Stormking, Part 1

I was justifiably skeptical, then, when a slender, haughty elf male, clad in blue and green, andwrapped in a somber grey cloak, secured with a priceless brooch in the form of a gold dragon's head, approached me with a business proposition.

 Our conversation took place in one of the darker and more private corners of a rustic (read "filthy and disease-ridden") inn which I frequented called the Red Shark. I'd taken the precaution of slipping the innkeeper a couple of extra crowns to keep the curious away, and so we were relatively assured of privacy. As assured as one can be in a hole like the Red Shark, at any rate.

 "You are the one called 'Wulf'?" the elf asked in a distant, vaguely arrogant tone, looking with disdain at the glass of 40-year-old Port Angel Mist which the serving wench had set before him. His gaze suggested that he would rather drink his own urine.

 "For want of a better name, yes," I said, taking a deep tug at my mugful of Snorri's Ol' Black Barrel. Not the best dwarven ale, I reflected, but it had its charms. As far as my supercilious elf friend was concerned, however, I might as well have been drinking my own urine. "What can I do for you?"

 "Or, as you humans seem to prefer, what can I do for you?" he replied with a wan smile. "You may call me Lord Aelfryn. Yes, that will do quite nicely."

 I nodded. "Aelfryn," I said, extending my hand.

 My lack of an honorific seemed to annoy ear-boy, but he said nothing, gingerly accepted my handshake and, with effort, resisted the desire to wipe his hand off on his cloak.

 "You are what the humans call a 'freelance'?" Aelfryn asked.

 "If you mean I do odd jobs of a marginally legal nature for a fee, then the answer is, once more, yes. I take it you have such a job to offer me, or have you just come here to soak up the local color?"

 The joke was so lost on Aelfryn that I considered sending out search parties.

 "No," he replied, face still expressionless save for a vague look of discomfort and contempt for the human throng milling around him. "I do bring an offer of employment."

 I took another sip. "I'm listening."

 "We wish --" Aelfryn began, but I cut him off.

 "Who," I asked, "is 'we'?"

 He paused. "Myself, and those whom I represent. For the moment, they prefer to remain anonymous."

 I nodded. This was rapidly beginning to sound like a cheap Litharnan espionage thriller.

 "In any event," the elf continued, still eyeing his drink and debating whether to taste it or not, "we wish you to travel to the city of Ta'vallen in the human realm of Murvane, where you will pick up a certain item. You will then transport this item to a location which will be communicated to you. I am authorized to offer you an advance of one thousand gold crowns upon acceptance of our contract. You will receive another thousand when you accept the item, and another five thousand upon final delivery."

 I raised my eyebrows. "That's a considerable sum."

 "We are told by reliable sources that you are a trustworthy and relatively honest freelance," the elf replied. "If you carry out this task, the cost will be well worth it."

 Hm. "Reliable sources," eh? I didn't know I had any friends in Stoneburg... Then again, there was always the sorceress Livia; perhaps she was at the point in our love/hate cycle in which she actually cared about me again. I didn't pursue the point.

 "Can I bring any others along on this job?" I asked.

 Aelfryn shook his head emphatically. "It is essential that this entire job be done as discreetly as possible."

 "So," I said, realizing that I was asking too many questions, but wanting to needle the elf nonetheless, "why don't your people do it yourselves?"

 Aelfryn looked very reluctant to reply. "Let us say," he said, slowly and carefully, "that we do not wish to draw an undue amount of attention to our actions. Any elves traveling to Murvane will be noticed and watched, while a lone human trader will attract no notice."

 I nodded again. "As long as no one notices you talking to me."

 Aelfryn's scimitar-thin lips curved into a smile. "Elves are more common in this..." he paused, pursing his lips as if searching for a polite word, "...city than elsewhere. I doubt that I've attracted more than passing notice, and we have the means of dealing with unwanted attention in any event. Do you accept the job?"

 Oh, yeah, I remembered all the various warnings about elves, and how tricky they could be. I knew that for everything flower-boy had told me there were a dozen unspoken facts and a hundred secrets. If I took the job I was bound to end up in the middle of the greatest shitstorm since Saint Orlan caught his sister in bed with Tyzrakk the Dark.

 But the fact is I'm only human (as my pointy-eared companion would be quick to point out), and I needed the money. I'd come home that afternoon to find a sturdy lock slapped on the door of my rooms at the Goblin's Eye, and I was presently spending the last dregs of my purse on dwarven ale and a glass of exotic wine which the elf seemed to find as vile as troll vomit. If I turned elf-boy down, my purse would be as empty as an orc's head, and Wulf the Freelance would be Wulf the Homeless.

 So, being the mercenary, self-involved, amoral slob that I am, I looked Aelfryn straight in the eye and said:

 "Nope. Sounds too dangerous."

 Well, as you can guess, this led to a round of bargaining, and I ended up accepting both the job and twelve hundred gold crowns, with the promise of another seven thousand between then and the end of the job. Enough, might I add, to keep locks off my doors for the next year or more.

 At the end of this tedious, but unavoidable, process, Aelfryn rose, his expensive glass of wine still unconsumed, and once more daintily and gingerly accepted my handshake. I was to leave, we agreed, on the next day's morning tide.

 In retrospect, becoming Wulf the Homeless might have been proved far less hazardous.
 
 

 In the same manner, I always end up returning to my semi-permanent home in the great free city of Stoneburg, one of the most vile and lawless places in all the Isles. A haven for thieves, ne'er-do-wells, assassins, sorcerers, fugitives, deserters, and other fun-at-parties types, Stoneburg is, in short, the perfect home for me, being the vile and lawless type myself.

 Well, not that vile and lawless... I generally confine my larceny to those who can afford the loss, keep the city watch and law enforcement officials well paid-off, and prefer craven retreat to open combat. My current line of work springs primarily from the fact that I'm not really good at anything, but am mediocre in a wide range of skills. I have some magical training, gleaned from my disastrous year at the Imperial Magic Academy; I have some small ability in the surreptitious entry of buildings, am familiar with most major lock types, can sail a ship with a small degree of competence, ride a horse or other beast of burden, fight gamely with rapier and dagger, make love sufficient to distract all but the most jaded females (and I've known my share of them, as well), and so on and so on. As noted, I'm far from expert in any of these skills, but together they've served to keep me alive and relatively healthy.

 "Healthy" does not, however, mean "wealthy," and at the time that flower-boy approached me with his intriguing, and doubtlessly two-faced offer, I was at a definite low-point, with one foot in the poor house and the other squarely on a bar of wet soap. Despite my innate distrust of elves, and especially of noble elves who spurn my offers of expensive wine while looking at me as if I was a malformed troll infant, I grabbed Aelfryn's gold with both hands. When you're drowning, you'll grasp at any straw offered.

 For the next couple of hours, I was a happy boy, though. I had a platter of Innkeeper Trus' best roast boar with potatoes delivered to my table, enjoyed another few jacks of ale, drank the little tree-hugger's rejected wine for him -- no sense in letting it go to waste -- and flirted outrageously with the barmaid, Katerin, a busty wench with a head of rich, black curls, and a manner which suggested she enjoyed the company of gentlemen with large purses (and other large things, as well, I imagined). Since I planned on shipping out soon, I contented myself with her promise that she'd be waiting when I got back, and would be only too willing to keep me company, so long as the money held out.

 I was careful not to draw too much attention to myself, since Aelfryn had suggested certain individuals might object if they knew the true nature of my employment. I didn't make a huge show of my newfound prosperity, and bid the assembled company farewell around midnight.

 Both moons were slivers tonight, shedding virtually no light upon the narrow, cobbled streets of the Thieves' Quarter -- something of a misnomer, for it takes up a good half of the city. The wise traveler usually goes armed at the best of times, and tonight was certainly not the best of times. Out of habit, I walked with both rapier and dagger drawn, all senses alert despite the alcohol which swam in my stomach and brain.

 Aelfryn's veiled suggestions of conspiracy and unknown enemies had me completely spooked, and I jumped at shadows on the way home. Fortunately, my fears proved unjustified, and I arrived back at the Goblin's Eye without incident.

 Though it was late, I had no qualms about rousting Treeva, my landlady, and paying off my back rent.

 "So what happened?" she grumbled, shuffling out of her room, tying a robe around herself. She was a big woman, powerfully built and still strong, despite her age -- rumor had it that she'd been drummed out of the White Empire army after strangling her sergeant. "You beat up a priest and steal his collection box?"

 "Ha, ha, very funny," I retorted. "You ever consider taking that act on the road?"

 "Hm. You'd like that wouldn't you?" Treeva selected a key from a large, jingling ring of them, and opened the padlock sealing my room. "There you are, home sweet home."

 "I trust everything's where I left it?" I asked, slipping past her and into my room.

 "Hell, yeah, what little there is of it. I always wait a week before I sell anything."

 "You're all heart," I said, and unceremoniously slammed the door in her face.

 The night went pleasantly after that -- working out my frustrations on the landlady without getting clobbered was cause for great satisfaction, and I intended to get a good night's sleep, intent on rising at first bell and heading for the docks and a passage out of Stoneburg.

 My plans were interrupted some hours later, when I was awakened by repeated pounding on my door. I struggled to clear my head, and the pounding continued, urgent and ominous. I staggered out of bed, clad only in breeches, took the precaution of grabbing my rapier, pulled back the bolts, and opened the door.

 At that point, I came to the sudden realization that my plan had gone seriously awry. Elf-boy himself, the distinguished Lord Aelfryn, stood at my threshold, staring at me with wide, glassy eyes, and looking pale, even for an elf. I wondered what was wrong, but before I could say anything, he answered my question by tottering slowly over on his face, revealing a bloody, torn cloak, and a dagger hilt sprouting from his back.

 I heard loud shouts of protest from my neighbors, and swiftly dragged the elf's limp body into my room, slamming the door behind me.

 I pulled the dagger free and tried to stanch the flow of blood from Aelfryn's wounds, mumbling what healing spells I remembered from my Academy days.

 It wasn't enough. The unfortunate flower-eater had taken far too much punishment, and his elven soul was resistant to my own feeble human magic. His eyes fluttered open, still harboring a faint flicker of vitality, and he seized my neck in a death-grip, dragging my head down.

 "The Hunters..." he whispered, voice ragged. "Beware of the Hunters... You must go... to Ta'vallen... They will kill you if you stay... My friends will... help you.. You must... flee... Long live... the Lady..."

 Then he died, leaving me to wonder at his last words, at the same time coming to the sick conclusion that I had landed neck-deep in a river of shit, and the river was rising.

 Who the hell had killed him? "The Hunters" he'd said. I was familiar with every major criminal organization in Stoneburg and its environs, and none were called "The Hunters."

 The dagger did me no good -- it was of common, even cheap, manufacture, but it punched holes in elf flesh with great efficiency. In a city like Stoneburg, such weapons were plentiful, and impossible to identify.

 I was overwhelmed by innumerable questions and virtually no answers, but the one fact of which I was certain was that these "Hunters," having killed Aelfryn, would have no qualms about treating me in exactly the same fashion. Phaedra's Flaming Tits, how the hell did I know they hadn't followed the elf here? Gods, they could be breaking down my door any second...

 Calm, Wulf. Calm. So far, no one had come through the door after Aelfryn, and it was a distinct possibility that he'd managed to elude his killers long enough to get to my tenement. Then again, if they knew who I was, they could find out where I lived easily enough, and...

 And what? Kill me? Put the dagger in my hand and imply that Aelfryn and I had killed each other in a vicious lovers' quarrel? Dump us both in the harbor where we'd either be eaten by the butcher-fish, or float to the surface, pale, bloated and unidentifiable, weeks later.

 Gods... What should I do? Vacate the premises as quickly as possible was the first course of action which my terrified brain suggested, but nagging, rational thought slowed me down somewhat.

 I couldn't simply flee, leaving a ventilated elf corpse behind, lying in a bloody pool in the middle of my room. Dame Treeva was sure to find it, and would sic the scrutators on me faster than a Xeshite viper. Even if I managed to ship out in the morning, I'd never be able to come back, and there were sure to be bounty hunters...

 No. Aelfryn had to go. An extended absence on my part would arouse no suspicion, but I had to get rid of the corpse first. A trace of avarice brushed against my heart when I saw that Aelfryn still wore his priceless elven brooch -- proof, I realized absently, that his killers weren't motivated by robbery -- then forcibly restrained myself from taking it. No sense, I thought, in weighing myself down with evidence that screamed "HANG ME!"

 As quickly and quietly as possible, I cleaned up the elf's blood, then lay the corpse in my bed. I stole out, locking the door behind me, and crept along the corridor, jumping out of my skin at each creak of the floorboards.

 Gods only know if I managed to get out without awakening anyone -- in any event, I was able to get out of the Eye and dash down the cobbled streets, finding my way instinctively in the near-total darkness.

 Several blocks from the Eye I stopped, ducking into a doorway, breathing heavily, heart pounding, a million possible dooms whirling in my brain, each more frightening than the last. I'd never been a brave man (I always preferred to think of myself as "sensible") and the current situation was testing my feeble stock of courage to the limits.

 I knew where I was going -- only one person in this cesspool of a city was likely to have the skill and inclination to help me, albeit reluctantly. My fears were for what might follow behind, and what might lurk in the deep, lightless shadows.

 I took a deep breath, tried to steady myself, and set out, sticking close to walls, hoping to remain if not invisible, at least inconspicuous.

 The main problem was that my destination lay clear on the other side of the city, where comfortable homes and the modest mansions of the newly- or at least moderately-rich sat gracefully. The way out of the Thieves' Quarter lay through a maze of twisting, narrow streets, dirty and ill-lit, with lots of hiding places for assassins, cutthroats, and other even less encouraging creatures. I'd live in Stoneburg long enough to know my way around relatively well, and I knew all the likely ambush sites, as well, so no one would take me completely by surprise.

 No one using normal tactics, that is. My brief, unspectacular career as a student of sorcery left me with a few marginally usable skills, among them a nose for magic, and an instinctive knack for knowing when it is being used nearby.

 That, I think, is what saved me. It happened as I made my way down a rutted stretch more alley than street, known to the locals as Dagger Lane (due, I suspect, to the fact that so many people get stabbed there). It was dark, claustrophobic, crowded with offal, but it was also the quickest route to my destination. I'd hoped to traverse it quickly and put it behind me, but as usual, my best plans were frustrated.

 About halfway down the lane, I startled a pair of amorous cats, who darted off in opposite directions, sending trash flying, and nearly killing me of sudden heart failure. It was fortunate -- I was on guard when the tingling swept over me.

 That's the only way I can describe it -- a sharp, sudden tingle that chilled my flesh and made my scalp crawl. It was a familiar sensation from my days at the Academy, and it riveted my attention, for I knew there was magic nearby.

 The faint sparkle in the air ahead of me was the only other sign, and I'd have missed it had I not been alerted. I scrambled back, pulling my sword free, just in time to avoid what I can only describe as a great door opening in the air in front of me, disgorging a nightmarish figure.

 Outwardly it resembled a tall warrior, clad in black armor, but where its face should have been, staring out of an open helm, was a green misty swirl, glowing with inner light, further illuminated by two glowing red eyespots. It held a massive two-handed sword which shimmered with red luminescence as it drew back for a decapitating blow.

