- the Archivist, your narrator.

"E 'nt'a barca du vin ghe naveghiemu 'nsc'i scheuggi
emigranti du rìe cu'i cioi 'nt'i euggi
finché u matin crescià da puéilu rechéugge "

Although Shesayne and Lily had originally stopped at the Styx Boatman for lunch, the two hundred Sigil marks they had been left were more than enough to carry them on into the evening, so that when the lights in the tavern were turned on, they both realised that they had managed to make a good day out of their excursion. Shesayne was pleased that Lily had decided to loosen up a little. Though the dark elf remained fairly cold about certain issues - most specifically surface elves -, she had begun to show herself to be very interesting company. Naturally, Shesayne had chosen the battered old couch, which was Min's favourite place, as their seat. Lily, in the meanwhile, had changed into the white blouse and black leggings they had stolen from the clothing emporium and though she felt awkward - for she had never worn anything but robes her entire life - she was at least content to fade more effectively into Sigil's cracks and begin to resemble one of the locals.

"I was thinking, Lily, how about another bottle of Bytopian Cider?" Shesayne inquire enthusiastically. They had been drinking at a steady rate for most of the day, but in no great quantity. Lily proved to be fascinating in terms of conversation, provided the information could be teased out of her.

"Too sweet. Since this city thinks of itself as the crossroads of worlds, I am certain they stock eilikh." Lily replied, amiably enough. She had surprised herself by the tolerance she had shown to Shesayne's eccentricities and even permitted the half-elf to ask some fairly personal questions.

"What's that?" Shesayne asked curiously.

"Uh...what is the word...it is like a plant, but grows in the darkness, by the glow of faerie fire."

"Mushrooms?"

"Yes, mushroom wine." Lily concluded with satisfaction.

Shesayne made a face, "Mushroom wine how really odd, weird and potentially disgusting."

"Trust me." Lily said, her violet lips drawn in an enigmatic smile.

"Here goes nothing, hopefully." Shesayne said in resignation, rising from the well-worn couch to make her way to the bar.

Lily watched in the distance, careful to examine each of the lithe half-elf's energetic little movements. It was as if her body had been locked in a perpetual, understated dance, but there was a certain playful sensuality in the movement of her hips and the impish smile on her face that even the drow could appreciate. Shesayne, she concluded, had her merits, even if she was frivolous and occasionally irritating.

Meanwhile, and much to her surprise, Shesayne found that the Styx Boatman did indeed happen to have a few bottles of Lily's mushroom wine, though forty marks was generally more than she was inclined to spend on a single bottle of alcohol. Lily's company had, however, put Shesayne in something of a curious mood. She was eager to learn more from the dark elf and decided that it was best to raise her spirits with a taste of home.

"A rare choice, we don't get many drow clients." The brutish, four-armed barkeeper commented, presenting a clear, oval bottle containing a translucent green liquid which appeared to glow in the penumbra of the tavern. Shesayne examined it curiously, paid for the bottle and rejoined Lily, who looked on in eager anticipation.

"So you found it." The dark elf said, barely masking her glee. It had been a long time since she had savoured the comforts of home: she missed the chaos, the uncertainty and the constant activity of her previous life. She missed her status, the services of her House's vast array of slaves, she even missed some of her sisters, though not in any profound way. Virginia was more than sufficient a replacement.

"Yeah, well, anything to please Lily and make her feel comfortable and at home." Shesayne said, carefully extracting the cut-crystal stopper from the bottle and pouring a large glass for Lily and a much smaller one for herself.

"Your hospitality is much appreciated." Lily replied, gratefully taking a sip of the familiar liquid from her glass. For a moment, she was once again under the comforting darkness of her Underdark home, wrapped in a blanket of silence where the only sounds were the almost imperceptible chattering of the giant spiders which were housed not far from her room in her House's shrine.

"Don't mention it, my duty, my pleasure." Shesayne chirped, carefully scrutinising the faintly glowing green liquid before sniffing it. The smell was sharp, metallic and overpowering, like nothing she had ever smelt before. Nevertheless, her curiosity once again seized control of her, so Shesayne put herself in the hands of the powers that be and hastily took a sip of the liquid her eyes closed as she prepared for the wave of nausea she was sure would come. In truth, Shesayne could simply not describe how the wine tasted because it was so sharp and potent, almost like ammonia, that it dulled her tongue, filling it a numb sensation which reminded her of the healing potion a priest had given her when one of her teeth had become infected as a child.

"Is it not to your taste?" Lily inquired, an edge of sadism in her voice. Only the drow palate was refined enough to capture the little nuances of good eilikh.

"It's a little strong..." Lily said, her eyes beginning to water as she felt the insidious, almost chemical sharpness hit the back of her throat, "I'll leave you the bottle...all yours..."

"I regret that it is not to your taste, but at least you have the pleasure of my company for the evening."

"Y'know, I never thought I'd end up talking alone to a drow over a drink. Life's strange, huh?"

"There is no need to tell me that." Lily said sardonically, tensing a little as Shesayne took the liberty of leaning her head against her shoulder.

"Lily..." Shesayne began tentatively. There was something Lily had said earlier that day which had remained seared into Shesayne's mind. Though she knew that it was potentially dangerous territory to be treading upon, Bytopian Cider and her curiosity were a dangerous combination.

"Yes?" Lily replied, still somewhat uncertain as to how to react to the half-elf curling up against her shoulder, raven-black hair neatly arranged under the usual dragon-turtle shell comb and almost pressing against her generous breasts.

"I was just wondering about what you told me earlier, y'know, about your...uh, thirteenth sister."

"What of it?"

"Well maybe I misunderstood or misheard you, but didn't you say that you two were...like, well..."

"Bedmates?" Lily interjected impatiently.

"Yeah..." Shesayne concluded, slightly embarrassed.

"Forgive my ignorance of surface customs, but what is your point?"

- But she was your sister - Shesayne thought, before deciding a more diplomatic approach, "Tell me about her."

"What is there to say? She was gifted with a very pleasing appearance and much talent as a priestess, so she sought me out as someone who could support her rise through the ranks of the Initiates of the Temple. As a junior priestess, I was merely a first step, but had the added advantage of being her sister, so she could trust me a little more than an outsider. In return I expected her obedience, affection and attentions."

"Do you...well, do drow girls normally sleep with their sisters?" Shesayne asked, phrasing each word as delicately as possible.

"Why do you make this distinction between sisters and other forms of lovers? Understand that I am not referring to couplings intended to create offspring - for we, above all races, are well aware that the strongest children come from the union of unrelated bloodlines, but to a physical relationship that was an added dimension to our relationship as Daughters of the same House." Lily explained, though there was no simple way to describe the convoluted nature of drow society to an outsider. As far as Lily was concerned, there was no element in sisterhood which precluded erotic relations - family ties were just another social network, like the Priesthood of Lloth or affiliation to a House.

"Sorry, I don't want to offend you or anything, but to us surface dwellers that all sounds really strange and a little creepy. At least, as far as all those I've met are concerned." Shesayne confessed.

"That is, in a sense, natural. I too am repelled by much of what I see here in Sigil. I cannot demand you to share drow sensibilities - though there is no reason a comparatively intelligent being such as yourself you should not - because you were never given a chance to experience their true superiority."

"I'll take your word for it...but, don't you ever miss your sister, since you two were...uh...so close?"

"No." Lily replied coldly, "She should not have made impossible requests of me. She was not even a full priestess, still an untrained adolescent. She would have been a liability wherever the gate spell took me to. I knew because I had only very recently been an Initiate myself and I could not allow my survival to be compromised by her weakness."

"I...guess." Shesayne was, for once, lost for words. She could not imagine anyone being so callous with regards to a brother or sister. But, in the end, the half-elf decided that it was not her place to judge. Her mother had done far too much of that for there to be any appeal in universally condemning someone or something on the grounds of background or race alone. As far as she was concerned, Lily had so far shown herself to be pleasant - in her own particular way - and that is what Shesayne decided to judge her on.

"I know you think me cruel," Lily began, draining her glass and quickly pouring herself another, "but that is the only way one survives and prospers in drow culture. Here, however, I have no intention of doing you any harm. Now that I think of it, you have shown yourself to be worthy of my trust and, perhaps, my admiration."

"That's always fine and good to hear." Shesayne said contentedly, shifting into a reclining position on the couch and stretching so that her head was planted firmly on Lily's chest.

"Are you always this forward?" Lily inquired. Though drow had few, if any inhibitions, to their sensuality, expressions of admiration were usually confined to the private sphere, since public displays were considered evidence of weakness or lack of caution.

