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o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
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o and should not be read by minors. o
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Journey to Carlin (3/6) (mf, fantasy, cons)
by Remmelt de Haan <remmelt@kosterix.icce.rug.nl>
***
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon that brought Gdansk, Miriam and
Dlanor in Carlin. The guards at the gates were in a good mood and let them
pass without so much as passing glance. They passed wagons loaded with
barrels and sacks, driven by men with smiles on their faces. Children
were playing leap-frog in the streets. A fruit peddler leaned against his
cart and talked to a couple of street sweepers. A far cry from the cities
in the north, where life became grimmer with each passing border skirmish
and bandit raid.
They passed a number of buildings before Gdansk reined in his horse
at a large inn. Sunlight was reflecting off the heavy sign which depicted
a beholderkin with seven eyes on short stalks. It was as if one of the
eyes blinked at them. They dismounted and stretched their legs. Gdansk
opened the front door and stepped inside.
A tall and spindly man with a beard approached him. His eyes were like
those of a raven, sizing Gdansk up and classifying him: wealthy,
authoritative, wealthy, easy-going, respectful and wealthy.
"Welcome, traveller, to the Bouncing Beholder. I am Jarvis."
"Gdansk of Corinth. Me and my group of friends require seven rooms.
For a week."
Jarvis broke out in a big smile. The cleric hadn't asked about the
rate. "You will have our best rooms. They will be available in
a few minutes. Is there anything else? Something to eat or drink?"
Gdansk held up his palm and suggested: "Our horses..?"
Jarvis nodded vigorously and called a stable boy.
Miriam and Dlanor entered and they sat down at a large table near the
corner. They ordered grapes and a carafe of cooled water, which was served
by a young girl with short blond hair. Dlanor smiled and thanked her and
threw her a sovereign. Gods, it was sure nice to be able to throw money
around again, he mused.
After Gdansk poured their glasses, Miriam, who noticed Dlanor following
the girl with his eyes, quipped: "See anything you like, Dlanor?"
The mage didn't even take his eyes off of the girl, as she disappeared
into the kitchen. "Yeees," he said slowly. "In three, four years she's going
to be a heart-breaker." He lifted his glass and studied it in the light.
"Look at this glass... high quality. Is everyone in this town well-to-do?"
He glanced at his companions who stared at him. "What... what is it?"
"You're not going after her? Did I hear that right?" Gdansk said in a
voice strained with disbelief.
Miriam leaned over and looked at him, worriedly. "Are you coming down
with something, Dlanor?"
"Of course not!" he burst out. "What do you think I..." His voice
faltered and squinted. His friends burst out in laughter. Dlanor took a
swig of the water and tried to look indignant.
"That look on your face is priceless, my friend," Gdansk smiled as he
tapped the rim of his glass against Miriam's.
"At least you didn't bet this time," Dlanor muttered. He groaned as
Miriam fished a gold coin from her purse and gave it to the priest, who
was now broadly grinning.
"You were right, Dance," she said. "He /did/ fall for that again."
They were still chuckling when a young man entered the inn and walked
straight to their table. He wore the robe with the white stripe, the mark
of an apprentice.
"Gdansk of Corinth?"
The priest put his glass down and slowly turned round.
"Yes?"
The apprentice kneeled before him and recited: "His Holiness Talken
Tobit, High Priest of Carlin, requests your presence in a formal hearing.
This hearing will commence forthwith upon your acceptance of this message."
Gdansk glanced at Miriam, who avoided his eyes. The knuckles of her
hand were white from gripping the glass. He stood up and started blessing
the apprentice, while gathering his thoughts. The message was a thinly
disguised order, the words 'request' and 'acceptance' notwithstanding. It
would be a session with closed doors, otherwise the acolyte would've told
him what the hearing was about. Perhaps there hadn't been time for that,
or things weren't as bad they looked.
"I accept your message," he said.
The apprentice stood up and said: "I will take you to the hearing
forthwith."
