Jump to content


A Tale of Two Mages: Part 7


  • Please log in to reply
No replies to this topic

#1 Guest_Ophidia_*

Posted 23 April 2004 - 08:06 PM

An Enjoyable Partnership: A Tale of Two Mages


Part Seven

Edwin stared at the ripped up red fabric in his hands. Bits of golden thread dangled pathetically here and there. The edges sparkled slightly as the various enchantments woven into the cloth dissolved.

Why in the Abyss had he torn his robe to bits? He couldn’t remember doing it, but he obviously had. He shuddered. He was starting to get used to finding out that he had done strange things without remembering them, or worse, remembered doing things that seemed sensible at the time, but were utterly…insane. He didn’t like that word at all. He liked it less and less each passing day, and each passing day brought a new surprise for him.

This morning, he was sure someone had been whispering to him, just out of earshot. He had turned around to snarl at them to stay quiet, but there was no one there. Ah well, he thought, lifting his head in pride, at least he was an excellent actor. He would never let anyone realise what was happening to him, not even Nalia. There was no way he would let himself be demeaned like that. He could tell what was real and what was not, and he was perceptive enough to pick up on what was happening around him when his memory was faulty. He would cope. He would. Keep hold of reality, and the rest would take care of itself. He would not be humiliated by this…insanity.

He clenched his teeth, and passed a shaking hand over his forehead. Who was he fooling? It was getting worse daily. One day…one day, what? He simply didn’t know, and he hated not knowing. He had built his life on control and discipline, on always being in charge of his own fate (And a small voice added And that has been a success, has it?). But now his mind was unravelling and there was no future. The red cloth seemed to pulse in his hands, tangling around his fingers, reaching for his neck, trying to wrap around him and squeeze the life out of his body. He hurled it across the room in anger.

No, no, no! That wasn’t real. The cloth was just cloth, red cloth. Looking at the colour made his eyes hurt. He hated red. Hadn’t he always hated red? But then, why did he wear it? No, he liked red. Didn’t he?

Reality, Edwin Odesseiron. Remember reality.

Yes, he was a Red Wizard. He had always liked the colour. He simply didn’t like it any more. Yes. Tomorrow was the day of the Solstice Ball, but he had time to make another robe. He smiled slightly to himself. A new robe…Tailoring was always a pleasure. He didn’t have time to place any of the more interesting enchantments on it, but he could still look as dashing as possible. Perhaps having something to do would keep the whispers at bay. Already, he could picture a possible design…

He squared his thin shoulders, and wandered off to find a suitable bolt of cloth. There was no time to shop, but in a busy castle like this one, you could find anything if you looked hard enough.

***


The Great Hall was slowly filling up with brightly coloured nobles. Merchant families, landowners, and even a few Council members were there. They stood in clusters, as if someone had carelessly scattered jewels around the floor. Hired mercenary guards in de’Arnise blue stood around the walls, forming a sapphire frame to the picture. Nalia peeked in from the central corridor of the Keep, listening to the rising murmur of voices, punctuated by the bass rumbles of male laughter, and sharp, nasal comments in high pitched upper-class accents. Nalia nodded to herself, and hurried off to complete her own appearance.

Normally, Nalia hated anything involving nobles, preferring to spend her time slumming with the peasants and folk beneath her, but this was one occasion when she had to meet nobles that she actually enjoyed. Thankfully, Farthington Roenall wouldn’t be there- she didn’t think she could stand facing him, not after the death of his son. He was said to be distraught, but Nalia didn’t know if he blamed her or not. She had informed the Athkatlan authorities of his involvement in slavery, but he was the one who had been guilty in the first place. Still, it was nice to know she’d not be bumping into him. She pattered off back to her dressing room, and turned the handle and pushed the door. Locked.

“Sweet Ilmater, Edwin, not again!” She yelled through the door. “How many times do you need to alter that stupid robe of yours? It’ll fall to bits if you put any more enchantments on it, you know!” She reached in her pocket for her lockpicks- drat! She didn’t keep lockpicks in her ballgown, of course. “My silk slippers are in there! You want me to go with bare feet?”

