CHAPTER 2

"What in the fuck did you do?" Mick's voice came, jolting Lanri wide awake. For a brief moment, she lay there, eyes open, staring up at him. She withdrew the hand that was still on her crotch, scrambled for her wand, and pulled it from the holster, which had followed her pants halfway down her thighs. She pointed it at him and the two mercenaries at his side, wide-eyed and confused.

"FUCK OFF!" She snapped at the trio as she pulled her pants up.

"Woah there!" Tallah cooed, raising her hands – one of which held a torch, the other a sword – in surrender. "No need for that, Professor Vattens. We're here to check up on you, is all! You've been gone for hours. What happened?"

"None of your fucking business, flunky!" Lanri spat, then glanced down at the dress, still laying where she'd been sleeping. She'd dropped the damned thing, she realized. Red faced from embarrassment and frustration at being caught off guard, literally with her pants down, she angrily finished tying the string of her pants before resuming her aggressive posture.

The other guard, Jolus, had noticed her glance at the dress. Looking down at the pile of fabric himself, and unphased by Lanri’s hostility, he picked it up. "What's this?" He asked.

"Faron did a fine job enchanting this wand for me, you know. Do you remember what kind of spells it can cast?" Lanri said, blatantly ignoring his question. He blanched at her threatening tone. "He gave it to me to keep myself and our stuff safe. And that dress is mine." She glared at him as she got up, shifting the wand to point at his head. "And I swear to all the gods I will fucking deplete it on you if you don't give it back."

"What in the hells is wrong with you?” Jolus asked, a mix of outrage and genuine concern in his voice.

"GIVE IT BACK!" She repeated, jabbing the wand towards him in threat.

"Fine!" He said, tossing the dress at her.

"I…" Lanri said as she caught the dress, and pressed it to her face, taking a calming, familiar breath of that delightful smell. She grinned, though the fabric covered enough of her face that the others likely couldn’t tell.

"Now will you please put the wand down?" Tallah asked, sword still up in an offensive stance.

"O–okay," Lanri quietly conceded as she put the wand back in its holster, suspiciously eyeing Tallah, hoping she’d do the same. Once she did, Lanri sighed in relief, and whispered "I'm sorry. Y–you just scared me."

"But what the fuck happened!?" Mick demanded. "You disappear up some rickety mountain path and we come here to find you asleep with your damn fingers in your…"

Lanri glared at him. "I… I don't know," she admitted. "I–" She took another deep breath, giggling slightly at the sheer pleasantness of its smell, her glare melting into a soft smile. "We can go back to New Gyr, now. There's nothing here."

"Bullshit!" He interjected. "You were willin' to kill Jolus over that gods-damned rag you're holding!"

"It's not a rag!" Lanri scolded, anger flaring up until she breathed back in, washing it away by whatever blessing had been bestowed on it by Ishara. "It's a dress. It's my dress. I found it, it's mine," she told him. "Now take me back to New Gyr. We're done here. It's just a shrine."

She noticed the three exchanging concerned looks for a moment. "But what is it?" Jolus asked, apprehensively. "You keep… sniffing it." He looked down at the hand he'd picked it up with, and sniffed it. "I guess it smells pretty good, but…"

"IGNORANT!" Lanri snapped so suddenly it surprised even herself. "It's… I don't know what it is yet, but it is important, and it is good, and it is mine! It… I just want to study it at home," she dismissively said, and picked up her bag and lantern before marching past the trio. "I'm going back to my coach. Leave me alone."

"Well fuckin' fine, yer professorship. Count on it!" Mick spat back. "Think we're gonna play pals with someone who threatens to kill us over a dirty priestess' gown? Come on, you two. Let's get this contract finished."

As Lanri walked, she noticed there were several sets of markings set in alcoves that were only visible on the way out. The vast majority of alcoves contained nothing. But a few did, infrequently enough that she figured that's why she hadn't noticed them on the way in. La robe de l'Ishara, and la nouvelle va l'adorer." She giggled as she read the words, and something clicked. She realized she understood these phrases! Was that what she was holding? Ishara's dress? A literal divine artifact? She chortled at the thought as she breathed in through the bundle of fabric again.

