by D. L. Carter
The pain in her voice sliced through to his soul. To his complete shock, he realized her accusation was entirely correct. Worse, he had done it all unawares!
“No. Halidan, never nothing. That was never my will. That was not what was intended. You have my greatest respect. I only . . .”
“But, that is what you have done. Do you deny it?”
“I . . .”
“You have permanently changed my skin so that I will be useful to you for the performance of magic, yes or no?”
High Lord Eioth was widely respected in the Empire for his learning. Many, even his enemies, spoke with reverence of his control of the Elements. His tutors had praised his love of learning and intelligence, but in the next moment he proved that he was also wise.
Falling to his knees he bowed his head toward Halidan.
“There are no words to express my regret. I have wronged you beyond the reach of forgiveness.”
Halidan drew in a sharp breath. “At this moment I should very much like to strangle you.”
“I would beg you do not. Murder is a momentary pleasure bound to cause comment.”
Eioth risked a glance upward. Rage had faded from her face to be replaced with grief and fatigue. Still clutching the sheet to her breast Halidan took one step toward the chair where her clothing waited, but her steps were unsteady and she sank back on the bed.
“I should go,” she began.
“No. Sleep here.” At her suspicious look he continued. “Alone, if that comforts you, but you are in no state to be left unattended. I shall be in the Ritual chamber and if you call out I shall . . .”
“Stay away,” finished Halidan.
Eioth paused, then nodded. “As you wish. Is there anything that you need? Food? Drink?”
He pointed to the chilled fruit juice and she waved him away.
“I should like to get dressed.”
Eioth vanished back into the Ritual chamber and returned with the discarded robe. Halidan regarded it with distaste.
“Do not judge the robe too harshly,” said Eioth, stepping forward to lower it over her head. “I am the criminal, not it. Your day clothes are too confining for sleep.”
With Halidan's weakening assistance, he helped her into the loose robe and tucked her back in the bed. With his own hands he held a glass of juice to her lips until he was content she had drunk enough to recover from the depletion that followed sex and magic; then he arranged the blankets over her.
“Rest here. I shall be only a few steps away.”
He went to brush a few short strands of hair off her forehead, but she moved away.
“It seems like such a waste of effort for a lost ring,” she mumbled sleepily.
Eioth halted, his hand still raised. “What do you mean?”
“The Ritual. So much energy and . . .” She shifted restlessly on the bed. “So much pain for so little result. It's not as if you could not buy another ring.”
Eioth's eyebrows raised. This was something he had not expected. Certainly there was no hint in the Essay that the Sex Magic partner would share the vision. Although, he was beginning to think the author had left out a lot of important things.
“Did you see it?” he asked. “The whole vision? Tell me!”
“Well, certainly. Flying over the land. The city in the lake.” Halidan blinked and tried to focus. “A simple little ring of gold with a couple of colored stones behind a marble pillar.”
“I suppose it makes sense.” Eioth considered for a moment. “You were in the spell with me.”
“Uh huh. That building with the compass circle on the floor. It was Synod Hall, wasn't it?” Halidan's eyes drifted closed as she spoke.
“Yes. It was the Great Hall of the Synod. And that was no simple ring. That was the High King's lost crown.”
Halidan's eyes snapped open. “What?”
Eioth smiled down at her. “Congratulations, Halidan. You have assisted me in locating something that has been lost for more years than you have been alive. Sleep, now. We will speak of it in the morning.”
While Halidan slept Eioth crept around the Ritual chamber, reluctant to make any noise least he wake her or miss some sound of distress. He glared at the three tubs of liquid, which sat in mute accusation. In the morning, he would have to inactivate and discard the contents, but for now they only served as a reminder of his mistake.
The raging disorder of his mind would not let his body rest. Again and again he walked around the chamber, pausing each time to listen at the door for any sound from Halidan. How could he have done this to her? The last words he had spoken to her before the Ritual was trust me; then his actions proved he was not worthy of that trust. He had taken hold of a woman of such admirable qualities that he might never see again and damaged her. His fists clenched and for a moment he wished the author of that damned Essay was before him so he could beat that one to a bleeding pulp.
And yet, he would not. It was not justice.
It was not the author who had harmed Halidan; it was himself, Eioth, High Lord and arrogant fool. He would not cast the blame onto some magician long dead. He, Eioth, had committed the crime with his own hands.
How could it be that he had permitted his body to so overwhelm his intellect? His thirst for new knowledge to be more important than ethics? Not for a single moment had he considered the consequences of his actions. The impact upon the woman, upon Halidan. Where was his soul? His morality?
He carried a small table and chair closer to the door where he could still see Halidan, a small bundle curled under the blankets.
Until tonight, he had held himself in good opinion. He considered himself a just and fair ruler, but with just a few words Halidan had shown him his true face. He shuddered, but refused to turn away from the image of himself that she had presented to him. Instead of just . . . say instead self-serving. Had he not assured Halidan that he had no need to compel servants to bed him? What had he been guilty of if not compulsion all the time she traveled with the processional? Selfish, greedy fool! He groaned and thumped his fist on the armrest twice, accepting, needing the physical pain to balance the one in his soul. How dare he sneer and hold himself higher than Chandri?
