The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  “Oh, yes!” she cried to him. “Yes! Do not cease, my lord, I beg you! Do not!”

  It was a night he would not forget. She was amenable to everything he desired, and her passions were such as he had never known, but had always believed she was capable of giving. At one point as she knelt before him, taking his cock into her fiery sheath, he was even able to slowly push a well-oiled ivory replica of his thumb into her tight little fundament. She squealed wildly, but then spasmed violently, squeezing his manhood completely dry of his love juices in the process.

  And finally they slept heavily in each other’s arms. When he awoke, surprised to realize he was still in her bed, he also discovered he was in no hurry to leave it. Rolling onto his side he watched her awaken, and when she did, he said, “Give me the daughter that I desire, Cinnia, and I will make you my queen. I will place you above all my other wives. Would you like that, my precious?”

  His queen? Sapphira purred with her approval, and reaching up, pulled him into her arms again. This was not a dream. This was real. Somehow, and she could not even imagine how he had done it, Dillon had managed to put her in his wife’s place while returning Fflergant’s daughter to his side. As she realized what he had done her first instinct was to be furious, but then the Yafir lord began suckling upon her breast again, and promising her extravagances beyond her wildest imaginings. He wanted her. No, he wanted Cinnia, who had obviously not responded to his lusts as she, Sapphira, had. But he believed her to be Cinnia, and if Cinnia she must be, Sapphira thought, then Cinnia she would be. She was surrounded by luxury, adored by this Yafir lord, and the promise of power was enticing. Why did people rail so against the Yafir? She could see little difference between Belmairan and Yafir but for their exotic coloring. “I will gladly give you a daughter, my lord,” she promised him. “And then you will gladly make me your queen, and set me above all others, will you not?”

  He looked up from her plump breast. “Of course I will,” he promised her. “I will make you the queen of Yafirdom, and when I take Belmair for our own, you will rule by my side there, as well. But first you must give me my daughter, my precious.” He caressed her soft cheek.

  “I will do my best to please you, my lord,” Sapphira said to him. What fools her kin were. She was going to be very content living here among the Yafir, wherever here was, Sapphira thought as she drew his head back to her breast.

  They remained within her bedchamber for the next three days while on the opposite side of the door Ahura Mazda’s five other wives waited and wondered. They did not, however, dare to disturb their lord and master. If they had not heard his roars of pleasure, and her cries of delight now and again, they might have considered that Cinnia had finally murdered him. And when he finally exited her bedchamber he was in an expansive mood such as they had never seen.

  “Has the sorceress bewitched him?” Tyne wondered.

  “Nay, her magic is small,” Arlais said.

  “What has happened then?” Volupia asked.

  Arlais shook her head. “I do not know.”

  “I have heard of cases when a bump on the head changes a person,” Minau said. “Perhaps that is what has happened. Cinnia has changed, and she is more amenable to our husband, more accepting of him, of our world.”

  They came to believe that that was what had happened, for the Cinnia they had known for a good year had indeed changed. She was no longer interested in her gardens or her apothecary. Her passion was for more beautiful garments and jewelry with which Ahura Mazda was delighted to gift her. She was imperious and disrespectful of the other women; spoke sharply to the servants, but the Yafir lord would not reprimand her. He was more besotted with her than ever before. He spent several nights a week in her bed, causing annoyance among the other wives who were not pleased to be ignored. And when she began to swell with child she became over proud and even more difficult.

  “Have you forgotten about Belmair and King Dillon, then?” Arlais asked her as the wives all sat together one afternoon in their shared dayroom.

  Sapphira looked lazily up. “Our lord husband is my reason for living now.”

  “Not your child?” Minau murmured wickedly.

  “Of course,” Sapphira said, her tone now slightly irritated. “My daughter is most important to me. She will be a princess.”

  “How can you be so certain it is a daughter you carry?” Volupia said. “We have all prayed for daughters and been denied. Our husband, it seems, can only throw male children, I fear. Most Yafir do, which is why it is necessary to steal women from Belmair for wives, although now we are unable to ever since an enchantment was put upon them. You are a sorceress, Cinnia. Can you not undo what was done?”

  “No,” Sapphira said bluntly. “I no longer choose to practice my small magic.”

  “But if it is not magic, what is it that makes you certain you carry a daughter?” Volupia persisted.

  “I just know,” Sapphira said. Then she looked to the servant paring her toenails. “Be careful, you clumsy creature! Are you trying to cut my toe off?”

  Arlais listened, and suddenly she knew that the girl carrying Ahura Mazda’s child was not Cinnia, daughter of Fflergant. Who was she then? Arlais searched her memory, and then she recalled that after they had found her in the gardens the girl had at first insisted that her name was Sapphira. A small smile touched Arlais’s lips. She did not know how, but she realized that King Dillon had finally found a way to retrieve his wife, Cinnia, leaving his mistress, Sapphira, behind in her place. It had been masterfully done.

