The Sorceress of Belmair (31 page)

Why?
Lara asked in the silent speech.

There is darkness in her, my child.
Ethne advised.

“My lady Domina,” Duke Tullio said, “may I introduce to you my sister, the lady Margisia, and her daughter, my niece, Sapphira.”

The two women greeted each other, and then drawn forward, Sapphira raised her eyes to Lara, softly murmuring a greeting. They were green eyes. Green like emeralds. But Lara saw that the eyes held no emotion at all. Interesting, she thought to herself as she led the visitors into the hall.

“We have other guests,” she said as they walked.

“Aye, I saw Dreng’s vessel in the harbor,” Duke Tullio replied.

“Is he alone?” Lady Margisia asked none too tactfully.

“He travels with his wife and two of his granddaughters,” Lara said. “They are most charming girls, too. The hall was so merry last night when they danced for us.” She wished Kaliq were here for he would so enjoy this game that was being played. But the Shadow Prince had returned to his home weeks before, promising to return when he was needed. Dillon had his mother, and Kaliq knew that would lighten his mood until the spring came.

“Greetings, Dreng,” Duke Tullio called as they entered the Great Hall.

“Greetings, Tullio,” was his reply.

The women all greeted each other, but Sapphira remained modestly in the background until brought forward. She did not raise her eyes again.

“My son is searching in the hills today,” Lara said, “but he will be returning in time for the evening meal.”

“You didn’t go with him, Dreng?” Tullio asked.

“Why? It’s useless,” Duke Dreng replied.

As the spring sun was setting, Dillon returned to his castle in the company of Nidhug and Cirillo. He greeted his new guests, and almost immediately they adjourned to the high board for the evening meal. The king was charming, but distant. Cirillo made the dragon jealous by flirting with Dreng’s granddaughters.

Nidhug eyed Sapphira suspiciously, finally saying bluntly, “Why is it, Duke Tullio, that your niece hides herself from us? Is she scarred that she keeps her shawl over her head and turns her face from us?”

“Nay, Great Dragon,” Duke Tullio replied. “But King Fflergant and I were related by blood. My niece and Queen Cinnia are distant cousins. I did not wish the king startled by Sapphira’s appearance, for she very much resembles our lost queen.” He turned to Dillon. “Majesty, with your permission my niece will reveal herself.”

Fascinated in spite of himself, Dillon nodded his approval. “Stand up, lady,” he said, “and let me see you.”

Sapphira rose from her place, and stepping from the dais stood directly before the young king. Slowly she dropped the shawl covering her head, revealing a swath of ebony-black hair. Then Sapphira raised her face up to look straight at the king.

Dillon grew pale. He clutched the wine goblet in his hand, and the silver crumpled in his hand.
“Cinnia!”
he whispered unable to take his eyes from the girl.

“Nay, my lord. I am Sapphira of Beldane, and I am the king’s to command.”

“Let my daughter dance for you, Majesty,” the lady Margisia said. “I have heard that Duke Dreng’s granddaughters danced for you last night.”

“Yes,” Dillon said, never taking his eyes from Sapphira. “Dance for me! Minstrel! Where is the minstrel?” he called.

The Great Creator help us,
Lara thought.
He is bewitched by this girl.
She looked to the dragon, who also appeared somewhat shocked.

The king’s minstrel came forth, and bowing to Sapphira said, “What shall I play for you, lady?”

“Not your lute,” Sapphira replied. “Do you have a reed pipe?”

The minstrel nodded, drawing it forth from his garment. Putting it to his lips he began to play a sweet but temporal tune. As he did, Sapphira kicked off her dainty slippers and began to dance. She was light on her feet and very graceful. She moved easily, and then as she began to discard bits of her gown they saw that it was actually made up of many red silk scarves. Her body twisted sensuously and lithely. Her long arms were quickly bared, and shortly her long bare legs were revealed, flashing amid the thin strips of flying scarlet silk.