Now how was he supposed to provide justice to Halidan? A brief review of the Essay was enough to assure him that there was no way to undo the change to her skin. Eioth had served as magistrate several times and always hesitated before issuing a capital warrant. His rationale was easily expressed, since he could not restore the life, he refused to take one, unless the proof was absolute and so was the need.
But, what could be done for Halidan? He could not give her back her skin, except by promising never to use the spell, again. There was no question of her leaving his employ. Even if the research into Sex Magic was put aside he would not give up Halidan.
That left him with another problem. How to heal the damage to her opinion of him?
He prowled the room again, his gaze alighting on the neat package containing her new headscarf and vest. Irritably he turned away from it. How could he have thought that gifts would be an adequate recompense for such a possession, no . . . invasion. Turning his back on this evidence of his stupidity, he returned and seated himself at his desk. Earlier today, he had begun to record his experiments. He had chosen a book of much the same appearance as the Essay, common brown leather and coarse paper.
Taking up his pen, he wrote:
A commentary on the Ethics and Morality of Sex Magic.
It is important to remember, as with any activity involving thinking, feeling people that all creatures with souls are entitled to be treated with respect. Should the magician choose to treat his own skin with the Preparatory Baths it is well enough, since he does so out of knowledge of the consequences and in full ownership of his own body. But, to place an innocent who has not given consent and does not know or understand the degree to which they are surrendering their future to this branch of magic compelling them to participate in the Preparatory Baths is un
conscionable. To place magic in the skin of such a one is a crime.”
The author had referred to the partner in such impersonal terms that Eioth had, as Halidan accused him, begun to think of the other person as a tool. A vessel. True partnership was not like that. A partner chose to lift up their share of the burden. Chose to be a part of work, sharing in the success and failures. There was no way to know if the original Sex Magic partner had objected to the preparation of her skin, or had been enthusiastic.
The promise of pleasure as a reward was not enough. Gifts? Presents? What did that indicate, except that the original author had treated his partner as if a courtesan with payment given for performance of a sexual act.
Halidan was correct. Eioth's seduction of her had been as distant and impersonal as any purchase of a needed tool. He had overridden her objections, rushed her into the decision, then – and wouldn't his tutors be ashamed of him – compelled her participation in a Ritual when she didn't know its purpose or her own role in it.
He threw his stylus to the floor and watched the ink bleed from the shattered glass.
He could not deny the criminality of his actions. He may have been gentle. He even believed that he was giving her pleasure, but the fact of the matter remained, by the application of the preparatory baths he had raped Halidan's skin.
Chapter Fourteen
“Kiss me! Kiss Me!” cried the apparition.
Norfarland and his friend exchanged a glance. The specter had appeared before them without warning. A woman, possibly, although it was difficult to tell with the degree of decay that had ravaged the transparent flesh. Tags of fabric, or tissue, dangled down the torso. At least, that is what Norfarland hoped he was seeing; the alternative was too repulsive. Drawing a shallow breath in between hard clenched teeth he tried to formulate an answer that would placate the revenant.
“Kiss me!” it demanded. “Love me.”
Even as his friend tried not to retch, Norfarland replied in a voice both polite and calm. “Ah, much as I regret to disappoint a lady, I fear that I cannot.”
That civil answer appeared to shock it.
“Why not?”she demanded.
“I cannot judge from your appearance if you are undead or a revived spirit.”
Now the entity was confused.“What significance is that?”
“Forgive me for being frank, but to be intimate with a dead body is one crime and to interfere with the spirit of a departed is another. I have few enough scruples regarding the commission of sins, but I prefer to know in advance which one I am committing.”
The Adventures of Norfarland ~ Book 31
It was her groans that alerted Eioth that Halidan was awake. He stumbled out of the chair where he was resting and hurried into the little bedchamber. Halidan was attempting to rise, pushing at her blankets with hands that trembled with effort. He was at her side in an instant, raising her head so that she might drink the remainder of the juice. So needy was she that she didn't cringe from his hands until the cup was empty. He lowered her back onto the bed and smoothed her halo of ash white hair off her forehead.
“Rest here a little longer, Halidan. I shall fetch food to you.”
Halidan pressed both hands to her belly and for a moment Eioth was afraid she would be physically ill, but the moment passed. Her stomach rumbled audibly.
“I have had nothing but a little tea since yesterday morning,” she moaned.
“Oh, Halidan. That is not good. After a Ritual food is needed for balance. I shall summon . . .”
“Don't bother,” said Halidan giving him a narrow-eyed glare. “You know Tribel. He probably has some rule about you not having food in your bedchamber.”
“Tribel.” It was Eioth's turn to groan. Given that servant's preoccupation with driving Halidan from the House any food requests from his chambers would be ignored. “I shall take you down to Swift Breezes. There is a restaurant there that will please you.”
“How fast can we get there?” Halidan attempted to lever herself off the bed and collapsed back, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I still hurt.”
