Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Dual Apprentices - High Society - Part Five - By Mack the Knife Crissa sat on the bed she normally shared with Wenn and watched the younger Peris disrobe. "You seemed to manage very well, considering your lack of experience," she said. A rather keen smile came to Peris' lips. "It was easier to do than I thought it would be," she said. "That they were strangers seemed to actually help. I cared little what they might think of me later." The young sorceress gave her a slow nod. "I find it so, myself," she said. "I was amazed at how - well - how feral you became," said Peris, sitting beside Crissa, on Wenn's side of the bed. "Is being taken by a man truly so pleasurable?" "Yes," said Crissa, "at least it is to me." "I envy you, then," said the younger girl, her eyes looking down at her legs and her palms, resting on her thighs. "I would experience such if I could." Crissa snuffed out the candle that lit the room dimly and slithered into the coverlets of the bed. "Your station has many benefits, but comes at a price," she said. Peris nuzzled into the blankets as well, the room already slightly chilled with the fall night cooling fast. "I doubt that it's worth so much," she said into the darkened chamber. Her voice conveyed a deep sadness that seemed to go far beyond a simple desire for pleasure. The sorceress reached out a mind and touched Peris'. There lay a frightened and tearful child, or so it felt. She slid over a bit and reached out, pulling Peris, unresisting, to her, and held the girl to herself. Peris' mind did not fall to lustful thought, but took comfort in the touch and the two drifted into slumber. - - - - - - - - - Master Marrat was in the kitchen the following morning as Crissa came down to perform her daily chores. "Good morrow," he said as she entered the kitchen. "Master Marrat?" she said, blinking. "I thought you were sequestering yourself in the library." He chuckled. "A man must eat," he said, showing her a bowl of lumpy oatmeal. "You should have awakened me to make a proper breakfast," she complained, dragging out the pan and other cookware to begin a 'real' breakfast, as she called it. Marrat's face turned down, and his expression fell. "I thought you might refuse," he said. She saw, for the first time, a sign of how much this bothered him, and how much he cared for what she thought of him. She clucked at him. "I would never, master," she said. "This is still your home, and I am still your apprentice." He smiled, a soft smile, which warmed her heart with the implied gratitude in it. "You're kind to an old man," he said. Crissa deposited a brief kiss onto his bald pate and took the abominable oatmeal from his hands. Peris walked in, still stretching, wearing one of Wenn's tunics, and, apparently, little else. When she beheld Marrat sitting at the table, she blushed and turned to flee back up the stairs. "Stay, Peris," said Crissa, brandishing a spatula at her. "Master Marrat has seen more women in a state of more undress than you, girl." Marrat chuckled. "That's true, but don't embarrass the lass," he said. Peris' eyes set in a somewhat determined look. "I'm not embarrassed," she said, despite the blush rising in her cheeks, and sat at the table. "Do you need help?" she asked Crissa. Crissa shook her head. "Offer again afterward, when the dishes need scrubbing," she said, smiling over her shoulder. "You two were out late last night," said Marrat. "I trust you used the evening to your profit?" "Of course," said Crissa. "We seduced some men and frolicked until the wee hours." Peris' blush deepened to crimson and she averted her eyes from the old, alert eyes of the wizard. "Master Marrat," started Crissa, "why did you send for a barrister from so far away as Morrovale?" "Time," he replied. "I wanted to give you as much time as possible before he would arrive, and the trial must start within two days of that day." She blinked at him. "You did it to give me more time?" she asked. "Yes," he said. "Well, that, and the fact that I thought you would want the best." Crissa nodded slowly and stirred the simmering eggs in the pan idly. The smell of cooking food filled the kitchen and Peris' belly emitted a deep, rolling rumble. "Just you hold on," said Crissa, teasing the girl. The meal went smoothly, and both Crissa and Marrat avoided the topic of the trial as they ate. Soon, though, Marrat took leave for himself and hobbled back to the library. Crissa and Peris were left to clean up the remains of breakfast. "What shall we do this day?" asked Peris, up to her elbows in the washbasin. Crissa dried a plate and sat it on its shelf. "We try to visit Kenett," she said. "They aren't going to just let us into the asylum," said Peris, giving her a somewhat condescending look. Crissa's look in return was almost utterly devoid of emotion. "I would think, after last night, you know locked places are no obstacle to pretty women." Then her face burst into a florid smile. "Again?" asked Peris, a shocked expression on her face. "You're determined to break my resolve, aren't