MAGE 11
By Heck



Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"IT WAS AMAZING!"

Looking down the length of the big table, Brenhya's strong teeth sank deeply
into a succulent chicken breast. This was the first night in the king's
temporary accommodation, and the first time Chthord and she had been able to
be entirely alone since her arrival. The house was small, by royal standards,
and was built in the steep-roofed, low-walled style typical of the country. It
comprised one main room, a separate kitchen, and a substantial wooden stairway
leading to a raised mezzanine sleeping area. A cheery fire blazing in the
central hearth, its smoke curling up to escape through a small hole in the
apex, provided the only lighting and threw dancing shadows into the farthest
recesses.

Chthord smiled back at her as he put down his pewter wine goblet. "In what
way?"

"Just being there. On the hunt. Watching her move, seeing her stalk her prey".
Brenhya's brilliant green eyes glittered, excited by the memory. "So
efficient. Such grace and power. I was impressed".

"Wow". Chthord gave a small laugh. "It must have been really something to have
impressed even you".

Brenhya raised an ironic eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment". She took a
long pull at her sweet red wine. They were half way through their second
flagon, and she was feeling slightly light headed. "And when I rode ahead to
turn the herd, actually got involved in the hunt. Goddess, Chthord, I rarely
felt so alive! I'm still buzzing now!"

She refrained from mentioning her own blood lust. It was something she
preferred not to remember.

"Hunting always exhilarates me, too", the king said. "I imagine hunting with a
tigress would take it to another level".

"You have no idea". She cast about for another morsel, selecting a glistening
finger of green. "I never know whether these are courgettes or zucchinis".

"Its interchangeable. Depends where you come from. We call them courgettes,
round here".

"My mother called them that, but at the Hall, the Sisters call them zucchinis.
But what about you?" She pointed with the vegetable. "How're you feeling now?"

Chthord gingerly touched the still livid bruise on his forehead. "Much better.
This is still a bit tender, but the headaches have gone, and I almost feel
like my own self. I still have to thank you properly, for saving my life".

"This meal is going a long way to say 'thanks'". She grinned mischievously.
"I'm sure I can find a way for you to settle the debt".

Chthord grinned back lasciviously. "I'm sure you can!"

"In the meantime, this is wonderful". She indicated the table, groaning with
food and drink. Several different kinds of roasted fowl and lamb chops nestled
beside plates of fresh, crisp vegetables, while sucking pigs lay on beds of
glazed fruits, all prepared with culinary skill and care. "This is a feast
worthy of more than just thanks. Are you trying to seduce me, my lord?"

"Could well be". Chthord caught and held her gaze with his own. "Is it
working?"

Brenhya gave a throaty chuckle. "Could well be", she echoed, her piercing eyes
boring deep into his. Her words were coy and flirtatious, but her expression
and body language were openly inviting, openly sexual. "You have a way with
you, sir. Trying to turn an innocent young girl's head".

Her white teeth flashed, and his belly did a little flip-flop as she gave him
her most dazzling smile. Unable to tear his gaze from her gorgeous face, he
reached out and picked up a goose leg. The grease ran into his beard as he
tore off a huge mouthful.

Brenhya leaned forward and grasped one of the sucking pigs, her gaze never
wavering as her strong hands ripped off a leg. She bit deep, and the warm
juices ran down her chin and dripped on to her chest to form a little rivulet
of grease between her majestic breasts. She wiped her mouth with the back of
her hand, before taking another swig of wine.

With a loud crunch, Chthord took a mouthful from a crisp green apple, smiling
as he chewed. Brenhya responded with another piece of pork, masticating
urgently and noisily, rubbing the grease into her cheeks. She tipped up her
goblet so that the wine overflowed her mouth, cascaded in twin cataracts onto
her shoulders and down the front of her halter, discolouring the soft leather.
Reaching behind, she removed the soaked garment, letting it fall to expose,
her full, splendid breasts.

