Chaos and Entropy

Author’s Note: Time to get down to the smut! Comments would be greatly appreciated—I never can tell if the nitty-gritty is too much or not enough…

Chapter 3…Captivated

I don’t have cat eyes like a full blooded elf but my night vision is keen. I kept to the shadows and slunk through the foul sewers. I didn’t see any goblins or crawlers but I passed a sleepy lookout tucked away in an alcove. I kept the potion handy but he never saw me.

Roger had warned me that the entrance to Mekrath’s keep was hidden with illusion magic. I saw the telltale shimmer from the corner of my eye and walked right through an apparent stone wall. If I tripped an alarm spell, it was too subtle for me to spot. That left me with a bit of a dilemma—should I approach openly and risk getting turned away unheard? It sounded like this wizard was a testy fellow. Or should I sneak in, and trust to my skills to stay undetected?

I decided to try the straight-forward approach first. People get annoyed when you break into their house. Not that I was planning on getting caught, but you never know. Mages are tricky. Besides, I could always sneak back in later, once I’d checked out the layout.

I walked a narrow, twisting corridor, which left the sewers behind and cut through the earth like it followed a fissure. Someone had taken pains to make the path look natural—the artistically placed clumps of rare toadstools were a nice touch. A tiny pool fed by a dripping crystal stalactite held two miniature blind cave fish. I stood for a moment and watched them swim in endless circles. Luminous moss grew along the walls, again seeming to simulate nature but in a way more convenient to one’s eyes.

If this was a sample of the wizard’s work, I was in way over my head.

I kept an eye out for traps but saw none. One last twist of the tunnel, and I came to a black door. The door was neither large nor imposing but it glimmered with an abstract pattern formed by gold wire hammered into the wood. The pattern wasn’t mere decoration—I could sense the protective ward built into the door itself. I raised my hand to knock and then had to step back as the door slowly swung on its hinges, opening in silent, ominous invitation.

I stepped inside. If this had been the bard’s tale it was beginning to resemble, I would have been greeted by a djinni or perhaps a talking cat. There was no one in sight although I did have that itchy little feeling that I was being watched. A hidden familiar or a Wizard’s Eye, perhaps, but I couldn’t spot the source.

The entrance hall was small but did not feel crowded. The floor was inlaid wood; the walls were whitewashed stone. There was a rack where I could hang my cloak and a table where I could set my hat, had I happened to be wearing either. There was a picture on the wall, a line drawing of a man and a woman. The woman was leaning over the side of a well as if she was drawing a bucket of water and the man stood close behind her. There was something strange…I stepped closer to get a better look…oh, my. The man had pulled her skirt up to her waist and it didn’t look like getting a drink of water was what was on his mind.

And that was certainly a unique use for a dipper.

I always thought men kept their erotic art in their bed chamber, not tacked up on the wall by the front door. I could tell this was going to be an interesting household.
The hall opened out into a large room, with bookshelves along one wall, a couple of armchairs and a couch upholstered in buttery leather. A plush and elegant carpet cried out for bare feet. (Before I stepped on it, I made a quick check of my boot soles for cleanliness.)

There were more of the blush-worthy drawings on the walls. Drawn by the same hand, I guessed. A half empty mug of tea sat on a table near one of the chairs next to an open book. No sign of the tea drinker but the mug was still warm. The book was a Netherese history. I would have liked to scan Mekrath’s library but I was afraid that would prove to be far too distracting. He had a lot of books.

Where was the wizard? He knew I was here. What kind of game was this? If he was trying to scare me, it wasn’t going to work. Sure, my heart pounded and my mouth was dry but that wasn’t fear. That was anticipation.

There were two open doorways in addition to the hall behind me. The left door led to what a quick peek told me was the living quarters. The right door led to what looked like a workroom. I turned right.

The mage lights studded in the ceiling of the workroom made it bright as day. A scarred wooden table sat in the middle of the room, with benches along one side and cabinets on the other. The benches were crowded with alchemical gear but there were no flames in the braziers, the sink was empty and the glassware—which shone with the clarity of master craftsmanship—was clean. His stillroom was well stocked.

