Ch: 165 Steam

The sweet sounds of music drew Gary’s ear, while the family was enjoying a day out in the garden. He followed it down to the embankment, overlooking the river and his moorings. Down on the pier, duchess Sheng was playing his dizi, with and against, a vaguely familiar man and his remarkable bone flute, sassy red tassel swaying.

Gary barely remembered the old man, but that flute… “Barney? The fisherman, from Port Clement…?”

He looked around for a fishing boat or other small craft, it was just Esperanza, rigged and heading out downstream in the morning sun, the big yacht, ‘Tastes The Golden Spray’ and that slim, sharp prowed dagger Julius had sailed up on, ‘Kingfisher’, moored down there with ‘Seahorse’.

He strolled down to check out the jam sesh, just ‘cause he was curious and had not much else going on.

The old fisherman and the duchess both nodded as he approached and drew out his big bass recorder. In a few moments he was playing along, down low, lifting them up, musically speaking.

The noisy trio spent a good while wandering the musical landscape, down by the water on a cool spring morning. They finally wound down, when Barney noticed the Buzby Berkely thing the waterfowl had going on in the basin behind them.

Ducks, geese, swans and coots were all paddling and dabbling together, in elaborate swirling and circling, geometric patterns. Perhaps they were simply following the small fish and insects, who were following the music.

All tangled up in the sweet melodies and his wandering grasping gifts, they swam and dabbled, tail feathers in the air, or spinning in place and diving in turns. The birds performed their extravagant display of synchronized swimming for the watchers on both banks, and the rails of the barge, drawn by the music and strange aquatic display.

Becky’s harp joined in, just as things were closing out, pulling them along for one last number. Sweet and bouncy, she called Amy over irresistibly, lifting her sweet soaring voice in harmony with Becky’s.

No gal made has got a shade, on Sweet, Georgia Brown!

Two left feet, but oh, so neat has, Sweet, Georgia Brown!

They all sigh and wanna die, for Sweet, Georgia Brown,

I'll tell you just why, you know I don't lie *not much*!.

All those tips the porter slips to Sweet, Georgia Brown,

They buy clothes at fashion shows for one, dollar down.

Fellas, won'tcha tip your hats. Oh boy, ain't she the cats?

Who's that mister, tain't her sister,

It's Sweet, Georgia Brown…

“Oh my, that was fun!” Grace cheered, with Amy nestled in the skirts of her midnight blue robe, sprinkled with silvery, jasmine blossom stars here and there.

“I simply must have a new flute… name your price, Gary.”

“That one is for old Lubu, the guild trainer in Port Clement… I’ll make one just for you today… I have a new crop of iron bamboo that just finished seasoning.” He turned to the old sailor with a smile.

“Barney, right? You sold my lady some fishing gear… welcome. Do you need a place to stay?”

“I’m bunking on sweet Kingfisher, town be full right up.” The old man said with a grin. “The captain should stay near his vessel, lest his lordship needs he take a pleasure cruise, with some fair damsel…” He said with a rather saucy wink at the duchess, who giggled and blushed prettily.

“I thought this was Jules’ boat… are you his captain?” Gary asked, fully amused by the old salt.

“Kingfisher be mine, but his lordship wished to move swiftly…” He eyed the massive, wide bulk of ‘Golden Spray’ with disappointment.

A good half dozen sailors still stood at the rail, listening to the music, they drifted back to their duties as the jam sesh became a chin wag.

Amy too, she got bored when the song wrapped and scooted off to find trouble in the garden.

Gary grinned at the old man. “That’s our place up there, be welcome here or there, as you wish, buddy. Shai is in town right now, but I’ll tell her you’re here. Do come up and visit the hot springs though, very soothing.”

“Been there when we got in, I got nabbed by a pair of mad old cultivators… now I have homework… I’m eighty-two years old, damn them!” He complained.

As if summoned by a magic spell, Otho and Naiomi came strolling down the stone steps to the pier, smiling widely and looking like models for an old people dating agency commercial.

“Barney, how goes your homework? Oh, duchess Grace, how delightful!” He nodded to Naiomi with a chuckle. “My young protege has finally ranked up, or so I hear…”

“Uhh yeah, yesterday morning…” Gary began, while Otho brushed past him and gushed over Barney.

“Copper rank at last… You will feel a rush of vigor and energy over the next few days…” Otho enthused. “Exercise and physical movement will consolidate those gains, young man… Come, let’s be off to the skate park… Cultivation is a journey!”

