Under A Velvet Cloak (6 page)

“I have you naked, and I want to please you.”

It fell into place. He required more than the body; he wanted her pleasure. That was one of his turn~ons.

“Locating the one I lost would please me,” she agreed. “I did not think that you would want to address this subject at this time.” Men could be possessive about their women, even when they had more than one.

“I love my wife, and would have her here with me if it were possible without her pain. I am not here to love you, and you are not here to love me. I need sex, you need to complete your search. There is no conflict.”

She nodded, seeing it. “It means everything to me to recover the one I love.”

He asked about the details, and she told him what she knew. “I believe I can help you,” he said. “It may take time, but if there have been any unusual travels, we shall become aware of them.”

“Thank you!” she said gratefully.

Then he took her for sex, seemingly relishing her appreciation for his help as much as the physical act.

Later in the day they had sex again, this time one of the weird variants. She found it challenging and instructive, but was able to handle it. It was not painful, just different.

Kerena settled into a comfortable situation. She was treated well by Hirsh, Ona, and the household staff. The sex was tolerable and often interesting and challenging. She was free to go into town when there was time, and she did visit Molly, who was amazed and gratified by her success. And Hirsh started teaching her to read.

The reading sessions were typically after sex; it seemed he did not like to spurt and run, but to have more of a relationship. He gave her a handmade alphabet book that illustrated each letter with a picture. A was for Apple, with the A in color, matching the apple. B was for Bum, with a maid’s plush bare bottom showing. It was fun. He showed her how the letters combined to form words, which could be sounded out, though many seemed to follow no reasonable rules and simply had to be memorized. It was a challenge, but she loved it, and he in turn liked her ready aptitude.

“You are destined for higher things than being a man’s mistress,” he remarked.

“What could be higher than being your mistress?” she asked playfully.

And the scene wavered, assuming that fuzziness of outline that indicated a divergence of the timelines. Jolie, on the verge of napping, came alert.

Yet no choice was being made here. Kerena was merely expressing her satisfaction with her present existence.

Which suggested that this was the wrong path. But what else offered?

Jolie scrambled for alternatives, testing each by sending the thought to Kerena. Return to the brothel? The lines fuzzed worse. Seek other employment? Still the fuzz. Disagree with Hirsh? Worse. Agree with him? The lines clarified. Why should that be? She would have to play it through to see where it led.

She returned to Hirsh’s statement. “Well, I hope so,” Kerena said smoothly. “Though being your mistress is hardly a chore.”

“You are kind. Ona really appreciates your effort.”

“I am glad of that.”

The lines wavered.

Again, Jolie was in a quandary. What was wrong with this amicable discussion? Kerena was glad; she knew how difficult Hirsh’s wife could have made her existence, had she chosen. Instead she was supportive, and a nice companion. Should she be otherwise?

The lines clarified somewhat. This was the right track.

Jolie returned to the point of divergence. “I am glad of that,” Kerena said. “But surely she would be happier if there were no need for my services.”

“Surely,” he agreed. “But I am as I am, and she is as she is, so we must make the best of it. We are excellently matched in other respects.”

The alternates aligned, but now there was a thought in Kerena’s mind. They were making the best of a difficult situation, but wouldn’t they be better off if the situation improved? So that there was no need for a mistress?

After the session, Kerena went to Ona. “Please, I do not wish to cause you distress, but there is something on my mind.”

Ona looked at her with alarm. “The work is too much for you?”

“No, not at all. I have learned Hirsh’s ways and they are challenging but not onerous. Betweentimes he is teaching me to read and write. I like it here. But-” She broke off.

“There is ever a ‘but,’ ” Ona said sadly.

“But I fear I am causing you distress merely by the need for my presence. You should be with Hirsh, no one else.”

“Agreed. But I am long since resigned. It is hardly your fault.”

“He-
I-I
do not know how to say this without risking offense.”

“No offense, dear,” Ona said patiently. “Say what you must.”

