by Dara Joy
Avatar realized she had said too much. She carefully edited her words. "Oh, this and that. Being a Marquelle carries a lot of responsibility."
Jorlan's brow furrowed. "Yes, and she did say she had recently returned from her western properties... Is this connected in some way?"
He is too sharp for his own safety. Avatar thought. Green had expressly forbidden her and Mathers to say anything about her troubles with She-Count D'anbere. She pursed her mouth. "Don't think that would be likely, do you?" she replied noncommittally.
Jorlan gave her a sharp look. "Of course not." What are they hiding? he wondered.
Green slid over on the Kloo again.
Jorlan watched her carefully. She was close to exhaustion and there was only one thing that would make her stop. "Avatar, tell the Marquelle I need to stop to rest," he said decisively. "I grow tired."
Avatar arched her brow. The Marqueller wasn't the least tired. But he was a wise one. She smiled secretly at him. "You do look a little peaked around the edges, Marqueller. I'll ride up and tell the Marquelle we need to be stopping."
She pulled forward, speaking low to Green. Immediately concerned. Green turned to look back at him and wearily called out to Miara to seek out a spot to rest.
Tomorrow they would not be able to ride at nig They would be in razor-rock country.
Chapter Eleven
They had long since left the high mesa and were now traveling through lowlands where small streams etched their way through the landscape and rainbow trees edged the meadows.
Jorlan was captivated by their multicolored shades. His aqua eyes didn't seem to miss much on the journey, Green acknowledged. Whether he was taking in the pleasures of the surroundings, delighting in the joy of discovery, or simply being alert to his surroundings, Jorlan was aware.
Green had noticed it from the moment they had set out.
Another Sensitive trait, she supposed. They had been fortunate to cross the short distance of high desert without encountering any herds of razor rock.
Or any brigands.
Although highwaywomen generally preferred the more traveled and lucrative Ginny trail, which led west, could never be too cautious. Especially when one had her precious name-bearer in tow. Green glanced over at her blaze-dragon and watched him fondly. Her affection for him grew with every passing hour. He had kept pace on the journey, and then some. Of his accord, he had quietly helped the guards whenever they stopped for rest, taking down supplies from the pack Kloos, helping to prepare meals, and setting up sleepers.
Even Miara, who was impatient with the pampered sons of the aristocracy, had remarked that Jorlan was well liked by her women. He worked quietly along with them and held his counsel.
Green marveled that none of them thought it strange that he was so able to fit in with them.
The sleepers were open to the sky, and on the nights they stopped to rest, he seemed to treasure when she made love to him as he looked up at the stars. It fascinated her to watch his eyes as they hazed over with starlight and desire and he lost himself to his passion. To her. On those nights, she would have to cover his mouth with her own to prevent his uninhibited moans from being heard.
It seemed that each time she made love to him, his sensuality deepened. His desire was unrestrained and sometimes uncurbed. Jorlan was becoming bolder and bolder. So far he had waited for her to come to him. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was going to cross the line soon—she knew that.
She just didn't know what she was going to do about it.
Instead of shocking her, his daring ways excited her. As his name-giver, she should put more of a firm control on him. Such untamed behavior was not considered proper for men. But she liked his wildness. It arose from deep within him like the unbridled change-of-season winds of Forus—the scorching winds whose airy touches brought defined pleasure to sweltering flesh.
She rode closer in to him.
"I remember the first time I saw the rainbow trees, Jorlan; I couldn't stop staring at them, either." Green reached over to Kibbee and gave her Kloo a sweet piece of balum fruit from her sack. The Kloo had been especially good with Jorlan, who was constantly trying to get her to pick up pace, being used to his faster Klee.
Kibbee squawked appreciatively, gobbling the succulent morsel.
Jorlan snorted. "She has you at her mercy."
"Of course she does." She grinned at him. "As long as I allow it," she added with underlying meaning.
Jorlan gave her a knowing look. "I suppose there is a message in that for me?"
