The travelers walked along in companionable silence. After three days on the road, they had begun naturally falling into a steady pace that both of them could maintain more or less indefinitely.

The Westerling girl, Kira, had her gaze angled down at the road a few feet in front of her, but her face was blank, her eyes unfocused. Kara, on the other hand, kept her eyes slowly ranging from left to right and back again. Every so often she half turned to check the road behind them. She also occasionally allowed her gaze to linger on her daydreaming companion.

Over the past few days the girl had taken on an eclectic appearance, which Kara had grown to find endearing.

After the rain and various activities, there had been almost no trace of woad left on the girl's face. Late on the first day of their trek, while they passed through a stretch of forest, she had spotted wild blueberries. Along with a pleasant snack, it had provided a source of blue dye, which she later mixed with ash from their next cookfire. So, starting on the second day, she had marked her face anew. (That night she had amused herself decorating Kara's body with some of the mixture, but none of the decorations showed after Kara dressed herself.)

Emerging from that forest, they found a village just a stone's throw away. Kara dipped into her winnings. A bit for food and drink, but the greater expenditure went for some clothes for Kira, who had been wearing a few things Kara had stolen from a clothesline on their way out of the fishing village.

So it was that the girl now wore boots, off-white tights (already colored here and there by the dust of the road), a white peasant blouse with a loosely laced V-neck (also victim to the touch of dirty hands), and a simple green woolen cloak. This while still sporting her improvised woad and her nose ring. An extra pair of tights had been stuffed into their bedroll, which Kira insisted on carrying.

It was after noon, and their breakfast had been a couple of bite sized oat cakes each. Doubtless Kira would be more than happy to stop for lunch. So far, the list of the girl's favorite things consisted of sex, eating, and rambling in her own tongue while tracing Kara's various scars with a fingertip. The half elf had an inkling the ramblings were the girl entertaining herself by making up stories to explain the scars.

With a tap and a gesture, Kara left the road and waded through the undergrowth to a convenient waist-high boulder matted in lichen. While the two enjoyed their repast, Kara brought out the translation of the copper scroll. She read over the remaining list of 'flowers.' As soon as she had remembered, on the first day walking with Kira, she had checked the actual scroll and found that a few more lines of script had indeed vanished.

The list was down to five. A brazen burnished blossom in the shadow of dead mountains. A hearty blue iris of the frozen Northern isles. A regal orchid of the black glass shores. A blooming nightshade of the Endless Sands. And a hidden lotus of shifting form.

She had some idea about the first four. The last one was a total mystery. Staring at the translation as if it might eventually give up and explain itself, she chewed absently at a piece of dried fish. Eventually Kira glanced curiously over her shoulder.

“Clausa?”

Learning a handful of words and phrases each from the other had helped pass the time. Kira had taken most quickly to the names of food and drink in the common tongue, while Kara had focused on Westerling words that a traveler might need. Despite this learning, the girl seemed intent on calling Kara by her Westerling nickname. Though, admittedly, with affectionately sarcastic overtones, instead of the insulting racist ones it usually carried. Kara was fairly certain it no longer had anything to do with confusion regarding the similarity in their names.

Kara shrugged and tucked the translation away again. She finished her fish and washed it down with a mouthful of water. Brushing her hands off, she moved to retrieve her pack.

“Ready? Alright, back to the road. If the weather holds we might make it to Port au Racine before full dark.”

Situated roughly two Imperial miles inland from the sea, on the Eastern bank of the Shein-Marivell River, was the town of Port au Racine. The town was essentially the village where Kara had met Kira and the Northmen, but grown from a population of around two hundred to somewhere around two thousand. Girded on one side by the river and on the other by forest, and being so close to the sea, the town had prospered on industry. The industries of shipbuilding, carpentry, fishing, and shipping timber inland on the river meant a lot of job opportunity. Humans, elves, and even a few dwarves, down on their luck or looking for a fresh start, had gradually filtered in. Even now the town was slowly growing. Small plots of land being cleared by the logging camps were being sold to those who could pay.

It was left to the logging camps to tend to their own security, but the town proper was encircled by a tall pine palisade with a sturdy gatehouse facing the River Road. A crescent moon was climbing the night sky when the two women stepped up to the gatehouse. In the light of torches mounted in high iron brackets, Kara caught the girl's attention and pressed a finger to her lips. Kira rolled her eyes and shrugged dismissively.

Deciding to assume that that meant the girl would let her do the talking, Kara took some care in administering three kicks to one of the large plank doors. In doing so she got some impression of the door – that it was thick, heavy, and barred on the other side.

There was a moment of relative silence followed by the grating sound of a small iron plate being slid from an arrow loop a couple of inches above Kara's eye line. The rectangular opening was darkened by a stripe of the gate guard's face. Torchlight glimmered on big, bloodshot eyes.

When the man spoke, his voice betrayed such inebriation that Kara could almost smell it.

“W-... uh, we... izss late. Yer closed. I... we, we're closed. The gate is. Y'can see that. S'closed.”

Kara considered how best to deal with this.

“Uh, wuh... wuhyawant?” the man demanded when his brain belatedly dredged up a vague recollection of protocol.

“We are travelers. We seek a room for the night.” Kara replied evenly.

There was another pause while the man's wit took advantage of his dissolved better judgment.

“Yer on th' wrong side'a'th' door fur 'at. Heh.”

Kara supposed that stabbing him through the little window would probably turn out to be more trouble than the satisfaction was worth.

“Yes. Perhaps you could let us in?” she said instead.

“Mm,” the lout belched, seeming to surprise himself, “'s one Inn with rooms. 'S tuppence for mah risk 'n' trouble.”

Kara sighed.

“Very well.”

“Tha'sss tuppence f'reach uh yuh. Or 'nless y'wanna work sumfin out.”

Kara resisted the urge to make a theatrical gagging noise in response to the singularly repugnant suggestion. Kira wore a doubtful frown.

“Four pence then. For your trouble.” Kara said as agreeably as she could manage.

“Mm.”

The gleaming eyes receded, and the little iron plate slid back into place. There was some rattling and scraping of wood, interspersed with muttered cursing. Finally the door was opened enough to admit the two travelers.

The guard accepted the coins from Kara and examined them blearily in the flickering torchlight before poking them into a pouch on his belt. He pointed past the women and made a few exaggerated gestures, then turned to close and bar the door.

“Up Main Street, turn right a' th' sign o' the Fish Head. Wash fur Hostelmaw House. 'S always a room or two open.”

He started to close the door, seemingly done with them, then paused.

“Mind ye bar th' door tuh yer room. Mark me... don' forget.” he trailed off into mumbles while hefting the bar into it's brackets.

“Go 'way now.” he said loudly, though the travelers were already on their way.

* * *

The night at Hostelmaw House passed uneventfully. Both women woke with a vague impression of strange noises in the hall outside their room, but the apprehension felt like the remnants of a dream – and like a dream, faded quickly.

