“Come, I pray thee, now too, and release me from cruel cares; and all that my heart desires to accomplish, accomplish thou, and be thyself my ally.”

When Marséna and Virginia finally returned to Quarters, they both decided to put the troubled thoughts of their excursion behind them. It was, after all, an uncharacteristically pleasant day in Sigil, with no rain and little humidity. That made the transition from the warm, pleasantly dry world of Mareterra easier to bear, even if Marséna still felt as though she had once again been wrenched from her roots. It was early evening and the fires in the mess hall had just been lit when Virginia opened the door to the communal apartment she shared with her sisters-in-arms to find a most bizarre and unwelcome sight.

Shesayne sat curled up in a chair by the kitchen table, wearing only one of Marséna's cotton blouses, the buttons half undone. The half-elf was chatting amiably and at typically great speed with a young woman in a tight, succinct blouse and green leggings whom Marséna and Virginia immediately found familiar. Recognition took a few moments, but there was something unmistakable in that green-streaked chestnut hair, that impudent, almost contemptuous smile. Marséna held her tongue before calling out Verden's name - it was best not to complicate matters with Shesayne by unearthing an imprudent encounter in a darkened tavern. Virginia, unsurprisingly, was of a similar, unspoken opinion. Verden was not especially high up the list of people she wanted to see, least of all in Quarters, but, Virginia reflected, it was all part of the Fates scheming to amuse themselves with inability of mortals to deal with coincidence and blind misfortune.

"Marséna!" Shesayne cried enthusiastically, as she sprung from her chair and skipped up to leap into the Mareterran paladin's embrace.

Shesayne was light and Marséna lifted her up with no difficulty at all, "Nice to see you too."

"How was the trip? What did you see? Who did you meet? You have to tell me all about it," the half-elf said, wrapping her arms around Marséna's neck and her legs around the paladin's waist, "and since I've been oh-so-patient, I think I deserve a nice little cuddle from my lovely Marséna."

"With pleasure." Marséna said, smiling broadly as she leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on Shesayne's lips.

"Oh, and by the way, I think I should introduce my friend, Verden - she just swooped in for a visit."

Verden rose languidly to her feet and gave a little mock bow in recognition. She was the same, irreverent Verden whom Marséna remembered being profoundly infatuated with after two flasks of wine when she was still a novice evading curfew to visit the Styx Boatman tavern. Not that seeing Verden again would have irked Marséna under less compromising circumstances, but with Virginia and Shesayne in the room, any overt show of affection was probably inadvisable. For her part, Virginia remained tight-lipped, staring gravely at the voluptuous half-elf with almost palpable disapproval. It had, after all, been Virginia who had interrupted proceedings before the tense, sensual flirting between the Mareterran and the half-elf was allowed to dissolve into passion. Verden remained undeterred and defiant; she had grown used to stares of disapproval from humans and elves alike who saw her as something in between and certainly as unworthy to exist in either community.

"We've met." Verden said smugly, breaking the awkward silence. She winked suggestively at Marséna. That fleeting glance, in itself, was sufficient to revive a world of sensations that had been sealed up in Marséna's guilty subconscious: she once again inhaled the sweet aroma of Verden's perfume, the clean, fresh note of her skin beneath, the warmth of her breath, the taut skin and firm flesh of her breasts.

"What? You've already met Verden? Since when?" Sheayne inquired, her brilliant blue eyes scrutinising Marséna with a perplexed expression.

"That's probably a story for another time." Virginia interrupted tersely, never once shifting her gaze from Verden.

"Well, well, well, it looks like I've overstayed my welcome...just when I thought you girls were getting used to us poor halfbreed sods." Verden said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. She enjoyed toying with a variety of roles, including that of the victim of institutional discrimination, but the masks she wore in society were defensive, to shield her from the humiliation of showing her true self. Those who were worthy of seeing the Verden behind the masquerade were few and far between.

"Oh, c'mon, they don't mean ill, maybe they're just a little tired after coming back." Shesayne protested. She stepped down from Marséna's embrace to bid her friend farewell.

"I know when I'm not appreciated, though maybe if Marséna here had a few, she'd change her mind..." Verden said snidely.

Marséna winced, blushing profusely, at the allusion, but Virginia refused to accept the provocation, "It was nice seeing you again, Verden," the blonde paladin said with a certain formal detachment, "perhaps we shall meet again under more auspicious circumstances."

"Maybe...we had such fun last time." Verden said in a seductive, breathy tone as she moved to exit the room.

"Sorry about this, Verden," Shesayne said apologetically, taking Verden's hands into hers, "say we meet in a couple of days at the Boatman for a nice, relaxing drink. Maybe I can get Min to come along too."

"You're on," Verden replied, "I'll let you know when and wait for you by darkfall. But try to get Min, I really need to talk to her." Naturally, the half-elf did not look forward to Min bringing Aerylle, but if it was inevitable, it was inevitable. She had a strong suspicion that the mysterious woman who had been trailing Min was about to act, at which point the tiefling would almost certainly require her aid. They had, after all always been a team.

"Thank you, thank you for coming." Shesayne said happily as she placed a soft kiss on Verden's lips, "I really missed you...never, ever be a stranger, understood?"

"Anything for my little Shesayne." Verden replied, giving the more petite half-elf a playful slap on the rump, "Milday knights, I s'pose this means I'm dismissed." With that Verden sauntered out of the room, enjoying the attention of Virginia's withering stare and Marséna's uneasy silence.

"What was that about, huh?" Shesayne reprimanded sharply as soon as she was certain that Verden was outside hearing range, "You and your Axioms, isn't hospitality supposed to be in the rules of your Order or something? She's such a sweet person and you've gone around ignoring her like the Wood Elves back in the Hive?" Shesayne, thanks to her slender, diminutive physique, could often pass for a full-blooded elf when dealing with strangers - Verden, on the whole, was not that luck and thus suffered the full brunt of contempt when she passed through human or elven neighbourhoods.

"Sorry..." Marséna mumbled, causing Virginia to jab her sharply with her elbow.

"What Marséna meant," Virginia clarified, "was that we once had a less than pleasant run-in with your friend there." Virginia's more cynical side would have added "even though Marséna appeared to be having the time of her life", but she was not in the habit of making snide comments.

"Well, well, well...I'm sure you'll tell me all about it, right?" Shesayne said, taking Marséna by the hand, "Now c'mon, I'll help you unpack."

"There's not much to...oh, right, coming." Marséna said, following Shesayne's lead into her room. It was then that the paladin realised that she had made no particular progress on deciding where, if anywhere, her relationship with Shesayne was going. Virginia had been as enigmatic and evasive as usual when it came to dealing with serious choices, so, in reality, there was little she could tell the pretty half-elf. That indecision, as far as Marséna was concerned, was torture: she had never ceased being in love with Virginia, but it was true that she had a duty to Shesayne, who had brought her so much joy and comfort in her darkest moments, even if it only was the dignity of giving her a firm answer.

"Shesayne, have you seen Lily?" Virginia inquired, finding it odd that her drow lover had not come to greet her return.

"Yeah, she's in your room - reading in the dark...and could you also do me a really big favour?" Shesayne asked, standing at the threshold of the door to Marséna's bedchamber, a wide-eyed, impish smile on her lips.

"Of course."

"We've got cobwebs in the pantry, but Lily refuses to clean them up and away; she says they're all sacred and that the spiders are the Goddess' blessing. Could you please tell her that we've got to get rid of them...pretty please, I can't stand the thought of spiders near my room." Shesayne could tolerate many things: Cranium Rats, razorvine, Ether Serpents, but spiders were absolutely, positively non-negotiable.

Virginia sighed, she knew that if it were up to Lily, who thought spider-silk was the height of fashion, they would have to bring in a couple of giant tarantulas to 're-decorate', "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Virg." Shesayne was doing her utmost to be civil. She knew what Virginia and Marséna had done while they were away, she knew without having to be told. The half-elf was not the jealous type, but the sensation she now felt deep in the pit of her stomach was rejection more than jealousy. Without knowing it, Marséna had made her feel unwanted, less beautiful, a second-class lover that would always exist beneath the ideal of Virginia. A fall-back, in other words, whose role it was, put crudely, to fill Marséna's bed until Virginia could be persuaded to reprise her old role.