  Of all of Ahura Mazda’s wives it was Arlais who was the highest born, although Minau also came from a noble family. But Arlais had been the bride of a duke of Belia. She had been stolen on her wedding day. She understood better than the others the political machinations of Belmair. Ahura Mazda had told her that King Dillon sought peace between the two races. While her husband was a kind man by nature, he had never forgiven the Belmairans for their betrayal of the Yafir, and in his bitterness scorned the young king’s desire to reunite the two factions.

  Then he had deliberately stolen Cinnia away from the king in an effort to taunt him. And Ahura Mazda had laughed himself sick as the young king had in his pain and despair looked high and low for his wife and for the Yafir. The Yafir lord knew that the Belmairans would never consider looking beneath the vast sea of Belmair. Yet King Dillon had finally sought beneath the seas, and he had obviously found them. What great magic the young king must possess, Arlais thought, to have been able to regain possession of his wife, replacing her with his mistress who was her duplicate.

  And Ahura Mazda had not discovered it. Indeed this Cinnia made him happy. She did not want to escape Yafirdom. She was more than content with her place as his wife, and as the expectant mother of his child. It was to be hoped that time would mellow her difficult nature. The birth of one’s first child always made certain changes in a woman’s demeanor. I will not tell him of this deception that has been played upon him, Arlais decided. He is pleased with this Cinnia. King Dillon is undoubtedly relieved to have his wife back. And he has managed to circumvent the laws of Belmair without the Belmairans knowing. She smiled again. Perhaps King Dillon will attempt once more to make peace between us, Arlais thought. Mayhap she could even get Ahura Mazda to put aside his anger and bitterness for the sake of the Yafir.

  She considered the generations that had been born beneath the sea. Was it not past time for them to return to the land? Sometimes, if she concentrated ver
y hard, Arlais could conjure up the fragrance of the freshly ploughed land on her father’s estate in a small valley between the mountains in Belia. She wondered if after these several hundred years that estate was still there, and still in her family. She considered if she would ever know the answer to her questions. And if Ahura Mazda scorned any future overtures by King Dillon? Well, Arlais thought, she had born him several sons over the centuries, and she knew that while they said nothing to their father, that they had spoken with her about returning to the land.

  Many of the bubbles were getting overcrowded, and it took every bit of male Yafir magic to keep what existed safe for them. Soon they would have no choice but to leave the sea, and if Belmair would not take them back, the Yafir would once again be forced to wander. Arlais wished she had a means of communicating with Belmair, but she did not. She would wait for King Dillon to approach Ahura Mazda once more, and when he did she would use what small influence she possessed with her husband to get him to at least consider what the king had to say. She hoped the real Cinnia was happy once again, safe with her beloved husband.

  But Cinnia was not happy. While part of her was glad to have been rescued, her Belmairan conscience worried her terribly. She had been raised to believe that the Yafir were unclean and wicked. That a respectable Belmairan woman touched by them was no longer pure or worthy of the name Belmairan. And while she played the part of Sapphira for love of Dillon, she would not allow him in her bed.

  “You’re supposed to be my mistress,” he said low to her one day as they rode out from the castle and into the hills of Belmair.

  “From what Tamary and Anke tell me, you hadn’t visited her bed in at least two months, my lord,” Cinnia said as softly. “No one sees anything different. You are obviously tiring of Sapphira. End it soon, my lord. Give Sapphira a small home into which to retire, and an allowance. Then find a new wife.”

  “I cannot do that,” Dillon told her. “The agreement between Sapphira’s family and me says that if I do not wed with Sapphira and I tire of her, a wealthy husband will be found, and I will pay a generous dower.”

  “Tell Duke Tullio I do not want a husband. That my love for you is so great I prefer to remain celibate if you will not have me,” Cinnia replied.

  “Tullio will not accept such a decision on your part. It is his right to marry Sapphira off to someone who can be an advantage to his family. You know this is how marriages among the nobility are arranged. A woman’s value to her kin is in the husband she has,” Dillon responded, “and the children she bears him. I cannot flout the law.”

  “You flouted the law when you came after me,” Cinnia reminded him tartly.

  “The law had been changed when I came after you,” he countered.

  “Then why not tell all of Belmair?” she demanded wickedly.

  “You know the answer to that,” he said. He was beginning to get angry.

  “Aye, I do,” Cinnia said. “You may have changed the law, but you cannot change what has been in the hearts of Belmairans for hundreds of years. They will not accept me, Dillon. And Tullio would probably kill you, or at least attempt to kill you if he learned you had substituted his niece for me in Ahura Mazda’s bed.”

  “Then I shall make Tullio supremely happy by marrying Sapphira, and making her my queen,” Dillon replied. “When we return to the castle I shall make the announcement, and you will have until our wedding night to make peace with your narrow little Belmairan heart and mind. We will be husband and wife again, Cinnia.” Then he surprised her by putting his horse into a canter and riding away from her.

  Cinnia drew her mount to a stop, thinking that she should have been the one to ride off in a temper. Then she laughed. It was the first time she could recall really laughing in many months. Dillon was simply too clever for her. He did nothing he did not carefully consider beforehand. But she was still troubled. How did she put away hundreds of years of ingrained thought? Turning her animal about, Cinnia rode to Nidhug’s castle.

