Dual Apprentices - High Society
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2005 by Mack the Knife

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Wenn and Crissa discover that in high society, being a magician can be a disadvantage.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Magic   Heterosexual   Fiction   First   Oral Sex   Size   School  

Peris sat with an insipid grin upon her face, having downed half the bottle of Ghantian wine by her own efforts. Crissa was sitting opposite her, and only slightly less drunken. Unfortunately for him, Kennet had no head for alcohol at all, and was already murmuring in an wine-induced stupor.

Crissa was still concerned for the young man. He reverted from time to time to speaking the lies that had been drilled into his head at the asylum as if they were the truth. He very nearly had fully accepted them as such, even in his heart.

She was also worried that lying with him had confused the matter more, not less.

"I got you two into thish," said Peris, slurring badly and listing almost equally to one side before righting herself and beginning the slow slide against the wall to the opposite direction. "I feel sho bad about it."

"It was our hot tempers that landed us on the circle's bad side," said Crissa, growing somewhat seasick from Peris' unsteady rocking back and forth. "Once they knew our names and faces, they were ready to use us as scapegoats for something, if needed. It was just a coincidence that they needed one so soon."

"Why do you supposh they killed him?" asked Peris, blinking at the empty wine bottle and eyeing the rum, which still held half its contents.

Crissa thought on it for a long moment. "I've no idea," she said. "But with the involvement of a sorceress and a demon spawn of some sort, it smacks of something bigger than just a little group of unruly noblemen's children."

Peris nodded and immediately regretted that, closing her eyes to end a bout of nausea that motion brought on.

Crissa stood uneasily and held out a hand to Peris. "Come, it is time we slept," she said, hauling the smaller girl to her feet and helping her to the pallet they shared earlier that morning, near to the door.


Shiran stood and dressed in loose-fitted clothes of dark brown. Two of the other members of the circle aided her, people who had been giving her orders not one day before. They bowed to her and crept away into the next chamber of the cellars that they used as a base.

She smiled at the thought of commanding these people utterly, which the Templar had promised she could do at her whim, if for no other reason than the massive dog-like shape lurking against the wall, watching her with feral glowing eyes. "Come my lover," she said, beckoning the beast. "Let us go find these miscreants and deal with them properly."

The demon fell into step beside her, pacing her and keeping one eye turned her way. "Hide yourself," she said quietly and the creature shimmered and disappeared. There were so many things this creature could do. Things, which those fools, even the one who was now the creature, had no inkling of.

She knew its abilities, it had 'told' her while it ravished her body and mind. It was her servant now, in most ways, but when its lusts flared, she was his, and would be his until one or the other died.

She spared a glance as she crossed through their antechamber, where several of the circle stood and murmured to one another. They watched her with awe-stricken eyes and she could feel, through her new lover, their fear, or smell it, more precisely. You should be afraid, she thought, I plan on killing half of you curs when this is done and I have the Templar's leeway to do so.

Soft, padded footsteps paced her, though the creature was barely a blur on the edge of her vision. At night, like now, it was all but utterly unseeable. In daylight, one could see his shadow, but it was very dim from torch or lamplight. It sniffed from time to time, but never when anyone was near enough to hear. The creature was intelligent, she knew that from the images that he had given her from his desires.

He frightened her immensely. He knew he frightened her. He liked scaring her; it aroused him.

The demon's thoughts were intelligent, but they were also simple. It wanted to ravish this girl again; she knew him now and had given herself willingly to him. He loved her, such as his heart could love. What passed for love to him was more of a desire to possess, control, and ultimately, destroy.

Something held him back, though, some control she had on him. He did not have enough brains to know what that meant or how she had done it, it was simply so.

His mate wished to find some people and destroy them. This pleased him; he liked to destroy people. She had told him he could enjoy them first, if the opportunity availed itself. He liked that even more.

Vaguely, he smelled the scent of another like him, but it was an old scent. He smelled it faintly on his mate, too, but again it was old and he was her mate now. He growled low, thinking of anyone else touching his mate. No one would touch what was his now, he was more attentive than that one had been and he would protect her. He would die for her, but not for selfless reasons.


