The Sorcerer’s Wife

by Dolamore, Jaclyn

  He looked over at the ship that was boarding. “I wonder…could we sneak on?”

  The docks were crawling with officials, with people shuffling into lines, holding their tickets and appropriate paperwork. It looked as if no one was allowed to board without first going through that same building where they had arrived.

  “That’s a huge ship,” Sorla said. She was starting to look a little scared.

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” Velsa said.

  Grau took his crystal from his pocket and stared into its facets.

  “You’re not thinking of using sorcery on that ship?” Velsa put her hand over the crystal.

  “No. I was just…thinking about my travels through the towns between Marjon and Atlantis. Just me and Fern, and later you—and this crystal. It sounds so…quaint, now.” He shook his head and put the crystal away.

  “So that’s it, then?” he said. “We’re trapped here? We came of our own free will, and now we’re stuck.”

  “For the moment, I think,” Velsa said. “We can’t get on that ship. We aren’t master spies or illusionists. We’ll have to find another way.”

  “And what way is that?” He crushed the paperwork in one hand. “No, you’re right. This is stupid. Maybe when Preya actually gets married, I can show Calban the invitation and grovel for passage.”

  A few days later, Calban sent an automobile for Velsa just after lunch. She tried to shake off the feeling that his house would swallow her up and she would never see home again.

  She dressed very demurely; severely, even, in a shapeless black coat and boots. She didn’t even put ornaments in her hair. She didn’t want to look pretty or doll-like in the least.

  The driver was a stoic fellow, so she sat silently in the back seat as he drove up the hill to Calban’s mansion. By day, it looked even larger. She could see that he owned the entire top of the hill, with various styles of gardens trailing down and multiple out-buildings.

  In front of the house, Calban and Irik waited to greet her. The driver opened the door.

  “My goodness,” Calban said. “You’re dressed like an undertaker.”

  “It isn’t wise for a flesh-born Fanarlem to draw attention to herself,” Velsa said. “We get enough of that already.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Thank you for taking some time out for us,” Calban said. “Telepaths are just in such short supply, you know, and I think Irik is more comfortable with you than she is with the Halnari.”

  Irik smiled faintly.

  Velsa found herself similarly tongue-tied.

  But then, she hated to hand Calban complete control of the situation. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, trying to sound mysterious. As if she had any choice in this.

  He wasn’t fooled, either. He looked down at her, ageless beauty and power that had been honed over almost two centuries. She and Grau must seem like babies to him.

  “This way, Velsa,” Calban said. “You always look as if you’re thinking very hard about something.”

  “Probably because I always am.”

  He showed her in. Irik followed. She hadn’t said a word.

  The house was quiet now. Velsa saw no sign of the concubines. Sunlight spilled into elegant, empty rooms, highlighting all the bright colors of Calban’s furniture, pillows and drapes. She didn’t like him, but he did own delightful things: vases shaped like lilies and stringed instruments made from rosy wood with painted necks that hung on walls like no one ever played them.

  “All I want out of this is for Irik to be comfortable with her shifting,” Calban said. “You just need to help her hold onto her human thoughts while she is in leopard form, and master the pain.”

  When Velsa focused on Irik, she felt the fear rippling through her. She dreaded this visit the same way Velsa did, but for different reasons.

  Calban showed them down to the basement, to the large room with brick walls where the guests had danced during the party. It was a fine space to fill with music and laughter, but it dwarfed the three of them, and Velsa didn’t like being in the windowless basement while the sun was up.

  Calban circled the room, closing all the extra doors. “Irik can’t harm anything here. Except you. But I trust you can protect yourself.”

  “Yes,” Velsa said.

  Calban walked up to Irik and took her hand. “Let me know when you have successfully completed a transformation back and forth, my princess, and tonight you will dine like a queen.”

  “I will,” Irik said.

