A few hours later I was a sliver lighter. It was fortunate that I hadn't been armed; I might have ended up resorting to my old tricks. That sure would have surprised the men, who had tried to keep me in the card game as means to maintain the flirt. Even at the cost of having to listen to more off-colour suggestions, the alms had temped me. There must have been something in the ground water of Tankai, as most locals had pleasant smiles.

The evening horizon blazed as a wall of amber, while darkness veiled the streets. Indistinct shapes materialised into two men at the edge of the viridian lamplight.

I smiled at them. "I'm not drunk, and all the money I had with me is in the pockets of base cheats."

One of the men touched his hat. "Miss."

Even the muggers in Tankai were pleasantly courteous. The pair retreated into the shadow, and I hurried towards Vesija's wagon.

The line of customers had melted away, but Vesija still spoke with someone. Out of curiosity, I moved away from the lamplight and slunk closer.

With the chirurgeon were two men, similarly tall as him. From the seams of the pair's rugged clothes hung resplendent light strips. The faint glow illuminated them as if they were ghosts of the twilight.

When muffled by distance, their speech had sounded Jaanish, but closer it was clear they spoke in Vesija's mother tongue. The overall cadence resembled Jaanish, but most of the words were unfamiliar, and the sibilant consonants stretched to the point of hissing.

The more lithe of the strangers did the speaking. Further away, the pragmatic outfit and lofty frame had deceived me: she had the voice and smooth face of a woman. Her imperious if hushed tone attempted to compel Vesija, but her words didn't quite reach a direct command. The chirurgeon remained evasive, much to the frustration of the steppe woman.

My wistful notions of the kiss on the stage slipped away. Vesija was a spy. My hand rubbed my neck, as I prayed to my ancestors that he wouldn't hand the dreadful booklet over. Then I'd have to report to Motsa. We'd never be together.

I strode to the three Narshurians, who dropped their topic and stared at me. To break the silence before I raised suspicion, I said: "Good evening."

"Who is this?" said the woman in her own language, though her sneer helped me parse the meaning of the sentence.

"My new assistant", Vesija said in Jaanish.

The woman's countenance disappeared into the black shadows of her hat. She uttered a knot of harsh words, and the pair left. The lights of their clothes dimmed, and the night ate their silhouettes.

I waited for a moment before approaching Vesija, whose gaze lingered after the Narshurians.

"Hey."

Vesija started. "Oh." He smiled, without much mirth. "Was luck on your side?"

"Of course not", I said with a dismissing grin.

"Shame. Well, you are right on time. The crew just left towards our chosen camp site."

"Who was... Who were those two?" I asked just as the chirurgeon entered the wagon.

He stopped and turned to look at me. The stare continued beyond a polite pause. In the lack of light, his expression remained beyond scrutiny. He finally said: "That was Teuna. A distant family friend."

"Oh. What did she want––" I caught myself, much too late.

"Just some business I'm late on." Vesija went inside, sat at the driver's seat and opened the flap covering the front window. With a few pulls from the nerve-clutches, he instructed the wagon into a steady trot.

"About our sleeping arrangements", I said. "You have only one bed."

"There's a spare mattress for me."

It had to be done, while we were still in Tankai and I retained the option to run away. I took support from Vesija's shoulder. He turned to me with question on his face.

I restrained my lungs, like I would aiming through a needler's sights. "There's a detail ––a grave one–– I need to inform you about."

"Alright." Vesija stood up from the controls.

I clutched a cabin handle to keep steady. "Hey! Stop the wagon first!"

"It knows to follow the road and the scent of the familiar vehicles. What did you want to talk about?"

My gaze dropped. I took his hand and dragged the man to sit with me on the bed.

"Now", I said, half through my teeth. The mounting anxiety dropped my voice into the posh tones of archaic Jaanish. "Before we might proceed with the matters, which oft befall men and women in tight quarters, I must inform you of... of..."

The revelation would only hurt once. If he rejected me, Vesija was safe from one set of Motsa's eyes. Of course, I was too selfish to wish for that.

