“Not precisely what I had in mind for a honeymoon,” Alya whispered to me at one point, “but I’m not complaining!”
“I’d offer to slip away for some . . . marital comfort, but I think that might disturb our hostess.”
“Are you kidding? She’d probably want to watch. And take notes. Have you noticed that she studies us the way you study those books of yours?”
I had, actually, although I hadn’t seen it like that – or realized that Alya was uncomfortable with how often I referred to the written tools of my trade. I also realized that that’s how I had felt when Pentandra and I had been intimate. Lilastien’s attention was never too far from us, but it wasn’t quite ‘suspicious’. I had pegged it as a natural suspicion of strangers, but Alya was more accurate. She was studying us like a fresh specimen.
When the last round of wine (locally made, the human server informed me proudly, and not half bad) was finished, Ithalia bade us to refresh ourselves and then join our hostess in her laboratory, upstairs. Soon we were both sitting on comfortable cushions on low benches, reclined at an angle a barber prefers to work. Lilastien’s two Alka Alon assistants were busying themselves at worktables, and one of them handed us each a clear spherical glass of a bright yellow liquid.
“To help relax you,” one of them explained, comfortingly. “A mild sedative. And no, my lady, it should not affect your child in the slightest.”
Shrugging, I tossed mine back while Alya sipped hers more cautiously. It wasn’t awful, but it was strong enough to drive the flavor of the wine from my mouth, regretfully. And it was fast. Within moments of drinking it I was feeling lightheaded and yawning.
“We are merely going to examine you,” Lilastien told us, when she had finished whatever preparations she was making. “A brief magical assay into your viscera and internal organs, and then a more involved look at your brains.”
“You aren’t going to be removing them, are you?” I quipped, mostly to distract Alya, who was becoming more and more nervous about the procedure despite the drugs. Lilastien favored me with a laugh. And then my eyes closed.
“I shall be right here, Master Minalan,” Ithalia assured me, taking my hand when I started feeling uneasy. “No harm will come to you, I promise.”
That seemed to satisfy me – that and the charm she sang over us both. Between the magic and the drug I felt safe and content to let them do whatever they wanted with me. I assume Alya felt the same, because I heard her start to snore just before my awareness fled me entirely. Then someone started singing, I felt a cocoon of magic surround me, and I could not move. Nor did I care to.
I don’t know how long I was unconscious, exactly, and my dreams were scattered and confused. I learned later that I should not have retained any awareness of my surroundings, and for a long time I didn’t . . . but then something happened during the process and for a brief time I was aware enough to listen in to their conversation.
In Alka Alon.
I don’t know how I did – probably due to the enchanted ball of Irionite in my pouch – but somehow I “overheard” the discussion between Ithalia and her grandmother, perfectly translated. I suppose it was similar to the mind-to-mind communication that Pentandra had developed. I didn’t remember it all, later, but as different waves of magical energy washed over and through me, snippets of conversation clung to my consciousness like dust to a broom.
. . . organs look normal, for the most part . . . some slight damage to the liver in the male . . . female and child appear normal, healthy, and . . .
. . . musculo-skeletal structure is intact and relatively undamaged . . . oxygen levels are adequate . . . neurological function is subdued but strong . . .
. . . greater degree of Talent in the male, of course, but the female demonstrates a capacity . . .
. . . Grandmother, did you notice their lungs? The flecticules? They’re full of . . .
. . . not exactly full of, dear, but certainly exposed. In granulated form, too. I wonder what . . .
. . . the female seems to have suffered less exposure, but she seems to be tolerating it better . . .
. . . the fetus appears unaffected directly. It did not cross the placental barrier . . .
. . . could be problematic in the future, if steps aren’t taken. I can sing a protection, and that may help, but there are no guarantees . . .
. . . you know this would be an excellent opportunity to attempt a transgenetic enchantment . . .
. . . practice forbidden magic during an illegal examination, and risk alerting the council? Or worse, the Enshadowed? My dear, I thought I taught you to never break more than one rule at a time . . .
. . . the irony of you saying that is not lost on me. The female’s randrara is weak, likely due to her lifetime proximity to the molopor. Isn’t that interesting?
. . . appear that the male’s ristoreth is tending toward shenfalan. But his age suggests a more poorly developed aptitude than his . . .
. . . this would make Brenthildin so jealous, an opportunity like this . . .
. . . if he didn’t try to steal them from you . . . better be safe . . .
. . . leagues away from here, and has no idea that they’re here . . . a low profile is—wait! Back up! No, to the left! There! Is that a . . . ?
. . . in trouble with the authorities. That’s the last thing you need . . .
. . . most of my life in trouble with the authorities, I shan’t let such an opportunity pass again . . .
. . . really do object to that sort of thing. Some tribes even prohibit autopsy, for all the good . . .
. . . not one of the strengths of our kindred, I’m afraid. Perhaps a Versorati songmaster could, but . . .
