The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  “I mean to see him dead,” Dillon answered in a cold, deadly voice. “He has taken my wife from me, used her body for his pleasure, stolen a year of our lives from us. For this he will forfeit his life. He will be no loss to either Belmair or Yafirdom.”

  “He will deserve whatever you give him, Majesty,” the dragon said.

  Dillon smiled at her. “I have known wickeder,” he replied. “The difficulty with Ahura Mazda is that he is resistant to change. Nor will he accept change from others. Actually he is much like Dreng. I honestly do not know if I can ever forgive what he has done to Cinnia, but it is his obdurate nature that will cost him his life. He will always cause dissent, and that dissent can prevent the union of our peoples. Whether or not Ahura Mazda or Dreng likes it, we must share this world. Better we share it in peace. We are different in many ways, alike in many ways. Imagine what we may accomplish united,” Dillon said enthusiastically.

  “Indeed Belmair can flourish with a great sorcerer as its leader,” the dragon said with equal zeal.

  “Nothing will prosper for Belmair as it should without its sorceress,” Dillon replied. “Cinnia must be restored to her rightful place.”

  The others murmured their agreement.

  “For now we must await word from Agenor,” Kaliq reminded them.

  “And our plans must be kept secret from all,” Nidhug said. “But how will we get to the spot Agenor’s Merfolk located without attracting attention?”

  “On the day appointed, Sapphira and I will go for a sail. I will transport the vessel by means of my magic to the proper site where Agenor will await me. Sapphira will have already been rendered unconscious, and dressed in a garb matching the one Cinnia will be wearing. The Merfolk will tuck their magical seaweed in her pocket, and take her below the sea to the castle comb where Cinnia should be awaiting. The switch will be made, the seaweed put in Cinnia’s pocket, and she will be brought to the surface, where I will await her. I will then bring our little vessel back to our own harbor, explaining to my wife as we travel what has happened, how we have accomplished it and what she must now do to pretend she is Sapphira so none will ever know that we have outwitted the Yafir lord,” Dillon explained.

  “Will not some be suspicious?” Cirillo asked.

  “Perhaps,” Dillon said. “But on what will they base their doubts?”

  “I will give Cinnia Sapphira’s memories up to the day she came to the castle,” Kaliq said. “I do not think she would appreciate knowing those memories she gained after arriving,” he concluded with a small smile.

  Dillon chuckled. “Nay, she would not,” he agreed.

  “And we can blur the eyes of Sapphira’s mother and uncle each time they see her so she appears to them as she has always been,” Cirillo added.

  “So now we wait for word from Agenor,” Dillon said.

  “You feel no pity for Sapphira?” Kaliq asked the young king.

  Dillon paused, and then he sighed. “Aye, I do,” he admitted. “But she will not be harmed by Ahura Mazda. Indeed he will love her above all of his other wives, for she will give him the daughter he so desperately desires. And he will heap many riches upon her. Sapphira is not just greedy for pleasures. She is greedy for treasures of all kinds. Once she gets the lay of the land in which she has been put, she will thrive.”

  “Does he love the others?” Kaliq asked quietly. “How do you know?”

  “Aye, he does,” Dillon answered. “With his women the Yafir is gentle and tender. I have watched him in my reflecting bowl. It did not tell me where he was but I could see, and before you ask I did not watch his private moments with them. I could not have borne that. As for Sapphira, she wanted to be my mistress. I did not force her to it. She has done all she could to gain my heart, but I cannot give what I no longer possess. I believe she will be happier where we send her.”

  Kaliq nodded, satisfied with his son’s answer. The older Dillon grew, the more visible and stronger his magical blood became. He would love deeply, passionately, but he was also capable of detaching himself entirely from the mortals around him, and when it became necessary he could exhibit a cold faerie heart. But Dillon was right about mending the rift between the people of Belmair and the Yafir. It had to be done. And Ahura Mazda’s bitterness could not be allowed to interfere. The Yafir lord’s strength of will and determination had held the Yafir tightly together during the centuries, but now it was time to make changes. As in Hetar, war was not the answer.

  They were moving deeper into the autumn now. They had celebrated the end of the year, and the beginning of the new year before word came from Agenor. Keeping their knowledge secret from Sapphira was difficult, for the three men and the dragon were eager to successfully complete their clandestine plot against the Yafir. Dillon was becoming distant with Sapphira, which worried her, for she had not given up on her desire to be queen. She had been unable to conceive a child so far, and now he was spending less and less time in her bed. Sapphira was beginning to feel panic. What if he sent her home, and she had to marry some wealthy man chosen for her?

  As they sat eating one evening in the Great Hall—for Dillon would not eat with her in the little family hall he had shared with Cinnia—Sapphira began to whine at him.

  “What is it I have done to displease you, my lord?”

  “Displease me?” Dillon looked puzzled. “You have done nothing to displease me, Sapphira. Why would you think it?”

  “We do not talk together anymore,” Sapphira said.