"I suppose there is." She raised her eyebrows up and down, making jest of the comment.
He laughed and grabbed her reins.
"Jorlan! What are you doing? The guards—"
"Are paying no attention to us."
"But you—"
He sealed her mouth with his. The kiss was hot with promise. It amazed her how good he had become at it. He had long since exceeded her instruction and with every press of his lips had been adding nuance after nuance, until he took her very breath away. And it wasn't just with kissing, either.
Not even River, who was an accomplished lover, could kiss like this! Of course. River had always held back. Green often wondered what the expert pleasurer would be like when he finally let go.
Her thoughts left her as the tip of Jorlan's tongue played with the edges of her mouth.
"Sometimes I can be taken away from my thoughts simply by the way the corners of your lips curl," Jorlan whispered huskily. His sultry breath caressed her mouth.
"Is that so?" Did he know what she had been thinking?
"Yesss... " He bent his head, again sealing her mouth with a solid stamp of possession. Green moaned at the feel of him; her hands reached up and clasped his wide shoulders, bringing him closer. His tongue—
Kibbee prawked loudly.
Green heard female laughter. "Hey, you two!" Miara called out. "We'll be stopping soon enough for the night. Make him wait a bit for it, Marquelle, and he'll be dancing prettier in your bed!" Ribald laughter ensued.
Flushed, Green broke off from him, giving him a chastising look. "Now they are giving me intimate advice!"
Jorlan winked lazily at her. & Too bold by half, she rued. Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest. I'm spoiling him, she acknowledged to herself. He slowly licked the taste of her from his lips as he watched her from under lowered lids.
Green sucked in her breath. And I have no intention of ever stopping!
"It's a little cold!" Green shivered in delight as she dipped into the cool, clear water.
They had found a place to rest for the night near a lovely small pond that was secluded from view by a thick grove of rainbow trees. Green had immediately thrown off her clothes and waded in, desperate for a real bath. They had been cleansing themselves by the streams they passed on the journey. It was adequate, but not the same.
On the bank, Jorlan cocked his head to the side and watched the droplets of water sluice down her pointy breasts. His hands rested on his hips. "I can see that, name-giver."
"Very humorous!" She put her hands on her own hips, which only caused the water-cooled peaks to jut out farther. "What are you waiting for? Are you coming in?" Her breasts bobbed as she talked.
Jorlan clicked his tongue. "You couldn't stop me," he murmured to himself.
"What?" she called out as she splashed water up her arms.
"I said, 'I'll be coming right away.' " He was very good about not smiling at that.
"Can you hand me the cleansing lotion? I left it in my satchel."
He bent to retrieve the lotion when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught low movement on the side bank close to Green. As he straightened, his hands went slowly to his waistband.
"Do not move, Green." He spoke in a calm, controlled tone that seemed odd under the circumstances. She did hear that last comment.
"What is it?"
"Shhh. There is-a weavermouth behind you."
She froze. Alt
hough small in size, weavermouths were deadly. "How many heads?" she whispered.
He untied the hidden knot inside his waistbelt. With an economy of movement, he began to uncoil the meteor-blade he kept hidden from view under his shirt.
"Three."
Green closed her eyes. "You'll never be able to get the three heads in time. Perhaps if I stay like this... ?"
"It will attack anyway; you know that." A tear fell from her eye. "Use the blade on me, then. Don't let it get me, Jorlan." Death by a weavermouth was terribly gruesome.
"No." He would not even think it. He unslung the blade's cords.
"Jorlan, please, I beg you!" She tried to keep her voice even despite her rising anxiety. "I once saw a weavermouth attack... I could not bear—"
"You won't have to." Faster than she could register, he snap-slung the coils in transecting arcs through the air.
Green could not believe what see was seeing! Jorlan was wielding two meteor-blades at once.
The meteor-blades passed each other in the air. Perfectly thrown, they spun out in opposite directions.
