Before we start, I'll just mention that I've included a link to the first story of this sequence, A Familiar Find, below, just in case you've had difficulty finding it.
An Enjoyable Partnership: When Genders Collide
Part Four
Feredain rode along the packed gravel road to the de'Arnise estate. She rode sidesaddle, head held high, her cloak and robes streaming out behind her gracefully, the golden sunset staining the cloth a deeper scarlet. The horse was a strong bay gelding, with the deep chest and thin legs of a fine racing horse. Feredain had paid a large amount of gold for it; gold did not matter. Power, and catching the Odesseiron, did. And yet…
Yet, at times like this, when she rode a galloping horse, or when she travelled in a fast carriage, she was filled with an old longing, almost an homesickness. Part of her wished to be carried on powerful white wings, gliding high above the dull earth, over glittering landscapes of crystal and bright light, in a land where magic was manifest and the air was wine. Yet, she was doomed, cursed, even, to walk the dull earth, to crawl upon its surface for the rest of her existence.
She shook her head. Humans always wanted the unobtainable. Of course, human was not the correct word here…she had been brought up as a human, always treated as a human, but…
“Good morning, my Lady,” The guard on the gate saluted her, but then, to her satisfaction, took a trembling step back when Feredain looked down at him. “What i…is your business in de'Arnise Keep?”
“I wish to speak to the Lady Nalia de'Arnise.” Feredain leapt off the horse and landed on the ground in a fluid movement, her red robe billowing around her.
“She is, um, indisposed.” He said, looking up at her. He spoke woodenly, obviously reciting a previously prepared script. “But her, er, cousin, Lord Nalian, is currently receiving guests. Should I see if he is available?”
“Please do.”
***
Edwina and Nalian were lounging in the Keep's drawing room. Edwina was sitting in a well padded armchair, idly reading a book, and Nalian was studying his reflection in the huge mirror that hung over the fireplace. He had tied his hair back, reasoning that his long braided hair looked slightly more masculine that way. He was heartily sick of the hopeful crowd that gathered around him whenever he visited Athkatla, and couldn't quite decide if it would be worse or better if all those hopefuls were female for once, rather than male. He felt that he had definitely got a worst deal than Edwina. No, perhaps that was unfair. They had, after all, only been the wrong sex now for two weeks. Two weeks more, and then, maybe, things would be a little more even. Nalian's reflection grinned back at him.
“Edwina?”
“Hmm?” Edwina said, not looking up from her thick tome, and obviously not paying the slightest bit of attention.
“Do you think I should grow a beard?”
The surprise made Edwina drop the book into her lap in a way that would have been exceedingly painful before their recent transformation. “What?”
“A beard. Do you think it'd suit me?” Nalian lifted his chin in the mirror, turning this way and that. “I thought it might make me look less, well, effeminate.”
“You actually want to look less feminine? (Please don't tell me he is enjoying this. Just don't.)”
“Well, um, no. But I am sick of the way I keep getting men giving me soulful looks. I reckon a beard'd help.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Edwina put her book down and walked over to stand by Nalian, pursing her elegantly painted lips in thought. Nalian grinned privately. Here she was complaining about Nalian trying to make the best of his appearance, yet she had, after it had become obvious this transformation would be long term, raided Nalian's make-up draw and then stolen all his lingerie.
He had to admit, though, that she cut quite a figure now. What had been a tall and skinny build as a male had become a graceful, aristocratic figure that was, Nalian enviously thought, far more alluring than the robust horsy build Nalian had been born with. Edwina had locked herself in his dressing room (again), and made a few alterations to her red robes. The alterations in question had occasionally made Nalian's newly male eyes wander appreciatively over her elegant curves, much to the disgust of the rest of Nalian. There are times, he thought ruefully, when I wish I could scrub my eyes out with saddle soap.
“Hmm,” She said, “A beard is, of course, the height of tastefulness. It adds maturity without adding years, and has graced the chins of many of the most powerful spell casters. (As long as they're not long and grey, and twinned with a pointy hat.)”
“It would mean I didn't have to shave every day, too.” Nalian said thoughtfully.
“Foolish boy.” Edwina said, shaking her head. “A beard needs constant maintenance, it needs to be clipped into shape and looked after!”
“Oh,” said Nalian, disappointed. “Maybe I won't bother then.”
“Milord?”
“Yes?”
“Yes?” Edwina asked, then shook her head. “Never mind.”
“There is a…lady visitor to see you.” The guard looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“Oh, very well. I'll see her in the library.”
“Very good, sir.”
Nalian walked out and down the corridor, into the large library. A red robed woman was standing in the middle of the carpet, apparently admiring the book collection. As Nalian entered, she turned around. Nalian went cold all over.
The woman was tall. She was very tall. Seven feet tall, Nalian estimated. Her skin was a flawless, rich, chocolate brown. Her head was shaven, revealing a delicately shaped skull. Nalian felt his mouth dry up as her gaze fell upon him.
