The Complete Lythande

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Unfortunately, being laughed at was something Mirwen obviously didn’t tolerate. She drew a dagger from her sleeve and rushed at Beauty. Lythande moved to intercept her, just in time to catch the edge of the blast of flame that incinerated Lady Mirwen. The flames, however, were carefully angled to avoid the high table, so they missed Lythande’s face and struck the side of her cloak. Since it was fire-proof, there was no damage, except to Lady Mirwen—and to Velvet.

  In the instant that Mirwen turned to a pile of ash, the illusion spell on Velvet vanished. Lythande and Velvet were face to face, and as soon as Velvet saw Lythande’s expression, she realized what had happened. Demonstrating the quick intelligence Lythande had always suspected she possessed, the girl gasped and did an excellent simulation of a faint, landing in a graceful sprawl on the floor with one of her long trailing sleeves completely hiding her face. Eirthe’s salamanders promptly clustered around the princess, making it even harder to see her clearly.

  Beauty returned to human form, without even a hair out of place. Ignoring the total confusion in her audience, she banished the illusion with a negligent wave of her hand, and rushed to join Lythande on the dais. Eirthe came around from the other end of the dais to join her salamanders in hovering over Velvet’s supine body.

  “What happened?” Tashgan asked, looking down at Velvet. “Is she all right?”

  “She just saw her governess die, my Lord,” the Vizier said, looking down at Velvet. “It is bound to have been a shock.” He frowned at the confusion. “Can someone get those salamanders out of the way?”

  “They like the princess,” Eirthe explained. “They are simply trying to protect her.”

  “And quite successfully, too,” Lythande remarked. “While they’re there, nobody is going to step on the poor girl. “By your leave, Lord,” she bowed to Tashgan, “Eirthe and I will take your wife to her room. She’s just seen her only companion from home incinerated right before her; she will need time to compose herself.”

  “Yes, of course,” Tashgan said distractedly.

  “It’s a bit much for him to take in all at once,” Beauty said, pouring a goblet of wine. “Drink this, dear boy, and just sit quietly while they tend to your wife.” She shot a sharp look at Lythande, who obediently moved to pick up Velvet, thankful that the girl was slender and easy to carry. As she followed Eirthe towards Velvet’s room, she could hear Beauty demanding that someone fetch her lute. Good, Lythande thought. By the time she’s done playing, this crowd won’t know—or care—what they just saw.

  When they reached Velvet’s room, Lythande dropped the girl unceremoniously on her bed. The salamanders moved off to one side. “All right, Princess, you can wake up now.”

  Velvet’s eyes snapped open instantly, but when she tried to sit up she began to sway, and Lythande had to steady her.

  “Not so fast,” Eirthe said, handing Velvet a goblet of watered wine. “It has been a rather eventful day for you.”

  “I’m all right,” Velvet insisted. “I didn’t really faint.”

  “You didn’t?” Eirthe asked, startled.

  Lythande chuckled. “If she ever tires of being Lady of Tschardain, she can go on the stage. That was as neatly acted as anything I’ve ever seen. Excellent timing, too.”

  “But why—” Eirthe started to say, and then realized. “Of course! The spell was broken when Mirwen died.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Velvet asked. “I thought it must be when I saw the way Lythande was looking at me—am I back to normal?”

  “Oh, yes,” Eirthe assured her. “You look just like the first candle I made of you.”

  “The first candle?” Lythande asked.

  “I made a second one to match the illusion,” Eirthe explained. “I wasn’t sure what she’d look like by the time it came to display them.”

  “What about the candle of Mirwen?” Lythande asked.

  “I still have that one,” Eirthe replied. “I’ll burn it down tonight. I didn’t want to do it while she was alive because that one is magically similar.”

  “Could I have it?” Velvet asked. “I’d like to burn it myself.”

  Eirthe looked at Lythande, who nodded. “Of course, princess, if it will make you feel better.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Velvet said grimly. “Now, about my appearance—”

  She broke off as Tashgan walked in, followed by Beauty and the Vizier.

