Surfacing Ch. 12

I looked at the daughters again as well, and the one who had first caught my attention with her whisper was looking up through her lashes. The stance looked kind of cute, if unsuitably demure for a female. If I thought of her as a male consort, though...it was better.

She had a lighter brown color to her eyes than her brothers, like dark, rich earth mixed with melted gold, and there was a real, fragrant blossom in her hair that I would never have thought of doing myself. It did somehow bring out the softer curves of her face, and since I understood flowers of the Surface to be the attraction method for many plants trying to breed, the symbolism certainly worked with the girl's face.

What were the chances that the pleasure servants were also the Patriarch's blood? Not high, I thought, unless they were far less rigid with sex than they were everything else, which I doubted. A pity. Still, they were pleasant to look at, and attractive, sending signals of submission and admiration the way they were doing.

Warrior Maiden with Eyes of Water. I liked it; it stood on its own, which was infinitely better than "Mystic Companion to the Dragon Spirit."

...wait, wasn't "Jan'shi" and "tsao'nu" something like what the grandmother had said to me? I wasn't sure, but if it was, then Mourn had heard it and used it just now to change my name with the Patriarch. Maybe I owed him, it if meant what I thought it meant.

"Alright," Mourn said to me in Drow. "It is agreed. We will perform, with snacks, for the entertainment of his guests and family."

I was smiling. "Who is 'we,' exactly?"

"You, me, Renshu, Hulin, and Bohai." Mourn indicated all three brothers.

"You will perform?" I asked.

Mourn smirked. "The Patriarch's line have been developing their own styles from watching me for decades. This is part of the fun."

"Fun?" I grinned wider. Could he be more on my side in this than I realized, or did he just want to push things farther for his own benefit? I didn't really care, because... "All three brothers?"

"Shi Mu Kuo wants them each to learn something. And they want to see what a female Black Ghost can do."

Yes!

"Agreed!"

*****

We didn't make it to the banquet hall; at that point Mourn gestured for me to remove my boots so that we could take a detour to the far right. I saw first a sitting room with multi-sized brass dragon statues, flowers, and lots of comfort— not one thing that implied violence or strife—yet three rooms and no hallways later, there was another room with almost nothing but more of their stranger weapons set upon the wall.

There was a series of poles of different lengths set vertically in a row against one wall; some of them had wide, wicked-looking curved blades on the tip, and others that were more spear-like but with hooks that I could immediately see the use in disarming or tripping an opponent, probably injuring them at the same time. Could also be used for fishing for large prey in the Great Lake, perhaps...?

There was a shining, finely-made pair of twin crossed swords very like those tripping and stabbing poles as well; the metal hand-guards had small hooks, and the tips of the swords themselves looked like something I might use to hang a hunk of meat off the ground. I didn't see how it could be sheathed or unsheathed quickly, if at all, but I could grant it an intriguing design; perhaps more for show?

I matched three of the simpler weapons to ones that the bodyguards carried—the Yungian style of dagger, short sword... and something that looked like two crescent moons facing each other and soldered to overlap, lopsidedly, at only two points. How did one use those?

Furthermore, I did wonder how the actual guards might compare in skill to the noble boys with whom I would "dance." The older men were more competent and practical, I would hope; I half-expected that the Patriarch's children might be more focused on their appearance to spectators. As well-formed as they were, as practiced as they may be, if they had never been in a fight for survival...

But I would wait and see. I wasn't going to spoil or delay my fun by pressing to find out about the guards' skills; I expected the brothers to be interesting in their own right.

I was looking for foreplay, not urgent training.

In a broad, nearly empty room in what I figured to be the northwest corner of the home on the main floor, servants met us with a few hastily cobbled platters containing what looked—and smelled—like warm, spicy finger foods. Next to that was a selection of small, ceramic cups, painted with nature designs and two larger pots.

The refreshments were set upon very low, wooden tables that also appeared newly placed within the room—if I judged by the fact that a few large, sitting cushions were overlapped off to the side as if they had been tossed there. The next moment one of the servants scuttled to place those plush seats elsewhere in the room, seeming to choose the spots with some care.

