SONG OF POWER

Chapter VI: The Bath Cellar

“So w-w-we’re not married?” asked Rowena.  “If the ceremony is g-g-going on right now, w-w-we’re not married yet?”

“No, we are,” replied Ninthalsaya.  “Tyroce’s wagon brought us back to this afternoon, when we were not married, but it is now evening and time will smooth out.  Right now we are being married in Cyen, and when our path through time rights itself, everything will be as it should be,” Ninthalsaya sighed, still grumpy, but the hot bath was doing wonders to improve her mood.

“Oh, right.  Good,” replied Rowena, relieved.  Though she didn’t understand everything that was said about chronomancy, she understood that things were going to be fine, and that she was still married to Cipher.  Handsome Cipher, she thought.  I always hoped he’d pick me, but I never dared to dream it.

“Do you not wish to be married to me?” asked Cipher of Ninthalsaya, who colored at the query.

“That is not what I said, you see,” Ninthalsaya replied, instantly irked.  “If you had not tokened me, if Friar Weert had not married us, I would be dead.  Though unsure if it is the path I would have chosen, it has chosen me…and I am alive because of it.  However oddly it came to be, our fates one.”

“I am glad the deed is done,” Cipher said, relieved.  “Although…I never did get to kiss you.”

“True.  Come hither, husband,” Ninthalsaya said, leaning her head out of her tub towards Cipher as far as modesty would allow.  When he leaned towards her, she quickly slipped back into her brass bath, giggling.  “Don’t try your luck.  Not like this.”

“I cannot have a kiss?” Cipher replied, his eyes locked on his beautiful wife.  She shook her head in the negative, but that intoxicating smile never left her full lips.  Cipher found that he was losing himself in her visage until she dipped down into the water to wet her hair, breaking his line-of-sight.

“Returning to comments from before, tonight remains our wedding night.  I spoke falsely (for which you may beat me) when I claimed I was familiar with Cyen’s customs; I only knew as much as was required to get Cipher to marry me.  What Cyen holds for the wedding night is unclear to me.  What I would like is to keep the customs of my people…” Tyroce’s voice trailed off suggestively.

“Cyen’s t-t-traditions say that the couple should…w-w-well, ah…um, that…on the w-w-wedding night.  [deep breath]  In Cipher’s case, he has three d-d-days to consummate the w-w-wedding w-w-with each of us, b-b-because he has three w-w-wives,” Rowena’s cheeks were flushed; clearly, this was not a comfortable topic for her, no matter how much she knew about it.  More than they would ever guess, she thought with a smile.  A girl must have her secrets, after all.

“Really?  Oh, good! How do we choose who goes first?” Tyroce asked, licking her lips eagerly.  Cipher leaned back in his tub, suddenly nervous.

“That is Cipher’s decision.  Usually the oldest g-g-goes first,” Rowena explained readily, “Or the husband can decide, picking any w-w-wife for the night.  Sometimes he-he-he chooses to bed all three at once.  That m-m-might be easiest…” it was Rowena’s turn for her delicate voice to trial off, and she lowered her eyes to the water.  I never considered being a part of a group marriage, yet here I am.  Tonight I will learn the intimates of a man for real, not just in study.  I never thought I would ever actually make love to a woman, though I studied that as well.  Although both of my wives are quite beautiful, I…I…I could do this, tonight even, if he wished it.

“The Cyen you knew is no more, and it has not been succeeded.  Ergo it falls to our lawfully-wedded husband to decide how to arbitrate this delicate issue,” Tyroce said, trying to calm the emotional Rowena.  “It might be worthwhile to note that I am the oldest woman here, Cipher,” Tyroce stretched luxuriously in her tub as she commented on her age.

“But, ahem, uh…I, well…I mean, I could…” Cipher’s face was as red as the gem at Tyroce’s throat (or the ones in her ear, eyebrow, tongue, labret, nipples, navel, or lower, for that matter).  The three young women laughed in unison.

"W-w-why so shy?” teased Rowena nervously, trying to ease the tension knotting within her by projecting it in a joke.  “Are we not pleasant?”

“Are we not beautiful?” asked Ninthalsaya.

“Are we not desirable?” asked Tyroce.  Cipher shifted uncomfortably in his tub, glad that its brass sides hid the changes his body was undergoing due to the current topic.  He gave no answer.  How do I even begin to handle this?  Who do I choose, or do I choose them all?  I’ve never…Lillicule, guide me.  And, thank you, Lillicule, for giving me such a wonderful conundrum, he silently prayed to the Risen Goddess of Love.

“I think that, since Cyen is gone, we can start our own traditions,” Ninthalsaya stated flatly.

“W-w-well, yes.  Lillicule knows our w-w-wedding and our fate.  She will sanction w-w-whatever path Cipher chooses for us.  And I,” Rowena added the last under her breath, so softly that even the water in her tub had trouble hearing her.  Tyroce and Ninthalsaya (each being sidhe) heard the young human, though Cipher did not.

Cipher realized that his trio of wives were waiting for him to give them some direction, now that the subject had been raised.  He took his time as he worked out the problem in his mind.

Rowena and Ninthalsaya have each lived in Cyen far longer than I—Rowena for the whole of her life, and Ninthalsaya presumably so.  I know that tradition is important for both Cyenites and also in the Seelie Court, to which Ninthalsaya belongs.  However, it’s hard to carry on a tradition when its source is destroyed.  Then again, isn’t that more the reason to carry on?

Lillicule knows I want them! They’re each lovelier than the next, and the variety is amazing.  Oh, how my flesh burns to become one with them! Tyroce is the oldest, and she seems the most willing…but what Rowena suggested, about an orgy…

Cipher’s head swam and his manhood throbbed as he thought.  Finally he took a sip of the rose-scented bathwater to bring him back to reality.  He looked first at Tyroce, then at Ninthalsaya, and lastly at Rowena.  Beauty incarnate, each of these three.

“We are properly married, each to each to each to each.  I do not well know the traditions of the gypsies, the Seelie Court, or even Cyen, but with your help I would like to honor them all.  However, let’s simply enjoy our bath,” he replied calmly, and the others felt their own disquiet lessen.

“Mayhaps later I will instruct you on the Seelie path,” Ninthalsaya responded to Cipher, realizing with angst the position he must be in.  “Now is not the time to discuss such matters.  Tyroce, I wanted to ask you about something you said earlier.  Who or what are the Frostbelt goblins?”