Voices Behind Walls Ch. 02

Lady Tarabell Arkson was pretty. She was sitting behind a lower wall. The upper wall had been dragged aside and into a pocket. One of her arms was resting on the top edge of the lower wall.

Her layered, long sleeves were hanging out and over, displaying the floral motifs on the outer and inner layers. Her blonde hair was in a pair of braids looped on each side of her face with ribbons and copper wires weaved in. Her shiny brown eyes were watching Prince Vansoth's fingers as they moved a wooden, coin-like object across a board on a table. Then, everyone clapped their hands because he had just won the game.

Having a pretty woman watch him was nice, but Vansoth didn't think the right woman was looking at him.

Countess Arkson was eager to have a turn. The table and board was moved close to the women's side. She pulled away all the walls that blocked her. Then she started a game with Vansoth, and she didn't go easy on him. More applause erupted in the end. Things were moving along nicely, but Vansoth wasn't satisfied. He was trying not to glower.

His fingernails lightly scratching the edge of the tabletop, Vansoth asked the Count, "Wouldn't your newest daughter fancy a game?" That put an annoyed huffiness in Lady Tarabell's face. It really didn't make her any more attractive.

Clapping his hands together and then lacing his fingers, the Count moved his head to one side and gave a wobbly smile. "I don't know, Your Highness. She's bashful. I've been told that she hardly ever speaks to her new mother and sister."

Vansoth wasn't too upset, only mildly annoyed. An upper class woman had every right to hide herself from the men. That fact didn't stop him from snorting and rolling his dark eyes to the ceiling. "Is there any way the other women could convince her?"

Rubbing his fingertips against his scalp, Count Arkson meekly said, "I'm not certain." His brown hair shifted and slid around his shoulders as he turned to give his wife a strained look. "Wife? Could you imagine a method?"

The Countess didn't get an opportunity to reply, because her daughter spoke up. Lady Tarabell pulled her sleeves back into the women's side as she said, "I have an idea! Wait a moment!" Her loops of hair jumped and recoiled as she hurried out of everyone's view.

The remaining people were polite, but quiet and tense, as they waited to see if the newest daughter in the family could be coaxed out of whatever corner she was likely kneeling in.

And a few moments went on ...

Rapid little footsteps, like a well beaten drum!

A child's cry!

Lady Tarabell's sleeves were swaying with her body as she ran into everyone's view. She was holding a swaddled baby girl (a boy would have been bigger, due to its little centaur body). The poor little darling's face was very pink, and she was expressing her rage with crazed wailing.

More footsteps!

A new woman!

Unkempt, messy curls of a carrot-like color, whirling in the air as a dainty creature zoomed towards Lady Tarabell. There was an olive colored gown on her, but it was simple. Her sleeves fluttered around, but there didn't seemed to be any layers to them, meaning there seemed to be only one set. Vansoth was able to see her feet from under her gown's flapping hem. Even though the weather was warm, this woman was wearing stockings and little shoes.

And this little redhead tackled her blonde sister, screaming, demanding the child's return.

All the men, even the prince, gasped and retreated, their hooves taking them away from the madness. The Countess charged to the scene, her voice echoing. "What were you thinking?!"

All three women tangled, and then, when it was all over, Lady Lahri was kneeling on the floor with her sad baby. Her neckline had flaps in it, with buttons, and the flaps were open to reveal Lahri's large and swollen bosom. She murmured to the girl, putting her pink face up to a nipple.

The furious Countess had Tarabell by one of her braids. She tugged the whining young woman off to a place where the men couldn't see or hear them.

The Count slapped his palm to one side of his face, and he groaned as he bent over.

Lady Lahri was able to soothe baby Meia into a more easygoing state, stroking the child's soft little head and smiling down at her with her pretty yet bare lips. Her green eyes were loving and gentle. Her heart shaped face was fair. Her hands were clean and affectionate.

Count Arkson was the first man to speak, and he was very gentle about it. "Lahri? Is the child well?"

Lahri's eyes shot up as she gasped. It was as if she had forgotten that she wasn't alone with her baby. Carefully cradling Meia's body and head, she hopped up to her feet and ran away.

What a strange, comely woman!

Perhaps he'd sing for her?

***

It was once an independent nation.

Not anymore.

