Chapter Three: Ocean on His Wintry Shore
3:34 PM
Apalachicola still had dustings of snow on the ground.
Given her knowledge of Earth's seasonal changes, it didn't make any sense. Snow was supposed to stop falling by spring, and it wasn't supposed to fall at all this far south.
She nearly bumped into several people, all of whom were wearing heavy dark jackets, woolen hats and gloves.
She could feel their eyes on her as she apologized and moved away. Emry ignored them; Apalachicola had the country's only existing ferry to Saint George Island, as well as the only form of transport to Dog Island-- the Ice Rail.
She bumped into another man as she shuffled along the snow-covered sidewalks. Bumping into him, Emry supposed, was a lesson on not walking around staring at your feet.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No problem," the man replied. He blew his bangs out of his eyes. Briefly, his eyes widened, and he touched her arm. "You're no Blue Girl, are you? You're a Magesse!"
"You're half-right. I"m neither... But why did you guess that I was a Mage?"
"You aren't wearing enough clothing for a mortal to survive in down here, for one," the man smiled. It was a friendly smile, making his gray eyes seem to shine. "And for another, your teeth aren't blue. Blue Girls wind up dyeing their teeth blue. Mages have white teeth. The Bond doesn't effect bone structure."
"I see." She paused. "Pardon me, but could you help me? I need to find a way to Dog Island. Don't you have an Ice Rail?"
"It's at Icicle Point. I'll show you the way; you aren't very far at all."
Icicle Point turned out to be at the southeast most side of the city, at the docks.
Emry figured out why they called it Icicle Point soon enough: there, frozen just outside the docks, was a huge icicle. It looked as though some sort of wave had risen, and then frozen over. Somebody had built a railing along the icicle.
"A lot of skateboarders and rollerbladers like to go down it. Idiots," the man murmured. "That's Icicle Point. There's some sort of icicle rail at the crest. Stupid people sometimes try to walk across, wind up falling in the water and dying of hypothermia."
"I see. Thank you, sir."
"Please, it's Tom." He flashed that smile again.
"And I'm Emry. Not a Mage, just Emry."
He extended his hand, she took it.
But just as he was about to walk her up the icicle, something happened. The frozen wave began to glow, and somewhere, some sort of chime began to ring.
And then she heard it: a huge, shuddering sound, like one of the trains she'd heard on her trip to Apalachicola. In the distance, she could see light, bright light, in one sweeping beam. It was headed straight towards them.
"The Ice Train," the man murmured. "Looks like somebody knew you were coming. Only Mages can make it, you know, go places."
Emry nodded. That made sense. She placed one hand on the railing and began to haul her way up the Point. The railing felt blessedly cool against her fingers, smoothing out the chafing that the heat she'd encounted in the past few hours had made.
The metal felt thin and brittle under her grip, but that didn't matter. The ice quickly grew so slippery that it was hard for her not to fall back down the Point.
Talk about an uphill battle.
Behind her, Tom's feet went crunch-krrrr-crunch-rattle-crunch in the snow. Every now and then, he would stop lifting his feet and pull himself up using the railing.
The railing was cold; probably bitterly so, to a human. That he could bear to pull himself up hand-over-hand using it was a miracle.
"I'm so glad I wore gloves today," he gasped at one point.
Oh.
Grumbling, she reached the crest of Icicle Point. She could see some sort of skid-marks in the snow, but also poles made out of icicles.
Tom reached the top almost immediately behind her. She could tell because she heard him gasping behind her, struggling for breath in the lovely cold.
That beam of light drew closer and closer, the rumbling grew louder and louder, until suddenly the Ice Train had rolled its way onto Icicle Point.
Tom took a step backwards, and fell. She would have turned to look at him, but the Ice Train was slowing down, and now it was stopping and Rain's sake there was a woman coming through the Train. Through it, like a ghost through a wall in the old stories.
The woman stopped, smiling. The first thing Emry noticed about the woman besides the smile was the long, blue-black hair. And then Emry noticed the eyes. Vivid blue, nothing but blue blue blue blue like ice and sea and electricity and they were so beautiful.
