Chapter 5 - Minerva

CHAPTER V
'MINERVA'

I've learned a great deal in the five weeks Clytemnestra and I have been working at the Crossed Staves. With my magic I find I can alter or maintain most of the simple properties of things around me. Things like temperature, state, mass, the wavelength of light and sound. These things are just numbers to me now, numbers I can rewrite at will, provided I have physical contact. More advanced magic, real spells still elude me, but I feel powerful, moreso than I probably should, but perhaps, less? Even these simple tricks can be used in a huge number of ways. 

	Yes, my magical studies have advanced in their own slow way, but perhaps more importantly I find I now feel as though I understand the world I'm living in.

	There is no sickness here, and little illness. No parasites, no fleas or bed bugs or their kind, nor viruses and harmful bacteria. Or at least, if those things exist, they do not cause diseases. With no moon, the tides are slight and the seasons mild. Crops may be grown year round, at least, in this part of the world.

	The thrusting, muscular mountains against which Pyre Silver is built are overflowing with valuable metals and minerals, especially the silver for which this city is named.

	In this world, there is no religion! The very concept is unknown – no one has ever thought to postulate gods and monsters. Aniviv, who is well educated, could barely understand the questions I put to her on the subject, and seemed to write them off as the bizarre sort of ideas one should naturally expect from a sorceress.

	That explains something that I had not realised had been bothering me. Unconsciously I think I had noticed it. No temples or shrines in the city. No-one ever prayed, or swore, or or even mentioned prayers or gods. I asked Aniviv, by far the best educated person on the staff, how people explained the things they don't understand, she thought the question was silly, things which people don't understand cannot be explained yet.

	No sickness, no gods, no shortage of food or land or materials... Yet for all that there is still war, and crime. It just goes to show that human nature is the same here, mostly. Avarice is not to be sated no matter how abundant the things we crave are. I call it a good thing. Desire is what drives civilisation, and what drives individuals. That's something that comes home to me very personally today!

	Clytemnestra and I are eating spicy beef soup in the taproom, watching the early lunchtime customers when Ti approaches us.

“Miss.. Er... Miss Juno and Miss Isis want to see you both,” Ti tells us.

“Did they say what about?”

	I'm a little worried, wondering if I've done something wrong. We've barely seen either of the sisters since our memorable 'interview' five weeks ago.

“No. Just, can I go fetch you when you're done eating?”

Clytemnestra stands up, “Of course.”

	Ti leads us through into the sisters' apartment and to the same little parlour where we had played with the sisters that first day. She knocks on the door, but doesn't enter when it opens.

	One of the sisters, and I still cannot tell them apart (save by taste!) bids us sit and offers us sweet white wine in crystal glasses.

The other speaks next, “How are you both settled in?”

“Very nicely, lady, very comfortable,” Clytemnestra replies, and sips her wine.

“Mm. Nice to have a roof over my head again,” I add.

“Excellent! Juno and I couldn't be happier with your work,” ah, so this must be Isis in green satin today, and that is Juno in blue, “The place is as well ordered as it's ever been, haven't had a real brawl since you started.”

“Better, even. Some of the nobility like to go slumming once in a while and they've latched onto the Crossed Staves since they think it's safer than the competition,” enthuses Juno.

“Swimming in money,” adds Isis happily.

Juno becomes more serious, “Only one dark spot on the horizon.”

“Nasty is what I'd call it,” says Isis, “Extortion!”

“Blackmail,” Juno.

“Vendetta,” Isis.

“What is?” I ask, worried.

“Those scoundrels you replaced,” says Juno.

Isis exclaims, “Scoundrels is the word! We told you they were doing other work besides?”

“Thuggery, hired muscle,” Juno clarifies.

“Yes?”

“Well,” says Isis, “It was worse than that! Mixed up in the Half Feather, they were.”

Juno sees our puzzled looks and explains, “Criminal gang, bastards to a woman.”

“They paid us a visit this morning,” Isis goes on, “Tried to take a slice of our pie.”

Juno nods, “Tried to intimidate us! Cheek!”

“Of course, we didn't get where we are today by being intimidated,” Isis points out.

“And we didn't stay where we are today by not having hired muscle of our own.”

	I have a feeling I know where this is going. This 'Half Feather' doesn't sound very threatening, as a name, but then, if the gang itself is, it can probably get away with a soft sounding name. Besides, Clytemnestra and I are only two people, one of them not one tenth the sorceress she's supposed to be. How are we supposed to fight gangsters?

“Obviously,” Isis continues, “there'll be a little something extra in it for you, since this is a little over what we hired you for.”