Dlanor had watched the entire exchange and observed Miriam. Something
important had just happened. Whatever it was, given her pale face, it was
not very good news.
"A few moments," Gdansk told the apprentice. He turned and gave his purse
to Dlanor. "Pay the innkee..."
"Forthwith," the apprentice interrupted him.
Gdansk froze. So did Miriam.
Dlanor felt a sudden urge to pull the little bastard over the table,
but realized it probably would make matters worse.
"Pay the innkeeper, my friend," Gdansk said softly. He emptied his glass
and took his robe. He avoided the apprentice haughty look.
"Let's go."
Miriam grabbed his wrist as he turned to go. They embraced and she
whispered in his ear: "Brother, I believe in you."
Gdansk stroked her hair and sighed. He looked at Dlanor and hand
signalled in Korinthian caster's cant: care for her while I am gone.
The mage nodded. Gdansk let go of Miriam and followed the apprentice.
As soon as had they left the inn, Dlanor asked: "What was the meaning of
that?"
Miriam sagged back in her chair and swallowed visibly.
"They found out," she said.
The heavy door slammed shut. Adhering to protocol, Gdansk kept his
eyes to the rough obsidian floor. He didn't have to look around to know
the interior of this chamber looked like. Every temple of Eesyan had one.
It was invariable a dusky chamber with a heigh ceiling. The sparse light
would fall through four narrow windows two feet below the ceiling. The
black floor echoed his footsteps as he approached the pillow which lay
in the center of the room. He knelt and folded his hands, still looking
down. He knew what he would see should he look up. The high oak table with
seven seats. Every Temple had one. As an acolyte he had sandscraped one
of these, a task of days since the legs, twelve in number, were over five
feet long. The seven seats were for the group of priests presiding the
hearing. Headed by the local High-Priest, this group was chosen in secrecy
each year at New Year's Eve. Little was known about this panel, except
that they handed out punishments to priests who strayed from the Book.
They were simply known as 'the Chamber'.
The High-Priest opened the hearing by quoting catechism.
"We stand before Eesyan today and read His words. The Word is Reason
and Reason begets Order."
His voice was high-pitched and wheezy. An affliction to the lungs,
perhaps, Gdansk thought. Or he simply might be a heavy smoker.
"Gdansk of Korinth, two weeks ago, in the Town of Par Zedek, you
blessed and united a couple in marriage. Were you aware of the fact
that the woman was expecting?"
More formalities. The woman in question had been expecting for
seven months. Their informers must have relayed that detail along with
their report so they knew his answer before he spoke.
"Yes, Your Holiness," he answered. Whether it was plain magic or a
trick of architecture he didn't know, but his voice didn't carry like
the High-Priest's.
"Also, one week ago in the City of Liantral, did you interfere with
the law by aiding an Orc criminal?"
"Yes, Your Holiness," Gdansk said again. It had been a Half-Orc,
hungry and desperate for food. And it had been Miriam who had blocked
the door from the guards, who hadn't dared to touch a priest of Eesyan,
even if it was a Junior Sister. But as Senior he was responsible for his
sister's actions and therefore their spies had named him.
"Before this panel announces its verdict, speak before Eesyan if you
must."
At this time in the hearing the suspect had the opportunity to say
a few words to explain his or her actions. Not that it would make a
difference because the suspect was already found guilty, or the hearing
wouldn't have been scheduled in the first place.
"I saw suffering, Your Holiness," Gdansk said simply.
The High-Priest paused, apparently expecting more from him, but
Gdansk, suddenly tired of this hearing and its protocol, lapsed into
silence.
"This panel finds you guilty on both counts. You have broken your
vows to the Temple and Eesyan and have behaved in a manner not befitting
your stature. We send you back to Korinth to atone for your deeds. You
will report to the Master Scribe for menial duty."
Copying scrolls, Gdansk thought. That could've been worse.
"Furthermore, you are stripped of the Right of Assistance, per direct.
Your assistent will..."