Wenn lay flat on his cot, staring at the stone walls and the wooden beams that supported the ceiling. His trial was to start on the morrow.

Anasper had assured him that the case would be quick and easy with the witness that Crissa held in reserve. Somehow Wenn feared that would not be the case.

"You have a visitor," said a guard. "Only ten minutes before they have to leave, though." He had lost some of his initial gruffness over the last days. Wenn had given him no cause to believe Wenn was trouble. The young apprentice had even tried to be as friendly as he could to the guards, enough so that he received his food warm now and usually free of spit.

Wenn stood and blinked at the face in the little square that allowed visitors to speak to him and vice-versa. It was Shanelle. She looked miserable, and frightened. "Wenn?" she asked, peering into the darkened chamber. "They keep you in the dark?"

"No," said Wenn, approaching the window after a moment's thought. "I just like to sit in the dark when I think."

She was pressed to the bars of the little window and saw him dimly in reflected torchlight from the hall. "You look well, better than one would think after being here," she said.

Wenn chuckled at that. "Well, I won't be here much longer, so it isn't a serious problem," he said. "Speaking of that, I'm rather surprised and pleased, to see you. Thanks for coming."

She nodded, but a tear escaped one eye, followed by one from the other. "Wenn, I'm so sorry."

"You had nothing to do with it, Shanelle," he said. "Why are you sorry?"

"I was told to give you this," she said. "They threatened to hurt me if I didn't."

She passed a small fold of parchment through the little hatch and Wenn eyed it worriedly. It was sealed with wax and she had not read it.

"They wish an answer when I leave," she said, still sounding worried.

He looked at the note in the dim light and read it again scowling with distaste at the words. "Tell them yes," he said.

Shanelle nodded and leaned close to the bars. "I don't know what they want, Wenn, but they're all wealthy. They tried to hide it, but they wore very expensive clothes under their tatty robes and stuff."

"I don't doubt it, but thanks," said Wenn, he said. "After you give them my answer, I want you to go to Marrat's house and tell him I said you could stay in my room. Then do just that, do not leave his house for anything, understand?"

"I'll be terminated," she said. "I have to work tomorrow."

"I'll repay anything you lose to that, just do it, promise me," he said.

She thought a moment. "Okay, Wenn, but only because you sound like it's so important," said Shanelle.

The guard called out from down the hall and she backed away from the little hatch. The guard walked up and closed it then escorted her down the hall. Wenn could hear the footsteps receding. He lit a candle again, having found that the wizardbane coating the walls would allow for that much mana to be focused, sitting on his cot and looking at the note. It was a short note, but very clear:

'Plead guilty and take your punishment, or this girl's life is forfeit, ' it had said.

He sighed and tore the note into tiny pieces, burning each with the candle and letting it float to the floor still aflame. The circle was afraid that he would win the trial, too, now, and were ensuring it would not be a problem.

How had they discovered Shanelle? It was no secret, but then again, not exactly publicized. Had she gone to Marrat's seeking him after he was arrested and seen by the circle? That had to be it.

He sighed again and lay back down, blowing out the sputtering stub of a candle.


Crissa awoke with Peris pressed to her again. The room was cold and it seemed to be raining outside. A thin mist seeped under the loose-fitted door, chilling her ears and nose.

The smaller girl's body was warm in her arms and she stroked Peris' back idly as she slept. Both were nude, as they normally slept. They had grown relaxed in Kennet's company, so inoffensive was he. He appreciated a nude woman, but said nothing and made no fuss about them, neither staring nor ignoring them, instead looking in passing, and then only seldom, saying something complimentary.

Peris moved and put her arms around Crissa. "Good morrow," she murmured into Crissa's neck, then kissed it.

Like other kisses she had received, it felt good and she tilted her head back to let the girl kiss it more if she wished. Apparently, she wished to, and kissed Crissa's throat with a passion, licking it and sucking on the tendon under the ear. Crissa felt an involuntary moan escape her lips.

"You're so beautiful," said Peris, halting her kisses only long enough to offer that praise then continuing.

"Thank you," said Crissa, still unsure what she should do regarding the eager young noblewoman. The lust from her was more palpable now than ever before. She was uncomfortable in the awareness that she had encouraged this behavior. It felt almost the same as a man's lust for her and that came as a surprise. The sheer aggression in Peris' desire was startling. The young noblewoman would take Crissa if she let her, and take her roughly.

