Chapter Thirty: We’re putting the band back together.
I was awake right before the morning light filled the bedroom. We were wrapped up in the black and red sheets of an enormous round bed in Titus’s apartment. He had found a loose, white cotton shirt and trunks sometime at night. I gently stroked the red stains on the fabric. He hadn’t taken a healing potion, so the scratches from last night were still pretty fresh.
He lay there breathing quietly while I got up. I had a habit of waking up early, leaving my partner sleeping while I usually snuck out. My body was aching, and I was covered in bruises. I wandered the hallway to find the kitchen, casting Heal on myself.
He didn’t waste any time last night showing me around the place. And it was much grander than I would have thought, based on the outside. The ceilings were high, with beautiful plaster trim and decorative edges that were more palace than bachelor pad. The colors were bright and cheery and seemed to glow. Display cases were everywhere, even in the hallway; knives, treasures, and souvenirs from the road were on display. The walls were adorned with tapestries, paintings, and more artifacts from his life of adventure.
The place was quiet, save for the sounds of the bustling street below. My bare feet slapped on the wooden floor as I checked door after door, looking for someplace with food.
“Oh, my!” A young dwarven girl, barely of age, stood in the kitchen as I stepped in. She was so quiet I barely heard her. She was in the middle of assembling a breakfast for two: rolls, butter, jams, coffee, and tea. Everything I could wish for after a night of whatever the fuck that was that I did with Titus Sybo.
“I’m so sorry!” she gasped. She stood with her hands up, looking at me as though I was aiming a crossbow at her. Then I realized I was stark fucking naked. Not just naked but covered in gods know what after last night.
“Oh gods!” I backed around the corner; I quickly summoned the first thing I could think of, which was my old Flock of Seagulls T-shirt. It went almost to my knees on this frame, but my breasts pressed into it, leaving little to the imagination.
“No,” I said, coming back into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“The master had left instructions,” she said with a shy smile.
“‘I’ll be done in a wee moment, then I’ll be on me way, mistress.”
I didn’t know why, but something about being called that word tugged at me. She kept her eyes down as she quickly and efficiently placed the last couple of rolls on the cart and covered the tray with a metal dome.
“I’m nobody’s mistress.” I blurted it out after a quiet moment while she worked.
She paused, looking up at me. She was tiny, even compared to my diminutive size. She had a mouselike skittishness about her that made her seem even smaller. She had curly brown hair on the top of her head, tucked into a white bonnet that matched the frilly apron she wore over a charcoal maid’s dress. It looked more like a costume. She was gorgeous, with white porcelain skin, and looked at me with large, chestnut brown eyes.
“Beggin’ yer pardon,” she bowed her head as she spoke. “Ye’re very much the mistress as long as you’re the master’s guest.”
“I guess,” I breathed, searching for the words. “Not a fan of being called that.”
“With respect,” she said and paused. “Miss, I’ve got duties to tend to. Please let me know if ye’ve any need of me.”
“Do you work downstairs?”
“No, Miss.” She smiled. “My mother used to for a time.”
“Not anymore?”
“No, Miss,” A darkness moved across her face. She seemed a little uptight, and my being here wasn’t helping her. “I’d no’ want to spoil such a bonnie mornin’ with a sad story.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry.” I stepped up to her and took her hand. “I’m not all this.” I gestured around the room with my free hand. “So please forgive my lack of decorum.”
She returned the smile—a sad kindness on her face. I don’t think Titus was a bad guy or anything, but this was about the most miserable little cutie I ever saw.
“He took me from a right awful place. The only thing he’s ever asked of me is to tend to his home. I’m the girl o’ the house.”
It was all getting a little too much, Jane Ere, for me here, the help girl that is cute as shit and the dark, brooding master. Either that, or we were shifting into Fifty Shades territory. I wasn’t jealous or anything. I mean, he could do anything he wanted. I just wasn’t keen on the idea of him keeping a little plaything captive in his house.
The plaything I could handle as long as it was consensual. But I hoped he wasn’t the type to lock her up and make her do his laundry.
“He does pay you?” I looked her in the eye. “Right? I mean, he gives you days off and all that?”
She brightened and giggled. “Aye, Miss. He lives here alone, takin’ most of his meals at the office or down the pub. It’s no’ much work keepin’ up after him.” A warm, dwarven smile stretched across her angelic face.
“You have a name, house girl?”
“Lucy, Miss.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lucy.” I shook the hand I was holding. “You can call me Regan. Miss Regan, if that’s easier for you.”