A thunderous storm had suddenly started inside him, blotting out the
rest of the words. The semi-darkness and his wide robe hid his trembling
hands. They had found the perfect punishment; in other words, they had
hit him where it hurt. Miriam.
Dlanor hummed a little tune as he strolled towards the harbor district.
He had eaten a sumptuous meal, sampled great wine (and the Wine Festival
hadn't even started yet), bathed in the hot tub and taken a little nap.
Miriam had gone off to the Temple to find out about Gdansk, even though
she herself had told him hearings were often followed by several hours of
meditation upon ones crimes. She had refused his offer to accompany her
but agreed to carry his amber necklace, just in case. He had worried more
about her ending up in trouble than about Gdansk.
The moon had just risen across the bay and the night air was cool and
refreshing. Life was good, he concluded. He was in the mood for some female
companionship. While other people might have taken pride in never having
visited a house of pleasure, Dlanor had no compunctions about paying for
sexual favors. It had some advantages: one could get down to business
immediately, without having to play the game of introduction and seduction.
And it virtually guaranteed that one's partner was an expert.
Recalling the directions Jarvis had given him, he turned east when he
reached the quay. Walking past moored ships he looked at the third house
past the dockmaster's office. He studied the sign hanging over the door
for a while. Apropriately, it depicted a fox devouring a hen. The mage
shook his head and went in.
A burst of laughter welcomed him. There was a cheerful atmosphere
about the place. Men and women having a good time, drinking ale, some
smoking a pipe. Dlanor made his way to the bar and ordered an ale. Classy
place, he thought. Expensive chandeliers on the ceiling, heavy oak tables
which looked polished, a clean floor. The bartender was clean-shaven and
well-dressed. It looked like everybody and everything in this town was
well-to-do.
"Quite a place you have here," he commented. The bartender nodded and
served him an ale.
"You must make a lot of money here," Dlanor went on. He sipped the ale.
Not bad.
"Not as much as I would want," the bartender replied. "There are a
lot of unforeseen expenses, just to keep running things smoothly."
The Temple was probably breathing down his neck, Dlanor thought. And of
course, there were always some people that simply wanted a piece of the cake.
Pay-offs. "I can see how that can happen," he told the bartender.
They chatted a bit and Dlanor asked about the rate. The prices were
steeper than he had thought but he felt that bargaining would spoil his
mood. He touched his pouch and realized he could still afford it.
"And that's for the entire night?"
"Until half an hour before sunrise. Time enough to leave discreetly."
Dlanor nodded and let his eyes wander. There were enough lovely ladies
in the room, to be sure, but the one woman that caught his eye just got
taken upstairs by a broad, stocky man with tattoos on his left arm. He
followed her step and admired her long black hair as they walked the
stairs. He decided to wait for her.
In the corner a ruddy man was leaning back in his chair and smoking
a long-stemmed pipe. He seemed to observe the patrons and the women.
Dlanor strolled over to him and asked: "Mind if I join you? Share a
pipe?"
The ruddy man grinned and gestured. "Have a seat, stranger."
Dlanor took a seat, brought out his tobacco pouch and loaded his pipe.
"What do you smoke?" the man asked. "Taplow Blue," Dlanor replied.
"That's a bit heavy for me," the other man confessed. "Polly Dodge is
about as much as I can handle."
The man blew a smoke ring and said: "I'm Barn."
"Dlanor. Come here often?"
Barn laughed heartily. "First time in town, but I will be."
Dlanor muttered the words for a simple cantrip and with a small
flash of light he lit his pipe. Barn watched the magic with interest.
"Magic sure is handy," he commented. "I wanted to be a mage when I
was younger, but didn't have the aptitude. I became a spice trader
instead."
"Ah, so you're in town for business? Where are you from?"
Barn grimaced. "Uhh... I'd rather not tell you that. The last time
I did I got into a lot of trouble."
Dlanor raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He didn't pursue the matter.
They chuckled as two bouncers got rid of a drunken sailor. Two new
customers entered and immediately attracted a small group of women
around them. Dlanor and Barn cheered with the rest as the two gave
a round of drinks.