you?" The sorceress thought for a long moment. "Yes," she said. "Then why not just use your powers?" asked Peris, still not displeased by the conversation, despite the purported importance of her virginity. Crissa leaned over and kissed the younger girl's brow. "It is more pleasurable to convince you to break your own will," she said. "I wish to hear no excuses that I toyed with your mind to turn you into a wanton harlot like myself." The sorceress was forced to step back a pace as another wave of lust flew forth from Peris and over her, and about her. "You must really stop that," said Crissa, sighing and picking up another plate. "It's rather overwhelming." Peris grinned wickedly at her. "If you can play at things, why can I not?" she asked, and the lustful feelings ended as if a door were slammed shut against a strong wind. Crissa blinked at her. "You can ignite your lust and snuff it like so?" she asked, snapping her fingers. "Sure," agreed Peris, turning from the sudsy water. "Can you not?" she asked. "No," replied the sorceress, eyeing the shorter girl dubiously. Peris now wore an enigmatic smile on her full lips, and she cast sidelong glances at Crissa. "I see not only I can toy with other folks' minds." - - - - - - - - - Wenn sat in his cell, alone. A single candle lit it, replaced from time to time after one would go out. The room felt worse than it seemed. It was just a dry, square room, three paces to a side. However, it felt like a closet to him. He could feel the malevolence to magic that the whole room held. This was a wizard's oubliette, and he could not magic his way out of it. Two guards opened the door and one stood to the side, holding the wizardsbane in white knuckles while the other sat a wooden tray of food down on the little table. "I was told to pass you word that your barrister arrives in two days," he said, giving Wenn a hateful look. Wenn, still sitting on the bed, looked at him. "A warded room, and a wizardsbane in hand, and yet you still hate me?" he asked. "What did I do to you?" The guard stood up and puffed out his chest. "You're a man who was given everything by life," said the guard. "Yet, it was not enough to have powers other men don't, you had to use them toward dark ends." Wenn blinked at the guard and stood. "I've never used my powers toward an end darker than pleasuring a girl." The guard with the wizardsbane chuckled. "Damn cruel thing to do to the rest of us, isn't it?" he said. "Those lasses will be hard pressed to enjoy a normal man's touch when a wizard's had his way with her." Wenn shook his head. "Believe me or no," he said, "I didn't kill that whelp, though it was probably a boon to mankind that he's dead." "Talk like that won't help your case any, son," said the wizardsbane wielder. "You should be a bit more circumspect with that tongue. Stick to pleasuring women with it and leave judgement to those qualified to do so." "How will I be judged?" asked Wenn. "As a wizard," the tray-bearer said, making it sound almost like an insult, "you're entitled to a peerage trial. Only the One knows why." "Peerage trial?" asked Wenn. "As in noblemen will stand in my jury?" "Aye, son," replied the guard, "and it's a damn shame, they rather resent when one of their own gets done in." Wenn's mood fell further, which said much. He sat heavily on the bed. "Damn," he muttered. The guard who had brought the food said. "Don't you fret none, I'm sure whatever they choose it'll be quick." He walked out, chuckling and tapping the one carrying the wizardsbane on the shoulder, which turned and followed him out, as well. They slammed the door shut behind them and Wenn listened to their voices retreating down the hall. Wenn sighed. He had tried now a dozen times to perform some magic, any magic, and so far, it all failed to even begin to form. The room seemed to taunt his very attempts. - - - - - - - - - Peris tied the short elven skirt about her waist. "You own many fine clothes, Crissa," she observed peering past the golden-haired sorceress. "I thought apprentices were unpaid." Crissa giggled at her. "I do odd jobs about the town for money," she replied. "When people need a bull to mount, or a cow to remain docile, or a prize stud horse needs coaxing to do his business." The young noblewoman laughed too. "A useful ability, then, no?" she asked. "Very," said Crissa. "I once used it on an older couple who wished a night of fiery passion, they paid handsomely for the pleasure it gave them." Peris was giving her an odd look. "You can have any man you desire, can't you?" she asked. "Yes," said Crissa, though she did not seem to be bragging, "or woman. Or make any man love any woman or whatever combination you can dream of." She turned toward the younger girl. "No, I've never given a human a lust for an animal, either, though I warrant I could." Peris clapped her mouth shut, leaving her next question unasked. Night had once again settled on Norboro and the lamplighters were going about their trade. A thin fog was settling upon the town, and seemed to be thickening as the river that bisected Norboro fed more