 At this point, I was pretty sure that my new friend hadn't shown up for tea and scones, so I spun and, without further pleasantries, dashed back toward the end of the lane. Ahead of me, a second cloud of shimmering air appeared, disgorging another armored monstrosity. This time, just behind the monster's spiked and armored shoulder, I caught a glimpse of yet a third figure -- female this time -- tall, elven, features as fine and beautiful as a carved alabaster statue (yeah, yeah, I know -- facing horrific sorcerous death, and Wulf is still ogling females...). A nimbus of blue magical energy crowned and surrounded her, then the door slammed and I was left alone, facing two soulless, murderous automata. Nice way to spend an evening, huh?

 My only advantage seemed to lie in the fact that the armored things were slow. I was able to anticipate the second monster's blow and duck before it took my head, and instead clashed against the deteriorated stone wall beside us, striking red and blue sparks.

 Then the second lumbered in, sword whirling. I ducked again, and took a swipe at it with my dagger, feeling the thick black iron clang beneath my blow, but otherwise remain completely undamaged. Crap.

 I ducked again -- damn, but I was getting difficult; the alley was too narrow to dodge either one, and eventually I would tire, mistime my movements, and be gutted or dismembered.

 Another blow... This one caught me in the shoulder as I fell back, scoring flesh, burning like hot coals. I cried out, and barely managed to avoid a blow from the other automaton; this one caught me across the ribs, tearing more flesh, sending hot blood cascading down my side. Another sliced one leg.

 I had no chance of avoiding them forever, my weapons were useless, and there was no way I could flee. Not good, I thought with the part of my brain which remained rational even in the most desperate straits, not good at all.

 I rolled across the rough cobblestones and through mud and other things I dared not identify, and twin swords struck down at the pavement, barely missing me. I scrambled to my feet and tried to run blindly, blundering into one of the automata, saw it cock its arms back, watched the horrible blade descend...

 Then I flung myself to the ground, desperate to avoid the falling blade...

 And, to my endless astonishment, saw the first monster's sword cleave the helm of the second, which had shambled up behind me, driven only by its own murderous intent. The whirling green lambency which had formed its head dissipated instantly, the red eyes dying like extinguished candles, and with a brief shriek of a soul in torment, it fell into a disparate pile of armor, its enchanted two-hander clanging to the ground as well.

 The first automaton's sword was lodged in the second's now-empty helm, and it moved to disengage it. Only a moment's chance remained me...

 I rolled, dropping my own weapons and seizing the fallen greatsword, lifting it with strength fired by terror and self-preservation, and stabbed it into the first monster's evil, swirling green face.

 It shrieked and shivered; its eyes died, it shrieked, and it, too, collapsed into disconnected metal.

 I didn't waste any time waiting to see if more of the clanking horrors would show up; I decamped as quickly as my wounds allowed, desperately hoping to reach my destination before I passed out from combined exhaustion, loss of blood and sheer terror.
 
 

 Feeling my wounded shoulder throb, and clumsily dragging one leg, I staggered to the front door, hoping that my password was still valid (she'd certainly locked me out enough in the past). I wasn't above awakening the entire household by pounding on it until someone showed up, but I have always preferred the quiet entrance.

 I mumbled a series of tangled magical syllables, both hands on the door (and probably leaving bloodstains at that), hoping that I got them all right. Wonder of wonders, the lock and latch sparkled briefly, and the door silently opened inward. I half-walked, half-fell, through the open portal, and breathed a sigh of relief as it closed safely behind me. The safeguards on the door went far beyond a simple magical voice-lock; anyone without my specific aura who tried to repeat my password, or those who would force their way in, were in for a series of unpleasant surprises of the most direct and final variety.

 The hall was dimly lit with low-set mageglobes, casting an eerie blue radiance. I dropped my cloak in the entry hall, and continued my somewhat shambling way through the main living room, past several small sitting rooms and libraries, and a curving flight of stairs upward.

 I was intercepted before I got to the stairs by a pair of tiny, winged sprites. They were blue-green, one male, the other female, the last being the type I'd take a fancy to, were she the correct dimensions. Having had experience with such beings, I wasn't misled by their size -- sprites commanded powerful magic, and had they taken a dislike to me, I'd probably be spending the rest of eternity as a knitted tea-cozy.

 Fortunately, they knew me.

 "Wulf! Wulf!" they squeaked, sounding like diminutive panicked shepherds. "You were not expected! The mistress does not know! We must announce!"

 I waved a hand. "Sorry, small ones," I said, continuing toward the stairs. "I'm wounded and I need help. I haven't time to waste."

 "But the mistress..." protested the female (Lily, I think her name was). "She must be..."

 I growled irritably, and pushed past them, heading up the stairs. I honestly didn't think they'd zap me simply for awakening the mistress, and tried to ignore them as they squeaked and chittered in protest behind me.

 They didn't pursue or cast anything other than indignant language at me, a fact for which I was grateful. I reached the top of the stairs, and moved as purposefully as my wounds would allow, toward the end of the hall, and the doors to the master bedroom.

 Now when Livia has a master bedroom, it's a master bedroom, meaning that the single unifying, central feature is the bed. I'd seen it so rarely each glimpse was new to me, so my astonishment was genuine -- Livia's bed looked large enough to play squatball on, and it dwarfed the various furnishings beside it. Nearby, Livia's closet stood open, revealing miscellaneous cloaks, gowns and lacy nothings. Of the mistress herself, there was no sign.

 What happened next is probably evidence of why I've survived so long. I heard voices in the corridor, at least one of them male, and my first thought was that the scrutators were here, checking out my known friends and associates. My natural caution -- some might call it cowardice -- took hold, and I dived for the closet, pulling it shut behind me. The door was louvered, enabling me to look into the room without being seen, and I watched with pounding heart and rapid breaths as three individuals entered.

 To my relief, it was not the scrutators. It was Livia and two companions. I was about to step out and announce myself when I realized that such an act would probably go unappreciated. Livia and her friends, one male and one female, did not seem interested in intercourse. Well, not the social kind anyway.

 A few words about Livia are probably in order at this point, since you probably know where this story is going. Livia is a sorceress of no small accomplishment, though her actual job is closer in description to mine -- foul deeds for a fee. Her advantage was that she actually managed to save most of what she made, and her skills enabled her to charge far more than I ever could. I'd always had the utmost respect for her.

 Of course, the fact that she is drop-dead gorgeous doesn't hurt matters, either. Slender, curvaceous in all the right places, with porcelain skin, pale blue eyes, a small but expressive face, turned up nose, and just the right spatter of freckles to convey youthful enthusiasm and innocence, she looked for all the world like a fresh-faced young Orlanist initiate, ready to forsake the pleasures of the world and give her life up to the service of Kybor and his saints.

 Unfortunately, appearances are usually deceiving. and in Livia's case they were downright deceitful. The woman was a smouldering cauldron of acquisitiveness, curiosity, and lustful energy, and was probably the most sexually voracious creature I'd encountered up to that time (and, if you've read any of my other memoirs, you will know that that is saying a lot). The most unfortunate aspect of her character was that she seemed interested only in sex for purely recreational purposes, and, after a brief but stimulating session of boffing beneath a waterfall in Kenth, she had deftly turned aside every further proposition I made her, and we remained purely platonic friends.

 Not that I wanted it that way, mind you. Much to my endless chagrin, I was deeply in love with the woman, and would have crawled a hundred leagues over broken glass and then swim through lemon juice just for a chance to masturbate on her shadow.

 Well, maybe not quite THAT extreme, but I think you know what I mean. And now, here I was, trapped in her closet, watching her tonsil joust with first her female friend, then the male as the three of them stood there in a mutual embrace, sighing and giggling softly.

 That's it, I thought. This is a bad dream. I will wake up any minute now, and find myself in bed with a couple of Xeshite courtesans and the slaves will be serving me breakfast.

 As the seconds stretched into minutes and I remained stubbornly where I was, I finally had to admit that I was fully awake. Perhaps, I thought, I'm not asleep. Maybe I'm dead, and this is hell. Watching the woman I love but can't touch making it with two other beautiful people. Misery and loneliness swirled up inside me, but the thought of actually getting to see Livia naked again kept me watching. Gods, I'm a sick man...

 The second woman was of Livia's height and build, with long, red hair and an angular, alabaster face, decorated with a tasteful constellation of freckles.. As I watched, she and Livia led the man to the bed and helped him sit down.

 Hm, I thought, watching as Livia made to loosen his shirt, revealing powerfully muscled, sculpted chest and abdomen, he must be one of those new flesh golems I've been hearing about -- the one with all the functional parts and no brain whatsoever. His face, earnest and chiseled but somewhat vacant, seemed to confirm the golem theory, even though he took on a look of intense interest when Livia and the second woman stepped back and began undressing each other at the foot of the bed.

 They were close enough that I could hear them.

 "So what do you think, Livia?" the redhead whispered, unlacing Livia's white bodice. "Didn't I tell you he was beautiful?"

 Livia smiled at that and gazed over at the man on the bed. "Oh, he is, indeed, Raetha."

 Raetha pulled Livia's bodice down, revealing her white, perfectly formed breasts. She ran a single, long-nailed finger across one nipple, grinning as Livia stiffened, gasping. "Remember what you were going to do with him?"

 "Oh, yes," Livia replied, a first trace of hushed excitement in her voice. "I remember."

 Raetha pulled Livia's bodice down, and slid her white arms from the sleeves, leaving her torso completely naked, breasts rising and falling, pink nipples growing stiff and hard.

 "Mmmm," Livia said to the man on the bed, as Raetha stroked her pale fleshy mounds. "Look at these, Arlis. Aren't they beautiful?"

 "Mm-hm," Arlis replied, staring with what looked to me like only mild interest.

"Wouldn't you like to suck on them?" Livia persisted.

 "Mm-hm," Arlis replied.

 Raetha apparently didn't mind illustrating, and dropped to her knees, embracing Livia's breasts with red lips and pink tongue, sucking and licking, then abruptly biting with sharp white teeth. Livia gasped again, and stroked one breast while Raetha suckled at the other. Soon, both nipples were slick and gleaming with Raetha's spittle, and Livia's face was contorted into a mask of pleasure, eyes closed, lips moist.

 Gods damn it all, I thought. There's a dead elf in my apartment, the scrutators are probably looking for me right now, and I'm stuck in Livia's closet watching her get laid. And, bloody hells, this closet was extremely stuffy...

 ...Or was that just me?

 Raetha had managed to strip Livia completely naked by this time. An angel, come to earth on a beam of light, could not have earned the adoration I felt for Livia. Part of me wanted to rush out and throw myself at her feet, beg for her favor, and worship her, from piercing blue eyes to perfectly-proportioned, pink-domed breasts, taut belly and the frosting of pale golden, near-invisible, hair between her subtly muscular thighs. Torn between watching and flinging myself out a window, I stayed there, realizing how much I wanted this woman, and how bloody fucking unlikely it was that I'd ever get her.

 I wasn't the only one admiring her this way, for although Raetha remained dressed, she was obviously caught up in the heat of growing passion. She lifted one of Livia's legs and draped it over her shoulder, then turned her attention to the exposed pink flesh beneath that pale downy pubic hair. She touched the protruding lips with teasing fingers, squeezing first one, then the other, then slowly spreading them apart. I gritted my teeth as the temperature in the closet seemed to climb another five degrees or so, and I swore I saw the lovely, delicate cunt flesh grow shiny with moisture and swell beneath Raetha's touch.

 "Oh, yes," Livia gasped. "She's touching me, Arlis."

 Raetha's own breaths sounded ragged and shaky as she slipped a finger between the pink lips, and rubbed her thumb against the swollen prominence of Livia's clitoris, eliciting deeper, more heartfelt moans.

 I wanted to scream. Despite my fear, and the throbbing pain of my wounds, I could not look away, and between my own thighs, my cock stiffened uncomfortably. Gods only know, I'd lost enough blood this night, but still my prick demanded attention. With my luck, I'd die when my remaining blood rushed from my brain to my crotch.

 Raetha was licking now, her tongue stiff, lapping between Livia's protruding pussy lips. I saw moisture dripping from them like honey and watched as Raetha swallowed it eagerly, then turned to Livia's clit, fitting her lips around it and sucking. Livia laced her fingers behind Raetha's head and pulled her close. I fancied I could see Raetha slide two, then three fingers deep inside Livia, but I couldn't be sure, given my viewing angle, and my reluctance to step out of the closet to change it.

 "Oh, Raetha," Livia sighed. "She's eating me, Arlis. She's sucking my clit."

 "Uhh-huh," Arlis said. Well, I thought, I wonder when he's going to add another syllable to his vocabulary.

 "She's putting her fingers in me," Livia announced. "I'm going to be so wet for you and your cock."

 Great. The words I'd always dreamed of hearing from Livia, uttered to a brainless sex-muffin I'd never met. This was going from bad to worse, and showed no sign of improving any time soon.

 Arlis had shed his breeches by now, and lay on the bed, stroking a massive erection, seemingly the size of a Litharnan two-handed sword. Yup, I thought. Gotta be a golem. No human is hung like that... Well I was, once, but that was in another body, and it wasn't even really human, but...

 Never mind...

 Livia leaned back, thrusting against Raetha's mouth. Her muscles were taut, her breasts and nipples swollen and trembling.

 "Yes, Arlis. She's so... good... She has four fingers in me... now... I want you so much. I want your cock. She's going to make me come, then I'm going to let you fuck me... I told her she could... watch you..." The tension in her voice was nearly tangible. Dammit, that woman would come if a butterfly landed on her...

 Lust and despair fought each other inside me. Excitement at seeing Livia naked and exposed, and hearing her beg for release contended with a sense of anger and jealousy that she chose others to share such pleasure with. I pointedly ignored my pathetic, insistent erection, and continued to watch.

 "Mm, Raetha," Livia gasped. "You're making me... I'm... I'm coming... Yes..." She went rigid, clamping Raetha's face against her cunt, her entire body flushing. "Again... Yes..." It was as if a seismic wave passed through her tender white body. "I'm coming..."

 I looked away, rolling my eyes. Phaedra's cunt, this woman was too much. Maybe I should have gone someplace else for help. Drull the Big Headed Warrior Priest, for example, or maybe Podwick the Peasant/Tinker/Knave, or his cousin Walph the Lame Who Isn't Really Lame But Gets a Lot of Sympathy Anyway...

 When I finally got around to looking back, Livia was on the bed, cradling Arlis' massive cock in one hand, licking its head with slow, insistent strokes, while Raetha undressed nearby. Yeah, another hunch confirmed... Raetha was slender, muscular, with small but exquisitely-formed breasts and nipples the color of polished coral. Her hips were wide, flaring abruptly below a flat, white belly and narrow waist. Her freckles continued down her shoulders and arms, growing sparser down her back. She had twin dimples just above her buttocks, I noted in distress. Raetha herself seemed preoccupied, watching Livia lavish attention on Arlis' prick with wide-eyed, wet-lipped fascination.

