Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) (14 page)

"What, no drink, friend? Peter! Bring this lad a mug of ale!" The boy locked arms with Tael in greeting and grinned mischievously. "Name's Maeder...pleasure to find your friendship on such a glorious night! Have you come to visit this morbid and lecherous city for the Festival?"

Tael accepted a heavy mug from a portly boy also around his age who wore a foam mustache that glistened under another explosion of fireworks. Eyes turned skywards and a cheer went out of the crowd at the many tendrils of light and smoke and color that rocketed across the sky in a gigantic, final blossom. As the light faded and the people clapped and cheered, Tael wondered if the celebration was already over...

"Was that the last of the fireworks?" He gulped the drink greedily and studied Maeder's shaking head.

"No, friend...the night is still a wee little thing. We've more merriment and devilry to come. At the arrival of the witch's hour they'll fire their final cannons and heat up the night again with her warm firelight." Maeder threw back his head and downed the contents of his mug and stared with longing at the emptiness. "Let's you and me wander around a bit. With your looks and newcomer face we're likely to woo the winemaker's daughters into giving us a taste of their finest."

Tael chuckled and gave Maeder a raised eyebrow. "I like the sound of having a taste of the winemaker's daughters..."

 
Maeder formed an "O" with his mouth and nodded in appreciation of Tael's words. "But you haven't even seen them yet! What if their faces are as hideous as a sow's arse? You'll be tasting arse for weeks, my friend."

"From your fine taste in things—the ale to start with—I assumed any target top of mind would most certainly be fine." Tael grinned at the look of agreement on Maeder's face, and finished the remaining drink in his mug. "Lead on, then!"

With the faint buzz of satisfaction swirling in his brain from the ale and mulled wine, Tael sauntered after his new friend through the raucous crowd, catching eyes with pretty girls tempting him with seductive stares. Several times Maeder had to pry Tael away from the arms of girls entangling him in a devious embrace, and the hot, pleasing taste of their intoxicated kiss left traces of sweetness in his mouth, long after the memory of their hopeful eyes had faded away.

"You're like irresistible nectar to these little birds!" Maeder eyed Tael with humorous, suspicious eyes. "Where in the name of the Trickster God did you come from?"

"Way up north...where war is waging." Tael pursed up his lips and took time to choose his words. "Fled with many poor souls crammed on a boat that only arrived today."

Maeder stopped and glanced back at Tael with a frown. "War? We're fighting the dwarves now?"

"Half the City of Perinith and most of the Southern wall was destroyed. But it weren't no Dwarven assault, though I'm sure the city guard thought it were at the time." Tael leaned in to whisper in Maeder's ear. "Rumor has it that it were a grand battle between a wizard of the Arcanum and Hakkadian sorcerers."

Sobered up in an instant, Maeder shook his head in disbelief then wagged his finger with an expression of jest on his face. "You're tugging on my chain, you are... I know you must be a traveling bard, spinning yarns and tales meant to delight and please the lasses. Well, yer wasting yer stories on me, friend. Save 'em for the winemaker's daughters. Tell 'em those stories and we're sure to get a whole barrel of the vintner's finest wine!"

Tael sent Maeder a mischievous, disarming smile and continued chasing after his friend in pursuit of their prey. Within a few minutes they reached a tempestuous bonfire surrounded by dancing throngs of citizens set in a square in front of a familiar building bearing a sign of grapes. This was the same shop he'd seen before...

Heat raged and drums beat a movement to the flames. The dancers spilled blood-red wine into laughing, open mouths. The liquid flooded down necks to stain sweaty, bare-chested young men and scantily dressed girls. Summoned by the sounds and scents of the feminine sex, Tael sidled over and joined their ranks, and wondered after the euphoric rage and feverish lust burning in the eyes of the dancers. Maeder poured wine inaccurately into Tael's mug, the rich, ruby liquid sloshing about and over its mark, staining the cobblestones with fresh stains. His new friend laughed and eagerly drank and drank until the bottle was tossed into the fire. Tael followed suit and savored the silky drink.

Body blazing from the bonfire, Tael withdrew the bag of jaheesh and threw off his cloak and newly acquired silk shirt, and lavished in the feeling of the flames strewing heat and ash over the circle of dancers. He lit two of the sticks and handed one to Maeder, who smiled appreciatively and puffed and coughed and laughed freely at the feeling. Tael followed, inhaling and holding the smoke, and he closed his eyes and the drug rushed through his pulsing veins and lifted his mind to a place next to the gods. He drifted along, body twirling and leaping to the drumbeat, smoky sky spinning madly. This was the life he yearned to live, and though he knew it wouldn't last, it was at least his for a few magical nights.

He danced and smoked and rubbed his sweaty skin against the taut bodies of girls laughing, heads lolling around drunkenly, uncaring for how others perceived them. Maeder cheered and whooped, jumping and pumping his fist into the air, cheering on the drummers who hammered and beat out a wild rhythm that sent the dancers deeper into an uncontrolled frenzy.
 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tael spotted three timid girls, eyes proud and longing, staring at the dancers. One girl—the same beauty Tael had noticed earlier that day after leaving the docks—smiled curiously at him and gave him a small wave of her petite hand.
 

With a gesture and a grin Tael invited the girl over to where he danced by the bonfire. She departed from her friends—like a sparrow breaking from the flock—and flittered over to where he stood, her movements graceful and certain. Closer now, until the undulating flames traced waves of shadow and light over her long, white dress, the girl swayed her hips faintly as she neared the heat and the drums.
 

Her flirtatious eyes were softer now than when she'd first seen him, as if no longer fired by the twilight, but her hip-length chestnut hair still sent a craving in Tael to possess her. She must have seen the ferocity of desire in his eyes, for a flicker of fear caused her to waver for a moment, and her timidity returned. When he moved to approach, her voice was clear and indignant.

