Sufferance Ch. 13

The giveaway that it had to be a spell of some kind came when I felt a warm spot at my chest and realized that my sapphire had started to glow dimly beneath my armor. I made sure to smother that light promptly, but I was fascinated, paying far more attention to Auslan as he finally loosened her hands. She kept rocking for her own pleasure, and he took a deep breath, another, and the stone beneath my shirt that had been warming my skin, building its power, went cool and dark once again.

As far as I could tell, Auslan didn't seem to climax, though Curgia did sooner than I expected. She was disoriented and lax after she coasted down, rolling off to the side and promptly falling asleep. His sex remained turgid as he escaped the bed and quickly lifted up his robe, carrying it with him over to the vanity. I saw him look at himself in the mirror, at the darkening marks around his neck, then he selected a bottle from which to take a healthy sip.

The Consort donned his robe and sat down abruptly with his eyes downcast, adjusting himself to hide the softening erection. He didn't look at the mirror again though he would have seen me silently climbing down from the wardrobe if he had.

"She won't wake for the rest of the rest cycle," he murmured quietly. "You can leave safely, Red Sister."

Near the bed I leaned over, looking at Curgia's face and her form in repose, my fingers already dipped into a sleep powder I could blow over her face if her eyes fluttered. She certainly looked down for the count, though; motionless and deep in reverie. I removed my fingers and cinched my pouch again, dusting off my gloves.

"How often does this happen?" I asked.

Auslan shrugged, his hands resting still in his lap. "Every few cycles, when she dreams of the Abyssal ritual the Priestess put her through, yet manages to tear herself out of her reverie. She's convinced sex with me helps her sleep peacefully. I cannot convince her otherwise, so at least I know a sleep spell that actually works on her."

I quirked my brow and stepped quietly toward him. His gaze lifted to the mirror and watched me intently, warily, though I stopped while a few steps from him. I noticed the finger-shaped bruises on his neck were starting to fade.

"You know about that ritual, too?"

Auslan nodded, his neck still a bit stiff. "I knew from the beginning that you hadn't caused the miscarriage as Wilsirathon claimed. I did not find that kind of damage when I examined her. I have, however, heard Curgia talking in her sleep. She had experienced something like a Priestess does when dreaming of the Abyss, seeing it, hearing it, one might as well be there, but she does not know how to tolerate it. Wilsira has...condemned her to a particularly cruel fate."

"And she looks to you as her healer and comfort," I commented.

"You wanted me to surprise you, Red Sister," the Consort said, turning around slowly in his seat to look directly at me. I saw a side of him that I hadn't seen before; an anger like cold iron, different from Shyntre's white hot flashes of temper.

It was the first time I was wary of him, even a little.

"Would it surprise you to know that something like this," he indicated the sleeping mother-to-be, "is what could have happened to you had I not fought you? I could have made you addicted to me, as she is. You were already vulnerable thanks to whatever some Priestess had done to you. I could have not only given you my seed but made you long for me far into your pregnancy to where you would forget who you had been."

Okay, yes, that surprised me. I wanted to swallow at what would have been a very effective punishment for my actions, but didn't. "So why didn't you, Auslan?"

"It was a sure way to die. But had I been ready, I could have made you suffer as well, and I didn't even need to know who you were."

My brow furrowed and a few quiet moments passed. "What do you mean, had you 'been ready'?"

Auslan hadn't looked away yet as he sat staring up at me. "Most Consorts do not live past their prime, Sister. Some choose their fate, and others have it chosen for them by chance or design. We cannot interact with the general populace because of our looks, and after enough time, we gain our own sets of enemies among the Nobles and Priestesses because of our effects on them. Some are shaken or resentful of the base need we make them feel, or they get too jealous of others who have us next. Does that sound like the makings of a long life to you?"

Well, by comparison, every time I went out on a mission my life could end by something as simple as a fall or well-placed thrust or shot, whether I wished it or not. I would always choose "not." However, I didn't feel like getting into a one-up argument. This was the first Drow I had ever met that, if I was hearing him correctly, might actually be planning how he was going to die.

