Thaumatology 11 - For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

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Thaumatology 11 - For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll Page 5

by Teasdale, Niall


  Ceri shook her head, smiling. ‘Someone get me some fae wine. I’m not nearly drunk enough to have glowing blue crazy eyes.’

  ~~~

  They left the party when Ishifa developed a case of hiccups and Ceri had to still it with a spell. The little maid rode back to the guest suite on Michael’s shoulder, clinging to his neck and giggling repeatedly. Her paint job was a little smudged.

  ‘You’re rilly perity f’r a human, y’know?’ Ishifa said as they walked.

  ‘She’s going to be a bit embarrassed about this in the morning,’ Ceri commented to Twill, who was holding onto the collar of her dress.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Twill replied, smirking.

  ‘I’m not actually human,’ Michael told Ishifa. He had had a couple of glasses of wine, but not nearly enough to impair his senses. His eyes scanned the courtyard as he walked.

  ‘No, you’re the big bad wolf,’ Ishifa replied, giggling. ‘Rilly… rilly big.’ She let out a deep sigh.

  ‘Do you think Michael would be willing?’ Twill asked.

  ‘You really want to do that to her?’ Ceri replied.

  ‘I want you to do it to me too. It might be the last chance I get.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Ceri’s tone was a little plaintive. ‘Are you allowed to do that the night before your wedding?’

  ‘I have no doubt Joshia is entertaining a couple of our maids. I don’t see why I can’t have fun with my friends.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ceri said, feeling a little sad despite what she knew was coming. ‘You’re right. Why not?’

  There were no threats evident around the castle, but Ceri still sealed the door and the hatch in the eaves with magic once they were inside. Twill had flown over to Michael while she was doing it and when Ceri turned to look, Ishifa had been placed on the bed where she was lying back, holding herself up on her arms. Ceri walked over to Lily, who was grinning mischievously, and took her hand.

  ‘Mind if I run this through you, Lil? I don’t know what I may need tomorrow.’

  Lily giggled. ‘Of course not, Mistress.’

  ‘I’s a shame you’re so big and I’m jus’ liddle,’ Ishifa slurred.

  Ceri smirked and pulled power through Lily, feeling the half-succubus shiver at the thrill of it. She focussed her will and light danced around the fairy maid. A few seconds later Ishifa’s long legs were touching the floor and Twill flitted over to hover in front of her face.

  ‘Mistress Gloriandel?’ Ishifa asked. ‘How come you’re all tiny?’

  Twill’s wind chime laugh floated though the room and she danced a little closer. ‘You’re bigger, silly girl. Turn over, werewolves are very fond of that position and it’s much easier on your wings.’ Ishifa’s eyes widened as Michael started to undress.

  Chuckling, Ceri drew more power through Lily, this time getting a whimper, and a second later Twill was lowering herself quickly to the floor as she started to grow. Whenever they had done this before they had made the fairy grow to around four feet tall, but this time Ceri made her a full human height, as she had done with Ishifa, and the differences in physiology were very apparent. Despite the fact that her wings were there for steering more than power, Twill’s shoulder muscles were more developed than a typical human, and her legs were hugely out of proportion. As the growing stopped, the fae stretched, reaching up on tip-toes, her fingers brushing the relatively low ceiling. Her wings stretched out, fluttering.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘it’s rather nice to be big.’

  Lily giggled and walked, almost prowled, toward her, her body shifting as she went. On one step she was just Lily with flower patterns on her skin, on the next a long, prehensile tail decorated with the same roses was curling up around her waist. ‘Uh-huh. Let me show you a new trick I learned.’

  A squeal of delight came from the bed and Ceri grinned. She moved over to the chairs and sat down, watching as Lily’s tail slid around Twill’s left thigh and the giant fairy let out a little gasp. Ceri was not quite ready to join them yet. It all felt a little sad to her, but there was something else, a feeling she could not put her finger on. She had the odd feeling that someone should be keeping watch.

  February 1st

  Ceri opened her eyes and looked up at the red drapes which formed the canopy of the bed. She smiled and looked down to where a pair of fairies were curled up on her chest. Michael lay on her right, Lily on her left. All of them were still asleep, even Twill who was normally an early riser. It had been a long night.

