Harmless

Harmless

By Eddie of the Writing Group

The sex doesn't start until 1/3 of the way through.

----------

Close eyes.

Voices from the bottom of the stairs. Conversations, an argument about a disobedient son.

[Mare and Ronny, who lived three houses down the street from her, and that kid was truly a stinker.]

Skritch of a mouse in the wall. Male voice making rhythmic grunts from the door on her left.

Was someone being pleasured? It wasn't the person she had come looking for--wrong room. Too bad.

Sour smell of mouse dung, and dust, woodsmoke, straw from the mattresses. Beer smell drifted up the stairs along with Ronny's suppressed shouts.

It smelled and sounded like an inn as supper turned into drinking. A normal spring evening.

Behind her eyelids, the usual phantom lights seen in total darkness, indistinct and impossible to focus on. Wall against her back as she flattened herself against it. Floor beneath her feet, solid wooden planks felt through comfortable, soft slippers.

Soft and quiet--for this evening, being silent was important. Nothing alarming that she could detect.

Her heart pounding hard, sweat on her palms. Deep breaths, forced calm.

Comforting weight of the oak stick in her hand, with its brass knob at either end--she could feel the balance as she rotated it slightly by her side. Unfamiliar but equally comforting coldness of the silver chain wrapped three times around her throat, under her shirt's collar.

No sign that anyone had noticed her slipping up the stair.

Open eyes.

Hallway, no lamps. Light from the stair behind her, enough to see her way, her closed eyes had adjusted to the dark.

Guests would have carried a candle stub, but she wasn't a guest. She was an intruder.

The darkness of the hallway concealed her as she pulled her headscarf with its black-and-white stripes off her hair.

Hair falling down behind her, mouse-brown and tied carefully with black ribbons into a single club.

She wrapped the cloth around her face, covering everything below her eyes, with the black inner side now facing out. That should make it hard for the person she was hunting to recognize or describe her. Loose, dark-brown clothing would help. Attack in dimness in dark clothes with her face covered, strike a few blows, and off into the night. With her breasts bound and the loose shirt, and her unusual height, he might not even realize he had been beaten by a woman.

The wizard was in the biggest room in the inn, at the end of the hallway. A very large room for one person, but then magic could be very profitable. She took a deep, silent, steadying breath, and noiselessly walked the length of the hall. As she moved farther from the stair, the darkness deepened. By the time she reached the door, she was feeling her way with her feet. There was a two-fingers gap between the door and floor, and light spilled onto the floor through it. Apparently, the wizard was burning several candles. She could just smell a fire on the other side. Ghosting up, she gently pressed her ear against the door.

Crackling of a fire in a hearth--you could tell a hearth fire from a stove if you really listened. Quiet breathing? Maybe she was hearing it, or maybe it was just her imagination and hope? No! Even, slow breathing.

Could she be lucky enough to catch him sleeping?

Rustling ... not the sound of cloth rustling, but close. Parchment! He must be reading a scroll.

[If he's concentrating enough, I can do this. One strike and I can have him helpless, and his spells shouldn't be able to affect me with the protection.]

Bend down quietly and peer under the door.

Human figure wearing a loose white shirt, trousers belted with what looked like a linen rope, sitting in a chair near the fire, and indeed reading a scroll that rested on a small table. Turned mostly away from her, so no clear look at the face. About her height, brownish straight hair cut neatly just below the ears, what looked like riding boots. No obvious magic jewelry anywhere, or any jewelry at all, or even any possessions visible from where she was peeking, aside from the scroll.

As she watched, the wizard sighed and rose. The wizard neatly tied the partly-read scroll with an oddly shiny ribbon. [Is that gold leaf?] The scroll went into a sack, which went into a saddlebag. Snuffing the two visible candles revealed another one to the left, out of her sight, by its glow. Off with the shirt and then trousers, drape both over the chair's back, revealing drawers. He was of slim build, no beard, the pale skin of someone who spent a lot of time indoors. Peering under a door in dim light, she couldn't be sure of more than that.

He moved out of her sight, and after a few breaths the last candle was snuffed. The half-moon was at the wrong angle to shine directly in the room's windows, but enough light came in to allow a shred of vision.

Her back aching, she stood.