That trio swanned off together, the ancients dragging the elderly man along, like parents towing a distracted toddler in the market.

“Ok…” Gary said, when he and the duchess were left standing there with Becky. “I’m gonna go make a flute… Duchess, if you want to help, come along to the workshop. Lubu won’t mind if you keep that til yours is ready.”

He smiled in a mad, crooked way that felt warmly alien and comfortingly terrifying.

“We smashed a moondrinker dragonfly last week, its wing will make a fine membrane for yours… I finally got some woolcrab chitin shellac…”

“Ohh, a moondrinker…” She sighed. “They are so beautiful, but so destructive. You use their wings? How interesting, you mentioned monster parts last night…”

“I swear… monster harvesting is just basic… you guys have been leaving money on the table for generations. It goes way beyond monster meat and leather.” Gary grumbled gently.

“Monster parts are steeped in magic. So are certain minerals and most plant and animal products. The key to enchanting is using those parts where they resonate and contribute to the song…”

He lectured on and on, while Becky and the duchess stood very still, until he had vanished into the house.

“Did you do that, High Priestess Becky?” Duchess Sheg asked carefully, as the madman wandered off, instructing two misty, half formed, nearly invisible shadows, that were vaguely shaped like the two women.

“Yeah… Just Becky please, your grace. I was pretty interested, cause he is a truly gifted enchanter, but you would probably rather be elsewhere.” Becky said with a sad smile.

“He’s gonna be a little miffed when my spell wears off. It only works on him ‘cause he trusts me completely, the big goof.”

“Truth be told, Becky… I am fascinated and would like to listen. Can we rejoin him please? Trade and defense are a lord’s duties and this knowledge touches on both.” Grace said softly.

“I would also rather you did not hurt someone’s feelings that way, just for my entertainment.” She became a little crisp in her speech at the end there, as she bustled Becky after the rambling lunatic

“Yes, your grace…” The girl blushed and looked abashed, turning the most adorable shade of plum at her cheeks.

“Just Grace, Becky. Hurry, we missed something about bug venom glands…” She tugged her small companion along, while she held that lovely flute in her other hand.

Lubu’s baton, enchanted flute, instructional tool, etheric and spiritual enchantments. Quality: Rare, Rank: Iron.

When played by a skilled instructor, non hostile entities may be Entrained* by the musician’s will. Entrained entities will synchronize and act in concert. Benefits and bonuses to teamwork and cooperative activities.

This effect ends if hostilities commence, this instrument cannot be used in combat.

*Entrainment: Principles of magic:

Entrainment is one of the fundamental magical laws, bringing order from chaos through synchrony and harmony. Consult a wizard for additional details.

#

Two women emerged from the Weaver’s and Lace Tatter’s Guild, into the mid day sun, giggling and blushing. One was tall and red haired, clad in green and brown with glinting, chiming bells at her hips; the other small and pale, dressed in all the colors of flames and embers, her dark hair drifting like smoke as she danced.

Heads turned at the jingling, unconscious music that followed the passage of the most compelling and beautiful girl around.

Cups paused midway to the drinker’s lips, tradesmen paused in their work and shoppers forgot their lists as she passed, in a sweet cloud of springtime’s own flaring passions. Nearly all the men and most of the women found themselves tracking her passage with rapt attention. Together they skipped and danced, nearly oblivious to the scene spreading around them.

A prosperous wool merchant stepped off a curb, smiling inanely at the pair and landed face first in the cobbles, with a loud grunt of surprise and pain.

Nearby, an apprentice roofer slipped from the roof he was repairing, smiling at the girls as he fell, all the way down. He landed softly and rose unharmed, but goodwife Madge Hinkel’s geraniums did not fare as well.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Two shoppers wound up with their baskets entangled, circling each other distractedly as they tried to figure out whose groceries were whose, without losing track of those girls.

They passed on to the next block, moving at a quick skipping walk. As they passed on, so did the music, carrying with it, the strange effect.

Master Gervis of the Woolsman’s Guild of Textile Traders dusted himself off, tidied his bruised and battered face as best he could and carried on, only slightly embarrassed and mildly injured by his pratfall.

“Shai… what’s this feeling?” Angie asked, unsettled by a sensation of unfamiliar pressure.

“Tis ‘Spider Sense’ as Jennah do call it, ye kin sense the gaze of those who may be watching thee, fer good or ill. Ye shall learn tae tell the savor of different gazes, an some little time passes…” She answered softly.

