The Spellmonger's Honeymoon: A Spellmonger Novella (The Spellmonger Series)

by Terry Mancour

  “I thought Brinthildin was an outlaw?” I asked, surprised. “I would assume that this council of yours would be eager to see him dead?”

  “Just because he defied the council doesn’t mean that he is without supporters upon it,” she reminded me. “Indeed, due to his lineage, there are those even among parties who favor the humani who would reconsider, had they discovered that Brinthildin was slain by a . . .”

  “Woman?” I supplied. “Human? Pregnant woman? Pregnant human woman? Peasant? No, she’s ennobled, now. Former dairy manager?”

  “Any of those would be galling enough – but that she attacked him with cold iron from behind, while he was in battle . . . that would be seen as an unacceptable death, among some factions,” she said, delicately.

  “Well, I’m sorry she didn’t challenge him to a formal duel, but . . .”

  “My lord Minalan, do not be sorry – she did nothing wrong. The fault is ours, as I have said. If word of Brinthildin’s death escapes, then we risk exposure to others with his zeal and hatred, and my grandmother’s case may be reviewed. That would not be in her favor, I’m afraid. We will clean up this mess we have made.”

  “Does that extend to ‘cleaning up’ the two humani who witnessed it?” I asked, warily. I suddenly wanted the comfort of Twilight on my hip, very badly. I didn’t exactly feel safe here.

  “Not as you imagine,” she said, realizing with alarm what I was thinking. “You and your bride were promised safe conduct. We would never break that vow. But . . . we cannot allow this news to spread . . . unmanaged,” she said, struggling for a diplomatic word. “Should even a hint of this tragedy reach the ears of the wrong people . . .” she said, trailing off apologetically, letting me imagine what the result might be.

  “I’m not in the habit of rubbing elbows with the Alka Alon elite,” I pointed out. “Neither is Alya. Your secrets are safe with us.”

  “Oh, you may not voluntarily divulge the secret,” she agreed, “but humani minds are notoriously easy to manipulate, compared to an Alka Alon. And once Brinthildin’s disappearance is noted by his fellows, well, they have a reputation for bloodthirsty vengeance. You and your bride – and yes, even your child – would be targeted for revenge over his shed blood. Accidental it might have been, but acceptable it would never be to them.”

  “So now I have the Censorate, Sharuel, and insanely angry Tree Folk after me?” I whistled.

  “Not if we can keep this secret,” she insisted. “It can be done, if you are willing.”

  “I told you that I would never tell anyone,” I reminded her. “If my word isn’t good enough---”

  “It is not your faith that we doubt, my lord, it is the willingness of the Enshadowed to slaughter humani under such a pretext that we fear. Should the opinion of the council turn away from your folk . . . the Abomination will not be your only foe. Nor perhaps even your most dangerous.”

  “Well, I’m not going to stay here forever, as picturesque as it is,” I pointed out. “I have responsibilities, if you recall.”

  “Nor could you,” she agreed. “Within a few days there will be a visit by a representative of the council to investigate your attempt to breach the barrier. If you are here, then it would be nearly impossible to keep that representative from asking questions.”

  “So we can’t tell anyone, but we can’t be trusted to keep our mouths shut, either,” I grumbled. “I don’t like where this is going, Ithalia.”

  “My lord, we have discussed this all night,” she said, tiredly. “Among many other things. A solution we think you will find agreeable was proposed. But we would never resort to such a thing without your consent.”

  “So just what are you proposing?” I asked, even more warily.

  Saved for they who toast their love when five full years have passed!

  I made sure that Alya and I were going to be alone that afternoon, down at the hot springs. She was still in shock, a bit, but after eating a few bowls of porridge and splashing water on her face, she was able to look me in the eye. I wanted to get her alone as soon as I could to speak to her about Ithalia’s proposal – and the events of the night before.

  “I . . . I killed a Tree Folk,” she said, as she reclined into the pool, which was steaming in the cool winter air.

  “You killed a Tree Folk prince,” I corrected. “And one that had admitted that he was planning on killing everyone else in the room, and in the rest of Arth Noatha as well. You and me included.”

  “So you tell me,” she agreed. “But I didn’t know that. I just knew I had to . . . had to slay him. Minalan, I don’t know what came over me, but after I was awakened, I felt compelled to stab him!”

  “Yes, that awakening spell was disconcerting,” I agreed, settling down next to her. “And I’m glad you had that compulsion. All I could do was knock him over with a stool.”

  “I had forgotten I was wearing the blade,” she recounted. “I was just lying there, knowing that there was something terribly wrong. Then I was wide, wide awake. And so was your son,” she added, placing a hand on her swollen belly. “Whoever cast that spell woke him up angry. It was like I could feel it.”

  “Magic can be like that, sometimes,” I soothed.

  “But then I couldn’t move. I . . . I prayed. To Briga, since I know she looks after the unborn. I prayed but didn’t expect anything to come of it. Until . . . until I found that dagger in my hand. I could move, and what is more, I knew I had to end the struggle. The songs, those songs got into my head. I had to make them stop.”

