By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
 

Winter-Spring 2001

Rating:                 PG-13

Classification: Alternate Universe

Distribution:   Okay for Gossamer, Xemplary, The Annex. All others
please ask, though permission will probably be granted.

Summary: Life goes on in the Realm, even when Mulder and Scully aren't
there to enjoy it. The Realm is rebuilding after the devastation
wrought by the Dark Queen, but problems still beset the inhabitants.
The beings look forward to a Royal Wedding, but first Shannon must
pass the test of her life, while safeguarding her off-world origins.
Meanwhile, brigandage is widespread, causing death and economic havoc,
and the Noble Houses are up to their necks in conspiracy and treason.
But from one House comes a leader who can alter the course of Realm
history.

Disclaimers: This is another story in the Magician series, and as such
is about 99% "unborrowed". But since Mulder and Scully do make some
appearances in this story, it is only fair to tell you that they belong
to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Television.

Acknowledgements (Suzanne): Many thanks to Jennifer Lyons, who
had the original idea for the series; to a super team of beta readers,
which included Ten, Elizabeth Medina, Marybeth Cieplinski, and Methos;
to my co-author Matt, who suggested the basic concept for this story
and did such a monumental job with his share of the creative process;
and most especially to the long-suffering fans of the Realm, who have
waited so long for this installment. The next one will follow much
faster, I promise!

Acknowledgements (Matt): My thanks go to Jennifer Lyons and Suzanne
for     creating this tremendous universe, and for allowing me to take part
in its development. Suzanne's contribution to the creative process as
well as her editorial efforts have been the core on which the growth
of this story has spun, and it has been an honor and pleasure to come
to know and work with her.  The nearly 1,500 mails that we sent back
and forth in creating this      work are a testament to the patience,
frustration, delay, creativity and inspired late-night writing that go
into a work like this, and I can only reinforce Suzanne's thanks to
the beta-readers for their support and thoughtfulness in helping to
get this surprisingly long and complex story done and in your hands.

Foreword: This addition to the Magician series is a little different,
in that it takes place chronologically between two existing books.
As such, it presented certain difficulties, since what came before
and what comes after are "carved in stone" and could not be altered.
One of those unalterable facts is that Mulder and Scully are in the
"Real World" for the entire book. They do make appearances,
however, courtesy of the Oracle Cloud. It is our fervent hope that the
inhabitants of the Realm, both the familiar characters and the new
ones we have created, will capture your interest and your hearts
enough to offset Mulder and Scully's small but critical roles in this
book. The Magician V, due out next autumn, will again feature Mulder,
Scully and Skinner in the Realm, picking up where The Magician IV -
The Warrior Priest left off. Enjoy!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001
 

Chapter One

CLANG!

The clash of metal shook Ballorca from the unease of his thoughts.

For nearly a moon-cycle now, the priests had been busy trying to find
a day which augured best for the Royal Wedding. Although there was
nearly a season-cycle to pass before the event took place, it was
important to set the date. The most highly born of the Realm and
beyond needed time - to order their finery to be made, to find a gift
suitable for a king, to make myriad other preparations to attend. The
Goddess only knew that the Realm's subjects had earned a respite from
the horrors which had beset them for most of the young King's regency

and reign. But now it seemed that the priests and priestesses were
having trouble choosing an auspicious wedding day, just as they had in
determining the day for Andalor's crowning. They had been correct
enough then, choosing the best of a bad lot, a day which foretold
trouble for the boy monarch.

And now! First a broken betrothal, unheard of from time immemorial,
then betrothal to Shannon. A winsome girl, certainly, courageous and a
budding beauty - but not of noble blood, and most mysterious in
background. Mage Mulder's halla and Mage Hannu's daughter she might
be, but that was just another mark against her, as far as Ballorca was
concerned. Her own nascent Mage ability was just another impediment to
bonding with the people of the Realm. Why, oh why could Andalor not
have wed Livirnea, he mused regretfully.  A perfect lady, born and bred
to be the consort of a King. The Minister of Protocol sighed.

