The Mephit's Tales

FIFTEEN

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I wasn’t entirely sure where the others were camped, not exactly; I knew where I’d left them at the road, however, and that was where I began looking. There were a number of craggy rocks at the top of that hill; they offered ample place for any of them to conceal themselves and watch the road for passersby.

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FOURTEEN

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I’d come to expect that I would need to go into town and learn some things.

I hadn’t thought, though, that the very first time I did so, I would be going alone.

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Word cloud courtesy of http://www.wordle.net. This is of course only a reflection of the work in progress: (more…)

THIRTEEN

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I wasn’t entirely surprised when Helen approached me after the meal; not least because I could sense what was on her mind. Yesterday she’d been in doubt, or entertaining the thoughts idly, or something; now, though, she knew it was her time. As she drew breath to speak, I held up a hand, silencing her, and merely smiled as I rose to my feet. She took it as both a game and as practise for me, which were both right; at any rate, she obligingly didn’t speak, but that didn’t prevent me from knowing how much she craved a closer look at me, yearned to know the heft and shape of my manhood, ached to have it sliding into her – I shivered. She had my lust building high and we hadn’t even walked away from the tents yet.

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TWELVE

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We sat around the fire, at ease, or nearly, for the first time in days. We were not all friends, but there didn’t seem to be any lingering enmity, and that might be enough to let friendships happen. Failing that, we could at least do what we needed with a minimum of distraction.

And what we needed to do now was… plan.

“We should ford the Kralsbeck by midmorning tomorrow,” Elizabeth said as she took her seat. “From then on, we will be in duchy Wafret, two days’ hike from the Duke’s manor. But what then?”

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ELEVEN

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Even that delicious indulgence wasn’t enough to make concentrating easy, but it did help us to get through the evening’s chores.

I was restless and found it difficult to sleep, though, and thus I heard Rebecca slipping out of the tent we shared. I paid it no mind at first, simply trying to sleep, but then I heard her not far off, saying, “Old friend, we need to talk.”

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TEN

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The journey to Wafret was not easy. Not that I had a great deal of experience with journeys of any kind, but even if my pack felt easier to bear and my feet complained less as the days went by, there was still a great deal of tension.

When we were out on the open moors and there was no hope of passing unseen, we started travelling by day. The soldiers drilled at gunnery, sometimes combining this with hunting for our food, sometimes in more dedicated practise. At first I was kept busy handling ammunition; but when we passed an Army post, Elizabeth used her rank to requisition some additional supplies. She pressed knife, pistol, and rifle upon me, and instructed me to learn to be useful.

That stung, but her cutting remarks when gunnery didn’t come easily were more of a burden, if only for being more numerous. Still, I tried; I doubted I would ever match the skill of trained soldiers, and I scared off far more hares than I brought down, but I tried.

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NINE

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At nightfall the next day, Jacob examined me once again, and pronounced me remarkably resilient and fit to travel. He didn’t seem entirely pleased with the decision, but now that we had somewhere to go, none of us wished to be waiting around so near Nordport.

I wasn’t looking forward with any sort of eagerness to donning my pack again, of course, even if it did feel more hopeful than sitting about. I was somewhat surprised, all the same, when Rebecca insisted it be split.

It only took one glance to reveal that she had crafted a harness for herself, and that made the intent quite plain. Little though I enjoyed being a cause for more work, the assistance was greatly appreciated while I was still unused to the labour.

The soldiers were somewhat shocked, and Elizabeth went so far as to be indignant, but Rebecca would not be dissuaded. “I might not be up to your physical standards,” said she, “but I can carry some more weight than my own clothing, and there’s nothing to be gained in sparing me from anything resembling work. We are in this together; I will pull my own weight.”

And that was that. She didn’t take all that much of my burden, but it was enough that the going felt somewhat easier.

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EIGHT

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Rebecca looked up as I came near her shoulder, her expression unreadable. She turned her gaze back down toward the campfire, and for a moment I thought she wished to be alone; but before I could draw away, she reached over toward me. As I set my hand in hers, she took hold of it, saying, “How are you feeling?”

I sat on the ground beside the stump she was perched on, and answered in the most straightforward and honest way I could: “Better.” With a fresh breath to bolster my resolve, I asked in turn, “And yourself?”

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning somewhat onto my shoulder. “I… heavens, I don’t know. I feel as though I should be feeling more. The city attacked, my home put to the torch, who knows how many of my kin dead… but somehow, I just feel… empty.”