“Not to mention our own significant gratitude,” Juno adds, less than subtly.

“Say no more,” Clytemnestra says, “We've no more love for banditry inside city walls than we have for it in the wilds.”

How my face isn't showing raw horror I can't imagine, “What... What exactly is it you want us to do?” I ask, trying to keep my voice businesslike.

“Warn them off,” says Isis.

Juno adds, “We don't really care how.”

“Folks don't tell us how to do our job and we don't believe in telling folks how to do theirs,” concludes Isis.

“Commendable attitude,” Clytemnestra reckons, “It does you credit. Although we will need a little more to go on. Where does this Half Feather operate from? Who is in charge, do you know?”

“If we knew that we'd tell the Prince and scoop the bounty on their heads,” Juno points out, reasonably.

Isis carries on the thread, “And the same for where they hole up, I think it's part of being criminals.”

“The two who were here this morning said they'd be back tomorrow, same time for our answer,” explains Juno.

“I don't think either of us is cut out for following them back to their lair,” I point out – I'm the only light skinned woman I've seen in this city and Clytemnestra is nearly nine feet tall and partially a horse – blend in we do not.

“That's not what I was going to suggest. As Isis said, we don't tell people how to do things, but I suppose if you were to make one of them, for example, explode, the other might convey the message back to her masters...”

“Explode!” I splutter.

“Or whatever you think best,” Juno permits.

Isis jumps in, “Not explode, please, we're rather fond of the carpets here.”

“That's true, not explode, but something sufficiently nasty that anyone who hears about it would not want to cross your employer,” Juno looks hopefully at me.

“I... I promise I won't make anyone explode,” I manage, truthfully.

“That's settled then!” the sisters clap excitedly.

	Our shift in the ordinary passes quietly. Normally I'd be glad of that, but I could really use something to take my mind off of tomorrow.

	That night in our room Clytemnestra slips a hand around me, cupping a breast as I lie against her warm, hard body. She is obviously desiring sex and for the first time I do not leap at the chance.

	I take her hand in both of mine and hold on tight, hugging it to me as we lie on her bed. I take comfort from simple physical contact.

“Worry will kill you, lady,” she says kindly, stroking my hair.

“I can't stop, though. What am I going to do tomorrow!?”

“You'll think of something. You could... I don't know. You can set fire to things. Do that.”

“I have to be touching them, and it takes a while even then. Besides, you remember what Isis said about the carpet?”

“That's what you're worried about?”

“No! Oh... You know... Couldn't we just shoot them?” I suddenly realise what I'm thinking, “And how can I just... Just lie here and think up ways to kill someone?”

“They're bad people.”

“That's not how it works. You don't just have good people here and bad people there and it's okay to kill those ones.”

“Sometimes it is. What about Lecto.”

“That was different. She was... Well, I don't even know what she was about to do, but she was going to kill us! She said it, it was her or us.”

“Ah, now we understand your morality. Your life, oh, and mine, must be protected, but the lives of strangers can just blow in the wind.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“No, I don't think it is what you mean, but it's what you said. Tomorrow, when we stand against the Half Feather's women, we will not be protecting you or me, but we will be protecting Isis and Juno, and a lot of other people we never will meet, but who are worth just as much as us, or them. Or may we let them suffer just because they were foolish enough not to meet us and become our friends and lovers?”

“That... Still doesn't make it okay to kill people.”

“You're a strange lady. Your heart is both too soft and too hard. But while it is so, point perhaps the hard part toward the evil and the soft part toward their victims?”

“I... don't know how! And I still don't know how I'm supposed to do anything tomorrow!”

“I often find that, having fallen asleep on a problem, I awake on a solution... and since you sleep so damned long, I expect you to have an excellent solution come morning. Clear?”

	I don't think I'll ever fall asleep, but of course I do eventually, curled up naked against Clytemnestra's large body. I awake tangled in my thin blanket and alone on her bed.

	Ominously Clytemnestra is a few feet away, cleaning our guns, the thin, sweet smell of gun oil is in the air and she smiles happily as I stretch.

“Has a solution presented itself in the night?” she asks.

I think about that for a long moment, “I'm going to have to wing it.”

“See, I told you.”

	I should have expected her to think that's a good idea, that's her life's philosophy! I dress in the plain white clothes that I first had, I've not worn them since Lecto's house, but it seems appropriate. They are fresh and clean from the laundry, but of course, Clytemnestra is still hanging on to my knickers, so I wear the pair I took from Kyani. I should wear other people's knickers more often, it's fun.