"Oh, well, I suppose drow culture isn't big and overenthusiastic on a little cuddle now and then, huh?" Shesayne said, somewhat disappointed. In reality though, she was quite aware that it was unreasonable to expect Lily to provide the same sort of physical affection she received from Min.

"Virginia uses this term and I understand it to mean a physical display of affection which does not necessarily lead to coupling, but is somehow linked to it." There were nuances of surface society which simply evaded Lily. Virginia's attentions were, to be sure, quite flattering, but at times, they seemed more sentimental than erotic.

"Yes...y'know, you could stroke my hair, or my cheek or, now that I mention it, just about anywhere you like since it's you. You could hold me and..."

"Then the answer is no. We do not emphasise superfluous physical affection. We are passionate lovers, but artistic and efficient and never trapped in foolish emotions."

"It's not foolish!" Shesayne protested, "Doesn't Virginia ever hold you and tell you you're beautiful and doesn't that make you feel good, wanted, loved?"

"Yes, of course, but she is Virginia." Lily said dismissively. There was no reason why she should treat a halfbreed with the same respect and deference she reserved for her priestess.

"What? Look, Lily, you've really got to loosen up...just 'cause we exchange a little friendly affection here and there doesn't mean we've got to go in all deep and serious with power relations, politics or religion or whatever. It just means I'd like to have a little fun and feel good with you, end of story - what I'm saying, Lily, is like the other time we were here at the Boatman and we kissed: that didn't mean that I wanted my relationship with you to replace your relationship with Virg, it's just a little game between friends. Then if you get all wet and excited and want to fuck, that's alright with me too, but if you don't like me or Virg doesn't want you to, nobody's going to force you."

"These are games children play." Lily replied matter-of-factly. Between one nostalgic sip and another, she had already managed to drain half the bottle of her fungus wine.

"Fuck, Lily!" Shesayne said impatiently, leaping into Lily's lap and straddling the bemused dark elf, "D'you like me or not? D'you even sodding listen to me or understand that I'm trying to be friends with you the way I understand it, simply 'cause I like working with you and talking to you? Is it that sodding hard to accept and realise that I really don't want to use you, I just like being with you...that's what friendship means."

"Have I offended you?" Lily asked impassively.

"No, it's just a little frustrating when you're so cynical all the time."

"In answer to your question," Lily began calmly, "I guarantee you that I have been listening to you all day. I would be foolish not to, since you appear to be very well aware of the nature of society on the surface world. I also think I...like you because you appear to have a swift mind and are effective at what you do. You are not, and I believe I have said this before, unattractive either."

"Oh...well, I guess I think that's best compliment I'll be able to squeeze out of you." Shesayne said, pouting a little. At least in her sitting position on Lily's lap she was treated to a very comprehensive overview of the dark elf's magnificent, onyx-black breasts.

"I know you find my appearance pleasing." Lily ventured, taking another sip of the mushroom wine. Its effects were not merely alcoholic, but also stimulant, inducing a mildly euphoric state after a few glasses.

"Are you fishing for a compliment?" Shesayne said, smiling a little - Lily was clearly at least making an effort, "'Cause if you are, I'm warning you that you're about to catch a big one."

"What?" The speed and colloquialism of Shesayne's speech had bedevilled Lily's linguistic mind for most of the day, but in that moment, the half-elf appeared to be spouting pure nonsense.

"It's an...uh, well, what's it called...where's Aerylle when you need her...an expression." Shesayne offered, "What I mean is that my mother always used to tell me that drow looked all horrible and spidery and evil, but when I saw you for the first time wearing that blouse and nothing else, I suddenly forgot all my mother's stories and all the drow cutthroats they talked about in the Hive."

"You flatter me, but it is not directly in your interest to do so. It is you, after all, who recommended that the company hire me." Lily said, internally regretting the fact that even insofar as a half-(surface) elf was concerned she was still in a potentially precarious social situation.

"Lily, just accept that I mean it and that it's true."

"Why is it so important for you to be my friend?"

"I think you're fascinating, a genuine individual and someone who's actually interested in me and wants to know what I'm saying and not what you think I'm saying." Shesayne said with a certain intensity which struck Lily as uncharacteristic of the normally flighty half-elf. Now with Shesayne's clear, blue eyes staring into her own, the dark elf realised that every day on the surface would entail a new discovery.

"Thank you." Lily said, almost lost for words.

"C'mon, there's a place I'd like to show you, since you're all into this discovery and exploration business." Shesayne invited enthusiastically, rising to her feet to take Lily by the hand and guide her out of the tavern.

Reluctant to abandon her half-finished bottle of eilikh, Lily was nonetheless at least a little intrigued about what Shesayne had in mind. So she followed the half-elf's lead, winding through darkened alleyways, deep into the Hive. The darkness - that familiar, comforting darkness which reminded Lily of home - enveloped them, but Shesayne knew where she was going by memory and intuition alone. Their footfalls were light on the broken cobblestones and on the small puddles that had formed where the streets had been undone altogether by the action of weeds and of the passage of countless citizens. After wending their way through the narrow mazes of Sigil's darkest quarters, the couple found themselves in a small, deserted square, practically overwhelmed by thin, decaying buildings which seemed to peer over them malevolently.

At the centre of the square was a small, but exquisitely carved fountain of an exotic water flower which still stood proudly, though partially obscured by a thick growth of sharp Razorvine, on a pool of surprisingly pristine water.

"This area was abandoned ages and ages ago," Shesayne explained approaching the fountain, "the buildings were all declared unsafe so most just moved out, I heard there were ideas to redevelop it, but nobody's going to put money into the Hive. It's really quiet here, most of the things that you've got to watch out for 'round about here don't like fresh water, but the fountain's enchanted...I think, so the water always runs clear."

"Is this place important to you?" Lily said, curious to understand why the bastard daughter of a surface elf and a human would so relish darkness and deserted ruins.

"Yeah, it's just about one of the only little pieces of peace, quiet and comfort you're going to find in the Cage. Plus it's one of the few nice places Min and I could go to where they wouldn't tell us to pike it and leave." Shesayne took a seat by the border of the fountain, careful not to cut herself on the Razorvine, "Hey, Lily, c'mon have a seat, we can talk some more."

Lily complied, pleased to be surrounded in the womb of darkness. Her sensitive darkvision and hearing could only note silence and the scampering of a few cranium rats in the distance. Outside the invasive glare of light, Lily was free to appreciate that Shesayne looked appealing enough in her succinct, slit skirt and equally revealing top. A little slender and waifish for her tastes, perhaps, but the half-elf's human ancestry had, at least, granted her some alluring curves.

"You like it better in the pitch-black darkness, don't you." Shesayne said, smiling as she detected that Lily was at ease. She could only barely make out the drow's figure next to her, cloaked as she was in the night, with only the light red-violet glow of her eyes in evidence.

"The darkness helps you see that which the light overwhelms. If you had my eyes, you would see this square, this fountain, this water with such subtlety, such detail that you would never again wish to step in the painful glare of light."

"You forget and ignore the fact that I find it difficult just to see you here beside me." Shesayne said. She fondly remembered similar evenings she spent with Min and, often, Verden as well by that fountain talking about nothing in particular far from prying ears.

"But you sense me: your senses are sharp, so you feel my presence, hear my breathing, maybe even detect the warmth of my blood."

"I do...and I'm glad I took you here, 'cause it's nice to see you feel at home and you're always really interesting and intense when you're in a good mood, so I'll take that a sign that my little idea worked."

"My House had a fountain, larger than this one, too. We kept filled with water from deep within the Underdark, so deep that when it came up it was warm and you could bathe in it. But I know this not to be the same fountain, the sound of the drops of water is different. Each fountain, each stream of groundwater has its song." Lily said introspectively.

"Wow, Lily, I really never thought you took the time to think about these things..."

"When your life depends on it, you learn to observe everything around you." Lily interrupted, curiously trailing her fingers in the fountain's pool. It was cold, but it felt clean and clear.

"Lily...there's something I've been meaning to ask you again..." Shesayne began softly.

"You may." Lily replied, her intense, burning eyes never leaving Shesayne's. She had finally decided to reveal just how much she had managed to detect about Shesayne.

Very slowly, almost as if in a trance, Shesayne ran her fingers down Lily's cheek, just to feel the soft texture of the skin and the delicate bone structure underneath. She then moved forward, eyes half-closed, lips slightly parted until she felt Lily's mouth against them. That instant was a like a revelation to Shesayne, as if the curious tension which had always built in her when she admired Lily evaporated in a single wisp of steam. The dark elf's mouth was hungry, willing and aggressive, her tongue dextrously dancing with Shesayne's, her lips soft, yielding and sensuous. Lily sank into the kiss, drawing Shesayne closer, her sensitive ears detected the increased rate of the half-elven girl's heartbeat.

