The Last Lagharis Pt. 08

She put herself down on him, spreading her lower lips with one hand, and he obligingly licked her inner walls. She paused a moment, savoring his tongue. Then she looked down at him and regathered herself. "In my home in the mountains, men need to be paid for. Not as slaves, but as husbands. The bride pays a dowry to the man's mother to compensate her for the loss of his labor. Up in the mountains, I had a sister, and we had a brother. It had been our plan to marry off our brother and collect his dowry, then use it to pay to marry husbands of our own." It sounded ridiculous now. One dowry to pay for two men? It was still less pathetic than their other plan, to purchase one man and share him. Now she looked down at a man who would have cost a fortune up in the mountains. Her brother, as much as she'd loved him, would have had to marry five times over to pay for Samar. She laughed.

She could feel Samar pull his head back a little, wanting to speak, probably to ask a question, but she squeezed her thighs to keep him where he was. She would allow him to speak later.

"We lost our brother to a sickness. We tried hard to save him, not only because he was the key to our future, but also because we loved him. But it was not to be. My sister wanted to drink the black tea..." she realized that he probably did not know what that meant. "...and thereby pass into the next world. I talked her out of it with a promise that I would leave and come back with a fortune, enough money to pay for husbands for the two of us." She took in a sharp breath as Samar gave a deep, slow lick, touching skin she had not expected him to reach. "Now I have the money, and my sister's husband is already chosen, but mine is not." She grinned down at him, fondling his curly hair with both hands. "I want it to be you."

He sensed that her speech was over, and he increased his intensity. His skilled, agile tongue sent shocks of pleasure through her, spasms through her hips and thighs, and finally she climaxed, squeezing him in her delight.

She came down from her heights, lay herself on top of him and enjoyed the feeling of her weight pressing her body down on his. "Were you a neighbor's son or a slave, I would pay any price to carry you away to my home village. But as you are motherless and free, the choice of whether to join me falls to you."

He brought his lips up to her ear, tickled her earlobe with his breath. And he stroked her back as he gave his answer to the woman he would wed.

* * *

Malik frowned. Someone had been inside his tent. With the return of Captain Laghari, he had hoped that the disorderliness would end. It did not break his heart that she seemed to have grown bored with him as a lover, but was it too much to ask that she restore order?

Or maybe not. Nothing was missing, but something had been added. A little felt pouch lay on his hammock. When he picked it up, he was shocked to hear it jingle with riches. And there was a note inside. He checked over his shoulder--still he suspected a prank--and read it.

'If you are reading this,' it said, 'then you are one of the many men who has sacrificed peaceful nights to be with me, and who has brightened my life with excitement and companionship during the hard years of travel and war. You will by now have heard the announcement I gave this morning that my years of leading the company are over, and that I leave it in the capable hands of Chaarumathi. Though I am compelled to inform you that we have enjoyed each other for the last time, I will always carry warm memories of you.

'Enclosed with this note is a gift, a small portion from my personal treasury. Please do not think I have mistaken you for a whore, who must be paid for his services. This is meant to contribute to your life savings. If you do not have a stash for your savings, then start one this very day, and you can consider that my final order.

'Harsh experience has taught me that we cannot afford to wait for our future to come to us. We must plan for it, pursue it like prey through a forest, and when the time is right, we must reach out with eager hands and seize it. This applies to men as much as to women. Please, for my sake, remember that your life is precious and live it wisely.

'I wish you all the best.

'The Former Captain Misha Laghari'

* * *

The three travelers crested the mountain pass, muddy all the way up to their knees. Ahead, a little cluster of houses lay in a depression between mountainsides--Misha had seen such vast valleys in her time away that to call this a valley now seemed like an exaggeration. The houses looked unlively, but Misha knew better. She knew that life went on in their warm interiors.

"Which village is that?" asked Samar. He was not gauche enough to ask if they were there yet, but the hope was plain on his face.

