Kitty’s theater was cleaner than Vero expected.

  She heard that Dora’s mother ran the most reputable brothel in Whitegate, but she expected that to be a low standard. There was still the usual combined scent of sweat, sex, and alcohol, but it was muted by incense and perfume. The furniture was sumptuously upholstered in velvet, and the patrons were a mixture of the old aristocracy from Castle Hill and members of the rich merchant families.

  The girls Kitty kept were also the finest stable Vero had seen at any establishment inside the Republic or without. About half of them were locals. According to Dora, Kitty trained each of them in the refinements of a courtesan personally. The other half were more exotic, Vero saw a dwarf, two giantesses, several women with different shades of elven descent, and the most expensive prostitute for sale claimed to be a pure-blooded elf of the high caste.

  Most of the girls ran the gambit in skin tones from fair to olive. A few, both human and elven, had browned skin like those who live in the Oasis Cities and even further to the south than that.

  Vero found them all very pleasing to look at. She had never lain down with a full-blooded elf, or a dwarf, or a female giant- although all those possibilities intrigued her. She never felt any shame when she hired prostitutes. It was, after all, their occupation. Should someone feel shame for buying shoes from a cobbler, or meat from a butcher?

  Whores and hot meals were Vero’s only luxuries, when she had the money to afford any luxuries at all. Although she never hired a prostitute until she knew she had exhausted a place as a hunting ground. Once a fellow showed a woman their cunt it became almost impossible to convince her you are still a man. Here in Whitegate though she was already known as a woman- and had no spare money to afford any vices.

  Or did she?

  It occurred to Vero that she must have been dreaming again.

  Yes, she could see the group from the Imperial trade caravan at one of the far tables. One of them was visiting Dora in the private rooms upstairs at the moment, they would show themselves later. Once the trouble started.

  Vero approached a she-elf with skin so dark it was nearly black. Vero pinched the girl’s bottom roughly, but she did not object.

  It was only fair, in Vero’s opinion, as they were all the subjects of her dream. She was sure that her own shade would be just as docile towards any young man who might chance to dream of her.

  Vero pulled down the top of the woman’s dress to reveal two pleasingly spherical breasts. They were neither very large, nor very small, but it was the dark flesh and hard brown nipples which most intrigued her. Vero took them into her mouth one at a time to suck and played across the tip using her tongue.

  Vero picked the woman up in her arms and put her down on top of one of the tables. The patrons sitting there obligingly moved elsewhere. Vero tore off the woman’s dress entirely. When she was satisfied with her foreplay, something which rarely took Vero long, she pulled up the hem of her dress to expose her own charms. She climbed onto the table and swung one leg over the half-elf.

  “Good girl. Just like that sweet one, don’t stop now.” Vero held her own breasts and massaged them herself.

  There was a commotion upstairs and the Imperial emerged, followed by Dora in her chemise and petticoat. At once, the sight of Dora caused all other women to lose interest for Vero. She climbed off the one she was with and went to wait for Dora beside the stairs.

  The Imperial went by her first, and Vero tripped him as he passed. She had not done that in the waking world, so he simply righted himself again and took no notice. Dora was chasing after him, but Vero caught the girl in her arms as she passed.

  “He hasn’t paid me!” Dora shouted indignantly.

  “Oh, leave off Dora. What does it matter? Forget about him and let’s find a place to lay down together.” The guards had already begun their altercation with the caravanners, Vero wanted to get herself alone with Dora before the brawling started.

  Too late. The first Imperial had already turned back to hurl invectives at Dora and her adopted mother.

  Vero saw no need to wait for him. Attempts to talk him down would only result in a try at backhanding her with a clumsy swing. The waking Vero had ducked the strike and hit him in the liver while he was off balance. The man had been so wine-sotted he collapsed into a moaning ball at once.

  Asleep, Vero simply traded punches with the man using the easy confidence one fought with in dreams. She pummeled him to the ground effortlessly, although he outweighed her by at least a stone.

  Once the fighting was over, Vero pulled off her dress and used it to wipe the blood off her knuckles. It felt rather marvelous throwing wild punches with such reckless abandon and not breaking one’s hands; Vero felt in high spirits. She wore no breast cloth and when she stepped out of her shoes, she was completely naked.

  “Vero, why are you taking off your clothes?” Dora asked sweetly.

  “I wish you to kiss Luna’s pearl. Come along now darling, don’t be difficult.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I’m not sure...” Dora sounded nervous. It only made her seem more precious to Vero.

  “Yes, but you shall be eventually. Can we not speed the process? My cunny is terribly warm and I fear she may soon drool all over herself. Just put your fingers here a moment and feel.” Vero guided Dora’s hand.

  “I’ve heard stories of nuns who became very close to one another- in the absence of men, I mean.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Now let’s find a bed to lay down and be very close to one another in.”

  “I know how a man goes to bed with a catamite… but I’ve never considered that two women could wish to share- physical love with one another. I confess, I don’t even know how they could do such a thing.”

  “And yet you take to it with such natural skill. Here now, let me see how beautiful you are at least.” Vero tore away the undergarments Dora had on, causing her to squeal in shock and try to cover her modesty.

  She put a hand behind Dora and grabbed a plump buttock, eliciting another squeal. “Vero! You mustn’t be so forward! I must be seduced, carefully won over through word and deed.”

