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Subject: Camara, Lady of the Sword - Heroic Fantasy (4/9)
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Camara, Lady of the Sword - Heroic Fantasy  

Book 1 - "Hope and a Prayer" - Chapter 4 / 9

Story #6
By Tom Bombadil  (c) Sep 1997

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended 
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is 
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are 
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you 
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this 
text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions 
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work of 
fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or 
actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in 
my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or 
relatives.

You've been warned.

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

EDITOR/POSTING AGENT NOTE:  Previous chapters of this story can be
found at the following web address:

http://members.iglou.com/stbush/stories.html

The Editor/Posting agent will not email copies of previous chapters,
so don't ask.  Subsequent chapters are posted on a.s.s and a.s.s.m on 
a weekly basis.  If you miss one, check the web address above, or 
check the a.s.s.m archive.

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


( The Bard:

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"May I join you?" asked Camara.

"Be our guest," replied the gentleman.

Introductions were made.

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

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

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

That touch of amusement changed to laughter.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

"Why do you keep him then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

"What is your price for all this help?"

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

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

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

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


( The Bard:

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


"The lady on the Throne"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Again I ask, what is your connection?"

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

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

"Most of it.  Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* Authors notes:

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

<End of chapter 4>

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

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