Just as the weavermouth was rearing back to strike, the meteor-blades came at it from two different sides, shearing off two of its heads instantly. The third head was still in its descent strike. Jorlan snapped his left wrist up, bringing the meteor-blade hurling back. At the same time he flung the right meteor-blade in an arc around and over, letting the right side of the cord swing over his neck. The maneuver was almost impossible, yet he had done it. The left meteor-blade sliced back on its path. As it brushed by the weavermouth, the razor spikes extended with a whoosh! taking the final head with them.
But the danger to Jorlan was not over, He had to be able to stop the combined momentum of the blades in such a way as to make sure they did not brush by him while they were extended or he would have the same fate as the weavermouth.
It was what made the meteor-blade so difficult to master. You did not get second chances with it. It took years of practice with simulated meteor-blades before one could even begin using the true forms. And years after that before one had the complete concentration and mastery to wield the real weapon. If ever. How had Jorlan accomplished this?
He swung the cords in perfect precision. Easing down the speed, notch by notch, he ran them through a series of the intricate meteor-blade forms of the Gle Kiang-ten. Green had never witnessed the forms used in this particular sequence before. She watched him, spellbound.
Finally he was able to rein in their speed to where he could safely flick his wrists to retract the blades.
She let out a sigh of relief.
Jorlan stopped them altogether and returned them calmly to his waistband as if nothing untoward had occurred.
"How did you learn to do that?" It was said there was once an ancient Golden Master who had the ability. When she had died, it was assumed so had her knowledge. As far as the Select Quarter knew, no one had ever reached that level of the Gle Kiang-ten again.
Jorlan casually began to remove his clothes as if he hadn't just performed a feat of legend.
He shrugged noncommittally. "I mostly taught myself."
Green gawked at him. "Are you saying you taught yourself the meteor-blade? But you would have to know the advanced forms of the Gle Kiang-ten!"
He stepped into the water. Immediately his strong arms embraced her waist, hugging her close to him. "I am glad nothing has happened to you, name-giver." He placed a kiss upon her brow.
"But the skill... ?"
"It is fortunate my knowledge saved you." His mouth covered hers. His lips trembled slightly.
Green gave herself over to the heartfelt kiss. Jorlan was not shaken over the battle with the weavermouth, she realized. He was shaken at the prospect that he might have lost her.
She kissed him back, deeply.
Right now, something was happening between them that needed to happen. He breathed on her lips. It reminded her of the sigh that a Klee makes when it discovers it can run free. It was the sound of painful joy.
There would be time enough later to talk to him| about the meteor-blade. Somehow, though, she suspected that she might not be getting the answers she sought from her enigmatical name-bearer.
His hands stroked down her back with a perfect sensitivity.
And when he groaned into her mouth, she swore she saw the azure oceans of Forus lapping the shore.
Green pulled back on the reins of her Kloo as they neared the edge of a slow-moving river.
They had long since left behind the lowlands and the dangers of weavermouths. Green's face lit up at the sight before her. The banks of the river were lined with jinto plants and Banta psillacybs; they had been navigating through a heavily foliaged area for hours. Several of the lovely, massive jinto leaves were floating on the water, which was steeped in hallucinogens. The river was safe to bathe in for short periods of time—but not to drink.
Avatar chuckled as she watched the Marquelle. She knew exactly what the auburn-haired woman was thinking. "Go on then," she teased her. "You know you want to."
Green bit her lip. After all, she was the leader here. "How would it look?"
"Like you were enjoying yourself?" Avatar smiled fondly at her. "It's not as if we all haven't seen you do these things before, my Lordene."
"True. But what will Jorlan think?" She sighed wistfully at the jinto leaves.
"What would I think about what?" Jorlan rode up next to them, his sights going to the phenomenal scene before him. He sucked in his breath. "I've never seen jinto before, at least not with my eyes... " he murmured distractedly, overwhelmed by their lush beauty.
Green glanced sharply at him. What did he mean, with his eyes... ?