Yet Shesayne smiled and affectionately snuggled up in Marséna's arms as the Mareterran kicked her boots off and threw herself on her bed. She smiled with her eyes as they shared a deep, intimate kiss, their tongues dancing with eager desire. She even giggled playfully when Marséna slid an inquisitive hand up the hem of her blouse to stroke her svelte, delectable bottom. Inside, a repressed part of Shesayne wanted to cry an ocean of tears of rage and frustration, to seize Marséna by the neck and demand to know why she was so unworthy of love. Nevertheless, she smiled: there was no point in giving way to raw emotion. As a child, she had spent days on end weeping into a pillow in her room because no elf wanted to play with her - or, indeed, even speak to her in elven; as an adolescent she had cried herself to sleep countless times on Min's breast every time her mother called her a strumpet, a loose girl and a disgrace. In the end, Shesayne had come to the conclusion that tears got her precisely nowhere.

***

Verden took her time exploring the Temple compound of the Order of the Radiant Path. The day was pleasant and she never ceased to be fascinated by the masochistic regimes some voluntary undertook in the service of a 'deity'. As far as Verden was concerned, the only divinity worth considering was Lady Luck who, in any case, was, as she so often put it, a "cruel bitch". Life, for Verden revolved around freedom and survival. She was no-one's lackey, but her own mistress who had seized her destiny and refused to remain the cringing, penniless orphan she was a child. In that sense, she could never understand why such evidently strong women as the paladins or priestesses of the Radiant Path would allow their lives to be regimented and forced to conform to iron rules. Rules were the dictatorship of society and society was the root of all evil. Society had classified Verden as an undesirable halfbreed; caused her to be called a whore by elves and treated like a whore by humans; and, perhaps worst of all, caused unspeakable hurt to the only two people she had ever cared about: Min and Shesayne. Or was it three?

Immersed in her contemplation of the madness that surrounded her, Verden strolled down the main courtyard in front of the imposing, rose-marble structure of the great Temple. Paved with glittering stone, the courtyard path was kept immaculately clean. The few paladins who crossed it that time in the early evening ignored Verden. She looked inoffensive enough - an assumption which led many to imagine that she was inoffensive; just a very pretty young half-elf with a mesmerising sway in her hips. So whenever a particularly insistent suitor approached her in a darkened tavern and informed his drunken friends that he had "never seen tits like these on a piece of elven pussy", she would smile, pretend to be flattered and let her knives do the answering for her. Two were usually enough to pin the offending hand to the table: one through the wrist and the other expertly placed between the radius and the ulna.

If life in Sigil's Hive - that sprawling, chaotic slum of grey and black decaying buildings - was nasty, brutish and short, it may as well be enjoyable. So Verden was particularly liberal in spending what she earned through thieving: clothes were nice, but alcohol and perfume were better. All things considered, though, a certain tomorrow was a luxury few people in the Hive could afford. Perhaps, Verden reflected, that is why some chose to join tightly regimented organisations - for security, for support. Always the individualist, she concluded that those people were weaklings.

Deciding that there was little of interest to be found in a temple courtyard, Verden made her way to leave through the front gate. It was then that she spied something out of the corner of her eye that suddenly jerked her memory back in time. The half-elf struggled to compose herself - that sensation was unmistakable, it was something seeking to free itself from the buried box of hidden memories. But there it was for Verden to see: that long, intricate blonde braid she had forcibly removed from all but the most intimate corners of her soul. Drawing, very tentatively closer, Verden immediately recognised the pattern of the braid, golden like ripe wheat, and the physique of the novice to whom it belonged: slender, but tall and strong. The novice was clad in the usual white tunic, her head bent as she appeared to be gathering some water in her hands to drink from a simple marble fountain at the far side of the courtyard that spouted cool, crystal-clear water.

Verden did not even think whether it was worth the gamble, but acted on instinct. There was something so close, so familiar in the air that she would have eternally regretted not making an approach. So she did, moving with expert, silent grace over the stone paving before drawing close behind the novice. The sound of trickling water filled the air, in the distance, the city lights were lit in preparation for darkfall.

"Last one to the Bell Tower has to accept the dare." Verden said softly. It was stupid, but it was the only thing that sprung to mind.

Ithunn stopped drinking and very gingerly turned around, "What did you say?"

"Last one to the Bell Tower has to accept the dare." Verden repeated, smiling incredulously. It was Ithunn and memory finally burst its mental dam. So it had always begun, the game they used to play, running desperately through the winding urban landscape of Sigil, leaping over stalls and unsteadily rounding tight corners at full speed to be the first to touch the cool brick and marble of the Bell Tower.

"V-Verden..." Ithunn began unsteadily, her eyes wide. The Goddess was toying with her, she was certain. Never in her life had she imagined that her last days as a novice would be so bizarre.

Verden nodded wordlessly. She did not speak, for fear that her voice would crack and betray her emotion. So she stood, her hands on her hips, waiting for the next cheap shot of Fate. Ithunn was every bit as beautiful as she remembered her - no, more so. She was a woman now, perfectly proportioned and fiercely attractive like a maiden Valkyrie.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Verden said, her voice trembling. The visceral fear of rejection flooded her.

Ithunn paused. In a sea of emotions in which anger and affection featured prominently, she did not quite know what to do. In truth, she had never prepared for the eventuality of ever seeing Verden again. Finally, she too resolved to give herself up to instinct and seized Verden in a tight, almost violent embrace, burying her face in the shorter girl's silky hair - chestnut brown and green like a forest canopy. There she inhaled that fresh, clean forest scent, like that of a glade where only slivers of sunlight penetrated the mighty ceiling of branches and leaves. That was Verden and there was no doubt about it.

"Ithunn..." Verden sighed. She felt the Ithunn's heartbeat as she rested her head on the welcoming softness of the novice's breasts. It sang a song Verden had long thought lost.

"Why did you leave!" Ithunn cried out, all of a sudden. Snapping out of her embrace, she gripped Verden tightly around the forearms and thrust her forward, as if hoping to find the answer in the half-elf's magnificent chocolate-brown eyes.

"Fuck, Ithunn...it hurts." Verden said weakly - there was burning emotion in Ithunn's emerald green eyes.

"Yeah, it hurts...can you imagine what happened after you left?" Ithunn said savagely, a lone tear streaking down her pale cheek.

"I s'pose if I said I was sorry now you wouldn't believe me." In truth, there were no words to describe how sorry Verden was.

Ithunn relented, her grip loosening as she slowly drew Verden back into her arms, "This is not the right place to talk. Perhaps I can offer you some tea in the mess hall." Her tone was conciliatory now, almost tender.

"Sure...anywhere you like." Verden said, nodding gratefully.

They walked silently together through the long central hallway of the Temple compound and descended a flight of stairs to enter the rectangular, communal mess hall which was dominated by two, long tables that nearly ran the whole length of the chamber. It was silent, only the smell of food in the early stages of cooking filled the air: frying onions and lard, poultry broth being heated up in black iron cauldrons. At the counter where meals would be served, a pot of boiling tisane was kept at all times for any who would require refreshments throughout the day.

"Have a seat, I'll be right back." Ithunn felt her speech instinctively become less formal around Verden. It was as if she were reconnecting with a wounded, but dream-like past.

Verden complied while Ithunn went up to the food counter and filled two earthenware mugs with light-green herbal tea. It was mint and liquorice, not Ithunn's favourite, but it would do. Returning to Verden, who had chosen an inconspicuous seat at the far corner of the mess hall, Ithunn noted with pleasure that the half-elf still knelt, rather than sat, in her chair. She always used to say it was because she disliked the feeling of her feet dangling close to the ground.

They sat there for some long, awkward moments. Ithunn stared pensively into her tea, while Verden leaned forward on the table, propping herself up on her elbows, trying to read some emotion in the human novice.

"How long?" Verden said, breaking the pregnant silence.

"By the reckoning of this place, five years. When you left, by the reckoning of Ortho, I had thrirteen summers and a solstice." Those figures were seared in Ithunn's mind.

"A long sodding time," Verden said, a bemused expression crossing her delicate features which definitely bore an appealing elven influence, "but...fuck, Ithunn, look at you...just look at you...all grown up and a paladin, too. I mean, I knew you were handy with a blade, but now I can see you all dressed up in silvery armour."

Ithunn could barely restrain a chuckle, "I am still a novice, but I should be Consecrated soon. But thank you for the compliment, you have grown very well yourself." Verden's voluptuous figure had developed magnificently, but Ithunn had always known it would.

Verden was immediately put at ease by Ithunn's tongue-in-cheek comment, "So you've gone all high-up now. Don't imagine you've got much time for Hive rats like me or any of that screed."

"You never stopped playing the victim." Ithunn chided, even as her smile grew warmer.

"You never stopped seeing through me."

"Are you happy to see me?" Ithunn ventured, taking a sip of her tea.

"Are you?" Verden countered anxiously.