Duke Dreng’s two granddaughters gasped, and looked at each other, shocked. A knowing smile touched Prince Cirillo’s lips as he met Lara’s eyes. Nidhug’s nostrils glowed deep red, and a tiny whiff of smoke came from them as she watched Sapphira through her narrowed eyes. Dillon came down from his chair at the high board, and as the tune ended Duke Tullio’s niece flung herself at the king’s feet, and then wound herself sinuously up his booted legs, her emerald eyes locking onto his bright blue eyes.

For a moment the hall was swathed in deep silence, and then Dillon bent to raise Sapphira her feet. “You dance well,” he said quietly. Bending, he fitted her slippers back upon her feet, and led her back to the high board, draping her shawl about her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Lina! Panya! Now you must dance for the king!” Duke Dreng said.

“I think not, husband,” Amata interrupted him. “The lady Sapphira’s performance was quite entertaining enough for one evening.”

“But…” Dreng began.

“Nay, Grandfather.” Panya spoke for her cousin and herself ending the matter.

The minstrel began to play his lute now, singing a song of Belmair’s past. The guests came down from the high board, gathering themselves about the fire in chairs and settees. Lara moved to sit next to her son, who was now flanked upon his other side by Nidhug, who was jealously guarding her master. The women chatted amiably. The two dukes played a board game of Herder, which seemed to be common to all the worlds. Prince Cirillo flirted quite outrageously with the three young women, and soon had Lina and Panya giggling. Sapphira, however, sat quietly, stealing looks at the king who found himself unable to keep from looking back.

She is not your Cinnia,
Lara spoke silently to her son.

She is her mirror image, Mother!
he answered her.

That well may be, my son, but it still does not negate the fact that while she may look like Cinnia, she is not Cinnia,
Lara said.
Ethne says there is darkness in her.

Dillon stood up suddenly. “My lords, my ladies, I must leave you now. My day has been long, and I must begin seeking my queen again tomorrow. I bid you all a good-night.” And he hurried from the hall as if he were being pursued by demons.

Almost immediately the others began to rise, bidding their companions a good-night. Then the hall was empty but for Cirillo, Nidhug and Lara.

“What kind of magic does that girl have?” Nidhug demanded.

“There is no magic in her, my darling,” Cirillo said, “is there, Lara?”

“Nay, none. Does she look like Cinnia, Nidhug?” Lara wanted to know.

The dragon nodded. “It is uncanny. She does look like my beloved child, and yet there is something dark about her. I sense it.”

“Aye, Ethne has already warned me,” Lara said, surprising her brother. She explained to Nidhug that Ethne was the faerie spirit who lived in Lara’s star pendant, and advised her when necessary. “Tomorrow when you take Dillon out searching again, I shall send Dukes Tullio and Dreng with their families back home. When you return the hall will be quiet once again. Now good night to you both,” Lara said and left them. But upstairs in the dimly lit corridor she saw a slender figure slipping into her son’s apartments. Quickly Lara ran down the hall, entering the king’s chamber to find Sapphira, naked and climbing into the sleeping Dillon’s bed.
“Get out!”
she snarled at the girl as Dillon turned murmuring,
“Cinnia!”

“He wants me,” Sapphira said as Dillon cupped her breast in his hand.

“He wants his wife. He wants Cinnia,” Lara told the girl.

“I can be his wife, and while I look like my cousin I will soon make him forget her,” Sapphira boasted softly turning to kiss Dillon’s lips.

Lara argued no longer.
“Begone back from whence you came, and never, ever come again!”
she said, pointing a finger, and Sapphira was gone from the king’s bed.

Chapter 11

W
ALKING
TO
HER
son’s bedside Lara smoothed his dark hair. There was a tearstain upon his cheek. She shook her head sadly. Dillon was doing his best to be brave, but Lara could see that her son’s heart was slowly breaking as the days passed with no sign of his wife, Cinnia. They had to find the girl, and then they had to convince the Belmairans that she was not profaned, and more than fit to be Dillon’s queen.