"You see," Barn suddenly started, "I'm the head of a large trading
house and a rather public figure in my town."
"Married?"
"Arranged. Thank the Gods we didn't have kids. How do you tell your
son his parents didn't even love eachother?" The trader sighed and sipped
his ale. "Anyway, she died six weeks ago so I'm a free man again. Except
that I'm supposed to be mourning for another year. The Temple in my town
is strict in that."
Dlanor nodded sympathetically.
"Two weeks ago I was staying at a certain inn and I met this gorgeous
redhead. She serves me drinks and talks with me. First I think she's after
my money but as the evening goes on we get more intimate and she suggests
to go to my room."
"And you went along," the mage smiled.
"Who wouldn't! So we're in my room and she's all over me and we're
getting ready to do it..." Barn sighed and shook his head sadly. He drank
some more ale.
"And...?" Dlanor prompted him.
"The door bursts open and the innkeeper, a big man with bushy eyebrows
and flaming red hair... He's got his axe ready and he wants to know what
I'm doing to his little girl!"
"Ouch," Dlanor winced. "End of the evening, huh?"
Barn nodded. "He threatened to expose me to the Temple. He wanted gold
for his silence. A lot of it."
"Gods," Dlanor breathed. "He rolled you completely, didn't he?"
"Twenty-thousand crowns," Barn said unhappily. "Now she might have
been worth it, but she never returned to my room. So that's why I'd rather
not tell you where I'm from."
Dlanor watched as a tall, buxom woman approached their table. "I think
your luck is changing, Barn."
The trader finished his drink and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Nice talking to you, Dlanor," he called over his shoulder as they
went upstairs. Not long after the raven-haired girl returned and sat down
next to him. Dlanor smoked his Tablow Blue and introduced himself.
"Want something to drink?" he asked. She shook her head, her tresses
dancing on her shoulders. "Why don't we just go to my room?" she said
impatiently.
Testy, Dlanor thought.
Once in her room she wasted no time. She peeled off her flimsy dress,
revealing a nice pair of breasts, well-rounded and capped with tiny brown
nipples and areolae, a flat stomach, a pair of supple long legs and a dark
triangular patch between her thighs.
She started undressing Dlanor who let his hands roam over her shoulders
and back. Her skin was very soft and very warm. Dlanor moved to kiss her
but she turned her face. She looked almost bored. Although he was very much
aroused, he became irritated by her lack of enthusiasm.
"How much extra for a smile on that lovely face?" he asked.
The girl looked at him haughtily. "Your flagpole seems to be doing
fine without. Just cut the chatter and do what you want to do."
Now Dlanor started to get angry. He knew he was goodlooking by anybody's
standards. Throughout his studies he had managed to keep his body in shape.
He also had plenty of experience wooing and entertaining women. And yet
his charms seemed to slide off this girl like water from a rock.
"Is there something I've done wrong?" he asked slowly. "Some custom
I am unaware of..."
"It's not you," she said curtly. "I'm just having a bad night."
"Is there something I can do to improve the evening?"
She barked a short, dry laugh. "You want to talk all night?"
I paid a heap of crowns for this girl and she starts an argument, Dlanor
said to himself. There are some really weird people living here.
"I mean it. What do you want me to do that will lighten your mood?" he
persisted. She sat on the bed and crossed her arms.
"Leave. I want you to leave," she said curtly.
Dlanor considered this. He loved women, adored them and liked to think
he was a gentleman. Perhaps he should go. Get dressed, go back to his room
in the Bouncing Beholder and get some sleep. The alternative was that he
would push her back onto the bed, spread her legs and do what he wanted
to do. The way her arms pushed up her breasts made it so very tempting.
Then he made up his mind. He was not that kind of man. He had never before
needed to force himself onto a woman and was certainly not about to start
now. Even if he had paid for her.
"Alright," he said. He reached for his trousers and started to dress
himself. She watched the proceedings in stunned silence, he noticed with
satisfaction. She looked a lot better without the attitude.
