* * *
Maliar, called Morerea, looked up from her weaving as the door opened. She almost dropped the threads as something like ecstasy exploded within her. Sweet, caring wordsmith! The pearly light surrounding her loom flickered as her glamour flared hot then fell back into the almost warmth he had given her.
Derceto took his cloak off and moved to stand by the fire. "And how are you this evening, Madam?"
She sighed blissfully. Everything was coming together. The long, difficult journey was almost over.
He smiled at her. "Oh, my, you seem content."
"It's so close...," she whispered. Finally. Finally, the end was in sight. All her fighting and learning and hurting would be repaid.
One of his ears twitched. "What is?"
"The end of my training...." She smiled beatifically and stood up. The pearly light faded, leaving only the candlelight. The flames flickered and danced, almost drawing her attention from the firbolg.
He tented his fingers and nodded. "That is wonderful to hear. I am very happy for you."
She purred as she walked over to him.
He covered his mouth with his hand, but she could see the smile lurking in his eyes. "Anyhow. Aside from that wonderful news, how are you?"
Her Glamour boiled as she smiled and leaned close to him. It burned her so lightly before it faded to almost warmth. "Very, very well."
He lowered his hand slowly, almost unnoticeably in the dim light, but she could see his soft smile. "Has anything happened, or are you just feeling good tonight?"
Maliar smirked. "Perhaps it is just the night, or perhaps the company." Or perhaps both. Surely she would never have said these words to another or said them on any night but this intoxicating one.
Derceto blushed slightly, but his sly smile reminded her that he was no young fool. "Perhaps... perhaps... a question... when are you going to come to one of my stories?"
She tilted her head slightly. When would she watch him bestow his words upon the unworthy? Never. "Hmmm...."
Perhaps he guessed something of her thoughts. "Well then, perhaps I could tell you a few when it is more convenient for you. Should you like, of course."
She smiled. A gift of time and words for her alone. "Oh, yes...."
He smiled softly. "I serve, Madam."
Oh!
Aboreal! She reached out with her Glamour-
No, not Aboreal. Not her faithful, trustworthy thrall. Derceto the caring, subtle wordsmith. "Mmm!"
He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She remembered moonlit nights at the mouth of the river as intoxicating as this. Magic shimmered in the air, firelight and night danced in her vision. The room smelled of smoke and leather and roses.
She looked at the firbolg with half-lidded eyes and ran a hand down his chest. He felt muscular and strong still, despite his age. She whispered truth, " 'I serve.' You sound so like my thrall."
He touched her loose hair. "I am no thrall, Maliar." He traced a path to her cheek. "But I do serve."
His touch burned her, and her Glamour became a star ever so briefly. Danu! Why did she want him so? She stared up into his dark eyes-
He growled softly, his chest thrumming beneath her hand. "I have not been looked at like that in a very long time...."
Her lips shaped whispers. "My heart died when Isliffell did. Can you bring me back to life?"
He ran a finger over her slightly parted lips. "Such a question you ask of me...."
She took his finger into her mouth and suckled. Leather wrapped around a scroll of pure knowledge. Dark earth where the most beautiful roses grew.
He leaned in close and the breath from his whispers caressed her ear. "Why me? Why would one of your stature wish me?"
His finger slipped from her mouth as she sought the words. "Why would I desire you? Because you warm me. With words and caring. Not even Corun has touched me so-" Her voice fell to whispers. "And you are not young and reckless. Not even I could coerce you to something you did not wish."
His fingers trailed over her cheek, leaving a trail of sparks. "God pound it, you are lovely." His voice caressed her with its depth, cursed her with the undertones. She could never forget him now after hearing his voice like that. "But politics, dear Maliar.... There will be fallout if we do this. Are you prepared for that?"
"I am." Her eyes strayed to the fire. "I cannot let politics arrange me entire life. It touches me enough as is." She looked back at him, fell into his smiling eyes again.
His voice was as soft as his smile. "True... I find myself wondering if what I eat will affect the way I am seen..."
She smiled, in amusement and understanding.
Derceto put an arm around her, his hand coming to rest at the back of her neck. "Dear Maliar... You have no idea how much of my mind you have occupied...."
She leaned against him, revelled in the heat he gave off. "Ah, me. You struck my soul in the tempest of my rage with your calming self. Your words, your voice, your self-"
Their scrystones hissed with Zath's voice as he spoke to Tatton. She felt the firbolg tensing under her and might have wept. But no, Isliffell had broken that old fear.
He snarled softly. "Bloody fool Zath.... Leave it lie."
Maliar begged in whispers. "Do not. Not now. Please."
"I won't.... My temper is almost infinite." He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his burning touch. "I shall not let his poisons take my mind from what is important."
She stared into his dark eyes. "I am-" She paused, almost drew away. This was wrong. But he would never be her equal, never be truly worthy of her unless she did this.
"Hmm?"
"Yours." There. She surrendered herself.
"That is a dangerous thing to say, my dear Maliar. For if that is true, I may have to ask you to come to Ardee, and to sit with me."
She tilted her head slightly. "Someday I will." Whenever you ask.
He smiled and kissed the palm of her hand. Heat blossomed there and faded. "It has been a very long time since I have been close to anyone, Maliar.... So please forgive me if I act strangely at times...."
"Aye...." She rose to the tips of her toes and kissed him. Molten lava, bright and hot, passed from him to her. "Save me from the dark," she whispered, prayed, demanded, in the siabrian tongue.
He cupped the back of her head in one massive hand, while the other buried itself in her hair. Hot coals about her head, so lovely warm. Lava pouring through her lips and head. Heat and light and salvation.
Then he pulled away slightly, only breaking off the kiss. "Maliar... Will you be able to share me with the alliance?"
She tilted her head slightly, defying the cold sinking into her. This must be answered. "Share?"
He smiled gently. "Aye... Should a crisis arise, I must attend to it."
She tried to think as the cold seeped through the niches and crannies inside her. It defied the burning of Derceto's touch. "As in if we are together and the alliance calls upon you?"
He nodded. "Exactly. There is only one I would leave your company for, however. And that would be if My Lady Magnoliah called upon me."
Ice. Ice gripped her heart, stilled her breath. She tilted her head slightly the other way, and it felt like she moved a mountain. "I- I do not know." The ice stilled her voice to whispers, tried to keep her from speaking all together. "Jealousy- She is an elf, as beautiful as me."
He lifted her chin and looked in her green eyes. "No... Not as beautiful.... And I look upon her as a daughter."
Heat. It burned her in its passing, but it scoured the ice away. A daughter. Like her sons. She gazed up at him for a time, then spoke. He had to know. "I would leave you should either of my sons call upon me."
Derceto nodded. "And I would not be angry at such a thing. I would understand. I would not be happy, but I would understand." He smiled softly at her, and her Glamour warmed under it.
"I can accept Magnoliah's place in your heart." She wrenched those words from the heart of the melting ice and offered them as truth.
He smiled fondly. "Thank you, Maliar."
"Aye, and thank you." Thank you for warming me, for saving me, for loving me.
"So then, dear Maliar, I must depart for a time. But I will return shortly." He laid his cheek against her cheek, then pulled back to look at her.
She nodded slowly and reluctantly extricated herself from his embrace. Surely the gods he believed in could not be this cruel? But she had surrendered, and she would not hold him here. "Soft steps, hiding shadows. Return to me safely."
"I will. Before you know it." He kissed her gently and she kissed him. Fire-warmth. But he broke away, picked up his cloak, and left her house. He left her in there in the candlelight alone.
Tears trailed down her cheeks and fingers trailed down her body. Warmth. Love. Salvation.
The End