Chapter 62

Time passed as it was wont to do. Zuunkhorun receded in my mind. I could spend days without thinking of the war. Despite infrequent bouts of melancholy, I was happy in Bashamailon. My youngest children first grew past their need of me constantly, then hourly, then daily. Then the three of them embarked upon the first stages of their lives.

Ten Ghosts took Wind to the lands of the Theva, where he would learn the ways of his people. She returned without him, and when he finally journeyed to Bashamailon again, it was with the name Vorghal's Path. I saw much of his mother in him, a quiet young man whose eyes beheld tomorrows, often at the expense of today.

One of the great joys of children is how they surprise you. Despite being the daughter of two warriors, Basila apprenticed herself to a chirurgeon. She applied herself to a wide variety of disciplines and soon was renowned in Weilsart, a town in an adjacent valley.

Salexys took her vows and became a novice priestess. She was avidly pursued by a number of gentlemen all of whom wanted to be the one to continue her line. Zhahllaia advised her on finding a proper match, one who truly loved her. Though Salexys loved and respected the djinn, she grew annoyed with the counsel. She would marry eventually, but that was long in the future.

Though we took no precautions, neither Allegeth nor Ten Ghosts bore another child in this time. Lysethe had returned to her night tea, but had begun to idly speak of forgoing it.

I sought direction. True to my word, I had returned to researching Zhahllaia's condition. I quickly recalled why I had stopped, as I hit the same wall that had stymied me before. In retrospect, what stopped me was so obvious. It was not a wall at all, but I did not know that then.

The day Olyrah came before Allegeth, I was more restless than usual. We sat in the throne room, the line of supplicants reaching the door. Allegeth and I sat upon our thrones, Melisant and Zhahllaia flanking her and Tanyth by my side. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, calling me for an aimless wander through the hills. But I didn't want aimlessness. I wanted purpose.

My attention wandered down the line. I had grown accustomed to the people of Bashamailon. Most were human, but we had substantial populations of dwarves and gnomes and even hobgoblin quarters in a few of the larger towns. Many people displayed signs of mixed ancestry, a slight green complexion here, an exceptionally thick beard there. Rarer still was a patch of scales or eyes with a vertical pupil, though far from unknown.

My attention fell upon a gnome. She was, like most of her people, about half of my height. A shock of hair like a flame sprouted from her head. She had the classic pear-shaped gnomish figure, though I thought her proportions were lovely. She wore a dress cinched tightly about her waist, making her modest bosom stand out, while full skirts enhanced the curve of her hips and posterior. She carried a leather satchel over her shoulder, identifiable by a few stains and leather containers as one for an alchemist. Her face was pretty in a bright, summery way, with wide-set green eyes, a narrow nose, and a small mouth set in an absent-minded grin.

I found myself enamored of her. I had, after all, never been with a gnome and my natural curiosity for all things feminine often ruled my better impulses. I wondered what an alchemist would come before her queen to ask. My attention returned to her many times, and once, I she caught me. Our eyes met, and I gave her an encouraging smile. Color rose in her cheeks, showing off the freckles than ran over both. She gave me a smile and a slight incline of her head.

Allegeth listened to each supplicant, dispatching one or other of her courtiers on the errand. Finally, it was the gnome's turn.She curtseyed. "My name's Olyrah Vaine, and I'm an alchemist from Laasel. I come to humbly ask Your Majesty for assistance in a task that's beyond me."

"An alchemical task?"

"With apologies, no. A magical one. I'm somewhat versed, simple hedge magic and the like, but I'm quite out of my depth. I'm an alchemist, mind, and if it isn't wet or powdery or explodes, it's a bit beyond me."

Allegeth broke into a smile. "I understand. What is this task?"

"There's a...I can't quite explain it, Your Majesty. I'd like the eyes of a wizard in front of it. A proper wizard. I was hoping you might send the Red Hound. She's come Laasel way before, when the wolfkin come out of the peaks. But then I seen you sent her in the other direction."

Lysethe had already been dispatched on an errand, looking for a pair of children who had been lost.

"Perhaps if time isn't of the essence?" Allegeth said.

Olyrah shrugged. "Not sure on that subject, Your Majesty. Worried it might have waited as long as it can, if you take my meaning."

"I will go," I said.

"My love?" Allegeth asked.

"She needs a wizard and we have one here."

Allegeth nodded, turning back to Olyrah. "My husband will assist you."

"Your Majesty, I wouldn't presume to take the time of the prince consort."

"He has volunteered. It is done."

I rose from my throne, kissing each of my wives in turn. Tanyth murmured into my ear, "She's quite beautiful. Enjoy yourself."

"I have a mystery to solve," I murmured back. "And I love you."

Olyrah fell into step next to me as we made our way out of the castle. The morning sun was bright and Quiyahui was little more than an iridescent ribbon in the distance. "How did you come hither?"

"Took a carriage, Your Highness. Twice daily and a modest fee besides."

"Can you ride?"

"Ponies or men?" she said, and then blanched. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness. My sense of humor isn't what you think of as refined."

I broke into laughter. "Good, I could use a sense of humor."

"Well, then the answer to both is aye."

"Good. Come with me."

We made our way down the stairs into Kaibéliard. Quiyahui could have carried us to Laasel, but I did not want to trouble her. She never liked bearing passengers and since we had come to the mountains, she liked coming down from the clouds less and less.

Instead, I took Olyrah to the royal stables, where the master was only too happy to release a horse and a pony for the two of us. I had a moment of wishing for a proper qobad, but I have spoken at length upon the supremacy of the Kharsoomian riding bird and will not trouble my readers with another lament.

The journey to Laasel would take several easy days. The roads were well-maintained and we were never more than an easy day's ride from an inn. In this place, at this time, I had no need for a bodyguard. My enemies were dead or far away in the ruins of Aucor. My thoughts were far from the Rising Shadow, but they would soon return. For now, though, my spirit was light.

On that first day, as we rode west out of Kaibéliard, Olyrah spoke, "I did not think to call the prince consort."

"You wanted a wizard. Aren't too many of those."

"I'm not complaining, mind. Merely that I wouldn't demand royalty."

"I am not truly royalty. My master found me in a forest."

"But you've the title now, Your Highness."

"Belromanazar is fine."

"Your Highness is shorter and I'm a short lass."

I laughed. "As you wish."

"You're as royal as any of them, I expect. Well, not as royal as Her Majesty of course."

"You love your queen."

"Of course," she said without any hesitation or ceremony. "I celebrated with the rest of Laasel when she wed you, and again when your daughter was born. That week I must have drank half my weight in cider, and not the small stuff you give to babes."

"We were pleased when Salexys was born as well."

"And a priestess her! The pride I feel for her was overwhelming."

"You thought I was a good match for Allegeth?"

"Well, I admit there was some concern about you. A wizard all the way from Aucor, and that place not known for any but legions of frothing maniacs. And you, with these other wives, here to wed our virgin queen."

"I am not from Aucor."

"I know that now, I do, but when you came, that was what they called you. A prince from far Aucor. Tell me, where do you hail from? Your accent's a muddle, but by the looks of you, I'd put your origins in northern Chassudor somewheres. Esmia maybe."

