The Master and the Sorceress

by Bernadette Rowley

  Hetty crossed her arms under her breasts. “It’s the principle of the thing. It’s not right, and he should be held accountable for his actions.”

  “You will not be the one to do that, Hetty.” She fixed her friend with the unblinking stare which usually had people looking away, but she should have known better than to think Hetty would be daunted. Not that she really imagined she could intimidate her. She only wished to impress upon her that she could handle her own affairs.

  Hetty stood and drew Kat up with her, clutching her elbows with boney hands. “I love you like a daughter, Katrine Aranati. This moment is a crossroads for you, and you must make the correct turning. If you take the counsel of your heart, it may be a mistake. Please promise you will make no rash decisions.”

  Kat drew Hetty close, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “And you are like a mother to me. I value your advice, and I will try to keep it in mind as I deal with James.” It was an easy promise to make, but harder to keep in light of the desire that had raged through her in the meadow.

  She was more certain now she could convince James to take a chance on her, whatever her promise to Hetty. She could have a life of magic and a loving man, and she would if it was the last thing she did. Fiery determination blazed through her, and Kat realized her melancholy had subsided. Had it been seared from her in the heat of passion? And, if that was the case, wasn’t it proof that loving James was the right course for her?

  Now all she had to do was convince him.

  James greeted Cal and his wife, Sorrel, at the front door of Stenmore Manor and was engulfed in a hug by his friend.

  “Congratulations, James,” Cal said as Sorrel disappeared in search of Melanis. “No more doubts then?”

  He escorted Cal into the small parlor and closed the door. “I never had doubts about Melanis,” he said, handing his friend a goblet of mulled wine. “I had to come to a decision about the direction I wished my life to take.”

  “You look more relaxed than I’ve seen you in a long time. When is the wedding?”

  “Mel wants it soon. We’ve waited long enough—I can’t believe she doesn’t hold it against me.”

  “She loves you.”

  James shook his head. “This isn’t a love match. It’s a meeting of minds and lives, a marriage of convenience. This way, there’s no drama or upheaval.”

  Cal frowned. “I think you may be underestimating Melanis. She has real feelings for you.”

  Fear uncurled in his gut. If Melanis loved him…he didn’t know how to relate to her under those circumstances. His mind flew to the instant connection he had with Katrine. Right from literally running into her, they struck sparks off each other. It was how he had finally concluded they could never be together. He couldn’t control her or his desire for her, and it terrified him.

  “You appear disturbed by my observation,” Cal said. “I thought you would be filled with joy to have won over the most eligible widow in the region.”

  James ran his fingers through his hair. What he really wanted to do was run far away from Brightcastle and the trap he had set for himself.

  “Love was never part of the plan. I don’t love Melanis, and I never will.” James paced back and forth across the parlor, his mind frantically seeking a way out of the mess he had gotten himself into. If Melanis loved him, he could never be sure their relationship wouldn’t evolve into an ugly distortion of the civilized pattern it currently followed.

  Cal stepped in front of him. “If I had guessed how this would upset you, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. Forget I said anything. I may be wrong anyway.”

  James held his hand up. “No, you’re right. I should have seen it myself. It’s why she waited for me to fumble my way to commitment.”

  “Does it change anything? When all is said and done, a loving wife is a precious gift.”

  James pulled himself together. “Of course it is.” No need to let his friend see his distress. He didn’t understand James’s need for order and control. Both these things he thought he had with Melanis. Now, he wasn’t sure. How long would it be before she realized he wasn’t enough and made his life a living hell? How long before she made demands he couldn’t accept?

  “Let’s join the ladies for dinner,” he said and led the way, his body in Stenmore House and his frantic mind casting far and wide for a solution.

  Kat set out early the next morning in search of James. She had no idea where he lived, but how difficult could it be to track him down? All she need do was ask in the market. Someone would know him.

  A frigid wind blew in from the north, and Kat drew her coat tight about her body. She wore her usual garb, and the looks of the townsfolk turned curiously in her direction. Once in the market, she inquired and was given directions to the shop of the master goldsmith. Kat smirked. She should have guessed James would seek out the company of his own kind. Apparently, the shop and residence were located near the castle.

  She kept her eyes downcast as she walked, only raising them to avoid walking into other brave souls who were out this early in the morning. On the way, she spied the cathedral and entered the forecourt, pausing to admire a statue of the Goddess. She continued on through an arch and into the chamber of worship, eager to spend a few moments before the brazier that always burned there. Perhaps she could light a candle for her family and one for Hetty.

  Kat took a candle from the shelves that fanned out either side of the fire and lit it, placing it on the circular stone platform beside the brazier. She lit another for Hetty then said a prayer to the Goddess. She was the only one in the building and a deep peace descended upon her. She closed her eyes and drew in the serenity, wrapping it around herself like a cloak against the trouble of the outside world.

  All would be well. She would convince James they should be together, and she could have her vocation as well. Perhaps the kingdom of Thorius might one day accept witchcraft for all the good it could do.

