by Pam Uphoff
Solti Llano had brown eyes and arrogantly arched nose, a bit paler skinned than most Auralians.
"Let's see her in the green silks. Oh you're just going to love this!"
She couldn't pull power. Even upstairs she should be able to grab some power. A collection of men and women scurried about with clothing and she was stripped and redressed like a large doll.
"Oh, hmm, I'm not sure, with those blue eyes. . ." The Solti strutted around her. "No, that just doesn't work. Try the blue next."
The people scurried and she was handed a cup of tea. Assuming they wouldn't actually strip her with a cup of tea in her hands, she sipped it slowly as the minions returned with the blue silks. Like the greens she was wearing, it consisted of pantaloons, a filmy blouse and an embroidered tunic. Interesting, the Solti didn't seem to be dressing her in revealing outfits, and while the colors were gorgeous, the tunic concealed, rather than emphasized the female chest. Hmm. She watched his eyes. Yes, he was watching his male servants, not the female.
"No. Perhaps the orange, or maybe the heliotrope, what do you think Princess?"
Princess was feeling extremely unwell.
"I want to see them, put them on her and him, and let me see." Oh yeah. Llano's eyes lit at the thought of the young man in those silk outfits.
"And you must try on this gold ensemble, yourself." He said.
The tea cup was whipped out of her hands before she could snatch, and the clothes started flying. No problem, the Solti had eyes only for his, eww, eunuch servant. Who looked stunning in a peacock embroidery over bright blue and iridescent black silk.
The Solti made them all parade around, but his eyes spent most of their time elsewhere. Finally noticed her weaving. "Are you drunk?"
"I feel horribly ill. That nasty stuff I breathed doesn't seem to have agreed with me."
"Well, no matter. The wedding is in five hours so there shouldn't be any need for you to be knocked out again." He waved an airy hand. "Feed her, let her nap, then we'll try on the wedding outfit." He took the arm of the Peacock clad servant. Poor sod. The rest of the people scampered around again, and a platter of sandwiches and a glass of chilled fruit juice appeared.
Never nibbled, but just felt worse. Finally she curled up and tried a basic meditation that took her down to sleep.
The screams and curses woke her.
She fought the lethargy of her limbs, it was so hard . . . she rolled over, and got one foot off the bed, and slithered down to the floor. She crawled for the door. Looked around. Stairs down. Down was good. Even with crashes and screams. She vaguely wondered what the fuss was. And slipped. She did manage to get her hands out in front of her so she didn't land on her head. There was blood everywhere, but the screaming had stopped, so that was good.
And the goat. That was good. No it wasn't. Yes it was. It was shoving at her, trying to get her to stand up.
She couldn't make up her mind. "Are you a good goat or a bad goat?"
"Maaah!"
"Sorry, I don't speak goat."
It was a really nasty goat, probably one of the ones that raped the soldiers. It certainly had a big pizzle like those goat. It butted at her hand, and she grabbed the base of a horn. Carefully. There seemed to be a sharp cutting edge to the horn. It lifted its—his—definitely a buck—head and half pulled her to her feet. She staggered to a wall and used it to prop herself up.
The goat reared up, tall enough to put a front hoof on either side of her head and lick her face. Its nasty red pizzle pressed against the front of her body as it leaned closer, and nibbled her jaw line, working downward. She could feel the pizzle between them. Throbbing.
She had a brief moment of coherence. "Dydit, it you don't get your, your, thing away from me, something awful is going to happen to you. And I will eat it. It can't possibly poison me worse than I am already."
"Maaah!"
"I don't think they meant to poison me. I think it must be something witches aren't supposed to have. I need to get out onto the dirt. Or rock. Or something." The lucidity started fading.
"All right, then let's get you outside." Dydit pulled her arm across his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around her waist. He was quite strong. Tall. His bulk was all muscle.
