Arms of the Ocean Ch. 06

Ronav opened his mouth to call out but shut it again a fraction later. There were others present. A Chayli man and woman approaching and another Taigin fumbling with the lock to his room a few doors down. Instead Ronav started off at a gait that he hoped wouldn't look too rushed.

By now Vyla had rounded the far corner and vanished from sight. Ronav sped around it seconds later and gazed across the tables, so many of which were filled. He scanned for the Siren's back but nothing caught his eye. Nobody of note heading for the exits or making their way between the tables. The only blonde-headed individuals were sitting down or standing by the bar, none of which resembled Vyla in her Neynas disguise.

She couldn't have shapeshifted... Ronav tried to reassure himself. With so many people to see? Impossible. But then... most were distracted by their games or conversations and even more had been drinking. Could Vyla have, while brushing past a group of patrons with their backs turned, changed the color of her hair or, perhaps...

Donned a hood, Ronav realized. There, moving towards the exit, walked a feminine figure with a fold of white cloth pulled over her head.

Ronav stumbled forwards, almost overturning a table of cards. Several angry shouts greeted his ears as he pushed and jostled across the barroom floor.

The glare of the afternoon greeted Ronav upon his bursting outside. Stark beams of sunlight fell through the emerald canopy, almost seeming to seek out his eyes. Despite the brightness he glanced back and forth along the boardwalk and soon spotted his target.

The woman walked back the way that he and Vyla had come. Back towards the tier junctions of the fold that would take her closer to the river and, ultimately, across to the side where Lady Telra had been headed.

Ronav's feet thumped along the boardwalk and his haste brought more than a few looks from the other pedestrians. Fortunately there weren't many to impede his passing. Most of the folds inhabitants, being Chayli, chose to fly overhead. Thus, despite the town being well-populated, it didn't seem particularly crowded until one found himself indoors, as Ronav had just experienced.

Though his target moved briskly, Ronav's troubled strides soon saw the gap closing. As he got closer, his certainty grew. This had to be her. The way she moved with such driven intent.

"Vyla!" Ronav called as he placed a hand upon her shoulder.

All at once, the woman whirled around, shook Ronav off and raised her hands partway. "Who are you?" she asked with a tinge of nerves in her voice.

Everything Ronav had planned to say left his mind in a single flood. Looking back at him was not the face of Vyla, but rather the hood-obscured features of a Ralta. Only her nose and mouth could be seen below the cloth, upon which sat three vertical lines of a sunset purple where her eyes would have been.

"What do you want?" she asked when her first question received no reply.

"I—" Then Ronav gritted his teeth and stood firm. Vyla had time and again proven her skill at shape shifting and deception. She'd had plenty of time along this walk to make gradual, subtle changes. "You're not fooling me, Vyla. I know it's you."

"You've me confused with someone else, stranger." Then, to herself with a touch of bitterness, "tirelessly do the Kelads see us all the same." With that she turned and continued on her way.

Again Ronav faced a loss of words. He'd rarely had dealings with the Ralta. Not many ventured this far north. A shy race compared to the rest of the Kelad people. A race who, without eyes, wove their voices into a spell of vision. If Vyla truly had disguised herself as one, how could she see anything?

Of course...

Ronav lunged into a jog and, in seconds, regained the woman's side. "Before you go..." he started.

"Ugh, are all northerners this troublesome?" The woman heaved as she faced him.

"No, just me," Ronav said with a flash of a smile. He then moved one hand behind his back. "Tell me how many fingers I have up."

The woman momentarily cocked her head, then shook it. "I've no time for games."

"All you have to do is say." For any true Ralta, the answer would come simply. This one had only to cast her voice around Ronav's back to check.

"I don't like having my time wasted, Taigin."

"Nor do I. Now answer. Or perhaps the guards would like to know why a Ralta refuses to see with her voice?"

The woman's lips pursed and she somehow managed to stare unwaveringly at Ronav with the marks of color upon her hood. At last her features softened and a narrow smile presented itself.

"Cleverer than I thought, sye," she said in a voice belonging to Vyla.

"I'm not letting you go through with it," Ronav replied as firmly as he could.