Misha smiled and said what she had waited a long time to say. "That village is our home."

Gavriil huffed out an exhausted breath. "Back in the company, you told me your sister was within marching distance."

"And we have been marching," said Misha. "And here we are. Recall that I never said it was a brief march."

They ambled through the village grounds that Misha knew so well, that she had forgotten while she was away but which she remembered the instant she saw it again, and at Ayani's door she felt a twinge of nervousness, the way she had when waiting for Samar. She feared it was becoming a habit.

She called at the door, and Ayani's face poked out. It was drawn and lined, as if the intervening years had aged her hard. Or had she always been that way? Misha searched her memories and realized that Ayani had had a faint, starved look to her ever since their mother had died.

Ayani's eyes popped wide open. "Oh?" she said it as a question. Then she took in the sight of Misha, then the handsome man to her right, then the other handsome man to her left. "Oh!"

It fell to Misha to do the talking. "Sister, it is me, Misha. Years ago, I promised you I would return. I have come to keep my word, and to see my beloved sister again." She took a step forward and took one of Ayani's hands in both of hers. "And as my apology for being so long away, I brought you a gift."

"Oh!" And finally Ayani found her voice. "But... I thought you were never coming back. You sent that message, and you said you wanted me to come down and be with you."

"I was arrogant. I wanted to break my promise, and I told myself it was better for everyone. Again, sister, I apologize. And I have come to make things right."

Ayani's eyes watered, as if she was just now allowing herself to believe it. "You've done it! Oh, sister, you do not know... I had almost given you up, but you've done it!" A smile crossed her chilled face. "Come in, please!" And she rushed inside.

In the kitchen, she scrambled to prepare the tea and snacks to welcome her sister--and her sister's new man, and the other man who was a gift for Ayani--and Misha tried to help her in the kitchen but did not remember where anything was. Soon, they sat at the eating mat, and Misha introduced the two men.

"He is to be your husband," said Ayani, staring at Samar.

Misha remembered Ayani being the quick-thinking one, always one step ahead of her. But now, it seemed, Ayani could do no more than dumbly repeat what she heard. Though in fairness, Misha supposed, this was lot to take in. And poor, long-suffering Ayani was not accustomed to good news.

Gavriil faced Ayani and knelt in the proper position Misha had taught him. "And I am to be yours, if you will take me. Your sister spoke highly of your wisdom and rectitude, and it will be my honor to support you."

"The honor is all mine," she said coolly, but with a smile warming her face. "I am blessed with this chance. Blessed by the offer of such a fine-speaking man."

'Fine-speaking.' That was one of those phrases only Ayani would say.

"Gavriil," said Misha, "why not show the unfortunate old maid what you can do?"

"What?" Ayani looked offended as Gavriil stood up, and she looked worried as he knelt behind her. "Um, this isn't exactly proper. We must not touch until we have marr..." The word 'married' died in her mouth as his hands touched her. First, he caressed her back, getting her used the feeling of his fingers, then he gently began to push on the muscles behind her shoulders. "Oh." And she exhaled years of stress in one breath.

Misha smiled, because she knew what Ayani was feeling.

"Oh..." and Ayani settled into his hands. "Yes, please, keep doing that."

Samar took Misha's hand. "You've made a good match." He looked at her as he said it, but his words were meant for the whole room. "Huntress, captain, lover and now matchmaker. There's no end to your talents, is there?"

Misha slid an arm behind him and pulled him into a slow, gentle kiss. And while their lips pressed together, she thought fleetingly of her rollicking days on the plains, planning adventure to never-before-seen places and leading warriors in battle. Honoring the Laghari name, for whatever that was worth. She did not miss it. This--a good home to live in, a good family to live for and a good man to love--this was what she had wanted all along, even though she had not always remembered that she wanted it.

From now to the end of her days, Samar would be hers. And Ayani, who now purred in Gavriil's hands, would be rewarded for her patience. And they would not be the last Lagharis.

The End