Binding Magic (An Obscure Magic Book 7) (3 page)

A familiar voice spoke from behind her. “Changing your mind?”

She smiled slightly but kept her gaze on the backs of the other petitioners. “No, Mr. Norman. I have changed it both ways a thousand times. I am just waiting to make an entrance.”

He chuckled. “We can work with that. If you will do me the honour?”

He extended his hand to her, and she placed her palm on the back of his rough knuckles. He was still a bit taller than she was, so she was sure that they made a striking couple entering the throne room.

He led her through the crowd to a spot directly in front of the throne. “Stay here until you are called.”

She nodded and lowered her free hand to her side. She sipped at the cocktail in her other hand, and soon, there was another gong and the sound of huge wings pulsed through the air.

Zemuel dropped to the floor in front of the throne, his wings nearly twenty feet in span.

Minerva took it all in. His silver skin, the bare feet and loosed draped fabric drawn up and pleated to form trousers were the initial impression. The long black hair in a thick braid matched the dark brows that winged over his deep pewter eyes.

She absently noted the sharp blade of his nose and the slash of his lips. She didn’t feel comfortable with further examination. He was staring at her.

Being examined by an eight-foot predator in his natural habitat was a little intimidating, but she had a job to do.

Zemuel settled his wings behind him and settled onto his narrow-backed throne.

“Norman, what can these folk do to lighten my evening?”

Norman took his place beside Zemuel, and he cleared his throat, removing a bag from his belt. “I believe that they have expressed willingness to entertain you.”

Zemuel clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Let’s begin.”

The clap of his hands was like thunder. Everyone in the room jumped, but Minerva had been expecting it. She sipped at her cocktail.

“I believe that the elves wish a second interview with me. They shall go first.”

Norman reached into the bag and pulled out a small piece of slate.

“My lord wishes you to breathe fire.” Norman chuckled.

Zemuel smirked. “For those mages in attendance, magic will not work in this chamber.”

Idly, Minerva looked around the chamber and spotted the bar. It was another bartender, but this one had giant in his blood. He winked at the eye contact.

The elves frowned and muttered among themselves.

Norman cleared his throat. “If they cannot perform the task, anyone else who wishes to perform it can win their interview.”

Minerva thought about it for another two minutes. With a sigh, she went to the bar, asked for a glass of vodka and a lit candle.

She walked back to her spot in front of Zemuel, slurped up the vodka and sprayed it out in a fine mist over the candle. The blue flare of flames with yellow edges cascaded out over eight feet.

When she was done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the glass and the candle to the bartender with thanks. He winked and put them away.

The liquid paraffin he had given her in lieu of vodka had definitely been impressive, but now, she had to deal with the consequences.

He poured her some mouthwash and gave her a metal cup. “I think you might need this.”

She grinned and swished and spit. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head. “We are always ready with the implements, but few think to ask.”

She returned to her spot and found it occupied by the humans. She shrugged and went to the back of the gathering. The elves left. Their chance was over.

Norman looked displeased, but he dug in his bag for the next task.

“The human contingent will perform a juggling act. As there are many of them, two members must juggle.”

Minerva stood in place and watched as they frantically tried to juggle anything and everything.

Zemuel watched them with a scowl. It appeared that he was not impressed with their efforts.

Norman once again called out, “If anyone can perform this task, they can have an additional interview with Lord Zemuel.”

After a few clumsy attempts from the other contingents, Norman made eye contact with her.

She headed to the bar and asked for lemons.

He grinned and handed her three. Once again, she took the front spot. She juggled the citrus for a minute, and then, she stopped, bowed and returned them to the bar.

Zemuel appeared amused when she returned.

“The goblin contingent is required to sing.”

The crowd looked around in confusion, but Minerva stepped forward. It was funny. Goblins didn’t sing in any way that the human ear found acceptable. Demanding it of them was a joke.

“Any particular song or style?”

Zemuel raised a brow. “Ancient Hynerian.”

She frowned. “That is a little tricky.”

“Can you do it, or do you forfeit?”

She opened her mouth and wailed a long, keening note that preceded her beginning to turn and twist to her own beat. The Hynerians were one of the first nations of extranaturals to gather in their own defense. They were of such different origins that movement became part of their language.

She used her body to speak of longing, justice, fear and power. When she was done, she ceased her song with a snap and inclined her head.

He cocked his head and leaned forward. “You confused the word heat for desire, but it was otherwise a well-performed song.”

She inclined her head, and the bartender delivered another cocktail. She could feel the pressure of her corset and the sweat that dampened it. The silk of her skirt stuck to her legs.

Minerva stood where she was and enjoyed a few more cocktails as the groups tried to perform the tasks. The unicycle for the dwarfs was a bust, as was the crochet exam for the giants. They had not brought the right representatives with them.

Minerva thought about it, and she was hungry again. Too bad there was no food on offer.

Zemuel suddenly waved his hand. After two hours of tomfoolery, he had had his fill.

“Well, Madam Mage, as you are the only one to have won an interview, my time is yours. Shall we discuss things over dinner?”

She looked behind her and the crowd was gone. One by one, they had left as their attempts to carry out the orders had failed.

“Well, this is embarrassing.”

Zemuel walked up to her and extended his hand. To her amusement, he shrank until he was only six inches taller than she was in heels.

She slid her hand into his and then held her breath as his wings flared wide and he flew them upward.

When they reached a balcony that had been invisible from the main floor, he set her on her feet as if it had been the most natural thing in the world.

He led her inside.

She smiled. “Thank you for reducing your height. I am used to being taller than most folks I speak with. Looking up was giving me a crick in my neck.”

A table for two had been set, and the covered dishes spanned from one end of the eight-foot expanse to the other. It seemed that Zemuel was the measurement standard for everything in his home.

