The door to the chamber in which they were all now standing opened, and a line of servants came in bearing food. Lara grew silent again. They were seated, Arik at the table’s head, and his guests on either side of him. Plates and implements were set before them. Dishes and platters were passed about by the servants. Lara accepted each dish with a polite nod of her head to the silent servants. Wine was poured. They ate their meal in silence as was the custom of the temple dwellers, and as the servants remained in the chamber, Lara knew she must not speak again until they were alone. When the meal was finally cleared away the two men arose from the table. Magnus bent to kiss Lara on the cheek.

“I will return shortly, lady,” he told her, and she smiled and nodded.

“She is very intelligent,” Arik remarked as they hurried from the guest house to the High Priest’s dwelling. “It is long past time you took a wife, Magnus. The faerie woman from Hetar is fresh blood. And she intrigues you, I can see.”

“There is time yet for me to take a wife and sire children,” the Dominus said. “I am in no hurry. She is quite magical, Uncle. The sword and the staff she carries both speak, as does her horse. Lara’s faerie mother gave the horse wings so he might fly across the Sea of Sagitta to join her. She claims she has killed with that sword. Such a formidable woman may not be the woman for me. I need a woman who will give me children willingly. A wife who will mother those children as a woman should, and not go off seeking a destiny. She is beautiful, and I am fascinated with her, I will admit. But I do not know if I would wed her.”

“She is precisely the wife for you, Magnus,” his uncle said. “The kind of woman you believe you seek to wed would bore you in a year. This is a strong female, and have you not possibly considered that the destiny that has been predicted for her may also be your destiny? Have I not told you, Magnus, that change is coming? And perhaps now is not the time for children, Nephew. One day, yes. But first you must cope with what is to come. I play the traditionalist, Nephew, but you know that I am also progressive in my thoughts and ideas. I can do little until Aslak has gone on into the next life, but when he has departed, Magnus, I shall implement my plans for the Brotherhood of the Great Creator, and for the Daughters of the Great Creator, too.

“I will do all I can to help you find the written words of the curse contrived by Usi the Sorcerer. Imagine the possibilities for the Dominion, for all of Terah, if we could once again hear our women’s voices, listen to their counsel and their ideas? We have not moved forward in over five hundred years because of that wretched curse, Magnus!”

“Uncle, I am astounded by the breadth of your vision,” the Dominus remarked.

Arik smiled almost sardonically. “Indeed, Nephew,” he said dryly. “Some would claim I am touched by the darkness because I desire change.”

“Not you,” Magnus Hauk replied to his uncle.

They reached the house of the High Priest, and were admitted into his presence. Magnus Hauk went immediately to the frail old man seated in a large, well-cushioned chair, and taking his thin hands into his own big ones pressed them first to his head, then his heart and finally to his lips. “I greet you, my lord Aslak,” he said, “and I thank you for your hospitality.”

“You have come with a woman,” the reedy voice of the old man said.

“I have, my lord. The girl was sent to me from Hetar, a gift of a Coastal King. He thought I might take her as a bride,” the Dominus said easily.

“And you have brought her to your uncle for his approval?” the high priest quavered.

“I have, my lord,” Magnus Hauk answered.

“And what think you, Arik? Is the girl worthier than a Terahn girl to be the Domina of the Dominion?” the tremulous old voice asked. “Must your nephew take a foreigner to wife?”

“I am, you will understand, reserving my judgment, my lord Aslak. I have only just seen the girl. She is extraordinarily beautiful, and she seems pleasant enough,” Arik answered. “But of course I cannot tell on such a short acquaintance. My nephew means to remain here for a few more days so I am able to make my decision. A marriage with a Hetarian girl might prove useful to Terah.”

“What should we care for Hetar?” the High Priest wanted to know. “They are good for trading with, and nothing more.”

“True, too true, my lord Aslak,” Magnus Hauk agreed amiably, “but there could come a day when Hetar will no longer be content to meet us in midsea to trade. There may come a day when they want to come here, and we cannot stop them. Perhaps a Hetarian wife would help me to understand them so if that day comes Terah will not be at a disadvantage. We will know more of them than they of us, eh?”

The High Priest digested the Dominus’s words, and then he chuckled. “Heh! Heh! You are a wickedly clever fellow, my son. I can see the benefit in such a tactic. Well, if she pleases you, and your uncle approves, you will have my blessing, also. I will even perform the wedding rite myself.”

“You honor me, my lord Aslak,” Magnus Hauk said jovially.

“Bring the girl to see me before you leave,” the old man said. And then his eyes closed. “I am weary,” he murmured.

“With your permission we will withdraw,” Arik said, “and leave you to your rest.”

The High Priest did not open his eyes again, but waved a languid hand in a gesture of dismissal to the two men, who backed from the chamber.

As they walked through the temple gardens Arik said in a satisfied voice, “He is content now that he knows everything there is to know, Nephew. You played your part well. I congratulate you on your answers to him. He is old, but his wits are yet sharp although not as sharp as they once were.”

“Can we begin our search tomorrow?” the Dominus wanted to know.

“Aye,” Arik agreed. “I will bring the books to you so Lara will not be publicly viewed searching through them. It is better, and will keep the gossip at a minimum.”

“What, Uncle,” Magnus Hauk teased his relation, “are you telling me you do not spend all your time in prayer and meditation within these hallowed precincts?”

Arik Hauk chortled. “I leave prayer and meditation to the youthful members of the brotherhood who are filled with the enthusiasm of piety,” he said.

