As Commonplace As Rain

As Commonplace as Rain by Diana Laurence

© copyright April 2004, Diana Laurence Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright April 2004 New Concepts Publishing 5202 Humphreys Rd. Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

Novat Eigna was a tall, willowy woman with an ageless face. Her bearing suggested the experience of many years, but there was a shyness to her demeanor that made her seem young. She gestured for Tristan to take a seat in one of the large, softly upholstered chairs that flanked the window of her receiving room, and handed him a cup of hot tea. In a formal but warm tone, Tristan addressed her: "High Novat, let me say that the Uni Order is grateful that the Novatia chose to contact us for discussions. And of course I am most privileged to be my Order?s emissary to you." He sat as Eigna seated herself in the other chair. "As our dispatch said, we have studied your teachings for generations," replied the High Novat, settling herself gracefully. Tristan?s attention went to the window, as a bird perched a moment on the sill, then fluttered away. "The view is beautiful," he said. "The Novatian estate seems so gracious and peaceful." He turned to offer his hostess a bemused smile. "As lovely as it is inaccessible." Eigna caught his jest and laughed softly. "Of course there is a reason for that ... the same concern that has held us back so long from seeking to bring together our spiritual traditions." Tristan smiled into his cup. "Yes, that concern." "But I am sorry the journey was so difficult. And I hope you have not encountered any impoliteness among us," the High Novat added hastily. "We have so little experience with visitors--" The young man shook his head. "On the contrary, I have been made most comfortable since my arrival." They sipped their drinks. After a moment Eigna spoke softly. "You understand that few of us have been in the physical presence of a male. There is bound to be ... curiosity that may seem like rudeness. Books and paintings are not the same as reality, no matter how well executed." Tristan chose his words carefully. "If I may ask, High Novat Eigna, why is it so? I assume your order

chooses celibacy in order to avoid distractions..." Eigna met his gaze, but shyly. "In fact, Sir Tristan, we are not sworn to celibacy, although I understand why you would draw that conclusion. Mating ... physical union ... the pleasures of the flesh are not technically forbidden by the Novatia. It is merely that ... certain gifts generally possessed by females are better suited to our focus. Oh, how may I explain this tactfully?" Eigna seemed truly uncomfortable, and Tristan decided to dare an attempt at humor. "My lady, the disadvantages of being male are very plain to me, I understand completely." He flashed her his most charming smile. The High Novat responded with quiet laughter. "I?m happy I didn?t offend you," she said with obvious relief. "You seem hardly capable of that," said Tristan sincerely. "Thank you, sir. It is already becoming clear to me that the Uni Council chose wisely in sending you as their emissary. You are much as I envisioned the man who would be appropriate for the task that faces you." Her look was very earnest. Tristan returned it in kind. "Can you advise me of the nature of that task, High Novat?" Eigna set her cup down on the broad ledge of the window and leaned back again, folding her hands in her lap. She looked Tristan in the eyes and replied, "Obviously my order has emulated much of the teachings of the Uni. However, there remains among the Novatia a certain prejudice against the masculine, a certain conviction of the superiority of the feminine, a commitment to keeping the purity of exclusive femininity. For our purposes, I agree our ways are best. But I, and some others among us, feel it is time to explore more directly how exposure to the masculine element might enhance our work, enrich our exploration of the Una. After all, the Una, the great oneness, is incomplete without both male and female." She paused, and Tristan acknowledged her words with a silent nod. Eigna continued: "I hoped to find a man who exemplified the best qualities of the male gender: strength, protectiveness, rationality, who also could show how the more ambiguous traits--aggression, competitiveness, boldness--could be tempered in service to the Una." Tristan leaned forward. "A challenging task, but I believe any man sworn to be a Uni Knight seeks these goals, Lady Eigna. We are servants as much as warriors." "I hope it is so. If it is, then we are doing the right thing. I don?t mean to put undue pressure on you, Sir Tristan, but I look to you to demonstrate to my fellow Novats how much an association with the male element of the Uni Order could enrich us and our work. To put it simply, we do not know what men are like. I believe we need to explore it." Tristan was formulating a response when there was a quiet knock at the door. Eigna gave an apologetic nod. "Forgive me, Sir Tristan, I left instructions only to be interrupted for emergencies. This must be something serious." The High Novat rose and went to the door, opened it halfway, then had a quiet conversation with whoever stood on the other side. Tristan also stood, awaiting his hostess?s return. At last she ended the conversation and closed the door again, returning to the Knight?s side.

Eigna?s face was lined with anxiety, and after a moment her eyes met her guest?s. "My lord Tristan, I hope I may be candid with you. There is another concern here among the Novatia which motivated our actions in contacting the Council." Tristan was seized with the urge to put his hand on the High Novat?s arm, but being unsure how such an act would be received, he refrained. Eigna went on. "There has been a history among the Novatia of occasional instances of ... a sort of spiritual problem ... an imbalance in the psyche. It is known among us as the Yearning. In most of us it is a minor problem, a mild to moderate malaise that is temporary. But sometimes the affliction is more acute. It can be quite crippling, occasionally even evolving into madness. These more serious cases are becoming more common, and we can no longer ignore the problem." Tristan?s concern finally compelled him to place his hand gently on Eigna?s forearm. "Lady Eigna, tell me how the Uni Order may assist you in this." The High Novat did not react aversely to Tristan?s touch, but at the same time, she lowered her eyes. She continued, "Some of us believe the Yearning is a by-product of our long-standing exclusion of males from our culture. We believe it is the result of the spiritual imbalance that stems from this. The Novatia has traditionally taught that by the Una we can reach and sustain the masculine spirit in ourselves, enough to keep proper balance. But I think that has proven to be insufficient. Novat Pasha is a classic case in point." Eigna gestured for Tristan to be seated again, and the two sat once more at the window. "I have just had a report that Pasha is sorely failing," said the High Novat. "She is considered one of our most spiritually adept members. She is quite young, but has always been a prodigy. Her writings already show the promise of what she could become..." Eigna faltered. "But if Pasha?s condition worsens much, I fear what will become of her." "What is her condition, my lady?" asked Tristan urgently. He was sincerely touched by this story; something in the bearing of the High Novat drew sympathy and concern from him. "As it is with all who suffer acutely from the Yearning. She is physically weak, lethargic. Her spirit burns low. She feels melancholy in her good hours, painful grief in the bad ones. She can find no comfort by any usual means, from the simple things like good wine and a warm meal, to the deeper ones like meditation." Eigna raised her face and sat up very straight, forcing herself to look Tristan steadily in the eyes. "Sir Tristan, it is my humble request that you see her. It is my firm conviction that your presence alone will alleviate her suffering. I may be wrong, but I hope you can understand why I believe it is important to try."

****

Novat Pasha lay on the sofa, staring at the flowers on the side table. They were white lilies, her favorite. She focused on the clean velveteen texture of the large petals, trying to make herself spiritually into that texture, to ease the ache in her bosom that seemed to have been there for an eternity. For a minute or two she felt better. Resuming her work writing the treatise was out of the question, but she thought if she could sustain this a bit longer, she might be able to read a little. However, it wasn?t long until all at once

her focus was lost and the ache returned. This longing, this nameless longing, she thought. Would it be easier to bear if it had a name? If I understood what it is I lack to such an extent it is killing me? But I don?t know what it is, so how can I possibly seek it? She felt cold and hungry and lonely all at once. It was not Pasha?s nature to be unhappy or even solemn, so in addition to these she felt ashamed and chagrined. She knew that for weeks she had contributed nothing to the Novatia, but rather drained the spirit of those around her. She tried not to dwell on this thought; it accomplished nothing. Instead she focused again on the blossoms, ignoring the hopelessness she felt. There was a quiet rap at the door and upon Pasha?s bidding, it opened to reveal the High Novat. "Daughter Pasha," said Eigna, entering. "I have been told you fare a bit worse today." Pasha feigned a smile. "I had a bad bout an hour ago. I mastered it and am better now. Please, I know you have other concerns..." Eigna took a seat on the low upholstered stool next to the sofa. "Concerns that matter no more to me than your health, Pasha." The High Novat took her friend?s hand between her own. "Which is why I?m here. I?ve brought someone to see you. I think he may be able to help." One word stood out among the others, shockingly so. He. Pasha sat up. "What do you mean?" she asked with alarm, then quickly added, "Forgive me, Lady Eigna." "He is a Uni Knight," said Eigna calmly, holding Pasha?s hand in a firm grasp. Pasha said nothing to this, but her eyes were wide with fear. "You know I have never seen..." She did not need to finish the sentence. Eigna leaned closer and lowered her voice. "He is gentle and good. I swear there is no need for you to fear him." Pasha fought back her trepidation and tried to be reasonable. Certainly every other avenue of cure had been explored. She could no longer fool herself that for her the Yearning would pass, leaving her restored to her former life. She knew the truth--it was eventually going to drive her to insanity. "All right," she agreed weakly. "He is outside. May I let him enter?" "Yes," said Pasha, her face plainly filled with dread. She sat up on the couch and straightened her tunic. Her fingers clutched the fabric and did not let go. Eigna rose, went to the door, and admitted a tall figure to the room. He was so broad in the shoulders that it sent an ambiguous shudder through Pasha. She had seen men often enough in books, paintings ... but nothing had conveyed the sense of power she perceived in those shoulders. His Uni robes enhanced it, but she knew the strength was real. She was struck with the idea that if such a creature wanted to hurt her, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. That thought set her to trembling, and she felt tears springing to her eyes. It was horribly unfitting and she

