by D. L. Carter
“Wonderful,” she repeated. “How can you say that? I said I am angry with you.”
“Yes. That is what is wonderful.” He laughed and reached for her, again. “You are doing as I asked, treating me as a real person. You have no idea how it feels to be scolded when for far too long I have been treated with distant respect and fear. No one else I have met would dare raise their voice to me as you have done, not even when it is well deserved. I am pleased when you shout at me. Tell me I am wrong. Never be afraid to tell me.” Catching her about the waist he pulled her into his arms and drew her into his embrace until her head was tucked beneath his chin. “Tell me what I have done to displease you.”
Halidan froze in his arms for five full breaths, then fought her way free.
“You are the strangest person. What good will it do me to reprimand you? Nothing will change. It will be your will that prevails. I shall save my breath and be as quiet as the rest.”
“You are not capable of such a thing,” said Eioth, smiling as he brushed his fingers along her cheek.
Halidan slapped his hand away and snarled when he chuckled. Fighting free of his grip, she stalked across the room.
“This is what you want? For me to screech and scream?” She snatched an ornament off the nearest table and flung it at his head. “Do you want me to destroy your House? Your property?”
Eioth snatched the tiny figurine out of the air and placed it out of her reach. Instead he took a cushion from a chair and handed it to her.
“If you wish to strike me, throw things, use this. But, I warn you, I shall defend myself.”
“This makes no sense.” With a scream Halidan threw the soft pillow across the room away from both of them. “Why are you doing this? This is not the person I am. Why do you want this?”
“I have tried to explain,” Eioth sighed. “You have no understanding of what it is like to be the figure standing on a pedestal. The amorphous being dispensing gifts and punishments. It is cold there, Halidan, so far above everyone else. Cold, stiff, and formal, and they will not permit me to descend to stand with them. I am lonely.”
“So you said,” Halidan sniffed. “Everyone is lonely. High Court down to mortal, we all are alone. We learn to live with it.”
“But, we do not need to be.” His step was slow, but determined. While she backed away, he continued to advance. “We can be together. Comfort each other. We can love.”
“Love? This is not love that you have created between us. This is captivity. I am your servant. Your magical tool. There is nowhere for me to go, no way to escape. You have taken away even the illusion of choice by declaring before so many I am your Lady. But, I warn you, I have no wish for you to drown me, absorb me into your life until there is nothing left of me. I shall resist to the end of my strength”
Eioth stared at her. “This is what you think? How can it be that you so misunderstand me?”
“Misunderstand? No, there is no misunderstanding. You are dragging me in, changing me, using me until there is nothing left of Halidan, but a shell. You would have me give up everything I am to fulfill your needs.”
Eioth stood, shocked into stillness as his mind raced. This, this was the reason for her withdrawal, for her unhappiness and distance. Again, he had not explained himself well. In two steps he crossed the room to seize her hand and press it to his lips.
“But, there is no harm, no loss of self, if I love you in return.”
It was Halidan's turn to freeze. Of all the possible responses, this was not one she expected. Her heart pounded in her throat. “What is this now? Love? Do you think that word is enough?”
Eioth caught her up and held her close. “It is when it’s the truth. Halidan, I am a fool for not speaking clearly. For not saying this sooner. When there is equal giving and receiving of love there is no drowning, but a joining, a melding of life. I have no wish for you to be less. I am offering you more. All of me. My life. My rank. My role in the Empire. I hold nothing back from you. And more, what I hope you will value most, I give my heart to you. I beg you, hold it gently in your hands, for it is all of me.”
Halidan stopped breathing. Truly, of all the things she'd even thought she'd hear from his mouth, a formal declaration of love was not amongst them. No. It was more than simple love. The phrase was a familiar one. She'd read it years ago in the text of an ancient love poem. It was a statement of surrender. Of trust.
“No,” she gasped, wrenching herself free. “No.”
And she fled the room as if pursued by hungry hounds.
As well she might be, as Eioth followed a bare step behind. All through the house they raced, through corridors that emptied of servants who through some alchemy known only to those who wished to retain their employment, knew better than to witness such behavior.
Gasping and wide-eyed Halidan flung herself into her bedchamber and put her full weight against the door trying to close it before Eioth could follow. He was so close behind her that he caught it before it was halfway shut, but he made no move to force it the rest of the way, merely holding it open.
“No. No,” moaned Halidan, putting her shoulder to the wood.
“Peace, Halidan, I do not seek to harm you,” said Eioth firmly. “Do not doubt for a moment that I could not open this door completely and be in that room with you if I chose to, but I do not seek to distress you. Before we end this discussion, I wish to be clear.” He waited until he had her attention before continuing in softer tones. “Halidan, I have no wish to suppress you or drown you. I have only the greatest respect for you, I always have. You think I am demanding service from you, overwhelming you with duty. Perhaps . . . perhaps this is so. But, perhaps I am not. Think on this. Consider that I am granting you all the duty that is the role and responsibility of a great Lady. I hold nothing back from you. I am acknowledging your intelligence, your wit and wisdom in full belief this is within your ability. Think . . . instead of burden, I am granting you the opportunity to be all that you are capable of becoming. To flower and bloom. Believe me, there are duties enough in the North West to keep both of us well-occupied lifelong. I have needed one who could manage the North West and leave me free to deal with the magical commitments. To do both jobs is endless. Why else do you think I must travel so much? Because I must labor every day to fulfill all needs. But, with you at my side,” he smiled and stepped into the room, past the door that Halidan no longer had the strength to hold against him, “with someone wise and strong to share the burdens with me, that work would be eased. And if we also share a love, each day would be a joy.”