Vyla stepped in slowly and her arms crept up to drape over Ronav's shoulders. She leaned in until their mouths were only inches apart. "Poor little Shasling. Floundering in a sea he doesn't understand." Then the visible features of Vyla's disguise went taut. "I must do this."

Ronav tried to keep the Siren in his grip but she slipped through his arms almost instantly. A moment of panic shot through him at the thought that someone might have seen their exchange and grown suspicious. The fraction of a second that Ronav allowed himself to check revealed that the only person paying them any mind, who might have seen something odd, was a tired and dirty-looking Taigin sitting against a tree that grew beside the boardwalk.

The bobbing of Vyla's hood again caught Ronav's eye. She had crossed to one of the walks that led back towards the river. Ronav's first thought was to pursue, but to what end? Words had proven useless, that left action. He briefly considered charging over and tackling her until he realized how that might look to any witnesses. Besides, there remained the very distinct possibility, or so Ronav hoped, that all this amounted to some hideously cruel joke on Vyla's behalf.

She's not really going to do this, right? Ronav begged to Ka. It didn't seem possible that Vyla actually planned to stroll off and kill someone with as little thought put in as one would when considering what to have for breakfast. How did she plan to go about it? What about the witnesses, the escape, the investigation that would follow? More importantly, would Ronav find himself the target of scrutiny somehow?

"Hngh," Ronav groaned and clasped his hands behind his head. Should have left her to die in that net. With that thought he forced himself forwards. He moved towards the river, mind set on finding one of Telra's guards. She had over a dozen, that would be enough to stop a single Siren, right?

===

From the treetops, a girl watched the proceedings below. She hugged close to her chosen tree in the hopes that she might blend in and remain unseen. Her brown, dirty clothes camouflaged well with the trunk.

The man was walking away now. He had let out a huff first. Yis guessed that his huffing might be directed at the Siren. Maybe the two weren't as good friends as she had first thought. Understandable, the Sirens stole people to be killed, played with, then eaten and not always in that order. So why did it look like the man, Ronav, was still following the Siren.

Yis could only think of one possibility, he didn't realize how much danger he was in. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to make him realize.

A check of her surroundings satisfied Yis that nobody was around. She let go of the tree and began hovering through the canopy, eyes fixed to Ronav. When next she could catch him alone, she planned to swoop—

"Hoy, miss."

"Eee!" Yis shrieked and jolted against a nearby branch, catching herself in the ribs with it. She looked to her left and saw a boy floating nearby, one hand extended and his face concerned.

"Ooo, are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you."

Wide-eyed with panic, Yis shot skywards. Her path through the foliage replied with lashes and slaps from the sticks and leaves but she ignored all of it. She soon burst out to the open air, then changed her course eastward, back to familiar forest.

Plenty of other Chayli flocked up here but she ignored them all. There were no glances around or checks back to see if that boy had followed. Her heart pumped fear and the only antidote could be found in the cool tranquility of her trees.

===

This side of Shadetree Fold had a far nicer air to it. Clearly the wealthier side of town. Even the trees seemed more upper class, if that were at all possible. Funny how the Shaslings determined their status by material or some such. If a similar system existed in Siren culture there would be no end to the thefts and killings as sisters made their grabs for power.

And you would be first to fall.

Vyla bit back the snarl as it rose to challenge that thought. I am powerful, she told herself. I will prove it to them.

Them. She hadn't thought about them for some time. Not since leaving her city and coming to land. Her fellow sisters in the Tomateless, the wave hunters. It was their voices that drove her self-inflicted jeers.

They're right, you cannot deny. Showing yourself skinless drives the fact deeper.

Only then did Vyla realize that she had turned her arm to a bony spine and jammed it into a wooden post that held the walks above. She turned her arm to liquid, then back to its normal state and thanked sense that she had chosen a more secluded part of Shadetree Fold to do her piteous wallowing.

Before any further thoughts of dissent could surface, Vyla shifted her body into that of a Neynas that none had yet seen, peeled away from her privacy and proceeded back the way she had come. A fork and a set of stairs took her to one of the upper tiers where a string of businesses embedded themselves in the hillside. Vyla asked a passerby where the richest inn of the fold could be found and soon stood before an establishment named The Gilded Bough.

