My breath hadn't yet stilled from the night's excitement at the pavilion, when the door of Vesija's wagon closed shut after us.

"Do you want a drink?" the man asked in spite of his current inability to serve for two glasses.

"No. That'd be too distracting."

The double lock twisted close, and Vesija strode after me deeper into the cabin. "How did you find the dance?"

"My feelings then were hardly veiled." I gave him a coy smile and stepped off the ceiling lamp's cone of light. "Thank you for distracting me."

"You are most welcome."

I took his collar band into a tight grip like the control strings of a reindeer. "Do you need help with this?" Vesija could just about dress himself, but that had been an awkward process without my aid.

The chirurgeon shrugged with his healthy shoulder. "If you'd be so kind, yes."

A smile crept on my face, while I tarried untying the band and each individual button. Though sturdy enough to withstand the harsh travelling life, the garment was all too fine to be mistreated.

"I'm still at awe of the amount that your wardrobe must have set you back."

Vesija sighed with uneasy amusement. "There's little I could have invested in, other than outward appearances. And..."

"And..?"

The man placed his hand on the protrusion of my hip. "I've hoped such a style would attract certain type of personage: wealthy customers. What do you think; has it worked?"

"Oh, on my own behalf I can say it has." The front of his coat slid open, and I helped his wounded arm out of the sleeve. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing you in more provincial attire. It would be wise, if we aim to avoid notice."

"Unfortunately that is true. Still, around here Vesija the Chirurgeon is much too recognised for any disguise to help, if I may vaunt myself just a quantum."

"You may..." I unbuttoned his shirt of thinnest silk. "...if you praise me while you are at it."

"Of course, my fame will be added by the fact that I've attracted a beautiful sophisticated consort."

"Go on..."

His gaze wandered the gloomy cabin. "Your eyes are too large and lively to hide the curious if morose intellect behind them. In your winsome voice scintillates a rare refinement with only an endearing amount of haughtiness. On the stage you possess a presence, which is wasted on mere trickery."

"You overdid it, me thinks", I said through a stifled grin.

"Perhaps. But I didn't lie."

I murmured my approval all the while removing the last layer of fabric concealing the brawny torso: the primordial constant for might to both protect and claim weaker creatures. My blood responded to the proximity by washing away any fatigue from the dancing and late hour. Out of my dysfunctions ––if one it was–– the ability to appreciate a well-developed male form was among the loveliest.

"Speaking of clothes", I crooned. "You aren't half-bad without any at all."

"As for yourself, I only need to witness your eyes to be enthralled."

"Ah!" I pouted. "So it must follow that the rest is less worth seeing."

The large hand slipped behind me to hold an ample buttock and pulled my hips against him. "Let's not get into deliberately maladjusted dialectic. We have more concrete subject to attend to."

"Do we now?" My fingertips sunk into the skin of his belly, but only a little before encountering an undulating wall. Without breaking our eye contact, I unlaced his trousers and slipped my hand in. A silly sense of triumph surged inside me. Of course I found it a compliment that a discerning male such as the chirurgeon would find me worth the engorged virility.

I myself was in a comparable state of heat, but in my case only indication was the igneous pressure inside me. My body lacked the ability to satisfy its urges. I needed this male, his strength and his passion for my willing pliancy.

For all his brawn, my fingers could master him through this one organ. Though Vesija maintained his casual smile, small switches of his facial muscles told of the struggle to contain the hunger in the man. His patience broke, and he reached to pull the laces of my gown. I spun on my heels and stepped away. A touch reached after me, sending a shiver up my back straight into the animal part of my brain. He tucked at my clothes, and once there was enough skin bared, the impatient hand surged to sink into my heated soft places. Through the distraction, I managed to drop my garments on the floor.

"Had I the hands to experience all of you at once..." Vesija's squeezes roamed down from a breast, to the limited doughiness around the navel, and then, below.

"Not there. Not yet." I turned around in his grip and motioned at the bed. "On your back."

Vesija walked from the pile of his trousers and stretched his wrestler's frame on the bedsheets. I climbed to sit on the knotted muscle of his thighs. The large torso shivered with his excited breath, while I took my time lubricating the sensitive prospecting tool.

"This is awfully thick." I pursed my lips. "Do you suppose it shall fit inside?"

