Read Online Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) by Terry Mancour - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Mancour
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cold.”
“No mortal will harm Ishi,” she chuckled. “Nor anyone under my protection. But for now . . . a bath! Draw me a bath, girl, as hot as you can, and as fragrant as you can manage in this dismal parlor. For the kind of magic I plan on, I must be at my best – or as best as I can manage. And lay out suitable clothes for tomorrow – I’ll want to select the appropriate garments for scrounging through a refugee camp.”
“There are appropriate garments for that, Mum?”
“There are appropriate garments for every occasion, my dear, including none at all. One of my favorites. But for this, I need to look regal, noble, untouchable. But beautiful, in a Wilderlord sort of way.”
“I will do the best I can, Mum, with what is available.”
“I trust that you will, Elspeth. You are of noble spirit, even if of heavy heart – and you doubt that your mistress has, in fact, transformed. But you are willing to endure her apparent madness . . . why?”
Elspeth shrugged. “A job is a job, Mum. I figure a reference from either a goddess or a baroness would stand me in good stead.”
“That’s very opportunistic of you, Elspeth. I like that. Bath, clothes. Run along!”
“Yes, Mum!” the servant said, and ran to comply.
For three days Ishi, in her guise as the Baroness, prowled the lowliest sorts of places on the outskirts of Vorone. One by one she visited the camps, used her presence and her silver to keep the unwanted at bay, and began selecting from among the girls she found there.
Few were virgins, she quickly discovered, through her divine ability to sense such things. In the desperation of the camps, with no kin or protector, the girls who had made it to Vorone had learned quickly to use the one resource available to them to survive. Not all had bargained away their sacred seal so lightly, but most. Almost all had been subject to deprivations and predators, starvation and beatings.
But as Ishi walked through the camps and surveyed the girls, she sensed more than their sexual histories. She sensed their deepest passions, desires, and delights.
Usually she would approach a girl directly, if she had no pimp or protector around.
“You, lass,” she would call in her Wilderlands brogue. “Are you for hire?”
The question usually bought their rapt attention, for copper and silver were rare in the camps. Simple jobs for pennies a week were fought over by grown men. An opportunity for a girl to earn coin on her own was just too alluring to ignore.
“Aye, my lady!” they usually said, trying their best to make themselves look presentable and healthy. “What work have you?”
“Does it matter?” she would ask, amused. “Would you do it, for silver?”
She would display a single silver coin, gleaming and irresistible.
“Aye, my lady!” they almost always said. They knew the routine. If a regal lady didn’t mention what work it was they were to do, they could guess what it might involve. But most had enough experience to understand that a middle-aged woman likely had less demanding tastes than a tradefallen peasant in a camp with two apples, a crust of bread, and a hard pecker. They were eager to be hired.
If she found them acceptable, Amandice would give them her address, and a wooden token with her crest upon it that would allow them entrance for their “interview. But they were instructed to bring all of their clothing, for there was the possibility of livery – room, board, and perhaps even a bit of coin.
Ishi took a few here and a few there, ten from this camp, a dozen from another, only nine from another. Nor were maidens the only servants she sought. As she prowled through the desperate paths between makeshift shelters that had lasted years, faithful Elspeth behind her, she also found youths of sound body and of a particular bent, most quite handsome, who were willing to take service as guardsmen for lady of such noble
“No mortal will harm Ishi,” she chuckled. “Nor anyone under my protection. But for now . . . a bath! Draw me a bath, girl, as hot as you can, and as fragrant as you can manage in this dismal parlor. For the kind of magic I plan on, I must be at my best – or as best as I can manage. And lay out suitable clothes for tomorrow – I’ll want to select the appropriate garments for scrounging through a refugee camp.”
“There are appropriate garments for that, Mum?”
“There are appropriate garments for every occasion, my dear, including none at all. One of my favorites. But for this, I need to look regal, noble, untouchable. But beautiful, in a Wilderlord sort of way.”
“I will do the best I can, Mum, with what is available.”
“I trust that you will, Elspeth. You are of noble spirit, even if of heavy heart – and you doubt that your mistress has, in fact, transformed. But you are willing to endure her apparent madness . . . why?”
Elspeth shrugged. “A job is a job, Mum. I figure a reference from either a goddess or a baroness would stand me in good stead.”
“That’s very opportunistic of you, Elspeth. I like that. Bath, clothes. Run along!”
“Yes, Mum!” the servant said, and ran to comply.
For three days Ishi, in her guise as the Baroness, prowled the lowliest sorts of places on the outskirts of Vorone. One by one she visited the camps, used her presence and her silver to keep the unwanted at bay, and began selecting from among the girls she found there.
Few were virgins, she quickly discovered, through her divine ability to sense such things. In the desperation of the camps, with no kin or protector, the girls who had made it to Vorone had learned quickly to use the one resource available to them to survive. Not all had bargained away their sacred seal so lightly, but most. Almost all had been subject to deprivations and predators, starvation and beatings.
But as Ishi walked through the camps and surveyed the girls, she sensed more than their sexual histories. She sensed their deepest passions, desires, and delights.
Usually she would approach a girl directly, if she had no pimp or protector around.
“You, lass,” she would call in her Wilderlands brogue. “Are you for hire?”
The question usually bought their rapt attention, for copper and silver were rare in the camps. Simple jobs for pennies a week were fought over by grown men. An opportunity for a girl to earn coin on her own was just too alluring to ignore.
“Aye, my lady!” they usually said, trying their best to make themselves look presentable and healthy. “What work have you?”
“Does it matter?” she would ask, amused. “Would you do it, for silver?”
She would display a single silver coin, gleaming and irresistible.
“Aye, my lady!” they almost always said. They knew the routine. If a regal lady didn’t mention what work it was they were to do, they could guess what it might involve. But most had enough experience to understand that a middle-aged woman likely had less demanding tastes than a tradefallen peasant in a camp with two apples, a crust of bread, and a hard pecker. They were eager to be hired.
If she found them acceptable, Amandice would give them her address, and a wooden token with her crest upon it that would allow them entrance for their “interview. But they were instructed to bring all of their clothing, for there was the possibility of livery – room, board, and perhaps even a bit of coin.
Ishi took a few here and a few there, ten from this camp, a dozen from another, only nine from another. Nor were maidens the only servants she sought. As she prowled through the desperate paths between makeshift shelters that had lasted years, faithful Elspeth behind her, she also found youths of sound body and of a particular bent, most quite handsome, who were willing to take service as guardsmen for lady of such noble
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