As I looked for the mat upon which to set my boots, I saw there were also a few wall candles that had yet to be lit to fully illuminate the room. The efficient serves began to take care of that as I set my boots down, and I soon saw much better that the walls were painted in red, with accents of purple. The boldness of choice got my attention; there was not one diluted watercolor to be found in this room. I liked it; it felt powerful and regal at the same time.

I sniffed the air and had to be pleased with the timing of all this as well. There would not have been much time to mess with the food, or be able to anticipate who would eat or drink what at set places, if any even dared tamper with it as they hosted one of their revered "mystics." I didn't think they would, it was just my habit to think about it. I also wasn't sure what protocol was for getting some of that food into my mouth, but I wanted some.

Shi Mu Kuo surprised me, as he stepped before me and bowed slightly, then not only spread his hand, palm out in open offer, but plucked up a dumpling with two of his fingers and placed it in his mouth, chewing and seeming to very much to like the taste. I received a clear message: Do not hesitate, please enjoy.

I glanced at Mourn, who nodded once, and mimicked the Patriarch in the way that I served myself a dumpling and ate it. The bite was similar to the inn, but there was another layer of flavor that was different, somehow fruity and spicy at the same time. I felt a bit silly but nodded and exaggerated the pleasure of eating it, like the Patriarch had.

It seemed the right thing to do; I heard a very soft, but collective, release of breath from the advisors and some of the children, and Shi Mu Kuo's chest puffed out some in pride as he stood with stoic dignity. His warriors were farther away and had spread themselves out to stand at attention around the room in strategic spots. The center of the space was empty of rugs or furniture, except for the sitting cushions lining some part of every wall.

Meanwhile, Shi Mu Kuo himself poured the tea for Mourn and I—I hadn't expected that, but no one looked at him like he was doing something odd—although it is worth noting that he bowed to offer both cups to Mourn, and Mourn had to accept both first with his own bow, then hand one to me. Well, whatever it took to sip it, I guess.

Everyone got a small something to eat and drink—perhaps they had saved their appetites for a banquet and I had spoiled that for them—and the Patriarch and his advisors made themselves comfortable on the larger cushions along the wider wall, in the center. After watching the wife and daughters moving to the farther, narrower end of the room to sit on their own cushions, I understood that they would be farther away from any "display," while the males would have the closer view. I was of two minds about that.

First, the females were in a harder-to-reach area; they would be less likely to be attacked or struck, or in the way of a flailing, falling body. They also would not be able to view the display as well, watching the "performers" in profile most of the time. In reverse, the males were prime targets if any fighter was actually an assassin who wanted them dead, but they most certainly had the privileged spot for any viewing.

Smart defense and protection of their females, or dismissal and marginalization? I considered that it would be more the second one for the Drow males back home, but that was because protection came with a price.

Renshu, Hulin, and Bohai remained standing closer to Mourn and I. I did not yet know who was who, but could guess they had been named in order of birth. Meanwhile their sire and his advisors got comfortable on their cushions and I ate a few more bites. The boys appeared very calm, but I focused on their hearts and their body heat—easy to do if I unfocused my eyes for a moment—and they were as keyed up as anyone should be when anticipating a fight. Or, very well, not a fight exactly, but a competition, anticipating a display against which one would be judged, of course. It was not to be a proper fight.

I wondered what the punishment or consequence would be if they did not perform well enough? I could think of one way in which the boy in the green shirt could pay back the mystics for their sire's honor...

"So what do we wear?" I asked Mourn. "Do we strip down for better movement?"

He narrowed his eyes just a little bit, looking down at me. He wasn't fooled. "Do I guess correctly that you wrestled nude in your barracks?"

I smirked. "Frequently."

Mourn grunted, and he lead us by removing his sliders, somehow keeping them crossed at the hilts as he rested them against a wall, and he was the first to remove his cloak. I did the same, hanging it from a hook just outside the performance room next to his, and blinked in pleasant surprise as the hybrid also set to removing his weapons harness and pouches. That would leave him bare-chested, wearing only his loose-fitting black bottoms, with his queue still plaited and bound at his nape.

