- The Archivist, your narrator

When Saiileea, the Grey Elven sorceress, went to the city of the avariel - the winged elves - to profess her love to Iaerie, the blademistress, she brought with her many fine gifts of silk, crystal and spices. To this, the valiant Iaerie said, “Know, my love, that we avariel follow the freedom of the sky, so that, like the Cloud Mother, we are free to love many.”

“Then,” Iaerie answered sadly, “you may as well slice off the white wings from my back.”

- An Elven fable

Sigil was twilit - its heavy, humid sky awash with a rich, violet glow that seemed to slowly, but surely give way to the deep blue of night. The evening was young, but Marséna lay panting and drenched in sweat by Min’s side in her spartan little chamber in the Quarters of the Temple of the Radiant Path. Her mouth was still redolent of the hot, spiciness of Min’s sex as she kissed the tiefling’s lush sultry lips. She could taste her own earthier muskiness on the tiefling's hungry tongue for they had spent the best part of the evening simultaneously pleasuring each other until their throats had grown hoarse from crying out in ecstasy. They lay in a passionate embrace, lithe legs writhing against one another, accompanied only by the occasional soft sigh and the primal beat of their passion-fevered hearts. Marsé na could only look into Min's smouldering, deep orange eyes with a passion that was like a new, roaring flame. Every evening for the last few days, they had quenched their need time and time again. Marséna had shown Min everything there was to know about her and the more the tiefling discovered, the more she seemed to grow attached to her paladin lover.

Min slid on top of Marséna - the position she preferred in all her lovemaking - so that her fine, firm breasts dangled enticingly like soft, ripe fruit. Her nipples were still stiff and vividly deep red. Marséna smiled, now more comfortable with Min's need to control, and cupped the tiefling exotic, sharply beautiful face to renew their burning kiss. They had made love for two strikes of the Bell Tower, but it was never enough: Min was sensuality made flesh. The tiefling's fingers were quick and dextrous as they trailed up Marséna's flared hips, up her taut belly and over her full, sun-kissed breasts. They were larger than Min's own, and rounder, with the most delectable café-au-lait nipples the tiefling had ever seen, but the human girl’s body was nevertheless elegantly athletic - testament to the rigours of her training as a paladin and her celebrated virtuosity with the longsword. If Marséna thought that Min's svelte, hunting-cat musculature was divine to caress under the smooth, rose-agate tinted skin, then the tiefling was no less persuaded by the raven-haired, dark-eyed beauty with whom she now regularly shared her bed.

That was not all, though, for Min's mind was troubled. Even as her tongue danced between Marséna's lips, she felt an alien sensation flood her heart and mind: it was guilt. If she had to be frank with herself, she had not even thought of how Aerylle would have responded to her tryst with Marséna because, put simply, she was afraid to.

"Something bothering you, kitten?" Marséna asked sweetly, her fingers trailing down Min's arched back and onto the tiefling's taut, but nicely flared bottom. Although it may have sounded incongruous to refer to the outwardly inscrutable, remorselessly pragmatic Min by such a diminutive, Marséna thought it quite appropriate. Min really did remind her of a cruelly playful leopard.

"Yeah." Min replied curtly, revelling in the sensation of Marséna's iodine-tan skin, slick with sweat, against her own. She insinuated a hand between the paladin's thighs, her naturally crimson fingernails gently stroking the moist, coal-black down atop the human girl's sex.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Marséna invited, drawing a deep sigh as she felt Min's fingers graze through the pink inner petals of her pussy.

"Where do I start?" Min began, a little dejectedly, even as her gaze bored into the soulful depths of Marséna's deep, brown eyes "I think I'm doing something fucking stupid here. Aerylle'd kill me if she knew. Y'know how elves are: all obsessed with true love and faithfulness and the Abyss knows what else. Then an old friend of mine sent me a message, through Aerylle no less, and that definitely means something's not quite right, but I've still to square the dark of it."

"Oh...Goddess, Min, we've been through this before," Marséna scolded gently, "I thought you were going to tell Aerylle..."

"I can't," Min interrupted, "I need to deal with one thing at the time. Astrid, that's my friend, by the way, if she's turned up, that means it'll be time for me to go in soon."

"What in the Nine Hells are you talking about?" Inquired Marséna, more than a little confused.

"Someone from Civic Security has been watching us...you too, I think, on account of Shesayne. Verden tells me she's been spying for some time and I feel something's in the air, so I decided it was time to bring the game back to this hardhead. I got in touch with Astrid and sent her message - all addled up in cant, mind you - at the Boatman tavern. She knows Civic Security like no other berk I've met, she's had a grudge 'gainst them for I don't know how long."

"Min, are you serious?" Marséna interjected - all thoughts of lovemaking had suddenly been swept aside by the tiefling's revelation, "On no account do anything by yourself. If you need help, just tell me and you'll have four paladins of the Radiant Path on your side." That was risky, for Marséna had no idea what sort of unsavoury dealings Min may have been involved with, but she was, above all, a fiercely devoted lover.

"Thanks...I'll keep that in mind." Although she preferred carrying out operations with her tried-and-trusted team of Shesayne and Verden, the prospect of well-armed knights backing her up was too tempting to refuse.

"I...I care for you, Min." Marséna began uneasily, keenly aware of the tiefling's entrancing, delicately slanted eyes fixed upon her, "I feel right with you."

"Hmm..." Min hummed pensively as she sat up on the bed to better observe the paladin's reactions, "If you've got something to say, say it." She had little patience with long-drawn out confessions.

"All right," Marséna responded, gently disentangling herself from Min, "just give me a moment." Her heart swelled with anxiety and anticipation, yet she felt the time was right. Perhaps Min would bring some order and meaning to her life...perhaps.

Min cocked her head curiously to one side, her long, ember-red hair falling like a silken curtain around her shoulder. Marséna's room was sparsely furnished, with only a functional clothes chest and a simple bedside table with the few cosmetic indulgences she allowed herself: ampoules of citrus-perfume, medicated oil for muscle aches and hair conditioner. But appearances could be deceptive, for in a secret compartment under the table's seemingly empty drawer, there lay the paladin's little treasure trove of buttery almond biscuits, contraband, smoky red wine and scented, lubricant oils. Min knew this because her lovemaking with Marséna had used up well over half of the paladin's supply of the latter. Yet from that jumbled confusion, Marséna reverently extracted a simple brown leather pouch. She then replaced the drawer and joined Min on the bed.

"Open it." Marséna invited, presenting Min with the pouch, "My mother gave it to me before I left for the Radiant Path...I think you should have it."

Min's deft fingers loosened the strings of the pouch and brought to light a long, thin coral necklace. It was charmingly simple: each link a smoothly carved, crimson cylinder all held together by a long piece of silver wire. It was also the single most embarrassing situation Min had been presented with in a long time, "Why me?" The tiefling inquired softly, running her fingers over the coral so as to give her an excuse not to look into Marséna's eyes.

"Well," the paladin replied, trying to keep the welling emotion she felt in heart out of her voice, "Virg doesn't wear jewellery and neither does Syf and, of course, Friyya has much nicer things. I just thought it would look perfect on you, with your skin, with your hair, you just called for something red."

"I'm flattered," Min breathed, gently taking Marséna's hand into her own, "but I don't think I can accept this." There was a sense in which she understood Marséna's point. The coral necklace would doubtless have suited her - should she have chosen to wear it, but to accept it would have meant something that Min was simply not prepared to say.

"No, really, I don't expect anything in return," Marséna clarified, smiling bitterly at her own headstrong foolishness, "I don't have much to offer, but I though I should give you something to show what I feel for you. It's from the ocean, you know - fishermen harvest it from a precious rock that is found only far out into the Middle Sea. If you've lived in Sigil all your life, then you probably have never seen the ocean, but they say that when you see coral, it's like seeing fire underwater and, well, that’s they way I see you...swimming naked in the ocean near a rocky beach, your hair all around you like tendrils of coral so I can’t resist the sight of you, and dive in to play until we decide to return to the shore and make love under the sun. Our skin tastes like salt and the waves lull us to sleep..."

Min had already taken Marséna into her arms, placing soft, comforting kisses on the paladin's cheek. She gripped the necklace, clinging to it almost desperately as she lay with Marséna clutched tightly in her arms. Min felt long, laboured breaths against her skin as the paladin nestled her head against the tiefling's breasts and warm moisture. Marséna's mirage-like dream had been cut short by soundless weeping. The tiefling was at a loss as to what to say or what to do to soothe Marséna's anguish. Shesayne's theatrical, sobbing fits had always been relatively easy to deal with - all the half-elf craved was attention and an affectionate cuddle, but the paladin's frustration was real and ran deep into her soul.

"This isn't fair to Aerylle, is it?" Marséna whispered, burying her face deeper against Min's breasts so the tiefling would not see her tears, "But sometimes I feel so stupid. I fall in love so easily that I can't stop thinking about how happy we could be together and that's just me being selfish, because you have Aerylle and I have no-one."

Min remained silent, her fingers gliding through Marséna's long, coal-black tresses. There was a part of her that agreed with the human girl. As painful as it was to admit, the offer was tempting: Marséna appeared to be a far better match than Aerylle. The Mareterran was worldly, sensual and very loving, but she was also, fundamentally, an easygoing and simple girl who had none of Aerylle's formalism and was certainly never patronising. With Marséna, Min felt free to drink, curse and fuck to her heart's content without having to feel like she was extracting some great favour from her lover every time she suggested they try something new and exciting. But deeper still, in a part of her soul that had only recently been awakened to the intricacies of love, Min knew full well that Shesayne's warning that Marséna could only ever love Virginia and Virginia alone was as true as anything that had ever been spoken. To be sure, Min was convinced that Marséna loved her, but, then again, she was only in love with the tiefling to dull the pain of being so close and yet so far from Virginia.

"We both know I'm not the one for you." Min said curtly. She felt as if she were in a dream, trapped in an emotional web that was compelling and frightening at the same time.

"Then who is?" Said Marséna between gritted teeth, "As far as most people are concerned, I'm good enough to fuck but not enough to love."

