A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [126]
Narneth shivered and backed away. He was almost back to Briona before he remembered the Alhand girl, hesitated, and slowly crawled back again.
By then, though some coils and tails still twitched and thrashed, the Serpent-lovers were all dead. When Narneth took his belt-knife to the snakes that bound the mill lass-Jalebra, he remembered her name, now- and freed her, there was no sound for a long time but her weeping as she clung to him, and the occasional snap and crackle from the neglected fire.
The hissings he hated so much were silenced forever.
The meal had been splendid, and so was the wine, though Oradilee had been somewhat startled to receive it in a tankard-a tankard that comfortably held the contents of an entire bottle, at that.
"No needless glass aboard ship that might break with the seas," Telgaert explained, "and I got tired of goblets toppling, too. Was the fare-?"
"Wonderful," Oradilee told him, as she stretched contentedly and lay back on his bed in the narrow cabin-and meant it. "I don't know that I can match it."
"You don't have to. Three of us can cook: gruel, fishhead stew, fried fish with sauces, and-after we've stopped in at a good port, a roast fowl fry-up like this. That's the entire span of our fare."
"Oh," Orathlee replied, nodding as she sipped from her tankard. "I can see how that would be… less than ideal, as the months pass."
"Salt fish by the barrel in winter, and sometimes eels snagged over the rail, too," Telgaert added brightly. "I almost forgot."
She giggled, and he left off caressing her bare feet to take a generous swig from his tankard (even larger than hers, and adorned with an ornate coiling-dragon handle) and reached higher.
"If I may be so bold-?" he asked softly, his eyes suddenly serious, as his hand went to the lacings of her bodice.
"You may," she purred, reaching for his codpiece, "if I may be allowed to unfasten this!"
Telgaert's eyes widened, and a wide grin flashed across his face. Shaking his head in mirth, he said grandly, "But of course, my Lady. How can I refuse?"
"Well, cursing and rolling away is the usual way," she replied, as gentle fingers peeled back fabric and her breasts were bared to the gentle breeze blowing in through the porthole. "But if you'd rather…" She gestured down at herself.
"I would," he murmured, and bent forward to lightly kiss her skin. Again, and again, like the brush of a moth.
"I'm not ticklish," she murmured. "You needn't be… tender."
His response was the lick of his tongue, slowly and teasingly over the twisted flesh of a brand to her left nipple. Orathlee sighed and arched to meet him, murmuring something wordless as she reached her tankard over onto the bedside shelf, to free both her hands to get to work properly on the laces of his codpiece.
He took hold of her nipple in his teeth and bit down, very gently.
"Yes," she encouraged him. "Harder."
He obeyed, tugging gently, and she twisted under him, moaning slightly-and then she shuddered, jerked back from him until her nipple tore free of his teeth, trailing blood, and shoved him away, sitting up frantically, and drumming one frustrated fist on the bed linens.
"Lady?" Telgaert asked, in hurt astonishment. "What befalls? Have I-done something amiss? I-ah-"
"No," she gasped, wide-eyed, seizing one of his hands in both of her own and pulling it to her breast. "Something just happened. The Serpent is-gone"
As if her words had been a signal, there was a sudden, heavy pounding on the cabin door. Telgaert spun around to stare at it, and then back at her. Then he choked back a curse, pulled his hand away, and bounded to his feet.
"Yes?" he snapped, bending his ear close to the door, between the heavy bolts he'd thrown into place earlier. "What befalls?"
There was no reply-but after a moment, the pounding resumed, mixed with sharp knuckle rappings. From several small hands, it sounded like.
Telgaert threw a sharp glance at Orathlee. She hastily laced herself up and swung