Nuë and the Djinn Ch. 05

When he got her to the room, he brought them back into the world. Rasmin turned her toward himself, Nuë clutching the front of the robe, feeling like things were very strange right now.

He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm a person who did something thoughtless," he said. "Stay here. Don't open the door except to me. I'm going to go and get our horses and our packs and bring your clothes. We'll have them wash everything here. I'll find your knife and boots as well."

"All right. Thank you, Rasmin," she said.

"Would you mind not telling my brother I brought you into Heltas and gave you to a brothel?"

"I won't tell him," she said. She wasn't completely sure what had just happened. "What's a brothel?"

Rasmin stared at her for a moment. Then he grinned. "It doesn't matter. Don't go anywhere this time, little sister." He kissed the top of her head quickly, leaving, locking the door behind himself and closing it. Nuë stared at the door and then went and sat on the bed.

#

"Appear to me, djinn!" Ezrel cried in his overly-dramatic way.

Mihel stood facing him, gritting teeth he didn't have, his face impassive. It was night, very late. An eternity with this ridiculous, petty, inadequate, self-important, lustful idiot.

Despair weighed on him, always thinking about his incora. Mihel had no idea how long Nuë would live with the fragment of his spirit in her. Maybe it would extend her life. If the ifrit to which an incora was joined died, the incora would typically live a natural span for humans and then also die. The incora's spirit might return to this world again, searching still but not knowing for what, always feeling something missing, a nagging sense of loss, the memory of the ifrit never awakened.

But an ifrit's spirit didn't come back to this world after death. Not ever.

Ifrit didn't know where their spirits went. Maybe they were lost forever, the price they paid for their long lives. Or, maybe they went to the same place from which his incora had returned twice to find him. Mihel wondered what would happen to his incora's spirit when she died, part herself and part him. Maybe she would join him and their spirits would be reunited. She would try, he imagined.

Mihel could feel the draw of her spirit, could practically taste her. He suddenly realized just how clearly he could feel it, the nearness of her light.

The knowledge came to him. That wasn't just wanting on his part. Nuë was near, maybe even in Heltas.

How could she have gotten to Heltas? She had never left her tribe. Mihel felt a stab of fear. She was so young in her new body, not able to defend herself yet. A wave took him, imagining her traveling unprotected, trying to get to him. She would do that, his fierce, stubborn, beautiful incora. She would walk right up and demand him back from the sorcerer. Mihel didn't doubt it. And he didn't want Nuë anywhere near Ezrel, not within any proximity.

"Enter my body, djinn! Give me your strength, your speed, your powers!" Ezrel crowed, raising his arms, like that was necessary. Like they hadn't already done this together several times.

Mihel was looking out of the sorcerer's eyes. He could feel it already. The sorcerer was hunting, frustrated after his failed attempt with the marketwoman.

After about an hour, the sorcerer found her.

#

Nuë was asleep, but she wasn't. She was beside her strange high bed at the public house, looking down at her body. Rasmin was asleep on the floor not far, on his back, his hands folded on his chest. It was quiet, the lamplight of the street coming in from windows. Nuë was on her side as if Mihel still slept behind her, as if he was still curled around her, his forehead resting on top of her head. She felt a wave of longing for him.

As she watched, Nuë turned onto her back, but it wasn't her face. Another woman she didn't know lay there, asleep, her hand flung out.

Nuë wasn't looking down at herself anymore. She was on her back and a form was over her, his hand going under the covers. It landed on her leg, running lightly down to her ankle, moving it, slow. Nuë tried to move her leg away, but it was too heavy. She felt the touch on her other ankle, and then her wrists. Something pulled, a rope. She was being spread, her arms and legs.

Then she could move, opening her eyes as cloth was shoved in her mouth, hands tying it behind her. She looked around wildly, but there was nothing there. Another cloth went over her eyes, also tied, and she couldn't see. She struggled, yelling out, muffled, as the bedclothes were stripped from her, cool air on her body.

She finally stilled, panting, listening. Nothing. She waited. A mouth landed on her nipple, sounds in the room, sucking and tugging, fingers going to her other nipple. It went on and on. She arched against the sensations, struggling, unwanted pleasure going between her legs.

She was breathing fast when it stopped. She lay there, unable to move. It was quiet again. She couldn't see anything. She waited and felt fingers spreading her sex, touching, a sharp stab of pleasure.