Now, at the sound of metal on metal, he glanced up at the practice
fields in the near distance where Aldara was drilling her charges.

No! It could not be...!

Infuriated, Ballorca hustled over to Aldara. Diminutive though the
half-elf was, she still stood a handspan taller than the pudgy
official. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Good morning, Minister," Aldara replied pleasantly.

The little man shook with anger. "Th-this is impossible! Surely, you
see that!"

Aldara sighed and, praying to the Goddess for patience, sheathed
her sword.  At best, she tolerated the fussy, officious little man. At

worst, he had an unerring talent for sparking her legendary temper.
"What seems to be the problem, Minister Ballorca?"

"Great Sweet Goddess! Is everyone a complete fool but me? *That*!
*That* is the problem!" He pointed a trembling finger in the direction
of a group of students working with a tall, lithe and obviously skilled
instructor.

"Oh, that. Yes, Lady Shannon's been assisting me with training some
of the beginners. Good, isn't she?" Aldara responded mildly. She and
the horrified Minister of Protocol watched as Shannon whirled and
spun, parrying the 'attacks' of three trolls and a young male human.
The morning sun glanced off the hilts of their swords, the tips all
shielded in leather.

"This must stop! Immediately!" he babbled. "She is Andalor's bride-
to-be. What if she were injured, or killed?"

The music of Aldara's laugh did nothing to calm him. "Minister,
she is a Warrior, and a talented one. She is in no danger."

Ballorca's mouth hung open in fury, then snapped shut. "We'll
just see about this," he spat out, "and if any harm comes to her, it
will be on your head!" He wheeled around and made for the Castle
as fast as his short, fat legs could carry him.

Blind in his outrage, he automatically navigated the corridors and
staircases, arriving breathless and panting at an iron-bound wooden
door. Impatiently, he pounded at it until it opened to him.

"Minister Ballorca! Is Mage Reinald expecting you?" Pitir swung
back the door as Ballorca strode through to the chamber.

"Probably not.  But I am here nonetheless and must speak to Reinald
on a matter of the gravest importance!"

The stocky troll scratched his head. "I don't know, Minister. Royal
Mage Reinald is working on a spell. He really can't be disturbed
right n- "
 

"He *will* see me, and he will see me *now*!" Ballorca roared.

There was a loud bang from behind the closed door to Reinald's
private study, and an anxious Pitir raced toward the sound. As he
did so, the door swung open to reveal the Royal Mage, his figure
clouded by smoke, his long white hair and beard singed, and his
cheeks and nose colored an unnatural pink. "What in the name of
the Goddess is going on out here?" he demanded irritably.

"Oh, Mage Reinald, are you all right? I am sorry, Master, but Minister
Ballorca...." The troll gestured helplessly towards the seething
official.

"Oh, all right. Yes, I am fine, Pitir - stop fussing. Prepare tea for
the Minister and myself, and then see what you can do to clear away
the mess in my study. Minister Ballorca, take a seat by the hearth."
There was no warmth in the invitation.
 

Clearly, Ballorca was bursting to give Reinald a piece of his mind,
but as custom and protocol demanded, waited until the mugs of
tea were passed.

Then, "It must be stopped!" he demanded without preamble.

"Stopped? What must be stopped?" The Mage sipped his tea
calmly. He well knew that Ballorca lacked perspective, and was
inclined to become easily horrified or enraged by the slightest
breech of protocol.

"Lady Shannon. Do  you know where she is right now?"

"No, I cannot say that I do."

The Royal Mage's calm only intensified the little minister's outrage.

"Swordfighting. She is swordfighting! Captain Aldara has her teaching
a class of youngling warriors. Can you imagine anything more
preposterous?" he demanded.

Actually, Reinald could imagine many more preposterous things,
but with effort, he held his tongue. "And?"

"And nothing!" Ballorca spluttered. "She could be killed!"

"Oh, I think there is very little chance of that happening, Minister.
She is a fine, seasoned Warrior, and I understand that beginners
always have their blades guarded in any case. Was that all that
was bothering you?"