fought the emotions with all her discipline, managing to restore herself to a semblance of calm. The man approached. He had long dark blond hair, as lovely and shining as any woman?s, and a short beard, as she had seen wore in pictures by Uni knights. This curiosity distracted her for a moment from her fear. She stared at his reddish gold whiskers and wondered if they would feel soft or coarse. A strange tingle leapt to her cheeks. The man dropped to one knee at Pasha?s side, looking up at her humbly. "Novat Pasha, I am Tristan, Knight of the Uni Order. I?m here to serve you in any way I can." His voice was low and surprisingly soft. The tones of it were quite like music, resonating warmly in her breast. But Pasha could not find her voice to reply. Tristan continued. "The High Novat tells me you have never met a man before. I?m sure you must find me strange." He smiled. "You wouldn?t be the first," he added, his blue eyes sparkling. Pasha realized he had made a joke and was amazed. It would be polite to offer him a smile, so she did. Nevertheless she still couldn?t speak; there was too much to take in all at once. She was stunned merely at the size of him, and his imposing air even when acting in deference. Meanwhile there was something a little alien in his face; it was chiseled, angular. Then she realized this was due to the lack of fat he carried. She wondered if his body was also different... Would it be hard, more like stone? She had never thought of such things before and was flooded at once with confusion and discomfort. She could see that the Knight sensed this: his eyebrows furrowed with concern. His brows were not as heavy as she had seen portrayed on some males. They were quite attractively arched. She found a certain beauty in his eyebrows then, beauty that could be appreciated like that of the lilies ... and this quelled her confusion a little. This odd flutter she felt, perhaps it was not all fear, but partly excitement at beholding a new kind of loveliness... Yes, she realized, he was strangely but thoroughly beautiful. His face was large but well proportioned, set with deep laughing eyes and framed in his golden hair. The nose was quite wonderfully sculpted, and his mouth ... his mouth looked tender and soft... "Forgive me, Novat Pasha," he said then with a slight smile, "but the emotions crossing your face... One moment I?m certain I?ve terrified you, and the next you seem lost in meditation. It?s like watching clouds cross the sky, the light coming and going." "How well you speak, Sir Tristan," Pasha heard herself say. He responded with a broad smile that made her heart leap in her breast. His whole face lit up with it. "Thank you," he said, with a gracious nod. Pasha decided candor would serve the situation best. "I am afraid of you, my lord, I confess it. But that is no fault of your own, I?m sure." Tristan rose and drew the stool over to sit near her. It was only then he realized the High Novat had left them alone. He focused again on Pasha and told her, "If anything I do frightens you, please tell me. I am as unfamiliar with your ways as you are with mine." "Ah, but you have known women before, and there?s the difference."

He smiled. "Yes, I will grant you that point. So the onus is on me to bridge the gap between us, good lady." "Call me Pasha, please sir." "Thank you, Pasha. And call me Tristan." "Thank you ... Tristan." And suddenly Pasha realized her pain had lessened. It was amazing but true. There was still an ache in her breast, a hunger in her belly, a weariness in her soul, but these things had eased perceptibly. "I have been told my solemn duty is to cheer you, Pasha. I know what it is like to be afflicted in the spirit, and usually that means one cannot even see the sorts of pursuits that might prove cheering. So I would probably be foolish to ask you if there is any activity that appeals to you..." "Perhaps ... a walk," ventured Pasha. "If we go slowly and not too far, I think the exercise would do me good. I love the woods this time of day, when everything is golden from the low sun." Tristan brightened at this. "Excellent! I have only seen your forest when weary from my journey. It will be delightful to view it more at leisure." Suddenly a flash of panic seized Pasha. "But--you will not hurt me?" She was immediately embarrassed by the small, childlike sound of her voice and half expected the man to laugh. Instead his face was all earnestness. "Are you afraid I will hurt you?" "You seem very strong. If you had any desire to dominate me, it?s clear I couldn?t stop you." Tristan fixed her with a steady look. "I wouldn?t touch you unless you wished it, my lady Pasha." She felt strongly moved to trust him. His eyes were so clear, his countenance so open. And if I wished you to touch me ... thought Pasha, and immediately was astonished at herself.

****

The walk in the woods proved reassuring to Pasha. Tristan, being a Uni Knight, was quite adept at rational, platonic conversation, and Pasha, being a Novat, could do the same. They had much to discuss. Tristan was full of questions about life in the Novatia, the principles the Order espoused, and Pasha?s own particular studies. For her part, the Novat wanted to know about the Uni Order, its training process, and its business throughout the world. They carefully avoided speaking of their gender differences. Pasha knew many questions lurked in the back of her mind, but they were not the sort that could be answered with words. Likewise, the Knight appreciated his companion?s sensitivity. The sun fell lower in the trees and the light grew dimmer and more golden. The two turned back on the path they had come and continued their conversation as before. However, it seemed to Pasha as evening fell that her ability to keep her feelings at bay diminished with the light. More and more her awareness of

her escort?s physical presence increased. She could no longer consider him just another intellect sharing ideas and concepts with her. Her first powerful impressions began to come back. He is not like me, in spite of how it may seem, she thought. His spirit is different. There is fire in it that he keeps burning low only by self-discipline. He knows how to fight, how to kill. Pasha had never seen violence firsthand, but it was the everyday business of this powerful man. He was a warrior as much as a diplomat. With these thoughts a low grade trembling commenced inside her. As they approached the main house, Tristan paused on the path and turned to her. "I can?t pretend I don?t sense your fear of me, Novat Pasha. Can you tell me why?" She hung her head. "It is nothing you have done, Tristan. You seem a very kind, gentle man. Forgive me." "There is nothing to forgive. But if you can explain..." "I don?t know if I can." Pasha started walking again, and Tristan followed. She continued, "It?s a feeling I can?t shake, but the explanation--" Just then she tripped over a tree root and stumbled. Instinctively, Tristan snatched at her arm and steadied her. Pasha gasped, not from the startle of the trip, but at his sudden nearness. Her heart raced as if she were seized by an awful fever. "I?m very afraid now," she told him. "Why is that?" Tristan held on to her arm, his grip amazingly strong, and yet not painful. "What does it feel like?" he asked her. "Describe it to me." Looking up into his face, Pasha was again struck with wonder at his beard. How did it feel against his skin? Why was the hair there redder, coarser than the smooth waves of dark gold on his head? A frightening ripple passed through her then. "I?ll try," she replied. "Just now I felt an awful tremor of fear. It was like my heart was split open inside me, and the blood rushed down my legs, leaving an ache in its path." Tristan?s concern seemed to abate a little. He almost smiled. "Are you sure it was unpleasant?" She paused and held very still. "It was a violent, strange feeling," she said thoughtfully. "But perhaps not so unpleasant?" he repeated. Pasha wasn?t sure. Perhaps if she felt it once more... Tremulously, she looked again at Tristan?s face, imagined touching her fingertips to his beard. "Oh!" she said with sudden astonishment. "No, not unpleasant." In fact, Pasha realized the shudder that ran down the inside of her thighs felt quite wonderful. At this, Tristan allowed himself a smile. "My lady, that?s not fear you feel." "I see now that it is not. I was mistaken. But ... do you know what it is?" Tristan released her arm and resumed walking at an easy pace. "Forgive me for suggesting it, but I believe it?s ... arousal."

Pasha turned her face to him, puzzled. "I don?t understand." Tristan was looking a bit ill at ease. He faltered, "Well, I don?t know how much you learn of such things in this culture..." "Ah," said Pasha, "do you speak of sexual arousal? Of course we know of that, but how could that be, in this circumstance? You barely touched me." "Sometimes it doesn?t require any touching at all. It?s ... chemistry." "Chemistry?" "It?s the natural reaction, sometimes, when male and female come together. Even without touching." Pasha looked back on all that she had felt since Tristan first entered her chamber. She was struck first with wonder, and then with true fear. "If it can happen without touching ... well ... how will I resist you?" She asked the question in such earnest and with such alarm that Tristan could not help but laugh. That was not a bad thing, for it made Pasha think the matter could not be so serious as she supposed. The Knight patted her arm and said, "You threaten my humility, dear Pasha. Don?t worry, your will remains your own. This is not such a powerful thing that men and women don?t handle it every day." The Novat was still unsure. The feelings were so unfamiliar she had no idea how to interpret or control them. "So, you?re sure I won?t be overcome?" They paused on the path. After a moment?s thought, Tristan said, "I?m sure much of this is just your curiosity about what a man is like. Here, let?s just start with this. Give me your hand, if you will." Pasha held up her hand. The Knight took it inside his two large ones. "You see, our hands are not so different. Mine are just larger." Pasha stared at their hands. What Tristan said was completely true, it was mostly a matter of size. But no ... his hands were ... sturdier, stronger. And there were small golden hairs on his flesh that she could see even in the dim light. His hands were soft, but a different sort of soft--smooth laid over hardness like a veneer. And how warm they were. "You see, Pasha? You aren?t overcome." She looked at him over their hands. He was truly calm, unaffected. While she, on the other hand, felt a surge up her arm like powerful magic. Her cheek burned to be pressed against the smooth back of Tristan?s hand, yes, and her mouth longed to caress the fine wrinkles over his knuckles. She didn?t know what to do. She stared at him, hopelessly confused. His look of calm faded a little. "Pasha?" he asked, softly. "May I tell you honestly of my feelings, my lord?" she asked him, trembling again. "Of course." "This small touching only makes me want more." She hung her head. "Oh," said Tristan, then hastened to add more brightly, "Oh, but that?s quite normal."