As gently as she could, Shesayne slowly began to unclasp the knot on Lily's blouse, eager to release one of those gloriously full, onyx breasts. She did this with trepidation, eager to bring the heavy, magnificent orbs of the dark elf's breasts spilling forth, to feel the stiff little violet nipples under her fingers and most, importantly, to hear Lily's breath quicken in anticipation. It was then that she felt the drow's hands clasp her own and set them aside with surprising gentleness.

"Let us enjoy this for what it is." Lily said with more understanding than Shesayne had ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry, Lily, you're right...silly me, I can get so carried away sometimes." The half-elf mumbled apologetically.

"No, your desire is to be expected. It is only natural that you seek beauty in this decaying city." Lily said - Shesayne, it appeared, also had taste, but it would have been most unbecoming to grant her favours to one who was not even a priestess.

"Why don't we get home now? I feel like a warm bath and I know where Marséna stashes her biscuits so there'll be loads to keep us going...talking, I mean, though if you change your mind and reconsider, I'm always up for it."

"I am flattered." Lily said with a wry smile as she rose to follow Shesayne back to the Temple, "But must it be something sweet again?"

"Oh, c'mon," Shesayne said, happy that she had not offended Lily, "what do drow snack on in the middle of the night?"

"What do you call the plant that grows low and thick on rocks?"

"Wha- you've got to be kidding and having me for a joke...moss?"

"Yes, moss preserved in spices."

"Just one thing then," Shesayne said, grimacing, "never-never cook for me."

"Cooking is for slaves and males, I fail to understand why Virginia finds it comforting."

"You know, you could loosen up with the language just a little...learn some cant, you won't stick out and be so obvious if you do." Shesayne suggested, weaving her way back through the streets of the Hive, instinctively remembering which way was the shortest back to the Temple Ward.

"Obvious?"

"As in you'll fit in better and be a real Sigil girl in no time. Start by dropping the accent..."

"Believe me, Shesayne, it is a good deal easier said than done." Lily replied dryly.

"Problem is, Lily, you've got to realise that in this place only the teacher at the useless old school my mother sent me to and Friyya - when she wants to show off - speak like that. If you want to dive in and feel the life of the Cage, you've got to start blending in."

Lily sighed inwardly. She had once been the daughter of one of the most powerful noble Houses in Ille-Athalath and now she was reduced to having to learn the popular vernacular to get by. Upon further reflection, though, Shesayne made a good point: there was an abyss that separated the Drow tongue she had spoken at home and the language spoken by the masses of Ille-Athalath. Since she was no longer, effectively a noble, excessive formality would get her nowhere. Nevertheless, Lily was, by all her considerable powers of deduction, inclined to believe that Virginia was a better linguistic guide than Shesayne.

********

That night, Shesayne and Lily, in their limited, sometimes, awkward capacity, did at least a little something to confirm Sigil's reputation as the crucible of the existence and the slow destroyer of cultural boundaries. Indeed, Shesayne was surprised at how forthcoming Lily was with answers about her past and her current expectations. So, as the half-elf reclined on Virginia's bed, Lily unselfconsciously naked and under the sheets next to her, she felt that, ultimately the day had been a productive one.

The same, however, could not be said of Syf and Friyya. The evening, as far as Syf was concerned, had been an unmitigated disaster. She had instantly regretted speaking so harshly to Ithunn - even though she had been severely provoked, it was her duty as the senior Sister to tolerate the shortcomings of novices. Moreover, Friyya greeted her back in their lodgings with that irritating, smug smile which reminded Syf so much of the times when her lover had a savage little verbal dig prepared for virtually every other novice.

"So did you manage to tame the beast?" Friyya asked playfully. She was sitting, already changed into her nightgown, on the side of the bed she shared with Syf, carefully examining her teeth in a handheld mirror for even the slightest impurity in their pearly whiteness.

"Friyya, what is wrong with you?" Syf snapped, barely containing her anger.

"Oh, come, my treasure, if she is to be the finest paladin of her year, surely she can tolerate a little gentle teasing."

"Do you ever stop and think how much you can actually hurt other people?"

"You see, Syf," Friyya said, satisfied with the flawless condition of her smile, "that girl is just a little sensitive. But that was no reason to burst out so rudely..."

"Friyya, that's enough. She told me about the library...I thought you had stopped being so petty."

"Hmm, depends, I don't take well to physical threats." Friyya said airily. She retrieved her ivory-inlaid hairbrush and began to put her rich, autumn-blonde hair to meticulous order.

"You have to grow up." Syf said firmly.

"What?"

"You have to grow up. It was all very well when we were novices, but now we are responsible for the life and soul of the Order. We simply can't go around treating others, least of all the novices we should be nurturing, as if we were spiteful, adolescent girls."

"Fine, you're right." Friyya said sullenly.

"Ithunn isn't like Marséna," Syf commented quietly, sitting by Friyya's side on the bed, "she has wounds that run deep."

"I know, I'm sorry I spoiled it for you, I know that you two are close...and I think I am perfectly happy with that. I'm also sorry I spoiled it for Inge; she is such a sweet girl, I would have liked to have spoken to her in happier circumstances."

"Look, Friyya, I am not condemning you. I don't have half of your brilliance: all I have is my sword arm and my devotion to my Sisters and to the Vigilant Maiden. My point is that I know only one thing: that your anger should be diverted towards our enemies and not our Sisters, those who would love you if only you gave them a chance."

"So you say Ithunn admires me?" Friyya inquired, hoping for a compliment.

"Of course she does, my treasure, she always tells me what a good couple we make and what a wonderful teacher you are."

Friyya could not help but blush slightly. Flattery, as always, was a weakness of hers. If only Ithunn had apologised in those same terms, then perhaps that evening's situation could have been avoided. Ithunn, however, was like Syf: proud and firm in her beliefs, "I'll talk to her next tomorrow after lessons." She finally conceded.

"Thank you. I don't want you to apologise, since you were both at fault, but I would like you to tell her that what happened tonight is behind us, and that there will always be a place by our side for her."

"Sounds reasonable enough to me." Friyya said, finally laying aside her hairbrush. She rose to her feet and began to turn out the bed.

"Thank you, Friyya, I truly appreciate it." Syf said, a calm smile spreading across her lips.

"Syf...Syf, I don't know how to say this without embarrassing myself," Friyya said, pausing for a moment to look her lover straight in the eyes, "the truth is, I would do anything you asked me to. I know I can be a spiteful wretch but..." Friyya's contemplations were silenced by Syf's passionate, needy lips.

"We can only grow together and that means knowing ourselves through each other's eyes. So I want Ithunn to learn the same lesson you and Marséna learnt: that sisters can quarrel, but, in the end, the bond grows always stronger."

"Hmm...I never through you were so wise, Syf." Friyya said teasingly, tracing her tongue over her lover's soft lips.

"How's this for wisdom?" Syf said, her voice thick with passion as she devoured Friyya's mouth. Her hands slid up the auburn-haired beauty's nightgown, clasping her perfect, alabaster bottom.

"Worthy of the finest paladin of the Radiant Path: squad leader or no squad leader, you will always be my heroine," Friyya breathed, her lips wet and demanding as she drew her kisses down Syf's throat, "and to show my appreciation, I think I'll let you do whatever you want tonight."

"You can start," Syf replied, her voice heavy with desire, "by showing me just how much you appreciated my little surprise earlier today."

"Oh well," Friyya said lasciviously, helping Syf lean back on the bed and spreading her lover's slim, muscular thighs, "I already had dessert, but I suppose I could go for a second helping."

Syf smiled, undoing her buttons to her tunic and helping Friyya to gain access to her sodden sex by pulling its hem around her waist. It always aroused her to hear Friyya make her wanton little comments: in that sense, it was reassuring to see that her lover had an irreverent, slightly perverse side. In due time, Syf's suspicions were confirmed by the delectable action of Friyya's lips on her rapidly moistening sex. The auburn-haired girl trailed playful little kisses on the inside of Syf's thigh, circling the outer lips of her blooming flower and the moving in, closer and closer, to her juicing core. Adjusting herself on the bed for comfort, Syf gently caressed Friyya's silky, autumn-blonde hair, drawing her closer with one hand as she ran the other down the gentle curve of one of her breasts, letting out a soft moan as soon as her fingertips made contact with a dark pink nipple. Syf's entire body had become dangerously sensitive, for she could feel each distinct movement of Friyya's mouth on the slick folds of her sex, feel the expert licking motion that coaxed her little clitoris to enraged, lustful life.