 I struggled to keep my mind from placing me in Arlis' position as she ran an eager pink tongue up and down the massive organ's underside, flicking it along its head, prising open its tip. Of course, if it was me instead of Arlis, Livia wouldn't have to lick such a wide area, the smart-ass portion of my brain told me. I mentally beat it into submission and continued to watch.

 Livia began to suck at Arlis -- a damnably impressive feat considering the sheer size of his organ. She opened her mouth wide, and fitted her lips around the head, stretching them in the process. Arlis responded well, closing his eyes and moaning, stroking at Livia's short blonde hair.

 "Can you get that all?" Raetha asked. "I can barely fit him into my mouth."

 In lieu of response, Livia began to swallow the thick organ, sliding distended lips along its tight, purple-veined surface.

 "I guess she can," Raetha said, then sat astride Arlis's shoulders, presenting her cunt to him. "Your turn to do some work, lover," she said, then lowered herself down onto his mouth. I couldn't see him lick her, but by the intense motions of her round white ass cheeks, I suspected he was doing his job well.

 This went on for some time, Livia consuming Arlis like a sword-swallower in a White Empire carnival act, and Raetha sitting on his face, allowing his tongue to work her over. Eventually, almost all of Arlis' knob-headed polearm was in Livia's mouth, and she began to slide him in and out, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. That she didn't choke on it amazed me, but then again she'd obviously had a lot of practice.

 Not on me, mind you. Then again, maybe back when I'd been a lion-man...

 QUIT IT!!!

 I sighed, then stopped, fearing they'd hear me. No chance of that, I realized, as Raetha's moans grew into loud, echoing howls of desire. Her humping, quivering buttocks moved faster and faster, and I saw Arlis fingering her cunt as he licked her. Not that I could see all that well, since Livia was in the way, but my mind was able to fill in the blanks quite well, thank you very much.

 My own cock, inadequate though it was next to golem-boy's, threatened to burst the seams of my breeches. Gods help me, I didn't want to give in to the most obvious impulse at this point, never having considered myself a voyeur, but if I didn't do something I was going to scream. As Raetha slid majestically into full-throated orgasm, I hastily undid my lacings and let my imprisoned friend free. What I would do with it next was still in question, but at least I wasn't in pain anymore. Well, not as much, anyway.

 As if on cue, Livia released Arlis' organ, a tiny string of saliva still adhering to its tight, purple head, and Raetha turned, sliding down Arlis' chest, standing up on her knees, and fitting the massive thing between her sopping cunt-lips. I noted grimly that her pubis was bald as an egg, giving me a nearly unlimited view of her innermost secrets, now the object of Arlis' impassioned thrusting.

 Then Livia got in the way again, licking at Raetha's clitoris, moist and swollen above her spread cunt lips, and at Arlis' engorged shaft as it thrust in and out. Raetha rewarded Livia with a series of choking cries which might at other times be considered screams of agony. But one look at Raetha's face, thrown back, hair whirling, eyes half-closed, tongue licking at her full red lips, dispelled any notion that she was not thoroughly enjoying herself.

 Arlis did his part, pounding his gleaming shaft into Raetha, stretching her hairless pink cunt lips to their limit, filling the red-haired woman's cunt with what seemed by her reaction to be an almost unbearable load.

 "Nnnnnnnnnn." Raetha howled through clenched teeth. "Coming... commmmmmminnnnggg..." Her entire body convulsed, and I fancied I could see her climax pass through her like an earth tremor. Her small breasts bobbed, her legs tensed, her hair tossed wildly, her fists clenched. "Again... now..." Another wave passed through her, helped along by Livia's probing tongue.

 I hoped that perhaps all the pressure would finish off Mister Polearm, but I wasn't to be so lucky. He apparently had an endless capacity, and didn't seem even close to climaxing. I rolled my eyes and once more wished I was dead when Livia reclined on the bed beside him, head in Raetha's lap, and said, "Don't think you're finished, now, do you?" with a wicked lilt in her voice. "Raetha promised me certain services."

 "Uh-huh," Arlis said, moving atop her, and rubbing his cockhead against that lovely, moist cunt.

 I found myself wondering, as I sometimes do at such moments, about the real meaning of what I was experiencing. What was this man, I asked myself? A beautiful, brainless body? An enormous, tireless cock?

 The answer, according to Raetha and Livia, seemed to be "yes." He had what they wanted, didn't bore them with trivialities like conversation and intellectualism, and they were happy. When they were done, he'd probably happily go his way and act as stud to another beautiful woman the next night. Poor man...

 As Arlis' cock moved ponderously into Livia, stretching her lips in the same way as it had just cleaved Raetha's hairless pussy, I mused that it must be a dull and colorless life to exist as a purely sexual creature, moving from one meaningless encounter to another, awash in a sea of breasts and lips and cunt juices, used for one's cock and cast aside. What a useless, pointless existence. To live for sex and nothing more... I would never choose such a life. Better, I thought, to die than give up my freedom...

 "Oh! Arlis! Fuck me!" Livia cried. Her legs were wrapped around Arlis's shoulders, and his cock thrust into her like a tireless piston.

 Kybor's balls, who the fuck was I kidding? Maybe I wouldn't want to live the life of a mindless sex puppet, but I wouldn't mind it for a while... In fact, I had served in such a capacity when I was a lion-man, and it HAD gotten kind of old, but still...

 "FUCK ME! HARD!" As Livia continued to cry out, Raetha moved astride her flushed face, allowing her to lick as she bellowed. "I'm..." lick-lick "coming," Livia moaned, alternating her screams with impassioned attention to the sopping, hairless lips above her. "I'm coming..." Lick-lick. Gods -- in the throes of orgasm, and Livia still wanted to eat pussy...

 That was it. I grabbed my still-hard organ and started stroking. I'm normally not so uncouth as to abuse myself in a friend's closet, but dammit I was beginning to think I had no choice.

 It still wasn't over.

"You know what I want," Livia hissed, face plastered against Raetha's sopping cunt, idly running her lips and tongue over it as she spoke, muffling her voice. "She promised."

 "Uh-huh," Arlis said, with a trace of enthusiasm. Phaedra, did he EVER say anything else?

 I watched, bravely jacking off, as Livia continued to lick at Raetha. Elsewhere, Arlis stroked a single, thick finger against the pale pink rosebud of Livia's asshole, lubricating it with her cunt juice.

 I kept on stroking. Sodomy had never been my favorite activity (though with Narisha it seems like a sacrament, mind you...), but now, as Arlis slipped a finger into Livia's tight hole, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. After all, Livia seemed to like taking it everywhere else, why not there?

 Still, even I began to wonder at her wisdom as Arlis now stroked his impossibly huge organ against Livia's anus. Evidently, no one else was worried, for Raetha had turned around, letting Livia lick her while she watched Arlis tease the blonde woman's asshole.

 "I promised her you'd fuck her ass, Arlis," she told him. "Now do a good job."

 I stroked with one hand while clapping my other hand over my forehead. Was this trip really necessary?

 The comedy was rapidly moving toward its main act, as Arlis stroked Livia's hole more ardently, and finally slipped the purple head inside. To my amazement, and unexpected excitement, he actually began to make headway, thrusting with slow, steady pressure into the tight depths of Livia's ass.

 "Ahhhhhh...." Livia gasped, mouth still tight against Raetha, head flanked by the redhead's muscular legs. "Feels so good..."

 Good, I wondered? The description had never occurred to me, but then I'd always been primarily heterosexual...

 "Yessss," Livia continued. "Where's his cock, Raetha? Where's he putting his cock?"

 "Up your ass, Livia," Raetha replied, her voice as tense and excited as her friend's. "He's fucking your ass."

 My only comfort was that Arlis was far too occupied to say "uh-huh," but was instead intent upon pushing the entirety of his stiff organ inside Livia. My heart pounded faster, and I could no longer prevent myself from wanting to be where he was, my cock thrusting into Livia's deepest recesses, feeling her tight and hot around me. I stroked with both hands now, and wondered what the hell I was going to do when I came.

 The hot, tight-fleshed length of Arlis' cock had now completely vanished into Livia's asshole. He pulled out, and thrust again, slowly but intently, then began to move faster and faster.

 "Oh, he feels so good in my ass," Livia breathed. She didn't seem interested in addressing Arlis directly anymore, but he didn't appear to care. The knob-headed organ was fully in motion now, fucking her ass with the same speed and intensity as it had penetrated her cunt. Raetha cried out, excitement at Livia's penetration combining with the pressure of the blonde woman's tongue, and I realized a moment later that she was coming again.

 "Fuck me," Livia cried, legs held tight around Arlis' shoulders. "Fuck my ass. Come for me..."

 Arlis at last proved that he could make more noises than "uh-huh," and began to moan, thrusting almost instinctively against Livia's pale, rounded buttocks. Faster now, harder... Livia cried out, and once more her cries of pleasure were almost indistinguishable from those of pain.

 "Come on my ass, Arlis," she wailed. "Come on me..."

 I could at least take credit that Arlis and I didn't hold out any longer. When he pulled out and unleashed a jet of hot, sticky semen all over Livia's sopping cunt and gaping asshole, I myself climaxed, shooting my own load onto the floor of the closet. As the three cries of passion subsided into low moans of satisfaction and the sweet murmurs of the afterglow, I stripped off my shirt -- filthy and bloodstained anyway -- and frantically sopped up the remains of my illicit orgasm. Now, in post-orgasmic depression, I felt inadequate and somewhat ashamed of myself, but forced my mind to think clearly nonetheless.

 As I sat, wondering what to do next, Livia whispered "Off," and the room beyond the closet dimmed into blue shadows. Damned mageglobes...

 Okay, okay... It was now or never. I might as well get it over with. If I was fortunate, they'd all be too exhausted to give me too much trouble. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and went out to meet my fate.

 "Livia..." I began.

 "WULF?" demanded an indignant female voice.

 "Huh?" said a confused, somewhat sleepy male voice. That would be Arlis

 "Who's there?" said a second, similarly somnolent, female, voice. Dear Raetha.

 "ON!!" bellowed Livia, even more indignant, and the room was suddenly bathed in full magelight.

 Oh hell...

 "Uh, Livia --" I began.

 "Well," said Livia, sitting up in bed, pulling white silk sheets up around her exquisite pale shoulders, "if it isn't Mister Sensitivity."

 "Uh, hello," I said, looking first from one drowsy countenance to the other.

 "You're Wulf?" asked Raetha, looking at me as if I was some legendary daemon-lord freshly risen from hell and shrieking for vengeance. She turned to Livia. "Is he the one who --"

 She silenced her with a glare.

 "Yes," I said. "I'm Wulf. We haven't met, Lady Raetha, but I feel as if I've known you for years."

 Then Arlis spoke up. "Who the hell do you think you are, breaking in like this?" He demanded while, beside him, Livia sighed and rolled her eyes. "This is a private bedroom, and you weren't invited here."

 "Gods," I said. "It speaks."

 "Answer my question, asshole!" Gods, it gets indignant, too. Will wonders never cease? "You weren't invited here."

 "Then I'm one of a very select few," I said, staring directly at Livia.

 That didn't sit well with the pretty-boy. "Now, see here," he said, sitting up and giving every indication of being ready to bound out of the bed at me, "I've half a mind to--"

 I drew my rapier casually -- having just fought some kind of elvish hell-beast, the prospect of gutting a naked, brainless sports major didn't exactly frighten me.

 "If you have half a mind," I rasped, fixing him with the grimmest and most deadly stare I could manage (my blood-stained and generally disreputable state probably helped), "then you've considerably more than most of the little gits she brings in here. Then again, to look at you, I doubt that she wants you for your mind, half or otherwise."

 Arlis glowered at me, but remained where he was, his primitive brain probably reminding him that he was completely nude, and had no weapon save the one which had taken Livia and Raetha's interest.

 "Well, you've certainly put a damper on my evening," Livia said. "What do you want?"

 I flicked a contemptuous gaze from one bed-mate to the other. "I'd prefer to speak in private."

 "Now, just a minute," complained Raetha, looking deeply offended. "We have as much right to be here as you do, and we are Lady Livia's invited guests --"

 "Shut your gob, sister," I broke in. "You've had your fun, and now it's my turn. I'm about out of patience with you two. Livia? Can we have a few moments to ourselves?"

 She sighed again, and looked at each of her companions in turn. "I'm sorry," she said, not unkindly. "It's been lovely, and you're very nice, but you'll both have to go. The sprites will escort you home."

 "But Livia..." complained Raetha.

 "Out!" Livia said, a trace of steel in her voice. "I'll let you know when you can come over again."

 There were no further protests. My new friends hastily clambered out of bed, gathered up clothing which had been scattered all over the room, and made quick, wordless exits. Arlis spared me a single, vicious backward glance. I stepped over and slammed the door on him.

 Livia sat on the bed, wrapped in a white satin robe. "That wasn't necessary, Wulf."

 I took a deep breath, and met her steady gaze.

 "You know what's more frustrating than a woman who won't sleep with you?" I said.

 She stared back expectantly.

 "A woman who sleeps with everyone and his bloody brother -- and his bloody sister for that matter -- and still won't sleep with you!"

 She looked incensed. "We had our time together, Wulf. It was wonderful, but I have my own life to live. We each walk on different paths, Wulf."

 "Yeah, and you walk 'em bowlegged, if tonight's any indication. 'Fuck my ass, Arlis, fuck my ass.' This with someone you hardly know. And me, your friend, the closest he gets to your bed is hiding in the closet while you fuck some half-wit whose only qualification for your companionship seems to be a dick the size of a battering ram."

 "There's more to it than that," Livia said indignantly. "He happens to be a very talented artist."

 "Yeah. I'm sure he's very skilled in oils. Listen, Livia. I've tried to be your friend for a year now, but you seem to grant virtual strangers the kind of intimacy I only dream of. Phaedra's tits, don't you ever get tired of giving people the brushoff, Livia?"

 "I haven't so far, Wulf, despite your best efforts to make me feel guilty about it. And I don't think of it as a brushoff. I respect you, Wulf. I always have."

 I smiled. It was a grim and cynical smile, but a smile nonetheless. "If your respect is the price of getting back into bed with you, Livia, I'm certainly willing to consider it. What would it take to lose your respect? Begging?"

 "I can't imagine you begging, Wulf. Maybe that's the problem."

 "That you can only have sex with men who have no sense of pride? That you think sleeping with me will damage our friendship? That I wasn't aggressive enough when we first met, and just let you have your way? That I haven't been passive enough, and played the mindless boy-toy? Gods, Livia -- life is rough enough without my always having to second-guess everything that I've ever done?"

 She looked at me with sudden sympathy, and the tension between us eased somewhat. "I hope that the show was worth the cost of admission."

 "Oh, yeah. Watching you get buggered by some brainless moron is my idea of paradise. I'd ask you to introduce me to your red-headed friend, but I'm probably not big enough for her."

 She ignored me. "I take it, Wulf, that you didn't burst in on me and my companions just to tell me how much you miss holding my alabaster body in your arms?"

 "Well, that may have been part of it," I said, easing into a chair, and fighting the urge to relax completely, drift into unconsciousness, and forget everything that had happened tonight, "but the fact is I've got a serious problem."