“Savor…?” She muttered to herself. “Like the intent behind the glance?” She asked with delight.

“Aye, just so, tis nae infallible, but tis useful, an fun.” Shai answered with a musical chiming twirl. “This be the gaze of desire an interest, fer I did forget that me boy is a fool, an a man as well.” She sang.

Yer leg be pretty an fine…

That skirt does show thy calves,

Ever so very nicely…

She danced and chimed, while Angie blushed at the tall woman’s antics. With another singing twirl, a violin appeared in her hands, carrying the music farther and higher.

My man hae wrought yer leg,

An he be a fair bit naughty…

yer well turned calves

an bonny fine ankle

Turns they head of a man

Whether tradesman, ‘prentice,

Or lord so haughty!

Their dancing passage through the market ward resulted in dropped loaves, fumbled groceries and ill considered, distracted bargains, as Shai kept gleefully leading her on.

Wi just a little music an magic,

An some bright colored fabric,

All the boys sigh, an look so tragic…

Gary met them at the gate, swooping his woman up in a spinning hug, when Shai’s extemporaneous girl power song wound down.

“Can we keep duchess Grace? I like her a lot.” Her fool gabbled.

Angie blushed even more furiously when the music stopped and she realized that most of the male population of the town and a fair number of the women, had been watching their dancing passage.

Shai giggled and pinched her boy’s bottom, right there in the garden, in front of everyone, driving even more blood into the shy girl’s face. Angie tried to vanish, but got swept along in their spectacle, as Becky grabbed her hand and pulled her into the messy little family.

“I warned thee ye could nae form a ‘harem’, boy.” Shai sang happily, dangling from his neck as though she were not also enormous.

“There’s no coincidence, I’m always surrounded by beautiful women for a reason…” He answered smugly.

“At a certain point, my natural charm and wit should achieve critical mass…” He said, as he tenderly blotted his woman’s glistening brow with a soft flannel cloth, which he folded up, wrapped in waxed paper and tucked in his pocket, for some reason.

“Fie boy, I’ll bury thee deep that fine day, an shed a single tear… tae water the flowers on yer grave.” She answered, while nuzzling his throat and purring happily.

“Now tell sweet Angie, why all the boys of the town do now contemplate the curve of her calves an the angle of her ankles.” She said firmly, while still very aggressively snuggling her man in a highly inappropriate way, right there by the garden gate.

“Duchess Sheng just spent the morning learning all about it… If you would please, your grace, I’ll serve the tea, while the lovely ladies chat.” He pressed them into a perfect little nook, with a stone table and benches, arranged for informal dining. Under a pleasant rose arbor that was just budding into tiny pink blossoms, he began a comfort offensive. Cushions and throws seemed to tumble out in his wake, creating an idyllic little paradise among the roses.

“There are some terms in my notes I may need clarification on…” Grace called as he vanished among the fruit trees.

“You’ll be fine, be right back…” He answered from somewhere among the verdure.

The fool boy did come back, but he kept puttering around, pulling a tea service and a steaming samovar from nowhere. A simple worktable appeared when they looked away for a moment, distracted by a rush of very well coordinated birdsong.

He began peeling and slicing fruit, with quick, dexterous moves, singing softly along with the birds.

…Sweet, Georgia Brown…

As the boy served sliced fruit and sweet bread with tea, the duchess tried her best.

“The wood he made your leg from is magical, harvested from a plum dryad. Under normal use, it has a natural boost to your own aura’s charisma and attractiveness… to potential partners.” She blushed and shot Gary a furious and strangely fond glare.

“This effect is reciprocal and will influence you as well. Let’s just say you will be very popular, going forward. You can negate this effect by simply covering your leg…” She glared at Gary again. “Really… You insist I call it that?” She demanded.

“Yup. it’s magic, gotta use the proper terminology if you want a good result.” He answered smugly, while slicing a muskmelon into thin curls, for wrapping around tiny bits of salty cheese.

The duchess sighed and resumed her talk. “...He calls it ‘The Pants Prescription’...” Grace said sourly. “When music is added to the mix… ‘Things Get Frisky’.” The duchess blushed again, when the two young women giggled.

She turned back to the smiling fruit dispenser. “Really Gary, are all these ‘terms of art’ truly needed? I feel quite foolish.”

