They spoke for almost two hours and finally Pierre decided that that was enough for the first meeting. The wolf had already started looking out the window and growling, which made Jourdain pale and Tibault look uncomfortable.
Elwin, furthest from the door and last to leave, stopped by Pierre’s seat when they were the only two in the room,
“My Grace, if I may speak to you more privately now?”
Pierre nodded, waving a hand to the doorman to shut it and leave them be. Elwin returned to his seat. Pierre stood from his desk and then walked over to the large chairs, they seemed far more comfortable anyway. He sat in the one Charlot had been in, pulling it next to Elwin so they faced each other.
“Shall I call you grandpère, then?” he asked, pouring them both some of the brandy that was laid out and handing the margrave’s his glass.
“If you wish,” Elwin replied. He raised his glass and sipped without hesitation. “Your father always called Rhianu ‘maman,’ but I was ‘Elwin’ more often than not. He was older when I met him, you see, in appearance and temperament still a child about twelve, but truly far older. Rhianu raised him by herself for many years before I became involved.”
“Père,” Pierre corrected. “I call Félicien such and the roi Father so as not to confuse the two. I assume you are also far older than you appear?” His earlier comment about decades made no sense unless that was the case for he looked only to be in his thirties.
“Almost sixty-three. It will catch up to me, I suppose, though the longer I stay in Faery the more time acts curiously around me. Do you wish my full name?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.
“No, that is yours to keep,”
“But I know your name, Your Grace, Pierre Salvador.”
There was a hint of magic in the air, but Pierre only smiled and shrugged. Elwin laughed.
“Of course that is not your true name! Your père did well, I am glad. You took up another name?”
“I did. In fact, I do not even know my real second name. I believe Père said that I would be told it once I turned ten and could keep it to myself. As neither of my parents were around then, I never knew. Mère named me Pierre. I found the name Salvador in a book and quite liked it, so I began to add it to my first name shortly afterward so I would not stand out.”
“Smart lad, well done. Yes, fée children often learn their whole name when they are older and can keep it a secret. But it is a shame that you do not know. It can be used as a blessing on the right tongue.”
“Why did père not return for me?”
Elwin was quiet for a moment at the serious question, swirling the drink in his glass. He reached out to pet Magec. “We discussed it, but he decided you were your mother’s son. You belonged in this plane, with these people. Faery, while in your blood, was not in your soul. He knew you would be taken care of here while Morgaine would not have survived. She had been dying before being taken in by the plane. That said, he regretted leaving you dearly.”
Pierre had not had a bad life. He missed his parents, of course, but Ophion had been a wonderful uncle, and then the roi was another father. He had support. Morgaine had had none and had been dying.
He finished his drink in one swig.
Elwin winced and looked aside. “He also felt he could not,” he said, trying to explain for his adopted son. “Faery takes into consideration its citizens so fée and most fay shall not usually have trouble with going between the planes or making time and space suit their needs. Félicien would usually be allowed to go back and forth, he had done so before, but he walked into Faery with your sister without meaning to that time. He could also not find his way back immediately—the plane wanted him there like it had when he was a child. He felt, magically, that if he had managed to leave Faery he would not be allowed to return. It cost him dearly to leave you, but there was little choice.”
Suddenly Pierre remembered how several weeks ago he and Elizabeth had found an open fée ring around Springfinding. She had suggested he walk through it into the other plane and he had tried, thinking about how it might be amazing to see this new land his father lived in (and that it may impress her if he could). Time lined up around the seasonal sabbats and a fée ring was an open door, if he stayed close he thought he would not be lost. It had not worked, the door had not opened for him, and they had continued to have a lovely evening, but the thought that he could have entered and then been locked out did not enter his mind. Lizzy, he was sure, had not known this either for she would not have suggested it.
“Faery can decide this?” he asked in a whisper. People who disappeared into Faery were said to be taken by fée themselves or just unable to find the way back, but if Faery itself had its own will than nothing was certain.
“Not often, but at times, yes,” Elwin confirmed. “I see you did not know this? Be well aware then if you ever wish to come visit. But, as I said, you are fay, Faery will listen to you unless there is dire need otherwise.
“So Félicien stayed and we became a family again. We helped to raise your sister. I believe she is currently celebrating her honeymoon with her new husband and will be in contact with you as soon as they find the time. My daughter and she consider themselves sisters, they are not very far apart in age. Then not long ago your father started to age rapidly and we lost him two years past, but not before he gave us a reason and means to return to you. Whatever higher power wishes us apart all that time ago no longer desired it and Félicien tried to correct our separation.”
More connections to Faery. More family. Pierre nodded, making note to find Rhianu and the margrave’s daughter as soon as possible. There was far more to his heritage than he had thought before.
Elwin put aside his empty glass and waved off an offer to have it refilled. He stood and stretched, Magec walking over to his side immediately. Pierre stood as well.
“Ah, I wish to say one more thing before we go,” Elwin said as he turned to the door. “As your margrave I am yours to command. Should you need anything done that would stain the ground, Faery gladly accept the offering of blood. Your père, I believe, often did it himself, but you may find the prospect daunting.”