"You're leaving," she stated, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"I am."
"But you paid for the entire night!" she said.
"Then you have the night off," Dlanor concluded. He tucked his shirt
back into his trousers.
"Why would you do that?" she asked again.
Dlanor sat next to her and put on his mocassins.
"To improve your evening," he repeated. He grabbed his tobacco pouch
and pipe. "I'll stay here for a few minutes so we can keep up appearances.
I'll put in a good word with your boss."
After a few moments she put her clothes back on.
"You don't look rich," she said.
"I'm not," Dlanor replied and puffed out some smoke.
"You are weird."
"So my friends tell me."
She rolled her eyes. They sat a few minutes in silence, both looking
the other way.
"The man before you," she suddenly said. "I wanted to be polite so
I asked for his name. He told me to lie back and be quiet."
Dlanor understood how that could've ticked her off. "Some of us
do respect women, even when they earn their keep on their back."
He got up and stretched.
"What are you going to do now?" she wanted to know.
Dlanor considered her question. It was still early. He could try and
find another house of pleasure... Even as he considered it he knew he
probably could no longer afford it. He'd probably eat a late snack in
an obscure inn, drink some more ale and then go back to his room.
Her dark, searching eyes on him started to weaken him. He had to
leave before he changed his mind. "Getting some fresh air," he said
noncommittally.
"Can I walk with you?" she asked, surprising him. "If you don't
want to be compromised, I understand," she added quickly. He briefly
considered bumping into one of his friends whilst walking with her.
After running a few possibilities over in his mind he decided he wouldn't
mind if that happened. At all. "You better wear something else if you
want to go outside," he told her. "It's chilly."
A few minutes later they walked down the embankment. Dlanor wondered
if she had joined him in case he changed his mind. Had she only been
interested in crowns she would've thrown him out and invited the next
customer. But here she was. They talked about the Wine Festival, the
weather and the sea.
"You can watch the sun rise from across the bay," she told him.
"I watch it as often as I can. It's the perfect end of a good night...
and it makes up for a lousy one."
"I find sunsets as satisfying as sunrises. They don't make me get
up so early." Dlanor was rewarded with a slight upturn of the corners
of her mouth. "When we're on the road I always take the first watch.
I like to sleep long and uninterrupted."
"You're an adventurer?" she asked.
"A free mage. 'Adventurer' implies I would do exciting things.
Most of the time its just tedious."
"What is it like?"
Dlanor looked at her. Her expression was different from that of
the enthusiastic adolescent who doled on 'adventurers'. It was rather
one of a student asking about the habits of a new teacher.
"Sleeping when someone else watches over you," she added.
"Oh, most of the time I sleep like an infant," he told her.
"But when we expect trouble none of us gets much sleep, whoever stands
guard."
She nodded thoughtfully. "A life of uncertainty," she added.
"Not more uncertain than that of the farmer whose crop may fail or
that of the enlisted private who may be called to war," Dlanor said,
somewhat defensively.
"Somewhat more colourful though," she teased.
He nodded and smiled at her. "It's what I'm good at."
"Is it true what they say? Adventurers slay dragons for breakfast
and have lunch with kings..." "Just rumours. I've never met any royalty
or dragon. Koriel guard me from them!"
She laughed softly. "Dragons or royalty?" she asked coyly.
"You figure it out," he chuckled. He was beginning to like her.
"I might, someday," she told him. "I'm thinking of joining the
Academy next fall. A friend of mine is teaching me to read and write
and I'm taking weapon lessons."
Dlanor stared at her in surprise. "But..." He managed to swallow
the rest of his words. She sat down on a low bench near the waterfront.
"But you're a pleasure girl?" she challenged him. "A whore?"
"Well... uh..."
"You're right. But I'm not stupid."
She patted the bench next to her. He sat down next to her, trying to
hide his embarrassment. For a while they watched the moon ripple in the
water. She put her head on his shoulder. Dlanor wondered if she'd moved
back into her routine, if his question had broken the casual atmosphere.
