if we could learn why they are stealing these females we might be able to stop the practice.”
“I could try to find them,” Cirillo agreed. “The question is where to begin.”
“Can they be called forth?” Kaliq considered slowly. “Let me think a minute to see if I can remember the hierarchy of the Yafir so we may call their leader to us.”
“Without a name?” Cirillo said. “We need the power of name magic to reach out to them. You know that, Kaliq. Without a name the quest is hopeless.”
“I may have a way,” the great Shadow Prince said. “I must leave you briefly, but I will be back by sunset,” he promised, and hurried from the chamber. He sought out a deep shadow, and stepping into it stepped back out in his own palace of Shunnar. He was in his private chamber. Going to a cabinet, he took out a beautiful carved metal bowl and set it upon a pale wood table. Reaching for an earthenware pitcher that was filled with water, Kaliq poured it slowly and carefully into the metal bowl. He waited for the surface of the water to calm and clear. When it had he looked down into it, and said, “Satordi, lord of the Munin, come to me.”
The water in the basin darkened, and then the surface became as luminous as a mirror. It reflected a long gray face that looked up at the Shadow Prince. “Greetings, Kaliq of the Shadows,” Satordi said. “It has been some time since you have called upon the Munin for aid. How may I serve you?”
“I need the name of a Yafir high lord who hides himself in Belmair,” Kaliq said.
“An interesting request,” Satordi remarked. “Were the Yafir not sent from Belmair aeons ago? Those are memories that I know are kept by my brothers and me.”
“Exiled, aye, but whether they went is another thing entirely. Do you retain memories past the time of their exile?” Kaliq inquired.
The Munin lord thought long and carefully. “We have no real record of them after Belmair,” he noted. He grew silent again, probing the collective memory banks of his race. “An occasional snippet of passion, a bit of revelry, but nothing to indicate where they are or why we do not have their discarded memories, my lord Kaliq.”
“You, or one of your brothers, will have among the memories you keep the name of the high lord of the Yafir from that time. If he was not an ancient then it is probable that he still holds that office, for the Yafir like most of the faerie races live very long lives. Find that name for me, Satordi. Find it quickly!”
“I shall return to you within the hour,” the Munin lord said, and his visage vanished from the surface of the water in the basin.
Kaliq sat down in a large, comfortable chair, leaning back to rest his dark head, easing the ache in the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. He knew instinctively without being told that the Yafir had not left Belmair. But until he had a name to call forth it would be difficult to learn much more than that. The scent of Damask roses drifted in from his gardens on the warm air. It surrounded him, teasing at his nostrils and lulling him into a light sleep. He sat up fully awake when he realized that the Munin lord had returned. He walked over to the table and gazed down into the carved metal basin as Satordi’s face appeared to him.
“The name you seek is Ahura Mazda,” the Munin lord told him. “He had only been high lord of the Yafir for fifty years when they were told to leave Belmair. He is likely to still be their leader for the memories we retain of him are of a young and vibrant man, stubborn, proud and oft times difficult. Is there anything else?”
“Nay, there is not,” Kaliq replied. “I thank you and your brothers, Satordi.”
“To serve you, great Shadow Prince, is our pleasure,” the Munin lord responded, and then he faded away in the waters of the reflecting bowl.
Kaliq moved away from the table and back into the shadows of the chamber. He stepped out again into the room where Dillon, Cinnia, Cirillo and the dragon had been.
They were awaiting him.
“You went to the Munin,” Dillon said.
Kaliq smiled. “Aye, and I have the name we seek. It is Ahura Mazda. Now, Cirillo, it is up to you to fashion a spell that will bring this Yafir to us.”
“You and Dillon must create reinforcing spells for my magic,” the faerie prince said. “The Yafir are fairly resistant to the magic of others. They will try to repel my spell with their own so we will all have to work together.”
“And Cinnia and I can help,” Nidhug said.
“My dear dragon,” Cirillo told her, “this is serious and strong magic we must use. Your magic is not potent enough, I fear. Let us handle this task.”
“It is not beyond my magic,” Nidhug replied, “to turn you into a warty toad, if even briefly, for alas I am only a weak female, oh prince of the Forest Faeries.”
“I will be grateful to have you and Cinnia using your magic to protect ours,” Dillon said to the dragon. “We are going to need all the help we can muster.”
“Agreed,” Kaliq replied. “Work your summoning spell now, Cirillo. This Yafir must respond to you because you are both of the faerie race.”
With a little shrug and a charming smile directed to Cinnia and the dragon the faerie prince spoke.
“What prince of faeries calls my name?” a disembodied voice asked.
“Show yourself,” Cirillo said.
“You did not request that I show myself. You only asked for my presence,” the voice told him smugly.
“Are you so ugly then that you hide yourself from us?” Cirillo demanded to know.
“You have my name, now give me yours,” the voice insisted.
“I am Cirillo, the son of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, and her heir. These others are Kaliq, the great Shadow Lord, Dillon his son, the new king of Belmair, and…”
“I know the girl,” the voice told them. “Cinnia, daughter of Fflergant. He is dead then? And how did a Hetarian gain the throne of Belmair. Is it legal?”
“No more answers to your questions until you reveal yourself, Ahura Mazda,” Cirillo said firmly.
The Yafir high lord uncloaked himself. He was tall and slender, with eyes the color of an aquamarine and hair that was silvery-white. He was handsome in a cold way. “Very well, Cirillo of the Forest Faeries, you see me.” He was garbed all in different shades of blue with just a twinkle of gold here and there.
“Fflergant is gone, and Dillon of Shunnar rules in Belmair now. Cinnia is his queen,” Cirillo told the Yafir.
“What do you want of me?” Ahura Mazda asked.
“I have brought you here,” Cirillo said. “Now let the young king, who is my nephew, and his queen ask the questions of you that they must.” He turned to Dillon and Cinnia with a small nod.
“Let me welcome you to our castle, high lord of the Yafir,” Dillon began. “May I offer you in hospitality a goblet of wine?”
Ahura Mazda nodded, an amused smile upon his lips. “I will accept your hospitality, king of Belmair,” he said. “How is it that you are related to Prince Cirillo?”
“He is my mother’s younger brother,” Dillon answered.
“And your father?” the Yafir asked.
“Kaliq of the Shadows who stands in this chamber with you,” Dillon said.
Ahura Mazda’s pale, almost invisible eyebrow was raised in surprise. But recovering, he remarked, “Then you are magic.”
“I am magic,” Dillon agreed, and handed the Yafir a goblet of wine that appeared suddenly in his hand, creating one for himself, as well, and sipping at it.
The Yafir nodded. “Of course.”
“Let us sit, and you will tell me why you did not leave Belmair when you were banished all those centuries ago by Napier IX.” He led his guest to a settee where Cinnia and the two men sat down. Kaliq, Cirillo and Nidhug remained standing, at the ready.
“How do you know the Yafir were exiled?” he asked, curious.
“Was not the hidden chamber closed and destroyed shortly after you entered it?”
“The guardian was not able to prevent us from obtaining some of the books,” Cinnia said. “And those combined with some of Belmair’s most ancient texts helped us to learn of you, and that you were ordered away.” Cinnia paused and then she asked him, “Why did the king turn on you, my lord? And when he had, why did you not leave?”
