The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  “You must speak to your sons, and they must speak to their adherents. If the Yafir are to be saved again—if they are to be eventually integrated into Belmairan society, and become one with us—we must move to accomplish this soon,” Cinnia told her companion.

  “I will speak to them this day,” Arlais said.

  “Very well,” Cinnia replied. “And in two nights time we will meet again here upon the Dream Plain.”

  Arlais nodded. “I will be here,” she said.

  And then the two women found themselves being surrounded by the mists of the Dream Plain as they slid away back into consciousness.

  Cinnia awoke suddenly to find Dillon dozing in the chair by her side. Looking at her husband, she smiled. He looked so young for a man with such great responsibilities. Rolling onto her side, she reached out and touched his hand. “I’m awake,” she said softly, and smiled as his eyes opened. “It is done. We will meet again in two nights’ time and hopefully then we will be able to begin to affect the transfer of the Yafir to Belbuoy.”

  “You are amazing,” he told her, and his eyes were filled with his love.

  “I could not do this without you,” Cinnia responded.

  “You are truly my other half,” Dillon said. “Where I am weak you are strong. Where you are weak I am strong. I am always amazed that such a perfect match between male and female can be made.” He smiled at her. “It is not yet dawn. Let us go to our own bed, my love.” He helped her up, and together they departed the dream chamber for their own bedchamber where they slept until past the sunrise.

  Beneath the sea, Arlais awoke in her own bedchamber. Ahura Mazda had been with Volupia the previous night but was now gone from her chamber. After she had washed and dressed, Arlais went into the common room, where Minau was already breakfasting. “Good morning,” she greeted the second wife, and joined her. “I think today I shall go and visit my sons,” Arlais said. “Do you want to come?”

  “Nay, Cinnia is nearing her time, and one of us should be with her,” Minau replied. “She is very unpleasant of late, and the others do not want to be near her.”

  “I am sorry,” Arlais replied. “Would you like me to remain instead of visiting?”

  “Nay,” Minau responded. “You are always taking the heaviest burdens upon yourself. If you wish to see your sons today then go. I can manage Cinnia. She is so difficult of late that even our husband does not wish to be near her.” Minau chuckled.

  The bubbles of the world called Yafirdom were connected by passageways fashioned from clear crystal quartz. Leaving the small castle Arlais made her way through the corridor that would take her to the bubble community where her sons lived.

  She found them in the dwelling that they shared for neither yet had taken a wife.

  “Good morning, my sons,” she greeted them as she stepped through the door of their cottage. They came forward, kissing her cheeks and leading her to a seat by the stone hearth. “I have brought you a small gift,” Arlais said. “But it is delicate, and you must be careful when you handle it.” She drew forth the small crystal sphere from the pocket of her robe and held it out. “Take it, Behrooz,” she said to her eldest son, “and say aloud, Show me Belbuoy.”

  Behrooz, a tall young man with the silvery hair and aquamarine eyes of all the Yafir males, took the sphere from his mother. It sat in the palm of his hand. Looking down at it he said, “Show me Belbuoy, oh sphere.” And then his eyes widened, and a soft gasp of surprise escaped his lips. “What is this, Mother? What is this place?”

  “King Dillon and his Shadow Prince companions created this province for us,” Arlais said quietly. “He would welcome the Yafir unlike his predecessors.”

  Her two other sons, Sohrab and Nasim, crowded about their eldest brother, peering down into the crystal in Behrooz’s hand.

  “Is this a trick?” Sohrab asked his mother.

  “It is so beautiful!” Nasim, the artist, murmured.

  “Have you and Behrooz not spoken on leaving this world in which we are trapped?” Arlais asked her two elder sons.

  “Where would we go? The Belmairans hate and distrust us,” Sohrab answered her. “There is no world that will accept the Yafir. Has not our father told us that many times? Is that not why he created this place for us?”

  “King Dillon would have us inhabit Belbuoy. And some of our folk may even live in the other provinces except Beltran, for its duke does not want us. Our race is dying. And so are the Belmairans. We need each other to survive. We need to be one people, my sons. At last Belmair has a king, a powerful king, who understands this, and would welcome us. I know that you want to go, for you have said it to me. As for Yafirdom, your father did not create it. Nor does he maintain it. I have learned that the Yafir were saved by a Shadow Prince who took pity on us. It is he who gave us all of this, and keeps it for us. But this great Shadow Prince will not be able to sustain us much longer. He grows weak with the great effort he has been expending for us. We must return to the land, or we will die,” Arlais told her three sons.

  “There are many who would go, Mother,” Behrooz admitted. “But they are afraid of father, and they are afraid of the future. I need more than a crystal sphere that shows me beautiful pictures to convince them.”

  “And how would we get there?” Sohrab said. “We will drown if we leave the bubbles. We need to know more. How is it that you know these things?”

  Arlais smiled. “I have visited with Belmair’s queen upon the Dream Plain twice now. Last night was our second meeting, and she gave me the crystal sphere to bring to you so you might see. I will meet with her again in two nights’ time.”

