It would have been easy enough to turn them directly into coins, but that would have been a crime. Instead I sold the metals directly in a dozen different towns. Initially I got good prices, but within a few trips the market for iron and silver plummeted, so I stopped. I had made enough to pay my debts and remain solvent for another year or two anyway.
I later found out that the Earl of Winfield was heavily invested in several mines, and as a result of my efforts, he lost quite a bit of money that year when the prices dropped. I wished I could claim that I knew before, but it was just a happy coincidence.
Staying isolated became more work when summer arrived, and with it an invitation.
“What’s this?” I asked Penny when I saw the ornately decorated envelope.
She grinned at me, “A wedding invitation.”
I thought for a moment, knowing that it must surely be someone we were expecting to get married soon. My mind remained scrupulously blank, and my vacant stare communicated the fact to her.
“I know you’re brighter than this,” said my wife. “I’ll give you two guesses.”
Rose? That thought brought an inner twinge of pain. No, that’s impossible so soon, maybe ever. Was Elaine seeing someone? Maybe Harold… Then I remembered that Harold had already gotten married. I felt relief that my memory told me that before I guessed his name. Penny would never have let me live that down.
”I can almost see the steam rising from your ears,” joked Penny. “Be careful or you’ll get heatstroke.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Peter!” I said at last.
Her look was one of utter amazement. “No, and that just goes to prove how utterly clueless you are. Peter isn’t interested in women.”
“Really?” I asked, somewhat surprised.
She sighed, “This could take all day.”
“Are you sure about Peter?”
“He’s lived with his sister almost the entire time since they joined us. He’s never shown the slightest interest in anything other than his job and… I’ll stop there, you obviously haven’t noticed much about his personal life.”
Now she was just being mean. I decided to play even dumber, just to rile her up. “When you say he’s only interested in his job—you mean me, don’t you!”
She stared at me in disdain. Clearly I couldn’t get any stupider.
“I was joking,” I admitted.
“Should I laugh?” she replied. “You still haven’t made a good guess yet.”
“Wait, you said ‘he lived with his sister almost the entire time’, is Lilly getting married?” I was proud of my deductive reasoning. If Lilly was moving out of their shared rooms it must mean one of them was marrying.
“She is seeing someone,” said Penny, “but they aren’t past the initial courtship yet.”
“I give up then.”
“Moira Centyr!” she declared then, almost gloating in her excitement.
“Wait! What?” That truly surprised me. Not only did I not have any idea of a romance brewing in her life, but I wasn’t even certain there should be one. Technically she wasn’t actually a person. She was a magical intelligence, a copy of a long dead person, made immortal by the enchantment I had placed upon her and given flesh and blood by the handiwork of Gareth Gaelyn.
“You never saw that one coming, did you?” added Penny gleefully.
I shook my head, “Not at all, but who…?”
“Gareth.”
“What!?” I almost jumped out of my shoes. “That’s impossible.”
“No…” said Penny slowly, “It’s quite possible. In fact, it makes perfect sense.”
I was having none of it, “He’s rigid, bristly, impersonal, and he drinks too much.”
“I don’t recall ever seeing him drink much,” commented my wife.
“I made that part up.”
She peered closely at me, “I’m surprised. I hadn’t thought you would be like this. You’re actually protective of her, aren’t you? She’s a grown woman you know.”
“She’s family,” I protested. “I want the best for her.”
“Gareth is well suited to her,” said Penny. “Plus, he’s the only other person around who is over a thousand years old. They have a lot of common history.”
“Centuries of shared suffering are hardly a basis for marriage. Most would say they were more likely the result of marriage,” I shot back wittily.
Her eyes caught fire then, “Is that what you think?”
Maybe, if I don’t learn when to avoid stupid jokes. “No, of course not. I meant other people,” I said, adding a sly grin that implied I really meant us. At this point she would know I was teasing her.
Penny’s face softened, but she put a growl in her reply, “You’ll pay for that one later.”
“This is turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy,” I chuckled.
***
Moira and Gareth’s wedding was held at the palace in Albamarl. I offered them the use of Cameron Castle, but they chose to accept Ariadne’s invitation instead. Naturally, that meant that Penny and I found ourselves in Albamarl for the first time since my lashing.
This isn’t about me, I kept reminding myself.
The ceremony was lovely, as was to be expected. One thing surprised me, though. Moira Centyr was fairly brimming with aythar.
Not just a little extra, mind you. No, she was, at my best guess, carrying virtually all the power I had taken from Mal’goroth before he was destroyed. The aythar had been divided up between the three shining gods, but I hadn’t gotten around to figuring out what to do with it. I couldn’t release them from their immortality until that problem was solved.
It was something I should have taken care of sooner, but I had been too withdrawn to focus on important tasks. Now it appeared that someone had taken the matter out of my hands. The bride had such an immense amount of aythar that she had to keep herself shielded; otherwise the sheer pressure of it might have rendered her guests unconscious.
For some reason, that irritated me a bit.
“You’re tensing up,” said Penny from beside me.