  Feeling better than she had in weeks, she turned to leave the cathedral, but stopped idly to read the marriage banns posted in the vestibule. Her blood ran cold as she read the single note fluttering in the blustery wind. Her heart slowed as though time itself stood still.

  It is with great joy that Lady Melanis Stenmore of Brightcastle and James Tomel, Master Jeweler of Costa, announce their intention to wed. Any person who can name a reason this couple cannot be united should present themselves at the next service and state their objection.

  Praise the Goddess

  Aphra Havisa, High Priestess

  Kat pulled the notice from the wall and screwed it up, channeling a burst of magic into the paper ball so it turned instantly to ash. The dust fell from her fingers, but the destruction did nothing to lift her anger. How could she get this involved with James and not know the man had a fiancée? A fiancée. A fiancée!

  With each repetition, her fury grew and, with her fury, her magic. Kat fed the beast within as over and over in her mind tumbled images of her encounters with James during the past weeks. Encounters which had meant something–everything–to her. But it seemed he had led her on, only to cast her aside when she gave him what he sought. He had played her like a harp, made her purr under his hands like a faithful cat. Well, this feline had claws, and she would not be any man’s plaything.

  Kat tuned back to the brazier and lit every candle with one sweep of her hand. She left the cathedral ablaze with candlelight and strode out into the street. Heat rose within, stronger than ever before. She was a swirling figure of magic, no longer Katrine Aranati but a mystic vessel, capable of anything. No longer would she wait on any man’s pleasure, and she would not allow him to cast her back into the abyss she had dwelt in. She had power–more than she had ever realized–and she would use it, not be afraid, and not hide like a worm under a rock.

  She walked through the town square, the blast of her magic lighting each candle, hearth and torch within one hundred paces of her. She sensed the flare of kitchen hearths and candles, empty fireplaces
and dozens of torches that had been extinguished with the daylight. The ground trembled with her footsteps, and she focused inwards, calming the response of the earth. She couldn’t give herself away so clearly as to have an earthquake follow her through the city. Birds launched themselves from eaves and rooftops and flew squawking into the sky. Cats stared at her from the depths of alleys as she passed, and dogs ran howling. All except for that dog…and that one.

  Kat stopped in the middle of the street, almost at her destination. The night hounds had found her. She looked into their red eyes and knew no fear. They were hers. Instinctively, she knew, even though she didn’t understand why. She snapped her fingers and four of the beasts fell in behind her. She continued on and soon found the goldsmith’s house.

  “James.” She spoke in her mind.

  He appeared at an upper window. Seconds later, he stepped through the front door into the street.

  “Katrine…” His tone was low, guarded. Dark shadows lay below his eyes and his hair rested upon his shoulders. “What are you doing here? With them?”

  She placed her hands on her hips and held her head high. He would never suspect how his betrayal had wounded her. “They are mine now. They are true to me. Unlike you.”

  He raised his hand to stop her, but she gave an abrupt shake of her head.

  “I loved you, James. I gave my whole self to you, only yesterday, and today I discover you are betrothed. How long?”

  He took a deep breath. Let him lie. She would know it.

  “Two years we have been friends,” he said.

  “And how long lovers?”

  “Half of that time.”

  “Have you told her about me?” Her voice was cold, even though she was boiling inside.

  “No.”

  “So… I suppose I wasn’t around long enough for it to matter.”

  “Can I speak now?” He stepped closer.

  One of the hounds growled, but James reached out and grasped her hands. Hands that tingled with magic.

  “I’ll never forget you, Katrine, if it’s any consolation.”

  “As if it could ever be enough,” she spat. “Do you recall our union yesterday?” Was it only yesterday he had set her world trembling with the power of his love making? “You made me a woman, and today you branded me with your treachery. Two lovers…will you tell her what you’ve done?”

  “She suspected there was another woman but, now we are officially betrothed, Melanis won’t care.”

  Kat closed her eyes and clutched his fingers one last time—a moment she would have to survive on for the rest of her life. When she opened her eyes, the man she loved stood before her, and, for a brief moment, he showed her what was within his heart. What she saw wasn’t treachery or betrayal. It was pure love, and it was for her.

  She stepped back. “You’ve made your decision. If I had realized I would’ve fought harder. I don’t begin to understand you, James, but I’ll respect your choice. Be happy.”

  Kat turned and walked away without a backward glance, her hounds trotting at her heels. She had to dispel the power gathered within, so she led the hounds deep into the woods, blasting her magic at sick, scrawny trees as she went, turning them to ash, until weariness dragged at each step. Then she turned and walked back into Brightcastle, leaving the hounds in the forest.

  Back at Hetty’s, she shed her wet clothes and boots, and bathed herself before the fire in the kitchen. Hetty said not a word, but fetched clean clothes for her, dark eyes considering her all the while. Then Kat climbed the stairs to her bed and fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 13

  Kat leaned against the nursery doorframe and watched her sister and baby nephew. Mica grew quickly, and Esta looked serene and blissful as she suckled the babe. Perhaps this was what life was about. Perhaps Hetty was wrong. Kat had been back on the Aranati estate for four months, having left Brightcastle soon after her confrontation with James. With Hetty fully recovered, there was nothing to keep her in the city, and she wouldn’t place herself at risk of seeing James and his happy bride.