moisture to the mixture. By the time the young women left the house of Marrat, the streetlights were merely glowing disks of lit fog with a bright pinpoint of light in the center that reached only a few feet into the thick, swirling mists. "I hate fog," said Peris as she clutched her thin cloak about her slender shoulders. Crissa sniffed the air. "I like the smells it brings," she said. Peris looked at the taller girl. "It smells of the river," she said. "Yes," said Crissa, "a natural scent. Not cooking, not smoke, not dung, but a smell of the world." They walked in silence for a while as they crossed to the northernmost part of the city. Long ago, a wealthy merchant, whose son was undeniably insane, had built the asylum. It was run now, by the city itself, and supported with taxed moneys. The building itself was threatening, a tall, narrow structure, it resembled a fortress more than a place of healing. Tiny slits of windows, ostensibly to keep the inmates in the building than to provide cover from outside. Crissa noted the similarities between this and the guard building from the night previous. The brown stones of the building did little to make it seem less somber and sinister. Time and dark mosses had aged it, turning it nearly black over the years since it was built. Around the building was a high fence of stone, with pointed spears atop it. This wall was built of the same, dark stone and seemed to be intent upon keeping out unwanted eyes. Crissa and Peris neared the building and Crissa reached out with her mind, feeling the place. She recoiled, stopping her steady pace and gasping. "What a horrible place that is," she said in a quiet voice. "People are in there who deserve freedom." "I have heard some are kept thus," said Peris. "A friend of my family was put in such a place. It served as prison without a trial to show guilt in some deed." The sorceress nodded. "Kenett doesn't need to be here," she said. "He's not unwell, he's terrified, I feel him." Her eyes looked distant, unfocused. The wrought iron gate was unmanned, it's metal bars seemed hostile and subtly twisted as they emerged from the fog. "How do we seduce our way past this?" asked Peris. Crissa produced a short rod of wood. Runes were carven down its length, spiraling up the wood, then inset with silver traceries. It was, perhaps, the length of her forearm and an inch wide, smooth and polished, with a silver-capped tip. She touched it to the large, heavy locking plate of the gate, where the key would go. There was an audible snap as the lock mechanism shattered and bits of metal clinked onto the cobbles below it. The rod disappeared into Crissa's cloak as suddenly as it had appeared. "I thought we weren't to use magics?" asked Peris, eyeing the destroyed lock. Crissa shrugged. "They will never know it was magic," she said. "They will simply know the lock was broken." She pushed on the gate. It opened with a screech, wide enough for the two young women to enter. It squealed out into the dense fog as Crissa closed it. "Handy little wand, that," said Peris. "It's Wenn's," said Crissa. "It is the first magic item he crafted after Marrat taught him enchantment." They were nearing the large, towering building. Again, they came to a locked door. Crissa had seen that the staff left at night, leaving the inmates to their own devices, usually chained in their cells, though some of the calmer ones were simply locked in their chambers. The wand appeared again and the lock on the side door broke into dozens of ruined parts. Better maintained than the gate, the door opened without comment and the two girls slipped into the darkened room beyond. Crissa spoke a word in a foreign tongue, and the wand began to glow with a pale blue light, dimly illuminating the little storage room in which they found themselves. They crossed the cluttered room, stacked high with barrels and boxes, food and drink for the pitiable creatures housed in the asylum. The inner door was unsecured and opened into a corridor. Narrow, punitive doors lined the opposite wall of the long hallway, and both girls jumped when a pained scream emerged from the doorway opposite the storage room's wider doorway. An eye glared out of the cell at them from the doorway, behind a heavy oaken door that rattled as whoever was inside tried to pull it open. "Pretty girls," a guttural voice said from behind that door, "Eat them, yes," he added, to their discomfort. "Till they're gone, gone, gone!" he squealed. The eye widened to almost a circle. "He is on the third floor," said Crissa, nodding toward a staircase next to the storage room they just left. Peris watched the doorway cautiously as they passed into the hall and started moving down it. They passed another door, this one unlocked and open. A young man sat in the room, a candle flickering on a desk in the corner. He turned to regard the two young women. Something was odd about his motions, but Peris couldn't tell just what. She stood in the doorway, almost frozen, as the young man turned. He had a beautiful, innocent face. On the desk rested a journal, from what