"I've lied to you." After a deep breath, I continued: "Back at the canal station, you didn't rescue a woman, who had taken tonics to take a masculine appearance." Rest of my confession died in my throat.

"Was that it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'?"

Only the dim phosphorescence illuminated the room. Though the deep shadows twisted his features, his smile was the calm restraint itself. "I wouldn't be much of a physician, if I didn't have my suspicions. That hypothesis was confirmed by the blood test."

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you didn't." Vesija took my hand. "I admit at first it was out of sheer curiosity for this unusual... specimen. But, as I went along with the game, your obvious satisfaction left me unable to consider you otherwise than as what you wanted me to see."

My voice rose into an accusatory pitch: "You kissed me, fully aware of what thing––" I fell speechless. Whether or not it was in fact proper that he knew and didn't mind, I couldn't decide. Only a moment before, Vesija had been a sane man with a healthy passion for women. Presently, he had turned out to be of a wholly another type.

"... Fully aware of your rough sophistication", Vesija continued my sentence. He lifted my hand and gave it a bashful kiss. The painful silliness of the gesture melted my heart into slush.

His thick arms welcomed me to lean on him. Though I let myself sunk into a receptive passivity, my mind pounced into alarm, when a large hand landed on my thigh. The agony of yestereve returned crystal clear. When Vesija began to pile the skirt, I caught his wrist.

"Stop", whispered my lips but not my soul.

The man lifted his hand to shift my hair, but my skin still burned for his touch.

"How far is the campsite?" I asked.

"Not far enough for any in-depth procedures."

Air wheezed between my teeth. Possibilities previously unthinkable surged forth quicker than I could steer my thoughts. I swallowed with a dry mouth and said: "A patient is wise not to fear the physician's examination."

Vesija smiled, but instead of continuing what he had started, the man stood. I reached to him, to which he answered: "Wait a moment." He went to a drawer and poured through the ready-made products.

The thump of my heart filled the small cabin and smote the higher functions of my weary brain. If I were worth my diminished heritage, my spirit would cry to undo its emasculation right at the instant. I, however, did nothing. Vesija had gauged my inclinations better than I preferred to admit even in my own thoughts.

Glass and chitin clinked as the man pushed his arm into the depths of the cupboard. Finally, he pulled out a bottle. The cork popped, and the liquid inside hissed with smooth hatred against the disruption.

"Are you preparing me more of your concoctions?" I crooned, though my voice wavered overmuch for an enticing effect.

"Just pouring us something to celebrate the occasion." He turned, with two tiny conch cups in his hands.

Instinctively, my posture corrected by shifting a leg on another, and I replaced the hem. Vesija handed me the glass and sat again beside me. The drink had a sour scent bordering between tantalising and pungent.

"What's this then?"

Vesija rocked the mattress by shifting his weight. "It's shuhdi. A type of local liquor, mostly fermented from zoogenic honeydew. A delicacy, used often in rituals to represent ancestral lifeblood, but perfectly suitable for secular occasions. Do try it."

"Oh, you assume I'm reticent to taste this." I widened my smile and sniffed deep the heavy smell. "No, it's just that drink surges straight into my head. I need to remain myself."

"Well, one cup should be fine before bed."

Mostly to avoid mutual embarrassment, I drank the shuhdi. The sweetness overwhelmed my tongue, but that only veiled the kick of the alcohol for a moment. The liquor marked its descent down my throat with a potent earthly aftertaste, which must have passed as refined to those with less experience in fine alcohol. I myself found the palate rather simplistic for it to be 'divine blood', but my stay at the frontier had widened my tolerances. One couldn't expect full-bodied kitkerekas everywhere.

After the first cups, Vesija's arm had coiled around my waist. After our seconds, I had to pour, because Vesija other hand was otherwise occupied on my body.

"Really..." I giggled. "Shouldn't you be driving?"

"The campsite is two and half hours away." Vesija drank from the cup I offered him.