The sorcerer. Nuë could feel how wet she was. Slick and swollen, and then his weight was on her, smothering her, something poking and prodding her entrance, heavy and wet breathing in her ear. She felt a wave of disgust. She couldn't breathe under his weight.

Mihel. It was suddenly Mihel. His face was close. He lifted his weight from her onto his arms and pressed, opening her. She arched with pleasure, whimpering as he began to thrust.

"Nuë," he breathed, thrusting faster.

She needed it, urging him with small movements of her hips, feeling something else, feeling their lights reaching, straining toward one another. But something held them back. She was too far. She heard him grunting, felt him shudder as his fingers came between them, rubbing. She looked into his eyes, everything in his, his spirit so close.

Nuë woke, alone in her bed, arching, her legs spreading. She needed to get closer to him, she thought, incoherent. She pulsed, her pleasure strong. Closer, they needed to be closer. Crying out, she strained and then pulsed again. It wasn't going to stop, Nuë writhing. She was finally released, panting, almost unable to catch her breath.

"Is it over?" Rasmin said from the floor, Nuë grabbing a pillow and sending it his way, hearing him grunt. "You always have such uncanny aim, little sister. You once threw a rock at me across a field and hit me right on my head."

"Why did I?" she panted.

"What?"

"Why did I throw the rock at you?"

"Because you couldn't catch me," he said like it was obvious. Rasmin appeared cautiously on the horizon of the bed, Nuë sitting up and glaring at him, pulling the covers to herself.

"It was stronger this time, Rasmin," she said. "Not that," she cried when his eyebrows went up. "How close Mihel and I were to joining. We were right there, but there was too much space between our lights. We couldn't...I'm not close enough."

Rasmin seemed struck by that. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring off, Nuë grateful for a chance to compose herself. He was so deep in thought that she finally touched his shoulder.

"Rasmin?"

"You're with him in Heltas," Rasmin said, turning to her, still seeming distracted. "That might be why when he pulls you in, you're closer to joining. But it's still not enough."

He was so unlike his usual self that she frowned a little. He wasn't even teasing her. "Rasmin?' she said. "Are you well?"

He turned to her, focusing. "Not really. I have an idea, Nuë, how to help Mihel. But it's a bad idea. My ideas, they're sometimes bad, if you haven't noticed."

"What?" she said immediately. "What idea?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "No, I don't think I should tell you," he said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous. It's a bad idea."

"Rasmin," she said impatiently. "What is your bad idea?"

He didn't say anything.

"Rasmin."

He released his breath. "You could try and complete the joining."

"But how could Mihel and I join? I thought his body was bound?"

"It is. Bound and wounded with an arrow in him. He'd have to use the sorcerer's body. You're only in his mind now, Nuë. Mihel isn't touching you in the sorcerer's body. It only feels that way. Mihel pulls you in and you feel him. He feels you, but your body isn't there. His body isn't there. If your body was present and Mihel was in the sorcerer's body, the joining would probably be completed and he'd be freed."

Nuë stared at him. She finally understood, her eyebrows going up. "You want me to let the sorcerer--"

"No, I don't want that," Rasmin said indignantly, looking unhappy. "I told you when I answered your question. It's a bad idea. It's one thing to go to Mihel while he's crawling around inside that crazy sorcerer's head, and it's another thing entirely to be in the presence of that polluted spirit while he's touching you. I don't know what the sorcerer would do to you."

"I think I can guess what he'd do," Nuë said.

"No, that's not the problem. Your spirit wants to be joined to Mihel's. His wants to be joined with yours. That's why you're getting pulled in. Once that crazy sorcerer tries to have sex with you, then Mihel will take over because that's a requirement for the joining. It's being in that crazy sorcerer's hands beforehand that's a problem," Rasmin said, looking away. "It's a bad idea. Mihel is going to kill me."

Nuë thought about it. Her body had been aroused whenever she had been pulled in before, feeling what Mihel did, responding to it. She thought about whether she could endure that with the sorcerer touching her. She hated him. She thought about what she had said, about being willing to do what it took to free Mihel. Her teeth clenched. That dog couldn't have Mihel. Mihel was hers. "He didn't murder the women," Nuë said.

"You don't know what he did to their spirits. There are other kinds of hurt, little sister."

"It would free Mihel."

