by Lynn Hardy
My mind will always stay focused and sharp.
Magic around me will be in constant use
To repair the damage from nature’s abuse.”
A wave of dizziness causes my stomach to flip-flop. My power level is really low. I think I need a little more time to recover before casting any more spells. The migraine comes swiftly on the heels of nausea but disappears almost as fast. Hey, repairing abuse… it fixed the membranes!
Having succeeded in attaining my dream figure and being somewhat confident I won’t be losing it, at least not on this world, I reach for the Charmin. I struggle into the pants that came off with such ease. On my way out to the bedroom, I take time to examine the rest of the accommodations a little closer.
The far end of the next room contains a sunken tub. Snow white, marbled granite with hairline traces of cobalt provide a beautiful contrast to the dark blue-gray rock from which the castle is made. The recessed structure is shaped like two teardrops joined in the middle reminding me of Siamese twins. It is as big as a twin-sized bed. The walkway around the Roman bath is either solid stone, the same as the walls, or so well tiled that finding the seams will mean looking closer than I am ready to. Turning around to examine the rest of the thirty-foot room, a glimmer catches my eye. Now let’s see what all the fuss is about.
Across from the tub, a mirror is positioned over a waist-high cabinet occupying the entire wall behind the doorway to the bedroom. The reflective surface stretches from the ivory countertop to the ceiling. My reflection glares back at me.
Oh my dear God! What did they do to my hair? I’ve heard of frosting your tips, but this is ridiculous! With the light streaming in from the bedroom and the candle I hold, the colors are faded but distinguishable.
My hair is dark auburn at the roots. A few inches from the scalp, the colors lighten to a more true red color. Another few inches and it blends into an orange red or a carrot top. Eventually all the red fades, leaving a couple of inches of blonde on the tips. No wonder everyone is doing a double take.
My decorative mane has gone from mostly straight to cascading waves of gentle curls. The hair is pushed forward with a pearl headband, creating volume in the front while holding the hair out of the way. My layered tresses flare up a good inch behind the pearly arch of the band.
Examining the decorative hairpiece, I notice a faint blue light emanating from the pearled base. An enchantment to hold my hair? My hood must have another enchantment that nullifies the one in the band, or my hair wouldn’t fit inside. When the hood is down, the style allows even someone in the front to have a view of the full range of colors.
A whispered whoosh of a door opening sounds from the next room. I turn to peer into the bedroom. The light from the candle strikes my hair. My mane flares to life like God’s famous bush.
Oh, now I get it. With even a small amount of light, my hair gives off the impression of a living flame. No wonder it nearly gave the guards a heart attack when I introduced myself to Prince Szames as I stood in the sunlight!
Examining my facial features, I find not much has changed. I still have mostly straight eyebrows. High cheekbones highlight an average nose with a slight ball on the tip. Unfortunately I still have the same thin lips. Is it the same?
Moving closer, I find I still look the same, but it is the same as I look with makeup on. I know my face is bare. My lips are fuller than my normal thin, almost nonexistent mouth. My eyes are a little larger. My eyelashes are long, thick, and curved, even more so than when I wear mascara. And best of all, my skin tone is light beige with a slight blush on the cheeks.
Well, this I can handle. I was, what I consider, above average without makeup. Unfortunately if I wanted to be pretty, or maybe just feel pretty, I had to wear makeup. Now I have that look full time…
“Milady Archmage Reba, the master tailor has arrived.” The chambermaid interrupts my thoughts.
“Thank you, Crystal. I will be there directly.” Taking one last glance at the mirror, shaking my head in disbelief at the fortune I have been granted, I saunter into the other room, carrying my robe over my arm. Crystal holds the door for me as I enter my very own reception chamber.
A grizzled man, short and balding, bows as I enter, as do the two ladies flanking him.
Giving a nod, I introduce myself. “I am Archmage Reba. You must be Master Tailor Edward.”