At my silence, the Consort finally looked away. "I am trying to bring Curgia back to something of what she was before Wilsirathon damaged her, but I'm not sure it is possible. You may have limited time to continue using me, Sister, and if you plan to target my current Priestess soon, then may our Goddess favor you in that fight. I do not know if that would benefit me or not, but it may not matter. I will tell you some things anyway."

I perked up and kept my mouth shut.

"Beware of any incense she lights, or any thought that doesn't seem your own in her presence. Also do not accept any token or article of clothing from her if you can help it. Her strength has been in mind bending but she needs some moisture from her target first, each time, as her power element is in water. I believe Kerse amplifies the effects when he's near, which he so often is."

Most of this I had experienced myself or D'Shea had told me since her confession, and I felt a level of unease in my middle when I thought again about that cloth I had lost, which had had both my blood and Kerse's semen on it. The search team had never found it, and even knowing it was a long shot, my Elder hadn't been happy about it.

"I see. Very helpful. Anything else?"

"There's a dungeon in the Sanctuary," he murmured.

"Yes, I am aware."

"There is something else beneath it."

I tilted my head slightly. I wasn't aware of that; D'Shea hadn't mentioned it. Why not? She knew the way around the compulsion now...or did she not know about it?

He said, "Do not go there, or let anyone take or lead you there."

I stared at him. "You're stroking my curiosity and expecting me to ignore it? You won't say what's there?"

Fine, scarlet eyes looked around the room a bit more, back at the bed where Curgia hadn't moved even a sliver, then back at me. "What's there is... where I was made. Only females and infants see it, and any adult female who sees that is not also a Priestess does not leave it again."

I understood the warning, I really did, but his word choice threw me off. "Where you were...'made'?"

He smiled, but it wasn't one of his beautiful smiles. It had the same slant tinged with bitterness as my wizard. "Consorts are not accidents of birth, Sister. I thought you knew that."

"Well, specialized breeding, certainly," I replied.

"How the Priesthood and the Valsharess want all to see it. The truth is significantly more unsettling, though I am magically bound from giving specifics."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "How could you talk about it at all, to even bring up the subject? I know how compulsions work."

"Magic wears differently on us all over time, Red Sister," he said, sounding much older than the two-hundred-fifty I saw in him. "There is always change, even with a queen that aims for stagnation." He smiled again, and this one was more suited to his beautiful face. "I like that it may be one as young as you to bring a deep earth quake to this City that needs it so. Though do not assume to do it alone."

I was still frowning at him when he added, "That is all I have to say. If you would, please bid me good eve, Red Sister? I am very tired."

Only when he said that did I realize that I was well past my message time for D'Shea; I truly needed to leave. I nodded. "Very well," I smirked. "Enoquis."

The Consort snorted, reaching for what I assumed was a bottle of wine set by the leg of his vanity. "Please, do not call me that. Of the last five names the Nobles have given me, I dislike this one most."

"What is your real name, then?"

"What is yours, Red Sister?" he returned smoothly with a wry smirk.

I considered a few things then. I would be going to the Sanctuary sooner rather than later. I had no idea if I would ever return here, and if I did, whether this particular Consort would even be here. If we succeeded...when we succeeded against Wilsirathon and brought her down, this Consort's life would be one of many to change as a result.

And if I failed, I would have either much more or absolutely nothing to worry about, no matter what I said now.

I nodded. "My name is Sirana."

I grinned at his expression; I had managed to surprise him as well. Nice payback. His eyes swept over my face and hair and figure, as if he was trying to decide if he could match a name with my appearance now.

Finally he nodded. "An honor, Sirana."

"And yours?"

He hadn't opened the wine bottle yet; he set it back down and shook his head gently. "Forgive me, I still can't tell you. It has power over me a bit like a Draegloth's name, though not as binding. But honestly, Sirana? I enjoy 'Auslan.' I consider it my own 'free' name, because the Priestesses or the Nobles did not give it to me. If I should never see you again, I can still take that with me and I'm grateful."

I was not sure how to respond. He liked the name I'd chosen for him best? That did much to stroke my ego and I smiled happily and almost forgot I was late. Almost.

"Um...I should go."

He nodded. "Of course."