"Bar that screed!" Min reprimanded sharply as she seized Marséna's shoulders and brought the paladin's tearful gaze to meet her own, "I've already told you once that I don't fall head over heels for weaklings. Go and find what's yours, 'cause right now we're in a blind thinking we're made for each other. We can't go on pretending we're happy like this when I've got Aerylle in the back of my mind and you've got Virginia. If it was just us then I swear I'd say yes, but right now, you best save this necklace for Virginia."

Marséna blinked through her tears. She was determined not to disappoint Min who, of course, was absolutely right. The time for running and half-measures with pain-killing one night stands was over. So she lunged forward, her lips soft but needy against Min's as she fell back into the tiefling's comforting, yet unremittingly sensual embrace. Min kissed back with an eagerness that needed no prompting. Although her words were often blunt, she preferred showing her affection physically rather than expressing it verbally. Min knew she was not nearly eloquent enough to convey what she felt for Marséna in words, but she was confident that the paladin knew merely by looking into her eyes, feeling the passionate urgency of her touch or the agile dance of her tongue as they kissed.

"I'll come," Marséna said fervently as Min settled atop of her again, the bedcovers were cool with drying moisture, but the tiefling's taut, warm body and the intriguing incense-like aroma of her skin made the paladin feel like she was being enveloped by the finest exotic silks, "when you make your move against Civic Security I, though I am a paladin, will fight at your side. My Oath was sworn to defend women as if I were their spiritual mother. So I will fulfil my Oath by lending you my blade and let that be the proof of my devotion."

Cynical as ever, Min had to deploy all her self-discipline to repress a giggle. Marséna's loyalty was moving, though and she had never doubted for a moment that the Mareterran girl would have laid down her life rather than allowing any harm to befall on her, "Right you are, I promise this shouldn't get us put in the dead-book. 'Least I hope. Anyway, you sure this won't get you trouble with the high-ups at the Order?"

"No, they know my conscience is in the right place and Isobel certainly has no love for Civic Security. We spend most of out patrol time trying to put to right what they just leave behind because they don't think it important. If those cowards even come close to threatening you or Shesayne or anyone else I care about, then let them fear my sword." Marséna said resolutely.

"That's a deal, then."

"Do you want to stay the night?" The thought of sleeping alone in such an emotionally fragile state terrified Marséna.

"Definitely."

***

"Aerylle!" Shesayne called as she stepped into the spotlessly neat apartment she now, effectively, shared with the grey elf, "I'm back."

"Just a moment," Aerylle was in the kitchen corner, still struggling with a pine-resin tart - elven cuisine was always problematic inasmuch as she had almost never cooked for herself; back amidst the golden spires and snow-capped peaks of her native city, Imej, her family had a cook to do it for her, "this one's quite tricky..."

That stimulated Shesayne's curiosity. The petite half-elf approached the kitchen and tentatively peered inside to see Aerylle on her knees, still in clad in her unflattering cream-coloured librarian's robe, fumbling with the modestly elegant elven-style oven which dominated the tiny cooking area. A soft, vaguely balsamic smell of fresh pine needles and burnt honey filled the air. At the entrance of the kitchen corner, Shesayne noted that Aerylle had set the small, circular dining table with her best elven glassware and ceramics. Their airy craftsmanship and seemingly natural, organic patterns of vivid colour had always fascinated Shesayne, but the fact that the table was set for three brought the half-elf's mind back to the confidential request Aerylle had made that morning.

"Ah...I'm really, really, really sorry Aerylle, but Min said she probably wouldn't be back 'till much later tonight she said she had some business, errands or something to deal with so she went back home with Lily..."

"Slow down." Aerylle interrupted gently, though there were the beginnings of a scowl in her fine-boned features at the mention of Lily's name, "what did Min say she had to do?" The grey elf rose to her feet, satisfied that the tart was neither burning nor undercooked, but kept pleasantly warm by the oven.

"Well...uhm, stuff and assorted personal matters I s'pose, but she didn't go into details and just said she'd be going home with Lily and said that she was really sorry 'cause she knew that you wanted her home tonight." Shesayne felt embarrassed both for herself, for she had a very strong suspicion of who had seized Min's attention, and for Aerylle who clearly held a romantic view of her relationship with the tiefling which was, put simply, unrealistic.

Aerylle sighed and approached Shesayne, taking the slender half-elf into an affectionate embrace, "Never mind, my little treasure, welcome home. It appears that it will be up to us to keep each other company tonight. Perhaps you would like to freshen up before dinner."

"Sure and I love the set-up, by the way, all nice, sparkling and top-shelf fancy, I'm sure Min would have loved it." Shesayne remarked sympathetically, gracing Aerylle's soft, pink lips with a sisterly kiss.

"Well, perhaps another day. I made a savoury pie just for her, since I know she detests sweet things. It will probably be better in the morning anyway." Said Aerylle, desperately trying to console herself. She did not want to give Shesayne the impression that Min's distance was her fault for arriving as a guest. True, the half-elf's presence allowed little time for privacy, but, although Aerylle considered herself a passionate woman, even the most ardent of elven lovers knew that the finest sensuality was patient and understated. Evidently, Min did not share that opinion.

"Righ, I'll wash up a little...oh, and you haven't said anything about my new and improved all-elven plus a little-something-from-Shesayne's-bright-little-mind look." The half-elf executed a demonstrative twirl, giving Aerylle a full view of her newest wardrobe adventure: a red patterned silk blouse which left her shoulders and uncovered, bared her midriff and was joined, tenuously, by a single button knotted between her breasts and a scandalously short skirt in the same fabric, patterned in the Moon Elf style to resemble autumn leaves on a forest floor. Neither item left much, if anything, to the imagination.

"I must say that it is original," Aerylle began, trying to be as tactful as possible - she had done her utmost to get Shesayne to dress in a manner more acceptable to the elven aesthetic, but the half-elf, although highly receptive to the librarian's suggestions, clearly liked to alternate, "but, Shesayne, my sweetest, would you not say that your skirt is just a tiny bit short?"

"Oh, no," Shesayne said, beaming her most endearingly impish smile that seemed to light up her youthful, elfin features, "a lady knows when to cross her legs, right? It's not that I don't like the high-up, ladylike elf-stuff, but that's more for nice nights out and, y'know, candles and fireworks sorts of dinners, when I'm at work, I need to be all fancy-free and comfortable. Plus I got loads and loads of really nice compliments, even Lily said I was pretty. Oh well, she didn't say it that way, 'cause you know how drow are, but..."

"Sorry, my sweet little one," Aerylle interrupted as diplomatically as she could - dark elves, as far as she was concerned, could never be polite conversation, "I just have to deal with the flower petal salad. Go and wash up and then we will be able to talk in peace. Oh, and by the way, an admirer of your sent you a present. You can find it by the bedside table." The grey elf nodded her head in encouragement and Shesayne, quite literally, skipped to the bedchamber in excitement to see what sort of surprise was waiting for her.

Aerylle smiled to herself as she poured a glass of amber-coloured feywine into a cut-crystal goblet. The aroma of fresh nectar, aromatic tree sap and the finest honey gathered from the flowering highlands around Imej was like taking a brief glimpse back to the home she had left behind. Shesayne, of all people, however, had shown Aerylle that she belonged in Sigil. She had grown to love the energetic, but charmingly sensitive little half-elf like a sister and, as oddly dysfunctional as things could be with Min or as tense as her relationship was with Verden, Aerylle was left in little doubt that she had found a surrogate family in the dark, smoky spires of her adopted city. Aerylle took a sip of the feywine and contemplated the view of tall, skeletal buildings that seemed to stretch on for infinity from the oval window in her kitchen. The sky was rapidly fading to the inky blackness of night, but for perhaps the first time since her sojourn had begun, the grey elf maiden no longer feared it. Whatever unpleasant surprises the city reserved for her, she would not have to face them alone.

"Oh, wow! Aerylle, how totally amazing, first-rate and superb!" Aerylle heard Shesayne squeal from the bedchamber. Suppressing a soft chuckle, she made her way to join the half-elf in her moment of celebration. Next to the plush, neatly made bed which Aerylle now shared with Shesayne, was a fluted, violet crystal vase which was enchanted so as to permanently project an intensely coloured magical light show which gave the impression that tall, elegant lilies in a dozen different shades of red were growing from it. A secondary enchantment filled the chamber with the scent of fresh flowers. Shesayne nimble fingers traced the wondrous contours of the vase before tentatively reaching upwards to touch the lilies, only to find that her hand passed right through them - for they were but light in air. Although she was aware that such magical devices existed, Shesayne had always considered them the preserve of the idle rich, yet now, she could not help but stare wide-eyed at one of the most exquisite artefacts she had ever seen. This was so far removed from the hideous, blasphemous items she, Min and Lily were made to dispense with to earn their keep.

"I know, it is quite wonderful and, I think you will find, there is a little message from your secret admirer." Aerylle said, barely containing her own excitement. She certainly enjoyed playing the role of the elder sister and Shesayne's joy was almost enough to make her forget about Min's absence.

Shesayne scrambled excitedly for the small white envelope by the side of the vase. Her heart hammered in her chest as questions of who and why poured through her mind. Perhaps Lady Luck was not the cold bitch Min made her out to be, perhaps the Goddess of Fate had a soft spot in her heart for Shesayne, so much so that She sent someone to comfort a heartbroken half-elven girl in her hour of need. Thus it was with immense satisfaction that she found a small card written in elliptical, eccentric handwriting that read: "Saw you at the Lantern Festival and, hard as I tried, couldn't forget you. For you flowers that will never fade and, if you'll join me, drinks tomorrow night at the Ivory Tower (you know, the one in the Clerk's Ward). Kisses, Astrid."

"I wonder who this Astrid is..." Shesayne wondered aloud, clutching the note close to her chest as she turned to face Aerylle.

"All I know is that she is a rather peculiar young lady who knows Min. She approached me while you were asleep at the Lantern Festival and, though I could not make much sense of what she said, she appeared to have taken a liking for you. So," Aerylle said, the more conspiratorial, gossipy side of her taking over, "are you going?"

"Hey!" Shesayne interjected, feigning offence, "How d'you know what's written on my little love note?" In truth, she wanted as many souls as possible to know. Shesayne had never been truly courted and such an elaborate gift from a distant admirer appeared more romantic than she had ever dared imagine.

"Oh..." Aerylle began, her pale skin flushed with an endearing shade of pink, "I might have sneaked just a tiny peek...so are you going?"

