Warlock Ch. 12

Out of the wilds and back to civilization. Although it's a civilization that seems less and less civilized the longer John spends inside the city.

No sex, but fond thoughts and memories of sex in this one. The ladies in John's life love to tease him too... and sometimes he teases himself too.

Two days of training, both with spear against sword and magical theory against fatigue, saw them making their way back on to the road just outside of Shiner's landing. John's worry of Zynga's prank causing a rift had been misplaced. Jennaca's retaliation had begun a friendly war between them. Corsa and Jennaca teamed up against Zynga more often than not, which made the imp sputter and curse and come up with new ways to torture them. John thought he and Artesia were safe... until he found extra rocks laid under his bed role on their final night in the wilds.

"They won't let Sasha through the gates," Jennaca said as they spotted the four foot high timbers that served as the city's outer wall.

Zynga snorted. "That's hardly a wall."

"Tall enough to keep you out," Artesia noted.

Zynga sneered at her.

"Perhaps if we tied a rope around her?" John suggested.

Jennaca gave John a look that made him realize how dumb he sounded.

"Okay, well... what do we do?"

"I'll wait outside," Jennaca said.

John looked around. The ground surrounding the road was wet to the south. The north of the road it was swamp broken by small islands with tall tree and pits of mud covered in grass and moss. "Out here?"

"I can't sleep on beds," Jennaca said. "They don't feel right."

"How will we find you?" John asked. "When we leave, I mean."

"Really?" Zynga asked.

"What?" John asked.

"You probably won't," she said and winked at him. "I'll find you."

"Or you could remember you bonded her to you when you busted a nut inside her cunt," Zynga reminded him.

John twitched at Zynga's choice of words. He looked at her and then looked to Jennaca.

Jennaca's eyes were wide. "You can do that?"

John opened his mind to her and felt her awe and excitement. He also felt her budding lust. She liked the thought that he could keep track of her. He nodded. "Yes, I guess I can."

"Oh wow... so I couldn't run away from you if I wanted."

John forced a chuckle. "You could, but I'd know which way you went. Not that I'd follow you... if you wanted to leave me, I mean."

Jennaca winked at him. "What if I wanted you to chase me?"

Artesia coughed and nodded at the approaching gates. The outer wall might have been enough to stop a toddler— or a halfling— but the gates themselves were made of proper wood and held within a stone gatehouse.

"Yes, well... if you insist on staying with Sasha, we'll find you when we're done here," John said. "Or sooner, if I need you."

Jennaca smiled. "It's nice to be needed."

Zynga rolled her eyes.

"Come, Sasha, let's see how the swamp's changed since we were last here. I know you liked when I cooked up that alligator you hunted."

Sasha bounded off to the north, leaping from one firm spot to another with ease. Jennaca laughed at the great cat's playful antics and she followed behind, splashing in shallow water when she couldn't match the tiger's leaps and bounds.

"Hunted an alligator?" John asked.

"She's big enough," Artesia said.

John shook his head and turned to look at Corsa. "Lady Corsa, come... join us up here. And, for safety's sake, let's go back to calling you Zephira."

Corsa smiled and climbed up to sit on the outside of the bench beside John. She leaned into him and signed her agreement.

John felt better with her slender body pressed against him. He was becoming so accustomed to the half-elven almost princess that any plans he considered for his future always had her in it. Jennaca was there as well, with Sasha always at her side. Or, often, with Jennaca reclined amongst pillows wearing the most scandalous clothes and sashes while Sasha lie at her feet. He wondered if it was because he cared for both woman or if it was because of the magical bonds he'd formed with them.

Jennaca's was a magical contract, insuring her place in his thoughts. Corsa was only a connection they shared because she taken to insisting she drained him with her mouth every time they lay together. Like every other woman that had tasted him, Corsa was addicted to his cum. His Mistress had gifted him with not only his half-infernal nature, but also a magical cock and seed that any woman who tasted him found more pleasing to her palate than the finest wines or sweets.

Artesia was present in his fantasies of the future too, even though he had never bedded her. Unlike his delicate princess or his ravishing huntress, the scarred but beautiful warrior was glowering and menacing in his thoughts. She was always wearing the heaviest armor she could find and decked out with weapons.