Setting down her mug, Ithunn placed a reassuring hand on Verden's forearm, "Of course." She whispered. Ithunn could not help but appreciate the contrast of her pearly-white skin against Verden's light woodland tan.

"For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me to pike it." Verden confessed.

"You know I would never do that."

"Even though you're angry?"

"I'm not angry, I just want to know why you left." Ithunn said ruefully. That quandary brought them both back to another time, to another place - deep in their past and deep in the Hive.

**********

Ithunn carefully counted out the coins from her market day sales and deposited them in a simple canvas pouch she kept slung around her waist. She had been at the poorer section of the Great Bazaar since before daybreak, when the air was still cold and the sky dark and featureless. In the few weeks since her thirteenth summer - according to the calendar of Ortho, for seasons had now meaning in the planar city of Sigil - she had quickly grown used to selling at the Bazaar. Thirteen was the ceremonial threshold of womanhood, so Ithunn was now made to act as the saleswoman for her mother's seamstress work. Her job was to take in damaged clothes, return repaired ones, and take orders for raw fabric. That, at least, was her day job. Then she had some free time, but by darkfall she would once again be by the fireside helping her mother with the stitching, before grabbing a few precious moments of sleep on the bed she was made to share with her younger sister before returning to the market.

The fact that her mother slapped her whenever she dared complain did not hide the fact that it was a singularly monotonous, humiliating life for Ithunn. But her younger brothers and sisters needed to be fed and her father's iron workshop simply did not provide enough income for them all. So, Ithunn had to resign herself to nodding obediently with a string of "yes, madam, thank you madam" addressed at girls not much older than she was. The only highlight of her day was in the few spare moments when she was free to practice with her shortsword in the back of her father's shop. It was then that she knew that her hands were made for blades, not a seamstress' needle.

That day business had been reasonably good. She had taken in a net profit of thirty Sigil marks, not including the two she had overcharged a customer for and would keep herself. It was the least they could do for her; the only time Ithunn had dared ask few coins to buy a new blouse, her mother had given her a beating, claiming that only lazy, shiftless people bought clothes when perfectly good ones could be made at home. With those bitter thoughts in mind, Ithunn carefully packed up the stall, pulled down the blackened iron shutters and bolted it up. Finally she would be able to have lunch - since, apparently, it was unprofessional to be seen eating on the job. Indeed, according to the unyielding work ethic of Ortho's culture, most things except doing one's duty with a straight back and unblinking eye were unprofessional.

When the Bell Tower chimed, Ithunn knew it was time to go, so she began to trudge back home where she hoped to change from her traditional, ankle-length white and red gown into her more comfortable, and preferred, blouse and leggings.

"Excuse me, Miss." A sweet, charming voice called from Ithunn's side before she even realised someone had approached her. The particular back alley which Ithunn took to avoid the crowded Bazaar on her way home was dark and silent, but more infamous for its cracked paving and decaying walls than any untoward activity.

"What?" Ithunn replied irritably. She instantly recognised the girl who approached her, a half-elf who seemed to be about her age, clad in a simple green top and brown, skin-tight breeches who often hung around the Bazaar living off the charity of passers-by.

"You seem like you've had a good day and I was thinking that maybe a lady of your generosity could spare a little something for a poor, hungry girl with no-one to care for her." Verden's beggar's wheedle was well-practiced: everything from the simple politeness to the affected, girlish innocence.

"Nice try, I've seen you pickpocket more times than I care to remember, now pike it." Ithunn snapped. The half-elf was a clever one, rounding off what she could not beg by stealing. No doubt, not having worked an honest day in her life, she could afford a new blouse.

"Oh, all right," Verden said darkly, her voice returning to its more enigmatically seductive, normal pitch, "you got me, but you can't blame a girl for trying to shake some jink."

"No, you can't," Ithunn replied coolly, "but some us prefer to make an honest living. You're a damn good thief; I've seen you, you're quick and they don't even see you coming, but I'd rather be a bad seamstress than a good thief."

"Repair clothes? Who the fuck would want to do that?" Verden said contemptuously. That said, the human girl had spirit, and that was always appealing.

"I don't, but I have to." Even without the sweet, painted smile, Verden's eyes immediately struck Ithunn as entrancing: so deep, so mysterious, like a lake in a secluded forest cave.

"D'you think I like begging and sucking up to every fucking berk who crosses my path so, maybe, they'll toss me a few coins?" Verden retorted.

"I get it...you have to as well. So why don't you go pick yourself a pocket and leave me in peace?"

"Because," Verden said tersely, feeling that if there was anyone to whom she could appeal for genuine sympathy it was Ithunn, whose young mind was probably less corrupted by the classic human prejudice with regards to half-elves, "I nearly got caught yesterday and I've got to lie low...and I wasn't lying to you when I said I was hungry, I haven't had anything since yesterday."

Ithunn relented. In truth she had always felt a little sorry for Verden, especially because she, of all people, knew how soul-draining and humiliating it was to defer to the most loathsome people just to be able to earn enough to eat, "Do you like black bread?"

Verden nodded, a little moved that despite seeing through her deception, Ithunn had taken sympathy.

"Good, so why don't you join me?" Ithunn said, searching for a relatively dry and level piece of paving under the decaying gables of some abandoned shops. When she finally found a sheltered area, dry and relatively clean in the shadow of an abandoned porch, she sat down and opened the brown cloth pack in which her mother packed her meals.

"Thanks for, uhm...you know, being nice to me." Verden said with more transparency than Ithunn had imagined. The half-elf eagerly took a seat on the floor next to a benefactor and looked on with barely concealed anticipation at the packed lunch of thick-sliced brown bread, sweet brown goat's cheese, pickles and a single slice of marble-white fatback.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Ithunn mumbled, trying to figure out an equitable way of sharing the food.

"Not many humans would do that for me, y'know." Verden said. It was all good and well when she was non-threatening as a beggar, but having been caught as a thief was to confirm all the worst stereotypes humans, and Ortho humans in particular, had with regards to half-elves.

"I know, but I don't give a fuck about what most humans would do." Ithunn said with some satisfaction. Using language like that in front of her mother normally meant not sitting down for a week. Finally resolving that she would show herself to be the generous one, Ithunn handed Verden the whole pack.

"What, aren't you having any?" Verden said incredulously.

"No, I'll eat when I get home." Judging by the speed with which the half-elf had begun to devour her food, it was evident that she had not been lying about being hungry. The whole, and quite substantial meal was consumed before Ithunn could conjure up a new topic of conversation. So she improvised, "How about sweet nutbread, do you like that?"

"Do I ever!" Verden chimed. This was her lucky day.

Ithunn smiled and withdrew the slice she had been jealously guarding for herself from a hidden compartment in her travelling pack. It was dense, moist and irresistibly delicious to the extent that whenever her mother made that particular cake, she would fight with her siblings for a bigger share. Under the circumstances, however, Verden could as well have it.

"What do you do...I mean, do you have friends, do you go to school?" Ithunn asked, a little curious.

Verden paused from wolfing down the nutbread, "Me? School? Fuck off, berk...as for friends, I've got one, I see her once in a while and she's more than enough company, thank you very much."

"Don't call me 'berk', I'm Ithunn."

"Verden." The half-elf said quickly, before resuming her attack on Ithunn's cake.

"You're a half-elf, right?" Ithunn ventured.

"Wow, I always thought I was a half-human." Verden joked. It was then that Ithunn realised that Verden's eyes were beyond beautiful when she was truly happy.

"Do you have a home...where do you sleep?" Ithunn continued, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Where I can." Verden replied, naturally enough, "Say, if you like, we could...y'know explore Sigil together, I'll come meet you when you're done tomorrow and we can go to the old temple on Magpie Street, no-one's in the know about the dark of that place, but if there's scrap, we can sell it."

"Sounds good." Ithunn said, trying to hide her enthusiasm. An outing with Verden would certainly be refreshing, especially since the boys who had been her childhood playmates all of a sudden only seemed ineterested in activities that involved stealing a kiss from her.

"I'll be there...by the way, what's with the braid?" Verden inquired.

"Oh, yeah, after some goddess or suchlike, you don't like it?" Ithunn mumbled evasively. Her mother made her wash her hair every day and then painstakingly knotted the braid up again - time which Ithunn would have rather spent with a shortsword in hand.

"No, it's pretty."