"'Course I am and, by the way, how's this Astrid girl? Is she pretty? Her name sounds human, but you never know nowadays, lots of half-elves have human names."

"Yes, she was quite lovely and yes, I think she is human. From Ortho, if I had to guess."

"Well then, it's decided, settled and a good way to start forgetting 'bout Marséna, no? I wonder if she prefers the 'elven maiden' look or the 'Shesayne look', 'cause if she's extra-nice to me..."

"Oh Shesayne!" Aerylle sighed, her tone full of maternal reproach, "A lady never presents her flower at the first meeting: seven outings is a good indicative rule."

"Oh yeah," Shesayne said with playful wantonness as she leapt into Aerylle's embrace and nuzzled the grey elf's shoulder, "but Min told me that half a bottle of Baatorian Firewater was all it took to get you all hot, juicy and wet."

Aerylle felt her shoulders slump, "Is that all you two talk about," she said, giving Shesayne's firm, deliciously pert bottom an affectionate slap, "anyway, Min does have an irresistible charm about her."

"Maybe Astrid does too, who knows, who knows?" Shesayne whispered. Aerylle's skin had a light, naturally flowery fragrance which the grey elven girl emphasised with careful applications of glistening nectar powder, so that even in the mustiness of the Library of Sensation, she always seemed to carry the fresh breeze of her native forested mountains, "Anyway, just let me wash this hard day's work out and I'll be right with you." Shesayne said before disappearing into the bathing chamber.

Dutifully returning to the kitchen, Aerylle plated up two servings of the pine resin tart. Outside, the sky had grown dark and heavy, even if the street illumination seemed to blaze a ghostly trail into the distance. She took another sip of feywine and decided to leave Min's place set at the table - the tiefling had become family, even if she did not believe it herself, and as family she would be treated. As promised, Shesayne re-appeared almost as quickly as she had departed, her short, charcoal-black hair still clinging in wet tendrils against her neck. She was still wearing the provocative little outfit she had come home in. Even though Aerylle disagreed with Shesayne's dress sense, she had grown to appreciate the half-elven girl's beauty more with each passing day. Although her father had been human, Shesayne's physique was slender and wiry, so much so that she would have been an incredibly pretty Moon Elf like her mother, had the light tan of her skin not betrayed her to the attentive observer. Moon Elves, as their name suggested, were normally very pale.

"Oh, look at you," Aerylle fussed, seizing the bathing shawl Shesayne had been carrying and bringing it to gently dry the half-elf's hair off, "you really will catch your death. I have a feeling that this could be a cold night."

Shesayne smiled knowingly to herself and closed her eyes, revelling in Aerylle's loving attention. There was nothing but genuine concern in the elven librarian's sky-blue eyes and certainly none of the condescension to which her mother had subjected her, "You are very beautiful," Aerylle began, cursing the inflexibility of Sigil's lingua franca - her native Grey Elven dialect inflected heavily for mood, so that with minimal variations, an adjective could have numerous connotations, "what I mean is, when you have a beautiful thought, you should not write it down as it is, but you write a poem instead, so the patient reader will slowly uncover the layers of your thought and find them all the more beautiful because of her labours."

"I know what you're getting at," Shesayne replied, "but I want to be more than just someone who tries and tries and is never really elven, like when they used to look at me and smile 'cause they felt sorry for me and thought I was a sad case 'cause being a half-elf for most of them meant being something less. That's what Min did for me, she taught me to tell them all to pike it and sod off so I could become Shesayne and not just the half-elf called Shesayne."

"Understood," Aerylle finished towelling Shesayne's hair and carefully folded the bathing shawl and set it on a cherry-wood stool by the entrance to the kitchen, "but either way, you would put most Moon Elf girls to shame."

"Thanks, thanks, thanks," Shesayne chimed happily and planted a soft kiss on Aerylle's lips, "I'll never, ever get tired of hearing that from you. Now let's eat!"

As they settled down for their meal, Shesayne's incessant, but pleasantly aimless chattering almost compensated for Min's absence. In the end, Aerylle was forced to conclude that Min must be having one of her moody phases. The tiefling had always needed her personal space and Aerylle was happy to respect that, but there were, as always, limits to secrecy. Somewhere at the back of the grey elf's mind, a gnawing doubt troubled her. Were she and Min fundamentally incompatible? Perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that a tiefling could love in a way that would make an elven woman feel loved. But, Aerylle finally concluded, Min had been her first ray of true happiness in Sigil. She would certainly have been a fool to let that slip: whatever frustrations the tiefling brought to bear, Aerylle thought herself strong enough to overcome them.

While Aerylle thought, Shesayne had taken a break from her light banter to quickly wolf down her second slice of pine resin tart, "This is divine, Seventh Heaven fantastic," the half-elf said with her usual hyperbole, "it reminds me of the stuff my mother used to make back when she still put up with Min and me."

"Have you seen your mother since you left home?" Aerylle inquired, taking a substantial sip of feywine. She found that she drank more than she should in Sigil, yet there was something deeply comforting in the silky mouth-feel and rich sweetness of the wine.

"No" Shesayne responded dismissively, helping herself to a third slice of tart, "what about you? You still pissed at your mother for throwing Mjrina out?"

"Perhaps a little, but there is no bitterness anymore. I may disagree with her, but I can understand her reasons. She wanted only my happiness and could not accept that for me, at that time, happiness meant being close to a wood elven serving girl." For the first time since she had left Imej, Aerylle felt free to talk about the frustrations of her family life. Min was always a sympathetic ear, but the tiefling had never known her family, so she scarcely understood the dense knot of emotions that came with domestic matters.

"My Alaia," Shesayne began, a pensive look in her bright blue eyes, "my mother...I s'pose looking at me was always painful for her, I must've reminded her of all that barmy chant that happened with my father. She was so sodding happy when she told him she was pregnant - she thought that meant he'd stick around, like any half-decent elven man would, 'stead he left, slipped right out like a Vacuum Mephit."

"I do not want to be a better mother than mine, but a more understanding one," Aerylle said chuckling softly at the memory, "everything had to be just-so. When I was a child, she used to make sure I combed my hair properly so my ears would not be too prominent...she even once told me off because I wore a platinum necklace with a silver-thread dress. She was afraid people would think I had not taste."

"So what would her humble opinion be of Min?" Shesayne probed, draining her glass of feywine in a single gulp.

"That is why I can never return. I am convinced that my mother loves me, but she would never understand that I am in love with a tiefling or that I share my bed with a half-elf..."

"Yeah, but it's not like we do anything," Shesayne interrupted with an ambiguously playful expression on her face as she raised a single finger to her lips, as if pretending to think, " 'less you want to."

"Oh, hush!" Aerylle reprimanded, "That would hardly be fair to Min."

That thought remained with Aerylle for the rest of the evening. As had become customary since Shesayne had, for all intents and purposes, moved in, they prepared for bed together. Yet Aerylle was strangely taciturn as she diligently brushed Shesayne's hair and applied oil of lavender to the half-elf's slender limbs. Insecurity had begun to flood the elven maiden's mind, forcing her to ask herself whether there was some part of Min which would never be her own, which she would never understand. At least Shesayne's presence brought comfort to her insecurities. Despite her brash, teasing exterior, the little half-elf had sensed Aerylle's distress and done the utmost to soothe her troubled mind, coaxing her to sleep with affectionate caresses and whispered sweet nothings. As Aerylle had predicted, the night turned out to be especially cold, so that she and Shesayne huddled together under the covers in a darkness broken only by the dim glow of the enchanted flower vase that projected a soft, crimson light. In Aerylle's fevered dreams, that light became swirling, ember-red hair that breezed past her, followed by the enigmatic tinkling of Min's mocking laughter. Caught in the prison of sleep, Aerylle saw Min, lying naked atop an ornate bed with rich covers in blood-coloured silk surrounded by writhing bodies. Lily lay between the tiefling's thighs, lapping hungrily, with Marséna behind her, happily tonguing the crevasse of the dark elf's beautifully curved, obsidian bottom.

With those nightmarish images seared into her mind, Aerylle sat bolt upright, gasping for air as she cast back her blankets, for her skin was flushed and covered in fine beads of sweat that had soaked through the white fabric of her nightgown. Silence reigned in her bedchamber, offset only by the fevered beating of her heart.

"Aerylle, what's wrong?" Inquired a bleary-eyed Shesayne, who had been awakened by the grey elf's sudden, frantic movements.

"I'm sorry," Aerylle mumbled apologetically between ragged pants, as she slumped back against the soft pillows - they were cool and moist with sweat, "just a bad dream."

"Everything calm, fine and all right?" Shesayne said softly, leaning over Aerylle, a slender hand gently caressing the elven librarian's cheek. In the corner of her eye, the half-elf caught a glimpse of Aerylle's breasts, now silhouetted by the sweat that soaked her nightgown, stiff nipples tenting the moist fabric, "You sure you're all right?" Shesayne repeated, swallowing a knot of terrifyingly confusing emotion in her throat, her gaze now fixed on Aerylle's elegant, almond eyes, on the soft rosy-pink of her lightly parted lips.

"Yes..." Aerylle began, suddenly aware of the delightfully pleasurable sensation of Shesayne's deft fingertips trailing down her sensitive, pointed ear, "as I said, just a bad dream."

"D'you reckon," Shesayne breathed, her lips drawing closer to Aerylle's as she continued to trace the contour of the grey elf's ear, "d'you reckon you need any help getting back to sleep?"

"Oh, Shesayne, I would love to," the elven librarian replied, both fascinated and terrified by the prospect of even a fleeting encounter with Shesayne, "but I fear that it would not be right." Aerylle placed an affectionate hand on Shesayne's cheek, as if to tell the half-elf that her affection was in no way diminished.

"I get it...I just asked 'cause I know what you're feeling, 'cause I felt it myself." Shesayne whispered. Something inside her screamed out to confess the rage, jealousy and resentment she had felt when she realised that Min could never be faithful as she, who in young adolescence had exactly the same romantic elven aspirations that Aerylle still fervently believed in, had envisioned. It had taken months of self-discipline, but, in the end, Shesayne had emerged a stronger and more independent woman by finally rationalising Min's choices: to understand the tiefling, one had to accept the premise that physical and spiritual love were two entirely different things.

