the earth and feeling the essence of male power rising in the man. He was taller than she'd thought, and broader, all hard muscle and strong bone. This should be fun. The only question was, start on dry ground or in the hot springs?
An hour later, he was dead.
Shocked, she dragged him out of the steaming water and sent a jolt of power into him, her hands on his chest, willing him to breathe. He gasped, and then coughed, a wet choking sound. She rolled him over, half on his face and he coughed and gaped, spewing water. He flopped limply onto his back, wheezing.
Shivering in the realization of wha t she'd done, almost done, she whispered, “I guess the hot springs were a bad idea." She listened to him breathing for long enough to be sure he was going to continue to do so, then backed away and left him there. She staggered off, clothes clutched in her hands, to meditate in solitude.
She knew now why a witch should never take a husband. Sooner or later, she would kill him. Just. . . playing.
***
Bail was nursing a mild hangover with a lunch of hot tea and dry biscuits on the front porch of the tavern when Byson staggered in. His clothing looked barely rumpled, but his eyes were glassy and he felt for the ground as if his balance was off.
"Still drunk , Lieutenant?"
The l ieutenant stared at him, like he was having trouble understanding what he'd heard.
"What on earth were you drinking? And why didn't you save some for me?" He'd seen the Lieutenant in the first dance with that blonde, and couldn't remember seeing him again.
"Umn, I'm umm." He stood there, swaying. "Umm, couldn't catch . . ." He blinked uncertainly at a bottle of white wine in his hand. "There was a goat, and then these two other witches . . . "
Bail shook his head and jerked a thumb at the door. "Go to bed, Lieutenant. We can talk tomorrow."
Byson leaned to the right, then shifted his feet enough to not fall over, and staggered through the door.
Lefty oozed out a few moments later, squinting painfully. "Does he think he got the witch, last night? I figure it was the other way around." His brows pinched together a bit.
"'spec' so." Sergeant Gruff followed him out. "What a night!"
Bail swallowed the rest of his tea. "I doubt we'll see him again today. Why don't you find us a nice camp halfway from here to there, and we'll move the men out after a good solid noon meal. I'll stay with the officers and we'll catch up with you tomorrow."
The sergeant saluted and jerked his head at Lefty.
The Veronian sloped off.
"That's cruel to a man with a hangover. I didn't think he ever got drunk." Bail rubbed his own temples, but the headache was subsiding fast.
Gruff shook his head. “I 'spect he came close last night. All those women! He grabbed a bottle of wine and disappeared. Sorry sod. King Haro should of killed every single Auralian that ever lived."
"I think Haro thought himself lucky to have kicked them out of Farofo province. At least now they raid in the east, and avoid the west."
Gruff spat, then opined that he should check the state of the men. “The farmers and their wives came into the village last night, and the butcher and miller and their wives came and it turned into quite a party. Things got a bit wild," and stomped off toward the tithe barn.
"Before or after you left?" Bail called after him.
Snort. "Before. The men wouldn't dare have an orgy without me."
"What? With the husbands all there? Old gods, I hope you're exaggerating."
Gruff rubbed at a small cut on his wrist. "Almost wish I'd been a bit less drunk and could remember a bit more. I remember coming up here lookin' for you." Gruff wasn't meeting his eyes. "Just as well we get everyone out of town."
Bail waved dismissal, wondering how badly relations with the village were going to be, once everyone sobered up. Maybe he should have sent Lefty the other direction, to warn the engineering troops that they might not be welcome. Well, he could send him tomorrow. Plenty of
An hour later, he was dead.
Shocked, she dragged him out of the steaming water and sent a jolt of power into him, her hands on his chest, willing him to breathe. He gasped, and then coughed, a wet choking sound. She rolled him over, half on his face and he coughed and gaped, spewing water. He flopped limply onto his back, wheezing.
Shivering in the realization of wha t she'd done, almost done, she whispered, “I guess the hot springs were a bad idea." She listened to him breathing for long enough to be sure he was going to continue to do so, then backed away and left him there. She staggered off, clothes clutched in her hands, to meditate in solitude.
She knew now why a witch should never take a husband. Sooner or later, she would kill him. Just. . . playing.
***
Bail was nursing a mild hangover with a lunch of hot tea and dry biscuits on the front porch of the tavern when Byson staggered in. His clothing looked barely rumpled, but his eyes were glassy and he felt for the ground as if his balance was off.
"Still drunk , Lieutenant?"
The l ieutenant stared at him, like he was having trouble understanding what he'd heard.
"What on earth were you drinking? And why didn't you save some for me?" He'd seen the Lieutenant in the first dance with that blonde, and couldn't remember seeing him again.
"Umn, I'm umm." He stood there, swaying. "Umm, couldn't catch . . ." He blinked uncertainly at a bottle of white wine in his hand. "There was a goat, and then these two other witches . . . "
Bail shook his head and jerked a thumb at the door. "Go to bed, Lieutenant. We can talk tomorrow."
Byson leaned to the right, then shifted his feet enough to not fall over, and staggered through the door.
Lefty oozed out a few moments later, squinting painfully. "Does he think he got the witch, last night? I figure it was the other way around." His brows pinched together a bit.
"'spec' so." Sergeant Gruff followed him out. "What a night!"
Bail swallowed the rest of his tea. "I doubt we'll see him again today. Why don't you find us a nice camp halfway from here to there, and we'll move the men out after a good solid noon meal. I'll stay with the officers and we'll catch up with you tomorrow."
The sergeant saluted and jerked his head at Lefty.
The Veronian sloped off.
"That's cruel to a man with a hangover. I didn't think he ever got drunk." Bail rubbed his own temples, but the headache was subsiding fast.
Gruff shook his head. “I 'spect he came close last night. All those women! He grabbed a bottle of wine and disappeared. Sorry sod. King Haro should of killed every single Auralian that ever lived."
"I think Haro thought himself lucky to have kicked them out of Farofo province. At least now they raid in the east, and avoid the west."
Gruff spat, then opined that he should check the state of the men. “The farmers and their wives came into the village last night, and the butcher and miller and their wives came and it turned into quite a party. Things got a bit wild," and stomped off toward the tithe barn.
"Before or after you left?" Bail called after him.
Snort. "Before. The men wouldn't dare have an orgy without me."
"What? With the husbands all there? Old gods, I hope you're exaggerating."
Gruff rubbed at a small cut on his wrist. "Almost wish I'd been a bit less drunk and could remember a bit more. I remember coming up here lookin' for you." Gruff wasn't meeting his eyes. "Just as well we get everyone out of town."
Bail waved dismissal, wondering how badly relations with the village were going to be, once everyone sobered up. Maybe he should have sent Lefty the other direction, to warn the engineering troops that they might not be welcome. Well, he could send him tomorrow. Plenty of
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