"Do you want more touching also?" He laughed. "Ah, I must give you a thoughtful answer and not make mirth out of this." He looked at her a moment, then lifted her hand to his face, pressing the back of it against his cheek. "Yes," he said. Pasha felt the soft brush of his beard against her hand and shuddered visibly. "Don?t," she said, involuntarily. "It?s too strong." Inside her belly, she felt a soft growing ball of heat. She added, "It?s not ... unpleasant ... just so strong." This last came out a whisper. But still Tristan held her fingers in place. "Perhaps strong is good. As long as it isn?t unpleasant." He turned her hand over and kissed the palm. In the process she fully felt his beard, rough but yielding against her palm, and her fingertips brushed the edge that bordered on his velvet cheek. The touch of his lips against her skin was moist and fervent. The combination of sensations made her knees suddenly go weak and her head swim, and a rush of thick sweet feeling rose in her throat. "Strong is good?" she managed to ask him. "Perhaps," he replied, his eyes drifting a little. "But not too much at a time. I see how this affects you." He lowered her hand but continued to keep a gentle grip on her fingers. "Does it affect you?" she asked him guilelessly. The Knight did not answer immediately. Then he said in a gentle tone, "Let me tell you something about men, Pasha. In the presence of a beautiful woman they are quick to ... to be affected. But this doesn?t always mean as much to a man as a woman might conclude. As men are made, they are likewise often quick to become unaffected." Pasha stared at him, taking in his words. He could see her eyes narrow slightly at his last statement. He went on, "But that is not to say my gender is incapable of genuine feeling. Sometimes it happens to us and is just as deep and important as any woman can feel." "But then, if a man is ... affected, but less than genuinely ... would he sometimes take advantage of a woman? Since he possesses such power as you do?" Tristan did not like the course this was taking. "I can?t speak for others, but I can for myself," he said earnestly. "I am a Knight of the Uni Order. I am master enough of such things that I would never let that happen." Pasha pulled her hand away and turned toward the main house, starting to walk. "I know I should trust you, Tristan, but this is all so new and strange. I?m not used to having feelings that I can?t control." She felt a hand catch her by the shoulder and turned. Tristan looked down at her, his face saddened. "Have I hurt you?" he asked simply. In her mind Pasha suddenly saw herself rushing into his embrace. How would it feel to be cradled against that broad chest, gathered in those strong arms? How would he smell, would the beat of his heart be amazingly powerful? How would he touch her? Thinking of these things, her heart began to race again. She spoke, not choosing her words but letting them flow: "This is like being intoxicated. It?s like madness only ... only a joyful madness." She looked up at Tristan. "I find myself experiencing these things no matter what you might feel for me; I?m overpowered. It terrifies me ... but ... I think I feel such happiness..." She looked away, shaking her head in confusion. Tristan started to reach for her, but then held back. "I believe it would do to let you catch up to

yourself," he told her gently. "Strong is good, but in small doses. But let me tell you not to be alarmed at what you feel. In the world outside your world, such feelings are as commonplace as rain." He gave her an encouraging smile. "As commonplace as rain...," she repeated, smiling back. She recognized affection in this man?s eyes, and in that moment felt the same simple feeling for him. "You have helped me, Tristan," she told him warmly. He answered with a smile that convinced her he couldn?t possibly bear her any ill.

****

Pasha awoke the next morning fatigued from the unusual exercise of her walk with Tristan. Physically, she was a little weaker, but mentally she felt a fog had been cleared from her brain. Although she didn?t feel up to writing, she had a strong craving to read again. When the High Novat?s assistant came to check on her, she asked for certain books to be brought. Although she hadn?t seen the Uni Knight since he bid her good evening after their stroll, the impressions he had left were powerful. Pasha ate a small breakfast and bathed, then retired again to her sofa to rest. As soon as her mind was not otherwise occupied, it filled with thoughts of Tristan. She lay back on the cushions and closed her eyes. At first she merely pictured him, tried to reconstruct his image in the finest detail: his kind eyes under their handsome brows, his finely formed nose, the curve of his cheeks when he smiled, his hair that looked like it would be pure satin to the touch, and his mouth that was so beautiful and expressive. But she couldn?t merely picture him because this led naturally to strange imaginings of the sort she had never before indulged. She wanted to undo the folds of his garments, to see the flat muscle of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders, to see how his arms differed from her own. In fact, she longed to see all of him bare, to let his loveliness overwhelm her as it surely would, every detail from the splendor of his brow to the arch of his foot. Pasha clearly perceived these reveries were an antidote to the pain she had suffered until yesterday. The relief was undeniable. But at the same time, she felt a new and unfamiliar kind of longing. When she rose at late morning to view the yard from her window, the bright colors of the flowerbeds somehow reminded her of the Knight. The clean smell of the breeze likewise seemed to carry some essence of him. It was as if all beautiful things were now tied to this creature, who was supposedly nothing more than a man. Nevertheless, the Novat had not lost all the self-discipline she had learned in the Order. She took to her books and found them engaging and refreshing. By afternoon she was feeling physically stronger as well. There could be no doubt; the Yearning was abating. Pasha took her evening meal with the High Novat, who reported to her that Sir Tristan had spent the day touring the Novatia and meeting with the High Librarian and a number of other important officials. Everyone was immeasurably pleased with him, and even the High Librarian--who was among the most skeptical concerning relations with the Unis--had to admit she was intrigued. The Master had seemed fascinated by all he saw and experienced, and he?d declared his intention to report most optimistically to the Uni Council.

"And he spoke very highly of you," said Eigna to her companion. Pasha swallowed the bite of lunden tart that had been on her tongue. "Did he?" she asked, wishing at once she had not sounded so eager. "He was quite anxious to see you again, Pasha," said the High Novat. "And as it is so plain that his company has done you a world of good, I am inclined to grant him that wish as soon as possible. But of course you are the one who must make that decision." Pasha?s heart fluttered. "Eigna, there is nothing I would like better! May I see him this evening?" The High Novat stifled a smile. "You?re certain you aren?t too tired?" "I napped this afternoon. I feel quite well, really--" Eigna laughed. "He is dining with the Library Council. I will have word sent that you wish to see him when he is free." The two women lingered over their meal, making happier conversation than either had known in weeks. Then Eigna excused herself and Pasha retired to her chambers. She tried to read, but it was impossible. The thought that at any minute Tristan would knock at her door was painfully distracting. Finally she went and sat at the window, looking out at the gibbous moon. The night was clear and fine, with a strong breeze stirring the trees. The air was heady with the fragrance of the lawn and the gardens below. The soft rap upon her door made her jump. "Enter," she called, turning. He was even more handsome than she remembered. "Good evening, Pasha. The High Novat said you wished to see me." He stood with his chin lowered, looking at her from the tops of his eyes, under those lovely brows--a look that was doubtless meant to convey humility, but managed instead to be irresistibly appealing. Pasha stood. "Tristan, come in, please! I?m so glad to see you again. I hope I?m not intruding on your plans..." He approached and looked for a moment like he would reach for her, but then awkwardly clasped his hands behind his back. "No, I was glad to get your message. Very glad." "Please, sit. You had a tiring day?" As he sat, Pasha drew her chair closer to his. Perhaps too close, for when she sat their knees almost touched. "It was an invigorating day, in fact. Your sisters are quite amazing to me. Their spirituality is plainly evident. The self-discipline, the devotion ... but also the creativity and scholarship... I am completely impressed." "I?m glad to hear you say it. But how long will you be staying with us?" Tristan gave her an intent look. The moonlight caught in his hair and eyes, silvering them. "I am in no hurry to leave you, Pasha."