"I am from Rhandonia."

"And you admit it freely, with no duress! What you lack in breeding you make up for with honesty. I knew you were a fine match for our queen."

I burst out laughing again.

"Good thing you found that funny," she mused. "I understand that south of the Turquoise talk like that can get you strung up."

"And worse," I agreed.

"This other place you were prince of..."

"Zuunkhorun," I said.

"You are not prince anymore?"

"The proper title was tyrant."

Her red eyebrows went up and she uttered a low whistle. "Tyrant? Seems a savage place."

"Zuunkhorun was an island of civilization if anything. The title was just that, a title, a holdover from a more savage time. And to answer your question, I abdicated my throne. It had served its purpose."

"Never thought of a throne as having one of those."

"That is all it has. The Throne of the Dragon's purpose is the wealth, happiness, and safety of the people in Bashamailon. Zuunkhorun's throne has the same, but I turned it to darker purpose. And now that is over, and I believe I handed it to those who will treat it as Allegeth treats the Dragon's Throne."

"Giving up power once tasted is a rare thing," she mused. "You are a good match for the queen, you are."

We arrived in the town of Laasel one afternoon. It was the biggest town in a modest valley, and anywhere else I might have called it a village. A town center was little more than a single avenue, small farms and houses climbing into the hills to the north and west.

As we rode through the densest part of the settlement, locals waved and called greetings to Olyrah.

"That doesn't look like the Red Hound," observed one older man with a touch of green to his complexion and an impressive paunch.

"It's the Prince Consort himself," Olyrah said, sitting up straight.

"Your Highness!" exclaimed the man, bowing with some difficulty.

"No need to stand on ceremony," I said.

"You might fall over," Olyrah agreed. "This is Wendelbert, runs the local public house. When you'll be wanting a drink, it's his brew that'll line your belly."

"I'm pleased to meet you."

"I'll tap a barrel for Your Highness! Finest I've brewed!" Wendelbert vowed.

"Later," I assured him.

Now that Olyrah had identified me, the townsfolk began to gather. I tried to think of what Tanyth would do, waving to each and speaking a few words I knew would be inadequate. I longed for her effortless manner, but more, I longed for that moment when none knew who I was. Anonymity was a luxury I had forgotten.

We took a winding path off the main road that meandered into the trees covering the lower slopes of the surrounding hills. The scent of pine was heavy around me. This place was almost like forests of Rhandonia, but different enough that I could not delude myself into believing I was there. The air was thinner, the sky bluer. Not a single cloud promised rain.

Our destination was a cottage in a dell. It had a cozy ramshackle quality that looked at once intentional and haphazard. To my eyes, it looked like a dollhouse for children. Everything was sized for Olyrah, and thus half of what would be comfortable for me. I found myself wondering if I was going to be sleeping outdoors.

We dismounted, leading our mounts through the front gate. As we moved, I glimpsed another structure behind the first. I didn't imagine it was her lab, as most alchemists preferred to have those far enough away that if the worst happened, it would not take the house with it.

"What I want to show you is another half day in to the woods that way," she said, pointing up the path. "I've no wish to keep riding now. I need a bath and a meal and I expect you need the same."

Before I could respond, the front door opened and Olyrah's twin stepped out into the light. "We found the wizard then?" she said.

"We did. Ring the bell, I've tasks for all of us."

The other stepped back through the door and a moment later, a bell rang from one of the structure's crooked spires. Olyrah looked to me. "Homunculus," she said. "You must know of some of the secrets of alchemy."

"I did not know your skill was so advanced."

"You needn't be surprised."

"How many of you are there?"

"Six in total, including myself. I'm the original, of course."

"You are not," said another Olyrah, coming around the corner. She wore a peasant's dress, her sleeves rolled up. "I am."

"Still wrong," said the one who had answered the door, emerging once again.

"It doesn't matter," said the one who had escorted me. "Follow me."

Olyrah was a wonderful friend, but I never truly was able to understand precisely how her homunculi worked, nor which was the original. At times they seemed to operate with a single mind. At others, they were at odds.

My escort took me along a path around the side of the cottage. Her garden grew wild, plants and fungus in balance. It was a perfect alchemist's garden, cultivating as many of her raw materials as she could manage. She kept a small glass conservatory in the back as well, to grow those plants the climate couldn't.

More importantly, in the back I found the structure I had glimpsed from the front. Built in the same style as the cottage, its door was sized for me, and it was connected to the rest of the cottage by a cramped hallway. "This is where my human guests say," she said. "Main house is a little too small for your likes. You'd bump your head and elbows and I don't need to be responsible for that."

More Olyrahs gathered. Some were dressed for housework, others for gardening, and one came walking up the back path with the leather apron and stained hands of a working alchemist. There were indeed six in total as she had said, each one as lovely as the last.

"This here is the Prince Consort," said my escort. "He's a wizard fledged, ready to help us."

There were bows and such, and then the hive of gnomes went about their work. One escorted the mounts to a small pasture. They heated water for a tub that sat in the yard, while two others disappeared into the cottage. Soon bright herbal smells of food made my stomach snarl.

Olyrah opened the door to my quarters and I found a single room with a bed covered in quilts and blankets. It would not do to spend much time in there, but it would be more than adequate to pass a night of rest.

"Water is ready, Your Highness," said an Olyrah. I wasn't certain which, nor was I certain it mattered.

I went outside and found the steaming tub waiting with a cake of soap. A luxury certainly, but for an alchemist, a trifle. I nearly mentioned that I was quite capable of cleaning myself with magic, but I found myself curious and a tub of warm water was always a pleasure. I stripped out of my robes, boots, and loincloth, hanging them over a drying rack. I stretched, the cool mountain air bracing on my bare skin.

"Getting in, Your Highness?" asked Olyrah. "Or was you planning to pose a little more?"

I laughed, noting that three of them watched me as I climbed into the water. It sank warm fingers into my muscles, kneading the travel-born aches. I sighed, leaning back against the wall of the tub.

"Acceptable?" asked one.

"More than that."

"Even for royalty."

"You'll need to talk to the Olyrah that brought me here for that story," I said.

I cleaned myself, rising from the water before I'd leeched all the warmth from it. The air gave me a delicious chill, and a spell dried me. I thought of the rain in the Mixtayhua and wished I'd had that magic then. I am not certain I've ever been as cold as I was in those rain-lashed highlands.

As I donned my loincloth, two of the Olyrahs, my escort and the alchemist, disrobed. They revealed small, smooth bodies with lovely curves. Most interesting, was the fur between their legs. And it was fur, smooth and silky and thick, hiding the contours of their orchids. My inspection ceased as they climbed into the water, but then I was treated to the sight of their small breasts with their tiny, cherry-red nipples, slick and wet. One picked up the soap and as she began to lather the other, I knew that if I didn't look away quickly, I would stare.

