“I had no time with your brother between my legs every night,” she returned angrily. “You could have told me, my lord!”
“But you knew he would come eventually,” he attempted to excuse himself. “He owns you, too. I thought it a good opportunity as I had to be away, and his woman has a big belly now. Did you please him?”
“He thinks your seed too weak,” Lara said cruelly. “He says you have rendered it impotent running between your wife and me, which is why I remain barren while Truda burgeons with his offspring.” She smiled, but it was a cold smile.
He slapped her hard, and Lara’s head snapped back. “Be careful, faerie girl,” he warned her. “If you do not continue to please me you could become a Pleasure Woman in the hall, servicing any man who desires you.”
“It would be a most generous gesture, my lord, considering the price you and your brother paid for me. More than generous,” Lara said, ignoring the stinging in her cheek. “You would probably do better to sell me and recoup some of your loss.”
“Never!” he snarled. “You will continue to be seeded by both my brother and me until you produce the child we desire of you, or I will kill you with my own two hands. I will share you with my brother, but no other, Lara.”
Lara said nothing more on the subject, nor did she bait him again; but turning away from him, she concentrated on her sewing once more. Enda slammed from the room angrily, and she did not see him again until the evening meal. He came into the hall arguing with his wife, and Tira, spying her rival, gave a shriek of outrage.
“You went to her first! I am your wife, but you went to the Pleasure Woman first! I will not stand for it! I will not! How dare she come into the hall when I am here?”
“Be silent, Tira, you do not understand,” Enda said.
“No, I do not! I want my own hall, and when I have it I will allow none of your Pleasure Women in it. My sister may put up with it from your brother, but I am not Sita!”
Lara gathered up her food and quickly exited the hall. Obviously Enda’s wife was not aware of the situation regarding the Forest Lords. Until she understood, she would accept no child of another woman. Behind her, Lara heard Tira cry out in pain, and the slap of flesh against flesh. Tira was being beaten for her rebellion. Poor girl, Lara thought. But even she knew enough not to argue with a man in a public forum.
Each night from then on both Durga and Enda came to Lara’s bed. The two men took turns using her until they all would finally fall asleep. At first she hated them, until the night she realized that they bored her in their competition to get her with child. After that she lay placidly thinking of her escape, moaning now and again, thrusting up to meet their downward rhythm, and they were content with her.
The Winterfest was coming, but there had been no snows yet. A Winterfest without snow was unusual, but they prepared for it anyway. Og had reasoned that the night of Winterfest would be a good time to make their escape. Durga and Enda would be celebrating with their wives, as Winterfest was considered a prime occasion for conjugal bliss. They had already told Lara she would be left alone, and should seize the opportunity for rest. She thanked them, and wished them good fortune with their wives that night.
“If one of your men should come to my chambers, shall I allow them in?” she asked innocently.
“No!” Both Durga and Enda spoke with one voice. It would be unthinkable if Lara was successfully seeded by one of their clansmen when she had not been seeded by one of them. “And all will be told you are off-limits to them. You are to rest. The winters in the Forest are long, and we will want you to ourselves,” Durga said.
Lara gave them a smile. “I am grateful for your kindness, my lords.”
“At least there is no snow on the ground now to show the direction in which we go,” Og told Lara. “I will carry you so we may make better time. You are lighter than a feather, my faerie friend.”
“Where will we go?” she asked him.
“I am not certain yet. There are faeries yet in the Forest, although I am not certain where. But perhaps it would not be wise to seek them out. We could flee to the Midlands, but then we are caught between there and the City, where you could be reclaimed by the Forest Lords. I think we have but two choices. We must either go into the Desert realm of the Shadow Princes, or into the Outlands. Perhaps Ethne will advise us if you ask her.”
“My father used to tell me that the Outlands are a dangerous place, filled with war and tribal rivalries. The Outlanders are not civilized at all. I will ask Ethne, but I think we must go into the Desert. I am sure we can find shelter and work. You are strong, and I can earn my bread with my sewing. We will survive, Og.”
“Lara, you are far too beautiful to go unnoticed. You will not have to survive as a seamstress. One of the princes is certain to favor you, and want you for his lover.”
“I will never be a slave again!” Lara said fiercely.
“The women who give pleasure to the Shadow Princes are all free,” he told her. “The Shadow Princes want no woman who does not come to their arms willingly.”
“How do you know this?” she asked.
“My people have traveled Hetar for centuries, and learned many things. I have known them all since my first moments in my mother’s womb,” he explained. “We have nothing to fear from the Desert peoples, Lara.”
“How do they live there?” she said.
“The common folk live in tents, and travel the surface of the Desert trading with the caravans that pass through. The Shadow Princes live in great palaces carved from the tall Desert rocks. They raise horses.”
“How will we cross the border without being caught?” she wondered.
“The road is not the only place to cross the border,” he told her with a wink.
THE HALL of the Head Forester was decorated for Winterfest with pine branches and holly. Outside in the clan villages, great piles of wood were raised for the bonfires that would be lit at the exact moment of sunset. The fires would burn high and strong until the dawn, when they would be extinguished with the sunrise. There would be feasting, dancing and drinking the night through. Songs of the old days would be sung, and scarce a girl of marriageable age would be left untouched. For a full week before, the women in the hall cooked and prepared for Winterfest.