“Thank you, I will keep that in mind.” Was the margrave of every duchy also an executioner or only for Spades? If he found a way to phrase it right he would ask his brother about it. Somehow he doubted that Elwin had made this same offer to Aimé so openly, or that Cœurs’ margrave would be so blunt.
“My wife and daughter should be in the summer room, if you desire to meet them. I wish to find and speak with someone else, and then I will join you there so we may all go have lunch together?”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan.”
Seven
Last night’s dream had unnerved Elizabeth. She had not spoken of it at breakfast, letting Pierre and Wolfram guide the conversation and trying to forget, but after they had parted ways she found herself exploring the château in search of that library. It called to her. Heading down hallways that she had never been in she finally found a familiar pair of doors.
She entered.
There was far more light amid the dusty books. It was still early morning and the sun was just high enough to peak through the large windows. To her relief it was not exactly the same as in her dream—maybe it was simply a nightmare that wished to cause her unease?
But such dreams were not often without reason.
She found the spot where the old book had fallen. Looking up into the shelves she noticed a book half-pulled out as if it had been hastily returned to its spot. From the color of the spine it looked to be the same one. A chill ran down her back.
Lizzy took a deep breath and, based on a feeling and no more, held out of her hands. The book fell into her grasp and she almost let it slip through it was so heavy. A table stood near the shelf and she placed it down before she could drop it.
It was old. The leather was cracked and the pages yellowed. She did not look yet at the title, but had neither done so in her d
ream. Or had it been a dream? Could she continue to call it such when it was clearly so much more. A vision, perhaps, or an omen.
She had hoped more magic would enter her life and it seemed her wish had come true.
The title was still legible even if some of the letters were peeling: A Complete and Thorough Account of Clandestina’s Bestia, Magia, and Cræfts.
Now wasn’t this an interesting book? She had not found something like this in her family’s libraries. Looking around now she saw the other books were also different than had been in her dreams—no books on cræfts or bestia were as out in the open as she had seen last night.
Most books mentioned the fée as part of the bestia of Clandestina, but omitted much because it was either unknown or not thought proper. The only cræft ever written extensively on was blancræft, with noircræft sometimes mentioned, and necrocræft never. Some people did not even believe in the dark magic. And magia? That was different than cræft, it was a merging of craefts actually if Lizzy remembered right, but it was restricted to being taught by other beings or was inherent in a bestia. Beside the fée what else were there here? The keres…
She opened it to the first page and began to read.
“Clandestina is a realm surrounded in mystery. Once heavily connected to the plane of Faery it was, and is, a harsh and beautiful land. Separation of the two planes occurred in the early millennia after Amôru disappeared from the world. The plane of death, Thanatos, was already separated, but the Mountains of Mist, or Mists of Judgment (see: Akhlys) stayed for a longer time. Some historians claim that the Bastoni mountains are the remnants of Akhlys, and the last of the keres may be found there, but I believe that, as they are now, the Bastoni were mountains belonging to Faery.”
She soon realized this was not the kind of book that she should be reading in the daylight where she could be found. After the introduction there was a table of contents and three chapters were dedicated to necrocræft alone. She could well be reprimanded for being in possession of this, though she did not think if Pierre knew that he would allow that to happen. There was no law against this, as such, but it would have a great affect on social standing.
She hid the book behind several tomes and left the library with a promise that she would return later in the night.
***
Lizzy was walking back to her room when someone ran into her. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall and managing not to fall over.
“Oh my, I am so sorry, mademoiselle!”
She looked over to see a woman in a deep curtsy, breathing heavily as she had been running. She had not looked up and was waiting to be excused.
“It is alright,” Elizabeth replied slowly. She had not been hurt, just surprised.
The woman looked up and, seeing that Elizabeth really was fine, smiled brightly. “I am Síofra, mademoiselle!” she introduced herself. She curtsied again, quickly this time, in a manner that would have been rude save for her obvious hurry. Her dark red hair was a mess and her clothes not quite in line. “I am late to dancing practice with my mother and Lady Maiolaine. Oh! Would you like to come along? I insist you be my guest now after what I have done. Please come with me?”
Lizzy could not help but smile. The girl was earnest and had truly meant no harm. Elizabeth herself had no bosom friend, having never had a girl her age close by growing up. Eglė was an elder sister who listened to her secrets, but never spoke of her own in return. This woman seemed her age, perhaps a year or two older at most. She may become a good friend.
“Though I must warn you,” Síofra continued with a wicked smile, having caught her breath, “our dances are those many in polite company would disagree with, should that interest you.”
“More so than the waltz?” Lizzy asked in return. The dance was still considered too close and intimate for some of her parent’s generation, though her peers had never seen it as such.
The other woman laughed. “Yes, more so than the waltz!”
“I would be delighted,” Lizzy replied. Síofra then snatched her hand without asking and began to run down the corridor again, Elizabeth at her heels trying to keep up while laughing along.
