“What? How would you know something like that?” she replied, starting to become angry. I worried this was about to turn into a repeat of our conversation of the previous day. If only I could show her, to get past all the misspoken meanings and misunderstandings. Then an idea hit me. Looking back now, if I had known of the dangers I would not have tried it, especially given my inexperience.
“Let me show you Penny. I think I know a way, do you trust me?” I gave her my most emphatic look, unsure how she would react.
“Magic?” she asked.
I nodded thinking she would surely refuse, but she didn’t.
“Ok, what do I do?” she answered. I rolled over then, which made me ache all over, but I wanted to see her face. Being a complete novice in bed I hadn’t thought of how our arms and legs would work in that situation. Naively I had thought she would simply scoot back a bit to give us room to face one another without having to touch, as in the innocent days of our childhood. Instead she slipped one leg beneath mine and draped her arm across my waist. Thankfully the covers were still drawn, since I was starting to feel well enough that the intimacy caused me to feel a stirring below.
I did my best to suppress those thoughts and took a deep breath. The ache that caused did an excellent job of returning my mind to business. I looked into her eyes before she said, “What next?”
“I need to touch your face for a moment, I think that will be enough.” She nodded at me. I had only learned one word in Lycian regarding the mind, but I thought it might be enough to help me do what I intended. “Mirren,” I said, stretching my mind out to touch hers. I raised my hand to touch her face, but she didn’t wait for that, and as I moved she leaned in, kissing me suddenly.
The world vanished. The sensation was similar to what had happened to me with Marc’s horse but different. There was no sudden plunge as I had experienced then, and I didn’t leave my own body. Instead our minds melted together, co-mingling our thoughts and feelings. I could sense her body in much the same was as my own, but it was still ‘hers’, unlike what had happened before. In one sense it was less complete, yet it was infinitely gentler.
Words were no longer effective, in our hearts words are merely a veil that lies thinly over the reality of our experience. Instead I relived the memory of what had happened that night, what I had done, how I had found her, and the emotions flooded through me as if it were happening again. In turn she showed me her own memories, before and after, when she had awoken. The pain she had gone through afterward made me ashamed to have done so little to find her and explain, but I felt her telling me to let go and forgive myself. Her own feelings had shifted from the panic and terror of the experience to a warm acceptance of my part in it. In particular her mind kept returning to the point at which I had laid her gently within her bed that night. She was tasting it, feeling the emotion that had run through me as I looked at her that night, lying frail and beautiful in her bed.
Vaguely I was aware that we were still kissing. Throughout the entire experience we had remained locked in that embrace, though we hardly moved, except to breath. I could feel her awareness as well, and her heart quickened. Excitement built within me, such that I almost lost my link to her, but I adjusted quickly… I didn’t want to lose her yet. I could sense the changes in her and she knew mine. The stirring in me before had grown beyond my control yet she did not shrink away.
She could feel the aches in my body as surely as my emotions. Carefully she eased me over on to my back and worked her way up over me. The foolishness of what we were doing made me hesitate for a moment, but I felt her mind then, serious and intent. I need this Mort, I need to erase the fear he left in me. There weren’t words, but that was the meaning that crossed between us.
I cast my doubts aside and what followed was both painful and joyous. Ironically I felt more pain than she did, which might have made a fine joke if there were ever anyone we could tell it to. The next hour was one I am sure neither of us will forget, for we kept our minds entwined throughout, until at last I became too tired and sleep overtook me.
Chapter 16
The various rulers and lords of men, kings and nobles alike have long had an uneasy affiliation with wizards and mages. They cannot easily ignore such power in the hands of an individual. Such men of power are a duel edged blade, as likely to cut the hand of the lord who wields them as to destroy their foes. Wise rulers are wary of this, for they cannot easily do without the advantages a wizard affords, yet they must always be suspicious of one with the power to kill with a word.
The sun was shining through the clouds as Timothy worked, weeding the garden near the kitchen yard. It was a small garden, nowhere near large enough to serve all the people that the castle fed each day. Most of the food was brought in on carts. Instead the cook used this garden to grow herbs and spices, and small things that were best fresh. Timothy frequently got the task of making sure it was weeded properly, but the cook did all the harvesting himself, when he needed something from it.
Most of the other boys living in and around Lancaster Castle disliked weeding, but Timothy never minded the job. He had lost his mother while still a baby and only had a few friends among the children nearby, so he often had too much free time, even with the tasks he was given. The garden was full of growing things, and dirt, not to mention all manner of insects and small creatures, like frogs. He quite liked frogs. Since there was no rush for him to finish the cook never complained if he took hours to complete the task, so long as he didn’t damage the plants. So he weeded, and talked to frogs, weeded some more and then got distracted by a grasshopper. Small boys are easily distracted and Timothy was no exception.
He looked up as a shadow passed over him, Father Tonnsdale stood there, smiling at him. “There you are! I’ve been looking high and low for you Timmy!”
“I was right here the whole time Father! Cook likes me to weed and he don’ mind if it takes a while,” he gave Father Tonnsdale his best smile.
The older priest tousled his hair, smiling at him, “It’s alright boy, I just needed you to fetch something from town for me.”
“Sure Father, I can finish this later,” Timothy replied, dusting himself off.
Father Tonnsdale gave him directions to a house in town that had what he needed. He told Timothy it would be a small but heavy package, possibly jars. He was to fetch it straight away and bring it back to the chapel.
“What’s in the package?” Timothy asked curiously.
The old man gave him a conspiratorial wink, “It's a secret, a surprise for Mordecai when he gets better. Something like an heirloom, he’ll be glad when he gets it. Just remember, don’t tell anyone till after you get back to me with it. We can tell him together tomorrow if he’s better.”
Excited Timothy took off at a run, full of the endless energy of youth. He liked Mordecai and had worried that he might not recover from his fall. Being given something he could do to help made him feel better.
The morning after the hunt Devon found himself waiting outside the Duke’s chambers. He had been summoned at dawn and although he had arrived within a quarter of an hour he had been waiting for at least an hour since then. It was a sign of the good Duke’s displeasure that he left him in the sitting room for so long and Devon knew it.
A man stuck his head into the room, “The Duke will see you now.” Devon took a deep breath and followed, he was sure this would be unpleasant. Inside the room the Duke sat at a small table, having just finished his breakfast. There were no other chairs, although Devon was sure he had seen several there just a few days before. Another subtle hint, he would be kept standing.
“You called for me your grace?” he spoke, since James Lancaster seemed disinclined to start the