I’ve never been in a position to think about settling down, much less do anything about it. But if I did, I wouldn’t mind landing in such a well-feathered nest. Mekrath’s home was cozy to the point of luxury and seemed to be equipped with everything an aspiring mage could want. I, who out of economy shared a cramped and drafty attic room of the Copper Coronet with three other women, felt a spasm of envy.

The continued silence started to stretch my nerves. I set my hand on the latch of the small wooden door at the end of the workroom. The door led to a small storeroom. After the brightness of the workroom, I had to blink to adjust to the dim light. There was a man in the corner reaching into a sack.

“Master Mekrath?” I asked softly. The man didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn to look at me. He pulled a cup of something out of the sack. I moved closer. It was rice. One by one, he took grains of rice out of the cup and dropped them into a small barrel by the wall.

Something about the man ruffled the hairs on the back of my neck. Partly this was his blank expression. I might have thought him one of the blind fanatics except that his eyes—lustrous dark eyes—appeared normal. His ears were pointed but he was human height and looked like no elf I’d ever seen. In fact, he gave me that same prickly uneasiness I’d felt from Raelis Shai. Surely this must be her missing actor.

“Are you Haer’Dalis?” I asked in a low voice. His head came up but he did not answer. There were strange markings on his face. “What are you doing?”

This, at least, was painfully obvious. He was counting the grains of rice. I waved my hand in front of his eyes. He blinked but made no other response. I put my hands on my hips and considered the situation. He was under a geas or perhaps a feeble-mind spell. I could try to dispel it but if Mekrath was a stronger wizard than I (and this seemed all too likely) then my spell would fail. I might even get caught in the backlash. The actor appeared to be clean and well-fed and in no immediate, desperate need for rescue. It would be smart to try other options before taking any action that would piss off the wizard.

A voice behind me made me jump.

“And who might you be?”

I had to swallow my racing heart before I could answer.

The elf in the doorway was about my height, with dark hair clubbed back to expose his long elegant ears. His expression blended curiosity with annoyance. His robe was made of opulent blue brocade, fastened with ivory toggles. The robe was hemmed to fall at calf level, I noticed with mild approval. So many wizards go for the floor-sweeping, dust-gathering length that tangles your feet and makes it impossible to show off your pretty shoes.

The elf’s unlined face gave no clues to his age, of course, but his eyes were not youthful.

“Are you Master Mekrath?” I asked cautiously. “I, um, apologize for wandering about—the door was open.” The man frowned. This seemed a natural expression for him.

“I asked for your name, not your apology.”

“Oh, sorry.” Whoops, another apology. The mage’s stare made me nervous. “I’m Minette. Of Candlekeep.” Maybe he’d take me for a scholar from the famous library. I tried out a smile. He didn’t look impressed.

“And what is your purpose here, Minette of Candlekeep?”

Although I’m not a great believer in the adage that honesty is the best policy, I decided to give it a shot.

“I’m looking for Haer’Dalis, the actor.” Mekrath—surely this was the man himself—gave me a hard look. “His friends are worried about him.”

“You have found him and you may now assure his friends that he is in good health.”

“I, er, was asked to return him, actually.”

“Indeed.”

“They need him for the play, you see.” I gave him another smile and dropped my voice. “The understudy—I believe you’ve met him—is terrible! They’re going to have to close the play if they don’t get their leading man back.”

Was that twitch of the lip the beginning of a smile?

“No doubt,” he said. “But I’m afraid I must decline at this time. It amuses me to keep the thief awhile longer. Tell his friends to attend to the understudy’s training instead of pestering me.”

“Thief?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” I gave another guileless look. I hoped I wasn’t overdoing it. “Then let me explain it to you. Your tiefling came here as my guest. And while I was occupied, he put his sticky fingers where they didn’t belong. I found him caught in the petrification trap that guards my—one of my valuables.”

“Oh, dear.” Guileless, that was me. Very, very guileless. “I had no idea. The actors told me a different tale.”

Mekrath snorted.

“And what did they tell you? That I had kidnapped him? The fool who blundered in here the other day said as much. Humph. I suppose it is possible they did not know the truth themselves. At any rate, I plan on keeping this inept thief until he repays me for his abuse of my hospitality.”

I looked at Haer’Dalis, who had continued to count rice while we talked.