 "So I gathered from your current state," Livia replied, rummaging in a bedside cabinet and withdrawing a jar of ointment. "Here. Tell me what happened and I'll dress your wounds. You look like hell."

 I sighed, allowed her to tend to me, and explained. She let me talk uninterrupted, until I got to the description of the two armored nightmares which had attacked me.

 "Dreadguard," she said. "Souls of evil elves bound to magical suits of armor. They consider it a way of making amends for wicked acts during mortal life. You must be up against some read hardasses to attract that kind of attention."

 "Thanks," I said, and continued. Livia listened in silence, her face growing by turns sympathetic, amused, and, finally, hard.

 "I have a feeling," I concluded, "that there are certain individuals abroad who don't want me to go on breathing, and I've got five thousand crowns waiting for me in Murvane. I need to get the hell out of town, but I don't especially want a dead elf left behind in my apartment, lest I find the scrutators waiting for me when I get back, or find the bounty hunters all over me like a bad smell."

 "So," Livia replied, words tight and carefully modulated, "you need me to help you get rid of the dead elf?"

 I nodded, wearily. I desperately wanted to sleep, to pretend none of this was happening, but I knew better.

 "Tell me Wulf, when you came here, did you see the sign out front that said 'Dead Elf Disposal'?"

 "I don't --"

 "No. I asked you a question. Did you see the sign that said 'Dead Elf Disposal'?"

 I sighed. "No, I didn't."

 "No, you didn't. And do you know why you didn't see the sign?"

 "No," I replied dourly. "Why?"

 "BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ONE, THAT'S WHY!" Livia's eyes blazed.

I'd never seen her this angry before, but I wasn't about to give in. "I'm not looking for an expert, Livia. I'm looking for help, and you're the only person I can turn to."

 She stopped short and almost looked distraught at that. I continued in the same vein and, for once in my life, I meant it.

 "I need a friend, Livia. Not a partner. Not a lover. Not a casual lay. I don't care whether you never allow me in your bed again, even though I would certainly enjoy it." Not that we'd ever actually been in bed together, of course -- our big moment together had been under a waterfall in Kenth. "You're my friend, Livia, or at the very least that's what I'd like you to be. And I'm asking you for help. I'm not asking because you owe me anything, or because you feel guilty about not sleeping with me, or because I'm demanding anything. I'm asking because you're the only friend I have right now, and I need help."

 By the gods, if I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn I saw a tear at one corner of Livia's eye. I didn't have a chance to look too closely, for she immediately rose, simultaneously wiping her eye with one corner of her robe (giving me an intriguing flash of one smooth thigh as she did so).

 "All right, Wulf," she said, all business. "You've convinced me. Let me get dressed and we'll get going."

 I excused myself and waited in the hall. Livia had never been reticent about letting me see her naked, even when we weren't involved, but I chose not to be present -- no sense in growing more frustrated than I already was. I took the opportunity to get washed up, discard my bloody clothes, and change into a fresh tunic and breeches, which the sprites brought me (Livia was apparently quite used to providing male visitors with clean clothes).

 When I returned, Livia was waiting in her bedroom, clad in sturdy work clothes -- leather tunic, loose breeches, boots, hair tied back with a leather thong. She led me down to one of her work rooms, a smallish chamber, walls lined with viewing crystals, vials of alchemicals, wands and other exotica, its center inscribed with a casting circle. Livia selected a short, black wand, topped with a silver, jewel-eyed skull. I'd seen this item before (actually helped her retrieve it from the bastard who stole it, in fact), and suspected I what she had in mind.

 She shoved the wand into her belt, and directed me to the circle.

 "We'll pop directly to your room," she said. "Where did you say you were staying?"

 "Goblin's Eye," I said, as she wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste. "Second floor."

 She nodded. "You know the drill. Picture your room in your mind. Visualize it as completely as you possibly can. Include the damned dead elf."

 "Going to blink over?" I asked. "Why? Is walking going to be too painful?"

 "You want my help, footpad, you lay off the smartass comments. Now shut up and visualize!"

 I obliged. I'd learned enough at the Academy to be able to clear my mind of all superfluous thought -- I took a deep breath, relaxed, closed my eyes, and created a detailed image of my room. Beside me, Livia muttered her invocation.

 There was a brief whirling sensation, and when I again opened my eyes, the image of my room had become real. We stood in the middle of my quarters, blood still staining the floor, and the motionless body of what had once been a particularly snotty elf lying beneath my bedclothes.

 Livia took stock, and went to work without another word. First, she moved the wand in an elaborate pattern over the bloodstained floorboards, muttering and chanting. The blood grew liquid again, and vanished into the wood, leaving the floor as dark and dirty as it had been before. She dealt similarly with the bloodstains on my sheets and blankets, which coalesced into bright droplets, and darted back into Aelfryn's perforated body.

 "There," she said. "All nice and clean. Now comes the fun part."

 She kneeled beside the bed and held the skull-wand over Aelfryn, moving it up and down his body, intoning harsh, brutal syllable which made me distinctly uncomfortable. Necromancy is an ugly art, one which most sorcerers avoid like a dwarf avoids soap and water. Livia herself only used it when absolutely necessary -- the fact that she was doing this at all bespoke considerable concern for me and my problems, for which I was growing more grateful by the second.

 At length, Livia completed her ritual, stood, and stepped back.

 "Damn," I muttered. "Did you do what I think you did?"

 She nodded, breathing hard. "Gods only know why I do these things for you, Wulf. You certainly don't deserve it."

 I wasn't able to respond, for the dead Aelfryn suddenly interrupted our conversation by jerking clumsily to simulated life. The body twitched, then moved like a marionette, sitting up, swinging stiff legs off the edge of the bed, and standing with apparent difficulty. Dead eyes stared out of its pale face, and a slight gurgling rose up from its throat.

 Dead he was -- dead and gone. His body was just a shell now, inhabited by Livia's magic, and controlled by her will. Zombies had always given me the creeps, and the newly-animated Aelfryn was even more horrid than most, given that I'd spoken to him only bare hours before.

 "Throw something over him, Wulf," Livia ordered. "I don't have time to draw a circle here, so we'll take him down to the harbor."

 I obliged, concealing Aelfryn's slack features beneath a hooded cloak, and jamming the knife which had killed him into his belt.

 "That will have to do," Livia said, then addressed the standing corpse. "Walk," she said. "Follow."

 We moved out into the hall, Livia in the lead, Aelfryn's corpse shuffling after, and me taking up the rear. I closed and locked the door, and hastened to follow my two bizarre companions.

 Once more, luck was with us, and we reached the street without incident. I sniffed out our surroundings, and felt no magic save that which impelled poor Aelfryn forward, so we headed south, toward the waterfront.

 Progress was painfully slow; Aelfryn moved at a slow stagger, and we were forced to keep pace. It was two hours til dawn, and the streets were largely deserted. A couple of times I saw small figures in the distance, but for the most part nothing stirred on the labyrinthine streets of the Thieves' Quarter.

 After what seemed like an eternity, we reached our destination, where black, filthy water lapped at ancient, rotted piers and pilings. Again, no one was abroad, and the twin moon-slivers cast only the feeblest of illumination.

 "Into the water," Livia said. "Straight to the bottom."

 Aelfryn's corpse obeyed faithfully, lurching out onto an old pier, and tumbling off into the depths with a feeble splash.

 "He'll stay under?" I asked.

 Livia nodded. "Like I said, straight to the bottom. He'll latch onto something and stay there 'til he rots."

 I looked at her with a tired, grateful expression. "Livia," I began, "I can't tell you how much --"

 "Don't waste your breath," she cut in. "You're right. I'm your friend, and friends help each other. I don't expect anything in return, Wulf, but if I ever need you..."

 "I won't forget," I promised. I paused, unfamiliar emotions coursing through me. "Livia, I'm not very good at this, but... I..." I stopped, utterly defeated by weariness, uncertainty, and an inexplicable sadness. "I... really care about you, Livia. I'm sorry about sneaking in and making all those stupid comments. I --" I paused, struggling to express my real feelings and finally giving up. "Like I said, Livia. I care about you. Let's just leave it at that."

 To my surprise, she smiled. "I've little room in my life for sentimentality, Wulf, but I'll just say that the feeling is mutual."

 And that, given the unsure nature of our relationship, was more than I could have possibly hoped for.
 
 

It was just growing light when we said our goodbyes (affectionately but chastely, much to my disgust). Before I headed back to my rooms to pack my bags, however, I secured the services of Captain Fish (actually, that was his nickname, but no one knew his real name), and the sloop Bluefin, bound for Murvane.

 "Excellent!" Fish declared, disgustingly jovial for having just awakened. "Now both of our passenger berths are filled! I think you'll like your fellow traveler."

 I doubted it, but said nothing, handed over the gold, and took off for home.

 I was justifiably cautious in my return to the Goblin's Eye; although dawn pinkened the sky and various early risers were up and about, begging for scraps, pushing carts full of produce and items for sale, or going about any one of a thousand forms of unknown business, I still hadn't shaken last night's scare, nor was I completely sure that the scrutators wouldn't be taking an interest in me.

 My suspicions proved correct as I sneaked down an alley near the Eye, and saw a squad of city guardsmen, led by the hatefully familiar figure of Scrutator Niall, entering the tenement. Niall was an expatriate elf with a bad attitude, who seemed to consider himself my personal nemesis, so his presence in my building indicated more on his part than a desire to get together and exchange recipes for orcish shepherd's pie. I swiftly withdrew back into the alley and decamped. If Niall had been tipped off regarding the dead elf in my room, and had gotten himself all excited at the prospect of finally nailing Wulf the Freelance, he was bound to be disappointed, but I did not want to be around to witness it.

 I returned to Bluefin with neither fresh clothes nor baggage, but Fish didn't seem to mind, and saw me to my quarters in one of the two after cabins, a distressingly cramped closet-sized room, which was nonetheless private. It was hours yet until departure, but I took the opportunity to throw myself onto the bunk and drop like a stone into black, dreamless slumber.
 
 

 I hope you're not terribly disappointed at my display of craven cowardice the night before -- I'd always felt that cowardice, creatively applied, goes a long way toward keeping one alive. In this case, I'd gotten damned bloody (and my wounds still ached, in fact -- I'd see to changing dressings later), but once more I was still relatively intact.

 After about an hour of enjoying my relative safety, I hauled my lazy ass out of my bunk, donned boots, and headed topside.

 The endless blue of the sea surrounded us on all sides. The sails bellied in a stiff, steady breeze, running gear creaked, and the crew went about their business in relaxed, professional silence.

 Fish was out, walking the decks like the White Emperor on parade. The crew did their job oblivious to his presence, and when he caught sight of me, his face split in a wide grin.

 "Ah, Wulf!" he cried, clapping me about the shoulders (it hurt, but I didn't let on). "Glad to see you up and about! You seemed somewhat weary last night -- I trust you're well rested."

 I nodded. "I wasn't able to get my baggage aboard this morning, captain; things were pretty hectic back at my building, you understand."

 Fish gave me a knowing wink -- he'd transported me out under the noses of the scrutators before. He ended up sending a cabin boy to fetch me some spare gear, which I purchased for a mere three times its true value, and Fish, who seemed possessed of a limitless desire to please (for a fee, at any rate) offered to loan me a few books from his small private library, an offer which I accepted with reservations.

 "I realize that the run to Murvane is likely to be dull," Fish said, striding with practiced ease beside me as we walked along the foredeck. "I'm sure my volume on the history of the first nine White Emperors will help you pass the time."

 "I'm sure it will," I replied, not entirely convinced (the early White Emperors were themselves pretty uninteresting; the Empire didn't get corrupt and decadent and interesting until much later).

 "And I've a fully annotated copy of the Analects of Saint Orlan. I read it for inspiration when I'm troubled or uncertain. I'm sure it would do the same for you."

 "I'm sure," I said, trying not to sound as doubtful as I felt.

 "Perhaps you and your fellow passenger could be persuaded to join me for dinner soon. My crew is a fine bunch of rascals -- they love me like their very father, and I dote on them as if they were all my sons, but it simply doesn't do to allow them to dine at my table. I hope that you will both be willing...?"

 "Certainly." I was suddenly intrigued. "I'm afraid that I haven't made the acquaintance of the other passenger. Is he about?"

 Fish shook his head. Below us, the bow wake foamed, and a pair of dolphins cavorted alongside. "She. I fear that she has yet to make an appearance. I'm certain that you will find her..." he paused, searching for a suitable word. "...interesting."

 Hm. A woman? Perhaps the voyage would be more interesting than I'd originally thought.

 Soon enough, I had regained my sea legs and began to enjoy the journey. Warm trade winds bore us northwest from Stoneburg, and for three full days we made good time. My fellow passenger remained a mystery -- the cabin door opposite mine remained firmly closed, and I was unable to bring myself to knock.

 I passed the time by helping out on deck, reading Fish's godawful collection of dull and dusty books (I avoided the Analects of Saint Orlan, however -- I wasn't that starved for entertainment), gazing out at the endless sea, and driving myself mad with speculation as to the identity of the other passenger.

 I finally met her on the morning of our fourth day at sea. I've never been much of an early riser, but ship travel seemed to bring out the mariner in me -- I rolled out of my bunk but a few brief minutes after the sun crowned over the horizon. A few crewmen were busy about the ship, but first watch had yet to sound, and it was relatively peaceful, save for the splash of water and the usual sounds of the rigging. Wandering around the deck, I ended up answering my questions regarding our mystery passenger. She was, to put it mildly, one of the last sorts of individuals I'd expected in these parts.

 She stood, leaning casually against the bulwarks, one foot raised and resting on the pinrail, eyes fixed out to sea with a dreamy expression. She herself actually had quite a dream-like quality to her, for she was a species I'd rarely met before. Kaitian, I thought, or I'm an orcish shaman.

 Kaitians are one of the more exotic beast-folk, however, and, for some reason, very popular with our various horny erotic artists, though most have never even seen one. As the n'doro resemble humanoid lions, the Kaitians appear descended from tigers -- tall, muscular, possessed of a barely-restrained savage grace.

 I would say that this particular Kaitian was a prime example. Her shapely form rippled with muscles in places where most women didn't even have places, and her burnt orange pelt was striped starkly with black. Her face lay midway between human and cat, with a short muzzle and snub-nose, but as her gaze wandered across the endless blue-black horizon, dotted here and there with tossing whitecaps, I saw a subtle intelligence and the distant hint of a joyful spirit in her slitted, golden eyes. She wore a frustratingly brief costume, as well as some necklaces and bracelets, revealing pretty much all of her impressive physique, while hiding the most vital areas. Her arms were firmly-muscled, ending in human-like hands (though I knew that they concealed retractable claws, in the same manner as the lion-folk). Her breasts were more than substantial, held in check by a leather halter, forming a deep white-furred valley, hanging above a taut white stomach and powerful thighs, decorated with a knee-length purple breechclout. She had hair like a human -- a thick mane of red-brown which started high on her forehead between her two black-furred ears, and hung down to the small of her back in a simple braid. Her whiskered lips rose slightly when she saw me, revealing gleaming white fangs, and I realized that she was smiling at me.

 Still a bit stunned by the unexpected appearance of this orange-pelted vision, I was unable to do much save smile back and wonder if she savvied Imperial Common.