"Then we understand each other," Aerylle concluded, "I just hope we are both wrong about where Min is." She knew that Shesayne knew that unmentionable fear that lurked deep inside her. Even if it was selfish, Aerylle simply could not countenance the thought of being anything but the only woman in Min's romantic life.

"Me too." Shesayne sighed, almost as if it were a prayer. She sank back into Aerylle's embrace and this time, her caress was chaste and sisterly as they both snuggled under the covers, hoping for a few more hours of sleep before daybreak.

***

"Why, good day, milady knight." Elyszara said grandiloquently, presenting herself with the most demure curtsy she could manage the moment she saw Friyya make her way out of the cool, stony side-chapel in which she taught her doctrinal classes. The aasimar had, on the spur of the moment, decided that it was time to begin to come to terms with her stay in Sigil which, even by her standards, had taken some very odd turns indeed. So she had taken the opportunity to visit the Temple of the Vigilant Maiden clad in one of her finest, pale blue gossamer dresses that shimmered and clung to her pale skin with the airiness of a butterfly's wing.

"What are you doing here?" Friyya retorted wearily. It had been a long, dull lesson and Elyszara's presence had done little to lift her spirits. In fairness, however, the aasimar's perfect, some would even have said supernatural, elfin beauty was always a sight to behold. Under the dignified marble elegance of the great Temple, with its intricately patterned stained glass and vividly naturalistic statues of the Maiden, Elyszara seemed, aesthetically speaking, to blend right in. She could, no doubt, have passed for one of the youthful nymphs the Maiden chose to be Her attendants when She took the time to bathe between her endless crusades to eradicate evil.

"Oh, milady knight," Elyszara pouted, "I thought we had set all bitterness behind us." She flashed her sweetest, most innocent smile. Elyszara was not fond of grovelling for attention, but, if she had to be honest with herself, Friyya was right to feel irked. She had, after all, seduced Friyya's beloved, Syf, and almost caused a fatal break in the relationship between the two paladins. Not a transgression that Elyszara expected to be wholly forgiven from one day to the next.

"Yes, I suppose so," the auburn-haired paladin replied haughtily, "so how may I be of service to you?" She stood with her hands on her hips and, although she wore the gold-bordered cream-white formal dress tunic of a paladin-instructor, her beauty was aristocratic and delicately feminine, so that she looked less like a knight and more like the proverbial maiden awaiting rescue. Friyya, naturally, was very much aware of this fact, which she regarded with a bizarre mixture of defiance and sensitivity.

"No, no...Friyya, I can call you Friyya, right? Anyway, it is I who would be of service to you. I come with a peace offering. What would you say to a bath at the Other Place, my treat of course, just so that we can have some leisurely time to talk woman to woman." She did not normally betray her emotions, but the cold stare of Friyya's melt-water blue eyes had a chilling quality to it, so that Elyszara felt compelled to nervously brush back a few strands of her long, midnight-sky hair.

"With regards to what, Lady Elyszara?" The paladin inquired. Elyszara's mention of the Other Place had immediately caught her attention. It was by far the finest bath house and spa in Sigil - with a price tag for the innumerable treatments it offered to match - but it remained one of the few pleasant memories Friyya had of her childhood. Unlike her parents, the staff at the Other Place had never neglected her.

"Please, call me Lys," the aasimar said, pleased to note that Friyya was warming to her proposal, "I had an encounter recently that compelled me to look at my life, at my mortality, in a different way. I just thought someone of your experience and intellect could help a poor, lost soul such as myself find a path and making something worthwhile of herself." The flattery was forced, but Elyszara's urgency to find some niche, some purpose to her otherwise unrepentantly hedonistic existence was very real.

"Very well," Friyya said with affected magnanimity, "I suppose I could take a few strikes of the Bell Tower to counsel you."

"Oh, how wonderful!" The aasimar crowed, taking Friyya's hands into her own and planting a soft kiss on the paladin's pale cheek, "Thank you, I think I'll be eternally grateful."

Friyya smiled wryly - she saw straight through empty flattery, but she liked it nonetheless and certainly saw no need to bring Elyszara's effusive compliments to a halt, "There is no need to thank me, I am merely fulfilling my duty towards a fellow servant of the Maiden." The fact that Elyszara's mother was a retainer of the Maiden Herself never ceased to irritate Friyya. Privately, she found it objectionable that a ghaele, a being of light like the aasimar's mother, had raised such a shameless daughter, but she certainly would never have dared question the actions of such a close collaborator of the Maiden out loud.

"Excellent!" Elyszara beamed, wrapping a slender arm around Friyya's waist, "Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to lead the way."

"Why, yes, I think it would be." Friyya shot back sardonically, leading Elyszara down the marble-paved central nave of the Temple, past the mighty, golden-hinged hardwood gates and down the wide steps into the courtyard below. Elyszara clung close to Friyya, so close that the paladin could smell the subtle nuances of the aasimar girl's flowery perfume and, in spite of her better judgement, admire the wonderfully varied shades of dark blue, violet and silver strands of hair that seemed to flow organically into the dominant, midnight blackness of her hair. The aasimar's dress was faultless in emphasising her small, but outrageously pert and beautifully formed breasts and the equally provocative, but subtle swell of her hips and bottom. As they walked past the main entrance of the temple complex of the Order of the Radiant Path into the bustling streets of Sigil's Temple Ward, Friyya felt the stirrings of something akin to jealousy form in her mind. Elyszara was infuriatingly perfect: long limbed and effortlessly graceful in a manner that combined the best features of an elf and a forest spirit.

In the end, all the paladin could conclude to assuage her vain, competitive edge was that Elyszara's form was decidedly girlish. She certainly lacked the noble combination of lithe athleticism and classical femininity of a true Ortho woman like Friyya. So what if Elyszara's waist was a little thinner, the paladin thought, her breasts were perhaps a little too compact and the aasimar was a little too short. Conveniently enough for Friyya, as far as she as concerned, the ideal of beauty was a happy medium between Syf's towering height and the diminutive stature of an elf, and a slender physique with curves neither too understated, nor too pronounced. Naturally, having been watched with admiration all her life, Elyszara knew that Friyya's sharp eyes were upon her. She found that thought pleasing, for her seduction of Syf had been a conscious challenge. Elyszara could not deny that she had a petty side, so when she had first laid eyes on the renowned beauty of auburn-haired Friyya, she had decided to put her allure to a very empirical test by seeking Syf's attentions. The fact that she had ended up liking the sternly beautiful paladin had complicated matters. But Elyszara had resolved to learn a lesson or two about making the most of her mortal life.

So they walked down the Temple Ward, with its bustling streets packed with robed clergy of the dozens of different deities worshipped in Sigil, and into the calmer expanse of the area surrounding the mighty, austere stone building of the Great Gymnasium. In times long gone by, the imposing Gymnasium had been home to a Faction of philosophers and warrior-monks who called themselves the Transcendental Order. They believed that godhood, or a state approximating it, could be achieved through introspection, meditation and the unity of mind and body. In time, their Faction had faded, but their ideas had been adopted by any number of successors who now competed for both followers and donors in the wide, perfectly tended courtyards and subtly artistic stone gardens of the Great Gymnasium. The Other Place was situated directly across the road from that mighty edifice. It was a wide, domed building constructed entirely out of white marble, so that it glinted in the dull Sigil daylight. At its entrance, was a peaceful, well tended garden, with low-hanging vines and perfectly maintained shrubs that gave way to a lush reception area that seemed naturally overgrown with flowering plants. Some enchantment had fixed them to the rock, so that they drew sustenance from the light and air without requiring soil.

Friyya paused, nudging Elyszara back. It had been a long time since she had breathed the herby, perfumed air of mineral salts, massage oil and slow-burning scented candles. Perhaps too long, for she had done her utmost at the Order to dispel the image of Friyya as the pampered, spoiled brat. There had been little time for such conspicuous indulgences, though she did, indeed, stilly rely on a steady supply of Other Place-concocted cosmetics to keep herself in perfect condition. Just because war was hell did not mean that a paladin had to look like it when she entered the fray.

"Oh, Lady Elyszara," a deep, enthusing voice called out, "what a pleasure to see you again. And I see you have brought an absolutely stunning companion, a pleasure to meet you Madam, I am Iarmid, the humble coordinator of the Other Place." A tall, serenely handsome man with glowing, golden skin, a weathered, but vigorous face and leonine mane of sandy hair greeted Friyya by raising her hand to his lips and brushing it with the lightest of kisses, "Do make yourselves at home," he continued, his voice was powerfully soothing, almost hypnotic, "If I may presume, Lady Elyszara, you require a bath and a full treatment, as usual."

"Naturally." Elyszara replied, theatrically extending her hand for Iarmid to kiss in greeting, "My companion here is from the Order of the Radiant Path, so I was hoping to treat her to the very finest. Are the Seasons in?"

Iarmid smiled knowingly - there was not hint of mockery or patronising smugness, just the utterly satisfied smile of someone who had achieved a profound inner peace, "Naturally, I shall have them set up the treatment room and fetch you after your bath."

Friyya looked on with a mixture of perplexity and irritation. It was both strangely comfortable to be with Elyszara in a place she had known so well, but the fact that the aasimar was on a first-name basis with the Other Place's owner just seemed to put the paladin's own, much vaunted collection of contacts into the shade. In the end, Friyya concluded it was fortunate that she had joined the Order - had she met Elyszara in a social context just a couple of years earlier, they would have probably ripped each other apart.

"Friyya..." Elyszara whispered, stirring the paladin from her thoughts, "we can go in now."

Iarmid led them down a long marble hallway with a high, vaulted ceiling. Light was generated from crystalline torches that seemed to shimmer in the darkened penumbra until, finally, they gave way to a vast central hall. Friyya realised they were under the Other Place's dome, where a vast, glass skylight let in the daylight and flooded the enormous bathing chamber with a radiant glow. This was not mere Sigil daylight - a number of small, strategically placed portals to the Plane of Radiance had been predisposed near the domed ceiling, projecting brilliant golden-red light that gave the vast, swirling baths the glow of a sea at sunset. A single, elevated tub at least two hundred feet across dominated the central chamber, whilst eight smaller pools ringed it, like the spokes of a wheel. At the far side of the chamber, doors led to various treatment rooms, some indicating with a glowing red symbol that they were occupied.