In the now total darkness of the windowless, unlit hall, she heard cloth rustling, oddly alert to it because she had been thinking of the sound of rolling a scroll.

Pulling the blanket over himself. [Wait, wait, do not ruin this by being impatient.] Listening, waiting, counting 50 breaths after the wizard's breathing was slow and regular. Stretching her arms and legs, silently, took another 5. [Time to do this or run away, and give back all the nice money.]

Pull the key out of her pouch. [Nice of Kimma to get so drunk there was no way she'd notice me taking this. I even had time to oil the lock before the wizard came back from whatever he was doing, and Kimma won't be awake before noon. Plenty of time to put it back.] Silently unlocking the door took only a moment. [This has to be fast. In the door, clout him a couple times before he can wake up, hurt him enough to satisfy Ramek, then out again and into the alleys before anyone else even finishes waking up.]

Deep breath. Out slowly. Deep breath-turn-the-handle-hit-the-door-with-her-shoulder and in, already darting toward where she knew the bed was.

Flare of light! Brighter than day, dazzling her to blindness!

[Hit him! Stop him from doing more magic!]

Her sense of the room tells her he is four paces from where she stands.

Stride two paces, raising her stick.

Squinting, blurry shadow of a human form sitting in bed.

Swing the brass head of her weapon full strength as she runs, sideways at the soft spot right under the wizard's breastbone.

Yank! Shockingly sudden, the stick stops motionless in its swing, still behind her! Feet slip away as her right arm stops her upper body, clinging to the stick, while her legs run out from under her. Falling down on her tailbone, sickening lightning bolt of pain. Instinctively look behind at the club. Eyes stinging, wizard's belt wrapped around the end of the stick, stretched across the room to tie it to the table's leg.

Fwomp! Darkness, and something soft and rough covering her head! She resisted the urge to scream without thought--the last thing a professional thug wants is more attention.

Smell of a person, not too sweaty.

[Is this the wizard's shirt on my head? Can he make things come to life? I think I'm in bad trouble.]

Raise hands to pull the whatever-it-is off her head. No,

try

to raise her hands.

Cloth wrapped around her left wrist pulls it away from her body, toward the wizard. Grab with her right hand, get a grip on the stuff covering her head. Cloth suddenly wraps her right hand. It feels like it's attached to her head as she keeps struggling ... it's a sleeve from the shirt, and its unnatural strength easily holds her hand motionless by her ear.

Floop! Something like a wide band of cloth wraps around her ankles, pinning them together. Worse pain from her tailbone. Taken totally by surprise, blinded and mostly deafened by the stuff on her head, she involuntarily lets out a not-too-loud grunt of fear and pain.

The next short while was confusing and terrifying. Inhuman shapes she could neither see nor understand yanked her limbs and then her whole body around, then strong arms lifted her and plopped her onto what felt like the room's bed, dizzy and disoriented.

Then nothing happened for a bit.

Scratchy straw beneath her, smell of a stranger on the cloth, blinded by at least two layers of cloth wrapped around her head, hearing only the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Her hands were now by her sides.

Tug at the bindings. It felt as if the Wizard's belt had been used to tie her wrists, and wrapped around her waist.

Legs tied by something -- the legs of the wizard's trousers? -- to the base of the bed, perhaps? She could only move her feet a hands-breadth in any direction.

"I must say, that protection Working is very professionally done." The voice was a baritone, very serene but slightly out of breath. "The spell on that chain will prevent me from harming you in any way with my magic." She frantically struggled again, for some reason terrified by his calmness. "Luckily for me, it

only

keeps me from harming. I can still sense you sneaking around, create blinding lights, and animate hemp and linen to bind you. You'll find that the chain cannot be broken or removed, by the way. I didn't do this, it was the will and determination of the maker. It will be on your neck, quite possibly, for the rest of your life." [What?! It's attractive enough, but forever?]

After what seemed like a long time, but was only a few breaths, she could hear him drag the big chair over beside the bed, and even the sound of him sitting down on the straw-stuffed cushion. Was he waiting for her to calm herself?

