by D. L. Carter
“…a fantastic tale of magic and romance that will enthrall you and leave you hungry for more.”
~Ann Charles, Award-Winning Author of the Deadwood Mystery Series
Changing Magic
Book One:
THE USE
by D.L. Carter
Corvallis Press
Dedication
To Ed, thanks for so much.
To Cousin Carol, the president of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Carnivores – inspiration and nag – thanks.
To Sarah and Esther: writers to emulate, couldn't finish without ya.
And the coffee/book shop down the road. Thanks for letting me work there, but the chairs need better padding.
Chapter One
Norfarland paused on the edge of the windowsill. Deep within the shadowed bedroom, he could hear gentle breathing and the soft slither of bed curtains shifting in the night breeze. He descended from his perch, his battered boots making not a sound as he crossed the chamber. A delicate scent filled the room hinting of feminine fragility and innocence.
Norfarland frowned and sniffed. The scent of the room did not match that which was doused on the note currently tucked within his tunic. He had no idea how the young lady had slipped into his chamber and left this invitation for a night of love on his pillow, but it was no less welcome for being touched with mystery. He brought the note forth and inhaled The note's perfume was bolder, with a hint of knowledge and strength. This room’s scent was gentle by comparison. Soft. Teasing the senses. He was uncertain which he preferred. The room's scent was younger, fresher, the note’s, more passionate.
Actually, he was certain. Passion was always his favorite scent.
Norfarland caressed the rich carvings of the bedpost and soft bedding. Thick and smooth and luxurious, truly the chamber was designed for romance. Norfarland smiled down upon the sleeping figure curled in the bed. The dainty miss of this morning's flirtation had fallen asleep awaiting her lusty admirer. He brushed his fingertips along the side of her face and she shifted in her sleep, turning away from the touch. Her blankets slipped and slid down her torso exposing naked generous breasts. Norfarland was amazed. Nothing in the girl’s figure this morning had hinted to such endowment. He dragged his attention from that bounty to the face resting on the pillows.
Not, he realized, stepping back in shock, the girl of his fantasy, but the girl's mother!
“Well, lad, get yourself in,” said Richatha, opening her eyes and drawing aside the blanket to expose her pearl pale body and long, strong legs.“What? You thought I didn't see you panting around my girl? I am not so much a fool as to grant you access to her. I have warned her about such men as you and we have an agreement, she and I. She tells me which young men she thinks will please me and I reward her for the news with such things as please her.” The lady gathered herself and sat up in the bed. “Know this: I am not likely to let the chance of having a well-favored youth in my bed get away. Come in and do your best work, boy…” She ran her long-fingered hands down her torso and over her smooth belly. “If you please me, I shall see that you receive your full reward. If you do not…”
She left the threat unsaid.
The Adventures of Norfarland the Bastard ~ Book 27
High Lord Eioth put the familiar volume of Norfarland's adventures back on the shelf and ran one gloved finger along the edge of the bookcase. He regarded the dusty filos, aged scrolls, and heavy bound books without enthusiasm. Although there might not be any works of great note or dignity within this neglected library, nor rare or precious examples of the book binder’s skill or the story teller’s art, the papers that resided within these walls did not deserve the neglect they had suffered.
And suffered they had.
Eioth stomped hard on the floor and watched as well-fed mice scurried down the cases and fled across the floor.
The new owner of the books, a lesser cousin of a once noble house, was entirely unprepared for his inheritance. Eioth's visit to the newly inducted Lord Kelth was to educate him in his Ritual duties, his financial reality, and a myriad collection of other commitments. Three minutes after their first introduction, Eioth knew Kelth would be barely adequate in any of his roles. No one had bothered to prepare him; until recently, no one had thought he would be the one to inherit. Clan Kelth members with more money, more education, more…style applying for the title had all had been passed over in favor of an Elf whose only responsibility until a month ago had been an apple orchard near the Anonor Hills. Granted, it had been a well-managed apple orchard, but that was not the point.