She faintly heard the others whispering behind her, and frowned. Who were they to gossip about her? She had found an item belonging to the goddess Ishara herself. She picked up the pace slightly, hoping to get out of their earshot. "Idiots," she mused. Gods, it made her so angry, these… yokels thinking they can judge her for doing exactly as the goddess Ishara wanted. As her goddess Ishara wanted. She took another deep breath of her new treasure, grinning at her luck. There would be so much she could learn about Ishara from this. It would tell her everything she needed to know.

Everything.

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As the coach pulled into motion, she savored the privacy and warmth it afforded her. Her wand and winter clothes had been enough to keep her warm enough to fall asleep in the shrine, but the panic of being woken up had distracted her from the bitter cold that had really crept into her bones on the shrine’s stone floor. Shivering slightly as she slipped off her outermost layers, she wrapped herself in her blanket. She crept closer to the lantern and its wonderful white flame, clutching the dress.

Finally comfortable, she was able to really think about what had actually happened. She had found this… wonderful dress, and… she struggled to remember. Smelling it had… Smelling it had helped, hadn’t it?

Again she pushed the fabric to her face, and drew in a deep, deliberate breath. She held it, smiling as the familiar scent, and the memories of Faron’s warmth in bed vanquished her shivers. As she let it out, she remembered just how terribly empty she’d felt the last few months. He’d just… died.

She swallowed, struggling to force herself to recall it: the sheer terror on his face when the ice broke. She made a fist as she recalled bashing on the ice with the wine bottle they’d brought, her panicked blasting of spell after spell from the wand into the ice as she ran after his silhouette, watching him struggle against the current which carried him farther and farther away. By the time she got him out, the river had already leeched all of the warmth from his body.

She took another breath through the dress, and sighed in relief as her muscles relaxed. She calmed down as its scents distracted her from his last day, and instead she recalled their last night together. She could smell his musk and saw the adoration and desire in his eyes, clear as if he was there in the carriage with her.

She envisioned Ishara looming behind him, nudging and guiding him as he helped her out of the clothes she’d been wearing. Another deep, deliberate breath, and she giggled slightly as she felt Ishara’s hands on her, likewise guiding her to the actions that would make their last night together such a particularly good one.

The coach hit a bump, and she heard Mick cuss something at the horses. She took another whiff and giggled at how annoyed he sounded. People shouldn’t be upset, she thought. It should be every person’s calling to feel good; to indulge in what life has to offer. She shuffled over to her trunk, and opened it, fishing out her copy of Ytrandiir the Pure. Reading her entertaining rubbish should be an excellent way to put her insights into practice.

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The first time the coach stopped Mick had obnoxiously banged on the door. "Come on out and take a piss or something, yer professorship! We ain't stopping again until dinner time." She'd groaned in annoyance, but taken the advice and hiked out into a bush to relieve herself. By the time she got back, the rest of the party was already mounted up again, staring at her impatiently.

"Gods, you even took that thing with you to piss?" Tallah had asked, derisively.

The second time they stopped was to set up camp for the night, and Lanri was pleasantly surprised to find Mick far less obnoxious. The two guards were still glaring at her, obviously just jealous of her find. But Mick, at least, was pretty nice to her again.

"So, tell me about what you found," he asked her as he handed her a bowl of soup.

"Just the dress," she admitted, and took a bite. Gods, it tasted amazing. She put the bowl down, and poked at the contents with her spoon. Carrots, onions, venison, and spices were all she could see. "This is… It's really good," she told him.

Mick didn't seem to notice the feedback on his cooking, she thought. He was just staring at her, or more specifically at the dress draped across her shoulder. "What's so special about it?" He asked, a faintly glazed look to his eyes.

"It…" Lanri began. "Gods, how do I describe it? I just like how it smells? That's not all there is to it, but…" She pressed a bit of the fabric to her face again, and grinned as the smell hit her. "Well, frankly, I don't give a damn what's special about it. It's special to me."

