The Sorceress of Belmair

“But how are we to find out?” Dillon wanted to know.

“Have you not been taught finding spells?” Kaliq said.

“I think we must first learn why Belmair wanted these Yafir to leave our world,” Cinnia said quietly. “The answer has to be somewhere within the books Prentice has.”

“But if it isn’t?” Dillon asked.

“It has to be,” Cinnia insisted. “It is a part of our history. Perhaps we are looking in the wrong place for these answers.”

“Explain,” the Shadow Prince said sharply.

“We are seeking answers to why the Yafir and the Belmairans disagreed in the magic books. What if those answers are not in the magic books, but rather in our ancient histories? The situation is, after all, history, not necessarily magic. And how can you find answers if you don’t know the questions? Until today, we didn’t,” Cinnia said.

Kaliq suddenly looked at the girl with new respect. “You are right!” he said.

And Dillon laughed. “We have looked at this situation through the eyes of magic and complicated it. Cinnia’s commonsense approach has simplified it for us.”

“You do not have the answers yet,” Cinnia told them. “I have only posed a what-if to you.” She turned to the scholar. “If I show you the books in which I found my reference to the Yafir, do you think you can pinpoint the historical era? Only then can we begin to seek the answers we need.”

“Show me the book in which you read about the Yafir,” Prentice said. “I will date it for you, and then find the volumes we are going to need.”

“Come with me, then, back to the Academy,” Cinnia said.

“Let me transport you. It’s quicker, and we do not want to attract interest among the other scholars, or anyone who might be watching,” Dillon said to his wife.

“Aye, ’tis better. Stand next to me, Prentice, and take my hand,” Cinnia said, and no sooner than he had they found themselves standing again in the midst of the scholar’s cluttered chamber. Cinnia went immediately to where she remembered the stack of books being, and when she reached out her hand the pile appeared. She lifted a small volume from the top. “Here is the book where the Yafir are mentioned.” She opened it carefully, for the pages were thin and delicate, and handed it to Prentice.

Drawing his spectacles from his robe he began to carefully look over the small book. Finally he nodded. “The book is written by the well-known Belmairan scholar, Calleo, who lived in the time of King Napier the IX, who reigned over Belmair nearly forty centuries ago.”

“Then we must look into the history of Napier IX’s reign,” Cinnia said.

“It was a long reign as I recall it,” Prentice said. “Over ten centuries, my lady. We will have to look through my library for books concerning that reign. I will have most of them here in my rooms, for such ancient history is not thought useful by those here today.”

For the next several days Cinnia spent her time with the scholar poring through shelves and shelves of books, seeking the histories that concerned the reign of Napier IX. Prentice was not an orderly man. Their search would have been easier had he kept the books according to eras or reigns, but he did not. They were scattered here and there upon the shelves, floors and tables. Cinnia cleared one end of the great rectangular table in the scholar’s front chamber. And it was here that they began to pile the books covering the reign of Napier IX. When they had close to one hundred books Cinnia deemed she and the scholar should begin reading.

For the next several weeks they devoted their waking hours to reading through the histories. Most nights in the dim chamber she would lose track of the time, and Dillon would grow tired of waiting for her to appear for the evening meal. He would then bring her home by the use of his magic, setting her down into her seat at the high board where for a moment of two she would look startled, before commencing to eat.

One evening, as Cinnia adjusted to finding herself at her dinner table and not at the scholar’s table, she apologized to her husband. “I am so intrigued by this mystery, I must solve it,” she told him. They were alone, Kaliq and Cirillo having returned to Hetar until they would be needed again.

“We will solve it, my queen,” Dillon promised her.

“What do you do while I am with Prentice all day?” she asked him, curious.

“I have the affairs of our world to administer, for unlike Hetar and Terah you have no counsel to advise your king. Perhaps in the future we will change that,” he said. “And I must build my stores of medicines, tinctures, potions and spells. When my father transported my possessions from Shunnar much of what I had was left behind in my little apothecary, for he forgot that room was mine,” Dillon told her. “Britto found me a fine apartment in one of the castle towers. It has two rooms-one with a small hearth and a window, and the other an interior space where I can dry the plants Ferrex and I have been gathering these fine summer days while you have been reading in Prentice’s dusty rooms.” He smiled at her. “I have been able to duplicate some rather lovely lotions that are used to inspire lovers. They must age until winter, however.”

“You have occupied your time well,” Cinnia said with a smile.

“I have read and read and read about the reign of Napier IX, but so far it is just different versions of the same tale. And there is no mention at all of the Yafir. I am fast becoming discouraged. Have you seen Nidhug at all?”

“It seems she enjoyed my uncle’s company more than she realized she had, and now she misses it,” Dillon responded. “It is usual for the women who become his lover to fall in love with him, but I think our dragon has, too.”

“Poor Nidhug,” Cinnia said softly.

“Don’t feel sorry for her,” Dillon told his young wife. “I think she is enjoying the pain of their separation. And he’ll be back. He admitted to me before he returned home that he grew quite fond of Nidhug. I do not think I have ever heard Cirillo admit to loving any creature, even his mother. He is quite typical of his race. Highly sexed and selfish. But charming. Now eat your supper, my queen. You look tired.”

“I am,” Cinnia admitted. “And I am discouraged, but I know I am right. If we can learn what caused the breach between Belmair and the Yafir I am certain we can heal it. But then I wonder if the Yafir are the ones responsible for the disappearance of our women, and I wonder why they are taking them,” she said.

Almost ten days later Cinnia found part of her answer, a first reference to the dispute between the Yafir and the Belmairans. It was referred to in the history she was reading as the Great Controversy. But there was no explanation of the quarrel other than by name, and that the wicked ones had been requested to leave Belmair. Knowing now what she was seeking, she found several more references to the Great Controversy, but before she could declare some small piece of the puzzle solved she needed to be able to ascertain that the Yafir were the wicked ones. Finally in a yellowed scroll she discovered what was probably one of the first references written about this imbroglio.

By royal decree of His Majesty, King Napier the IX, on this first day of summer, the wicked ones, formally known as the Yafir people, have been banished from Belmair, said banishment to be carried out by summer’s end.

“Prentice!” Cinnia called to the scholar, and when he came to stand by her side she showed him the words in the old scroll.

“My lady,” he said to her, “you deserve the rank of scholar, as well as queen. When we have solved all of this conundrum I shall recommend you to Byrd myself.”

“No woman has even attained the rank of scholar in Belmair,” Cinnia reminded him. “Such an idea would truly shock the members of the Academy.”

“Then it is time they changed their thinking!” Prentice said.

“Be careful,” she teased him. “If they hear such heresy they will send you to Hetar for certain.” The scholar chuckled.

“Perhaps I would enjoy traveling,” he teased back.

“King of Belmair, heed my call. Come to me from out yon wall,” Cinnia spoke the simple spell her husband had taught her.

The young king stepped into the chamber. “What is it, my queen?” he asked her.

“I shall never get used to this,” Prentice murmured.

“Look!” And Cinnia showed him the reference she had found.