An odd title, Vyla thought, considering that much of the building, like so many others, went into the hill.

The outer decor involved the surrounding trees which had been grown and trimmed to border the structure, then painted gold. Vines had been cultivated to hang in such a way that they acted as curtains for the windows.

Inside, Vyla found herself in a situation she had not yet encountered. An inn and barroom that didn't roar with noise. The floor ran with patterned rugs and the walls held paintings rather than the heads of animals. Perhaps these richer Shaslings didn't waste any parts, though that seemed odd. Surely these would be the types who could afford to be wasteful, if her understanding of land culture was correct.

Vyla began to move towards the tables and the few patrons who occupied them when a voice pulled her back.

"How may I help you, madam?"

The source came in the form of a tall, pale Chayli whose hair had been combed and parted down the center and whose lip held a narrow moustache.

"You may direct me to the rooms," Vyla replied in a firm tone.

"Of course, madam. May I see your seal of membership?"

Vyla frowned as her thoughts jumped through several threads of deception simultaneously. A second later she decided on one. "I'm not a member of the inn, but I'm meeting one here."

"I see." The man clasped his hands together. "Then may I ask the name of your liaison?"

"It is a private meeting, Chayli. I shan't reveal my hosts details without his consent."

This time it was the man's turn to frown. "In that case I must ask... Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Oh, are you from the service?"

"I am indeed," Vyla replied without missing a beat.

"Ah, my apologies, madam. Yes, I should have realized. Your, ah... your liaison should be preparing now. If you'll follow me." With a wave of his hand, the man peeled off and moved briskly past the set of steps that led down to the barroom floor.

Vyla let only the slightest bit of hesitation show in her stride. Internally she rushed through possibilities. An obvious case of mistaken identity. Who did this man think she was? The details: a rich inn, rich clients and an appointment calling for a woman from an unnamed service...

Aha, of course. Vyla allowed herself an secretive smile. She had been mistaken for a whore. That story would do nicely.

"My apologies again, madam, for not realizing sooner. You're a tad early though, I must admit. I fear sir may not yet be ready to... receive you."

The nervousness of her escort told Vyla far more than his words. This man had obvious experience in the trade of hosting except when it came to services such as this one. He had likely begun here only recently, having originally worked at a place where whores weren't ordered to one's room.

"The service does not bend too tightly to schedule. It makes things predictable and that is something we avoid in this business."

"I see, madam."

The discomfort of the host betrayed itself clearly in his strides. A married man, perhaps. Vyla tucked that piece of information away as she did with any tidbits that were learned about anyone involved in her deception. One never knew what may later prove useful, even if it initially appears tedious or trivial.

"This one, madam," said the Chayli as he stopped outside a room marked eighteen. He tapped lightly on the door with a single knuckle.

"What is it?" replied a gruff and impatient voice.

"Your special request has arrived, sire."

"Already?" Heavy feet thumped across the floor. "It's an hour early yet, assuredly." The door flung open and a balding Neynas noble with a coarse coating of stubble stood behind it. His stomach bulged from a life of indulgence and, at the present, could be viewed easily through his unbuttoned shirt. He took one look at Vyla before his gaze turned sour and shot to the Chayli.

"Is this a joke, Miltro?" the man asked.

"N—no sire."

"You must think me a fool then. Is that it?"

"No sire."

"I remember requesting a virgin, Miltro. Does she look like a virgin to you?"

"Sire I—"

"No, I suppose you haven't a clue what a virgin is like, have you? Odd that she should be so early but now I see the reason. You've managed to cock up my request, eh?"

As the man's berating of Miltro continued, Vyla mentally rolled her eyes. What a disgusting man this noble was. Lusting after virgins yet being too fat and wretched to command any hope of ever attracting one outside of purchase. After a few seconds more, Vyla decided to take command of the situation.

"Sire please," she butted in over Miltro with a delicate voice that didn't stretch too far from what he had already heard. "I am a virgin, I assure you."

"Pah." The Neynas waved her off without a seconds pause. "With a figure such as yours? Tell me, whore, how many men have you bedded this week alone?"