With a nod to the odd, goggle-eyed proprietor, they departed the inn bright and early. Thankfully the gates of the palisade wall were by this time wide open, and the previous night's guard was elsewhere – presumably sleeping it off. So Kara and Kira rejoined their trek North to the mouth of the river and the great port cities on the coast of the North Sea.

They shared the road with people and carts moving in both directions. Swaggering knots of sailors or pirates. Ox or horse drivers with carts of hay, honey, barrels of whiskey, or salted fish. A traveling tinker with his mule-drawn shambles of tools and trinkets. A furrier on a tall horse, both draped in the goods of his trade. A monk who struck Kara as vaguely familiar.

This close to the busy ports of the coast the River Road was too broad, busy, and straight to be popular with brigands and thieves. Too, it was more common here for anyone utilizing the road to go armed.

A pair of boisterous young seafarers did join the women for a time. Human, and clearly walking on sea-legs, they looked inclined to get handsy. They settled for joking and telling tall tales, however, after Kara merrily greeted them while ostentatiously drawing attention to her knives.

Come dusk, they reached Black Fisher Point. The single largest port city in Lesanne, it was named for the huge black feathered pelicans that were already present, fishing the coastal waters, when the first settlers arrived. Certain superstitions concerning the birds had arisen amongst all those who plied the waves, and nobody dared kill one. For this reason they had lost all fear of humans, and could be seen not only fishing, but also resting on the decks of ships and walking amongst foot traffic on the piers.

It was in the heart of the city, where the River Road angled East and became the equally imaginatively named Coast Road, that the two young fellows parted company with the women. With well wishes and suggestive smiles they took a street leading up to the docks.

While Kara led the way along the Coast Road, Kira flitted from roadside shop to stall, looking over everything great curiosity and drawing a number of curious gazes in turn. After a few minutes leisurely stroll, Kara was gratified to find her intended destination still standing. Being a combination tavern and Inn, the Man-O-War was a large two story building.

It was the sort of establishment that thrived on the patronage of drunken sailors and fishermen, and usually a few thieves and whores who would like to separate the sailors and fishermen from their money. At least, it was when last she visited. Kara checked to be sure Kira was following before crossing the threshold.

She took a few steps inside and paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Oil lamps burned at either end of the bar and on a few tables.

Glancing around, Kara found that little had changed. The tradition of not cleaning had been carried on and extended beyond the sooty windows, to include... everything. The smells of food cooking in the kitchen beyond the bar became mitigating factors as they mingled with the other scents; unwashed bodies, spilled grog, lamp soot, pipe smoke, and unwashed bodies.

Said unwashed bodies occupied seats at about half the tables. A lone grey-beard perched on the only stool at the bar, a cane propped beside him. Behind the bar an elf leaned against the wall to one side of the doorway leading to the kitchen. He wore drab, simple clothes and a stained leather apron. He also wore a 'Three-Isle-Smile' – scars running from the corners of his mouth out across his cheeks – so named because it was a wound commonly inflicted by grudge-and-knife bearing pirates and cut purses in the alleys of the port cities of the Pirate Isles. His long blond hair was woven into small braids which were pulled back and tied in a manner common amongst Elvish sailors.

Whereas the customers all seemed intent on their own pursuits, the barkeep looked up as the women entered. Armed customers, even female ones, were not so uncommon here, and he spared Kara only a moment's attention. Kira, on the other hand, garnered a lingering frown.

Oh well, thought Kara. A base level of suspicion about anything unusual was normal here, but so were unusual looking people. Only the most stupid (or most inebriated) patrons of the city would pick a fight over someone's appearance. Otherwise you'd never get anywhere for tripping over the bodies.

With that thought, Kara strode up to the bar. The old fellow looked up, leaned a bit closer and tipped his head, revealing that one of his eyes was clouded with cataracts. With his good eye he looked her up and down. All of her, but admittedly he spent longer on her chest than the rest.

“Grandpa.” she smiled, acknowledging his attention.

“Show me t'yer bed and I'll teach ye t'call me grandpa, y'slippery, knife-eared lubber.” he growled back immediately, though he developed a slow smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes and showed off the few teeth remaining in his head.

His smiled began to subside, then grew anew as he noticed Kira stepping up behind Kara.

“...at my time of life...” Kara overheard the grey-beard mutter as she returned her attention to the barkeep.

He had stepped closer to the bar and now stood with arms crossed, somehow pulling off both attentive and bored at the same time.

“Coin?” he asked bluntly, in Elvish.

Kara frowned. She fished in a pouch while she spoke.

“Aye. Two mugs and a pitcher of grog with lime in. And,” she paused and sniffed the air, “two bowls of rockfish stew.”

The barkeep showed no reaction whatsoever until she held forth a short stack of coins. He glanced at them as they jingled into his palm before making them disappear.

“Right. Sit or stand as you like. It'll be out shortly.” He turned away to yell back into the kitchen before she had a chance to respond.

The old fellow pulled his focus from Kira to give Kara a knowing look.

“Pissy little shit, isn't he?”

Watching the little shit in question relaying their order to the kitchen, in Elvish as it so happened, Kara gave a nod.

The old fellow quaffed down whatever was left of his drink and thumped the wooden mug down with a loud tok before emitting an impressive belch.

“Makes the bes' hango'er cure in the city, though.” he added, speaking to nobody in particular. “Only cos' a few silver.”

Gods, Kara mused, that much for a hangover cure? Was he using Miri's special recipe?

Out loud she asked, “Is it as good as all that?”

The grey-beard leered up at her and winked his good eye.

“Oh, aye. Red wine vinegar, little lemon, little lime, pinch o' sea salt and a raw gull's egg, with a splash of whiskey.”

Kara pulled a face.

“Sounds awful.”

“Oh, it is,” he guffawed, “but a'while yer drinkin' it, y'see, he sucks yer cock.”

Kara had turned to face the old man while he spoke. Chuckling at his colorful punchline, she realized that the pissy shit in question had returned to pour the pitcher she had ordered using a tap under the bar. She might've assumed the old timer was just making a joke at the barkeep's expense, except that the latter's ears and cheeks were turning a ruddy red, making his scars stand out. Unable to stop herself glancing his way, she found him adamantly avoiding her eyes.

“Er, he's a dab hand at that, but I dunno if'n he 'as the knack o' eatin' clams, if ye grok what I mean. But look 'ere, you could give 'im a few coppers for th' cocktail, and I could 'elp ye wi' th' dirty work. An' yer young friend...” the old timer added.

It crossed Kara's mind to wonder if her 'flowers' actually had to be female. She'd just assumed, seeing as that was how actual flowers worked. Might be worth testing some time, though preferably with someone more to her taste than this old man or the bar keep.

“A fine offer. We'll keep it in mind.” With a laugh, Kara clapped him on the shoulder before turning to collect mugs and pitcher from the bar. The barkeep had, to her amusement, decided that now was the time to hurry a tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

Catching Kira's eye, she nodded toward a table and headed in the indicated direction. Behind them, the old timer began tapping his empty mug on the bar.

