VII
The city of Morguhnpolis had never before seen such activity. While about its walls camped near twenty thousand soldiers of the Confederation, the city itself housed the persons and retinues of High Lord Milo, High Lady Aldora, an arhkeethoheeks, no less than six thoheeksee, and scores of komeesee, vahrohnoee, vahrohneeskoee and untitled Kindred noblemen. Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz and his clansmen lodged, too, in the city not because they liked city life—they one and all hated it!—but because the lovesmitten Hwahltuh had taken to heart the beauteous Mother Behrnees Morguhn’s parting admonition to “look out for our Bili.” Though, to the thinking of Clanbard Gil Sanderz, if any one of these mostly softer eastern Kindred definitely did not need the services of a bodyguard—much less a clan of them—it was that grim, stark warrior, Thoheeks Bili, Chief of Morguhn.
Awaiting the arrivals of the remaining three thoheeksee and certain other tardy nobles, Bili began to wonder if his duchy would be stripped bare in sustenance of the swelling hordes. One night in the soft bed he now shared with the Undying High Lady Aldora, he mindspoke of his apprehensions, and within a week, Confederation commissary wagons were stocking his larders to the very rafters. He remarked, lightly he thought, in her presence that it was a shame there were no more unemployed Freefighters about, as late arrivals would find themselves unable to field more than what swords they brought with them from their demesnes. Shortly, the north and east traderoads seemed to swarm with bands of Freefighters, ranging in size from two or three bravos to a score. Yet Bili knew that not even the legendary Confederation Gallopers could have so rapidly spread the word.
On the large bed in the sumptuous suite which had been Vahrohnos Myros’ own while he had governed Morguhnpolis, Bili and Aldora lay entwined. The dim light thrown by the low lamps glinted on their sweat-shiny bodies. His long arms enfolded her, his thin, pale lips were locked to her full, dark ones, while the palms of her small, hard hands moved in lazy, sensuous circles on the fair, freckled skin of his thick-muscled back and wide, massive shoulders.
When first Aldora had actually seen the young thoheeks, she had felt almost repelled, for though handsome enough, his waist was thicker than she preferred and his hips were far wider than were those of the average man. It was not until she actually fought beside him against a desperate force of cornered Vawnee horsemen, saw the ease with which he managed that ten-pound axe, making of it both shield and fearsome weapon, that she came to appreciate his atypical build. The classic masculine form-wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and slim hips—would never have been able to develop or give purchase to the almost abnormal masculature of back, buttocks and belly which were requisite in a skilled and accomplished axe wielder.
But in the weeks since that first meeting, his hard, scarred body—so very fair where sun and wind had not browned it, the skin so soft and smooth where the puckered cicatrices of old wounds did not roughen it—and the fine young man that body housed had become very dear to her. Few men she could recall in nearly a hundred and fifty years had become so dear so soon.
As his deadly efficiency as a warrior impressed all who witnessed it, as his almost immediate grasp of problems of strategy, tactics, logistics and the proper marshaling of a large, heterogeneous force impressed his peers and the High Lord, so did his understanding of the theory and application of the skills of the bedly arts amaze and enrapture the High Lady Aldora. His beautiful blending of tenderness and fire, of fierce passion and gentle regard, never failed to leave her trembling and gasping, sometimes weeping her pure joy and gratitude. Then he would kiss the tears from her cheeks and eyelids, while their warm breaths mingled and the caressing hands did delightful things to the ultrasensitive parts of her blissfully tired body … and would continue doing those things until her tiredness was once more drowned in a surging flood of fresh desire.
So it was this night His lips left hers to first nuzzle at her soft throat, then kiss their way downward to end suckling one red-brown nipple, while a big hand crept from beneath her back to gently roll the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. When the uncommitted hand glided over her flat belly, she moaned, then softly gasped as his hard but tender fingers continued on into the damp tangle beyond. And even as that hand moved slowly, engulfing all of her being in joy-drenched agony, his lips forsook her nipple and returned to her throat But now it was his even white teeth which served, inflicting tiny, stinging bites from the hollow of that throat around to the nape, then back up the slender column of her neck to her ear.
And the palms which had caressed his back were short-nailed claws which dug deep into his shoulders, tore oozing scratches in that freckled skin. Long shudders racked Aldora’s olive-tan body, her head lay thrown back, the eyelids tight closed and her lips skinned back from her teeth, while from her half-opened mouth issued an endless moan, interspersed with little whimpers of unbearable pleasure.
At last she began to gasp, “Oh, Bili … Bili … oh, Bili, love … Oh, please, please, Bili… oh, dear, sweet Bili, enter now … I beg of you, Bili, as you love Sacred Sun… Please, Bili, please … Bili … Bili …”
And much, much later, as they lay side by side, his hand clasping hers, a balmy nightwind flickering the lamp flames and soothing their bodies, his mind touched her own.
“Aldora, I am ignorant of many things, but horses and riding I know well. It is ten days’ hard riding from Morguhn to the nearest of the Middle Kingdoms, so it is just not possible that any galloper could have covered that distance and let it be known that there was a market here for Freefighters in time for them to start arriving in Morguhn only two weeks after I remarked the need for them. What sorcery do you practice, Aldora?”
“Not sorcery, Bili, farspeak.”
“No” He shook his shaven head, speaking aloud in his vehemence. “I know something of farspeak, Aldora. Most talented is the farspeaker who can range more than a score and ten miles, and even then he must know well the mind to which he speaks!”
A smile flitted across her face. “Oh, darling Bili, there is truly much you now know not But you will. I doubt you could believe now the multitude of new skills you’ll learn, the abilities you’ll learn you possess and can develop once we get this devilish rebellion scotched and—but that is future, my love.
“As for farspeak, generally speaking, you’re right though training and practice can sometimes extend the range of one with minimal ability. Certain exceptional people, however, are born with fantastic range. I am one such, love. We have never had a way of determining just how great is my range. And the vast majority of farspeakers, who are normally limited to five or ten or twenty or forty miles, can still range far, far out if they take the time or are given the opportunity to acquire the skills of melding their minds with others in order to transmit with the combined force.
“The Undying High Lady Mara and Milo—she is almost devoid of farspeak, and he, with Sun and Wind know how many centuries of practice, can, under ideal conditions, range all of fifteen miles!—this is how they range distances, by drawing on the added power of another mind. But the mind must be willing to be so used, and it must be conscious and rational.”
Bili interrupted. “Yes, Aldora, I know a little of this, come to think of it One of the Sanderz prairiecats, Whitetip, told me that the High Lord had contacted you through his mind on the night my brother was … slain. But he mentioned it sometime during that first, wild, hectic day of pursuit and, quite honestly, I’d forgotten it until now.” She did not return to her discussion, but asked, “How many … on how many levels of mindspeak can you operate, Bili?”