Enchanter (Book 7) (59 page)

As I watched her and tried to imagine how my life would be without her, I felt a force come over me.  A certain power seemed to seep from the center of my soul, outward to my extremities, energizing and invigorating me.  I recognized the special tingle of divine magic. I stood, for a moment, and just stood in the dim light, watching, mesmerized by her femininity.

It was power – magical power, but of a different tone than pure thaumaturgy.  It was wild and exuberant, but not undirected.  It filled me and flowed through me, but it didn’t jar the way regular arcane power did.  Divine magic, I realized.  Ishi’s spell was upon me.

I went behind Alya and took the brush from her, finishing the task with a sensuality that transcended my usual efforts.  As my hands touched her hair and her shoulders, she shivered.  I could feel her vibrate with the power, too.

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.  She tilted her head up for an upside-down kiss.

“I love you,” I said, half plea, half invocation. 

“I adore you,” she replied, her eyes seeming to see for the first time in days.  I pulled the folds of her nightmantle over her shoulders, exposing her shift.  A few laces later, it, too, fell from her shoulders.

“Come to bed, my wife,” I said, pulling her up.

“I would like nothing better, my husband,” she assured me, with a loving smile.  We tarried for a kiss.

By the time we arrived in our magnificent bed, I could think no coherent thought as the tide of intimate emotion overwhelmed me, and passion took control of my limbs. 

All was Alya.  All was love.

*

*

We awoke the next morning to the terrified squeals of our oldest child, who ran in to waken us for breakfast and found his parents naked, sound asleep . . . and wearing mountain lion masks.

I won’t go into the details of just how we handled it.  Call it Ishi’s revenge.  The bitch.

After we got Minalyan calmed down and properly distracted (I was considering a spell), the hilarity of the situation descended upon us, and we broke down in hysterical laughter that seemed to shake the last of our problems from us.  Our intimacy and trust seemed restored.  I felt as close to her as I’d ever had.  Despite the awkward, fantastic, and only remotely plausible-to-a-four-year-old explanation we gave Minalyan, our collective guilt at being so discovered bound us together.

I was whistling and happy as I headed across the yard to the Great Hall to meet with Sir Festaran to go over the morning’s business at breakfast.  I’d left Alya soaking in a hot tub, the children eating porridge with their nurse, and all felt right with the world.

That’s when I started noticing it.  The stares.

Not at me – everyone seemed to be staring at
each other.
  That is, folk who had seen each other daily for years in the course of their work and not spared each other more than a glance and nod, according to rank, seemed suddenly fascinated by the smallest glimpse of others . . . particularly others of the opposite sex.

The squires in the yard on their way down to the listfield to practice tilting for the day were struck dumb by the sight of a pair of maids lugging laundry down to the well.  The maids weren’t particularly comely, but the boys seemed struck by their every movement.  The maids, for their part, seemed infected by giggles to a dramatic extant.  I would be surprised if any laundry actually was completed today.  Or much jousting.

The Great Hall was worse.  As the night watch came in for a bite before they hit their billet, and the day shift of guards and officials mingled with servants, every man’s eye seemed peeled for every woman.  Even the older and well-married wives attracted attention.  And they gave as good as they got, gossiping like schoolgirls in the corner over the sight of a young guard stripping off his mailshirt.

The powerful energy of lust hung like a cloud over Sevendor Castle.

“Oh, holy shit!” I said, aloud, as I realized what had happened.  On purpose or by accident, Ishi’s curative blessing had leaked all over Sevendor.

I should have expected something like that, I realized.  Had I consummated the spell in Alshar, likely the effect would have been lessened – or perhaps not, in proximity to the goddess, I had no real idea.

But here in Sevendor the power of the snowstone was lowering the etheric density everywhere.  We were sleeping over it – within it, if you wanted to be technical.  Snowstone reduces arcane resistance to almost nothing.  Resistance to all magic . . . including divine magic.  That’s why Briga was able to initiate and sustain the Everfire, because of the power of the mountain.