“How is he going to repay you if he remains in this state? Is this task he’s doing so important then?”

Mekrath laughed.

“No, no, that’s simply to give him something to do other than stand around like a statue.”

“Then perhaps it would be possible for his friends to redeem the actor? How much would it take to release him from his debt?”

“You want to buy him off me?” Mekrath laughed again. “I have no interest in your gold, dear girl, if, indeed, you have any.” He gave my clothes a disdainful look. “He has more satisfying ways to repay me, ways for which he is uniquely qualified. And yet…” His eyes narrowed. “You are no planar but I sense something…strange.”

I froze.

There was a time when only the most perceptive of priests would give me that particular look. ‘There’s something strange about you’, that look said. Ever since I’d killed Sarevok deep in the Undercity of Baldur’s Gate, I got that look more often. Something had changed. I guess it was me. At first I hadn’t minded the double-takes, the whispers and the notoriety. In fact, I’d been flattered. I’d discounted Jaheira’s warnings that my heritage could draw the attention of those who would use me for their own purposes. And then disaster had struck and I’d learned how horribly right she was.

Mekrath stepped closer and reached for my face with both hands, as if he would squeeze my cheeks. He didn’t actually touch me but I flinched.

“Hey! Did I say you could grope my aura?”

“Such strong chaotic energies—what causes them, I wonder?” His expression had gone vague and he murmured to himself as if I was a horse he was considering purchasing. “Interesting and possibly of use. However the potential for unchecked disorder seems significant. Highly probable, in fact.”

He walked around me and continued to mutter to himself. I suppressed the urge to whinny. Or kick.

“Her very presence could multiply the likelihood of critical failure by…how would one go about measuring this? An increase in catastrophic current events could suggest a trend…” He blinked and focused on me. His eyes widened. “The destruction at Waukeen’s Promenade! By Corellon’s blade, you’re that Bhaalspawn the Helmites are so stirred up about! I hadn’t heard you were peredhel.”

Peredhel, I knew, meant half-elven.

He cocked his head and studied me, his eyes now bright with interest.

“And your access to the Weave—student of the arcane, are you? Tell me, Minette of Candlekeep, how does it feel to carry the blood of a dead god? Do you feel your quasi-divinity helps or hinders your spell-casting ability?”

“I’d be happy to discuss this at length,” I lied through gritted teeth, “After you release Haer’Dalis.”

“But it does not please me to release him yet. Yon tiefling is a most talented young man. Would you like a demonstration? Shall I show you how he may earn his freedom?”
The look he gave me—almost a leer, it was—made me distinctly uneasy.

“Talent?” I asked. “I thought he was an actor. Does he sing as well?”

“Oh, he can do much more than act. Or sing. His mother was a succubus, you know. This tiefling is a near-perfect subject for the study of tantrism. Haer’Dalis. Stop counting rice and come here.”

“Yes, Master Mekrath.”

The tiefling spoke in a monotone, but at least he could speak. So he must be under a geas of some sort and not a feeble-mind spell.

“On your knees.”

“Yes, Master Mekrath.”

Mekrath began unbuttoning his robe.

“Master Mekrath,” I said. I was now way past uneasy. You hear tales about tantric mages but I’d always thought sex magic was a myth concocted by lusty apprentices. “A demonstration is really quite unnecessary.”

The wizard was wearing a shirt and leggings under his robe, not breeches, and when he pulled up the long tail of his shirt, his sex was laid bare for any to see.

“Haer’Dalis, would you like to suck my cock?”

“Yes, Master Mekrath.”

“Then you may.”

Mekrath’s look made it clear he was testing me but if this was a test of my maidenly sensibilities, I failed. I had none. When you work in the Docks, you come across sailors getting blow jobs in every back alley. Sometimes when a ship had just come in, you’d see them standing around with their cocks in their hands, queued up for the same poor working girl. So instead of swooning or screaming, I watched. I told myself I was looking for clues to how to release Haer’Dalis.

The tiefling took Mekrath’s quiescent member in one hand and lowered his lips to run along the shaft, licking and mouthing him until his cock was hard. That didn’t take long. The wizard had a long, slender cock. Haer’Dalis took it into his mouth. The liquid sounds as he began sucking in earnest made me squirm. I hated to admit that I was getting aroused myself.