"Emry, I assume?" The woman asked.
That voice. She would have recognized that voice anywhere, even though she could almost swear she'd never heard it in her life.
Melisande.
The Ice Train was comfortingly cold. That was probably because the Ice Train happened to be comprised mostly of ice.
"I see you managed to keep yourself in relatively good repair," Melisande told her.
On one of the bunks, Tom shivered and wrapped a blanket tighter around himself.
Emry nodded. "It is not my place to destroy that which my Owner has commanded. How could I do but attempt to prevent damage?"
Melisande smiled a tiny little smile. "You haven't asked of the human man. Why is that?"
"I am sure you would let no harm come to him. After all, to take him purposely beyond the Paling would be an act of war against America."
"I thought you would be more worried about him contracting hypothermia."
"My sincerest apologies."
They were silent for a few moments. The only sign that Melisande had noticed her apology was the way she slightly inclined her head.
"Would you like me to ask what will become of him?"
Melisande laughed. "No. I shall tell you anyway."
A beat.
"He won't die of hypothermia, I promise. This is a train that outruns death."
Emry nodded, watching Tom shiver. His teeth made a clicking sound in the cold. She smiled. "Just as you say, my lady."
Melisande smiled back. "Although what I can see of you is remarkably undamaged, I cannot be sure you did not sustain any damage at all unless I see the rest of you." The future Chair then plopped an ice chip into her mouth.
Emry pondered that for a moment. "Then should I undress?"
The Magesse said nothing, instead sucking on her ice chip with a thoughtful expression. She lifted a wineglass and stared into its contents, before finally turning and looking back at Emry.
Emry pulled the shirt up over her head, unbuttoned her pants and slid them to her ankles, and then stepped out of them.
Melisande smiled at her, swirling her glass of wine in her hand. The seat she sat in was obviously nothing more than a barely-comfortable bucket seat covered in ice, but Melisande sat in it as though it were a throne.
Emry locked eyes with her Owner. The cold of the train seemed to be doing something to her flesh, almost like mending it.
And then Melisande's gaze slid, pointedly casual, from her eyes to inspect her body.
Emy felt her cheeks warm as her blood rushed to her face. The look on Melisande's face didn't look like someone just inspecting property to insure that it was undamaged. It looked like something completely different.
Emry wasn't sure what to make of it.
At length, Melisande commanded, "Turn around."
Emry, of course, obeyed. She could practically feel Melisande's stare travel along her back.
Was she supposed to feel a little uncomfortable?
"Enough."
She looked over her shoulder at Melisande. "Magesse?"
"I am satisfied that you have not harmed yourself physically." Melisande took a sip of wine.
She turned to face her Owner and bowed low.
"Come here."
She moved forward, one foot plodding after another, until she reached Melisande.
Melisande extended her arms with the palms of her hands upturned.
She took them, knelt. And then she gasped as her Owner bent down and those vivid blue lips met her own.
It was an amazing feeling, to meet those lips. There was simply nothing like it. It was ten times better than the taste of ice cubes, of snow.
Emry leaned up, into the kiss. She parted her lips for her Owner, gasped in delight as her Owner's tongue slid into her mouth.
Melisande began to lean backwards, and to keep the kiss from ending, Emry leaned forward, standing up slightly, until she was bent over the Magesse.
After a few more wonderful moments, the kiss ended. Intellectually, Emry knew that they had been locked together for longer than she felt it had been, but she felt disappointed that the kiss had been so short.
Breathless and not minding a whit, she looked down at her Owner.
Melisande was staring at her with a strange, hard expression on her face.
Emry flushed blue again. "My. . . my apologies, Magesse." She looked at the floor. "My actions were improper, and I should not have undertaken them."
"Most improper."
"I won't be so improper again. I promise."
"That won't be necessary."
Emry looked up. "Magesse?"
"That won't be necessary."
"I'm afraid I don't understand. . ."
"Do you need to?"