Rasmin shook his head, looking away. "I know my brother, Nuë. He won't want damage to your spirit. He'd rather live in that crazy sorcerer's head until he leaves this world than be freed with your spirit suffering. Some hurts don't heal well."

"Then I will have to prepare myself," Nuë said, her chin raising. "So my spirit isn't hurt. Whatever happens in my body, I've done nothing wrong. I do it because of my love for him. Mihel will come to me when it's time and we will kill this dog who imprisons him. It's not something for which I must feel shame, so I will not feel it."

"Nuë--"

"I am going to do this, Rasmin," she said sharply. "With or without your help."

"He's going to kill me," Rasmin said again, looking away. He was quiet, and then he turned to her. "If we can get the sorcerer to take you somewhere and try to have sex with you fast, fearing someone will find him, Mihel can take over and you'll finish the joining. I think. That should free his spirit, which will free his body and call it to him."

"So this would work?"

"I don't know, Nuë."

"Rasmin."

"Probably."

"But we have no other ideas."

"Yes, I have another idea. I take you home and tell my parents their other son is bound to a sorcerer and they will wish it was me because I left Mihel there to suffer. Then I miss him my whole existence and never stop thinking about him. But it's still better than hurting your spirit. That's my other idea," Rasmin said irritably. "Because if we can't complete the joining, I'm going to take you home safe because you're his incora and that's what he would want. Then I'm going to return and it will be too late. But I will still try to free him and my brother will be a prisoner of that sorcerer for the rest of his existence, probably after being forced to kill me in the sorcerer's body. Will you let me take you home? I'll come back and I swear I will do my best to free him."

"What can the sorcerer do that's so dangerous?" she said. She had never imagined anyone more dangerous than Mihel. "Why can't you just kill him?"

Rasmin's face was grim. "A powerful sorcerer can do all sorts of nastiness. Cause an earthquake. A windstorm. Put others to sleep. Animate objects so they come for you and don't stop. Make people sick with a word, hypnotize people, force them to kill themselves or people they love--"

"All right, I understand," Nuë said, putting up her hand.

"Even if I tried to win a fight against the sorcerer alone and managed to kill him, which is not assured, if Mihel was riding his body, I would kill Mihel, too. And if Mihel wasn't in him, then Mihel would be trapped in your collar with no way to retrieve him, the sorcerer dead. Force such a strong sorcerer to release him? I don't see how I could do that, Nuë. He's too powerful. If Mihel is going to be freed, then you would have to be close enough--you, your body--to join with Mihel. It's the only way, and I don't think he'll forgive me for it even if it works."

"And yet this is how it must be done," Nuë said. "I will endure it and you will endure it and we will take Mihel from this dog. This sorcerer will touch my body, but I will not allow him to touch my spirit. And if this pervert kills me, then I will still return to Mihel and you are to tell him to wait for me and don't tell me his name next time until I understand and don't let me stab him, either."

"I'd carry your message, little sister, but he'll murder me before I could say it."

"He can't kill you, Rasmin. You're his brother."

"Oh, no," Rasmin said, putting up a finger, waggling it. "No, I think definitely in this case he will make an exception, Nuë."

"It could work," she said. "He could be freed. I could be with him. It's what I want, all that I've ever wanted. It's what he wants. What choice do we have? He will understand."

Rasmin put his hands over his face, rubbing. He came out of them. "He won't understand. He will hate me forever and I'll hate myself forever if something happens to you. All right. I need to find a way to tempt the sorcerer to take you and also pressure him to do it quickly so he doesn't have time to torment you. Does the sorcerer know you? Did he see you while he was in the village?"

"No, I don't think so. But won't he know I'm Sidean?"

"You don't look Sidean, Nuë. If you hadn't been wearing your traditional clothing when I met you, I would have guessed you had returned as a woman of Heltas. That's what the soldiers at the gate were talking about, a Heltas woman in the clothing of a Sidean tribeswoman. That's why they tried to speak to you, thinking you might know their language."

"So the sorcerer doesn't know me. How do we get him to choose me?"

Rasmin shuddered at the thought. For a moment, she didn't think Rasmin was going to do it. Mihel's brother released his breath again. "The Heltas autumn festival is coming. People will be out in the streets. I imagine the sorcerer will be playing with his new toy, bringing Mihel there, hunting a woman. I need to know where he lives."

