Sleeping Beast Ch. 06

"Vesa," he grunted, turning Argus' concentration away from the guilt he was carrying. "Lift."

He tipped his head, gesturing to the most recent addition to the pile of boards Argus had been cutting and from there to where they were laying out the door. They shifted a few pieces and Nivid mentioned a trio of small improvements they could make, which ought to keep his brother's cares at bay for a while longer. Nivid had no such problem.

Argus was foolish to fret. The woman was fine.

She loved him.

She wouldn't leave.

-- o --

For the first time, Troi noticed Talgut was quite a handsome man.

He'd been telling her some of the castle's history as he showed her around, and after sweeping aside a heavy tapestry to reveal the passage hidden behind it, he'd turned to her with glittering eyes and a wide grin. Stunned, she stopped to admire the man she'd been feeding and teasing and bickering with for the past month.

He wasn't as tall as Argus-- the nomads of the southern tribes tended to be more compact than Russians-- but the combination of mountain-brown skin and dark hair with pale, mossy-green eyes was a striking one. When he turned to light a candle so they could see inside the tunnel, she noticed the rest of him was as comely as his face.

Huh, she thought, her eyes sliding from strong shoulders down over muscular thighs, onto calves outlined by leather boots and the drape of his homespun trousers, then reversed her path to climb back up.

Though Nivid's thighs and... Troi jerked her eyes north before her ersatz sibling caught her ogling his ass.

She must have been too dazzled by Argus' absurdly handsome face and dazed by the wealth of pleasure his brother provided to pay attention to Talgut before today. Her eyebrows wrinkled as her thoughts wandered toward the brothers. Talgut's narration had been temporarily, blessedly successful in keeping her mind busy. She grinned when he turned back to her with an sinister leer, gesturing for her to precede him into the passageway. "My lady...."

She batted her lashes, doing-- by her estimation-- a fair impression of the flirtatious noblewomen she'd seen in her mistress' parlor. "Goodness me! Thankfully I have a strong, handsome champion, else I daren't venture into these frightfully dark and evil halls."

Talgut snorted and gave her a gentle shove between the shoulder blades to get her moving.

Half an hour later, they emerged in another part of the castle, two floors below the one where they started their adventure. Of course, Troi didn't know it at the time: the room was as black as the tunnels had been. She knew only that the walls and ceiling had fallen away from the weak light of their single, chimney-covered candle after Talgut pushed aside an old, thick door. Holding her hand for safety's sake, he led her up five stone stairs and through another, newer door.

Troi turned to him with circles of white rimming her wide brown irises. "But... but.... there weren't enough stairs!"

Talgut nodded, chuckling when he got precisely the reaction he expected-- he'd been just as flummoxed when he discovered the passageway a dozen years ago. She was technically correct: they had not descended nearly enough stairs in their wanderings to bring them from the second level all the way down to the auxiliary store-room below the small soldiers' chapel. Talgut had required six traverses up and six traverses down, plus several walks around the outside walls of the castle, before solving the riddle for himself.

Troi grabbed his arm as he turned away. "Talgut!"

He shook his head. "Nyet! You will have to find the solution yourself, as I did!"

"Talgut!"

She cajoled and pestered and snapped, but none of her tactics swayed him. He gauged her commitment from the corner of his eye. "Mayhap if you don't pester me overmuch about the first one, I won't make you wait until you solve this mystery before showing you another of Zamok Denova's secrets."

Troi shut up.

"I'm hungry enough from all my strong, handsome championing duties to eat without combing the cobwebs from my hair," he jested. Like most people who depended on the land for their food, the family normally didn't sup until the sun kissed the western horizon. "What say we dine first, then meet in the small drawing room for a game of two of Piquet or chess?"

Troi hastily accepted his offer, which would let her avoid Nivid and Argus for a few more hours.

-- o --

Argus suggested they set aside a few hours later in the day to start preparing the south-facing slope Troi had been eyeing. They could add millet seed to the list of things Talgut was tasked with buying tomorrow. Sooner or later, he realized, they'd need a cart and a pony to carry back the multitude of items he'd been told they required to lead a reasonably comfortable life in an ancient, drafty castle with neither butcher nor baker nearby.

If Troi stayed.

Argus wrenched his own mind away from that troubling thought without his brother's assistance.

