Hey, Everyone. Long note here that you're welcome to skip, of course. So I am writing this as you're finishing the previous book, because the lit moderators need time to review and post. They're still really fast, if you think about how much they have to read. But I didn't want any of you to think I'm an ungrateful wretch who takes things for granted, because I'm not and I don't. It's just a lag. Also recognize that I did not have your comments yet when I asked for you to say if you wanted the next book. That lag can sometimes create weird effects. I wouldn't have asked at that point, truly. I would have just done it.
First, to everyone who commented and emailed: I'm really pleased people are enjoying it. I was going kind of blindly there and you all switched on the light. Thanks so much. I know some people had criticism, and I was prepared for that and I think a lot of the critiques are valid. I'll continue to post until the ending and it'll be two chapters, if that's okay. I've set aside something else to edit faster.
To the person who wrote the long note after chs 7-9: Your comments were detailed and articulate and generous, and I'm grateful. I'm not really looking to fix it because I have other things published and because, honestly, I think these novels are what they are. I call them novels simply because they are that length and are a complete story. Rather than self-publish, I'd rather just put it here for Literotica readers I know. I really appreciate the feedback and the time you took to write it. Thanks.
To Eaxia who emailed and noted the Pretty Woman thing. Cheers for the encouragement. Yes, it was deliberate, lol. Sharp eye.
Hey to skygreene. It's been a pleasure chatting with you.
Hi, Tess! Lol, welcome back.
Hello, Pretty. I never forget you.
-Harp
Clans of Luteri: Luteri
Chapter Three
When the sun was beginning to go down, Aslin looked as they topped a rise down into a clear grassy area directly outside of the forest in front of Tavishi Hold. Unlike Corsaire Hold, which was entirely made of black stone and was strict in its straight lines and measured perfection, balanced and square, Tavishi Hold was set in trees with autumn leaves turned colors as if it grew out of the landscape instead of sat on it. Its shape was organic and unpredictable, smoothed mortar.
The great vertical walls rose straight up through the tall trees and well above them. The castle was made of stacked stones with many colors of rock, light and dark, varied, and tall thin spires and black peaked roofs coming to sharp points. The structure seemed almost random, as if it had all been made at once but each part was shaped to serve a purpose. There were no edges anywhere on the surface of the huge edifice, all of its corners rounded.
At its front was what she recognized from Jaime's books about Luteri was a barbican, two guard towers connected by a walkway that went over a great ornate iron gate, then the smaller gate she had come to expect, inset with a repeating pattern of butterflies, to Aslin's surprise, in its center.
"Butterflies?" she said to Kane, her mouth twitching.
"That is our standard, yes. Corsaire is, as you know, the Aspen trees, and Duellan is a torch, and Prash a key. Noëthe is a ship because they are lowland idiots."
"A butterfly seems a little...," Aslin began, and then paused, searching for the word. "Harmless, doesn't it?"
"I don't know the last person who was killed by a tree except maybe falling out of one, Aslin. Our standard is not about war, but about who we are as a clan. Tavishi mean change by it, transformation to something greater."
They wound their way down, the castle rising as they descended, the village coming into view past the barbican, the gates as tall as the tallest Alverian building and still not as tall as the castle behind it. The land was strangely empty, woodland and hills all around. There was a break in the trees to far hills and she saw what she thought were Luterian sheep, craning her neck, small dots in the green distance.
"Why is there a well?" she asked him, spotting it directly outside the gates.
"For any who come here after a journey. It is a symbol of hospitality and welcome."
Kane slowed Shaol to wait for her on the wide path until she was riding next to him again as they began to make their way down, the way a little steep.
"We have not always been in feud, Aslin. Tavishi had a very long history, they tell me, when our clan gates never closed and Corsaire were allies to us and welcome here."
Kane didn't speak for a while, as if he were thinking about it as the Hold came into view. Then he looked at her.
"Both our clans are very tired and bitter and too proud and all of us have lost people we loved we were supposed to protect," he said. "Three hundred years is a long time, Aslin, even for us. It's been all my life, all Ruthe's life. All my father's life, all your father's life. There is nobody left alive who even remembers a time when hate for each other was not our heritage. The mark you bear is Shai's message to our people. The bond tells all Luterians she approves the peace."
Aslin began to see what it had meant when these people thought she had died, all hope of ending the feud honorably dying with her. Why Kane had gone to Corsaire Hold with her even though he knew they hated him, even though he knew it would make him angry to do that. Why Kane had agreed to give her his oath when she was a child.
Luterians viewed her bond with him, the scar, as a blessing from Shai, and all five of the Luterian clans worshipped the Goddess.
The gates came into view. She felt Kane's surprise to find a figure standing there, waving. A woman in a gold Luterian dress. She had wavy thick brown hair that caught the sunlight like fire, rich and deep, drawn away from her face and falling well below her waist. She was tall and lithe, a Luterian knife at her slim waist, and as they got closer Aslin saw flashing eyes, a warm smile. She was beautiful.