“Sorry, dear,” I told her, making a conscious effort to relax my shoulders. It had to have been Gareth. I gave him the keys to control the Shining Gods.
For a moment I had some uncharitable thoughts regarding Moira’s new husband. It seemed awfully convenient for him to have placed all that power in his future wife’s hands. I pushed my paranoia aside, though. When did I become so untrusting?
Trust aside, I couldn’t risk anyone having access to that much power, even myself, though until I found an alternative that was my only option. Rather than enjoy the wedding I spent the entire ceremony thinking hard on possible solutions.
Glancing over at my daughter, I saw her talking to the small doll that rode on her shoulder. As Moira Centyr had predicted, she had begun bringing her toys to life over the past few months, animating each of them with distinct personalities. It had been rather unsettling until I got used to it.
Her toys were unfailingly polite and frequently adorable in their mannerisms. She invested each with a small amount of aythar to keep them ‘alive’, but it would run down in a matter of days if she didn’t renew it. Moira Centyr had said they would become more durable with time and practice, or if she put more aythar into them.
They could be very useful and at this point in her life they were mostly harmless. They were nothing like the gods that my ancestor and Moira Centyr had created. So long as I never used that enchantment again, there was no fear of another immortal, and eventually, spiteful entity being created.
It was a shame really. Such a being could store unlimited amounts of aythar, was unfailingly loyal and… My mind froze for a moment. “Ha!” I said aloud.
Penny elbowed me in the ribs, “Shhh!”
I hushed, but I began to fidget with my excitement. The idea running through my head was fascinating. It solved a number of problems at once—and it was artistic. I had a feeling none of the necessa
ry people would agree to it, but that was alright. I had a way with people.
The party after the vows were done was breathtaking, but I had no attention to spare for celebrating. I accepted small plates of food and various drinks almost mechanically as my mind fleshed out the details of what might be my greatest achievement.
Gareth will be a problem, I noted mentally. I’ll need him to provide the flesh.
The enchantments would be difficult as well. I already knew the essential parts, but if my design was to be perfect, I would have to create something new. Forgetfulness is the death of the mind, I told myself, thinking of a day long ago, when Marcus and I had been searching his father’s library. I knew it would work.
“You seem lost in thought,” said a familiar voice beside me.
Looking up, I realized that Ariadne had closed on me while my mind was diverted. If I had been paying attention, I probably would have made certain we never bumped into one another. Now it was too late.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” I responded without too much hesitation. Using my magesight, I located Penny. She had grown tired of my lack of conversation and was now mingling with some of the other guests. “I think I have forgotten the art of small talk.”
Her eyes were warm, but behind them I could see a hint of something else. “You should visit the capital more often, there are endless opportunities to reacquaint yourself with it here,” she suggested.
That was the last thing I wanted. I had lost all desire for the company of the nobility, and the Queen’s presence felt like a burning pain. My scars began to itch.
“I have not been to the capital since…,” I paused, unable to finish that sentence. Instead I restarted, “It has been months, Your Majesty.”
She reached out toward me as if to touch my arm, but stopped when she saw my involuntary withdrawal. I had stepped back an inch.
“Mordecai, you do realize I never wanted things to happen as they did, don’t you?” she said with a sad, almost lonely note in her voice.
“Certainly,” I replied, but I put no effort into sounding convincing.
“Yet you haven’t answered my letters,” she pointed out.
I faced her then, looking into her eyes. “It’s difficult, Your Majesty. My mind knows the truth, but my heart, it remembers the shame. Give me time.”
“There is no one to hear us,” she reminded me. “You don’t have to use the honorifics.” The space around us was empty, and for a moment I realized, so was she—empty and alone, isolated by power.
Whatever else she was now, Ariadne was Marcus’ little sister, the girl who had tried to follow us on our childhood adventures. As Queen, she needed friends more than ever, and yet I had shut her out of my heart.
I stared at my feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I am now, but I think it will get easier.” It was easier to think now that I no longer had to watch her emotions play across her features. Even then my mind itself turned away, seeking to retreat into the plan it had been working on only moments before.
Blood, that’s the key, I realized with sudden inspiration. Take it now, or else you’ll have to come back later. Using my will alone, I reshaped the inside of my signet ring, creating a sharp, jagged edge.
“The distance between us pains me, Mort. We’re still family,” she said.
We were first cousins, once removed, and now that her parents were gone, I was the closest family she had, except for one other. I decided to change the subject. “I heard the good news about Roland. Congratulations.”
Roland, her younger brother, had turned up only a month past. He had been presumed dead, but his body had never been found. Once his story was told, we found out that he had been away from Lancaster when the attack had happened. Roland had always been an avid outdoorsman, much like his father in that regard. He had returned from a hunt to discover his keep destroyed and had only narrowly escaped being captured by the Shaddoth Krys before he understood his danger.
Alone, he had retreated into the mountains. He had planned to build his own shelter and try to winter there, but by some stroke of good fortune had found a small cottage in the rough foothills. A shepherd, along with his wife and daughter lived there.
