The Wellspring (9 page)

“Yule.” His expression softened and he set
aside the spoon. “You’re not a loser, and if he makes you feel that
way why would you want to spend any time with him, even if it’s in
Atlantis?”

“Who said he makes me feel that way?” she
remarked quietly. “No, I don’t mean you!” she cried when she saw
the hurt expression steal into Hermes’ expressive dark eyes. She
set aside spoon and ice cream carton and threw her arms around his
neck. “You’ve been completely wonderful to me!” She kissed his neck
several times until he finally laughed and pushed her away.

“All right, I’m convinced, I’m amazing.” He
shook a finger at her. “Don’t go with Prosser Teomond. If it’s that
important to you I’ll try to find a way to get you there, but going
with him is a problem you do not need in your life.”

“How is it a problem? He needs an assistant
and I want to go to Atlantis.”

Hermes sighed. “You’re such an innocent. Just
what do you think the gossip broadcasts are going to be filled with
when the information gets out? And you know it will get out, even
if it’s just someone wondering why his usual assistant isn’t with
him. The man’s a complete stranger to you after all, why do you
think a man invites a woman away to a romantic island?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she scoffed. “No one’s
going to think that for a second.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s who he is and I’m who I am
which is nobody he’d be interested in, that way,” she explained.
“I’ve seen his type; all legs and hair and breasts.”

“You realize you have all of those.”

“Not arranged the way he likes them, and
anyone looking at me would know that.” Yule shrugged
matter-of-factly.

“Why do you talk about yourself like you’re
ugly? You’re not ugly, honey.”

“I’m not breathtaking either,” she countered
without self-pity.

“Most people aren’t.”

“You are.”

“My hotness is my burden.”

“I thought you said it was your weapon,” she
reminded him.

“My hot weapon.”

“You are so awful,” she laughed.

“Kidding aside, sweetheart, there’s always a
reason a man invites a woman anywhere and if you don’t think it’s
for a mad sexual romp then you’d better figure out what it is for
before you go,” he warned.

His warning irritated Yule. She wasn’t the
prudish, cloistered innocent Hermes always cast her as, virginity
aside. While she’d never had sex with a man she certainly knew all
about the subject and was familiar with the tricks guys tried to
get a girl in bed. They’d been played on her, and failed, not
because she was frigid or frightened, but because she wasn’t
impressed by tricks. If a man liked her and wanted her he needed to
be able to just come out and say so—even if she still said no,
because honesty was important, especially in bed. She doubted a man
like Prosser had to lie to get a woman in the sack, but she didn’t
think the kind of woman he liked cared about much more than how
impressed other people would be with his name etched on her three
thousand dollar belt. As for why he asked her to be his assistant
rather than hiring some temp, that was easy; he didn’t have to pay
her, she owed him a favor. She concluded that was all there was to
it and thought being able to visit Atlantis was just an added perk
for her.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, actually,” she
assured Hermes. “I’m convenient, capable, and free.” She ticked off
these points on her fingers. “Plus, he mentioned the temp he was
supposed to use was driving him mad with personal questions about
what it was like to be magic folk. She is a normal,” Yule explained
when one of Hermes’ eyebrows cocked in question.

He chuckled at that. “Normals are always so
curious about the oddest things. I remember a gorgeous normal
artist I—” He was interrupted by a delicate chime, like the single
strike of a wind chime, and a fine mist of lavender fog appeared in
the living room a few feet from the couch. The faint image of the
Viking stood within it, smiling. “There’s my ride, I’ll see you
later.” He kissed Yule on both cheeks before rising and
straightening his cinnamon and cream suit ensemble. “Don’t do
anything rash while I’m out and don’t wait up.” He winked and
walked into the fog, vanishing.