“I will, Miss Regan.”
“I’ll take the cart. I’m sure you have stuff to do or pretend to do.”
“Aye, Miss Regan.” She curtsied but then paused, the smile gone as a look of concern came across her face. “Can I ask ye a question? It might be a wee bit bold, but...” She hesitated, waiting for me to give permission.
“It’s okay.”
“Are ye all right, Miss Regan?” She tilted her head toward me as if waiting for a response that we needed to keep secret between us.
“I’m fine.” The words came out as I realized that this poor creature saw what I looked like after the night I spent with Titus. It might be part of the reason she seemed utterly terrified. “Titus and I were a bit,” I searched for the right word. “Spirited? In our lovemaking.”
“I’d hope it was just that, Miss Regan.” the little house girl found a door I hadn’t even known existed and made a hasty exit.
Titus was stirring when I came into the room. I parked the cart and slid in next to him. I hoped little house girl Lucy didn’t have to wash out the stains. I kissed him on the cheek.
It was a girl’s fantasy: taming the beast. But in reality, it’s a lot of work. He used his strength in all aspects of his life. Last night, it was no different. He gripped me with strong hands, not letting go, and I would bite his fingers. He would press his weight down on me, and I would scratch his face. He tested me constantly, overpowering me with his strength in different ways to see how I would counter him.
It reminded me of the fighting pit. I was back there, fighting a battle against an overwhelming opponent. I beat him the same way I beat Daisy the Pit Queen. I fought dirty; my hands dug deep, my nails drew blood, and my knees and feet found all the pressure points. I’d lock my legs around his throat because my hands weren’t large enough. And every time, he would tap out. And I would reward him. And then we would go again.
My mind was screaming against it. We fought, we kissed, we fucked. In between each new position, he pulled and pried my body; I would fight, and I yelled and cursed at him. It went on all night until both of us were exhausted.
When it was over, he lay, his legs and arms wrapped around me. We were exhausted, with our bodies covered in sweat, fluids, and a little blood. My body ached. My legs, arms, face, and everything were covered with bruises from our mutual abuse. I wanted to feel dirty. I wanted to say to myself that this was not a good thing. We fucked like we wanted to kill each other.
Lying in his arms, I understood something. Despite everything we did on this bed, I felt safer than I had since I came to Nya. It was quick, the way we came together. Seriously? We only met a few days ago, but here we were, tangled in each other’s arms in a bed soaked with all kinds of the wrong stuff.
I was ready to just throw everything in with him, to trust him with my life. All of this, even though he was the most terrifying person I had ever met. Maybe it was something the gods had ordained, as Titus suggested last night. This damn world. Everything about this place was just cranked to fucking eleven. I was speeding along like the fast-forward button was stuck.
“Hey,” I whispered, looking into his eyes as they fluttered open. “Anybody in there?”
He smiled up at me, his eyes warm. The mask was nowhere to be seen. He touched my face and teased my hair. “Glad we got that out of our system.”
“I don’t think we need to do that every time.” I kissed him gently as he glowed. He healed himself. The scratches on his face and chest closed up. “I think we scared Lucy.”
His eyes grew wide. For a moment, I thought he would jump out of bed. “Oh, gods.” He looked over at the cart. “You met her.”
“Yeah,” I leaned on my side. “She seems nice.”
“Her mother used to be one of the girls downstairs. She ran off with a client, and Lucy was the result. He was trouble. He was cruel. I brought her here to get her away from all that.”
I reached up and touched the scar on his face. He smiled at me, leaning into it a little. “You’ve been cruel too, haven’t you?”
“No.” His easy smile didn’t change. “I was angry. At the world, the gods, and everything in between. I may have done some bad stuff, but not like him. For me, it was part of the business.”
“You don’t regret any of it?”
“Some,” he shrugged. “Of course. Being strong means you can take. And I took anything I wanted. I was in the business of stealing. I wasn’t gentle about it. I was out to prove to everyone and everything that I was the biggest and the strongest. Getting caught up in that is easy, especially if you surround yourself with the wrong people. Have you ever heard the tenets of Granvul?”
“I know he’s the God of Domination.”
“Strength without will is but the shadow of weakness. Power is the right of those who dare to wield it, while the frail, too feeble to resist, are fated to serve. Such is the law that governs this realm and all realms beyond.”
I knew those words, but I didn’t know from where. It bothered me a bit. Maybe I must have read it at the creepy statue by the temple. “That’s a bit...much.”
