The Sorcerer's Concubine (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 1) (12 page)

“Have you kissed many flesh and blood women?” she asked.

“Not many.” He paused. “A few village girls, at dances and the like. The Perfume Woman my father allowed me to see when I came of age.”

Velsa knew from House gossip that it was common for fathers to take their sons to a courtesan when they came of age—a flesh and blood woman, of course—one who was particularly trained in teaching young men how to please a woman before he married. It was a matter of shame for a Daramon man to marry without any sexual experience, while for women it was just the opposite.

“But I still want you, just as you are, and only you. Every time I touch you, I know you a little better, and I love you a little more…”

She ran her hand through his hair—unruly from their travels—and gave him a soft smile. Her soul, surely, must be growing stronger, as safe as she felt right now. But she didn’t say anything back. It was one of a concubine’s few privileges, to be adored and keep an air of mystery about her own feelings.

He expertly unbuttoned her boots with his button hook and slid them off her legs, her pants and chemise following. He kissed her neck and trailed down to one of the nipples of her small breasts, where his teeth barely grazed the skin. She moaned with delight, closing her eyes.

Suddenly she felt his finger run a smear of honey from her navel down between her folds.

She sat up. “Grau! My skin isn’t waterproofed on my stomach! Or…honey-proofed. You’re going to make a mess!”

“Oh…”

“Well, lick it up—quick—“

His tongue ran down her stomach and tickled so that she couldn’t help a spasming little laugh that was surely not the mood he had meant to set. She almost kicked him in the head on accident. He grabbed her feet to save himself.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s sort of soaked into you.” He quickly got up and went to the wash basin, coming back with a wet cloth to dab her skin. 

“It was a good idea in theory,” she said, still recovering from the giggles. “But let’s keep it to our mouths.”

“Velsa,” he said, pulling her body close against his now, her legs straddling him. “I want you to be my wife.”

Her laughter grew a little more pained, despite an inner surge of joy. “I would love to be your wife.”

His gazed pierced her with its sudden intensity. “There is a way it might happen, someday…,” he said. “If you had been born a flesh and blood woman, you would be a legal citizen.”

“But I haven’t…”

“But we might be able to buy papers that say you were… Of course, we would have to move far from home, where no one would know us.”

She felt shaky. “How much does such a thing cost?”

“I’m not sure. But if you were my wife and everyone around us thought you had been born flesh, you’d be treated like a real person. No one would think you needed to be servile, that your soul was corrupt.”

“Grau…” Now she fought back a sob. She didn’t dare hope such a thing might be possible. “But what about…the marshes? I thought you were worried about the land being sold. How could you protect it?”

“I don’t love the marshes more than you. I will have to hope they can wait,” he said. “I’ll save every coin I can from here on out, and maybe when my patrol is over we could go to the city and see what we can find on the black market.”

A
few days later
, they ventured outside of town to the base, for Grau to report for his patrol duties. Even from a distance, Velsa could see vast banners streaming from poles, displaying the flag of Atlantis and the emblem of the the Wodrenarune: a black wing spread against crimson.

A simple fence delineated the camp; it wouldn’t keep out intruders, but there was no point in fences anyway against an enemy that could get inside your head. Still, the fence had a gate where Grau showed his papers as well as the papers that marked her as a concubine—the only woman allowed into military camps. Inside the fences stood a large two-story wooden building, a large box of a structure with a thatched roof. Surrounding this were stables, a few smaller wooden sheds, tents grouped around campfires, and a row of latrines. The men were mostly in a state of semi-leisure at the moment, polishing knives, eating from tin plates, talking, smoking. Although it was cold, some of them only wore undershirts with their military-issue gray pants. They looked like a crude lot, muscular in the way of laborers, unshaven and unwashed. And they all stared at her, despite her cloak.

“Another concubine,” one man called, with an approving tone.

Did someone else have a concubine?She glanced around, worried. She missed the other girls at the House, but some of them were prone to jealousy. Another concubine might easily sniff out Grau’s love for her and get them both in trouble.

They took Fern to the stables and entered the headquarters. Inside, they were greeted with a bow by a handsome man with dark brown skin and trim black hair cut short and sleek around his ears. He wore the same odd uniform as the men they had encountered in the barn, with the jacket short and tight. 

“Grau Thanneau,” he said, taking Grau’s papers. “And his concubine. I’d advise you to not let her out of your sight if she means anything to you.”

“I expect the other men will at least respect my girl?”

“Um, they should, but…I still wouldn’t dangle out any temptations. They get lonely and bored and conduct is not held to much of a standard.” He looked vaguely exasperated. “I’m Lieutenant Dlara, and glad to see you. You’re to be our camp sorcerer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lieutenant Dlara waved them toward an elegant table being used as a desk. The fine veneer of the dark wood seemed out of place among the bare wooden walls dressed up only by a few banners. “And I see your family is a member of the Agricultural Guild.”

“We raise fish, actually,” Grau said. “But we’re not in the Fisherman’s Guild because we farm them in a lake.”

“Really. Farming fish. Never heard of such a thing. Well, it sounds like you’re a long way from home, but always let me know if you need anything. You have a bed upstairs in the barracks in room 4, and your uniform and kit is waiting there for you.”