Chthord gave an involuntary gasp at the sight. Brenhya scooped a handful of
thick, shiny brown gravy from the lamb chops and rubbed it over her breasts
and belly, lingering over the nipples. Still looking deep into his eyes, she
ran her hands up her chest and throat, licking the delicious sauce from her
greasy fingers. She could tell that Chthord's passions were aroused by the way
he ate; fast and fierce, he stuffed delicacies into his mouth greedily, as if
he was tasting her sex already.

"I know what you'll like". Brenhya's voice was low and breathy, heavy with her
own desire. She rose to her feet, pushing back the heavy chairs with the
straightening of her knees, and stood proud like an all-powerful goddess. Her
deft fingers stripped the short leather skirt and brief undergarment from her
body in a moment, leaving her revealed in her glorious nakedness. Taking a
knob of soft butter in her large hand, she squeezed it so that the yellow
paste oozed between her fingers. She cocked an arm, flexing a large, round
peak of a bicep, and slowly and sensuously rubbed the butter into it, so it
glistened in the firelight. Chthord stopped chewing and sat very still,
watching the spectacle, feeling a growing tightness in his groin.

The opposite bicep, just as hard and round as the other, got the butter
treatment next, and she continued across the round cap of her deltoid and up
the sloping trapezius and the smooth column of her throat. She moistened her
lips with the pink tip of her tongue, staring at him with hooded eyes. Swaying
her hips sinuously, she tightened her belly muscles, bringing the defined
ridges and squares into deep relief, outlining them in grease with one finger.

A bowl of cranberry sauce, a compliment for the sucking pigs, sat close by.
Brenhya scooped out its contents and smeared the sweet jelly over the hard
muscles of her inner thighs and into the curly chestnut hair around her hot,
moist groin. A tiny moan escaped her lips as her fingers brushed across the
swollen button of her clitoris, and Chthord got to his feet with a gasp.

Covered in oily substances, the firelight gleaming on her golden skin, Brenhya
crouched slightly. The great arching muscles of her forward thigh tensed, and
propelled her upward in a standing jump to land on the heavy table. Chthord
leaned on the table, as if the vision of her nudity had left him weak.

Running her hands down her thighs, she bent from the waist until her palms
were flat on the table. Straight-legged, the twin globes of her perfect
buttocks presenting to the ceiling, she began to walk her hands forward until
she lay prone on the table, shoving platters of food to one side. Keeping her
eyes fixed on the expectant male, she began to snake sensually along the
table, thrusting the dishes out of her way to crash unheeded on the floor,

An expression of anticipation on his handsome face, Chthord climbed onto the
table from his end and began to crawl toward her, flinging food aside in his
progress. Wine and sauces spilled on the table, making the polished surface
sticky in places, slippery in others.

The two met in the middle and locked lips hungrily, urgently, coming to their
knees as their hands encircled each other in a fierce hug. Brenhya knew
Chthord was a robust man, but even so she was careful not to exert her full
power in the hug, for fear of injuring him. Nonetheless, he felt the air
driven out of his lungs as he was enfolded in her strong, warm, safe embrace.

Their mouths moved against each other, tongues probing deep. To Chthord, the
taste of Brenhya was made even more exciting by the addition of the savoury
juices she had smeared all over herself. Like a man possessed, he kissed an
licked his way down her throat and chest, enjoying the flavours of foodstuffs
mixed with the clean salty taste of her sweat. He paid particular attention to
he wonderful breasts, lapping and sucking at the cherry-sized nipples. Brenhya
leaned back on her hands, throwing back her head and arching her back as he
brought his hands to fondle her breasts, rolling the erect nipples between
fingers and thumbs. Brenhya let out a deep sigh, her own juices beginning to
flow more freely.

His tongue tracing the outlines of her terrific belly muscles, Chthord pushed
urgently at her shoulder. She took the hint, and laid flat on the table,
lifting her knees and spreading her legs wide. Chthord nuzzled at her pudenda,
sucking the cranberry jelly from among the matted curls before pushing his
tongue through the hair to her sweet vaginal lips. He licked around inside her
vulva, nibbling and lapping at her erect clitoris, eliciting small cries of
pleasure from the woman.