The guards at the gate paid them no mind as they rode through, other than to do a double-take when they realized Zynga wasn't a child but a halfling. Artesia drove past the first two taverns and took the left fork in the road through Dilly to stay away from the docks. With the markets and tanners behind them, they settled for the third tavern she saw. The sign bore the emblem of an ale and the carved and painted name, "Black Oath."

She drove the wagon in to the yard beside the tavern and waited for a stable hand to come out from under the eaves of the stable. He approached while looking the wagon up and down. John was already busy securing his books in his pack and not paying attention until he heard the stable hands voice. It wasn't a boy's voice, it was a girls.

"It'll be three silver for the wagon, one for the horse," she said.

"That's steep," Artesia bartered.

"That's a big wagon," she countered. "It's early still, others will pay the same. I don't set the price so don't waste your time arguing with me, just leave if you don't like it."

"What about your time?" John asked.

"What?"

"Arguing would waste your time too, wouldn't it?"

She shrugged. "I got two horses to tend. Both have food, water, and I rubbed 'em down good. Short of standing with a shovel under their butts waiting for something to drop, I got nothing better to do."

John opened his mouth but Corsa touched his thigh. She smiled and shook her head.

John chuckled and nodded. He fished into his pouch and handed her five silver pieces. Corsa frowned but John nodded. She shook her head and handed one back to him before turning and offered the silver to the stable girl.

She took it and pointed just past the stable. "Pull it over there. I'll get your horse cared for and you can head in to the tavern."

"Thank you," he said and waited for Artesia to move the wagon and then set the brake. He finished collecting his pack and locked his empty crate before climbing down after Corsa. Zynga had slipped off the other side already. He spotted her slipping away and cleared his throat.

"Zynga, wait!" he called.

The imp froze. She turned around slowly, clearly annoyed that he'd caught her before she could escape to get into whatever mischief she would find. "I've been trapped for days on a wagon, I think I'm allowed a bit of time off."

"I agree," John said. "But be back by sunset, I want to make sure Artesia gets a warm meal and a decent night's rest."

"What do I have to do with that?" she asked.

John smiled. "Someone has to watch the wagon and make sure no one steals anything."

Zynga's eyes flared red and she trembled. "Of course... Master," she seethed through clenched teeth.

"Good," John said. "We'll see you then."

Artesia chuckled and nodded her head to him. "Thank you, my lord."

"You really don't need to call me that, you know," John said.

"I do," Artesia insisted.

John sighed and offered his arm to Corsa. She grinned and accepted and let him take her to the door of the Black Oath.

The common room of the Black Oath was... not what John expected. It was quiet. Well, as quiet as a room half full of dour looking men could be. Two barmaids worked the room, each wearing a proper dress that covered them from neck to ankle and hid their shape. Their hair was pulled tight to their heads and done up in buns.

The patrons looked up single and in groups at John and Corsa. Their eyes shifted to Corsa, light coming into them as they took in her slender figure and the neckline on the gown that showed the swell of her meager breasts. By the time John led her to an empty table the men were looking at him again. Instead of interest they had a hard edge to them.

John seated Corsa and sat down beside her. The serving girls looked to each other before one nodded. The other, her hair brown with a hint of auburn, made her way over. Her lips twitched in a weak attempt at a smile.

"Traveling through Dilly?" she asked.

John nodded. "Yes... is it that obvious?"

Her eyes went to Corsa before darting back to John. "It is," she said.

John frowned. "Well, it is what it is. Yes... we're passing through. I've heard Dilly is famous for an ale though, do you have it hear?"

"Yes, every tavern has it. It's all we have, unless you want water."

"Well, I guess we'll have that. What do you have for food?"

"Stew with fish and gator or just gator steak," she said. "Quarter loaf of bread with each for three pieces of copper. The ale's are a copper."

John turned to Corsa. "Which you like? Stew or gator?"

She held up one finger.

"Two stews," John said and took out a silver coin and handed it to her. The waitress accepted the coin and made it disappear without her hand even reaching the pouch at her belt. John blinked at her sleight of hand and raised his eyes to share a smile but she was already turning away.

A touch at his knee made John turn. Corsa stared hard at him and shook her finger.

"What?" he asked, dropping his voice so it wouldn't carry in the tavern.