I drew her into the crook of my arm, nuzzling at the back of her head. “I wish I knew what to say,” I admitted.

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SEVEN

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Waking up wasn’t the most comfortable experience in the world, but I was much better for however much rest I’d had. The darkness suggested I had been asleep for quite some time, at least; what I also noticed, though, was that most of the pain had faded to a dull ache along my back.

Attempting to move was perhaps not the wisest thing I’d ever done; that soreness translated to such a stiffness that I could barely convince my arm to budge. But with the sounds of hushed activity coming through the canvas all around, making my highly aware that I was probably the only person here not being useful, resting in one place was about the last thing I wished to do.

I’d been sore before. I dealt with it now as then: moving carefully, but most definitely moving, pushing against that resistance not with a sharp jerk, but with persistent effort. I convinced my limbs to move, and then I kept them moving, letting the blood flow a little more freely.

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SIX

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Shouts in the night roused us from an otherwise restful slumber. I was first to hear them, I think, perhaps not resting so soundly for my earlier worries; but even as I strained to lift my head and tilt my ears toward the window, Rebecca shifted atop me, mumbling in the way the just-awakened do.

The window was closed against the November rain, but I could still hear cries of alarm. And in one sudden burst of noise, one of those words came through.

“Fire,” I repeated, throwing the furs back. Rebecca scrambled off of me before I could make another move; I rolled off the bed, striding over to my closet and seizing two robes. One I tossed over to her, and the other I shrugged into myself, saying, “We might be able to see where it is from the cupola. If it were anywhere near here, someone would be around to rouse us already…”

I wasn’t sure we would actually be able to see where the fire was. Unfortunately, I needn’t have worried; as soon as we emerged from the ladder, it was painfully obvious.

Weston House was ablaze, from one end to the other. Screams rose into the night, shouts of panic, precious few voices trying to bring order, to fetch water.

“Good heavens,” Rebecca breathed, staring out over the rooftops at the flickering light. “You were right.”

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FIVE

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A hooded cloak, long and plain brown, did much to render Rebecca more anonymous. With a gentle rain starting to fall as we left Weston House, nobody would have thought the cloak at all conspicuous – if anything, my own lack of one was more so – and even should one get close enough to peer under the hood, her masque was, she told me, much like anyone else’s who’d attended the ball.

I hadn’t thought to conceal her identity, but on reflection it seemed a suitable thing to do. If this entire mess wasn’t just a phantasm conjured by my own smitten mind…

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FOUR

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Keeping the ring safe was all very easy to promise, but how was I to go about it?

I wasn’t the sort of person whom anyone would expect to be wearing a signet ring. If she’d given me another ear stud, marked me as mostly hers, then it would have been easy; I could have plainly worn it as a thing she’d given me. Nobody would have thought twice over such a man bearing some additional decorations from his main client.

As it stood, though, I was expected not to show any such favours, at least not while I was waiting for or with other women. For the time any one of my clients was with me, I was to be hers and only hers. It simply would not do to be wearing jewellery that someone else had given me – not if it were my own grandmother, and certainly not another client.

Even taking it off when I was shedding my clothes would draw too much of a point to it. But I couldn’t simply leave such a thing lying in my quarters, where anyone who entered the building might be able to find it. I needed to keep it on my person, or within reach. Yet I needed it to be inconspicuous, also.

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THREE

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The thing I’ve most come to regret about the work I do is how it reduced sex to just another task, something routine. The women I serviced came from many walks of life, from tradeswomen through artisans and even a few examples of minor nobility. They had many body types, some almost masculine, some so lushly female that it was almost daunting. But to some extent, all the faces and bodies blended together.

Angelique was somewhat more distinct in that regard, if only because I saw some snippets of her life, and to some extent, she was working to keep me happy, not only the other way around. It was almost relaxing – exhausting, but in such a satisfying manner that it felt good.

The days rolled by into weeks. My eighteenth birthday passed by, and a few weeks later came the first snows of November. Then someone came in who truly caught my eye.

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TWO

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Thomas and I were brought to the physician’s offices together, in spite of his one-week lead on being cut. The same physician who’d tended to me in the first place was about to usher us into separate rooms, but apparently changed her mind; she sent us into a small room with a pair of glass vials, and instructed us to have fun, so long as we each provided a sample. The room wasn’t particularly comfortable, though, and the awareness of where we were and why kept our enjoyment in check. Still, it was more pleasant than simply sitting in a room and taking it in my own hand.

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