"Calm yourself," he said. She struggled suddenly for a moment not to giggle, her shoulders twitching. "What, did that frighten you? Please understand: even if you didn't have that silver Working around your neck, I wouldn't harm you. I don't harm people. I'm a healer. Magic has balance. I gave up harming, in order to gain healing. I have rendered you helpless. I will not let you hit me with that very dangerous-looking weapon. I might even have to make the situation unpleasant for you. I will

not

hurt you."

"I do, however, need to know. Have I offended you? Your family? Was your plan to steal from me? Please tell me: why did you attack me?"

[What do I do? I can't betray my client ... if people come rushing in, this will look pretty bad for the wizard, right? Tied up a helpless girl?] She began to shriek, "Help! Help! Someone help me!"

"Clever."

Amused, confident

[Uh oh.] "My power also extends to preventing any sound from entering or leaving this room. I anticipated that you might shout, although I thought you'd start

after

I began to ... persuade you." ["Persuade" me?] "I meant that compliment. I truly respect the quick thinking. You were going to brazen it out, correct? Convince the mob that I was a foreign despoiler who overpowered you with the most evil intent?"

"... Yes. I can't tell you who, I mean, the reason I came for you," she finally said.

"Who hired you, you were going to say?"

[Just shut up and don't give him any more.]

"I do understand. I think I do. You will understand me, I hope. I can't risk just letting this go, and never knowing who will come after me again, or why. You've made it clear that you're not going to tell me willingly. That means that I must persuade you to change your mind." He sounded regretful. She felt terrified. [What can a wizard do to me? Rip my soul from my body? Turn me into a lizard?] She couldn't even see him!

What happened was almost as frightening in that moment as soul-ripping. It was the cool air of the room on her ribs, as unseen hands pulled away her tunic.

The pull on the cloth was sideways, toward the wizard. He wasn't pulling it over her head.

[Did he cut it open?] A moment later, the cloth that held her breasts was also pulled away. To her embarrassment, she felt her nipples hardened and standing up. [From the cold! It's just from the cold!] Her skirt was likewise pulled sideways off her. [Did he destroy all my clothes? Do I have any chance of walking out of here?] Another, more rational thought: [He can harm cloth, but not people.] She was wearing no drawers, and now she was feeling the cold on her exposed fanny.

Trembling.

[The

cold

. It's just the cold!]

Heartbeat pounding in her ears again.

Warm palm and fingers flat on her belly!

She jolted, her limbs involuntarily, and uselessly, yanking at their bindings. "Now, is that surprise or fear, my bravo?" The voice sounded slightly ... amused? "Let's dispense with the surprises, now that you aren't going to hit me." The hand withdrew, then the shirt was pulled away from her head. She blinked away the dazzle as her eyes were exposed, again, to the... wizard light? The wizard was looming over her, looking at her face curiously. She was bound with his trousers and his shirt had just been yanked from her face. Thus, he was wearing only drawers. He seemed unbothered by that.

"No, that doesn't look like fear to me. Brave and quick thinking both ... I continue to be impressed. I don't suppose you'd care to spare us both the bother of convincing you to tell me? It'll be easier for both of us." He seemed entirely sincere. Up close, she could see dark brown eyes in a pale face, large nose and cleft chin ... As she studied him, she could see more details: thin mustache that only darkened the upper lip, and the lips were full. Nose somewhat pointed, good teeth and no scars she could see.

[Why am I studying him like that? Oh, to distract myself from this situation.] She once more struggled to move and once more utterly failed.

"No?" With great deliberation and without any hesitation, he put his right hand on her rib cage, on the side, about a handspan below her breast. It was, as before, warm. In other circumstances [No! Why is my mind going there?] The left hand matched it, on her right side, as the wizard leaned over her. She could smell the wizard's freshly-washed scent again, as she had on his shirt. "You're quite sure?"

She emphatically clamped her teeth together and shook her head forcefully, trying to make her determination clear without speaking. [After all, he can't harm me--he said so himself.]

"Very well." Almost before he finished speaking the hands withdrew far enough that only the fingertips were touching her, then they began to slide slowly upward across her skin and she couldn't believe it and it was so intense and she heard the first giggle force its way out of her mouth and then she had to open it and the fingers reached her armpit and it was

too

intense and she was laughing so hard and fast she couldn't breathe in and the fingers moved faster and moved down her ribs again, but it was so much more now and she was laughing and crying at the same time and her belly was tense and sore but it just made her laugh harder and then his hands came off her chest.