Og revealed to Lara their method of escape on the day the Winterfest dawned. “You must not go through the hall tonight, for you must not be seen at all,” he said. “You are slender enough to get through the window in your bedchamber. Climb onto the great tree branch outside of that window. I will guide you to the branch below from where I may pluck you down. I will put you into a pouch on my back, where you will be safe and hidden. No one will pay a great deal of attention to me, if indeed they even notice me in all the celebration. With my long stride we can be over the border before moonset. Dress warmly, and eat as much as you dare without attracting attention,” he advised her.
Durga came to Lara’s chamber in early afternoon, but he had not come to couple with her. Neither he nor Enda would touch her until Winterfest was over and done. By ancient tradition, husbands seeded only their wives during Winterfest, and among the Forest clans tradition was always observed. The Head Forester had come to tell Lara to bar her door from her side of the chamber. “I will bar it from the outside as well. It will not be opened until tomorrow, when I come to tell you that I have unbarred my side,” he said. “Go to the hall now before sunset, and fetch the food and drink you will need, faerie girl. I likely will not come until midday tomorrow, as I will eat and drink well tonight-and of course, seed my wife as much as I can, which I think you know will be many times.” He leered at her wickedly. Then giving her a hearty kiss and smacking her bottom, he went off laughing.
She did not see Enda, to her relief, when she went out to fetch her food and drink for the next day. Lara filled her tray with as much as she dared, knowing she could claim Durga had told her to as she must remain in her chambers. Placing the food in her day room she returned to the hall, seeking out Sita to ask if there was any mending she might do while she remained locked away.
“You must not work during Winterfest,” Sita said quietly. “Tradition dictates it is a time of celebration. You look tired, faerie girl. Eat and rest, for the winter will be particularly long for you until you bloom with a child.” She appeared almost sympathetic, Lara thought.
“Thank you, lady, for your kindness,” Lara told her. “And I wish you a joyous Winterfest.” She gave Durga’s wife a small smile and then returned to her own quarters.
Darkness fell quickly that day, and the moon would not rise until late. From her windows through the bare branches Lara watched the red-gold sunset, and then the fires began to spring up as if the light had been transferred. Soon Lara could hear the singing and carousing from both Durga’s hall and the village below. She ate what she could, and wrapped bread, cheese, apples and pears in a napkin which she tied up carefully. Next she transferred the wine from her carafe into a water skin that Og had given her. She dressed herself in all three of her chemises and gowns, tucking her pearwood brush into the pocket of her cloak, which lay across the foot of the bed. As an afterthought she added her sewing implements. Then she lay down to rest, and slept for several hours until she was awakened by the sound of pebbles being thrown at her window. Rising, she went to the window and opened it.
“Og?” she called softly.
“It is time, Lara,” his voice whispered back.
“A moment while I gather my things,” she said to him.
“Hurry!” he returned.
She had barred her door earlier when she heard Durga outside fitting a great timber across the portal from his side. She had noisily turned the lock, and set the small iron bar into place, hearing his grunt of approval as she did so. Now she quickly donned her cloak, strapped the wineskin across her chest, and gathered up her packet of food. Opening the window she called down to Og to catch her pack so her hands would be free to climb. Then she dropped the shawl, hearing his grunt as he caught it.
Carefully, Lara climbed out onto the thick wide branch, her only light coming from the fireplace in her bedchamber. Turning slowly, she pulled the window shut behind her. Then following Og’s whispered instructions, she inched out upon the branch, remembering not to look down. The giant instructed her to sit down upon the branch, and to her relief, she felt the tree limb below her feet, as sturdy as the one above. She stood upon it, and moved out upon the second branch. Her heart was hammering, for it suddenly occurred to her she could easily be killed if she fell. She stopped, frozen.
“Just a few feet more, Lara,” Og encouraged her gently.
She forced herself forward again. Praise the Celestial Actuary that there was no wind. The night was very cold, however. Above her the black skies were filled with twinkling stars. She thought for a moment how very beautiful it all was, and then she heard Og instruct her to sit down carefully on the branch. Lara did, and immediately she felt him pick her up. She was set down in the pack on his back, and she smiled to discover he had lined it with furs, and there was a fur robe to keep her warm. Her pack had been set there, too. Lara undid the strap of the wineskin, and laid it aside. Her quarters were not commodious, but there was enough room to be comfortable.
“Are you settled?” he whispered to her.
“It’s lovely!” she told him.
“Then we are off!” he said. “Remain quiet, Lara, particularly if we are stopped.”
But they were not stopped. Og moved quickly and quietly from the vicinity of Durga’s hall and its village into the deep Forest. He carried a small lantern with him to light his way, carefully avoiding the villages of other Forest Lords and the Winterfest fires that blazed in some of the more remote locations. Finally the full moon arose, and he put out the lantern, hanging it on the wide leather belt he wore around his tunic. His stride was great, and halfway between the darkness and the dawn he exited the deep woods, finally reaching the scrubland of the border. He had kept off the main track, and now the ground beneath him became more sandy. Around him, great dunes began to arise.
Deep within the pack, Lara lay sleeping. She was warm, and felt safe for the first time in months. The rhythm of the giant’s steps lulled her, and although she had meant to stay awake she couldn’t. When she finally did awaken she reached instinctively for the crystal about her neck. Ethne? she whispered softly.
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