When the morning came, she took Duke Tullio aside, and told him what had happened. “You will find your niece at home when you return. I found it necessary to send her there. I am sorry.”

“Nay, my lady Domina,” the duke said. “I am ashamed that my niece would behave in such a fashion. I have never understood her. She is like her late father, and I did not like my sister’s husband.”

“Does he not influence his daughter to good behavior?” Lara asked.

“He deserted my sister when Sapphira was less than a year old,” the duke said. “He said he was going to visit his aged mother, and we never saw him again. Inquiries were made, of course, but his mother never received him, and no trace of him was found. My sister likes to believe he was attacked by a wild beast, and killed. She will tell you that is what happened if you ask her. But it is my belief he simply ran off. He was a sly and secretive fellow, and my niece is a secretive girl. One never knows just what Sapphira is thinking. I am not an ambitious man, my lady Domina, but I will admit that my sister is an ambitious woman where her daughter is concerned.”

“And had your niece been discovered in my son’s bed this morning, he would have been forced to marry her for honor’s sake, wouldn’t he?” Lara said.

“The young queen is considered unclean now that she has been held captive by the Yafir, and so the king is free to put her aside and remarry,” Duke Tullio replied. “And if Sapphira had been found naked in his bed, aye, your son would have been honor bound to make her his wife, my lady Domina.”

“How fortunate, then, that that did not happen,” Lara answered him with a small smile. “You and your sister will be leaving us today, of course, as will Duke Dreng and his family. I am so glad that we met, my lord.”

Duke Tullio bowed gallantly to Lara. “I am glad, too, my lady Domina. Terah must be a fine land to have so great and gracious a queen.”

“And Beldane is fortunate in its duke,” Lara responded.

Within the hour Duke Tullio and his sister, Margisia, were riding back down the castle hill toward the coast where their vessel awaited them. Duke Dreng was not quite so easy to be rid of, however. He protested that he had not had the opportunity to speak privately with the king regarding his granddaughters.

“He is going to have to take another wife whether he wants to or not, my lady Domina,” Dreng said. “Queen Cinnia is gone, and even if he did manage to recover her she is impure. Either Lina or Panya would make your son a fine wife. Unless the king has made a match with Tullio’s niece, who so resembles the queen. Has he?”

“My son wishes no wife but the one he has, Duke Dreng. I believe he would remain a celibate rather than remarry,” Lara told him, hoping to discourage the man.

“Celibate? The son of a faerie woman and a Shadow Prince?” Dreng said scornfully. “Such a thing is not possible, my lady Domina. But perhaps you are right, and now is not the right time for me to offer one of my granddaughters to the king. He has seen them. He will remember them when the time comes, for I will remind him. I will go and tell Amata now that we are leaving.”

Dillon came late into his little family hall. He looked exhausted, as if he had not slept at all. A look of relief crossed his face when he saw only his mother. “I suppose they were served in the Great Hall,” he said.

“Aye, and now they are gone,” Lara told him.

“How?” he asked astounded.

“I sent them home,” she told him. “I am, after all, the Domina of Terah.”

He laughed, and it was a good sound. “Thank you, Mother.” He sat down at the board, and immediately a servant was placing a dish of fresh fruit before him along with a goblet of sweet cider, a small round loaf of fresh bread, which was warm, a bowl containing hard-cooked eggs, butter, salt and jam. Dillon began to eat, and when he had consumed much of what he had been given, he said, “I dreamed of Cinnia last night. I felt her weight in the bed next to me, and I thought I heard her call my name.”

“It was not Cinnia,” Lara said. “As I came up to bed I saw Duke Tullio’s niece stealing into your room. When I got to your chamber she was climbing into your bed. She was naked, and she meant to seduce you. Had she succeeded, and she would have if not for me, you should have been forced to wed her. You were half-drunk, Dillon. And her startling resemblance to your wife would have but added to your confusion. I know you will not repudiate Cinnia when we find her. But you must convince the dukes and the people of Belmair to accept your queen again. Their prejudice against the Yafir are very strong. You will have to stand firm against many to gain your way in this matter, Dillon. Had Sapphira of Beldane tricked you into taking her virginity you would have had no chance at all of taking your wife back. You would have had to wed with this girl and make her your queen,” Lara said to her son.