It was surrounded by a tall walls of thick stone with centaur and dwarf guards checking everyone who tried to enter or leave, especially those who wanted to leave ... and especially those who wanted to leave with a carriage or even suspicious looking bags.

Someone was outside the largest gate on an early morning. It was a human riding a centaur.

A human male.

He showed the guards a small badge and a scroll of paperwork. Then he was allowed inside the perimeter. The centaur carried the man off through a farming community, then a to a city, and then to a small building that wasn't very interesting. Inside that building, where there was a dirt floor, the centaur took the human man to a tall desk, where another centaur was writing out a document.

The human said to the writing centaur with a gruff voice, "Something interesting has happened in Raobet."

A conversation went on. Then, the human was given money.

Polite goodbyes. It was done. The centaur he rode on was tired. So, the human was put on a different centaur, one who had just woken up and wanted to earn an extra coin.

The human was taken through the city again, off to a middle class residential area. The human gave the centaur some money, dismounted, and entered a small townhouse.

Almost literally ten minutes later, a large carriage arrived.

The human male expected it.

A group of dwarves entered his home. They called the human's wife to display all of her small children. One of the dwarves had a bundle of scrolls. He was a census taker. He was making certain that everything matched his records. Another dwarf was a woman, a wet nurse.

The human and his wife, at that point, had one son of twelve years, a daughter of four years, and a set of girl twins that were almost a year old.

The wet nurse ended up taking the two twins. Then, the human family was left alone.

Nobody had protested. This was completely normal.

***

It was another morning in Count Arkson's castle, and Lahri didn't know what to think of her situation.

The Countess and her blood daughter were always talking about how the prince would certainly woo a bride from this estate. He was clearly enjoying his stay.

According to the other women, the prince was handsome in a hardy, fierce way. There were also rumors going around about his singing voice. Music had been played during the visit many times, but no matter how much anyone pleaded, the prince wouldn't sing.

Lahri wasn't interested, though. She was worried about Meia. Whenever she asked herself how the child would grow in this alien world she couldn't think of an adequate answer. Everything was so strange.

But at least she wasn't back in Raobet.

The other women left Lahri alone so they could have their fun with the men. Lahri entertained herself by singing to little Meia. When she heard music, she thought she could follow the notes with her voice. Lutes, flutes, drums, and a bagpipe. It was all nice to hear. Sometimes, she'd close her eyes, stop singing, and listen, swaying back and forth on the cushion she knelt on.

Men were singing. Their voices were like happy chants. There were pounding patterns, the sounds of hooves dancing in earth. It was all very nice. Lahri didn't mind thinking that way. She wasn't quite at that level of stubbornness.

The singing stopped. The music stopped. So sudden! Lahri pursed her lips and reached down to stroke Meia's face. She was in a little box of a bed on the floor. She couldn't say that her new family was cruel to her baby. Meia had everything she needed.

Great, loud, bass, and strong, there was a voice, a voice that sang with no instruments to accompany it.

Lahri's chest was filled with a rousing sensation. Her fingers spread over her heart and her lips parted. It felt as though the voice was echoing throughout her form. It was triumphant yet also relaxing.

And for once, she wasn't really thinking of the baby. She was thinking of how perfect the voice was. She rose and let her leather and stocking clad feet take her closer and closer to the grand voice. Her fingers pulled wall after wall away the voice grew clearer, putting a rush in her brain.

She saw the other women in the family, but she didn't think about them, barely even considered them. She was thinking of the wonderful song. It flooded her thoughts and evaporated her wit.

Darkness ... her eyes shut, blocking all visual distractions. Lahri went to her knees as if she was exhausted. Her palms caressed the straw mats on the floor. Her toes stretched out in her shoes. Her breasts ached a little more than usual. Her nipples tingled. A shiver was in her lower belly ... and even lower than that.

More ... and more ... the tone rose ... and it was all around her!

Why ... was her left hand moving away from herself?

The voice was gone!

Quiet.

Lahri's eyelids fluttered open.

The Countess and Lady Tarabell were both looking at her with big eyes, covering their mouths with their sleeves. What in the world was so surprising to them? Lahri looked to her left.

The walls in this area were open.

Her sleeve ... was being held across the invisible line between the women's and men's quarters. Lahri's confused eyes followed the sleeve's line to the point where it was being held ...