Emry shook her head, then began to gather her clothing. Her actions would have been improper clothed. Nude, they had been unacceptable.
"Leave it."
She looked up.
"Leave the clothing where it is. I have servants for that sort of thing."
/Why would I need servants to dress myself?/
Melisande must have seen the look of confusion on her face, because she laughed. "Just leave the clothes, Emry. You won't be needing them for a while."
Emry nodded and stood. The clothing fell to the floor at her feet.
"Stay there. Do not move unless I give you express permission to do so, do you understand?"
"Yes."
And then Melisande stood, her hand moving to the back of the sash that tied her kimono closed. The sash fell to the floor, and the kimono fell open. The kimono swayed along her form as she crossed the cabin.
Melisande's lips connected with hers again, and then her Owner's tongue forced her lips open, slid between them.
Emry found herself thoroughly enjoying every minute of it, as Melisande pulled her closer.
She moved, just a little, to return the kiss. Her Owner stopped, drawing away a little. Emry had no choice but to resume her original position.
The kiss started again, this time more intense. Melisande pulled her closer, long-nailed hands digging into her back.
Pure, unadulerated pleasure. Her Owner's hands were warm against her, warm and soothing and so, so nice.
And then Emry knelt, with Melisande not seeming to notice, or perhaps not caring. Emry began to slide Melisande's legs apart. Once they had moved the appropriate distance, Emry slid her lips between them.
The cleft between her Owner's legs moistened. Emry felt her body begin to respond to the taste of her Owner's juices.
Above her, Melisande moaned and shifted.
"This isn't quite what I expected," Melisande murmured.
Was it a murmur? It could have been a moan and she wouldn't have heard it any better, with all the roaring in her ears.
And then Melisande was pushing her away.
Emry whimpered. The knowledge of the enormity of her actions filled her with terror. She had been created to SERVE Melisande, not fuck her into the floor. Unless that was Melisande wanted.
Speaking of floor, why was Melisande pushing her onto it?
It didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Melisande was climbing on top of her.
Their lips touched again, and the shock of pleasure felt almost like suddenly going cold.
Was there supposed to be something special about this? Was that why Melisande was watching her so closely?
Emry stared into her Owner's eyes as her Owner slid her hands down Emry's body. Those long-fingered hands slid between her legs.
A single finger slid into her. Another finger soon joined it; slipping and sliding, in and out, in and out, and Rain! It felt so good!
Emry spread herself a little wider, reached up to touch Melisande.
The curve of Melisande's breast felt so warm under her hand, warm and nice. Emry rubbed Melisande's nipple with her thumb.
Melisande gasped, and the finger slipping in and out between her legs began to move faster, harder.
Emry reached up with her other hand, sliding it along that tiny blue waist until it found Melisande's buttocks. There, beneath the curve of the buttocks, between those lovely thighs, lay Emry's objective.
Emry parted the folds of flesh, stopping every now and then to massage until she found Melisande's clitoris.
The moans that resulted from her actions, she caught with her lips.
Melisande somehow managed to connect the moist area between her legs with Emry's own, and then she began to rub.
Oh Rain, if she'd thought the finger felt good, the rubbing... The rubbing felt phenomenal.
Emry couldn't help it. She moaned and squirmed.
Melisande echoed the moan.
The rocking intensified, their hips and pelvises grinding together. Almost as if they were trying to crush each other.
Phenomenal couldn't BEGIN to describe it. It was amazing. Emry felt as though wave upon wave was crashing over her.
Melisande yielded also. She cried out.
Orgasm was loud, wasn't it?
As the two of them untangled their limbs and rolled to their feet, the Ice Train began to slow down.
Across the distance, the home of the Water Council became visible, if only barely.
"It's not truly that small. You haven't seen the barest beginning of it."
In his seat, shivering, Tom glared at them.
"Tom, you need not fear. The Ice Palace has warm places as well as cold. You will not die of hypothermia when you arrive."
Tom's glare lessened neither in intensity nor in wounded dignity.
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,