  The weird feeling of tension Ceri had been feeling had just vanished at around two in the morning bringing with it a feeling of relief. The others had been flagging by then and they suddenly had a rather pleased, and enthusiastic, Ceri on their hands. The last thing she remembered before sleep had claimed her was hanging on the end of a succubus prolonged orgasm with all four of her friends working on her in one way or another.

  There was no clock in the room, but a tiny exertion of power told her the local time. It was late morning and the ceremony would be starting in a couple of hours. It was time to get ready, but Ceri was surprised to find that she was not feeling sad about it now. Something had changed during the night and she was distinctly unsure of what it was, but whatever it was it made her feel better.

  A couple of nudges were enough to have everyone else mumbling, groaning, and generally waking up with various levels of complaint. ‘I’ll go and run a bath,’ Ishifa said, rising into the air falteringly. ‘I am sticky in places I never expected to be sticky.’

  Lily giggled. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

  ‘Well, I’ve not had much experience with men.’ She hovered near the taps in the bathroom and water began to flood from one of them. Soon steam was rising. ‘And I’ve never had a woman do… well, I’ve never had a woman. What you did to me was… was…’

  ‘Incredible?’ Ceri suggested. ‘Just be careful. You can get addicted to the sex.’

  Ishifa turned in the air, looking at Ceri. ‘But you live with her, sleep with her all the time…’

  ‘And I get jittery when I don’t have sex with her regularly.’

  ‘Oh. Oh well it shouldn’t be a problem. I doubt I’ll get the opportunity again.’ She flitted closer to Ceri and grinned. ‘I could get used to your mate too.’

  Ceri grinned back. ‘You should try it when he’s furry.’

  The bath was big enough for all three full-sized people to bathe together, which was quicker, but fraught with temptation. They were being self-controlled, however, despite the fact that Lily and Michael were picking up on Ceri’s good humour. There was a bit of groping, but they were mostly good.

  The two fairies set about washing each other on the edge of the bath using small cloths. Ishifa thought she should be doing all the work, but Twill was very insistent. Ceri was pretty sure she had never seen Twill bathing before; the fairy was fairly private about, well, her private life. It made sense that she would wash like this really since getting her wings wet was probably not a good idea.

  Clean, the party got dressed. All except for Twill anyway. The bride and groom would be naked for the ceremony, demonstrating that they came to the union with no ill intentions, supposedly. Ceri re-did her makeup and put her dress, boots, and gloves back on. Michael was in more or less the same outfit as the night before, but there was a more formal, longer, tunic in jet black with silver studs decorating it. Ishifa had a short, white, backless dress in fine silk. She looked distinctly pleased with it. Lily’s dress was highly asymmetric; a wrap-around skirt and a top which fell from one shoulder to her hip where it was joined to the skirt by a chord with a flower woven into it. There was a wreath of green fronds and pink flowers in her hair, and another band around her arm. The dress shaded from a dark blue at the top to a pale blue at the bottom. She was barefoot.

  Twill nodded at the half-succubus when her outfit was assembled. ‘Perfect. A real Spring Princess.’ She looked all four of them over and nodded again. ‘Ceri, you should take your staff, I think. We proc
eed to the ceremony site and the four of you encircle me while we wait for Joshia. Is everyone ready?’

  ‘We all are,’ Ceri said. Twill looked at her; it was a slightly odd turn of phrase, as though someone else was not.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  There seemed to be a lot of frantic activity on the far side of the courtyard when they left their rooms. There seemed to be fairies and sprites rushing around frantically, as well as all four of the Silvershield Sidhe who were moving slower, but with a lot of determination. None of them seemed to be Joshia, though Ceri did spot Briarin amongst the crowd, flickers of red light dancing around him as he flitted in and out of one of the buildings.

  Still, Twill’s party had their appointed task, so they ignored everyone else and headed for the gates. Ceri had her Sight turned on this time and she saw the path of the local ley line which followed the main road past the castle compound. It appeared that they were going to follow it as they exited the gate and turned left. The road became more of a track after a hundred yards; the ground was more heavily rutted and clearly not maintained, but some carts apparently used it. After another two hundred yards or so, the track split, heading off toward local farms, but the line kept going and Ceri spotted something up ahead which she guessed was going to be the site for the ceremony.