The look held her pinned, and she felt her soul opening like a blossoming flower spreading for the sun. "Tristan, I thought about you all day. Is that as commonplace as the rain?" He laughed and took her hands in his. "Pasha, the number of times I was distracted from your engaging fellow Novats by thoughts of you was too numerous for me to count." "Truly?" she asked, astonished. "Yes." He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed the fingers of each. Lips so soft ... and his beard.... Pasha kept her fingers where he had taken them, the tips tracing over his whiskers, so smooth when she stroked them, but then again, so coarse against the grain. She forgot he was watching her and kept exploring, feeling under the edge of his chin and back again, then along the jawline, then over his mustache, then to the bare places beneath his lower lip. She noticed suddenly that he was smiling. "You look like a child who has found an animal she?s never seen before," he said. Pasha glanced up at his eyes. "Isn?t that just what I am?" she asked, then looked again at his mouth and chin. "Does it tickle you?" she asked. "The beard? Not exactly. I?m used to it. In winter it?s handy for keeping my chin warm. When I?m drinking soup it can be a nuisance." "I suppose," murmured Pasha distractedly. "I wondered so much what it would feel like." Tristan took her chin in his hand. "Let me show you," he said softly. He started to lean closer to her. His eyes closed. Pasha stared in wonder and then started with a little gasp. Tristan opened his eyes. They looked at each other a long moment. Pasha felt Tristan?s warm grip on her chin. It was not so firm that she couldn?t pull away. But she didn?t want to. "Pasha," whispered the Knight, "tell me something. Right now, doesn?t your mouth feel a little strange?" "It feels ... warm." "Warm and a little ... hungry?" Pasha considered this. "Yes." "It wants touching." Tristan?s eyes grew soft, captivating. "Yes." "You want me to kiss you. That?s what the feeling means." He took up her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips so she could feel them. "This, only against your mouth." "Show me, Tristan," Pasha breathed, and closed her eyes, and waited. She sensed him pulling near, felt his free hand fall upon her thigh, then the touch of his soft nose brushing against hers. In the next moment his warm mouth covered hers, gentle and yielding. Beneath her nose she felt the caress of his mustache, and a spot of soft beard pressed her chin. He pushed tenderly, suckling

only faintly, and she tasted just a little moistness in the embrace of his lips. Pasha?s mind reeled at this. She had never felt anything so pleasurable in all her life. The Novats knew kissing; they were quite physically affectionate as a society, even kissing on the lips was common practice as a greeting between friends. But this--this kiss--was a world apart. Pasha felt as if a net of enchantment had been thrown over her, or a potion of powerful magic had been cast into her eyes. She began quivering and instinctively seized Tristan?s knees in her two hands, opening her eyes wide. His face was only inches from hers. He gazed back at her quizzically. "Tristan," she gasped, and then said the first thought in her head. "Have you ever done that before?" He smiled, bemused but pleased. "Not to such a reaction." "How is it possible that such a thing has happened before?" Pasha released his knees and clutched her hands to her breast. "My heart--" Tristan laughed good-naturedly. "You?re a delight, Novat Pasha. If you continue to be so charming, how can I help but kiss you again?" "Yes," she said, "my lips do feel that way again already." "One kiss is seldom enough," said Tristan, tipping his head and leaning to her. Pasha closed her eyes and waited. Yes, again, and it felt so good it was madness. She found herself pressing back, suckling, and her hand floated up to take him behind the neck. Her fingers tangled in the silken strands of his hair and this new sensation made the kiss even more powerful. Her other hand found his cheek and stroked it, velvet skin and lovely whiskers, one pleasure blending into another. And all the while he kissed her, his mouth playing sweetly with hers, growing warmer and softer as it lingered. He broke the kiss and drew slightly away. Pasha was alarmed to find her breath coming fast and unevenly ... until she noticed Tristan was breathing the same way. "Tristan ... why am I breathing like I?ve been running ... and you, too?" she asked him. "Dear lady, it?s quite simple. We are aroused." "Oh..." He brought his face close and his hand stroked her cheek. "Our breath is quickened," he said, his voice low and tremulous, "our hearts beat faster, our bodies change..." Mesmerized, she stared into his eyes. "Our bodies change?" "Certain parts ... grow hard ... others moisten ... and certain chemicals flow in our blood, natural intoxicants... Our skin flushes... See, your cheek here is growing rosy..." Tristan planted a light, soft kiss there, and before either knew it, Pasha turned her head and found his lips again. Ah, his mouth was like a soft flower nestled in brambles, she wanted to feed upon it like a hungry bee dipping for nectar. Just as the thought came to her, the flower opened, even softer, and her lips went soft and parted too, admitting the wet velvet tip of his tongue.

This was a strangeness even harder to fathom, an intimacy which passed her experience. And yet, under the spell of Tristan, it pleased her ... it pleased her deeply, and she let her tongue respond as it apparently wished, caressing his, sliding and exploring and being explored. Meanwhile, she felt his arms wrap around her, their power palpable. Her head tipped back under the pressure of his. One of his knees pushed between hers until it met the edge of her chair. She was acutely aware that he could do whatever he wished with her and she would be helpless to stop him. And it seemed he was not completely in control of himself anymore. A cold flame of fear leapt up inside her. She should stop him; it wasn?t safe. But it felt too good. His mouth fed hungrily on hers, with agitation and urgency, and to feel this desire in him was intoxicating. The pressure, the chafing of his beard on her chin and upper lip and cheeks, the tightening embrace of his arms--inexplicably, all these sensations seemed gloriously sweet in this context. Her fear was drowned and extinguished in the swelling arousal. What Tristan had said was true: her skin was flushed and tingling, and between her legs she felt moistness dripping. All so strange ... all so wonderful. He pulled away, panting, and loosened his grip on her. "Oh my Pasha--forgive me--I meant to be gentle," he offered an apologetic half smile, "but you see the faults of my gender." Pasha touched his face, brushed a strand of hair off his forehead and caressed the tip of his nose. "I like when you are gentle," she said, "and I like when you are rough. Just as I can?t decide which is sweeter to touch, your lips or your beard." She laughed, giddy. Then she went all somber. "I like everything about you. I want to touch all of you. Tristan ... you are so beautiful." "Oh Pasha..." He looked at her as if he could hardly bear it. "Pasha." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You are all sweetness and innocence," then a kiss on the chin, "so pure, so lovely," the other cheek, the temple. "I?m only a man, Pasha." He kissed her mouth, once, softly and fully, then whispered, "You make me feel my weakness." "I feel no weakness in you," she replied. "You are a Uni Knight." He looked at her then, studying her face. "And you are a Novat." His eyes seemed to clear. "Come, we are both students of discipline. Perhaps we would do well to find our focus again, before it is lost for good and all." He smiled. "Perhaps we should," agreed Pasha. "Show me how it is done among the Unis." Tristan sat back a bit, but he left his knees touching hers. "Give my your hands," he instructed. She complied, and he held each one in his own, resting them on her knees. They both sat up straight and breathed deeply, closing their eyes. "Slow your heart, Pasha," said the Knight. "Slow your heart and follow your blood around, until you have found every part of your body again." Pasha obeyed him, and felt some of her self-mastery return. She was careful not to seek Tristan?s presence in the Una, but to remain within herself. "Restore yourself to serenity," said Tristan, "slowly ... very slowly..." Pasha was well practiced in meditation and she found this easy, she was even able to forget that he held her hands and ignore the weight upon her knees. She spoke quietly, "The Novatia teaches us to lose the border between our spirits and the Una..."

"Yes, yes, Pasha." His voice seemed to fade and all was a softly glowing light. She dissolved herself in it for a time that was impossible to measure. She heard nothing but the distant echo of her own breathing. Finally, she began to perceive points of energy, numerous as the stars in the sky, moving slowly about her in a pattern she knew had meaning, but was too complex to comprehend. This, she knew, was the Una as she often perceived it in meditation. But then she found something was different. From one direction she sensed a deep warmth, like a flow of warm water. Pasha couldn?t resist moving toward it, and as she did, it expanded little by little until it encompassed her totally. She felt every anxiety melted away, and peace that was so blissful it hummed in every cell of her body. It was ... perfect balance ... completion ... fulfillment. It was all Pasha could do to return to consciousness from the ecstasy of this reverie. Her senses returned slowly, and when they did, she was shocked to discover what had transpired in the physical world. Her arms were wrapped around Tristan, and his around her. Her face was nestled under his jawline. He had let his head fall forward upon her shoulder, and his chin was hooked around the back of her neck. The heat had built up between their bodies; her muscles felt softened by it. She was too relaxed to move, but simply held still, feeling his skin like velvet against her nose, perceiving his slow pulse there. Finally she sensed him stirring and he raised his head from her shoulder. She pulled away to look him in the eyes. They were bright and lucid, full of conviction. Tristan lowered his chin and drew breath, then let out a long sigh. Pasha waited, sensing something to come. Finally the Knight spoke, slowly, resolutely. "My lady Pasha, I must make love to you. Not tonight, but soon. Sometimes there is only one path to be taken." She blinked, taking in his words, not fully understanding them. He drew himself away from her, slowly and carefully. "Sleep tonight, take all the rest you can." He put his hand affectionately to her cheek and smiled. "Sleep long and well, dearest Pasha. I?ll come to you tomorrow."