"Ladies, to you." Iarmid said with a broad, sweeping gesture of welcome. He took a deep, elegant bow and left soundlessly back down the corridor.

"Changing rooms are this way." Elyszara suggested, taking Friyya by the hand.

"I know." Came the terse reply. She certainly did not require the aasimar as a guide.

"He's like me, you know." Elyszara began, eager to make conversation that did not end in tensions being heightened. A diligent, imp-like winged mephit had already marked out a small, circular stone chamber with two plush, white silk upholstered armchairs as occupied, so Elyszara and Friyya could change in peace.

"Oh?" The auburn-haired paladin carefully stepped out of her boots, before loosening and unbuttoning her tunic and neatly folding it on the armchair. She felt self-conscious - a feeling that she had not experienced in some time. Ever since her first day at the baths at the Order, when she was but a first year novice, she had walked with an unflappably presumptuous pride, knowing full well that her physique was the object of lust, envy and, more often than not, both. Now, however, she was subjected to the sight of Elyszara casually casting off her blue gossamer dress and revealing a perfectly, and naturally, smooth, unblemished body. The taut firmness of her breasts defied belief and even her nipples were of a sweeter, more ethereal pink than Friyya's. At least, the paladin could console herself with the fact that Elyszara's choice of dark violet lip-paint and vivid indigo nail colouring was, in her humble opinion, in appalling taste.

"Yes," Elyszara continued, pleased at the expression of wonder and palpable irritation that had crossed Friyya's face, "he, too, is an aasimar. His father was a Leonal - you know, the lion-warrior spirits and he definitely has something very...feline about him."

"I know what a Leonal is." Friyya snapped, running her fingers distractedly down the surface of a stack of soft, fluffy towels.

"Can we be nice to each other...please?" Elyszara begged, a little hurt by Friyya's persistent coldness.

The paladin nodded - at least Elyszara appeared to be sincere in wanting a civil relationship, "I suppose you're right, sorry."

"Oh, no need to be." The aasimar chimed happily, leading the way from the changing room into the domed bathing hall. A swirling, lukewarm mineral bath had already been prepared - the mineral salts colouring the water with a slightly violet tinge.

Elyszara eased herself into the swirling currents with the sort of floating grace that almost made Friyya's blood boil. The paladin slid into the water with a deliberate, almost ritualistic precision, one leg following the other until she sank in against the raised marble platform that acted as a seat under the water. It was then that she realised that a specialised enchantment caused the bottom of the tub to glow with a soft, lambent luminescence, flooding the water with violet-coloured brilliance. That was mildly irritating in itself, what irked Friyya more still was the nagging feeling that Elyszara was looking snidely at the thatch of downy, auburn curls atop her sex.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Elyszara sighed. The restorative properties of the mineral bath seemed to loosen her muscles and infuse her body with a rich vitality. She waded closer to Friyya and sat by the paladin's side. Very tentatively, she raised her hands to gently trace the contours of the paladin's shoulders, fingertips pressing against the pearly-white skin.

"I suspect I needed it." Friyya conceded. She relaxed her shoulders and leaned back against Elyszara, signalling that she had no objection to physical contact.

"I would like to make something of myself," the aasimar began softly, raising a cupped handful of water to moisten Friyya's soft, auburn tresses, "I met someone who made me understand that I can't live in self-pity anymore. So I thought I would contribute something to the Order of the Goddess my mother serves."

"That would be a noble thought." Friyya replied, growing pleasantly accustomed to Elyszara's feather-light touch.

"Which is why I've decided to stay in Sigil and dedicate myself to supporting the Order."

"Is that...so." Friyya pensively bit her lip. Elyszara's presence in the vicinity of the Order would be, at the very best, a mixed blessing, "Allow me to explain how you could be of service."

As they bathed, Friyya did her utmost to enumerate all the unpleasant, time-consuming and outright frustrating aspects of life at the Order. She emphasised the fact that Elyszara would be required to lend help in dealing with potentially dangerous operations, keep to a basic code of conduct, be ready to be called upon when necessary and, potentially, frequent unpleasant parts of Sigil where, as the paladin euphemistically put it, the aasimar's 'personal integrity' could be endangered. Nothing could dissuade Elyszara, who quite clearly had resolved to change her life for the better. So, by the time Friyya's turn had come to bathe Elyszara, she had warmed to the aasimar's sense of dedication to her new life-path. Words, however, were always cheap. Friyya could scarcely imagine the flawless body she now caressed with a sponge infused with scented oil would ever live up to the rigours of an active life on the front line fighting evil. In fairness, the paladin concluded, the same thing had been said of her, and Elyszara certainly had no intention of becoming a paladin herself, but was inclined to aid the Order as 'support personnel'.

"I know what you're thinking," Elyszara confessed, drawing a deep satisfied breath as she felt Friyya's sponge scrub the small of her back and bottom, "but I do have some experience both in incantations and hand-to-hand combat. I have often heard my mother complain that you had staffing shortages, so I just thought I could lend a hand."

"Well, I explained the conditions of your service, but if you agree, we...I mean you can meet up with Isobel and explain your motivation. Or better still, don't meet up with Isobel and ask your mother to write you a letter of recommendation." As much as she hated Elyszara's tight, flawless bottom - especially aggravating since the aasimar had probably never systematically exercised in her life - no-one deserved an interview with Isobel.

"Understood and...oh, look, here we are." Elyszara announced.

Friyya raised her head and her gaze was met by a long, white bathrobe. She stepped gingerly out of the water, followed by Elyszara, only to be enveloped in all-embracing, warm whiteness, as if she were surrounded by a soothing, lightly perfumed silken cocoon. Dextrous hands began towelling her hair, while another pair ensured that the bathrobe was tightly fastened, yet allowed just enough room for comfort. Perplexed and intrigued, Friyya turned to meet her attendants.

Elyszara chuckled softly at the paladin's curiosity, "Girls, this is Friyya, a noble paladin of the Order of the Radiant Path. Friyya, allow me to introduce the Seasons."

Light, tinkling laughter, so sweet that it sounded like silver chimes rustling in a mountain breeze, filled the cavernous, domed bathing chamber. Before Friyya's stunned and admiring gaze were four, elfin nymphs - for they were almost certainly spirits of the forest - of similar stature, but of distinctive appearance. "Spring." Said the first with a shy curtsy: she appeared to be the youngest of the four and was clad in a loose, transparent golden shift that emphasised the lithe, adolescent youthfulness of her body and the light, rosebud pink of the firm little nipples atop her fine, conical breasts. Her hair was long and golden, her eyes blue like the first day after winter's end, while her skin had a luminous, creamy quality to it.

"Summer." Spoke the next, in a well-rehearsed routine. Her frame was more rounded and she very much resembled a wood elf with her slender, but tautly muscled belly and thighs, rounded breasts, elbow-length verdant green hair, and intense, leaf-green eyes. She was clad in a revealing green tunic that did much to accentuate the feminine flare of her bottom and hips. While Spring's lips were pink, Summer's were a deeper shade of red, just as her skin was characterised by a healthy, woodland tan.

"Autumn." Said the third nymph, her voice mirthful and joyous like a harvest song. Her shoulder-length hair was a rich red, with light brown and deep golden highlights, so that she, quite literally, resembled a forest floor as the first cold winds stirred. Her eyes were olive-green, her visage playful and ever so slightly lascivious, just as Spring's was wide-eyed and innocent, for her curves were rich and ripe, so much so that she was the only one of the four who could not have been mistaken for an elf: her breasts were firm, but bounteously heavy, like the full moons of her bottom. Her skin had a tawny, golden glow to it that was marvellously complemented by her silky, crimson tunic that sported a predictably plunging neckline.

"Winter." The final nymph declared. Her physique was taut, almost boyish, as was the short cut of her silver hair that reached not much lower than her pointed ears. Her skin was snowy-pale, while her body was defined by a very slender and fine athleticism which, though it gave few concessions to femininity, still had a compellingly elegant allure to it. Winter's visage was cool, but welcoming nonetheless, even if her eyes, so light blue they almost appeared grey, and angular features suggested the stark beauty of a shimmering glacier. She wore a white silk loincloth and nothing else, for her tiny breasts had a subtle delicacy that would only have been traduced by clothing.

"And," they said in melodic unison, "it is our honour to be of service."

"I see...the Seasons, how...cute," Friyya began, a little lost for words as she caught Elyszara's wickedly bemused expression in the corner of her eye, "Elyszara, this is...so like you."

"Oh come, now," the aasimar chided gently, "they are the best. Do you know they are usually booked months in advance? But they always find the time for me. We‘re all Arborean girls, right...?"

"Is that so?" Brash Summer interjected with a playfully mocking laugh, "You hardly need our cosmetic treatments. We may be the finest courtesans and aesthetic specialists in Sigil, but we cannot improve the flawless."

"Be hospitable," Spring said demurely, her voice sweet and airy, "rarely have we been graced by a finer patron." Autumn and Winter nodded silently in agreement.

"Why thank you," Elyszara said, turning to Friyya, "aren't they sweet? So, go on, choose two."

"What?" Friyya said darkly, runninger her eyes over the smiling nymphs.

"For your massage and treatments, silly." The aasimar teased.

"Must I really..."

"You're my guest, it would be rude of me not to give you first choice."

Friyya sighed in resignation. If she had to be perfectly frank, she hardly found the prospect unappealing, but Elyszara had the irritating habit of making everything into an ambiguous, prurient little game. In that respect, Friyya imagined her as a distillation of all of Marséna's vices and quite a few more besides, "I should be a gracious guest then...Winter and Summer, if you please." The two summoned nymphs made their way to Friyya's side, their delicate bare feet moving soundlessly over the marble floor. In the distance, the churning of the great pool filled the bathing chamber with the sound of water resounding against stone. A lone air mephit, imp-like but virtually transparent, made its usual round twice across the high dome to ensure the air remained fresh and sweet.

Without further ado, the attendants escorted Elyszara and Friyya into a spacious, soundproofed treatment room. It was dominated by two, long oblong couches upholstered in white silk and covered with pristine towels. A vast rack of crystal, ceramic and amber vases, ampoules and stoppered bottles covered most of the far wall, while the floor was tastefully carpeted with a thick, pliant, spongy material which, Autumn explained, filtered out impurities. A wide, empty circular space lay in front of the two couches, which were set side by side, and, to one side of the chamber, a great, silver censer emitted a rich, and immediately relaxing spicy perfume that wafted through the air, carried aloft by the constant gentle breeze that seemed to flow throughout the spa.