The Clan lawyers had voted, overriding Eioth’s reservations, and now Eioth was left to deal with the result.
Eioth knew better than to let his host perceive any negative opinion. As High Lord of North West Demesne, Eioth needed to maintain good relationships with all who answered to him. Unfortunately, the House of Kelth had fallen into the hands of this very distant branch after many years of bitter legal wrangling.
All knew the only reason Lord Kelth had been voted into his rank over all other applicants; he had a son who had a daughter.
Eioth selected another slender volume from the shelf and ran his fingers over the fine-tooled, yellowed leather cover, admiring the delicate embossing of the title, the evenness and depth of the flaring formal script. Unfortunately, all that effort had been expended on what was really a poor volume of poetry. He put the book back on the shelf and continued browsing.
It was sad to realize that fertility had become the deciding factor in bestowing titles and high responsibility. Eioth met Lord, son, and granddaughter when they’d taken possession of the house and lands and while he would grant that they were all dignified persons of good, ancient, pure Elven blood, sadly; none of them had anything significant in the way of magical abilities. All three were bonded to the Element of Fire, but none could so much as complete the apprentice tasks, although Kelth assured him they practiced regularly. When they’d conducted the Hearth Fire Ritual the previous day, of the three, only the granddaughter had proven able to ignite the requisite fire – and that after three – embarrassing – attempts.
The reality of Kelth’s promotion was that Eioth could not count on this family to maintain their share of the magical commitments for North West Demesne, thus adding to the weight of Eioth's existing magical responsibilities. A solution would have to be found. Eioth would have to visit this corner of his demesne every quarter (an unthinkable waste of time and effort), include this area in magics cast from his home (both unthinkable and difficult), or grant an exemption and permit Kelth to employ a Ritual Magician.
Sighing, Eioth opened another book. He took the long view in all things. He couldn’t expend any additional magics and maintain the quality of his workings. His abilities were great, but he had other uses for his time and energies.
It was inevitable. Someone had to undertake the Kelth family’s Ritual obligations if, and that was a great if, an unemployed Master rank with the correct combination of Elemental bondings could be found. It would be best if Eioth himself located an adequate magician. And, because he knew how to plan, he should choose an unmarried male of a fairly good house. In due time, the daughter would be encouraged to consider a match, perhaps introducing a little magical ability back into the Kelth family line if – Eioth frowned at the book in his hand – if they were lucky enough to have children.
So many ifs.
So few of true talent and ability.
So few children.
Eioth closed his eyes against that remembered pain; so very few children were born to the High Court families and none at all to him.
The library door opened and the new Lord Kelth entered accompanied by Eioth’s personal secretary, Mitash. Both males had the porcelain pale skin, silver ey
es, and ashen hair of pure blood Elves. Both were tall, slender, and long fingered. But, only one had much in the way of sense in Eioth’s opinion.
Mitash, his secretary, was as well-educated as it was possible to be, but had magical ability only in service to the Element of Earth. His magic was useful for some Rituals, but not diverse enough in power to be the solution to the Kelth problem. Not that Eioth was in any hurry to deprive himself of his secretary's service, but it would have been such a satisfying solution.
Kelth hurried across the stone floor. His shoes squeaked as he slipped a little on the thick layer of dust. The other sad thing about the Kelth family situation was that the lawyers had delayed the decision about inheritance until all of the ready cash in the estate coffers had been used. Money was another problem that Kelth was expecting his High Lord to solve. Eioth turned his attention to the next book on the shelf in order to avoid looking into the hopeful eyes of Lord Kelth. This cover was common thick brown leather, the edges stained with pale green swirls with no gilding, anywhere. Within, the age-yellowed pages were covered in spiky line after line of high, formal Elvish, handwritten in ordinary black ink. Eioth flipped idly through the pages. A private journal of some kind? Odd. What were someone’s private musings doing in a somewhat public library?