  At some point in the past, someone had raised an earthen mound maybe ten feet in height and fifty yards across, and then put up two standing stones around ten feet in height and five feet apart. It would have likely been more impressive if they had not had substantial magic power available to do the heavy lifting. Then again, when Stonehenge had been built they had had giants to help.

  There was a lake on the far side of the mound and, rather than crossing the water, the ley line split to either side of it. As a result Ceri found herself looking at a substantial flare of magical energy at the little monument. Ceri figured that the average thaumic level of Otherworld was about a thaum; substantial, but not especially high. At the mound it was hard to get a good idea of the level, but she was guessing at ten to twelve thaums, substantially stronger. It was hotter here than at Stonehenge.

  Lily eyed the little henge, her eyes narrowing a little. ‘Michael, maybe you should have a quick look around.’ The werewolf nodded and moved ahead, darting around to the side of the mound to circle it.

  ‘The level’s high to about ten feet outside the mound,’ Ceri said. ‘I can’t see any disturbances in it.’

  Michael emerged from the back of the mound and waved them forward. ‘There have been sprites up here overnight,’ he said when they approached. ‘I think there was one fairy, a female.’

  ‘I suspect we can guess what they were up to then,’ Twill said, a smirk on her face.

  Michael shrugged. ‘Seems like a lot of sprites for one fairy, but yeah.’ He turned and moved ahead to check the ground on the mound itself, but there were no traps he could see and neither Ceri nor Lily could sense anything magical outside the natural field.

  Moving to the stone on the right they waited, each of the sheelvhori looking out in a different direction in case of trouble. None came. In fact, after half an hour, no one was showing any signs of coming at all.

  ‘Did we get the day wrong?’ Lily asked, her eyes on the copse of lush, green trees about a hundred yards from the mound.

  ‘As far as I’m aware,’ Ceri replied, ‘time doesn’t run backwards here.’ She frowned. ‘There was a lot of activity over on the other side of the courtyard where the Darksuns were staying.’ Bits and pieces of that activity started leaping out at her as she remembered it. Her dragon pendant was supposed to give her insight into things, but she was starting to think that it only did that when she was actually paying attention. Luckily, it also gave her picture perfect memory. ‘They were looking for something.’

  ‘Or someone?’ Michael suggested

  ‘Maybe. What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, I got a scent of a couple of sprites and the fairy heading off toward those trees.’

  Ceri was looking toward the castle, there was no sign of anyone approaching. ‘Okay, let’s check it out. There’s no one coming up the track.’

  Michael dropped to his knees and sniffed at the ground and then started off across the lush grass toward the trees. ‘Two, maybe three sprites,’ he said as they walked. ‘Just the one fairy. From the scent you were right about what they were up to. The fairy smells just like Ishifa did last night.’

  ‘Hey!’ the fairy maid squeaked.

  Michael chuckled and then dropped low again as they reached the treeline. ‘In here. Straight in from what I can tell. Maybe they were looking for somewhere more secluded.’ They walked on into the trees, all of them watching for any sign of trouble. It could have been a trap of some sort, but Ceri’s magic could detect nothing living aside from bugs and a few squirrels. Then Michael came to a stop, his head lifting. ‘I smell blood.’ He sniffed again, turning his head a little, and then started off to the left.

  ‘Shit,’ Ceri muttered as they found the first body. It was naked and male, but it was difficult to tell whether she knew him because his head was missing. Behind her Ishifa let out a squeal and Ceri heard Twill comforting her, but Ceri was getting used to finding disfigured corpses; her training as a police Special Advisor cut in and she found herself examining the corpse with a professional eye. ‘Bladed weapon. The wound is clean. Probably a single blow delivered while he was in the air from the way the body fell.’

  ‘The head is here,’ Lily said, parting the grass under one of the trees. ‘I don’t recognise him.’

  Ceri moved over and looked down. ‘He was on the long table. Not one of the Darksuns. I didn’t get all the names along there.’

  ‘Over here,’ Michael called from a few feet further on. The two women moved around a tree and discovered two more bodies lying one atop the other in the short grass. Someone had driven a blade, likely a knife, through the sprite’s back, the fairy beneath, and probably the soil under them both. ‘Jealous lover?’ Michael suggested.

  Ceri looked up and around. ‘No… no, I don’t think so.’ She pointed at another of the trees. ‘I think they were collateral damage.’

  About five feet off the ground, pinned to a tree by a long, black-hilted dagger through his stomach, was Joshia.