 "You stare so fearfully," she said, her voice exotically accented, but entirely comprehensible. "Do not worry. I shall not attack you."

 "Oh, I... I... Never thought you would... uhh... ma'am," I said, as politely as possible. "I just didn't expect someone of your... your..."

 "Appearance?" she asked, turning to face me. "My, my, I'm not even a native, and I speak your language more skillfully than you."

 You can always tell foreigners, I thought -- they're the ones who speak perfect Imperial...

 And, oh, yes, I forgot -- she wore a long, curved sword at one hip, and a dagger at the other. From what I knew of Kaitians, I was fairly certain that she was all too familiar with their use.

 "Since I have clearly so paralyzed you that you are rendered incapable of speech," she continued, "I will begin introductions. Note, however, that this is a serious breech of my people's code of etiquette."

 "I... uhh..."

 "I am Shu Li," she said, softly, pronouncing her name as if it was some kind of exotic sex act from one of those elaborately-illustrated Red Temple manuals. "I am bound for the nation of Murvane."

 "Me, too. I mean, I... I... I'm charmed," I said, frantically piecing myself together and trying to create some semblance of my normal, witty, self. "I'm Wulf. General contractor."

 "Wolf?" she asked, eyes widening in what I assumed was mock-amazement. "A name which implies much. Are you brave as a wolf? Savage as a wolf? Swift, wild, passionate as a wolf?"

 "I couldn't say," I replied, at once impressed and intrigued by this sarcastic, talking pussy cat. "It just means I'm hairy and howl a lot."

 "Ah, hair," she said, wonderingly. "You don't seem terribly hirsute to me, Wolf General Contractor."

 "Well, not in comparison," I said. "I used to have a lot more."

 "Perhaps you can tell me more about it someday," Shu Li said. "In the meantime, I mean no disrespect, but I wish to continue my morning meditation. I'm certain we will see each other again."

 I nodded. "I'm sure we will; it's a small boat," I said, forcing myself to resume my stroll along the deck, and looking back at Li's curvaceous, only barely-clad form. From above the back of her breechclout, above muscular buttocks barely concealed, a long, black-striped tail waved and twitched slightly. "Good morning, Shu Li."

 Okay, I thought. It's gonna be an interesting trip...

 Gods only know how I manage to fall into these things. Shu Li took to me quite readily, since despite her sensuous grace and exotic beauty, Fish and the crew seemed downright scared of her. Superstitious nitwits...

 It remained friendly, of course. I had no clue about Kaitians' sex lives, and was both too polite and too shy to actually ask. For all I knew, they came in heat only once a year, had unbreakable taboos against sex with other species, and the males were vengeful and violent enough to hunt anyone who violated their social mores to hell and back, then rip his lungs out and watch him bleed to death. No, best to remain friends.

 As painful as it was... Comparisons to Livia were too obvious to think about, so I did my best to avoid the matter.

 We talked quite a bit, did sword practice together on the foredeck, and early one morning she even shed her scant garments and leaped off the stern castle to leap and cavort, as sleek as an otter, around the ship, while I and a couple of dumbfounded crew on day watch stared in fascination. Not that I saw much -- she moved too damned fast. It was probably just as well in any event, since I was purposely suppressing my libido and trying to think of Shu Li as a platonic sister in arms (not altogether successfully, however).
 
 

As I'm fond of saying, life is full of rude awakenings - in fact, it tends to be one big rude awakening in general. Having drifted off to sleep and pleasant dreams of pale, blonde sorceresses, occasionally interspersed with tawny cat-pelts and green, slitted eyes, only to be tossed out of your bunk by a crash, screams and the sounds of battle, is not the sort of experience one cherishes. As I struggled into my breeches, grabbed a broadsword - generously provided by Captain Fish for my drills with Shu Li - I reflected that I'd never had an entirely pleasant, sedate voyage in my entire life. Probably more punishments by the gods for unspecified offenses; I'd come to pretty much accept such treatment.

 The scene on the deck was bloody chaos. Beneath the wan glow of two crescent moons, Fish and his crew struggled against a horde of attacking fish-headed, slimy humanoid monstrosities armed with a selection of swords, nets and polearms. Piscids, I realized with disgust. Just my luck -- I'd been told they were extinct, and now here they were trying to fillet my ship's crew. As I watched, a crewman I knew as Stripe went down, a scimitar in his belly as his opponent, a scarred, one-eyed fish-man, hissed and exulted.

Several fish-men had climbed into the rigging and were slashing at it, or hacking at spars. A huge chunk of timber, followed by a tail of tarred rigging, landed with a thud on the deck beside me.

 My normal reaction to a melee like this would be to hide in the lamp locker and occasionally try to trip a fish-boy or gut him when his back was turned. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure that if we lost the battle, I wouldn't live long - enemies have tried to feed me to the sharks far too many times for me to want to repeat it. With this in mind, I readied my broadsword and waded in.

 The weapon was old and badly balanced, and I am wasn't especially skilled with it in any event - I prefer lighter weapons like daggers and rapiers - but I did what I could, stepping into uneven fights, hamstringing, backstabbing, and in general trying to make a nuisance of myself.

 It didn't take the piscids long to notice me, and before I knew it I was facing two of them - one with a cutlass and the other with a spear -- who forced me back across the blood-slick deck. I did my best to defend myself, but outnumbered and armed with an unfamiliar weapon I knew that I was only delaying the inevitable. As I desperately tried to dodge, the first piscid's sword grazed my ribs while the second managed to catch my weapon across his and disarm me. That's it, I thought Dead before I can even figure out what the hell is going on

 At that point, fate, in the form of a falling spar intervened on my behalf, knocking the piscids to the deck and entangling them in miscellaneous rigging. The spar was followed by a swift, lithe feline shadow that leaped lightly from mast to deck, twin swords flashing. An instant later, the two entangled piscids were lying, twitching in spreading pools of gore, and Shu Li crouched between them, her lovely cat-face twisted into a feral grin

 "The hunt!" she cried. "The hunt!" And then yowled a string of syllables in her own wild language and flung herself back into combat. After an instant's hesitation, I picked up a fallen cutlass -- much better than that piece of scrap metal I'd had -- and followed.

 Nearby, Captain Fish was under attack by no less than three attackers. They figured, rightly, that killing the captain would pretty much end the fight, and but for the intervention of my feline companion and I, they'd have succeeded. Two fell before our blades before they knew what hit them, and the third, retreated with a wet squeak and hiss.

 With a shout, a half dozen of our crewmen leaped into battle behind us, and in a few moments, the piscids were falling back in confusion. I suspect it was the leaping, bounding, snarling Li who turned the tide, since most of our fishy opponents probably had a natural fear of cats to begin with. They bailed out, leaping over the side one after the other and vanishing into the dark waters.

 "Ha!" Fish bellowed, heartily. "That'll teach the beggars! Let 'em go lurk on the bottom where they belong!" He scanned the fallen rigging, ripped sheets and broken spars. "We'll never make good speed with these damages. We'll have to put in for repairs. There are scads of islands 'round these parts, though. In the meantime -- well, Wulf, my taking on you and your cat-friend has proven fortuitous. I don't know what we'd have done without you."

 "Don't mention it," I said, suddenly very weary. "And if you don't mind, I think I'll go get some sleep and hope I don't wake up treading water."
 
 

 The island was a densely-foliated wilderness of yellow-greens, reds and violets. Coconut palms grew along the shore, while chup fruit, mango and other edibles grew further inland. I was also surprised to discover that a herd of wild pigs also occupied the place, and brought home a fine specimen early one evening, to the crew's overwhelming delight. They broke out their store of rum, set up a howl on whistle and drone-pipe, sang, danced, and were generally obnoxious far into the wee hours, feasting on the sizzling carcass of the poor animal, and toasting me as the greatest thing to come along since Sir Goltha shoved Lawbringer into Lord Grumarak's guts.

 Repairs, Captain Fish told us, would take the better part of a week, so there was no sense in getting impatient. I continued to venture into the jungle each day, exploring, observing the jewel-winged birds which flitted from tree to tree and filled the air with song, and harvesting bushels of succulent tropical fruits. Except for the fact that I knew time was passing, and I would have to be in Murvane soon, it was actually quite pleasant.

 Only one incident disturbed my reverie. Four days after making landfall, I was busy hacking my way up a low incline, fighting through the green-lit, shadow-dappled humidity, I was startled by the sound of a large body crashing through the undergrowth nearby.

I froze. So far all I'd encountered had been those damned pigs, and this sounded much larger. My fearful gaze wandered all around me, trying to pick a living body out of the shadows. Gods only knew what else was on this island, and currently all I had was my cutlass-cum-machete, which was probably so dull by now it wouldn't cut butter.

 A low, rasping growl sounded from only a few feet away, and I jumped, crying out in dismay, ready to run in the exact opposite direction. A dark form arose from the thick vegetation, I stepped back in terror, and...

 "My, the brave Wolf can be most fearful. And after we fought side-by-side and won so much glory together."

 "Li!" I glared angrily as she stalked into the light. "You scared the crap out of me!"

 It didn't faze her, nor did I expect it to. Abruptly, my anger drained away like ale out of a dwarf's tankard as I gaped at her. She stood in a half-crouch before me, knees bent, arms wide, claws slightly extended, her eyes bright and predatory, jaws slightly parted, white teeth shining, tongue protruding as she panted slightly. She was obviously primed for the hunt, I noticed, especially considering the fact that she was stark naked.

 Oh, gods, she was a sight. Her halter, breech, and all jewelry were gone, leaving her clad only in her tawny pelt. Her white breasts rose and fell heavily, pale nipples pink and hairless, and where her columnar white and orange thighs came together I fancied I could see...

No -- I forced myself to tear my eyes away. I wasn't about to make this deadly creature upset by making unwanted advances...

 "You need not look away, Wolf. I am as the gods made me."

 I smiled. "I'm afraid," I said, choosing my words carefully, "that I shouldn't look too closely, lest I begin to think... inappropriate thoughts?"

 She sighed, relaxed somewhat, and squatted down, resting on haunches, hands barely touching the ground, tail lashing restlessly. "Your kind cannot say what must be said, can you? What do you consider inappropriate, Wolf? Your evasiveness is far more frustrating than direct statement."

 I blinked, hard. "When I said inappropriate thoughts, I meant thoughts of a... physical nature?"

 She considered this, gazing back and forth with slitted eyes. Then her lips parted and she gave another one of her disconcerting fanged smiles. "Am I correct in assuming that you are considering me as a potential mate?"

 "Uhhh..." Gods only know why this creature made me so nervous. If it had been Livia or someone asking that question, I'd have leaped at the chance. "...Uhhh... Only if you don't... It had crossed my mind... once or twice... though... that is, we're not even the same..." I paused, and finished miserably, "...religion."

 Now she laughed, tilting her head back, parting those deadly cat-lips, and yowling in short, rough barks, breasts bouncing disconcertingly, belly heaving. "Oh, you foolish Wolf. You foolish..." More gales of laughter assailed her.

 I stood there, midway between fear and annoyance, then was surprised when at last she stood, sashayed toward me, tail swaying in delicate counterpoint, and placed muscular, clawed hands around my neck, fixing me with a hypnotic stare from golden eyes, black slits wide open and nearly round.

 "I am on a quest, Wolf General Contractor," she hissed, a growl creeping into her tone, her tail lashing faster and faster. Her naked body was only inches from my own, and I felt raging heat even greater than the moist air around us radiating from her. "But I am no Hun Shar monk, sworn to celibacy and the rejection of worldly pleasures." Her voice grew still lower, huskier, and more animalistic. "There are no others of the race you call Kaitians in your barbaric corner of the world, Wolf. What I would not do to feel the touch of another of my kind -- male or female, I do not care. I have needs, just as your kind does, and I often experience the feverish need for the touch of hands, and teeth and lips and tongue. Even the need for..."

 At this point, a firm hand slid up my thigh, stroking urgently. A deeper growl issued from her throat.

 "Ahhhhhhhhh..." breathed Li, soft lips brushing mine. "Yes, I have a need for what a male can give me. I have been long from my home now, Wolf General Contractor. I have wandered in other lands for many years, and perhaps my ways have changed. Rrrfff, yes... I want a Kaitian to love me, yes. Rwwwlll... But it has been so long, many of my old ways have departed, to be replaced by passion, desire, need... Grrrrllll..."

 One hand, claws slightly extended, stroked my face, sending sensation shivering through me.

 "I need now. Rrrrrr... I desire now, Wolf." Her words dripped with honey, her breath was hot on my cheeks, her eyes now those of a pure predator. "Can you give me what I desire, brave and beautiful human male?"

 (You know, I think all women go to the same school, regardless of species, where they learn how to stroke a male's ego while at the same time inflicting enormous performance anxiety...)

 "I'm certainly game for trying," I replied. "Care to join me on the beach?"

 "Rrrrrwwllllllll," replied Shu Li.
 
 

We didn't actually end up on the beach (take my advice and never fuck in the sand; you'll be picking out grains for the next six months...), but tumbled down in to a tangle of arms and legs in the lush succulent foliage just above the gleaming white sands. The surf roared in the distance, just audible enough to drown out unwanted sounds, but not overwhelm our own voices (much better in that area than that damned waterfall in Kenth where Livia and I went at it, I must say).

 As noted, I did have some sexual experience with Kaitians before. Back when I was a lion-man (hung like a stallion and gifted with a tireless libido, as well -- now I was just an ordinarily-equipped human, damn it all...), that perverse vixen Xylara had had me make love to one of her Kaitian slave women while she watched and let the randy little Alrynna lick her to orgasm. My recollection of the experience was that Kaitians like pretty much the same things as humans, though I admit that the female might have been faking it for her mistress' benefit. As a human now, I was determined to buckle down and get a real reaction from my writhing cat-woman.

 "Any place I can't touch?" I whispered to her, mindful of social and sexual taboos, and afraid of getting sliced if I did the wrong thing.

 She shook her head, still panting, pink tongue moist and bristly. "Nothing, Wolf. Mind you, some places give me more pleasure than others..."

 "Like this?" I asked, stroking a hand up her softly-furred thigh and grazing the warmth of her mons. "Does that give you pleasure?"

 She pulled herself together for an instant and looked amused. "If you don't know the answer to that question, Wolf, I don't think you have any business touching a female..."

 Then I stroked harder, feeling soft flesh part, giving way to moist, slippery inner lips, and she gasped, then let out another low yowl. I was abruptly reminded of the cats behind my flat in Stoneburg, gathering to serenade and fuck each night before I bombarded them with stones and broken crockery. I swiftly extinguished the thought, and concentrated on the matter at hand.

 She was sopping, and my finger slid smoothly inside her. With another deep bark, she fixed her lips on mine, bristly tongue parting my own lips, thrusting into my mouth. Her short muzzle wasn't a precise match for my own mouth, so in a few moments we were both wet and slobbery -- not that either of us really minded at that point, of course.