It took her what felt like minutes to stop giggling, and just as she took a deep breath he was touching her

feet

, [where are my slippers?] and scratching the soles with his fingernails and the cloth around her ankles tightened to hold her perfectly still and she was laughing still harder and not breathing at all and...

Darkness. Soreness in her belly, and the long muscles of her arms, probably from struggling so hard.

[Why dark, though? Oh, my eyes are closed. I passed out from the tickling.]

"Welcome back, Bravo." The voice had a certain satisfaction in it, the sound of someone who had demonstrated a great skill. "I can do that for a surprisingly long time, you know. I'm sure you have some sore muscles, and you might be wondering how I could do that harm to you." [I was not!] "I'm not able to harm you, to cause injury or disease or death. The balance of magic doesn't forbid me to cause you discomfort or pain incidentally, as part of doing something else."

She could feel soreness now in the muscles of her rib cage as well, and a rawness in her throat.

[How hard and long had he actually tickled her?]

"Ready to tell me who sent you yet?" He sounded ... he sounded as if he didn't expect a "Yes."

"No. A little discomfort isn't going to convince me to betray ... well, to betray." She surprised herself by sounding completely assured.

"Hm. Quick learner, too. You listened to what I said and immediately understood it and incorporated it into your strategy. It's a shame someone with your talents isn't in a better occupation." He smiled at her, seemingly utterly genuine. "I am less and less interested in being your enemy, by the way. I have to find out what I need to know, but I don't want you feeling as if you need to get revenge, at all."

Suddenly, he looked amused, almost grinning and looking ... below her face? [Oh, no]

Craning her neck and feeling the muscles in it stretch (and the triple-wrapped chain around it), she looked down to see that her breasts were mottled pink, the nipples twice their normal size and almost bright red with excitement.

"It seems that maybe I haven't displeased you at all with my tactics of persuasion, Bravo." He was definitely smirking now! She had to admit to herself, though, that she couldn't blame him. And suddenly, she wasn't afraid. It made no sense, but she had a sense of him now, and she really believed that he wouldn't hurt her. Not couldn't--that he didn't want to, that he chose not to.

"

As

I was about to say, though, I don't like to inflict any pain at all. Soreness here?

Fingers run along her ribs.

[Wait, why can't I see--because I closed my eyes again!] "Or here?"

Fingers firmly press into her belly, below her navel. It does hurt, but the hand pressing there is warm and she can feel heat growing there, and between her legs.

"Yes, you're squirming--clearly some discomfort. Wait a moment." She opened her eyes as steps receded from the bed.

The Wizard was sorting through a saddlebag. He found a metal thing, not a knife ... a metal bottle? A tiny flask, only about half as big as her fist.

As The Wizard turned back toward her, she closed her eyes again to pretend disinterest.

"Drink all of this. You'll feel no soreness within a few breaths. You'll find this particular Essence tastes quite good--it contains apple and a bit of rosemary." [No, thanks. I'll just spit it right in his face!] She opened her eyes to glare at him and the damned silver bottle in his left hand. He reached out with his right.

Pulling on her lower lip, and a strong apple scent.

She clamped her teeth. "Really, determination is admirable, but there are limits."

A hand that could encompass her entire jaw squeezed her cheeks, pressing them between her teeth and forcing her jaws apart. The left hand loomed large as it passed in front of her eyes.

A tiny corner of her estimated that the silver bottle was worth more than one week of her normal hire.

Overwhelming

tastes of apple and herb filled her mouth, stronger than anything a mundane kitchen could produce. The potent smell of the stuff filled her nostrils and she involuntarily gasped and swallowed.

"There."

Metallic scritching.

Was he capping the bottle? And why were her damned eyes closed again?! She opened them as he turned back, then sneezed, once. He turned away again to pluck a rag from the saddlebag, then gently wiped her nose. "Blow!" The feeling of being so helpless suddenly stormed through her--she couldn't even clean her own snot.

Feeling the warmth as her cheeks flushed.

[I guess that's only a little more of me blushing now.]

Her attention drawn to it, she was aware that her nipples were still the size of plums, or at least grapes. They

felt

like plums, and they were so sensitive that she could feel air currents on them. And below the waist she felt ...!