	Presently, we meet the sisters in their parlour. Isis and Juno both seem a little surprised at my appearance, this is the first time they've seen my wear anything but red. Clytemnestra intends to wait just outside the parlour, since her presence would likely give the game away. I am very disturbed to see her go, and when the door closes behind her I feel very, very alone.

	One of the sisters, I still cannot tell them apart, asks me if I'm ready.

“As I'll ever be.”

“What does that mean.”

“I... uh, I really don't like hurting people.”

“Well I should think not. No right-thinking person does like hurting people.”

“Outside the bedroom,” adds her sister, and they share a glance.

	Before I can deal with that, one of the servants knocks on the door. That's the sisters' cue to leave, which they do through the other door, following Clytemnestra. I summon the servant inside, he hands me a small pasteboard card and introduces two women as Miss Leah and Miss Dinah. The card belongs to Leah Merroa.

	Both are clearly dangerous sorts of people. They carry themselves with utter confidence, contempt written on their faces. They are wearing conservative, probably fairly expensive dresses over hard, athletic bodies. Leah has a short sword around her waist and Dinah has a metal truncheon.

“Good morning,” says Dinah, brightly as the servant retreats, “Who're you?” she glares at me.

	My heart hammers in my chest as I stand, I feel my hand tremble with nerves and adrenaline as I extend it toward Leah, who is closest.

“Good morning,” I say, offering my hand, “I'm here to negotiate terms for the sisters.”

	Leah takes my hand automatically and I change her body's temperature to well over boiling point. She screams horribly and I throw her hand from my own, my palm and fingers burned by the contact! Leah collapses on the floor, shrieking in agony, Clytemnestra bursts through the doors, sword drawn.

	It's the most horrible thing I've ever seen, Leah's death takes at least half a minute, writhing, screaming, wailing on the floor as Dinah and I stare in shock.

	Finally, her red, blistered body lies still, steam flowing freely from her eyes and mouth. Dinah looks between the body, and me, and Clytemnestra's naked blade. Clytemnestra sheaths it now, but keeps her hand near the hilt.

“Those are our terms,” she says, cooly.

	Dinah looks at me and I decide I'd better shift the light reflecting from my eyes into the red spectrum, just in case. She instantly looks away, frightened.

Clytemnestra goes on, “The Crossed Staves is our house, and it is protected. The half Feather made a mistake coming here, and it will be its last.”

“What... what do you mean?” Dinah stammers.

“Tell us where we can find the head.”

“What!?”

	Clytemnestra glances at me and I raise my hand, finger pointed at Dinah's chest.

“Tell us!” she demands, “Tell us who is in charge.”

	Dinah looks at me, at Leah's steaming corpse, and gives in. It's almost impossible in fact to shut her up. She tells us everything she knows, the Half Feather's leaders, its bases of operation, it's businesses, even history. When she's done Clytemnestra gives her a handful of money and tells her to leave the city and not come back if she knows what's good for her.

“Are you sure it was wise to let her go, Clytemnestra? There's every chance she'll go straight back to her mistress, tell her what happened and we'll both be killed in our sleep.”

“I doubt it. The girl's scared out of her little mind, besides, her mistress can't kill us in our sleep if she dies today.”

	Clytemnestra opens the parlour doors and invites the sisters back in, saying that everything's safe now. They eye the poached body on the floor with distaste.

“Those two won't bother you again, ladies, but we're going to need the night off tonight.”

“What for, what happened?” one of the sisters asks.

Clytemnestra points at the body, “Her friend was very talkative. We're going to cut the head off this snake, to make sure no-one else comes looking for victims here or anywhere else. The head of the Half Feather is Minerva Kanna. Heard of her?”

Both sisters nod emphatically, “Everyone knows Lady Kanna, fabulously wealthy, sleeps on a pile of money ten feet deep I shouldn't wonder.”

“Rumour is she owns half the knocking shops in the city,” says one.

“And fond of sampling her own wares,” volunteers the other, “They say her first wife used to be an employee.”

“They don't say it to her face,” the other adds, “People who get on her wrong side tend to be unlucky. Like her first wife, for example. Not a huge leap from there to things more shady, sill.”

“Don't worry about a thing, this time tomorrow the Half Feather will be a memory,” Clytemnestra smiles broadly, but for the first time it doesn't reach her eyes.

	She and I give the sisters assurances that I don't fully feel and we return to our room.

“Pack your things, lady.” Clytemnestra is even now packing hers, putting everything she owns into her magic bags, and then starting on mine when I dither.

“We're leaving?”

“Of course we're leaving...” she looks at me with feeling, “I'm sorry. I thought we could stay a little longer too, but that's life.”