They had accepted him into their home, and he had exchanged his labor for a warm bed and food. He had also been smitten by their daughter.
Ariadne grimaced, “I am glad to have him returned, but his situation has made things more difficult.”
“You mean his common wife?” I said pointedly. It was a loaded question, since my own wife, Penny, was a commoner too.
She nodded, “For a nobleman it can be managed, but for a royal…”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to deal with it. He seems very happy,” I observed. “I would think his reappearance might create bigger problems for you.” According to the laws of succession, her younger brother should have been crowned king if he survived. A woman could only ascend to the throne if there were no sons.
“Some have tried to make a problem out of it,” she agreed, “but Roland wouldn’t cooperate. The first thing he did once he got to Albamarl was to formally abnegate his right to the crown.”
“I bet that caused a stir.”
Ariadne grinned. “It did indeed, but the troublemakers don’t have a leg to stand on now. Roland never wanted the throne. Even the duchy is a burden to him, though I did manage to convince him to resume his place there.”
“What would he have done otherwise?” I asked.
She laughed, “He wanted to go back and live out his days as a simple shepherd. Melanie’s parents made quite an impression on him.”
Melanie, I had probably been told the name, but I had forgotten it. “I can’t say that I blame him. I’ve wished the same a few times,” I said wistfully. Without realizing it, I had already begun to relax in my conversation with Ariadne, forgetting for a moment the pain that had kept me segregated from her.
Ariadne peered at me compassionately, “Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if you hadn’t discovered your heritage, if you hadn’t become a wizard, or a count? You might be there still, hammering away in your father’s smithy.”
“More so now than ever before,” I answered softly.
My words moved her then, and she reached out, seeking to clasp my hands within her own. It was a gesture that was full of warmth and familial closeness. Before she could complete the movement, I opened my hands and caught hers within them, squeezing firmly. She jerked as the sharp metal edge on my ring cut the back of her right hand, drawing a bright red bead of blood.
“Ow! What was that?” she exclaimed, pulling her hands away.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” I said immediately, pulling out a handkerchief to daub the blood from her hand. “I caught my ring while working on something the other day, and it left a spur of metal.”
I had ruined the moment, and the look in her eyes held a question. Despite our shared history, I saw the seed of distrust there. It was something I had learned to spot in many of the faces of people who still wondered if I could really have regained my full humanity; the doubt, the worry that I might still have something of the monster in me. She blinked, and the fear was hidden again.
“Why don’t you fix it?” she asked with some exasperation.
“I’ve meant to do that, but I keep getting distracted,” I confessed.
“I thought you could do something small like that with little more than a moment’s thought,” she told me.
I could, and it had been just that simple to create the sharp metal point to begin with. “There’s an enchantment on the ring,” I lied smoothly. “I can’t alter it easily without a bit of planning, otherwise I might ruin it.”
She accepted my explanation without argument, but I could tell she was suspicious. That was fine, though. She would understand later. I excused myself soon after and made my way over to talk to the newly married Gareth.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am for you,” I said, shaking his hand.
>
“Your presence here says enough,” he replied congenially. “I understand it must have been difficult for you.”
“I have to get over it sooner or later,” I said with more confidence than I really felt. “I should thank your wife for choosing to have the wedding here.”
He nodded, “I don’t doubt that she considered it before she chose; her kind like to scheme.”
“Her kind?” I said, unsure if he meant constructs, or humans, or those of the feminine persuasion. Considering both his past and hers, it was open to interpretation.
“Women,” he clarified.
I nodded. That was something we could both agree on. Then I brought up the question that had been foremost in my mind, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this body.” I gestured at myself.
“The same way I created hers,” he said without offering any context.
I assumed he meant Moira. “I’m just curious how you did it. Was it wizardry or a product of your talents as an archmage?”
“For normal magic it would be almost impossible. It was the latter, but only a Gaelyn could accomplish it, I think,” he replied.
He might be right, but I wasn’t convinced yet. “Can you describe the process? Just a rough outline…”
He was happy to oblige. It turned out to be less interesting than I had supposed, and more difficult, as well. Using his ability as an archmage he first expanded his body and then split it into two equal parts, transforming both into duplicates of his original self. From that point, he would withdraw into one, leaving the other fully formed and functional, lacking only a spirit or animus.
The difficulty lay in two areas. One, living organisms are exceedingly complex, which was why most archmages only mastered one fundamental living transformation, the return to their original human form. Transforming into a simple body, like the stone monster I had become in the past was easier physically, but more difficult to return from mentally. Creating a living flesh and blood body, such as Gareth’s transformation into the dragon, was far more complex, but it had the advantage of a living brain, which helped to keep the mind intact.
The second problem lay in the duality of what he was accomplishing. He was creating two bodies at one time, and simultaneously keeping them both active and alive until someone else could take up residence in one of them. I had experienced a bit of that difficulty, when I brought Walter back from the brink of death after an assassin had stabbed him. The attempt had nearly cost me my own life as I tried to keep both our hearts beating while healing his body.