Sordid Sorcery: A Harem Fantasy, page 14
He told himself he'd delve into less self-indulgent potions at some point, but the volume of spells he set out to learn took up more time than he expected. For the more dangerous magic, he had to go to an empty and much larger room, a safe place to cast spells such as a fireball and spheres of lightning without killing himself or Lethana.
This greater magic was done, at first, under the supervision of an elderly sorcerer named Hewson Horsley, who, Tal learned, had been assigned by the headmaster to be Tal's mentor. Horsley wasn't an elder, in the sense of a Guild title, but he certainly was old. He only once tried to demonstrate one of the spells he and Tal were discussing, but Horsley's demonstration was far from impressive. Tal could see that whatever potency the man had once had, certainly had faded with time.
Still, the old man was a cheerful, if absent-minded, conversationalist. Tal learned more about the Guild elders, including who specialized in which types of magic. He also learned from Horsley a little bit of the reasons for the discord within the upper ranks of the Guild. As Horsley told it, the leadership of the Guild had separated into factions, some wanting to continue the long and honored tradition of the Guild teaching new generations of sorcerers to carry out the perpetual calling to protect the realm from outside threats, and even internal ones. Others, spearheaded by Zardmel himself, were more interested in some sort of transformation of the realm as a whole.
Tal could never get out of Horsley what exactly that transformation would be, if Zardmel and his cohorts had their way. Tal suspected it was his repeated inquiries into the matter which drove Horsley to have fewer and fewer meetings with him, until eventually Tal was left to study and practice without a mentor. He thought about what Horsley had said about Headmaster Zardmel wanting to change the Guild's focus and he wondered if Zardmel had a less-than-upright motive when he assigned Horsley to him in the first place.
Eventually, Tal decided he'd better not get too caught up in behind-the-scenes politics of the Guild. He resolved to stay focused on his magical studies and make the best of it, no matter who might be rooting against him.
With the potion of learning working, Tal found he only needed to sleep a couple of hours each night. Aside from his time in the library, and in the large empty room doing magical damage to the thick stone wall at the back of it, or having conversations with Horsley on technique up until Horsley stopped meeting with him, Tal rarely left his quarters. The only other times he ventured elsewhere in the tower were when he and Lethana would occasionally go down to the dining hall to eat, but most of the time she brought food back for him.
He returned from a walk to the library, stretching his legs a bit before taking the potion of learning again. It was to be his third dose, and he felt comfortable at this point taking it without Lethana around. He had very few side effects the second time, and knew how much he could handle safely.
Lethana had gone with him on his stroll, but stayed behind in the library to look for a particular book she insisted had to be there, but which eluded them both. He had suggested Resmon or Brook might have borrowed it. This troubled Lethana for a moment, but then she said they probably wouldn't have thought it much use. Insisting she'd stay to continue looking, she told Tal she'd meet him back at the room after she found it.
Tal poured a little more than one finger's worth from the bottle, then corked the remaining potion. It had come out of the bottle quicker than he thought it would. Leave a little in the glass. Holding it up to the light, he swirled the liquid, wondering what exactly comprised the mixture. It smelled sweet, as always, and tasted so as well, but magic isn't just made from fruit and honey, he thought. And the punch it packs. He shook his head, remembering vividly the flood of side effects which overtook him when he took too much the first time.
"Bottoms up." He drank the potion, backing off the glass while a little of the potion remained. He was tempted to take in the rest, knowing he'd get through even more magical texts that way, but decided the side effects weren't worth it. As he swirled the glass again, he tried to feel the magic working inside his body.
Across the room, he saw a young cat-like woman. He didn't see the change, but she had just shifted into her human-like form, though she was still covered in fur, and had a tail and cat ears.
"Wait! Stop!" She reached toward him, but was too far away to do more than gesture as she called out to him.
Tal staggered back. He hadn't noticed her enter the room, since she slinked in looking like a normal black cat and stayed below his line of sight over the furniture. "Where did you come from? What are…"
"You didn't drink that yet, did you?" She walked toward him, moving with grace and an alluring sway in her hips. Short, soft, dark-gray cat fur covered her entire body, though her torso from the bottom half of her breasts down to just past her loins was hidden under a burgundy-colored one-piece skirted brassiere.
Tal stood next to the table with the potion bottle on it, holding the glass in his hand. "Who are you?"
"Ambrosine. We've met before. You ate my food in the dining hall. Did you drink it or not?" She stepped in front of him and grabbed the glass from his hand. Holding it up to the light, she tilted her head and eyed what remained. "How much? How much was in here? Is this all of it?"
"I…no." Why does she care? Ate your food? Oh! Wow. Why is she here? He eyed her up and down, partly to determine whether she posed a threat, and partly because she turned him on, cat fur or not. Something about her attitude excited him, as did her firm breasts and taught ass, both of which were half-exposed.
He admired the way her chest moved as she breathed.
"Good," she said. "I thought I might be too late."
Tal realized he needed to pay attention to what she was saying. Even though he didn't like how she apparently felt entitled to stroll into his room uninvited, he couldn't ignore how alarmed she'd been, and how serious she was about him not drinking the potion…which he'd just drunk.