"No, that was *not* all that was bothering me," he snapped in reply.
"Instead of exposing herself to possible injury and death, she should
be here, in the Castle, learning what she needs to know to become a
suitable Queen."

Reinald's brow furrowed. That was a different matter. Much as he
might hate to admit it, the Minister of Protocol had a valid point.
The Council had accepted Andalor's betrothal to Shannon, but only
because it was still reeling from the traumatic events which had
preceded it - the terrible interspecies bloodshed, the attack of the
Dark Queen, the deaths of many of the Heads of Houses, the
unprecedented overturning of the betrothal between Andalor and
Livirnea. But Andalor was besotted with Shannon, and Livirnea had
no wish to wed the king, as much as she valued his friendship. At
length Lord Ranfaus had listened to the heartfelt pleadings of his
daughter and had withdrawn his approval.

Livirnea would have needed no such schooling. She had been
strictly raised and educated in those things that a noble lady
needed to know - protocol, custom, Realm languages and history,
how to make polite conversation to those both above and below her
station.

But Shannon! She was wild, headstrong, undisciplined. She had
virtually no tact or diplomacy, only the faintest acquaintance with
Realm customs, and knew none of its history. How could she, since
she had come from Mulder's world? The origins of Mulder, Scully,
Professor Neumann and Shannon were a tightly guarded secret. If
anyone even suspected the Queen-to-be's true origins, the Realm
would rise up in revolution against the young King. Goddess knew there
had been enough calamity visited upon the Realm....
 

Reinald sighed. Yes, Ballorca had a valid point. With less than a
season-cycle until the Royal Wedding, Shannon would already have

difficulty learning everything she would have to know in the time left
to her.

"Yes, I believe you are correct, Minister," the Royal Mage admitted.

Mouth open to counter Reinald's expected reply, Ballorca was for a
moment shocked into silence. However, it did not take him long to
reassert his authority. "Excellent, Royal Mage," he said, smiling for
the first time that day. "I'm glad you see it my way. Very well, I
shall see to Lady Shannon's lessons myself. I-- "

"I think that would not be wise," replied Reinald, smiling pleasantly.
"By all means, you should draw up the curriculum, if you wish. But
the King will decide who shall be the most effective teacher for the
Lady Shannon." And Goddess help the poor being who would be
chosen for that formidable job, he thought.

"But... but the Minister of Protocol has historically taken the King's
betrothed in hand," Ballorca protested.

"I am aware of  that," Reinald admitted. "And certainly your input

will be invaluable. That is why you will be in charge of  the
curriculum. But the King will decide who is to teach her." I'm
probably saving your life, you little fool, he mused. Shannon's
temper was nearly a match for Aldara's, and her nascent Mage talent
would soon become sufficient to make her a possible danger to others
until she learned control of both.

Haughtily, Ballorca stood. "Very well. But as you know, I will conduct
the Ritual of Readiness. And unless Lady Shannon succeeds in
fulfilling all the requirements during the Ritual, there will be no Royal
Wedding. Protocol is my sacred responsibility, and I would be failing
it if I allowed an unsuitable candidate to become Queen. I demand- "

"Granted," said Reinald tiredly. "Now, if you will excuse me,
Minister, I will meet with Andalor to apprise him of our discussion."

With a curt nod, the Minister of Protocol left, feeling he had gained
more than he had lost.

The Royal Mage sat, watching Ballorca's exit. His examination of the
Queen-to-be would be rigorous, and Shannon would need to be letter-
perfect.  Reinald knew what the Minister of Protocol did not - that
Shannon would have far more to learn than merely what Ballorca's
lessons held. The Minister, believing as others did that Shannon was
from a distant part of the Realm, assumed she had at least a working
knowledge of Realm history, perhaps a smattering of Realm languages,
some familiarity with custom. That they had been able to hide the
child's ignorance thus far was no small miracle.

Sighing again, he rose from his chair to go to the King's quarters.
Ah, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully, he thought with wry amusement.
Where are you when I need you?

*     *     *     *

"You haven't lost your edge, I see."
 