"Kane!" the figure called, still waving.
Aslin felt Kane's surprise, and then he closed the bond. He didn't acknowledge the woman until they reached the gates.
"Helene," Kane said as the woman opened the smaller gate wide enough for the horses to get through.
"I'm happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"
This was Kane's sister. Helene closed the gate behind them and locked it, turning to the cobbled village street much like the Corsaire village, although different, too, the village shops shaped differently, linked to one another and tall. Helene walked with confident strides, going to her horse and mounted with ease.
"I am meeting you, what do you think, you ass?" the woman answered. "I have always meet you at the gates. How is Jaime?"
"He's well," Kane said shortly, moving Shaol forward, his sister going in front of him.
"That's Aslin?" Helene said, turning around and looking past Kane to her.
Aslin was surprised. Helene knew her. But of course she was the only Corsaire to whom Kane had—or ever would have, for that matter—given his oath.
"Obviously, Helene," Kane said, his tone saying he didn't want to talk anymore.
Helene frowned, looking back at him. There was nobody in the streets in the village, as if they'd all gone inside, although Aslin saw more than a few faces in windows, the curtains falling if she glanced that way.
They entered through the archway of the castle under the barbican. Aslin looked up through the murder hole, seeing an edge of a cloud in blue sky through it, and then they were past it and had come to a huge courtyard, similar to Corsaire Hold. They dismounted, Helene leading her horse into the stables next to it, Kane and Shaol following, Barley behind, and then Aslin and Ilian.
Kane motioned Aslin to a stall with Ilian, nobody speaking. A Tavishi man came and took the small pack horse, not looking at them, Kane nodding his thanks. The man speaking kindly to the animal, leading him away.
Aslin did the same with Ilian, hearing the silence between Kane and his sister. Aslin brushed Ilian, patting her. Ilian turned her head for scratching, Aslin delighting in her soft nostrils and the feel of her mane, brushing the animal until her coat shone. There was a great deal of her to do and Aslin located a small stool, standing on it. Ilian liked it, she could tell, the horse looking drowsy and content, one back hoof coming up to rest. Then Ilian went from sleepy pleasure to instant awake hostility, tossing her head, and Aslin turned to see Kane framed in the stall opening, watching her.
"You'll brush her coat right off in a moment," he said. "Are you ready?"
"I'm sorry. You were waiting," Aslin said, putting the brush away in the slot provided, looking to make sure there was water and hay, brushing her hands against each other.
"I don't mind, Aslin. I'm pleased that you care for Ilian so much."
When Aslin came out, Kane was waiting for her outside the stable doors, Helene standing off to the side, looking unhappy. Helene led them back into the courtyard and from there they went through wide double doors, propped open, very tall, and into the castle.
It was Corsaire Castle but not, a different feel, different colors, a more disheveled warmth here. Aslin looked around as they passed a room with a low ceiling and drying herbs, the smells strong and a little acrid, other wide passages coming off the one they walked. There were very few people, those they saw pretending not to see them or walking away as soon as they approached.
Finally they came into the Tavishi High Lord's Hall, huge, a great fire lit already, the room warm. Helene went in first, and then Kane, who glanced back at Aslin as they moved past long rows of tables and chairs under banners with gold butterflies, their wings lengthened and linked in a repeating pattern against a dark brown background.
She followed Kane until they were standing in front of the two chairs in the front hall. Like Corsaire Hall, one of the chairs was empty. And like Corsaire Hall, a man sat on the other chair there. There were many people, Tavishi, women and men, lining the edges of the room, but they were quiet, not quite meeting her eyes when she looked around, a sense of waiting.
Aslin looked at the seated figure. She was surprised to see how much Kane resembled his father, since he and his sister looked so different. Bache was obviously older, his hair showing white that cut through and added another color to the same blonde-streaked brown hair that his son had, coming well below his shoulders, wavy like Kane's.
Their faces were cut similarly, strong and stern features, beautiful, a little cruel, intelligent. They were both big, but Kane was taller, a graceful quality missing in Bache, who was more stocky, his face less open. Kane must have gotten his grace from his mother, Aslin thought, and suddenly saw the resemblance between Kane and his sister Helene, standing beside him.
Bache rose to his feet and stepped forward to face them. He turned to Helene.
"I know you have usually met your brother at the gates, Helene," the Tavishi High Lord said, "but this was not a time to do that."
Helene flushed. Hurt flashed across her features, and then anger. She turned and walked out of the Hall, her back stiff. Aslin looked after her, dismayed. Kane touched the bond and she opened it.
"You didn't cause this," he said to her.
"I'm sure she just wanted to see you, Kane," Aslin said, glancing at the High Lord. "I know you are close to her and you've been away so long."