A thin smile crept through Vyla's mind. I'm going to enjoy breaking this one, she thought. "None sire, my mother and father always kept me under close watch. They never let me court any of the boys in our village. But disease took them last year and I cannot survive anymore on what they left me. And being without any skills I—"

"I didn't ask for you life story," the nobleman said with another tired wave. "Very well, I suppose it shouldn't be so difficult to prove your lies, go inside and wait on the bed."

"Thankyou sire." Vyla squeezed into the room and dropped herself on the end of the bed which, she noticed at once, smelled far too similar to the man she was about to serve upon it.

Meanwhile, Miltro had been looking rather pleased that the conversation had steered away from him. His enjoyment of that fact was soon cut short as the Neynas snapped his gaze back to the poor host. "What are you still doing here, hmm? Planning to watch? Begone with you!"

"Yes si—"

Miltro vanished behind the door as it slammed shut. The nobleman then turned upon Vyla and regarded her with eyes that held a concoction of lust and suspicion. His gaze fell unashamedly upon the cut of her blouse, for several moments, that Vyla had ensured to keep well-filled through her various changes of appearance.

"Sire, what do—"

"Tch, you will refer to me as master," he corrected.

Oho, this is too rich, Vyla laughed silently. "As you wish s— I mean, master. What shall I do for you?"

Master pursed his lips and creased his brow. He waved his fingers slightly. "Lift your skirts, then lay on your stomach."

"Yes master." Vyla obeyed the command without visible pause. Meanwhile her mind whirled with the struggle to not simply slit this man's throat for being such a wretched fool. Doing so would only lead to trouble. There had to be a different way to punish his obvious misunderstandings of sex. It was meant to be a mutual encounter, like a fight to the death. Only the weakest, most twisted individuals found enjoyment in a one-sided battle.

"Now spread your legs," he instructed once Vyla had assumed the position.

She did as told and soon felt one hand on the outside of her right thigh, then his other on her left. He truly plans not to prepare me? Vyla wondered. Not that such a thing would be a problem. She could ready herself in seconds should the need arise. But that wasn't nearly as fun. At that stage Vyla finally conceded that any hopes of finding even a fragment of enjoyment out of this session were non-existent.

Vyla didn't mind, of course. Not if going through this would allow her to move freely through the inn afterwards and bring her a step closer to Telra.

A ruffle of clothing told her that the master had disrobed and, seconds later, she felt his steely hardness against her entrance. Replicating the sensation of virginity was an easy trick. Vyla had already prepared it. The bigger problem that this session held was the possibility of the real whore showing up halfway through.

"Hurry master, I think I'm r—"

With a single thrust, the Neynas plunged himself into Vyla's folds. She felt his waist slap against her rear and she nearly burst into laughter at how deep he had gone. So small. No wonder you crave the inexperienced.

"Huh, you really are a virgin..."

"Yes master, please be gentle," Vyla huffed.

"Shut it, slut," he replied as he drew back.

What did this man desire? What would get him off quicker? A helpless partner perhaps, or would he rather hold absolute command over the sensations of Vyla's body?

Master made another dive into her slick pussy, then began a steady rythme to his motion. At first Vyla made a show of discomfort at his forcefulness. But slowly, with patience only a Siren could manage, her gasps that had held pain turned to ones of pleasure.

"Quit that moaning," he commanded.

"I— oh... I can't help it mm master. You're so strong, s—so firm."

"Eh? I'm what?"

"I've been waiting so long for— ha, this. Parents... so strict. All the other girls telling me about sex. Wanted it so b—badly. Now, at last— oh!"

The master's weight upon Vyla's back cut her off. He leaned over and pressed down as his clumsy fingers searched for the ties to her bodice.

Have I awoken some secret desire in you, 'master', Vyla wondered. Perhaps you do care for your lovers.

Vyla's focus changed momentarily as she concentrated on ensuring that her 'clothing' came away in a believable manner. Immediately Master's hands went to her large, exposed breasts and began groping and pinching to a degree that would have done anything but arouse any other lover.

The minutes passed with Master pounding her folds that she had tightened considerably. Anything to make him cum sooner. Eventually he lifted Vyla up and, with her help, turned her over. The exact position that she had hoped for.