Startled, Shannon wheeled around to find Andalor standing in the
entrance to the weapons shed. Spying a few of her students looking
on avidly, she dropped into a deep curtsey. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Andalor's expression was a mixture of amusement and impatience.
"You're welcome, Lady Shannon," he said with mock gravity. A slight
sideways flick of his head communicated much more - <get rid of your
students>.

"Flocko, Trell, Gampi - if you are so interested in staying, I have
several dozen weapons here which need polishing and sharpening.... No?
I thought not," Shannon laughed. "All right, go home then, and be
prepared to work hard tomorrow." Giggling, the three trolls scurried
off.

"Well, Your Majesty," she said mischievously, emphasizing his title.
"Your wish is my command. It would appear we are all alone."

"You never know," he replied grimly, and drew her deeper into the
shadows of the shed's interior. There, he cupped her face tenderly
and brought his lips to hers, lightly at first, then deepening into a
passionate kiss they broke reluctantly a few moments later.

Frowning, Shannon looked beyond Andalor into the sunny stableyard.
"Andy! What if someone saw?"
 

"Oh, I'd have him beheaded at sunrise. Or have your father turn him
into a fieldbeast or something."

"Moron! You would not," she giggled.

"No - but I'd want to. Goddess, Shannon, I wish we were in Mulder's
world right now. There are dangers enough there, but at least we'd
have time to ourselves, and no one would give a damn what we did."

"I know," she sighed. "Besides, I miss them."

Feeling they had probably spent too much time in the darkened shed -
enough to incite rumors if they were being watched - Andalor took

Shannon's hand and they walked out into the brilliant sunshine.
"Do you miss your world very much?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She shook her head. "No. Not really. Some things at times - Coke,
fast food, movies. But for the most part, I don't miss it at all. It
might be the world I was born into, but my memories of it aren't
exactly all that... well, you know."

He nodded sympathetically and clasped her hand a bit more tightly.

"But I do miss Mulder and Scully."

"Have you spoken to them since they returned to their world?"

"No. I want to, of course. But I'd rather they contacted me first. I
don't want them to think that I'm homesick, or having second
thoughts."

He stopped dead. "You aren't, are you?" he asked anxiously, his
eyes seeking out hers. "Having second thoughts, I mean."

"Moron!" she said affectionately. Here in public, Shannon had to
let her eyes do most of her communication, while she checked the
almost overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him and hold
him tightly. Those odd tawny eyes, her face, softly shone with her
love for him. "Not for a split second."

Heart pounding, he squeezed her hand in response. Slowly they
began walking once again toward the Castle. Jokingly, he said,
"Oh, you just love me for my title."

Shannon snorted. "Believe me, I love you *in spite* of your title.
By the way, Ballorca was at the practice fields today. I saw him
waving his stubby little arms and talking to Aldara. Well, more like
yelling at her. He looked really pissed off, though that's nothing
new for him."

Andalor frowned. The eagle-eyed meddler couldn't have failed to
notice Shannon. What was up Ballorca's sleeve? The young King knew
all too well that before long, more demands would be made of them
both. I'm at least used to it, he thought. All the interminable
ceremonies, the rigid traditions, the stultified, polite, meaningless
talk. But Shannon wasn't used to it. She-

"Andy? Did you hear anything I said?"

"Um.... Sorry, no. What did you say?"

"I asked if we were going to meet tonight, up on the battlements
as usual?"

"Of course. In full view of the guards there - also as usual."

Shannon chuckled. "Better that than that ogre poor Livirnea had as a
chaperone."

Andalor smiled weakly. Little did Shannon know, but they had come
horribly close to having "that ogre" chaperone them. It was only by
giving the most persuasive speech of his life, and having Aldara
come to his aid in promising to keep Shannon active, occupied and
out of trouble that they had avoided that fate. He also had to promise
to keep their behavior completely proper. But Goddess! It was getting
more and more difficult with every day that passed. Everything about
her made his blood pound in his veins and his loins ache from longing.
He was almost glad they didn't have more time to spend together.