From that meeting, the burden of Ithunn's days grew ever lighter. Verden had a certain experienced nonchalance about the harsh life of the Hive, despite her age. She became Ithunn's guide to the less savoury aspects of existence on the margins, dragging her to areas where respectable humans never went. In all that decay, however, in the cracked cobblestones, secluded squares, and shadowy alleys, there was wonder and mystery as well as danger. In an abandoned mansion, they found a pool that had been magically replenished from the Elemental Plane of Water where fish still swam, oblivious to the fact that their owner had long since moved on. By night, Ithunn sneaked out to join Verden on a rooftop and watch the ghostly procession of Death Worshippers writhe and convulse in their bony regalia as black-hooded devotees followed bearing skull-shaped torches. At an elven carnival to celebrate the Forest Mother, Ithunn stumbled through the low-lying silky banners and garish flower displays of the Wood Elf district in a state of amazement while Verden made a killing from snatching coin pouches.

Sigil, quite simply, held boundless wonder that went so far beyond the dour, grey work ethic of Ortho culture. Whatever prejudices Ithunn may once have had with regards to half-elves vanished; Verden approached their friendship with typical intensity, so when the bond had been sealed, it became set in stone. Verden also became an outlet for Ithunn's frustrations, a confidante who shared her contempt for the demands her family imposed on her.

The moment of truth, however, which was more like the moment of understanding, only came later when excursions with Verden had become a routine. They were alone on the tiled roof of an old tenement which overlooked a particularly active section of the Great Bazaar. There, teeming with life of all description, beings of all races mingled and conferred in a dozen different languages. The fruit sellers, with new shipments from Bytopia, were in particular evidence and the air was heavy with a ripe, sharply sweet smell. Verden lay stretched out on the tiles, gazing at the featureless, overcast Sigil sky, while Ithunn leaned forward, hugging her knees and observing the scene below.

"What happened to your cheek?" Verden queried absentmindedly, noting the redness on the side of Ithunn's face.

"Didn't do up the top button of my blouse before leaving the house." Came the matter-of-fact answer. In defiance, she now kept the offending garment half open.

"Fuck...it almost makes me happy I never knew my parents, is she still on to you for hanging 'round me?" Verden simply could not imagine living in such a strict environment as Ithunn's family.

"No," Ithunn replied curtly, "my father is - he says half-elves are scum, but he says that about anyone who's not from Ortho, so I'm not too bothered. My mother said it was fine as long as I did my work, which thanks to you, has never been better."

Verden laughed melodiously at the comment: with Ithunn as a decoy, she had increased her earnings significantly. Part of the proceeds went to Ithunn herself who could subsequently convince her mother that Verden in no way interfered with her sales. Her father had even congratulated her, saying that she was growing into a fine woman, but in the same breath pointing out that it was unseemly for a good Ortho lady to be seen around halfbreeds.

"Am I ever going to meet this mysterious friend of yours?" Ithunn said inquisitively. Verden had so far kept her two friendships completely separate, spending time with her nameless companion while Ithunn worked at the Bazaar. All the human girl knew was that the mystery character was a tiefling - a mortal with fiendish blood. That, in itself, sounded like an intriguing premise.

"You don't need to. She likes to keep to herself, but maybe someday. I think you two'd like each other."

Ithunn mulled Verden's evasive answer over a she stared at the cracked, smoke-blackened tiles beneath her. The cries of fruit vendors from the marketplace faded into a single, rhythmic background noise. "I need to get away." Ithunn said suddenly.

"Why didn't you say so before? We could jump through a portal, any portal and take our chances." Verden was not joking, her tone was intense, just as it was whenever she planned an excursion - intense as if their lives depended on it.

"Look at us," Ithunn retorted bitterly, "we've got nothing, what would we do?"

"Exactly what we do here."

"And when you get caught?" Ithunn interjected desperately, finally betraying her anxiety - that profound fear that one day Verden would not be there to greet her when she closed her stall.

"Who the fuck said anything about when? No sodding hardhead is ever going to have me, you've got my word on that." Verden's tone was defiant, even though she was touched by Ithunn's concern.

"Why can't you do something else, besides stealing? Sigil's full of cutters who'll have your head if they see you picking their pocket."

"Ithunn, I can't do anything else."

"Fine," Ithunn replied fiercely, "but promise me, swear to me that you'll always come back."

"I swear..." Verden replied with quiet reverence.

That was not enough, for Ithunn pounced on Verden, pinning her to the surface of the roof. There was no point in struggling against the taller, stronger Ithunn, so Verden yielded and waited to hear what all the fuss was about.

"Blood swear it." Ithunn said, her throat choked with emotion, before releasing her grip.

Verden nodded wordlessly and sat up. She drew one of the knives she kept concealed in her boot. Its blade shimmered - Verden claimed it was magical. Very carefully, the half-elf drew the knife's blade down the pad of her thumb, causing a light trickle of deep crimson blood to spill out. Verden then raised her bloodied thumb to Ithunn's lips. Leaning forward, the human girl pressed her lips against the wound and tasted salt and metal.

"So it's done, may what's sworn thrice by mortals be thrice times six for Lady Luck's dice." Verden said, the only time Ithunn had heard the half-elf's voice so prayer-like.

"I bear witness." Ithunn breathed, clasping Veden's hand in her own.

"I swear. I swear. I swear." Thus the ritual was complete.

"Good," Ithunn said, full of child-like faith in the power of fate and promises, "now tomorrow I want you to come to my place, I really want to show you my fencing routine."

"I can't wait."

The following day, Verden did not go to the Grand Bazaar, but counted took out half the coins she had saved in her private hoard and went to the public baths. There, in an alien world of massage rooms, exercise halls and communal pools, she negotiated a good price for the best treatment she could afford. Then she watched in wonder as attendants washed and trimmed her shoulder length hair, filed her nails and perfumed her body. When she finally stepped out from the steamy, stone chambers of the baths into the bracing Sigil morning, she felt like a new person. Her favourite green top and walnut-brown breeches were clean, her boots polished and, for the first time, Verden felt utterly presentable. She walked down the streets as if in a daze, confident that she would impress Ithunn to no end and demonstrate that a thief's life need not be one of grime, soot and dark shadows.

It was relatively early when Verden finally chanced upon the workshop owned by Ithunn's father. The family lived in the back of the modest smithy, from which the sound of incessant pounding of hammer against anvil could be heard. Ithunn already lived in one of the more peaceful quarters of the Hive - mainly solid, industrious Ortho folk who had replicated the thatched-roof and orderly wooden design of their home-world. Verden thus thought it acceptable to let herself relax for a while. Keeping a low profile in a potentially hostile area was advisable, so she chose a comfortably dark side alley where the light was obscured by overhanging laundry. The cobblestones were moist from the dripping water, but the air was filled with a pleasantly soft, soapy smell.

Leaning against a firm, wooden wall, Verden decided to just watch the world go by.

"Who in the Abyss are you?" A deep voice called from the darkness.

Verden whipped around with lightning-quick reflexes, "Pike it, sod." She snapped.

"You're not from around here." The voice drew closer and Verden saw that it belonged to a tall, well built young man who wore a glassblower's apron.

"I said pike it, are you humans fucking deaf?" Verden certainly had no interest in such idle conversation.

With a single swipe of the man's powerful arms,Verden found herself slammed hard against the wall. If Ithunn could overpower her, this man, who was at least a foot taller than she was, could as well have been seizing a newborn kitten, "My, my...you elven cunts certainly have a mouth on you, don't you?" The burly man could smell Verden's fear, see it in her eyes.

"You'll pay for this, sod." Verden said between gritted teeth, desperately reaching down her leg to seize the knife she kept concealed in her boot.

"Bitch!" The man snarled as he detected Verden's movements. He reached forward to grab the knife first and tossed it carelessly to one side, "You've got tricks up your sleeve, now let me show you the trick up mine." Verden instinctively bit her lip as she felt strong, calloused hands run down the sides of her torso and then finally come to rest, violent and kneading, against her bottom.

"I'll grant you one thing, bitch, you've got nice tits and a delicious ass." His voice sunk to a low, conspiratorial whisper. Verden could feel hot stiffness against her bottom and it wasn't the man's hands, "I bet it's real fucking tight, too."

"I'm flattered," Verden spat with venomous sarcasm, "big man like you...so fucking manly to get your kicks from a little beggar girl. What would your sisters say? Your mother?"

"You keep on talking," came the dangerous reply, "but I'm going to fuck that tight little ass of yours so hard you won't be able to walk straight and you're going to enjoy it like the good little elven whore that you are." Verden felt firm, aggressive hands tugging at the waistband of her breeches. Her mind had already resigned itself and departed for greener pastures. She wasn't in a dark alley anymore, but on a quiet, secluded roof, Ithunn by her side as they both stared into the boundless sky.