  He left them alone. Irik rubbed her arm, pacing a few steps. Today she was dressed more like a girl of Nalim Ima than a foreigner, in a black blouse with a gold-colored over-tunic that fell almost to her ankles, belted with a sash, topped by a cloak.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “About when we first met, I was somewhat rude to you. I was new to Nalim Ima, and you startled me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Velsa said. “I’m sure I would be just as frightened to go to your homeland and see a Fanarlem tied up in the knowledge house.”

  Irik nodded.

  “How can I help you today?” Velsa asked. “You don’t look as enthusiastic about this experiment as the Peacock General does.”

  “I must prove to him that I’m capable,” Irik said. “It’s just…much more painful than I thought it would be.”

  “You haven’t been doing it long?”

  “No. I had only just gone through the ritual when Calban came to my country. The older shape-shifters are so disciplined. They never cry or scream, and they have full control in their animal form. They make it look so easy that I thought I’d have no trouble. I dread every time I have to do it, but that was the promise I made to Calban and my people.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “My country is suffering from a drought,” Irik said. “In exchange for me coming here to teach the secret of shape-shifting, food is sent to my starving country.”

  “You were bargained away,” Velsa said, understanding. “And I don’t suppose you had any choice?”

  “No,” Irik said. “I didn’t.”

  Velsa was sorely tempted to ask her opinion on Calban again, now that they were alone, but she restrained herself.

  “It usually takes a decade to truly master the transformation,” Irik said. “So don’t feel bad if we don’t accomplish much today.”

  Velsa crossed her arms, looking at the high ceilings, with an occasional electric light mounted to the wall. “Will you be able to go home someday?” she asked.

  “No,” Irik said.

  “No? Not even if the drought ends?”

  “That was the bargain, and I would be shamed if I went home now. But if I can teach Calban how to shape-shift, I will be free of my debt to him.”

  “You have to teach Calban how to shape-shift?”

  “Yes,” Irik said. “He wants to know how to become a bird.” She shrugged. “There is no use thinking of that now. First I have to learn how to master the transformation myself.”

  “All right,” Velsa said. “I think you can master this in less than a decade.”

  “You sound so confident.” Irik’s expression, which was normally so regal but distant, abruptly softened. A real girl’s smile started to creep through the polite one. “I am grateful you would help me.”

  “I don’t know that I had much choice, but…there are worse tasks.” Velsa paused. “Would you really be able to teach Calban how to turn into a bird someday? Supposing you did master the transformation yourself?”

  “Theoretically,” Irik said. “But it’s a complicated spell.”

  “How did you learn to transform? I didn’t even know shape-shifting was possible.”

  “I had to take the life of a leopard.” Irik briefly bit her lip. “I don’t think she really died. I feel her spirit with me. She is a beautiful creature who has allowed me to wear her skin. But it isn’t always easy for our spirits to live together. After I killed her, the shamans put me into a magical sleep in the leopard’
s den wrapped in her pelt, to help me to absorb her energy. I slept there for two weeks, and during the two weeks I slowly turned into a leopard, so when I came out again, I had to learn to turn back into a girl.”

  “Stars in the sky!” Velsa exclaimed. “And that’s what princesses have to do in your country?”

  “That’s what princesses do. It’s a great honor. Only the royal family is allowed. But—stars in the sky, indeed.”

  Velsa was starting to get used to the sight of shape-shifting, but it never failed to look like torture. Irik took off her clothing beneath her cloak, shut her eyes to concentrate, and then—she surrendered to pain. Velsa connected with her first, so she felt the moment this happened. A sickening sensation swept over Irik’s body.

  Her nerves screamed. The magic wanted to consume her; the animal within her wanted to be set free. Her limbs contorted, sleek spotted fur covering her arms and legs.

  Velsa took a step back as the leopard crawled out from under the cloak.

  Irik? she thought to the girl. Can you speak to me this way?

  Just like before, Irik’s mind was muddled and panicked. Her limbs still hurt from the transformation. When Velsa dared to step closer, she made a snarling sound.