"Aren't you worried that we might end up lost in the dark?"

"There is no danger of that." His finger unlatched my cleavage and crawled into the warmth over my heart. The input of sensitive nerves in such a malleable part of myself remained strange and most exciting.

I hissed out a gasp. "A Narshurian may trust his sense of orientation, presumably." The last drop of the shuhdi disappeared into my throat. I tapped the cup to show it was empty. "Was this expensive?"

"No idea. It was bought before I was born. In fact, it was a gift for the wedding of my parents."

"I see. Did you serve it to me in order that I have an excuse to allow this outrageous mishandling? That is the sort of ploy men tend to use, in my experience."

Vesija shifted his groping to the other fruit of his labours. "Did you require the excuse?"

"It certainly eased the nerves." Another pinch sent a shiver through the heated flesh. "This is rather novel to me. While you seem awfully comfortable..." My gaze fell. I swallowed and continued, feebly: "Considering."

"Your unorthodox configuration?" Vesija suggested. His hand retreated from my gown and fell on my thigh. "Speaking of that examination..."

As he worked his hand under the veiling hem, I trembled helpless to contain myself. Yet I had no fear, not even when his touch reached the final proof of my essence.

"Notice how heated these are", he whispered. "That can be a bad sign, but in your case it marks their hard work at metamorphosis. Soon the effects will be all but permanent."

"What shall..." My breath struggled against the tight corset. "What shall happen to me then?"

Vesija retrieved his hand. "The internal humours remain indistinguishable from a woman's. It will not erase your libido, but to satisfy those needs in any masculine way might be... frustrating."

The warmth of his respiration on my cheek clouded all reason in me. I whispered: "That is fine. I've had enough of manhood for one lifetime. Or at least my pitiful attempt at it."

My hand slid over the luxuriant sleeve of his gossamer shirt. Though smooth, the arm hidden there was anything but soft. I lifted my eyes, not to find the evaluating gaze of a professional, but the unshackled desires of a savage. As steppe reeds bend under the gale, the man pushed his prey on the mattress.

Never had I been inside so powerful an embrace, except once during a misguided attempt at street wrestling, which had ended with a broken rib. Yet Vesija's hold contained no threat to me, though it should have.

I hadn't revealed him my other, worse, secret. If he knew that I had been placed to spy on him, there was no knowing how he'd react. He might strangle me on the spot, out of love for his cause. I'd stick out my neck for him to do it, even if such a gesture was straight from Conglomerate romance novels. Among the Conglos, a true woman of faithful passion would let her lover end her at a whim.

However, I was useful alive. As long as I was with Vesija, Motsa had no need to sent more competent eyes after the chirurgeon. Eventually, I might convince Vesija to give up any foolish designs against the might of the Jaan Commonwealth. He was in the end also a citizen of our nation. It was better I ignored the matter as long as I could.

Vesija loosened the hug and shifted himself to give room for my breath. His hand brushed my flank, dipping into the constrained waist and climbing up my hip.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I squeaked.

"Your frame tautened in the manner of reluctance."

"No. I merely thought... Never mind that. What troubles me, is that I have never been with a man, in this manner."

"Right. The unconventional logistics do pose an obstacle."

I guffawed. "You could put it that way."

"Indeed. However, there should be a solution among my articles..." He sunk his fingers into the flesh of my rump. "...in order to make it all convenient."

A fresh burst of warm blood responded to his touch and insinuations. Instinct pushed me against the man and brought my hand to his upper thigh. The jolt of swelling indicated that I wasn't the only one agitated by the circumstances.

"Nevertheless..." he continued. "You do have a wide assortment of extant feminine parts."

"You made sure of that!" Slowly, I slid my gown further open at the breast. "The size of these fruits must have been deliberate."

"Not at all." Vesija caressed my cheek. "The extend of such developments depend on the genotype. Yours happens to be notably bountiful." His hand clasped mine. "Your fingers a finely lithe. Very typical of the Jaan. It's an adaption for handling oversized equipment, right?"