He was as naked as the goat, of course. And his pizzle seemed to be normal, she was glad to note, as he half carried her out the front door, and down a flight of marble steps. Power. It was right there. She couldn't touch it. Grass under her feet. Bare dirt. Couldn't touch it. "I can't quite seem to, to . . . "
"I'll get help."
"Or that wine."
She could feel the man's body tense at the suggestion.
"Stay here, stay hidden, in case anyone comes." He laid her down on the ground.
Bare dirt, and she could, couldn't. She blinked up at the goat, it stared at her with its demonic honey gold eyes. "Wine," she told him. He turned and ran away.
She laid there for a long time, sometimes watching the world jerk around in circles, and sometimes there were two worlds. And then it got all dark and she couldn't decide if she was blind or if it was night. The Moon rose, settling that question. And then there was a Black Goat in the Black Night, and it had a bottle of wine. Half a bottle, and it had brought a naked man along to open it and force it down her throat.
"Umm. Naked man." She sat up. "Oh that's better. Much much, umm, have I ever mentioned that you have a really nice jaw line?" She leaned over and kissed it, just to be sure he understood.
"Urk. Umm, No, Never, you've never told me that . . . eep. Never, I really don't want you to kill me in the morning, really. Truly. Keep, keep your hands off, Never, don't umm."
"And shoulders. How'd you get such wide shoulders when you, umm . . . "
She wound up chasing him, and getting lost in the desert, and by the time she caught him, she was full of power, sober, and ready to kill . . . something.
"I mean, I really appreciate having this cure-anything elixir around. Really." She slid down beside him. "I might not even mind the aphrodisiac. But fertility? This powerful a fertility spell? Honestly. Make you choose between dying and having another baby? Umm, not nice."
Dydit cautiously lifted his head, lowered the arms he had wrapped protectively around it. "Really?"
"How'd I catch you? I can't outrun even an ordinary goat."
"Umm, if I'd let the goat out again, I don't think I'd have been running away. The goat is me at my absolute worst."
She thought about the goat that hadn't done anything really objectionable. "Your worst doesn't seem to be that bad. Thank you for rescuing me, and bringing the wine and . . . being a much nicer goat than I'd expected."
"Well, I did rape your intended."
"Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "Thank you for that as well, although he probably enjoyed it."
"Umm, I don't suppose you'd loan me part of that very fetching ensemble, would you?"
He looked pretty good in tight black silk pantaloons.
The wagons were at the country house when they got there.
Lefty and Fair stopped waving their arms and yelling at each other when Dydit and Never limped into sight. Lalli leaped from the wagon and ran to hug Never. "Are you all right? What happened? This huge goat . . . Dydit . . . grabbed the wine bottle and ran off. Romeau said we should follow and started the most ghastly poem about love lying dying."
"Actually my worst problem was not letting them know they'd kidnapped the wrong blonde." Never told her, sitting down on the steps and looking at her bleeding soles. "They thought they had the Princess Lalligah, and were going to marry her to the son of the Amma. I suppose to give Auralia a claim to the throne of Verona."
Dydit crawled into his wagon and emerged a few moments later dressed like a more human version of Romeau, sans hat and plumes. Limping.
"I can't believe I ran barefoot over so much desert." He sank down beside her.
"We found the wine bottle, there's still some left." Romeau's grin widened at their mutual veheme
nt negatives.
"Which force will be stronger?
The Fear or the Love?
Such odd forms doth True Love Take."
Fortunately that was as far as he went, so neither of them had to kill him. "We doped a bottle in the house and gave some to all the people Dydit beat up, even the Solti, and sent them away.
Feeling just a little ashamed of herself, Never limped up to her room and packed all of the gorgeous silks and embroidered long vests and tunics. She chose the green ensemble that would perfectly compliment Lalli's coloring, and handed it to her friend. "Trust me, the little pervert wasn't worth any amount of clothing, but his staff had excellent tastes."
Lalli ohed over it, then shot a look at Never. "Fair and I've been talking."
