The Lost Colony

Chapter 19

What?" Calista was visibly surprised.

"Calista Brandt, K2 Mineral. That's it. So yes, your employer is certainly of interest, but I don't know where you went to school, if you had a scholarship, what sport you played, or if you have a cat."

Calista took a moment to regain her composure. After several days of getting hit on by half of the single men on the mission team, no doubt she had begun to expect it. Sparr's overt show of disinterest was a jolt to her pride. "Well," she said, "that's good, because-"

"What I do know is, you're tall, around five-foot nine. Natural blonde, no sign of dyes or DNA modifications. Very blue eyes. Natural to you, but probably one of your parents had an in-vitro mod which bled into your generation. You're fit. Low resting pulse rate, minimal body fat, and strength in your major muscle groups. This is probably from one endurance sport and one racquet or ball sport. As a child, you had a bad fracture of your left arm which required surgery, probably to plant screws. You were attractive from an early age, enough so that you had to master the art of putting men off."

Calista had just begun to open her mouth. Sparr's last sentence closed it.

"Oh, and you're bringing something heavy onboard the Odysseus." It was Sparr's turn to lean back. "And is the most interesting thing about ."

***

There was a final, sham ceremony to reveal who would be invited along on the pilgrimage.

Sparr stood at the back of the hall as the room filled with more townsfolk than he could remember seeing at any of the ceremonies. Elites crowded the front of the room, men and women adorned in one of the tri-color schemes he had witnessed upon first arriving in Vonde. They were, for the most part, older, overly-costumed, proud, and vain. These were the shopkeepers, traders, land-owners, and others that owned the commercial interests of the city. Sparr didn't know how often the pilgrimage was taken, but it must be infrequently enough that the selection was a milestone for the town.

There were as many matriarchs among the crowd as men. Sparr was forced to admit that for all of Kaybe's failings, s****l inequality didn't appear to be among them. Liette and the Governor seemed to share power, although uneasily. Syreet was, by far, the most popular gladiator in the arena, and among the townsfolk there were as many prominent women as men. A stiff, but smiling woman strode by, accompanied by her companion, a man young and handsome enough to be a prince in the temple. Perhaps he had been.

"What's that?" Sparr prodded Lell, who stood with him as the hall filled. He pointed to an elaborate medallion which one of the traders hung from his belt.

"Mmmm? Oh." Lell was greeting supplicants as they arrived, but found time to answer Sparr. "It's a pilgrimage seal. They're different every year, a sign that the bearer attended that year's pilgrimage. To carry one seal is an honor. To carry more than one says you are someone of considerable influence."

Of course, thought Sparr. The temple didn't merely deal in s*x and drugs, they dealt in influence as well. Wealthy donors were granted one of the limited slots on a pilgrimage, and given a seal to demonstrate their faith, a veneer of respectability which allowed him or her to carry on with whatever questionable practices had earned them wealth in the first place. That the pilgrimage itself was likely little more than a rolling party was a bonus.

"Those who would seek the enlightenment of the pilgrimage, speak now!" Liette called order to the hall. As with other ceremonies Sparr had observed, the elites jostled for attention, raising their hands with enough enthusiasm to be noticed, but less than would appear unseemly.

"Come forth." Liette called forward a garishly bedecked couple. They turned to face the room, as the man spoke.

"I, and the Lady Varn, seek the enlightenment of the pilgrimage." The man spoke confidently. "Varn Ceramics provides quality, but affordable, urns, amphorae, jars, and other stoneware. You can trust your wines to Varn!"

What a perplexing declaration, thought Sparr. It was more sales pitch than earnest entreaty for enlightenment. The couple approached the wheel and gave it a mighty spin. After several ponderous turns, the wheel landed on a glyph that Sparr had hadn't previously noticed.

"Pilgrimage!" shouted Liette, happily. The couple grinned and embraced. Several maidens stepped forward, chattering with delight. They escorted the pair away.

Another supplicant was selected. Sparr had seen him before, a stout man, plainly dressed, but with an impressively long and well-kept beard and moustache. "I seek the enlightenment of the pilgrimage," he called out. "Secure Hauling and Wagons protects your shipments through all of the Vonde valley," he said proudly. "I am pleased to donate my services to the pilgrimage at no cost!" He spun the wheel.

"Yes, pilgrimage," Liette called out. Puffing with pride, the man allowed himself to be led away by a fawning maiden.

The rest of the ceremony followed a similar pattern. Men, women, or couples would request enlightenment, declare their commercial interests, then spin the wheel. The first handful of supplicants were all rewarded with the pilgrimage. After that, success became less certain. Those that were not chosen were sometimes relegated to something known as 'The Departure', for which Sparr was given no explanation. After twenty-two participants had been granted the pilgrimage, much of the crowd emptied out of the back. The show was over.

"No one donated today," Sparr observed. "Excuse me. Sacrificed."

Lell smiled thinly. "Omm grants enlightenment to those whose commitment is unwavering."

"So, if I pay up year 'round I get to go on the party wagon?"

"You are the party wagon," she said, trailing her hands across Sparr as she left.

***

Sparr learned he would join the pilgrimage shortly after a second session with Liette.

This time, instead of being summoned to Liette's private chambers, Sparr was called to the inner courtyard, a place he understood to be reserved solely for the priestesses. The space was large enough to contain a small grove of trees, which appeared to be carefully tended. Late afternoon sun threw long shadows across the trimmed lawn. Several cozy, private seating areas had been cleverly worked into the landscaping as well. Small groups could easily gather without disturbing one another. A modest fountain gurgled near the center. A cluster of small, dark birds flitted between the branches.