They found the room quickly enough, Síofra said she had been there before after all, but Elizabeth thought some exhibition was being held and they were still early. She soon realized it was the ‘dancing’ that had been mentioned before—two women, one of whom she recognized as Maiolaine, faced each other with swords in their hands. They wore skirts, though no blouse or even strip of cloth covered their breasts. A pair of younger girls, Maiolaine’s daughters, stood to the side, fully dressed with wooden sticks as their own swords, observing.
The older of the girls then announced that they should begin, and Lizzy watched as the two women circled around each other, thrusting, jabbing, and parrying with grace. The other woman was taller and more skilled, that was easy to see, her large blue eyes remaining alert and her face a mask even if her movements seemed almost bored. They stopped only when Maiolaine yelped in pain and crimson trickled from a wound down her front.
Yes, this dance would be far more improper than the waltz.
“Let me,” Elizabeth said, rushing to the injured woman’s side. There was already a bandage pressed to the shallow cut and she placed her palm over it.
“Blancræft, madame,” she said as means of explaining. “It will heal far faster.” When she moved her hand after a moment, cleaning the blood, the wound was already gone.
“Merci, Lady Elizabeth.”
“You are most welcome.”
Maiolaine could not see the wound, her breast in the way, so she touched it to make sure it was well. She nodded another thank you. “I do not believe my husband could do much better. He is a blancmagus himself, you see.”
Lizzy smiled. So the steward knew blancræft as well. Perhaps he would be open to teaching her, or at least showing her who might be a tutor to her.
“A pleasure to meet you,” the other woman greeted with a curtsy after the wound was tended to. “I am Rhianu of Faery and Spadé.”
“Oh, please, it is mine,” Lizzy said, performing her own curtsy, realizing the margravine was speaking to her. “I am not your equal, Madame, much less your superior.” The curtsy had been too low and it made Elizabeth uncomfortable.
“The duc, I hear, is in love with you. For one that may likely become our duchesse, we owe you this,” the fée woman replied. That Lizzy could not contest. Their courting, though only just begun, was serious. She likely would become the duchesse unless something great or terrible stopped it.
The margravine then finished cleaning her sword of blood, taking hold of the blade and holding it out handle-first. “Do you know how to hold a blade, Lady Elizabeth?”
“I do not,” Lizzy said, looking to the sword that had pierced flesh and was being offered. “I am a blanc-witch. I would rather not harm if possible… It makes me uneasy.”
“Sometimes it is the only option.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement but still did not accept the blade.
“Very well.” Rhianu tossed the blade up and caught it by the handle before sheathing it at her side. “I am certain Our Grace will pull his blade for you if need be.”
Síofra laughed and her mother turned to look at her with a glare.
“I did not mean it in such a fashion!”
The other two girls in the room seemed confused and Elizabeth blushed deeply when she understood the meaning herself.
“Forgive my daughter,” Rhianu said to Lizzy. “She has just discovered human men. Do not be bothered. Though you must learn not to blush at the thought of your beloved. It lets the whole world know your thoughts.” It was said with a warm smile.
Síofra took her own sword, one that was metal but still dull, and her mother began to correct her grip and posture before showing her what movements she should practice.
Maiolaine began to put on her blouse. Rhianu had not bothered and the nudity did not seem to bother Síofra. They we
re all women, though, so Lizzy did not see much of an issue, even if it was not a norm she was used to.
“The lack of attire above the waist is for the same reason men duel at times without shirts,” Maiolaine explained. “To prevent infection from the cloth being pushed into flesh. We try not to injure each other, but it can happen as you saw.”
“Yes, Maman,” Apolla and Eliana said together.
“Forgive the silly question,” Elizabeth said, “But why are you learning swordsmanship?”
“Spadé,” Rhianu said, “means ‘swords’ in Italaviani. Multiple swords, and gendered female at that. It is not uncommon for fée to wear a blade, male and female. When I was given the responsibility to protect the border I thought it would be helpful to gain allies. Maiolaine joined my daughter and myself for lessons and now brings her own daughters that they are old enough to understand the responsibility. I hope you choose to join us more often, Lady Elizabeth, even if you do not yourself pick up a sword.”
“I would be honored, Lady Rhianu.”
“We can have fun beside as well,” Síofra added. “I would like to know you, Lizzy. Maybe you can meet Sister!”
“You have a sister?”
“Or well, she is actually my niece.”
Rhianu cleared up the confusion. “I raised His Grace Félicien when he was in Faery. He brought his daughter when he returned several years ago. My daughter and his grew up together.”
“Oh… my deepest apologies for your loss.”
Síofra’s ever-present smile disappeared for a moment. Félicien had been a wonderful uncle-figure to her while he had been alive and she still missed him dearly.
“My thanks, Elizabeth. I believe he could not live without his wife and, after making sure his children were grown and taken care of, he followed her. He is happy now.”
“I do hope so.”
The somber mood did not last long and Elizabeth was finally persuaded to try to use a blade. She found it interesting, but was not very good, though she was assured that was not unusual for a first lesson.
Delphinium- or A Necromancer's Home Page 7