He was aware that nothing short of a miracle brought him to be
engaged to this lovely, seductive woman, and that their conduct was
being carefully watched. The slightest impropriety would be enough to
convene a full session of the Council to overturn the betrothal. The
Realm expected its Queen to be pure, unsullied, and virginal when
she came to the marriage bed. But with Shannon, filling him with
such urges.... Wryly, Andalor thought how easy enduring the long
betrothal period would have been, had his intended bride been one
of the horrible Dordinal girls.

"Cold, Andy? You just shivered."

"No," he chuckled. "Just something I was thinking about. Look, I'm
sure Mulder wouldn't think any the less of you if you got in touch

with him."

She ruminated on this for a few moments, then said determinedly,
"No. No, it's all right. He'll get in touch with me when he wants to.
*If* he wants to, that is.... He probably doesn't even remember me,"
she ended gloomily.

"Don't count on it. You tend to make a... umm... lasting impression...
on people," teased Andalor.

Her eyes lit with amusement as they slid towards him. "I'm sure you
mean that in the nicest possible way, *Your Majesty*."

He turned to her, grinning. "Of course, *Lady Shannon*. How else?"

Surreptitiously, her elbow nudged him sharply in the ribs. "How
else indeed?" she smiled. Hand in hand, they walked through a stone
archway and into the Castle.

*       *       *     *

Far from Fairwoods, a tall noble viewed his lands from the battlements
of his manor. House Forst had suffered greatly as a result of the Dark
Queen's wrath. Ian's death had begun yet another period of confusion
and disorder, weakening the family even further. Some feared that the
House would collapse altogether, its former vast strength finally
sapped by centuries of infighting and poor political planning. But at
least one young noble stood ready to rectify the situation, his focus
and drive becoming a force with which the Realm would soon have to
reckon.

His name was Margul, and he intended to drive the rabble at Dordinal
from their seat and into the sea. It was their rise to power that had
shattered Forst's formerly invincible hold on the Realm and decimated
its land holdings. Other houses had suffered even worse  fates. These
semi-mythical families, now forced to eek out a living in the far
northwestern wastes, still hungered for revenge. Unfortunately, much
as his anger at the Dordinal mobs burned, there still seemed to be
little opportunity for the revenge that he had dreamed of since he was
a very young child.

Margul knew that he would have to bide his time until he could gather
the pieces he needed to deal with his family's ancient enemy.  Little
could he know that events at Fairwoods and in other parts of the Realm
would deliver him a great weapon. If used correctly, it could make
possible the mighty blow that he had dreamed of, and simultaneously
return the woman whose beauty and personality had haunted his dreams
as often as his plans for vengeance against Dordinal.
 

*    *    *     *

Many miles from Margul's position at his family's traditional seat,
news of the resumption of the throne's long-standing purge against
Black Mages came to an unusual Mage, whose allegiance was to the
study of magic, whether good, bad or indifferent. Her name was
Charla, a young woman with the bearing on an aristocrat whose aura --
when she let others see its true depth -- was nearly a match for that
of the Royal Mage. She had refused a position as village Mage,
claiming that the duties would be too trivial, and the magic routine
and unchallenging. As a result, she was forced to perform menial
tasks in order to support herself until such time as she chose
to return to the full practice of her art. Therefore, the young man
who was her local contact was not surprised to find her working the
fields when he came to deliver news that was to change the fortunes
of Houses great and small.

She was deeply frightened by his report of the mission that King
Andalor had set Mage Tarnor. Her spy's report was incomplete, but
it was obvious to Charla that the King had ordered the gargoyle Mage
to return to his work of ridding the Realm of those who, like her,
were proficient in the so-called Black Arts.

Although not a true Black Mage, she was certainly open to the things
that blood, flesh and sex-based magics could teach her. Her choice
to learn such arts went directly against the wishes of the Royal Mage.
Many season-cycles earlier, when she had been sent to Fairwoods to
seek apprenticeship with Reinald, he had been aghast at her desire to
learn the forbidden spells. He given her an ultimatum: she was to
choose between learning the white arts only, under his supervision,
or give up her training. She had a burning desire for knowledge, but
no interest in the power that Black Mages could wield. She had told
Reinald this, but he had not believed her, and given her one final
chance to decide her fate. In a fit of pique and youthful rebellion, she
chose to continue her quest for the forbidden knowledge. As a result,
she had been expelled from her apprenticeship.