 I was still in my tunic and breeches at this point, though my boots had been flung into the undergrowth nearby, and my prick threatened to burst a few seams. This situation didn't last much longer, as Shu Li, yielding to the pressure of my fingers and frantically playing tongue-joust with me, slowly and very deliberately, slid her soft hands up and down my back, then extended her claws and abruptly sank them into my tunic, pulling and shredding with an audible rip. With a snarl, she lurched up, rolling over atop me, straddling my hips, and completing the job, tearing the pathetic rags which had once been a green tunic from my heaving, now sweat-soaked chest.

 "Ahhhh, there's my lovely Wolf," she purred, running hands down my chest, then extending her claws and scratching lightly, sending shivers through me. "I want a lovely naked Wolf to play with." She paused, gently pricking each nipple with a single extended claw. "I did not know Wolves like to be played with this way."

 "Ahhhhhh..." was all I could manage at that point, and I lay unresisting as she turned her claws to my breeches, treating them in the same manner as my late, lamented tunic. A moment later I was as naked as she was, and (though it didn't matter terribly at the time) without a thing to wear.

 She didn't waste any time, laving my chest with her pink, rough-surfaced tongue, probably scraping away a layer or two of skin in the process. The sensations were unbelievable, and I both dreaded and feverishly anticipated what would happen when that lovely tongue reached my cock. She concentrated on my nipples for several long moments, leaving me heaving and writhing, torn between a half-dozen sensations -- soft friction, tickling, abrasion, alternating hard and soft pressure, and even the far edge of pain. I found myself wanting to feel Shu Li's hot, scratchy tongue all over my body, regardless of how much I'd regret it later when the real pain kicked in.

 I told her so. She looked up and grinned again, looking like nothing less than a tiger in the White Emperor's menagerie about to devour her evening slave-snack. At that point, I was only too willing to be devoured by this ravishing, voluptuous creature, leaving only my bones behind, to bleach in the tropic sun.

 "Oh, the Wolf likes being groomed?" she asked. "Shall I groom the rest of him?"

 "All over," I gasped. "Lick me all over, please..." Damn, I thought, I'm usually the one making the other person beg. I realized with a pleasant shock that I actually liked it. So long, the rational corner of my brain reminded me, as she eventually gave in to my pleas. Otherwise, I'd be damned frustrated...

 "What would you like, Wolf?" she asked, licking at my nipples once more. "Rrrrr... Tell Shu Li what you would like her to do. Prrrrrr..." She licked again, and I cried out softly. "Tell her what you will do to her."

 Now we were talking, I thought and, battling against the monstrous lust in my belly and loins which urged me to simply grunt and growl like the stupid ape I was, I told her.

 "I want to feel your tongue all over me," I said. "I want you to lick my cock. I want you to suck me and bite me with those beautiful white teeth."

 "Ohhhhh," she breathed, nipping lightly as she moved her mouth lower, down the soft hairs of my abdomen. "I've not heard the word 'cock' before in this context. I assume you mean that hard organ between your thighs. I'll do all that gladly, my lovely Wolf. What will you do for me?"

 "I'll kiss you everywhere," I replied, feeling the heat of her breath along my thighs, and the light touch of sharp teeth and spiked tongue. "I'll suck your nipples. I'll lick your pussy --"

 She frowned, looking up at me. "My what?"

 I sighed. Language barriers again. "Your cunt?" I said. "Your vulva? Vagina? Moist innermost depths?"

 She seemed to comprehend. "Ah. Why didn't you say so?" She returned to grazing my thighs with her tongue and teeth, coming perilously close to my straining cock, but never quite touching it. "Go on, Wolf. You were doing fine."

 "I want to put my tongue in your cunt," I whispered. "Lick your clit [she seemed to understand that], put my fingers inside you..."

 "Oh, yes," she said. "Rrrrllll..."

 At last, after long moments of lustful anticipation, Shu Li's exploring tongue grazed my hot, engorged prick. I bit off my monolog with a grunt, the wet abrasion sending a shock through my body.

 "Oh, gods," I said. "Please... please suck it now..."

 By Phaedra, if Shu Li wasn't enjoying tormenting me, she certainly gave a good imitation of it.

 "But you haven't finished," she said, taking another swipe at my cock, and sending me climbing toward the treetops. "What else are you going to do for me?"

 "Whatever you want," I said urgently. "Just tell me and I'll do it. Anything..."

 She left off licking altogether and looked up at me, eyes narrow and wicked. "Anything, you say. That is an all-encompassing word, 'anything.' It's good I know your language as well as I do."

 "Just tell me what you want," I repeated. "Just please suck me now."

 Her reply said more than words. Abruptly, with a rumble, deep in her throat, she turned her head back down and took a long, luxuriant swipe along the underside of my cock with her hot, bristly tongue.

 I think I screamed at that point, though it probably sounded more like one of those trebly-damned birds which thronged in the trees above us. The burning, abrasive sensations raced directly from cock to brain, energizing every nerve in between. She may have taken off a layer or two of skin, but at that point I didn't care. My voice trailed off to a low moan as she slipped my stiff member into her mouth, sharp white teeth grazing my abraded flesh, tongue-bristles allowing me to slide smoothly inside her.

 Then she slid me out, tongue held lightly against cock-flesh, bristles resisting, saliva burning, breath rushing from her distended pink nostrils as golden eyes glared deeply into mine, pupils almost completely round. I imagined that this was the last expression a tiger's victim would see, though I hoped to survive this encounter, alive if not entirely intact.

 "Does that satisfy the Wulf?" she asked. "Is this what the Wulf wanted?"

 "Yessssss," I growled. "It's what I want."

 She sucked more, tongue scraping me like a sharkskin sanding board. As long as anything she abraded off grew back, I didn't mind.

 "Suck me," I whispered. "Suck me, Li..."

 "Oh, I will suck," she said, breaking off, clutching my cock in soft-pelted fingers. "I will suck you, but you must do as you promised."

 "Oh, I'll do that," I replied. "I'll do what I promised. I'll lick you 'til you come..."

 "Hmmmm," she replied contemplatively. "That sounds very encouraging, little Wulf. Now, let me give you more before it's your turn."

 Long minutes of tongue-fucking and sucking followed, Li's golden-eyed cat-face embracing my stiff organ, inflicting an intense combination of torment and pleasure. At last, she let my battered cock go.

 "Your turn now, Wulf," she said. "Time to deliver on those wonderful promises."

 "With pleasure," I replied. With that, I kneeled down facing her and gently pushed her onto her back. Lying on a carpet of crushed vegetation (fuck the insects, I thought savagely; I'll deal with the bites later), she allowed me to push her thighs apart and slowly nibbled my way up each pale, downy expanse, stopping just short of her hairless mons and the rapidly-moistening pink flesh between it.

 "Nnnnnnn-yrwlllll," she groaned (well, it's the closest I can come to it in the written form). "You tease me, Wulf. You tease me..."

 "I like teasing you."

 "No. I want you in me. I want you to do what you said you would do, and still... yowrrrlll... you tease me. Your beloved Li... Please..."

 I let her writhe for a few minutes, grazing the outside of her cunt with lips and tongue, touching it lightly with my fingers until at last I felt hands on the back of my head, claws slightly extended.

 "Do what you said you would do, man," she hissed, eyes slitted and predatory, gazing down at me between the white, orange and black expanses of her heaving breasts. "Do it now or I will make you."

 Now, I ask you, what man could resist such a plaintive request? I complied, burying my face between muscular thighs, tongue splitting the moist lips apart, sending a rush of sweet juices into my mouth. Her clit, a knobby protrusion almost the size of my little finger, swelled up, allowing me to suck at it with the same enthusiasm as she'd shown to my cock. I rolled it gently between my teeth, nipped, licked hard, then soft, and stroked with my fingers, all the while feeling her juices grow sweeter and more profuse.

 "Nnnnnnggg... Yrrllll..." A deep purring sound echoed from her throat. Brief spasms passed through her. I bit down on the distended clit, harder this time, and was rewarded by another howl, laced with pleasure and oncoming orgasm. Again, and the moan was louder. Once more, and her entire body clenched, and her dribble of juices became a virtual torrent, splashing my face and the white fur of her thighs.

 "You make me..." she growled in her native tongue some more. "I feel you, sweet Wulf... You make me... Aaaaaahhhhh...." She ground her pubis against my face, bucking and writhing, as waves of climatic energy surged through her. The white and orange breasts rose and fell, pink nipples distended and knobby, her cat-face twisted and screwed up into a mask of intent pleasure.

I wasn't about to let her rest easy after the scourging she'd given me. I'd spent the past few moments wriggling out of what remained of my garments, and now lay atop her naked, my cock still hard, and few thoughts save pure animal lust remaining in my mind. Men are like that, you know.

 She looked up at me, and knew instantly what I had in mind.

 "Now!" she snarled. "Take me now!"

 It was damnably trite dialog, but I figured what the hell, grabbing her hips and pulling her to me, slipping cock between sopping cunt-lips, feeling her close tightly around me. My penetration sent her into a new round of orgasmic convulsions, and I felt her claws, unsheathed and apparently used involuntarily, raking my back, shoulders and buttocks. I felt hot blood on my skin, but by now didn't care as I leaned into her, my hands on her shoulders, thrusting cock into tropically-hot pussy.

 "Ahhhhh..." The noise originated in my throat. Whether it was pleasure from the soft sensation of the willing body beneath me, the white-hot grip of her cunt around my organ or the pain of her claws rending my flesh, I can't say, but I knew my own climax was only moments away.

 "I..." I spat through gritted teeth. "I'm going to... I want to..."

 "Spill it on me," she gasped, urgently. "I want to see it. Spill your hot seed on me..."

 With effort, I disengaged from her still-contracting cunt, and stood over her, my cock poised over the damp pelt covering her breasts. I slid my hands along the shaft, faster, faster...

 "Spill it," she cried, eye-slits wide, teeth bared. "Spill it now."

 White heat exploded inside me and I felt my cock gush forth, a stream of semen jetting across her breasts and onto her curling lips. Again and again my organ contracted, finally dripping the last of its load onto Li's swollen nipples. She rubbed at it with her fingers, then licked them with her raspy tongue.

 "I will have a job cleaning this up, won't I?"

 "I'd always thought," I said, falling back, gasping, "that come would make a terribly mess in fur."

 "Ah, it does," she agreed, licking her fingers, then moving to shoulder and, most interestingly to my eyes, the sticky fur of her breasts and her semen-covered nipple, "but tidying up can be very rewarding."

 "You're wonderful," I said, trying to catch my breath in the thick tropical air. "I'm glad I've finally made your acquaintance fully."

 "The pleasure," she replied, "was all mine."
 
 

Fish was horror-stricken when he saw me, staggering back to the ship, clothes shredded, several bloody scratches decorating my chest and back.

 "Phaedra's tits, Wulf, what the hell happened?" he demanded, hastening toward me.

 "Tigers," I said. "Tigers on the island. Tell the crew to be careful..."

 "By the gods," Fish went on, "we wondered what all the roaring and screaming was all about."

 I wondered idly whether Fish was being thick on purpose, or whether he really had no idea that Shu Li and I had just been off polishing the two-hander. I waved off the surgeon, and headed back for my cabin, and well-deserved rest.

 I don't know whether any of the crew made the connection between Shu Li and myself. Given the Kyborist restrictions on inter-species sex (and on sex in general), it was probably literally unthinkable. I did attract a few odd stares now and then, however, although they continued to treat me like family for my help with the corsairs.

 We set off from the island two days later, and with a fair wind, came in sight of Murvane in another week. The next phase of my adventure was about to begin, but I had no idea what it would be.
 
 

 Shu Li fit right in. Even as we walked down the gangplank, I could see that she had plans, and when she wrapped her arms around my neck and pecked me a quick goodbye kiss, I was disappointed but not surprised.

 "Farewell, Wulf,"she said, softly. "I'd never have thought I'd have such feelings for one not of my race, but I do. I hope we meet again."

 "Goodbye," I replied, watching her vanish into the press and reflecting that her species probably didn't believe in drawn-out farewells.

 I sighed. I was alone once more, even surrounded by the crushing presence of humanity and a dozen other species. I had money in my pocket, however, and there was every chance I'd managed to elude my pursuers. I had a destination, a job to do, and the possibility of a good payoff once I'd finished.

 With these positive thoughts in mind, I checked to make sure my weapons were present and unbound, took a deep breath, and set off.

 I thought back to my discussion with the late, unlamented Aelfryn. After handing over my initial payment, he'd scanned me up and down -- probably still wondering whether I'd take his money and bolt -- and said, slowly and clearly, "Go to the Tradesmen's District, to the Street of One Hundred Lanterns. There, you will find a house marked with a green tree, with a large golden triangle in its branches. Knock three times on the front door, pause, then knock twice more. When the door is answered, say 'I come from the east.' Do these things precisely, or you will be killed. Do you understand? Repeat my instructions to me."

 I had done so, thrice, to reassure the snotty little bastard that I really did understand him, and after that we had said our good nights.

 Now, here I was, making my way to the Tradesmen's district, a thousand unanswered questions and a million unspoken fears chasing each other through my mind in a sickening whirl.

 I'd like to think that my mother -- whoever she was -- didn't raise any fools. I was aware of all the ways the plan could go wrong. The Hunters could have gotten wind of the plan, and be waiting for me in ambush at the house with the green tree. The entire thing could be some kind of elaborate set-up, with me as the fall guy. The Hunters may simply have wiped out my hosts, taken the package, and retained no further interest in me. This last, I realized, as I shouldered through the ever-present crowds on the Street of One Hundred Lanterns, remained highly unlikely, but one could always hope...

 The house in question was set back somewhat from the street, down a short, garbage-filled alley clear of traffic. The place was a real dump -- paint peeling, roof in disrepair and home to a dozen or so wing-lizards, windows grimed with soot and less pleasant things. The green tree and gold triangle were only barely visible through the dirt, which is probably as my employers wanted it. I steeled myself for the coming ordeal, hitched up my sword, and approached the faded, weathered door.

 I knocked three times, loudly, paused a moment, then knocked twice more.

 The sound echoed hollowly. No answer.

 I swallowed hard, and tried again. Three. Pause. Two.

 At last I heard a stirring inside the house. My hand went automatically to my sword hilt, my pulse raced, and my mind screamed, "GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE, YOU MORON!"

 Forcibly ignoring my sensible, if somewhat panic-stricken, mind, I waited as the sound of locks and bolts being opened jangled from the door Slowly, it creaked open, and a single blue eye regarded me from dusty shadows.

 "I come from the east," I said, feeling distinctly silly.

 "What did you say?" asked a whispered voice, only barely audible above the bustle of the crowd from the nearby street.

 "I said that I come from the east," I said, again. "And if you're going to kill me, please get it over with, because the suspense is unbearable."

 Without a reply, the figure pulled the door open inward, and I stepped inside, hand still poised on sword hilt.

 A lithe figure swaddled in a grey cloak pushed the door closed behind me, shot all the bolts, and secured a large padlock. Then it turned and regarded me in a distressingly familiar manner.

 It was male elf, cast from the same arrogant and haughty mold as Aelfryn. His eyes roved up and down, inspecting me as if I was a farm animal of uncertain health and ancestry.

 "You've come at last," he said simply. "We were wondering whether Aelfryn had succeeded."

 "Only partially," I told him. "By the way, I'm Wulf."

