As soon as he had enough strength back, Alonnen tilted just enough to gather her in his arms, hugging her close. “Thank you,” he murmured, in between pressing little kisses to her forehead. “Thank you very much . . . for such a wonderful gift.”
A soft giggle escaped her. “You’re welcome. And I learned it by listening to the ‘other’ men bragging about what they liked when their lady friends stroked them. Ummm . . . if you want to do the same tonight? You with me, and, um, me with you . . . ?”
He didn’t have to give it more than two seconds’ worth of thought. “Okay. But tomorrow, clear heads. We have to go into town for the new-kingdom vote, and everything else that will have cropped up.”
Rexei nodded, her cheek nuzzling against his shoulder now that she wasn’t half buried under the covers. “Mmhmm . . . but tomorrow night . . . are we going to be staying at Big Momma’s again?”
His shaft twitched under her fingers. Just the thought of everything they could do, with the brothel’s supplies on hand, was stimulating. Unfortunately, now he needed the refreshing room, and he lacked a crucial piece of information on top of that. Kissing her forehead again, he started worming his way out of the bed to go clean up. “I think that could be managed . . . but the real question is, do you like strawberry jam, or would you prefer birch syrup?”
It took her a few moments to realize what he was talking about. When she did, Rexei blushed and blurted, “I’d want elderberry jelly. I think. Um . . . yeah. Elderberry.”
Grinning—and trying not to wince as the cold morning air hit the streaks of seed and mint, chilling his skin—Alonnen padded for the refreshing room. “Then dessert shall literally be on me. If we end up staying that late. If not, we’ll come back here, and I’ll introduce you to all the fun things we can do with honey. Win or lose, we’ll either celebrate or commiserate. But only if we concentrate, tomorrow. It’s a very important vote.”
• • •
Word had been spread, representatives picked and sent, but not everyone was coming. Part of it had to do with the weather; most of those who had arranged to travel to Heiastowne were from cities to the west and south, where the lands were less steep. To the north, a heavy snowstorm blocked travel, and farther north of that . . . many cities were now in full riot. Priests versus mages, militia versus citizens, old regime versus new would-be despots. The northlands were feeling the full brunt of the turmoil stirred up by Mekha’s destruction. Not all Precinct captains were interested in upholding the law, not when so many of them had also benefitted from the priests bending it.
Rexei didn’t know if it was due to her own words on the temple steps or to Captain Torhammer’s word that order would be maintained, or some combination of both. Probably both, since her words had quelled the initial urges to riot, yes, but the captain’s commands had ensured no others had a chance to start. She did know she was grateful that Heiastowne was not one of the cities embroiled in the horrors of a wintertime war.
She was also grateful the Consulate was toasty warm when she arrived through the back door, via the alley from Big Momma’s. The skies outside were clear, thanks to a steady wind from the west, but the thin winter sun couldn’t penetrate far enough to compensate for the sharp chill imbued in each frozen gust. Once safely inside, she focused on unwinding a layer at a time as she headed through the back halls toward the meeting chamber. First to come off was her scarf, then the long coat she had worn on the drive into town, then her gloves and cap, then . . .
“There you are!” Marta’s cheerful greeting startled her.
Blinking, Rexei found the older woman smiling with both sides of her mouth, to the point of beaming at her. Disconcerted, Rexei looked over her shoulder at the others who had come in the back way with her, but Alonnen only shrugged and tugged his cap down over his dark-spelled hair.
“Guild Master Rexei Longshanks,” Marta stated, turning partially to face two youths and an elderly gentleman, “I present to you your new apprentices in the Holy Guild. Pensen Tuckerhart, of Lumber, Springs, and Brewers Guilds,” she introduced, and Rexei found herself facing a tall, lanky youth with reddish hair and light brown woolens that almost matched. He dipped his head in a little bow, then stepped back as Marta continued. “Alsei Cartwound, of Bakers, Binders, and Embroiderers Guilds,” Marta introduced next, which meant a young blonde girl in a cream felted dress decorated with gray and black embroidered vines bobbed a curtsy. “And Master Gearman Jorro Foundertack of fifteen Guilds, so I shall only mention that he has master-rank in Mathematics, Exchequery, and Lessors Guilds.”
The balding, gray-haired fellow, clad in gray wool with blue-dyed trim, dipped his head and lifted his palm toward her. She found herself clasping his ink-stained and pen-callused fingers, which were warm and firm. He gave her a slight smile as he shook hands and said, “I understand you have me beat with thirty guilds?”
“Beat in numbers, yes . . . but not in the wisdom of years, I should think,” Rexei countered, forced to be honest in the face of such seniority. She offered her hand to Alsei and Pensen as well. “I’m rather surprised anyone could be found so quickly. I . . .” She trailed off, realizing only now that she didn’t even have a way to pay them wages yet. She shrugged, feeling awkward, but knowing it would be better to be honest about just how disorganized things still were. “I’m afraid the Holy Guild is still trying to get started. I’m terribly sorry to say this, but I, ah, haven’t even figured out how to create an income for the Holy Guild yet, so . . .”
“Actually, I have that covered for you,” Marta informed her, pulling out a stiff-paper folio from the messenger-style bag slung over her shoulder. Blinking, Rexei found herself the owner of a sheaf of papers, and the advice to, “Just bring up the laws on the summary sheet and call for a vote to change them in the ways indicated, and you should be able to get a portion of the previous mandatory tithes to the Priests Guild transferred over to the Holy Guild in no time.”
“Right. Thank you, Grenspun,” she said, still a little off-balance by how efficient the woman was. Clearing her throat, Rexei gestured at the doors in the distance, ones that led into the meeting hall. “We should head on in and discuss what we can of your thoughts and expectations before the meeting begins.”
“Will we get to see Her?” Alsei asked her. “Guildra?”
“I’m not sure when,” Rexei said, feeling a bit odd as two youngsters and a man old enough to be her grandfather followed her to the meeting chamber. “I’m told that manifestations take a lot of, uh, faith-energy. She said She wouldn’t appear again until things were more settled. By that, I suspect She meant a lot more people acknowledging and worshipping Her.”
“Well, according to what I read in some of the old books in the Binders Guild,” the younger woman said, “if we’re going to vote to become a kingdom tonight, we’re going to have to ring a sacred bell, and then prove we have a Patron Deity by manifesting said deity.”
“Just so long as Mad Mekha doesn’t pop back to life when we do so,” Pensen muttered. “I’ll take any God over Him again. Just about. Won’t take a God or Goddess that’s worse.”
“Smart lad,” Jorro stated.
Rexei let the other two enter the hall first, but paused the old man with a hand on his arm. “A moment, if you please. Master Jorro . . . why did you agree to be my apprentice? You’re a master thrice over, highly ranked as a Gearman. Why join the Holy Guild? Someone who is young, I can understand being willing to try something new, but you’ve suffered for decades under the old system.”