“That’s one of the things I regret: believing subjugation was justified in the name of that fucking God.” He rolled away from me. “Granvul doesn’t change who or what I am. But if it weren’t for the belief, I wouldn’t have kept doing the things I did for as long as I did.”
I put my arm on his shoulder. He was so strong. I could feel the muscle beneath ripple under my touch. “Look at me.”
He turned and gave me his warm smile with cold eyes. “I reveled in it. I felt like I was a god myself.” He nodded his head to the side. “If you live long enough and are lucky enough, you can get a sense of who you are and, more importantly, who you should be. I’m not looking for redemption or forgiveness. I’m just done.”
“Done with all of it?”
“Yeah, done. But make no mistake.” he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. His words came out slowly and deliberately.
“I fucking loved it.”
“What happened?”
“One too many, I guess.” He looked into my eyes. The intensity softened, and the warmth I saw earlier looked like it might return. “All it does is leave you with a deepening hunger for more. He does that to you with his bullshit about the strong and the frail. So, either you stop or you don’t. So, I just stopped.”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about his right now.”
“You brought it up.”
“Okay,” I pushed into him and hugged him. My ear was over his heart, and I could feel it beating.
We rose and got the food Lucy had prepared for us—rolls with sweet jams and butter. The coffee was better than I was used to since being here, but it was nothing compared to what I had on earth. Titus was the tea drinker. We sat in bed and ate in silence for a while.
I rested in the crook of his arm after, watching the light on the ceiling crawl towards the far wall.
I whispered, not wanting to ruin the morning with harsh realities. “I need to go.” I had to know if Jinx and the boys were back yet, and I also needed to do something. “I have to get some exercise, and Orixalim will be out there shadowing me, I’m sure.”
“You looking to see if you can shake his tail?”
“Something like that.” I could feel a pit in my stomach starting to form. “There’s more about myself that I should tell you.”
He gave me a gentle squeeze. “You can start small if you want.”
“My real name is Regan Summer?”
“Okay.” He smiled at me. “Enough truth for the day. I figured your name wasn’t real anyway.”
“I know.” He kissed my temple. “I want your crew to come and stay here. There’re three extra rooms here, and the boys can stay downstairs.”
“If you send them down there, we may never see them again.”
“This place is safe.” He stood and helped me to my feet. “It’s a fortress.”
“Paranoid much?”
“Not enough.”
There were too many goodbye kisses and way too many eager hands roaming around our bodies to make a clean exit. I shoved him and slipped out of the room before the big guy could reel me back in for another round of last night’s crazy. I was still a wreck, but at least I could clean up in my suite at The Jester once I was there. I swapped into my basic city gear and dove into the street.
Outside was a whirlwind of mid-morning chaos. Rush hour was in full swing, with everyone hurrying to be somewhere they weren’t. The crowds pressed in, the noise surged, and I had a sinking feeling it would stay like this until the Festival of Renewal kicked off. The whole city was scrambling to tie up loose ends before everything ground to a halt.
“Regan Fucking Summer.”
Orixalim appeared less than ten feet from Titus’s door. I don’t recall hearing the telltale whoosh of his speed power, but he did take me by surprise.
I turned to look at him. “Elion Fucking Orixalim.” He wore an old, ratty, hooded green cloak with a dark tunic and boots.
He pulled the hood down and smiled. “You’ve been doing your homework.” He dramatically pulled the robe off and stored it away in his storage. “Color me impressed.”
“What the fuck do you want, Elion?”
“Shorter list if you ask what I don’t want.”
“What do you want from me? So, you go the fuck away.” He stepped up to me, hunched over, pushing into my space.
“Maybe a little something you gave the pit boss last night.”
“You’re sick.”
He inched closer. I bowed, not matching his gaze as he leered at me. No way was I gonna win this face-off by trying to stare him down with our height difference. “I mean, a fresh chicken and some nice wine,” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly call you a cheap date, but I know you could have held out for more than that.”
“I can’t believe you were watching me.” I turned my head away. Letting him creep even closer. I put my hands behind my back.
“I couldn’t watch you in the old man’s office, though.” He grinned, that evil half-smile thing he had. “What are you planning? I figure you found a way to catch Faedan?”
“Not a clue,” I said, my voice quivering. “I just need some help from somebody.”
“So, you cozy up to an old has-been.” He dropped his voice. “You know he’s washed up, a reject. He puts on his little pit fights and prances around. You need someone that can take good care of you.”