“Hirsh is teaching me to read. It is difficult, but I am very glad to learn, knowing it will surely help me later in life. You-if I could teach you how to-”

“Now I appreciate your gist. I know how, but there is pain. As I told you, balms do not suffice. Despite your youth, you have had experience I have not, but this is a physical rather than a knowledge limitation. I could never perform as you
do.”

“Yet if you could-”

Ona smiled with her habitual sadness. “If I could, I would. But I can’t.”

“I-when I was new, I feared something similar. That I would hurt, or be wrongly responsive, so as to alienate my lover. But he gave me a remedy, and perhaps it would work for you also.”

“Fear is one thing. Confirmation is another. You had the former, I the latter.”

Kerena brought out the love figurine. “If you will, sleep with this in your channel, then see what happens. It worked for me.”

“I am long past superstition, dear.”

“So am I. But this is genuine magic, used by women for countless generations. Please.”

Ona sighed. “I will try it one night, then return it to you. Does that seem fair?”

“Yes. One night should be enough to verify or refute its power.”

Ona took the figurine, and Kerena returned to her study of the letters and words. She was laboring to make her writing quite clear, so no literate person could misunderstand it. She was adding words to her vocabulary every day. And the realities remained aligned.

In the morning, early, she went to Hirsh’s bedroom, as often he liked sex first thing. He nighted alone, as Ona was too much of a temptation when present in dishabille. She did not like to refuse him, and he did not like to hurt her, so they slept apart, with mutual regret. Once Kerena finished with him, it was safe for husband and wife to be together as they dressed. They liked being together, when it was feasible. They were after all in love.

Kerena entered quietly, intending to join him in the bed as usual, to be there as he awakened. She paused, looking at the bed. There was already activity there. Hirsh was having at a woman with gusto, and she was clasping him and moaning with delight. What was going on? Had he brought in another mistress, without telling her?

They rolled over, and the woman came on top, still connected. It was Ona! She was kissing him as her body struggled to squeeze the last of his passion from him. How had this come to pass?

Then Kerena remembered the love figurine. It had worked! Ona must have felt such strong desire that she had come to Hirsh’s bed and seduced him, following through with the kind of passion Kerena remembered experiencing with Morely.

Ona lifted her head and spied Kerena. “There you are, on schedule,” she said. “I apologize for preempting you. I simply couldn’t wait.”

“That’s all right,” Kerena said, half bemused.

“What did you say to her?” Hirsh asked.

“She gave me her magic,” Ona said. “It abolished my pain. Now my vulva matches my passion.” Then, to Kerena: “You must sell it to me, dear. I have to have it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t sell it,” Kerena said.

The lines blurred. Jolie focused.

“I will give it to you,” Kerena continued, and the lines clarified.

“But there will be no further need for your services here. You must have substance to make your way elsewhere.”

“I will find her another position,” Hirsh said. “A better one.”

“See that you do,” Ona said. “She has given me what I most desired. Now let’s have at it again.”

“But I am spent!”

“Don’t make excuses, wretch! I demand performance, or I will bite off your tool and soak it in vinegar and pepper sauce to strengthen it.” She lifted the errant member, threatening it with her teeth.

“Please, not that,” he begged.

Ona huffed up in simulated anger. “Do you prefer the whip, you laggard? No more excuses!”

They were going into the alternate mode. Ona clearly was competent, now that her pain was gone.

In due course they joined Kerena for breakfast, glowing. The servants were agog, well aware of the change. Jolie was satisfied, as the timelines remained aligned; this change was necessary.

“It is an irony that your kindness costs you your position,” Hirsh said. “You will of course remain here until I find the right position. I also have not forgotten the quest for your lost man. Unfortunately no word has reached me on that score.”

“Which suggests that a physical search is not enough,” Ona said. “Magic may be required, as was the case for me.”

“Magic,” he echoed. “Are you hinting what I fear?”

“I believe she could handle it. She’s smart enough.”

“Am I missing something?” Kerena asked.

“There is a woman who has use for talented women,” Hirsh said.

“A woman? Not a man?”