By a man's dark hand ...

The end was being pressed up to his bowing head, right at his lips.

A kiss on a woman's sleeve.

Long black hair, with occasional little braids that had gold wires and thin strings of pearls.

Lahri yanked her sleeve out of his grasp. It snapped and flopped back to her body as she pulled her arm back to herself. The centaur straightened up. Goodness, he was a hefty creature! He looked like he could pull the heaviest supply wagon in the world.

He looked down at her with eyes so dark that Lahri wondered if he even had irises. Then he said to her with his deliciously deep voice, "I hope you enjoyed my song, My Lady."

Wait. He was the one who sang so perfectly?

Lahri pushed her hair out of her face and looked away. The man's stare was so focused. It was unnerving. She couldn't stand to look at him.

"My Lady?" He was speaking to her again, damn it!

Lahri backed up, ignoring the other women's pleas for her to stay. Then she turned around, picked up the skirt of her gown, and ran away. Meia needed her. She shouldn't be left alone for long, poor little baby, all alone without a father's love.

Well, actually ... that centaur Count had said Meia was legally his now, as if she came from his own seed.

Most of the time, however, Lahri didn't trust that statement.

But all she could think to do was hide, even though she knew that didn't really do much.

***

Nighttime, candlelight, calm murmurs and light sighs.

Hooves scraping and walls arranged to create smaller rooms.

Vansoth was happily nestled onto a pile of straw, and he dreamed.

In the beginning, he knew he was dreaming. He wandered down a hallway of packed dirt. On his left, there was a raised section with walls. He only saw vague suggestions of the carvings and paint that would normally decorate those walls. There was feminine singing, and of course he followed the sound. That was when he forgot he was dreaming.

He called out, "Lady Lahri? My Lady?"

The gentle scraping of a woman's wall was enough to make him stop. Vansoth's nostrils were wide open. His tail rose. He pawed at the earth, making dry little clouds. His eyes went to the opening that had been made.

Bouncy red hair, a golden gown with layers of sleeves, multiple colors hanging from the woman's elbows, a sweet face with flushing cheeks and inviting lips. The woman's green eyes enchanted him, drew him closer, and he walked over to her with an extended palm.

He saw her little fingers dance over his hand, but she retreated, and then she tittered behind one of her luxurious sleeves. What a playful little darling! Vansoth's hand also retreated, but he said, "Dear, Beautiful Lady, I'd love to touch you. Would you give me your hand?"

She didn't do that. Instead, she reached up to her bosom. Buttons were pulled out of their holes, and then her breasts were released, the dark pink nipples long and attentive.

With beckoning fingers, she moved her hand towards him, and Vansoth knew he had to put his hand there, right on hers.

Slowly, so slowly, the pretty woman guided his hand up to her breast, her lovely ... soft ...

He woke up just before he could even imagine her flesh's texture.

Vansoth blew his hair out of his face and got up. The air looked and felt like the morning. He brushed and combed himself the best he could. Then he opened the hallway wall and looked around for a servant. Some minutes later, he was dressed as well as a prince should be.

One of the Count's sons happened to find Vansoth as he was exploring the hallways. They agreed to go for a morning run and then have a hot breakfast.

Later, there was a relaxing poetry session with the Countess and Lady Tarabell. The ability to write and recite poetry was prized, no matter the person's gender. Lady Lahri wasn't there, as usual, but everyone knew Vansoth wanted to see her.

Eventually, Vansoth lost his patience, and he said with a calm yet firm tone to the Countess, "My Lady, please forgive my aggressive behavior, but I'd love to see your youngest daughter. I know she won't let me see her, but would you please guide me to a location close to her? I want to hear her speak."

The Countess' eyes danced around, but her head was still. Then, she sighed and gave a bow. "I will do what is possible, but I cannot promise much else."

Vansoth smiled at her and gave his own bow. "Thank you, My Lady. You are very gracious."

He was given some brief instructions that were simple to follow. Then, accompanied by the Count himself, Vansoth went to a section of the castle that really wasn't far from the sleeping quarters. He stood behind a wall panel that was separated into two horizontal pieces; both were closed.

The men were quiet.

Then Vansoth's fist rose and tapped on the wall. "Lady Lahri?"

A voice! "Oh!"

Footsteps ... but then even more footsteps ...