His hand shot to clasp my wrist and pulled me forward. The yelp that left my lips proceeded into a giggle. With the clumsy one-handed grip, the man affected the motions to guide my posterior where we both desired.

Though I had a little experience by now, the initial entrance proved once again a challenge. Vesija's expression shared my uneasy eagerness, his hand pawing my hip to create an impression of virile control. Though he lacked the ability to use his full strength to move me, the attempt was enough to push me further into the suitably yielding mood. As my rump touched down on his hips, the man grunted, yet the invasive pressure preoccupied my mind from signalling any relief. Base instinct strove to interpret the stimulus as pain; only a portion of my brain had been renerved to understand the deep connection as our mutual pleasure.

A hand sunk into my thigh and brought me back to blindingly sharp focus. Though our spoken words had ignored the truth, I couldn't escape the awkward abnormality of the act. Not with the discomfort literally lancing through me. I was a makeshift article.

Intensity in the man's eyes belied the practised calm. His prominently vascular hand still groped for a hold firm enough to handle me according to his will. Careful not to press his wounded shoulder, I leaned forward. As the tension inside me eased, on my chest the mass shifted giving the man an ample view of the pale flesh.

Vesija lifted his upper torso, but the position was all too awkward for anything but the briefest of kisses. He made up for it by tracing his finger over my lips, down my chin and between the bosom. Over my navel his touch went, and to my thigh. I clasped his wrist. Not to stop him, but to hold his hand as he proceeded to caress the part hitherto without attention.

While my thoughts had swam in tar-black water, my flesh adjusted, which left only a fulfilling pressure behind. Vesija remained a little too unperturbed for my liking with his kind and patient smile. Still, he had to be abundantly content. Vesija didn't have to settle for a passing substitute. The chirurgeon wanted me, whatever he thought I was.

Perhaps it was sincere, when he claimed to love me.

By now Vesija was an expert in the type of caress that pleased my irregular instincts. His gentle fingers twisted in a way that would have been agony, had I been able to reach a rigidity even close to that which invaded me. The vice-grip made it impossible to resist the subtle massage of his thumb. Strength shivered out of my thighs. I could only muster the feeblest of vertical movements, and even that was close to unendurable.

The man read me like open scripture. His hips shot upward. The impact radiated with the intensity of pain but lacked the unpleasant bite. He only needed to repeat the assault once to claim yet another carnal victory over my inner nerves. As I was all too stunned to continue the act with any real vigour, the man continued by himself, until the sigh and stream of his own satisfaction allowed me to collapse on his torso. I clung to him like onto a tree trunk adrift in a wild cascade.

"That was pleasant enough", I whispered. "But I hope we get your shoulder fixed."

"At least you're wholly wonderful."

I rewarded the compliment by nesting my head on his healthy shoulder.

"I'd return the embrace..." Vesija gestured with his unbroken hand.

"Oh." I slipped off him. "Let's clean up."

Even in the nascent night, he market was too close to our wagon for any outdoors showers, so we made do with the sink and sponges. Though Vesija could move the arm of his wounded shoulder in a pinch, I washed his hand, rubbing gently between the thick but still rather dextrous fingers.

His hand clean, Vesija bundled locks of my hair and brought it to his nose.

"Are you diagnosing me again?" I said. The chirurgeon had explained how the implant in his nose helped with his work. The readjusted sense of smell had been how he had picked my excessive tonic regiment in midst of a crowd. "What do I smell like?"

"Abundantly feminine. My drugs have found receptive material to work with. If there is any truth to human pheromones, you might well have inherited a tailored lineage."

I leaned backwards against him. "Ah. A vintage scent, then. You love me only because humoural alchemy commands your reptile brain so?" Through the whimsical mask, nervousness cracked my voice.

"Hardly. You are more than physical phenomena." He brushed my neck. "Yet I do not doubt that the olfactory messages have an effect on me."

"What sort of messages?"

Vesija laughed, a bit uncomfortably.

"Give me your best guess, as an academically trained physician."

"Alright." The man grabbed my buttock and pressed himself against me. "That here is a nubile female in need of a..."

"A thorough seeing to?" I suggested, quite incredulous considering the recentness of our last act.

"One could put it that way, yes." His ready tip pressed into the small of my back.