  “We must come with you,” Behrooz said. “We must meet this queen and speak with her ourselves. How can we attain the Dream Plain?”

  “I do not know,” Arlais admitted. “All I can tell you is that I sleep, and the queen calls to me. I follow the sound of her voice through the mists in order to find her. Then we meet face-to-face and speak.”

  “Ask her to call to us, as well,” Sohrab begged his mother. “Before we dare to beard our father we must know more, be certain of these things you tell us and we see.”

  “If Father has not the magic to have created the bubbles and sustain them, then what magic has he?” Behrooz wanted to know.

  “The queen tells me that the Yafir are considered the lowliest of the magic folk. Your father has the power to come and go as he will, to mix potions and to make himself invisible, but that is all he can do. These things I have seen myself. But never have I seen him do great things as he claims he can.”

  “How can we be certain that this King Dillon is all that he says he is?” Behrooz asked. “Is his magic truly greater than our father’s? Remember that our father stole King Dillon’s wife away, and has put a child in her belly.”

  Arlais hesitated a long moment, and then she said, “Your father knows it not, my sons, but King Dillon’s magic is so great that he himself came to take his wife back. The girl who will bear your father’s child is Queen Cinnia’s double, Sapphira of Beldane, who King Dillon took briefly as his mistress. Once King Dillon learned where the Yafir hid themselves he acted immediately to reclaim his wife. But he wanted no direct confrontation with your father because the king is a man of peace. He would solve the problems that exist between us without a war. If the king had taken the queen boldly it would have caused much difficulty between our peoples. You know your father’s great pride. He could not have withstood being bested. The wife he calls
Cinnia makes him happy, and I am told the child she carries will be the daughter he so desires. There is no need for him to ever know the truth. And the girl is content, as well. She is a creature who enjoys being wed to a powerful male, and loves all the riches he bestows upon her.”

  Behrooz nodded. “If all you have told us is truth, Mother, then it is time for us to leave the sea and return to the land once more. But ask Belmair’s queen to call us to the Dream Plain so we may speak with her, and be reassured.” He turned to his brothers. “Do you agree?” he asked them.

  Sohrab and Nasim nodded. “We do,” they said with one voice.

  “To be able to paint in the sunlight,” Nasim said softly.

  “To be able to farm again,” Sohrab replied.

  “But how will we get there?” Behrooz asked.

  “I do not know,” Arlais responded. “That is a question you must ask the queen, my sons. And another question would be how did we get here? Even your father will not say how it was affected.”

  “Because he does not know,” Behrooz said. “If he did not make this all happen, then it is unlikely he knows how it did. He will not want to go, you know.”

  “He is the leader of his people,” Arlais said. “When he sees this is what they want he will relent.”

  “He will never relent,” Behrooz answered her. “His hatred of the Belmairans is too great for him to overcome. As for me, I am tired of hating. I want to live in the full sunlight, and feel the air upon my face. I want to take a wife and have a family. I am tired of living this restricted existence beneath the seas. And so are all of our friends. I know this is all we have ever known, but we know there is more, and we want it.”

  “You will go even if he forbids it, won’t you?” Arlais asked quietly.

  Her three sons nodded.

  “But first we must speak with Queen Cinnia,” Behrooz told her.

  “Not tonight, but tomorrow night,” Arlais told them. “Drink some wine before you sleep so you will sleep heavily. It is easier to reach the Dream Plain then.”

  She spent the day with her sons, seeing that their little cottage was cleaned, washing their garments and hanging them to dry in the breezeless garden. Then she fixed them a good meal, eating with them before she returned to the castle. Entering the common room she found the other wives in an uproar and the false Cinnia weeping.

  “We cannot calm her,” Minau said drily.

  “What is the matter with her?” Arlais asked.

  “The child does not move!” the false Cinnia sobbed. “Suddenly the child does not move. It is surely dead! He will never forgive me!”

  “If the child does not move it is preparing to be born,” Arlais said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Cease your weeping, Cinnia.”

  “How can you know this is true?” the sobbing woman said.

  “Because I have birthed three sons,” Arlais responded. Then she turned to Minau. “Is everything ready for the birth?”

  “It is,” Minau said.

  “It is my night with our husband,” Orea said. “Is she going to spoil it?”

  “Do you only think of yourself?” the false Cinnia shrieked. “When I give our husband his daughter you will be relegated to nothingness!” Then suddenly she turned paler than she normally was, and doubling over, gasped in pain.

  “Good,” Arlais said. “It is beginning. Keep our husband amused, Orea. I think it will be some hours before the child is born.”

  “Good!” muttered Volupia beneath her breath.

  Arlais and Minau shot the third wife an amused look.

  “I will get the herbal draught to help the pain,” the sweet-natured Tyne said.

  “Why is there such pain?” the false Cinnia cried.