“Heh, I'd pay for the cocktails, fur 'at matter.” Kara overheard him talking to himself as she poured their drinks before sitting.

She guessed that their conversation at the bar might have drawn some attention. After a swallow of grog she nonchalantly scanned the room. It seemed any attention they had drawn was short-lived. Relaxing somewhat, she settled back in her chair. She watched as Kira drank, lowered her mug, and wrinkled her nose.

The girl looked to Kara and smacked her lips, then sucked in her cheeks. Kara snorted.

“Tart. That's the lime. Trust me, it's better with than without.”

Kira assumed whatever Kara was saying, it was an explanation as to why they were drinking something that made your glands ache. She listened and waited for what she judged was an appropriate amount of time before shrugging. She sniffed the drink, then tried another sip. Strange. Despite her initial reaction to the most tart thing she had ever tasted, she found herself itching to try it again. And again. As if to verify that she had tasted what she had tasted.

Watching, Kara nodded.

“You've probably never had lime before. It grows on you.”

She was considering practicing some of the Westerling phrases she had learned with the girl, but just then a figure approached their table. A tall, mocha skinned beauty stopped beside the table and from a round tray served their bowls of stew. She also placed before them each a shallow wooden spoon and a fist-sized hunk of fresh bread. Kara hadn't ordered bread, but she hardly noticed it for the distraction of the serving wench.

The woman stood half a head taller than Kara – a bit longer of leg, but otherwise of similar proportions. Soft curves over muscle, though with a bit more bounce in her tits and ass. She wore trousers with slits up to the calf and a loose, billowy blouse left open in the front over a broad wrap of green cotton that covered and more or less contained her breasts. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up above her elbows, and on her arms and midriff she boasted a number of colorful tattoos.

A few long black braids bounced freely about her face as she served the stew and bread, the rest being pulled back and tied into a great skein, embellished here and there with bits of peach colored sea shell and carved bone beads. Her face was lovely, with full lips and big, dark, upturned eyes accentuated with a lining of kohl. Her skin had probably once been very soft, but there was a certain weathered, work-roughened quality now. This coupled with the squint lines around those alluring eyes spoke of time spent under the sun, out on the open sea.

Given the sort of ancestry her appearance suggested, Kara might have expected bangles, rings, and big hoop earrings. Instead the beauty wore a small diamond stud in her nose, small gold rings in her ears, and two similar rings set near the outer edge of her left brow. On a leather thong about her neck dangled a silver Massavedi – a Massavian coin worth about one quarter of a gold sovereign.

When the woman had finished serving them, she lowered her tray to her side. Kara saw that it hadn't started life as a tray, but rather as a shield. The arm strap had been removed, but the face of it, now revealed, bore bronze ribbing dotted with the square heads of iron nails. Beneath the ribbing it was painted in a style unfamiliar to Kara. Many-pointed stars and a crescent moon in white on a black background.

A thought belatedly occurred, and Kara was surprised it hadn't earlier. Chalk that up to her growing capacity for being distracted by attractive women. Developing a thousand-yard stare, she went over the by now memorized list of flowers. And... yes. A blooming nightshade of the Endless Sands.

Well, Kara thought, it was certainly worth a try.

She blinked when Kira reached across with her spoon and thumped her knuckles. When she looked up, Kira pointed the spoon at their shield-bearing server, who stood with her head tipped to one side.

“Uh. Pardon me...?” Kara ventured.

“Before I go, is zere anyting else you want?”

She spoke the common tongue, colored by a commingling of accents.

“Since you ask... perhaps you could assist a couple of travelers by answering a few questions?”

Braids bobbed and swung as the beauty shot a look back toward the bar. After a moment's thought she turned back and inclined her head.

“Ze scullery will abide a couple of minutes wit'out my attention. What is it you wish to know?”

“Well... it wasn't my main concern, but I was a little curious about the shield you're serving the food off of. The design doesn't look like anything from around here.”

As Kara finished speaking, the woman lifted the shield-cum-tray and angled it to look down at it's painted face.

“You like? It is a... keepsake. To remind of my homeland.”

“Your homeland?” Kara prompted.

“Yes. I was born and raised in Abharrik, a wealthy city. Much trade is done zere between Northern merchants and zose of ze Hamriti of Hazrahn. It is not so far South of the Great River.”

Kara nodded slowly. When she said the Great River, the woman referred to the Eastern offshoot of the Shein-Marivell, which split off at a point more than two hundred miles South of Lesanne's Southern borders. Thanks to her years of travel, Kara had a vague understanding of the political structures and religious beliefs of the peoples who populated the Desert of Endless Sands. Or at least, they populated the regions along it's borders, where there were enough resources to support some civilization.

The term Hamriti referred to the territory ruled over by an Hamrit (pronounced Ahm-reet) – a sort of combination king and high priest. Hazrahn was the name of the Hamrit currently ruling the territories of the Northern desert.

“I've never been South of the Great River,” Kara admitted, “But I have shared kafe with a few merchants from Hazrahn who came North to trade. They all liked to talk.”

She didn't add that they all liked her as well. She had received and declined several offers of a cushy life, were she to join the harem of one or another wealthy merchant. The men from Hazrahn seemed universally to view Elves as particularly desirable novelties. It was almost a fetish. Pointing out that she was only half Elven had done little to diminish their interest.

“Yes,” the woman smiled, “It is zed in Hazrahn; 'Four staves hold up ze merchant's tent: money, kafe, smoking, and talking.' If you have shared kafe with Hazrahn merchants, you know more of the Hamriti than most in zis place.”

Kara was not naturally an outgoing or gregarious sort. She would be the first to admit that what she made up for in wits and violence, she lacked in charisma.

“Yes, but I don't know much about you.” she was painfully aware of how lame the line was even as she said it. “Your name doesn't start with a 'k', does it?” she added without meaning to say it out loud.

The woman arched an eyebrow.

“Zey call me Sezira,” she answered, beginning to develop a smirk, “And you?”

“Kara. And Kira.” The half elf gestured first to herself, and then to the Westerling girl, who promptly repeated her name, with emphasis on the proper pronunciation.

“Zis one, I sink, was also not born in zis region.” Sezira observed, studying Kira. The girl returned the attention, apparently intrigued by the desert-born woman's braids and piercings.

“Dunmalin. Oh, about fifteen hundred miles West of here, give or take.” Kara agreed.

“Zat far, eh?”

Something about the distracted quality of Sezira's voice as she said it, and the way the two were looking at each other, prompted Kara to push on. Right after wolfing down a few spoonfuls of stew.

Wiping her lip, she ventured, “And... are you a free woman? Married? Servant?”

Sezira's face clouded for a moment. Then she made an odd, graceful encircling gesture with her free hand.

“My master owns zis place.”

“Oh.” Kara was nonplussed for a moment. She had rather assumed the serving woman would be in some form of relationship, but hadn't guessed... Of course, it was possible she said master and meant husband. She came from a culture that was very patriarchal. At any rate, in for a penny... “Is your master the jealous type?”