she could tell. He laid down a quill, setting it onto the ink-stained desk. "Hello," he said quietly, and softly. Peris' heart was thudding in her chest. "H. Hello," she finally replied as Crissa slid up beside her. His face instantly turned to an expression of hate and disgust. "Witch!" he screamed, his chair falling over as he lunged toward the doorway with animal ferocity. As he came at the door, his fingers curled into claws and his teeth were bared, as if they were fangs. There was a collar about his neck. When the chain joining that collar to the wall went taut his body flew out from under him, his feet barely leaving the room as he fell to the floor with a whomp. He quickly clambered to his feet, pulling on the chain like a rabid guard dog. "They told me you would come, witch, and that you would kill me in my sleep," he screamed out. "Well, I'm too smart for you, bitch. I didn't sleep, haven't slept in weeks." He let out a high, tittering laugh as he pulled on the chain steadily. Trickles of blood flowed from around the metal collar where the edge of the ring bit into the soft flesh of his throat. Their backs hugging the wall, the two girls sidestepped down the hall, trying very hard to stay out of the young man's reach. "I'll kill you witch, just you'll see!" There were answering cries from up and down the corridor, mad ululations from both directions, randomly spoken words, and flung curses. Crissa started up the stairs, and Peris peered back toward the open door, and could still see the young, handsome man peering around the corner of the doorway with intense, feral eyes. "Kill the witch," he whispered, "she deceives." Peris then turned and followed up the stairs. The words he spoke at the last were different from other words. They seemed cast of rubber, for they bounced about her skull, full of random echoes and odd reverberations. The stairs carried them all the way to the third floor, the topmost floor. They passed the second floor without emerging from the stairwell and drew no attention to themselves as they moved upward. They could still hear the young man, two storeys down, screaming about the witch, his chains rattling. "What do you suppose that was?" asked Peris. Crissa looked at her with sad eyes. "One like me, a gifted person," she said. "But one whom the gift did not give the strength to fight it's fires. He could see me, and my gift, but as his damaged him, he assumes that it damages my mind." Peris left her thoughts at that unspoken. However, Crissa's inability to be monogamous, and willingness to give her body to men at whim crossed into her mind. She wondered if the gifts had not marked Crissa more deeply than she knew. They moved down the corridor in near silence, trying to not make any more noise than they must. "I can feel Kenett," whispered Crissa, "he is near." Peris moved across the hall and approached the stained door opposite them. She had to step on her tiptoes to peer through the little window in the door. It was darkened in the room, without even a window to let in outside light. Crissa's hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm, yanking her violently away from the door just before something slammed into it and two fingers shot out of the little window, long nails, grimy with filth, clawed at the air where her eye had just been. "Come back, little girl," a woman's voice called. "You have such pretty eyes, let me have them." There was a look of horrified revulsion on Crissa's face as she pulled Peris down the hall toward the next door. "I felt her anger and desire just before she lunged at you," she said. "They rest quiet until something wakens their insanity, then it explodes." She shook her head, her long, golden hair glinting in the blue-white light. "It hurts my head to feel it do that." "Lets hope that Kenett isn't like that, then," said Peris, still eyeing the digits clawing through the door's window. Crissa nodded in agreement. They moved down a few more doors quietly, and then Crissa said, "Here." They both eyed the door and the long steel bolt holding it shut. Crissa, taller than Peris, crossed the hall and said, into the little window, "Kenett?" There was silence for a moment, then a small voice on the other side. "Yes?" he asked. Crissa heard the rattling of chains beyond the door and decided he was shackled in the room. She slid back the bolt with a dull rasp and pulled the door open. The light from her rod illuminated a wedge into the room. Sitting against the far wall of the chamber, only six feet across was a huddled shape, cringing from the light. "Don't hurt me, I'm staying quiet," he said, shielding his eyes from the dim illumination. His body was bruised and his clothes gone. He cowered naked against the wall. "We'll not hurt you, Kenett," said Crissa, stepping into the chamber. No flare of insanity flashed into her mind from him, only abject terror so strong that she could taste iron in her mouth. Peris followed her and Crissa handed her the rod. "I promise, I'll not hurt you," she murmured, kneeling beside the young man. One eye peered from behind his fingers. "You won't?" he asked, his voice full of fear, still. Crissa touched his shoulder and he pulled away, jerking his arm and rattling the chain about his neck. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I only wish to help you." "That's what they said, too!" he screamed, pulling away and scooting down the wall on his rump, almost crab walking. He wound up in the corner, his legs pulled up and arms forming a cage of limbs to protect his head and body. Ugly bruises covered his limbs, and his sides as well. She had seen similar bruises on his face, too, while he had been moving. "What have they done to you?" asked Crissa, crawling toward him, staying as low as she could, unthreatening, like approaching an animal. "They. They hurt me," he said. "They said it was to make me better, to clear my mind." His voice broke into quiet laughter. "They want to help me, too, just like you." "No," said Crissa. "They were hurting you. I won't hurt you, ever, Kenett." The one bleary eye peered from his hands again. "How can I know that?" he asked. Crissa pulled at the string holding on her skirt, and it slid around her waist and fell to the floor. She untied her cloak as well and she slipped off her tunic in a practiced motion. "I have nothing to hurt you with, Kenett," she said, crawling toward him again. "I'm as naked as you." He lowered one hand, looking at her with wide eyes. "You're pretty," he said. Crissa gave him a wide, toothless smile. "You think so?" she asked. "I'm glad if you do." He returned her smile; his lip was split deeply, bleeding into his mouth. "Yes," he said, "very pretty." She was now right beside him, and she sat up, resting on her knees. "I think you're handsome, for a bookworm," she said, grinning at him. He let out a small laugh, "You'd be the first to think so," he said. His eyes darted toward Peris, as if noticing her for the first time. "I know her, her name is Peris." The young noblewoman nodded. "Yes," she said. "We go to the academy together." Crissa now touched his arms, gently urging them down as she looked over him. He had been badly beaten, and thoroughly. Bruises marked every part of his skinny body, big ones, some ugly and open, where the skin yielded to the sores and swelling beneath. "We have to get you some help," she said, touching his cheek with her soft fingertips. "We have to get you out of here." He cowered back. "They'll kill me," he muttered, looking toward the door with fear in his eyes. "No," said Crissa, taking hold of his hands, "they'll not hurt you. I'm a sorceress, I'll protect you." "You, you're Crissa," he said, stammering again. "They said you'd kill me if I didn't stay here." "Who is they?" asked Crissa, growing a bit impatient of hearing about this mythical 'them'. He saw that impatience as a threat and shied away from her fingertips. "They of the eye," he said, pulling back. "No, no," she said, reaching for him again. "I'm not angry with you, nor will I kill you, I promise those things." He still looked dubious, but allowed her to take his hands again. He moved them to her shoulders. "Can you stand?" she asked. He nodded, a jerky motion that set his curly hair to bouncing. Slowly she stood up, lifting him with her. Soon, he was upright. He was just shorter than her and looked up at her slightly. "You're tall for a girl," he said. She smiled at him and kissed his brow. "You're short for a boy," she retorted. The gentle interplay of comments seemed to ground him in the real world a moment, even if only for that, and he looked at Peris again. "You're not with them are you?" he asked. "With whom?" asked Peris. He looked at her with worried eyes. "The eye," he said, finally, almost wincing as he did so. Crissa bent and picked up her cloak, putting it over Kenett's shoulders. "Here," she said in a soft tone. "Else I may have to ravish you." Her smile was broad and flirtatious, she was not purely joking. She then hastily dressed again. "Come, we're taking you out of here," said Crissa. Kenett watched her dress. "Never seen a grown woman naked before," he said, wistfully. Crissa looked at him after pulling the tunic over her ample breasts. "You may see this one naked again if you are a good lad," she offered. "Me, too," said Peris, smiling at him. He blinked at that, hormones suddenly making up for innate courage. "Well, then," he said, a bright smile forming on his face. "How can I refuse to be a good lad?" Peris led the way out of the room. She entered the hallway and was tackled from the side as she passed into the hall and began to turn. She let out a brief shriek as the rod tumbled to the floor with a hollow rattle. Crissa gasped and jumped toward the doorway only to feel intense pain as a fist flew from around the doorframe and into her face. She fell back even as Kenett ran to the corner again, wailing, "No, no, no, no!" Stars danced before her eyes and her head spun from the impact. Her foe did not give her time to recover. Slamming into her with a high, piercing cry of, "Witch!" Her head slammed into the flagstones of the floor and her vision darkened. He was