He found he liked the closeness, even if it was an act.
"This pretty face is temporary," she went on, bringing him out of
his thoughts. "The pay is good, most of the other girls are close friends
and I'm good at what I do. But it's not what I want to do forever."
Her hand moved over his. "I want to go places, Dlanor. Meet new people
and do... unexpected things!" Her breath came out in little puffs of
smoke as she spoke of her plans and ambitions.
She was not unlike himself, he thought. Only more calculating, planning
ahead.
"I want to see the Elven Reaches and learn the language of dwarves..."
"I learned Elvish at the Academy," he told her. "It's a lot easier to
understand the magic of their spells if you know their language. Dwarf
magic seems to involve arcane forms of Dwarfish, separate from the spoken
language."
They talked some more about dwarves and elves and people in general.
Later, when it got colder, Dlanor suggested to find a place with a warm
fire and a good kitchen. They walked towards the better part of town and
ate soup, chicken and fruit cakes in a small, quiet inn near the Eastern
Gate. Their talk got more personal as the evening progressed. She told
him her name was Keri and that she had grown up a farmer's daughter.
"I did my share of the work, always did what my parents wanted me to
do, preparing to be wed to some rich farmer's son," she told him. "I
think mom and dad gave up hope of a boy after my sister was born. Tried
to find me a good match... talked about the family line..."
"What happened then?" Dlanor asked curiously.
"During harvest I watched some harvest girls getting it on with a few
of the hired hands. They looked like they had a lot of fun and I knew I
had something to try out during the long, boring evenings after harvest."
"Wow," Dlanor managed to say. He hadn't expected her to be so frank
about those matters, even if she was a girl of pleasure.
"So one stormy evening I took one of the stable boys up in the hay loft
and seduced him," she said, smiling whistfully at the memory. "From that
moment on we spent every free minute in the hay. It was a great time. Then
at the Midwinter Fest I met some of the harvest girls again. They told me
about safe periods and getting pregnant and all that. That's when I knew
something was wrong." She was smiling still, but the sparks had left her
eyes as she related her story.
"After four months I should've been expecting three times over. So
once I knew I could never have children, I decided to run from home,
leaving my sister to carry on the family line."
A silence fell. She popped a few dades into her mouth and washed
them down with wine.
Dlanor was still digesting her story. He wondered how he would have
felt in her place. It would probably feel like being robbed of something
you never knew you had, he thought. And taking off in the middle of winter,
like a thief in the night. A childless wife was a source of embarrassment
in an environment where rich blood lines meant power and distinction for
the family.
Keri read his face and said: "Don't be sorry, Dlanor. I never got
along with children anyhow." As he still tried to form a response she
reached out and squeezed his hand, as if to comfort /him/.
"I joined a spice caravan to Carlin and stayed in inns for a while,"
she continued. "Most men were friendly to me. When they were goodlooking
I spent the night with them. It never occurred to me to ask sovereigns
for what I enjoyed doing, but a wine trader told me about places like
the Hungry Fox. He introduced me to the owner and I've been there ever
since."
Just then the innkeeper announced the final round.
"Let's walk some more," Dlanor suggested. They paid and left the inn.
By silent mutual agreement they walked north along a wide lane guarded by
tall, dark trees. Dlanor was pleasantly surprised when she held his hand.
Now we look just any other couple out on a late walk, he thought. Clever.
For a brief moment he allowed himself to pretend that they were.
His attention was drawn by a staggering figure in the distance.
Probably a drunk, the mage judged. As they were approaching the drunk,
the poor sod slipped on the tip of his robe and fell to the ground.
Dlanor sighed and helped the drunk to sit up, wincing at his breath.
Keri squatted next to them and asked: "Are you alright?"
The man clung to Dlanor and whispered: "They took her, Dlanor... They
took her..." With a shock Dlanor recognized his friend.
"Dance? Gods, what happened to you!?"
--
web: www.icce.rug.nl/remmelt/index.html
Continued in part 4. . .
Kristen's collection--------------------------------------------------