Mekrath turned his head and gave me a long knowing look.

“I take it he is under a geas of obedience.” My voice came out more breathlessly than I’d like. How in the Nine Hells was I going to dispel a geas? “That must take quite a bit of power to maintain.”

“You might think so.”

He put one hand on the tiefling’s head and rocked his hips. His cock was surely deep down the man’s throat by now but Haer’Dalis showed no sign of discomfort. Mekrath was right; he was talented. The wizard’s breathing was heavier. So was mine.

“There’s a trick to this, you see. If he was unwilling, I’d be fighting him, my power against his. But since he had already performed this exact same service of his own accord before I enspelled him, he has no conflict under the geas.”

Mekrath pulled back a little. Haer’Dalis let his cock slide out of his mouth but then he was right back on it, nibbling along the glistening shaft. Mekrath sighed.

“Ah, that’s good.” He smiled at me and looked at my breasts. My nipples were rock hard and straining against the thin material. Oh, gods. Looking into my eyes, he now placed both hands on the tiefling’s head and made a deep thrust. He was showing off for me. Haer’Dalis tilted back his head a little. Opening up his throat for the wizard’s pleasure, I realized. Oh gods, oh gods.

“There’s another trick and it’s a good one,” the wizard said. “I use the energy from the sex itself to power the spell. Come closer.”

I wasn’t sure what he wanted but, as if under a geas myself, I stepped in closer. He reached for my hand. His fingers closed around my wrist.

“Can you feel the flow of power? Concentrate.”

He pulled me even closer. My hip brushed against the tiefling’s shoulder. Mekrath’s eyelids drooped and then I felt a tingling in my hand. How was I supposed to concentrate on the Weave when—Mystra help me!

Have you ever lain on the beach, half asleep, and had a wave come out of nowhere and soak you to the skin? Well, this was like that, but the water wasn’t cold, it was scalding hot. For a moment, I thought I’d been caught in the wizard’s spell. Mekrath wasn’t siphoning power from the Weave; it flowed through him and back out. I could feel the spill of the back-power curl up my spine. It felt amazing. I had already been aroused; now I was frantic.

“How do you do that?” I gasped.

Mekrath grinned at me and then he began thrusting in earnest, fucking Haer’Dalis’s mouth with abandonment. The tiefling closed his eyes. I could feel the mage’s pleasure like it was my own. By the time Mekrath came with a low shout of triumph, I was shaking all over. My underpants were soaked.

“Would you like to learn how that spell works?” His voice was a low purr. I didn’t answer—I couldn’t—but he smiled as if I’d agreed.

“Come,” he said. “Let us get more comfortable.”

Haer’Dalis and I both followed the wizard into his sitting room. Mekrath continued to hold my hand. But we didn’t stop there. We stopped in his bed chamber where green draperies fell in a silken cascade around the bed to make a luxurious mossy cave. This would have been a good time to voice an objection but I felt as dazed as the tiefling looked.

“I believe we should begin by divesting you of those noisome garments,” Mekrath said. Oh, yikes, I’d almost forgotten I was in my beggar’s clothes.

“Sorry. I dressed for the sewers.”

“Of course.” He faced me, took my breasts in his hands. I could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin cloth. His thumbs rubbed over my aching nipples. When he began to loosen the ties, I let him. His lips twitched upward. At a gesture, Haer’Dalis knelt before me and began unlacing my low boots. I raised my arms so Mekrath could pull my shirt over my head. I stepped out of my boots. And then Haer’Dalis loosened the tie to my breeches and I realized now was the time to object.

My lips parted. My breeches dropped. Haer’Dalis rubbed his face against my crotch like a cat marking his territory.

“Ah…”

Before I could come up with anything coherent, I was chivvied backward. I bumped into the bed. And then I was on it. Mekrath lay down beside me, and propped himself up on one arm. Haer’Dalis pulled my underpants down. The wizard put his hand between my legs.
“So nice and wet,” he murmured. “Can you feel the energy building?”

His fingers entered me and I opened my legs a bit further. Something was building all right and I was really, really looking forward to this particular energy getting discharged.