“I’m sleeping in the barracks?” Grau asked. “I thought I’d have a tent. Is it a private room?”

“No, you’re four to a room. We could set up a cot for…” He glanced at Velsa’s paper. “For Velsa, if you find the bed too small. We could give you a tent if you insist, but it gets cold. I’d keep the bed, and as for privacy, well, you’ll find a way. Or if you’re Lieutenant Archel, you won’t even care about privacy…” Lieutenant Dlara sounded exasperated again.

“He has a concubine as well?” Grau asked. Obviously he had been curious too.

“Yes. She plays the flute for us many evenings.” His tone didn’t suggest that he enjoyed these concerts, however.

Velsa thought the girl must be one of the entertainer concubines, then. Or else, like Velsa, she didn’t play an instrument well, but it was good enough for bored soldiers.

Lieutenant Dlara and Grau went over some paperwork. Velsa watched low flames cracking in the fireplace behind the lieutenant, trying not to dread living at this camp, with so many men. Lonely and bored men. No place for a lady, no place for a wife, so it was just a stark reminder that she was neither.

Next, they checked out their room, which was spartan—four beds that were hardly more than cots themselves, each neatly made with a pillow and a gray wool blanket. Three of the beds had pictures tacked on the wall and books on the nightstand, and one had a pack and a folded uniform atop the blanket, which must be intended for Grau.

Grau took his uniform into the adjacent washroom.

When he emerged, Velsa tilted her head, trying to decide if she liked the strange garment, which was almost identical to Lieutenant Dlara’s. She was used to seeing Grau in a tunic, with a trim waist but a relaxed fit around his neck and arms, and a hem that fell just past his knees. This new jacket fit close, buttoning straight down the front to a leather belt with a metal buckle fastener at his waist. A jaunty gray cap completed the ensemble. 

He tugged at the neck. “This damn thing’s itchy. And tight.”

“You don’t wear any armor? You don’t look a thing like the soldiers in books…”

The jacket was short enough that she saw the shape of his thighs, although the pants fit a little more loosely than the jacket, and still tucked into his usual boots.

“What are those for?” she asked, pointing at his shoulders. His jacket had small panels that buttoned down. “A hidden pocket of some kind?”

“It’s called an epaulet,” said another man, poking his head around the corner. “And it doesn’t do anything, just decoration. The palace guard at Nalim Ima have been dressing like it for years. Latest fashion there. They’re new uniforms.”

He came in and shook Grau’s hand. “I’m Ralaran Parvel,” he said. “But people just call me Rawly.”

“Grau Thanneau.”

“And who is this charming creature?”

“Velsa,” Grau said.

Rawly bowed. “What do you think of the uniforms, Velsa?”

“Handsome,” she said. “But what will protect him from arrows?”

Rawly laughed. “What moldy epic have you been reading? The Ten Thousand Man Sacrifice is what protects him from arrows.”

“Still, he could be hurt and in pain, all for the sake of not wearing a little armor?”

Rawly shrugged. “Lord Jherin says armor isn’t necessary anymore. Adds weight.”

“Are you doing a six month stint as well?” Grau asked.

“Two years, my friend, and then they’ve promised me a stable position in Atlantis. I’m halfway through already, although it’s hard to believe. I thought we might have more action. This job is a snooze.”

“That bad? I thought bandits caused trouble here and there.”

“Once in a while.” Rawly made a face.

“No dragon?”

“So you’ve heard the rumors too? Well, I haven’t seen one.”

It was a funny world, Velsa thought, when you wanted bandits to attack just for something to do.

“Can I offer you a tour of the grounds?” Rawly asked.

“Of course,” Grau said.

Downstairs, Rawly stopped to bow to Lieutenant Dlara as they passed his desk.

“Ah, good, Rawly,” he said. “You take those two under your wing, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” Rawly said. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

“He might be a bit of a flirt,” Lieutenant Dlara told Velsa, “but you can trust him.”

“Thank you, sir.” Velsa wondered if they might be so lucky as to have friends.

There was something vaguely troubled in Lieutenant Dlara’s eyes, but he moved the conversation on. “You’ll have tests tomorrow, Thanneau. Thank the fates you’re here. We’ve been short on sorcerers. Of course…oh, don’t think I don’t see that look in your eye, Rawly. Not much has happened in a while, it’s true. It hardly matters whether we have sorcerers or flute-players when all we do is plod around. But you never know.”

“The lieutenant seems like a good soul,” Grau said, as Rawly showed them along.

“He’s from the islands,” Rawly said, which was explanation enough. People from the Balumi Islands just south of Atlantis were known for being good-natured. “Nah, I expect if you have to worry about anyone, it’s Lieutenant Archel. He has a concubine too, and he likes all the attention she receives. I’m not sure if he’ll appreciate a younger soldier having one.”

“I certainly don’t have Velsa with me for attention.”

“What made you decide to buy her?”

“I wanted a companion for my travels.” Grau glanced at her. “I wasn’t really sure if I’d go through with it, though, until the minute I saw her.”

“That’s downright romantic,” Rawly said.