Then, as gently as she could, Friyya parted Syf's thighs further still, her fingers lovingly tugging the raven-haired paladin's nether lips apart to reveal the pink, passion-slick heart of her womanhood. Friyya then proceeded to place long, casual licks on the innermost petals of Syf's sex, careful to avoid her lover's clitoris. It was a pleasure to sink back into the familiar warmth, to sense the aroma of her raven-haired lover and to feel the velvety, yielding softness of Syf's innermost secrets under her tongue and lips.

"Friyya, Goddess, what are you doing?" Syf groaned in frustration. Her blood felt as if it was on fire even as Friyya teased her, coaxing her inner folds with insistent, but painfully inconclusive little licks. Syf needed more, she needed to feel the her lover devour her, for Friyya inspired love and lust in equal measure. She was a magnificent woman to be cherished and an equally magnificent body to be possessed.

"Good things come to those who wait." Friyya said smugly, carefully inserting two fingers deep into her lover's canal, easily parting the lust-swollen flesh to find a liquid, molten cavern of sweet, fragrant pleasure. The moist, needy flesh welcomed Friyya's intrusion, eliciting an eager gasp from Syf. Friyya then bent her fingers deep in her lover's sex, delicately searching.

"There!" Syf groaned, her nipples felt as hard as arrowheads under her fingers, for each little grazing touch generated an almost electric shock in response. Her sex felt pulsating, tight and needy around Friyya's playful fingers.

The auburn-haired beauty did not take long to oblige her lover as she began to move her fingers against Syf's most sensitive spot in a firm, circular rhythm, while she busied her mouth around the tiny, stiff clitoris, revelling in the familiar, beloved light muskiness of the raven-haired girl's sex. Friyya had always privately believed that engorged little bud to be one of the most endearing parts of Syf's body. She certainly adored lavishing her attentions on it, just as she adored Syf's gasping cries in response to her playful licks. If only the novices knew, Friyya mused, that their much-feared drill instructor could be reduced to mewling so sweetly in desperate need by a few well-judged flicks of the tongue. So Friyya obliged her lover's heady desire, feeling Syf's hips beginning to buck under her. The dark-haired paladin bit her lower lip - it was mildly embarrassing to be so vocal about her passion, especially because she knew that Shesayne and Lily had returned - but the build-up of molten heat in her loins was undeniable, as was the almost maddening dedication of Friyya's fingers which thrust into her with firm, loving abandon. Syf came gasping raggedly for air. She felt her climax as a spasmodic wave enveloping her sex, followed by a rich feeling of satisfaction as she contracted gently around Friyya's fingers.

"Syf...all this because of me." Friyya teased, raising her gaze to admire her lover in the throes of her climax. The auburn-haired girl's lips and cheeks were sodden with Syf's nectar, as was her hand.

"Sorry..." Syf replied, blushing slightly, "but you know all my weak points."

"Better I know them in the bedchamber than on the fencing yard." Friyya quipped rising to embrace Syf.

"You always have an answer for everything." Syf reprimanded gently, eagerly kissing off her own nectar from Friyya's rich, sensuous lips.

"I know...so, is there anything else my sweet Syf would like her obedient little lover to do?"

"First, let's get you out of this." Syf ordered, pulling Friyya to her feet and almost tearing off the auburn-haired girl's nightgown, tossing it to one side like a rag, "I never get tired of admiring you." She said reverently, leaning in to kiss Friyya passionately once more.

"Of course you don't." Friyya responded haughtily.

"I think little Friyya needs a lesson in humility, bend over the desk." Syf barked in the tone she used to command novices during training. Having Friyya in her power had always been one of Syf's most fervent fantasies.

Friyya felt a pulse of excitement beating in her chest. She was embarrassingly wet and made sure Syf knew this by spreading herself out on the plain wooden desk, legs apart so that her pink, juicy nether lips were slightly parted for her lover's inspection. The wood felt hard and grating against Friyya's stiff nipples, its scent of polish and musty books filling her nostrils. Syf approached from behind and planted two hard slaps on Friyya's perfect, upturned bottom, bringing a bright red glow to the beautifully curved alabaster globes. The impact caused a couple of droplets of Friyya's nectar to trickle down her inner thigh.

Syf was behind her now, the raven-haired paladin's strong hands running lovingly down her lover's statuesque breasts, taking time to tease and coax the red-rose nipples that rode so majestically astride the pure white peaks.

"Do you think I need to be punished?" Friyya inquired breathily as she felt Syf's tender, wet kisses trail down her spine. Being so open and vulnerable, surrendering herself to Syf's attentions was deeply arousing.

"Most definitely." Syf sighed, her tongue trailing down the tight crevasse of the magnificent globes of Friyya's bottom.

"Oh Syf!" Friyya giggled as she felt the tip of her lover's tongue gently play against the tight, pink pucker of her bottom, smothering it with gentle attention, "You're incorrigible. If you're curious about taking me there, all you have to do is ask."

"Maybe another time." Syf replied weakly, her throat knotted with desire at the thought that Friyya was willing to surrender herself completely to her - mind and body.

"So what is my dear Syf's pleasure?"

"My pleasure," Syf declared, regaining her composure and rising to her feet, "is for this disobedient novice to submit to discipline." Three hard slaps rained down on Friyya's upturned bottom. The feeling of those magnificent, firm globes yielding under the force of her fingers was profoundly arousing to Syf, but more still were Friyya's surprised little cries at each slap.

"Spread your thighs further and keep your hands where I can see them. Anything you spill on the floor you will lick up, understood, novice?" Syf growled.

Friyya happily complied, "Hmm...yes, Sister," she cooed, "I am such a wanton girl, I promise you'll never catch me pleasuring myself in the armoury again."

"I better not!"

"But it felt so good, Sister," Friyya purred, spurring Syf on as she arched her back, balanced on the tips of her toes to better receive Syf's blows, "because I was thinking of you."

Syf was in no mood to contain herself any longer. She pushed Friyya down against the desk and briskly inserted three fingers into her lover's sex. Friyya whimpered and gripped the table, the shock and pleasure of the penetration overwhelming after the sensual build-up of the evening. She could feel her tall lover's stiff nipples graze against her back as she allowed herself to be taken vigorously. Syf's fingers were quick, strong and expert, masterfully parting the juicy folds, while her thumb casually strummed the stiff little bud of Friyya's clitoris. She kept Friyya pinned down effortlessly with one arm, her free hand plundering the delights of the auburn-haired paladin's sodden sex, eliciting sharp little moans at each brisk thrust. Had it been up to Syf, she would have kept her fingers or tongue planted in the moist, fragrant paradise of Friyya's sex for days at a time.

Steeling herself against the wooden desk, Friyya moved her hips in rhythm with the thrusts of Syf's fingers, abandoning herself to the agonising desire blocked deep in the pit of her belly, surrendering herself to her lover's ministrations. Then, all of a sudden, the accumulated friction in her sodden canal and deeper in her loins was released in a long, sublime contraction and Friyya came in a low, satisfied wail. Syf ensured that Friyya remained spread out on the desk until the last contractions of her climax had eased. It was her privilege as Friyya's lover to capture all the delights of her peak.

"You really take this punishment thing seriously, don't you Syf?" Friyya said breathlessly as she felt Syf's grip on her arm relax. She turned around to wrap her arms around her lover and trail her lips in the valley between Syf's elegant breasts. Her bottom was still a little sore, even though Syf had clearly held back.

"You also seemed to take a liking to your...role."

"Because I would have been glad to have had you as an instructor. You are always so strong - strict, but ever so loving. Now that I think of it, I understand Ithunn. You know the way to a girl's heart." Friyya knew that Syf would never hurt, never humiliate her. In truth, however, her intimate game with Syf had been one way Friyya sought to make her peace with her experiences at the hands of a much less sympathetic instructor who had, unfortunately for her, been far more real. The most traumatic memories were still like open wounds:

"Is something wrong, Friyya?" Syf asked with concern when she realised that her lover had been standing silently in her arms for an uncharacteristically long period of time.

"No, just remembering." The auburn-haired paladin replied, planting a soft, grateful kiss on Syf's throat.

"Remembering what?"

"Why I'm thankful to be here."

*********

Von Dassau enjoyed his brisk, morning walks, even though his research had distracted him in recent times so that his most recent excursion was to be the first in many days. He took perverse pleasure in watching the decaying fabric of society around him: individuals he automatically knew to be petty criminals, pimps, prostitutes, pickpockets and rent-boys, all essential components of the grotesque circus of city life. He knew wickedness, knew it from the aeons he had spent corrupting mortals, and had grown to know the passion for possession and for destruction, which were the twin pillars which held up the edifice of evil, as well as the black depths of his own soul. In a time past, too distant for mortal to even contemplate when all that existed was immortal spirits, Dassau had made a choice. At some point in a more recent past, that choice had begun to weigh heavily on him; hence his decision to seek reform through law enforcement. The very fact that he chose this profession, however, was ample proof that he had never quite lost his fascination with the madness and infinite evil of mortals.