Eioth was about to toss it back when he saw the title inscribed across the first page.
The Use and Complexity of Sex Magic
An Advisory Essay by an Adherent.
His eyebrows winged up. Sex Magic? He hadn’t heard that phrase since he was a barely child, too young yet to experience any sexual urges. His Elemental magic tutor mentioned sex as a power source once only, sneering at those drawn by base lust to waste their time and abilities in that pursuit, that perversion of true magic. Of course, considering the spare, esthetic nature of his tutor, Eioth supposed that the tutor had never experienced sexual anything in his entire life. Eioth reviewed his memory for a moment and frowned. That one line, that single dismissal was the extent of Eioth’s knowledge of the subject of Sex Magic.
That was unacceptable.
Eioth knew himself well enough. He was unbearably, unendingly curious. It was the reason he was known to buy up whole libraries in his endless search for one more kernel of knowledge. Reading ancient and decaying books might be a waste of time, but it was his time and he would waste it as he chose. Therefore, he would study this Essay for whatever knowledge it might contain. If there was nothing to be gained, at least he would know he had made a seeker’s sincere effort. Satisfied with his rationalization, even as the thought amused him, he tucked the book into his sash belt before he turned and inclined his head toward Lord Kelth.
“Is it possible High Lord Eioth that you might consider purchasing my library?” asked Lord Kelth eagerly, his gaze on Eioth’s hand as it rested on his sash.
Eioth nodded, his fingertips tapping the now hidden book. Kelth was unlikely to have made visiting the neglected library a priority when exploring his new home. Eioth scanned the rest of the shelf and then turned, measuring the size of the library. Who knew what other oddities might be hidden in these shelves? What else had the “Adherent” written?
He smiled to himself. It was the same thought that caused him to buy, over and over again, piles of moldy, dusty old books.
“I believe I am interested, Kelth, if you would agree to sell them uncatalogued.”
Kelth paused, obviously weighing the work involved in examining the masses of books in the hope of finding some rare and valuable volume against the gain of immediate payment. There was cost of hiring a librarian to be considered against the risk that all the books would be revealed as commonplace and valueless. He folded his hands and bowed.
“Of course, High Lord, I will accept what you consider a reasonable offer.”
“Yes, you will.” Eioth did not roll his eyes, although his secretary did. “My offer will be more than this library deserves based on my preliminary assessment, and will serve to provide you with some income in the short term. Should I discover something significant within these volumes, I shall render you additional payment.”
Kelth began stammering his thanks and Eioth waited until the Elf ran out of words since he had already learned the futility of trying to interrupt him.
“Mitash,” said Eioth. “Order the packaging of these books and send them on today in advance of our departure. No doubt we shall catch up with them on the road. Kelth, come with me. We have matters yet to discuss concerning the High Summer and Harvest Weather magics, those being your immediate magical needs. I can spare you three or four days more, Kelth, then I must leave in order to return home for my own High Summer Ritual and the gathering of the Synod.”
“I am in your debt for any aid you can offer me, High Lord.” Kelth glanced around the dusty room. “I believe the east courtyard is in better state than this chamber, if you would honor me? Shall we take some wine?”
“I do not drink wine, but I would prefer our discussion to be in less dusty air.”
Eioth laid one hand over where the slim volume rested in his sash. Perhaps he should ask Mitash to watch for any other books on this subject as he packed.
No, it was better simply to ask him to put handwritten books in a marked box and go through them himself rather that reveal the subject of his interest. Bowing, Eioth gestured Kelth to precede him from the room, then took a few moments to give Mitash his orders before following.
* * *
Halidan tor Ephram ran one finger under the band of her headscarf, then tugged the damned thing off and tucked it into her sash. She didn’t mind complying with the House rule requiring head coverings for mortal women – most of the time. The exception was during those few weeks of high and muggy summer, like today. Today her head felt as if it were melting from the inside.