"I see you're enjoying my father's wine. Every year we decide to offer free wine to calm the riotous crowd." She laughed conspiratorially. "Father says it's good for business, and brings customers back throughout the year. Perhaps you'll be his next customer to favor his wine?" She glanced down with sneering eyes at his bared chest.

"Mightily...I favor his wine with a vast thirst. Indeed your father is wise to let the festival-goers partake in a sample of his vintage." He raised a mug to her, but wondered after her harsh expression.

"When I noticed you walking from the docks this evening, I thought you different from the rest." She sniffed as if sensing something foul in the air. "Obviously I was wrong. Are you any different than the other sex-crazed commoners out here?"

Tael slid in and snaked his arm around her lithe waist, enjoying the feeling of her resistance at his advance. Her frustrated, defiant gaze met his. "Your eyes did not deceive you—I am not of this city. I come from the far north, from beyond Perinith, and yet most my years were spent in the south, along the azure Ferelian Sea. You resist me, and yet in your resistance is passion. Tell me, why did you come here, come to me, if you thought I was so common?"

Her body relaxed and softened a bit, and her face fixed into a querulous stare. "When you walked from the docks your clothes gave you away as a rough northlander, and yet how you walked—how you moved and gestured and smiled—contained the refinement of nobility. An odd combination indeed. Now here you are tonight at the Festival, half-naked and roaring right along smoking jaheesh and drinking my father's finest vintage. Who are you?"

"My name is Geldrin." He stopped himself from offering his hand, realizing it was sticky with wine. For a moment he felt embarrassed, but the feeling left once the crowd screamed and roared as more musicians came to bolster the festivities. The girl must have sensed his vulnerability, for her face returned to her previous charm and beauty. "You see—I've had a very long journey, all cooped up on that blasted ship, and when you smiled at me so warm and free earlier today, and I heard that tonight was the Festival, I just knew I had to return. This is your city, this is your Festival, is it not?"

At his sly smile her mouth blossomed into a grin, and she allowed his hands to once again wrap around her waist, this time without resistance. "Does the winemaker's daughter have a name?"

"She does...although for the Festival she has a different name." Her lips parted in a wry, thoughtful expression. "Call me Terese. Though if what you had in mind for companionship was a girl to warm your bed, then you've introduced yourself to the wrong girl."

Tael laughed at that, thinking of the maid at the bath. "Pleasure to meet you,
Terese
. The only companionship I crave tonight is to dance, to drink, to laugh, and enjoy this glorious Festival. Do you know how hideously boring it is to live in the cold northern mountains—the nights dull and dark, and the few people who are around, well, their minds are barely living... This is life, this is youth, this is divine."

She smiled at his words and nodded her head in assent. "Father made me live in the countryside for the last five years in a school for girls, a lesser Order of the Calathian Church. I know that feeling of frustration at the dullness and emptiness of being away from civilization. I swear I've talked to enough nuns and girls to last a lifetime."

"I could never tire of talking to girls...although nuns I could do without." He shared laughter with her and it felt good for a moment. He offered her the smoking stick of jaheesh and she studied it as if wondering if it were poison or pleasure. "This is the first time I've tried jaheesh—at least the variety found here in Trikar. I have to say the feeling is serene and surreal at the same time. The smoke they make up north is powerful and makes you see vivid hallucinations. This is nothing like that—so mild and smooth like drinking your father's red wine."
 

Terese smiled at his description and allowed a warm familiarity to fill her face. "That sounds nice, actually...so poetic. Can I try some? Just"—she glanced around with concerned eyes—"let's go over here in the shadows so my father doesn't see me smoking. He'll be furious and likely send me back to the girls' school."

Tael smirked and followed her around to the side of the winemaker's shop, admiring the motion of her curvaceous hips in flight. She glanced back and caught his gaze, raising her eyes to his in a long, wondering look.

"When did you return from the girls' school?" He kept his voice soft and low, and handed her the smoldering stick. She accepted with a hesitant expression and with a reassuring urging from his chin she pressed it to her lips and inhaled greedily.

"Not so fast..." He held her arm as she coughed and spurted out laughter, her face reddened in surprise. As Tael steadied her he found himself absorbed in the silky smooth feeling of her skin and pulled her close. "Do it like this—inhale slowly and hold it—but not in your lungs, otherwise you'll cough. That's better... Feels divine, right?"

She nodded and her cheeks flushed and her softened eyes sagged with pupils dilated in pleasure. He brought up the mug filled with her father's wine to her lips and her mouth parted invitingly. The rich red liquid entered her and a warm fondness spread over her face, and he guided her down, down to sit on a bench underneath a pomegranate tree.
 

The music still raged, the dancers still twirled and leapt about, the Festival flowered full and prime, and the people—bowed and reverent in adoration—were transfixed in awe at its beauty. The wonder and the merriment on Terese's face contained a calm contentment that puzzled Tael for the briefest moment. In his uncertainty he moved his eyes away from her and a quick gust of wind struck his face from the west—a warm wind that caused him to squint and feel a strange twisting in his gut. A luminescent haze of gold and silver swirled away from the bonfire and settled over the figure of a slender, hesitantly-moving girl who cast him an unperceiving stare into the dark corner where he sat.

His legs reacted like catapults under a general's command and he found himself moving in a tight orbit around her sun. Vaguely—like a sound from a disappearing dream—he sensed Terese's protesting voice from behind him, which he ignored under the brilliance and intensity of the feminine figure in a flower dress in front of him. The girl paused as the crowd coalesced in front of her, a mob of giggling, squirming youth, and she swung her head around and fixed mesmerizing eyes on him.

In one quiet moment thick with fate's determined hand, he knew she was the one.

Chapter Fourteen