"Please, madam," Winter invited, her cool, yet soothing touch helped Friyya out of her bathrobe and onto the couch while Summer busied herself with mixing a number of scented oils into a white alabaster bowl and Spring prepared an infusion of lotions which would soon be applied with thick, goat-hair brushes, "make yourself comfortable. If you have any preferences that differ from our recommendations, please let us know."

"I think Elysian Iris and Lunia Coral essence would be appropriate for the Lady Knight," Summer declared, carefully dosing out Friyya's massage oil to ensure that the blend respected the aromatic qualities of both essences, "and some Peryroyl lotion."

With deft, expert movements, Winter laid a warm cloth soaked in chamomile over Friyya's eyes. The paladin felt a sudden burst of hot, but not at all uncomfortable steam, which caused beads of sweat and condensation to pebble against her skin. After removing the cloth from Friyya's eyes, the attendants carefully scrubbed the sweat off with specially crafted, silvery sponges before beginning a brisk, but tonic massage with lotion-soaked brushes. A fruity smell, like freshly pressed cider wafted into the air. Friyya stared intently at Winter's firm, athletically muscular form - it reminded her so much of Syf, even if the nymph was decidedly shorter, her limbs more delicately elven, and her breasts, capped with relatively large nipples of the lightest pink, were smaller still.

"Normally I have all four to myself, but where's the fun in ending the treatment so soon?" Elyszara mused, cocking her head to one side against the couch to better address Friyya, "So how are things at the Order? Now that I have decided to take an active interest, you may as well fill me in with the details."

"Hmm..." Friyya purred contentedly, the massaging sensation of the soft, perfumed brushes against her pale skin was sublime - so too was the sight of Summer's classically wood elven form: elfin, but with the right dose of femininity to show off her hips and rounded breasts, "reasonably well. Far too much patrol duty for my liking - sometimes I think I prefer doctrinal studies than pacing around in the freezing early morning fog, but there you have it. Anything to be of service to my Goddess." Friyya truly meant that - the Order had given her a family to love and cherish when she had been failed by her own biological parents and siblings.

"I suspect my mother would just love you then." Elyszara said ironically.

"What's your mother like?" Friyya inquired. The indifference her own mother had shown her made her curious to see where Elyszara's bitterness stemmed from. Winter had started filing down her fingernails while Summer was busy at her feet.

"Good question," Elyszara began pensively, "I've answered it so many times I'm not quite sure myself. Let's just say she gave me everything, including my mortality, by choosing to bear a child. She will go on living even as I age and die. I am flesh and blood, she is light and spirit. What does she know about the flesh?. Ask Cirily: the first time I tried Vacuum Crystals I was barely more than a girl. They were wonderful and made me forget I even existed for a few hours, but when my mother found out, she gave me such a beating that I cried for a day. She only stopped because Cirily begged her. I guess she just assumed that I could grow up to be as morally perfect as she was, even though I am mortal. Can I confess something...?"

"Of course," Friyya said, relenting a little - she and Elyszara, after all, did have some frustrations in common, "if we are to get along, we may as well know each other." At the very back of her mind, the paladin heard Winter's half-whispered suggestion, "Sugar tea, Madam?" to which she nodded in assent. Within moments, a fluttering mephit had produced an elaborate, iridescent glazed ceramic cup filled with golden coloured, sweetly fragrant herbal tea. Even when placed at the elegant stand by Friyya's couch, the tea emanated a powerful aroma, like a newly opened spice-box.

"When did you first let your flower be breached?" Elyszara breathed, her mind flowing to another time, another place.

Friyya blushed and was pleased to note that her attendants were magnificently discreet and proceeded with their expert filing and smoothing of her nails without even looking up, "With Syf, when I was a third year novice. I bled and wept all night because I was ashamed that the other would see the stained sheet. Syf, Virg and Marséna made sure it was cleaned out by morning and got told off my Gallia for sleeping in class the next day." The admission rolled off her lips as if she were relieving herself of a great weight. Friyya remembered that in her paranoid, adolescent mind, being deflowered, even by the woman she loved, was a source of shame and anxiety.

"My first cycle frightened me," the aasimar explained, "I needed security and someone to give substance to my mother's explanations. I found comfort in a beautiful elven druid in the Dawnlands. She was so sweet, so patient when she kissed me, undressed me, loved me and fucked me until my sex was sore and I gasped that I needed to sleep. So we did and we started again the next morning. That was when I realised there was pleasure, as well as suffering, to be found in my mortal flesh. But I realise now that it isn't enough: I don't only want to find pleasure in my existence, but give it meaning."

"Then I shall do my utmost to help you." Friyya said, finally convinced that Elyszara was, indeed, looking to change her life. Winter and Summer had exchanged places and begun a preliminary, muscle-loosening massage on her hands and feet. The sublime fusion of balsamic and floral scents wafted through the air.

To her side, Friyya saw the graceful, pixie-like Spring begin to massage Elyszara's hand as she bent down and whispered something into the aasimar's pointed ear. Elyszara smiled in response and nodded, "Why don't you two get warmed up?"

The paladin could barely restrain a gasp as she saw Spring obediently make her way to Autumn and kiss the red-haired nymph deeply and sensually on the lips, their mouths joined in a rapturous dance. Elyszara sat up, stretching languidly against the plush couch as she watched Autumn's voluptuous body writhe against Spring's girlish frame. The blonde nymph's hands wandered across Autumn's breathtaking curves and, in one swift motion, loosened her red gown, letting puddle at their feet. Autumn's hands trailed up Spring's thighs, lifting the hem of the smaller girl's robe to reveal her smooth, firm and creamy bottom. Friyya swallowed, her need beginning to pulse deep inside her. Winter and Summer continued their work, seemingly oblivious to the erotic embrace which their companions were sharing. Spring's warm, soft lips trailed down Autumn's tawny skin, lavishing the voluptuous nymph's throat with wet kisses as she approached the marvel of her companion's breasts. Autumn purred, her eyes half-lidded as she lost herself in the opulence of Spring's kisses that left long, moist trails down the dramatic curve of her breasts. Elyszara slipped a hand between her thighs, two fingers tentatively rubbing against the tiny, rapidly stiffening bud of her clit as she admired the scene before her. Spring was suckling on Autumn's ripe, dark pink nipple, her pale lips latched lovingly across the stiff, rubbery little peak, the colour of an apple before the cider-press.

Friyya bit her lip, trying desperately to concentrate on the hypnotic quality of Winter's flawless foot massage and Summer's gentle stretching of her fingers. It was all to no avail, her heart hammered lustfully in her chest as she saw Elyszara rise to her feet and join her attendants, exchanging deep, passionate kisses, their lips merging as if they were a sensually-driven whole. Spring lifted her arms to allow Elyszara to peel her shift off, before resuming her suckling of Autumn's tumescent nipples while the more voluptuous nymph lovingly ran her fingers through the smaller girl's long, wheat-blonde tresses. Elyszara sank to her knees, alternating long, lascivious licks between Spring and Autumn's perfectly hairless nether lips. The aasimar's right hand remained between her thighs, lavishing firm, forceful friction on her clit. The air felt heavier just as Friyya's breath grew more laboured. Elyszara nodded and Spring and Autumn knew that it was time to begin. The buxom, erotic Autumn reluctantly broke from Spring's embrace and lay back on Elyszara's couch, her hips raised, knees pulled backwards so they rested against her heavy, rounded breasts. Friyya almost moaned the moment she saw the girl's sex, so wantonly spread open: it was plump and deep pink, like the flesh of an autumnal berry.

The aasimar followed, positioning herself on her hands and knees between Autumn's soft, tawny thighs. She casually spread the inner lips of the voluptuous nymph's sex and began to lick at that rich, fragrant feast with hungry abandon, her tongue trailing all the way from the crevasse of the red-haired girl's full, sculptural bottom, to the very top of her sex. Meanwhile, Spring was busy coating a slender, dove-like hand with thick, golden fragrant oil, lustfully watching the scene unfolding before her, licking her lips at the sight of Elyszara's pert bottom and drooling, pale pink sex spread open before her. The aasimar was soaked, the petals of her pussy streaked with thick, fertile, translucent nectar. Spring finished oiling her hand and settled behind the aasimar, an expression of lusty intensity filled her bright blue eyes. Friyya thought it was almost incongruous on the nymph's youthful, innocent face. A few, expert licks on the juicing inner lips of Elyszara's sex were all that was required to get the aasimar going. Autumn's high, whimpering moans were joined by Elyszara's soft gasps as Spring's tongue, hungry and inquisitive, licked up the aasimar's salty-sweet and pleasantly fruity nectar, lavishing the flower of her sex with velvety, sensual attention. Autumn writhed in pleasure on the couch, her thighs held up and spread wide, her delicate feet pointing into the air, tense with the sweet anticipation of her climax. Elyszara's tongue was now seared against the stiff little nub of Autumn’s clitoris, while two of the aasimar's slender, tensed fingers eagerly pillaged the sweet, fruity treasures of the voluptuous nymph's channel. She tasted of musk, newly-pressed wild apple juice and freshly-drawn sap.

"What...?" Was all Friyya could manage the moment she felt Winter's lips wrap around her big toe, the slender nymph's mouth suckled with such ferocity that the paladin would never have expected it from such an outwardly collected woman. To Friyya's side, Summer did her best to continue her diligent finger-stretching with one hand under her green dress and between her thighs.

"Apologies, Madam," Winter sighed, her tongue dancing across Friyya's delicate foot, lavishing each pretty little toe with wet, lascivious licks, "we do not know your preference, please instruct us."

"Go ahead..." Elyszara called between firm little licks against Autumn's turgid clit. Spring gingerly probed the split peach of the aasimar's sex with two fingers. She easily spread open the silky, lust-inflamed flesh of the aasimar's channel, prompting a suffocated gasp from her adoring client. So she added a third and then, more slowly, a fourth so that Friyya could, quite literally, see Elyszara's sex come into full bloom, the inner lips stretched and open, fragrant with the pearlescent juice of her arousal. Autumn's cries grew more strangled with each expert lick of Elyszara's tongue, while Spring had finally slipped her thumb into Elyszara's gaping channel, gently easing her hand in with firm, patient twisting thrusts. The aasimar's hips bucked backwards, desperate to draw Spring's nimble hand deeper, despite the dull pain of being so stretched, into the lust-inflamed recesses of her sex, closer to that secret spot deep within her which she knew would bring the most sublime of joys. Autumn teased her own stiff nipples with one hand, while the other lovingly stroked Elyszara's long, midnight-coloured hair.