An exhilarating flame flashed from my chest, through the spine and into numb extremities. That my presence could relit the passion of a man, a high quality one at that, so soon afterwards ignited my own desire anew. I leaned over the sink, and immediately the Iwunian was on me like one of their bulls in its unthinking rut. Though I remained receptive, the force and tightness forced me to clutch the sink so I wasn't crushed against the mirror. Delight and surprised discomfort mingled in my gasp.

Instead of doing anything as foolish as stopping, the man clasped my hair to keep my upper body in a suitable position. His robust haste made obvious the frustration built by the tardiness of my earlier administrations. Or perhaps he again understood me better than I would have dared to explain aloud.

My scalp burned in his granite grasp. After only the briefest respite, he crushed past the instinctive resistance. The tender nerves deep inside me flared across my pelvis.

Even if I failed to be good for anything else, the man could well use me for his gratification. With my dear Narshurian brute, I needed not bewail that I too relished the exercise. Rest of the world might as well ––with plenty of justification–– deem me a failure of the sorriest sort.

Of course, such thoughts were too lofty to fit in my brain at the moment. My affection and gratitude for Vesija only had the form warm tingling inside my breast. The sensory input into my lower half blasted away all higher thought.

"Moan a little." Vesija chuckled between his deep breaths.

"They'll––" I winced from a particularly potent thrust. "––hear."

The man paused still sheathed in me. He sighed to calm his lungs and said: "That works only in favour of my reputation." He resumed with his work, if anything, more vigorously. His hand drew my hair ever so little to encourage the victim of the manly administrations to arch her back.

Although the friction had grown to soreness, my depleted lungs could push out barely more than a wheezing pleat. An arm wrapped under my chest and pulled me back up standing without me having a say one way or another. Such a half-sided hold was enough to keep me in place. The new position lifted my heels off the floor, and every further thrust replaced my vision with a blurry mirage of the night sky. Warm lips smouldered on the skin of my neck. While proud of my abundant effect on the man and astonished of his preserving stamina, my brain cried out for the heart-aching strain to come to its conclusion.

Another hand, one that had rested previously, crawled on my hip. The fresh set of fingers slid over the smooth skin to claim what would have been the shame of a man.

"But your shoulder!" I yelped.

"There's no burden for it here." His grip tightened enough to snap the neck of a small animal, had there been anything rigid to break.

Immediately, the combined sensations overwhelmed my addled reproductive instinct and filled my mind with a prolonged void. My spine stiffened, but conversely the tendons of my legs slackened. The powerful arms kept me in place, however. Before I had recovered, the wanton bull had finished his unprompted business.

"We–-" I steadied myself on the sink. "It appears we must wash again."

The wagon trotted over the cold sands with monotonous certainty. Between my bored glances out of the front window, the Pylon of the World never changed in perceived size. His work preoccupied Vesija too much for me to demand his attention. Thus I cranked myself up from the bed and searched the cabin for means to distract myself. First I did so by cleaning, which didn't take all that long in such a small cabin. After a full inventory of our cargo, I re-arranged the cluttered cabinets into neat rows based on the primary colours of the articles. Admittedly most of my satisfaction came from the mischievous futility of my efforts.

Any reading material I had taken along had been thoroughly consumed. The chirurgeon's travelling library contained little else than reference works and monographs on cutting edge medicine. Because I found myself unreasonably desperate for anything to do, I tested my wit on the scant literary offerings. Pushing against the limits of one's previous knowledge can be exhilarating, and with luck a tide of discovery carries the inquisitive mind along the long hours of study. Unfortunately, plunging into information completely disconnected to my previous understanding turned out to be as futile as dropping into the cold brine of a shoreless ocean. In the jungle of technical vocabulary, I became totally lost and had to admit defeat.

Only a slight upward trend of Vesija's lips showed that he had noticed my attempt at autodidacticism. His eyes remained glued to the intricate alchemical tools. The abundant way his arms filled his rolled up sleeves gave me an idea.

I stripped down to pantalettes and bound my chest tight with a long scarf. That too scarcely caught the Iwunian's notice. I ignored the careless rebuff and sat on the floor. During our journey, I had observed Vesija's training regimen of elaborate callisthenics suitable for cramped spaces. He also used a pair of heavy maces for swinging around, but that was hazardous inside the wagon with all the valuables in arm's reach. Besides that, the cabin had served as an obstacle to repeatedly lift himself onto, but such acrobatics couldn't be done on the move without a pressing death wish.