She signed for eight and then counted ten digits. She shook her head before making a few more gestures he hadn't learned yet.

"I tipped her, it's meant to bring better service and maybe earn some information. I am here for a reason, after all," he said.

She frowned and reached over to tug at the pocket of his robe where he kept his money pouch. She kept her hand moving and stuck it in the folds of her dress.

"She's not a thief, she's a barmaid!" John argued.

She gave him a disapproving look.

"No, lass, he's right."

John and Corsa both turned to look at a man that had walked over to stand at the opposite side of the table.

"See, nothing to worry about," John said to Corsa before he addressed the man. "Well met and thank you. Are you the owner?"

He chuckled. "Owner? No, that's Ekram. He won't be in until later."

"Oh, I see... well, thank you again."

The man pulled out a chair and sat down. "What brings you to the Black Oath?"

John didn't let the brazen behavior faze him. Perhaps what Zynga had said had some truth to it, was he trying to establish dominance? John didn't care, he wasn't here to prove anything to this man. "We're passing through," John said. "Well, mostly. I wanted a chance to sample this ale I've heard of. If it's as popular as they say I doubt anyone would be interested in what I've got."

The man leaned forward. "That tells me why you're in Dilly. Why the Black Oath?"

John's brow twitched. "It was the first decent tavern we saw that wasn't surrounded by the stink of tanners or the noise of the market."

The man looked around the common room. They had nearly everyone's attention, it seemed. "Pardon my bothering you. Few come to the Black Oath that haven't taken the oath is all."

"The oath? Sorry, I'm not familiar."

"Service, my friend. Every man in here serves in the city watch."

John glanced around. Their matching sigils, either on tunic or hauberk, made sense now. "Oh! I didn't... is this not open to the public?"

"It is, it's just rare to see these days."

John nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. Should we leave?"

"Even more rare to see a beauty like your lady," the watchman said while staring at Corsa.

Corsa managed an awkward smile and pressed her palm to her chest.

"She says thank you," John said.

"She's mute then?" the man asked.

"She is."

He chuckled. "Sounds like you've found a perfect woman!"

John forced a smile and faked a laugh. "She is ideal," John said with an earnest glance to Corsa. "But as you saw, she's not afraid to set me straight."

"Might be you've come to the right place then, traveler," the man said. "The lasses here know enough to mind their manners."

Corsa's knee pressed against John's leg again.

"Is that right?" John asked.

He continued to stare at Corsa, "Those that make a fuss end up learning their lesson."

John's darkness curled inside of him. Corsa's steady pressure against his thigh was the only thing that reminded him they were in a bar of like-minded soldiers. "Perhaps our time at Dilly will be short-lived then. I'd hate to upset the delicate balance here."

"That might not be a bad idea," the watchman said. He opened his mouth to say more but the waitress returned with a tray laden with bowls, bread, and cups filled with the Dilly ale.

She held the tray and glanced at the watchman before dropping her eyes.

"Go ahead, they paid for it," he said.

"Yes, milord," she mumbled and served Corsa and John. Without another word she turned and left, heading back to stand near the bar and look to see if anyone else needed her services.

"You folks enjoy your meal," the man said as he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Mind what I said. Pretty lass like her is going to stand out too much as it is. I'd hate to see something happen to her."

John forced himself to swallow and said, "I'd hate that too," he said. "And what would happen to the person responsible for such a crime."

The watchman smirked and turned his back on John and Corsa. He made his way back to his table and rejoined his friends, who immediately leaned forward and spoke in hushed voices to learn what had transpired.

Corsa looked at John, worry pinching her face.

John smiled at her and tried his stew. It was... disappointing. The meat was bland and overall it had an oily texture that left the taste of fish clinging to his tongue. John tried to wash it down with the ale and had to sniff it and take a second drink before he set it down.

"I thought she'd served us water at first," he said to his dining partner. "This is the renowned Dilly ale?"

Corsa sampled the ale and grimaced. John almost hid his chuckle at her distaste. She tried the stew next and struggled to keep from spitting it out. She swallowed and winced.

"I know," he said. "Let's get a room for the night. If only the watch drinks here, I imagine they have homes of their own and there should be no problem getting rooms."

She nodded and pushed her stew back away from her.