straddling her, his large hands upon her shoulders. He lifted her and pushed her down again and her head bounced on the stones again, further sending her into near unconsciousness. From the corner of her dimming vision, she saw Peris dragged into the chamber by her hair, and the man pulling her, a massive man, naked except a pair of pants, kicked the door shut behind them. He threw Peris negligently at the wall, where she hit, shoulder first and then striking her head. She groaned as she slid to the floor, folding in on herself. She gave Crissa an imploring look as the man yanked on the drawstrings on his pants and eyed her with saliva running down his chin. The young man on her chest was still screaming, but she blotted that out, and the pain from her skull as he bounced it off the stones yet again. She reached out with her mind to Peris' attacker. The surface was jagged and unsettling, unfamiliar territory. She could not work within this man's brain; it was too alien a field to manipulate. The darkness was beginning to swallow Crissa. She shifted her mind to Kenett's. Unlike the insane man about to rape Peris, his mind was smooth and orderly and she knew the landmarks of a sane man. She quickly touched here and there, brushing this thought, highlighting another. She moved hastily, and knew she must, for she was about to lose consciousness. The last connection in his mind was made, and she had completed her task. A hard fist landed against her cheek as the boy screamed, "Die Witch!" It went dark. Peris was withdrawing into herself, seeing already the lust in the man's eyes that was tugging at her tunic. "You and me will have great fun, yes we will, yes we will," he said, great blobs of spittle rolling over his lower lip. Her top tore open and his filthy, clawed hands groped her small, round breasts. "Pretty girly, gonna take my seed, yes, indeed, then I'll eat her," he hissed. She tried vainly to kick at him, but the insane man was much stronger than she. He stomped one foot down upon her shin, sending an intense shock up her leg, which numbed her nearly to her thigh. Peris' eyes moved over to Crissa again, who lolled like a rag doll in the hands of the younger man. He was still well dressed, and looked perfectly normal as he smashed his fist into Crissa's cheek, blood flew from the blonde girl's mouth as her head snapped around. She looked back at her attacker, who had grabbed her ankles and was pulling her prone on the floor. She looked down to see his cock hanging down, seeming to be impossibly long and pointed, like a weapon itself. "Feed the filthy little whore my seed, then she feeds me," he muttered as he yanked at the elven skirt, ripping it free with a single pull, and revealing her entrance and tight patch of pubic hair. He crawled up over her, his organ poised over her pelvis. She whimpered, begging him to stop. "No, no," he said, his expression almost sympathetic. "Don't cry, all you little whores like a good fucking before I eat, yes?" He reached down and she felt the hot, round head of his pole touch her tender entrance, pressing into the lips slightly. Peris' mind braced for his entry, knowing it was about to happen, regardless. She readied her body to bear his weight, stiffening and closing her eyes. His weight came down on her, but he did not enter her. He slumped atop her, his chin digging painfully into her shoulder as he collapsed. His cock slid out from between the soft folds of her opening and tried to prod the stones, instead. She opened her eyes and looked up. Standing over the crazed rapist was Kenett, holding the illuminated rod in both hands. Blood dripped from the silver head and she felt blood run over her cheek. She turned her gaze to her attacker and a large spreading flow of blood emerged from behind his ear. Kenett's eyes burned with rage and passion, and he looked like a man about to lay waste to an entire city, just to avenge some slight. He looked at her, and the expression softened. "You're okay?" he asked worry filling his words. "Yes, help her!" screamed Peris, looking toward Crissa. His love bade it and he performed quickly. Stepping toward the other, smaller crazed man, Kenett grabbed the younger man by the throat with his left hand. The insane youth squawked as the scrawny bookworm hauled him off of Crissa and half tossed him across the room to tumble onto the floor. "Kill him!" screamed Peris, her face filled with fear and rage as she shoved the massive man off of her. With an almost impassive expression, Kenett stepped toward the babbling and screeching younger man. The boy stepped toward Crissa again and the rod came around in Kenett's grip, striking the boy in the neck. The young man's face looked shocked, and rather offended as the rod came about again, and there was a sickening sound of breaking bone as his jaw snapped from the solid impact. "My love says you die, you die, boy," said Kenett in an utterly uninflected tone. The younger man's babble degenerated into an incoherent wail as Kenett began striking him, over and over. Blood flew and the light from the wand flashed