Tears were trickling down Halidan's face as he eased the door from her hands and closed it behind him.
“Eioth, forgive me,” she whispered. “I cannot bear the responsibility. Not for the work, but for your heart. I will hurt you.”
“Oh, I do not doubt it,” he smiled at her, “as I have already hurt you. I believe I am strong enough to survive it, just as you have. With time and love, I believe we both shall heal.”
She pressed both hands against his chest. “And I am mortal, I shall die . . .”
He nodded, but did not halt his advance, drawing her close to press a heated, demanding kiss on her lips. “When that day comes I shall grieve. But, now in this moment, we live. You are my beloved, Halidan. Grant me your heart and I will labor lifelong to be worthy of you.”
When she did not reply, but stood in the circle of his arms trembling, he stroked his hand over her head and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Or have I spoken too soon? It may be that I am not yet forgiven . . .”
Halidan shook her head. “No. Fool that I am, I find it harder every day to stay angry with you. Strange, is it not, since I should like to think I would continue in a rage until I had thought of some suitable revenge.”
Eioth arranged his features in an expression of simulated fear, but amusement ruined it almost immediately. “And holding my vulnerable beating heart in your hands is not sufficient?”
; Halidan slipped her hands beneath his over vest and hugged her arms about his chest, resting so that she might hear the reassuring thud of his heart, but did not speak.
Perhaps it was.
Chapter Eighteen
“I am beyond your powers to prevent,” growled the ghost. “I shall have my revenge against the one who slayed me.”
Huddled behind Norfarland, the murderess whimpered and wept.
“I am assured that you earned your end,” observed Norfarland. “Wife beating and adultery are crimes, or so I am told.”
“What did she offer you that you would risk your own soul facing me? Her body? Bah. Her beauty is hardly worth the torments I could inflict upon you.”
“And thus far, all I have suffered is the sound of your voice.” Norfarland smiled. “She has promised me three hundred in gold if I should banish you.”
“You cannot banish or bind me or compel me to go! I shall follow and torment this murdering bitch and make every moment of her life an agony. And when I drive her to take her own life, I shall bind her spirit to mine so eternity shall be mine to teach her better manners.”
Norfarland gathered his courage. “The lady has requested I aid her, sir, and send you on to your rest.”
“How shall you do that? I am a ghost! Your hands cannot touch me, nothing can harm me. I shall remain amongst the living, dwelling in my own House as long as I choose.”
“I do not believe magic permits such a thing. Surely the Laws of Magic would prevent . . .”
“Laws of Magic? Which laws? You have no understanding. I am the magician here. I had more magic in life than you could imagine. How else do you think I would retain such power in death?”
“I only mention it to assure myself you are aware of the power of the Law of Contagion. That which once belonged to a body can be used to influence the body, or the soul it contained.”
“What matters that?” demanded the ghost. “I am dead. I cast off no hair and no longer cut my nails. There is nothing you can use to gain influence over me.”
Norfarland smiled and brought his hand around from behind his back.
“Ah, and there you would be wrong,” he said softly and showed the ghost what he held. “The knife covered with the last drop of blood cast from your living body should be well able to re-kill the dead!”
The Adventures of Norfarland the Bastard ~ Book 3
Eioth spent the next three weeks visiting the city. He left early in company of some few of his magician employees leaving Mitash to acquaint Halidan with details of her, yet again, expanded duties. By the day of the Synod opening, Halidan was confident that she could carry the book of authority well enough, but less confident with the idea of actually matching a magician with a task.
Eioth continued cheerful, even affectionate in his behavior toward her, but did not press for intimacies, which confused her. After such a dramatic declaration of love, she expected him to demand reciprocation and yet he seemed content to have offered his heart and to await her reply in the fullness of time.
For a miracle, Halidan did not become angry at his presumption that she would eventually grant him her heart. Instead, her lip twisted up whenever she thought of it having finally reached the realization that his confidence was a reflection of his true nature. There was no malice intended. A magician of his degree must be confident or no spell he cast would succeed. It simply was the way he was.
Thus matters stood when the day of the opening of the Synod dawned. Halidan was not surprised to find yet another new costume provided for her to wear. When she descended to the House forecourt, she found the color and cut of her dress was a feminine reflection of Eioth's own formal clothing.
Halidan expected them to travel by coach to Synod Hall, accompanied by a full complement of House guards, but Eioth had made other arrangements. Instead, they went on horseback and rode through the streets in company with Halidan's personal guards, Mitash and a few others. Halidan paid little attention to her surroundings. All her concentration was bent toward not dropping the book of authority.