“But what about the sisters, and this Kanna woman?”

“Oh, we're going to slit her throat, and the Half Feather will be stirred up nicely for, ooh, up to a week! Good for us. Then someone else will take the lead and their first order of business will be to kill her killers, which is us if you've not been following.”

“So we just, just run away?”

“Walk, but yes. Time to move on, the horizon's not getting any closer while we sit still, you know.”

“Seems like a... Mean thing to do.”

Clytemnestra laughs and strokes my hair, “To whom? Mean to ditch Isis and Juno, or mean to assassinate Lady Kanna?”

“Er... I meant the first one.”

“But killings not?”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“About as well as you do, which is garbled and confusing.”

“That doesn't make much sense.”

“Nor do you,” she kisses me on the top of my head, “But I like you anyway.”

	When we've packed we drop our bags through the window and then leave by the back door, carrying only our weapons. We tell the sisters that we're going to deal with Lady Kanna, but deliberately give no hint that we do not intend to return!

	Once we've collected our bags we go to a market and waste a few hours buying provisions of the kind likely to survive on the road, and enjoy a long, leisurely lunch of the kind we won't see again outside of civilisation.

	Lady Kanna's house is grand and large, there can be no doubt that she's as wealthy as advertised. Clytemnestra and I walk slowly, innocently even, along the road to get a good look at the place. It, and all the neighbouring houses are four-story brick buildings with large glass windows that overlook the small, woody park across the road. After our pass we veer into the park.

“Are you ready?” Clytemnestra asks.

“As I'll ever be,” my heart is thumping and I'm not at all happy, but it's got to be done. We owe the sisters that much for all they've done for us.

	I give Clytemnestra my guns and my pack. I compose myself as best I can and make a show of confidence as I stride to Kanna's door and pull the bell. It rings deep within the house and the door opens very quickly, revealing a conservatively dressed butler.

“Yes, madam?”

I smile pleasantly and present Leah's pasteboard card, “Good afternoon, I wish to see Lady Kanna, my card.”

	The butler takes it automatically.

“It is a matter of some importance,” I tell her.

“Very good, madam. If you would care to step inside I shall inform her Ladyship that you are here.”

	She leads me into a sitting room and departs with the card while my panicked mind runs over the myriad things that might go wrong, or may have gone wrong already. Dinah had said she'd never been here, and I see no reason why Leah would have, but I still fear the butler might know what Leah looks like, and that I am not she.

	Moreover, I am afraid that I won't be able to kill Lady Kanna silently and make my escape undetected. And now I'm worrying that I can so casually plan to kill a stranger and I'm worrying that I should feel something other than nervous.

	The butler returns in less time than it feels and says that Lady Kanna will see me now. I stand and, after she's frisked me thoroughly I follow her, clasping both hands tightly behind my back to keep them from shaking.

	I'm shown into a handsome marble-floored study. Who can only be Lady Kanna is sitting behind an ornate gold-leafed desk. She's still a good looking woman, for all that she must be fifty at least, imperious looking, both stern and wise and still very bedable, I should say. Though right now she looks very angry.

As soon as the door is closed behind me she demands, “Who are you, girl?”

“I... I'm a messenger,” I stammer, voice quaking in genuine fear, “From the Crossed Staves.”

“Are you!? And where are my women?”

	She's frighteningly angry and I cannot even meet her eye, I almost stumble back as I mentally bind a temperature-maintaining spell to my body.

“They... Well, um... One of them, I mean... One is dead and I don't know where the other is,” I rush out in a mostly not-fake timid voice.

	Lady Kanna leaps to her feet and in the same moment I throw myself forward in a wild rugby tackle, sliding over the desk and seizing her about the middle even as I void her body of all heat! She shatters instantly and I land crumpled and bruised amid splinters of her chair and shards of her body!

	I'm shaking all over and hurting quite badly from where I hit the chair, and the floor and wall too in my wild lunge, but I cannot stop. I haul the sash window open and spring out, dialling my mass way down until air resistance is sufficient to let me float gently to the ground two stories below. The moment my feet hit the ground I'm haring into the park and the little woody thicket where Clytemnestra awaits.

	It's less than two minutes from when I saw Lady Kanna to when I see Clytemnestra, but it feels like an hour, or a second, I don't know. The moment she catches sight of me she seizes me bodily and is galloping the length of the park until, very soon, she puts me down and we emerge again into the streets, a quarter-mile or so from Lady Kanna's house and heading swiftly east, toward the city gates.