Isolde followed three paces behind him, stylus and paper in hand to jot down any observations Dassau made. In reality, it was a charade. Dassau was merely concerned with being seen to have a secretary and in compelling Isolde to perform a task he knew full well to be redundant. At least, Isolde thought, no harm would come to her in the otherwise highly unpleasant streets of Sigil's root backsides as long as she was by Dassau's side. The arcanoloth was impeccably dressed in his black, military dress uniform, his brilliant, eight-pronged Medal of the Order of the Great Wheel around his high collar, the immaculate black overcoat he always wore on his walkabouts fluttering gently in the Sigil breeze around him. Although he had no need for one, Dassau always brought a black and silver cane with him as well.

"Yes, yes, Isolde, behold the boundless joys of Sigil. Behold urban degradation, behold squalor, behold rat-infested slum tenements and the detritus of the Multiverse all swept together under this collective carpet..." Dassau mused on like that, in his pompous, bombastic tone for hours on end.

"I suppose some say it has its charm, sir." Isolde said quietly, not wishing to give Dassau the impression that she was contradicting him.

"I suppose they would. But we speak of those who possess no aesthetic taste, those who from the gutter emerge and, ultimately, to the gutter return." Dassau was tall, towering at least a foot and a half over Isolde, and she found it difficult to match his stride. She did find, however, that there was something vaguely comical about the perpetual snarl on his black-and-tan canine muzzle: it was almost as though she were bringing her ill-tempered dog for a walk.

"Sir, perhaps we should avoid the Carrier's Lane, the Red Eye has been using that area as a base for some time." Isolde said cautiously. She had no intention of running into the enforcers of a narcotics racket.

"Absurd! I shall not have my walk circumscribed by the putative presence of petty criminals. Onwards! I think that, upon my return, I shall have the Olignan '41. Ensure that the bell-decanter is washed, you forgot about it last night."

"Apologies, sir, it will not happen again." Isolde replied, her regret insincere to say the least.

"Right, you see Isolde, nothing at all to worry about. Just more of Sigil's seedy underbelly for us to admire. Look, to your left, you will notice a figure lying in an open sewer channel. Doubtless, the residents of this district believe him to be a sleeping derelict, but, Isolde, judging by the stiffness of his limbs, he is long dead..."

"Hey, dog-boy, got jink?" A crude voice called from the shadows. It was joined by the laughter of two, perhaps three other men.

"I do beg your pardon." Dassau replied, his snarl broadening somewhat.

Four men came out of the shadows, all dressed in red satin jerkins and bearing wicked, curved blades. They were swarthy, with shaved heads upon which spiral patterns of serpents and dragons had been tattooed. The largest of the thugs, a man who by his demeanour and rich, gaudy gold jewellery could have been interpreted as the leader began his highwayman's routine, "We was saying, drop the jink. You're a well-dressed fellow, you're sure to have a few hundred marks lying around. We'll take that and you'll forget you saw us...or else..."

"What?" Dassau replied menacingly. Isolde made sure she was directly behind her commanding officer, so as not to draw unnecessary attention to herself.

"Well, dog-boy, we start by cutting off those pointy ears of yours." The man threatened, drawing closer. He was clearly confident in his skills with the blade. Isolde had heard that the Red Eye trained all their operatives in a particularly insidious style of short-sword fighting which was based on the judicious use of speed, precision and poison.

"I think not." Dassau replied, baring his fangs. Isolde could not see it, but she was certain that the baleful red glow in the old dog's eyes had begun once again.

"Uzo, Akkim, Drelto, let's put this one in the dead book..."

The thug leader took only two steps, Isolde counted them, before he fell to his knees, his viscera - dark red, slimy like fat worms, and steaming in the cool Sigil morning - spilling out on the filthy, broken cobblestones in front of him. Dassau no longer held his cane, but an exceedingly long, thin sabre, seemingly carved out of black, translucent metal, so that Isolde could see her own reflection in its blade. The other thugs turned to run. One was sliced in half at the abdomen, so that hot, bright-red arterial spray danced in the air like a macabre fountain. Another fell to his knees, his back slit open at the spine, the skin flayed away by the demonic power of Dassau's weapon, revealing his rapidly shrivelling lungs underneath. A last would-be-robber fell little more than twelve paces further down the alley, his left leg severed at the knee.

Isolde could barely contain her horror. Dassau's speed with the weapon had been blinding: each strike landed with sublime precision, following directly into the next, so that all four men were killed or incapacitated in two broad strokes. It then occurred to Isolde that Dassau, as an arcanoloth, was probably an archmage of considerable power: the sabre was an extension of his will, a weapon of the mind rather than of metal.

Grunting in agony, the man whose leg had been severed crawled desperately on the sharp cobblestones, searching frantically for a place to find refuge. Dassau approached him, his sabre had returned to the form of a cane.

"You were saying, my dear gentleman." Dassau began, his visage more utterly demonic than Isolde had ever seen it. With a deft motion, he removed the glove on his left hand. It was then that the secretary realised why Dassau always wore his habitual black leather gloves, for his hand was gaunt, almost skeletal, and covered in short black fur. Impossibly long fingers, tipped with wicked, black claws flexed in the light of early daybreak.

"Please..." was all the thug could mouth repeatedly, almost as if he were in a trance - his soul had already been crushed by a mere gaze into Dassau's infernal eyes.

"Yes, indeed, your belated display of etiquette shall save you from immediate death," Dassau began, gripping the man's face with his clawed hand so that the talons sunk into skin and flesh beneath, "but whether that would have been, all other things being equal, your first choice is, I imagine, debatable." With that Dassau tore half of the man's face clean off in one, sharp jerk. The sound was like that of cloth ripping. Isolde could only try to blank out the visceral howls of unimaginable agony as the thug scrambled to gather the loose, bleeding flesh of his face. Underneath, the red strands of muscle were clearly visible, pieces of skin and nerve tenuously holding the face as a whole to the thug's scalp.

Isolde vomited, though she had not eaten anything that morning and all that came out was sickly-sweet glucose and stomach acid. Dassau casually replaced his glove and turned around to approach her, his gaze still burning with the eternal fires of Gehenna.

"Sir..." Isolde began before retching again, doubling over in pain as she leaned against a rickety wall for support. Sharp, acidic vomit cloyed her mouth. She could still hear agonised, gurgling screams, as if the man were choking on his own blood, all around her.

"What, Isolde," Dassau began, his voice was no longer the careful, cultured tone she had been accustomed to, but something deep and sepulchral which chilled the marrow of her bones, "do you find this little incident in diametric opposition to my search for redemption? How naive of you, did you mother never tell you not to 'expect him to change overnight'? In your case, however, I imagine the person hypothetically being referred to would have been a 'her'."

"Sir..." Isolde gasped, abject terror in her eyes. There was no telling what Dassau would do in this mood.

"Fear not. You, Isolde, amuse me. Consequently, you can consider yourself quite safe." Dassau said, regaining a little of his more scholarly composure. Gradually, his voice and demeanour returned to normal, though Isolde never quite thought she would be gratefully using the term 'normal' to refer to Dassau.

"Please, sir, this is not to my taste...please, what you do is your own business, but do not involve me in it, sir..." Isolde begged. She felt like vomiting again.

"Not to your taste...my dear Isolde, I know everything about your tastes. I know every single activity you and Lirai have undertaken together in the finest detail and, furthermore, know exactly where these preferences of yours stem from. If you feel so inclined, I would be most pleased to discuss..."

"Sir!" Isolde whimpered, falling to her knees, cradling her head in her arms, "Please, please, please! I swear, I will do anything you need me to do, just never speak of that. Never!"

"Excellent, Isolde, now be so kind as to compose yourself. We ought return to the Bureau." Dassau said, amiably enough, returning to his brisk stride.

Isolde followed dejectedly. Her mind, though terrified by the butchery she had just witnessed, was more terrified still of what Dassau knew. It was in that moment that the secretary knew that Dassau could conceivably drive her, or just about anyone else in Sigil, mad with a few, well-chosen sentences. More unpleasantly, it now became clear that the moment she had volunteered to become Dassau's secretary, she had lost all claim to a private life. It was conceivable that Dassau, by virtue of his memory and infernal information gathering skills, knew more than she did about herself.

"Now that I consider it, Isolde, " Dassau declared, casually shooing away a beggar-girl with his cane, "I shall settle for the Amnon '312 this morning. Make sure you double-decant it and utilise the hexagonal crystal chalice."

"I...obey, sir."

"Isolde, do you happen to a have a five mark coin?"

"Yes...sir." Isolde responded tentatively.