Nivid merely grunted in reply to his suggestion about digging up the field after the door repairs were done.

He preferred not to plan. Things happened or they didn't. That day, they didn't. Fixing the door was a time-consuming task, and hefting it back into place required every bit of their combined strength and ingenuity. They could have used another pair of hands, but If Troi was willing to let Talgut keep her company, Argus didn't think they should deny her the comfort of a friendly face.

When they finally finished, both Denovas were limp with sweat and mist, which had never burned off but which had done remarkably little to cool them while they worked. Entering the dry, fragrant kitchen was both a relief and, for Argus, a bit of a blow. The lamps by the door where everyone washed up after toiling in the garden had been lit in welcome, as had the one on the table, but Argus and Nivid were alone.

Troi and Talgut had evidently dined already.

Still, she'd left a pot warming on the summer stove and a covered basket of bread on the table between two fresh place settings, when she needn't have done either.

He tarried just inside the door. The comforting warmth, the delicious aroma emanating from the iron pot, and the oil lamps' cheery glow made him reflect once more how drastically their lives had changed in one short month, and how much more they might change in the future.

She couldn't be too angry if she cared enough to feed them, could she?

Nivid removed him from the doorway and jerked him out of his reverie with a shove much less gentle than the one Talgut had bestowed on Troi.

Argus lurched forward, his mind jumping eagerly to the pot on the stove. He wondered what she'd left them. His reluctant nose turned back toward the wash-basin, where he waited impatiently behind his brother, tapping his foot and sniffing.

Nivid smiled. He wasn't worried.

Troi loved him.

She wouldn't leave.

-- o --

The small drawing room at the rear of the building wasn't a place Talgut would normally have chosen to dally. If Troi had asked, he would have said the ceiling was too high and the furniture too formal for the room to be homey. It felt cold and unfriendly, and if he'd had his druthers, they would have met in the old guardroom, which was a nice cozy place to pass an evening. She hadn't asked and he hadn't mentioned it, because he was sure she'd balk. You couldn't really blame her, not when she'd have to walk past Nivid's sex bench just inside the door.

Frowning, Talgut reminded himself to ask Argus if he could dismantle the wretched thing. Even if all four of them were positive Troi had set her sights on leaving the castle, Talgut couldn't imagine anyone locking her into that bench again. His grimace gave way to a snicker. Troitsa was clearly the one in command of that ship.

Talgut required less time to bathe than a female needed for her ablutions-- whether or not she was a tribeswoman-- but he filled the extra minutes by lighting a fire and setting up the chessboard on a tiny corner table. If he could keep Troitsa from pondering her circumstances today, he fancied she'd calm down and the three of them could sort things out on the morrow. Talgut would forgo that particular party. He was willing to offer succor and a bit of advice on occasion, but the four of them together didn't know enough gods to convince Talgut he should help the Denovas pick apart the tangle they'd woven for themselves this time.

In service of his goal-- amusing his young companion for the evening-- Talgut had forsaken the stoneware and pewter mugs they normally used and polished a pair of ruby-colored brandy snifters from Mama Denova's collection. The fancy German crystal was stored in the large drawing room in a cupboard Talgut believed Troi had so far neglected to explore. The sparkling snifters should be a nice surprise.

He also ensured their venue was properly supplied with alcohol and poured them each a glass of wine to begin, hoping Troi would not object. She often drank wine or ale with their evening meal, but he'd only ever seen her sip at vodka or brandy, and he didn't think she'd ever taken a cordial. He rolled his eyes, praying she wasn't a weeper, because he planned to get her drunk. He shrugged off the possibility. Even if she was, it wouldn't last long, and at least she'd sleep through the night, instead of lying awake asking questions.

-- o --

Three hours later, Talgut was slumped on the sofa with his head tipped back, snorting at the memory of those cautious machinations. Getting Troi drunk had been no trial at all. They'd quit pretending to play chess before moving ten pieces between them. For some forgotten reason, they'd then turned the sofa around and dragged it closer to the hearth, where they spent many festive minutes toasting each other and various holidays, singing half-forgotten songs and inventing bawdy lyrics when they couldn't agree on the words.