Mick scoffed at that. "That's not true, is it?" He asked, sliding a bit closer to her. "Come on, yer professorship, you were practically still going at it when we found you, and you threatened to kill us over the damn thing. Your little treasure smelling nice isn't what made you do that, is it?"

She blushed slightly, and pressed the dress to her face, more to hide her face than to smell it. "I… I wanted to please Ishara." She confessed, and embarrassment flooded her as she breathed out. But as soon as she breathed in, it was gone, replaced by the memory of how much fun that had been.

Mick laughed. "You wanted to please Ishara? Alone?"

"No!" She protested. "Well, maybe? I don't…" She took a breath. "I… it's hard to explain how the gods influence us. And I… I shouldn't be telling you about this."

"Oh, come now! Isn't it a little late to get embarrassed? Don't servants of Ishara enjoy sharing?" Mick tried. "You were willing to show us all that." She took another breath, the smell of passion and the bedroom encouraging her. She was about to elaborate, when she felt his hand on her leg, rubbing slightly.

His hand was not welcome on her leg.

"Don't fucking touch me, Mick!" She barked at him, and stood up, barely suppressing the reflex to kick him. "I had a moment. I had a moment! Me! Private! It’s my fault you saw it, but fuck off!" She took another deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and found it was remarkably easy to do so. "I did what I knew Ishara wanted me to do. That's all."

Mick gave her a look she did not like. At all. It wasn’t judgemental like it had been before. It was… predatory. As Lanri began to walk away, he seemed to be considering whether to follow her. Just then, Tallah and Jolus returned from whatever they had been doing.

“What happened?” Tallah asked quietly as Lanri marched back to the coach. “We heard you yell, and, well, It was the kind of yell you tend to hear before the screams for help start.”

Lanri took another deep breath, looking for the courage to describe what had happened. She found it appealing to paint him in a better light than she’d briefly pictured him, with the dress helping her to remain calm and objective. “He went from glaring at me, to friendly, to a bit too friendly, is all.”

Tallah raised a suspicious eyebrow at her. “Really? That’s how you want to describe it?”

Lanri took another deep, calming breath. “He put his hand on my thigh. It was probably just… Well, I didn’t like it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the pale mercenary agreed, and a brief silence hung between the pair. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep him well away from you. Jolus and I are paid to keep you both safe, including from each other.”

Lanri smiled gratefully at the armored woman, and wrapped her arms around her in a hug. “Thank you.” she whispered. “I’m sorry I threatened you guys. I don’t know what came over me.” Lanri wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, she obviously wasn’t willing to kill people over this, and yet she’d shouted as much with such fervor.

A few seconds passed in silence, and she felt the mercenary tense up slightly, rubbing her face against her shoulder. The one that had the dress partially draped over it. It took until the mercenary giggled to build up enough courage to ask “Are… you okay, Tallah?”

“I’m wonderful.” The woman purred. “You smell…”

Lanri pulled away to look at Tallah. The muscular mercenary’s normally stoic face was twisted into an unsettling grin, and her eyes had the same predatory look she’d seen on Mick just minutes ago. “I must smell awful,” she offered. She glanced down at the dress she clutched. “Right?”

Tallah kept staring at her for a few seconds, her eyes shifting from those of a predator to those of a dullard. Finally, she shook her head and blinked a few times, and tried to stammer out an answer. “R–right… yeah! We all do. No baths out here.” Was she blushing?

Lanri did her best to fake an understanding expression and walked off, leaving the other woman to deal with her embarrassment as she made for her coach and curled up inside. She eagerly breathed in the scent of the dress again and giggled slightly. Why had she been so unsettled by the other two? It didn’t make sense to her anymore. Where she’d seen lust and rape in their eyes minutes before, the only thing she saw now was an admirable, if perhaps misplaced desire.

Today had been confusing for all of them, it seemed.

She breathed in again, and stretched out on her sleeping mat, grinning up at the coach’s ceiling. It was her calling to feel good. It was everyone’s calling to feel good. She shouldn’t have treated them with suspicion. That’s not what Faron would want for her now.