Shifting her focus between her curious customers, Sezira developed a sly grin.

“Not at all. My master relishes a chance to try something new. And I am always involved.” she let this hang on the air for a moment before adding, “You should stay, or return, if you would like an introduction. We close around midnight.”

That said, she turned and headed back to the kitchen. Kara admired the tight fit of her trousers across her backside for a moment before shifting her attention, only to find Kira still rubber-necking. It seemed Kira's enthusiasm regarding new sexual experiences hadn't waned any. And the woman had seemed interested in them both, so maybe it was all for the best.

When Sezira had disappeared back into the kitchen, Kira looked to Kara, smiled and raised her eyebrows. Kara rolled her eyes, but nodded.

“Cuts quite a figure, doesn't she? Well, we'll see what's what come midnight. Now quite grinning like an Elvish tree cat and eat your stew before it gets cold.” Kara jabbed her spoon at the girl's bowl before digging into her own meal.

The food was simple, but good. The grog was nothing special to Kara, but Kira was still intrigued by the lime-spiked concoction. Around the time they were finishing off the pitcher, she used a Westerling expression with which Kara had become familiar. With a grunt of agreement Kara hefted her pack and led the girl out into the night and across the Coast Road to a thin copse of keel oaks. Amidst the copse, lit by seamen's oil lamps hung on the stubs of clipped limbs, was a short, stout wooden structure with three doors. Public outhouses like this were a service provided by the City Magistrate, paid for by the taxes everyone loved to gripe about.

Kara took a lamp and handed another to Kira. Opening one of the doors, she pointed out the few features of the tiny 'sitting room', including the leather loop nailed into the door which could be looped over a peg in the frame to 'lock' the door.

When they had both emerged again, feeling decidedly less sloshy, Kara checked the sky. There were thin clouds scudding along further inland, but the moon was visible. She guessed it was about an hour yet until midnight.

Once back inside the Man-o-War, Kara handed her pack off to Kira and motioned the girl back to their table, holding up a finger to indicate she'd join her in just a moment. That done, she strode over to the bar and rapped on it with the knuckles of one hand. The old grey-beard looked up blearily, having recently crossed the threshold into properly drunk territory.

“'S not a door, y'know 'at? Ye... y'know... Knife-ears. Y'don't 'ave tuh knock. Y'see. Y' jus' yell at 'im. Go 'head.” At which point he turned to holler hoarsely at the bartender, who stood back by the kitchen door frame like before, looking unimpressed like before. “Oi! Knife-ears... come, come serve Knife-ears, here. Heh. Y'good fer nothin' smiley bastard.”

The bartender stared daggers at them both for a long moment before stepping closer. Kara glanced from the old man to the elf, gave a vaguely apologetic shrug.

“Nevermind, girl. When he gets drunk – which is most every night – he doesn't know or care what color are the coins he leaves. Or he secretly does, and it's his idea of penance. Either way, i've made a fair few extra silver off of his thirsty liver the last couple of years.”

Being called 'girl' by the likes of Smiley would normally warrant an unkind retort, but under the circumstances Kara let it slide.

“Ah? Right. Anyway, I'll be wanting a room for the night. One bed is fine. Something with a lock and key for preference.”

Smiley grunted noncommittally, considering this for a moment while wiping at a spot on the bar with a dirty rag.

“Room six, middle of the hall upstairs. There's rings set in door and frame, inside and out.” He ducked down and fished around behind the bar, coming up with a heavy iron warded lock, with a key tied via slipknot to the curving bar with a bit of hemp twine. These he settled on the bar with a heavy thump, while holding his other hand out, palm up.

“Two silver, and that includes nothing extra.”

It was a bit on the pricey side, even for a relatively expensive city like Black Fisher Point. With a frown, Kara nonetheless paid the sum without a fuss. Hopefully the planned rendezvous with the serving woman, Sezira, would take her mind off such concerns.

With lock and key in hand, Kara took Kira upstairs with her to check out the room. If it were infested with vermin or the roof was leaking, better to find out while she could still complain to the staff and switch rooms.

The room turned out to be simple and somewhat spartan, but clean and structurally sound. Checking the window, Kara found that there were a couple of stout iron bars in an iron frame secured within the window frame. On a small night stand was a single stumpy candle seated in a small clay dish.

Kara left their pack and bedroll on the bed. She tested the lock a couple times before fastening it on the outside of the door and hiding the key about her person.

The two passed a tall grizzled fellow and what was almost certainly a lady of negotiable affection on the stair, both of whom moved in a rum scented cloud. They were too busy groping each other and stumbling their way up the steps to pay anyone else any attention.

Down in the tavern, Smiley was herding the last of the patrons out the door. Kara was surprised to see that the old grey-beard from the bar was up and walking. Well, you could call it walking if you wanted to be generous.

Turning back after barring the door, Smiley noticed Kara standing at the bar, Kira perching atop the stool beside her.

“Oi, we're closed for the night. Back up to your room if you're staying. You don't want to be here when our night watchman comes through.”

Kara gave him a dismissive look.

“Sezira asked us to stay.”

Smiley frowned, then shrugged.

“Good. Tell her I moved the coin to the lockbox. And I'm for bed.” He spoke over a shoulder while crossing the room to the stairs.

Before Kara could begin to wonder about the night watchman, a familiar figure emerged from the kitchen doorway. Followed by an unfamiliar one.

“Ah, so, you stayed. I am glad.” Sezira smiled.

Kara hesitated, her smile faltering as the unfamiliar figure stepped around Sezira to stop and stand impassively behind the bar. It was an Elf... Of sorts. He was tall and lean, but still more heavily set than most Elves. His almost-white blond hair, shoulder length, was pulled tightly back into a tail that hung at the nape of his neck. Made more prominent by this were his ears – longer and pointier even than those of the full blooded Elves native to Lessane. Rather than pale, his skin was the stark, opaque color of white marble, making his pale blue eyes stand out.

“Zis is Misha. Ah, Mikhail to you,” Sezira explained, noticing the women's distraction, “our night watchman. He is from Ilyev.”

Kara nodded slowly. She had seen Ilyevi Elves a few times on the Pirate Isles. And one amongst the bodyguards of one of the Hazrahn merchants. Ilyev was the last strictly Elvish kingdom left, lying even further East and North of Lessane than the Dunmalin tribes were West. They were renowned – or infamous – for their stoicism, tolerance for the cold, and disdain for humans. This last was seen by other Elves as somewhat ironic, since the Ilyevi had developed a sturdier, 'more human' build than their more Southern counterparts. Though, to be fair, the Ilyevi were fairly disdainful of other Elves – and other sapient species – as well.

On the rare occasion that one of them left the homeland, it was either as a pirate or a mercenary fighter. They had a reputation for speaking little and being extraordinarily difficult to kill.