  “Or maybe the goddess heard you,” I pointed out. “And sent you a little divine guidance. Or maybe your instinct to protect the baby took over your will. I don’t know. I expect that we’ll never know. But . . . I’m sorry, Alya. I should never have brought you here and ruined your honeymoon.” I really did feel miserable about that.

  “It wasn’t your fault!” she chided. “Minalan, you have done everything to keep me comfortable, safe, and well-fed since we were wed. I know you’ll have to do things like this from time to time, and as much as the life of a rancher’s wife sounds appealing, about now, I am a part of this life. Your life. That was the vow I made in Talry.

  “And if that means I have to stab someone occasionally . . . well, I can,” she declared. “When I realized that little imp was trying to kill you, I couldn’t allow him to exist anymore. It was almost worse than fighting the gurvani, though, because I wasn’t fearful of my life. At least, that’s not what compelled my hand. Oh, I have made such a mess of things for our hosts!” she said, starting to cry.

  “Alya, no! It’s them who have made a mess of things for you! And me,” I added, as an afterthought. “I was promised that no hard would come if we came here. And I’ve had to fight pirates, trolls, and a pissed-off Alkan mage since then. Please don’t cry,” I begged, feeling my throat well up as I watched the tears run down her cheeks and into the steaming water. “Please!”

  “My . . . husband,” she sobbed, “please understand that sometimes a woman just needs to get her feelings out . . . why don’t you get us something to drink while I tend to this?” she asked. Numbly, I stood and went to the hamper, taking much longer than was comfortable, in the cold air. By the time I returned she had composed herself, though her eyes were still teary.

  “Much better,” she agreed, when I brought her a tiny bottle of mint liquor. “I . . . I know what happened wasn’t anyone’s fault, in particular. But it was my hand that wielded the blade.”

  “It could very well have been mine,” I nodded. “I wish it had been.” I settled my naked butt back down into the incredibly welcoming pool. The days were getting colder, I noted.

  “Honestly, so do I. I’m no warrior woman, Min. But I am very pregnant, and the way those songs were splitting my head, well, I would have stabbed my own kin to shut them up. Stabbing some unfriendly Tree Folk housebreaker was no big chore. I just wish it wouldn’t stain our honeymoon so.”

  I knew she was lying, but I thought it wa
s a good time to bring up Ithalia’s proposal. “Alya, what if I could arrange it so that the attack wouldn’t stain our honeymoon?”

  She looked at me in surprise. “You can un-do the killing? I don’t know, I was pretty thorough,” she said, doubtfully.

  “No, I can’t bring the little shit back to life, nor would I want to, after discussing it with Ithalia. But if you are willing . . . how would you like to forget that you ever did it?”

  “What? They can do that?”

  “They assure me that it will be easy. Of course, they also assured me we wouldn’t be harmed, but if I take them at their word they can suggest a far more pleasant – and completely bloodless – honeymoon memory in place of what actually happened. But not just the attack. Our entire visit, here. And, well, we would be forgetting an awful lot of the journey,” I admitted. “Where this place was, who these people are, the trolls, the pirates . . . but we’d remember fondly our wonderful, perfect honeymoon.”

  “Just not very many details?”

  “They would be fuzzy,” I conceded. “By design.”

  “Most of them are now, anyway,” she shrugged. “But I could forget that awful feeling of looking down at the body . . .?” she asked, looking stricken an vulnerable. The idea clearly had a lot of appeal to her. And, if I was honest with myself, to me.

  “Unless you were reminded of it strongly, according to Ithalia. She assures me humans are ideal subjects for that kind of magic. But there would be another penalty.”

  Her face froze. “What?”

  “I would also forget an awful lot of incredibly useful information I’ve learned. Like the nature of the gods. The lore of the Tree Folk I’ve discovered. Their internal politics. A hint of the history of our two peoples. Knowing that there are apparently fanatical Alka Alon skulking about in the shadows, perhaps aiding the Dead God in his wars against us. The fact that I single handedly defeated a pirate attack and fought three trolls to a standstill.”

  “How is that useful?” she asked, sharply.

  “Bragging purposes,” I pointed out. “But some of that knowledge is going to be very useful in the days ahead. I’m going to be putting my energies into building us a home, but some day I will be recalled to serve the Duchies on the field, or in council, even, and that sort of thing can make a big difference. I can’t help but think that our hosts are using this memory spell in part to cloak the embarrassing elements of their role in events, and of history itself.”

  “You have to admit, that would be handy, if you were they,” she observed.

  “I know,” I sighed. “And in all likelihood, none of this information is going to be crucial. It’s mostly just lore and legend, and a little intelligence that tells us that the Alka Alon don’t speak with one voice. No battles will be won or lost without it, it’s just . . . really, really useful.”