  “Princess,” the Vizier began formally, “I hope that you are recovered.”

  Velvet opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say a single word, Tashgan gasped.

  “What happened to you?” he asked in horror.

  “What?” The Vizier looked at Tashgan in bewilderment.

  “Look at her face!” Tashgan burst out.

  The Vizier, obviously puzzled, looked at Velvet, squinting in an effort to see her more clearly. “What’s wrong with it?” he said. “It looks fine to me.”

  He’s short-sighted, Lythande realized. To him she still looks the same. Too bad Tashgan isn’t. “Lady Mirwen cast a spell on her,” Lythande explained quickly.

  “You can reverse it, can’t you?” Tashgan asked urgently. “You said you could undo all that woman’s magic.”

  “Yes,” Lythande said carefully, “I can change her back to the way she was this morning, if she wishes it. But the spell only alters her outward appearance. She’s not ill or injured, and she’s still exactly the same person she was before. Do her looks matter that much?”

  “Yes, of course they do!” Tashgan snapped. Velvet looked down at her lap. “I can’t have people saying that marrying me turned her into a hag.”

  Eirthe drew her breath in an outraged gasp and moved to stand nose to nose with Tashgan. “She is not a hag, and that is a stupid and cruel thing to say!”

  “I see nothing wrong with your wife’s appearance,” Beauty said calmly.

  “Lythande.” Tashgan was obviously trying for a man-to-man rapport. “You understand. You know how important beautiful surroundings are to me.”

  Lythande sighed and looked at Velvet. The girl looked up, blinking back tears, and nodded. “Yes, Tashgan,” Lythande said with another sigh, “I do understand. I can change her face back—but keeping her beautiful depends on you.”

  “What do you mean?” Tashgan asked.

  “The thing most important to the beauty of a married woman is her husband’s love,” Lythande explained. “You have to treat her with love and respect—and you have to keep doing so, or her beauty will not last.”

  “Lord Tashgan, surely there are more important things to worry about. Does it really matter what she looks like?” the Vizier asked impatiently.

  “Yes, it does,” Tashgan said promptly. He looked appealingly at Lythande. “Change her back, please, and I shall do whatever I have to in order for the spell to hold.”

  “If your wife is willing,” Lythande said.

  “As my husband desires,” Velvet replied promptly. “It might be best, however, if all of you returned to the feast. I feel sure that there has been enough disruption for one day.”

  “Quite right, your highness.” The Vizier nodded and left the room.

  “She’s right, dear boy,” Beauty said, taking Tashgan’s arm. “Let us go back to the feast, and your bride can join us as soon as she is able.”

  Tashgan nodded wearily. “Fix her face before she comes down again,” he ordered Lythande. Beauty dragged him out of the room, and Velvet sagged back down onto the bed.

  “I see what you meant, Eirthe,” she sighed, “when you told me to think of a way to explain the change in my appearance to him and wished me luck. There’s isn’t a way, is there?”

  “I’ve known him for over ten years and I can’t think of one,” Eirthe admitted. “Lythande?”

  “I’m afraid his view of other people does tend to be superficial,” Lythande agreed.

  “That’s a no, isn’t it?” Velvet’s smile was weak. “Well, if it’s what my husband wants, I’ll have t
o do it—especially since he can still set aside the marriage if he decides to.”

  “What?” Eirthe said.

  “A marriage has to be consummated to be valid,” Lythande explained. “Until that happens, it can be annulled quite easily.”

  “Especially after your lady-in-waiting tried to kill his Champion,” Velvet said wryly. “Today has been quite a day, and I still have tonight to endure.”

  “Tashgan did say that his wedding day would be long remembered,” Lythande remarked.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” Velvet agreed. “I’ve never seen an illusion contest like that. I’m still trying to figure out how Lady Beauty managed to kill Mirwen—not that I’m complaining. But surely Mirwen knew that the illusion of fire can’t kill, so why did it kill her?”

  “Because it wasn’t an illusion,” Lythande said.