I sense his shock. Whether it is my colorful locks, my gender, my attire, or a combination of all three, I can’t tell, but only a slight twitch of his lips betrays these intense feelings.
“A pleasure, Milady Archmage Reba.” He bows again. “This is my first apprentice, Jhelum, and my daughter, April, my second. I know the hour is late. Would you like to see some sketches of the different styles of clothing I can have ready for you on the morrow?”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness concerning the late hour. Perhaps I can help narrow the selection down before we begin.” With my hands behind my back, I explain my needs.
“I have much to accomplish in a short time. My clothes, therefore, must allow a certain freedom of movement that a dress will hamper. I will undoubtedly be on horseback a great deal. A skirt would not be suited for that endeavor either. However, I know propriety calls for a certain amount of modesty. I’m unaware of the exact standards to which your society holds. Perhaps if you have something like pants but having enough material that it might appear skirtlike and, therefore, feminine?”
“Milady, it’s not unheard of for noble women to dress in a fashion that is not too dissimilar from what you are wearing when out riding for the hunt. However, for everyday attire, we will need something that, as you suggest, gives the appearance of a skirt at least. You have given a detailed description of your needs and have saved us marks of searching. I believe I have just the thing.” I perceive excitement building as he smiles at his apprentice. “April, do you have the sketch of the—what did we call it—the Fall something or another…”
“Father, I know the one. We called it ‘Fall Comfort.’ It won’t take me more than a moment to locate it,” responds the brunette Edward introduced as his daughter. With a robust nose and rotund body, she is a full-figured gal. So not everyone here is a beauty.
“Excellent.” The master tailor pulls out several feet of string. The gentleman begins to loosen the tie binding it. He addresses me once more. “Milady, if you would like, we can get started on the measurements.”
“Of course. Where would you like to begin?” I ask, longing for a bed.
As Edward measures, April searches. Within minutes, she approaches, a piece of paper thrust out in front of her like a shield. The top of the woman’s head fails to reach the top of my shoulder, as with all the females I have met on this strange world. I guess I could be called an Amazon here and with good reason.
I feel her nervousness. If I were half that anxious, I’d be trembling. Haltingly April curtsies, bowing her head before turning to her the tailor. “Father, I believe I have it. Is this the one you were thinking of?”
“Yes, that’s it.” Taking the parchment from her, Edward holds it out for my examination. “Milady Archmage Reba, this is an idea we had to create a more relaxed look for the nobility. It is a three-piece ensemble intended to allow greater freedom of movement. There is a blouse, which as you see is quite voluminous. Yet with the cut, it still appears utterly feminine. Both that and the skirt are tucked into a wide belt fastened from behind. See how the belt reaches halfway up the torso, curving to form a peak in the center?”
Edward beams as he reveals the inventive new style. “That will accent the feminine physique. We have several of the belts in various colors. Oh, yes, I almost forgot the most important detail. I believe I can use some of the fabric in the skirt to form a separation so it will wear more like pants but still appear as you suggested, dresslike.” Immersed in his passion, his fear is forgotten. “Do you have any color preference?”
“Edward, I trust you implicitly. I will leave that decision in you
r capable hands. I can see why you are a master tailor. You certainly know your work.” The reassuring compliment causes the man to blush. I perceive baffled desire stir in the man who is old enough to be my father. Note to self: watch the flattery.
“In that case, Milady Archmage Reba, I bid you good night.” The master tailor sketches a courtly bow. The trio moves toward the door so I turn back to the bedroom.
“Milady, shall I have a bath drawn?” Crystal asks as Edward departs.
“Thank you, but I prefer to bathe in the morning.” A yawn escapes me. “If you will have the water ready by first light, I’d appreciate it. A candle burning by the bed will be the last thing I require this evening besides a brief message delivered to my companions.” I pause, discerning Bernadette’s expectation of instruction as well.