 The elf lowered his hood, revealing an elongated, high-domed head, pointy ears, golden hair, and all the usual elf things.

 "Lord Taelvan Starbow," he said. "Of House Nythorin."

 Gods and daemons, were all elves nobles, I wondered?

 "And exactly what did you mean by 'partially'?" Taelvan asked.

 "Your friend Aelfryn is dead," I said, and received a shocked and disbelieving stare as a reward. "He hired me for this job, then showed up at my apartment with a knife in his back. He said someone called 'The Hunters' had killed him."

 Now that got a response. Taelvan's elvish reserve vanished, his eyes grew wide, and he grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, propelling me through the darkened house.

 "Did they come after you?" he demanded, guiding me to a flight of stairs down, to what I assumed was the cellar.

 "Did they ever," I replied. "Some good-looking sorceress sent a couple of dreadguard after me. I killed them both," I added, hoping to impress my host.

 I think it worked. He looked at me with new respect as he led me swiftly down the stairs toward a blue-lit chamber below.

 "Were you followed?" he asked.

 "If I was, I'd never have come here," I told him. "To the best of my knowledge, I managed to shake them. But if there's magic involved, I couldn't say for certain."

 We entered a pleasant, domed chamber, and Taelvan spoke loudly.

 "Nyta! Has anything followed this human?"

 A female voice, echoing in the featureless chamber, replied, "Nay, my lord. He is alone."

 "Good." With that Taelvan pressed his fingertips against the wall and muttered something under his breath. A section of the curved wall sparkled and vanished, revealing a short hallway beyond. "Had you been followed," he continued, mildly, entering the corridor, "I'd have been honor-bound to slay you where you stood."

 "Encouraging," I said, following Taelvan. "Glad to see that House Nythorin is so efficient."

 Taelvan did not reply, and a moment later, we emerged into a small antechamber, paneled with dark wood and brightly lit by a fixture of mage globes overhead. A table, writing desk, and a number of comfortably padded chairs sat about the room. A crystal beaker brimming with violet elvish wine occupied one of the tables.

 "Sit," urged Taelvan, indicating one of the chairs. "My friends will join us momentarily. Drink?"

 I nodded, and accepted a crystal goblet of the violet wine. As I expected, it was delicious, if a bit strong for my taste.

 We didn't have to wait too long, for a few moments later, another hidden door opened, admitting three more elves. The first was male, silent and brooding, clad in silver fluted armor, a slender sword attached to his belt. He glowered at me from beneath an elaborate dragon-helm, and I found myself wondering if he ever took it off.

 The other two elves were both women. The first was definitely quite old -- though elves remain serenely beautiful regardless of age (and don't they know it, too...), they grow more and more alien and unfamiliar as the years pass. This one, whom I assumed was the mysterious Nyta, had clearly been around for a while. She wore a simple silver-blue gown that flowed along her body like a waterfall, concealing, but hinting at much. Her face and body had grown long, fine-boned and delicate, her eyes delicately slanted, glowing softly violet. Her skin had taken on a faintly bluish cast, and she looked for all the world like a fragile sculpture of spun glass.

 Hm. Elven noblewoman and her silent male bodyguard -- that much was clear. Whoever Nyta was, she was surely an important woman, and as for her male guardian... Well, I'd probably prefer to fight another dreadguard.

 Nyta's companion, on the other hand, was the enigma of the trio, and quite the opposite of her typically elvish companions. Young -- no more than a century, I'd have guessed -- she was human-appearing. More human than elf, in fact, for she was actually rather muscular and full-bodied, with a square-jawed, determined face, light blue eyes, and a swirl of pale blonde hair, cut in a popular White Empire style -- probably hopelessly radical to the conservative elves. She was dressed strangely for an elf, as well, in tight leather breeches that revealed smooth and gently curved thighs, calf-high boots, and a fitted, low-cut bodice that revealed a pair of breasts far more full and ripe than I'd ever seen on an elf before. I found myself gazing curiously at her ears to make certain she really was elven, and saw the usual points, which the elves themselves seem to put so much stock in.

 I knew enough about elven protocol to rise and bow respectfully in the presence of Lady Nyta.

 "Highest Lady," I said, formally, "your presence honors me."

 Nyta actually smiled at that, and I found myself taking an instant liking to her.

 "No formalities here, my friend," she said. "You have risked much to be with us, and we respect that. Please be seated."

 "May I present Lady Nyta Silverheart," said Taelvan, "third ranking of House Nythorin., sorceress of the Eleventh Circle, and Mistress of the Sunblade."

 None of these things meant troll dung to me, but I inclined my head nonetheless.

 "My Lady," I said, and earned another smile from the elf woman.

 "And," Taelvan went on, indicating the young vixen, who stared at me with a pouty-lipped expression of contempt mixed with curiosity, "the Lady Theanna Wavewalker, of the house --"

 "That will be enough, Taelvan," interrupted Nyta. "As I said, excessive formalities are unnecessary at this time."

 I nodded. Apparently, the strong, silent bodyguard would remain nameless.

 "Now, Lord Wulf," Nyta continued, "exactly what did our late cousin Aelfryn tell you?"

 I took another sip of wine, and launched into my story, telling everything but my interlude with Shu Li, which I figured was no one's business. Nyta took it well, nodding briefly, steepling her hands, and listening with great seriousness when I told of Aelfryn's death and my fight with the dreadguards.

 Theanna responded more emotionally, her eyes widening at certain points, her breath coming faster during my description of combat (making her exquisite breasts do amazing things, by the way), and even wiping away a tear when I spoke of Aelfryn.

 "And so," I concluded, "I came here, both out of concern for my safety, and out of my desire to complete the task which Lord Aelfryn set me. I was told that I was to receive a package, and instructions as to its delivery. Is this still the plan, Lady?"

 Nyta considered this, silently pressing steepled fingers to lips. At last she spoke.

 "Clearly, we cannot stay here. Your pursuers are fortunately off the scent, but cannot remain so forever. We must leave this place, and you must complete the job you were hired to do."

 I nodded, as sagely as I could manage. "So," I asked, "where is the package Aelfryn spoke of?"

 Nyta smiled. "Aelfryn was not being entirely candid with you," she said, in an amused voice. "This," she continued, indicating Lady Theanna, who looked distinctly annoyed at the implication, "is what Lord Aelfryn so crassly referred to as 'the package'."

 Gods. I should have known. I managed to choke out a couple of questions, despite knowing in my heart of hearts that the point-eared gits would never give me a straight answer. "What's so important about Theanna? And why me? What's so special about me?"

 Nyta shook her head, slowly. "I cannot answer your questions, Wulf. Believe me, it is best that you do not know."

 I glanced over at Theanna, who returned my gaze icily. "Where am I supposed to take her, anyway?"

 "The fortress of Nagatha," Taelvan said. "It's a desolate spur of rock sticking up out of what you call the Western Abyss. How you get her there is up to you. We don't need to know."

 "We don't want to know," Nyta corrected him. "Your route is your business. We daren't run the risk of having our knowledge discovered."

 "It's enough that we know who you are," said Taelvan. "If we were to be interrogated --"

 "Interrogated?" I demanded. "By who? The mysterious Hunters? Who are they? Why do they want Theanna so badly? And if she's one of your own noblewomen, why can't one of you escort her to this gods-forsaken fortress of yours?"

 Nyta shook her head again. "We can be followed too easily. Our enemies have spells and... other resources."

 I still wasn't satisfied. "If they can follow you so bloody easily, what's to stop them from following Theanna? Or me for that matter?"

 "Again, Wulf, it is best you not know the answers to those questions. Believe me, it's for the best. Suffice to say, there are reasons that you and Theanna can elude searchers better than any of us."

 I sighed. "I knew I wouldn't get any answers. With all due respect, Lady, your kind is not known for being terribly glib."

 "No offense taken, Wulf," Nyta said, though Taelvan and the still-silent warrior looked at me disdainfully. "I am all too aware of my race's shortcomings."

 "Your honesty is refreshing," I told her. "But the bottom line -- we humans are fond of things like the bottom line -- is that I am being asked to transport a noblewoman to a distant location, while not knowing who she truly is, and being pursued by unknown, and apparently vastly powerful enemies. Can you see where this might give me some... shall we say... pause for thought?"

 Taelvan's gaze turned openly hostile. He spat some words in elvish, something along the lines of , "See? I told you he was a sniveling little coward!"

 I glared back at him. "I'd watch who I called coward if I were you, my lord, or you'll find that elvish flesh cleaves as easily as that of humans." The ear-boys love that stuff.

 He looked surprised for an instant, then returned to his original standoffish demeanor.

 "Enough," snapped Nyta, for once showing something other than serene benevolence. "Wulf, the mission we give you is of vital importance to our people. Your deeds are known to us. We well remember the great war with the orcs, and the role you played in it. We ask for your assistance again." She paused for a moment, and smiled knowingly. "And, since we are aware that even heroes must eat, we offer you two thousand gold crowns now for expenses, and another ten thousand upon completion at Nagatha."

 Well, if I hadn't agreed, we wouldn't have much of a story here, would we? It took some doing, but eventually I consented, and accepted the two thousand. They were contained in a small box, slightly larger than my hand, enchanted to contain the sum while weighing slightly more than a large brick.

 "Now go. Quickly," Taelvan told me. "Our enemies are known to be in this city. The sooner you book passage away from here, the better."

 With that, and a gracious goodbye from Nyta, I departed, with the sullen Theanna, her elvish features concealed beneath a hooded cloak, following after. Nearby, the bustling streets of Ta'vallen beckoned, crowded with hordes of smelly humanity.

 I looked at her. "Listen," I said. "I'm kind of overwhelmed by all this, and I imagine you're not too happy, either. I can only tell you that I'll do my best to make this trip pleasant, and try to be as friendly as possible."

 Theanna stared back in silence for a moment and then, wonder of wonders, she spoke.

 "Well, Master Wulf," she said, her tone arrogant and unpleasant, "you are correct that I'm not happy with any of this. Not happy at all. And if you want to make this trip pleasant for me, you will do nothing more than the task that is required of you. You needn't bother offering your friendship. It's not something I either want or need. Now get on with it and let me be."

 I wasn't in a mood to argue, but instead turned and plunged into the crowd. Perhaps, I thought, I'd get lucky and lose her in the press. To my distress, however, she managed to keep up, and followed me back to the docks.

 Once more, I thought, I'd landed smack in the middle of a sea of dragon crap, and had forgotten how to swim.

 What fun.
 
 

Although the evening approached with stately stride, the docks had barely slowed down by the time we returned. All the way through the teeming streets from Ta'vallen, my charge, safely muffled in a cloak, her tell-tale ears hidden from sight, had maintained a surly silence, occasionally favoring me with a grim, unhappy glance. She was certainly beautiful, like all her kind, but even then I detected a certain earthiness about her that the other tree-huggers lacked. They were beautiful and graceful, but in the same manner as fine marble statuary. You wanted to look at them, but it just seemed inappropriate to actually touch. Mind you, I'd touched a few in my time, but they were all atypical. Most of them, even the friendly ones, were like paintings behind velvet ropes - works of art which mere mortals such as myself could never aspire to approach, let alone know intimately.

 Theanna was different. There was a certain - for lack of a better term - humanity about her. Not that it made her demeanor any less snotty and disdainful, but at least it made it tolerable.

 The docks were crowded with shipping, as usual, and I could take my pick of various routes out of the city. The harbormaster's offices maintained a large slate, with arrivals, departures and destinations chalked in. To my pleasant surprise, I noted a vessel due out the following morning, bound for Helmsruud and thence to none other than my favorite armpit of a city, Stoneburg.

 "Excellent," I breathed, partly to myself and partly to Theanna, if for no other reason than to assure her I still knew she existed. "We'll be able to hire out a mercenary cutter in the 'burg."

 She nodded gravely, but said nothing, and I returned to my perusal of the board. Abruptly, my delight turned to apprehension when I realized that the ship, Princess Xura was listed as being Xeshite registry. That meant two things - one, it would be fiendishly expensive and two (perhaps even harder to stomach), I would actually have to share a vessel with a bunch of Xeshites. I'd had my fill of the jungle-dwelling freaks several years previously during my sojourn as slave-boy and all-round plaything to one Countess Xylara and her deviant family.

 I sighed. The Xeshite was probably the safest and most direct route to where we were going, despite the contempt in which I held its owners' nationality. Few hunters were likely to suspect, even if they managed to trail me this far, that my first act would be returning to the city from which I'd fled. And the very expense of the passage was an assurance of first class security and comfort, two items which I was certain lady Theanna would find valuable.

 "Well," I said, once more only partially to my companion, "The Princess Xura it is, then. Come on."

 Once more, Theanna followed in silence, her expression one of barely-restrained boredom and distaste.

 I must admit, my first view of the Princess very nearly dispelled my misgivings. Rising like a great, razor-bowed iceberg from the dirty waters of the bay, she was built with the usual Xeshite disregard for naval architecture. More floating palace than anything else, the vessel was built on a great, blocky hull, shining white with gilded railings and portholes, topped with gracefully curved towers, buttresses and walkways. Even the greenest landlubber would wonder how such a monstrosity managed to remain afloat; the answer was, as always, magic. Like many high-class Xeshite vessels, the Princess was surrounded by a bubble of magical force which kept the seas around it smooth as glass, even in the harshest weather. She was towed by a team of ten giant hippocampi, but probably had supplemental magical propulsion, as well. A half-dozen steam-powered cutters were lashed to the vessel's superstructure - these could serve as lifeboats in an emergency, and could also be crewed by Xeshite mariners - or, more likely, well-paid mercenaries; the Xeshites themselves unwilling to dirty their hands with real combat - to repel pirates or other hostiles.

 The purser, a dour-looking Xeshite male in a pristine white uniform, looked down his nose as I approached the gangplank. I realized with some distress that I looked more like a transient than anything else, and my companion, of necessity concealed in a cloak, didn't look like much of anything. I wore a pair of ragged sailor's breeches, and my shirt, so recently shredded by Chun's claws, had been crudely patched and stitched up. I hadn't shaved or bathed lately, either.

 I decided, in keeping with my usual habits, to brass it out.

 "We will be needing two passages to Stoneburg," I said, meeting the Xeshite's stern gaze.

 "Hm," he said, briefly. "Are you certain that this is the sort of vessel you wish to travel on, sir? There are many other"

 I cut him off, pulling out a handful of gold coins. "We require swift, secure, and above all else, discreet transport. We are willing to pay whatever is required, and are not used to being questioned."

 He frowned. I could tell what he was thinking. Crooks on the lam? Political refugees carrying the crown jewels? Agents of the White Empire? As I watched, the man weighed the benefits and potential risks of letting us on board.

 At last, avarice won out.

 "I believe, sir," he said, "that we have some space available. It is likely to be expensive"

 Eventually, we settled on a price, probably twice what everyone else on board was paying, but well within my budget (I intended to present the ear-boys with a bill once we reached Nagatha, in any event).

 "Have you any baggage, sir?" the man asked. I could tell he was being a smart-ass.

