. They arrived at a modest country villa, of a decent size, yet without any of the ostentatious display normally associated with minor nobility. Torches lined the approach, illuminating properly maintained garden hedges and small trees. Hints of white-limned brick wall peeked through openings between leafy limbs, allowing for other, smaller buildings surrounding the main house. An open doorway, framing a waiting servant, showed a more even, warmer glow from the lamps within.

Duchess Ivana allowed herself to be assisted out of the coach by Igrain. The tall, strongly built gentleman then assisted Lady Camara as well, treating her as if she were some fine, pampered lady from the court of the king, offering her his arm and leading her into the warmth of the country house.

It was indeed only a just-opened, seldom-used residence, maintained for convenience sake as a haven near to the only town bordering her estates. It was spartan, but not uncomfortable. The servant led the trio to a small room, one used for entertaining guests. A fire, newly laid, crackled in one corner, aiding the rooms only other illumination - a single lamp. One window, and that small and shuttered, broke the plainness of the walls. There was a scent of wild thyme in the room, as well as that of old leather, dust, and a recent cleaning. Two cushioned chairs and two loungers gave plenty of seating space. The Duchess sat in a chair, and Camara and Sir Igrain, as he so titled himself, sat on a couch. He positioned himself nearer to her than she preferred, but she allowed him his familiarity for the moment. There was definitely some game afoot.

They traded pleasantries, the servants bringing in wine and snacks for the trio, and acted as civilized nobles for a time. Lady Camara soon tired of the veiled suggestions and subtly erotic innuendo coming from Sir what's-his-name, and told him, in a not- so-subtle manner how he would be spending the night if he did not desist. That annoyed Igrain, but brought out another smile from the Countess.

"He's such a young pup, still so full of himself and his own imagined importance. He has had no small success with the young ladies in court, so he considers himself a great paramour, a seducer of women, a lover of no mean skill. I admit that he has some ability, but not so much as he believes."

"Why do you keep him then?"

"Because he does have skill, more than most I have known, and the proper, ah, equipment, to satisfy the most jaded appetite. Do you find that intriguing?"

"A little. But I don't care for the rest of the package. I don't enjoy perfumed lapdogs playing courtly games, especially when someone else holds the leash. And this one is certainly leashed tightly."

"A pity. I think he would have enjoyed the evening, even being under orders. Ah well, one can't have everything. Shall we get down to business then? Oh, Igrain, you may leave us now. Return to my chambers."

That minor noble left, face red, burning in his shame. M'Lady felt some compassion for the man, being somehow tied tightly to that woman. She did not, however, make any move or voice any protest over his treatment, since it looked as though it was freely accepted.

Once what's-his-name left, and the door closed securely, the countess started to speak in earnest. "I take it you're here for some specific purpose?"

Camara decided to invest some trust in this woman. "So to speak. We're sounding out the area and the rumourmongers for information on a contract I have."

"Would that have anything to do with Merovance's medallion? The hushed rumours in court say that it disappeared from Saldar and someone in Gedren now possesses the device."

"Possibly. I have the same rumours, but from reliable sources. Is it that widely known then?"

"Not yet, but soon it will be. If you are working for the king of Saldar, perhaps I can help."

"Why?"

"Let's just say I have an interest in the status quo. The persons most likely to have the medallion are the ones I would least like to see take power. If you were to remove the medallion, and cause some, ah, discomfort to those involved, it would please me greatly."

"And what help would you be willing to give?"

"Introductions, rumours, information - that which is more valuable than gold or steel."

"What is your price for all this help?"

"Something simple. Something that cost little, but is again more valuable than gold. Something I would treasure to the end of my life. Something I could whisper of to my grand daughters."

In the golden light of the lamp and the now-dying fire, Countess Ivana began unfastening her cuffs. M'Lady watched, strange thoughts flitting through her mind, as the ebon skin of that lovely, yet older woman, slowly became unwrapped from its many covers. There was no hurry or impatience in her movements, only the calm self-assurance of a lady confident in herself and in her body. When completely nude, she stood before the fire, lit from behind and from one side, black hair shining, chocolate skin reflecting faint flickers from the dying embers, occasional sparkles from her bush hinting at her arousal. She lowered her eyes, smiling seductively with her full, red lips, and crossed her wrists before her.