. . . matter of opinion. Of course I trust your observations, but that doesn’t mean I concur with your conclusions. What could possibly . . .
. . . that would be a matter of transgenics, not mere enchantment. Honestly, did you never pay attention to the loremasters when you were a child? Even the best . . .
. . . in my home. The barrier would keep such a thing from . . .
And so on. Only much of it was impossible for me to understand, even in context (what there was of it). I can only assume that some ‘words’ weren’t easily translatable, but the gist of the conversation seemed at first eager and even amused, peppered with startled delight, and later it turned more serious and businesslike, with even a few arguments thrown in.
But there was also fear: fear that they were doing the forbidden, with the possibility of discovery looming. That, as much as a magical purpose, was why they were conducting their researches at night. It must have gone on for hours, but for the most part I was blissfully unaware.
I felt the thoughtful peace of the room shatter, however, like a clap of thunder during a quiet nap. Suddenly I was almost awake – conscious, at least – and terrified. I still couldn’t open my eyes, but I could tell that the collegial atmosphere had been sundered . . . and someone else had joined us.
The singing had stopped, I noticed absently, as my mind fought for wakefulness. The drug they’d given me had started to wear off, but from the sounds my ears were starting to recognize, they weren’t concerned with me, exactly. The new presence in the room had their attention. It was male, I found, and it was both gleeful and angry.
. . . you rash old hag, the newcomer was ‘saying’. Not only did you violate the terms of your exile, but you compounded the crime with procuring further subjects! And involved your innocent descendents!
I heard nothing from the other Alka Alon, and that concerned me. I couldn’t imagine Ithalia enduring that kind of insult to her kin without a response. At least a polite rebuke or objection. She was gracious, but proud. My panic rose, and I did my best to will my eyes open. It wasn’t working. But I could still hear.
How did you . . . ? someone was gasping.
You didn’t think that we would depend on the authority of the council to oversee your exile, did you? Just because we ourselves are hidden
does not mean that we have removed ourselves from the affairs of the world. Your disgusting fetish for these . . . abominations is too deeply rooted for mere exile and punishment to repair. We have kept watch, Lilastien Elre, quietly and carefully . . . more carefully than your would-be wardens, it seems.
The voice was filled with contempt and loathing, but fiendish pleasure as well. I wasn’t completely sure of the direction it was coming from, but I could tell it was slowly moving around the room. That’s when I noted that the songspells that had kept me immobile were gone. It didn’t matter much – my mind was still clouded, and my body wasn’t particularly interested in listening to it, anyway.
But my will was returning quickly, and I hoped that eventually the body attached to it would be forced to pay attention. Until then I had to struggle to understand what was happening. I focused it first on my eyes, and managed to get one of them open to a slit. It was a monumental struggle to do so, but the feeling of danger and panic I felt was great motivation. Time seemed to crawl, and move too fast at the same time.
You know you were forbidden from conducting this kind of research ever again, Elre. Nor are these mere common control subjects – that one has rajira in abundance! Gah! How perverse! Now that you have indulged in this folly, you have broken your parole to the council. And for that there will be consequences – consequences those weaklings on the council are far too meek to administer.
I, on the other hand, have no compunctions about doing what needs to be done. To you, to your sycophants, and to every living thing in the barrier. Let us wash the stain of your perversity from Callidore, shall we, Elre? he mocked.
Whoever this asshole was, I didn’t like him much.
Finally I managed to squint blearily through my right eye. I immediately sought out Alya, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully – I watched the rise and fall of her breath for three cycles before I moved on to the rest of the room.
Ithalia and one of the assistants were pinned against the wall by some magical force, unable to speak or move. Both struggled, wide-eyed in fear, but both were powerless against the strange Alkan’s magic.
Lilastien was similarly immobilized, but instead of fear there was a burning hatred in her small eyes. That was a look I’d never seen on an Alkan face before. She was lying limp over a worktable, her other assistant sprawled at her feet. There was a smell of smoke in the air, I realized.
As for the unexpected visitor, he was clad far more strangely than I’d ever seen an Alka Alon. Of course, the fact he wore clothes at all was a bit of an aberration, but I knew the Alka Alon employed clothing for ceremony and protection. I’d seen Ithalia in armor, for example.
But this churl wore a tight-fitting black garment that covered him from chin to ankle. He also wore a strange headdress, high-crowned and tightly fitted, his mane spilling out of the back and sides. He wore something else I’d never seen an Alka Alon wear: a sneer.
He was facing Lilastien, so I could only see part of his face, but the sneer was pronounced. And ugly. His hands were crossed over his chest, judgmentally, and I could see his dark eyes glare over the tip of my boot. He was the most un-Alkan Alka Alon I’d ever seen.
Nothing to say Elre? Ah, I suppose I should loose your lips, for your final words. I didn’t see him do much of anything, but suddenly my hostess, the Sorceress of Sartha Wood, growled back in her bell-like voice.