“I can’t do this on my own,” I said, letting a little desperation into my voice. “I’ve been trying, but I’m so scared. If I can’t do this, I will lose Leoleth and get exiled from the city.”
“Don’t worry about failing the quest.” His breath was hot in my ear. “I’ve spoken with the Mistress Magistrate.” He put his hand around my waist, pulling me tight. “She won’t be interested in keeping you as her own, and I can have you and the Frost Elf to myself. I will take good care of you.”
“Oh,” I whispered back at him. “You wouldn’t want that.” I summoned Sick Stick behind my back, sliding the blade lightly across his encroaching hand.
The Tilt-a-Hurl debuff activated, and he doubled over, cursing something that turned into the sound of the second coming of breakfast. I slammed my shoulder into him, throwing him back before he spewed on me and bolted. I was pretty sure he was too occupied to see me leave.
I wasn’t trying to keep him from following me, and I assumed he had people on me, but I wanted to hurt him a little. I knew killing him outright would be bad for me, as I imagined the Mistress Magistrate would not take it well.
I decided to make as quick an exit off the street as I could. I dashed around the corner of Titus’ building and sprinted down the alley. I started free-hand climbing up the side of the red stone, paused after getting about three yards up the side, and summoned my grappling hook, launching it to the roof where it secured itself. I quickly finished climbing before dismissing the rope.
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I eased over to the edge and looked down. Orixalim had just finished the debuff, a puddle of everything he had in him on the street. He had two men standing next to him, looking confused and concerned. He barked at them, and they ran off in separate directions. He glanced around, pulling a blue cape and cap out of his inventory and wrapping it around him before heading off.
What did he say? The Mistress Magistrate wanted me. Like, for what? A slave? A soldier? I thought more about the quest she made me do. If I win this, then she would want to keep me? That was not what the quest said. If I failed, then I would somehow be traded off to this asshole? How in the gods was that even possible?
I wracked my brain around our conversation in the office. There was never any mention of anything like that. She just threatened me and put me on the task she wanted to accomplish. I knew I would be in trouble if I didn’t pull it off. But I had contingencies in place. I already took care of Leoleth, and I was pretty sure that if I were willing to give a full assessment, then I would be okay.
So now, was I supposed to be traded off to a lacky like Elion Orixalim?
Words drifted into my head. Like something out of a dream. It was what Titus said to me earlier this morning, but somehow, it was in her voice:
“Strength without will is but the shadow of weakness. Power is the right of those who dare to wield it, while the frail, too feeble to resist, are fated to serve. Such is the law that governs this realm and all realms beyond.”
There were two ways I could go. I was headed to The Jester to check in and see if my friends were there yet. Or I could, just for kicks, give Orixalim a follow. Everyone and his sister knew I lived at the pub, so there was no way they wouldn’t pick up my trail there eventually.
He was stomping down the street, headed west, not toward the Central Hub where I lived. I summoned my cleric robes, which I found light, airy, and easy to move in.
This part of the Entertainment District was full of small venues like Sybo Arena, built off the street and mainly behind the rows of buildings. Following Orixalim was easy enough, as I just stuck to the rooftops. The streets were narrow enough to leap across without too much trouble.
The area was as alive as ever, like a trashy version of Vegas. Even now, in the early part of the day, I could hear cheers from the arenas below me as I ran by. On the street below, barkers called pedestrians to come in and sample the drinks and goods. Prostitutes leaned out of windows calling down. Orixalim moved past. I was happy he was bound and determined not to make eye contact with any of the neighborhood denizens; it made my job much more manageable.
I know it was the Urban Elf side of me, but I found the energy of a crowded street almost irresistible. I wanted to be down there, in the thick of it, hitting the food stalls, grabbing a drink, and maybe seeing what all the fuss was about behind the closed doors of one of those brothels.
Eight blocks after I started trailing him, the environment’s dynamic shifted. The streets were getting more expansive and the buildings shorter, so I had to slip down to the street level to keep up with him. The crowd was getting thicker. Wagon traffic was getting so congested that everything was almost at a standstill. Luckily, he bobbed up and down, making it easy to keep up with him despite my size.
I wondered why so many people were pressing through, but it became clear. In the distance, I could see The Grand Coliseum looming. The outer walls were wrapped in scaffolding as workers hung banners and flags commemorating the upcoming festival and the visit from the Empress. It was massive, at least twenty stories high; I knew it could hold almost one hundred thousand; about half of the city’s population could fit in. Grand was the word; I had to hand it to the dwarven naming convention.