"Dag!" Verden heard Ithunn's voice call in the distance, so her mind immediately snapped back to reality.

"Dag! Are you insane?" Ithunn cried indignantly. Her shortsword was drawn as she approached the scene and, to Verden, she had never looked more radiant. In the half-elf's desperate, fear-fevered mind, Ithunn looked like an angel: her blouse whiter than snow, her eyes brilliant gems, her lips like red rubies.

"Stay out of this!" Dag warned, "She shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you." Ithunn challenged. She felt uneasy - Dag was far larger than herself, but as she stood firm, her sword drawn, her brain flooded with adrenaline, she felt that she could have done anything to protect Verden.

"Stop playing games you silly bitch..." The burly man made cast Verden aside and lunged for Ithunn. His warning was cut off in mid-sentence by an agonised scream. Ithunn's reflexes and months of training had not betrayed her: she swung the shortsword in a perfect, arching line, so that the finely honed steel blade sang through the air. That sound was music to Verden's ears. Even more so was the sound of steel slicing flesh and lodging into bone. Blood spurted in bright, red jets that spattered in crimson droplets over the cobblestones. Dag's agonised howls filled the air as he fell to his knees, clutching his wounded arm. The cut had been close to the elbow and the skin and outer muscle had clearly been severed, revealing deep red arterial blood and white bone.

"Leave..." Ithunn said, her voice authoritative even as her heart was beating at a wildly nervous rate. The tip of her blade ran thick with metallic-smelling blood, but, despite her anxiety, her muscles were ready and tense - prepared to, if need be, deal another strike.

Dag moaned in shock and pain, before turning to flee the alley, clutching his wound tightly in hand, "I'll tell your father about this." He threatened desperately.

"If you do, I'll tell your wife." Ithunn shot back. Her breath was still short, her pupils wide - almost as if she were mad. She did not look mad to Verden, who only saw a saviour sent by the powers that be to deliver her. In that moment, locked in space and time, Verden realised that there was nothing to fear: if her parents had abandoned her, it was irrelevant, if societies rejected her, that, too, was irrelevant. What mattered was that she had a guardian angel, a being of pure, heroic beauty who was salvation and benediction all rolled into one.

"You took your time." Was all Verden could muster as Ithunn grasped her tightly in a comforting embrace. She stood there for a few long moments, her face buried in Ithunn's shoulder, waiting for her breath to regain a steady rhythm and for her mind to root itself once again in reality. When Verden dared open her eyes again, Ithunn was still pressed close, her beauty undiminished.

"He didn't do it, did he?" The human girl asked, her breath warm against Verden's hair.

"Nah, I'm tougher than I look...I could've taken him." Verden said.

"I know..." Ithunn said gently, a relieved smile on her lips, "you would've been too fast for him anyway."

"Yeah." Verden nodded. There was nothing else to say. The half-elf knew that Ithunn had seen all her gratitude in a single glance. In the distance, a low rumble could be heard and, in a typical sudden Sigil rainstorm, large, cold droplets of water began to course down the sky and land with a heavy beating rhythm on cobblestones and tiles. As if by magic, the laundry that had kept the alleyway in darkened pall began to be cleared away.

"Damn, let's get indoors." Ithunn said, glad that some event had broken up a potentially awkward moment.

"You sure your father won't kill me?" Verden noted sceptically as Ithunn took her by the hand, under the increasingly driving rain, into the back storeroom of the smithy.

"No, I think he's just gone out. Anyway, he won't use the storeroom until next daybreak." Ithunn said reassuringly. She fumbled with the latch to the wooden storeroom where her father kept firewood and other basic supplies for the smithy. The rain fell in heavy curtains of freezing, needle-sharp water. Ithunn finally managed to get her key to slot appropriately into the lock and unlatched the door.

The long, narrow storeroom was silent and dark, but at least it was dry. Stacks of firewood were piled up against each wall, as were wooden buckets full of nails of various sizes and shapes. Ithunn led the way in and swiftly lit a small lantern which soon filled the room with a warm, yellow glow.

"Fuck..." Verden growled angrily - her efforts earlier that day had been to no avail, the rain had soaked her, "curse the sodding rain, now I'm going to freeze to death in here." She slumped to the ground against a pile of firewood, her head planted glumly between her knees.

"Wait, I'll handle it." Ithunn said, locking the door to the storeroom - this time from the inside. She then proceeded to the far side of the chamber and opened a simple pinewood chest from which she retrieved a white and red embroidered quilt. Ithunn then placed her shortsword inside the chest, with every intention of eventually replacing the quilt over it so any incriminating evidence was kept at a suitably low profile. Returning to Verden's side, Ithunn sat next to her friend and spread out the wide, heavy quilt to cover both of them. The effect was immediate: the combined warmth of their bodies and the residual heat from the smithy's forge in the adjacent workshop quickly dried their wet clothes, though it did little to lift Verden's spirits.

"Thanks...thanks for everything." Verden said dejectedly. She had wanted to look her absolute best for Ithunn, but now she was once again the scruffy Hive street urchin, her face streaked with cold, sooty rain.

"Well, I promised I'd show you my fencing skills, right?" Ithunn said, drawing Verden into her embrace. The half-elf eagerly huddled up to Ithunn's breast. She felt safe and wanted in her friend's tight, loving embrace.

"You're a good one...you always keep your promises." Verden said with a soft chuckle.

"Verden..." Ithunn whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You look pretty today...I mean, more than usual."

"Oh...oh," Verden said, before deciding against openly showing the fact that she was overjoyed that Ithunn had noticed - it was always advisable not to be too forward with one's emotions, "yeah, thanks, it could be better, but y'know...the sodding rain."

"What's the occasion?" Ithunn pressed, curiously nuzzling Verden's green-streaked chestnut-brown hair. There she immersed herself in a soft, flowery aroma which accentuated, rather than hid, the natural, airy freshness she had always associated with the half-elf.

"You know what?" Verden said with mock irritation.

"What?" Ithunn replied, mistaking jest for sincerity.

"You humans just don't get it sometimes, do you?" Verden snapped.

"Get what?"

"Nevermind."

"Listen," Ithunn said, still perplexed even as she decided to change the subject, "it's pouring down. You can't leave like this, why don't you stay here. I'm sure no one would notice. Then, when my parents are asleep, I can return to keep you company."

"It's not the first time it rains in Sigil, you know." Her proximity to Ithunn, the sensation of the human girl's budding breasts rising and falling, the gentle rhythm of her breathing had awakened emotions that had previously remained tightly coiled in Verden's heart. For the first time in her conscious memory, she felt wanted - she felt as though she were an indispensable part of something larger, the source of devotion and happiness for another person.

"Yes, but I want you to stay." Ithunn said with gentle firmness. All of a sudden, she felt responsible for Verden. The event of the day had shown that she could never again leave the half-elven girl to her own devices. If Dag had managed to have his way with Verden, Ithunn would never have forgiven herself. Verden may not have been a "lady of breeding" - whatever that meant - but she was a flower of unique beauty, who needed to be treasured and held close. The very thought that anyone would wish to harm her aroused an intense rage in Ithunn's soul.

"So maybe I will." Verden concluded, finally deciding that it was time to make her position clear. She sat up to face Ithunn directly, her gaze intense as she wrapped her arms around the human girl's graceful neck. From her vantage point, Ithunn could see the emerging, rounded perfection of Verden's adolescent breasts and the sweet, knowing smile that made the half-elf's lips even more fascinating. Verden drew closer, her heart racing in her chest, until her lips were but a few inches from Ithunn's. She could see the emerald pools that were Ithunn's eyes, feel the sweet warmth of her breath.

"Are you going to kiss me?" Ithunn inquired nervously. She was surprised that the words ever left her mouth - she felt like there was a storm of hummingbirds in her belly.

"Yes." Came the fervent reply.

"But..." Ithunn said, unsure of what to say or do, "you're a girl..."

"So are you, what's your point?"

Ithunn nodded, there was simply no-one else with whom she could have imagined sharing her first kiss, "Please...please go slowly, I've never done this before."

Verden's lips, soft like ripe plums, sensual like the touch of a goddess silenced Ithunn. The first contact was like magic, an erotic revelation so powerful that it sent a shivers down the human girl's spine. Very gently, Verden's tongue flicked against Ithunn's lips. It was then that Ithunn decided to lose herself in the kiss, casting aside her inhibitions as her eager, but inexpert tongue wrestled desperately with Verden's, seeking the sensual fire in the half-elf's mouth. Verden leaned forward, her legs straddling Ithunn, her lips kissing the breath out of the human girl's lungs.