I donned my boots and robes, settling down on the steps up to my chamber. Not long after, the other Olyrahs brought out food, a thick vegetable stew with rich brown bread, and a beverage that was tart like lemons and kicked like oghul. Eating outdoors by this cottage in the mountains, I found myself longing for a simpler existence. The gnome, or perhaps gnomes, did not mention the purpose of my visit, instead playing the role of impeccable host. I slept well that night.

Olyrah, perhaps my original escort, perhaps not, and I rode out in the morning. We traced a pathway along the hillside, and in places it plunged to one of Bashamailon's deep valleys. These are places where the peaks reach so high above that the valley floor is perpetually in darkness, save for a few blessed moments when the sun is directly overhead. The poets of the Infernium Peaks used these places as metaphors for the secret parts of the soul and I cannot think of a more appropriate image.

When the sun reached its zenith, we paused on the trail. She nodded to the crest of a hill. "It is beyond there, Your Highness. Prepare yourself."

She opened her satchel, withdrawing pieces that she assembled into a hand catapult. I had seen such contraptions many times. They were popular with alchemists, especially those who did not possess the strongest throwing arms.

"I am ready," I assured her.

Our mounts were cautious. Horses, and ponies for that matter, had none of the qobad's natural bravery. They were hunted as prey and they never truly forgot it. These knew that something lay over the crest of the hill and were loath to approach.

A scent hit me, a bright yellow-green. At the same time, a sickly sweetness bloomed over my skin. I must have shuddered, because Olyrah was looking at me. "You sense it."

"Magic," I said. Possibilities tumbled through my mind over what could be beyond the rise, each one stranger than the last.

"As I said, I needed a wizard."

"That you did." I reached out and a lightning bolt struck, burning the air white and leaving Ur-Anu in my hand. The Blackspear, forged from stone from the heavens itself to slay a god, stood ready to battle.

"Warn a lass when you do something like that," scolded the gnome.

"Forgive me. I am usually in battle..."

"Yes, well, you're far from battle now."

"You seemed to imply..."

"I don't know what I have!" She sighed. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I didn't mean to snap. You could have me in a gibbet couldn't you."

"I don't know," I said, frowning. "I'm not certain how much power I have."

"You were considering it then," she teased. "Me heart's settled. Come, tell me the nature of this thing."

We crested the hill. The sensations flooded over me, every one of them wrong. I smelled rich color, felt heavy scents, tasted throbbing sounds. I tried to push away the maddening impulses and merely see as a mortal would. Even that made little sense.

The path dipped low, into a tiny valley concealed on the other three sides by craggy peaks. The local mountains sported a wide variety of trees, from beech to pine to maple, yet what I saw within the valley itself did not conform even to that mixture.

"That is a xilquinal copse," I said, staring at a forested section on the eastern side. The trunks were silvery white and the foliage gold, impossible to mistake for any other tree. "They do not grow here. I did not think they grew anywhere outside the land of the elves."

"I've never seen a tree like that anywhere. Don't know about elves, though."

A shape fluttered over the tops of the trees. I stared in disbelief at one of the strange fungal flyers I had last seen in Storm's Rest careen blindly through the air. As I watched, a feathered lizard leapt from the golden branches and snatched it out of the air.

The terrain turned arid as it extended from the xilquinal copse, stretching to barren badlands on the northern side. At the bottom, fungal towers grew from a swampy area. A bellow rose from a beast's throat that I was certain hadn't been heard in uncounted millennia.

"How did you find this place?" I asked.

"Compass," she said mildly. She produced a leather box, bound with brass, opening it to reveal a floating copper arrow. It wavered wildly, trying to point at the entire valley. I recognized the hedge magic device, though I was impressed with the elegance of Olyrah's design.

I dismounted. "We should not take our mounts in."

"We mean to go in then?"

"Do you not want to?"

She grinned. "Suppose I do."

We took the horse and the pony down the slope, hobbling them and leaving them to graze. As we returned, I felt Ur-Anu reaching out, trying to sense danger, but nothing returned to it. Still, a consistent sizzle lived behind my ears, reminding me that the threat could arise at any time.

"Quite a smile you've got there, Your Highness," remarked Olyrah.

I felt my face grow hot. "Thinking of my adventuring youth."

"You were an adventurer?"

"For a time. I was part of the Mythseekers."

"I've not heard of them."

My momentary indignance was mollified as I realized it had been centuries since the Mythseekers gave up adventuring for war. "In the span of things, we were not together long, though at the time it felt like forever."

"The weight of years. We gnomes get more of a span than humans, though we're an eyeblink for you wizards."

"I did not think it would be a weight, but it is."

"How do you bear it?"

"With company."

I made my way down the path, Olyrah following, my destination the swampy area at the base. Pools of still water dotted the ground, the fungal trees growing high, punctuated by other towering plants that had no place in such a primeval surrounding. There were xilquinals, bright jungle plants that reminded me of what I had seen in Uazica, and dry, thorny plants that were almost trees. It was as though this place could not decide on what to be, caught between impossible gulfs of time and space. I recognized more than merely the fungal trees and xilquinals. I had seen glimpses of this when the demigoddess Ksenaëe had shown me the span of ages. This was a place out of time, but out of every time.

It was perhaps appropriate that I should be interrupted by an old enemy. Ur-Anu's thread reached my mind, describing a step to the side and a sweep of the Blackspear's obsidian blade. I followed the weapon's advice in smooth movements that would have done me proud in the Red Wastes. A frog-lion lurched from the water, ready to drag me down. The spear's blade passed smoothly through the creature's thuggish neck, encountering less resistance than a blade through a block of soft cheese. The frog-lion's head went tumbling over the turf, noxious blood fountaining from both stumps. Its fat body thumped down into the yellow dust at the edge of the pool.

Olyrah yelped. "What was that?"

"I've seen them before, half a world away. It was a predator from other age."

"You know what this is?" she asked, gesturing at the valley.

"Somewhat? I've seen places like it. Places where the earlier ages of our world intrude onto the present and maintain themselves. Yet they are always remote."

"I know Laasel isn't the biggest hamlet in Bashamailon, but I wouldn't call this remote."

"Precisely." I looked about, assessing the area. "Olyrah, I wish to study this place. Would you mind?"

"Don't suppose I do."

"I can find a room in town."

"I'll not hear if it. His Highness will be my guest. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to who isn't me."

I sent a bird to my brides informing them of my decision to remain, and soon after received a flame-feathered one admonishing me to be careful. I settled into the room in Olyrah's cabin, though I kept a regular campsite just outside the Hollow.

I first catalogued the terrain, finding that while the areas were not wholly separate, they tended to fit together in the way of spots of spilled liquids. The splatters reached into the others, creating areas where they mixed, but at the center of each, they were nearly pure representatives of their era of Thür.

The terrain was, frankly, impossible. From what I had seen of the various Strata, each possessed a different climate, sometimes vastly different than the others. The first had been wet, with expansive oceans and only spotty archipelagos covered in fungal marshes. The second had been arid, ranging from desert to badlands, reminding me a bit of the Red Wastes. The third had been covered in verdant jungle and forest. The fourth had been colder, with mountainous glaciers closing over the world like the maw of an icy behemoth.