Brenhya massaged her own breasts with one hand, knotting the fingers of the
other in his black hair, encouraging his efforts. She arranged her legs so he
could wrap his arms around the muscular columns of her thighs. His fingers
stroked the soft golden skin, marvelling once again at the steely hardness
beneath.

He was savouring the salty-sweet taste of her, when the first waves of her
orgasm began to build within her. Her belly contracted violently, moulding
itself into a flat sheet of steel, as she tried to contain the eruption,
delaying it as long as possible. Chthord, sensing her growing climax,
redoubled his efforts, plunging his flickering tongue deep inside her warm,
wet depths. Her thighs clamped tight around his head, holding him close and
drawing him in as she allowed herself release. Her hips bucked and her legs
tightened, her juices filling his welcoming mouth as he swallowed hungrily.
The full spasms of her climax were upon her, washing through her entire body.

Chthord, starved of air by her constricting thighs and feeling as if his head
were in an implacable vice, began to panic slightly, feeling that she had lost
control and would kill him with the enormous crushing power of her legs. He
clawed desperately at her oaken thighs, his strong fingers unable to make any
impression on the solid muscles. He was just at the point of beginning to pass
out, believing that his head would collapse under the mighty force, when her
orgasm began to subside. The pressure eased slightly, allowing him to take a
breath, as Brenhya's body slowly relaxed.

At last, letting out a great sigh of pleasure, she allowed her body to go
flaccid and her legs to go limp. Chthord rolled out from between her thighs,
flopping onto his back with arms outspread, sucking in great lungfuls of air.
Brenhya reached over and stroked his cheek.

"Mmm. You're very good at that".

"Everyone's got to be good at something". He managed a smile as he wiped her
juices from his face with a sweat soaked sleeve. His mighty lover raised her
head to look down at the tentpole in his loose pants.

"Hasn't dampened your ardour, I see".

"Nothing could dampen my ardour for you, my darling".

"Come here". She grabbed his shirt with one hand, and rolled him on top of
her, enjoying the sensation of his weight upon her. She kissed him deeply,
wrapping her arms about him to pin his to his sides. As he responded, she felt
the tumescence in his pants grow ever harder, pushing against her belly. Her
powerful hands took his linen shirt by the shoulders and, with a single heave,
ripped it cleanly in two, tossing the halves to either side of the table. It
didn't take long for Chthord to catch on, and his pants were off in seconds,
leaving his lean, toned body open for her inspection, his long, thick phallus
fully proud.

Brenhya ran the pink tip of her tongue around her lips. "Not bad", she
observed. "Not bad at all". She pulled him down to nibble at his neck. His
hands slid over her smooth but sticky skin, allowing his full weight to rest
on her body, feeling the rippling firmness of her belly against his. Her nails
lightly raked his back, sending little tingling shivers of excitement through
him. She shifted her hips, letting out a small murmur of appreciation when she
felt his stiff erection pressing against her thigh. He groaned softly as he
pushed its swollen head against the entrance to her hot, wet tunnel.

Her abdomen rippled as she angled her pelvis, allowing him better access. He
poised himself, and thrust hard and deep, burying his impressive manhood to
its full length within her. She gasped with pleasure as it sank home, and
ground her hips against him, sending thrills through both their bodies.
Chthord let out a grunt, beginning to move in and out. He withdrew slowly and
teasingly, to plunge back into her depths swiftly. Using her tremendous muscle
control, Brenhya alternately relaxed as he thrust, and gripped tightly with
her strong vaginal walls on each withdrawal, giving him the most fantastic
feelings each time.

They moved together, fondling and kissing, bodies slick with sweat and
lubricated by the food juices, for a long time. Chthord penetrated to the full
length of his large penis on each stroke, Brenhya's depths fitting snug about
him but well able to accommodate him. He held back the growing urge within him
for some time, drawing out their lovemaking as long as possible, but at last
it became hard to restrain. He raised himself on his arms, and stared into her
face.