Ishi’s spell must have magnified her power, likewise.  I wasn’t certain of the extant, yet, but at breakfast I could look around and realized nearly everyone seemed incredibly distracted.  Even Sir Festaran.

“Good morning, Excellency,” he said, automatically rising as I approached the table.  His eyes flickered on me, then on a pretty drudge who was raking through the rushes for refuse.

“Good morning, Sir Festaran.  Is . . . is there something amiss with that maid?”

“Pardon?” he asked, abruptly looking back at me.  “No, Excellency!  I just . . . I didn’t sleep well, last night,” he confessed.  “I was possessed of troubled dreams.  So this morning I awoke and sought clarity in morning services.  I came down to the chapel before dawn for lauds and to pray . . . and found myself alone with Sister Bemia in the chapel.”

“I do hope she offered some spiritual comfort,” I said, innocently.  I watched his expression change, his freckles turning red with his blush. 

“She did,” he said, hurriedly.  “I, uh, she told me to follow my heart, or something to that effect.  But enough about my dreams, Excellency – how did last night’s ball go?” he asked, suddenly squirming.

“Splendidly,” I sighed.  “The Orphan Duke is firmly on his throne, and I put forth certain proposals he was favorably disposed to.  It was an enchanting evening, all around.  Now, to business.”

“To business,” he repeated, pulling his portfolio of parchment to him as his eye caught sight of another woman across the hall.  “I, uh, this morning we received word from Lord Lorcus that he and his men have secured all three southern castles and have begun preparations to take Rolone Castle.”

“When?” I asked, surprised.

“Later today,” he said, though it was clear he was doubtful of Lorcus’ plans.  “He reports that two small squadrons of Roloni have been captured and held, and that he has started certain rumors that have filtered into the city.  He says he will begin his operation near midnight, tonight, and invites you cordially to visit him tomorrow, to enjoy the consummation of his plans and the fall of the domain of Rolone.”

“I’ll work it into my schedule,” I nodded.

“Really, Excellency?  You think he can take the great keep of Rolone?  The castle has its own well, deep and fresh, and great storerooms.  How can so few dare to strike against such a great keep?”

“A month ago I would have wagered against him taking three castles in a single day, but I saw him do it,” I pointed out.  “He is a man of rare talents.  And unquestionable loyalty.”

“He’s mad,” Sir Festaran suggested.

“I never said he wasn’t.  But he’s useful.  More useful than I’d imagined.  What next?”

“Master Andalnam wishes an audience, to discuss certain issues of enchantment, and the Manufactory.  As does Mistress Rael.  I believe the two discussions may be related.”

“I have no doubt,” I sighed.  “Anyone else?”

“Oh, my, yes.  Banamor and Dranus both want a word.  Sir Forondo wants leave to loan twenty more  Bovali archers to Amel Wood for the duration of the conflict – all volunteers, and at his expense.  The Karshak wish to speak to you – specifically Master Azhguri, but he was here with Master Onranion, so there’s no telling what that was about.  And the reeve of Gurisham wants leave for the village to start gardening the six rods of cleared land left from the road clearing, adjacent to their village.  They need the space, Sire,” he added, sympathetically.

“They do.  That’s the easy one.  Grant it, and add the rents to the commune’s fees, not their tribute.  I might want to use it for something later.  As for the others, uh, yes to the troops, as loan, and on the condition that they bear Amel Wood’s device as soon as they leave our frontier.  Lorcus will need the reinforcements.

“As for the domestic business, I’ll deal with Dranus first, then the Alon, and then Banamor.  And hopefully I can get it all done before luncheon,” I added, as a maid came with a bowl of porridge and a trencher of bacon and eggs.  “I’d like to get back to work, eventually.  Politics takes too much effort.”  I drew my dagger and started with the bacon.  I was hungry .

“There is one other thing, Sire,” the young knight said, nervously.  “Lady Dara reports that Frightful’s eggs are near hatching, as are the giant hawks in the ridges.  She is nervous but hopeful, Sire.  She has kept to the mews for days, using her other birds to spy on the wild hawks from afar.”