Fauna from each area wandered through the others, though they seemed uncomfortable anywhere but in their home terrain. I glimpsed more frog-lions and fungal flyers. Burly creatures that were not quite pigs and not quite lizards scavenged through the arid places. More of the feathered lizards, like I had seen in Ul Adrax, skulked through the jungles. A hoofed predator with a jaw like a drawbridge stayed hidden in the xilquinal trunks and I knew better than to provoke him.

I drew a map and observed everything I could about the denizens of this place. I wondered what the First People would have called the frog-lions, if the orcs had a name for the pig-lizards, and who was about to name the feathered lizards. What I could not understand was the source of the change. Why this place existed.

I dwelled with the six Olyrahs, and I will confess to becoming addled. The gnome, or gnomes--I was not certain which was proper--were lovely creatures and they often bathed alone or in groups in the tub behind their house. Watching their hands roam over slick curves, lingering in places that did not strictly require so much attention, was maddening. I did what I could to pay them back and relished the attention they paid when I undressed.

One night, more than a month into my stay, I was awakened as a nymph climbed into my bed. I was Quiyahui, wearing her human form. I took her gently, grateful for such company. She did not stay until morning, slipping out soon after we were finished. I spotted her later, swimming through the great currents in the sky.

As much as I enjoyed that evening, it was not enough. I am a goat, and if it were up to me, my bed would be warm every night of my life. My gaze lingered on all six Olyrahs more and more. I had to have them, my mind spinning with the possibilities.

I returned from my investigations in the Hollow laden with samples on one otherwise unremarkable evening. It was late, long past when I could expect a meal. I was perfectly content, having dined upon the host of alchemically preserved and pickled foods Olyrah provided in plenty. During this time, I developed a taste for one of my favorite meals, a luncheon of crusty bread, pickled cucumbers and carrots, soft cheese, and honey. Simple, but I still crave it. Over two centuries of life and food could still surprise me.

The house was quiet as I made my way around the back. As I passed a window, I heard a high moan, whose source could only be passion. I turned without thinking, only later scolding myself. I expected to see Olyrah abed with a paramour, as she had often hinted at keeping several from surrounding villages. Instead, what I saw was all six of her bodies in various positions in an orgy of herself. Some gave knight's or cleric's kisses to others. Some tickled the folds. Two writhed against one another in a flawless blessed crossroads. I was looking into the face of one who had mounted another, grinding her hips into an inquisitive tongue.

I was momentarily frozen, but my senses and propriety swiftly returned. I recognized that I had happened upon her in an act of self-pleasure. Only the Heacharids condemned such a normal undertaking, but such things were private. I would not want to be observed when I did such, unless it was part of loveplay when observation is part of the joy. As I moved, I thought I glimpsed a pair of green eyes opening. I hoped it was my imagination, for I had no wish to cause my host even a moment of discomfort.

I returned to my chamber, placing my samples on the small desk that had become a repository for such things. Bits of fungus, collections of soils and stones, a flying creature that was nearly an insect, and what I believed to be a larval frog-lion now sat next to other jars filled with similar objects and creatures.

I stripped out of my clothing and lay down in bed, letting the fatigue of the day wash over me and draw me gently to oblivion. I could not stop thinking of what I had glimpsed in the other room. The fact that, scant feet from where I lay, a fetching sextet of lissome gnomes frolicked abed put shivering fingers into my mind.

Sleep would not come.

I looked down at myself and was not shocked to find that I was hard. I needed a bout of love. I sent my mind to Quiyahui, but received only amusement in return. A bolt of pleasure threaded through our link, chased by the faint taste of Lysethe's sex. I sighed.

With that taste, desire only grew. Now I imagined Lysethe grinding her pale folds into my face, her hands braced against the wall. My hand crept down between my legs. I gripped myself, caressing. I knew the pathways well. In my youth, my self-pleasuring had been desperate. I finished quickly to keep from being interrupted by the old man, demanding I stop fooling about and do one of the hundred chores that were my responsibility. Now, in my infrequent bouts, I liked to take my time.

My mind wandered. No longer was I with Lysethe. I was with Teidestra, my friend from the Turquoise Conquest. I'd only had her once, in the midst of a honeyed night with other Amazons. I always regretted never pursuing something more permanent. Then she was soft and sweet Ixem, learning the delights of Arthan style for the first time. Then Hulda, the two of us frantically rutting in an alcove in the main yard of Clan Sesamhat's estate, each trying to find a single soft moment in the brutality of Kharsoom.

Then I was in my room at Thunderhead, doing what I was doing at that moment. In my mind, though, I was an apprentice. I would have been thinking of Bridda, of how she would feel beneath my inexperienced touch. A woman was a mystery to me then. I could only imagine her softness, wonder if she would look like plates in the Eroticum Kharsoomium I'd furtively peeked at to fuel my nocturnal self-exploration. Then I was with her, those years later. She was bent over the counter of her bakery and I was taking her from behind, a culmination of years of unspoken infatuation. As I reached my climax, when I filled Bridda, my body once again seized with pleasure and I splashed hotly over my belly.

I sighed, relaxing. The tension left me. I thought I should clean myself off, but I let it stay there, growing cold in the mountain air. Now sleep lurked in the velvet corners of the room and I allowed it to enfold me.

A knock sounded at the door leading into the hall, shocking me to full wakefulness. "Your Highness? Are you in?"

"A moment," I said, pulling a blanket over myself and the remains of my amusement. "Enter."

The door opened and Olyrah stepped in, a robe wrapped tightly over her curves. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I didn't want to trouble you."

"Heard me, did you?" she chuckled. "Not much to be done about that."

"Forgive me."

She waved it away. "Nothing to forgive. It's a small dwelling, impossible not to be noticed."

I felt my face growing hot. "You are telling me..."

"That I heard you casing the sausage, yes."

"Now I am ashamed."

"No need. If I had one, I'd polish it daily. Actually, I came to beg a favor. The seed of a wizard can be used in a variety of concoctions."

"You want my seed?"

"If it is no imposition."

A strange request, but not one that was a chore to grant. Besides, I did not mind the thought of the fetching gnome ministrating over my nude body. "No, that's, fine I suppose."

Another Olyrah entered, this one wrapped in a blanket. As she moved, her fat thighs peeked from the folds and I caught a glimpse of the thick fur between her legs. A scent caught me, and I found myself stirring. I threw the blankets back and she climbed up on a stepstool, and then onto the bed. She carefully scraped the pearly threads from my belly and into a jar that smelled faintly of slow music. She stoppered the lid, then absently licked her fingers clean.

She looked over, finding me twitching, then met my eyes. "Liked that, did you?" she asked with a smirk.

Impulse seized me. "There is more to milk from me, if you wish it."

"Heard tales of wizards," sighed the other one. "Randy buggers, all of you."

Now committed to my lust, I brushed my lips over the curve of the closest one's neck. She was so small, like a doll. "Well? Would you like more of this precious substance?"

"I will not dishonor Her Majesty," she said, though she watched me steadily swelling with greedy eyes.

"If she did not know I would bed you when I left, she knows by now."

Olyrah gave me a smack. "Presumptuous," she teased.