There was an urgent, adolescent ferocity in the jousting of their mouths, but there was pleasure in that too - an virgin, pristine pleasure that was so spontaneous as to be sacred. In Ithunn's mind, the kiss went on for what seemed like ages - with every instant she spent melting into the yielding, hungry warmth of Verden's mouth she begged any and all goddesses and gods, any powers that be to grant her a single prayer, a single prayer for the rest of her life: let this never end.

Tentatively, Verden began to undo the buttons of Ithunn's blouse, her hands desperate to cradle the soft breasts within, "Do you want to do it?" The half-elf said with raw passion as she broke the kiss, her voice breathless.

"Do you know what to do?" Ithunn queried raggedly. The heartbeat in her temples was deafening, as was the liquid fire that coursed through her veins, filling her loins with aching need.

"We can figure it out..." Verden lunged once more, capturing Ithunn's lips.

With their kiss, renewed, Ithunn felt Verden's body melt against hers. She felt stiff nipples against her skin, just as Verden's hands finally slipped inside her opened blouse. Ithunn did not quite know what they what, exactly, their lovemaking would entail, but as long as it was with Verden, it would no doubt be unforgettable.

"What in the Nine Hells is this?" Ithunn suddenly heard her father's outraged voice cry. He had entered through the door that connected the storeroom to the smithy. As quickly as she could, cold terror filling her mind, Ithunn tried to get Verden to compose herself whilst desperately scrambling to button up her blouse.

"You worthless, shameless whore!" Ithunn's father growled. He was a tall, powerful man, with severe grey eyes that burned with indignant rage. Seizing Ithunn by the arm he dragged her to her feet and slapped her so hard she felt blood trickle from her nose as she crumpled, sobbing to the floor, "You are a disgrace to your people, no better than a cheap trollop, spreading your legs for the first filthy halfbreed slut you meet." Ithunn tried to rise to her knees, but her father kicked her savagely in the abdomen, sending her sprawling against a pile of firewood. Ithunn tasted blood in her mouth and felt an unpleasant wetness in her breeches.

"Verden..." Ithunn whimpered as the terrified half-elf looked on, clasping the quilt as if for dear life. She saw the tears in Ithunn's eyes, heard the strangled sobs as her father laid in blow after blow with a mercifully thin piece of firewood, heard Ithunn's father call his daughter things that made even the half-elf shudder. Verden saw and heard all these things, leapt to her feet, and made a hasty escape through the open door that led to the smithy and into the cold, welcoming, forgetful rain outside.

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

"I was just a child," Ithunn said bitterly - her mug of tea was empty, but she stared into its depths rather than look Verden in the eyes, "who thought she was experiencing the most beautiful moment of her life."

"Me too..." Verden said, her voice choked with emotion. This time she made the first move and took Ithunn's hands into her own. "But I left because I was afraid he'd kill me. When I promised I'd always come back, though, when we swore by blood, I kept that one...I came back."

Ithunn slowly raised her gaze to meet Verden's. She could not rationally blame Verden for running - in all probability, her father would indeed have killed the half-elf. He certainly did not miss the mark by far when it came to Ithunn herself, "So my mother begged my father to send me away to the Order of the Radiant Path, since I was good with the sword and they would, in her mind, at least teach me to live my life as a dignified woman. So here I am."

"So that's why I never found you." Verden said, her tone heavy with regret, "I returned to the smithy day after sodding day, but I never saw you again. I thought that maybe he'd killed you, or sent you far away through some portal."

"I never doubted that I would see you again and I will never hold you responsible for running away. I, too, wanted to escape."

"Right. I s'pose that's really what I wanted to hear...I was going to buy you dinner - remember," Verden said, allowing herself a nervous laugh to cut through the accumulated tension of memory, "when I said that when I got rich the first thing I'd buy you was a roast dinner and the biggest crystallised fruit tart they had, well... I'm not that sodding rich, but I've got a little jink now, but you've probably got friends who're waiting for you, maybe a lover who doesn't like her blood too close to the likes of me..."

"No, neither friend nor lover binds me." Ithunn interrupted, this time her eyes brimmed with fiery determination - she was no longer going to be a passive spectator to the workings of Fate, "I want you to buy me dinner."

"You sure?" Verden said, expertly masking the welling sense of joy in her breast.

"As sure as I was when I made you swear by blood." Ithunn said. As always, she saw straight through Verden's masks.

*********

Verden made a point to choose the most expensive and ostentatiously luxurious tavern she could find that would not directly bankrupt her. So the pair of them journeyed off into the rarefied atmosphere of the Lady's Ward which was in the middle of festive preparations for a Bureaucrat's Guild festival. Banners and ornamental posters were being hoisted by telekinesis, the streets illuminated with magical light in order to allow the preparations to proceed well into the night. Ithunn did little consider her surroundings: all she could see was Verden next to her. There was something entrancing half-elf's sensual, irreverently graceful gait, the occasional flick of her hair that revealed a delicately pointed ear or an elegant cheekbone, the tightly bound perfection of her breasts that Ithunn still remembered looking upon with envy.

Although the novice wanted to take Verden by the hand and hold her close, there was no haste and there was no immediate need. What had seized Ithunn when she first laid eyes on her friend again was not desire, but the very simple need to chat aimlessly for hours on end, or run through rain puddles and up creaky stairs as they did when they were children. Despite the gulf of time that separated them from their last meeting, walking by Verden's side felt natural. So natural, in fact, that Ithunn was perfectly willing to put up with any punishment that would be levelled at her for skipping curfew. She probably would not even formulate an excuse, but take the blows and reprimands with tight-lipped, stoic silence. Ever since her father's punitive beating, she had never cried out again in pain.

Their final destination was a fine, dignified tavern named "The Durandal" that appeared to have been carved out of living rock, though that was almost certainly a magically conjured effect. Inside, the ceiling was high, vaulted and spacious, the chairs plush and upholstered in leather. Predictably, Verden sought a table in a darkened, unprepossessing corner of the dining room - she preferred to keep a low profile, even when there was no immediate danger. Ithunn felt much less awkward than she had been during her outing with Elyszara - this time, everything seemed to slot into place like a key in its lock. They could as well have been on a rooftop snacking on stolen rosewater jelly.

As they sat down, a serving maid came to take their order. Verden was immediately left deeply perplexed by the menu, which she could hardly read, and the wine list - which could as well, as far as she was concerned, have been written in Old Draconic. Kneeling in her chair, however, Verden's exterior remained cool and unfazed. So the half-elf did what she usually did and bluffed, calling for a roasted joint for two, a large crystallised fruit tart, and pointed with affected expertise to a random label on the wine list. The serving maid took it all with professional grace and left - a good hostess, as everyone knows, has the good taste not to point out when a client is holding the wine list upside down.

"You don't have to impress me, you know." Ithunn said softly, somewhat concerned that Verden may have been spending beyond her means.

"Yeah, but I'd be a bad friend if I didn't make this special."

"So I hope life is treating you with an even hand." Ithunn ventured, trying desperately to obtain enough information to fill in the hole that time had torn between the two of them.

"Ithunn, I'm Verden, not the fucking Lady of Pain, speak so I can understand you." Verden chided jokingly. She leaned forward on the table, her gaze fixed on Ithunn - she wanted to drown in that emerald sea of the novice's eyes.

So Ithunn did, at length. The meal passed at such speed that Verden thought she would have to ask for half the information to be repeated at a later date: Ithunn divulged everything, from her frustrations with some of her fellow-novices, to her contempt for doctrinal lessons, to her love of bladecraft and all things forged from steel, even her convoluted emotional life. Verden was more reticent, but warmed with the consumption of glass after glass of wine - which got her tipsy as any other wine, so she could not understand why they charged ten times as much for it - finally revealing how she had been left alone by Min and Shesayne to run the thieving operation by herself.

It was, Ithunn reflected, like an old joke - a paladin and a thief. But those were labels imposed much later, in a different and more iron-cast world. The bond that Verden and Ithunn shared, however, was something more primal which came from the time when the Multiverse was more plastic, where barriers were more easily broken and when days could drag on forever. By the time the fruit tart arrived - every bit as impressive in its stained-glass like garnishes as they had ever dreamed - Ithunn realised that she and Verden had not, in any fundamental sense, changed. It was the Multiverse that had changed around them.

"Oh, sod it," Ithunn said, an alcohol-loosened smile on her lips, "don't look at me as if I were some sort of Tarrasque, you'd eat just as much if you knew how bad the mess hall got."

"You never stopped surprising me." Verden said, hoping that Ithunn could understand just what a compliment that was.