****

Pasha obeyed Tristan?s command and slept deeply and long. She awoke amazingly refreshed, and took plenty of time to stretch and rouse herself before getting out of bed. It wasn?t long before the thought burst upon her mind: I must make love to you. Novat Pasha was well educated, well-read. The words were not entirely without meaning to her. Tristan spoke of mating, of conjugation. Scientifically she understood what the phrase represented, but beyond scientifically--she could only begin to guess. Until the Knight came into her life, she didn?t fathom the emotions and sensations tied up in mating. After all, in her culture it was better not to dwell on such

things, and a Novat disciplined herself not to. But Pasha was no longer quite so unaware. She had experienced how Tristan could stir her to feel incomprehensible things, to want what she had never even imagined. Who would dream of letting someone so imposing, so foreign touch his tongue to hers? And yet even now, merely thinking of it made a wave of delicious tension ripple through her. I must make love to you. Then, surely, she would see him naked? Oh, how frightening it was to consider! His body was so different, and the effect of it so uncontrollable. And yet she wanted it, she wanted feverishly to explore every part of him. She had known since nubility what mating was and had avoided thinking of it because it seemed so strange and frightening. She still felt that fear at the thought of Tristan?s unveiled flesh, but at the same time she loved the way her body responded when she pictured what he might be like. She felt the moistness again, the flush coming over her skin. How she wished he would come to her now. And that, as it turned out, was the problem. The Yearning was abating. Her strength was coming back to her, but in its place now there was a feverish, desperate craving that was just as bad. When some of her friends came to visit her late morning, Pasha was distracted and kept losing the thread of the conversation. In the afternoon when she tried to read, she inevitably returned to daydreaming of the night before, of Tristan?s kisses, of the feel of his embrace, the beauty of his eyes, his lovely musky smell. She ached from head to toe for him. It seemed every cell of her body burned with longing. Finally she could bear it no longer. As the sun began sinking low, she abandoned her rooms to look for Tristan. She inquired after him at the Office of the High Novat and was told he had excused himself to take a constitutional; it was assumed he was walking in the forest. Pasha left the main house and took the same path she had showed Tristan two days before. She had to find him, or she feared she would lose her mind. Some ways down the path there was a thicket of evergreens, beyond which lay a secluded clearing. Pasha herself often went there on a summer day to read in solitude. As she approached the spot she heard noise as of some sort of struggle. It alarmed her, for such things didn?t happen among the Novats. She quickened her step till she reached the break in the trees. What she saw made her stop dead in her tracks and conceal herself at once in the branches. Tristan was alone, but brandishing a sword as if engaged in battle with an invisible enemy. He was stripped to the waist and gleaming golden with sweat in the low sunlight. The hair about his face and on his shoulders was all damp tendrils. He moved with grace and power, swinging the sword masterfully. It flashed liquid gold in the falling light. Transfixed, Pasha watched from her hiding place. His arms were banded with curves of muscle, which bunched and swelled as he fought. His back was long and broad, his waist narrow. Where Pasha had soft mounds of breasts, Tristan instead bore more muscle, and lower, over his belly, he was lean and rippling. His leggings were tight enough to reveal everything to his knees: powerful thighs that kept his balance perfectly as he jumped and spun, buttocks that were round and tight ... so much so that she could actually see the muscle there. High boots concealed his calves and feet, but the dark leather suggested enough of what lay beneath. In short, he was pure magnificence. She stared, taking in his every movement. This was violence, to be sure, but it was so graceful it was like

some wild dance. Tristan grimaced and grunted with his exertions, and Pasha marveled at the glory of this purely physical activity. No doubt his mind and spirit were also well engaged--he was still a Uni--but all she saw was action, physical force, raw power. He panted, he sweated. She could feel from here the pounding of his heart. The Novat had never experienced anything like this. She wanted to watch it forever. She wished Tristan?s opponent were real, that she might see him bested and conquered and even destroyed. Such feelings were completely alien but they didn?t frighten her. She was too consumed by the sight of the Knight, his beautiful gleaming sword, his shimmering hard flesh in constant motion, the look on his face, the fire in his eyes. I must make love to you. She stepped out from her hiding place and waited for him to see her. He spun, swung the weapon, and then froze. "Pasha!" he said breathlessly, then broke into a smile, lowering his sword. "I?m glad to see you, but hardly fit to be seen at the moment. Forgive me." She approached him. "What is this that you do?" she asked, hearing the awe unconcealed in her voice. He deftly sheathed the weapon in a hilt on his belt. "Sword practice. I?d gone too long without exercise, and it?s an important element of the Uni discipline. I hope I didn?t alarm you." Pasha took a few more steps until she was close enough to touch him. There was a pungent smell about him that was different. "I admit I was alarmed," she said, hazily, "but it?s wonderful. You look so beautiful doing it." Tristan looked down, embarrassed, then raised his eyes humbly. "I thank you, but right now I?m hot and sweaty and disheveled, and probably a little dirty as well. Before you stumbled upon all my grace and beauty, I tripped and fell into that mossy patch there." Pasha laughed and came back to herself a little. She shyly reached out and touched his arm. It was hard as stone but slippery with sweat. "Right now there?s a lot of blood in my arms, from swinging the sword," Tristan explained. "That?s why the muscles are firmer than normal. It will pass soon." "Will it?" asked Pasha, still staring at his arm, running her fingers over the curve of his triceps. "How are you feeling today, Pasha? Did you sleep well?" She forced herself to lift her gaze and look into Tristan?s face. "I did, wonderfully. But today ... today I?m not quite myself. I ... I had to find you, Tristan." His look of concern inspired her to be candid. "I couldn?t bear it. I had to. Is this as commonplace as rain as well?" He gave her a tender smile. "It is. Why do you think I came out here to fight like this? If I didn?t, I was sure I would go to you and be completely irresponsible for my actions." Pasha heard these words and they broke her from her haze. She smiled happily at him. "Soon night will fall. You promised to come to me today, and it won?t be today much longer, so I suppose my waiting

will be through." "Yes," Tristan agreed happily. Then his manners returned abruptly and he said, "But let me make myself a bit more decent." He turned to walk over to the tree where his tunics hung. "Wait," said Pasha, seizing his arm. "I?m not done looking at you yet, Tristan." He turned back to her. "All right," he said indulgently, "as a child who has just discovered a new kind of animal..." So he let Pasha look at him, and she did, long and carefully. She studied the way the muscles in his arms interlocked, with such poetic asymmetry. She measured the width of his shoulders by feeling across them. She put her hands on his pectorals, testing the firmness. She traced with her fingers the pattern of hair on his chest, wishing she could follow the trail of it past his waistband. She slid a forefinger down the bumps of his spine, making him shudder and laugh. She even cupped her hands over his buttocks, which he seemed to find surprising. Then Pasha turned Tristan by his narrow hips and went back to exploring the front. She noticed then a strange rise in the cloth above and between his legs, and not thinking, put her hand to it. "My lady!" exclaimed Tristan, "Have you no mercy?" "Oh, did I hurt you?" Pasha said, pulling away her hand. "No," he replied, but seemed flustered. "But such a hard muscle cannot be so easily injured I suppose," she said, trying to touch him more gently. Tristan took her hand in his and pulled it away. "Do you know what this is, Pasha?" he asked, smiling. She remembered. "Oh, I think it isn?t a muscle, is it?" Tristan lowered his chin shyly and spoke in low tones. "It?s my penis," he said. "A very useful organ and a very sensitive one." "Oh," said Pasha, staring back at him. "You may certainly have your way with it when the time comes, but too much of that, and you will force me to take you here on the forest floor." She looked at him in total incomprehension. "Ah ... you see," he said, "but tell me, will my lady allow me to dress now?" "Oh, of course, I?m sorry." He put his damp hand to her cheek. "Don?t be sorry. As sweet as you are, I?m happy to give you anything you wish. Let?s walk and I?ll try to explain some things to you." Pasha watched him put on his garments, and that alone was a delight. Tristan seemed to be pondering

hard what to say next. "Oh, where to begin? Well, my erection--which you feel as so much hard muscle--is only temporary. Other times it is more frail and vulnerable than any part of a woman." "I remember now," said Pasha. "I was taught once, long ago, that men change in this way. But why exactly does it happen?" Tristan donned his overtunic. "It happens with arousal. The wanting you felt all day ... with a man, when it becomes intense, this is what happens." "Then ... you were wanting me?" He finished the dressing ritual by belting his overtunic. "Yes, Pasha. The way you touched me was hard to ignore. Your curiosity ... was my stimulation." "Did I upset you?" she asked. He took her arm and they started to walk. "No, no, not at all. But your hands are very soft. You pleased me. You pleased me so much that were I not foul with sweat I would gladly please you in return." Pasha smiled. "I?m glad I pleased you. It delights me to think of pleasing you." They walked in silence a short way, then Tristan spoke earnestly. "I want you to know I have no desire to be irresponsible in this. I have discussed it with the High Novat, to be sure no ill can come of it." Pasha gave him a puzzled look. "You are what my culture, and I suppose also yours, would call a virgin. That is a person who has never entered, or been entered, in the act of mating. It is possible you could feel pain the first time. And I also wouldn?t want to leave you with child, but I have read that Novats by their discipline cycle with the moon, so this time is safe. There are also cultures in which if a woman is taken outside of a ceremonial union, it casts great shame on her. But I understand this is not the way with your people. But even more, I wanted Eigna?s guidance as to the wisdom of the matter. Whatever knowledge I gleaned from the Una, it never hurts to consult a wise and spiritual counselor such as the High Novat." Pasha regarded him with concern. "What is the High Novat?s counsel, Tristan?" He paused on the path. "Last night she had a dream. She saw us in a garden, lying together, and the sun rising over the trees. She was not surprised when I came to speak with her. She feels it is a wise and good thing; she has much conviction about it." "You have taken great consideration and precaution, Master Tristan. This is the Uni way?" He started walking again, pondering the matter for a time. Then he said, "I know that tonight there will be little consideration or caution, Novat Pasha. In such a situation a Uni Knight applies his reason while it can be employed, so he can abandon it later without fear." "You will make love to me without reason, Tristan?" "I will make love to you beyond reason, Pasha."