Relaxing stretches to encourage mobility would be more than enough for me. Slowly, I stood to balance on one leg. The wagon refused to co-operate by staying still. The small vibrations turned the elementary stance into an actual challenge to my stability. But I wouldn't give up so easily. Instead of returning to a steady posture, I lifted my knee even higher. Such stubbornness was swiftly punished. The wagon must have scaled over a some boulder, because the floor jerked upwards and threw me off my feet.

Fortunately, nothing fragile ended up between my falling weight and the hard floor, save for my tail bone. Before my vision could focus again from the pain, Vesija was up and over me.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes––" I paused to examine the genuine worry in the man's eyes. "Not really." I offered him my limp arm, which he clasped. He pulled me up without any help from me.

"What were you even trying to do?" he asked with a smile.

"Exercise to keep healthy with all this mandatory indolence."

"Right. You should pace yourself, just the same."

"Don't you have some tonic to elicit muscle simulation without any exercise?"

"I could make one, but it would hardly be wise to imbibe such. Even ignoring the inherent insalubrity in such a drug, the results would be unaesthetic not to mention unnecessary." He wrapped his hand around my upper arm to feel the bicep. Even with the loss of of my muscle mass, his fingers couldn't quite reach around. "I'm sure you'd agree."

"Well, yes. I wouldn't want to appear overtly sinewy. Still, we are stuck in this less than leisurely locale, where a degree of physicality remains necessary."

The man nodded without a clear commitment to agreeing. "Hopefully you won't be forced through anything too strenuous. In any case, you should concentrate on maintaining cardiovascular health and mobility."

"Now wait a moment, physician. That sort of advise makes it sound like I'm about to fall into dotage."

"The onset of senescence is inevitable." He smirked, yet I couldn't stop a frown twisting my face.

"Look, Neru", Vesija said in a conciliatory tone. "Let me help you. If nothing else, exercise is more of a pleasure in company."

The success in my main goal purged my formless irritation. "Alright, as long as you promise to keep an eye on the road."

"I promise. Even if the caravan route is mostly untravelled this time of the year."

The chirurgeon demonstrated movements, which showed their effects readily in my untoned flesh, though the soreness was suspiciously concentrated on my thighs and buttocks. Not that I minded. Arguably, the lower body was most crucial for maintaining 'mobility', though perhaps maintaining feminine appearance rose above other concerns. Of course, there was no danger of my frame ballooning with taut meat. That would have required a consistent and prolonged program even with working virile humoural system.

Vesija showed no sign of exhaustion, even though he could remain squatted all the way down, happily stable like a massive toddler. My tendons, however, were comparatively as stiff as those of an anchorite. It was about time I resumed my childhood conditioning, in spite of the natural Jaan agility.

My mind needed a moment to realise that I had collapsed on the mattress in exhaustion, just as the bed quaked underneath the weight of my man. His eyes were on where they should be: strictly on me.

"Are you still bored?" his fingers touched my chin. The imminence of tickling sent jolts of glee through me.

"Maybe." I squirmed closer to him. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could station the wagon at a hill and wait for the evening mists, while I administer unimanual physiotherapy to aid your recovery from this exertion." Vesija's hand crawled to the cloth binding my chest. He tucked at it to little avail.

"Oh..." I opened the knot of the chestbind behind my back. "What do you get from it?"

The rapacious fingers stole the garment of my breasts. "I can figure a thing or two."

As I grinned at him, my gaze wandered behind him to the front window. Between us and the Pylon rose a pillar of black clouds. Smoke.

"Is there another festival in the village you spoke of?" I asked. "Or do they all rely on combustion for heating? How quaint."

Vesija spun to take a look. "There shouldn't be anything of the like." He stood and went to the driver's seat. "That smoke is not from any fireplace. Too thick. We should at least stop there to inquire if a physician's help is required."

I hurried to pull on my winter gown and went after him. "Could it be that they were attacked?"

"Highly improbable. Our Host keeps watch over these lands." The smug martial pride more typical to Jaan seeped into Vesija's voice. "Any armed group large enough to threaten a walled settlement is intercepted before they can cross the Iwunian March. Still, I need to go take a look."