I rubbed the hand in question against the front of his trousers. "Can it be you are flattering yourself?"

"You are free to seek the truth."

At the suggestion, I fumbled the front of his trousers open. With little excavation, the not-so-dormant dormant beast revealed itself. Rigid, unsheathed and glistening, it demonstrated an eager readiness for its duty. Primed to commit acts, which he knew were impossible. Or perhaps he graved for those previously implied unnatural pleasures. This degradation might be the thing he had sought for from the start.

Tensing nerves locked me in place. I could only utter: "I don't know..."

"Right. Coy ladies need a firm hand, or so I've read." Vesija grabbed my shoulder and sat up, while guiding me off the bed. "Do kneel down."

The firmness of his grip and voice sent a shiver of delight into me. The distant waves of Our Sea hummed in my ears. I obeyed, or perhaps more accurately allowed, the man to place me where he wanted.

"Unfold your gown. I want to admire my 'investment'."

While I worked my upper half free from clothing, the man unveiled his torso, taking care not to strain the gossamer. He was a slab of meat, with a tasteful abundance of hair to signal his vigour. Though his clothes had been tailored to a close fit, they had made it difficult to evaluate full abundant potency of his frame.

Vesija was a brute of the plains, that was clear. Like all such savages, he held a deep desire in his heart to bring civilised women to their knees. That was why my posh accent drove him mad with need to conquer. At least that was what my addled instinct claimed. My faculties must have been clouded by the dizzying pressure inside me.

Thick veins pumped fuel into the man's arms, all the way from thick biceps to his knotted fingers. Five of which clutched my hair. The hold was tight enough to control my head anywhere he pleased. His member awaited my attention right in front of my flared eyes.

The careful first contact of my lips left me impressed. The taste was potently detestable. Nonetheless, I continued on to fill my mouth, though my untrained jaw had to strain itself. To further appreciate the dimensions of the object, I added the more tactile fingers to the exploration of the warm juxtaposition of hard and sliding softness.

I should have practised, with an elongated fruit if nothing else, before imposing my clumsy administrations on Vesija. Yet the man appeared not to mind.

He grunted an warning. His hand kept my head in place. I tightened the seal and braced myself. It wasn't enough. The surge startled me. I recoiled, which the man graciously allowed. But as I dithered in a surprised daze, Vesija pressed a hand on my mouth.

"Dames do not leave a mess."

In three attempts, I managed to swallow. On the surface, the taste was far from pleasant, but it held implications of the satisfaction, which I had brought. That alone filled my little brain with unwarranted glee.

A large thumb pushed between my lips. "Let's inspect your mouth."

The physician opened my jaws. I showed him my tongue and in that the depths of my denigration. To be with him couldn't have sullied me, yet in the act the humiliation seemed to be in the essence of our little private play.

He gestured at his crotch. "You left me uncleaned."

Dutifully, I finished, what I had started, and brought my best wide-eyed gaze up to Vesija.

"Thank you", he said, which shattered my immersion in the imaginary context.

"Thank me?" I pursed my lips. "Well, you are welcome."

While I washed my mouth, Vesija kicked off his trousers and lay on the bed. I slipped out of my gown and gave the man a chance to look me over. With an approving smile, Vesija turned to give me room beside him.

"Should I see to that your needs are met also?" he asked.

I breathed out an affirmative answer. The man grappled me into an embrace, where no extent of my strength could have stopped his fingers from wandering across my skin. Heat throbbed into my lower half. Any proper male would have been adamant hard in my agitated state. I wasn't, and I didn't have to be, as long as I had a kind man to care for my satisfaction.

"Kiss..." I tried to steady my lungs, but the attempt failed. "Let's redo that kiss."

I turned my head, and Vesija complied. It wasn't a brief peck for a show, but a prolonged act of sloppy vulgarity. My limit was breached. The smoky stains of lingering doubt washed off me. My inner self flowed into the feminine act of Nerutaara, like osmium melts into an iridian shell of a sliver, where both are one.