“Bernadette, Jamison intends to spend the night with the other healers. You may deliver the message to him. If he requires no further assistance, you may retire for the evening as well.” When her heart pounds like a mouse scurrying from a swooping hawk, I pause, concentrating on my empathy.
Not knowing what else to say, I am too tired to be anything but direct. “Bernadette, why are you so frightened?”
“The dar-r-k, milady.” Speaking of the evil lurking in the night causes her fear to escalate to a new height. “And the de-emons,” she stutters.
“I placed a magical wall between the castle and the countryside. You can’t see it, but you can see the demons when they touch it. If an enemy flies into the invisible barrier, you will see fire blossom in the sky. The life of any demon that comes into contact with my magic will be forfeit. There is no reason to fear. The demons can’t get inside the city walls.” I smile as I perceive her anxiety ebbing. Quickly I relay a message for Jamison.
She paraphrases my message beautifully. “Your summons is as follows: If possible, the Archmage Reba requests your attendance at breakfast in her chambers with the others of your group.”
“That’s perfect.”
She dips her head.
Turning back to the bedroom, I wonder if I am supposed to give a more formal dismissal.
The door opens and closes behind me. I guess I did well enough. I turn to the waiting blonde. “Crystal, I need the rest of the men accompanying me to be directed to my chambers for breakfast at first light as well.”
“I will see to it, milady.” Having already seen to the other items, she turns immediately to deliver the messages. Wanting nothing more than to shut my eyes for a good, long while, I stumble to the pillowed plateau.
I note where the furniture lies, in case I awaken to a dark room. To my right are the fireplace and a table with two chairs. Between the dining set and the bed lie an uncomfortable-looking chair, two loveseats, and several tables of varying size. Someone, mindful of my needs, has laid a nightgown on the bed. A thick, cotton robe is draped over the closest chair, and slippers are by the bedside.
After stripping off my clothes, I climb into the pajamas. Even though I prefer to sleep in the buff, I know if an emergency arises, I will need the covering.
Crawling into a bed almost twice the size of the king-sized pillow-top I usually sleep on, the lethargy I have been ignoring overcomes me. I lean to blow out the candle resting on the nightstand. The colors fade from the room. I forgot I can see in the dark. So much for needing to memorize the furniture pattern.
Will I awake in my own home? I hope not. I’d really like to see a little more of this world before I go… or wake. But just in case I’m still here in the morning…
“Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I’m here when I awake,
Recharged power I now make.
As I slumber peaceful and deep,
Magic into me will now seep.”
The last words are either thought or said, I know not which. I drift into peaceful bliss.
Chapter Nine
“Kyle, I had the strangest dream. It was so real,” I mumble, searching for the warm body located not too far from me. Cold emptiness greets my hand. My eyes pop open. I bolt upward, sitting straight up on the bed. Gazing around the large room at all the muted colors, I rub my eyes. am I still dreaming?
I shake off the haze of sleep when I hear a noise from my right. The bathroom was over that way. A door opens in the corner, well past the location of the lavatory. The room shines, coming alive with a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. A blonde enters carrying a candle on a metal holder surrounded by three panes of glass and a shiny, metal back.
“Milady, is there something I may bring you?” inquires the woman wearing a dark blue, floor-length skirt and a gray blouse.
“Ah, Crystal.” So it wasn’t a dream after all. “Some water would be welcome. Do you know how long until sunrise?”
“It is still almost two marks before morning bells, milady.” Crystal strides over to a dresser sitting next to the armoire in the corner.
Well, I feel rested, even if it is an ungodly hour. Matter of fact, I never feel this energetic in the morning. Throwing back the thick pile of covers burying me to my chin, I move to the side of the bed. Crystal approaches with a glass in one hand and a candle in the other.
“Milady, would you like to start with the correspondence that came in last night?” she queries, handing me the requested water.
“Correspondence? I’ve been here, what, a day?” Baffled, I shake my head. “Yes, I suppose I should start with those.”