  “Of course it was an illusion,” Velvet said, puzzled. “That’s the whole point of the contest. You’re not trying to tell me that Tashgan and I were in two places at the same time and that the unicorn and all the other animals were real.”

  “They were illusions,” Lythande agreed. “The dragon was real. Is real. Beauty is a were-dragon.”

  “Beauty is a were-dragon.” Velvet was moving past shock into numb acceptance.

  “Yes, but don’t let on that you know,” Eirthe said. “Just be very polite to her and make certain that you always listen to her music with proper appreciation.”

  “She is a wonderful musician,” Velvet said.

  “A few extra centuries of practice don’t hurt,” Lythande agreed.

  “A were-dragon,” Velvet repeated, shaking her head. “In a way that’s a relief. I was afraid that Tashgan preferred her to me and was going to have the marriage annulled so he could marry her. But I guess that’s silly.”

  “I think he wants human heirs,” Lythande pointed out. “And besides, I don’t think Beauty would agree to marry him. He’s just a temporary diversion to her. She remarked to me at dinner that people come and go quickly, and from her viewpoint, they do.”

  “Yes,” Velvet said, considering that matter. “After a few centuries, I guess we all look alike to her...” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at Lythande. “What she said about not having eaten any hearth-witches lately—she wasn’t joking, was she?”

  “I’m sure she hasn’t eaten any lately,” Lythande said, “but I do think she was joking. She has quite a sense of humor, and it’s rather peculiar. But she’s certainly pragmatic enough to realize that Tashgan needs a human wife, so as long as you don’t antagonize her, you don’t need to worry about her. She’ll probably play the part of a doting aunt to your children.”

  “My children,” Velvet sighed. “The point of this whole marriage. But I had hope that, if I had to marry, I would get a husband who could at least learn to like me as a person.”

  “Give Tashgan some time,” Eirthe said consolingly. “He’s not always as bad as he was today.”

  “But first we need to change her appearance so that he’ll look at her long enough to get a chance to know her,” Lythande pointed out. “Go get the figure candles you made, please.”

  Eirthe nodded and hurried from the room.

  “Maybe he’ll get to like me in time,” Velvet said wistfully. “He seemed to think the little girl was cute, and she took after me.”

  “I think he will,” Lythande said reassuringly. “He’s a bit on the shallow side, but he has a good heart.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  “So, Princess,” Lythande asked, “is it your wish that I restore your appearance to what it was under Mirwen’s spell?”

  “Yes,” Velvet said with resignation. “At least I don’t have to look at myself. I only have to remember that what people see when they look at me isn’t real and that their opinions of me are false.”

  “Only their initial impressions,” Lythande reminded her. “You are still the same person, and once they have known you for even a short while, that will still be what counts.”

  “Now that I’m married, what I look like doesn’t matter much—as long as my husband likes the way I look. It’s just too bad that he prefers the illusion.”

  “Your job is to consummate the marriage, be crowned beside him in three day’s time, and bear children,” Lythande pointed out. “The illusion spell is only a means to that end. And remember, Tashgan thinks the illusion is real.”

  “He does?”

  “He doesn’t know much about magic,” Lythande explained, “and he thinks of beauty as a natural state. He thinks that Lady Mirwen cast a spell to change your appearance as she died.”

  “She died almost instantly, and she didn’t see it coming,” Velvet pointed out. “And she was thinking of something else at the time.”

  “Tashgan is not a deep thinker.”

  “Or even a shallow one,” Eirthe said, returning with the candles. “Here you are, Lythande. I wasn’t sure which you needed, and I wanted to keep them under my eyes, so I brought them all.” She opened the boxes and set them out on the table.

  “Set Tashgan aside for the minute,” Lythande said. “We don’t need him.”

  Eirthe carefully reboxed the Tashgan candle. “We’ll need it for the feast. But we don’t need Mirwen,” Eirthe shoved the spider candle back into its box and handed it to Velvet. “Here you are. Do what you like with it.”