Breathing in again, she pictured the same scene she had earlier. Faron looming over her, making her feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. Ishara, too, though now as a directly involved participant. She smiled as she pictured a divinely beautiful woman tending to her, gently nudging her legs apart, whispering ancient words she wouldn’t have understood before today as she slid the back of a finger up along her–

A knock.

“Fuck,” she grumbled, crawling over to the door and pulling her pants back – when had she pulled them down? Nevermind that. The pulled her pants back up and crawled towards the door leading outside, opening it to see…

“Jolus?” She asked the mercenary, who stood waiting for her with an unsettled expression on his face.

“Can we… talk? Please?” The young man asked as he shuffled a bit closer. “It’s… Can I come in, please?”

“Y–yeah, sure.” Lanri said, and crawled back towards her sleeping mat. She sat cross-legged and observed the young mercenary as he crawled in. His armor clanged and scraped against the wood. The very picture of conspicuous.

“The others,” he began, still struggling to settle in. “The way they started talking about you as soon as you got in the wagon. It worries me. They…” He trailed off, staring at the floor. She guessed he felt bad about betraying their confidence. “They talk about you with… desire, professor. Like they plan to bed you.”

There was a brief pause where Lanri thought he was finished, though just as she opened her mouth, he quietly added, “whether you agree or not.”

Panic, no, horror shot through her at those words. She had so very dearly hoped they were both just lost in the moment, tired, briefly overcome by their longing for the comforts they have access to at home. “Now, they didn’t say that, not explicitly, but… they don’t sound like they’ll be happy if you turn them down once they proposition you,” he continued. “And I don’t know what to do about them when they do.”

“I…” Lanri began, looking around her mat for the dress. “I’d just explained to Tallah that I thought that about Mick, and then she suddenly had the same” – she picked up the dress, and pushed it against her face, taking a deep, supremely calming breath – “predatory look. But it went as quickly as it came, so I assumed she just got lost in her own head. That they both did!” She inhaled again, and couldn’t help but giggle. That had to be it! They were both getting worked up over nothing! Nobody wants to rape anyone, she knew.

“What’s funny about this?” He asked with a concerned and slightly offended look on his face.

Oh, he was far too serious! That wouldn’t do. Ishara wouldn’t like that, Lanri knew. She took another deep breath, and her giggles escalated. It’s not a mortal’s job to be so… grumpy, and worried. Besides, what was he even worrying about? That two people wanted to have sex with her and were being inappropriate about it? Big deal! She’d heard worse every time she left the university’s campus and went out into Astoria.

“I tell you your guard and driver are conspiring to r– assault you, and all you can do is laugh and play with that fucking dress?” He demanded. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lanri took another breath, and snickered, looking up at the shockingly serious guard. He looked like an idiot, so upset over two adults wanting to share a bed with her. That’s all it was. Lust. No harm in it. “Oh calm down, Jolus.” She told him. “It’s not like – like they’d ”– she took another breath, and flopped over as she burst out laughing – “hold me down a–and rape me! That’s ridiculous!”

“But they’re planning it!” He snapped, trying to raise his voice’s intensity without alerting their companions outside.“They. Are. Planning. It.”

She propped herself up on her arms, and breathed out. She grinned at his stupid, serious, pretty face. And then, as she thought about it, she stopped grinning. She blinked, and shook her head. His face didn’t seem so stupid anymore, and his accusation suddenly made a lot more sense. “Really?” She asked, quietly.

“Really.”

Things went slowly the rest of the day. Lanri read some more of Ytrandiir the Pure, but could barely manage to pay attention to it. The heroine was, of course, saved by her beloved. Lanri hoped she would be so lucky. Jolus would help her, she knew. And she had her wand, so any attempts to actually force her into anything wouldn’t pan out, but that didn’t make the situation any less horrifying. She didn’t have a wand with spells like Caengail or Cadal in it. Nothing that would stop an aggressor without seriously harming them.

As she lay down on the mat and pulled her blankets over her, she prayed Jolus’ guarding her from them would be enough to keep anything from happening. For everyone’s sake. She hoped that in a few weeks, she’d be looking back on this whole bizarre episode as a close call, rather than a catastrophe. She hoped they’d leave her the fuck alone, and that Jolus was wrong.