John tried the ale again, taking a heavy drink of it and hoping that his first impression wasn't due to the stew tainting the flavor. It wasn't. The ale didn't taste like anything so much as ale flavored water. Entirely forgettable and disappointing.

John sighed and pushed his chair back. Corsa rose with him and together they approached the bar. The barkeep had trouble taking his eyes off of Corsa as they approached.

"Evening," he greeted them. "Did my niece mess something up? She does her best but she's just a regular girl, so I guess I can only expect so much."

John heard Corsa suck in a breath beside him. He kept his face tight and said, "No, she did a fine job. Best service I've had in a while, in fact."

"Is that right?" he asked and glanced at her. He frowned. "Don't you worry, milord, I'll make sure she minds herself. Don't need her standing out none. Is there something else I can offer you?"

"Offer me?" John asked, confused by his response. "Um, yes, rooms for the night, if you have any."

"I've got plenty of those," he said. He glanced at Corsa again before asking, "How many do you need, exactly?"

"Three," John said.

"There's two of you..."

"We'll be joined by my personal guard at sundown," John said. "I'd like to pay for a meal and a room for her as well."

"Right you— I'm sorry, did you say, her?"

"I did. She has dark hair and is determined to carry as many weapons as she can find a place to put on her body."

Corsa snickered at John's description.

"I see... a woman... well, that's the way of it then. We don't pretend to understand the ways of foreigners, but your gold spends the same."

John clenched his teeth and nodded.

The barkeep turned and gathered three keys. "The room number's carved on them," he said. "I don't have much demand so I'll give you all three for two gold."

"That includes my woman-at-arms meal and drink?"

The barkeep winced. His eyes darted away from John and into the common room behind him for a moment. He returned them to John and nodded. "As I said, I've not much demand for the rooms so that's well enough."

John fished out two gold coins and placed them on the counter. He hesitated before pulling his hand back from them.

The barkeep handed him the keys and then asked, "Is something amiss, milord?"

"I was told of a local I should look up, but I'm not sure where or how. Seems like most women keep to themselves here too, so I'm not sure you can help me."

The man raised an eyebrow. "I run the only tavern in town that caters to the city watch. I'd argue there's no place better if you're looking to find someone... then again, it might be a private matter no one's supposed to know about. That could be delicate, if you know what I mean."

John saw the man's eyes dart to the same pocket John had extracted the gold from. John offered the barkeep a twitch of a smile and let his hand slide back into his pocket. "Oh, I know all too well how delicate some information is. Have you then, perhaps, heard of a woman by the name of Jaspara?"

The barkeep stared at him for a moment before his brow crinkled. He glanced behind John and then looked to the door before leaning forward. "That's delicate, indeed, milord."

"I expected it might be," John acknowledged while identifying by feel several gold pieces in his pouch. He pulled them out and placed them one at a time on the counter.

The barkeep scooped them up after five and made them disappear beneath the edge of the bar. He jerked his head for John to lean in closer before saying, "Tomorrow, in the morning, you'll want to head down the road to the east. Turn right at the crossroads and keep going till you reach the gate to the keep. Tell the guards you seek an audience with the Queen."

John frowned. For a city that had no regard for their women it seemed unlikely that they had a queen. "Is that a code? Will they take me to her from there?"

The barkeep shook his head. "They will. But as I said, do it on the morrow. The sooner, the better... and you'd best leave this one behind. I'd hate for her beauty to distract anyone or cause some trouble to you."

"Thank you for your concern," John said. He glanced at Corsa but she was doing a good job of keeping her face neutral. He smiled at her. "Come, my lady, let's retire for the evening. I have some work I'd like to do and I'm looking forward to a night in a bed and not sleeping on rocks."

Corsa's expression broke at last. She pressed her lips together but still let out puffs of laughter through her nose.

John smiled and led her to the stairs that went up to the second story. Two of the rooms were across the hall from each other and the third was on the other side of the stairs. John frowned and took the room furthest away. He wanted Artesia to be close to Corsa if necessary. John could defend himself. Perhaps not with his spear, but with his magic at least.

He escorted Corsa to her room and stood in her doorway as she looked the room over and nodded. She smiled at him and dropped her eyes. John sighed, "You're not my servant. You don't need to be so shy around me... I thought we'd gotten past this."