Talgut took another slug of vodka and chuckled. Troi's version of bawdy sometimes missed the mark. She had a strange combination of worldly experience and childish innocence, so she couldn't put a name to half the things which had been done to her. His face sobered. It was a miracle the woman had managed to retain a sense of humor, and more remarkable still that she could set aside what were surely many horrid memories in order to mock her former owners. He'd nearly choked to death when she impersonated her mistress drunkenly trying to remove her own corset rather than letting the maids see her in that condition.

The sun was long gone and the fire burning low before Argus and Nivid sussed out their hiding spot. Troi had fallen asleep in the middle of a song-- thankfully without having shed a single tear. Her head had been resting on Talgut's shoulder at the time, but they'd both changed positions since then, and she'd slid down from where she started. Argus merely raised an eyebrow when he saw her sound asleep with her head in Talgut's lap, but Nivid growled his way across the width of the room, glaring at Talgut from the door to the sofa.

"Why d'you growl, Nivid?" Talgut squinted up at him.

Nivid paused, taken aback by Talgut's willingness to ask questions when Nivid's woman was lying across his lap.

Ignoring the threat inherent in the jealous proximity of a giant, untamed beast, Talgut skipped lightly onward. "Bulls don't growl, y'know. Well, mayhap you lofty, royal highlanders don't know, but kine bellow like heretic horn-players on the first day of Maslenitsa."

Nivid snorted and bent to lift Troi, muttering a few words which were largely unintelligible to Talgut.

Talgut turned curious eyes to Argus when Nivid ignored his query. "What?"

Argus snagged the bottle of vodka at Talgut's right hand and replied, "He said 'nose, hand, hoof, teeth,' by which Nivid means to say he has the qualities of many animals other than one of your horn-playing kine. He's half-man, but his other half is a witches' brew of various creatures." He poured himself a healthy portion of the clear liquid, a wry grimace writ across his face at the words he'd chosen.

Nivid hooked the door open with an elbow and departed, cradling the woman carefully in his arms.

Talgut muttered into his glass that Nivid's head and hocks nonetheless appeared very bull-like to him.

Argus poured a drink and went to stand by the fire's crumbling remains. It wasn't truly chilly, but the massive stone building blocks of the castle walls were always cool, particularly at this time of year, when winter was past but the warm days of summer had yet to arrive.

In the corner of his eye, Talgut tossed back his last liquid swig. "Her people and mine share the same story, y'know, that the world is built on the back of a great and powerful bull, and the earth shakes when the great bull runs."

Argus didn't turn his head, didn't make a sound-- in two decades of living under the same roof, this was the first time he'd heard Talgut talk about his past.

Talgut cleared his throat. "We boys always thought the bull in that legend must be running after the lady-cows."

His glass rattled against an oil lantern as he set it on a side-table. When he stood, he swayed slightly, as though the bull might be in pursuit of a lady cow at that very moment, jiggling the ground beneath Talgut's feet.

Argus rested his own glass on the mantle, ready to go to Talgut's aid if he needed it-- which was doubtful.

"Mayhap that's why she doesn't mind him so much." Talgut made his way to the door, still talking. "We shoulda let him pick his own women afore now, Argus. Maybe he woulda picked himself a Bashkir girl years ago, savin' us all this trouble."

As he left, he cackled an old line of Russian rhyme over his shoulder. "Repka, dedka, babka, vnuchka, zhuchka, koshka, myshka."

Argus made a face, wondering where inebriated reasoning was leading Talgut's mind now. He caught on when Talgut added, "Hooves, horns, noses, everybody plays a part."

Cackling again, he disappeared into the long, dim hallway.

Argus wasn't worried about Talgut making the trek to his chamber alone, though he did holler that the wolves were out, in case the liquor had washed that fact away. He didn't think Talgut wasn't all that affected, in any case: the man might be a nomad, but he could drink like a Russian.

Pouring himself another splash of vodka, Argus settled on the cockeyed sofa, staring at the sooty hearth and amusing himself with Talgut's free association. The rhyme was from a Russian folk-tale in which all manner of creatures contributed to the success of the story's quest, ergo Talgut's tacked-on codicil: "everybody plays a part." From Nivid's medley of animal parts, Argus' mind wandered to Talgut's tale of the legendary bull. His companion's attitude this evening had been strikingly unusual, from chatting with Nivid to telling stories of his past. He wondered if Troi's presence was softening the other man's shell, too, or if it was just a day for spilling old secrets.