"The Marquelle always gets strange notions when she sees those leaves." Avatar, oblivious to what Jorlan had Just unconsciously uttered, nodded at the cascading leaves gliding gently down the river.
Jorlan turned to Green and grinned teasingly. "What kind of notions, lexa?"
Green's face colored slightly. She wished he wouldn't call her that in front of the others. And she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him about this notion. It wasn't seemly for a Marquelle to indulge in such frivolity, especially in front of a name-bearer who had a tendency toward wildness.
"Come now, Green," he coaxed her. "If you don't tell me, I'll just wheedle it out of Avatar."
Avatar harrumphed and crossed her arms over her| ample chest. "And how are you going to do that, you I sass-bit! Do you think I haven't been around long enough to be able to see through the wiles of beguiling men?"
Jorlan laughed. "Avatar," he whispered enticingly, purposely modulating his voice to a purring tone, "tell me, please?" He blinked his eyes once at her. Slowly. The effect was stellar.
Avatar reddened.
Green chuckled, shaking her head. He was tying them all around his hand! Even Miara's women were completely taken with him. She gave him a look and clicked her tongue. "Leave poor Avatar alone, blaze-dragon. She doesn't know how to respond to your ways."
"What ways?" he asked innocently enough, but secret, scalding look he gave her shivered her down her toes.
Avatar recovered from her momentary fluster.
"I know all about young men's enticements. I'm not so c as I've forgotten that." She paused, recalling a particularly engaging enticement from her past. She snickered wickedly in fond recall.
Green gasped in feigned shock. "Avatar! You?"
"Why not me?" She snorted. "Youth always thinks they invented the sport!"
Jorlan nodded in agreement with her, feigning alignment in her corner. "So what is it she is considering, Avatar?"
Not even realizing that Jorlan had simply switched tracks to get his answer. Avatar replied. "She wants to take off her clothes, and lie naked on one of those leaves as it floats down the river to Tamryn Lane."
Jorlan arched his brow. "Green! yoU?"
"Stop that," she grumbled, embarrassed.
He laughed. "Let's do it!" He grabbed the reins of
her Kloo.
"We? I never said—"
He gave her a look so fraught with sensuality and unspoken promise that she was momentarily speechless.
Even Avatar started coughing.
Green glanced at her, wondering what she could possibly say.
"It's all right, Marquelle. You'd be foolish not to go now, wouldn't you?"
Green's lips twitched. "Give us time to float around the far trees and out of sight, then come back and take the Kloo. Leave our clothes by the bend at Tamryn Lane. We'll see you later this evening at the big house. Make sure Miara and her women are comfortably settled and tell Sweeney, the majordoma, that I will arrive shortly after you." She nodded to Jorlan to dismount.
Jorlan glanced at Green out of the corner of his eye as they slowly floated down the river. Lying side by side, they both stared up at the sky through the interwoven branches of the giant jinto plants on either side of the bank.
The jinto, also known as "the veil plant," was revered Forus for its amazing properties. The oldest living plant on Forus, it was estimated to be five hundred million years old. Because of its staying power, many of the southern tribes regarded it as a symbol of male fertility.
The broad, double-rounded leaf was coated in a velvety supple skin, while the underlying support structure was extremely rigid.
"There is something symbolic in this, isn't there?" Jorlan joked.
Green closed her eyes and smiled. This was sheer bliss.
"It doesn't seem to have the same effect on me as it does you."
"You don't like it?"
"I like it—I just think there is something about the feel of this leaf and the sensation of the rocking water that deeply appeals to the female."
She grinned. "Why would you say that?"
"From the look of utter ecstasy on your face. You know, I've seen that look before. Green," he drawled.
"Have you?"
He turned on his side to face her, rocking the leaf gently. "I wonder what I could do to add to this experience you are having?" His fingers lightly stroked down her arm.
She opened her eyes a fraction, viewing him from the slits.
The edge of his mouth lifted in a sensual half-smile. Without warning, he rolled on top of her. Green's eyes shot open all the way. "Jorlan!"