“Better?” he inquired, as if he didn’t know.
“Was that some… some Lakewalker magic?” No wonder folks tried to follow these people to the ends of the world.
“Nope. That was Little Spark magic. All your own.”
A hundred mysteries seemed to fly up and away like a flock of startled birds into the night. “No wonder people want to do this. It all makes much more sense now…”
“Indeed.” He crawled up the bed to kiss her again. The taste of herself on his lips, mixed with the scent of chamomile and clover, was a little disturbing, but she valiantly kissed him back. Then brushed her lips across his enthralling cheekbones, his eyelids, definite chin, and back to his mouth, as she giggled helplessly. She could feel an answering rumble from deep in his chest as she lay across him.
She had brushed against him, but she had not yet touched him. It was surely his turn now. Hands should work two ways. She sat up, blinking against dizziness.
He stretched out straight and smiled up, his crinkling eyes now resting inquiringly on her, downright inviting, in an unhurried sort of way. He lay open to her, to her gaze, in a way that astonished her anew. All but his mysterious ground, of course. That was beginning to seem an unfair advantage. Where to begin, how to begin? She recalled how he had started.
“May I… touch you too?”
“Please,” he breathed.
It might be mere mimicry, but it was a start, and once started, acquired its own momentum. She kissed her way down and up his body, and arrived back at the middle.
Her first tentative touch made him jerk and catch his breath, and she shied back.
“No, it’s all right, go on,” he huffed. “I’m a little, um, sensitized just at the moment. It’s good. Almost anything you can do is good.”
“Sensitized. Is that what you call it?” Her lips curled up.
“I’m trying to be polite, Spark.”
She tried various touches, strokes, and grips, wondering if she was doing this right. Her hands felt clumsy and rather too small. The occasional catches of his breath were not very informative, she thought, though once in a while his hand covered hers to squeeze some silent suggestion. Was that gasp pleasure or pain?
His apparent endurance for pain was a bit frightening, when she thought about it. “Can I try your oil on my hands?”
“Certainly! Although… this may be over rather quickly if you do.”
She hesitated. “Couldn’t we… do it again? Sometime?”
“Oh yes. I’m very renewable. Just not very fast. Not”—he sighed—“as quick as when I was younger, anyway. Though that’s mostly been to my advantage, tonight.”
And mine. His patience humbled her. “Well, then…”
The oil made her hands slip and slide in ways that intrigued her and seemed to please him, too. She grew more daring. That, for example, made him jerk, no, convulse, much as he’d done to her a while ago.
“Brave Spark!” he gasped.
“Is that good?”
“Yes…”
“Figured if you thought it would please me, it might be something that pleased you, too.”
“Clever girl,” he crooned, his eyes closing again.
She chilled. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
His eyes opened, and his brows drew in; he raised his head from the pillow and frowned down over his torso at her. “Wasn’t. You have one of the hungriest minds it’s ever been my pleasure to meet. You may have been starved of information, but your wits are as sharp as a blade.”
She caught her breath, lest it escape as a sudden surprised sob. His words could not be true, but oh they sounded so nice to hear!
At her shocked look, he added a little impatiently, “Come, child, you can’t be that bright and not know it.”
“Papa said I must be a fool to ask so many questions all the time.”
“Never that.” His head tilted, and his eyes took on that uncanny inward look.
“There’s a deep, dark place in your ground just there. Major fissure and blockage. I… it’s not going to be the work of an hour to find the bottom of that one, I’m afraid.”
She gulped. “Then let’s set it aside with the rest of the stones, for now.
It’ll wait.” She bent her head. “I’m neglecting you.”
“I won’t argue with that…”
Tongues, she discovered, worked like fingers on fellows quite as well, if differently, as they worked on ladies. Well, then. What would happen if she did this and also this and that at the same time…
She found out. It was fascinating to watch. Even from the oblique angle of view down here she could see his expression grow so inward it might have been a trance. For a moment, she wondered if levitation were a Lakewalker magical skill, for he seemed about to rise off the bed.
“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, when his body stopped shuddering.
“Your forehead got all wrinkled up funny there for a minute, when your, um, back curved up like that.”
His hand waved while he regained his breath; his eyes stayed squeezed shut, but finally opened again. “Sorry, what? Sorry. Was waiting for all those white sparks on the insides of my eyelids to finish exploding. That wasn’t something to miss.”
“Does that often happen?”
“No. No, indeed.”
“Are you all right?” she repeated.
His grin lit his face like a streak of fire. “All right? I think I’m downright astounding.” From an angle of attack that would seem to allow, at best, a wallow, he lunged up and wrapped both arms around her, and dragged her back down to his chest, heedless of the mess they’d made. It was his turn to kiss her face all over. Laughter turned to accidental touching, to—
“Dag, you’re ticklish.”
“No, I’m not. Or only in certain aiee!” When he got his breath back, he added,
“You’re fiendish, Spark. I like that in a woman. Gods. I haven’t laughed this much in… I can’t remember.”
“I like how you giggle.”
“I was not giggling. That would be undignified in a man of my years.”
“What was that noise, then?”
“Chortling. Yes, definitely. Chortling.”
“Well,” she decided, “it looks good on you. Everything looks good on you.”
She sat up on her elbow and let her gaze travel the long route down his body and back. “Nothing looks good on you, too. It’s most unfair.”
“Oh, as if you aren’t sitting there looking, looking…”
“What?” she breathed, sinking back into his grip.
“Naked. Edible. Beautiful. Like spring rain and star fire.”
He drew her in again; their kisses grew longer, lazier. Sleepier. He made a great effort, and reached out and turned off the lamp. Soft summer-night air stirred the curtains. He flung the sheet up and let it settle over them. She cuddled into his arm, pressing her ear to his chest, and closed her eyes.
To the ends of the world, she thought, melting into deeper darkness.
Chapter 12
Dag spent the radiant summer dawn proving beyond doubt to Fawn that her last night’s first-in-a-lifetime experience needn’t be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. When they woke from the ensuing sated nap, it was midmorning. Dag seriously considered the merits of lying low till the patrols had taken their planned departure, but unexpectedly sharp hunger drove both him and Fawn to rise, wash, dress, and go see if breakfast was still to be had downstairs.
Fawn entered the staircase ahead of Dag and turned sideways to let Utau, clumping up to collect more gear to load, pass her by. Dag smiled brightly at his sometime-linker. Utau’s head cranked over his shoulder in astonishment, and he walked into the far wall with a muffled thud, righted himself, and wheeled to stare. Prudently deciding to ignore that, Dag followed Fawn before Utau could speak. Dag suspected he needed to get better control of his stretching mouth, as well as of his sparking ground. A responsible, mature, respected patroller should not walk about grinning and glowing like some dementedly carved pumpkin.