"Care to give me a kiss for Lolth's Favor?" I teased, already expecting a polite decline and lifting my toe to step back.

Then he moved to stand out of his chair.

I froze and felt the instant pulse of desire in my chest and I was sure he would have seen it light up if the room had been darker. Auslan leaned in to offer his mouth—relaxed, soft, and slightly open—and I could not turn down the invitation if I tried.

He kept his hands out and open as before and I cradled his face with my own gloved ones, tasting him deeply. He was so intoxicating, and it felt the same as when he had responded to me before, trembling and trapped against the wardrobe but with an even greater intensity, springing from the possibility that it could be the last. It took all my willpower and some of his to step back and keep it from going farther.

"May the Spider Queen's webs trip up your rival but glide beneath your feet," he murmured, and though I did not tend to use them much myself, I smiled at the formal blessing.

At least I could leave knowing that, of all the times he may or may not have been acting, may have been faking his responses, that first kiss and the last one had had some part of Auslan in it.

*****

I triple-checked my equipment and went over again what details D'Shea was able in words or signs after she had accepted the summons from the Sanctuary on my behalf.

It was as expected: Wilsirathon claimed to have gathered information on her own and wanted my assistance identifying a possible weakness in her rituals of protection. The Prime was satisfied with the reason and, given that she knew that one of her newest Red Sisters was showing a talent for sensing or identifying psychic interferences as well as wards, she was only too glad to expand my exposure to the various forms. D'Shea had told me she had passed on what I'd told her of my long-dead sister, and that had later on helped convince the Prime to let me take this mission.

"Was she not surprised that you did not object?" I had asked.

"Ah, but I did object," D'Shea smiled. "I let the Prime convince me of the reasons why we should let you go. She wants closer eyes on what Wilsira is up to, but the mental persuasion talent she's used aggressively for the last century has made it difficult for us. Until you. She knows Wilsira is interested in you because of her son, and you have some resistance to her power. The Prime is taking this opportunity while she can, so do not let us down."

"That is my goal, Elder. How much have you told her of the bloodstone and my service?"

"Everything, novice, I am not stupid. That is why she is more focused on this Priestess than she has been lately. She just needs to know whether it is Wilsira's influence or the Draegloth himself that has him acting this way, and whether the Priestess is indeed threatening the Valsharess with her plots. That is what you will find out."

Lelinahdara met me at the Sanctuary's back entrance when I arrived, the same as before. She wore her purple robes and her silver jewelry on her hands and around her neck, her ears pierced with the usual studs and delicate chains and dangles, but she was not wearing her headpiece or her ceremonial dagger. She looked more relaxed and casual, though the green of her eyes glinted with sharp cunning as she resealed the door behind me.

"Welcome once again, young Sister," she said with a smile.

"Priestess." I granted her another bow but forewent the exaggerated social greeting of before. I did give her a smile in return, though.

"Wilsirathon is unavailable at this very moment, but she will be pleased to meet you on the fourth floor."

That had been one floor that we had skipped the last time I was here. I was instantly curious. "As you wish it, Priestess."

We passed the main purple floor, then the gold one, and my ears automatically strained for sounds of children with the third blue floor. I did not hesitate as before.

The next floor was...almost red. Not the blood red of the Sisters, but a lighter, more playful red, as if blood had been mixed with a little white and the barest touch of blue, lightened to a delicate, passionate color. The expected tapestries that insolated and decorated the walls were all erotic scenes, and I recognized several small statues and pieces of art that celebrated and glorified the swollen belly and the act which led to it.

I inhaled, then did so again more deeply. The perfume of the place could have one's head spinning in a few ticks. Some of it was manufactured—whether by magic or mundane skill—but another layer of it reminded me strongly of Auslan's scent near his neck. The scent that smelled so sweet and made my mouth water.

"Why have me wait for the Priestess on the Consorts' floor, Lelinahdara?" I asked without much amusement. After watching my Consort's mistreatment—not altogether different from how we'd met—and hearing more from him what he or any of his brothers could expect from their kept lives, I was not sure I wanted to be here to see where it began.

Tarra smiled at me. "A gift. You are not one to spurn gifts, are you, Sirana?"