"Please, Madam," Winter begged, her voice seemingly calm and dignified, but tinged with evident, urgent need, "what would you have us do." Summer had already taken off her form-fitting green robe and had fallen to a crouching position, her hands spread out in front of her for support, while her knees were slightly bent, holding her hips high and her beautiful face so close to the soft carpet that she could smell its soft, mineral aroma. That was the position she preferred and one she would have spent all her nights in - perceptive as always, Summer knew that a paladin, albeit a feminine one like Friyya, probably enjoyed dictating the terms of her pleasure.

"I...I cannot..." Friyya said between choked, ragged breaths, her sex felt slippery while her belly felt full to bursting point with coiled passion that flooded her veins with burning magma, "I am sworn to another."

"Always the good girl, hmm?" Elyszara sighed, before letting out a long, mewling cry as Spring finally filled her sex with her slender hand - the aasimar was stretched beyond belief, the entrance of her channel clamping down savagely around the blonde nymph's slender wrist, her hips bucking savagely, demanding an even deeper penetration, "At least let them entertain you."

Friyya nodded, her mind flooded with blind desire, but her heart still resolute on being utterly and unfailingly faithful to Syf. Summer bent down in such a compromising position right by her side was tempting, however. The green-haired nymph was spread open, her rich pink nether lips coated in a thick, honey-like substance, the tightly-knotted rosebud of her anus nestled beautifully between in the valley of the tanned, perfectly firm orbs of her bottom. Winter was still busy running her tongue over the elegant arch of Friyya's foot. The silver-haired nymph had been well trained in the erotic arts and knew that teasing a client's hands or feet was an ideal way to show off her skill whilst respecting the customer's wishes with regards to the nature and intensity of the sensuality to follow. For those, like Elyszara, raised in the joyous culture of the Plane of Arborea, eroticism was a natural part of the spa experience.

Finally, Friyya decided to take a leap into the unknown, "Winter," she began weakly, her voice cloyed with desire, "you like Summer, right?" She felt utterly stupid, but her mind was hard-pressed to formulate a cogent thought.

"As if she were my own life, Madam." Winter replied.

"Could you...uh..." Friyya desperately searched for a euphemism, anything that would preserve whatever shred of propriety she had left before the shameless eroticism of the scene unfolding before her, "you know...I suppose you like taking Summer with...uhm..."

"She wants to watch you fuck her." Elyszara interrupted gleefully, as her lithe body tensed. Spring had found that wonderful, unspeakably delicious spot deep inside her with those nimble, questing fingers and was now applying the most divine pressure to that hypersensitive area. The aasimar simply let go, continuing to lick Autumn, this time savagely as she felt a wave of such power overcome her that she cried out, wantonly, suffocating her pleasure against the red-haired nymph's sex as she felt her loins overcome by hot, sparkling energy. Spring smiled gleefully, her sweet, elfin face filled with joy as she saw perhaps her most beloved client come so pleasurably under her touch. Elyszara's channel clamped down spasmodically against Spring's intruding hand, but all was in vain. The malicious little nymph kept thrusting, twisting and probing deep inside the aasimar's lust-sodden channel, loosing a second, less vital orgasm deep in her loins. Elyszara breath was hot and ragged against Autumn's clit, but she continued licking, her fingers thrusting rhythmically in and out of the voluptuous girl's pussy. Autumn's climax did not take long to arrive, spurred on by Elyszara's long, wailing moans and by the maddening action of the aasimar's fingers that seemed to work in perfect synchronism with her tongue, wet and firm against the burning surface of the red-haired nymph's clit.

Autumn's barking, orgasmic gasps filled Friyya's ears as she eagerly watched Winter step out of her simple loincloth and retrieve a long, spirally-textured dildo from a drawer at the base of the cosmetics shelf. The silvery shaft was thick and powerful, with three bulbous sections separated by thinner intervals, and a long, root-like base. Summer purred in anticipation - even if she could not see it, she knew what Winter had picked out. The silver-haired nymph was always more comfortable making love with an olisbos, something which caused irreverent, playful Summer to call her the quartet's only 'brother'.

"Is this what you wanted, Madam. Would you have me take Summer with it?" Winter inquired, her light blue eyes, normally verging on the emotionless, now filled with erotic purpose.

Friyya bit her lip to prevent herself from answering too quickly, "Yes...that would be...lovely." The paladin whispered hoarsely. She sat up on the couch, her gaze never shifting from Winter's taut, flawlessly smooth body, as she drew her knees up and apart. Her sex burned with need, the deep pink nether lips streaked with rich, gooey white nectar. In that instant, Friyya saw Winter's eyes and knew that the coldly beautiful nymph would have happily lapped up every musky strand of her thick arousal. Instead, Winter settled with carefully sliding the root of the dildo past the hairless outer lips of her sex and deep into her sodden channel. There the shaft took root, connecting itself with the sensitive tissue of the nymph's sex and acting as a bridge across which sensations would be transmitted deep into her loins. Very guiltily, Friyya's fingers grazed the downy, auburn hair atop her sex, gently probing lower. She was so shamefully wet that it did not bear thinking about, so all she could do was give Winter the nod and let her wild journey into sensual discovery unfold.

Winter approached Summer's submissive form from behind, the blunted tip of her rod sliding down the prone girl's delicious spread, juicing sex, "May...may I lean on something for support?" Summer inquired with a certain trepidation. She knew the power of Winter's thrusts and did not wish to embarrass herself before the new client.

"That is for Madam to decide." Winter replied, still teasing the narrow entrance to Summer's sodden channel with the tip of the olisbos. Even with that marginal contact, the sensation was sublime, feeling as though the very tip of her clit was brushing against something soft, moist and velvety.

"No..." Friyya breathed, "I think her arms and legs should serve her just fine." Elyszara smiled conspiratorially: Friyya definitely knew more than she let on about the subtle delights of obedience and command.

Winter needed no further prompting and slid the dildo effortlessly into Summer's juicing sex, forcing the green-haired nymph's tight inner flesh apart in long, firm thrusts. Summer gasped, biting down hard on her lower lip as her fingers and toes curled to grip the spongy carpet. Winter was inside her with a few well-placed thrusts. The rigid, but oddly pliant dildo held her sex apart almost obscenely, but it felt utterly divine. Winter briefly turned her gaze to Friyya to ensure that the paladin was comfortable with proceedings and, once she was satisfied, began to ravish Summer's pussy with expert, almost natural thrusts. Obediently, the green-haired nymph held herself firm against Winter's assault: her sex felt on fire, stimulated in her most sensitive recesses by the sensory assault of her companion's dildo. Her moans came in rhythm with Winter's loving, but resolutely dominant thrusts. The silver-haired nymph held Summer's rounded, firm bottom for support, her fingers deliberately spreading the tanned half-moons to provocatively expose the blooming inner lips of the girl's sex and the delectable little star of her anus. Friyya blushed at her own wantonness, two fingers pressed desperately against the searing little bud of her clit. Just watching the two magnificent nymphs couple brought liquid fire into her veins, flooding her brain with the most lascivious thoughts. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to leap in and join Summer and Winter.

"She likes submitting to you, doesn't she?" Friyya noted, her breath ragged between gritted teeth. Winter's dominance was sublime: she fucked Summer on tiptoe, her nipples were unbelievably stiff atop her chest, just as her muscles were pulled taut, seemingly tensing in concert to ensure that each thrust was as deep and fluid as possible.

"They all like submitting to me," Winter responded - although she felt the most delectable, electric pleasure sparkle deep into her loins and up her spine with each thrust, she knew how to focus those sensations to further inflate her impending climax, "especially Autumn," as if on cue, the red-haired nymph moaned, Elyszara still lapping at her sex, in agreement, "but Spring seems to think that I can be a little too rough."

"You are a little rough at times." Spring chirped, one hand still thrust deep into Elyszara's sex while the other gently stroked the aasimar's deliciously pert bottom, her middle finger already buried deep in the winking rosebud.

"Very well, it appears you two need an independent arbiter," Friyya sighed, her thighs were tensing as she felt the first convulsions of her orgasm approach, "Spring, you will be next after Summer."

Winter's purr of joy was drowned out by the first jerk of her climax. The silver-haired nymph's peak drove her to roughly seize Summer's bottom and slide her dildo as deep as she could into the green-haired girl's sex. Winter came almost silently, her tensed muscles and ragged, relieved breaths the only indication that she had reached her sensual peak. It took a few more thrusts to send Summer over the edge and she was, predictably, more vocal, her sighs wanton and mewling like Autumn's. Winter withdrew slowly from Summer's sex. Her olisbos' surface glistened in the chamber's bright light. Summer rose unsteadily to her feet, still panting - her sex felt gloriously spread and exposed in the cool air.

On cue, Spring carefully withdrew her hand from Elyszara's sex, causing the aasimar to whimper in disappointment. The blonde nymph coyly approached Friyya and smiled suggestively, awaiting instruction.

"Spread for Winter as you normally would." Friyya commanded, her fingers blazing against her clit. It would be time soon, she was merely holding her climax just below boiling point.

"How would Madam prefer that I be taken?" Spring queried, playfully running her fingers down the glistening surface of Winter's dildo. The silver-haired nymph moaned in anticipation. Her clit felt raw with the overwhelming sensation of Summer's convulsing sex still in her mind and seared into her loins.

"Well..." Friyya paused, still a little uncertain as to what the implications of her answer would be.

"Stop playing innocent," Elyszara called jokingly, "pussy or bottom?" The aasimar had rearranged herself sex to mouth with Summer. The green-haired nymph lay on her back with Elyszara on top of her, tongue hungrily lapping at Summer's pussy, while she, in turn, held the light pink inner lips of the aasimar's sex open so that she could lavish that wondrously salty-sweet flower with lusty licks. Sensually voluptuous Autumn knelt behind Elyszara, busily coaxing the puckered, pink little rosebud of the aasimar's anus with firm swipes of her tongue.