“In the Weave,” he insisted. “Open yourself to the Weave. Don’t get distracted by your body.”

Don’t get distracted? When a total stranger had a couple of fingers up my dripping cunt, I was supposed to be concentrating on his instructions? And speaking of strangers, where was Haer’Dalis? Standing by the bed, apparently waiting for instructions of his own. Did he feel anything at all—violation, pleasure, indifference? I couldn’t tell. His face was blank but his eyes—his eyes were glowing in the dim light. As I looked closer, I fancied I saw a faint nimbus of power shimmering around his form. Did this have something to do with the geas laid upon him or did it have something to do with being a tiefling?

Open myself to the Weave, huh? The Weave was around us all the time, warm like sunlight on a still day, always there for a mage to draw upon. I shuttered my eyes almost closed and concentrated.

There was a very warm hand on my knee. My eyes flew open. Haer’Dalis was crawling onto the bed. His hand slid up my thigh. And then I felt his breath against my hip. His hands slid up under my buttocks. His face came down. I hoped he wasn’t unwilling to do this for my need was appalling.

“Oh, gods,” I moaned as his lips began their exploration. His tongue, his lips were feverishly hot. Almost involuntarily, my face turned towards Mekrath.

“He has fiend’s blood,” he said in a conversational tone. His face however was almost as flushed as mine no doubt was. Was he feeling my arousal as I’d felt his? “Tieflings’ bodies are warmer than ours. His mouth is like liquid fire, but a most delicious conflagration…it is an extraordinary sensation, is it not?”

“Extraordinary,” I gasped. “Oh, yes.”

“Slow down, my songbird,” Mekrath said. “We don’t wish to rush the lesson.”

Haer’Dalis pulled away and began kissing and licking my inner thigh. The lesson? Oh, yes. The tiefling’s submission—what compelled it? The connection between the two men—what allowed it? Mekrath was strong. I could see the Weave ripple around him, obedient to his wishes as the tiefling was obedient. Yet Haer’Dalis had power of his own. The Weave clung to him as well and I didn’t think it was solely due to his planar origins.

“A spellcaster,” I murmured. “The actor is a spellcaster too.”

“Very good. And why is that important?”

Why was that important? Haer’Dalis bit down hard enough to make my arch my back. If the tiefling was a spellcaster, why was that important? Because spellcasters cast spells, of course.

“He cast a spell on you,” I guessed.

“What a clever girl you are. He attempted to manipulate me. Me!”

If Haer’Dalis had really come here as Mekrath’s guest, why had he done that? Mekrath’s story wasn’t making sense yet he didn’t strike me as either malicious or mad. At this point, however, I didn’t trust myself to make sense out of anything. If I could just get Haer’Dalis out of here, we could sort things out later.

“By casting his spell, he opened himself to me.”

And speaking of open, the tiefling’s tongue was back where I really wanted it to be. I spread my legs wide. Mekrath stroked his hair and smiled.

“The first to attack exposes his own defenses,” he said. “Unless your initial attack is overwhelming, the advantage lies with the counter-attack.”

That didn’t sound right. I was partial to the surprise attack myself but I really wasn’t up for a philosophical debate. Mekrath pushed back his robe. Despite his earlier activity, he looked ready for another round in the fighting pit.

“Enough,” he told Haer’Dalis and gave his hair a tug for emphasis. The tiefling, who had been half-kneeling between my legs, pulled himself up beside me on the bed. He was still fully clothed but his breeches were stretched tight over what looked to be a massive erection.

“Take my robe, songbird,” Mekrath said. Haer’Dalis rose and helped the wizard slip out of his robe. He stripped out of his shirt and leggings as well. “And take off your own clothes while you’re at it.”

The tiefling hung the wizard’s clothes over a chair and then stripped. Oh, my. His skin markings (I couldn’t tell if they were natural or tattoos or even ritual scars) didn’t stop at his face. His arms and chest were marked as well. Haer’Dalis had the tough wiry build I’d expect from a fighter, not an actor. Although I supposed the two roles weren’t as radically different as I first thought. And the tiefling was fully aroused, with a heavy thick cock that I longed to wrap my fingers around. His cock, at least, was free from tattoos, but when he turned I saw his back and buttocks were decorated. He came back to the bed and stood before us, waiting for direction.