After leaving Fairwoods, she had wandered the Realm, intimidating
Mages far less powerful than she was in order to learn what she
hungered to know. The extra time that she had been forced to take
learning in this way meant that it had taken nearly two extra season-
cycles before she felt ready to assume her blue.

Though she knew well that she was more than a match for Tarnor's
magical ability, she doubted that she would be able to stand against
Reinald. And if she could not defeat the Royal Mage, she would
definitely lose to Hannu, whose training and experience far exceeded
even that of her former teacher.

She knew she would need to find a sponsor, someone strong enough
to give her the protection she needed from the King and his blue-
cloaked lackeys if she would remain safe and free. Charla could think
of only one such person.

Margul.

End of Chapter One
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Two
 

It was not until after the evening meal that Reinald was able to
gather all the parties he wished to consult on the matter of
Shannon's training. The Mage was too unsettled to eat much, earning
anxious glances from Pitir. The young troll appeared to think that
apprenticeship to the Royal Mage also involved being a nursemaid.
It had taken a disturbingly long time for Reinald to return to his
former self after creating the security shield over Fairwoods. But
while Reinald appreciated Pitir's devotion, the constant fussing
irritated him at times. After the troll had cleared away the remains
of the meal and set a kettle of water for tea on the hob, the Royal
Mage dismissed him for the evening with a sigh of relief.

A knock at the door, and Andalor entered with Hannu. Aldara and
Jourdain arrived only moments later. When they had settled before
the fire with their tea, Reinald cleared his throat and began.

"I had a visit from Ballorca this afternoon."

At the mention of the protocol minister's name, both Aldara and
Andalor shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They had an idea what
was coming.

"He was most... concerned... that Shannon was assisting the
Swordmaster in the training of young warriors. He protested that
she could be injured in the activity."

Andalor laughed out loud and Aldara smiled knowingly at the young
King.

"Yes," continued Reinald, his blue eyes twinkling, "a ludicrous
thought, and I told him so. However, he also stated that her time
would be much better spent in beginning her preparation to be Queen.
That, I am afraid, is a much more difficult statement to argue
against. Much as I may hate to admit it, Ballorca is correct."
 

"By the blood of the Dark Creatures!" cursed Andalor. "Why can't-"

The Royal Mage held a hand up for silence. Andalor might be King,
but he was young yet, and still needed the guidance of his former
Regent. "I'm sorry, Andalor. But it must be," he declared firmly. A
little more gently, he went on, "Those of us in this room are privy to
knowledge that Ballorca, thank the Goddess, does not have. We, and
very few others, know that Shannon is not born of the Realm. If that
knowledge were to get out... well, I do not wish to consider the
consequences. Even if by some miracle you were able to keep your
throne, the betrothal would certainly be overturned by the Council
and you would be forced to marry whomever they chose for you. And
none of us wants that, least of all you, Andalor."

"I know, and I agree with you, Reinald - about that anyway. But all
that I went through, season-cycles of endless boring lessons, all
the... the... the *crap*-!"

The Royal Mage winced at the young man's use of the slang he had
picked up in Mulder's world, and felt a flare of anger. "What did you
expect? Yes, you went through a long preparation! And you are
certainly neither stupid nor naive. You must have known that your
betrothed, no matter who she might be, would have to undergo similar
preparation to be a good Queen. You must have known about the Ritual
of Readiness."

"I know all that," the King flared back. "But Shannon - she's
different, Reinald. She's so wild, so free!" Andalor rose and began

to pace before the fire. His cheeks burned with the fever of emotions
felt so strongly only in the adolescent - his rebellion against the
rigid confines of his society and his duty, his love for Shannon,
and his desire to protect her. "She has a wonderful, fiery spirit! To
have that broken, to have her forced to sit for hours, learning
useless, trivial *crap*-"

The Royal Mage scowled, and with a bang slammed his hand down
on the arm of the chair. Keeping his voice low only with effort, he
leaned forward and spat out, "Shannon is different, I will grant you
that. Those differences could well topple your rule! Now sit down,
and start thinking like a king, instead of a lovesick whelpling!"