"No means yes," he said, trying to untangle their misunderstanding. Wait. That's not right. "I mean, no, that's not all there was in the glass. Yes, I drank it. Most of it, anyway." He took the glass from her hand and examined what was left in it. "Why exactly is that a problem?"
Before Tal knew it, she'd knocked the glass from his hand, sending it flying across the room to shatter on the floor.
"What the hell was that for?"
"You should be grateful."
He glanced at the splash of potion on the wall and broken pieces of glass below it. "For that?"
"I watched you come back to your room," she said. "And before that, someone came out."
"You mean Lethana?"
"No. Resmon. And before that, I saw him standing next to that bottle." She glanced to the potion on the table. "I think he-"
Tal's head felt horrible, stinging and feverish. Everything was black. He realized he was on the couch, on his back. He moaned when the pain in his head spiked.
He felt something moist slide over his forehead, causing the stinging sensation again. He realized it must be Lethana wiping him with a soft damp washcloth. He felt her blowing gently onto him, using her breath with the moisture to cool his head.
He opened his eyes. "Ahh!" A startlingly beautiful fur-covered face hovered a few inches above his own, her cat-like pupils staring at him. Ambrosine.
"I told you," she said. She put her velvety hands on his cheeks. "Hold still."
As she moved up and licked his forehead, Tal couldn't help but notice her perky breasts, covered with fur like the rest of her. That's what that was. "Why are you?" He felt the sting again, but it wasn't too painful. Her tongue against it made the sensation more tolerable.
She ignored him and did it again, squeezing her legs against him at the same time.
He tilted his head and looked down past her breasts. He realized she was straddling him. "Wait. Why are you on top of me like that?"
"I'm helping you." She licked his forehead again.
"Get off of me." It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the feel of her body against his, but, aside from her name, he really had no idea who she was, and he didn't look forward to explaining the situation to Lethana when she returned.
Ambrosine moved down a little and quickly licked the side of his face. "You're not very appreciative, are you."
"What the hell? You need to climb off me." He began to push against her, not too strongly. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wanted to make sure she knew he meant what he said.
He unintentionally grazed one of her breasts as he fumbled to get his hands against her torso to lift her off. She squirmed and repositioned herself. He got hold of her again and started to push against her a little harder with his hands. She twisted and let her body give just enough to counter his force, then she moved back in against him as he relaxed in a moment of frustration. Pushing her pelvis downward more, she rubbed against him slowly.
"Are you purring?" He heard the sound coming from her, between a flurry of more licking on the sides of his face.
She didn't answer him, instead moving up slightly and dancing her breasts playfully back and forth over his face.
He could feel himself getting hard, more powerful male instincts overwhelming his common sense. In a last desperate burst of willpower he said loudly, almost yelling at her, "I said get off before I have to throw you off!"
She dropped the seductive expression from her face and hissed at him.
He felt her fingertips pierce the skin on his shoulders. "Ouch!"
Lethana spoke from the doorway, "The man said get off! And not the way you're after."
Chapter 15
Nightsky cawed from his perch at the back of the room, near the window, one of a handful of views to the courtyard. The crow shifted his gaze from one side to the other, watching the people of the city beyond the tower's courtyard.
"Did you find the book you were looking for?" Golem asked Resmon.
Resmon had just returned to his room. He looked smug as he sat in his new chair with his satchel resting under his left arm. The day before, he'd broken one of the chairs in a fit of rage over one of Golem's comments. Remembering what he'd read in a book of magic entitled Magical Riches Instantly, he formed his new much more opulent chair to be a replica—as best as he could remember—of the one he'd seen when he and his father had once met with the head of the Realm's Council.
The book's title appealed to Resmon. When he saw it he realized he could not only become a sorcerer, but also one of the wealthiest men in the realm. No one would need to know how, he thought, understanding that while the Guild might allow magical enrichment, the Realm Council had long ago forbidden it. He knew that sort of magic wouldn't directly help in the forthcoming trials, but he reminded himself his plans went well beyond that.
"Better," he said, answering Golem's question.
"Better is good." Golem stood against the wall, just inside the closed door. "So, this will help you in the trials against the other two?"
Resmon turned his head to look at his large stone companion, though he considered the creature little more than property. "I don't need help against those two." He returned his gaze to the bookshelf across from him, which was nearly full. "They're no match for me."
"I see," Golem said. "But you did go by Tal's room, though."
"So?"
"To do that thing you planned?"
Resmon glared at Golem. He didn't like the ancient stone creature pointing out the obvious implication of what sabotaging a competitor said about his true confidence. "He deserves it!" He looked away from Golem. "I can see that." Then he mumbled, "I don't see why she can't."
"I know I've smashed more than a few people over the years," Golem said. "Most of them for your family…probably something to be said about that. But I don't think poisoning him is-"
"You don't think!" Resmon abruptly stood and turned to Golem. He breathed heavy as he raised his arm to point at the stone giant. "I'm the thinking one here. Remember that. My father knows I'm the only one who's leaving here a sorcerer." He looked away. "Tal wouldn't stand a chance if he faced me in the trials. I'm probably doing him a favor. He'll fall ill for a few weeks, and probably give up and go home." Resmon faced the stone creature again. "It's better for him that way."