"Give it to that unfortunate young lady over there." Dassau said with pompous magnanimity, indicating the beggar with his cane.

Isolde complied without answering. Dassau, she thought, was not reformed: he was, purely and simply, cosmic madness incarnate.

********

"Min! Get up this instant!" Aerylle ordered. She had returned from the library, eager for a nice evening out in a cosy, well-priced tavern to find her tiefling lover still sprawled under the sheets.

"Hmm...Aerylle, please, just a few more moments." Min yawned, taking refuge under a soft, plush cushion. Her ember-red hair fell like strands of dyed silk over the clean, white sheets.

"I'm certain that they are going to dismiss you at the agency if you miss another day's work. Shesayne and Lily were worried about you."

"Nine Hells alive...Lily too? Aren't I the lucky girl today." Min said, her voice still tired and distant. Aerylle had light a few candles, so the tiefling sought darkness under the sheets, curling up into a foetal position.

"Yes, I know, it struck me as odd, too, but she has been in a better mood recently," Aerylle conceded, even if the dark elf was always standoffish as far as she was concerned, with Shesayne present, she had begun to refrain from being hostile, "but I think you really need to get up."

"Maybe...maybe you could make me breakfast." Min ventured. There was no conceivable way that she was going to escape from Aerylle's insistence: the grey elf fought all the battles of their relationship on principle and, to her knowledge, Min had yet to win without being forced to make some concession in return. Of course, since it was Aerylle she was dealing with, all their mutual agreements involved activities that were intended to teach Min to become more 'ladylike'.

"It's past darkfall, Min." Aerylle said, her patience tested.

"Hmm..." Min purred, it was not, she thought, advisable to get into Aerylle's bad books considering her vulnerable predicament - the Black Lotus Verden had given her had been of unprecedented purity and strength, "a little tea, my sweet treasure, and some bread and butter to get me going would be nice." The tiefling put on the most affectionate, pleading voice she could muster. That, in itself, was a new record: the most she had managed to humiliate herself in the course of a relationship.

"You only call me that when you need something." The grey elf replied as she busied herself in the meticulously neat kitchen corner of her apartment with making Min's tea. As irritating as the tiefling's demands were under the circumstances, there was a part of her that very much enjoyed spoiling Min.

"I've already got a little pet name for you..." Min teased. It would take some time for the exhaustion of the Black Lotus' after effect to wear off, but she was feeling a good deal better than earlier that day when she quite literally had to drag herself to the bath chamber.

"I know, Min, one that I hate." The librarian replied. She cut three generous slices of bread and coated them with a generous layer of butter and sprinkled some dried spice powder on them. Min detested jam and loathed honey.

"Isn't that the point of pet names in the first place?" The tiefling mused, making an effort to sit up in bed, leaning against the headboard propped on a pillow. As usual, she had slept naked and her fine, firm breasts, topped with deep crimson nipples, stood proudly above the sheets bunched up at her waist.

"Well, look at you," Aerylle said as she finally laid Min's breakfast in front of her, served on a delicate, enamel tray, "I must admit that I'm jealous, you look impeccable even straight after waking up."

"Thanks," Min said, a happy smile lighting up her sharply beautiful face - she had not expected Aerylle to be so tolerant, "you're a good one to have 'round after taking Black Lotus, Shesayne's mother once woke us up with a bucket full of icy water."

"Black Lotus?" Aerylle inquired softly, sitting by the side of the bed, not quite certain what Min was talking about.

"Yeah," the tiefling replied, taking a ravenous bite from a slice of bread and quickly washing it down with half the mug of fresh-smelling herbal tea, "Verden volunteered a dose...kept us going through the night, but it really hits you hard the day after."

"Oh Min...you mean narcotics?" Aerylle asked, more worried than angry.

"If that's what you call it, then yes."

"But...but, they enslave you." Aerylle protested. Back in Imej, horrid stories had circulated about how 'lesser races' chose dependence on certain substances to escape their miserable existence.

"Ah, sod it, Aerylle...do I look burned out to you...uh, maybe now a little, but I can handle it. From time to time it takes the edge off life and that's something I can be grateful for."

"Why would you need to take the 'edge off life' now that you have me?" Aerylle asked, her voice trembling.

"Fuck, that's not what I meant...'course life's better now that I have you, but that Black Lotus business, it was just a little fun with an old friend. I don't do Vacuum Crystals or anything like that."

"Just...just, don't allow anything to happen to yourself, Min," Aerylle said, her voice thick with emotion, "I don't think I could even begin to imagine what...what I would do if..."

"Oh, princess, don't," Min said, her rich voice soothing as she made the monumental effort to raise her arms to embrace Aerylle as soon as she detected the hint of moisture in the elven girl's delicate, almond eyes, "I've survived in the Hive when I was a child with no jink and no kip, just my wits and my speed, so don't you ever worry about me."

"Promise me, Min," Aerylle said softly, almost inaudibly, as she breathed Min's incense-like fragrance, feeling the lithe, taut muscles under the flawless, rose-marble skin, "promise me we will have a future together."

"Sure." Min said, gently running her fingers through Aerylle's honey-blonde hair. The elven girl always thought of a strange, abstract future which Min simply never understood in the same way. Her plans were, at best, short term: survive, have a decent amount of fun and ensure as good life as possible on a day to day basis for the people she loved. Only with Aerylle, it occurred to her that what she had previously only considered on a daily basis would have to be drawn out into some distant, uncertain future.

"Thank you, that is music to my heart." Aerylle said happily, composing herself and gently kissing Min on the lips.

"That's good to hear, though I'm sorry I'm still a little out of it..."

"Oh no you don't!" The grey elf warned, "you are going to take a nice, cold bath and dress yourself, because I fully expect you to buy me dinner."

Min groaned, "Y'see, the probelm's that I'm a bit short on jink."

"What happened to this week's wages?" Aerylle asked, almost menacingly.

"I lost a bet." Min replied darkly.

"Wonderful!" Aerylle said, affecting frustration, "A gambler too, just the girl, no doubt, my mother would want me to be romantically involved with."

"Sorry, it looked like a bet I couldn't lose."

"I hope you have finally realised that there is no such thing as a foolproof wager."

Min sighed patiently and leaned back against the headboard. She felt desperately like returning to sleep, "Say, Aerylle, do we really have to go out...I mean we could just stay in and snuggle up with some warm tea and you could read me something from one of those books of yours..."

"You know, Min," Aerylle said reprovingly, "I know you are truly desperate when it is you who makes those suggestions."

"No, really, I swear. I love to hear you read. You're the first person who's made me love books - well, some of them at least." Min said as Aerylle resigned herself to further delays, stepped out of her boots and reclined on her bed by the tiefling's side.

"I'm glad. But you should read a little more by yourself: it will help improve your familiarity with literature and writing." Min had only picked up the rudiments of literacy at a Civic Administration subsidised school. In that she had been fortunate, because Shesayne had been forced by her mother to attend and wherever Shesayne went, Min followed.

"I can barely read the sodding six-line instructions we get at the retrievals agency, you want me to read actual books?" Min asked in disbelief, drawing Aerylle close to her. The slender grey elf's form was soft and comforting, as was the familiar fragrance of her hair and the warmth of her breath against the tiefling's bare breasts.

"You are a clever girl, Min, there is so much you could do."

"I s'pose," Min conceded, a little flattered, "but I still like to hear you. You're so much better than that bitch who tried to teach us at school. 'Course it was a lost cause and everybody knew it right from the sodding start. Dark, damp class full of Hive urchins...I'll never know the dark workings of those high-up leatherheads who thought this idea up. They used to say at the beginning of every lesson that 'improvement comes through education'. I said, fuck improvement...fuck improvement when I've got to threaten berks with a knife at school 'cause they want to put their paws down Shesayne's blouse or touch my ass."

"Don't worry Min, we can work on it together. I am a librarian after all, if I have one practical purpose, it is to help people access knowledge." Aerylle reassured. She had begun to ignore Min's tendency for strong wording: it was, in a sense, part of the tiefling's genuine, spontaneous charm.

"Well, why don't you take something interesting out of the Library tomorrow and you can start showing me the ropes."

"With pleasure. Now Min, and I hate to insist, get up."

"Fine, fine..." The tiefling grumbled, reluctantly casting aside the bed sheets and rising to her feet, stretching her lithe muscles languidly, like a panther, "But you're going to have to pick up the tab. That is, 'till my next payday."

"You have to start being more careful with money." Aerylle chided, taking the opportunity to make the bed. Min was physically and psychologically incompatible with household chores of any kind, something which drove the normally neat and meticulous Aerylle almost mad.

"Why?...I get by and I'm helping you with rent. There'll be more soon since I don't need my old room anymore." Min replied defensively, as she made her way to the tiny bathing chamber.