"Uhm...the first one should be fine."

Spring hastened to comply and, somewhat to Friyya's surprise, lifted herself up onto the paladin's couch and lay back, thighs spread and hips raised, so that her glistening sex, pink as cherry blossom, was spread temptingly for all to see. Friyya shifted back on the couch to give Spring more space as Winter settled in front of her companion, an understated, but knowing smile on her lips as she trailed two slender, expert fingers down the sodden crease of the blonde nymph's sex, drawing up translucent, very slightly golden moisture. Spring shuddered, and reached back to grip Friyya's arm, "Sorry, Madam," the nymph began softly, "but Winter can be a little vigorous, could you be so kind as to hold my hand?" It was important to never leave clients with the feeling that they were somehow left out, even if they did not wish to participate directly. Despite her innocent appearance, a trait Spring played on for sensual effect, she knew that eroticism meant different things in different social settings and that not all of Sigil's inhabitants indulged in the same wild passions as Elyszara.

"Certainly." Friyya said, assuming a more comfortable kneeling position with the thighs wide apart, so that she could pleasure herself with one hand and hold Spring's with the other. It was mortifying to kneel, so casually naked, her fine, firm breasts capped with raspberry-pink nipples rising and falling ever so subtly with her fevered breath, her sex spread open and juicing, so much so that it left hot, wet trails against the towels beneath every time she bucked her hips at the pleasure that built like a coiling knot deep inside her with every twist of her fingers against her clit. Mortifying, but also profoundly satisfying. Even if something did bother Friyya at the back of her mind: was she becoming like Elyszara and cheapening the act of love by becoming complicit in what was, essentially, an orgy?

In the meantime, Winter had positioned her dildo at the entrance of Spring's lust-inflamed sex. The silver-haired nymph steadied herself, the tip of the dildo gently sliding into the sodden channel. Spring whimpered and gripped Friyya's hand. Winter eased herself in with well-measured, but unyielding little thrusts, gradually forcing apart the juicing inner walls of Spring's channel, before settling to the hilt and gently capturing the blonde nymph's sweet lips in a passionate, searing kiss so as to suffocate her cries as the first thrusts began. Spring kissed back with hungry abandon, her tongue losing itself in a sensual dance with Winter's, her slender hands trailing up the taut musculature of the silver-haired nymph's body. She was so hard, so boyish, yet undeniably feminine in the sensuality of her kiss and the delicious stiff, rubbery feel of her tumescent nipples and the tiny breast below - soft as a ripe plum. But Winter's thrusts were made to dominate, but not violently, for Spring's juicing well eagerly welcomed each expert stroke, wrapping the dildo in a slick, warm heaven and projecting the most sublime sensations deep into the silver-haired nymph's loins. Winter lost herself in the spontaneous beauty of her lovemaking, her hips pumping steadily, each thrust yielding a burst of electrical pinpricks that ran deep into the most sensitive spot of her sex and higher still, to the small of her back. Spring was yielding, submissive and beautifully fertile: a classic elven maiden, even, with delicious conical breasts to caress and the finest, pert little bottom.

Friyya felt Spring squeeze her hand harder with each incoming thrust, her moans suffocated by Winter's searing lips. To her side, Friyya could see Autumn had changed ends and was now lavishing Elyszara's delicately pointed ears with long, wet licks drawing mewling gasps from the aasimar. Friyya felt the spasms of her peak rise and finally release themselves in a outpouring of subtle contractions deep in her sex. Despite her best efforts to delay her climax until Spring came, the paladin was helpless before the wanton eroticism that surrounded her, so that even as she tried to suppress her strangled, ragged gasps, she could see the two coupling nymphs in front of her smile triumphantly and redouble their efforts. Spring raised her hips higher, her back arched, drawing Winter in for ever deeper penetration, her legs wrapped around the silver-haired nymph's waist. For her part, Winter began long, slow, deep thrusts, her kisses hot and wet on Spring's sensitive, pointed ear. The blonde nymph came with a melodious, high-pitched cry that seemed to draw itself out with the spasmodic contractions of her canal against Winter's olisbos. The pulsing stream of pleasure rushed up the enchanted shaft and settled deep into Winter's sex, sending sharp little electrical spark-like sensations across the sensitive surface of her clitoris. Winter grunted and sank deep inside Spring, her muted moans joining Elyszara's sharper, more uninhibited cries as she, too, reached her peak.

As if in a daze, Friyya reclined back onto the couch. If Syf asked, she would merely say she had an interesting day and nothing else. Although she knew that sensuality was sacred in Arborea and an act to be shared joyously and spontaneously, like fine food or wine, she could never subscribe to that philosophy. What was happening before her reminded her of lurid descriptions of half-forgotten fertility cults, especially common in Sylvan and Wood Elven cultures where nymphs, dryads and forest spirits joined the elves in revelry and communion. But the Maiden had always preached a more restrained and exclusive love: perhaps it was a clash of cultures, but Friyya felt guilt at her excitement, guilt at the fact that it took every shred of self-control to stop her pleasuring herself again.

Yet the revel continued unabated. Elyszara was on her feet, bent over across the couch with her mouth buried between Spring's thighs, lapping passionately at the blonde nymph's sex - she tasted like fresh cut herbs and wild honey. Behind her, Winter had removed her dildo and was busy working three very well oiled fingers deep into the aasimar's tight bottom while Summer knelt in front of her, diligently servicing her tart, juicing sex. Autumn squatted at Spring's side, her plump, deep red nether lips spread open while the blonde nymph carefully worked her hand deep inside the clenching, wet canal. Friyya watched intently, her mind scrambling to make rhyme or reason of Elyszara: could this wanton, sensual aasimar ever truly fit in with the Radiant Path - could she ever be anything more than a simple spoiled, debauched noblewoman? The paladin's thoughts were again interrupted by Elyszara’s sharp, whimpering cries as Winter's thumb finally popped into her bottom and silver-haired nymph began to work her hand, glistening in fragrant oil, deep into the overstuffed, but now fully blooming, rose of the aasimar's anus.

***

They met at the strike of the Bell Tower that announced darkfall. Isolde, pompously clad in her full black dress uniform, surveyed the mercenary forces Dassau had provided. They were a dozen battle-hardened, but generally uninspiring hobgoblin mercenaries, clad in blackened chainmail and wielding heavy morningstars and war-hammers. Their stench was atrocious, as were the repulsive, goblinoid countenances on their brutish faces. But they would do just fine.

The detachment stood in the courtyard of a deserted Sigil building as the final preparations for Isolde's covert operation were underway. Dassau had signed all relevant documents indicating full knowledge of his secretary's actions and delegated to her a portion of his authority in order to ensure that there were no legal repercussions to Isolde's planned abduction. Two fierce, monitor-lizard like Khaasta mercenaries flanked Isolde, dwarfing her, for they were well over seven feet in height and broad, powerful beings clad in full gold-lacquered black platemail. The Khaasta preferred weapons as savage as their own bestial natures, so they bore mighty halberds, while saw-toothed bastard swords and meat-cleaver like daggers hung from their elven-skin leather belts. Although the Khaasta supplement had not been cheap, Isolde had pleaded with Dassau to grant her at least two of the overgrown lizards since her personal confidence in hobgoblins ranged somewhere between the minimal and the nonexistent.

All in all, however, she had more than enough to capture a half-elf and deal with any unexpected surprises the Radiant Path threw in her direction. Of that, Isolde was certain, "Very well, troops," she began, clearing her throat - she had no idea how to address mercenaries, but, at least, her orders were simple and straightforward, "I have described the target, who is to be taken alive and in one piece whatever the cost. This is what you have been paid for. If you meet any resistance from anyone who is not the target, dispense with that resistance as effectively and as discreetly as possible. Once the target has been secured, we are to withdraw to this abandoned compound," Isolde clearly indicated a tall, thin, decaying building with rose-shaped windows and long brick chimneys that seemed to stretch out into the Sigil evening like the bony fingers of a corpse, "the third floor of this building is to be our base, which means that, after target is returned, three of you will take sentry duty on the ground, first and second floor respectively, with the remainder joining me as my personal escort. Any questions?"

The hobgoblins nodded in assent, their yellow fangs glistening with the saliva of anticipation as they gripped their mighty weapons, ready to kill and sow mayhem for amusement and profit. The Khaasta hissed in approval, their long, powerful tails thrashing to indicate their eagerness to join the fray.

"By the way, Second Lasher, is that human male or female?" One Khassta snarled and hissed to the other in its own language, adding a lateral tail slash to emphasises the question. The big Khaasta had been confused as to whether or not to refer to Isolde using masculine or feminine terms when it spoke in Sigil's lingua franca.

"Female, I think, Third Pike, I imagine we can just call it Boss and have it over with."

"Rubbish, human females have flesh on their chests and long hair." Second Lasher objected, flicking its forked tongue out for further scent clues as to what Isolde's gender was, "And it does not smell like a female."

"It does not smell of anything. In any case, some human females have less flesh and less hair than others, just like some of us have smaller crests."

"Speak for yourself, Third Pike, my mating displays are beyond reproach." Second Lasher snarled.

"A half-khitass of platinum says that it is male."

"No deal. Mating season approaches and nests are not cheap. I would rather not risk it; you can never tell with mammals anyway."

"Is there something I can help you with?" Isolde snapped and the two Khaasta turned their cold, predatory reptilian eyes to the comparatively diminutive human.

"No, Boss..." Second Lasher hissed in an approximation of mammalian speech.

"Then, unless there are further objections, we shall move out." Isolde drew her sabre and strode down the deserted side-street, her boots echoing lightly on the cracked flagstones. The hobgoblin's heavy iron-studded boots hammered like a threatening war drum, while the Khaasta's long, wicked claws scraped ominously, like metal nails drawn over slate. Even though she knew she was a pawn in Dassau's sadistic, cosmic game of chess, Isolde was certain that it would all be worth it. Any sacrifice was worthwhile if it meant exacting revenge on Virginia. She only hoped that nothing complicated matters and, even though she was loath to admit it to herself, she prayed to nameless gods that the Rule-of-Three did not come to pass. She was confident she could deal with Virginia alone, but Virginia and the third, unmentionable, part of their odious little triad - that was another matter entirely.

.