Vesija reached for a sponge and cleaned the admittedly minor results. He gave me another peck on the cheek and clambered over me to drive the wagon. At the campsite, he headed out for a briefing with the crew. I wondered, what the others thought of him appearing barely dressed. Maybe Vesija wanted them to know what he had been up to.

Once he was back inside, I followed him with eyes bleary from weariness, as he went through his hoard again. He brought me a small unlabelled bottle.

"What is that?" I asked.

"A cultured intestinal hygiene symbiont."

Though the corners of my lips rose, I tried to sound innocently oblivious: "I've heard of that one. In the Directory, fashionable ladies utilise it. Reportedly, as a result their wind smells of lilac."

"With my tonic, there won't be any flatulence. Considering how limited the bath facilities are on the reindeer road, this tonic might be end up useful."

"Oh. I have never got around actually partaking in such an activity." I lowered my eyes and pursed my smile. "One of these days, maybe you would like to try that?"

Vesija nodded. I drank the liquid. The sticky substance was awfully lively on its way down to my stomach. A sense of languid acceptance swelled in my brain, making me giddy. The huge male joined me in the bed, which forced me against the wall.

"Do you fit there?" he asked.

"It's manageable." I squirmed in place. "Pleasantly snug, in fact."

"Great." Vesija let out an ear-piercing whistle, and the lamps fell asleep.

The cabin of the wagon sported a notable luxury: an indoor lavatory, undoubtedly useful to have at a physician's reception. With the sink and facilities, the alcove was so cramped that Vesija himself scarcely fitted inside. For me it was a cosy trap to be utterly sick in. Only a clinical drape gave the modicum of privacy, but fortunately the chirurgeon was courteous enough to show no attention to my suffering. The process was overly embarrassing even without witnesses.

"Remember to drink", Vesija said over his shoulder. "The symbiont needs water to form the digestive mucus that keeps your intestines healthy."

I poured myself a cup and fortified it with distilled honeydew. "You make it sound I'm the subject of an elaborate medical test."

"The item is in fact quite advanced", Vesija said. "It's a new strand, sampled straight from an unlaunched starfarer vessel. According to my tests, it should decrease the associated abdominal pain by eight perceived decimals."

My stomach shifted, and I rubbed the pained spot through the corset. "What did the ancestors need this for?"

Vesija glanced at me with an satisfied smile on his face. "The predominant hypothesis posits that the symbiont performed a role in waste management, while one floated through the aether wrapped in a personal protective suit."

"That sounds neither glamorous or heavenly."

"No, but it was no doubt immensely utilitarian."

I leaned over his shoulder. "Do you want to perform further tests?"

Vesija grinned. "I would, but our daily slivers need to be made. We'll stop presently, thus you should prepare for the show. This particular place is one those, where it's wise to get on with the performance right away."

The forlorn looter settlement was called 'Laini's Trove'. The vast excavation opened in the middle of a parched patch of grassland. Eroded shreds of ruins poked from the lake of sand, and at its dry shore, huddled the miserable tent village. There shelters of mere canvas and leather sprawled around the old network of stunted huts.

When we stopped outside the main hub, haggard prospectors began to filter towards us. At first I dreaded violence and robbery, but soon enough I realised how silly that fear had been. If any of the locals had even one violent bone in them, they would have sought a more drastic line of work than shifting silt at Laini's Trove.

The dig site had been picked clean of real treasure generations ago, but the boon and curse of the Trove remained its proximity to Tankai. Prospectors could work there with little initial investment, but once they started there, they rarely is ever afforded to leave without accepting utter defeat.

We held a show, which cheered the grim audience a jot towards actual liveliness. They began to pass along fizzing drink, but instead of getting rowdy, the air thickened with a deep sombre mood. Vesija kept his sales pitch to the point without advertising anything expensive. Afterwards, the Utrian Twins spread out into the settlement to offer their maintenance services. In addition to food preserves, knick-knacks often forgotten by unprepared prospectors were in steady demand, and Nelavi opened the cargo wagon to purvey them at budget prices. She did however tolerated absolutely no mention of credit.