  It’s all right. Velsa tried to project calm, but it was difficult when Irik’s emotions were so raw. If you let me touch you, I might be able to ease some of your pain.

  Velsa crouched and held out a hand, giving Irik the opportunity to come to her. She certainly wasn’t going to take the initiative. Those claws were fierce, and she didn’t want to come home with shredded skin.

  Still, Velsa had never seen anything like a leopard until she met Irik. She had never been to a menagerie or a circus, to see large animals from far flung lands. The cat was an exquisite creature. But was it Irik, or was it moreso the animal she had killed?

  “You’re very beautiful,” Velsa murmured gently.

  Irik blinked at her. Slowly, she approached the outstretched hand.

  She touched her nose to Velsa’s palm.

  Velsa couldn’t help a smile. “Am I dealing with Irik or the leopard spirit right now?” Irik, can you hear me?

  A feeble response came. Yes. Velsa. Keep saying my name.

  Velsa understood—the name was a touchstone for her mind, a reminder of her humanity. “Irik,” she repeated. “The pain is starting to fade, isn’t it? Let’s walk around the room together.”

  This was accomplished easily enough, but Velsa wondered what she was supposed to do. She still felt as if she was no longer really with Irik, but an intelligent animal. She needed, somehow, to get Irik to be fully aware and responsive. “How many siblings do you have?” she asked.

  Irik made a little snuffling grunt, as if to say, I can’t speak!

  “Make a sound for every sister and brother.”

  Irik’s walk slowed, her tail flicking back and forth. This made her tense.

  She was struggling to remember.

  “Irik, this is important,” Velsa said. “Think. You’re a human girl. How many sisters and brothers do you have?”

  Can’t—remember—

  “Think about it for a moment.”

  Don’t want to remember—

  “Why not?”

  Get out of my head! Irik growled.

  Velsa backed up, knees quivery at the sight of those teeth. “I’m sorry,” Velsa said. “It isn’t just that you can’t remember, is it? Your family sent you away…”

  Irik growled softly. Don’t ask about family.

  “I won’t. I understand.” She wished she could talk about her own family—or lack thereof—to Irik, to sympathize. She wished she could explain how it felt to be raised by a woman who was kind to her throughout her entire childhood, and then pleased to sell her off and collect the money.

  Velsa stuck to physical commands, now. She told Irik to touch her paw to a doorknob, to sit down and then stand, to burrow under her cloak. She felt bad for training Irik like a circus animal, but if emotions and memories were off-limits, it seemed the first step to controlling herself.

  Anyway, Calban ought to be happy with anything I can accomplish. It’s not like I know the first thing about shape-shifters.

  Velsa had already guided Irik through a return to human form once before. This time was no easier. As always, the other girl was left sweating and spent, with tears escaping from the corner of her eyes. She said she didn’t want to be touched, but Velsa took her hand anyway, and was able to ease a little of her pain.

  “Calban says I need to feel the pain,” Irik said.

  “We can take it slowly,” Velsa said. “I can’t imagine ever getting used to such an awful feeling, and I only sense the ghost of it.”

  “You don’t feel pain, do you?”

  “Only a little. Physically, I mean.”

  “Yes,” Irik said. “I know you feel the kind of pain that lurks in the heart. The worst kind.”

  Velsa was still holding Irik’s hand. She was starting to feel a little self-conscious about it, but Irik was clutching her so tightly in return, Velsa didn’t dare let go.

  “You told me before that Calban is a good man,” Velsa said. “Is that true?”

  Irik looked away. “He is an ambitious man, and a—oh, what is the best word for this in your language? He does things that must be done. He is good and bad. We aren’t so different.” She shut her eyes and released Velsa’s hand. “You should go now.”

  This abrupt dismissal startled Velsa. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked about Calban.

  “But…come back,” Irik said. “Please come back.”