I felt a small hand on me. It was the other Olyrah, still clad in her robe. "He says there's more to be milked. Wouldn't hurt to check, would it?"

The one on the bed looked at me, biting her lip. "I suppose if we're merely harvesting, there's no harm in it."

The other caressed, running her small palm up and down. She could not get her hand all the way around me. "No harm at all."

I hauled the other close, and she pushed me away. "Your Highness! Behave yourself."

I laughed, leaning back and pillowing my head on an arm. "As you wish. Proceed."

The two of them took their places on the bed, one in her robe, the other let the blanket fall. They faced opposite directions, the nude one on all fours, her hindquarters pointed at me, treating me to a sight of her. I could not see the petals of her orchid through the thick red fur, yet it carried her scent so well. The other knelt beside me. Four hands stroked me from root to tip, finding me wet from my previous explorations. I was not wet enough.

"Take me in your mouth," I said.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness. I don't think it'll fit."

"Never done that for a human?"

"Oh, we've sucked more than one human, you can be sure of that. Just never one so prodigious."

"Then lick."

"Your Highness..."

I slapped the buttock of the nude one. It gave a pleasing jiggle. "I need to be wetter for this, and I can think of only two sources. You wouldn't deny your prince."

The two Olyrahs looked into one another's eyes. "We should do as he commands," said the robed one, beginning to squirm.

"It would finish him more quickly."

The robed one began to lick me, her small tongue working over my flesh. The other went to the base of me, warm licks covering me with saliva. I caressed the handprint I left on her buttock. She turned and swatted me. "Your Highness..."

I met her eyes, continuing to caress. My fingers found the seam, and each pass of my hand I worked deeper. "Finish me quickly, and I will stop. Take too long and we'll see how deep you go."

She shivered, turning back to her attentions. The two of them licked and slurped, running their mouths about me. They could not suck me, though they gamely tried, each Olyrah opening her mouth as wide as it would go, licking and sucking at the tip of my spear. Their tongues were agile, and one seemed to enjoy exploring the hole in the crown of me, as though she were giving a knight's kiss to a woman. It was a fascinating sensation that I found I enjoyed greatly.

I gave another soft slap, and she giggled, moaning into me. Every urge demanded that I sit up and take one and then the other, but I fought it. The two of them going about this strange kiss was better for forcing me to relent. Wanting is often better than having, though the need could drive one mad. I was bound by shackles of consent even as lust worked at the locks.

The door opened. "I woke with a strange taste on my tongue and what do I find?" A third Olyrah stood in the doorway, nude.

"Come here," I said, my eyes smoky with lust.

"I did not know we were seducing him tonight," she said, climbing into bed and pressing her small lips to mine. I gripped her buttocks, my fingers parting her like fruit.

"We're not," scolded the other. "We're harvesting him."

"A grand idea. Hard to ignore such a good source of wizard's milk," she said, amidst kisses.

"Stop playing with him and help us. He's close."

She broke from me. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness. Were it up to me I'd see if I could fit that staff of yours inside me."

"We can try that," I murmured, pulling her into another kiss. "If it won't fit in the front, we can make it fit in the back."

She stared at me in mock surprise. "You wizards are randy buggers, aren't you!"

"Bugger being the operative word," teased the other.

"Stop fooling about and help us," said the third.

The two who had been with me initially pulled the third into the scrum about my staff. Then I had three inquisitive tongues, three hungry mouths ranging over me. They were relentless, three mouths and six hands all working for at a single purpose. The bliss boiled in me suddenly. It had been at a steady simmer and then, at once, it burst. The three of them yelped as I fountained.

"Don't lose any!"

"It's in your hair."

"It's everywhere!"

The three of them managed to collect it in the same jar that had taken the rest, though one had to scrape her hair thoroughly. I watched with a mixture of lust and amusement. The door opened to reveal the other three, two in robes and one nude.

"What is this?" demanded a new arrival.

Surrounded by visions of tiny beauty. I wondered if one or more would consent to stay the night. Another bout or two would do me well, and I had yet to taste a single one.

"His Highness has consented to give us as much wizard's milk as we can harvest from him for the duration of his stay," said the one in robes.

"I would like one of you to stay with me," I said.

"If that happens, she'll wake up buggered."

"True," I allowed. "That needn't be so bad."

"With that thing, she'll be laid up for a week."

"I'm not your slattern," said another, sliding out of the bed. Soon all six of them were out, and filing through the door. One paused, looking me over. A grin spread over her face. "You can think on buggering me if you like." Then she turned, gave her buttocks a saucy slap, and vanished through the door.

I collapsed, staring at the ceiling. A moment later I found I was hard again.

I returned to my work in the morning, and none of Olyrahs behaved as though anything had transpired. This was more intoxicating than if we had immediately transformed into paramours. I found myself enjoying the feeling of a storm about to break. The uncertainty was maddening in such a delicious way. I returned to my studies, though every moment, my thoughts were with Olyrah, and when next we would amuse ourselves.

These memoirs are not a place to discuss my magical research, but I would be remiss if I did not speak upon the discoveries I made of that place. I was rediscovering what one does in every age of the world. I am certain that uncounted millennia ago, an orc scholar did what I had. Even in more recent days, there were humans who had done much of the research I was doing now. I would only discover them later, and I owe much of my knowledge to the Qammuzi natural philosopher Afseneh the Wise. I found more than one treasure in the ruins of Pharnaz, but her book On Strata was the most precious to me.

I did not have the vocabulary to describe what I found, though I had encountered the phenomenon before. I learned that the locus of the change was in the center of the dell, which unfortunately was at the bottom of a pool in one of the swampy areas. Thus, my studies had to contend with ambushing frog-lions. Though I was better able to deal with them thanks to the Blackspear, no encounter with a frog-lion will ever be pleasant. I was glad they had not lasted to my time outside of these scattered Hollows.

Forgive the following descriptions, but words are unequal to the task of what I found. A man without the gift could not have sensed anything. Trying to describe it to him is like describing a color to a blind man or mercy to a Heacharid. Yet I found something that undeniably existed, apparent to the magical senses conferred by my gift and sharpened by my training.

This object was not one that could be touched or felt by hands untampered in aerilean fire, but it was as real as stone, wind, and love. I felt it as a ball of many colors, every one of them a different flavor, singing a different song. Its roots reached out, the colors growing stronger the farther from the center they strayed. What I could only call a taproot extended from the seed. I perceived it as going down, but I knew that was my mind trying make sense of a thing that could not exist in time and space. It drew aerilean power from a place beyond reckoning to fuel, maintain, and transform this place.

What I had found was a Hollow in flux. It had become unmoored but it had not decided upon which era it would reflect. This was, of course, because it would settle on the present Fifth Strata. Counterintuitive yes, but only if one ignores the aerilean knots time and space tie themselves in. Standing stones would not function if such things unfolded the way most perceived them. Sadly, I would not know more until I made my way to the Heavenfall, and that was still some years off.