"Hmm..." Ithunn's response was wordless, she had briefly decided to concentrate on demolishing the tart.

"I have a proposition." Verden's tone was firm, yet tinged with all the languid sensuality that Ithunn found so hypnotic.

"What's that?" The novice paused. There was a certain authoritative weight in Verden's words, for they were intense as only she could be when she was planning something important.

"I've sixty marks set aside - for a nice room and breakfast tomorrow morning." Verden's eyes never shifted from Ithunn's.

Ithunn slowly laid down her spoon and lowered her gaze. Verden waited: she would not make a move until Ithunn produced an answer. Even as the dining room was filled with incessant chatter, the clashing of plates and the crackling of the fireplace, the darkened corner of the room where Verden awaited her reply seemed silent, as if it had been briefly shifted into another world.

"Can..." Ithunn began, before clearing her throat, "can we get up early tomorrow morning, just so I can try to sneak back in to Quarters?"

"Sure." Verden said and that was the only sound that registered in the dazed confusion of Ithunn's mind. Before the novice knew it, she was being dragged downstairs and through long, warmly lit corridors, her boots echoing on the flagstones underneath. Everything proceeded as if it were a blur - just a sketch in Ithunn's mind, where the only image which was precisely detailed was Verden's.

They had stopped by a door at the far end of a deserted hallway. Enchanted candles burned in the air, casting everything in a soft, mesmerising light. Verden's face was a hypnotic game of shadows. Ithunn made the first move, gently raising a hand to stroke Verden's cheek. Contact with the half-elf's soft, woodland tan skin was enough to set Ithunn's heart racing - it beat so much faster than it had with Elyszara.

"I - I'm sorry." Ithunn said sheepishly, "There's so much I'd like to do and say, but it's all blocked up in me, so I don't know how to let it..."

"I know," Verden interrupted, her voice swimming through the air like a timeless melody, "it's been some time, but this is still Verden. Give me your hands."

Ithunn nodded and obeyed. The half-elf took Ithunn's pale hands into her own and drew them out so that the novice was touching her cheeks.

"These," Verden breathed, "are fine, slender hands, I knew you'd be a great swordswoman even before you saved me, just by looking at your hands. So, now take those hands and touch my ears - that's what my mother left me, the only thing that tells me who or what she was." The half-elf shuddered involuntarily as Ithunn's fingertips ran down her delicately pointed ears.

"Right, so touch my lips - the same lips that kissed you when we still thought life would be good to us," Verden's lips were soft like ripe fruit, rich and sensual, Ithunn could only allow herself to be drawn in deeper, "now touch my breasts, no elf has them so large, no human so firm." Verden's voice was hypnotic, as mesmerising as her breasts which Ithunn now cupped through tightly-stretched canvas, feeling their heft, their deliciously erotic, dense weight.

"Now feel my hands - they're fast hands, fast with a coin pouch and faster with knives that'll reach your heart, reach your lungs, reach your throat before you even see them," Verden drew Ithunn's hands lower to rest on the half-elf's gorgeously flared hips, "now feel my hips, you'd never know I'd thought about it, but these are good childbearing hips, so I know I can give life as well as take it."

"This," the half-elf concluded, "is me - Verden."

Ithunn contemplated her options, and finding only one conclusion, lunged forward to kiss the half-elf's soft, yielding lips. That instant was like reconnecting with that unforgettable sliver of time when she and Verden had found intimacy and unending desire in each other's embrace. This time, Ithunn's tongue was no less passionate, but a good deal more expert, just as Verden kissed back with all her considerable skill, but with a hunger and burning longing she had long since thought forgotten. In that kiss, Verden felt her breath mingling with Ithunn's, her tongue lock into a passionate embrace, her soul rise with the realisation that what is lost can as easily be regained.

They stumbled into the room, but Ithunn paid her tasteful, almost luxurious surroundings no mind. Everything was focused on the burning need she read in the sublime, deep brown depths of Verden's eyes. If, in her mind, Ithunn finally felt happy and fulfilled, her body was in flames. She pressed Verden hard against a wooden wall, lips never once leaving the sensual warmth of the half-elf's mouth. Ithunn's dextrous hands scrambled for Verden's blouse - she did not even bother to undo the laces, but tugged it clean off in one, savage jerk.

Finally what she had so desired to see was revealed before her in the twilight of the darkened room. Verden's breasts were every bit as breathtakingly beautiful as was suggested by her tightly-strung blouse, and more still. Ithunn trailed her wet, insistent kisses down Verden's neck - she let her passion and heart, not her mind dictate the rhythms of their lovemaking. The half-elf sighed, surrendering herself to Ithunn's touch, confident in the knowledge that only pleasure would come from those soft, pink lips which now lavished butterfly kisses in the valley between her breasts.

Ithunn could have lost herself forever between the perfect globes of Verden's breasts, each capped with an almost painfully stiff light brown nipple that seemed to demand to be worshipped and suckled. Cupping Verden's breasts almost reverently in her hands, Ithunn realised that those elves who had made light of Verden for her bust were fools: there was not a trace of vulgarity in them, just perfect, rounded proportions and an achingly arousing firmness.

Ithunn's tongue rained down with eager passion on the lust-inflamed surface of her lover's breast, before finally coming to rest against a taut, but yielding nipple. The young novice engulfed it in her lips, remembering Elyszara's warning not to be delicate as well as passionate. To finally taste those dense, yet deliciously tender breasts was a sublime erotic revelation. Verden gave a satisfied moan, grasping Ithunn's wheat-blonde hair in her hands, drawing the novice closer. Ithunn needed no prompting, her tongue was a stiff point against the half-elf's swollen nipple, her lips half-kissing and half-suckling.

Verden's breath, already ragged from the burning fire that she felt overcome the beating of her heart, became shorter still as she felt Ithunn's tongue leave a long, wet trail down her belly. Strong, loving hands reached for the waistband of her breeches, pulling them down to her knees in one, stiff tug. Verden moaned, biting her lip. The moisture Ithunn had left on her breasts felt cool in the otherwise silent room. Now the novice forcibly spread Verden's thighs, and the beautiful treasure, that ripe, deep pink tropical fruit was revealed from under the perfectly hairless sex. Verden leaned back against the wall, panting, her breast rising and falling rhythmically with each laboured breath, a hands still driving Ithunn's head closer to the molten core of her being.

That was all the invitation Ithunn needed. She circled Verden's sex, her mind already intoxicated by the fresh, clean aroma she detected from the blooming nether lips of the half-elf's sex - it was reminiscent of fresh sap from a young tree in a secluded glade. Very gingerly, Ithunn let her mouth slip forward to gently plant the softest of kisses on the peak of Verden's sex. The half-elf responded with a guilty, but pleasured gasp.

"Take them off!" Verden said, desperately - her breeches prevented her from spreading her thighs as she would have wanted.

"No time..." Ithunn replied without thinking and began lapping away at the lust-moistened petals of Verden's sex with violent desire. It was, quite simply, a moist, welcoming sea of femininity - soft and so silky under Ithunn's mouth. Verden's fingers dug in against Ithunn's scalp. Her nipples felt like they were as stiff as arrowheads, her loins roiling with waves of fire. Just by the rhythmic, needy sighs emitted by Verden's lips, Ithunn knew that what she was doing was profoundly right in a cosmic sense. The blonde novice continued her licking unabated, relishing the salty-sweetness on her tongue and on her lips, all mingled with that elusive earthy flavour, like something welling deep in the forest. Now, as Ithunn's tongue plunged curiously into Verden's canal, to lap up the excess moisture, before moving upwards, to impudently meet the stiff little bud of the half-elf's clitoris, the Multiverse seemed to restrict itself to just a single room where moans of wanton pleasure filled the air.

Verden did her best to grant Ithunn the best possible access by leaning back against the wall and spreading her thighs as far as they would go. Ithunn's tongue lacked a little finesse, but it made up for its youthful clumsiness with raw passion. The crescendo built in Verden's loins - she could feel it stir deep in her sex, all the while spurred on by the eager lapping of Ithunn's tongue which was now firmly centred on the half-elf's tumescent little bud. The moment Ithunn gently began to work two rigid fingers into Verden's sodden canal, the half-elf gave a little whimpering yelp. It was her last act of surrender, from then on, she would have no further secrets for Ithunn. She would be as vulnerable and as dependent as a first lover.