Kennet's rising stopped Peris from continuing, though only barely. She continued nuzzling into Crissa's thick golden hair and Crissa could not deny the pleasure that the hot breath on her neck gave her.

Kennet did not speak. He simply rose and picked out the elven book that Crissa had loaned him. Then he sat on a barrel and read, with a lightstone propped on his shoulder.

Crissa even found this routine soothing and smiled. She could get used to Peris' company. But could she grow comfortable with the girl's desire for her? She petted Peris' hair gently with an idle hand, not even noticing her other hand pulling the petite girl tightly to herself.

Eventually, though, they rose and dressed. As had become routine, Kennet looked at them once or twice while they did so, but he did not ogle or grow excited. Crissa was somewhat taken aback that she did not even feel a trickle of lust flowing from him.

"We have to go to the courts just before noon," said Crissa. They should be ready to call witnesses by then."

Peris and Kennet nodded. It was a measure of the seriousness of this that Kennet closed his book on elven lore and marked the place with a finger amid the pages. "I hope all this helps Wenn," he said. "I still feel awful that he's jailed on my word."

"Just remember those words were put there, not from your own mind," said Crissa. She wondered about that, and still feared he might balk when faced with the tensions of the trail itself.

"Peris, I want you to take him at midday, I have something to attend to," she said. "Some last minute preparations."

The younger girl blinked at her. "And if something happens?" she asked.

"You're far from helpless," said Crissa. "I think the worst is past, they threw a demon and sorceress at us, I doubt they have much more to throw."

"Famous last words, right before a big rock lands on your head," groused Peris.

"I'll leave you the flash stones," said Crissa, pointing to the three glowing orbs about the chamber. "Just remember, squeeze shut your eyes and say 'flah'."

Peris hugged her as she picked up her knapsack and moved toward the door. "Stay out of trouble and we'll try to do the same," she said.

Kennet sat, looking miserable and Crissa walked over and gave him a hug, too. "I'm counting on you," she said. "Wenn's counting on you, too. Please be strong and know the truth."

The scholar nodded and swallowed hard. "I'll do my best," he said, returning the hug.

Crissa slipped out the door and up onto the street without attracting any undue attention. She pulled her cloak up over her head against the drizzle as much as to hide her face and headed toward Master Marrat's home.

Ten minutes later, Crissa slipped into the kitchen door to the large stone house. "Crissa?" asked Marrat, blinking in surprise. The kitchen was a terrible mess, with dirty dishes stacked in the wash basin and old bread loaf ends littering the table, along with other messes she did not wish to think on too hard. "Why are you here?"

"A diversion," she said, sighing. She reached out with her senses and felt excitement in the watchers across the street, satisfaction at having seen her and felt one moving further away, no doubt to tell his superiors of her appearance at last. "I'm going to draw off whatever excitement they have planned for us trying to reach the trial."

Marrat shook his head. "Be careful, girl," he said. "You play the game dangerously."

Crissa gave the old wizard a smile. "I play the game so that Wenn lives," she said.

"What of it if you give your life in exchange?" asked Marrat.

Crissa shrugged. "My life is no more valuable and it is mine to give."

The wizard stood, shaking his head and walked toward the door. "I'll leave you to it, then," he said. "I've a trial to conduct."

Shooting him a glare, she bounded up the spiraling stairs to the room she and Wenn shared. A shape lay slumbering in Wenn's bed, curled and facing away from her. She ignored the young woman and went about her business, assuming it was a companion of the duke's. By the time she came back down, she had donned one of her elven outfits again, a short spring dress of bright blue. It offered more range of motion than any more conservative clothes she owned. She had a three foot wooden rod clutched under one arm, as well, another of Wenn's experiments in enchantment.

Marrat had gone by the time she slipped into the library, and it was just as well. She crept to the back, sneaking even if there was no cause, with Marrat gone. There stood his display cabinet. Inside were several artifacts: enchanted objects that he had collected over his long life.

It was locked.