I sighed inwardly. "No, Priestess, and whom should I thank? You or Wilsirathon?"

"That would be me, young Sister."

This made me pause—it likely meant she wanted me to see something—and I nodded slowly. "My sincere gratitude, Lelinahdara. What would you have me do?"

"Just wait. Look around, if you like, but you know the Consorts are off limits to you, correct?"

I was feeling a little uncomfortable but didn't dare show it. "Yes, I know, Priestess."

"Then you are safe as they are. I have elsewhere to be right now, but I will come get you when Wilsirathon is available."

I turned my gaze from where it had drifted—to a small portrait of a blue-haired young Drow with piercing green eyes—and stared at her. If not for the fact that I knew her to be D'Shea's ally...how could I otherwise trust a set up like this?

"Thank you, Priestess."

She left, and I stood in the main foyer at a complete loss. I could just stand in the same spot until Wilsirathon was available; it would not be the first time I waited a long time for an audience. A good test of my discipline and patience.

Although Tarra had said this was a gift, implying I would be wasting it if I did not explore it. What might I see if I did look?

My gait was easy and silent and slow as I went farther down the hall. There were four closed doors on my right spaced wide measures apart—all decorated identically and silent on the other side near as far as I could tell—and I could hear soft music after a moment and a quiet drone of voices coming from a larger room at the end before the hall bent to the right. The door was open and candlelight spilled out into the hall.

The young male Drow did not hear me or realize I was there as I steeled up to the frame and peeked around the edge. The sight was as beautiful as one might expect—four nubile bodies dressed to appeal to the female eye, clean and well-groomed—but it was also very odd.

They were languishing, idle, and entertained easily with mirrors. Their eyes were vacant. Docile. Most Drow around this age that I had seen would be searching for something to do, perhaps pacing if kept in a room for a long time. Certainly they would be eyeing each other to gauge the entertainment value of any sort of reaction.

The contrast to Auslan was strong; his experience and his interactions with the outside world appeared in his stance, his every move, expression, and change that occurred in his beautiful eyes.

Did all Consorts grow into what Auslan had become with time? Not for certain, from what I'd seen here and there over the course of my life. The lavender-eyed Consort at House D'Verin had not seemed to have the same spirit, but I had attributed it to simple inexperience. Perhaps not so?

The major difference that I knew about was Shyntre, someone Auslan would claim as a brother—probably even over these new waifs now being trained to please the Priestesses. He'd said the wizard had made his "existence" more interesting. These new, young adults had the spirit of domestic livestock, so it was not hard to believe my Consort now about Shyntre seeming so different to him, who must have appeared a firebrand in comparison.

Would Shyntre's anger and rebellion have so affected one Consort but not all of them? It implied there was something unusual about Auslan as well, to make any sort of connection with another.

"Who's there?"

After my lingering so long, one of the Consorts at last sensed my presence. I did not retreat but stepped out boldly where they could see me, and the reaction almost made me laugh aloud. They all audibly gasped and looked frightened, two of them looking directly at another door at the back of the room. They telegraphed their intent and I could have stopped them if I wanted, but I let them escape through the door and to whatever safety they felt they needed.

Of the remaining two lovelies, one seemed frozen to his couch and the other was...fascinated. At least, if his erection visible beneath his wrap was any indication. That was one disadvantage to being male; it was so hard to deny when one was actually willing.

"Who are you?" he asked. He made no attempt to cover the bump beneath his clothing though he remained seated.

I recognized his voice; he had been the one to call me out. It was smooth and tender; I could bet he might also sing to arrest an audience at the altar. He had the same familiar white hair and dark skin as all Drow but for a few, though his eyes were such a light copper color they almost resembled the main body of a candle flame instead.

"A guardian," I answered shortly. "Who are you?"

The young Drow blinked. "A Consort?"

He wanted my approval, and had mimicked my own answer. I nodded, and he relaxed at my acceptance of his answer.

"Do you have a name, Consort?"

I saw his mouth open and his throat suddenly constrict. His face showed a sharp discomfort that surprised and frightened him, and he gasped for air when his throat opened again. "N-...no, no, guardian. I have no name but what you give me."