  Life had settled back into the normal routine with some exceptions. She helped more on the estate, using her powers to fell trees and chop firewood or boil water for bathing. She practiced at herb lore and felt she might even save lives one day. She was also studying alchemy. She believed she was close to turning lead into gold and had already made silver from bronze. Oh, how James would ache to have her in his life now!

  But no, he had chosen another, and, if she was being honest with herself, her abilities with metals would change nothing. There was something blocking his belief in their love. She had witnessed his deep feelings for her the last time she saw him and she failed to understand how he could walk away. Why had he chosen the Stenmore woman? Every time she asked the question, she came up with one answer. James just could not accept Kat’s natural essence- her sorcery. He had said as much before when she had confessed her gift.

  His rejection of her burned. It seemed unfair that he should spurn her on the strength of something she had no control over. But after several weeks of wallowing in her disappointment, she had locked the hurt away where it couldn’t harm her. Even if she couldn’t have James, Kat hadn’t given up on love, just set it aside for another day and time. A man would come along and cherish her for what she was, not merely see her as a beautiful and exciting dalliance.

  Meanwhile, Kat decided she would not waste a moment more pining over James. She refused to discuss him with Esta, and, each time his face popped into her head, she thrust it away. She kept herself in a fevered state, her days filled with work and study and movement toward a future all of them were excited about. And, once a month when the moon was full, she saddled Demon and rode into the forest to connect with her hounds.

  By some means, they realized when she would come and were always waiting for her at the clearing she had designated. Kat placed flat rocks for each of them to sit on—twenty-one at the present time. She didn’t know if there might be more in future, but it mattered not. Her greeting involved laying her right palm on each dog’s head. She called him or her by the name she had decreed, and the beast would lick her wrist in answer. They seemed to have forgiven her for the deaths of their friends, but Kat still experienced an aching sadness when she remembered the hounds who had been killed.

  After the greeting, she would mount Demon and join the hunt. Her horse was used to the dogs by now, but still stamped a hoof and snorted if any dared approach. If he could breathe fire, he would have. The same couldn’t be said for her. She was still in disbelief that the hounds didn’t wish to hurt her. They saw her as a leader, but she faked her bravery around them. She schooled the tremor from her voice and had trained her heart and lungs to the slow rhythm of the truly courageous.

  Nonetheless, it was becoming easier to accept her authority over the beasts. Perhaps one day the mantle might settle fully on her shoulders, and she would understand what it meant. The night hounds had not been seen for half a century, and Kat wondered if they had been waiting for a new leader. It was the only thing that made sense. Or did they come in response to a need the kingdom had?

  She allowed her instinct to guide her, leading her out into the forest at full moon, naming the beasts, the greeting, the hunt…She was one with them, and they with her. They would be a formidable fighting force if ever they were needed, but Kat kept them secret from her family. When they hunted, she took her knives and bow, on occasion killing a rabbit or a deer herself for the hounds. It was a welcome supplement to the prey they caught, and joy filled her heart when she watched them eating food she had provided.

  Sometimes, Kat dreamed of the hunt—was one of the hounds, her hard pads pounding over dirt and grass, her fangs slicing into fresh, warm meat. She awoke from those dreams in a state of euphoria, but they also disturbed her. With each dream, she understood the hounds more. Was it their way of teaching her what she needed to learn? Or was she becoming one of them? Was it the product of her overactive
imagination?

  Whatever her life had become, she was fulfilled, almost happy, and the black melancholy she once suffered was no longer the dominant force in her life. She was very glad of that.

  James broke away from his daydream for the tenth time in the last hour. He was getting nothing done in his workshop, and Princess Benae wanted her tiara completed before the end of the month. It had already taken far longer than it ever should have. At this rate, there would be no referrals from the royal.

  He sighed and pushed away the beautiful piece with its golden scrolls and emeralds. Perhaps a walk might help. He could call in on his network and collect the latest news from the pigeons. He threw a light cloak about his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head to protect his anonymity. Thus prepared, he stepped from his shop and started up the main street, trying to keep his attention on the businesses he passed. Nothing seemed to hold his interest these days, not since his return from Brightcastle three months ago, and he wondered if he would ever be welcome in that city again.

  He had broken his engagement to Melanis.

  It wasn’t fair to commit to a life with her when Katrine dominated his thoughts. She stalked his dreams, sometimes taking the form of a night hound. The sparkling blue eyes always gave her away within the beast. During his waking hours, her image was even more difficult to banish.

  It must stop, but how could he make his traitorous heart forget the woman he loved?

  Loved? He hadn’t thought himself susceptible to the condition, but what else was it? He relived their love-making time and again, his body an aching mess of desire nothing could cure. James entered a tavern and took a seat. He ordered an ale and a meal and rested his head against the wall near the fire. Perhaps he could drink himself into oblivion?