“Essential…” He replied, as a grenadier pear surrendered its scaly rind in one smooth coil, under his bronze blade. Cut into fanciful shapes, chopped or crushed over small squares of toasted cake, the boy kept sweet, honey glazed things coming their way.

“As a result, your antics in town have created a…” Her glare flicked his way again, but landed on a plate of small fritters, dripping with honey and sprinkled with crushed nuts and shaved chocolate. “...a ‘trouser tentpole situation’ all over town.” She said, as she seized a morsel and gave a soft moan of delight.

Once she had licked the chocolate and sweet sticky residue from the ducal fingers and dabbed them on warm, damp towels scented with some exotic herb, provided by the boy, she continued.

“Dancing through the town like that…” She took a firm and disapproving stance, waggling a stern finger at them. “...‘You should both be ashamed of yourselves’…”

Grace cast off her disapproval with a wink. “That part was his. I say, you girls do what you will.” She sniffed at him.

“Boys need to learn that women need not walk small, simply because some of you have not learned self control.”

She sobered and addressed the young women firmly, over their steaming teacups in the sunshine. “Though, this is Wheatford, not Fort Pasture or some hinterland, or fringe town. Discretion is often a better choice than confrontation, in places and times less… civil.”

They nodded together grimly and glared anew, at the only male in range. He defended himself with tall glasses of water, filled with balls of frozen, honeyed melon and sprigs of fresh mint. They allowed him to remain on the strength of that offering.

#

Orlando was unsure about his new comrades. Cameron wore a hooded robe and veil, with long gloves at all times. He had yet to hear the man speak, if there was a man under that robe, it could be a woman or a walking thornbush for all he knew. At very prickly thornbush most likely.

Wilkes was glib and chatty, but after a long conversation with the man, Orlando came to the slow realization that he had been thoroughly interrogated, but had learnt nothing in return.

Wendel was quiet and dour, speaking little. His left arm ended at a leather capped stump just after the elbow and the man rubbed at the stub constantly, as though irritated by some sensation.

Of the duchess, he had seen no sign. His orders were to wait in barracks until summoned by her grace, so wait he did. The other warriors came and went, while he sat and worked on his gear.

Those kids had done a splendid job on all his equipment while he stayed with them, his armor and sword were both freshly polished and well maintained, so he honed an already keen edge, just to have a familiar task to do...

“Do you read?” The hooded man asked softly, over the gentle susurrus of his oilstone.

“No, I don’t, sorry.” Orlando answered, surprised to be addressed, after sitting on his bunk for hours.

“Music?” The man asked hoarsely.

“No, I don’t play… though I have been considering buying a shamisen… there is an instrument maker in this town… I met him, odd fellow, but very nice. Quite mad, I think it’s the fumes from the varnish…” Orlando blushed and fell silent when he realized he was babbling.

“Sorry, I’m nervous. I never thought the Toy Collector would buy me…”

The cloaked form stiffened. “We don’t speak of her grace that way, not ever.” He turned silently and drifted away, like a ghost from a children’s story.

“Aww, shit.” The young horseman mumbled quietly.

#

They had a quiet bath, all the ladies together with Shai in the private pool, among Tawny’s armada of bobbing swollen bellies.

“Tis an afternoon tradition, frae third bell tae fourth, Tawny hae arranged this, tae her credit.” Shai explained quietly.

“Tis healthful, bathing in hot springs…”

Poor Gary was relegated to the role of bath attendant, fetching and carrying, helping with robes and generally being slightly more helpful than annoying. His limitless supply of tea and snacks went a long way towards winning the approval of the prenatal navy.

A big tray of ice cold, sliced fruit vanished quickly, followed by iced berry tisanes, sweetened with honey.

“Congratulations Shai, you’ve nearly housebroken him.” Jane Othan said sweetly from the pool, her swollen tummy hid her face until she drifted around to speak.

“Mistress Jane, yer time must be near!” Shai chattered on about some trifling matters, while Gary tried hard to remember where he had seen the mature, pretty redheaded woman before. She kept smiling at him like she knew him…

“Oh yes, certainly you carry a boy, conceived just after midsummer, you could give birth any day my dear.” Patel murmured happily, as he caressed her belly. He roamed the pool like an aquatic melon farmer, rubbing tummies and pronouncing his findings…

“Good to see you again, priest Patel.” Gary said as he handed him a sandwich and a mug of tea… up on the lawn beside the pool. He turned around and looked in the pool, there was Patel, still in his melon patch.