There was no doubt about it. The Festival of Renewal was coming, and the city was preparing for five days of games and contests. Orixalim stomped right through the fenced staging yard where exotic beasts were kept in cages. There were as many kinds as I could imagine, and some I could only have nightmares about. Some of those things were larger than houses, with claws as long as my arm, and others covered in tentacles or teeth sharp enough to tear flesh like paper. I lost myself a couple of times, having to quicken my pace to catch up with him after catching myself gawking at everything all fantasy worldish around me.
As we got past the staging area, the crowd rapidly thinned out and headed south. The river was close, and the docks that supported the Commercial District were close. We entered an area that I had been avoiding since I got here.
As a half-urban elf, I have the compulsion to explore the city. It’s almost like a religious calling. I wanted to see every street, alley, gutter, rooftop, and sewer. But Orixalim led me to a place that I had been avoiding. It was here, hugging the docks west of the Entertainment District. He walked through a twelve-foothigh gate attached to the only other wall outside Ironstone Prime and into the city’s slave market.
For the first time since I started following him, Orixalim didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He pulled off his cap and sauntered through the crowd of spectators and, I don’t know, buyers. I wished he would push through because I didn’t feel like looking around the area. I even pulled my hood down lower over my face.
I was never a person of faith, like, no surprise there. I came from Earth, where the gods kept a low profile. But the moment I passed through that gate was the moment I lost something. I imagined it was like losing faith in God.
I understood, on an intellectual level, about slavery in the Empire. It was a punishment for crime; at least, that was how I thought it was. I guess there was an element of justice to it: pay for one’s crimes through labor or something. What I saw, I wish I could unsee.
The place was organized, I’ll give you that. Just inside, an attendant even shoved a guide sheet in my hand. Section one, the condemned. These were criminals who were serving their sentences. They were organized in cages, stripped naked, and grouped by the type of crime they committed: theft, robbery, violence, everything short of murder. Each had a placard around their neck with the length of their sentence. Most were ten or more years, and a few were for life.
I followed past Orixalim until smaller cages surrounded us, all holding two or three each, men, women, all different races, many of whom I hadn’t seen before. The illegals. This is where Leoleth was going to be sent. They all had the same sentence: one year. These people would lose their lives for a year before being sent back to where they came from.
I didn’t know about families since no kids were in the mix. I was concerned they were shuffled off somewhere awful, like Fantasy World Juvie or something. Orixalim strutted through the areas, stopping and leering at some of the women to be sold. I looked at the guide sheet, keeping my head down to avoid meeting the eyes of people looking out.
This was all I was expecting. Again, on an intellectual level, I got it. It was punishment. The area was reasonably crowded between the cages of the condemned and the illegals. But the further into the market we went, the denser the crowd got.
Another section of the market was as large as the other two combined. I looked down at the guide: Spoils of War.
Orixalim had slowed to a leisurely stroll. He examined each of the cages, containing between six and eight people. I read the description of the guide, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing:
“Seized from the Medour Kingdom campaign to the northwest, brought exclusively to Ironstone. 1,672 men and women. Each numbered lot contains individuals of like skills, age, and gender. All levels range between four and seventeen. Ages range from sixteen to seventy-six. Public bidding is for entire lots only. Secondary sales of individuals may be brokered through the marketplace sales department for a twelve percent fee.*”
*Imperial law dictates that family units with minors may not be sold as individuals.
These weren’t outlaws. None of these people did anything other than live in the wrong place. This was what was going to happen to me if I didn’t escape from the gang that abducted us on the road. I’d be thrown in a cage with a bunch of young women and sold off. But the Empire just did the same thing. Grabbing people, stripping them down, and selling them like cattle. Spoils of war, what was it about this fucking world!
A bell rang, shushing the crowd. All eyes moved to the stage area in the middle of the market. Orixalim pushed his way up as close as he could to watch. I came in behind him, standing on my tip toes.
A dwarven announcer in fine blue robes shouted into a control rod, amplifying his voice across the crowd. “Lot twenty-seven of today’s offering!”
Six females were pushed onto the stage by guards. Like all the other captured slaves, they were stripped to the waist. Their hands were chained behind their backs. The group huddled together as though they were trying to protect each other. They looked like elves, mostly. One was very short, with purple hair.
“Ages nineteen to twenty-four, levels four to six, elven maidens of various breeds.”
One of the guards pulled out a control rod and waved it at the group. At his barked command, they shuffled nervously across the stage, their eyes flickering toward the rod as though it might shoot fire at them. Two of the elves had pale, golden hair and delicate features that reminded me of Leoleth, while the others were darker in complexion with more human-like traits. Two had tight, black curls framing their faces, and the last two had emerald green hair flowing to the waist.