"Brenhya!", he breathed urgently. "Oh! I'm ...oh, my! I'm coming! Can't hold
it much longer!"

"Mmm. Then don't". Her head arched back. "Come on. Come on!"

"Nnn. Come with me!"

"I will. Keep going. Oh, yes!"

They thrust against each other urgently, rotating their hips, Brenhya's body
lifting his clear of the table on each thrust.

"Oh, that's good!", she gasped. "Harder. Harder!"

"Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Here I come! Oh! Yes. Ah, ah, ahh! Oooooaawwwwooww!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Goddess! Yessssss!"

As they hit their dual climax, their bodies spasmed against each other.
Brenhya's body formed into a perfect bridge, strongly arching on head and
heels like a longbow, raising her lover high from the table to balance atop
her powerful body as he spent his hot semen. Her juices flowed in response to
her own orgasm, and she moaned softly as she subsided back to the tabletop.

Chthord relaxed panting on top of her, his weight comfortable and warm on her.
Still deep inside her, he twitched as she clutched at his phallus with her
inner muscles, wringing the last, tiny drops on climax from both of them.

"That was verrrry niiice", she smiled.

Her powerful arms holding him tight against her, he sighed in complete
contentment. The feelings of warmth and happiness that this incredible woman
aroused in him were too strong to deny, and too deep to go unrecognised. He
whispered in her ear.

"Brenhya, I think you're amazing. I don't ever want to lose you again. I never
said this to a woman before, but I love you. Deeply, strongly, completely. I
love your body, I love your face, I love your strength, I love your character,
I love everything that makes you you. I hope you feel the same, and that you
want to stay with me. Will you..."

"Shh". She stopped his mouth with hers.

"Ask me later".

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

All the meals at Drosklyn Chaithe's house were taken in the long dining room,
sitting at the big polished table. The manservant, Quaff, shuffled up and down
the length of the table, tending to the needs of the diners and clearing away
used cutlery and dishes as necessary.

Of late, Lon had taken to turning up late for meals, and eating quickly, not
lingering at the table and avoiding prolonged contact with the wizard. Today,
however, he had arrived when called and took his time over the meal, meaning
to tackle Chaithe on the subject of Brenhya.

But the daunting sight of the wizard, sitting relaxed at the far end of the
table, his gimlet eyes never wavering from the apprentice, filled Lon with
apprehension. It was taking him some time to pluck up the courage to speak his
mind, and he let his eyes settle anywhere except on his master. Currently, he
was watching Quaff, wondering, as usual, how the clear globule of mucus
permanently attached to the end of the kobold's hooked nose, always seeming on
the point of dripping into the food, never actually fell.

"Something on your mind, lad?"

The wizard's voice sounded loud in the quiet room, and Lon started at the
sudden interruption.

"Sorry?"

Chaithe pointed at him with his fork. "There's something on your mind, eh? Out
with it".

Lon shifted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, ahem. I was just
wondering something. What have you got in store for Brenhya? Why is she so
important to you?"

"Told you, lad. I need a near-perfect specimen for the ritual. She is as close
to perfect as I'm likely to get, what? Lord Shaitan demands it, and He will
have nothing less".

"Yes, but what are you going to do with her? What is her part in the ritual?"

"Heh heh! Never you mind, Lon. You declined to be a part of it, so I decline
to tell you, eh? All will become clear when she gets here, and you won't be
able to do anything about it".

"She won't come", Lon said, disbelieving his own words. "I sent her a
message".

Chaithe wiped his mouth on a napkin and pushed back his chair. "I know you
did. Think I'm stupid, or something? And before you blame him", he said, as
Lon's accusatory gaze turned on the kobold, "Quaff didn't tell me. He never
speaks unless it becomes necessary, and he wouldn't see a thing like that as
being important, doncher know". He got to his feet and strolled down the room
toward Lon. "I'm a wizard, Lad. Quite a skilled one, too, even before I found
the way to Shaitan. Did you really think you could send a message without me
knowing? Eh? I knew you would, even before you knew it yourself. I even gave
you the opportunity, giving you the run of the library and the workshop. I
knew you'd find a way".