At the mention of his name, the Elf spared a brief look at Kara and Kira, raising his chin slightly in a gesture of acknowledgment. Kara remembered the Ilyevi had their own language, so it was hard telling whether or not this one understood the common tongue. Unable to ignore her curiosity, she leaned forward over the bar to look. The watchman wore a broad leather belt – almost a girdle – over his drab linen clothes. At one hip a smallsword hung naked through an iron loop attached to the girdle. At the other hip a hand ax – a boarding ax, in fact, with a whittled down handle – dangled in a similar, but larger loop.

“Do not mind him. I have told him I would have company. Come. My master will be in our personal quarters.” Sezira turned, gesturing for them to follow.

Well, Kara thought, if the desert-born woman had been plotting something, surely she would have made use of this very capable looking fellow. Going on appearances alone, Kara would not care to tangle with him. So thinking, she made her way around behind the bar and followed Sezira into the kitchen.

Kira lagged behind, having trouble pulling her attention away from the Ilyevi. Her people called regular elves 'knife-ears.' If they only knew.

Finally she turned away and followed Kara past shelves of pots and pans, a large woodstove, tables, barrels, and an extra cauldron full of soaking dishes. In the left rear corner of the kitchen was a sturdy door that opened into a short hallway, which led to a stair.

Sezira led them up, not bothering to fetch a light nor to comment on the dark. From above was a faint, dim light, and when they came into the room at the top, they found it lit by several candles. These were set in fine silver holders formed with saucer to catch the dribbling wax and a ring to aid in carrying. They were placed seemingly at random around the room.

The room was an exotic mishmash – a bit like Sezira's accent. Rugs and beaded curtains and tasseled pillows from the Hamriti. A seaman's lantern next to a stack of books in Elvish on a shelf. The pelt of a Western black bear on the floor. An oak sea chest next to a bronze statuette of a mermaid holding a sand dollar like a serving tray against one scaly hip – a small clay cup of the sort used for drinking rum had been left on the convenient flat surface.

“Your master...” Kara began, still looking around at the eclectic décor.

Sezira had stepped through one of the beaded curtains, into an alcove which the candles cast in shadow.

“She is glad to welcome you.” It sounded as if she were either changing clothes or practicing some form of light exercise.

“She?” It took Kara just a moment, then she pulled an exasperated face. She plunked down on the edge of the bed and glared at the curtain and the shadows moving beyond it. “You don't have a master, do you?”

“Very perceptive. I am my own keeper. My given name is Sabalhasna al Hazred. A few years ago I was second mate on ze St. Etienne's Saber.”

Kara had heard of the ship. One of a small pirate fleet plying the Eastern waters of the North Sea.

“Zey called me Requin de Sable then.”

“Sand shark.” Kara translated quietly.

“Just so.”

“And... Wait, you said- If you-... You own this place?” Kara put together with more than a little surprise.

“If you were drunk, you hid it well... until now.” Sezira teased.

“I can be a little slow,” Kara admitted, “Let's say I was distracted by your beauty.”

Sezira paused in whatever she was doing to laugh.

“I suppose I will not argue wiz zat.” she allowed, “And yes, I own zis place. When I decided to retire from pirating, I took my share of silver and settled here in Ze Point. Worked here until ze former owner passed away. Zen bought ze deed from ze city clerk's office.”

“Impressive.”

While Kara and their host traded banter, Kira drifted around the room, examining various curiosities. When she had eyeballed everything that asked for it, she wondered briefly what was taking so long. Then she spent another moment becoming bored before considering the bed. Warming to the idea, she sat down next to Kara, then leaned back and wiggled her way to the center of the mink-blanketed expanse.

“Thank you,” Sezira slowly emerged from the alcove, letting the beaded curtain trail back over her as she moved into the candlelight.

As Kara took in her new appearance, her eyebrows rose. Having closed her eyes to fully enjoy the comfort of the bed, Kira glanced up at the rattle of beads and gave a classic appreciative 'oooo.'

Having shed her clothes and replaced them with a long white mantle of thin, semi translucent material which draped her shoulders and hung to her upper thighs, Sezira presented a vision which might once have inspired the carving of idols and the painting of cave walls. Her face, like her body, was obscured only enough to add an enticing anticipation, by a veil of similar material. There came an odd, high pitched chime, or chorus of chimes, each time she moved.

Finding her audience most attentive, Sezira smiled and ever so slowly raised her hands up over her head. It became evident that the sheer white robe was slit up both sides, allowing her arms free movement. And as her arms came properly into view, silk scarves of scarlet and purple trailed and twirled against the curves of her body from where they were tied at her wrists and above her elbows. The desert beauty paused with wrists crossed above her head, rising on the balls of her feet and opening her hands, wherein little brass cymbals were clasped.

She held this pose for several seconds, eyes holding Kara's through the gauzy veil, before cutting the silence with the sharp, tinny sound of the cymbals. It was a different sound from the chimes which accompanied her bodily movement. And when that sound had finished reverberating in their ears, finally she moved.

First it was just her hips. They shifted to the right. Then left, and right again, slowly. Then back and forth in a short, rapid flurry, making a soft hiss against the ephemeral fabric draping her form. The chiming came in time with her movements. Kara had picked out tiny bells on anklets of woven leather thongs, but as Sezira began to move her upper body, she realized that there were another pair of similar bells – these ones suspended, via fine silver rings, from their host's nipples.

Sezira paused again, then tapped a heel, setting a slow rhythm with the bells at her ankle.

Ching.

She began to shift her hips and shoulders.

Ching.

She rolled her lean tummy, thrusting forth her breasts and then pelvis in turn.

Ching.

Closing her eyes and letting her head tip languidly side to side in time to her dance, she trailed her long arms along each other, curling out to one side and then the other.

Ching.

And out in front of her. Opening her dark eyes again she caught Kira's wide green ones. Still dancing and moving her arms like twin hypnotic serpents, she curled and uncurled her fingers, turning it into a beckoning gesture.

Ching-shuhk-Shing.

Sezira took a couple very short steps closer. While Kara watched from where she sat, Kira crept on all fours to the edge of the bed next to her, as if spellbound.

Having artfully spun the little cymbals around to the outsides of her fingers, the ex-pirate snaked her hands out to brush lightly, tickling, along the Westerling's jaw and cheeks. She then leaned closer and lifted her hands to the back of the veil where it was held in place by a pair of pins. While she drew the pins, she shimmied, making the bells on her piercings jingle as her tits bounced and swayed.

She paused then to cast the veil aside and Kira took advantage of the opportunity, reaching out to flick one of the little bells through the thin fabric. With a fresh smile, Sezira dipped in and stole a quick, shallow kiss.

Turning about, the dark beauty surprised Kara by planting herself in the half elf's lap. Of course, she didn't just sit. She moved with the same sensual grace as before. Hips rolling, ass moving almost as if they were already fucking. Leaning back against Kara, Sezira snaked an arm around and worked her fingers up into the hair at the back of Kara's neck. She parted her lips and cut her eyes back at Kara, who needed no special hints.