"Do what you will with me," the Countess intoned, voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Come here" replied Lady Camara, standing now, still clothed in her leather and armour, glints from lantern and fire reflecting from well-polished weapons and steel. Soon they stood inches apart. M'Lady touched the Countess' chin, raising the woman's head to look into those dark, fathomless brown eyes, her own shining a bright blue, gazing down the few inches separating them. Then her lips parted slightly, and she leaned forward ...

The Bard:

< His eyes mist over, staring off into a distance none others in the room are witness to. Someone coughs to disturb his reverie, then another asks for him to continue. >

Oh, my apologies. Sometimes the imagination is greater than the spoken word. In this case, imagination will need to suffice, for M'Lady has never revealed in any fashion what occurred in that room later in the evening. Some cheap tavern tales exist, but Lady Camara dismissed them as tawdry, and definitely unworthy of the time she shared with the Countess. Perhaps some day one of Ivana's grandchildren will reveal that tale. Until then, we need make do with fancy and lewd imagination. For myself, a short break is in order. All these words do so dry one's tongue.

< There is a short pause as drinks are refilled. His are only topped up, as he has no wish to lose his edge before the end of the evening. Whispered conversations bring blushes to some of the ladies, and to one or two of the gentlemen. All settle quickly when he clears his throat to begin again. >

The tale resumes early the next afternoon, after a light meal ...

Lord Verran, Sir William, Camara (of course), and Lydia were there in the dining room, hosted by Countess Ivana and Sir what's-his-name, Igrain. They pooled their information, and spoke freely of what was to be accomplished, why the medallion was stolen, and who might be responsible. That last was of grim importance to M'Lady, for she had privately sworn vengeance for the life of Briana, even though she had made no mention of her oath to any, save Verran, and that in strictest confidence.

Rumours, allegations, possible hints and leads, and any who could be suspect or gain from the theft were discussed.

The Countess' view was that the medallion was stolen either to overthrow the current King of Saldar, or to wrest the throne from the current King of Gedren. Either would be highly disruptive. The then current kings were both relative pacifists and almost benevolent in their rule, imposing only normal taxes and keeping a tight reign on thievery and slavery.

The prime suspects in Gedren, those who would most enjoy increased power, were much more militant, and would probably encourage illicit activities, provided their purses benefitted. Small wars and upstart warlords would become common.

If a new king arose in Saldar, things would become even worse. The next few in line for that throne were all hated, and desired nothing more than to become absolute monarchs over much of the land, including the much smaller and weaker province of Gedren, a prime and logical first target for military conquest.

In Gedren, there were three counts who were powerful, rich, and dangerous enough to take part in the theft. None matched the description of 'Captain Torres' as seen in the viewing crystal, but there was another, a rich merchant, who both fit the description and had the resources to afford such magic. 'Sir' Lougan. He did not, however, have the royal connections to handle everything on his own. One of the other three had to be involved as well. Lougan was the only real lead on the identity of the other, and to the location of the medallion.

Once given the names of several contacts in the city, as well as a pass to see the king's most trusted advisor, they bid their farewells, and Lady Camara and her companions left the company of the Countess. The two ladies parted with a chaste kiss and a knowing wink, creating some ill-concealed jealousy on the part of Sir whatever.

---

The following afternoon, Camara and her chosen companions found rooms for themselves in an inn not far from the eastern marketplace in Gedren. This was by choice, as breezes from the not too distant sea come from that direction, blowing away the stench of a large and prosperous city.

It was not a graceful, beautiful city, like that of Duramphal, nor one containing the strength and solidity of Campek, nor even one with the colour and cosmopolitan air of Phaedron. It was a city of average people, living their lives from day to day, with no great inspiration, or great leaders to pursue wonderful things. However, it was also a relatively safe and stable city, with crime and slavery actively put down, and a king who kept his nobles in line. Few citizens needed to watch over their shoulders for fear of the guardsmen.

That first evening they spent in the common room of the inn, drinking little, but enjoying some relaxed time together, possibly the last to be had for some time. M'Lady, Lord Verran, Trieste, Humboldt, and Bracchus occupied one table, while Deena, Arden, Sir William and Taggart occupied another. The mood in the tavern was expectant, despite the jugglers and the storyteller busy at either end of the common room. One of the serving girls relayed the news that a new young Techran bard(*), a woman no less, would be playing later in the evening. An event worthy of note.