"Could you find him?"

"Yes, now that I know to look for your light instead of my brother's. Your light isn't bound. I'll find him. As soon as the sorcerer takes you somewhere close and convenient, my brother will be freed, and I'll kill the sorcerer by surprise and then heal my brother. But first I have to find where this crazy sorcerer lives without letting him know I'm there," Rasmin said, adding under his breath. "I hope."

#

Mihel rode Ezrel's body. There was no way for Mihel to tell the passage of time while he was in the necklace. It could have ten days or one hundred since he'd last seen his incora.

They exited the tower. The sorcerer hadn't told him yet to make them unseen to those around them, so Ezrel walked openly, his awkward stride. As the sorcerer looked around, Mihel realized it was the autumn festival. He hadn't been asleep so long then. A few days. Unless it was another year, but he didn't think the sorcerer had been done.

It would be the perfect time and place for Ezrel to find a woman, Mihel knew, the city chaotic with people and noise, with the celebration. Mihel didn't want to want for the sorcerer to torment another woman, but he craved seeing Nuë. He didn't know how much longer this was going to last, and he was looking down a long dark well of eternity alone. He ached for his incora.

They walked toward the center of the city, people running and laughing, shouting in the distance. Ahead, three streets up, there was a crowd and there was music playing. The autumn festival was a time for music, for dancing in the streets, revelry and rituals.

He heard the familiar music. A temple virgin must be dancing. Through the sorcerer's eyes, Mihel saw the crowd. Ezrel was interested, pushing through, people turning and then stepping back, the sorcerer's spirit dimming even the light of others who sensed the distress in his spirit.

A temple virgin. Mihel imagined Ezrel would like that idea.

As seductive as they were, the temple virgins didn't have sex with anyone. They served the gods of Heltas. They were all beautiful, and all protected carefully by the temple guards. They often danced in the streets at festival.

The sorcerer cleared the crowd, pushing toward the front, Ezrel looking, and Mihel felt a sense of deep shock.

Nuë. For a moment, Mihel thought only he could see her, that he had drawn her here again, only for his eyes. But then he felt a different kind of shock in the sorcerer's body. Lust.

Mihel knew she was really here. He could feel her presence in his spirit.

Nuë was dressed as a Heltasian temple virgin, far more revealing than anything she'd worn dancing for the Sidean tribe. Her hair was loose as a temple virgin's would be. The garment she wore was barely there, a wide gold silk scarf on the top, pulled across her breasts and tied in back, showing her nipples clearly and that was it. The skirt was no more than a panel in front and a panel in back, low, held together by thin bands that clung to her hips. She was naked under it, obviously so, and barefoot.

His incora was dancing, her body moving, every eye on her. She looked like something out of a dream--the kind where you woke up with your bed wet under you and your heart pounding. And he thought no woman so beautiful as his golden incora had ever stomped the cobblestones of Heltas. He drank her in through the sorcerer's eyes.

Mihel couldn't understand what she was doing here, trying to make sense of it.

When Ezrel dragged his eyes away from Nuë's breasts to look, Mihel recognized his brother Luta right away, dressed as a temple guard, his hands unmarked, an illusion, a helmet on his head, looking large and impassive.

Mihel made a series of fast connections.

Luta had felt Mihel's spirit being bound and mistook it for his death. Mihel's brother had come to find out what had happened to Mihel. Luta had found Nuë, looking for Mihel's light.

He suddenly knew. Luta was trying to save him by offering his incora to the sorcerer to try to complete the joining.

Luta. Mihel was going to kill him.

Luta had put her in these garments and arranged this. Luta had guessed that Ezrel would be unable to resist this bait. He was right. Nuë was a dancer who would make a dead man rise, but a temple virgin was sacred according to Heltasian tradition, her sexuality belonging to the Heltasian gods, a perfect woman to defile.

It still might fail. Mihel had a brief moment of hope. As tempting as Nuë was, the sorcerer was a coward. He might be afraid to take a temple virgin who was guarded, and Luta looked intimidating.

Nuë paused as Luta leaned in, saying something to her, and then she continued to dance. Luta was probably alerting her to the sorcerer, telling her which man it was. Nuë renewed the dance and then pretended she had just seen Ezrel.

Mihel's hope withered. Her eyes went to his and she began to dance for him, Mihel's spirit responding.