	Once outside Pyre Silver we leave the road almost immediately. It runs east toward Pyre Huntingbird and is the obvious route for any fugitives. Clytemnestra and I resolve to stay off the road for a day or two. Of course, the chance that anyone might follow is is slim, but even a slim chance is a chance. We head north-east amongst the rolling foothills of the mountains, and avoiding the farmed land around the road.

“Do you think we did the right thing, Clytemnestra?”

	To put it mildly, it's been a rough day and my mind is barely catching up.

“Yes. And for more than one reason. We should not have stayed in the city much longer than we did. I meant what I said, we cannot see the whole world through the window of one ordinary, no matter how shapely the proprietors.”

“But just... Just running off like this.”

“They're grown girls, they'll manage. Do you not feel good to be abroad again?”

	I say nothing for a good long while, pondering that question. I do feel bad about betraying the sisters' trust. Alright, I accept that. Now, compartmentalise that and ask myself, how do I feel about the present, and future?

	The air is warm and calm, lush green grass grows on the gentle hills that mark the boundary between the farmed plains and the true foothills of the mountain range to our west. Clytemnestra is beautiful and holding my hand. The mountains are just far enough away to be picturesque, rather than imposing. My lady and I have a whole world to explore, and Pyre Silver is one small city.

“I suppose I do,” and I mean it, “And you're right, any longer and I'd have been as desperate to get moving as you.”

“Ah... You almost understand, I see.”

“Go on? What do I understand?”

“Almost. I say you almost understand. We trust the future to provide for us.”

“Well... I suppose. I'm not quite as comfortable as you about it, but yes, it seems to be working so far.”

	And it is. Clytemnestra's fairly passive philosophy does seem to work for her, and for me so far, in this world.

“We trust the future,” she goes on, “But this is half only. The past must be able to trust us to pass on our bounties.”

“What does that mean?”

“We trust the future to provide what we need, and it does. In turn we must not hold on to anything given us overlong. All things that the future once provided us, wealth, comfort, shelter, love, we must be ready to give to the past, when the time comes.”

	I consider this for a moment.

“What about us? Will you just... Just 'give us to the past'?”

Clytemnestra squeezes my hand in hers, “When the time comes, we will both know it. We will both be richer for the love we shared, and ready for the future. Until that time, and I think it will be a long time coming, until that time drink your wine, love your woman and trust time to provide tomorrow.”

	We walk silently for maybe half a mile while I consider that. Clytemnestra does not disturb me. She knows me well enough to know I need time to think. I cannot imagine a time when I'll think it right to leave her. I'm not sure I could do it even if I did think so. Impulsively I squeeze her hand tighter and try to think of what the future might provide, not what I might loose.

“You know... I do love you. You know that, right?”

“I know it well, Lady. As well as you know I love you,” she smiles down at me, oh, that smile.

“I love you so, so much. I always will”

“Then we are of a common heart.”

“We'll cross the mountains,” I say, as decisively as I know how, “You spoke of passes to the west. That is the way we'll go.”

	I've no reason to choose one way over another, I am placing all my trust in the idea that the future will provide..

“So be it, Lady.”

	We turn more northwards until we are walking in line with the mountains to our left. They march north until the horizon takes them. Muscular, rounded mountains capped with snow. We are walking along the crest of one of innumerable gentle whalebacked hills and here and there before us we can see silver thread streams of glacier water flowing from the mountains and out into the plains to our east. Somewhere out there is the route west through the high pass.

“Though you may regret your choice when we are nearer,” she goes on, “I don't doubt it is quite cold in the high passes, and neither of us has suitable clothing.”

“I thought centaurs don't wear clothes.”

“I think everyone does when it's cold enough.”

	Clytemnestra only wears her tight leather halter top to keep her breasts still, but I suppose she's right, cold enough and even people as large as centaurs will feel the chill.

“Don't worry about it, I can keep us warm. I'm not the most powerful sorceress who ever lived.. Not yet, anyway, but even I can stave off the cold.”

“And there are always other ways to keep warm.,” she laughs saucily.

“Oh, hush you,” I let go her hand and give her a swift slap on the bottom, “We should try and put as much space between us and the city as possible tonight before getting... Distracted.”

“Right!” She exclaims, putting on a stern, serious face and crossing her arms, “No distractions. I am the perfect model of concentration.”

	She's mocking me and I know it.

“Hey, Clytemnestra?”

“What?”

	I say nothing.

“What is it, lady?”

	She looks down at me, puzzled for a moment before she sees the dark patch spreading over the front of my red skirt and laughs happily. Pee runs down my legs, and soaks into my skirt. It makes my thighs catch and rub excitingly together as we walk.