  She looked at me skeptically, her dark eyebrows arching. They had gotten thicker and darker with the progression of her pregnancy. “So you are in favor of this spell, my husband?”

  “Well, yes and no,” I admitted as I shifted my weight around so I could look at her better. “That information could be crucial. But so is the sanctity of my honeymoon, and starting our life together fresh and . . . unbloodied. The spell isn’t particularly selective, but I can tell Ithalia and the Sorceress when we want it to take effect. We have to go back downriver anyway, so I was thinking of having it work on us when we stepped off the boat at Jistal, but before we proceeded back upriver to meet up with the vanguard of the Bovali refugees. That would give us at least three, maybe four more days.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “It would be more plausible to be confused then, and ascribe it to normal post-honeymoon drunkedness, than to find ourselves suddenly wandering in the forest with no idea how we got there, for one,” I pointed out. “But it does have other advantages. We’d get to enjoy the rest of our honeymoon knowing that all of our memories of it would be grand- that presents some interesting possibilities. We’d have a few days to get our feelings about the matter off of our chests. And it would keep the barge staff from asking too many questions.

  “But there’s one other thing.” I explained my idea to her, quietly and quickly, using vague language and plenty of idiom I hoped anyone trying to listen to wouldn’t be able to figure out, and my bride quickly caught on to the point I was making – and what I was proposing.

  “You really think that will work?” she asked, skeptically. “I mean, do you really think it would be helpful?”

  “Who knows?” I admitted. “Really, I think they’re set on doing it regardless, and in truth I don’t know if I could fight them off. You were there: you saw how powerful their magic was. I didn’t even understand most of it. And, honestly, I don’t know if I’m even strong enough to try.” I tried not sounding defeated, but that’s how it came out.

  “We’re both exhausted,” she excused. “The last thing I want to do is get into a fight with our hostess. She reminds me of a mad old village woman, like one of the Boliek sisters back in Boval Vale.”

  “I’m sure it’s just the captivity,” I suggested. “But either way, I don’t have it in me. They’re feeling very apologetic. I say we use that, preserve as much of our honeymoon memories as possible, and . . . safeguard the rest.”

  “I think I can live with that,” she agreed, knowingly. And I can’t help but consider how novel the result might be.”

  We spent the rest of the day in lazy repose, allowing ourselves to be pampered by the cheerful folk of the Tower of Refuge. They brought us wine and dainties, played exquisite music and entertained us, each in their various ways. I learned much about the history of the old Alka Alon settlement, and a bit more detail of Alka Alon culture and politics, and I learned that –among other talents – some of the Tal Alon were quite amazing jugglers.

  But at a subdued feast that evening, it was clear that our hostess was growing uncomfortable with our stay. It would be hard to say just what gave away her anxiety, as she had not changed her presentation much at all – after a formal apology, an assurance that we were indeed in good health, with but a few minor preventative enchantments laid to ensure a fortunate birth and avoid medical catastrophe. I was suspect about them, of course, but I also remembered the snatches of conversation from when I was supposed to be unconscious. They had found something unusual about us, and that was another piece of information I wanted to preserve. If they had sang spells that would help and protect us, I was almost gratified.

  “So you have accepted our proposal, then?” Lilastien asked as we followed Ithalia to a private balcony overlooking the gardens, for more quiet speech. There was a well-groomed Tal valet on hand with a bottle and goblets.

  “In part, my lady,” I agreed. “We wish for you to delay our memory until we make the river port at Banajistal, if you could. We would like for our memories to be edited as little as possible, and we would like a few . . . special ones in their place,” I said, as Alya blushed. “I promise not to contact anyone along the way. We just want a few more days of this before we step out of the boat and into our new life.”

  “I see no objection, Lord Minalan,” she said, graciously. I wondered for a moment what she would have done had I refused outright, and then decided I wasn’t eager to find out. “It pains me that you will retain no memory of meeting me, alas. You are a jolly fellow, and quite quick-witted. I offer you what blessings I may on your life and your union, and to your wife and your son, when he arrives. Watch that babe,” she warned, with a smile. “Children in general have magical natures, but that one . . . that one promises to be special,” she said.

  “What makes you say that, Sorceress?” asked Alya, curious. “A vision? A prophecy?”

  “I’ve met his parents,” she replied, offering a tinkling laugh. “Brave and strong, wise and far-sighted, compassionate and loving. How could he grow up with two such impressive parents and not be . . . legendary?”

  “I’ll settle for healthy a
nd reasonably intelligent,” I

  “I think ‘legendary’ is more likely,” agreed Alya. “Thank you for your blessings. And your hospitality. And for . . . letting me not remember.”

  “Whether you know it or not, my dear, my house is always open to you both, for the rest of your lives,” she promised.

  “And I shall accompany you as far as the river,” Ithalia added. “Once I see you on board and tend to your servants, I shall cast the enchantment. Then the next time you step on land, it will trigger, and you will have naught but pleasant – and I imagine, lusty – memories of your honeymoon. May the rest of your union live up to those ideals.”