Enchanter (Book 7) (16 page)

That’s when I heard her voice, and the truth of the situation became clear.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous, Minalan!” Isily’s voice said in an excited whisper from behind me.  “How
did
you ever create such a marvelous thing?”

“Isily!”
I hissed.  “What are you doing here?  You left with Dunselen!”

“Minalan, I’m a
shadowmage
,” she reminded me, condescendingly.  “I am a mistress of deception, obfuscation, and misdirection.  Convincing my dullard husband I’m where I’m supposed to be when I’ve got business to conduct is
trivial.
”

“And what business might that be?” I asked through clenched teeth.  I could feel the numbness spreading up my arms to my elbows and up my legs to my knees.  My lower back was starting to stiffen.  “Poisoning me?”

“It’s not poison,” she clucked.  “Or, not really.  I found the most remarkable flower in that little garden estate of yours,” she mused, as she crossed in front of me.  She was wearing a dark cloak of shifting colors, just the sort of thing that you wouldn’t notice at night.  Her expression was mischievous and she was beautiful, against the Snowflake.  “You won’t die, but you’ll be unable to move anything of your own volition, unless I tell you to.  And you won’t be able to concentrate enough to use magic effectively,” she smiled, turning back toward the Snowflake.

“But enough about you . . . what about
this
wonder?  What
is
it?” she asked, excitedly.

“It’s a birthday present for my wife,” I said, through clenched teeth.  “Everyone needs a hobby.”

“You jest, of course . . . this is awe-inspiring, Min!  I was impressed enough at that lovely baculus you gave Pentandra . . . I’m not above coveting such pretty and potent devices.  Here I thought that was the peak of your art, but I can see it’s just a toy, compared to your real work.  What is it?” she repeated, a third time.  “And do be candid!”

“It’s a big bloody crystal snowflake,” I grunted, feeling as if I should cooperate.  “It’s kind of a
molopor
.”

“You . . .
made
a
molopor?
” she asked, incredulous.

“I said it was
kind
of a
molopor
,” I corrected.  But part of me appreciated the professional respect.  When you pull something that impressive out of your . . . brain, it’s nice to be recognized for the result, even if you have no idea what it does.  “Only, clearly, it isn’t exactly a
molopor
.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, studying the Snowflake more closely.  “It hums, it throbs with arcane power!  You have every mage in the world outside your door, and yet you kept this pretty secret from us all!”

“It’s not done yet,” I grunted.  “And it’s
mine
.”

“Such the artist . . . you really are a special man, Minalan,” she sighed, looking back at me with a disturbing amount of affection and admiration.  “I am so glad we were able to reach an understanding, and forge an alliance.  I can see this is going to be
very
fruitful and fulfilling for both of us.”

“You know, I’m starting to re-think that whole alliance proposal,” I admitted, calmly.  I tried to summon power from my sphere.  No luck.  I couldn’t get my mind to focus enough of the necessary will to do so.  “Getting poisoned by your new ally doesn’t exactly build confidence.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she dismissed.  “I knew you had to be up to something, in this incredible mountain of yours.  If you’re able to produce wonders like the baculus and the other spells I’ve seen here, you had to be doing it
some
place.  It didn’t take much inquiry to find out you had been spending long nights deep inside the mountain.  So I followed you, once you thought I was gone.  Just being curious.”

“And the devastating paralytic agent . . .?”

“Men have a tendency to be reactive, when their secrets are discovered,” she said, philosophically.  “I decided that you would be more willing to sit and talk with me if you were drugged, unable to move, compliant and suggestible.”

“Don’t let the secret of that poison get out,” I said, harshly.  “Every wife in the world will want it!”

She smiled.  Damn, she had dimples too, I was reminded.

“See what I mean about you?  You’re
enlightened
, Minalan.  For the son of a baker, you have a sophistication and understanding of things far beyond your original station.  You could be angry and bellicose, right now, hurling curses and threats, but instead you make jests.”

“I’m pretty angry,” I pointed out, calmly.  “In fact, unless you kill me, I’m starting to have some pretty savage fantasies about the repercussions of this meeting.”

“Oh, I bet they’re terribly daring, too,” she cooed, stroking my hair.  I really wanted to be able to recoil from her, but my neck wasn’t answering my summons.  “All sorts of degrading and painful lessons to teach me my place . . . you do have such a
creative
imagination!  But don’t consider this an abrogation of our alliance, my sweet.  On the contrary, this just deepens it.  Now that I know your pretty little secret, we can proceed on a more even footing.  I have no desire to ruin your ambitions, Minalan – on the contrary, I want to see you prosper.  I want to see you in
triumph!
”

“I’m feeling less than triumphant at the moment,” I grunted.  It was getting harder to talk.

“Perhaps, but that’s temporary,” she consoled.  “Thanks to the power of the drug, and some casual enchantments I have laid to help ensure your cooperation, you
will
be quite willing and able to rise to the heights of greatness you are capable of.  I’m even more confident of that, now that I’ve seen
this,
” she said, nodding reverently toward the snowflake.  “It would be awe-inspiring even from the hand of an Alkan master, but to have come from the mind of a former warmage and village spellmonger?  This
proves
I was right in supporting you!” she rationalized to herself, more than to me. 

“What do you hope to gain from this?” I asked, my mind getting even more clouded.  But if she was in a chatty mood, I figured I should try to take advantage of it and learn all I could.  It wasn’t like I could do much else but talk and listen . . . and the talking was getting harder and harder. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Power.  Influence.  Control.  You aren’t the only one who overcame challenges . . . and I have enemies,” she said, darkly.  “Any hope I have to escape them and live my life in freedom lies in cultivating my power and influence within the arcane world.”