****

Pasha knew that Tristan was to be engaged for a long dinner, so she was determined to be patient and enjoy the evening. After taking her supper, she took a long bath in hot lily water until her skin was as soft as possible. On the last solstice Eigna had given her a small vial of the precious oil, which was usually used in bath water but could also be mingled with lotion by those extravagant enough to do so. Pasha never had before, but tonight she treated herself and applied the lotion generously as well. She was amazingly relaxed when she slipped on her sleeping shift and curled up in bed to read for awhile. The fragrance of her skin was quite soothing. She actually dozed a little until she was awakened at a late hour by a soft knock. She sat up to hear the door open slightly, followed by the low voice of the Knight whispering, "Pasha? It?s me." "Come in," she called, completely awake in an instant. By the blend of moon and lamplight she saw Tristan enter the room and close the door softly behind him. He wore a long hooded robe of pale fabric, and soft short boots that padded silently across the floor to her. Tristan drew back his hood and smiled at her. "Did I wake you?" "Yes, I can?t believe I actually slept." Pasha stretched her arms, sitting up further. "Come sit," she beckoned, and her companion obeyed, seating himself on the coverlet at her side. "It?s peculiar to entertain a guest in one?s bed, but we?ve chosen a fine night for it. The breeze is so warm, and I can?t remember there ever being more moonlight than shines on us tonight." "The moonlight is enough, I think," said Tristan, and reached to extinguish the lamp. They talked for awhile. Since the subject had not arisen earlier in the forest, Pasha inquired about Tristan?s day. He revealed that he had partly spent it reading her treatises in the Library. Pasha was amazed. "Such great works of Uni literature, and you chose to take time for my poor efforts?" she asked. "On the contrary, you have a brilliant mind and a great gift for expression. Your thoughts are fresh and engaging. In two hours? reading I learned more than many an entire day when I studied at the Sanctuary." Pasha inquired about the Sanctuary then, her curiosity about Uni training not yet satisfied. It sounded like a wonderful place to her. "I have never left the Novatia," she confessed. "I assure you, there is little I have seen in my travels to rival the beauty of the Novatia?s holdings here," said Tristan. Your gardens and forests would amaze any Sanctuary resident. But if you should want to visit, there are many who would be delighted to meet you." As they talked, Tristan?s robe had fallen open a little, and his bare chest was exposed to the moonlight. Pasha forgot for a moment about the Uni Sanctuary and reached over to touch her fingers to his flesh. "Tristan," she asked, "are you naked except for this robe?" "No, my Pasha. I?m wearing boots as well."

She smiled and he answered likewise. Then she said, "Remove your boots." Tristan reached down to pull off his boots one by one, then raised his leg so one bare foot came to rest on the coverlet next to her. She stroked the top of it and probed at his toes. "Doubtless your feet are infinitely superior to mine," said Tristan, watching her. She shifted and drew one leg out of the bedding, placing it alongside his. "See what I mean?" he said, lowering his own foot to the floor again and taking hers in his two hands. He petted the top, then slid his fingers under and slowly stroked the arch. "Oh!" exclaimed Pasha. "Ticklish?" he asked. "Tickling is a children?s game, very different from what you are doing. Ohhh..." She fell back onto her pillows. He switched to stroking the top again, with a touch so light it felt like feathers. "Is this Uni magic?" Pasha managed. "How do you touch me so?" "No magic, I just know where. And how." And he ran his fingers up her calf. Pasha shuddered. As Tristan caressed her calf, she perceived a pining inside her thighs starting to build. She let out a long sigh and then said, "Tristan ... my leg wants touching ... here..." And she slid her short gown up slightly higher, putting her hand inside her thigh. He smiled. "Yes, I know. But not yet." "Why not?" she asked, almost petulantly. "Part of the art is to not hurry. The longer you want it, the sweeter it will feel when it finally happens." She considered this, as much as she could while distracted by the tracing of his smooth fingertips over her calf and foot. "So is that why--ohh, Tristan--is that why sometimes it feels like pleasure and sometimes like pain?" "Yes," he nodded. "The art is to make it hurt just a little." Then all at once he stroked upwards and didn?t stop at her knee. A quick streak of pure pleasure followed his fingers up the inside of Pasha?s thigh. She moaned audibly, then covered her mouth with her hand, surprised by the sound. Tristan laughed and reached over to caress her cheek. "We will both make noises without meaning to, it?s all right." "I?m glad you have patience with my inexperience," said Pasha, distracted. She wished he would touch her like that again. She had felt the wetness begin, and this reminded her of the changes he had spoken about. She was curious. "It?s quite charming, really--" Tristan was saying when Pasha?s hand reached over to his robe. It landed in his lap and lingered there, the folds of fabric interfering. "But what have we here?" said the Knight,

catching at her fingers. "I felt myself changing. I wondered if it were happening to you again too." "Inexperienced, but not shy," said Tristan, not disapprovingly. "Yes, it is happening to me. All right, just a little. Better you should feel before you see." He untied his belt so she could work her hand into the robe. She watched his face as she felt her way across his leg and up, searching. It was amazing how hairy he was, but it didn?t bother her. Tristan kept his face serene until Pasha found her target. Then he blinked slowly and let out a little grunt. Her fingers closed around it, a rod as hard as if it were statuary, but clad in the smoothest, softest, most delicate skin she had ever touched. "It?s so soft," she whispered, awed, and slid her hand up and down to feel. What a strange organ ... at the end there was a sort of knob, almost like a mushroom cap. When she probed it gently with her fingers, Tristan?s mouth fell open and his eyes went out of focus. She liked that she could do this to him, but remembered what he had said about not hurrying, so she withdrew her hand. "Promise me you?ll eventually do that again," said Tristan. "Of course," smiled Pasha. "But that is what is to enter me?" "Only if you wish it," said the Knight, with a humble tone. "Right now the thought is very strange. But from what I?ve learned in the past days, I expect before you?re done with me you will make me want it more than anything in the world." Tristan laughed. "Yes, I hope to." "But you want it ... already? There is no need for me to convince you first?" Pasha wanted to be certain, but she thought she knew the answer already, so this was said half in jest. To her surprise, all mirth left Tristan?s face and he looked deep in her eyes in complete earnestness. "None," he said simply and quietly. His eyes were steel blue in the moonlight, his irises rimmed in black, the pupils large and swimming with bits of light reflected from the moon. He blinked slowly. His lips parted and he leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, knowing his kiss would come. It was soft and long, and as his mouth caressed hers, her arms drifted up to rest on his shoulders. Tristan shifted his nose to the other side of hers and kissed her again, and she felt giddiness rise in her belly. Her fingers dug into the folds of his robe and she pulled until it slipped from his shoulders. She urged the fabric down till it caught on his arms, then she let her hands explore his skin. It was like velvet and very warm. As Tristan kissed her, Pasha stroked his shoulders, probed under his hair to the nape of his neck, felt around his throat to the pulse point. Then her hands slid under his arms to where she found soft nests of hair. At first she pulled back, feeling shy at this little intimacy; but then, intrigued, let the fingers of her right hand burrow in again. For some reason touching him there sent a heady, sweet pang through her and she made another involuntary noise. She felt Tristan laugh, a strange, uninhibited, low laugh, and then he snatched at her chin and lifted it. His mouth moved to her neck, and he planted kisses under her jawline, behind her ear, down the side of her neck. It felt delicious and she arched her neck trying to expose more flesh to him. He repeated the act on the other side, his whiskers titillating the nerve endings, sending shivers of ecstasy through her. Pasha