"What about Shesayne?"

"She's made her kip at Marséna's. She only comes to me when they have a fight. But we've got room for one more just in case, right?"

As a matter of fact, Aerylle was convinced that since her apartment had been intended for one person, there certainly was not enough room for three. Once again, however, she was inclined to be charitable, "All right," she conceded, "if she needs somewhere to stay, I can put out some blankets and pillows for her on the floor."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Min said between generous mouthfuls of oral solution - Black Lotus always left an unpleasant, acidic aftertaste in the mouth.

"My pleasure. Shesayne will always be welcome here." Aerylle said, though she was more preoccupied with picking up Min's discarded clothes and carefully setting them aside in the appropriate pile of garments to be washed.

"Great to hear that, you two get friendly?" Min teased as she stepped into the wooden bath tub and began to scrub herself down in earnest with cold water.

"Is that all you have on your mind?" Aerylle reprimanded, her voice loud and clear from the bedchamber, "Shesayne is actually a very sweet, sensitive girl."

"I never said she wasn't."

After ensuring that all of Min's personal effects were in order, Aerylle brought a new change of clothes to the bathing chamber.

"Y'see what your cold bath has done to me?" Min said playfully, turning to face Aerylle and making sure that her elven lover had a full view of her deep red nipples, stiffened by the cold.

"You could be more subtle and romantic about these things," Aerylle said softly, kneeling by the tub and placing a wet, passionate kiss on Min's sultry lips, "but then it would not be you. In the end, I suppose the truth is that you never fail to excite me."

"Don't act all innocent and pretend you're a good little elven maiden, 'cause you've got a few tricks up your sleeve as well...I'm not easy to please, y'know." Min said, sighing gently as she felt Aerylle cup her breasts, the grey elf's nimble fingers dancing across the taut, sensitive flesh of her engorged nipples.

"Whoever said," Aerylle said between kisses, her tone more sensual now, "that good little elven maidens shouldn't know the art of making Hanali's flower blossom."

"Aerylle..." Min ventured.

"Yes..." the elven librarian replied, her pink lips trailed gracefully down Min's soft breasts, before gently capturing a stiff nipple and applying a gentle, suckling pressure.

"Hmm...if you do that, you'll be forcing me to change the subject."

"Tell me, I'm listening." Aerylle invited, trailing soft kisses up the curve of Min's breast. She was in no hurry - Min, no matter how tired, always found the energy for lovemaking.

"I just had one thing on my mind. What d'you mean when you say 'future together'?" It was perhaps an awkward time to field the question, but Min's curiosity and desire to know Aerylle's mind better needed to be satisfied.

Aerylle paused and raised her head directly to face the tiefling: "It means I cannot imagine returning to Imej. There, what you and I have could never be understood. We elves are a good people and have never done wilful harm to any living being on our world, but this virtue has made many of us complacent. We live in peace, defended by the power of our magics and our connections with the living earth, so we sometimes look down upon those who are not so fortunate. You and I could not be happy in my home city simply because of what you are and not who you are, so if the choice is between home and you, I would choose you without even thinking about it twice."

"So you're actually going to stay in Sigil? I mean, forget about all the suns rising behind the mountains stuff, the dew, the golden towers and the rest of it?" Min asked incredulously, though inwardly she was more touched than she cared to make evident.

"For you, yes." The grey elf said fervently, her deep blue eyes contemplating Min with sincere intensity.

"Right, but just before I say you've made my day, you should probably know I'm not easy to live with..."

"Shesayne told me, but, frankly, I don't mind."

The tiefling nodded wordlessly and rose from the bath, the water trailing in clear rivulets down her rose-marble skin. Aerylle admired the sight, feeling an intense desire to bury her face in the delicate thatch of ember-red curls at the juncture of Min's thighs.

"Aerylle." Min began quietly, carefully drying herself with a fresh bathing shawl. There was a long pause, as if the air were heavy with anticipation and words unspoken, "Aerylle...I...I just wanted to say thank you. You made me feel wanted - I mean really wanted and not just the quick-fuck wanted sort of way. I think only a couple of others have ever made me feel the same way."

"My pleasure."

"Ah, yeah," Min ventured, a little embarrassed, "there's also something else I've been wanting to tell you..."

"When the time is right, you will find the words." Aerylle said, smiling knowingly. This time, it was Aerylle who did not need to read Min's mind to know exactly what she wanted to say.

**********

"So what are we going to say when we get back?" Marséna queried. She and Virginia were making their way back to the pre-determined portal location. It was mid-morning in Overnha and the sun had turned the great wheat fields and brown scrublands into an ocean of bronze and gold. Only the sound of a passing kite, its screech piercing the air, disturbed the silence of the day.

"I still don't know. But yesterday made me realise that I can no longer hide from decisions or avoid throwing my life out in front of me for examination. I have lived the days after my Consecration as if I had been in a dream. Now I think it time for serious thought." Virginia could not give her friend an answer yet. That would have been a hasty decision, much like that fateful, and perhaps misguided, decision to rebuff Marséna's declaration of love.

"Virg, you know I will trust your judgement whatever conclusions you may reach. But I think I have never been as happy in my life as I was last night. For a moment, I had the old Virginia back."

"Maybe you were happy to be home." Virginia suggested, pausing on the dusty path to take Marséna's hand in her own.

"Home with you." She did not know the next time, if ever, that she would return. What she had left behind, despite a few nostalgic pangs, was swiftly fading into a blurred past. Her mother and sisters had said their goodbyes with effusive affection, but Marséna suspected that they all knew that time carried on regardless and that she had chosen to walk paths so distant that she could never again be the mischievous, temperamental child they remembered.

"I am truly pleased I came: though I still cannot understand why that strange woman took me aside into her world to explain her vision. Surely our lives are not so exciting that the Multiverse itself takes notice." Virginia mused, glad to feel Marséna draw her closer and wrap an arm around her waist.

"Who are we to question the workings of Fate? One spins, one weaves, one cuts and it's all a game to the powers that be."

"Yes, but we have a role. We serve the Vigilant Maiden because we know that there are some fates - because, they are wicked, cruel or miserable - we cannot accept, whether they be those of others, or our own."

"I know, Virg, and I will be the first, sword drawn, at your side." Marséna said, gently drawing Virginia in for a soft, intimate kiss.

"Every time you kiss me is like the first," Virginia admitted, almost guiltily, "you always make me feel like a young, nervous novice after lights-out with her heart beating so hard it's deafening."

Marséna did not reply but kissed Virginia again, this time deeper, her lips as sensual and fierce as the Mareterran sun. The raven-haired paladin dropped her travelling pack to draw her friend into a tight embrace, her hands searching and passionate, demanding to once again feel the familiar, lithe curves of Virginia's body.

"Are you sure, Marséna, you never know who might pass by." Virginia warned as she felt Marséna begin to undo the buttons of her dress uniform. Being undressed by Marséna was always deeply sensual, for the Mareterran girl's hands were always aflame with passion, spontaneous and demanding to feel every inch of Virginia's curves, smooth skin and taut muscles, but always loving, as if the act itself were one of reverence.

"Too close to the sun's zenith." Marséna replied dismissively, finally freeing Virginia's breasts and lunging in, thrusting a surprised Virginia straight into the a field of wheat. The earth was surprisingly cool underneath them, the great ears of wheat providing some shade. Her lips devoured the blonde paladin's throat with wet needy kisses. To Virginia it all seemed perfect: the brilliant sun, the clear blue sky, the golden wheat and her lover's iodine-tan skin, slick with the faintest trace of sweat, but earthy and fragrant just as she had remembered it from her dreams and from those happy nights when they made love as novices.

"You are insatiable." Virginia sighed, letting out a tense gasp as she felt Marséna's lips latch on to a painfully erect, cherry-pink nipple. The raven-haired woman's tongue was curious, yet eager as it lapped energetically against the stiff peak. Marséna had been starved for Virginia's body and she was finally making up for the hunger which had burned deep within her for so long.

"Only for you..." Marséna replied huskily, lovingly biting down on Virginia's nipple, stimulating a familiar moan from the blonde paladin. As the Mareterran briskly pulled up the hem of the skirt of Virginia's tunic, she considered that there was, after all, a case to be made for her having been recklessly passionate. The previous night they had made love countless times, sneaking downstairs so as not to disturb the other occupants of the house. Still, Marséna reflected, that was not enough, Virginia was hers to have, to treasure and to satisfy forever. With those passionate thoughts driving her, Marséna, began to ease open the slick, peach-pink nether lips of Virginia's sex, all the while lavishing her kisses on her lover's pert, elegant breasts.