  The two versions of Velvet sat side-by-side on the table facing Lythande. Lythande dragged a chair behind them and waved Velvet into it. The salamanders arrayed themselves behind Velvet, near the ceiling, except for Alnath, who went to join Eirthe at the side of the room.

  “Eirthe, Alnath, would you guard the door, please,” Lythande requested. “I don’t want to be disturbed while I’m working.”

  Eirthe nodded, and she and Alnath left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Lythande looked at the pale and nervous princess. “Try to relax, Velvet. This isn’t going to hurt, and if you don’t look in a mirror, you’ll never know the difference.” She kindled mage fire to light the candle that showed Velvet’s true appearance.

  Velvet started crying as the wax began to melt. “I’ll know,” she sobbed. “Even without a mirror, I’ll remember every time I look into my husband’s eyes.”

  “Try not to remember,” Lythande advised, watching wax tears run down the face of the candle and slide down the folds of its dress. “You are the only one who will be hurt by remembering.”

  She heard the echo of Eirthe’s voice: Velvet both benefits and is harmed by it.

  Velvet cried the entire time it took the candle to burn down, but stopped as soon as it was consumed. Now all that remained was the candle of the Velvet Tashgan preferred, and the living princess to match it.

  “Will I always look like that now?” Velvet asked.

  “Yes,” Lythande replied. “Try to think of this as a wedding gift, and make the most of it.”

  “It’s funny,” Velvet mused. “I never wanted beauty—I always thought brains were more important.”

  “I think so, too,” Lythande agreed, “but now you have both.”

  Velvet smiled weakly. On her new face, even this faint smile looked radiant. “Thank you, Lord Magician.”

  Eirthe and Alnath came back into the room. “All done?” Eirthe asked brightly.

  “You know perfectly well we are,” Lythande said, “or you wouldn’t have come in.” She glanced up. “I supposed the salamanders told you.”

  “Of course,” Eirthe nodded to the salamanders near the ceiling. One of them detached itself from the group and moved to hover beside Velvet’s right shoulder. “This is Caldon,” Eirthe said. “He wants to stay with you, Princess. Will you accept him as a wedding gift?”

  Velvet turned her head and smiled at the salamander. “Greetings, Caldon. I’m glad of your company.” She turned back to the candlemaker. “Thank you, Eirthe. Now I won’t feel quite so alone here.”

  Eirthe packed up the remaining c
andle. “I’m glad you like him. Not everyone deals well with salamanders.”

  Lythande quietly added an extra degree of resistance to burns to the spells on Velvet’s skin as Velvet reached out to stroke Caldon with a tentative finger. Then she turned her hand over, and he hovered in the palm of her hand.

  Velvet stood, moving Caldon to a position beside her right shoulder. “It’s time to go back to the wedding-feast,” she said resolutely. “I have a husband to charm.”

  ~o0o~

  Two nights later Lythande and Beauty were together in the hall packing up their lutes after another evening of musical duels. “I shall miss this,” Lythande admitted. “I truly enjoy playing with you.” She took a deep breath and asked the question which had been with her ever since Beauty’s arrival. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

  Beauty raised her eyebrows. “And miss dear Tashgan’s coronation?” Once again Lythande saw the were-dragon’s ‘I know what you’re thinking’ smile. “Dear boy, I plan to stay at least another week.”

  The Children of Cats

  “The children of cats can catch mice.”

  Old Gandrin proverb

  Lythande, mercenary magician and minstrel, dodged quickly out of the way of the rapidly-approaching, loudly-screaming man. The people in the village just outside of this forest had warned of bandits. They had not mentioned that the bandits were likely to be on fire. Fortunately it was springtime and it had just stopped raining a quarter-hour since, so he wasn’t setting the trees alight. Lythande quickly called up a water-spell, just in case, and held it ready.

  The bandit’s screams turned quickly to choking sounds and then silence as he collapsed. Lythande turned to check that the corpse wasn’t starting a fire, but a roar from the direction he had come made it a very quick check. The magician turned to see what new menace was approaching. Judging from the crashing noises as it passed through the trees, it was big.