The greeting hall of the High Lords was exactly as Halidan had seen it in the magical vision. The ceiling was as high as five men standing on each other’s shoulders. The room was vast and wide, but despite its size footsteps and voices did not echo. Some characteristic of the stone walls captured all sound so as to give the illusion that conversations were private. Walking beside Mitash in the High Lord's wake, Halidan was about to venture a comment, but Mitash raised one finger to his lips and she fell silent. There were far too many people nearby who could overhear, despite the unnatural hush of the chamber. Eioth saw the gesture and smiled at Halidan as if to give reassurance and encouragement, but said nothing.
After examining the people filling the chamber, Halidan began to be able to identify them without guidance from Eioth or Mitash. Since she knew from her years as a teacher, that there would be eight High Lords and their attendants waiting to be summoned into the Synod chamber she quickly identified the main groups. In the center of each group, one person was in elaborate formal garb, sleeves decorated with the sigils of his demesne as well as the colors of the Elements to which he was bonded.
One High Lord was actually a High Lady, and so old that wrinkles of great age were visible on her Elven face. Therefore, Halidan knew her to be Senoia, High Lady of the True South demesne, the only woman currently serving on the Synod and rumored to be determined not to die until she had an acknowledged heir. At her side walked an obviously mixed blood male, bearing her book of authority. As soon as Eioth's party was admitted to the greeting hall, Senoia came directly across to exchange nods with Eioth.
“Again we drag ourselves away from our responsibilities to be lectured by children on subjects we already know,” commented Senoia dispensing with all formality.
Eioth shrugged. “One requires entertainment and the performance of fools can occasionally provide the opportunity for laughter.”
Senoia snorted. “This year’s fool has not yet arrived.”
Eioth did not even pretend to misunderstand.
“No doubt, High Lord Chandri plans to make a grand entrance,” he said, glancing toward the broad entrance as if expecting the display to begin.
“One could only hope he will trip over his ambition,” observed the half blood male who glanced past Eioth toward Halidan. Seeing that she held Eioth's book of authority, he gave a half bow and raised his arms a little to show that he held the same for Senoia; Eioth was moved to make introductions.
“Halidan tor Ephram, my Lady. Halidan, be known the Senoia of the South and her grandson, Federan.” Eioth leaned toward Halidan as if to whisper a secret, but spoke in his usual voice. “Federan is half blood as you can see, but is a Magician of all four Elements so treat him with respect else he might attempt to cast some spell upon you.”
Instead of being offended Senoia and Federan uttered almost identical snorts.
“Do not permit Eioth to tease you, Halidan,” said Federan. “He performed my Master’s challenge in the Element of Air years ago. At that time, he thought he was funny and we have never been able to convince him that he is not.”
“Fortunately, he has this duty as High Lord,” replied Halidan, “and thus will be spared trying to earn his bread by jesting at the Solstice Fair, else he would starve.”
“Ouch,” said Mitash and winced.
“Ah, I see she is your equal in wit,” laughed Senoia, looking narrowly at first Halidan, then Eioth, as her manner became somber. “I hope that she will soon give you good reason to support a shared interest with me.”
Uncertain what she meant, Halidan glanced toward Eioth for guidance. His face was calm and he merely bowed in acknowledgment of the odd comment. Senoia and her grandson moved along to speak with others in the room.
Mitash leaned toward Halidan and spoke in barely audible tones. “As Federan is half blood and therefore, illegitimate, he may not inherit his grandmother's authority. Every year she petitions privately for
the High Lords to support her application for the rule to be changed.”
Halidan considered this information, then blushed when she finally understood Senoia's parting comment. The old woman had just told Eioth that she hoped that Halidan would have his half blood child and would, therefore, be moved to support the rule change.
Four Elves approached, the individual in the lead wearing the Sigil of North West on his sleeve along with the Sigil for Air.
“Greetings, cousin,” boomed the leader. “Eioth, I have some friends to make known to you. I have told them the North West will support their petition this Synod. This is . . .”
Eioth did not permit him to continue.
“Who are you? By what right do you make decisions for North West Demesne and wear my sigil?” he demanded.
The other blinked and paled. His eyes flashed from side to side as interested observers turned for a better view. “You know who I am. I am Justovan, your heir.”
Eioth folded the sleeves of his robe around his chest while the three Elves who'd accompanied Justovan retreated a few steps and cast around for some reason to go further away.
“You are a very distant relative,” Eioth's voice was dry and soft, which Halidan recognized as Eioth at his most dangerous. “I can think of at least three with greater claim and closer relationship to myself and none of these three have presumed to promote themselves as my heir. They wait as is polite and respectful to be informed of their elevation.”
“High Lord Renthi declared me to be heir after you,” said Justovan loudly.
“I inform you as I have had to inform far too many people of late,” said Eioth in the same dangerous tone, “High Lord Renthi, my father, is dead. He is no longer able to make decisions for the North West.”
There was a hush as those around strained to hear each word. No one wanted to miss a single moment of Justovan's reprimand. Eioth seized Justovan's sleeve and gave it a sharp tug, tearing the threads bonding it to his over robe. Rolling up the torn fabric Eioth tucked the scrap in his own sash.