He led her to a chair at one end and held it for her, settling her in.

He crossed to the other chair and tapped his fingers on the table. The dishes rose up and began a slow path around the table itself.

Well, that was one way to serve yourself. As she reached for a dome, it lifted and the serving utensils were under it.

She took a small portion of each food item, and the dishes settled.

Zemuel smiled. “Well, now that you have me alone, what do you want?”

She looked at him and stated, “I am here to petition on behalf of the goblins.”

“Why? I haven’t eaten any in centuries.”

“That is not their concern. You are in possession of mines that yield the mineral used in their warding system. They need a new supply of those minerals. That is what they are asking for. Will you supply them with the stone they need?”

He smiled slowly. “What are they willing to pay?”

She nibbled at a carrot and the negotiation was on.

After hearing the offer, Zemuel nodded. “Deal.”

“Just like that?”

He grinned. “Just like that.”

He extended his hand, and a data pad flew from somewhere within the room to smack into his hand. He tapped a few markings and nodded. “Done.”

“That was anticlimactic.”

He grinned. “It usually is. Requests to bring in magical weaponry usually have more details in them, but defenses are fairly easy. They can come to the mine tomorrow, and the boss will show them around and give them the options of shape.”

She blinked. “Weapons?”

“Did you not know? I am the largest importer of magical weaponry on the continent.” He leaned back and smiled. “I would have thought you had done your homework on me.”

She shrugged and focused on her meal. Flicking her glance up cautiously when she thought it was safe, she met his amused glance. “I am here as a representative of the one goblin nation. It isn’t really my speciality.”

He rolled his wineglass between his finger and thumb. “Why did they ask you?”

She shrugged. “I was informed that I have characteristics you would find attractive.”

His smile was definitely amused. “What characteristics are those?”

“Height, figure and power.” She kept it blunt.

The laughter rang and echoed in the chamber. The column of his neck flexed, and his elongated canines were definitely visible as his wide jaw moved with the laugh.

She continued to work her way through her food until she was finished. She set one hand in her lap and picked up the wineglass.

“So, you were selected to seduce me?” He leaned forward with interest.

“No, merely get your attention. I don’t seek out men for money.”

He inclined his head. “Apologies. I am merely struck by the ease with which you could accomplish your goal.”

For the first time in quite a while, she blushed. The barrier of the table was a comfort, because his gaze said he didn’t want it in the way.

Idly, she tried to use a small spark of magic in her lap, and he looked at her sharply. “What are you attempting to do, Minerva?”

She shrugged. “Just testing to see if the no-magic zone extended this far.”

“It does.”

She inclined her head. “You can understand that I had to test it.”

He frowned. “Yes, I suppose I can. Did you learn what you needed?”

She smiled. “I did. Thank you.”

Minerva learned that her magic did work; she just needed to put some extra power into it.

He finished his meal and tapped the table twice. The food disappeared.

“Enchanted stone?”

Zemuel nodded. “Very perceptive. You are indeed what was described.”

She made a face. “I do not want to know.”

“Oh, but I want to tell you.” He waggled his brows.

She looked at the expanse between them and was at a loss for conversation.

“Is there anything you want for yourself?”

Minerva wrinkled her nose. “Not particularly. Perhaps a tour of your home.”

He grinned and got to his feet, walking around the table and gripping her chair. “Lady, if you would do me the honour.”

She arranged her skirt and got to her feet, setting her hand on the back of his as he walked with her into the distant shadows of the chamber.

A wide corridor was cut into the stone, and she could feel the touch of the cool evening air. The floor was smooth under her feet, the slight click of her heels was the only sound and it echoed as she walked.

Her voice was quiet when she observed, “You enjoy sound.”

He chuckled, and that sound was magnified and echoed around them. “I do. When you sleep underground, sounds from what is going on above is essential to knowing how the world is changing.”

“You do have a very adept grasp of technology.”

“Thank you. I find the more recent discoveries and equipment to be most useful.” The rough, deep gravel of his voice sent shivers down her spine.

She couldn’t stop herself. She asked, “You have been here a while?”

“I have slept under this mountain for nearly a thousand years. I woke and carved the stone into this place four hundred years ago when the wave of magic woke me.”

She shuddered. “That was a large one.”

“It was. It created enough of a magical population for me to surface and ply my trade.”

“Selling magical weapons.”

“Well, the unpowered have an inborn hate for those extranaturals around them.”

Minerva frowned, thinking of her mother. “That is not always the case.”

“It is more common than the exception.”

Weak light began to spill into the corridor, and as they closed on the origin of fresh air, she gasped.

He continued to walk with her out onto the wide plateau carved into half of a mountain. It was a monstrous expanse of stone with claw marks gouged into the stone, denoting the size of his other form.

She shivered at the thought of the magical creature who was leading her into the centre of the landing site.

“I like to come out here and watch the stars dance.”

There was something so ancient and sad in his tone. She moved closer to him and looked up and out to see the stars as they hung motionless. A shooting star skidded across the sky, and she closed her eyes to make a wish.

Zemuel slid a hand into her hair, and she felt his lips press against hers. He was careful and deliberate. He worked to gain her cooperation.

She found that her hand was clutching his wrist and kept her eyes closed as she gave in to the tingles of excitement that coursed through her.

Next to him, she felt dainty, petite and desired. She had what she had come for, what would it hurt to take one night for herself?

He would be on to the next woman as soon as one crossed his path. Minerva had nothing to lose.

She opened her mouth and touched his tongue with her own. Her acquiescence sparked something in him.

He stroked her tongue with his, and the dexterity that his appendage had made her quiver. Her mind spun down a filthy path, and she pressed her hips against him. Her body had no doubt about the path it wanted to take.