“The urban elf is too small,” one of the buyers muttered to his companion as I passed them. “I don’t think I could return my money on her in a year.”
I paused, my eyes drawn to her. She was small, nearly swallowed by the others when they stood together. She only became visible when one of the guards shoved her out from behind the two green-haired elves as if they had been trying to shield her. Barely over feet tall, she was shorter than me. She was so slight and vulnerable looking. The first urban elf I had ever seen besides myself. The look of her eyes was beyond fear. It was resignation.
The two buyers were rough-looking despite their fine clothing. Each wore an elaborate hat. The man who’d spoken wore a black doublet and tights, while his companion wore red silk robes.
“You could probably still get a good price selling her off, even
if you can’t use her,” the robed man said. “I’d be interested in taking her for a ride before you do.”
The man in the doublet chuckled. “I need more clients like you.” He squinted up at the stage. “We could split this lot if you want.”
“And leave me with the short one?” His friend laughed. “No thanks.”
“I only need two,” the first man said. “Everyone loves elves.
I’ll give you first pick of the lot, and I’ll take the little one.”
“First pick?” The robed man grinned. “Done.”
I clenched my jaw and pushed through the crowd, my focus snapping back to Orixalim. He was already moving off to the side of the stage, disappearing to the left.
“Bidding starts at twenty!” the announcer boomed. “Do I have twenty?”
Around fifty bidders raised control rods into the air as the auction began.
Thank the gods, Orixalim moved out of the market. A gate behind the stage let us out and onto the street. The market bumped against the small industrial area adjacent to the Temple District. I followed him, and he put his head down and started marching again, maybe trying to make up time for his lollygagging.
We moved into the Temple District and the usual street chaos that was always there. He strutted through the narrow streets lined with vendors, beggars, and statues. I should have known where he was going. The Temple of Granvul, God of Domination, that’s where the bastard would be going, of course.
It was a vast building. The black marble walls were trimmed in blood-red stone. There were twin spires on the top, with a Gothic-style cathedral between them. In front, towering at least fifteen feet, was the visage of Granvul himself. He wore a black, hooded robe with a similar red trim as the building. Strangely enough, he was posed almost exactly like Amania, his head bowed to the street and his hands stretched out, welcoming all to enter.
Orixalim had gone in, and I stood in front, looking at the door he had just entered. I could feel a draw like a pull in the center of my chest. There was a longing in me to go into the temple. It was the same feeling I had on the rooftop, looking at the street and wanting to be down there. I wanted to go in. There was no reason for it. At least, nothing that made any sense to me.
I gazed up at the face of Granvul. While his cloak and overall form seemed sinister, the face was kind. There was a sort of, I don’t know, warmness about him. Then I realized something. The face and eyes moved. The chest raised and lowered as though taking in breaths. The statue was alive and just standing there, looking down at us. The eyes fixed on me, and the smile broadened. He looked like he was on the verge of speaking.
I took a step forward, hesitant, like when Theresa Hamm dared me to sneak into the creepy old guy’s yard to retrieve a ball. My instincts warred within me. I wanted to go inside the building, and at the same time, I didn’t.
The face on the statue seemed to follow me as I took another step and then another.
Suddenly, its expression changed. The smile vanished, and the god shook its head at me.
The pull to enter the building evaporated in an instant, leaving me frozen. I stepped back, my heart racing.
I glanced away, trying to steady myself, but when I looked back, the statue was just a statue again. There was no sign of life.
My insides twisted into knots as I hurried east, moving as quickly as possible without drawing attention. What the fuck was it about the gods in this world?
I found a cab as soon as I crossed Circle Boulevard and entered the Capital District and settled in for my trip to The Crying Jester.
So, Regan, what did we learn? I asked myself as we started rolling down the street. Orixalim worships Granvul. The Magistrate probably does too. It wasn’t much of a stretch to put the two together. I wondered about whether a person in government should be allowed to follow a God who wants you to take over stuff.
Of course, the Empire is way more fucked up than I thought
it was, with all the slaves that I didn’t even realize were around me. Where the were they anyway? I needed to ask Jinx about that when I got together with him.
Regan: Hey, Boss?
Unnamed: Ah, Regan! Yes, yes, hello. Kind of... mmm, mid-project here, Little Champion. Could we keep it brisk?
Regan: Do you and Granvul get along? Like, are you two good?