	Clytemnestra reaches down and rubs the wet fabric just over my pissing cunt and I let her for only a moment before pushing her hand away.

“No. you are the model of concentration, remember.”

	She puts on a sulky face and licks the fingers that'd touched my wet patch.

“You have a cruel streak, you know that, lady?”

“Anticipation, my love. Better than the moment, or the memory. Savour it, and think of what you might do with me tonight.”

“Oh, I can think of plenty, just you wait.”

	So can I, but for now I am actually quite content just to walk with Clytemnestra, and enjoy her company and my wet pants. It's been entirely too long since I enjoyed the simple pleasure of wetting myself. Any wonder I don't like cities, where one cannot have a moment's privacy to go for a walk with piss soaked knickers?

	We walk on. Clytemnestra often glances down at my wet skirt, so do I, for that matter. Sometimes we talk, more often we don't, just content to be with one another, no words are necessary.

	I don't know exactly what time we left Pyre Silver, early afternoon or so. We walk for a good three hours before our first break. Clytemnestra has a little snooze and I just have a sit down for a little while. I won't let us tarry any longer, though and we press on for another good while until the sun is close to setting and I for one really don't much feel like walking any farther.

	We're in a small valley by the side of one of the little mountain streams where the water flows cold and clear and is rather wonderful for weary feet. It's a pleasure just to sit on the lush grass with my back leaning against Clytemnestra's equine chest and my feet in the cool water and watch the sky slowly purpling. The sense of many miles covered, the smell of wood smoke and the feel of dinner settling in my stomach is just perfect.

	I remark on the fact to Clytemnestra and she says she has something that might make things even better. With the air of a conjurer performing a particularly special trick she produces a bottle of white wine from one of her bags.

“One last taste of civilisation?” she asks.

	She pulls the stopper from the bottle and takes a long draught before handing it to me. The wine is slightly tart and, I think, very strong, but not at all unpleasant and I drink deeply before handing it back.

“Clytemnestra... What is it you look for in a woman?”

She drinks before answering, “What I look for? What makes you think I look. It's not how I choose to live. So many wonderful women out there, I'll not bind myself to specifics.”

“But still, even if you don't... Don't bind yourself...” she passes the bottle back and I have a little more wine, “Even then, there must be some qualities that you find more attractive than others?”

“That's a different question. I confess a soft spot for the scholar,” she absolutely ruffles my hair, “Someone who laughs at my jokes and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. And someone who can be romantic too. Can't forget that.”

	I'm not sure how fully I fit those requirements, but it's something to work on. Funny thing, I've always had a weakness for romance, but never been really able to pull it off myself.

“What about physically?” I wonder, “What' does a really sexy woman look like to your mind?”

“Ah, but there are so many choices.”

“And nothing jumps out? Nothing floats into view when you close your eyes?”

After a while, and a drink Clytemnestra does come up with something, “There's a great deal to be said for a really nice bum.”

“I'd have to agree with that,” I add thoughtfully.

“Mm, yes. A well toned bum. Plump and glossy with a long tail and a big wet honeypot in the middle.”

	I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, but we were imagining two different things, there. Not that I can disagree with Clytemnestra at all, that does sound nice.

	It must be very strong wine because by the time we've drunk half the bottle between us I have a distinct buzz in my head and I'm ready for a little devilment. Clytemnestra hands the half empty bottle back to me for my turn at drinking and I stand, shaking water from my feet.

“Where're you going?” she asks, puzzled.

“To top up the bottle.”

	I wander 'round behind her and move her tail out of the way. I enjoyed red wine mixed with Kyani's pee and I see no reason my white mixed with Clytemnestra's could be any less fun.

“Now top it up, there's a good girl,” I add, kneeling down behind the sexy centaur's rump.

	Clytemnestra flinches slightly as the mouth of the bottle touches her secret place and I can't resist the temptation to stroke it up and down along her lips a couple of times until the trickle starts. All of a sudden the trickle is a stream and I work to catch as much as I can in the narrow mouth of the bottle.

	There's far too much of course and the bottle is almost instantly full! I'm almost instantly soaked too, of course. The powerful stream striking my chest square on and then gradually moving down my tummy and playing over my lap as the pressure drops. I hang around until the last drips are running down her lips and then carry the hot bottle back to her.

	It is hot, so hot in my hands, and wet all over, just like me. I sit down again, leaning against her and letting my wet clothes stick to my body. Her arms fold around me as I raise the bottle to my lips and drink. It is good. Clytemnestra's flavour is stronger than Kyani's, lending the hot watery wine a subtle, exotic savour. I pass the bottle up to her.