“You would betray Mother, then?”

“I would free myself of her shackles!” she said, defiantly.  “My past work has afforded me reward, in its way, but it has also cemented her control over me.  Now I have a modicum of independence, for the price of submitting to that witless oaf, and with that independence I can create my own power base.  I don’t wish to destroy the royal house, but I do wish to be sundered from its whims.  The things I have done . . .” she said, shaking her head.

“And now you want to enslave me?” I asked, harshly.

“Enslave is such a strong term,” she clucked.  “No, Minalan, I just wish for you to be quite well-disposed to me.  Enough to offer me refuge, for instance, if I rebelled.  Or provided me assistance, if I needed it.  Our daughter was one way to accomplish that, but I prefer a more comprehensive approach.”

“Blackmail?”

“Blue magic,” she said, taking a scroll from beneath her shadowy cloak.  “This is an emotional affinity spell, one so powerful that it was prescribed by the Censorate and locked away in but a few libraries.  This will ensure that you will have nothing but protective and loving thoughts toward me.”

“I have a wife!”
I countered, desperately.  Blue Magic was potent and insidious.

“And I have a husband, alas,” she admitted.  “But such details are trivial, in the balance.  I see no benefit in disturbing our matrimonial status –
yet
– to secure this alliance.  For all of his boorishness, Dunselen has his uses, and your wife seems young and pretty enough, yet.  No need to take any rash action that isn’t necessary . . . don’t you think?”

“I . . . think you need . . .”

“Shhh, darling, don’t strain yourself,” she soothed.  “This will only take a moment, and afterward you will hold me in your heart with the same regard you do any of your sisters.”

“You . . . don’t . . . know . . . my . . . sisters . . .”

“At the brink of insensibility, and
still
he jests!  What a profound and admirable will, you have, Minalan.  What a shame to bend it, even slightly.  Such interesting men as you are so rare,” she sighed, sadly.  “But let us begin.” 

She began to read the scroll and set the spell.  I would have been really interested, for professional reasons, to have observed the process with magesight, but my will had ebbed to the point where I could not even muster that simple cantrip.

She cast the spell with soothing words and a masterful command of the thaumaturgic action.  I felt sinewy coils of energy enwrapped my mind, seductively burrowing into my brain and convincing me that Isily was among the most noble of women.  I could feel my resistance and antipathy to the shadowmage slip away, replaced by a wholesome protective feeling.  I found myself automatically well-disposed to anything she might say.  I began to regard her wisdom, her insight, and her intuition with the same level of trust that I gave to Pentandra and Alya.

It wasn’t quite love, but it was close.  There was even a stirring of passionate idealism strung in the spell.  The psychomancer who built the spell was very,
very
good.

She was right – it didn’t take long.  I had little experience with psychomancy, outside of some basic spells, but the magical compulsions that overtook my mind did so easily and with little resistance.  I’m sure the poison helped.  But when she was done, Isily put the scroll away and looked deeply into my eyes.

For at least ten minutes, she gazed into me, without me having the ability to blink of my own accord until her beautiful eyes seemed to engulf my soul.  I don’t know what magic she was casting, or if she was just using some inherent feminine power to compel, but I could not tear my will away.

Finally, after centuries, she moved away.  “That should do it,” she said, with an air of satisfaction.  “You are bound to me now, my love.  Even when you are between your loving wife’s thighs, it will be my face you see, my voice you hear in your ears.”

I hated her.  And loved her.

Then she pushed my robe up and unfastened my underwear.  With horror, I realized what she was after.

“You . . .”

“You didn’t think I’d waste this opportunity, did you?” she asked, fire in her eyes as she worked.  “I am at my most fertile.  I had all the world’s magi to choose from to sire my child, and through your works and by your power, you have demonstrated yourself the master of them all,” she said, with admiration, as she worked on disrobing me.  “You alone are worthy of giving our daughter a sibling.  And tonight, in the shadow of this glorious artifact, that is
just
what will happen,” she said, as she hiked up her skirts.  She was bare underneath.

“Ishi’s—!”
I began to swear, but then her mouth covered mine before I could complete the oath.  She kissed me fervently as she settled herself upon my lap. 

“Kiss me back,” she commanded.  “Like you do your wife, but with more passion. 
Mean
it!”

I did.

I didn’t have a choice.

Chapter Eight

Ishi’s Tits

I don’t remember a lot of what happened during Isily’s forcible seduction, due to reasons that will become apparent shortly, but a few things clung to my memory.  Her delight and satisfaction for getting her way, for one.  The way she reveled in how passionately I responded to her commands.  The sense of triumph she had when I proclaimed my devotion and desire for her.  I remember little about the event, now, but I do recall her triumph.  It stung me like an insult.

I had a hard time moving, under any circumstances, but if she told me to do something, my body found the volition to move.  If she bid me to speak, though the effort was titanic I spoke the words she wished me to say. 

She had me as her toy for at least an hour.  Enough time to get what she wanted from me.  Twice.  Then she kissed me, thanked me, assured me that this was the beginning of a long and prosperous relationship, and explained that I would be unable to move under my own power for another five or six hours – by which time she would be a long way from Sevendor.

Then she was gone.  Leaving me to dumbly stare at the Snowflake, from my prone position, unable to do anything else.  While my conscious mind spun in pointless circles the hypnotic, ever-changing Snowflake mesmerized my eyes and dominated my perspective.  Considering the confusion and turmoil my mind was suffering in the wake of her violation, the Snowflake’s constant transformation was soothing to it.  Soon the indignity of Isily’s assault was replaced by the serene pulsations of the thing.  It consumed my attention to the exclusion of all other thought, blanking out even the most despairing thoughts that were racing in my head now.