The essentials were attended to first, including Maid Janny plying Hiresha with morsels of food. The enchantress remembered nothing she ate, except her stomach no longer pained her. Sitting on a chair, she waited to wake up. Instead, she caught her head dipping back to sleep.
“I must sm-settle for a mild stupor,” she said with slurred words. “Send them in, Maid Janny.”
The priest of the Golden Scoundrel thumped his way in, and the vizier strode behind him with his scribes. The vizier dripped with oil and poise, giving no clue that his wig had fallen off last night.
“I have not waited so long for someone for thirty-two years.” Tonight the vizier wore a wig with rare red coral clasped into the braids. He smiled while writing something. “After holding Enchantress Hiresha's estate and assets in trust, the city returns them to their rightful owner.”
A scribe presented her with a papyrus. Hiresha would not thank the vizier for returning the manor he had coerced from her in the first place, but she nodded to acknowledge his tact.
The priest lifted a hand from the blue folds of linen across his chest and gestured to Hiresha. “The bride was sent back to the world by the Golden Scoundrel to lift a pyramid. This year is blessed with fortune.”
Hiresha held her head up with a palm to her cheek. “There will never be another such bride.”
“None to compare, yes,” the priest said.
“I mean to say,” Hiresha said, “the tradition must end. The Golden Scoundrel has married six-hundred-odd times—”
The vizier said, “Seven hundred thirty-nine.”
“—and I think that quite sufficient.” Hiresha would not allow any other women to be stowed in that sarcophagus.
“The people will have their god's brides.” The priest folded his arms in his flowing sleeves. “The empire must have them for fertility and....”
The vizier silenced him with a tap of his baboon staff. “The city respects the enchantress' opinion. Let the old tradition be superseded by a new. A scribal survey found overwhelming favor in the pilgrims for the 'Running of the Fennecs.'“
The priest blubbered. “B-but that was a calamity.”
“A 'cataclysmic success' would be more accurate,” the vizier said. “No fewer than five hundred and forty three pilgrims demanded reassurance of the event's return next year. Not one complaint about the lack of executions.”
“The temple had to pay the man who caught the Golden Scoundrel.”
“Exactly,” the vizier said. “The promise of a purse reward, a dash through the streets, all much appreciated by the masses. The temple will recoup the cost in increased devotion.”
The priest stroked his chin. “The bride of fortune does speak for her lord god.”
“A little more warning,” the vizier said, “and damage could be minimized to the merchants.”
Hiresha batted some of the sleepiness from her face. She motioned from the maid to the priest.
Maid Janny presented him with an emerald collar, bracelet, and earring. The priest wrapped his fingers around the jewelry and crossed his arms over his breast.
“The Golden Scoundrel is eternal,” he said.
Hiresha said, “The fennec, regretfully, is—was—not. He died in the Soultrapper's tomb.”
A chirp sounded from a covered basket against the flowing wall.
The priest frowned. “Did I hear—”
Maid Janny cupped a hand to her ear. “It was one of Pharaoh's birds. Can't you hear it down the hall?”
The priest looked back at Hiresha. “Did you say 'Soultrapper?'“
The vizier prodded him toward the door. “Nothing with which your temple needs to concern itself. On the other hand, the man who stole the Golden Scoundrel, he was a priest, was he not?”
“The imposter will not escape our search.”
The two men left the room talking. Scribes and other priests followed them outside. The men parted around Spellsword Chandur, who strode forward to stand before Hiresha. The maid unwound a cord, and strings of beads draped over the doorway for a hint of privacy.
Hiresha flushed at the sight of him. Linen veiled his body, bruises of yellow and green visible through the fabric. She would endeavor to craft him an enchantment to reduce the swelling, but she was relieved he stood with chest thrust forward, his stance one of victorious confidence. A black armlet with white bands circled his arm. A bubbling contentment filled her of knowing him as a man of skill. He knows best how to use my enchantments. It pained her all the more, knowing what she had to tell to him.
Now if I could only remember how to say it. She rubbed her brow.
Maid Janny gasped. “Goodness, is that alive?”
Chandur flexed his arm, and what had looked like an armlet slithered around the muscle, lifted its speckled head, and stuck out a forked tongue. “He's Chains, my king snake.”