“Mm, warm,” she purrs, taking it.

	I watch her drink of it. I watch her lips touch the bottle in the fading light, her throat moves as she swallows. It's an experience made intensely erotic not by the sight itself, but by the knowledge of what she is doing.

	What we do, for our pleasure, between ourselves is harmless and objectively, even a little silly. But objectivity has no place in it. My mind, every instinct of my culture and the social norms imprinted on me throughout my whole life tell me that it is wrong, and that makes it sexy.

	I've wondered at it before, but I do not argue with it.

	Our special wine vanishes fast, both of us greedy for our turn to drink. When there's but a mouthful left I stand and make to tip it into Clytemnestra's waiting mouth. She gasps when, at the last moment, I instead pour it over her bare breasts and lick it all up. Her fingers fumble over my clothes, undoing fastenings and riding me of the wet fabric until only my lacy red knickers remain.

“Eek!” I squeal in surprise as her strong hands seize me about the middle and effortlessly lift me high above the ground so she can lick my wet pants.

	As though I weigh nothing she holds me there, my legs kicking at empty space and sucks noisily at my crotch until I apologise for my trickery with the wine, whereupon she consents to put me down. Clytemnestra laughs merrily, white teeth flashing in the dim light.

“Not funny.”

“Oh, lady, I think it is.”

She leans forward and licks me from navel to chin, licking up her pee which had soaked through my clothes.

“Ah, but maybe I should apologise?” So saying she kisses me gently on the lips.

	Now her hands are on my shoulders, a gentle, irresistible pressure which forces me down, she has me lay back in the long, lush grass and her body follows mine. Her hands flow down my body, across my breasts, encircling my waist and the slowly drawing my knickers down and off.

“Clytemnestra...” I whisper her name as I feel her breath against my centre.

	Cool night air caresses my damp body, heightening every sensation. The soft grass and rich dark earth mould to my body, supporting me all over. Clytemnestra's hands massage my thighs, spread my legs until I am utterly open before her. Defenceless.

	My hands take hers a moment before I feel her lips kiss my tenderness. She holds my small hands in hers as she licks gently through my spread, waiting flower. I cannot help but sigh.

	One by one the stars are coming out above me and Clytemnestra's tongue strokes my sex. Long, slow loving licks drawing such pleasure through me to a gathering place at apex of my womanhood.

	She blows a gentle stream of cool air across my sensitive clit making me gasp and writhe. My heart pounds and my body tenses in anticipation of her touch there, but it doesn't come. Now her mouth traces the outline of my outer lips, up and down, up and down again and then a tiny, sharp pain as she gently pulls on a few hairs with her lips. Just enough to edge me back from the precipice of pleasure and start the whole slow process over again.

	Soft sighs escape me and Clytemnestra's mouth makes little bolts of pleasure run through my overheated sex. The anticipation is overwhelming as she works closer and closer to my little clitty. So close now I can feel her lip almost there! My body is writhing in the grass, automatically trying to force my needy quim against Clytemnestra. Finally her tongue strokes my clit and I am at the very brink of ecstasy. Again and again she licks at my most sensitive spot and my hips respond without me, rising to her touch, forcing more contact, more pleasure.

"Oh, my! Oh, yes! I'm coming, Clytemnestra! Clytemnestra! Yes! Oh, oh, oh, yes! I'm coming for you, Clytemnestra! Clytemnestraaaa!" The final syllable is a long, pleasure-wrought cry of delirious overload.

	My body arcs, my hips all the way off the ground, my every muscle tense, my mind lost to her wonderful mouth. One single instant stretching I don't know how long until with a thump my body goes limp and I can but lie whimpering in the grass, still holding on to her hands.

	We make love long into the night. Slow and romantic by the light of the fire, our bodies each a wondrous gift to one another. Come morning I wake curled in my blanket hard against Clytemnestra, my head resting on her foreleg. I feel safe and so very at peace with the world while she holds me.

	Unfortunately, when I try to snuggle deeper into her she realizes that I must be awake. She shakes me out of my blanket to sprawl naked on the ground and then stands with obvious relief. I suppose she didn't want to move for fear of disturbing me, which is sweet.

	We walk all day, save brief rests, much as we travelled before coming to Pyre Silver. To my surprise I seem no less fit for five weeks fairly good living in the city and the long hours of walking still phase me less than I feel in my heart that they should. Clytemnestra's mood is ebullient and to be around her in her wanderlust is invigorating.