 "Only what you see," I replied. Theanna had her clothes and finery, but it was all stored in one of those intriguing little elf-boxes that are bigger on the inside than out. I was stuck with just what I was carrying, which wasn't much. "I assume that our passage includes complete security?"

 "Oh, yes," he replied. "Constant magical scanning, both active and passive, for unusual amounts of metal, weapons, hostile spells or summonings, sorcerous lookout for a hundred leagues all around as insurance against corsairs, and excellent physical security agents on board. All this is accomplished with the most minimal disruption of your and the lady's privacy, of course."

 I smiled thinly. "Well, it looks good to me. Shall we board, dear?"

 Theanna followed me up the gangplank in silence.

 Once on board, I felt a sense of security I hadn't experienced since my first meeting with Lord Aelfryn. The vessel was as much fortress as palace, with viewing crystals and magical detectors every few paces. Hallways were wide, almost blindingly white, with rich, wine-red carpeting and mageglobes in gilded sconces. Human, jarrek, and ogre guards seemed everywhere, but were quiet and obsequious, despite their heavy armor and armament. There were wizards, too, I knew, but these kept discreetly out of sight. I suspected most of them served on the distant bridge, atop a lonely flying buttress a hundred paces overhead, along with captain and executive officers.

 A scurrying jarrek in white tunic led us to our rooms; I'd decided upon adjoining suites, since Theanna probably didn't want to even think about sleeping in the same room as me. All the same, I kept the door between the rooms open.

 I heaved a heavy sigh of relief as the door finally closed, and we were alone. The rooms were big, with expensive, heavy furniture. The outer walls were enchanted, so that by touching a blue gemstone, they could be made transparent, for a view of the sea outside. One-way, too I noticed - we could see out, but no one could see in. The massive, ornate beds were canopied with masses of white, lacy fabric, and looked big enough to sleep a regiment. They were four-posters, I noticed -- given the Xeshite's infamous vices, I was surprised that they didn't come with built-in manacles, but I kept silent on the topic as Theanna headed for her room.

 I watched, somewhat miffed. I could understand her confusion and fear, but since we'd left her sanctuary, she'd been more frigid than a cold islands iceberg.

 "By the way," I said, pointedly, "you're welcome."

 She turned, lowering her hood, revealing her elfin beauty in all its glory. Her expression had grown not one iota warmer.

 "I owe you no thanks, mercenary," she said. "You're doing this because you're being paid. Well paid, might I add. You'd do well to remember that you are my employee now, and spend the rest of this voyage doing your job."

 With that, she turned on her heel and vanished into her room, shutting the door behind her.

 Well, I thought. That's that.

 All the same, I still had errands to run. Theanna was safely on board, and the Xeshites' security measures would keep her safe.

 I knocked gently on her door.

 "What do you want?" she demanded, not kindly.

 "I have to go ashore to get some supplies before we leave," I told her.

 "What sort of supplies?"

 "For one thing, I need some clean clothes and weapons," I replied. "Can you please stay here while I'm gone? Shipboard security will probably be sufficient to protect you, but I don't want to take any chances."

 Her only reply was silence. In my mind's eye I saw here, sitting at her vanity, aggressively brushing her hair and willfully ignoring me.

 "Did you hear me?"

 After another pause, she finally shot back, "I heard you."

 "Are you going to stay here, then?"

 I was pushing it, I knew, but at this point it was a good thing to assert my authority as de facto bodyguard and make sure she was aware of it.

 More silence.

 "I asked you a question, lady. Will you stay here while I'm gone?"

 "Yes. I will stay here. Now leave me alone."

 That was about all I could hope for.

 On the way out, I stopped a guard and asked that special attention be paid to our cabins by him and his friends, and also asked that magical surveillance be maintained. I slipped him a handful of coins for his trouble, and departed, hoping that this would be sufficient.

 Dusk approached as I stepped off the Princess. I hoped that I'd be able to find some open shops nearby, since I had no desire to spend the next several weeks wearing my rent, stained traveling clothes. My rapier was badly notched, as well, and badly needed replacement.

 I was fortunate enough to dodge into a tailor's shop just as the man was closing, and grabbed a selection of garments off the rack. Though the little beetle-browed man insisted that the clothes were much too expensive for me, he clammed up with admirable speed when I shoved money into his grasping claws. I hoped everything fit, but wasn't above a little shipboard alterations once we'd left.

 With all due speed, lugging a sack full of finery and a couple of plumed hats, I made my way to what looked like a combination cutlery-weapons shop and spent the next few minutes haggling over my required weaponry. I came away with a new rapier, a brace of throwing daggers, a mail-lined parrying glove and a couple of boot-knives. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. I was just heading back toward the ship when a commotion nearby grabbed my attention.

 Down the street, a fleeing, darting figure moved with familiar grace ahead of a small group of shouting, sword-armed men in leather cuirasses. Even though the lamp-lighters had yet to make an appearance in the gathering gloom, I recognized the lithe, feline shape of my most recent beloved, leaping and bounding exuberantly, as her pursuers howled with anger and frustration.

 As I've often noted, I'm not an especially brave man. Timely retreat is often one of the smartest thing the enlightened freelance can do. On the other hand, when there's a beautiful woman nearby - human or not - being hotly pursued by a crowd of unwashed thugs intent on serious bodily harm, the rules can be suspended. Besides, I figured I owed her something for the island.

 I flung down my bundles, drawing my rapier, and stepped out into the street. Shu Li's eyes lit up when she saw me.

"Wolf!" she yowled, gathering herself for a leap, and springing clear over my head, leaving me alone facing a good half-dozen ruffians.

 Wait a second The "ruffians" all bore blue and gold headbands, and were dressed relatively alike. With a rush of horror, I realized that Li's brutish pursuers were actually Ta'vallen city guards

 Oh well too bloody late

 "Problems, gentlemen?" I asked, as calmly as I could.

 The lead pursuer, whom I noted bore a sergeant's crest on his breastplate, stopped short.

 "Out of the way, you!" he bellowed. "We're constabulary officials, and the cat-bitch is a murderess!"

 Well, that came as no real shock to me. Anyone Shu Li killed was sure to be bad, however, so I stood my ground.

 "I don't think so, gentlemen," I replied. "She happens to also be a friend of mine."

 "Then I'll see you in hell," barked the sergeant, stabbing his shortsword at me.

 I ducked, taking a swing at his legs. It wasn't a deadly blow; just enough to get his attention, but the edge of my blade actually connected, sending him sprawling, yelping in pain.

 Then a blur of orange and black streaked past me, and suddenly Shu Li was behind the constables, swinging with one hand and clawing with the other, snarling and spitting all the while.

 I took advantage of our foe's confusion to slice a couple more legs, sending a pair of constables tumbling, while Shu Li slashed and raked. I noted that she, too, seemed to be trying to deal non-lethal injuries, though I was sure she wouldn't hesitate to rip a throat or two to save herself. The melee continued for several long moments in the gloom, until at last the entire pack of guardsmen fled, many of them limping pathetically, into the darkness. A couple lay moaning, nursing cuts and slashes, but I was relatively sure they'd survive, and ushered Shu Li away from the place.

 Shu Li looked at me, panting, breasts heaving disconcertingly, eyes bright and filled with battle lust.

 "My wolf intervenes on my behalf!" she declared. "What providence brings you here? Chance?" She grinned. "There is no chance. All is ordained."

 I raised my eyebrows. "I didn't think the universe was that well-ordered."

 "It isn't, my hairy, howling Wolf Independent Contractor. But we needn't worry about such things. My work here is finished for now. You seem ready for a journey. Shall I come with you, my Wolf?"

 "Uh, assuming no one is planning on pursuing you. I've enough enemies right now."

 "It's best I not return to this ancestorless city, but I doubt they'll pursue me far."

 "What the hell did you do?" I asked.

 She looked around somewhat nervously. "Perhaps the entire story should wait, beloved. Suffice to say a certain slave-trader is now missing his head. Now, may I come with you?" I nodded. "I've got another sea voyage ahead, I'm afraid."

 "Where are you bound? Not that it matters, of course The quicker I leave this foul place the better."

 "Stoneburg, by way of Litharna and points west," I told her. "Come on. We'll book passage before the constabulary gathers its wits and returns."

 As we moved, quickly but cautiously, back toward the docks, I felt a warm sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. Now, at least, I wasn't alone, and had a companion who, despite her alien appearance and attitude, could at least provide me with intelligent conversation. And, I mused, taking a lingering glance at Li's swaying hips and striped tail, perhaps other things.

 Not surprisingly, the purser balked at allowing Li on board. The Xeshites generally consider all non-humans to be fit only as slaves (and most other humans, for that matter), but after several minutes and countless handfuls of coinage, I managed to convince our hosts that she was a hired sword necessary for security purposes, and booked her into my cabin.

 Li stared in wonder at the ship as we made our way back to the cabins.

 "Such a vessel," she marveled. "I've seen the emperor's dragon-ships from a distance, but they seem small in comparison. The Xeshites must be a great people."

 "The Xeshites are a bunch of decadent, indolent, slave-keeping bastards," I said. "They've spent so much time in the jungle their brains have started to sprout. Trust me. I spend several months in their service a few years ago."

 "You were a slave, Wolf?"

"Only under the most strenuous protest, my dear," I said. "In the end I managed to convince my mistress to free all her slaves, but she was still a perverted little minx to the very end."

 "You made her free her slaves?" Li asked, staring at me with an incomprehensible expression in her deep golden eyes.

 I nodded.

 She didn't reply, but turned and continued down the hall, her tiger-striped face as unreadable as ever.

 When we reached my cabin, I immediately made for Theanna's door and knocked.

 Silence. With a sinking heart, I knocked again, louder, and a moment later pushed the door open and barreled into Theanna's cabin.

 It was empty, save for her finery, taken from her little elf-box and strewn around the room.

 "Phaedra's tits," I muttered, whirling and racing back into my room.

 "What's wrong?" Li asked as I made for the door.

 "My charge, the little elf-slut, is missing," I shot back over my shoulder. "I shouldn't have trusted her. Want to help me look for her?"

 "Anything for my new mate," she purred, and I had a difficult time telling whether she was being sarcastic or not. In any event, it was an issue for later discussion.

 I collared the guard I'd bribed.

 "The elf woman I asked you to watch," I said, urgently. "Where is she?"

 "She's fine," the man assured me. "After we announced the nightly fete in the blue ballroom, she insisted on going there. Our wizards are keeping an eye on her."

 I growled irritably. The little tart. "Which way is the ballroom?" I asked.

 "Down this hall, up two levels, follow the silver footprints."

 I thanked him - he'd done his job after all - and made my way down the corridor, Li following closely behind.

 The blue ballroom proved to live up to its name. The floor was midnight blue inlaid with azure, the walls were hung with royal blue tapestries, and lavender pillars held up a clear crystal dome, through which the moons and stars shone. This illumination was subtly enhanced by a number of recessed mageglobes, but the entire effect was of a moonlit clearing, filled with richly-dressed figures.

 "Do you see her?" I asked. "Tall, blonde, elf-looking?"

 "I'm sorry, Wolf, but all you hairless ones look alike to me," Li said. "Except for the short, bearded ones."

 "That would be the dwarves. You can distinguish them by the smell," I commented, weaving my way past tables with seated men and women, exotically clothed or near-clothed. The smell of rich, spiced food filled the room, mixed with incense and dream-smoke, and nearby a hidden orchestra played one of those endless, sleep-inducing Xeshite sonatas. A few were dancing to the music.

 One couple attracted my attention - the man was slender, but with a well-toned muscular build, and sported a neat black beard. He wore black and silver and bore a Xeshite house crest on a chain around his neck. Though unarmed, my instincts screamed that he looked like trouble.

 And if so, I'd walked right into it, for clinging to him like an Orlanist missionary to a potential convert, was my young charge, clad in a dark green gown that managed to make her look even more voluptuous, her hair elaborately coifed and threaded with glittering gems and silver wire. She gazed at the Xeshite man with the sort of expression I'd always wanted from Livia but had never received.

 "There she is," I told Li. "Any ideas?"

 "She's very pretty," purred the Kaitian. "And she seems well cared for. Perhaps you should leave her be?"

 I shook my head. "I'm responsible for her safety, and she needs to be aware of it. Wish me luck, dearest."

 With that, I stepped through the dancing couples and triples, approaching Theanna and her companion.

 "My lady," I said, causing her to jump, and the Xeshite to cast a dark glare at me, "I asked you to stay in your cabin."

 Theanna recovered her composure instantly, and fixed me with the icy stare I was coming to despise.

 "I was bored. I chose not to remain. It is my prerogative, is it not? You are simply here to see to my safety, not to interfere with my desires."

 At that she smiled at the Xeshite, who returned a thin, smarmy smile of his own.

 "Fellow," he said, with the sort of affected formality I found infuriating, "I scarcely see how interfering with lady Theanna's enjoyment of the evening falls within your duties as her bodyguard. After all, a good servant should be neither seen nor heard until needed, don't you agree?"

 "No I do not, my lord?" I left the question hanging.

 "Xulla, Earl of Shining Bend, House Rutha. And you, my lord?"

 "Wulf," I said. "Just Wulf. I think I'm familiar with you folks. You're vassals of House Exyndra, aren't you?"

 Xulla colored at that. "We are associated with Exyndra, yes."

 "How's Baroness Xylara doing these days?" I asked. "I spent a good deal of time in her household last time I visited Xesh."

 He scowled. "The Baroness is in good health. Not that I would know from personal experience. She'll allow no men to venture onto her estate at the Moonpool. She and her sister have the place sewn up tight."

 I chuckled inwardly. Years of enforced lesbianism seemed to have left their mark on my dear Xylara. Then again, she'd probably been inclined that way since the beginning I didn't bother to tell Xulla that I was probably the last male to touch the woman.

 "Glad to see she's maintaining family traditions. She still holds no slaves?"

 "None," Xulla grunted, plainly disapproving. "Her attendants all supposedly serve out of love. It's an unhealthy tradition. Some are even beginning to question the wisdom of keeping slaves at all, using her as an example."

 My hidden grin grew even wider. Perhaps my influence on the woman hadn't been totally wasted.

 "I would love to stand here and discuss Xeshite politics with you, your excellency," I said, "but as you say, that would not fall within my duties as a bodyguard." I turned to Theanna. "Lady, will you accompany us back to your cabin?"

 Theanna looked at Li with a mixture of dubiousness and curiosity.

 "This is Li," I told her. "She'll be traveling with us." I didn't bother to ask for Theanna's approval.

 Li bowed graciously. "My lady," she said, in a low, rich voice. "It's an honor."

 Theanna seemed impressed, but made no move to leave.

 "I'll be staying here for a time," she said, meeting my gaze. "You may remain, as well, if you wish, but we will be leaving when I wish it, not you."

 With that, she returned to her dance, ignoring me as finally as if I'd never been born.

 I turned to Li with a shrug. "Not much else I can do, is there?"

 "I think not," she said. "She did not, however, say you could not enjoy yourself while you guarded her. This music is lovely. Care to teach me some of your people's dances?"

 Though taken aback for a moment, I finally smiled, and moved closer, one arm on her shoulder, and the other resting on her warm, naked, softly-furred waist.

 "Certainly," I said. "It's the least I can do."