The entrance to Vesija's reception maintained a steady line of such ragged humanity that it was hard to believe he'd make our stay worthwhile. A reputation for charity was hard to turn into profit, often quite the opposite. Still, the medicine show offered a desperately needed service, though I myself scarcely participated.

Instead, I went for a brisk walk. The languid inactivity of travel had caught up with me as an aching lower back. In a hurry to stretch my legs and exercise my lungs, I forgot to tell our small crew that I aimed to circle Laini's Trove.

Icy wind swept over the hovels that were like graveyard of small tombs in untidy rows. Fittingly, its inhabitants, with the exception of the few fresh hopefuls working through the sand, demonstrated the lethargy of shambling corpses. If I was too hard on them, it came out of pure self-awareness.

If I hadn't been able to leech off my family's waned fortunes, my habits would have led me to a place like the Trove. I had no useful trade or training, only an education in academic trivialities and the ancient traditions passed down our tribe of professional killers. The latter of which I was too much of a weakling to put into profitable use. Now I did have a career, in which surprising success glimmered in reachable distance. Perhaps I'd reform myself into a seductive and dangerous damsel spy and live an international life of glamour and excitement. That required betraying Vesija. Quite a predicament.

The stroll awakened up the machinery of my systems, though it wasn't quite enough to feel like exercise. I needed a while to breach through the distaste against running. To run without danger at one's heels was fit only for footmen and other lowly servantry. My boots were comfortable, however, and the walk had taken too long. I burst into a scandalous sprint but toned it down into a sustainable if still unladylike jog.

Once near the wagons, I stopped to take a breath and walked the rest of the way. My genteel image needed to be preserved, if for no other reason than Vesija's preferences.

Near the camp, a weather-beaten man accosted me. His rough shave and threadbare clothes made me recoil and reach for a non-existent needler at my hip. Instead of anything indecent, he performed a shaky bow much too elegant to his shrivelled frame and spoke in proper Jaanish: "Good day, madame."

"Good day."

"If I may..." He stopped to swallow. "If I may take your time for a moment. Even betwixt the frivolity of the show, I saw that you are a true Jaan woman of traditional sensibilities. I must ask you a boon."

His incongruous comportment suppressed my better sense. "Go on."

"Dance with me, if you would. My present finances are unbearably insufficient, but I can spare a sliver."

My expression hardened. "I'm not a public woman."

"Forgive me. My request included no euphemism. I mean dance literally, as in jakora, if that is still what fashionable dames know." He pulled out a pouch and fished what must have been its only contents. A worn osmium sliver.

"Very well." Dancing was good for the heart. "We can ask my colleague to play a suitable tune."

"No need, madame." The man smiled. "I hear it still."

We danced right there at the edge of the steppe. He was skilled, to be point that he effortlessly compensated for my lack of experience in the woman's steps. I found myself elated, and not merely out of the absurdity of the event.

When he finally let go, I felt the workout all over my muscles. Again the man offered me the sliver.

"I couldn't accept it", I said with a smile. "As I too had fun."

"Of course. A woman of rank would never sell services. How impolite of me to even consider it."

"No offence was taken."

The man bowed and left. I thought to stop him, to ask about his past, to invite him to a warm meal. But he had already rounded a corner. The saved sliver might help him leave the prospector's life behind, but I had the feeling he had chosen to hide from the world.

Vesija stood outside his wagon to watch my approach.

"Where were you? What was that?"

"The dancing? I was out to catch some fresh air. The gentleman there asked for a dance. Offered to pay a sliver, but I couldn't possibly accept, of course."

The chirurgeon frowned. "You should be careful. Women, who accept such request, tend to end up with more pressing propositions."

His jealousy-tinged worry was irksome but also rather endearing. The conflict of emotions struck me silent.