He sipped his vodka, slumping tiredly. Maybe Talgut was right. Maybe they should have let Nivid get his own women. He'd certainly chosen a singular path for himself this time, Argus mused, shaking his head slowly even as his eyes closed.

-- o --

She was being watched.

That was what woke her-- the feeling of someone's eyes on her as she slept-- but when Troi peeked through her lashes she found Nivid lying on his back, his head turned toward the ceiling. A contented snore rumbled through the ribcage beneath her cheek. A flash of white and a flutter of wings through a crack in the curtains announced the departure of a dove.

She lay without moving, examining the sensation of being watched, but it faded as she came to full consciousness, and Troi decided it was merely the aftereffects of yesterday's tumult dogging her sleep. Supposedly all knowledge was good, but this far, learning more about the curse had been neither fun nor beneficial.

Talgut's tour of the castle had been the perfect distraction to quell her overwrought imagination, but the tour was over, the vodka's effects dissipated in her dreaming hours, and here she was, awake in Nivid's bed-- in Nivid's arms-- with the same questions still prancing around her sober, wide-awake brain.

She sighed quietly, lifting her eyes to his profile. The windows beyond him faced in a generally easterly direction. They were curtained with plain white wool too fine to block the golden hue of the dawning day. The drear mists and fortuitous detours of yesterday were gone, she mused, her focus returning to the man beside her.

Startled, Troi let her vision go soft again, studying Nivid's silhouette. It was strange how much more human he looked this way. From the side, his broad nose looked prominent, but not unusually so, his brow-ridge was in the right place, though his forehead sloped back more sharply than most. From the front, his jawline slanted upward from the point of his chin, making his face markedly less wide at the bottom than the top, but from this angle, his chin looking like any other chin. His mouth, too, seemed ordinary from where she lay. The bear-like ears, the horse-haunches, the retracting raptor-claws, even the great looping goat horns, all were nearly invisible in silhouette.

Her hand lifted, unbidden, and Troi's torso jerked slightly as she stopped her fingers from rising to trace the line of his silky nose. Images-- memories and wishes tumbled haphazardly together flickered in her mind's eye. Her fingertip wandering from the fine fur of his brow into the coarser strands at his hairline. Her body following the extension of her arm as she rolled to her knees. Her hands wrapped securely around the back curve of Nivid's horns while her bottom settled astride his thighs. Leaning forward, her nipples within easy reach of his long, dexterous tongue.

She sucked a long, harsh breath into her lungs, her fingers fisting between them.

Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and his hand rested on her waist. The pose was a familiar one, Troi often snuggled into the spot as they lay sated after loving. Sheltered and comforted by Nivid's bulk, she wondered if he'd arranged her like this last night or if she'd made her way into his arms as she slept. Had her body been seeking the tangible heat of his presence or had her heart been looking for reassurance?

As her mind drifted, her eyes did, too. She was staring unseeingly at the dark, high rafters over Nivid's bed when she felt it again-- the sensation of someone watching her. Her eyes snapped back to his face to discover that she wasn't dreaming this time: the black orbs of his eyes were open and glittering down at her. Troi's breath caught in her throat and Nivid's arm tightened reflexively around her shoulders, drawing her tight against him.

For a long time they lay there, neither of them speaking as they held each other's eyes.

Nivid broke the silence with a sigh, adjusting his body as he rolled in her direction. Their noses were a foot apart when he finally settled down where she didn't have to tip her head up to see him. One of his arms was still tucked beneath her neck, his other hand gently capping her shoulder.

"Troi...." he rasped.

Deliberately, she closed her eyes, and Nivid stopped speaking.

It was difficult for her to think rationally with him so close. Her body zinged with repressed energy. If she gave herself leave, in minutes she'd be slathering years of unshed affection over him again-- without a single answer.

Troi's jaw tightened.

She couldn't simply slip back into Nivid's arms, into his bed-- nor let him slip back into her body-- with only the smattering of muddled explanations she'd heard thus far. Even as the words of her most persistent worry were forming on her tongue, Troi realized she needed one preliminary assurance, and she blurted it without the benefit of cautious phrasing. "Does he hear everything I say?"