Sliding her arms around the other woman's middle, Kara tipped her own head and pressed into a deep kiss. After just a moment, Kara felt the familiar sensations of her change, and was a little surprised it hadn't come sooner. She moaned softly, partly in response to the change, and partly the kiss. The dark beauty in her lap seemed to take it as just a mundane moan of arousal.

Kara thought that Sezira might be unusually accepting of her curse-induced growth, so naturally it picked this occasion to slide unobtrusively up along her lower belly, restrained and hidden by her clothes, drawing no attention. Mostly occupied with their kiss, a small part of Kara's mind began considering what fun might be had by getting creative with her method of revealing her still stiffening staff.

Eventually breaking their kiss, Sezira rose, turned, and took Kara's hands to pull her up onto her feet. Deftly untying the scarves from her own wrists, she twined them together and lifted the makeshift blindfold to Kara's face, mindful of the ears as she cinched it behind her head.

Meanwhile, Kira stood on the bed, hunching enough to avoid crowning herself on the ceiling, and undressed. Bemused by the enthusiasm, Sezira looked up to watch as more of the pale little Westerling's body was revealed. Squatting beside the bed, she slowly rose, placing her hands on Kira's thighs and gliding them up. And as her hands drifted up over the swell of hips to the girl's sides, Sezira wetted her tongue and extended it to lick from just above the patch of dark hair on the girl's sex on up over her tummy. Almost standing fully again, she withdrew her tongue to playfully pinch one of the girl's nipples between her teeth.

Kira dropped her top aside, moaned appreciatively and let her fingers trail through the desert woman's long raven braids. The two shared a moment, but it was interrupted before they could further pursue their fun.

“Hullo? Oi, I'm blindfolded, not asleep. Is this any way to treat a guest... After getting her all hot and-”

The other two shared a knowing look, then, as one, turned their attention to the waiting Kara. They worked together to slowly, teasingly remove her armor and then clothing. Kissing, caressing, and nibbling here and there. As they got down to her underthings, Kara waited for the reaction to her secret being revealed. Mostly there was a thrill of anticipation, but still there lingered a shadow of concern that it might not go over well.

Sensing an opportunity for fun, Kira tapped Sezira on the shoulder and gestured for her to step back. Moving around to kneel quite close to Kara, so as to obscure their host's view, Kira removed the half elf's loinwrap and, smiling, lifted the hem of her undershirt. She gestured over her shoulder for Sezira to join her.

Kira shifted to one side. Sezira moved in again, eager to become better acquainted with the blindfolded mercenary's body. Her smile went slack and her eyes widened in disbelief. Kira grinned, one hand cupping Kara's balls while the other loosely encircled her shaft, as if proudly presenting a trophy.

When Sezira eventually glanced to Kira, as if for some kind of confirmation that this was really happening, Kira bobbed her eyebrows suggestively. She nodded up at Kara, then dipped to run her tongue up the underside of Kara's erection. Sezira regained her smile when Kara gasped and tensed in response.

Inching herself to the side, Kira took one of Sezira's hands and guided it up behind Kara's balls. Again the desert woman's weathered but beautiful features shifted across a range of expressions. Uncertainty, curiosity, surprise, intrigue, and smoldering excitement. Sliding her fingers over Kara's mound elicited another gasp, followed by a low moan.

The two women murmured appreciatively when Kara's cock twitched and bobbed in response to Sezira's fingers slithering in amongst the half elf's dampening folds.

“Amazing.”

“Glad you like it.” Kara quipped, only slightly embarassed.

“You're... not a jinni? Or Jinniya...”

Kara blurted a nervous laugh.

“No. No, I'm just an unlucky half elf. Would you believe I was cursed... by a dragon?”

Sezira gave Kara's straining member an appraising look.

“I'm not sure everyone would call zis a curse.” she smirked.

“Well, given, it's not all mmp!” Kara broke off with a shudder as Sezira curled two fingers up into her.

“Sorry. What was zat?”

Kira, meanwhile, had crept around onto the bed behind Kara again. She tapped here and there, getting Kara to raise her arms so that the Westerling could pull her undershirt up and off. With that done, Kira kissed her shoulder, collar, neck. Hugged her and slid her hands over Kara's tummy and up, to tweak her nipples.

“I think, mm, now might not be the time for talking.” Kara ventured.

“I think so too.” Sezira agreed before smoothly taking half of Kara's length into her mouth.

Kara found herself the subject of a sort of slow torture, helplessly subject to pleasure as opposed to pain. She fidgeted and moaned, hands going uncertainly from Kira's teasing hands to Sezira's bobbing head and back to grip the blanket beneath her when the combined attentions caused brief, intense spikes of pleasure.

After getting her nice and spit-sticky, Sezira removed her mouth and leant back to admire the effect. After a few moments' reflection, during which she hummed an odd but happy tune, she removed her finger cymbals and slipped off her gauzy top. She wrapped the cymbals in the garment and placed it out of the way under the bed.

Pausing in the act of nibbling on Kara's ear, Kira said something in her native tongue. Sezira had no idea about the words, but the sentiment behind it was quite clear. The Westerling was happily drinking in the view of her now gloriously free breasts.

“Thank you. Now, let us see if the cursed one likes zem as well as you.”

Kneeling between Kara's legs, Sezira inched even closer yet, lifting her breasts over Kara's lap until she felt the hot nudge of a magical cock. She adjusted a bit, then slowly lowered her tits. Kara murmured and let her head tip back as soft, warm pressure slid down along her shaft. There was the soft tinkling of tiny bells.

The tinkling became an offbeat jingling as Sezira pressed her tits snug around Kara's cock and worked them up and down. Kira, meanwhile, switched to licking and nibbling her lover's other ear while gently kneading her breasts.

About the time Kara's moans began coming more quickly, and she began rolling her hips against the rhythm of Sezira's bouncing tits, the desert beauty got her feet under her and rose.

“Hm?” Kara rolled her hips a few more times, her throbbing cock swinging free, before stopping.

“Here,” Sezira took Kara's hands and helped her stand, “Stand up. It will be better zis way.”

“It was rather good as it was.” Kara observed, breathing heavily.

“Trust me.”

Leaning a bit around Kara, Sezira threw Kira a few fairly universal gestures. While she moved to reintroduce her tits to Kara's quivering quarterstaff, Kira came to the very edge of the bed. She rolled over onto her back, scootched until she was directly behind Kara again, then slid herself forth, like a carter checking a broken axle.

Kara had little time to ponder why she felt little hands come to rest on her hips, as Kira pressed her face up between her thighs from below and behind. While Sezira added a bit more lubricating saliva and set her little bells to jangling again, the Westerling licked up Kara's juices – first from the half elf's balls where they were smeared, and then from her dripping pussy lips. And eventually, while Kara moaned above, she wormed her tongue in to coax more from the source.

Their hostess had been right. This was better. Kara spread her legs and bent her knees, both to help her balance and to begin thrusting in time with the rise and fall of Sezira's breasts around her throbbing cock.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, just before her rising pleasure overtook her, Kara reflected that their host might have had a point about her magical endowment as well. As curses went, it could be worse. Would she maybe miss this, after she finally finished her quest?