The man nodded. "We won't be safe, here. We might stir up a war between Verona and Western or Verona and Auralia, right when Scoone is threatening to attack. We're properly and legally married, now, and we're pretty sure we're expecting. So we're going home to face the music."
Dydit clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man."
Sir Romeau waffled, but finally left with the young couple. "Must see True Love vindicated and accepted."
"Look us up afterwards." Never grinned. "I really do want to introduce you to the lady that made that wine."
Then she slipped back inside and packed up every single herb, spice and liquid in the place. The Elders were going to want to know about a substance that could render a witch incapable of touching power.
Lefty scratched his chin and opined that the King would probably want an eye witness account of what happened in Cadent when the Princess returned, so he was going also. But he pulled Never and Dydit aside. "Before I leave, I want you two to promise you won't kill each other if I leave you alone."
Never giggled. "All right, so long as I don't have to promise to not hurt him."
Dydit growled, and slapped Lefty's shoulder. "All right. I won't kill her. And just to prove I'm a nice guy, I'll tell Question you're safe and sound."
Lefty perked up.
"If she asks."
Lefty tried to glare and wound up laughing. "I expect I'll see the pair of you in the spring."
They all left town the next day, early. Going their separate ways.
Chapter Twenty-one
Fall 1354
Havwee
Dydit looked uncertainly at Never. "I know a great restaurant in Havwee. Inn. Lots of rooms. Plenty of people around to dilute proximity."
"Good idea."
It was two days to Havwee.
They camped beside the road in a cleared area that obviously saw much traffic. Two other traveling groups kept their distance.
"So." Dydit finished currying the team. Never had started dinner and brushed the mares. "Do you really think you'll do more mapping next summer?"
"I want to, but I have a one year old daughter I haven't seen for four months. I really should stick close to home." She blew out her breath. "Parenthood really messes up the work I want to do."
"You should do it my way. Fuck and run."
"I really should not have promised." She turned her attention back to the cooking.
He chuckled and munched the salty crispy meat and veggie filled whatevers she produced.
"If you're a real old Scoone wizard, you must know more about magic than we do. What causes it?" She leaned back comfortably against a grassy mound, eyes on the gleaming stars.
"Nothing 'causes' it. It's a natural part of everything. Some people just have the ability to mentally manipulate it, is all." He sat down cautiously, a bare foot away from her. He scooted back another half foot.
"What people? Why? It obviously runs in families, but occasionally you get a spontaneous witch from no known bloodlines. Catti and Zamm, for instance. Or Lefty. He's a wizard, isn't he?"
"Yes. Well, do you know what genes are? There's several hundred genes that influence what sorts of magical things any given person can do. What specific talents they have. And then there are the three source genes. They enable the person to pull in power, so it can be used according to the rest of the genes that particular person has. There's one that enables touching the Earth power, one—actually there's a lot of argument, it could be as many as twelve variations of the gene—that enables touching Wind and Water. And one that enables drawing power from Fire."
"So how can all that just show up, spontaneously?"
Dydit shook his head. "Sometimes someone has the power sourcing gene, but few or even none of the other genes. So they can't do magic at all. If they marry someone who has a bunch of the other genes, but no sourcing gene, they might, just by random chance produce a child who can do magic. That's why mages—and wizards—are so inbred, they're trying to concentrate lots and lots of the various genes, so their children are very powerful mages or wizards."
"Witches, Mages and Wizards. So, why are witches always female, mages always male and wizards predominantly male?" She rolled up on her side and studied him now.
"Hmm, chromosomes? The strings of chemicals that contain the directions for everything every cell does?"
"Right, the collections of genes."
"They come in pairs, two of each. The ones that determine gender, there's an X type and a Y type. Women's pairs of sex chromosomes are both X types. A baby that gets an X and a Y is a male. So. The witch gene is a very strong dominent. It overrides whatever the equivalent gene is on the X inherited from the father. So a witch can seduce any man and her daughter, if she gets the witch X will be a witch, and if she gets her, umm, maternal grandfather's X she'll be just a regular person.