Goddess, it was like he read my whimsical wish a few moments ago.

I wasn't the only one staring at him; if any had forgotten his bloodline, the patches of harder, reptilian purple scales covering most of his shoulders and creeping down his upper chest and arms were excellent reminders. And that was ignoring the spines still flat against his spinal column.

Nonetheless, I was probably the only one explicitly thinking about sex right then. Nonetheless, the three brothers each bowed to their Dragon Spirit and, after the presumed blessing of their father (who said something and made what looked to me like a "go ahead" gesture), they began to strip down like their guest to wear only baggy bottoms.

I was very happy. They probably had no idea how happy. They had lean, defined muscles not unlike my Sisters, and smooth, brown skin that was a paler shade to Cris's. I liked the darker brown nipples, though. They were like inviting berries; I wanted to lick them with the tip of my tongue, hold them between my lips.

As usual, it seemed I had more clothing to remove than any of the males I had run into except for Kurn, and I started with my usual belt—with a soft whine from Soul Drinker that I stoutly ignored—then bracers and leather armor, all in familiar order. My black shirt was likely sufficient for freedom of movement—it had proven so before—but if something should happen, if contact was made with my opponents, why should they have more to grab hold of on me than I had on them?

Besides, it was a good test.

I lifted my shirt off before any could protest—I had even caught Mourn off-guard—and I felt my own purple nipples tightening up at being freed, and the weight of Shyntre's sapphire as it settled warmly between my breasts. I straightened my back some and made to stretch out some of my back muscles.

"Qing, sho'huoa—" the Patriarch began with some discomfort, and I glimpsed the wife and daughters at one end each throw a hand over their mouth.

Not all brothers knew how to react, either. The elder Renshu definitely frowned, though it did not feel hostile. Hulin tried to keep a straight, placid face, though I clearly saw him swallow. The younger one in the green shirt—Bohai—seemed pleased at what he saw; one side of his mouth drew up without his seeming to realize it.

"Jan'shi," Mourn rumbled in a voice that, while not loud, still seemed to fill the room. Belatedly I realized that he was talking to me.

"Yes?"

"Would you care for a scarf to bind your chest?"

"Ha. Are they somehow insulting to look at? I don't mind."

"I wager more that they are child-tender," he answered with a small smile, "and the added support will improve your performance."

Well played. My tits probably would be an embarrassing distraction as a source of pain, despite my intent to show them off. The idea that an opponent could squeeze the tips really hard right now—and it actually wouldn't feel good, despite my horniness—convinced me rather quickly.

I exhaled. "Very well. Please."

At his request, they retrieved a lovely, very long red scarf, and Mourn helped wrap it around my breasts, shoulders, and ribs in a crisscrossed halter.

"Do you want to remove your pendant?" he asked, and I wondered whether he might ask about it later, as Gavin finally had. Mourn hadn't yet, and he had not even hinted he might accept it as part of his payment. He'd actually said I had no other "riches" to trade.

I thought about his question. "No. I'll keep it on."

At a risk, I tucked it securely into the wrap, where it usually lay over my heart, where it had been when it was struck by a Duergar psionic attack more than a year ago. The cord nearly disappeared next to my dark skin. I checked over and tested out the red wrap. Mourn had done an impressive job; it snug but not too tight, I would be able to breathe and move freely, but my heavier, swollen breasts would hold still, for the most part.

"Have you done this before?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Some in my squad, and some females trained by the Guild."

"Are there many?"

"No. A few."

"Hm. Alright, what is a janshi?"

"Jan'shi," he corrected. "Warrior Maiden."

At that, the brothers nodded their heads and then I realized Bohai in particular was admiring my bare arms and the well-defined lines of my body as I stood in my more snug black leather pants. An excellent start. Even if I was being a bit obvious, at least I was getting through the racial and language barriers, and some of the males were responding.

"And that *was* what the grandmother called me, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yes. She is a wise old one."

I was smiling again; I felt light on my feet. "So, when do we start?"

"Right now. We start by bowing to each other, and each show something of our own form."