	Her good humour lasts many days and mine, if anything grows. Free of the city I feel at home. Ironic since a home is what I absolutely do not have here. I raise the point with Clytemnestra and she says the world is home for both of us. That I simply had not realised it until now. Still, I love the peace, the quiet, the feeling of freedom that I can never feel amongst crowds.

	Game and edible plants are surprisingly common. We see, and from time to time shoot deer, wild sheep and rabbit and never want for food or clear glacier water. These northern plains are every bit as hospitable as the forest in which I first arrived in this wonderful world. Perhaps moreso.

	In the forest we should never have seen the stone circle which Clytemnestra points out to me.

“There, lady is our landmark. The pass is just a little beyond that circle.”

	I shade my eyes and squint into the distance. For the first time in a long time I'm conscious of not wearing glasses. My vision is perfect, but it's only at times like this that I suddenly recall it ought not be.

	There, on the edge of vision the circle stands proud of the landscape. Unmissable, the only artificial shape we've seen since leaving the farmland days and days before.

“Once we pass the circle, we should see the route into the mountains and thence through the pass. It was built to guard the way.”

“From what?” I ask, more curious than worried.

“I couldn't say. The merchant who told me of it said it is old beyond mortal counting,” she laughs softly, “So anywhere between ten years ago and the dawn of time, I suppose.”

“If we hurry we can be there by nightfall.”

	Excitement lends our feet speed. A little too much speed in Clytemnestra's case. She's not an impatient woman by any stretch, but she does just love to see what might be around the next bend in the road, metaphorically. She normally walks much slower than she otherwise would, just so I can keep up with her, but with so tempting a thing just ahead, she unthinkingly leaves me behind a few times during the day's march.

	All day the circle grows and the closer we come to it, the less it looks like I had expected. True, it is composed of mighty grey sarsens arranged in a circle, but where I was expecting a tumbled down ruin overgrown with moss and grass it looks almost brand new.

	It must be a good half mile in diameter, composed of four concentric rings of standing stones topped with contiguous lintels, every one looking almost fresh from the quarry. It stands guard by what can only be the path, following a small river into the mountains and up to the pass. Even the smallest outermost ring looms twice Clytemnestra's height and each ring is taller than the last.

	It's sunset by the time Clytemnestra and I reach the stones. I think we both feel the same mix of awe and trepidation. I feel almost as though entering the ring would be... Trespassing? For all that the stone looks new-worked this is so obviously a place of great antiquity. I can feel a whole age of the world looking over my shoulder. I can feel something else, too.

“Clytemnestra,” I whisper, reverentially – I feel like a normal speaking voice is somehow inappropriate, “There's... There's magic here.”

	For the first time since I've known her Clytemnestra looks afraid. The look doesn't suit her. I take a few steps forward and lay my hand on the nearest sarsen. My eyes close and I feel. I Feel.

	I've always been able to sense magic. That first time I encountered it my skin tingled when Lecto used her spells on me. The same thing happened when we paid that Pyre Silver sell-spell to protect me from bullets.  I even feel the same thing when I use my own little tricks.

	It's that sense I'm using now . Using it deliberately, deliberately feeling for magic, rather than passively sensing it.

“Is it safe?” Clytemnestra's voice seems a little too far away as I concentrate on my magical sense to the exclusion of all others.

“It's... There's much magic here. Almost everything here is magic, but it's not doing anything.”

	I wish, oh how I do wish I were a better sorceress.

“I think it's safe. There's magic everywhere here, but it's still. Magic is change, and this magic is not changing anything,” I wish I were better at explaining it to Clytemnestra, too.

“Are you sure?”

	I step back from the stones and turn to her.

“No, I'm not sure, but I'm as sure as I can be. The magic here is waiting for something, and not us. There's a trigger condition. A... A keyhole, and it's not shaped like you or me.”

“Good enough for me,” The look of fear is gone from Clytemnestra's eyes.

	Good, she looked strange, I didn't like it. She strides confidently between the standing stones and I have to hurry to follow. The structure still fills me with awe, but I no longer feel so intimidated by it. I no longer feel as though I must whisper and creep around. The brief glimpse I had of the magic in this place was tantalizing, I'd like very much to see more.

	Once within the innermost circle the ground is a mosaic of flawlessly tessellating marble stars. They are arranged so neatly that one could not slip a cigarette paper between them, and not a single blade of grass grows through a single crack. Right at the axis of the circle is a stone table, or perhaps a great stone curule seat. 

	The sun is fully set now and stars are coming out across the purple-black dome of sky described by the stone circle. Clytemnestra's hooves clop hauntingly on the marble floor and I hold my breath, feeling... I don't know what. The world is waiting for something.

	From without the circle there comes the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.