The Countess was speaking. "Stay right here!"

"Please!"

That baby was crying again.

"For your own good, for our good, stay right here, or I swear you'll never be forgiven!"

"No, I shouldn't!"

The Countess wasn't having it. "Keep the walls closed if you like, don't worry! None of them will touch you without your consent. It's highly forbidden. When will you understand this?!"

Vansoth looked down at one of his fingernails and murmured to himself about how he almost pitied Lady Lahri. She had been taken from a different country, and she certainly hadn't been raised in Breden culture.

"Your Highness?" That was the Count beside him. "Did you say something?"

Vansoth said very dryly, "No, Sir."

The baby was quiet. There was a feminine sigh. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Vansoth's tail flung up. "Good morning, My Lady. Are you well?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"And your child?"

"She's well."

Vansoth leaned into the walls, putting his hand against the thin crack of air between the horizontal panels. "Does she have a healthy appetite?"

Lady Lahri seemed to fidget with something. Vansoth could hear fabric being rustled. Then baby Meia seemed to spit and babble. Lahri said, "Yes, Your Highness."

"How old is she?"

"Approximately a month." There was a tiny, honest little gasp of air. "Oh, Pet! Did you see a fly? Hm?" A pause. The baby yawned. "Oh, was it a ladybird?" Lahri actually giggled. It was a wonderful sound that put a spark in Vansoth's brain. "You're a funny baby monkey."

"Pardon me, My Lady," Vansoth said gently, watching his fingers curl against the polished wood, "but may I ask, what color are the child's eyes?"

"They're green."

"As yours are? You have beautiful eyes."

Another pause. It was somewhat uncomfortable. Baby Meia made a thick noise, almost like blowing air against one's tongue and lips.

"Oh," Lahri said, "thank you, Your Highness." She didn't sound like maiden that had just received a compliment from a prince. She sounded like she was afraid of saying something offensive.

Vansoth didn't want her to feel that way. "I would like to sing for you, if you'd allow it."

A gasp. It wasn't the baby's voice. "Oh ... oh, Your Highness, I ... " Was she having trouble putting all her words in their assigned places? "Your voice is too beautiful. You must be aware of that."

Vansoth chewed on nothing as his brain cranked its thoughts. His tail was very high. Then, he stopped chewing on nothing so he could say, "I'll take your compliment very eagerly, but only if you let me sing for you."

"I ... ah ... well ... " Little Meia made excited little coos. "Oh, Darling! Are you hungry? Come here."

Vansoth let his fingers tap the walls twice. "I'll also sing for the child, My Lady."

"Uh ... I ... I would be honored, Your Highness."

Yes! He had her! Vansoth removed his hand. "Would you please come to the common area, so that we may have more space?"

Softly and cautiously, Lady Lahri answered, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Excellent! I'll wait for you there."

The Count had wide eyes and a slack jaw for a moment, but he snapped back to a normal state and followed Prince Vansoth back to the common area. Once the men were there, they patiently waited for one of the wooden walls hiding the women's quarters to be slid away.

One was.

Then another.

Lady Lahri Arkson, the adopted and legally recognized daughter of Count Arkson, was kneeling on a cushion, facing the men. A baby's bed and a sack of supplies had been placed near her body. One of her breasts was out and partially concealed by a happy little baby taking her nourishment. Lady Lahri's tender eyes were low and humble.

And Vansoth sang for her.

He was happy to do so.

Lady Lahri closed her eyes at times, but she always opened them again to see if her little one needed anything. Soon, she had to put Meia's head to her other breast. Meia didn't seem to have any negative reaction to the singing. She might have been folding herself into her mother's pleased attitude.

When the song was finished, everyone gave applause, even Lahri, who had to put Meia in her lap for a moment. Then she reclaimed the bundle of innocence, kissing her little face and hands.

"I'm in awe of your talent, Your Highness," the redhead said with her reserved tone, putting Meia into her bed. "Now, would you please excuse me?"

Slightly leaning towards her, although he wasn't close, Vansoth said, "Please, won't you stay? I want to know if you have any talent for card games."

Lahri's entire form seemed to pulse with her breath. Her face was oddly pained. "I must keep the mighty prince happy, I suppose."

Wonderful! Vansoth was tempted to buck and dance, but he didn't.