"Why did you let me?" Lon had to look up, now, as Chaithe was standing right
over him.

"Because I knew that a warning to keep away would have exactly the opposite
effect. Your friend is a warrior, and she lives by a code of honour, what?
Yes". He responded to Lon's puzzled look. "I've done my research. I know her
very well, almost as well as you do. I know what makes her tick, isn't it? So,
a warning from you would bring her at a run, charging in to rescue her little
lap dog, eh?"

"But what would you have done if I hadn't sent the message?", Lon said,
wincing a bit at the lap dog reference. "Or if she takes heed of the warning,
and doesn't come".

"Oh-ho, I don't think either of those are likely, what?" Chaithe moved toward
the door and laid a hand on the handle. "But, for the sake of argument, if
such was the case, I have methods of bringing her here anyway. Just whisk her
away from her, how can one put it delicately, um, her alliance, yes, that's a
good way of saying it, her alliance with His Majesty, what? Oh, don't look so
crestfallen. You know she had a liaison with him before. Did you think they
wouldn't carry on where they left off, eh?

"Yes, I could have brought her here against her will. But it is better, yes,
much better, if she comes here by her own choice". He gave a quiet chuckle.
"Or what she thinks is her own choice, what?"

As the door closed behind the sorcerer, Lon slumped in his chair, despondent.
The woman he idolised was walking right into a trap of the most fiendish kind,
and there was nothing, nothing at all, he could do about it.

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

Like a shaft of summer, the morning sun streamed through the smoke hole in the
roof, spilling on the grey ashes in the hearth, warming the early chill. The
hard packed earthen floor was strewn with broken crockery and food, bearing
silent testament to the wild events of love from the night before, and atop
the long table two bodies, still naked, lay entwined in each others' arms,
soundly sleeping.

His head resting on her shoulder, her muscular arm holding him close, Chthord
slowly opened one eye, a contented smile on his peaceful face. They had loved
several times, last night, and the memories washed over him, broadening his
smile and bringing a tightening to his groin.

He lifted his head and stared with adoration at Brenhya's beautiful sleeping
face. Without actually touching, he let a finger trace her classical profile,
full lips and strong jawline, his eyes lingering on the tiny scar at the
margin of her upper lip, her only blemish, wondering for a moment how she came
by it. A half smile on her lips, her face was so lovely, so serene, that he
felt he could stay here forever, just watching.

The peace of the moment was broken by the strident crowing of a cockerel,
broadcasting to the city that it was time to start a new day. The racket broke
his reverie, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He startled as the mess they had
made in their passion, and the sticky, stained state of their own nudity,
jumped into focus.

"Gods! Brenhya!" He shook the woman to wake her. "Get up, get up!"

Brenhya had a warrior's ability to come awake instantly, without any lingering
sleepiness. His urgent tones had fired her instincts, and he was brushed
almost casually aside as she came to her feet in a combat stance before he had
time to react. He found himself rolling off the table, landing on the floor on
his backside in a most undignified and un-kingly manner.

A quick glance told her there was no danger. Hands on hips, she levelled her
eyes on him. The sight of him, sitting indignant and naked on the floor,
filthy with grease and, now, with a dusty backside, tickled her sense of
humour and her lips writhed as she struggled not to laugh.

"What's the problem? Why all the fuss?"

Looking up, he was treated to the sight of her naked body, from his unique
angle looking long and incredibly powerful, standing on the table above, and
decided it was worth the indignity.

"The time", he said, climbing slowly to his feet, reluctant to give up the
view of her splendid body. "The housekeeper will be here any minute, and look
at us, look at the mess! We have to get cleaned up".

"I'm OK with that", she nodded, looking down at her own soiled body. "Yuck! I
need a bath!" She yawned and stretched her superb body, flexing her marvellous
muscles and leaving him slack-jawed, gawping at the sight. "Chthord?" No
response. She gave a little laugh. "Chthord! A bath?"