“Oh, the possibilities,” Mekrath said. No kidding. I was on fire thinking about them. “I’d really like to see you suck his cock. Will you?”

You didn’t have to ask me twice. Haer’Dalis crawled onto the bed and I crouched beside him. Mekrath lay next to the tiefling, with a satisfied smile on his face. I didn’t bother with any build up since the poor guy looked ready to explode. I just grabbed his cock and stuffed it into my mouth.

He had an odd smell and taste; not unpleasant, just odd, like hot steel in a forge. I ran my tongue around the tip and then sealed my mouth around his shaft and sucked. He was big; this was going to be difficult.

“I take it you’ve done this before.” Mekrath sounded pleased.

“Mmm.”

Hells, this had been my introduction to sex. It didn’t seem that long ago that I was young and (relatively) naïve. I’d hooked up with an elf named Coran who had taught me most of what I knew about sneaking and trapping and putting my fingers where they didn’t belong. And many a late night while he was standing watch over our camp, I’d be before him with my knees in the damp leaves and his cock in my mouth. He loved getting sucked off within sight of the camp, where the slightest noise would give us both away. He’d draw it out as long as possible. Added to the excitement, he said.

Mekrath’s hand slid between my legs and rubbed my clit until I moaned. It’s hard to moan when your mouth is filled up but I did my best. His fingers played delicately while he watched me working over Haer’Dalis.

“You may come when you please,” he said. I thought he was talking to me but the tiefling’s hands went to my head and I felt him stiffen. Sweet Sune, he needed permission for this? That was some geas. With that warning, I relaxed my throat as best I could and not a moment too soon. He rammed his cock down my throat with one long thrust. Even before the hot seed hit my throat I started swallowing. It was a near thing but I managed to get it all down without gagging. Haer’Dalis groaned. Mekrath rolled me over flat on the bed and kissed me for the first time. His tongue probed my mouth.

I spread my legs so he could fuck me. He slid right in (oh, gods, I was wet) and held there; I shuddered and started to come right away.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said and pulled out. “Not yet.”

“Not yet? Why not? I’m a woman. I can do it again.” And again. It was going to take at least three orgasms to empty me out.

He laughed.

“That is not the point. This is a lesson, remember?”

“I don’t recall signing up for lessons. I’m here for Haer’Dalis, remember?”

Mekrath teased my nipples until I put my hand between my legs, ready to end the torment.

“Tsk, tsk,” he said. He moved my hand away.

I grabbed his cock instead. He made another tsking noise.

“If you wish to negotiate for the tiefling, you must restrain yourself. Are you willing to take his place?”

“His place?” I asked cautiously. “What do you mean? I’m certainly not going to let you put a geas on me. I’ve got better things to do than stand around counting rice.”

“I will not put a geas on you.”

He seemed a little too eager. What was the catch? Was the spell about to wear off anyway? Did he want me to do something he couldn’t force out of Haer’Dalis? Or was the lure of my god’s blood really that strong?

“Damn right you won’t,” I said. “What do you want from me? If you’re looking for an apprentice—fine, we might work something out. If you’re looking for a sex slave, forget it. And I won’t do anything too nefarious.”

He laughed.

“Nefarious? No, no. I need an assistant of sorts. I thought perhaps the tiefling would be of use but his power, fascinating as it is, differs too much from mine. And in all fairness, I can’t hold him here forever.”

“I might be interested,” I said, “If you make it worth my while.” His thumb rubbed across my clit and for a moment, I lost my train of thought. “I’ve got to warn you though—I can’t afford a license from the Cowled Wizards. So I can’t get caught doing any magic.”

Mekrath laughed.

“For a girl of your talents, getting a license is a simple matter. I can arrange this.”

It took a bit more negotiation (and an orgasm or two) but we came to an agreement. Haer’Dalis was released from his geas; I was free to come and go as I pleased. I would help Mekrath with his ‘research’ and he would tutor me in the Art. Best of all, he would set me up with Corneil, the Cowled Wizard in charge of licensing mages. Five thousand gold was the ridiculous sum the Cowled Wizards demanded for their permit but (Mekrath claimed) if I made a good enough impression on Corneil, I could get it for free.