and flickered as it swung around Kenett, casting fast-moving shadows about the room. Peris began crying, knowing she had ordered the crazed lad's death. Terrible sounds of bone snapping and meat being struck came to her ears and she cried out, "Enough Kenett, enough!" Kenett turned toward her, blood streaking his cheeks and matting his hair. "I have pleased you?" he asked. She saw the glitter of affection in those eyes. He loved her, utterly. She could see it, as if it were writ upon his brow. "Yes, beloved," she said, trying to force a smile upon her face. "You've pleased me greatly." She struggled, pulling her legs free of the dead weight of the massive man who had tried to rape her. Kenett walked over and yanked the man off of her, and gently helped her to her feet. "I am gladdened," he said, his eyes flicking over her, examining every inch of her, memorizing her. His fingers moved to her hair, stroking it, intertwining with it. "I only wish to please you," he said in a soft tone. She again forced a smile to her face. "Then you have done well," she said. "For I am totally pleased." She leaned toward him, her lips puckering slightly, offering him a kiss. He kissed her, and thoroughly. Her eyes went wide a moment as his lips met hers. She had never been kissed so enthusiastically before and the feeling of it thrilled her greatly. His tongue entered her mouth, exploring and probing, and she responded by sucking upon it, welcoming it. Soon, she needed no more of any acting. She was as enthusiastically enjoying the kiss as he. The kiss ended when Crissa groaned from beside them. Both looked toward her. "Your friend is hurt," he said, "we should help her, right?" Peris nodded. "Yes," she said, kneeling beside Crissa's prone form. One eye was swollen shut and blood ran from her opposite ear. "He very nearly killed her." With very gentle fingers, Kenett lifted Crissa, cradling her in his slim arms. Peris blinked at him, wondering at the strength he was displaying. "Are you sure you can bear her?" she asked. "For you, I would bear the world," he said, and meant it with every fiber of his body. Her smile was not forced at that moment. She grabbed up her cloak and slipped it onto herself, having to hold it wrapped about her by hand, as the cords were broken which held it closed. She took the wand from Kenett's hand and looked at it. She touched the silver tip to the chain, a foot or two down from his collar. She spoke the word she had heard Crissa speak twice; it sounded unearthly and seemed to sound louder than she spoke it. The link she was touching shattered, falling in many tiny pieces onto the floor. As she turned toward the door, she caught sight of the younger man, the one who had screamed that Crissa was a witch. She wished she had not. Bile seared the back of her throat and she fell to her knees, vomiting. Kenett had reduced his head to a bloody, meaty pulp from the nose up. Kenett sounded worried when he asked, "Are you going to be okay?" After a few more painful heaves, her stomach was empty, and she felt better. She avoided looking at the dead inmate and turned toward Kenett again. "Yes," she croaked out. "I am simply ill." He nodded. "Lets hope you are well soon," he said, soberly. He made light of the load that was Crissa, despite the fact that she likely weighed at least as much as he. "We need to go, now," said Peris, moving toward the door. She pulled it open, holding the wand up, ready to strike a blow if anyone was beyond it. There was nothing in the blue-white glow of the wand in the hall, save the stones of the walls and floor. They moved toward the stairs and quickly descended them. Kenett had no trouble with the unconscious Crissa, carrying her without complaint or issue. He seemed quite at ease, in truth, his mind was focused. Peris thought it rather appealing, that his mind was focused upon her. At the bottom of the stairs, they found a dead man, holding a short club. One of the orderlies of the asylum, apparently there was one or two on duty even at night. He had been stabbed in the ribs, though, not bludgeoned, as one of the inmates must do, as they had no knives. "Someone from outside killed him," said Peris. Kenett nodded slowly. "Looks like that," he said in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "They don't let us in here have knives or other weapons." She looked toward the two cells that had housed the men who had attacked them. "Someone let them out to kill us," she said, her voice little more than a sigh. Kenett just blinked, looking at her. "We should leave, then," he said. "Else they may try again." She nodded in agreement, pulling him toward the storeroom door. As they ran through the gate, Peris thought she saw a shape in the fog, at the edge of her vision. It flitted away when she looked toward it, and she only saw swirling mists when she moved that way. "Come," she said, leading Kenett toward Marrat's home. They covered almost half the distance when she had a thought, and stopped them. "No, we need somewhere else for the moment," she said. "They're likely watching Marrat's