"Hm? Bath. Right. Come with me. I've got something even better".

He gave her his hand to help her down from the table. As if she needs help, he
thought. But she accepted his hand graciously, and stepped gracefully down.
The movement brought them very close, and one nipple brushed against his
lightly haired chest, sending a little thrill through them both. "Show me",
she smiled. "Before we get ...distracted again".

Picking up one of the last glowing embers from the dying fire with a pair of
tongs, he led her to a door under the mezzanine which she had noted before,
but had paid little heed. Inside, the small room was hung with waxed leather
sheets and lit by a small window in the steeply sloping thatch. A bucket, its
bottom pierced with dozens of tiny pin holes, hung from the ceiling, and her
eyes followed a copper pipe to a small, wall mounted stove and from thence to
a large copper urn mounted with a hand pump. She looked at Chthord with a
curious raised eyebrow.

"Gurghan told me about this", he explained. "The previous owner of this house
was something of an inventor, and he installed it. He called it the 'rain
closet'. See if I can remember how to work it. It's my first time".

Opening the small door in the stove, he applied his ember to the coals inside.
In a moment, they caught and began to burn brightly. Chthord turned his
attention to the urn and began to pump vigorously. "As I understand it", he
went on, "the water gets heated as it goes through the hot pipe. It fills the
bucket, and warm water rains out through the holes. We just stand underneath.
The water runs out through that hole in the floor".

"Sounds good", Brenhya agreed. "Let's try it". She stepped under the bucket as
the first steaming drops began to fall, wetting her glorious red mane,
cascading down her back and between the twin mounds of her buttocks. "This is
great. Come and try it".

Chthord found a cake of soap from somewhere, and came to join her. He worked
up a lather, and began to soap her body with his hands. She did likewise, and
the two of them washed each other from head to foot, taking the opportunity to
explore once again the bodies they had so recently enjoyed.

"The water's running out", Brenhya observed. "My turn".

She went to the pump, and Chthord watched as she worked the stiff lever
easily, her muscles rolling and coiling smoothly under her wet, glistening
skin. The sight had a predictable effect on him, and when she returned to the
falling water his manhood stood stiffly and proudly erect. She took the thick
member in her hand and smiled.

"Pleased to see me, eh?"

His hands went to her shoulders, and she allowed him to pull her close so that
their tall bodies were touching down their full length. "You could say that".

She reached behind him with her free hand, and pulled him even closer. They
were plastered together, skin to skin, the warm water trickling between them.
Their mouths found each other and they kissed deeply. He cupped her
magnificent firm breasts in his hands, playing with the hardening nipples.

"This seems a good place to take up where we left off".

"Mm-Hm". She pulled away a little. "But not right now".

"What's the matter?" He was perplexed. "Don't you want to get all sweaty
again?"

"Of course. But it's not a matter of what I want. Listen".

He strained his ears over the sound of the water, and heard what her sharp
senses had picked up. The housekeeper, bustling about in the room outside,
muttering and cursing under her breath at the mess that greeted her, was
working close to the door to the rain room.

"Gods! What timing! I thought she'd be half an hour, yet". He stepped away
from her reluctantly. "I guess we better dry off".

"One small thing, Chthord". She cocked her head at his confused look.
"Clothes?"

"Clothes!", he exclaimed, smacking a hand to his forehead. "Damn! Clothes!
Erm..."

"What's in here?" Brenhya went to a little cupboard, mounted on the wall above
the urn. She pulled it open, to find several large sheets of soft, clean,
absorbent cloth. She flung one to him, and chose another for herself, wrapping
it around just above her breasts. It reached to her upper thigh, concealing
her modesty. She had none, of course, and saw no need for it, but was aware of
the modesty of others. Chthord fastened his about his waist, and together they
stepped out to face the housekeeper.

The housekeeper, a hatchet faced harridan, eyed them with ill disguised
disgust.

"Your Majesty", she said, and Brenhya wondered how the honorific could be
imbued with so much bile.