Golem tilted its large head to the side a little and shrugged, which made a faint grinding sound.
Resmon picked up his satchel and walked over to one of his bookshelves. To himself, he questioned whether he'd made the right decision, rejecting the two people who had days earlier come to him, separately, asking to work with him—a little hairy-footed man hoping to be his assistant and a fairly muscular male human offering to serve as his protector, should Resmon achieve the title of sorcerer. One of them might've made better company, he thought. But, he reminded himself, they can't be trusted. And Golem's been with the Riasgas for a long time. "Sorry I was a little harsh on you," he said, as he opened his bag and reached in to pull out the books he'd borrowed from the library. "You're not the dumbest golem I've known."
"I'm thick-skinned," Golem said, irritating Resmon who'd heard the creature use that joke twice already. "You're not the dumbest human I've met."
Resmon would've lashed out at Golem for the back-handed compliment, but his attention had turned to the last of the books he pulled from his satchel. The others he'd placed on one of the shelves, but the last one he kept in his hands. He read the title in a whisper, "Azazel's Struggle." He ran his left hand over the leather, feeling the black stamped letters. "You didn't ask permission to do what your father required, did you?"
"Huh?" Golem said, but Resmon ignored him.
With the book in hand, Resmon went to a chair near the back of the room, far from Golem. He sat and, after gliding his hand across the cover once more, opened the book. "How odd that a book such as yours was to be found in the Guild's library." He quietly chuckled. "But they say you were a mischievous one…mischievous but knowledgable."
Resmon turned the first page.
Chapter 16
Ambrosine climbed off of Tal and stood beside the couch, with one hand on her hip, which she rocked outward excessively, accentuating the contours of her figure. "You're both welcome."
Lethana stormed over, but Tal managed to get up and place himself between the two women, warding off what he guessed would've been the start of a cat fight. He chuckled at the phrase in his head. Appropriate.
Lethana glared at him. "And why are you laughing?"
"I'm not," he said. That wasn't just in my head? He knew better than to argue the point. He noticed Lethana was more than mad. She looked really upset, possibly fighting back tears, but she seemed determined not to let them out. He didn't like seeing her that way.
"Which one of you is going to tell me what's going on here?" she said, evenly dividing a look of fury between Tal and Ambrosine. Nodding to Tal's forehead, Lethaa said, "What happened there?"
He reached up and touched the cut, which made him wince. "I'm not sure." He felt the moisture on his forehead and realized it must be Ambrosine's saliva. That does't look good.
"I know who you are." Lethana zeroed in on Ambrosine. "You're that cat I've seen slinking around."
"Ambrosine. My name is Ambrosine." She drew her head back, clearly not liking the tone Lethana was using with her. She turned slowly, pushing her ass a little closer to Tal before walking just as slowly to the table with the potion on it. Her movements were graceful and oozed seduction. "Do I slink?" She spoke with a contrived air of innocence.
"Ooh." Lethana's face looked awash with anger. She whipped her eyes back to Tal and flared them.
He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure what's going on." He glanced to the bottle containing the potion of learning. Ambrosine had the tip of her forefinger resting on the corked top. "One minute I was drinking some of that." He looked back at Lethana. "Just a single dose." He looked at the bottle again. "And the next minute…" His gaze rose to Ambrosine. "She was here."
"I saw that part," Lethana said, glancing to the couch. She crossed her arms. "I know you never agreed to only be with me, but…" She averted her eyes and slightly shook her head. "I probably put the idea in your head when I talked about Brook."
"What? No," Tal said. "That's not what this is."
"Could have been," Ambrosine said. "If you knew how to go with the flow a little."
Tal flash a stern look at her. "Not helping." He turned to Lethana. "You and I are good. You know that. And if I wanted to be with another woman."
Lethana raised her eyebrows.
Tal had to be honest with her, he thought. He never considered whether their bond meant he wasn't out there for anyone else. "I'd tell you." He shrugged. "Like you said, you wouldn't have a problem with it, if…you know. If you were involved." He had a doubt about how his words would be received, especially given the situation she found him in. "Told about it or…whatever." He thought going vague might help him back out of the hole he might be digging.
She kept looking at him, but didn't say anything. He couldn't tell whether he was helping the situation or not. He decided to add a little more, hopefully for the better. "And it wouldn't necessarily be with her." He looked at Ambrosine. She lifted her finger from the top of the bottle and put it the tip of it in her mouth. Slowly, she drew her finger out with her lips firmly wrapped around it.
Tal didn't mean for his next thought to come out of his mouth, but it did…quietly, but not quiet enough. "Well, maybe it would be her."
Lethana huffed and stormed past him. Walking by, she glared at Ambrosine, who shrugged and seemed to plead her innocence with her eyes.
Tal sped back through his recollection, trying to make sense of what had happened before Lethana got any more upset—if that was even possible. "Wait!" He glanced at the bottle.