The sensation of Verden's sex clamping down on Ithunn's fingers was divine; a velvety, juicing tunnel which the young novice felt honoured to be able to explore. A greater honour still was to excite her half-elven lover to such mewling heights. All the well-practiced rogue's demeanour was gone, replaced by the same tough, yet infinitely sensitive, Verden Ithunn remembered from her youth. When the half-elf girl finally felt her climax release itself like a tidal wave that sent heat and pulsating desire through her loins, she too, like Ithunn so long ago, wished only that the moment of sheer ecstasy she was experiencing would last forever. Ithunn felt Verden's pussy contract spasmodically against her fingers and then, when Verden finally resolved to surrender herself, ragged, breathy moans.

There was, however, no lull in their lovemaking. Verden pounced on Ithunn, thrusting the surprised novice to the polished, wooden ground and covering those glorious, dew-covered lips with her own. It was then that the inner child in Ithunn returned, for she effortlessly flipped Verden around, wrestling the half-elven girl onto her back the way she had always done when the half-elf found something she wished to keep secret and teased her playmate about it. This time, however, there were no joking threats, but only desire to be consummated. Ithunn briskly tugged off Verden's boots and leggings, before unbuckling her own belt and slipping her tunic off in sharp, frenzied motions. Verden observed, almost motionless on the ground, her eyes filled with wonder at the sight of Ithunn's firm, graceful breasts capped with hard, light pink nipples, and even more so at the flaxen, golden curls above the novice's sex.

Ithunn impatiently tugged off her boots and resumed kissing Verden. Not even with Elyszara had she ever been overcome with such burning lust which was not so much a lust of the loins as it was the desire of her heart. Verden's hands were deft and quick on Ithunn's porcelain skin, exploring her lover's taut, slender belly, the sleek, beautifully curved hill of her bottom, the stunning, youthful breasts. Every part of Ithunn's body was like what Verden imagined a Valkyrie or an angelic handmaiden of a war-goddess to be like: feminine, yet athletic with tense muscle.

"I want to touch you..." Verden implored, her eyes wide with adoration.

Ithunn nodded, realising that Verden wanted to please her just as much as she wanted to please Verden. The blonde novice rose to her feet, her long braid swaying with each movement, and took her half-elven lover in her arms to renew their kiss. Even though she was only as tall as Ithunn's collarbone, Verden did not feel overwhelmed by her lover, they were, as far as she was concerned, two parts of the same whole.

For Ithunn, the devastating expertise of Verden's lips against her passion-fevered skin was like nothing she had ever felt before. Never in her young life could she have imagined such slow, erotic kissing on her throat, the feather-light grazing of Verden's fingernails down her spine and gliding through the tight crevasse of her bottom, those maddening, sensuous lips on her pearl-white breasts. Unlike Ithunn, who desired to be as forward in lovemaking as she was in battle, Verden teased, circling wet, languid licks on the light aureole of the novice's breasts, before finally, very, very gently, slipping her lips around a painfully turgid nipple. Then the half-elf pressed her lips down on Ithunn's magnificent, pink nipple and tugged gently, using only her lips for friction and her tongue to maliciously flick the erect peak.

Ithunn felt intense, hot wetness between her thighs, now more than ever. Her loins, her sex demanded satisfaction, but her eyes were entranced by the gentle bobbing motion of Verden's head, a mischievous grin on her face as she took her time in exploring Ithunn's breasts. Then, an even more wicked smile lighting up her fine, delicate features as the half-elf gently pushed Ithunn back onto the side of the bed at the centre of the room. The covers were plush, fine linen and almost felt erotic under Ithunn's bottom and thighs. Very deliberately, measuring every motion to build up anticipation for what she was about to do next, Verden knelt at Ithunn's feet and tenderly parted the novice's thighs. Ithunn shuddered at the sensation of cool air rushing against the hot, wet flesh of her pussy.

Licking her lips in anticipation, Verden brought herself closer to the spread, pink feast before her. Ithunn's aroma was soft and pleasantly musky. With the utmost grace, Verden lavished a single, hungry lick down the fevered surface of the moistened petals of her lover's pussy. The human novice gasped at the sudden contact - Verden's tongue was sublime, quick and agile as it darted across the lust-inflamed folds, then pressed deeper to thrust against the fevered walls of her canal. Ithunn gripped her lover's hair tightly, soft like newly spun cotton, and carefully ran the tips of her fingers down Verden's pointed ears. The half-elf gave a low moan against Ithunn's sex, her tongue's expert dancing never once abating. So it's true - Ithunn thought, a flood of joy washing over her soul - that does turn them on.

Spreading her thighs wider still, her toes straight and tensed against the cool wooden floor, Ithunn realised that Verden's ministrations were both artful and loving. The half-elf seemed to relish each pleasured gasp from Ithunn's lips, each fragrant, musky droplet of her arousal, each tiny spot of pink, velvety flesh. Verden slipped her hands between Ithunn's thighs and, quite casually, spread the inner lips of the human girl's sex, bringing her flower into full bloom. Ithunn shuddered under the half-elf's irresistible touch. It was as agile and expert as she imagined a good thief's hands to be. The coiled passion in her loins grew, and Ithunn drew Verden in closer, only to feel a sudden, brutal release of tension with the last few, malicious licks on her clitoris. A wave of spasmodic relief spread across Ithunn's body as the novice tensed, her thighs taut, her feet arched, her hands roughly stroking Verden's hair.

The half-elf allowed Ithunn to revel in her orgasm, privately pleased that her skill had garnered such melodic, gasping appreciation. She then rose to fall into Ithunn's arms and the couple threw themselves onto the soft covers of the bed, struggling for kisses and needy caresses. Ithunn wanted Verden, she wanted all of her - to master the half-elf in the most loving way possible, to make her know that their lovemaking was the re-fashioning of an old bond which had stood the test of time. So she took Verden's lush, sweat-streaked body in her arms and drew the voluptuous half-elf up against the pillows, all the while suffocating any protests with searing, deep kisses.

There, Ithunn spread Verden's thighs, hooking one of the half-elf's knees on her shoulder to spread the juicing, fragrant sex as wide as it would go. The human novice then forcefully slid two tensed fingers deep into her lover's thickly wet canal, effortlessly parting moist inner flesh. Verden whimpered into Ithunn's mouth as she was penetrated, spreading herself further and submitting to the rapid, passionate rhythm of the thrusting of the human girl's fingers. With each thrust, the human girl mastered her lover's pussy. The palm of Ithunn's hand slapped rhythmically against Verden's painfully stiff clit which, having slipped its tiny hood, stood like a proud and vulnerable monument to her arousal. Ithunn continued to indulge in the delectable experiences of Verden's body. Her tongue now lavished the half-elf's throat with languid, sensuous licks, while her hands were firmly clasped around beautifully flared hips. Verden's bottom was in no way less magnificent than her breasts and, as the human novice eagerly explored, she found firm, taut warmth and rounded femininity in those perfect, woodland tan globes.

Verden's climax drew on more regularly than her first, for she could feel it in the sparks of erotic electricity that Ithunn's fingers sent flying through her loins at each firm thrust. With a little surreptitious shifting of her hips, Verden managed to steer her lover close to that unspeakably pleasurable spot deep in her canal. There was no need to chide Ithunn for her lack of expertise, the half-elven rogue knew that they would have days upon days to fully discover each other, so that their bodies would have no more secrets for one another.

Ithunn focused on her work, desperate to show Verden the true intensity of her desire. When Verden's rhythmic, ragged cries finally merged into a long, moaning breath, the blonde novice knew her work had been done. The half-elf's sodden channel contracted beautifully around the invading digits, so Ithunn knew when it was time to renew that timeless kiss that had been interrupted so long ago. Slick with sweat and the fragrant residue of sex, their minds reeling, their hips still thrusting in muted, but still needy desire, they fell into a tight embrace on the bed. In the twilight, Ithunn could see into the bottomless, chocolate pools of Verden's eyes and for the first time, she found something concrete to hold onto from gazing into the half-elf's soul. That was the real Verden.

In Ithunn's mind, there were a thousand things she wanted to say to Verden that ranged from the most banal professions of adolescent romance to the most profound meditations of her heart, but there was only silence and breathing in the room. Words would have failed both of them because, just as they had done in the storeroom behind the smithy, they had let their eyes and their bodies do the talking for them. They were better off for it, no language either knew of had the words to describe the sheer complexity of what they thought and felt.

Lying huddled up tight against Ithunn, Verden kissed the human novice's yielding, sensual mouth until sleep interrupted her. Even then she lay clasped as tight as she could, her face pressed against the novice's breasts and close to her heart as if to tell her that she would never flee again. Ithunn, for her part, heard her heart and soul repeat an old prayer, but this time with new hope: let this never end.