Unnamed: Granvul, oh, yes. Him. Well, he’s... Let’s say, a taker. Me? I’m more of a giver. So, we’re not exactly enemies, no, but there’s, uh, a complexity to the dynamic. Layers.
Regan: Right. I ask because his people keep showing up in my life, and it’s got me wondering how much I should worry.
Unnamed: Oh, absolutely, worry. Yes, worry. But also, you know, don’t? Hard to explain. We gods, Regan, we’re... Quirky. Eccentric. Chaotic, even. And the people who follow us? Oh, they can really run with it.
Be careful. Play smart. Chat later. Bye!
Uh…good talk, Dad.
In the middle of the morning, I felt like it was midnight. I was getting so sick of being perpetually exhausted from the dayto-day. The carriage rolled up to The Crying Jester, and I eased out on the street. Weeks of Go! Go! Go! I didn’t know how to stop. Assuming I wasn’t killed, enslaved, exiled, or having to hit the road as a fugitive, I would still be fighting to stay alive in some way. That’s how it felt, at least. Other people seem to live semi-normal lives in Murder World. I could see what Heather meant by paying a price for levels. That was the weariness I felt when I opened the door to the tavern.
“GEM!” I cried, leaping into the crowded inn, scaring the hells out of the old dwarven couple seated at a window by the door. The weariness was gone, along with the exhaustion and dark thoughts.
She was sitting at a booth with the boys, as gorgeous as ever.
Her doe-like eyes locked on me, and she had a massive smile. I scrambled up to her, slipping onto her lap at the table. Thank the gods, she wasn’t seated in the middle of the bench.
I kissed her, pressing myself into her like I was trying to merge our bodies together. I missed her taste. I missed the musky, animal smell of her body and the feeling of her strong arms holding me. She pulled me tight, her dark arms almost enveloping me. Her weird, animal tongue probed me as we pressed our mouths together. I loved it. Above everything else, I needed this. I needed her.
“Well,” she said when we came up for air. Her eyes narrowed with a lustful look. “Someone’s been busy.”
There was an awkward silence around the table. The boys were there: Jinx, Eric, and Kev. They all looked weary from travel. Heather and Leoleth were at the table, too. I wasn’t sure how long I was kissing Gem, but their conversation was pretty much over.
“Hey, boys,” I said coyly, my arms still around Gem’s neck.
“Good to see you.”
Kev spoke up first. “Where’s my kiss?”
Heather and Leoleth had filled them in on the basic goings-on. They were up to speed on all the blackmail, the murder, and Titus. They left out the details of the Unnamed God and all my death church stuff, but I was going to tell them. These were the only people I trusted, except for Titus.
It seemed Gem had joined the party on the road and wanted to surprise me. Color me surprised.
“I’m in,” Jinx said after I told him the rest. “We nab the guard, grab the treasure, an’ sort the rest after, yeah?”
“The Granvul thing is a bit disconcerting,” Kev said.
“Yeah,” Jinx chimed in, “They’ve got magic in that church, they ‘ave—the kind wot messes wiv yer mind an’ body.”
“We could still run,” Gem said. “If we booked it out of the city at full speed, you could get clear.”
“Then what?” I asked. I was still on her lap. I loved sitting on her lap. “If there is some dark secret evil plot that she is hatching with the thing, and we can somehow stop it, shouldn’t we try to?”
Eric chimed in for the first time. “You don’t owe this world anything.”
“Maybe I don’t. I’m not even sure I want to stay in the Empire after seeing what I saw today, but I don’t want to be responsible for things getting any worse than they already are. Amania said three gods are involved in this.”
“And I am tasked with helping her,” Heather said. She spoke with a weariness to her. I looked at her face, and she looked a little sad. “We need to bring the necklace to the temple.”
“I’m in.” Eric grinned. “I honestly don’t get most of this shit. But my talents are wasted on just doing ordinary stuff. You want the sharpest blade and the most dashing bastard you ever met on
this? Then my fair elf, I’m your man.”
Kev smiled. “You know I’m with you.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Gem kissed me. “I can’t wait to see what you can do now.”
“Great.” I smiled at everyone. “We’re putting the band back together. I love you all so much.” I wasn’t lying. I looked from face to face at the table. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you have all been in my life since I arrived. There’s the family you’re born with and the family you choose. Thank you.”
“We’re going to go fuck now,” Gem announced to the group. She stood, sweeping me up in her arms.