  ~~~

  ‘I may not have wanted to marry him,’ Twill said, ‘but he did not deserve to die like that.’ They had returned to the castle and were waiting in the guest suite while various people rushed about like headless chickens outside.

  ‘There are a whole lot of suspects available,’ Ceri said, ‘and no real evidence aside from that dagger.’ She, Lily, and Twill had stayed in the trees while Michael and Ishifa had gone back to get help. It gave them the opportunity to look around, but there had been nothing much to find. If someone had used a spell to mask themselves, any residue was lost in the natural background. Ceri could find no tracks.

  ‘The only scents were from the bodies,’ Michael commented. ‘There had to have been someone else there, but they left no traces.’

  ‘There are spells which can mask scent,’ Twill told him, ‘and erase tracks. A lot of assassins here know how to do it.’

  ‘That leaves the dagger,’ Ceri said, ‘but I couldn’t get any impressions off it. They wiped that clean too.’

  ‘I know he didn’t deserve it,’ Lily said. ‘I mean, all he could think about at the dinner last night was this girl he wanted. A sprite, not Twill. I’m sure he really loved her. But… Twill can’t get married now. Do we really care who killed him?’

  It was a valid point. The Darksuns were in uproar, of course. Ceri had not seen a whole lot of grief, though that might have come along once the anger was over with. The Wintergreens were just as angry, and blaming just about everyone. Ceri could tell that Aderiel was suspicious of Twill and her friends, but she was also unwilling to suggest they had anything to do with it in front of the Unseelie.

  There had been Arakets milling about,
watching the goings on, and the Summerglens who were looking about as smug as their Unseelie fellow guests. The Silvershields were trying to keep a lid on things, but they had looked very worried, especially Ophelia. Thinking back on the glimpse Ceri had had of the woman, she had looked slightly distracted, and far more worried than Ceri would have expected.

  A muffled curse from near the front door made everyone look in that direction. A second or so later Oleander’s voice could be heard through the little doorway in the eaves. ‘Hey! I didn’t think it was even possible to lock this. Let me in, I’ve got a message from Dad.’

  Ceri gave a short laugh and reached out her will to break the locking charm on the hatch. ‘It’s open, Oleander. Come in.’

  The fairy appeared from the eaves a second later, swooping down to settle on Michael’s lap beside her sister without bothering to ask whether this was okay. The werewolf’s smirk suggested he did not mind, but noted that Oleander had not considered it might be considered wrong.

  Oleander straightened her back and announced, ‘Lord Thoranil Wintergreen requests that you go to the Great Hall within the next fifteen minutes where an announcement will be made regarding the identity of Joshia Darksun’s murderer.’

  Ceri gave her a frown. ‘They know who did it?’

  The fairy had relaxed again now that her official duty was done with and she gave a shrug. ‘Supposedly. I heard someone say they’d worked out who the dagger belonged to. I didn’t get a name though.’ She glanced toward Twill, her expression becoming unhappy. ‘Mother has been talking to Qualika, trying to negotiate for Briarin to marry you instead. She’s been avoiding doing it in front of me, but I’ve got my spies among the staff. The two old bitches are determined to salvage this. Sorry.’

  ‘But Briarin is one of the suspects!’ Lily said, her voice a little louder than necessary.

  ‘He’s also a sadistic little prick,’ Twill growled, ‘if you’ll pardon my Anglo-Saxon. I’d rather marry a swamp troll.’

  ‘We’d better get going,’ Ceri said. ‘We can see about dealing with Briarin and the matriarchs once the murderer is caught.’

 

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