Gary turned back around… there was Patel, eating a wblt sandwich. Wallowbear bacon, lettuce and tomato was a winner, but he was distracted by more than the sandwich.

“Patel…” Gary began.

“I’m Manju Patel, he’s Gurman Patel, we are twins.” He said carefully. “We also share a single gestalt mind, so speaking to one of us is speaking to both of us.” He spoke slowly, as though to a child, smiling blandly.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, I know, it’s a lot to take in… why are you smiling that way?”

“Bro, we share a few flavors of weird… I knew I liked you… guys?” Gary grinned at the older man, who shrugged.

“Whatever works for you, this is usually much more difficult, thank you.” Patel said happily.

“I would love to hear your story bros, we gotta hang out sometime.” The madman said cheerily as he headed for the kitchen, whistling.

#

A rap came at the barracks door, Orlando opened it, out of sheer boredom and found a ten year old girl with a bright red sash waiting for him. “Message for duchess Sheng’s escort! I’m a ducal messenger!” She chirped happily, before running away, leaving a small scroll in his hand.

“I don’t read…” He muttered to the empty hall.

“I do.” Cameron said, from the shadows. The man had been there all along, sitting so still he seemed to vanish from reality.

“Gahh!” Orlando replied, no doubt impressing his new comrade with his wit and cleverness.

“We are summoned, all of us, to some inn by the waterside, across the river. We are to meet there at third bell tomorrow and are at liberty until then.” He read calmly.

“Do you know this place?” The hooded man rasped.

“Yes, they are a smith and an instrument maker, both Adventurers… volunteer Adventurers, freelance, if you believe. He’s a pre-indenture orphan… She’s formally adopted, but both are members of the Orphan’s League.” He fell silent, realizing he was babbling again.

“Go on.” The hooded man croaked. “Tell me more.”

“Well, they escorted Tawny of Healer to aid my injured comrades… there was this crazy, mutant trapjaw…” He stammered. “Let me try again…”

#

Shai was enjoying his performance, so Gary started putting on airs. He conjured a butler’s uniform around himself, while no one was looking and created a tastefully screened changing area, where he could discreetly be of assistance.

That long tv series about rich english people and their servants was really paying off.

After plying them with snacks and beverages all afternoon, he was exhausted, but Shai was having too much fun. She giggled when he humbly averted his eyes as the ladies moved about. He held up robes and assisted with sashes in perfect decorum and with excellent manners; so unlike his usual foolishness.

As hostess, Shai was last to dress after the others had followed Tawny out to the taproom. She demurely slipped behind the paper screens to dry off with the fluffy, warmed and scented towels he provided.

“I do like this side of thee, boy.” She said smugly, as she stepped out into view. She stood there, wearing only her underthings, arms held out to her sides, in silent demand that he dress her. And what underthings they were…

This was none of his craft… He kept the things he made for Shai very tactile and sensual, all slick satin and plush velvet. Sexy, but sensible… This was a confection prepared for him by someone who was very naughty. But whom?

He blushed furiously, as she stood there in the empty private bath, just the two of them.

She smiled and took a slow spin, still holding her arms out, while twining them sensually around her body in a sinuous dance. She wore a light froth of white lace, concealing most of his favorite things, while leaving a select few bare to his heated gaze.

Her panties were cut so high and made of so little, they teased him with constant hints and glimpses.

The top was a wide band of lace, snowy white against her pale tummy. The fabric strained against some very sheer and almost inadequate reinforcement. It barely restrained her bounciest parts, the way they jiggled and shifted, as if seconds from escaping… it was making him sweat, just a bit. That tempting garment laced closed at the sides, exposing enough sideboob to be super distracting, someone knew what made him tick.

“Are ye gonna stare, or dress me, boy?” She demanded. “Go on, ye must wrap yer own gift, an ye must unwrap it tonight, an ye are a good boy, as ye hae been.”

She teased him with caresses and kisses, as he worked to dress her, despite her constant gentle dance.

When she was properly attired, she turned and kissed him once more.

Unlike her usual clothes, most of which had been sewn by him, she had him dress her in a smooth, flowing summer dress of thin white cotton, it drifted and clung in all the right places and set off her sparkling silver and bronze chimes, drawing even more attention to those magical hips.

“Ye ken whae be under these clothes… think on that as the evening goes, boy.” She nipped his jaw just a little and nuzzled his throat fiercely.

“Aye, an ye be good boy tae the end… tis surely the big spoon fer thee.”

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