Grau shrugged. He seemed to realize he risked saying too much. She guessed that Grau was not used to hiding his feelings. Preya said he didn’t have a care in the world until Velsa came along. Not long ago, he would have been free to live any life he wanted. Now, he faced giving up his family and the place he loved, all for her.

It was hard not to feel guilty, although she also wondered if perhaps this might be his fate, the fate he had brought upon himself when he went to her House thinking it would be simple to buy her, that she was really a Perfumed Ribbon and not a woman.

Unless it was true in the end, and they were both deluding themselves, and she was a tainted soul after all. It wasn’t always easy to believe her own heart over all the lectures she had been given.

In the evening, they dined at a long table with Rawly and Lieutenant Dlara, and the other men of higher rank and from better families.

Grau dined, anyway. She wasn’t given a place at the table, but had to sit on his lap if she wanted to be there, which of course she did. Grau, certainly, would not have left her alone in the barracks after all the warnings. 

Not far away sat Lieutenant Archel with his own concubine on his lap. She looked a little different from Velsa, because she was from a different House, which would have its own Fanarlem maker with their own style of faces. But she was similarly petite and pretty, with shoulder-length black hair, although it was more curled than Velsa’s. Her face had a sleek look, with long eyelashes and an unusually full mouth. Her maker must have been especially skilled at lips, but it looked strange to Velsa. Her body also had a more voluptuous shape, with round breasts large enough to push into cleavage above the edge of her robe.

She didn’t stay on Archel’s lap for long. He said something to her, and she stood and picked up a flagon of wine from a side table. She strolled around the table with a slinking grace, filling glasses. Some of the men watched her and she lingered longer with the ones who did. Velsa saw one of them squeeze her rear and she said nothing.

She came to Grau and Velsa. “Would you like to help me serve?” she asked Velsa.

“I’d rather she didn’t,” Grau said.

“Don’t be selfish, Thanneau,” Lieutenant Archel said. “My little flower has been doing the work on her own for a long time.”

“It’s all right, Grau,” Velsa said softly. “I don’t mind. I’ll be right here.” It seemed safer not to argue, and she wasn’t sure it was any better to be stuck on his lap staring at his meal.

But then she regretted it, because once all the wine glasses were full and none of the men seemed to need anything more, the other concubine began to stroll the table and let herself be pulled onto another man’s lap. She laughed and whispered in his ear, and he stroked her hair and then put his hand on her breast. She pushed him away, but not seriously. The hand returned.

Velsa backed up against the wall. Memories of those two weeks in the House, before Grau rescued her, flashed through her mind.
Never again…

Grau put down his napkin and turned in his chair, quietly motioning for her to return to him. His arm went back around her and he smeared some butter on his bread, then handed it to her.

Oh, Grau, you shouldn’t!

He wasn’t being careful.

Lieutenant Archel was looking at her curiously, and she put the bread down without a bite.

“Does your girl
eat
?” Lieutenant Archel asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Look at this, my little flower! The girl
eats.
Eat something,” he prompted Velsa.

Now the ‘little flower’ was giving her an expression that was neither interested nor fond.

Lieutenant Dlara cleared his throat. “This is a lot of fuss at the dinner table over nothing. Dinner ought to be an opportunity for us to reflect on our thoughts and observations.”

“I thought you guys from the islands were supposed to be fun,” Lieutenant Archel said. “Besides, what thoughts and observations? Nothing happens around here.”

Other men grumbled agreement.

“Not everything is about battles and bandits,” Dlara said. “I was just reading the latest paper from Atlantis and apparently all sorts of imports from Nalim Ima are beginning to flood in to the mainland. The price of books published in Nalim Ima has gone down so much that people have been buying them by the dozen. The shops can’t keep them in stock. Hardbound books with color plates, mind you, not just pamphlets. Can’t wait for supply to catch up to these parts…”

“Yes, Dlara, we all know you’ve been to Nalim Ima,” Archel said, like he hadn’t really been listening at all.

Velsa finally dared to nibble on her bread. She could still feel the other concubine’s eyes on her—what was her name, even?—but Velsa tried not to look at her.

She still knew, however, that the other concubine continued her rounds, spending time with any man who beckoned her. Of course she must know them all by now, since Grau seemed to be the only newcomer at the table. Only certain men were interested. Lieutenant Dlara ignored her completely, and Rawly was just shoveling food in his mouth like a starving man.

She could tell Grau was getting tired of her weight on his leg, but he didn’t complain. She made the bread last a long time so he wouldn’t feel compelled to give her any more of his food.

Near the end of the meal, the other concubine returned to Lieutenant Archel’s lap, her clothes somewhat disheveled by now, so that Velsa could see almost her entire right breast beneath the loose hem of her undergarment, in the shadow of her robe.

Velsa wasn’t even wearing her concubine’s robes and she didn’t know when she ever would, especially considering that Grau was trying to save money. With her arms and legs protected under sturdy clothes, her skin would stay clean and last a long time. 

By the time the meal ended, it was dark outside, and fires were lit around the camp. “You two should stick around,” Rawly said, when Grau’s steps pointed to the barracks. “We have music after dinner.”