“A woman,” Ona said. “In the sense that the brothel madam is a woman. This one is far more talented and powerful, and dangerous when thwarted. Perhaps this is not a good idea.”

“But she could help me find Morely?”

“If anyone can, she can,” Hirsh said. “She could do more good for you than anyone else in the kingdom. But she could also do you more harm. Her temper is unpredictable. This may after all be too dangerous to risk.”

Kerena was intrigued. “Who is she?”

“Morgan le Fey. The king’s sister.”

Kerena felt a chill of premonition. Danger, indeed. “I have heard of her.

Is it true she can cut the heart out of a man without remorse?”

“She can do it without even touching him,” Ona said. “No, this is a bad idea. We will find you some other position.”

“Agreed,” Hirsh said.

Kerena was relieved. She had no idea what use the Fey would want to make of her, but it surely would not be comfortable.

“So that’s decided,” Ona said. “We will not send you into that lion’s den.”

A servant appeared. “A coach is here, asking for the Lady Rena.”

“What?” Hirsh asked. “Who has the temerity to claim a member of my household?”

“The Lady Fey,” the servant replied.

The three of them exchanged glances, similarly appalled. How could the Fey have known of Kerena’s presence here, let alone that she was about to be let go? The situation had changed only this morning.

It had to be magic. Kerena knew with a sinking feeling that it would not be denied.

The coach conveyed her to a hidden castle in the center of town. It looked like a seedy neighborhood, but as the coach entered its decrepit gate it shifted to become a glorious edifice overlooking a lovely estate. This was of course the magic of illusion. But which was more truly the illusion: the rundown collections of hovels seen from afar, or the massive ramparts seen from close in?

Did it matter? Probably it was some of each. The point was that few would think to look for such a stronghold here. The faerie sister of the king could not be found unless she wanted to be.

The coach halted. Kerena stepped out onto a stone platform and stood there. The coach moved on. Now she saw with surprise that the horse that had drawn it was actually a harnessed griffin: part lion, part eagle. That had to be more illusion, as griffins were too wild to be tamed or harnessed. It was probably the original horse clothed with illusion. Still, the magic was apt. The coach itself was probably mostly illusion too, and was really a wagon with a token covering. What did it matter, as long as the appearance was proper?

No one else was there. Maybe the coach was early and she wasn’t expected yet. Uncertain where to
go,
she decided to find someone and inquire.

She mounted the steps of a winding stone stairway that led up to a high door nestled between rounded turrets. But when she got there, the door was closed and bolted, and no one answered her knock and call. The stair continued up, so she ascended further, around a turret and beside a deep inner court. She peered down to see shrubs growing therein, and perhaps some small trees. But still no sign of human presence.

Jolie was impressed. This was quality magic, of a level she hadn’t thought existed this far back. Fortunately the timelines aligned; she wasn’t sure how she would have changed them otherwise.

At last the stair brought her to the top of a turret. She stood in this and gazed around the countryside, spread out like a map below. Now there was no town; fields and forests surrounded the castle. The illusion had changed again.

“Welcome, Kerena.”

She jumped; the voice was right behind her. She turned to discover a breathtakingly lovely woman wearing a crown-shaped tiara and a gown that hardly concealed her voluptuous form. “Queen Morgan le Fey,” she said, curtsying.

Jolie ducked down as low as she could go. She was afraid of the sorceress and did not want to be discovered.

“I will allow one question a day. The rest is business.”

“How much is illusion?”

“All of it.” Abruptly they were standing in an ordinary room with no view. The Fey, too, was changed, and was now a moderately dull woman of perhaps forty.

“Thank you. I have expended my question, so will not ask what you want of me.”

“Smart girl. I have need of information. You will obtain it. In return I will teach you how to locate your lost man, which will require magical arts. Perform well and you will be rewarded.”

She did not need to add that failure to perform well would bring punishment. “I am ready.”

“Men have secrets, but they will often betray everything to women they desire enough. I can no longer fascinate men to that degree, because illusion alone won’t do it. But you are young enough to have the body, nervy enough to use it effectively, and that is most of what matters.”