Virginia was all to glad to submit to Marséna's fiery passion and even more so when she felt her innermost lips finally parted and the tender, delectable stroking of the raven-haired girl's fingers entering her sodden canal. Typically, Marséna began by teasing the edges of Virginia's canal with her fingertips, winding the digits into the blonde paladin's sex with agonising friction. They enjoyed seizing control of lovemaking in different ways: Virginia was more careful and methodical, while Marséna burned with lustful spontaneity.

"Face me." Virginia said breathlessly.

Marséna looked up curiously from her wetly passionate kissing of Virginia's breasts, her deep, brown eyes seemingly perplexed: "Is there something you'd like, Virg?"

"Yes, to look at you in the eyes, so you can see me reach my peak by your hand."

The Mareterran did not need to be told twice. She quickly unbuttoned her tunic, letting her full, tan breasts free, and fell atop Virginia, two fingers now probing deep into the blonde girl's sex. Capturing her lover's lips in her own, Marséna revelled in the attentions of Virginia's expert hands as they stroked her swaying breasts, firm, but ripe and soft, like autumn fruit.

"Is this more to your liking?" Marséna breathed passionately, lunging to stifle any answer Virginia was preparing with searing passion of her sensual lips.

"Yes..." Virginia said, stealing a breath between her lover's assaults on her lips, "now take me."

Marséna thrust her fingers deep into Virginia's blooming sex with fiery abandon, grinding the palm of her hand against the bud of the blonde paladin's stiff clitoris. Virginia writhed, bucking her hips upwards, desperate for deeper, firmer penetration. She regretted not having suggested the olisbos, as she felt Marséna was being left out from the delights she was experiencing. Nevertheless, Marséna's lovemaking had a spontaneity which Virginia had no intention of interrupting. Virginia bit down hard on her lower lip when she felt her loins tensing under the sublime stimulation of Marséna's fingers. She felt not so much filled as opened, all her secrets exposed to the expert touch of the Mareterran woman, who uncovered the sensual treasures buried deep within her sex with enviable dexterity.

"Look at me." Virginia said, more as prayer than order.

Marséna's gaze did not shift for a moment from her lover's brilliant, emerald-green eyes. They remained fixed there as Virginia came in deep, ragged breaths, her moans travelling with the wind across the golden ears of corn and into the distance bounded only by a turquoise-blue sky. In those eyes, Marséna saw what she had seen when they had first made love, clumsily, deep in the darkness of a storage room during their second year as novices. If Virginia's eyes were a lake, what Marséna saw in its depths was a soul which, like her own, was in need of love and healing. Both of them were simply too proud to admit it.

"Thank you, I have had a wonderful excursion." Virginia said, passionately embracing Marséna as the Mareterran girl slumped on top of her, fingers still relishing the final contractions of the blonde paladin's climax. Virginia's sex never lied, even if her words could be evasive even as her eyes betrayed the true leanings of her soul.

"This is the land I have left behind, maybe forever. But I cannot say that I regret it. If the blood of the Furies truly does run in my veins, my mission is elsewhere: it is by your side."

"In time, we will both have answers - soon, perhaps, but not now. But believe me, Marséna, you will be the first to know." Virginia said, grateful for the familiar warmth of Marséna's breasts against her own.

"This land has given me much, but I think it is only natural for the child to finally leave its mother."

"You mean your family?"

"No," Marséna said, gently planting an affectionate kiss on Virginia's lips, "Mareterra means 'mother earth' in our language. She is the Goddess who gave birth to the sea, the mountains, and the trees in between. But now, I am bound to Her only by my flesh and blood, for in my veins runs the blood of Furies and the blood of a thousand generations of Mareterran women. My soul, however...my soul is with my Sisters and so it will remain, even after the final Unmaking of the Multiverse."

************

Ithunn had made great show of her defiance throughout her early evening lesson with Friyya. While the other novices diligently examined their doctrinal books, Ithunn stood straight-backed, poised and ready, her eyes never ceasing to bore into her teacher's. By the time the lesson ended, the tension was palpable in the air, not least because Ithunn had not even so much as opened her book. Most novices took this as a sign of yet another development in Ithunn's revered self-confidence; rumours had already begun to circulate in class, passed through surreptitiously folded pieces of parchment passed by hand, that Friyya and Ithunn would soon compete openly for Syf's favours.

By the time the lesson had ended, rumours and speculation had risen to a fever pitch as the novices began to file out of the side-chapel, eager to leave Ithunn and Friyya to battle it out. Of course, the novice's defiance had not gone unnoticed and Friyya had decided to meet the challenge - all, of course, in the context of her promise to Syf.

"Stay behind, Ithunn." Friyya ordered coolly. She did not need to ask, because as soon as the last novice had filed out, Ithunn strode imperiously to her teacher's desk.

"Are you satisfied now that you have turned Syf against me?" Ithunn asked, her tone cold, but controlled.

"Ithunn, I suspect we did not start off too well, but this is not about us. Syf has the greatest respect for you and her affection has not diminished in the slightest. As long as you and I are clear on who is the favourite younger Sister and who is the beloved, I would like us to at least show ourselves to be civil, for Syf's sake."

"So...I did not offend her..." Ithunn breathed, a thin smile of relief spread across her lips.

"No, Syf is far more forgiving than I could ever be. She also has a soft spot for you; I think she must see a little of herself each time she watches you train."

"Yesterday evening I also said something I now regret to another..." Ithunn blurted quickly. It was humiliating to confide with Friyya, under the circumstances, but she knew that the paladin was one of those best placed to help her.

"Yes, Ingeborg."

"How did you know?"

"Gallia told me that she did not present herself for a Sacred Texts seminar. If I may make a suggestion, I would go fetch her from the library and spend the rest of the day with her." Friyya said, not especially concerned with Ithunn's emotional life, though she did feel sorry for Inge.

"And...do what exactly?"

"Ithunn," Friyya said wearily, rising from her chair and gathering up her books, "there are arts you have to learn and this is neither a criticism nor a condemnation, because, in her time, Syf had to learn them too. Ideally you should find her as quickly as possible, apologise and tell her she is the foremost object of your affection. Then set aside the rest of the day and dedicate it entirely to her. Find a quiet place and make gentle, unhurried love to her...well, what am I saying, you're a popular girl, you should know by now."

"I am not that...expert." Ithunn conceded.

"All in due time, " Friyya said, softening somewhat, "but I imagine your mystery lover must have given you a few lessons."

"I will do my best."

"One last thing Ithunn," Friyya said, looking the novice directly in the eyes, "just so that you know that you are not the only one to have had a difficult time. My father was a widower with a healthy planar trade business, so that when he grew lonely, he decided to marry my mother, who was much younger. I was an unwanted child, for my father had already had two sons and a daughter from his previous marriage: he had no intention of splitting the family fortune further. So, in time, after years of being despised by my half-siblings and ignored by my parents, I was sent here to ensure that I would never claim a part of my father's enterprise. They send me a generous stipend, but at my Consecration, I did not receive so much as a letter."

"I know life is not easy..." Ithunn began. She found it difficult to be sympathetic: whatever Friyya might say about her family life she had no doubt lived supported by servants, nourished by good food and clothed in the fine fabrics.

"That fact, in itself, is not an excuse. Now, unfortunately, I must leave, though as a peace offering, I will always find a spare moment if you ever need to talk." As she turned and left the side-chapel, Friyya sincerely hoped that Ithunn did not avail herself of that offer.

"Thank you, Sister." Ithunn replied indifferently. She was already thinking ahead about what to do with Inge. A prolonged session of clumsy, embarrassing lovemaking punctuated only by the trainee priestess' high-pitched, whimpering orgasms was not Ithunn's idea of a productive evening. The more malicious side of Ithunn was forced to conclude that, short of sending Inge to Elyszara for a crash course in the erotic arts, she would be left with two options: either quickly and surreptitiously finish herself off with her own fingers, or fantasise that it was Syf between her thighs, rewarding her for a particularly scintillating performance on the fencing court. As usual, it would probably boil down to a combination of the two.

***********

So it was that Friyya and Ithunn each set about the day's tasks. Neither detected an intruder in the Temple compound - no one did, for the interloper in question, a half-elf, had much practice with infiltrating even closely guarded targets. She knew her way by instinct, for when one is pursued, spot-decisions are essential for survival. There had been no need for her to sneak in, but she had preferred not to confront the guards at the main gate. Figures of authority ran against her anarchist tendencies. She would even have joined the Anarchist's faction or the Revolutionary League, were she not profoundly disinterested in politics. Moving quietly in shadows, the half-elf made her way up the stairs into the main paladin's Quarters. If the directions she had been given were correct, she would already know the door.

Very carefully and very deliberately, Verden raised a hand to knock on the door. That visit to Shesayne was long overdue.