“Really? A snake?” Janny shook her head. “Wasn't enough for a swooner like you to have a man-sized sword? You also have to wear a snake on your sleeve?”
Chandur said, “Well, I couldn't wear a hound around my arm, if that's what you're asking.”
Hiresha said, “It wouldn't be venomous. Maid Janny, do attempt to contain your aversions.”
“This is me containing myself.”
“Spellsword Chandur....” Hiresha shooed away Janny, and the maid stepped through the curtain. Heat rose within the enchantress, threatening to make her forget her phrasing. She turned toward the water patterns on the wall, though her eyes strayed back to him. “How much do you remember of the events of last night?”
His hand strayed to his ear. Then his fingers slid down his neck to his chest. He adjusted the snake on his arm. “Nothing, Enchantress Hiresha. I remember nothing.”
Relief pained Hiresha with its intensity, though disappointment also itched her. “Regardless, I see now that I was wrong to presume myself on you. To redress the unacceptable situation, I'll ensure that you will only serve other enchantresses henceforth and never...” She had to take a breath. One of her fingers rested against her throat. “...and we will not work together again.”
A sense of loss tore through Hiresha, like the time a ruby necklace had slipped from her hand into a crevasse beside the Academy. She told herself it had to be done. I can't be his superior and harbor designs of marrying him.
True, she was no longer certain she needed to marry. Her old plans had lost their unassailable majesty. Many potential paths glittered before her, from inviting Tethiel to tea, to research, to a jungle expedition to investigate rumors of a unique gemstone. And my innovation in contingency enchantment could lead to a new field of Applied Magics.
She wished Chandur would leave the room now, so she could retreat back to her sleep. “You are dismissed, Spellsword Chandur.”
“I do not accept,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“My fate is bright.” His eyes lifted and met hers, his jaw firm. “And to reach greatness, I can't be lounging around average enchantresses spending their years building the next pyramid.”
“What are you implying?”
“I need to be near the greatest. You,” he said. “I do not accept your dismissal.”
“You must have time to consider and—”
“I have already decided. Goodnight, Hiresha.” The curtains rattled as he left.
Hiresha knew she would have final say over who protected her as a spellsword. She could leave Chandur behind next time, if she wished. As a feeling of thrilling happiness settled over her, she thought she might postpone any such decision. Indefinitely.
Maid Janny pushed through the curtain again. Her grin pinched her eyes half shut, and she rubbed her hands together.
Hiresha said, “You are impertinent even when silent.”
The maid chortled.
Hiresha's eyes drooped. She planned on treating herself to a week devoted to sleep. She would doze in a sedan chair, snooze through the ship voyage, and arrive at the Academy still tired.
At leas
t, she thought, I won't return alone.
“Maid Janny, you may bring him to me now.”
The enchantress waved to the basket. The maid fetched it and lifted the wicker lid. Two fuzzy ears speared out.
The fennec hopped onto Hiresha's lap. He mewed, chirped, and squeaked. The black tuft at the end of his tail tickled her chin. A garnet stud shone purple in the fox's ear, and amethysts collared his neck.
The jewelry was the best she could find for enchanting on short notice. Hiresha's mind already buzzed with ideas for improved cuts and matching sets of gemstones. She found herself more than eager to return to the Academy with the fennec.
“The faculty will adore him,” Hiresha said.
“He does bark,” Janny said, “and he—”
“They will adore him.” Hiresha checked the new amethyst bracelet on her arm. The fennec ran forward and back across her legs, pawing at gemstones. “Consider, Maid Janny, all this time and his only problem was that abominable suite of emeralds. Now he is nothing short of remarkable. It only proves the importance of well-selected jewels.”
“Sure you don't want me to find the stuffed fennec? He could wear purple gems, too. And he's quiet.”
Hiresha meant to scold the maid for her ridiculousness. A yawn took precedence. She contented herself with shaking her head. Her hand glided down the fennec's back, and when he flipped over, she rubbed her jeweled fingers through the fluffy hairs of his belly.
The fox stretched out two white paws, yawning with a flick of pink tongue. His chest shuddered with a purr, and he wrapped his tail around Hiresha's side.
The enchantress fell asleep with the fennec in her arms. That night and many after, she dreamed of a fox chasing glowing jewels through the air.
Thank you for reading Fox’s Bride,
a tale told of the Lands of Loam.
~
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