“I would have killed her first,” Dillon said grimly.

“I told Duke Tullio. He was honestly shocked, and I believe him innocent in this plot. I suspect it is his sister and her daughter who are ambitious. Sapphira was quite bold. When I ordered her from your bed she refused, saying she meant to be your wife. I used magic to send her back to Beldane. And the first liquid to touch her lips this morning will cause a rather unpleasant rash that will affect the skin upon her face for several days with small blue bumps. It won’t kill her,” Lara said, “but the itching will be very discomfiting. I hope she doesn’t scratch those little blue bumps for if she does they will open, and another bump will form immediately atop the first. I trust Sapphira of Beldane has learned a lesson.”

“And what lesson would that be, Mother?” Dillon asked mischievously.

“Not to defy a faerie woman, my darling,” Lara told him with a grin. “Now, if you are quite finished with your breakfast you must go out to once again seek your queen. I know that Cinnia has not given up hope that you will find her.”

* * *

A
ND
C
INNIA
HAD
not. But as each day passed it grew harder and harder to believe that she would be found and rescued. She lived in a world of almost total silence. The other wives had taken her into the garden of the castle. It was an odd place with plantings such as she had never seen. Great leaves both broad and narrow in all shades of green, purple and red grew. They were neither trees nor bushes. She saw no beds of flowers or herbs. And the air was moist and warm. Strangest of all there were no birds or butterflies or insects of any kind. Above her the sky appeared to ripple with shades of blues, greens and grays. There was light, but she could see no sun or stars, nor could she see Belmair’s two moons except in reflection upon the sky. Finally she grew curious.

“Where are we?” she asked Arlais as they strolled the gardens one afternoon. “And do not, I beg you say, Yafirdom. Just where is Yafirdom?”

“Beneath the seas of Belmair,” Arlais answered, surprising Cinnia, for previously she had always offered only the most vague of replies. “The castle exists within a bubble as do the villages and great homes. The Yafir have lived here in safety for centuries. When they decided not to accept Napier IX’s ultimatum they looked about for a place where they believed no one could find them, and decided that the lands beneath the sea was their answer. Belmairans do not utilize their sea a great deal. They travel upon it, and they fish locally here and there. But they never venture out into the deep.”

“Then your sky is actually the sea above us,” Cinnia said slowly.

Arlais nodded. “Aye,” she said.

“What a perfectly clever solution,” Cinnia noted admiringly. And then she realized with a sinking heart that it was unlikely she would ever be found.

“There are, of course, entrances into our world from the surface. The sea caves on the northwest side of Belia are isolated and deserted. Our men come and go through them when they bring new females to us. They put them in a bubble, and then travel to wherever they wish to go.”

“I do not recall being in a bubble,” Cinnia remarked.

“Of course you do not,” Arlais laughed. “It would be much too frightening a trip for you. You were put to sleep for your travels. When you awoke you were here.”

“Why have you returned some women? And why were they old? And why could they recall nothing of where they had been?” Cinnia queried the woman she considered Ahura Mazda’s senior wife.

“Women who are taken from Belmair and do not conceive children for their Yafir husbands may be sent to the Mating Market where they are purchased by other men seeking to have children. Sometimes a woman’s secret garden will not accept the seed of one man, but will accept that of another. And we do not waste women here having taken them from their other lives. But now and again, no matter how many men mate a particular woman, she simply does not conceive. Those women are returned to Belmair. Of course many, many years will pass before that is done, and when returned the women revert to their natural state and actual age. I have known a few women who have been mated for over twenty-five years before conceiving. But sometimes a man will keep an infertile woman because he has become fond of her.” Arlais smiled. “Our husband hopes for a daughter from you. You have been with us for four months now, but you show no signs of being with child. He is disappointed, but not discouraged.”