“One second.” A muffled voice said through the woodwork. The door clicked open.

“About time this is my dressing room you should get your own and…Oladozheti!”

Edwin smirked. “Your knowledge of vernacular Thayvian constantly improves. I presume that means you approve of my attire?” He tweaked a sleeve, then strolled about smugly, the new robe twirling.

“You…you…you’re not wearing red!” Nalia said, staring open mouthed. Edwin was dressed in a dove grey silk robe, trimmed with a black velvet border and a tiny line of silver stitching. It hugged his waist, and then flared out into a billowing skirt that swished luxuriously as he moved. In fact, the robe billowed everywhere. There was a long, graceful cape and velvet edged sleeves so flared they almost reached the floor. Gone was the ornate embroidery, padded shoulders and high collar Edwin had always favoured in the past. Nalia noticed, that he looked also rather better tonight than he had recently- not as pale and worried. Maybe he was coming to terms with his exile from Thay at long last?

“I felt like a change,” Edwin said casually, “I thought this heavyweight grey two-ply crushed silk would make an excellent robe. Silk takes enchantments well.”

“Edwin the Grey…” Nalia mused. “It, um, suits you.” She couldn’t quite get used to this new look. Edwin wore red. The colour and him went together. Him in another colour was a strange and slightly unsettling experience. However, the grey did suit him. Combined with his pale features, it gave him an eerie attractiveness, as if some ethereal spirit had chosen to look human, briefly. “It looks very magical.” She hopped across the floor to claim her own dancing slippers.

“It isn’t, yet,” Edwin said eagerly, “But I have plans. I feel some magical resistance would be beneficial to both of us.”

“Yes, probably. So, do you like my gown?” Nalia said, twirling slightly self-consciously. Edwin cocked his head on one side, considering his answer carefully. Nalia felt she had far too many ballgowns. The money spent on them would be far better off going to the poor, or something like that. She couldn’t quite bear to part with them, though. This one was her favourite colour, blue, and had a skirt like a meringue. The narrow waist then tapered up to a tightly laced bodice, and, like Edwin, she had a cloak that trailed elegantly behind her. Her hair was tied up in a blue and gold rope hoop, the current high fashion in Amn, piled upon her head and secured by a sky blue morning glory flower (silk, of course- her gardener simply couldn’t get them to grow at this time of year, it seemed).

“Hmm. The hemline could have been sewn somewhat straighter, and I can see a loose thread at the edge of the cape.” His eyes swept up from her hemline. His gaze grew warmer and more appreciative as it rested on her well-filled bodice. “Although…”

“Edwin!”

“Hmm?”

Nalia shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, time to go.” She held out her arm. Edwin stared at it in puzzlement. “The hostess and host are supposed to arrive arm in arm. It’s traditional.”

“Why do I have to be the host? You know my feelings on all this ridiculous pomp. Why not ask that insufferable Aunt of yours?”

“A host has to be male, that’s what it means!”

“Yes, and? She already has a moustache, what more do you need?”

“Edwin, that’s unkind!”

“So why are you trying not to laugh?”

“I’m not!”

“My dear Nalia, you are a terrible liar.”

“Fine, stay here, then. No one will see your new robe.”

“Putting it like that…”

“Well then! Let’s go!”

They walked down the stairs as fast as their clothes would allow, and paused outside the main door to the Great Hall. The sound level had risen a lot- it was clear most of the invited people were already here. A servant rushed past with a tray covered with empty glasses. Nalia squared her shoulders and threw back her head regally. Edwin tweaked his robe again and lifted his head arrogantly. Nalia nodded to a servant, and he threw open the double doors.

“The gracious hostess and host, Lady Nalia de’Arnise of Amn, and her fiancé Lord Edwin Odesseiron of Thay.”

Why do you get your name mentioned first?

Because I’m more important than you.
She answered smugly.

Nonsense! Which of us is the better mage? Do these people not recognise such things?

You already know they don’t.