These thoughts, as well as the first hot twinges from the working muscles of her thighs, dwindled and disappeared from Kara's attention. Perhaps it was the unusual amount of rutting she had been enjoying recently, or another growing side effect of the curse, whatever the case, she was disinclined to hold anything back. Unrestrained cries of pleasure escaped her mouth, while below Kira happily accepted hot juices into hers and Sezira dipped her head, managing to catch a few spurts of Kara's seed on her tongue.

Kara continued pumping for some time. Sezira, with all her experience, swallowed and laughed, impressed with the volume of hot cum erupting from between her breasts to spatter and drip from her chin and neck and run down between herself and Kara.

Sensing Kara finally come to a trembling stop, Kira turned her head to give the inside of one thigh a slippery kiss. Scootching back on the bed, withdrawing her head from between Kara's legs, the girl rolled over and sat up. Leaning forward, she again rested her hands on Kara's hips, this time to peer around and watch as Sezira slowly leaned away.

While Kara gave a satisfied murmur, the Westerling giggled at the glistening webwork of spunk that trailed out between Sezira's chest and Kara's lap. Smiling, the desertborn scooped a trail of jizz from her chin and flicked it at the girl. Kira ducked back behind Kara with a comical 'eep,' and a fresh round of giggles.

“I hope you can go again,” Sezira opined, still smiling.

With a full body shiver, Kara pushed up one side of her blindfold and opened her eye.

“Me too.” she managed, developing a sympathetic smile. “Let me help you clean some of that off.”

But Kira had reappeared, and slipped off the bed. She gently removed Kara's blindfold, then knelt to use it to sop up the sticky stream of semen between Sezira's tits. With a playful purr, she licked milky droplets from the woman's chin. While still quite close, the two locked eyes, then lips. Kara backed up a step and sat on the bed, content to enjoy the show for a bit while her recently sated extra bits subsided.

When, after a few minutes of wiping, kissing, and groping, the show came to an end, the two turned their attention to similarly cleaning Kara. Sezira decided to remove the little bells from her nipples and set them aside before fetching a damp cloth to help with the cleaning.

Between watching Kira and their host enjoying each other and the not entirely innocent way Sezira had gone about wiping clean her magical bits, said magical bits never did fully subside. Instead, she was half hard again when Sezira decided to take charge again.

Reaching out the fingers of one hand to each of her guests, she pinched a nipple in each. Pulling, she drew them to her. Kira gave a surprised little cry, while Kara merely drew a deep breath, arching her back, inadvertently making her chest more prominent. Both stepped closer.

“Ze courtesans of ze sand say zat pleasure and pain are ze spices of life. Zey say zat to find ze sacred spot where ze two meet in perfect balance is to find transcendence.”

Kira pouted, ignoring the speech, and reached out to tweak one of the tawny skinned woman's dark gumdrop nipples.

“Do the courtesans give directions to this 'sacred spot'?” Kara asked.

“Finding ze way to transcendence iz thought to be ze work of a lifetime. But... as tools have been crafted, like sandals, boots, chariots, and wagons, to aid in worldly travels, so too have ze courtesans commissioned ze design of tools to aid in ze quest for transcendence.”

As she spoke, Sezira moved languidly to the foot of the bed and brushed a heap of small rugs from atop a large trunk. Working the latch hasp, she flipped up the lid. Leaning around the lid she curled a finger in a 'come hither' motion, catching Kira's eyes first.

As the Westerling stepped up, Sezira produced a pair of tiny contraptions which turned out, to Kira's pleasant surprise, to be small, leather padded clamps. These were applied to the girl's nipples.

Next from the depths of the trunk came a leather quirt. In demonstration, Sezira twitched her wrist and the fold of leather at the business end of the quirt slapped with just a faint sting against the girl's pale thigh. Kira eagerly accepted the implement when it was turned about in offer. Kara arched an eyebrow when the Westerling nymph turned an evil smile in her direction.

Then her attention was drawn to the third item Sezira brought out. A finely shaped, double ended phallus of polished green jade. One last time she reached in, and, after a clinking, raised a small corked bottle of green glass.

Mounting the bed, Sezira set the items aside and gestured for Kara to join her. At her instruction, Kara lay on her back. The ex-pirate seemed to shift very easily between taking the lead and serving others' pleasure. Holding Kara's eyes with her own, she straddled the half elf and reached up, using another of her silk scarves to bind Kara's wrists up behind her head. Sitting up, she gathered a different length of fabric and folded it over a couple of times. As she brought this wad close to Kara's face, it became apparent that this was her makeshift blindfold from earlier.

It was also apparent that it was practically saturated with the half elf's own jizz, which Kira had cleaned from their new lover's body. As Sezira pressed a thumb gently but firmly to her chin, Kara felt a certain thrill, and parted her lips. It was a bit like the feeling she had gotten while blindfolded and pleasured at the discretion of the other two. A strange sort of pleasure, and anticipation, at letting the dominant desertborn beauty control her, and do with her as she pleased. Kara took a deep trembling breath as the salty, sodden fabric was pressed into her mouth just enough to keep it in place.

The thrill surged as the salty, bitter tang of her own essence permeated her palate, and Kara bit down and swallowed. She gave a vaguely needful murmur, her cock tensing and settling again. Sezira watched with a knowing expression.

“Yes?” The woman's expression, and the complexity of her tone conveyed a world of meaning behind the seemingly non-sequitor question.

Kara stared back. She inhaled deeply through her nose, let her body roll and twitch in one long, shameless, writhing movement, then nodded.

Sezira leaned close again and whispered, letting her lips brush Kara's ear.

“Good. Let us see how close we can get to transcendence. If it is too much or you wish to stop, snap your fingers. But I hope you won't.” she nipped Kara's earlobe between her teeth before sitting up again.

What followed was the most varied and torturously drawn out couple of hours of lust fueled activity Kara had experienced to date. She started out emitting muffled moans – alternately from the pleasure as Sezira caressed her cock and balls, and the sharp little pains as Kira applied the quirt to her thighs.

Stopping short of getting Kara off again, Sezira changed things up. Untying her wrists and teasing the makeshift gag from Kara's mouth, she had her switch places with Kira. While Kara stood by, watching and judiciously applying the quirt now and then, Kira took her place on the bed. At which point Sezira introduced the exquisitely formed jade phallus to the mix.

It took some creative gesticulating and demonstration to get the idea across to Kira, made more challenging by the fact that her curiosity kept her eyes slipping back to the sculpted jade in Sezira's hand. Eventually, eyes wide at the prospect of trying something she had never before conceived of, Kira caught on.

Sezira handed over to Kara the jade piece and the little green bottle, which turned out to hold a thick, faintly scented lubricant oil. On all fours, the two turned away from each other and backed up while Kara helped with positioning the dual-headed stone dildo – after coating it liberally with the oil. Mindful of her guest's likely inexperience with such unusual techniques, Sezira waited for Kira to move things along at her own pace. She murmured gentle encouragements in a reassuring tone.