When I returned to the Dragon's Roost, a year to the day after I initially left, I found the same energies present in the strange object I had found in the black fortress of Thabban the Subtle Fang. I held the bottle, scarcely as large as my smallest finger, up to my eyes. Within, a glowing fish like a mote of dust and within the fish, a twin of the power I found in that place. It was, of course, not the same thing, though it drew from the same source. I would not understand it for a time, but this was an important step to my eventually using this object. Had I never found it, there is an excellent chance I would never have become an archmage.

As I say, such academic matters are not what this memoir is for. No, this is about my paramours. Yet this was an important step in a part of my life that will be extensively chronicled here, that of my striding. Far longer than my exile and yet a blink of an eye, it would change me, forge me. I did not see it then, but in retrospect this interlude gave me so much.

For now, I shall return to Olyrah, for it is she...shes...they...I still know not how to refer to her. Olyrah's strange state of being six people but a single individual was intoxicating. I am a wizard and I seek to understand the world. When the world happens to manifest as a beautiful woman, understanding spurs me to romantic pursuits. Or, perhaps I am merely the randy old goat they say I am.

A little over three weeks after we frolicked together for the first time, I returned to the Hollow, camping not far from away and lingering for more than a week. My motives were initially base, as I wanted to tease Olyrah. As luck would have it, on that first day, I sensed the aerilean taproot for the first time and was mesmerized. Harmless flirtation quickly succumbed to my single-minded approach to mystery. I would later use this precise moment to counter one of Tanyth's fond accusations of my boundless libido.

I returned from my experiments in the late afternoon after many days alone. I was filthy, in my solitude having neglected to use spells to maintain my hygiene. I had felt as I did during my early exile, though the alpine forests of Bashamailon could not have been further from the steaming jungles of the Axoxcan. The simplicity of those times called to me, and in those moments, I had a tendency to forget how terribly lonely I was then. I had not even met over half of my wives and despaired of ever seeing the others again. Memory is like that, distilling misery into bittersweet joy.

When I wandered through the gate into the backyard, a pair of Olyrahs were tending to chores. One scrubbing her clothes in a tub, the other hanging the freshly-cleaned garment. The one hanging the clothes wrinkled her nose. "By the Great Red Father, Your Highness, you smell like a midden at noon."

I sniffed myself and it hit me. "Oh, a minor spell should--"

"Never does the trick," said the other quickly. "We'll prepare the bath and you'll soak like a civilized man."

They heated water with jellied fire, and I was soon submerging myself in the fragrant depths. The others poked their heads out of the cottage or returned from the lab to catch sight of me. Some lingered longer than others. I had the impression that certain of her were more interested in me than others, but the mystery of her mind or minds was still that. One of the many things that made me treasure her as my dear friend. I luxuriated in the attention, showing off my strong limbs as I washed every inch of myself with the care of a born showman.

The last to arrive came from the alchemical lab, smudges decorating her cheeks and nose. "A bath!" she exclaimed, clapping her black-stained hands. She stripped off, climbing into the water.

"Hello," I said.

She smiled winsomely. "His Highness doesn't mind?" She sat at the other end of the tub, her smooth legs caressing mine as she covered the alchemical stains in soap. Shiny flesh peeked through the suds as the gray-black shed from her.

"You see?" said one of the Olyrahs. "That is how you wash yourself Your Highness."

"He's used to royal bathers," said another.

"I am not," I said. "I thought I was doing an admirable job."

"More fool you, then," said the one who had been hanging the laundry. "Here, I'll show you." She pulled her dress over her head and her smallclothes followed. Then she climbed into the tub.

The other Olyrah handed her the cake of soap, a grin lighting her face. The slick surface ran over me, followed by her clever hands. I sighed, sinking into the massage. Her body was behind mine, and occasionally I would feel the brush of her shock of fleece, or of a hard nipple.

The other stood in the tub, accepting the cake of soap from the other. She covered her small body in bubbles, washing them away in rivulets, her eyes boring into mine. Her shiny skin was hypnotic. I watched her without shame. This was for my benefit and I would enjoy myself.

The other washed below the water line, and I felt her hand against my staff. A brush at first, easy to dismiss, but then her hand wrapped partly around the thick shaft, pumping up a section of my length.

"Seems to be enjoying the show," she said.

"That I am," I murmured. "Wash the crown."

"And let you spurt in the water? Don't think me a fool, Your Highness."

"You may sit upon it. None will go to waste that way."

"You're a nasty one," she purred, her lips against my ear.

Another Olyrah lowered herself into the water. I had not noticed her disrobe, so intent was I on the others. The other who had been washing herself turned her attention to the newcomer. Soon there were two mirror images, covered in tiny bubbles, slick and shiny. Their hands roamed over the smooth flesh as the one on me continued to work her touch.

Maddened, I hauled the one washing me around and into my lap. She yelped in surprise. "You're poking me, Your Highness!"

"I plan to do more than that."

"It'll never fit," she teased.

"That, my lass, is a challenge."

She reached between my legs, rubbing me from root to crown, dispensing with any subtlety. "Suppose we owe it to ourselves to try."

"You'll need to be prepared," I said, my hand falling down her little belly and her sex. The fur that covered her was softer even than the belly of a rabbit. With some exploration, I found her slit hiding within, and I opened her, caressing the folds, brushing her pearl.

She purred happily, kissing my beard. "Inside, Your Highness. I want to feel that fat finger inside." I already wanted to feel that fur against my staff.

"I would not make you wait," I said. I kissed her mouth, my tongue pushing past her lips. She sucked it, teasing it with her own tongue as she would if it were my staff. Then, a soft whimper as my finger probed past the gentle resistance of her sex. She closed about me, her small arms gripping me for support.

At the other end of the tub, the two other Olyrahs watched us. Experimentally, I pushed my finger more deeply into the one in my arms and the two of them shivered, their brows furrowing. The one who received it, though, gave a high-pitched moan, momentarily losing track of the tongue in her mouth.

I gently eased the finger deeper inside of her, finding I craved her moans. The substantial globes of her buttocks touched my knuckles. She had a lovely backside, full and smooth, a pleasant jiggle over the muscle. My smallest finger extended and there I found the puckered opening I sought. Her eyes opened wide as she felt me probing.

"You are a nasty one, Your Highness," she sighed.

"If you will not take me here," I twitched one finger, "you will take me here." I twitched the other.

"Is that a command?"

"A royal one."

"Then I have no choice but to accept," she grinned, her hips now pushing against both intrusions. "I must admit, I like a good buggering from time to time."

"I'll give you one you won't soon forget."

She caressed me, her small hands emphasizing my prodigious size. "How could I?"

"What is this?" barked an Olyrah. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "Thought I felt something twitch and I come out here and what do I find?"

"Begone," said the one in my lap. "The prince is about to see if he'll fit!"

"Get out of there, all of you. We'll have him good and proper tonight."

"Sorry, Your Highness," said the one in my arms, gently wriggling free of the intrusion. She sighed when I was out of her. The three of them emerged, and though I was frustrated, I was treated to the sight of three lovely shiny bodies.

"Be good for him to wait anyway," opined the one in the door. "Make that first pop nice and easy."

"You're cruel," I said.