"Nelavi should be ready with the lunch." Vesija's expression softened into a faint smile. "I bet she will say you should have taken the sliver."

I pouted. "And offer more, perhaps? Or have you claimed an exclusive access to my services?"

"Oh, I hope so." Vesija wrapped an arm around my waist. "I'll book all of your hours right now. But first, lunch. Bean cakes, fried in the fat of a sharp-quilled critter she traded from a local trapper."

"Sounds exquisite."

"You may jest, but in the open fields a warm meal is always a luxury."

"I'm perfectly earnest about my love of game meat." Even the scrawniest vermin was better than scrap machines. "Nobody in my family may remain unaccustomed to venery."

As Father said, it didn't matter how many levels of delegation there was between the desire and the execution. If you eat meat, you're a killer. Besides, hunting was the only practical application of the Old Art that didn't involve the danger of being on the receiving end of needles.

"That I can believe", Vesija said. "Maybe we'll take the time go on a hunting trip. It's been a while. Last time I went on a chase was as a boy."

I resisted the impulse of saying 'me too'.

The medicine show sneaked out of Trove right after nightfall just as we had from Tankai. Our retreat went no further than beyond a low hill, behind which the morning wouldn't reveal us to peering eyes at the Trove. We ate a light evening meal with the crew and repaired into the cabin. I slipped on a nightgown, even though there was still hours before sleep was pertinent.

When I asked, if Vesija had developed this tendency to slip away unannouced in order to avoid unsatisfied customers, he readily admitted it. Not because any of his products were faulty, he said, but because impatient customer expected immediate results due to the 'irresponsible marketing of quacks'.

"It has become tiresome to always explain that they have bought real articles instead of wishful thinking." The chirurgeon pulled back his sleeves and sunk his hands into the basin to wash our share of the dinner utensils. "Besides, I rest better under the open night sky away from the fitful sleep of human settlement."

"At the threat of coming off as a city slicker, the trackless plain in the dark makes me uneasy." I threw myself on the bed. "Not inside this sturdy wagon, but definitely in a flimsy fabric shelter."

"There's little danger on the steppe." Vesija's voice had a wistful tinge. "Too much space for man or beast to stumble on anyone. Proximity to the lights and noise of civilisation brings more risks, or so I feel. That might be my upbringing, I admit that readily."

"Well, I can see the logic, even if it's unintuitive. Besides, there's the Vad plague. No such thing here in the fresh air."

Vesija paused his sponge-work. "Right."

"Speaking of that: you are a physician and a local, so you must have a theory on its origin."

His voice sharpened: "Well, what hope do I have solving the mystery, when the brightest minds of Jaan academy have puzzled over it and failed?"

"I didn't mean to offend."

"You didn't..." He finished the dishes in silence and sat on the bed. "I apologise. That sort of question is usually accompanied by implied accusation." He rubbed my stockinged foot.

"Ah. I didn't consider it that way."

The man smiled. "No doubt that's true."

Vesija warmed us small cups of spiced water. He pulled a chair to the bed, on which I remained with my legs coiled and hips cocked.

"Did we make a decent profit today?" I asked.

"It wasn't a loss." He let out an amused sigh. "I was forced to recommend less technical ––cheaper–– cures, a habit which I loathe. But no business runs on good will alone. I did accept artefacts as payment, even if they tend to be garbage that generations of archaeologists didn't bother to pick up. In essence trash, notably old trash but trash still. But such trinkets have a bit of value as curiosities, once ferried far enough from here."

"Keep my share then. In fact, keep all of my share from now on, until I've repaid for everything. The clothes, the tonics, the lot."

"There's no need for that."

"Yes, there is. I don't want to be a burden."

"It'd be debt slavery."

I pursed my lips. "Don't you want to have a slave like me?"

Instead of playing along, Vesija's face twisted with unease. "Please, don't even joke about that."

"Even if the jest was in poor taste, mark down everything I owe ––you may fudge the costs down, if you really want to–– and I'll pay from my shares. Afterwards, you don't have to fear that I feel beholden to you."