Yule delightedly drew out from under the
couch a tray of easy reader crystals she’d picked up at the library
on her way home from seeing Prosser. She settled back with the
carton of ice cream on her lap, spoon in her right hand, crystal in
her left—and opened her mind. These were holiday planning,
travelogue crystals and her thoughts were immediately filled with
scenes of white sand beaches lapped by azure seas. Palm trees lined
those shores, multi-colored tropical birds soaring from one tree to
the next. A pleasant voice in her head narrated the scene,
describing the many adventures to be had then the scene changed to
a black sand beach where evergreens opened their arms toward a dark
green ocean. The sun shone brightly on this scene as well, but it
looked like a completely different place and Yule was impressed by
the variety of terrain Atlantis offered, determined to visit as
much of it as Prosser would give her time in which to do it.

Beaches, gardens, mountains, jungles, and
forests flooded her mind, but by the third crystal Yule realized
there was a distinctly missing component; cities. There were points
of sightseeing or shopping interests, but these museums, galleries
and shops were always internal views. There were no street
approaches, no road, city, or street names—no external vistas of
towns or scenic huddles of homes—no way by which Atlantis could be
mapped. Of course, she thought, setting aside the third crystal and
replacing the lid on the carton. Magic folk wouldn’t want normals
to have maps of Atlantis, normals who might take the information
back to the alternate Earth from which they’d come. She rose and
wandered into the kitchen, setting the carton back in the freezer
then returning to the couch and reaching for the fourth crystal.
This crystal suggested clothing options to pack related to the
variety of activities the island offered. Yule hadn’t given much
thought to that matter until now. She didn’t know what she assumed
she was going to do about clothes beyond throwing a few things into
a bag, but now the prospect of three weeks worth of casual,
business, even evening wear loomed like a tornado on her working
vacation horizon. She wasn’t like Hermes, with a wardrobe of
limitless possibilities, it just didn’t occur to her to wear
anything that wasn’t utilitarian or comfortable. The way she looked
at things, you could hang daisies on a mud fence and it’d still be
a mud fence.

She set aside the crystal and went into her
bedroom, opening the closet and letting her eyes roam its contents.
Ignoring all of the simple suits that were easy options for the
times she’d spend strictly devoted to Prosser’s business affairs,
she focused on what remained and found it all sorely lacking. One
evening type black gown beckoned to her and she drew it from the
depths of the closet where it had hung, ignored, for—three years?
She stroked the velvety softness of the garment and smiled,
remembering how Hermes presented it to her, insisting every woman
must have at least one gown for—formal emergencies. Would it still
fit? Three years ago she was still in training for a military
position Hermes ultimately talked her out of taking, and she’d
spent the time since then behind desks, softening her frame into
Hermes’ favorite pillow.

She laid the gown on the bed, stripped off
her oversized pajamas and drew the gown over her head, letting it
fall around her like a soft swirl of dark chocolate. She tugged the
lines into order around her, discarding her bra when she realized
it interfered with the built in supports, reached back to zip up
and found her efforts blocked at the halfway point. First she
sucked in breath only increasing her ribcage so she blew out all of
the air and managed to gain an inch before her efforts were
frustrated again. She knew that even if she starved herself and
exercised like a madwoman she wouldn’t put a dent in the extra
flesh before her departure.

Hearing a chime of impending arrival from the
living room, she went out to see why Hermes had returned so soon,
having a feeling the Viking would be in tow and she’d be relegated
to her bedroom for several more hours. In which case, I’m taking
the travel crystals with me, she thought, ignoring the left strap
of her dress when it slipped off her shoulder.

“Don’t take anything off before I grab my
stuff,” she called as she entered the living room and came to an
abrupt stop, eyes widening in surprise.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Magus Teomond
assured her with the beginnings of amusement until his eyes took in
her state of partial dress.

“I thought you were Hermes.”

His head tilted, eyes moving to her bare left
shoulder. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been compared to that
particular god, but thank you.”

“I—I was just,” she stammered, pushing the
strap up with one hand while holding her gown closed in the back
with the other.

“Dressing, my apologies,” he interrupted. “I
could assist you with the zip?”

“No!” she exclaimed, taking a step back when
he took a step toward her. “Thanks, I’ve got it.” She began to
turn, realized quite a bit of her would be exposed, and chose to
back away. “I’ll just—be right back.”