A variation of their first encounter awaited him. When Sparr entered the grove, there was no sign of Liette. He looked about, confused, until he heard a high-pitched, distressed voice from somewhere on the far side. "Oh no!" Liette called out, loud enough for Sparr to hear. "A brigand has invaded the wood. He's here to take my jewels!"

The woman was consistent, thought Sparr. He merely had to adapt to the new role.

"I'll take all of your treasures," he shouted. "Now, where are you hiding?"

Sparr thrashed about the grove, bellowing threats, as Liette scampered away. The green robe that she had chosen might have worked better as camouflage if it hadn't also been sewn through with gold threads. Several times he had to pretend not to see the priestess as she darted by. But finally, as demanded of Liette's fantasy, he cornered her.

"Your jewels and your body are mine now," he grunted.

As before, Sparr warmed to the rough fantasy quickly. Grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, he forced Liette to a kneeling position. He tore off his wrap, and quickly stuffed the priestess's mouth with c**k. She was surprisingly accommodating, accepting more of Sparr's rapidly-swelling organ than he had expected. Every so often he would pull out, rubbing his saliva-soaked c**k on Liette's face, and allowing her to whimper and beg for mercy. Soon he was rock hard.

He took her, pushing the priestess to her back, and impaling her slick p***y. She moaned and wriggled, aroused and thoroughly given to lust. Liette reached for her c**t, and had her first orgasm almost immediately. Both she and Sparr traded filthy talk, he boasting of how he had claimed her body for his own, while she ineffectually pushed against him, calling him a bandit and a bastard. When he was ready to c*m, Sparr surprised Liette by rolling onto his back, taking her with him. With the blonde now atop him, he gripped her shoulder and drove her hard down onto his c**k. The warm grass of the grove tickled his back, the fountain gurgled, and Liette's breasts hung full and enticing. He pumped her selfishly, driving deep with each thrust, bottoming out in the blonde's wet gash. Sparr nibbled and teased her breasts, then, when he was at the edge, sucked as hard as he could. Liette gasped as he unloaded into her. The pair came together, their cries echoing about the glade.

He left her even before the startled birds returned to the trees.

***

"I hear you're to go with the pilgrimage," Silla said.

"If I ever finish cutting these f*****g onions," Sparr replied. They weren't actually onions, of course. The Kaybe equivalent was elongated, had a more fibrous skin, and thicker rings. The sting to the eyes was just as potent.

"Your technique with the knife is wrong, I told you. The motion is in the wrist, not the elbow." Silla showed Sparr again, moving slowly at first, then finishing in a blur. A pile of perfectly chopped vegetables joined the rest. "Try again."

Sparr had joined Silla more for her companionship than a cooking lesson. In contrast with Efreem, who could be painfully reserved, the chef was more than able to keep Sparr engaged and distracted. Her intellect was sharp and, as she had alluded earlier, the chef was remarkably plugged in to temple gossip.

"Yeah, Kess told me," Sparr said, returning to the earlier topic. "I guess I'm part of the show?"

"Liette likes you," Silla agreed. She smiled. "I mean, it's obvious she likesyou, but she also has a role for you to play. Why do you think you haven't been given proper attire?"

Sparr had wondered. While the other men in the temple had practical work attire or at least trousers and a vest, Sparr had been left to roam about in only the waist-covering wrap. The contrast was clear. The princes were handsome and refined, he was a brute. Liette had made sure he was called to every temple function, remaining visible to the faithful.

"She thinks I add an edge, a bit of menace. Me. One guy."

"Like salt," Silla said. "Just a touch can do wonders."

The two worked in silence for a time. Sparr continued to peel and chop onions and other root vegetables for a stew, while Silla fileted and salted fresh-caught fish that had been brought in just that morning. The ponderous sous-chef, Ora, came and went, sometimes receiving instruction from Silla, sometimes venturing to the cellar to inventory spices. Sparr got the impression that more often than not, Silla sent her away just for some privacy.

"I saw the new talent in the outer courtyard. What are they practicing?"

"The women?" Silla kept her head down, busy with the tiny, sharp knife.

"Yes. It looked like dancing, maybe?"

Silla chuckled. "'Dancing maybe'. Yeah, that sounds about right."

"What do you mean?" Sparr turned away from the sting of the onions.

"The pilgrimage is a challenging event for the temple. It's big money. The faithful that donate enough to earn passage expect the best." Silla spread fish onto a tray, sprinkled them with a layer of salt, and resumed cutting. "Food, wine, entertainment, the attention of the priestesses, and of course..." Here she trailed off, but made an obscene gesture, jabbing her index finger into a circle formed by the thumb and index finger of her other hand.

Sparr laughed. "Yeah, I got that part."

Silla continued. "It strains the resources of the temple. Operations don't stop while the pilgrimage is underway. Priestesses still conduct ceremonies, maidens and princes still entertain guests, donations need to be collected..." She shook her head. "Everyone has to be fed."

"So they recruit temporary labor?"

"That's an odd way of phrasing it, but yes. The talent that was just acquired mostly will go along on the pilgrimage." Silla by now had filled a flat box of salted fish. Ora appeared to carry it away as the chef started on another. "They have only about a week to train the new maidens. It's nowhere near enough time, but on the road it will hardly matter. Anything in a blue gown to warm their bed will suffice."