  “I will.”

  Velsa did come back, three times that week, and she realized she was starting to enjoy it. She had wanted a purpose, and although she was afraid of Calban, he stayed out of their way. Every day, they made a little progress and by the second week, Irik was shifting noticeably faster.

  But one problem remained the same. If Velsa tried to connect with Irik emotionally or ask questions about her personal life when she was in leopard form, she would snap at Velsa, bare her teeth and swish her tail. Velsa never felt as if the leopard was really the same as the girl. Her emotions were heightened to the point where she seemed crazed or drugged, and in such a state she could never hope to be very useful in shape-shifted form.

  There was something locked inside Irik’s mind and the doors never budged.

  “Irik…you know that I sense some of your emotions, but I would never read your thoughts.” Velsa spoke to her after she had shifted back. “But something is blocking you, and I’m not sure we’ll get anywhere unless you figure it out.”

  “I don’t think that’s what Calban had in mind when he asked you to help me…”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just telling you what I sense. I’m not a trained telepath. Instinct is all I have. Honestly, I’m not sure what else I can do for you, as long as your mind is shielded and you don’t want to talk about your family. I don’t know that I should come again.”

  “Wait—” Irik gripped Velsa’s arm. She stared down at Velsa’s sleeve. “Why do you always wear this shapeless coat?”

  “Because—Calban, I mean…he has concubines that look just like me.”

  “You’re very different from them,” Irik said, her eyes flicking upward.

  Velsa’s innards squirmed with confusion. She drew back her arm and stood. “I should go.”

  “No. Sit back down. I will tell you.” Irik held up a hand, and then turned away from Velsa, pulling her tunic back on over her naked body, beneath her cloak. “Really, it isn’t an important secret to anyone but me, although I hope you’ll keep it all the same.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m…not a princess,” Irik said, still turned away, her hands absently fastening buttons. “I’m really no one—no one at all.”

  “That’s hardly true,” Velsa said. “You can turn into a leopard. So…it isn’t just for the royal family, then?”

  “It is only for the royal family. I
was—I was a handmaiden to the princess. She was approaching her coming of age, when she must kill the leopard and go through the transformation, but she was so terrified. It wasn’t what she wanted. But she had no choice. Either she would kill the leopard, or they’d let the leopard kill her—but of course, she would kill the leopard! No one would let the leopard kill them. Maybe, though…maybe she would die of fear.” Irik’s accent grew thicker, her speech changing to the cadence of another language, even as she found words Velsa would know. “I had grown up at her side, this girl. She was my dearest one. So I took her place.”

  “They didn’t know?”

  “We got an illusion spell from the hill-witch so I would wear her face for a time, and she would wear mine. And when it was done, before the illusion broke, we planned to run away together. I would have the power of the leopard, then, so I could take care of us both in the wild. Of course…it didn’t work out that way at all. When I became the leopard, and I had to change back into a girl, the head sorcerer saw through my disguise. They took me to prison, and held a trial before the council. They were going to cut off one of my feet and one of my hands, to punish me, so I could never run away even if I shifted. But that was the same time the Peacock General came to the Kaalsons to ask about our magic. He offered ships of food if they would surrender me to him, so he could learn about my magic. There was a drought, that part is true, and they were happy to accept.”

  “Oh,” Velsa said, eyes wide.

  “As we sailed away, Calban said to me, ‘Irik, in my eyes you are a princess. And when we get to Nalim Ima, a princess you shall be.’ He wanted me to come here with my head held high.” Irik’s shoulders slumped abruptly. The story seemed to have drained her. “You see why I have a lot of sad memories of my home, but there were people and places I loved with all my heart, and I will never see them again.”

  “Yes, I certainly do see.” Velsa felt even more kinship toward the other girl. Both of them were living a lie. But Velsa could never tell Irik her own lies. And if she couldn’t be open, how could she be anything but closed?

  Chapter 11