  “Yes, but I’ve already gone to the trouble,” Vero argued back. “Now I just wish to sit across your face. Can’t you be easier about this?”

  “No, Vero. I forbid you.”

  “In my own dream?”

  “If I must.”

  “You little slattern-! I’m so annoyed, I’m sure that I shall be waking soon now. See how you’ve ruined this wonderful dream for me?”

  “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to.” Now that Vero could feel herself beginning to wake, Dora turned sweet again and embraced her.

  “I ought to put you over my knee, you shameless tease. Don’t think that I shall forget any of-”

  Vero woke up.

  Everyone seemed much refreshed when they woke the next day, something Vero attributed to the aura of serenity which still filled the church. Despite the outward marks, the vandalism failed to deconsecrate the holy site. And because of the scant few hours of daylight, Vero slept longer than she had in months.

  Since she had left Dora in Velois.

  When Vero did wake, she found that Anna had already gotten up and stitched her clothes. They were wet from a recent washing, but had been hung over the stove. Anna’s own spare dress was set out for her. It didn’t fit well, but her own clothes wouldn’t take long to dry.

  What most surprised Vero, was that Anna had been able to get up and do these things without waking her. Normally, she slept very lightly.

  The scent of cooking food was very strong. When she passed the curtain, Vero found Anna, her brothers, Fra Heward, and Father Alexius at breakfast. Pentarch looked to have only just awakened and was shaving his face.

  Fra Heward stood and bowed when she entered. “Lady Veronique.”

  The others made less formal signs of greeting.

  “I prepared your food for you, Lady Vero.” Anna gestured to a generously portioned breakfast on a plain trencher directly adjacent to her on the table.

  It was a cabbage stew made with salted pork, which Anna informed her came from a wild boar Fra Heward brought down in the forest at the onset of winter. According to her, they might have starved without it.

  Fra Heward assured her that they would have persevered, albeit with strict rationing.

  When he had finished shaving, Pentarch joined them as well. It was simple food, but it was hot and well made, and Vero ate till she was full. The result was that everyone’s morale appeared very high when they began to prepare their plans for the day.

  Isolde still had not come out of her room. None of the men thought it appropriate to enter a woman’s chambers, and Anna looked hesitant to intrude on a sorceress, so Vero volunteered to wake her.

  The room had a door, but there was no lock and Vero pushed it open. “It’s past time to be up and awake, magister!”

  Isolde was sat at a desk and working feverishly writing something, which Vero could not see.

  “I am awake, imbecile. Come in quickly and close the door,” she rasped, just loud enough to be heard by Vero and none of the others.

  Vero did as requested, before stopping to gape at the state of the room. The sorceress had scrawled line upon line of warding runes, at a level of complexity Vero had never seen before. She had no notion from what they were intended to defend against. Isolde was certainly awake all night writing them, because they were not there the previous evening.

  “Have you not slept at all?” Vero asked.

  “Of course not. Not with that thing out there.”

  As Vero examined the spells in detail, she suspected that even Isolde may not have been certain what she was warding against. She was an illusionist, however, and Vero did not discount the possibility that many lines of symbols were merely distractions from the true working itself. Even so, some runes within the same line appeared to contradict themselves, and she wondered if Isolde was running beyond her depth.

  Or this could all be just another elaborate game at her expense.

  “What is it exactly that you’re afraid of?”

  “Gods help me that you’re the best help I have. I suppose you were too concerned with trying to bed that fat sow in the other room to notice what happened last night.”

  “Don’t tell me all this is because you’re angry I didn’t come in here to try and bed you.”

  Isolde ignored the barb; it added to Vero’s impression that her fear was at least genuine, if not necessarily valid. “The priest, did you see the way he pushed Pentarch last night, when he tried to disagree with you?”

  “He agreed with me that we would do better to destroy the enemy as we find them, rather than leaving a potential threat in our rear. We need a place to shelter and prepare for the main hunt. He is a priest though, so I suppose his support probably came on ethical, rather than tactical, grounds…” The righteousness of the cause also appealed to Vero, but when morality and strategy were in concert, she preferred to explain her actions in utilitarian rather than sentimental terms. “…and I don’t remember you objecting at the time.”

  “I still don’t. I was wondering how it was we were going to be able to convince that stupid old mule Pentarch when the priest did it for us.”

  Vero realized she was not wearing a sword, and felt very naked without one. “What do you mean? Speak plainly.”

  “He placed a hypnotic command on him, in front of all of us. Even I barely noticed, not one of those witless bumpkins suspected a thing. I had greater hopes for you, but it seems you were… distracted.”

  It was possible. Isolde was an expert in misdirection and manipulation, she should be able to see it in others. Pentarch did relented quickly. Of the two, she trusted the priest’s intentions more than the sorceress's.

  Was that an error?

  “It was an expertly crafted spell too. Pentarch self-rationalized his change of mind at once without noticing a thing. I call him an old mule because he is. He’s stubborn like one too, and not one to neglect his mental defenses. I’ve tried one or two simple misdirections on him while we traveled here, and he knew to ignore all of them at once.”

  Vero was not surprised to hear that Isolde was testing their leader’s mind for weaknesses. That was, after all, illusionists’ stock and trade. She did feel self-justified in so studiously warding herself from mental intrusion.

  “Are you saying he’s even better at your work then you are?” she asked.

  Isolde stopped writing and turned to face her. “Yes.”

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