Stepping into my slippers and grabbing the robe, I hurry to follow the chambermaid as she marches out of the bedroom. The maid’s head pops up. She is surrounded in an echo of surprise. She pauses in the process of gathering items on a metal tray.
“Thank you, Crystal, but I will take care of those at the desk.” She hesitates in the doorway for a fraction of a second. I perceive confusion. Wondering if my lack of etiquette is already causing problems, I dismiss the foreign emotions from my thoughts. I’ll have to learn more about the rules here before I wind up doing something that is totally taboo in this culture.
I move to the chair behind the desk. The ebonized wood is solid. The pillowed seat makes it almost comfortable. Crystal places the two folded manuscripts before me then exits the room. Looking at the immense expanse of the desk, I have no clue where to begin.
Picking up the missive on top, I inspect the letter. There is something scrawled on the front. It is heavier than expected. On the back, blue wax has been placed where the folded edges meet. The seal has a castle stamped into it. I’m going to need some additional skills. Well, I feel much better. Rejuvenated, as a matter of fact. It’s time to get with the program.
“The Cuthburish language I now know,
Reading and writing are needed so
Magic will copy from this written note
The necessary skills from he who wrote.”
I concentrate on the effect I want to accomplish. After a thrilling wave caresses me, I open my eyes to see a blue light move from the letter to my arms. No pain… ooh, I love being a mage. With a thought, I can now recall how to affix a seal to any style of correspondence I wish. It also occurs to me that this seal, the one with the castle, belongs to the reigning king of Cuthburan. A letter from the king?
Sliding open the center drawer, I find a fascinating assortment of items: an inkwell; several quills; a container holding fine-grained sand; a rectangular stick of red wax; a thick stack of parchment; a seal; and yes, a long, thin letter opener.
I wonder whose signet this is. I take out the metal stamp along with the letter opener. Engraved on the signet is what I first assume are conjoined teardrops, but looking closer, I see the individual lines depict a flame. Is this supposed to be my stamp?
Prying open the wax with the slender knife, I lay the first letter, the one from King Arturo, flat on the desk in front of me.
Archmage Reba,
The War Council of Cuthburan is meeting on the morrow at midmorning bells in the Council Chamber. We respectfull
y request the honor of your attendance.
King Arturo of Cuthburan
Liking the simple and direct correspondence, I set it aside. Taking the next letter, I turn it over to break the seal. The wax has the impression of a flower embedded in it. It reads:
Dear Milady Archmage Reba,
In order to convey my sincere appreciation for the services you have rendered, I ask that you join me, in my chambers, for lunch on the earliest day of your convenience.
Sincerely,
Princess Szeanne Rose
of Cuthburan
“Wow, two invitations from royalty!” I say to no one in particular.
Taking out the inkwell, quills, and the box of fine-ground sand, I compose replies. I accept both offers. Finishing the last line, I bring out the stick of wax. I heat this over the open flame. When it starts to melt, I press it onto the envelope where the folded page overlaps. Blowing makes it stiffen slightly before I press the flame signet onto the waxy surface. I rise to stretch after placing the finished product in the center of the desk.
Who knew that writing could be such a chore? I never thought it would take so long to scrawl a few words. I saunter over to the door on my right.
I pause, putting my thoughts in order. I had been mulling over a security spell while writing out the replies. I turn my focus inward. The words appear in my mind. I pace around the room, reciting the rhyme.
“Nosy people will want to see
What’s taking place inside of thee.
Whatever is spoken inside these walls,
Will be heard by none, however they call.”
Like a rush from an alpine stream, power flows through my veins. I feel feather light, almost floating, as I move along the edge of the room. Uttering the final word, I arrive at the door to the reception chamber, having made a complete circle. A quick stab of pain disappears like dew on a desert morning. It is easy to ignore as I whisper, “Sight,” to watch the enchantment’s progress.
Blue radiance resides along the path I have taken. It oozes along the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Within minutes, the entire room is surrounded by a shining barrier. And there we have it, my very own home security system!