  “We have never talked together, Sapphira,” he told her. “Your great skill is giving pleasures. It is not conversation.”

  “That is cruel!” she cried.

  “I did not ask you to be my mistress because of your conversational skills, Sapphira,” Dillon told her frankly, “and do not tell me you thought otherwise. Is it cruel to say you are a wonderful lover, and I enjoy the time spent in your bed?”

  “It is not enough!” Her eyes were almost black with her outrage.

  “I have never lied to you, Sapphira. You knew from the beginning, and your uncle knew, that all I wanted of you was your lovely body.”

  “It is not enough!” she repeated

  “I never hid my desire for you, but I have been very candid from the beginning that all I wanted of you was pleasures,” Dillon replied. “Perhaps knowing that you wanted more of me, I was wrong to take you, Sapphira.”

  “I hate you!” she shrieked at him. “You have a cold faerie heart for all your kindness, my lord. I hate you!” Rising from the high board she ran from the hall.

  “She is only angry,” Cirillo noted, “for she has been thwarted, and is only now beginning to face that fact. Still, she is not yet ready to give up her quest to be your bride and your queen.”

  “It makes what we must do easier,” Dillon told his uncle. “The Merfolk are in place and ready. Tomorrow I will take Sapphira, and we will affect the transfer between Yafirdom and Belmair.”

  “How do you propose to get her to forgive you this night’s episode?” Kaliq asked.

  “If Sapphira is true to form,” Dillon told his father, “a night alone to consider new schemes for entrapping me into marriage will have her disposition sweet and sunny. She will be anxious to please me, and when I suggest that we sail out to enjoy the day she will be most agreeable, my lords.”

  “You are certain the day will be fair, the winds gentle?” Kaliq said.

  “You will assure it for me, my lord, will you not?” Dillon
teased the Shadow lord.

  Kaliq laughed. “Sometimes,” he said, “you remind me of your mother.”

  “But the day will be fair, and the winds favorable?” Dillon persisted.

  “They will,” Kaliq agreed with a smile.

  The men remained in the hall talking and drinking the excellent Belmairan wine until Britto came to remind them of the late hour. Kaliq, Dillon and Cirillo had spent many years together, and had a great number of memories to share and enjoy. Britto felt almost guilty interrupting them, for there was something warm and wonderful about their laughter that made the mortals in the hall feel safe and comforted; but magical beings or not, he decided, they needed their sleep.

  When the morning came and they all gathered for the first meal of the day, they found Sapphira in the hall before them. As Dillon had predicted she was sunny and even winsome, almost entwining herself about the king in her effort to erase her anger of the previous evening.

  “Am I forgiven?” she purred at him, her lips almost touching his, her fingertips playing with his nape.

  “Of course you are,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on those cherry lips. “And I have taken what you said to heart, Sapphira. So today we shall go down to the sea, and sail down the coast where we shall have a picnic. We shall speak all you wish.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Sapphira cried, clapping her hands. “Just the two of us?”

  “Just the two of us,” he told her.

  She beamed, pleased at him, forgiving him leaving her alone—again—last night after their quarrel. Then Sapphira considered how she would seduce him today and conceive a child with him. When that happened she knew he would wed her, and she would be queen of Belmair as she had planned when Cinnia had been taken by the Yafir. “I must change my gown,” she said. And without another word she hurried to her chamber where Tamary helped her into a charming scarlet gown of thin silk with a low neckline, and loose sleeves that fell to her elbows. She wore soft black leather slippers on her slender feet.

  “You look lovely, mistress,” Tamary said.

  “Of course I do,” Sapphira replied. “Now make certain to have my bath hot and ready when I return. The king will be visiting my bed tonight.”

  “You are certain?” Tamary asked, surprised.

  “Of course I am certain,” Sapphira replied, her tone annoyed. “Why would you even ask such a question of me?”

  “But of late the king has not come, mistress,” Tamary said.

  Sapphira slapped her serving woman hard across her cheek. “Do not dare to spread such falsehoods among your low companions,” she warned. “Now be certain to have my bath ready when I come back, or I will have you beaten. Your service of late has been most slack, Tamary.”

  Sapphira and Dillon went to the castle’s courtyard where two horses were saddled and awaiting them. He lifted her into the saddle, smiling to himself at the bold display of her breasts. Sapphira spread her bright red skirts prettily over her horse’s flank. Dillon mounted his own animal, and they moved from the courtyard at a leisurely pace down the hill road, through the castle village, finally reaching the small harbor. Taking Sapphira from her horse’s back, he helped her into the small vessel moored to the stone quai.

  “I thought the boat would be bigger,” Sapphira said. “Where is the captain?”

  “I am the captain,” Dillon told her. “You wanted it to be just the two of us, and so it is,” he told her, jumping down into the boat, loosening the rope securing it to the quai.

  “I thought you grew up in the desert,” Sapphira said nervously.

  “I spent my early years in the Outlands, and then in Terah, where my stepfather, Magnus Hauk, taught me to sail,” Dillon told her. “I know what I am doing. The day is fair, and the winds gentle, Sapphira. But if you are afraid I will return you back to the castle. As for me, I mean to go sailing.”