She tried to elbow in the glass but it was as she had always suspected, and tougher than steel. "Clever old man," she said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. She raised the wooden rod and spoke a word. Her entire arm went numb with what Wenn called 'harmonics'. She touched the rod to the glass at the front of the cabinet.

The glass exploded from the frame in a hail of minute shards. Several pieces nicked her on their way past and one imbedded itself in the hand holding the rod. She dropped the rod and lifted the four-foot mithril blade from its resting place and belted it about her waist on its ornate silver chain. She then plucked the shard from her skin and dropped it.

Marrat would be furious about her stealing his treasures, he would likely cast her from his home, if not follow up with charges of theft and land her in the prison. Better than Wenn dead, she thought as she reached atop another glass-powdered shelf and picked up the necklace draped over a porcelain neck model there. It was gold and ivory, with accents of sapphire, which she thought would match her eyes, though she was not attempting to make a fashion statement at present. Unless that statement is 'you cannot touch me', she thought wryly.

Crissa idly wondered how Marrat had come to possess the sword, a blade of Coghlandish make, from the knotwork on the hilt and crosspiece as she pulled a dozen glass balls from a rack and stuffed them into her belt pouch. Each glowed with an inner light that seemed to be a miniature sun. She was careful not to strike them against each other and nestled them into a silken bed of one of her folded undergarments within the sack.

The last thing she picked up was the most innocuous, a ring of plain silver. She slid it onto her finger and was surprised at the precise fit. She blinked at it a moment, then realized it was a magical ring, after all, sizing itself would be a trivial ability.

She turned from the cabinet and found Anasper sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, closing a thick tome laying in his lap. "Imagine my surprise," he said in a mild tone.

Crissa stared at him a moment. "Don't try to stop me," she hissed.

"I wouldn't dream of it, not with that on your hip and knowing you're a sorceress of some power," said Anasper with an utterly calm face. He must be hell to face down in poker, she thought. He waved an idle hand toward the sword.

She glanced down, as if first noting the blade. "Well, I've a need for it, don't I?" she asked.

"Indeed," said the duke, smiling faintly. "You look as if you plan on fighting a war."

"I may be," she said. "And I have to go fight it now." She started moving for the door.

Anasper moved like a viper, springing from the chair to interpose himself between her and the exit with a speed that caused her to jump back. Her hand never even strayed toward the hilt of the sword. "Crissa, I'll not have you disrupting my town for this," he said.

She tried again to move around the duke. "I will do what I must," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"Damn it, woman, I've allowed you to break laws that would land most in chains for years," he said, "Because I believe in your case. Do NOT jeopardize it with some fool stunt!"

"Counsel, you have a case to try, is it not time to be at it?" she asked.

Anasper sighed deeply. "Yes," he said, straightening his jacket. "I don't want to have to watch you tried, too, understand?" he asked.

Crissa nodded and slipped from the room. Grabbing a light cloak, Wenn's riding cloak, from a peg on her way past. It fitted her well enough and she cast it about herself before slipping out. Let them think it a feeble attempt at a disguise, she thought. She thought she sensed vague amusement from the watchers in the alley across the street.

She made for the market square. Crissa forced herself to look like she were furtive, without actually trying to conceal her going. She was surprised at how difficult this was, but she felt two people following her.

The streets were, as normal, crowded, and she found she had to dawdle once to allow her trackers to keep up. Leave it to those fools to use people too stupid to even make tail of someone.

They closed the distance in the market square, where she slipped through rows of stalls and felt another mind flash with a thrill at seeing her, then another. They thought they were ringing her. She pretended to finally notice them and dashed for the alley she had used those days ago with the Coghlander.

The four large, burly young men pursuing her jogged to a stop at the end of the alley, where it formed a small cul-de-sac. The looked about, there were no ways out, save through one of two doors, both locked as they found in a mere moment, pulling at them.

"Where is the witch?" asked one, a brute with a hatchet nose and clutching a long stiletto in his fist.

One of the barrels seemed to move, back toward the street, and Crissa stood, uncurling herself from the rounded shape she had been in, her arms like the hoops of iron and her cloak rippling from the form of barrel staves. She was smiling broadly, a glass sphere in her hand. A faint, shimmering glow was fading from the finely-crafted necklace she wore.

 
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