Now it was approaching midday and the ancient schoolroom was filling with both light and heat. The old, dark wooden walls reflected the sunlight back toward the tall windows and the highly polished floors were almost too bright to look at.
A brief gesture from Halidan was enough to send two servants scurrying – soft footed – across the room to crank down the heavy outside awnings, effectively cutting the light in the room by half. However, the awnings – when combined with the linen window screens – cut off all stray breezes. By mid-afternoon this room would be insufferably hot, but there was no choice except to suffer. Elements prevented the daughters of the House from having any touch of the sun mar their alabaster skin.
If they actually had alabaster skin, it would have been more of a concern.
Silently, Halidan reprimanded herself for her unkind thoughts.
Calisa, the elder – her pale, rose-tinged complexion darkening as she concentrated – was currently standing in the center of the room, her hands curved across her chest as if cupping the breasts she did not yet have, as she assumed the Maiden Goddess posture. Halidan concentrated on keeping her expression blank as the Elven girl slurred and stuttered her way through the graceful phrases of High Elvish Ritual Poetry.
Calisa shifted into the second posture – Invocation of Fertile Blessings – raised her hands above her head, drew in a deep breath, and began again, murdering ancient and profound words with poor cadence and worse pronunciation. Calisa managed Common and Low Court speech without difficulty, but the elegant and stately phrasing of High Court was beyond her, even after years of patient training, and the poor girl knew it. Worse, every time she made a mistake her face would redden and there was nothing, no cosmetic, no cream, that would keep her face the icy pale of the Traditional Beauty.
The youngest sister, Joian, snickered when Calisa stumbled for the third time, replacing the High Elvish word for turning with the Low Court word for baby duck.
“Joian. Silence,” commanded Halidan. “Remember, it’s your turn next and I am particularly interested in hearing your version of the Spring Awakening Ritual.”
“But, it’s summer,” protested Joian.
“Spri
ng will come again,” said Halidan in her mildest voice.
It didn’t help to become frustrated or angry with her students. They knew their value, their rank, and their mother’s ambition. Being raged at by their mortal tutor wouldn’t bother them at all. Particularly a tutor the mother despised.
It was Calisa’s turn to snicker at her sister. Before a full-fledged fight could break out, Halidan clapped her hands.
“Enough, ladies. Your mother expects reports of your progress and a demonstration of skill at the end of this week. I cannot guarantee that she will ask for this season’s Rituals. You must be expert with all.”
Both girls fell silent with matching panicked expressions.
“Or,” continued Halidan in a softer tone, “if you make a good effort I will hint to your mother that you demonstrate grace and beauty with one particular ritual – each. I will permit you to choose, but only after we have rehearsed them all. Remember, you must be perfect in the one you choose.”
“Will that work?” asked Joian.
“We can only hope,” muttered Halidan with a twist of her lips as she selected a small hand drum from a nearby table. She tapped out the rhythm of the Maiden Goddess Invocation – at less than half the proper speed. “Now, Calisa, say it with me.”
Slowly, painstakingly, painfully, Halidan led the Elven girl through the ritual. At half speed, and with another voice carrying the tune, Calisa managed to get through the first part of the Invocation without stumbling.
It was unlikely, in Halidan’s opinion that either of the daughters of the Merchant House Pitchuri would ever be asked to perform the Rituals they were learning. The merchant family was Low Court Elven by descent and the whole family together didn’t have enough magic to light a prewarmed candle wick, let alone perform one of the major Rites. Nevertheless, the Matriarch demanded the girls learn the greater and lesser Rituals as well as all the graces and skills required of a Lady of a High Court House.
Halidan didn’t mind the Matriarch’s ambitions since it kept herself and her father well employed. Her father, as tutor to the boys of the House, and Halidan as tutor, companion, and good example to the young ladies.