Enthusiastic as ever, Kira required little encouragement. After a surprised squeak at the first touches of the cold stone, she took her time inching back, taking it inside, until her pale bottom met the full cinnamon curves of Sezira's cheeks. While both women paused, Kara trailed the fold of leather at the end of the quirt down across the bare skin of Kira's back and up Sezira's.

Kira twitched at the tickling touch, then lowered her upper body, nuzzling her face in the mink blanket. With lower back arched, she began rocking forward and back. Sezira mirrored the Westerling's movements. As they picked up speed, Kara drizzled more oil between them, so that their groans and panting competed with the wet slapping of their asses meeting.

Kara set aside the little bottle and watched, slowly stroking herself when she wasn't planting unpredictable kisses on thigh, or ass, or back with the quirt. She considered working to climax with them, but decided to hold out in case their host had anything else in mind.

Instead, as the other two grew louder and moved faster, she gradually applied used greater force in her strokes. Kira merely moaned the louder and thrust herself back the faster, but Sezira managed to speak up between breaths.

“Uhn... yes! Mmph... harder...”

Well, thought Kara, she was the expert. And she was clearly enjoying...

So Kara worked back and forth between the two women. Leaving fading pink marks on Kira's pale skin, and lingering reddish patches where she used twice the force on Sezira.

Soon enough the two came. Sezira strumming her clit with one hand and reveling in the mixed pleasure and pain, Kira bucking until she descended into a mindless, trembling, squirting collapse.

While Kira lay limp, catching her breath, Sezira slowly removed the dripping jade toy. Turning languidly to kneel facing Kara, she lifted the phallus and held it between them. Again meeting Kara's eyes with that knowing gaze, she parted her full lips around the polished jade head on her end, sucking the juices from it. Kara watched for a long moment, noting distractedly that Miri would be jealous that she wasn't here for this, before bending forward and carefully taking the opposite head into her own mouth. She wasn't sure whose liquid lust she was slurping from the now-warm stone cock, but it was tremendously arousing with Sezira looking right back at her, doing the same.

The three enjoyed a handful of other interesting positions, but with Sezira's encouragement and help, while the other two enjoyed several more orgasms, Kara put off her own. Until Sezira finally relented, admitting that Kira seemed almost ready to pass out from exhaustion.

So the three came together one last time, in a configuration of Sezira's devising.

With herself and Kara on their backs, she applied the remaining contents of the little green bottle – but not to their jade friend. In twin movements, Kara and Kira tipped their heads curiously. Then they saw what she was up to.

“Oh,” Kara blurted, “I'm not sure if-”

“No,” Sezira smiled, easing a fingertip back out of her anus, “I guessed you might not be ready for zis particular step on ze path to transcendence. But you are a woman, curse or no, yes? Surely you'd like zat hole filled?”

“Well, yes...”

Sezira scooted closer, so that they were essentially scissoring, and brought their jade friend down between them. Breathing slowly, she rubbed one domed end against her well-lubed pucker. Then slowly applied pressure, moaning as the rim of the pale green head slipped in past her gripping hole. Kara and Kira both looked on, intrigued, if uncertain that it could possibly feel as good as their host made it seem.

When she had taken a few inches, Sezira held still and nodded.

“Your turn, Kara.”

Kara glanced up from where she had been staring, only to meet that knowing look again. She gave the slightly bashful smile of one caught out, but supposed a woman more worldly than herself probably didn't mind. And given what they had been up to, it was a little late for any of them to turn shy.

Kara slid one hand down between her legs to find the free end of the jade phallus and move it so that the head parted her lips to nestle against her opening. With a bit of shifting and scooting, she worked her way down until she had taken her half of the tool inside. Sezira quickly took the lead, showing off her impressive muscular control by tensing her tummy and rolling her hips. With the phallus gripped and moving only slightly in and out of her ass, she effectively fucked Kara.

Standing beside the bed looking on, Kira put her hands on her hips and said something plaintive in her native tongue.

“Aw, do not pout.” Sezira chided amiably.

Pausing in her other efforts, she bent her legs and moved her feet to press them around Kara's erection. Careful not to jostle anything that might cause more pain than pleasure, she shifted Kara's cock so that it stood up straight. Poking Kira with a finger, Sezira gestured for the Westerling to join them.

There was a moment where the girl almost lost her balance while straddling the area where Kara and Sezira met, but catastrophe was averted. Turning to face Sezira, and holding her offered hands for balance, she lowered herself onto Kara's cock.

Soon all three were writhing and pumping against their connections to a central mass of sticky, squelching genitalia and orifices. Stimulated so strongly from two different sets of organs, Kara reached her limit first. As her movements reached a fever pitch, she drove the other two over the edge.

Sezira worked her clit and pussy with one hand, throwing her head back, pumping her own hips against the thick shaft buried deep in her ass.

Kira tweaked her clamped nipples, leaning back to gasp and cry her pleasure at the ceiling.

Fluids spurted, sprayed, and dribbled.

After, as the women flopped apart and lay catching their breaths, Sezira inquired about Kara's magical bits.

“Do you always have zat wonderful thing?”

Content to lay still, enjoying her afterglow, Kara merely replied, “Watch and see.”

While Sezira propped herself up on an elbow, Kira cuddled up to her and they watched together. When Kara's curse-induced dangly bits shrank and disappeared altogether, Sezira managed a surprised “Huh.”

Kira, on the other hand, waggled the fingers of one hand.

“Goodbye.” she whispered, making use of one of the few phrases she knew in the common tongue.

“Does it reappear when you want it?” Sezira asked, sitting up to gently trace a fingertip over the spot where the base of Kara's shaft had been.

“Not exactly. Has a mind of it's own, but it seems to come back when I get, you know, aroused.”

“Comes to cum.” Sezira mused, dragging the same fingertip through a little puddle of still-warm semen. On a whim she dipped her head to lap up the salty goo.

“Oh. Need to check something.” Kara said, suddenly rolling over to the edge of the bed and reaching with a grunt to find her belt and the pouches tied thereon.

Meanwhile Sezira pantomimed to Kira – the next moment Kara gave a cry of surprise, feeling Sezira and the Westerling each playfully nip her pert, defenseless ass.

“Really insatiable, aren't you?” she accused over a shoulder.

“You have no idea.” Sezira boasted, “I stayed in the shallow end of the trunk. Didn't want to scare you off.”

“How considerate.” Kara replied distantly, busy checking the copper scroll and her translation.

“And what is it that's so important?” the voluptuous ex-pirate asked, crawling Kara's body to lay atop her and look over the half elf's shoulder.

“Uh... you remember I said a dragon cursed me?” Kara proceeded with an abridged recounting of the events which resulted in her curse and how the copper scroll worked, much to Sezira's delight.

The passage about a burnished blossom from the Endless Sands had indeed disappeared from the scroll. While Kira began softly snoring, the other two shared speculations about what the other poetic passages might symbolize.