Uncertainty was not a familiar sensation to Eioth. Were he in any other House, anywhere else in the demesne, in the Empire, he would have called upon servants for aid confident they would provide it. But, here in his own House? No.
This situation could not continue.
“I shall dismiss Tribel today . . .”
“No, you won't,” said Halidan, a bare statement containing such lack of faith that it cut Eioth to the heart.
It was true he could not and knowing that he desired to do so, if only to please Halidan and was unable, clenched his gut.
“Help me stand,” added Halidan. “I cannot abide being ill.”
In slow stages, Eioth aided her first to sit on the side of the bed, then to stand clinging to his arm. He was, for an instant, grateful for her current weakness even though he was the cause. Had Halidan her full strength, he knew she would not permit him within arm’sreach of her.
“I need to bathe,” said Halidan and tried to stand alone.
Eioth caught her before she hit the ground and lifted her into his arms. When she struggled, he groaned in dismay.
“Don’t touch me! I cannot bear to have you near me!”
“Yes, I know. I know. You hate and despise me. Know this. At this moment you could not hate me more than I hate myself.”
“Don't put that to the test,” muttered Halidan, which pulled a reluctant laugh from Eioth.
“You are too weak to bathe yourself.”
“I am not too weak to hate you.”
That word sent a chill into Eioth’s heart, but he held her in his arms with the same gentleness.
“As may be. Certainly I cannot say that the hatred is not earned. Don't protest. I know you do not want to consider me and bathing in the same thought, but unless you wish to submit to some other's care, or drown, I am your only choice.”
He carried her across the corridor and through into a room twice the size of the Ritual chamber. Halidan could not hold in a gasp. The first thing that caught her eye was a stone rendering of the Sigil of North East Demesne suspended from the ceiling. It had to be twice the height of a grown man and many, many times heavier. She couldn't imagine how the four slender chains anchored to the corners could support that great weight. Then she saw directly beneath it was a small, narrow bed.
“Oh, I could never sleep under that,” cried Halidan. “I would have nightmares about it falling.”
“I agree with you,” said Eioth, setting her on her feet near a storage chest. “Which is why I do not.”
He sorted through the layers in the chest until he retrieved two large towels and bathing robes. He raised his hand over the first and began to gather the Element of Air to his command.
“Stop. Stop,” said Halidan, rubbing furiously at her arms. “Whatever you are doing hurts me.”
Baffled Eioth dismissed the power and turned to face her. “You felt that?”
“Yes. All over my skin. It was like an itch. A burning itch.” Her face was a study of misery. “Have you changed me forever? May I even attend the temple Rituals without pain?”
Eioth heart sank. Had he?
“In all truth, Halidan, I do not know. I shall put all my energy into finding the answer.”
“I doubt you will have the time. You are still the High Lord. You have many other responsibilities,” said Halidan, pointing to the cloth. “What were you doing?”
“Oh. One of Tribel's little habits is to contaminate my clothing and food with poisons from time to time. I never know what he might do or when. Since he is not pleased with me at the moment, I cannot trust anything.”
Halidan sighed, then extended her hand and passed it over the fabric.
“This one is clean,” she said.
“You can tell?” Eioth yielded his place beside the storage box as Halidan ran her hand over each piece until she had divided the contents into clean and contamin
ated.
“Whatever he has used makes my skin itch even without touching it.”
“Ah. His usual pattern is to place a conceal spell upon his work. I have never told him that I can sense his poisons beyond his spells. That magic is probably what you are feeling.”
Halidan rose to her feet and stared about the room. She had never seen anything ornamented in such dreadful taste. It was as if someone had commanded artisans to do their very worst work. To take something beautiful and to add one more decoration, one more color or piece of gilding to make it gross and obscene. The mineral wealth of the room overwhelmed her, but she admitted to herself, no matter what the value of decorations there was not one single item she would desire to have anywhere near her, let alone in her bedchamber.
“I can't believe you sleep here.”
“I don't. I sleep in the room you used last night.” He gave the room's contents a contemptuous glance, then took Halidan's arm to support her through another door into a large bathing room. “When I was eight my father commanded the room be made over in this manner. As soon as I saw that sculpture hanging from the ceiling, I knew my father hated me and wanted me dead. Rather than sleep beneath it, I cleared all the goods out of the storage room next to the Ritual chamber and have slept there ever since.”
Halidan was so shocked she didn't protest when Eioth lifted her robe from her and assisted her down the steps into the bath.
“I cannot imagine it,” she said. “Why would he do such a thing? A father should love his children!”
“I do not know and at this point in my life, I do not care.” He reached for one of the bottles of soap and stopped when Halidan raised her hand.
“That one is poisoned as well,” she said.
Eioth nodded and pointed at another. When they had divided the poisoned soaps from clean, he selected one with a delicate scent and poured some onto his hands. Halidan turned her back to him and clung to the wall of the tub while he smoothed the soap over her. Through sheer will, he suppressed his arousal and cleaned her with as impersonal a touch as he could.