“Have you no fear of the Great Creator then, Uncle?” the Dominus asked.

“The Great Creator knows my true worth, Nephew,” Arik Hauk said dryly.

They had reached the square stone path leading over the water to the guesthouse. “I will bid you good night, Nephew,” the older man said. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening. I think I almost envy you, but then I have not had the desire since entering the temple order to take a hearth mate, as many of my brothers do. Women can be a deterrent to ambition, and it is not my responsibility to breed up sons for our family.” He hurried off into the deepening twilight.

Magnus Hauk walked slowly across the waterway. He could smell the sweet elusive fragrance of the hyacinths and water lilies that grew all around him. The guest house seemed empty. Where had Lara disappeared to? He walked into a bedchamber, and he could hear her humming somewhere near. Moving through a smaller door at the end of the chamber he found himself in a bath.

“It’s wonderful!” Lara said from the water of the pool. “I have already washed my body, and my hair. Hurry and join me, Magnus.”

He stripped off his garments and washed himself in the bathing recess. There was a large sea sponge, and a dish of soft soap. He used them lavishly, following her lead and washing both his body and his dark golden hair. Then he stood beneath a spouting stone fish and rinsed himself off. Finally he entered the bathing pool, taking her into his arms, and kissing her a long, satisfying kiss.

“Should we be so carnal while we are on the temple grounds?” Lara asked him. Then she nibbled lightly on his lower lip.

“The Great Creator is devoted to life, my faerie love. Does our lustful play not embody life itself?” he asked her pulling her harder against him. He loved the feel of her soft breasts against his hard chest. He could feel his desire for her growing.

Lara slipped her arms about his neck. She felt his manly length hard against her thigh. He lifted her from the water, his tongue slowly licking up the length of her torso, between her breasts and up her throat. Lara lowered her head, and whispered into his ear, “I want you inside of me, my lord. I need to feel your hardness.”

He lowered her slowly back into the water and pushed her hard against the wall of the pool. He was burning for her. His hands cupped her bottom to lift her up as she wrapped her legs about him. He struggled with himself that he not enter her too quickly, for he wanted them both to enjoy the sweet anticipation a slow entry could give them.

She was always so wonderfully tight for him. Inch by inch he pushed forward into the heat of her.

Lara cried out softly as she felt him entering her with incredible restraint. Her teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder and he moaned. Then to her surprise he was fully sheathed and walking slowly from the pool, his big hands clasping the firm twin moons of her buttocks. Reaching a marble bench he carefully straddled it, lowering her down. Then he began to pump himself back and forth within her until Lara was almost screaming with the pleasure he offered. Twice her juices flowed over the firm hot manhood within her.

Then to her great surprise he withdrew from her, turning her about, and pushed into a place she had never again thought to entertain a manhood. Lara gasped. The entry had hurt slightly, but now he just rested, throbbing, within the tight passage while she quivered beneath him, his hands bruising the flesh of her hips. “Magnus!” she managed to say.

His big body leaned over her. “You belong to me, my faerie lover,” he growled as he slowly withdrew, and then plunged back within her. “This makes you mine alone.”

Lara did not bother to tell him of the Shadow Princes, who had taken her body lovingly in every possible way. She could barely remember that night for as her princely lover had told her, she had been on another plane as they taught her the lesson of complete trust. “For now,” she agreed, and then he shuddered, spilling his juices within her in great and violent spurts.

He collapsed upon her briefly, finally rising and pulling her up into his arms that he might kiss her. Over and over his mouth pressed kisses on her, and Lara reciprocated. Then laughing she pushed him away at last, and returned to the scented pool. He quickly joined her, pulling her back into his embrace for more kisses.

“I adore you!” he groaned against her lips.

“Do not love me, Magnus. At least not yet,” Lara warned him gently.

“If I can’t love you, I will surely kill you,” he whispered to her.

Lara pulled away from him, taking his face between her two hands. “No, you won’t,” she told him. “Trust me, my lord Dominus. I will not fail either of us.”

He drew her back into his arms, and her head rested against his shoulder. “Did you blood me before where you bit me?” he asked her.

“You will be bruised, I fear, but I did not bite you hard enough to break the skin. One day I may if you continue to offer us such incredible pleasure, Magnus.”

“You seek to placate me,” he told her.

“Aye,” she agreed.

He laughed. “Such candor is refreshing,” he told her.

“I am always honest,” she said softly. Then pulling away from him she stepped up from the warm water, and reaching for a drying cloth began to dry herself. “For a religious order the accommodations are quite fine, my lord Dominus. They are obviously wealthy, and no poor mendicants.”

“A third of what we earn in our trade with the Coastal Kings is given to the Temple of the Great Creator,” he explained. He remained within the pool cooling his ardor for the moment. She would be in his bed the night long, and they would pleasure each other again. And mayhap yet again, he considered.

Lara sat down on the bench where they had recently sported, and rubbed her hair dry with the cloth. He watched her enjoying the simple task she performed. Then she arose, and with a smile at him disappeared into the bedchamber. The warm water had relaxed him after their long day’s ride. Magnus climbed from the bathing pool, and taking a fresh drying cloth rubbed the droplets of water first from his big frame and then from his thick hair. Then he padded across the marble floor of the bath and into their bedchamber. Lara was brushing her hair with her beautiful gold brush.

He took it from her, and began to groom her tresses himself. “It’s like thistledown mixed with moonlight and sunbeams,” he told her.