“I would have messaged ahead,” he called
after her. “But your mind is still so damned impermeable and I only
had a moment to pop in so I thought I might as well take the
chance.”

Yule slipped off the dress and dropped it on
the bed, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and oversized
sweatshirt. “That’s all right, I heard the warning chime, and I
just thought it was—”

“Your date?” he finished.

“My—?” She realized he thought he’d
interrupted her preparations for an evening out. “Oh, that.” She
returned to the living room and fancied she saw a hint of
disenchantment in his dark eyes at her change of wardrobe. “I was
just going through some things, deciding what to bring to
Atlantis.”

“I hope that will be one of your choices, it
was charming,” he complimented.

“Thank you, we’ll see. What can I do for you,
Magus?”

“I wanted to leave this with you,” he told
her, holding out a small crystal. “It contains all of our travel
information, departure place and time, as well as a small outline
of your general duties,” he continued as she accepted the crystal,
dismayed that it was not an easy reader. “It includes my itinerary
of events as well as a few odds and ends details you should find
helpful.”

“I—thank you,” she finally said, unwilling to
admit she couldn’t open the crystal. She’d just ask Hermes to
access it for her, and transfer the information into a crystal she
could read. “I was doing some reading about Atlantis, you know,
travelogues,” she told him. “It mentioned some of the hotels. Do
you know which one we’ll—”

“Hotels are for tourists,” he interrupted
her. “I have private lodgings. I’m sure you’ll find them
adequate.”

“Oh, of course. I mean I’m sure I will,” she
agreed.

Internally, she couldn’t help the flutter of
misgiving’s wings, but she laid the blame at Hermes’ cynical feet.
All of his sexual implications of planned impropriety clearly
preyed upon her better judgment and impartial perspective. Yes, a
private dwelling hinted at potential misconduct, but there was no
reason to imagine he’d made the arrangement specifically for her
accompaniment of him. Doubtless this was where he spent every trip
to Atlantis, and every magic worker of import probably had similar
accommodations. She mentally frowned at her Hermes-birthed paranoia
and pushed it aside.

He took in her stance. “Naturally we won’t be
alone.”

“Oh?”

“It takes a veritable army of household staff
to keep the place in order; maids, cooks, gardeners,
maintenance—you’re going to be stumbling over someone at every
turn.”

“Perhaps mirrors on every corner would
rectify that situation?” She wasn’t sure if the idea of house
filled with chaperones pleased or disappointed her. Not that she
was hoping he’d seduce her, she reminded herself.

He laughed at that. “They might. Were you
concerned I might expect you to manage every aspect of the house? I
know I have something of a reputation as a task master, but I will
not have you think of me as a slave-driver.”

"It’s comforting to know that whips will not
be involved,” she remarked drolly.

“Never whips,” he assured her stoically. “The
occasional spanking, but never whips.” He chuckled at her dismayed
expression.

Yule wasn’t sure if his teasing annoyed or
amused her, she decided to let annoyance be her voice for now. “I
must tell you now, Magus,” her words were clipped and professional
as she held up the crystal. “I cannot read this, the magic is too
advanced. I can have my—friend download it into an easy reader, but
in the future I will require simpler crystals.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, my dear,” he
apologized. Yule didn’t know if he meant for the spanking remark or
for his assumption she could read the crystal. “In the future I
will be certain to provide the tools you need to accomplish the
tasks I set for you.” He glanced at his watch. “I must go. Thank
you for agreeing to be my assistant. I’ll try not to abuse your
generosity.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek then winked and
vanished on the wind before she could pretend outrage.

She would be pretending, she admitted to
herself, raising a hand to the cheek he’d kissed. There was nothing
romantic in the gesture, and his wink made it clear he was only
teasing her, but for a moment she entertained the fantasy that the
dashing man was whisking her away for a holiday of seduction and
she giggled at the thrill it sent shivering up her body from her
toes to her fingertips.