The gate in the dessicated palisade stood open with no sign of forced entry. Vesija steered the wagon into the ravine of alleys between the squat houses. Nothing save us and the smoke pillar could be seen moving. The architecture lay similarly dead, and the glazed ceramic of the unliving walls gleamed in the ghastly hues of night aurora.

"This quiet can't be normal even for a seasonal town", I whispered.

"No. And this is a permanent settlement. Mostly Jaan."

"Jaan? This close to the Pylon?"

"We don't to stop anyone from selling their own pastures if they so wish."

Not even the briefest gust disturbed the slow ascendancy of the smoke to the endless blue sky. Our wagon circled around the fence of a courtyard and trotted to the muddy trough, which must have served as the main street. In the middle, a single bonfire smouldered with its flames choked by the poor fuel: terribly regular logs with long twisted branches. Women in spice-dyed monastic garb stoked the macabre pyre with long poles. My heart leaped strongly enough into my throat to make me retch.

"If it wasn't an attack..." I floundered into a conclusion. "The Vad plague. But this place can't possibly be big enough to end up susceptible to that!"

"It isn't." Vesija stood and went to put on his coat.

"Where are you going?" I grabbed his arm.

"To help, if there is anything left to be done." He leaned over me and spoke as if to a child. "Neru, you'll stay inside the wagon."

I didn't let go of him. "While you go expose yourself to a disease bad enough to force them to burn the bodies?"

Frustration flashed on the chirurgeon's face. I assumed he'd wrench himself free, but Vesija only sighed. "I must go and see if the mendicants need help."

"But..." No words of mine could convince him to go against a lifelong vocation. "Be careful."

"Of course", he said with a smile and was out of the door, before I could resume my protest.

Deflated, I sat on Vesija's work chair. Outside the holy women continued their grim work, methodically and without visible unease at the assault, which their senses must have endured engulfed in the corpse smoke. Maybe they were used to it; according to what I had read ––thus not anything I put particular trust in–– the Dhaic ascetics meditated on impermanence by observing the decay of human remains.

The image of four nuns dragging Vesija's heavy corpse to the pyre refused to leave my mind. But he knew the risks, even if he had been unconcerned of them. As bold as he was, he might ignore the obvious signs of danger in order to strive for the endless cause of physicians. Vesija had to be reminded of his other responsibilities.

During my cleaning effort, I had found a jar with a preserved respirator. My heart skipped a beat. Vesija hadn't taken even such an elementary precaution against infection. I yanked the cabinet open with enough force to rattle the contents. The respirator hibernated in a honeydew solution and, even after being exposed to air, was slow to wake up. I gave it a hefty fillip and pressed the tool against my mouth and nose.

Languidly, the tendrils coiled around my skull. The still sweet mask sealed itself against my skin, and the bladder began to fill in time with my breath. I tied a scarf around my hair and put on long gloves. Now that the chirurgeon couldn't claim I wasn't protected as well as the situation allowed, I burst out of the cabin.

Vesija had already disappeared from the opening. However, only one building showed any sign of activity. Mendicants carried buckets in and out of the large walled compound, which I presumed had served as the local caravanserai.

The sullen determination on the faces of the weary mendicants barely shifted at my passing. Nobody stopped me from entering the inner courtyard canopied by sheets of amber. I was lucky to be spared from the miasmic stench, which must have saturated the air. Stained cots and piles of bedding stood in neat rows. Most spots were empty of occupants, but not entirely from their remains. I made sure to breathe my mask full to keep calm.

In the middle, under the warm light and soft shadows, Vesija talked with a woman, whose habit was covered with thin translucent membrane. I strode to them. Subtle differences in the woman's clothes indicated a higher position in the obtuse monastic hierarchy. In spite of her sleep-deprived appearance, she managed a heroically kind smile.

"Neru!" Vesija yelped.

"Don't let me distract you", I said. It was impudent of me to force him to ignore my presence, so we wouldn't make a scene. The ploy did work however, and Vesija returned his focus to the monastic woman.

"As I was saying, surgeon..." She lilted Jaanish in a peculiar accent, which I couldn't recognise. "The outbreak has already ran its course. Close to all the locals were infected, but there have been no new cases since last week."

Vesija frowned as he looked around the rows of empty beds. "How many didn't make it through?"

"Seven in eight. The rest are recovering, which to tell the truth I find miraculous. As if the disease just..." The mendicant paused to consider her next word. "...decided to stop. That's not uncommon with the Plague."