"Form?"

"Do you practice your techniques by yourself?"

I shrugged. "Not really. It's better practice when I have an opponent."

"Interesting. Alright, I will be your opponent. Let them watch."

I tilted my head. "Limits?"

"Do not do anything you wouldn't wish me to do in return."

"Fair enough."

Mourn took a moment to explain just what we were talking about to his host, and I thought I read that the Patriarch finally understood that I was not from the same place as his Dragon Spirit, as they had all likely had presumed before. We were related, but the half-blood was doing as much translation between the two of us as he was doing between me and them.

This seemed to create a further light of understanding in the Patriarch's eyes, and Shu Mi Kuo continued to look admiringly at Mourn—I could suppose for performing such a social balance with relative smoothness. It did seem to be going well overall, and I might still bed a young male here.

Speaking of balance, I was asked to watch the practice "forms" of the brothers first, as it turned out the custom was that the youngest and least experienced go first. A lucky guess on my part. It wasn't so ritualized back home, but I understood; it could happen the same way in the Underdark, except perhaps the motive more often was that the elders wanted to study the youth to make sure they weren't surprised and beaten by a novice. And to intimidate them, if possible.

It brought to mind my first real training with Elder Rausery and her Feldeu in the cloister. Every time she bested me or pinned me, I felt the thrust of her phallus into my pussy as her show of dominance. That continued under Jaunda's lead as well, and the memories made my face and my crotch warm now.

While I wouldn't think it smart to allow the same gesture with these boys only to get that which I craved...I did wonder whether any of them would become erect during these exercises. Especially if they faced off with me?

And they were performing exercises, slowly warming up their bodies and making them more limber before Bohai went first. His focus was good; he could almost convince me that he had forgotten Mourn and I were there watching him. His dark hair was plaited into a queue like Mourn's, though unlike the hybrid—which was twisted and bound over several times—the end of Bohai's shorter plait had been brought up and secured at his nape so that it formed a loop. That would certainly be easy to grab hold of, though I supposed no easier than my own braid.

I could describe what the youngest son did as choreographed dance, showing deliberate postures, using his hands, pushing them out with loud breaths and sudden barks of sound that at first I truly did not understand—it would be stupid to make such noise fighting with someone in the dark—but at my questioning look, Mourn signed an explanation to me.

*One method to control and focus their aura.*

*Are they magical, then?*

*No. I mean their life aura. The one Deathwalker can see.*

*Are you serious?*

*It works.*

*How?*

*Keep watching.*

I did. I could see the lines of defined muscle and strength in his form, for certain; he tensed up and I could see the abdominal muscles surely able to absorb a blow without immediately bruising a soft organ. Still, the prancing around looked kind of silly to me as a solitary exercise.

After a few moments, though, I realized his feet stayed either along an imaginary straight line or the fine curve of a circle, no matter what his shirtless upper body was doing or how distracting it was to the watcher's eye. It revealed more body and situational awareness than I would have guessed at first—the feet were the first things to lose focus if one was an inexperienced fighter.

The older two brothers performed similarly, in the same style though with slightly more complicated moves, and I watched the feet, confirming that it was not by instinct or chance that Bohai moved in such a way. All three brothers were practiced at it.

It was entertaining the way a dance was, but I wasn't sure it told me much of how they fought. Or perhaps I just didn't know how to interpret it. More interesting would be if I could get at least one of them into a hand-to-hand. Could that careful footwork translate into action under pressure? I'd like to see. Even moderate competence would turn me on.

There were some gestures and plenty nods of the head from the Patriarch and his advisors in between sets, and though the audience did not make a lot of noise, there was plenty of body movement and expression to show approval of the performance. Mourn even acknowledged some of them and each time it made Shi Mu Kuo expand his chest with a solemn nod—which I eventually figured out meant that he was accepting compliments and was proud of his offspring.

There was a bit of an exchange when it came time for one of the "mystics" to go next—maybe they were trying to figure out which of us was older, since I was the one with the white hair?—and eventually they seemed to reach an accord. I looked expectantly at Mourn.