home." Kenett just watched her as she looked down the street and saw a reasonably reputable inn. She then turned to Kenett and reached into the cloak, which he wore. She soon found the deep pocket, which had held the rod, then dug about, coming out with a few small silver quarter mark coins. Peris told Kenett to wait outside and went inside, she paid for a room and received the heavy iron key. She then came back out. This inn, the Lazy Wolf, was more a series of little huts than rooms, and they each had their own door to the street. She let them into their hut and bade Kenett lay Crissa upon the bed. "She needs a healer," said Kenett. Peris rummaged into Crissa's cloak again, and found her last few coins. Not nearly enough for a healer's services. Her mind swam with fear and upset, little money and in need of expensive services. Kenett was wearing, then, an expression of confusion. "Peris?" he asked. Crissa's tampering with his mind was wearing off, leaving him normal again. The confusion yielded to fear as he looked around. "What happened?" She put her hand upon his brow. "It's okay," she said. "We got you out." Then she giggled, a humorless sound, but full of odd relief. "Actually, you rescued us." "I remember that, but how?" he asked. He looked at his hands, and at the caked blood on them. "I'm no warrior, I was terrified. Then I HAD to save you, had to help you. I loved you." She grinned at him as she started stripping Crissa's skirt off the taller girl. "Yes, you did, and you did me proud," she said. "What are you doing?" he asked as she slipped the tunic over Crissa's head. "I have to go out," she said. "We have to get a healer here." She tied on the skirt and slid on the tunic, then covered Crissa's nude body with the coverlet from the bed. "Watch over her, and don't take advantage of her," she admonished. "I would never," said Kenett, a shocked expression on his face. Peris gave him a brilliant smile, full of sharp teeth. "Good, because you're supposed to love me," she said, "Remember?" With that, she slipped from the room and back onto the street. The night fog was chill as she moved down the street, cloakless. At a water barrel, under the drain from the main eaves of the inn, she scrubbed the blood off the rod hastily, and then proceeded, seeking for the open palm sign of a healer. Healers, as a rule, kept odd hours, as people tended to hurt themselves when it would be most inconvenient, naturally. Therefore, Pallin was not surprised when someone pounded upon his door well past middle night. He opened the door, eyes bleary. Pallin was a middle-aged man, long in the service of the healing arts, and well respected in the community. Peris looked up into his lined face. "I have need of your services, sir," she said, making her eyes wide and apologetic. "I have an injured friend who needs tending, badly." He nodded and opened the door for her to enter. "Come in a moment, let me get dressed," he said. His voice was deep and resonant, and she rather liked the softness of it. "I need to know your rates, sir," she said, speaking hesitantly. He walked around a corner into his bedchamber. "My rates depend on what is needed of me," he replied. "If I must use magic, of course, the costs go up quickly, especially if I need any rare herbs or minerals." "I have but two marks," she said. He peered around the corner. "Not much healing in two marks, young woman," he said, his voice sounding very tired. "I know that," she said, lowering her eyes. This was entirely an act; Peris knew full well what she might need to do to secure healing for Crissa. She also knew Crissa would happily do it for her, were their roles reversed. He stared at her a moment. "I'll see what I can do for your friend anyway," he said. "I'll be very, very grateful," she said, looking up coyly at him, and putting forth the tiniest of inviting smiles. He blinked at her a moment, then smiled himself. "Lets see how much healing is needed before we go looking into levels of gratitude," he offered, generously. Peris was staggered that this was working. He was going to heal Crissa before she even had to bed him. A thought went through her mind that Crissa seemed to be on the right track to enjoy this anyway, it seemed men were actually decent sorts about this matter, most of them anyway. He gathered up a black sack, another mark of a healer on the move, and led her out of his little house. "You know, if your friend was in a fight, I'll have to report it to the watch." She nodded and said. "How much extra are injuries that look like a fight, but really aren't?" She slinked up close to him and let his knuckles brush over her bare thigh. Pallin thought for a moment. "A bit more, but not a lot," he finally said. "It's rather easy to mistake one for the other." His hand came to rest on her hip, and she felt his fingers explore her walking muscles as she kept moving alongside him. That hand was warm, and soft, and she didn't really mind the touch, at all. "Whatever it is, I'll pay it, happily," she said, smiling and putting her hand over his, showing him she welcomed the touch.