"The mage gene is on the Y chromosome. It's inherited from father to son and daughters never get it. But they have lots of those other hundreds of genes, so the mages like to strengthen their lines by not out breeding. Or by marrying those 'normal' witch daughters."
"And the wizard gene?"
"It's on the X chromosome, in fact some say that it's a variation of the witch gene. But it's recessive, a witch gene, or even a normal gene will over ride it. Umm, the Y chromosome is, umm, little. It doesn't have any copies of that gene, of any sort. So a boy that gets the Wizard X will be a wizard. A girls has to inherit two copies of the gene. One from each parent. Far fewer girls are wizards. At least they don't have to . . . do anything to themselves."
"I don't under stand that castration business. You didn't actually . . . "
"Oh yes I did. There as last burst of brain growth between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two. Give or take a tendency to be either precocious or a late bloomer. Male hormones, right then, interfere with the development of the parts of the brain that involve wizardry." He shrugged. "So, if you want to be a powerful wizard, not just a dabbler—snip, snip. Everyone I knew did it. When you hit twenty-two or there about, you can feel how powerful you are. Strong enough to do regenerating spells, and grow a new pair."
"Riiight."
"Want to see what a good job I did?"
"No, Goat. I do not." She hesitated. "That goat spell—it's not a real goat."
"Oh no. It's much more complex than a simple transform to a natural creature. A transformation spell changes the amounts and shapes of things that are made, thigh bone, skull, brain . . . It's incredibly hard to actually change things to something new and have it work. Nihility added things that don't occur in nature. A serious show of mastery."
Dydit gazed into her deep blue eyes and wondered if he could shield his mind, really, really hard . . .
"I noticed the horns. Sort of a triangle, with one sharp edge, twisted into a spiral. Impressive."
"And increased the size of, umm, some parts." How brave was he? How stupid?
"I noticed that too."
He leaned over and kissed her.
Never kissed him back. And snickered. "Just how bad are witches reputations in Scoone? It's much more fun if you let the power flow back and forth."
"Fun for you. What about the man?"
"A witch has to be careful, and tha
t is hard the first time. After that we generally don't hurt men."
"Generally." He snorted, "How reassuring." How had he gotten so close and snuggled up? He could feel his body responding, and his shields melting.
"That's better. See, you just shift a little bit of power back and forth."
He felt the warm power flowing in and drank it up. Then it reversed its flow and he clutched at it as she took it all back. Poured it in and pulled it back again. He tried to relax, to push and pull the power with her. He was vaguely aware that he was holding her and kissing her, and rubbing himself against her. And that he needed to stop long enough to get these damn clothes out of the way . . . What the hell am I doing?
He jerked back. "What the hell am I doing?" He rolled away. Scrambled to his feet and backed away and blinked at her. "That, that . . . I . . . Never, I, umm . . ." That had been . . . and he hadn't actually. He turned and walked away.
***
Never thumped her head on the ground. That had gotten completely out of hand. She'd just wanted to talk to him. Right. Lay back, and expect a man to not . . . "Damn it, if I'm going to seduce him, I should at least be honest with myself about it," she muttered. Dydit's mind had been strong. If he'd seriously fought her for the power, one of them could have been hurt.
When he walked back, in clean clothes, looking like he'd bathed in the stream, she studied him. In the dark his hair looked black, but in the sunlight it shone brown. Eyes that were bluish or greenish or greyish according to mood and what he was wearing, not at all goat honey brown. Tall, broad shouldered, tending a bit toward bulk. Tall broad forehead, straight nose. Good cheek bones and jaw. All in all a good looking man. But that wasn't quite the impression Never had ever gotten from him. She was too used to him scowling and running away. Following her like he didn't want to. Well, she had the answer to that now, didn't she? He knew witches took power, and hadn't expected to get any back.