Hmm…

You really should change your name, you know. Getting announced like that is a bit of a giveaway. Imagine if any Red Wizards were listening.

I didn’t ask to be announced in such a fashion.

Oh yes, you really hated it, didn’t you?


A small smirk tugged at the corners of Edwin’s mouth, and Nalia looked at him and smiled.

“Ah, you’re here, Nalia dear!” Delcia pushed a minor noble aside, and came up to the two mages. “Edwin, you look simply marvellous! I once had a gown that colour, but it seems to have got misplaced. I am sure one of the servants stole it. One simply can’t get good staff these days.” She sniffed.

I cut it up and used it to create this robe. There was certainly plenty of material to spare.

Nalia coughed hurriedly. “Who’s here, Auntie?”

“Nalia, you really shouldn’t call me ‘Auntie’ at a formal Ball. My title is Lady Delcia Caan, Dowager of Keep de’Arnise, as well you know.”

Nalia rolled her eyes. “Ok, Lady Delcia Caan, Dowager of Keep de’Arnise, who’s here?”

“You should take titles seriously, Nalia dear. They separate us nobles from the mere peasantry that infect our lands.” She cocked her head distractedly to listen to the minstrels as they started to play the opening notes of a waltz.

“That’s Lady Nalia de’Arnise of Amn to you.”

“Oh Nalia, really! I…”

“Why, Lady Nalia, what a pleasant surprise.” A deep voice said, from behind. Nalia turned around and squeaked. Lord Farthington Roenall was standing there, with an unpleasant smile on his face. “Perhaps you would favour me with your lovely company for the first dance?”

“Erm…Lord Roenall, um…I can’t, I’m afraid. You see, I have already been invited by Edwin.”

“I never…” Nalia surreptitiously pinched her own arm. Edwin jumped. “Argh! Er, that is, yes.”

“Oh” He frowned, his eyes glittering with malevolence. “Maybe later, then.” He moved off into the crowd.

“I can’t believe he’s here!” Nalia burst out. “He wasn’t invited, how dare he?”

“Oh you have to invite all the leading nobles, dear.” Delcia commented.

“Oh Auntie, you invited him, didn’t you?”

“Of course! It would have been a grave insult to miss him out. He is an important landowner, you know. Anyway, hurry up, the first dance is starting. Go on, dear. Enjoy yourself!”

“Dance?” Edwin said, looking briefly baffled. He stared around himself for a second, and then nodded slightly. “Ah, yes. The dance. The Solstice Ball. Yes.”

“Come on!” Nalia dragged him by the arm onto the dance floor.

They bowed and curtseyed to each other, then took hold of each other, and took the first steps of the waltz. Nalia was surprised; she would have thought that Edwin would be a rotten dancer, but he actually wasn’t bad. Arm in arm, they began to circle as the tempo picked up to a fast waltz.

Listen.

Nalia listened to the music. She realised she recognised the tune. Oh yes, it was very familiar.

“They’re playing our song.” She whispered into his shoulder, with a slight grin.

“Our song…” Edwin said thoughtfully. They looked at each other. Nalia started to giggle. The corner of Edwin’s eyes started to crease, and they both burst into laughter. Nalia realised she had hardly ever heard Edwin truly laugh- she had heard him snort sardonically, or snigger at someone else’s misfortune, but had rarely heard a genuine, unrestrained laugh. Unfortunately, his laugh was a high-pitched falsetto giggle that just made her laugh even more. She clung to his shoulder and laughed and laughed.

“Stop, Edwin, p…please stop! Can’t breathe…” She begged.

“Me…neither…” He gasped. They looked at each other, and burst into laughter again.

“Edwin, stoppit!”

“I’m…trying to!”

The two mages circled the dance floor laughing and laughing and laughing, amidst the stares of the Amnian nobility, amidst the mortal danger of the rakshasa, admist all the worries and perils. Somehow, the danger just made them laugh all the harder.




0 user(s) are reading this topic

0 members, 0 guests, 0 anonymous users

Skin Designed By Evanescence at IBSkin.com