The chirurgeon gave a grim nod. "What were the symptoms this time?"

"Debilitating fever ending with immobile catatonia in most cases. If the disease reached that point, rapid cellular damage ensued. It was like the tissue of the patients decomposed, while they remained alive. Fortunately none remained conscious for long."

Though he let out a tired sigh, Vesija's body was tense, like he expected to be rammed by a battle wagon. "What can I do to help?"

The woman smiled wide but gently and without joy. "You could grab a mop and help with the cleaning, but that is hardly necessary. As for any physician's work, the Commonwealth authorities will want to make their own investigations, and they have been notified."

"If I had arrived earli––"

"There would have been nothing you could have done."

Vesija gave the mendicant a dull look of disagreement but didn't voice it.

"She's right, boy", croaked an elderly patient reposing near us. His arms were folded tightly over his chest. "Nothing mere men can do against the wrath of Narshur itself, I tell you."

Another patient made an exaggerated spitting sound. "Rubbish. It was the clanners! They sent the Vad curse on us. They don't as much catch a flu, while our insides rot."

"How do you know it was them?" Vesija asked. The earnestness in his voice demonstrated startlingly good bedside manner.

"They told us. Alright, not me, directly. But my friend Laasa ––may her rebirth be painless––, one night she met a prairie frow, clad head to toe in filthy hides. The savage commanded us Jaan to leave the continent lest our entrails be spilled. Then all of us fell sick, only week thence."

Vesija went to the patient. "Did anyone else meet this 'savage'?"

"Does it matter? They are all dead."

"Please. Every detail might help."

"In what? Ah, it's all the same now. Let me think... The town appointee for sure. He's dead now, I reckon. Then there's Ittejo, who told the same story about the night savage, but he was a lying drunkard. Trasto, however, he was as honest as half-clans go, and he said he met the woman also one evening. It spooked him bad, and he was about to skip the town when the Plague hit. Don't know what happened to him."

"He's a goner too", said the other patient just as a fit of throaty coughs overtook him.

"These people, they all met this woman..." Vesija said, exaggeratedly incredulous. "Alone and at night?"

"Hey, I'm just telling what I was told. But yeah, that was the story."

"Anybody else claim they met the woman?" Vesija persisted.

"Maybe. Nobody comes to mind, though. You think she wasn't real? Just a yokel ghost story––"

Vesija lifted his hand. "I didn't say that. That woman should be found, if not for any reason than to inform the authorities of such a seditious ultimatum."

"Fine." The patient grunted. "Makes sense. If you really want to find her ––not that there's any reason, they are all the same–– she's probably up there at the mountain."

The mendicant touched Vesija's arm. "Let's leave these two to rest, surgeon."

Once we were out of the earshot of the patients, Vesija said: "You mentioned telling the Commonwealth, but how about the Ho–– the Dragoon Legion? They could have sent you aid."

"Yes, they could." The mendicant shook her head. "But many here would have been reluctant to take it. We did receive wagons and other supplies for evacuating the survivors."

The two spoke for a few moments more, with Vesija half-heartedly insisting on helping, only for the mendicant to deem it all unnecessary. Vesija acknowledged defeat with a polite farewell and took me back to the wagon. Inside, I got rid of my protective equipment, while Vesija remained still, apparently deep in thought.

When I went to the man, he reached to touch the glowing worm in my hair. "You should have taken this off. They might have thought you as one of their 'savages'."

"In that eventuality, I'd need only open my mouth to dispel any such misconceptions."

A careful smile broke through his grave expression. "One would be hard pressed to find a Narshurian, who'd dare to sound so terribly posh."

"Says the man, who always orates as if at a wine hall of Poalin."

"I wasn't aware that you were familiar with the Poalin academic institutions."

"I'm familiar with its wine halls."

The chirurgeon let out a few long sigh-like chuckles, before his expression soured. "We need to get going." He sat on the driver's seat and sent the wagon into a trot, straight out of the town. Instead of veering towards the Pylon, he slowed down and guided the wagon to circle beside the palisade.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

The muscles of the man's neck strained under my attempt at a caressing rub, and he gave no answer.