All but Camara, Lord Verran, and Trieste retired early, for there was much to be done in the morning. Trieste would not be starting her special work until the next evening, and was most active at night anyway, so her normal bed time while in town was after midnight. Camara was expected at a meeting just after midday, so she could sleep long past dawn, plus she wanted to see the new bard. And Verran, inheriting some of the traits from his mother's race, needed little or no normal sleep.

Once before, many years previously, Camara had the good fortune to be able to listen to and spend time with a Techran bard. The man was old, probably late in his fifth decade, yet still strong and hearty. His battle skills, strength, and stamina were demonstrated in a tavern brawl, one instigated by him over some imagined slight, involving most of the male patrons. Afterwards, at her master's order (Camara was a slave at that time), she shared a bed, much time, and some conversation with the man. He was polite and gentle, not at all like she had feared, educated, and free with his talents and his laughter.

Despite herself, she grew to like the irascible man, as he never lost his temper with the slave girl who had been ordered to accompany him for the week of his stay. Something M'Lady was to remember for many years was his almost casual explanation to her for his forbearance. Since she had no choice in keeping his company, he said, he could forgive her for almost any unintentional insult or transgression.

When, late in the evening, the much-anticipated bard finally took her place of honour, Camara smiled with delight. The woman bard was much younger than M'Lady had expected, possibly not even reaching twenty summers. For a Techran, that was infancy. The bard did, however, carry the aura of mystery and strength common to those of her training, and instantly commanded the attention of all, reducing the tavern to silence. Camara liked what she saw. The woman was not overly tall, being half a foot shorter than M'Lady, and was almost slender, yet carried herself with the power and self-assurance of someone much larger. Little else could be seen, since the woman wore loose clothing that covered all her body. Her face was not classically beautiful, but was striking, and could best be described as strong, possibly handsome, with flowing honey-blond hair, light blue eyes, and soft, sensuous lips. There was some humour and a definite hint of sensuality in the eyes when they touched on M'Lady, yet she allowed her gaze to continue over the rest of the crowd with only a hint of a pause.

Scanning the room, the bard spotted a few faces of interest. Camara, of course, since there were few to match her presence. Lord Verran, since a woman of her training could see his mixed bloodline. Three or four others - either for their dangerous appearance or for the wealth of their clothes. After all, entertaining was how she earned her silver.

It took but a moment for her to tune and adjust her harp, and to become seated atop the counter. She started with several light and airy ballads, ones popular in that day. A longer, more serious tale was then told, hinting of tragedy, but still ending with joy. Another light, slightly ribald, yet comedic story followed, accompanied by shouts and lewd comments by some of the more drunken or more daring patrons. All shouting stopped when she began the chords for a dirge.

"This was written to tell of a woman who was dear to my mother, many years ago. Please be silent, and allow me to remember her pain. Afterwards, I will play that which will lighten your hearts again."

The music was sad and doleful, the lines spoken slowly, with time for reflection between each. Though not long, it had a noticeable effect on a number of the patrons, especially Lord Verran.

"The lady on the Throne"

"The lady sat upon her throne
no lover by her side
She could only wait and mourn
her lover that day died

Waiting for the fateful news
from the battle it would come
Her heart already broken
her time would soon be done

The messengers had come and gone
their laments were plain to hear
Yet still she sat and waited
shedding not a single tear

Nothing left for the future
nothing left of her past
Nothing left to live for
she'd given up hope at last

In the darkness of the night
in the hour before the dawn
Arose an empty woman
whose spirit was all but gone

She looked toward her balcony
so empty and so high
She'd join her new-lost lover
before the sun came nigh

When dawn had finally broken
new wails filled the air
All was lost, all was undone
for there was no royal heir"

Camara watched her friend carefully after hearing the sad tale, understanding how it would affect him. Only because of her long association with Verran was she able to see the pain in his face, the unshed tears in his eyes. Shortly after the completion of the bard's lament, he made his excuses and retired for the evening. Knowing there was nothing she could do to ease his pain, she let him leave.

Later, after the entertainment was over, Camara smiled and winked at the bard, inviting her to join them at her table. The silent offer was accepted, and the woman was soon seated, facing Camara, with that same hint of humour and sensuality in her eyes.