  Over the few months since her return the dragon had pretended to come around to accepting Sapphira. So it was not considered odd that the king’s mistress would visit with Belmair’s great guardian. Entering the castle courtyard she dismounted, hardly looking at the groomsman who came to take her horse. She hurried into the small castle and sought out Nidhug who was in her privy chamber reading. Meeting Tavey along the way, Cinnia said to him, “Bring refreshments. Your mistress will shortly need them.”

  “Nidhug!” Cinnia greeted the dragon as she entered the room.

  “Ah, my darling girl, how lovely that you have come to see me,” the dragon responded. “You have news! I can see it in your face. Come, sit by me and tell me.”

  “Dillon has decided it is time to marry Sapphira and make her his queen,” Cinnia said. “What think you of that?”

  “’Tis time,” Nidhug responded.

  “But, Nidhug, do you not see my problem?”

  “Do you still fret yourself over that foolish old law, child?” the dragon asked her.

  “I have known a man other than my husband, Nidhug. I am no better than a common creature in some tavern,” Cinnia said.

  “Nonsense!” the dragon replied. “That law was a foolish law created by men who did not mind doing what they shouldn’t, but penalized Belmair’s females for being victimized by the Yafir. The king was right to declare it null and void. You, yourself, have told me that the Yafir never return a woman until it is absolutely certain she cannot produce children, and then only if they chose to return. And how do they return? As frail old women who are then driven out of their families and their communities for being impure. Left to die! This was not a law worthy of our Belmairan hearts, Cinnia.”

  “I am not an old woman, Nidhug,” Cinnia said.

  “Nay, you are not. Nor did you bear the Yafir lord a child. Did you ever consider why you seemed to be infertile?” the dragon asked her.

  “There is another reason Dillon should send me away!” Cinnia exclaimed. “No matter how often Ahura Mazda used me I did not conceive his child.”

  “You are not infertile, Cinnia,” Nidhug told her. “When you were first wed Dillon enchanted your womb in order to protect you, and any child you would bear him. He feared that until he could make peace with the Yafir a child could be used against Belmair. He wanted to spare you such pain. And a good thing, too,” the dragon declared. “We certainly never expected Ahura Mazda to steal you away.”

  Cinnia was astounded. “Oh, he has saved me from such misery,” she cried, but then she said, “Poor Sapphira! Her womb is not closed.”

  “It was while Dillon kept her, but it is no longer,” Nidhug told her.

  “Was she really as Dillon has portrayed her, or has he just said those things in hopes of soothing my battered conscience?” Cinnia asked the dragon.

  “It was quite odd,” Nidhug began. “She looked just like you but for her eyes, which were darker. The king lightened them, however, before he sent her to Yafirdom. But in character she was your opposite. Greedy. Spiteful. Mean-spirited. The servants despised her and feared her.”

  “So that is why they avoid me,” Cinnia noted thoughtfully.

  “What of Sapphira’s family? I know little of her but that she is Duke Tullio’s niece. Who are her parents?” Cinnia wanted to know.

  “Her mother is the duke’s sister, Margisia. Her father was a wastrel who ran off years ago. She was raised in the duke’s household,” the dragon said.

  �
�Am I apt to see the duke and his sister? Do they come here often?” Cinnia asked. “Certainly they will know that I am not Sapphira.”

  “They have not been back since the day Sapphira came to the castle. It is unlikely you will see them often,” Nidhug said.

  “If Dillon persists in this foolishness to marry Sapphira they will surely come,” Cinnia said. “I will surely give myself away.”

  “The king can give you enough of Sapphira’s memories temporarily if they come. But of course we can arrange for a great storm to encompass Belmair when you marry the king again. That way few guests can come. I suspect you would like it better that way.”

  “Dreng would get here no matter,” Cinnia muttered.

  “Poor Dreng. He paraded two of his granddaughters, sweet girls, I must say, beneath the king’s nose, and your husband could see neither of them. Lina and Panya were their names. They liked to dance sedate little dances for the king. And then Sapphira came, and danced a dance stripping off the many scarlet veils she wore, making their dances irrelevant.” Nidhug chuckled.

  “Sapphira sounds very bold,” Cinnia murmured.

  “She was bold,” Nidhug said. “She made it clear that she wanted the king. That is why I am certain she has settled in quite nicely with the Yafir lord. Once she gained the lay of the land she would come to terms with it, for Sapphira may be venal, but I do not believe anyone could call her stupid.”

  “That is what Dillon has told me,” Cinnia said thoughtfully. “It is true?”

  “Of course it is truth,” Nidhug responded impatiently. “Why would you doubt the king’s word, my child?”

  “Because he has manipulated the law to suit his purposes,” Cinnia said stubbornly.

  “All men are capable of lying,” Nidhug remarked. “But I do not believe the king would ever lie to you, Cinnia. His love for you is such that he moved heaven and earth to find you. And then when he found you, he found a way to bring you home. You are a fortunate woman to have such love lavished upon you. True love such as King Dillon has for you, Cinnia, is rare. It should be cherished, not callously tossed aside.”