You accursed outcast! she spat. You have no right to interfere in—
I have every right to prohibit such disgusting abominations! he replied. I was still understanding the language they were speaking, which I found curious, but I couldn’t deny it was helpful. Otherwise they could have been singing a duet. These foul beasts should never have been welcomed from the Void, and never granted room on our world. Yet you and your followers greeted them as fellows, and then perversely granted them a homeland. That was bad enough – but then they summoned those aggravating abominations they worship, here, and nearly destroyed us all. So I have every right to repair the disgusting mistake you made.
They are peaceful, except to themselves, Brinthildin, she said, passionately. They have done nothing to interfere with our affairs, even after what we did—
What we did? You misspeak, Elre. If you recall, it was my faction who urged caution and study – yours who threw caution to the wind and then broke the consensus. Centuries later they have stirred up powers we thought long dormant, and then inspired the gurvani to create their own perversions. Have you no shame, Elre, for the fruits of your work?
Brinthildin was apparently enjoying the opportunity to confront an old enemy before he killed her – killed us all, form what he had promised. I didn’t know what form of magic he was using to bind them, but he had more or less ignored Alya and me since he arrived. My toe twitched, as my mind fought to direct it, but luckily he didn’t notice.
Shame? It was not my faction who conspired to destroy the humani civilization, if you recall, youngling. No, it was the scion of a dark line who betrayed them – and us as well! There was no shame in what we were doing – yet attempted genocide shames the lifeforce itself!
The lifeforce! Brinthildin spat mockingly in return. You, who pervert and manipulate it like clay and call foul fair are worse than these ignorant animals. My kindred, at least, knew enough when the time had come for action.
Not all your kindred! Only a few pathetic disaffected voices!
That’s all it took, wasn’t it? he sneered. The humani were gullible and greedy, ripe enough to hear what they wanted to hear when our emissaries approached them. They are as much to blame as we. More – if they had had the good sense to stay where they were, then no tragedy would have occurred.
And you could have focused on oppressing the Avalanti instead! she nearly shouted in return. Still her little hands were not moving, nor any other part of her.
Oppressing? He scoffed. Overseeing is a better term. You and your pathetic kindred have always been far too willing to succumb to the temptation of perversion, and our world suffered for it accordingly. Now you bring the stain of your folly to Callidore and compound it by consorting with these beasts. Not even as subjects – you welcomed them as equals!
We offered them respect, nothing more, she replied angrily. We offered them friendship and trust – yet you were the ones who betrayed that trust! The Enshadowed were the ones who nearly destroyed them, because of your narrow perspectives. And nearly destroyed us all. And now you betray the will of the council by skulking out of the shadows and violating their edicts!
I enforce their edicts! he corrected, hotly. I felt my fingers twitch a bit, an encouraging sign. I didn’t like the way this conversation was going. You were forbidden from further research, yet here you are with two prime specimens. Were you ready to dissect them? Carve them up like they carve up their food?
No! You lie! We were just examining them, not practicing transgenics!
Yet that is why you are here in the first place! he countered triumphantly. The council spoke – I was there – and forbade such things after the Inundation. If the council lacks the will to act, then I do not. And after I take my satisfaction, be sure that I will: nothing of your perverted regime will remain, and I shall quietly hunt down all of your followers! And as of shadow . . . it is almost lamentable you will not be around to observe the works my brothers and I have wrought. We will take our vengeance on the humani, be sure, and on you backwards Avalanti, once they are gone. The humani animals may have stirred the Abomination into existence, but we are not loath to use what is at hand to achieve our ends.
You never were, the Sorceress condemned. I think there were tears in her eyes. Pain, hate, and order were all you ever wanted. And you admit you are cooperating with the Shadow? You despise the gurvani almost as much as you do the humani!
The gurvani are honest in their dealings, even if they’re disgusting and they act far above their station. What our faction wanted was a world clean and pure of filth like this! He said, gesturing to the couches Aly
a and I were laying upon. I sorely wanted to slay this Alkan.
My body was responding, but not nearly as fast as I would have liked. There was no way I could have sprung up and grabbed my mageblade the way that I wanted to. Even summoning power from my sphere was inadvisable. The drugs were keeping me from being able to concentrate well enough to put together more than a cantrip, if that.
But then I remembered I really didn’t need to. While I had promised not to use them, as my mind groped for answers and lit upon my witchstone – sphere – I realized that I had plenty of potent spellwork at hand. Just not Imperial magic.
The old Alkan who had put my sphere together from various bits of irionite had gifted me with a mighty library of spells, and I really did not see the disadvantage of turning to them when the alternative was death at the hands of a madman. Mad-alkan. Whatever.
I was still unsure of what most of them did, but as my mind wandered through the sphere and took stock of what was available, I saw something that might be helpful, if only as a distraction. Alkan magic depends on their songspells. There was a spell of silence that I thought could make things in the tower a little more interesting.
The Spellmonger's Honeymoon: A Spellmonger Novella (The Spellmonger Series) Page 14