reached up quickly to open the loops on her shift and slid down the shoulder straps for him. He kissed her left shoulder, nuzzled it with his nose, then went back to kissing her neck again. Pasha felt an ache begin in her left breast. Tristan?s mouth was so near ... if only he would go lower. She felt him peel back her shift and she pulled out her arms so that it fell about her waist. He took her shoulders in his two hands and held them tight. His head dipped as he planted fervent kisses in the hollow of her throat, and she kissed his gossamer hair. This pleased her, the feeling of his sleek head against her lips, so she did it again. His hair smelled sweet. She buried her nose in it and breathed deeply, then began kissing it again... But then she felt his head moving down and wild yearning seized her. She feared he would wait, that he would tease her again, but that was not what happened. In a moment she felt his warm, wet mouth take her nipple and suckle gently. Her head tipped back in sheer bliss. The sensation was insanely complex: there was the velvet of his mouth soothing her, and an echo of pleasure deep in her womb, and the faintly coarse brush of his beard against her breast. She cupped his head in her hands and stroked his hair. What began as soothing quickly became intensely sweet stimulation--a kind of frantic feeling threatened to take the last of her self-control. Tristan moved to take the other breast, wrapping his arms around her back. Pasha felt her left nipple cooling deliciously as the right one was pleasured in its turn. The frantic feeling crescendoed, then seemed to mellow a little. The echoing pleasure in her loins steadied to a mesmerizing vibration. She fell back against Tristan?s arms, her head hanging limply, and let the waves move luxuriously through her. Yes, she thought in a sort of trance, I do want him inside me. I want him to fill me with that strange hard instrument, I want to feel how silky it is, rubbing inside me. She heard herself think this and realized she was utterly in thrall to him now. This Uni Knight had taken her sense of separateness, had wooed it sweetly out of her, and now she was completely his possession. Tristan sat up then, drawing his arms from the sleeves of his robe. He shifted and pulled the cloth out from under him and dropped the garment to the floor. Pasha stared at him in the moonlight. He stared back, not at her face, but at her breasts. As Tristan settled back on the bed his hand reached out to touch her there, his index finger traced lightly over the yielding flesh and then across her nipple. "Forgive me for saying it," he whispered, "but it?s a waste that you live among only women, dear Pasha." But Pasha barely heard him, for her gaze was on an exploration of its own. There was nothing left now to conceal her consort?s beauty. In the face of it she felt ... there was no word for it except worshipful. She was a spiritual person, and to be so moved was to Pasha a religious experience. How could she express this? She reached for his waist and bent her head, lowering it into Tristan?s lap. She kissed his penis, and the sensation that met her lips was so sweet that she could not raise her head at once as she had intended. Instead she nuzzled the satiny flesh with her nose and mouth. And when her tongue longed to touch him she let it, tracing shyly with the tip. She felt Tristan arch his back and he moaned. His hands took her head and he forced himself to raise it. She sat up, regarding him quizzically, fearful she had displeased him somehow. He quickly answered her look: "Pasha, you are so affectionate and dear. I think you would give me the ultimate pleasure before I have given it to you, and I?m afraid I can?t let that happen." "What is ... the ultimate pleasure?"

He gave her a mischievous smile. Intellectually, she didn?t understand the relevance of mischief at that moment, but for some reason the smile excited her deeply. "When will you give it to me?" she asked, returning his smile in kind. "Let me surprise you." "But how will I know...?" Tristan reached behind her and gave her spine a long, light caress. "You?ll know," he said. The touch made Pasha weak and she fell back on the pillows again. Her companion took the opportunity to lift her and tug the shed sleeping gown out from under her, draping it over the bed table carefully. Then he pulled back the rumpled bedclothes. Pasha was completely exposed to him and glorying in the fact. He lay his body down in the bed next to her and took her in his arms. It felt like paradise. She stretched out alongside him and found her leg wrapping itself over his so she could be as close as possible. He was so hard all over, so firm and unyielding, but his warmth made her feel soft, as if she were dissolving. He held her very tightly for a time and she reveled in his strength. His penis was pressed into her thigh, and Tristan shifted slightly, so it slipped between her legs. Her body reacted strangely to this. There was no particular stimulation occurring, no pleasure other than the general bliss of the Knight?s embrace, but Pasha felt an inexplicable urge to impale herself upon him. A low-grade ache had started inside her, and her body told her that this act would give it relief. She was about to reach down when Tristan rolled over and pulled her on top of him, so his hands could have free access to her bare back. He stroked slowly, lightly, down her spine. Pasha let out a cry and arched her back. Tristan laughed and raised his head to kiss her. Her lips met his and she settled back down again. He stroked her back again, and this time she stayed relaxed, melted by his kiss. Every inch of flesh his fingers passed over sent a new tremor of delight through her. She could feel it even in the soles of her feet. "Pasha," murmured Tristan. "Yes?" she sighed. "Lose the border between us. See if you can." She was an experienced Novat. Even under these conditions, she could discipline her mind. Pasha erased the border of contact between their bodies, but retained the touch of his hand on her back. Time seemed to slow, the waves of pleasure Tristan?s fingers produced expanded until they were a flow in which her body was carried. "How does it feel, my love?" Pasha heard his soft, distant voice inquire. "You are the river of god," she replied, spellbound. He kissed her then until the sheer sweetness of it brought her back to her senses. When she was conscious enough to open her eyes and look at him, he took a firm grip on her body and rolled her over in the bed. Once on her back, a new strange feeling came over her. Her legs fell open, suddenly languid,

and her whole being was gripped with the desperate urge to feel Tristan?s weight upon her. She reached for him but he was already shifting his position so his knees were between hers. This development filled her with hopeful joy. She put her arms around his neck and tried to pull him down, but he was too strong. He smiled at her efforts, propping himself up with his rippling arms. "You want me so much, little Pasha?" She gave up the struggle. "Oh, Tristan ... I can?t explain it. I just want you to lie on me so badly. So badly..." He dipped his head down to give her a playful kiss. "I know you do." "This is also commonplace?" "It?s instinct. It?s the mating urge." "The mating urge...," she whispered, fascinated. "Yes," he said, and lowered himself, burying his face in her neck. Pasha groaned and tipped her head back, giving her throat over to him. He gave the tender flesh a little nip with his teeth, but before she could even object, he kissed her there, long and deep. Then he moved his head down, kissing between her breasts. The hot longing for his touch tweaked at her nipples, but he did nothing to soothe it this time--instead his kisses and the soft tender chafe of his beard moved lower, to her waist. His tongue briefly probed her navel, he kissed her belly... Instinct, thought Pasha, this is merely instinct. For between her legs had blossomed a yearning so profound she could barely feel anything else. Her hands went to his head, and it was all she could do to refrain from pushing it downwards. "Tristan," she moaned, but he made no reply except to keep kissing her, across her belly to her sensitive sides and back again. He shifted lower in the bed and she rejoiced, her legs spread wider spontaneously. Her consort pushed his nose affectionately into her navel and then gave a little stroke of his bristly chin just below, inches above the spot that ached for its touch with desperation. "Tristan," she said again, hearing the pleading in her voice. He took hold of her thighs then and lowered his face into her. At first he just nuzzled her, and the effect of the soft bristles brushing her tender place sent Pasha reeling. Her body shuddered and she buried her fingers in Tristan?s hair. Then he kissed her, his lips playing luxuriously with the tenderly swollen tissue. It was pure rapture; her toes curled. She gave a great twitch and groaned with bliss. But the next caress was absolutely blinding. She bucked involuntarily and let out a shrill cry. The ultimate pleasure, Pasha thought, this must be the ultimate pleasure. Another touch, so purely fluid--she realized it was Tristan?s tongue doing this. Then he again nuzzled her, his soft lips, his mustache. He kissed her warmly, and then his tongue returned. It was a throbbing ... but so sweet ... an itching beyond satisfaction ... but so glorious. It flooded her entire body with waves of well-being ... and felt like pure torture. Pasha?s hips lifted and fell, lifted and fell, the thrusting completely unbidden and completely uncontrollable. Still Tristan fed on her, his hair falling tenderly over her thighs, his hands clutching her hipbones. This had to be the ultimate pleasure, she could imagine nothing surpassing it, and yet it only made her burn ... and yet it only made her want to burn hotter. She forced herself to speak, although she knew he would have to stop to answer:

"Tristan, am I going mad? It?s insatiable ... insatiable... Is there no cure for this?" But he only laughed into the wet folds where he was occupied, a sensation quite marvelous in itself. He paused and then drew his tongue slowly over the most sensitive spot. Pasha lurched at the sensation and then went weak. "I?m sorry ... please don?t stop ... I don?t want to feel better..." Tristan raised his head and looked at her, marvelously pleased, his mouth and beard wet from her. "You will feel better ... much better," he said, and slid back up her body. She seized him in her arms and kissed him madly, and his kiss was deliciously moist and pungent. Pasha pulled at Tristan until he lay down on top of her, his entire weight at last resting on her body. It was a tremendous relief. She opened her legs as wide as she could and wrapped them around his. His penis came to rest against the place so aflame from his ministrations, and this time she didn?t hesitate, but reached down to aim him. "Come into me," she begged. "I want you inside me so bad ... Tristan, please..." His eyes were dark with adoration for her for a moment, then he seemed to draw upon some buried hoard of masculinity and his face became almost stern. He lifted his hips and thrust into her. It was a relief. It was so much fulfillment... Pasha felt that in a certain way, she had been empty all her life until now. But Tristan was buried deep inside her, now she was full, now she was-He drew back and thrust again, and she felt the sudden renewal of the sweet torture of a minute before. "Ohh..." she moaned, feeling herself tightening, thickening again. Tristan looked at her darkly and whispered, "You will feel better still..." She discovered he was right. Inside, where he probed her, the walls were turning to sweetness. Pasha rocked with it, pulsed with it. Tristan?s entire body seemed to be getting harder, and then she felt his skin mist over with sweat. He was in the grip of instinct, she could feel it through the ever-sweetening haze. He was a beast now, a beautiful, glorious beast. Pasha?s warm, wet insides had made him this way. The pleasure was too much for his mind to bear. The speed and power of his motions intensified, and with it, the depth of her passion. Finally, suddenly, there came a moment when it all made sense to her. The ultimate pleasure. It was coming; she knew that now. And it was going to be beyond her wildest imaginings. With every stroke she felt it building, deepening, spreading. She was so excited, so wildly, madly excited, her body wanted to tense up and she let it, she let every muscle squeeze to the point of white pain, marveling at how glorious it felt to be so tense. Tristan would release her; she wanted every cell to be tense when he released her. She wanted to be as high as she possibly could so that the fall would be long and hard and devastatingly beautiful. Tristan, Tristan, she began to chant in her mind, faster and deeper as the pleasure mounted to its final crest. Oh ... Tristan ... falling, falling!

The moment blinded her, deafened her utterly. It folded her over and over, driving out every other thought in a white flood. Over and over, a beautiful shuddering. But then as her mind cleared a little, it felt as if the whole huge tidal wave of pleasure came from Tristan ... who had apparently been waiting for her, for in the next instant he convulsed, letting out the most frighteningly lovely sound she had ever heard. She felt the pulsing inside her, like an echo of her own pleasure, and Tristan?s spasm drove into her. Then he collapsed onto her body, panting, glazed over with heat and sweat. The lingering of all the sensation obliterated conscious thought for a few moments. Then Pasha felt her whole being flood with languor. I am pure tenderness, she thought, basking in it. Pure tenderness ... pure tenderness ... and then, oh my Tristan, my beloved... She felt him twitch lightly inside her and then the wonder of the connection struck her in a new way: she felt a oneness as she had sometimes felt with the Una, only this time it was purely physical. Tristan tried to lift his head but it fell again next to hers on the pillow. "Ah, I?m conquered," he whispered into her ear, then fell so silent and still she thought he was asleep. She could feel his heart beating against her breast and waited for it to slow. His weight made it hard for her to breathe but she didn?t care. It was a closeness she had never felt with another person in her life. But too soon Tristan roused himself. He propped himself up on his arms a bit and looked at Pasha dreamily. "Sweet Pasha, I have many endearments to express to you, but first your bedclothes must be spared ... do you have a towel?" "There are some napkins in the bed table," she offered, confused. With his broad reach, Tristan was able to open the drawer and pull forth some cloths without extricating his organ from Pasha?s body. He handed one to her. "The fluid is my semen, my seed. Messy stuff but it has its value." He smiled lazily. "Lovemaking is poetic and organic at the same time. There is a practicality to it ... even when it is as transcendent as you just made it." Tristan kissed her sweetly on the nose and then she felt him withdraw. She employed the cloth napkin quickly when she felt the fluid draining. "Your seed..." she said in wonder as she dried herself. Tristan was kneeling now and cleaning himself. He still looked magnificent, naked in the moonlight. He told her softly, "There is something of me left behind in you, at least for now." "For always," sighed Pasha. "Perhaps so. I hope so." This business done, Tristan nestled back down in the bed and pulled the bedclothes up over them. Pasha looked at him in amazement. "You?ll stay with me?" Her consort looked weary and relaxed. "If you?ll have me," he said, his voice indicating he had little doubt of it. He settled Pasha under his arm and kissed her forehead before she could make a response. "Sleep with me," she told him. He kissed her softly on the mouth in reply. His body was warm and had lost some of its hardness in relaxation. How soothing Tristan?s embrace was, combined with the residual blissful languor of their lovemaking.

"Pasha," he sighed. "I?m not clever enough to find the words to tell you. You amaze me." "Do you feel for my body as I do for yours?" she asked timidly. "How can you, when there are so many other women for you?" His shadowy eyes looked into hers. "You have just discovered the body, Pasha. It?s new and amazing to you. But if you knew it as I do, you would know it is the soul that matters. It?s the soul that works the magic. It?s your soul that charmed me, your unique soul." Pasha stared back, marveling at his words. Tristan closed his eyes and went on: "I seem like the only man in the universe to you, but there are as many like me as the stars outside your window." "I don?t believe it," said Pasha at once. The Knight opened his eyes a crack and smiled at her. "Millions," he said. "It?s true this is new to me, but I can still perceive it is your soul that makes it so blessed," Pasha insisted. "Without that, the pleasure would be nothing." Tristan reached up and curled his hand tenderly over her cheek. "Well, who am I to question the wisdom of a most excellent Novat?" he teased. She turned to kiss his fingers, then asked, "And they cannot all be so handsome...?" Tristan broke into a bright smile, then quickly adopted a serious face. "Well, only a few." "Or so proficient with the sword?" "Of course, of those there is just a handful." "So wise in the ways of the Una?" "Fewer still, I fear." "Or with such prowess at giving pleasure?" Tristan allowed himself a slight smile. "I admit you have discovered my one true gift." Then he broke out laughing. Pasha joined in and squeezed him tightly. "Then I must choose you among all the millions. It?s only logical." "To be so chosen is an honor of which I am unworthy," said Tristan, "for I am as commonplace as rain." Pasha laughed and Tristan joined her. Then she snuggled down into his embrace and closed her eyes. "When I awake you will still be with me," she sighed contentedly. "And you can?t awake until you have slept first ... quietly. Now, hush." He kissed the top of her head.

So she slowly drifted off to sleep, his body her warm bed.

****

Sir Tristan stayed several weeks longer with the Novatia, working out a plan for a sort of "exchange program" between their people and the Uni Council. He prepared a full report on the remarkable acquisitions in the Novatian library. And he also made written recommendations both to the High Novat and the Council that Novat Pasha be among the first of her order to make the journey to the Sanctuary. Pasha?s affliction was, of course, completely healed. She blossomed under Tristan?s affectionate care and resumed writing her latest treatise with a vigor she had never before experienced. Her case seemed to prove conclusively the cure for the Yearning, and the leaders of the Novatia were already discussing the greater significance of this for their society. But at last the day came when Tristan had to depart. Pasha was present to see him off, on the lawn of the main house, on a sunny afternoon that would have been splendid were the occasion not so melancholy. "We don?t say good-bye often here," said Pasha, clinging to Tristan?s hand. "Ironically, I think now I have made love more often than I?ve told someone good-bye." The Knight took hold of her shoulders and looked down into her face. "Then I must take it as my responsibility also to teach you about saying good-bye. It?s not altogether without its joys, really." "How can that be?" asked Pasha, fighting back tears. "Because, dearest Pasha, there is the custom known as the good-bye kiss. It?s like a seal that binds people together until they see one another again." He took her face in his hands. "And we will, you know." "Yes," she said, "I believe it." "And as soon as we possibly can. Now kiss me good-bye, and I?ll show you how sweet it is." She closed her eyes, feeling his hands holding her head like a sacred chalice, strong but so reverent. His mouth came to hers, softly, tenderly. It was like the first time, when the miracle of his touch seemed still so mysterious, so overwhelming. She reached up with one hand to cup his jaw, remembering how his beard had intrigued her at first. The feel of it still stirred heat inside her. Yes, it was as sweet as the first time, and yet deeper, for Pasha now felt that in a certain irrevocable way Tristan and all he was now belonged to her. His hands lifted from her face and his arms came around her, squeezing until her body arched into him. The kiss intensified, his lips caressing hers with wild abandon, his whiskers deliciously chafing her until a flood of desire rose up from her loins. Pasha?s hands rubbed his broad back hungrily and then she simply clung to him. The moment of lust passed and she let herself grow lethargic in his embrace until at last he broke the kiss. Pasha opened her eyes. Tristan looked down at her, breathing hard. "I?m sorry," he said weakly, "that was not a normal good-bye kiss."

"Then shall we try again?" she asked. He laughed and squeezed her joyfully. "No, I think I?m not capable of kissing you good-bye. Instead let?s consider this kiss the beginning of our next time together." Pasha nodded, looking up at him adoringly. Tristan released her with a soft touch of his lips to her forehead. "Until then, I love you," he said. "I love you," she answered. That night it happened to rain, and Pasha watched out her window as millions of drops fell past in the lamp lit darkness into the garden below. Ordinary rain, but of course it made her think of Tristan and wonder if it fell upon him where he was traveling. She gazed through the veil of countless raindrops and wondered if there were really so many men in the world as that, so many and so alike that her Knight would be lost among them. Commonplace or no, Pasha thought as she closed her eyes to sleep, all that matters is the one.