  “No, no!” Sapphira replied. “I will come with you. Oh, look! Here is a lovely willow basket of food and wine for us.” She settled herself upon a large silk cushion.

  Dillon turned his back to her and raised the small white sail. It caught the wind, and they began to move away from the stone quai. Sapphira sat quietly while he concentrated on sailing them out of the harbor, but once free of it he turned to her, smiling. “You see, Sapphira, I am quite capable of handling our little vessel.”

  “But if you must spend all your time sailing this ship, when will we have time to talk?” she asked him, pouting just slightly.

  “We are talking,” he reminded her. “But perhaps you would like to nap in the sunshine until we reach our destination,” Dillon suggested.

  Sapphira sighed dramatically. “Perhaps I shall nap,” she said, curling up and closing her eyes.

  Sleep until you are bidden to waken, with memories but briefly forsaken, Dillon said silently, and watched as Sapphira slipped into a deep slumber. Eyes dark will now be light, womb unlock and all be right, he completed the rest of his spell. It was going to be next to impossible for Ahura Mazda to see any difference between Cinnia and Sapphira. With his companion now totally unaware, Dillon’s little vessel flew quickly, magically over the gentle waves. Ahead of him the Merfolk were leaping and swimming, leading him to his destination. Reaching it, he found Agenor and his pretty daughter.

  “A small difficulty has arisen,” Agenor said. Then he turned to his daughter. “Tell the king, my child.”

  “She does not want to return,” Antea said softly.

  “What?” Dillon was astounded. “What do you mean she doesn’t want to return?”

  “Can you swim?” Agenor asked.

  Dillon nodded.

  “Then I think it is best you go and speak with her yourself, Majesty. This is an argument to be decided between husband and wife. And it will be resolved a great deal faster than if we keep going back and forth with your conversation.” Agenor reached up, and handed the king a length of seaweed. “Keep this with you at all times, and you will be able to breathe beneath the water,” he said. “I will lead you myself.”

  “Is there some of your magical seaweed for Sapphira? I would take her with us,” Dillon told the chief of the Merfolk.

  “Aye,” he said, and gave Dillon a second piece.

  Dillon tucked the greenery in the deep valley between Sapphira’s breasts. Then he handed her over the side to Agenor’s mermen. Pulling off his boots, he put his own magical seaweed in his shirt pocket and dove into the waters. Agenor at his side, they descended deeper and deeper into the sea. To his amazement he had no difficulty at all in breathing. And then Dillon saw ahead of him the shining bubbles that housed the Yafir.

  Agenor and Antea led him to the largest of the bubbles.

  It is almost time for her to come into the garden, Antea said in the silent tongue.

  Remain hidden within these large plants until I am certain she is alone.

  They waited, and then after several minutes had passed, Cinnia came into view. Dillon’s heart contracted with his joy. He watched her smile as Antea swam into Cinnia’s sight, and Cinnia smiled, coming forward.

  I will open the wall between the water and the interior of the bubble, Agenor told him. We must move quickly, for I have but a few minutes before that wall must be closed, or it will spell disaster for all within the bubble. Take your wife and step swiftly back into the sea, and begin your ascent to the surface. We will place Sapphira in the garden for them to find. Whatever argument you and the queen have must be settled
elsewhere. Here is a bit of seaweed for her.

  I understand, Dillon answered Agenor.

  The chief of the Merfolk pointed with a big finger at the bubble, and without even waiting to be told, Dillon stepped from the plants on the seafloor, and through into the garden of Ahura Mazda’s castle, followed by a young merman carrying Sapphira in his arms. Seeing him, joy leaped into Cinnia’s eyes, but then she turned to flee him. Dillon jumped forward, catching her by the hand, stuffing the seaweed into her pocket.

  “Dillon, no!” she cried softly.

  “Cinnia, yes!” he said, and half dragged her back into the sea where, once free of the bubble, they began to rise slowly up toward the surface.

  “We’ll drown,” Cinnia said, and then she realized that not only could she speak, but she was having no difficulty at all breathing. “I can’t go back,” she said to him.

  “We’ll discuss this once we are in my boat,” he told her.

  “How is it I can breathe?” she asked him.

  “I’ll tell you that, too, when we reach the surface.”

  Holding hands, they rose up, and Cinnia realized that they were surrounded by smiling Merfolk, including Antea. She looked briefly down, and saw the shadow of Yafirdom fading slowly away until it was entirely gone. Then suddenly their heads broke the surface, and they were bobbing in the sea next to a small boat. He helped her in, and then climbed in himself. Sapphira in blue. Red to you, he spoke the simple spell, and Cinnia found herself in a rather revealing red gown.

  “What are you doing?” she asked him.

  “There was no time below to change your garments since you decided to be difficult,” Dillon said. “It would be very odd if they found you unconscious in the garden wearing a totally different dress than the one you had gone out in.”