Yeah, we did just that. Less than a minute and a half after her announcement, we were in the suite in my room. Our bodies were entwined like never before. Either she missed the fuck out of me, or she wanted to remind me of how amazing she was.
Gem was not gentle when we were in bed together, but she was kind. She pushed my arms behind my back and kissed me, keeping me immobilized while she had her way. She wrapped her legs around my neck, grinding into my welcoming mouth, pulling pleasure out of us both as I was pressed down into the bare patch between her legs. Days on the road ripened her scent, filling my entire body as I breathed her in.
I took it all. I was electrified with every lick of my tongue, every thrust of her hips as she crammed herself on me. Her tail flicked on my back as we came up for air, like an electric whip that would get me frenzied, wanting more from her body.
Then she would devour me like a beast. Her animal tongue licked my insides with supernatural precision and depth, teasing every bit of pleasure out of me as she brought me to orgasm again and again.
It was quick, it was dirty. It was smelly and amazing. She focused everything on me. She knew how to make me cum. And then we would shift, and she made me please her.
“Tell me about him.”
We were done, exhausted, and coming down off the high of our mutual pleasure. The residuals of our lovemaking were still fresh. The throbbing between my legs was gently subsiding, and her taste was still fresh in my mouth. I lay in the crook of her arm, and she gently stroked my breast.
“He’s kind of amazing, I guess.”
I didn’t want to talk about Titus in our bed. But she deserved to know about him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about having two lovers, but that seemed to be a thing with me.
“I can smell him on you.”
I let my hand drift between her thighs. She was furry from the waist down, except for a few inches on the inside of her loins right below her sex. It was my favorite part of her body to touch.
The skin was smooth and soft.
“I love you,” I whispered.
She shifted, her eyes on me. “I love you too.”
“This shit is kind of complicated, I guess.”
“Why?” She smiled. “There’s plenty of room in your heart. I don’t expect you to love just one person.”
I could feel a wave of relief washing over me. I hadn’t thought much about relationship stuff before Gem arrived back in town. I lived my entire life in self-imposed isolation. It was who I was. Life didn’t really start until I came to this crazy place. The intensity of this world just bombards you, and you want to just live every gods damned day.
Here I was, bedding down with two different people, but not cheating on anybody. It seemed natural. I wanted her. I wanted him. Fuck all, I wanted everything. Murder World be dammed, I was going to have it. Every day I lived here, could be my last. There were going to be no more compromises.
“I don’t love him.” I just blurted it out. “I just met him a few days ago, but it came on hard and fast. I don’t know why.”
“Watch that shit.”
“I know, but I needed his help at first. The sex part just happened.”
“Do you want to share a bed with us both?”
“No.” It was an easy answer. “We experimented early on,” I smiled, the memory of that freaked-out look Eric had when I invited her into bed with us. “But I don’t want to share you with anybody.”
“Nobody?”
“I mean, not at the same time. When we’re together, I want it to be just us.”
“No threesomes in your future?”
“I’m a selfish bitch.”
That was part of it, but I could also imagine the war zone the bed would be if I brought those two together. I needed Gem to control me. I loved the way she took charge. But I couldn’t deal with Titus if I let him run the show. I needed to be in control of him. Fuck a duck, that shit was complicated. I wasn’t even sure if there was a psychological explanation to describe the dynamics.
“Can we trust him?”
“That’s the thing. I do. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m just a little rogue in the big city.” I sighed. “I’m a horny little half-elf that may have some impulse control issues.”
She laughed as I gritted my teeth in annoyance. “You think you’re lusty? Look who you’re talking to. Besides, that’s just a stereotype.”
I let my finger drift between her legs. She gasped a little as I did. “I’m plenty lusty.” I crawled up on top of her and kissed her, nibbling on her lip as I did before sliding down her body. “I’m just very particular.”
Ninety minutes later, I said goodbye to a very distraught-looking Yarnorra. I slid a decent amount of gold across the counter and explained that we would be keeping the rooms but wouldn’t return before The Festival’s end.
She looked at Gem with a bit of wariness. The dwarf woman was insufferable. She turned her beautiful green eyes on me.
“Don’t be gone too long.” She said quietly. “I…I’m…”
She started to say something, but Gem pulled my body against her, squeezing me tight like I was a toy she didn’t want to share.
“Yes,” Gem said. “I’m sure you are.”
I liked it. She owned me, at least a bit. I liked me a strong woman.
“You need to hit that.” She whispered to me, nibbling my little pointed elf ear. Then we left.
The End: Little Rogue (In the Big City)