"Right." Vesija rediscovered his smile. "It should be possible to adjust the compensation for business expenses to a level that is fair to us both." Meaning, I presumed, that he was willing to indulge my budding sense of responsibility, but adverse to imposing any inconvenient financial obligations. That suited me well enough, because it solved the potential implications of what came next.

"So, when shall you introduce me to the in-depth experience of manhood?"

"What––" Vesija's pupils flared: the typical 'predatory reflex' endemic in my people.

I only had a moment to wonder at the amount of Jaan stock in the chirurgeon's ancestry. For all his bulk, the man moved quick. I couldn't have pulled a pistol between us, before he was on me. He pushed me into the cushions with intensity that should have been terrifying. I giggled. He really had that primordial man locked inside the veneer of sophistication and velvet. A strange sense of gratitude, of that he was comfortable of letting out that side of himself in my presence, filled my distracted mind.

The man moved on top of me, but remembered his own clothes. He stood back up and undressed with all haste.

"Stop", I said. "Flex your frame for me."

As a physician and an athlete, Vesija was thoroughly aware of his own body, which served well the showmanship that suffused him. He knew how to turn his arms and twist his torso to bring out his best corporeal qualities. All this he managed without making himself appear clownish. Neither of us had the patience for a long demonstration. He dropped on the bed, this time beside me.

"Have you done this before?" he whispered.

"No." Neither as the instigator or the victim.

In the Conglomerate pulp I had consumed, the act was often alluded to but rarely described. The depiction varied from degrading submission to the bliss of spiritual union. Neither extreme made sense. I personally hoped the mental aspects might compensate for the likely uncomfortable physicality, which the unnatural act was bound to have.

The man built steam in me with the application of kisses and roaming hands. Once I was just about done, he turned me on my side with back towards him. My insides hovered, while the man worked with a tube of ointment. A slick finger pushed into the entrance. The sensation brought a surge of shame through me; it couldn't be entirely healthy to allow such denigration. The embarrassment did not wilt the flame in me, however, but blew it into a brighter blaze. My body was to be a vessel of virile satisfaction, and the experience wasn't to be only one way.

His hand guided my leg up. Soon he found my instinctual resistance loosed and withdrew. If his finger was a key, the next was a battering ram. He pressed into me gently, yet it was enough to lance discomfort into me.

Impatience filled my mind. The preliminaries had lasted for long enough. Against reason, I pushed my hips against the pain. My desire possessed the man, and he shed his excess care.

Maybe he was too thick as an introduction. It didn't matter. He hadn't set out to conquer the fabled gates of lost Diria, but yielding flesh. His arms wrapped around me with little concern for anything save keeping his prey in place. His heavy breath scalded my neck.

The siege did not end with the terminus of the first assault. Withdrawal led to another charge, and another. Each thrust faced less opposition. I was moulded to the service of my man.

In spite of the tantalising intensity, the pleasure I experienced wasn't quite thorough. The fire in me roared into a frustrating heat. I reached down to handle my of own satisfaction. Vesija grabbed my wrist and eased his pace.

"You just enjoy yourself." His grunts were deep, animalistic. "That suits a lady of leisure. It's good, right?"

"Yeah", I mewled. "But I need..."

"Right." He moved his hand to take a gentle pincer hold. He squeezed me in ways, which would have demeaned anything but the essence of softness.

Combined with the pressure deep inside me, his touch was too much. A tension in my lower core burst and struck my inner eye blind. Vesija had broken me, for even in the ensuing daze I knew that the climax had been my only of similar intensity.

The man continued this torment of delight, until he reached his own thoroughly masculine satisfaction.

With my faculties in better order, I dreaded the regret that might come after the post-coital haze. Inside the tender embrace of Vesija, nothing such came to pass. I had been sullied, but only in the strictest physical sense. Not even the lingering hot discomfort dampened my glow of joy.

"Promise me a thing", I said in a raspy whisper.

"Anything."

"Don't tire of this."

"Of course."