"If you are looking for something, I could aid you if I knew what. My eyes––"

Below my feet, the wagon lurched and stumbled to halt. Vesija jumped off the seat and strode outside. Though his abrupt cold shoulder had slighted me, I followed him. The chirurgeon continued up the slope to a spot that granted a decent view over the palisade. Nothing but a patch of fallen grass marked the area, yet Vesija crouched down into the dust nonetheless.

"Whatever you are trying to do would be easier, if I could help."

"Do shut up." He placed a palm on the ground. "Please."

Tentative indignation simmered under the surface of my calm. If Vesija insisted on performing some ritual of his people, then I had no right to disturb him. Still, fickleness didn't suit Vesija. For our sakes he should have been as firm in spirit as he was in flesh.

The Iwunian rose slowly like the polar dawn. When he turned, the sight of him startled me. His face was rigid as stone, yet the eyes oozed tears. What must have been feminine instinct sent me dashing into him. Heatedly, I wrapped the man in my embrace. He was slow to return the hug, but when he did, his hold thrilled with its desperate intensity.

"Please, Vesija, tell me what's wrong."

He swayed us to and fro a few times, until he let go off me, sighing. "I'll tell you later. Now... Let's just get away."

In the wagon, the Iwunian crashed on the bed and left me with the responsibility to drive. Not knowing anything else to do, I set our course towards the Pylon and went to lay beside the man. He stared at the ceiling with a forlorn look in his eyes.

If I hadn't lacked the ability to be honest with myself, I'd have acknowledged my annoyance at Vesija for ignoring me. Instead a sense of almost maternal duty pressed my effeminate mind to console the man, even if his plight only bemused me. In many times of my own life, a companion soul would have eased the burden of world. Or so I thought.

Slowly, his arm shifted to caress my hip. I warmed my cheek in his breast and pawed his thick neck and shoulders. My spirit drank his woe, but didn't grow burdened.

The wagon bobbed softly. I might have slept, but it was hard to tell for sure in such a state of deep restfulness. When my consciousness clarified up the comfy marsh of my nap, I woke to the calm gaze of Vesija. A smile spread his lips, but his cherishing joy clearly struggled against dammed unease.

"Now that we are awake..." I murmured as I petted his head. "If you don't want to talk about something, then it really isn't something you should think about at the moment. You need a distraction."

One corner of Vesija's mouth rose further. "Am I getting my own medicine?"

"Not quite." I brought my lips to his ear and whispered what I had in mind.

"Oh. A play for the two of us."

"Yes. I do have relevant experience, after all."

"I'm not so sure..."

"Come on. It shall be riveting. And don't angst over your role. It's not what I actually think of you as, even if it suits that fancy of mine."

Her world was the straps which bound her limbs, the tight darkness of the blindfold and the silk underneath her. Her capture and following captivity had been a blur of violence, so brief she had lacked a calm moment to truly consider her situation. Based on her vulnerable nakedness, it could be nothing benign.

She yanked the cord keeping her wrists close to the wall, to no avail. The floor of the battle wain groaned under heavy steps. A shiver, the survival instinct of prey, went up her spine. Because there was naught else to do, her body locked in place with her stomach against the sheets.

Garments and armaments thudded on the floorboards, and the bed groaned from a new weight much heftier than the captive. She felt the warmth of the body above her back, before it descended against her skin. She was trapped under a boulder of muscle. The man spoke in the grunted tongue of his nation, perhaps gloating at his newest prize. His touch brushed the entrance and paused, but the captive had no illusion of that this might be all she'd have to endure.

The savage thrust his hips to send his spear into the woman with all the easy strength of a warrior. The unbearable sensation filled her to the brim. She had been determined not to give the brute the pleasure of her screams, yet now her body betrayed her: a moan much too close to that of pleasure escaped her lips. Her inner bounds were hammered into, again and again, with persistent force she could never have imagined.

A rough callused hand, one suited for wielding tools of bloodshed, squirmed between the bed and the captive to claim one of her squished breasts. To her captor, she was nothing but receptive softness. A core of warmth grew inside her, not solely from the shame of such audacious violation. She couldn't will her flesh to hate the abuse. The male had the mastery of her body, and through it, the bestial reflexes of a female.

She lost the understanding of time, for the detestable act seemed to have no end. Yet she didn't wish for the invasion to cease. Finally, her body was ripe for the last ultimate betrayal. She was coerced into a pang of released pleasure more intense than any lawful administrations had ever worked on her. The beast wasn't long behind with his own climax, which defiled the depths of his captive. She was marked, both in spirit and flesh, as his property.