  “Birthing is pain,” Arlais told her. “Did no one ever tell you that? But then who would have? The daughter of Fflergant lost her mother at an early age, and the dragon who raised Cinnia of Belmair would not have known of mortal pain.”

  “How long does the pain continue?” the false Cinnia quavered.

  “Until the child is birthed,” Minau said in a satisfied tone.

  “How long will that take?” was the next question.

  “Sometimes it is quick. And other children seem to take forever,” Volupia murmured sweetly. “It could be several hours, or a day or two.”

  “A day or two?” the false Cinnia’s voice screeched.

  “Volupia,” Arlais said in a stern tone, “go and find our husband. Tell him that Cinnia has gone into her labor. We will keep him informed. And remember it is Orea’s turn in his bed. Do not interfere with them.”

  Volupia grinned wickedly. “I won’t,” she promised. “I had his company last night.” Then she patted the false Cinnia on the shoulder. “I hope it’s a boy,” she said.

  “Bitch!” the laboring woman snarled.

  Laughing, Volupia walked away, humming a little tune.

  “Bring the birthing chair,” Arlais said to a serving man. Then she turned to the others. “Get her up and walking. The sooner the better for all of us. Where is the pain draught? Thank you, Tyne.” She took the goblet from the young woman. “Drink now, Cinnia,” she instructed and she held the cup to the girl’s lips.

  Sapphira sipped eagerly at first, but then she pushed Arlais’s hand away. “It is bitter,” she complained.

  “It is medication to ease your pains, but if you do not want it,” Arlais said, “you do not have to drink it. It will help, though.” She could see it was going to be a long night. And it would not be an easy one. This was a girl unused to pain of any kind.

  The birthing chair was brought. Sapphira whined and sobbed with her growing pain. She complained that Ahura Mazda did not come to her.

  “A Yafir man never attends to the birth of a child,” Arlais told her. “I was all alone when I had Behrooz. I had only one old nursemaid to help me. You are fortunate.”

  “You call pain such as I am suffering fortunate?” the false Cinnia groaned.

  “You are having a child, and pushing that child from your body will take great effort on your part,” Arlais said. “Instead of whining as if you are the only woman in all of creation who has ever gone through this, listen to me, and I will help you. Remember that if this child is a female Ahura Mazda will be eternally grateful to you. Your place in his heart and his household will always be secure. You will need that security, especially if he learns the truth of who you really are,” the older woman murmured low.

  The false one groaned again. “What if the child is male?” she said.

  “You will need all your clever wiles to keep him from selling you into the Mating Market then,” Arlais said. “You have made no friends among the others here. They would be glad to see you go.”

  “Would you?” Sapphira asked nervously.

  “Oddly you make our husband happy, and as I am perfectly confident in my own place in Ahura Mazda’s heart I do not resent you. I just find you rude and arrogant,” Arlais said frankly. “Perhaps you will change when you are more certain of your own place. For your sake I hope so. Now get into the birthing chair so I may examine you, and see what lies ahead this night.”

  The laboring woman obeyed, seating herself carefully. The chair, which had an opening in its center, was ratchetted up so that Arlais was able to stand beneath it and clearly see the birthing orifice. To her surprise it was well open although not quite where it should be yet, nor could she see the child’s head. She stepped from beneath the chair.
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br />   “You are doing well,” she told her patient.

  Throughout the nighttime hours the false Cinnia labored to bring forth her child. As the time of the birth grew closer, thick padded clothes were spread beneath the opening of the chair. Finally the top of the infant’s head became visible, and Arlais was excited to see not a bald pate, or one with a covering of light down, but dark, thick hair. She and the serving woman with her encouraged their patient as she struggled to birth the child. The head and shoulders were pushed forth accompanied by a great scream of anguish. In her chair Sapphira gasped for breath, perspiration pouring down her naked body. But she listened carefully to Arlais’s instructions, and giving another great push she felt the child free of her body, and heard its cry.

  “A female!” Arlais said triumphantly. “You have given our husband a healthy daughter! Tyne,” she called to the fourth wife. “Run and tell our husband of the good fortune Cinnia has brought us!”

  By the time Ahura Mazda had been told, and put on his robe and hurried to the common room, mother and child were clean and ready for him. He took the swaddled infant from Arlais, and unwrapping it stared at its tiny pink groin. There was no manhood. He finally had a daughter. Rewrapping the baby he took it up in his arms. “I name her Gemma, which means treasured. She is, and she will be.” Handing the baby back to Arlais, he walked over to where his youngest wife now lay upon a couch. “You have done well, Cinnia. I will expect another from you in a year or two. You will have six weeks of freedom from my bed. Then we shall begin anew. I am pleased with you.”

  Arlais had a difficult time not laughing at the look upon the new mother’s face at their husband’s words. The false Cinnia would earn everything she gained from Ahura Mazda. And she would work hard for it all. Arlais knew her lord well. He would not be content until he had two or three daughters now. “You must sleep now,” she told the girl.

  “The child has a nursemaid to care for it, and another to suckle it.”