No, he was not discouraged. Ahura Mazda, while having returned to spending the night with each of his wives in turn, was nonetheless taking Cinnia aside at least once each day, mounting her and filling her with his seed. She bore his attentions, ashamed of herself for enjoying the pleasures she took with him, but in light of what Arlais had told her Cinnia was beginning to accept the fact that it was unlikely Dillon would find her. His magic was great, but it was obviously not great enough to learn where she was being hidden. Cinnia knew, too, that Belmair would never again accept her as their queen. She had seen and heard of the few women who had been returned. Some had been shunned and forced from their villages by their own families by those who had been their friends. The stronger of them survived, and the weak died alone.

“Has no woman ever escaped from Yafirdom?” Cinnia asked Arlais.

“A few have tried,” Arlais admitted. “But they have died in the sea. The bubble transports can only be powered by magic, and we mortals have no magic. Most never even reach the bubbles. They are caught, and thrust into the waters to drown as a warning to any other women foolish enough to attempt flight.”

“A cruel death,” Cinnia remarked.

“Indeed it is,” Arlais agreed in her soft voice. “Here in Yafirdom everything a woman could want is supplied for her, given to her. Why would you want to be anywhere else? Most Belmairan women understand that once taken by the Yafir there is no going back. And ours is a peaceful world. Eventually we will return to the land, and Belmair will be ours forever then. Ahura Mazda says it will not be long now.”

Ahura Mazda, Cinnia thought. A most complex and intense man. He was a strange combination of both love and danger. His other wives adored him with slavish devotion. He was oddly kind, yet Cinnia knew if she crossed him he would turn deadly. And she was not like his other wives. Arlais and Minau had come from noble families. Volupia was a merchant’s daughter from Beltran. Orea and Tyne were farmer’s daughters. All had been raised to accept without question the decisions made by their men. Cinnia knew she was not like that. Her father had been king of Belmair. The dragon, Nidhug, had raised the king’s daughter to think for herself and to use magic.

Cinnia found it difficult to accept that she would never again be Belmair’s queen. That she would never again lie in Dillon’s arms. But she was now imprisoned beneath Belmair’s sea in a world contained within a magical bubble. Arlais had told her that it took every bit of the Yafir’s magic to sustain their hidden world. And there was really no escape. If by some miracle she could learn where the bubble boats were kept, where would she go? She was beneath the sea. But where beneath the sea? Off some coast? Which coast? Or deep in the very middle of the sea? She didn’t know, but now she understood why no woman ever escaped from Yafirdom.

Cinnia knew that she had two choices. She could accept her plight and begin to make a new life for herself here beneath the sea. Or she could do the honorable Belmairan thing and kill herself having now been soiled by her captor. Cinnia looked about her new world. She socialized with other women outside of the castle when she went out with the others. She saw no misery. No unhappiness. Everywhere she looked Cinnia saw women leading normal lives, keeping their homes, raising their children. Women who obviously loved, or at least liked and respected their Yafir husbands. These women had made peace with themselves and the Yafir. But had they loved their Belmairan husbands and young men as she loved Dillon?

“What are you thinking?” Ahura Mazda came into her bedchamber where Cinnia had been deep in thought. He joined her on the bed, kissing her lips tenderly. “You look both pensive and perhaps a bit sad, my precious.”

Cinnia looked into his aquamarine-blue eyes, and then she spoke honestly to him of her thoughts. She concluded, saying, “If you took me back now I believe I would go.”

“You probably would,” he agreed, “but you would not be accepted ever again by Belmair, and surely have admitted that to yourself, I know. I will tell you now, Cinnia, for as you know I have access to your former world, that the king argues with the dukes that he will have none but you as his wife and his queen. But having accepted the responsibility of Belmair he cannot leave it now except in death,” Ahura Mazda reminded her. “King Dillon’s powers are greater than mine, it is true. But unless he can find Yafirdom, his powers are useless against us though he summons me and I must obey.