As the man vacated his willing victim, a spasm clutched at the flowing deposition in me. Along with the slick sign of enjoyment, he left behind a hot soreness. Though on the surface uncomfortable, the warmth radiated through my heart. My man had been allowed to release his frustrations, and the potent exertion had satisfied my carnal soul to the fullest.

Vesija removed my blindfold and released my ankles and wrists. Once free, I clung to him, and he returned the embrace so tenderly I could have forgotten how his strength might ravage me.

"Was that all you hoped for?" he murmured. His hand descended to my crotch. "Are we finished here?"

I clung to his wrist. "Yes, for now. You have satiated me, so to speak."

"Just with..?"

"With little help from being pressed against the bed, but yes."

"Fascinating." Vesija reached to pull the blanket on us. "I would have assume that to be impossible. The power of psychosomatic processes, I guess."

"Or power of your ravishment. I feel thoroughly used."

The man gazed me oddly, so I hurried to say: "Not that I complain. It was what I asked for." To avoid grinning, I pursed my lips into a coy smile. "And I shall ask for more. Did you, in your turn, enjoy our little play?"

"It was satisfying..." Vesija paused. "To have you under my power, with such obvious relish ringing from your lips. But at times what we do appears to be... uncomfortable to you." He dangled the restrains in the air and threw them away. "I prefer to know with absolute certainty that you consider yourself free to quit at any moment. "

"That is sweet... Yet I don't feel the need to be in control with you."

He massaged my thigh. "And I'm glad of such trust."

I spun around and pressed my back against the man, who took the hint and captured my frame in his robust arm. In a fairer world, I could have ignored all of reality outside that moment. But eventually, as the minutes stretched towards an hour, I had to break the silence.

"Vesija... I've considered what you tried to tell me back at the festival."

His murmur and wandering hand encouraged me to continue.

"And..." A lump in my throat paused my thoughts. "And I agree it is futile to agonise over something I can't change. At least, can't change unless we gain access to unknown archaeotechnology. The chance of that is rather far fetched."

"You have all my help, even if the matter isn't exactly my area of expertise."

"Thank you." My heart thumped in heavy, slow pulses. "If I must remain a... a male, at least I'm not much of one, thanks to your tonics."

"You make it sound like a disimprovement." Vesija tightened his hold of me. "I myself consider it otherwise."

Against my back, his member crept back into readiness. An intense sense of being desired rushed through my nerves as a warm shiver. I pressed my backside into the man around me.

"Then I guess I must concede to your opinion. What else can the conquered do?"

Vesija let out a chuckle. "Are we still acting that play of yours or is that how you think of me; your conqueror?"

I twisted my arm to caress the rod behind me back. "Why not? It's romantic and not grossly inaccurate. You could do anything with me, and I couldn't stop you. Yet you put up with my eccentricities, all with a gentle touch."

"A gentle touch, you say? That reminds me..." His hand slithered down to my crotch.

My chest leaped hard enough to make me dizzy. "You can continue..." I gasped at his tightening grip. "If you will."

"Why wouldn't I want to touch something so altogether cute and smooth and, oh, so terribly needy."

I tried to pout, which was close to impossible with my tender bits in the clutch of a strong hand. Nevertheless, my voice remained stately as I said: "Your boundless attention is my prerogative, considering what I let you do with me."

"Oh, I've been fooled to think you enjoyed all that."

"My pleasure and right to a reward aren't..." I wheezed between my teeth. "...mutually exclusive."

"That is true." Vesija's voice reverberated in my ear. "But I'd have little gratification without your obvious delight."

"You have your way with words, certain––"

"Shush." The thick arm settled to keep my torso. "Where was I? Oh, yes, in middle of an examination." He cleared his throat. "The subject, though wonderfully shaped, is much more than her body. She is the entrancing woman I love."

I spun around in his hold to face his ache-inducing smile. "'Woman'?"

"That describes how you look, how you act and what you want to be. Clothed, there is nothing indicating otherwise, and what we do in private scarcely matters. What does matter, is the fundamental fact that I love you, Neru."

My voice failed in my throat. I assailed the man with a kiss, before he could witness my warm tears.