Read Online Guardians of The Flame: To Home And Ehvenor (The Guardians of the Flame #06-07) by Joel Rosenberg - Free Book Online
Authors: Joel Rosenberg
Tags: Fantasy
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year, or longer.
Maybe it's not their fault. Maybe nothing's nobody's fault.
"Sure." It could happen. I'm skeptical, mind, but it could happen.
Slowly, carefully, I put my arms around her, not quite holding her, and kissed her on the side of the neck. She took it well: she flinched, but she didn't cry out or push me away.
Some victory, eh? I let my arms drop. "I'll see you at dinner."
It hadn't always been this way. Back in the beginning we'd spent more time in bed than out, in my memory if not possible in reality.
Hell, our first time had been within a couple of hours after Karl and I had pulled her out of the slaver wagon and freed her, along with the rest of that bunch of slaves. Like I always said, this business has always had its fringe benefits.
Even in the early days, though, there had been hints—times when I reached for her in the night and she would shrink away, only to explain that she was just tired, other times when I would come up behind her and put my arms around her affectionately and she would stifle a scream, only to smile in apology for being startled so easily.
But those times had been few and far between, then.
It had come on slowly, few and far between becoming occasional becoming not infrequent and then frequent so gradually until I realized that we hadn't made love for almost a year, and that she couldn't bear to be touched.
I needed a drink.
* * *
I found a shiny gray ceramic bottle of Holtish brandy and a pair of earthenware brandy mugs in the sitting room on the second floor.
Well, the staff called it the sitting room—I thought of it as a brag room. The rug covering the floor was a patchwork of pelts, the walls decorated with heads of various beasts that various Furnael barons had killed: a few seven-point bucks, several decent wolf- and boar-heads, and one huge brown bear, its jaw opened wide, yellow teeth ready to chomp. I doubt that the teeth were as polished and shiny in real life as they were now.
Among all the predators, high up on one wall, was one small rabbit—the whole thing, mounted on a plaque sideways, stretched out as though frozen in mid-bound. I'm sure that there's a family story behind the last, but I've never found out what it is.
A spooky place, but not because the animals looked like they were ready to come alive. They didn't; Biemish taxidermy was substandard, and there's never been great glass-work in most of the Eren regions. Instead of glass eyes, there were the here-traditional white spheres of polished bone. It was like having a room full of Little Orphan Annie's pets staring down at me. Takes some getting used to. Brandy helps.
Only trouble was, I had started hiccupping, and I hate drinking with the hiccups. Gets up the nose.
I had a fire going in the fireplace, and had settled myself comfortably into a low chair in front of the flickering flames when Doria tapped a fingernail against the doorframe.
She had dressed for dinner in a long purple dress made from a cloth I always think of as velour, although I know that's not the right name for it. The top was fitted tightly from low-cut bosom to her hips, where a pleated skirt flared out underneath a woven golden belt, the golden theme picked up by filigree on the bosom and arms of her dress and the strap of her pouch.
"Well?" she said.
"Nice," I said. "Pull up a throne."
She looked at the two brandy mugs warming on the flat stones in front of the fire.
"Expecting me?" she said, as I stretched out a lazy arm and gave each mug a half-turn.
I hiccuped as I shook my head. "Nah. But it doesn't cost anything to heat two mugs. You never know when a friend's going to stop for a drink."
"Or to cure your hiccups." She smiled as she folded herself into the chair and leaned her head against the high back.
"Yeah." I was a bit sarcastic.
She pulled what looked like a piece of quartz out of her pouch. "Suck on this for awhile."
I shrugged and popped it into my mouth. Sweet— "Rock candy," I said, from around
Maybe it's not their fault. Maybe nothing's nobody's fault.
"Sure." It could happen. I'm skeptical, mind, but it could happen.
Slowly, carefully, I put my arms around her, not quite holding her, and kissed her on the side of the neck. She took it well: she flinched, but she didn't cry out or push me away.
Some victory, eh? I let my arms drop. "I'll see you at dinner."
It hadn't always been this way. Back in the beginning we'd spent more time in bed than out, in my memory if not possible in reality.
Hell, our first time had been within a couple of hours after Karl and I had pulled her out of the slaver wagon and freed her, along with the rest of that bunch of slaves. Like I always said, this business has always had its fringe benefits.
Even in the early days, though, there had been hints—times when I reached for her in the night and she would shrink away, only to explain that she was just tired, other times when I would come up behind her and put my arms around her affectionately and she would stifle a scream, only to smile in apology for being startled so easily.
But those times had been few and far between, then.
It had come on slowly, few and far between becoming occasional becoming not infrequent and then frequent so gradually until I realized that we hadn't made love for almost a year, and that she couldn't bear to be touched.
I needed a drink.
* * *
I found a shiny gray ceramic bottle of Holtish brandy and a pair of earthenware brandy mugs in the sitting room on the second floor.
Well, the staff called it the sitting room—I thought of it as a brag room. The rug covering the floor was a patchwork of pelts, the walls decorated with heads of various beasts that various Furnael barons had killed: a few seven-point bucks, several decent wolf- and boar-heads, and one huge brown bear, its jaw opened wide, yellow teeth ready to chomp. I doubt that the teeth were as polished and shiny in real life as they were now.
Among all the predators, high up on one wall, was one small rabbit—the whole thing, mounted on a plaque sideways, stretched out as though frozen in mid-bound. I'm sure that there's a family story behind the last, but I've never found out what it is.
A spooky place, but not because the animals looked like they were ready to come alive. They didn't; Biemish taxidermy was substandard, and there's never been great glass-work in most of the Eren regions. Instead of glass eyes, there were the here-traditional white spheres of polished bone. It was like having a room full of Little Orphan Annie's pets staring down at me. Takes some getting used to. Brandy helps.
Only trouble was, I had started hiccupping, and I hate drinking with the hiccups. Gets up the nose.
I had a fire going in the fireplace, and had settled myself comfortably into a low chair in front of the flickering flames when Doria tapped a fingernail against the doorframe.
She had dressed for dinner in a long purple dress made from a cloth I always think of as velour, although I know that's not the right name for it. The top was fitted tightly from low-cut bosom to her hips, where a pleated skirt flared out underneath a woven golden belt, the golden theme picked up by filigree on the bosom and arms of her dress and the strap of her pouch.
"Well?" she said.
"Nice," I said. "Pull up a throne."
She looked at the two brandy mugs warming on the flat stones in front of the fire.
"Expecting me?" she said, as I stretched out a lazy arm and gave each mug a half-turn.
I hiccuped as I shook my head. "Nah. But it doesn't cost anything to heat two mugs. You never know when a friend's going to stop for a drink."
"Or to cure your hiccups." She smiled as she folded herself into the chair and leaned her head against the high back.
"Yeah." I was a bit sarcastic.
She pulled what looked like a piece of quartz out of her pouch. "Suck on this for awhile."
I shrugged and popped it into my mouth. Sweet— "Rock candy," I said, from around
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