“She must be exhausted.  Why don’t you ride out there this afternoon and make sure she’s taking care of herself.”

“Me,
Sire?  To the
Mews?”

“She is one of the domain’s leading noblewomen,” I reasoned.  “And she’s involved in a project vital to the defense of the kingdom.  Not to mention the fact that her Alka Alon friends have abandoned her, for the moment,” I added, not mentioning that a moment for an Alkan could be a few years for a human.  “She needs our support.  Ensure she lacks for nothing she needs, and report how she fares.  If I need to go out there myself, then I will . . . but I think that would make her more nervous than anything else.”

“As you wish, Sire,” Festaran said, his eyes suddenly wide with fear.

“Let me go speak to Dranus, and then the others, and we’ll speak later,” I promised.

Dranus, where are you?
I asked, mind-to-mind, as the assistant castellan shuffled away, filing through his notes until another girlish giggle attracted his attention.

In your study, Excellency, awaiting your convenience.

I passed two young people – a lad from the stables and one of the fosterling girls – cuddling in the stairwell, and I had to run them off.  Dranus was waiting for me in the small room at the base of my tower that used to be my bedchamber.

“Thank you for your time, Excellency,” he said with a short bow.  “I will be brief.  I believe that Sevendor is currently under some sort of magical attack, one which affects the desires of our folk.”

I groaned audibly, and flopped onto my chair.  “It’s not an attack, it’s an effect.  From a spell.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “One of
yours
, Magelord?”

“Not as such,” I sighed.  “It was divine magic.  It wasn’t intended to spread – I
think
– but . . . it was necessary.”

“Necessary
, Sire?”

“This is one of those rare times I’m going to ask you to trust me without explanation,” I explained.  Or didn’t.  “When magic involves both your personal life and state security, things can get complicated.  I had to beg assistance from some . . . alternate sources to contend with a difficult situation.  It worked, I believe, but this, alas, seems to be the unintended consequence.”

“Ah.  I see.  I think.  Just how long shall we expect this episode to last?”

“I truly have no idea.  I would hope just a day or so.  Any longer than that, and I’ll have to do something.”

“You don’t wish to do something now, Sire?”

“From what I understand, this level of magic flows along natural lines.  It will wane, in time.  I hope.”

“Your sense of adventure has always fascinated me, Sire,” he said, dryly.

I chuckled.  “What is the matter, Dranus? Are there no ladies you have an interest in?”

“I am as much a man as any,” he said, gruffly.  “In truth, my heart belongs to a lady in Remere I knew from my youth.  But I have taken pleasure, when I have found it,” he admitted. 

“Perhaps you should consider some sort of energetic entertainment tonight, to try to reduce the pressure.”

“Are you sure that’s advisable, Excellency?”

“Possibly not,” I considered.  “But if you try to repress this kind of energy, it can manifest in other ways.  Unpleasant ways.  Or so suggests my resident expert on sex magic.  I’d advise anyone who is worried about self-control to take a few days in Brestal.  Or beyond.”

“I shall make some inquiries, Sire.  Any other advice?”

“Wear something that makes your shoulders look big.  Women
like
that.”

*

*

The two old Alon geezers, Azhguri and Onranion, had formed an unlikely friendship in their study of the snowstone phenomenon.  Both masters at very different arcane specialties, our collaborations had been fruitful, as we hacked away at the thaumaturgy of the stuff. 

But today they wanted to discuss the Snowflake, not snowstone.

“We’ve been thinking, Min,” Onranion said, putting his feet up on the battered table the two had appropriated from somewhere.  While each had their own workshops, they had taken over the incomplete storeroom on the fourth floor of the new gatehouse until it was finished.  It was a good neutral ground for their discussions, when it was too early in the day to adjourn to the club in the outer bailey.  “We have both assayed the Snowflake without success, from our diverse disciplines, and know you have met with similar frustration using your simple Imperial magic.”  He just couldn’t resist.  It was part of his charm to be casually insulting.