Introductions and some pleasantries were exchanged, with the bard noticeably surprised to find herself in the presence of Lady Camara, the newly-growing legend. The surprise changed to a wry smile when M'Lady commented on the far-too-liberal use of silver on the tongues of talemakers. Anonymity, she said, would be welcome. It was then that Camara brought up the subject of the dirge.

"Why did you pick that particular lament to play here?"

The bard sighed, and carefully looked over the two ladies at the table. "It's a tale I tell frequently, since it has personal significance. Rarely does anyone question my choice, though, since it's expected for me to relate some sad story during the course of an evening. Is there a reason for this question?"

"You spoke as though your mother were personally involved in the affair of Queen Shadaila. What is your connection?"

"How did you know that name? I never mentioned it, nor is it known in the popular tales. I thought it lost to all but those directly involved, such as myself and my late mother."

"Again I ask, what is your connection?"

"If you must know, my mother's eldest sister was handmaiden to the queen, and was executed during the purge following the suicide. It was long before my birth, so I never met her, but my mother told me the story many times during my infancy. Now what is your connection, and how do you know the name that was erased from the memory and tales of most of this land?"

"Do you know the full story of the battle and death of her lover? His betrayal and assassination?"

"Most of it. Why?"

"My friend, the one who was here earlier, was chief of his personal guard. He has blamed himself ever since for not being able to prevent the murder. You saw him, and recognized him for what he is. Now do you know why I know that name, and where I learned it from?"

"My apologies. I am far too quick to judge still. I thought you might be one of the old-guard haters, the ones who still occasionally prowl the countryside looking for pockets of remembrance. My song is plain enough to escape their notice, since it mentions no names, no place, no time. Yet still, it serves to refresh the memories of those who can recall the tragedy."

"Accepted. My friend will be feeling his pain for a while, but he has been dealing with it for many years. He will recover quickly. How about another glass of something? I'm far too sober right now to enjoy the evening. Ale, perhaps? Or better yet, some wine? They may even have some of that seaborn brandy here. If you haven't tried it yet, you're in for a treat. It's smooth, subtle, and carries the kick of an angry warhorse! Two goblets of that and you'll wonder why the world suddenly turned sideways!"

The three women sat and talked and drank for more than an hour. A chemistry, an attraction of some sort, formed between M'Lady and Suilain the Techran Bard. The bard asked to be called Su, as her full name meant deadly desert flower, and Su was the flower part.

Later in the evening, near closing time, after much flirtation between two of the ladies, M'Lady invited Suilain up to her room for a final drink. An expression, almost seeming like panic, flashed across the bard's face, one that was quickly replaced with a smile.

"I'm afraid I've already made arrangements for tonight, something I cannot break. Otherwise I'd be delighted. Perhaps the next time we meet? After all, the world is smaller than some would claim, and I will now be watching for you."

"And I you. Perhaps we may meet again, hopefully sooner rather than later, for who knows what may intervene."

They said their goodbyes. Suilain's actions just before parting surprised Camara. Touching a finger to her lips, she kissed it, then tried to press her finger to M'Lady's lips. Camara grabbed the hand in surprise. After staring at the digit for a few seconds, then looking directly into Su's eyes, she brought it to her own lips and kissed it as well. The bard turned and left quickly, leaving Camara a little short on breath and a little weak in the knees.

When M'Lady returned to her room, a surprise was waiting for her. Bracchus was asleep on the bed. He'd apparently been waiting for her to return from the common room. Because her emotions had been enflamed by Su, in addition to her usual appetite and her recently found taste for the body, skill, and fond attentions of the man in her bed, she fell upon Bracchus with a vengeance. He awoke quickly, with his manhood engulfed in the mouth of, and almost being consumed by, a horny she-demon in the guise of his commander. Neither got much sleep that night, despite the fact that Camara sent him back to his own room early in the morning.

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* Authors notes:

Techran bard. Imagine a storyteller who can play music, cast spells, and is capable of handling a really mean knife or staff. Now imagine that same person with a permanent grudge against the world and a nasty temper. Their storytelling and musical abilities are renowned, their battle skills well-proven, and their tempers taken very seriously. Only the best survive the Techran school, with survive meant in the literal sense. Graduates are almost guaranteed a good living - if not as entertainers, then as hired companions and guardians. As with all folk, the grudge and temper vary from one to another, but it is always safer when dealing with one you know little of to assume you are talking with a hair-triggered berserker. Your life expectancy could increase dramatically.

 

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