The recently married scholar held her brow in exhaustion.
There were so many things that could go wrong with this ‘fishing’ as the foreigners had called it, and though the term had been lost on Sorie at first know she knew better.
After the raid last night the scholar was beginning to look at herself as a worm on a hook was starting to come over her.
By morning the scavengers (both witches and wizards alike) had looted the human invaders of their weapons and more than one internal organ.
Overall, and Sorie would never say this aloud, the caravan trap had been incredibility lucrative.
That didn’t even count the other villeins and notorious outlaws who wanted to test the caravan’s defences, villeins such as Bumbling Cecil, Violent Yura, and two lesser fiends who had fallen into the honey trap.
In her carriage Sorie watched the carts full of disguised witches and wizards move at a snail’s pace.
Opposite of Sorie the Dean of Un Neill’s magic academy uttered a happy moan. “What’s wrong, love?”
Sorie turned her head to her mentor, her face twisted in a scowl. “I might be happier if you did not treat my new husband like a slave doll. What if somebody saw you?”
Vanasher was in the process of getting a foot rub from Sorie’s dear hubby. With each calculated pinch and prod causing the she-elf to moan and show a new shameful face, with each of her moans sounding naughty to the less experienced Sorie.
On his knees Jessy looked quite happy kneading Vanasher’s feet with his gloved fingers, his face showing a slight smile that made his wife knit her eyebrows.
Vanasher waved the issue off, it was not her fault that Sorie was too naive in the ways of finding physical pleasure, and that this Jessy liked to please.
Outside, a mother witch was forced to cover her child’s ears as Jessy located a particularly tender spot.
Sorie’s cheeks redened as her mentor’s awkward howls made her uncomfortable.
She crossed her legs and arms, but could not help her eyes occasionally laying on the scene. “How long until we reach the city?” Sorie asked.
“If no more road bumps occurs…” Vanasher performed the calculations. “Four days. By now our little messages will have reached the city.”
That was the price of a caravan.
Safety in numbers also meant things became slower.
Sorie looked at the thing that was massaging her old teacher and confidant.
The whole marriage was nothing but a shame. Politics, saving reputations, gold lust; Sorie’s drunken one night stand had gone completely out of control.
As the carriage bumped and rock as it felt like it hit every stone and pot hole on the road, Sorie just had to ask “Did you know you were going to sell me off when you set Hector on fire?”
For a moment there was a grimace on Vanasher’s beautiful face, but her angular features soon settled on a board expression. “I do not appreciate your tone.”
Though Sorie’s voice was soft her eyes displayed an anger ready to explode. “And you would make me a child’s whore to fill the Academy’s coffers?”
Vanasher spoke in the same way she spoke to a disobedient brat. “I should remind you that you were not against wiping clear your student fees and your father’s gambling debts.”
The frown did not dissipate from Sorie’s face but the shame was still clear.
Though Sorie would like to think she was beyond material gain. The moment a newly repaired Hector dumped a chest full of gold as her feet a spell bound Sorie was ready to settle down and commit her life as a child’s plaything.
Then there was Vanasher. The maid of honour at Sorie’s mercifully quick wedding.
Everyone knew of Vanasher’s ambitious nature. The woman had designs for being the Academy’s new headmaster, and once the students and a few staff members heard how she wiped clear their debts Vanasher was going to have many new and old friends.
One of whom would be Sorie.
“Do you want a divorce so early?” Vanasher smiled knowing how to shut this pouting child up.
Sorie grit her teeth.
To sweeten the deal, or perhaps to make sure Sorie didn’t have cold feet later down the line, once Vanasher got her new political power Sorie would become a well paid librarian.
Sorie’s hours spent reading and cataloguing books, just as long as she was happily married of course.
Sorie narrowed her eyes at Jessy, who was still happily rubbing Vanasher’s feet. “I don’t fancy child.”
If Jessy heard his wife’s displeasure with him, he didn’t show it.
The argument was paused as the carriage came to a sudden halt
With a command from Vanasher, Jessy jumped up with a speed that was peculiarly too enthusiastic and sat next too his wife. “I love you.” Jessy said his words not sounding right to either woman’s ears.
Vanasher shook her head as she steeped outside muttering something about shotty craftsmanship.
Inside the carriage Sorie glanced at the young man who she sat next to, the smell of straw tickling her nose.
Curious more than anything, Sorie was about to poke her husband’s face when without warning the carriage jerked and both Jessy and Sorie were thrown to the other side of the carriage.