People of the Nightland(146)

Upon their return from the long trek to the hole in the ice, the fire had been burned out. Ti-Bish had been concerned that no wood had been carried in, and he refused to discuss what had happened to his slave girl, Pipe.

Skimmer, still wet from the wave that had washed up her legs after the quake, had been shivering, exhausted, and heedless of anything but getting warm. Ti-Bish, too, had been nearly blue from cold. She had removed her moccasins and damp dress to climb under the hides.

Unable to bear his shivering, she had looked across the room where he’d sat back against the wall. In the flickering light of the little lamp, he’d looked pathetic as he huddled and shivered.

On impulse, she’d invited him to share the hides.

The pain is almost over.

But what had it been for? She stared out at the darkness, sensing a presence in the very air. The little lamp had long ago burned out. Did something hover in the room?

She almost turned over to wake Ti-Bish, then felt a movement in the air, as if a great wing had spread over her. The sensation was oddly reassuring, as if a covering against her thoughts.

I am alive when so many are dead.

She closed her eyes, remembering with clarity the attack on Nine Pipes Village, the shock of her captivity and the long journey north. She relived each instant of the horror of the pen, right down to the snapping of skulls as Karigi’s warriors waded into the captives. Again, she smelled the cloying odor of death.

So I came here to kill, and found a humble and honest man who Dreams of peace.

The Song of the Ice Giants changed harmonics, little creaks and groans of the ice adding to the effect. Why did she feel so at peace?

“Ti-Bish loves you with all of his lonely heart.”

Did she hear, or just imagine the soft voice in the darkness?

“Loves me?” she asked under her breath.

She thought back to Hookmaker, and what they’d shared.

“You live,” the faint whisper from the darkness assured. “Take the moment.”

She closed her eyes, trading one darkness for another. She was aware of the beating of her heart, the blood in her veins. She reveled in the air filling her lungs. She could sense Ti-Bish, feel his warmth and life, where it pressed against her.

Alive.

At that moment, Ti-Bish rolled over to mold his body against hers. A delighted sigh escaped his throat as he slid his arm over the curve of her waist.

She should have stiffened, repulsed by his body against hers. Instead, the disarming memory of his worshiping eyes lingered within her. She could recall each of his gentle movements, the joy that filled his face when he looked out at the marvels of his world.

She had never known a soul as pure as his. That left her oddly disturbed, but with a curious warmth down in her core.

How odd that she’d instinctively placed herself between Ti-Bish and Nashat, understanding the role that Power had cast for her.

Her eyes opened as she felt his penis harden against her buttocks, and from the purling of his warm breath on her neck, knew that he still slept.

How long did she lie there, aware of his hard shaft? Considering its implications?

She had come expecting this, believing it was part of the ruse to gain his trust.

And now?

Without thought she rolled onto her back and wrapped her hand around his stiff manhood.

He started, coming awake.

“What … ?” The words froze in his throat.

“Don’t speak,” she told him softly, and tightened her hold.

She heard him swallow. With her other hand, she took his, laying it on the swell of her breast. He moved awkwardly as he explored her, the touch reverent and gentle. Then, hesitantly, he settled onto her body. As he slid into her ready sheath he took a deep breath, whispering, “I love you.”

“I know.”





Keresa blinked awake, aware of the dull gray light that filtered in around the door hanging. She lay for the moment, deeply content with the warmth from Windwolf’s body. She could hear his deep breathing, feel his back pressed against hers.

If only we could stay like this forever. What a joyous miracle that would be.

She replayed their coupling during the night, relishing the memory of their bodies moving in unison. She had tried to pull him inside, as if to press his body right through bone and muscle. If only she could keep him there, inside her, somewhere close to her heart.

Turning over, she pressed herself against his back, scooting her knees behind his and hugging him tightly.

“Morning?” he asked gently.

“It is.”

He groaned. “Got to get up.”

“Can’t we take time?”

“The Lame Bull are packing.”

“They don’t need you to put blankets in packs. I’m sure they can do that on their own.” She hesitated. “This might be our last chance.”