fears.
“Ways have I to convert reluctance to willingness,” he purred as he abruptly pulled back a dark curtain on the far side of the tent.
Kira gasped when all manner of brass containers and small vials were revealed, their contents almost indiscernible in the shadows of the tent. Above the array, a carving of a man with blue skin hung, his cheeks puffed as though he blew out a flame. Beneath him was a figure of a woman, plump beyond compare and nude in her fullness. The mouths of both figures were smudged, as though offerings had been pressed against their carved lips. Kira shivered and struggled against the rope that bound her.
This she definitely did not like.
The man evidently forgot her presence as he made his preparations. As to what he prepared, Kira would rather not have known, but as she twisted futilely against the rope she realized that she might have little option. He began to hum to himself as he selected several vials from the collection. He lit a fire in the brass stove on the floor and mixed a concoction beneath Kira’s horrified gaze.
Surely he would not expect her to consume this? Somehow Kira imagined its effect would be stronger than the foul liquor she had already imbibed in this camp. Wordlessly, the man lit an array of candles before the two figures. When he lit a cone and she smelled the perfumed smoke of incense, Kira had no doubt that his arrangement of vials served as an altar of sorts.
Nay, she liked this not a bit. He began to chant, his arms rising beside him as though he would embrace the sky. The candle flames seemed to leap higher, the sun brightened the white walls and roof of the tent, the faces of the carved deities glowed. His voice rose, the words incomprehensible to Kira. His foot stamped and the very ground vibrated.
He lifted the bowl containing his preparation high, then smeared some of it across the mouth of each carved figure.
He pivoted with an abruptness that took Kira’s breath away. His eyes were closed, but he walked straight toward her. Kira panicked. She writhed and twisted, desperately trying to loosen the rope, but it remained resolutely knotted around her wrists as though ‘twere charmed. He dipped his fingers into the lumpy mixture when he stopped beside her, and the smell was fit to make Kira retch. She jerked her head away when ‘twas evident he intended to feed her the mixture.
Undeterred and without opening his eyes, he cast aside the bowl with a flick of his wrist. He grasped the back of her neck with one mercilessly strong hand without dropping any of the mixture from the other. He squeezed her throat threateningly, his other hand held before her stubbornly locked lips. Kira made an unwilling sound of protest.
The man’s eyes flew open abruptly. His gaze bored into hers and Kira could not look away. He blinked naught and his gaze seemed focused deep within her soul. She felt suddenly certain that he was not of this world, though she could not have said where the thought came from.
“Open your mouth.”
Kira heard the command echo in her own mind, though she knew the man had uttered not a sound. The candles he had lit sputtered, and fragrant smoke wended its way toward the ceiling as the carved deities watched avidly. Kira shook her head mutely, already feeling the man’s will wind its way into her thinking.
His eyes widened and he leaned closer. His fingertips, covered with the foul-smelling concoction, touched her lips. Kira shuddered from head to toe and, against the silent protest of every fiber of her being, slowly opened her mouth.
The last thing she felt was the mealy texture of the substance forced into her mouth. Kira felt it slip traitorously down her throat, as though it had a will of its own, just before her surroundings faded to naught.
* * *
The women were not at the river when Thierry and his men returned.
For an instant Thierry feared the woman had come to some harm and his heart skipped a beat before he chided his own
“Ways have I to convert reluctance to willingness,” he purred as he abruptly pulled back a dark curtain on the far side of the tent.
Kira gasped when all manner of brass containers and small vials were revealed, their contents almost indiscernible in the shadows of the tent. Above the array, a carving of a man with blue skin hung, his cheeks puffed as though he blew out a flame. Beneath him was a figure of a woman, plump beyond compare and nude in her fullness. The mouths of both figures were smudged, as though offerings had been pressed against their carved lips. Kira shivered and struggled against the rope that bound her.
This she definitely did not like.
The man evidently forgot her presence as he made his preparations. As to what he prepared, Kira would rather not have known, but as she twisted futilely against the rope she realized that she might have little option. He began to hum to himself as he selected several vials from the collection. He lit a fire in the brass stove on the floor and mixed a concoction beneath Kira’s horrified gaze.
Surely he would not expect her to consume this? Somehow Kira imagined its effect would be stronger than the foul liquor she had already imbibed in this camp. Wordlessly, the man lit an array of candles before the two figures. When he lit a cone and she smelled the perfumed smoke of incense, Kira had no doubt that his arrangement of vials served as an altar of sorts.
Nay, she liked this not a bit. He began to chant, his arms rising beside him as though he would embrace the sky. The candle flames seemed to leap higher, the sun brightened the white walls and roof of the tent, the faces of the carved deities glowed. His voice rose, the words incomprehensible to Kira. His foot stamped and the very ground vibrated.
He lifted the bowl containing his preparation high, then smeared some of it across the mouth of each carved figure.
He pivoted with an abruptness that took Kira’s breath away. His eyes were closed, but he walked straight toward her. Kira panicked. She writhed and twisted, desperately trying to loosen the rope, but it remained resolutely knotted around her wrists as though ‘twere charmed. He dipped his fingers into the lumpy mixture when he stopped beside her, and the smell was fit to make Kira retch. She jerked her head away when ‘twas evident he intended to feed her the mixture.
Undeterred and without opening his eyes, he cast aside the bowl with a flick of his wrist. He grasped the back of her neck with one mercilessly strong hand without dropping any of the mixture from the other. He squeezed her throat threateningly, his other hand held before her stubbornly locked lips. Kira made an unwilling sound of protest.
The man’s eyes flew open abruptly. His gaze bored into hers and Kira could not look away. He blinked naught and his gaze seemed focused deep within her soul. She felt suddenly certain that he was not of this world, though she could not have said where the thought came from.
“Open your mouth.”
Kira heard the command echo in her own mind, though she knew the man had uttered not a sound. The candles he had lit sputtered, and fragrant smoke wended its way toward the ceiling as the carved deities watched avidly. Kira shook her head mutely, already feeling the man’s will wind its way into her thinking.
His eyes widened and he leaned closer. His fingertips, covered with the foul-smelling concoction, touched her lips. Kira shuddered from head to toe and, against the silent protest of every fiber of her being, slowly opened her mouth.
The last thing she felt was the mealy texture of the substance forced into her mouth. Kira felt it slip traitorously down her throat, as though it had a will of its own, just before her surroundings faded to naught.
* * *
The women were not at the river when Thierry and his men returned.
For an instant Thierry feared the woman had come to some harm and his heart skipped a beat before he chided his own
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