"You won't think that when you're pounding that beast into me." She waggled her eyebrows and I could not help but laugh. They disappeared inside, preparing our supper. I finished in the bath and soon they brought out the food. I never bothered to dress, thinking that if they wished to tease, I could do it as well as they.

We ate quickly. I was not the only one eager, it appeared. The strangest part of being seduced by Olyrah was that she never exchanged looks with herself. Everywhere I looked, her silver-flecked green eyes were on me. I was being devoured as certainly as the vegetable stew and freshly-baked trenchers.

"Very well," said one Olyrah. "Now that we've food in our bellies, we can have our fun."

"Here?" I asked, gesturing to the table. The night was mild, and loveplay outside had some appeal.

"You're not having me on that table," she huffed. "His Highness should adjourn to his quarters and await. You will be summoned."

"Summoned?"

Another smirked, and I could not be certain it was the one whose insides I had so recently caressed. "Not used to that?"

"Don't take too long," I said, rising from the table. "Or I might start without you."

I shut the door to the chamber and reclined on the bed. I was hard, a bead of nectar collecting at the tip of me. Gently, I massaged it into my staff, thinking that it would not do to appear too eager. Then it took me and I was no longer innocently lubricating my flesh. Outside I heard them moving about, and I fought the overwhelming urge to see what they were up to.

Finally, six voices raised in unison. "Your Highness, come out and join me."

I opened my door. Spread in the center of the soft grass was a blanket. Jars were lined up next to it, and I momentarily reflected that they perhaps expected too much of me. A pair of lanterns on posts bathed the velvet dark in a molten glow. All six of them waited, each one gloriously nude. Their hair, normally up like a candleflame, was slicked down to their heads. Their skin glistened with fragrant oil, smelling like flowers in a spring meadow.

I approached them. They were small, but their features and bodies were undeniably those of women. Their intoxicating curves, the wisdom in their eyes, the thick fur between their legs. One stepped to me, caressing my length lightly. Her touch left oil behind, and soon I was as slick as she. She grinned, her green eyes sparkling.

Another approached, running her hands over the eye-shaped scar on my abdomen. She leaned over, pressing her lips to it. "A warrior before a prince?"

"I have led many lives and I have never had a night like the one I am about to have."

Her cheeks reddened slightly. Overcome, I lifted her. My hands slipped, but I hooked them beneath her armpits, hauling her to my lips. I kissed her. She sucked my tongue like the other version of her had. Perhaps that was she, or perhaps it was what she did for her human paramours.

"Lay down, Your Highness," said an Olyrah.

I set the gnome down, settling onto the blanket. Now they loomed about me, all six. I kissed the belly of one, then another. Their furs, the pelts between their legs were soft, oil beading in the straight strands. I kissed above one, then in the center of another.

"He is eager!" exclaimed that one.

I lay back, hauling her down. She obediently knelt over me, bringing her orchid to my lips. The oil gave way to her own nectar, an earthier taste that reminded me of the soil that would nourish those meadow flowers. Finding her slit was a challenge, but the softness of the fur caressed me, granting a subtle pleasure. Finally, I found her sodden lips. She was small and tight, and I probed her with my tongue, retreating to tease about her edges, then back inside. She squeaked every time I passed over her little button.

The other Olyrahs were far from idle. Oil slicked hands ran over every part of me. The caresses ranged closer and closer to my turgid staff. The teasing was wonderful, punctuated by the nymph on my face, squeaking and grunting, rolling her hips every time I pushed my tongue inside her.

Tongues ran over me now, five of them. Three circled my staff, one teased at my coin purse, one ran over the tip of me. Soft lips stroked my overheated flesh, slathering me in dripping globs of saliva.

Curious, found the seam of the buttocks of the Olyrah on my face. My cold finger traced it, finding the puckered opening. I pushed my tongue hard into her at the same time as I forced my finger past the tight ring. She screamed, bucking over me, flooding my mouth and soaking my beard.

I felt a sensation like none I ever had. It was like gloves of softest fur gripping me, stroking from the base of me up to the crown. I groaned, thrusting against this fresh wonder. It was at once soft and hard, sweet and spicy.

The Olyrah who had ridden my face dismounted, her movements unsteady. I saw now what gripped my staff. Two Olyrahs had united in a blessed crossroads of sorts, pressing their orchids about me. They undulated as ones versed in the technique did, grinding their pearls against my shaft as they slicked me with their nectar and their fur rubbed me to delirious heights.

It was one of the most delightfully decadent things I had ever experienced and the night was only just beginning. I moved against them, and they matched my pace. They gripped more tightly as each stroke made it to the apex, then a harder press right as the head of me began. My heart thundered as pleasure built into a stormcloud within. I held it at bay for as long as I could, this sight, this sensation, without equal.

The bliss was sudden, a shocking bolt that crushed me. I fountained, splashing over the two writhing nymphs. The others clapped and cheered, as those two dismounted and a third cleaned the seed from them.

I thought I would get a rest, but the other three were atop me. Two began to lick my staff, driving it to hardness once again.. The last knelt by me, pressing her lips to mine.

"What will His Highness do next?"

"There is something I have been curious about." I tried to grip her, but her oily flesh slipped from my grasp.

"His Highness wants to test something," she said to the others.

"I bet I know. Same thing every one of the big folk want to know the first time they see me," said another.

"Will it fit?" said the third.

"Normally it is boasting," said the first.

"With him, I am curious," said the second.

"Olyrah the Alchemist has ever been a scholar," said the third. "Which of us gets the honor?"

"It will be me," said the first. "He's been teasing me with that spear since he got here." She stood over me, squatting down. One moved behind her, holding her up, while the other angled me for entry. I stayed focused on the unruly mass of red fur. The scent was maddening, overpowering, fresh and summery with that undercurrent of something darker and more mysterious. The pillowy softness and shaggy straightness were like nothing I had experienced, and I wanted more. I found myself stroking my entire length along that patch, luxuriating in the unfamiliar sensation.

"Come now, Your Highness, you promised me a proper fucking," she said, moving her body until my head was pressed against her. Beneath the softness of her fur I felt her plump lips straining as she settled more weight over me. Her eyes were wide, her breath coming more quickly. "I might have been overconfident."

"You can take him, assured the one below. As though to prove it, she licked up the underside of me.

"Keep holding me," said the first.

"Oh, calm yourself, focus on taking him in. We want to feel it as much as you."

"You can take me, or I can take you," I said.

"His Highness sounds certain," said the one at my base.

"You should listen," said the holder.

The one taking me shivered and nodded as the other began to lower her. Her brow furrowed, her eyes closed in pain and pleasure. "Oh, by the Great Red Father," she said, then uttered a filthy curse. I stared at the place we were united, my thick staff disappearing into her thatch of auburn fur. Her insides were slick, tighter than a vise. She held me, her thundering heartbeat holding me through her sex. She stayed poised there, with me pressing for entry, and for a moment I thought that was where we would stay. Then, she slipped, and my head was inside her. She squealed, shuddering in sudden ecstasy.

"Oh that is good," said the lower. She turned her attention to my coin purse, her tongue greedily teasing the sensitive pouch.