Her eyes were shining silver pits of cold light, containing neither pupil, iris nor whites. Nalian's eyes wandered over her expensive looking, heavy, red robes. They were much simpler in design than Edwina's, billowing folds of cloth with a thin silver line trimming the sleeves and skirt, and a matching silver chain belt. There could be no doubt, though, that this…woman… was a Red Wizard. She had a passive expression, with a slight edge of satisfaction as she watched Nalian's predictably frightened reaction to her appearance.
“I look for a Red Wizard.” She said in perfect unaccented common, holding Nalian's gaze unblinkingly. Nalian was reminded of stories of rabbits, staring at the snake that would soon devour them whole. Distantly, he could hear the sound of Auntie Delcia's hunt coming back. The jingle of horse tack, the aristocratic guffaws and the yapping of the hounds seemed far away, unimportant, rather than the noisy nuisance they normally were.
“R...really?” He managed.
“ I have heard that he is located on the de'Arnise estate. His name is Odesseiron, Edwin Odesseiron.” She leaned closer to Nalian, focussing her impassive gaze on him. “He has been seen in the company of Nalia de'Arnise.”
Nalian thought quickly. Could this…this apparition read his thoughts? Could she tell if he lied?
“No,” he said, hoarsely, “There is no man called Edwin Odesseiron here.”
The woman stared at him, stared at him until there seemed to be nothing in the world but silver light, cold, sharp light with no room for pity, no room for anything but emotionless, logical thought. Suddenly, she looked away.
“It seems I was mistaken.” She said. “I apologise for wasting your time.” Without another word, she straightened up, and stalked out of the room, heading for the front door of the keep. There was the sound of snarling dogs, surprised aristocratic voices and barking, then silence.
Nalian let his breath out in a shuddering gasp, then ran, full tilt, the short distance between the library and the drawing room.
“Edwina!” He gasped. “We're in trouble.”
Edwina dropped her book again. “What is it this time?” She said, irritably.
“There was,” Nalian stopped to try and get his breath back, hands on his knees. “A Red Wizard here. She was looking for you. Sweet Ilmater, she was terrifying, I've never seen anyone like her. Tall, and she had these awful glowing white eyes.”
Edwina jerked as if she had been shot by a crossbow. She stood up, slowly, the book tumbling unheeded from her lap onto the carpet, landing with a loud thud in the suddenly quiet room. Her face was pale, and her hands fell loosely to her sides.
“Feredain.” She said, distantly.
“Feredain? What is a Feredain?”
“That's her name.” Edwina whispered. “She's an aasimar. Planes touched. Human mother, celestial father. My enemy.”
“But, who is she? What's she doing here? How did an aasimar become a Red Wizard?”
“She was born to a slave on the farms. Why a Deva would choose to visit a slave farm, I don't know. Her great magical powers soon got her noticed. She chose to become a Conjurer. She was adopted into the magically weak Ssroneth family as their heir. We…met at the Thayvian School of Conjuration.” Edwina now wore a bleak, despairing expression, staring straight ahead.
“Why is she your enemy?” Nalian asked.
Edwina shuddered. “She…” She stopped, and closed her eyes, irritably wiping away a tear. “I refuse to talk about this! It's none of your business!”
Nalian placed his hand on Edwina's shoulder, then hastily removed it as he felt her muscles stiffen under his touch. “I'm your familiar. If you can't tell me, who can you tell? What happened?”
Edwina's legs collapsed under her, and she sank down slowly to kneel on the carpet, head in her hands, tears slowly leaking from her eyes.
“What did she do to you?”
“She…” Edwina's voice cracked, becoming high and childlike. “Was better than me. Better at magic. Better at everything.”
“That's all? She was better than you? 'Dwina, I was only average in my mage classes. There were lots of people better than me. Hey, I just lived with it.” Nalian laughed lightly.
Edwina suddenly shot up from the carpet and grabbed Nalian's shoulders, face red, lips set in a snarl. Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Do you have any idea what it is like to be second best?” She hissed. “To excel, but be ignored, to achieve but never receive praise, to work and slave, but not be noticed, to be good at magic, but not quite as good as Feredain?”
“But…but…she's a supernatural being! How could you possibly expect to live up to her standard?”
Edwina took a shuddering breath, released Nalian, and continued, apparently speaking to herself, absently fiddling with the chain around her neck. “Year after year, she achieved more than I. Time after time, my supreme talent was ignored. In the end, though, I excelled. I beat her. It got me sent into exile, but I beat her.” Her chest heaved, and her unblinking eyes seemed to glow from within. “Then I was the best.”
“Why? Why were you sent into exile? You've never told me how that happened.”
Edwina blinked, fingers still caressing the links of the fine gold necklace. A measure of sanity returned to her eyes. “No. That I'll not tell you.”
Nalian watched her carefully. “The amulet.” She said, softly. Edwina jumped guiltily. “It's something to do with that amulet you wear.”
“I have my secrets, and I wish to keep them!” She snarled.
“Did you steal it?”
Edwina turned to face her, a sudden look of intense and maddened glee on her mascara-streaked face. “No, I am no petty larcenist. I did not steal this amulet.” She clenched her teeth in a rictus, a desperate grin of remembered pain and glory. “I made it!” A cry of triumph, and she fainted dead away.
In part five: Feredain turns a serious illness to her advantage.
Glorious Train Wrecks