Chthord opened his mouth as if to reply, but no words came out. Brenhya
suppressed a smile and drew herself up to her full, impressive height,
towering over the weaselly woman. "His Majesty has much to do, today". Her
voice held all the grandeur and haughtiness of one royal born. "Be about your
work, and quickly, now!"

The housekeeper was a small-minded and bitchy woman, but she knew her place.
She recognised the aristocratic tone, and seemed to shrink in on herself.

"Yes'm. Sorry'm"

The two strived, largely successfully, to stifle their laughter as they made
their way to the steps.

"We better get dressed ...", Chthord began, but he was interrupted when the
double doors were flung open.

"Brenyar!" Gurghan bellowed, marching into the house closely followed by
Oudreya. "Here iss ..." He stopped short, obviously confused by the sight of
Brenhya and the king dressed only in strips of cloth. Oudreya, looking over
his shoulder, caught on immediately and smiled knowingly, showing sharp, white
teeth.

"Gurghan", Brenhya said, walking up to the big barbarian, unconcerned about
her state of dress. "Don't you ever knock?"

"No! Knocking iss for gentlefolks! Gurghan iss many things, but gentlefolks he
iss not!"

"True". Her ironic tone was lost in him. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Thiss!" He held up an oilskin-wrapped package. Brenhya took it from him.

"What is it?"

"Dunno! But it iss for you!"

"Me?" She examined it for a label, but found none. "How do you know that?"

"It woss looking for you!"

Brenhya did a double-take. "Excuse me? Looking for me?"

"Yess! That iss what I said!" He looked defiant. "And that iss what I say!"

Oudreya stepped around Gurghan's bulk. "Maybe I can explain. Fantastic as it
may seem, this was found rolling up the main street, toward the palace".

"Up the street?", Chthord butted in. "But there's a bit of a climb up to the
palace. It couldn't roll up it".

"I said it might sound fantastic", Oudreya continued. "But that's what it was
doing, right enough. Rolling up the street, right to the palace. People tried
to stop it, but it veered out of their way, as if it had a purpose, and wasn't
going to let anyone stop it".

"Yess! And when it came to where the palace used to be, it just kept rolling
round and round, ass if it woss looking for something!".

"Hang on". Brenhya frowned slightly. "If it was avoiding people, how did you
come to have it?"

"That was me", the were-tigress replied. "You might have noticed, I'm a bit
faster than most people. I was able to catch it". She wandered over to the
table, searching among the remains of last night's feast and finding half a
discarded goose. "Even so, at one point I thought I was going to have to
become the tiger to catch it. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Help yourself". Chthord walked over to her as she bit into the
cold fowl. "But how do you know it was looking for Brenhya? Why not for me?"

"We're just assuming, really. Pardon me for saying so, Brenhya, but you do
seem to attract strange happenings".

"That seems to be my fate", Brenhya said resignedly. She weighed the package
in one hand. "But whether it's found who it's looking for is less important
than what it is". She looked around their faces. "Shall I open it?"

"Supernatural!" Gurghan grumbled. "That iss what it iss! And Gurghan..."

"...hates supernatural", Brenhya finished for him. "We know. I'm going to open
it".

She laid the package on the table, wryly conscious that her companions were,
suddenly, on the other side of the room. She undid the twine.

"It's a jar", she said, extracting it from the wrapper and holding it up for
inspection. "An empty jar".

"The lid iss well tied down for an empty jar! Open it!"

Her dextrous fingers untied the thongs that held the lid on. With more
trepidation than she would admit, she lifted the lid...

...and stiffened as a voice whispered in her ear. A voice she would know
anywhere.

"Brenhya, it's me", the soft voice said. "Listen, Drosklyn Chaithe is not what
he seems. He's trying to invoke the power of the Great Wizards, and means to
summon one of the Lords of the Dark. He needs you, as part of the ritual, but
don't come. He is treating me well enough, and I will escape when I can. But I
am the bait in a trap for you, I don't know exactly what. So don't come to
rescue me. It's a trap. Don't come!"