The one taking me balanced precariously. Though the other held her, she took much of her weight herself. Her heavy thighs quivered with the strain of keeping her at that perfect level.

"More," I said. "Your prince commands you."

"Prince Consort," said the one holding the first, then she shrugged, addressing the other. "Still, it is a command."

"You feel him," gasped the one I impaled. "Be slow."

"I feel him," said the other, shivering, "and I wish to feel more."

She slid down another inch or two, crying out with the intrusion. Her breath came in high, quick gasps. I felt her moving around me, as though her very bones had to make room. The others sighed, each one's brow furrowed and eyes glassy.

The three who had been absent crawled across the blanket to us. One poured oil on her hands, perfuming the air with bright flowers, then kneaded the muscles of my chest. Another sat upon my hand, moving her hips, encouraging my exploration. The last helped the other with the one I presently fucked. I lay back, the delicate sensation of the massage warring with the impossibly tight grip the other had on my staff.

"No more," she gasped.

"You've more," said the one between my legs. She gave the base of me a lick. "Couple of inches still seeing air."

"No! Feel him!"

"Yes, I feel him," said the one touching my chest. "He's plumbed our depths."

"We'll have to make do," said one. "Can you finish him?"

"Yes," gasped the one upon me.

"She'll need a bit of help," said one holding her.

They lifted her, her sex wringing mine with every inch. She gripped me so tightly, I thought I would explode from that alone, but I did not. Then she came down over me, and she began to spasm, her insides shuddering with the explosion of sensation. I let myself go, finding that the pleasure came easily. As I filled her with sticky strands, a cheer went up from the other five.

The others pulled her off me swiftly, before I was even finished. I caught a glimpse of her fur, matted in my seed, more leaking from beneath. Another bolt shook me and a burst splattered over a different Olyrah. A third straddled my legs, taking my staff confidently, and pointing it at her chest. The subsequent spurts decorated her small body, from her modest breasts down to the thick fur between her legs.

She dismounted me, and she and the other I had finished upon took the one I had fucked away, where they put my seed into jars.

The other three covered me, three oily bodies ready for more. I pulled one to me, kissing her hungrily. "I am not certain how many more I have in me," I murmured.

"I will start you," said the one between my legs. Her tongue traced cold fire over me. She coaxed my body to readiness with her skillfull attentions.

"How shall we take him this time?" asked the one who had been grinding against my hand.

I sat up, kissing the one closest to me. "I believe I promised you a buggering." I picked her up and turned her over. Her fur ran in a narrow line between her legs, and a tiny bit ringed her small and dark opening. I traced it with my finger, once again marveling at the softness.

"I can take His Highness," she said. One of the others poured thick oil over her, pooling in the crack between her shining buttocks. I eased a finger into her. She was tight, but her ease at taking me showed she enjoyed these pleasures often. Still, she squealed. "Bigger than I thought."

"That was just his lordship's finger," laughed another. She looked to the third. "This is going to hurt."

The other nodded happily. "Been thinking about it since we saw it." She reached between my legs, slathering me in oil. Though I burned with my use, the wet strokes ignited my length.

"Don't neglect a single part of him," admonished the bent over Olyrah, pushing back against my intrusion.

"I'll feel it nearly as bad as you," said the one, kissing my tip. "Go on, Your Highness. We're as ready as we're going to get."

I gripped my partner. Her waist was slim, her hips full, giving me the perfect handhold. I pushed my fingers into her hair, and though it was thick with oil, it gave me more purchase. I hauled her onto me. She squealed as I took her, descending into broken whimpers. The other five shivered happily. One caressed me, kissing my skin. Another moved behind me.

I pushed my way into her, enjoying the different contours of this opening. I felt her body shifting, making way for an intrusion it could never have prepared for. She would take me well, though she would need her potions in plenty when we were finished. Unlike her sex, this could take me fully, and I would not be happy until my coin purse touched the silky fur between her legs.

As I worked to sheathe myself, I felt small hands on my buttocks. Insistently, they spread me apart, and then I felt a tongue on my own rosebud. The tickle matured into something altogether more maddening, driving me to take her homunculus more fully. The delicate sensations were at odds with the more brutal pleasure I took from the other.

Then I felt oiled fingers pushing at me. "Your turn to relax, Your Highness," said the other, straining to push into me.

I sighed and did as she bade. She sank in, and a bolt of pleasure shook me. I was gloriously full, her presence resting next to a thunderhead inside me. She pushed deeper, easing more of herself into me, prompting shudders that wracked me like lightning over full clouds.

The one beneath me whimpered as I shuddered. To feel, in some small way, what she did, brought the thunderhead within me to full rain. As I took her, easing in and out of her, the other massaged, her oiled fist exploring new heights of pleasure.

My thrusts grew more frenzied as I battered the one on the floor. She was little more than a mass of quakes, her form overpowered by my savage attentions. I could not hold off forever, not with the twin pleasures working at me. I hauled her over me completely and released the bliss I had been holding. My staff bucked, filling her once again. I thought it was out of me but a fresh bolt took me, and another. She howled, a new pitch to her bliss.

"He's finishing!" crowed the one with her hand in me.

"We're going to lose some for certain," lamented another.

"Have to wring that one out like an old rag," said a third.

She overflowed, the ring about my staff leaking copiously and dripping over her red fur and down her fat thighs. My ecstatic joy continued for far longer than I could have imagined. At some point, overwhelmed, I collapsed. The Olyrahs pulled the other one off me, her small body as limp as a doll. She was red and abused, her body leaking me, but her face was content. Two set about harvesting her while two cuddled up to me and stroked my exhausted body.

"One more?" asked one, kissing me gently on the mouth.

I laughed. "I can try."

"We're running out," said another. She indicated the two I had so brutally taken. They lay upon the blanket, their eyelids fluttering and their lips spread in tired grins. "Those two will be abed for a day or two, even with the proper potions."

I got gingerly to my feet. Then, after a moment of hesitation, I hefted the two who had been cuddling with me. "There might be more," I said over my shoulder, carrying their laughing forms to my room. As it turned out, there was.

I spent a year with Olyrah becoming good friends and better lovers. It was my custom to carry one or two of them to my bedchamber whenever I was at her home. In my time in Bashamailon, I would visit her often, and we took much pleasure in one another.

I bid her farewell on a bright day, kissing or embracing each Olyrah in turn and returned to the Dragon's Roost, happy to be home. My chambers were as I left them. As I unloaded and organized my various samples, I found myself already missing Olyrah.

"There you are," said a voice behind me. Tanyth leaned in the doorway, a winsome smile upon her gorgeous face.

Joy exploded within me. I embraced my beautiful bride, lifting her into the air. "I have missed you, my flower."

She burst into happy laughter, her violet eyes filled with love. I set her down and she nodded to the samples I had brought from the Hollow, now lined up on a table. "What is all of this?"

"Knowledge, my love. Come, I'm hungry. Let us eat and I will tell you everything."

She looked me over. "I was going to push you into that bed and ravage you, but if you want some cold chicken instead..."

She laughed again as I swept her into my arms and hurled her upon the bed. Laughs soon turned to moans and I was home.