No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Shocked, Andalor
stopped pacing and locked eyes with his former Regent. Reinald might
be his subject, but he was also the man who had brought him up,
almost since he could remember. He sat down, his expression the
closed, sullen look of the thwarted teenager he was, while the others
sat, uncomfortable, nearby.
 

"That's better," the Royal Mage said gravely. "Andalor, I know that
Shannon is different. Do not misunderstand, I like the girl, and I
admire her courage. I can never be grateful enough to her for saving
your life. I also understand that her differences are a part of what
attracts you to her. But think! Yes, she has adapted astonishingly
well to the Realm. But Ballorca is assuming she knows what any
young woman born in the Realm knows - our history, traditions.
Yet she knows next to nothing!"

The consequences of Reinald's line of thought finally began to
dawn on the young King. "Goddess, Reinald! If he spends any time
around her, Ballorca will figure out Shannon's an outworlder in a New
York minute!"

"Though I am unfamiliar with 'Noo Yoruk minnut'," the Mage said
stiffly, "I assume that it means a very short time. Why do you think
I am pressing the issue? You have other matters which you must
apply yourself to. Much of your kingdom has sustained terrible damage
and loss of life. Even now in outlying areas there is continued
bloodshed, acts of revenge for atrocities committed under the
influence of the Dark Queen. The deaths of the Heads of Households in
the destruction of the Great Hall has further shaken the security of
the Realm. At least we knew what we were dealing with before. Now,
young nobles with half a brain and even less of a claim to their
Householderships are fighting amongst themselves, leading to Goddess
knows what. The situation between Dordinal and Forst in Cresscreek is
becoming critical. The issue of Shannon's training must be decided
immediately, so you can get on with doing your job for the Realm."

Andalor sat frowning, lost in thought. "What are we going to do?" he
muttered. "Oh, Goddess, what are we going to do? If she doesn't pass
the Ritual, the betrothal will be broken!" Panic began to leech into
his voice.

"Obviously we have a tremendous task ahead of us," said Reinald
wearily. "And I am open to suggestions."

"Is it necessary that Ballorca be her instructor?" inquired Aldara
hesitantly. Though still a terror on the battlefield, she tended to be
intimidated in situations such as this one. "I don't see how we can
keep the truth of Shannon's background from him if he is her teacher

and has so much access to her. Unless you feel he might be
persuaded to keep that information to himself?"

"Not much chance of that, I'm afraid," Reinald sighed."Mark you, I

have no doubt of Ballorca's loyalty, but that loyalty is to the Realm,
not necessarily to whatever king is on the throne. To him, keeping
the traditions of our land pure is all that matters. Discovering that
Shannon is an outworlder, that we have all known about this and
allowed the betrothal to take place -- no, he would take his chances
with a more 'traditional' king. And I do not doubt that one or more of
the Houses would be more than happy to supply him with a candidate.
And that is why...," Reinald paused dramatically, "I have told Ballorca
that he will *not* be Shannon's preceptor."

"All *right*!" Andalor crowed. "I'll bet *that* went over like a fart
in church." Fortunately, his analogy didn't translate.

The Royal Mage again winced. "I do not think I wish to know what that
means," he said with distaste. "But no, he did not take it well. I told
him that he would develop the lesson plans. And of course as Minister
of Protocol he would play a major role in the Ritual of Readiness to
determine her fitness to be Queen."

The King's grin abruptly disappeared. "Reinald, are you mad? No one
would be able to meet Ballorca's standards, especially not Shannon!"

Hannu, quiet up until now, waved dismissively and said, "That part
was inevitable, Andalor. There was no way he could have persuaded
Ballorca to surrender that point. It is his right and duty. In my
opinion, Reinald has bargained extremely well. At least the Minister
will be kept away from Shannon until her studies are finished."

"But she'll have so much to learn!"

"And she does not have the advantage of your - what does Mulder
call your memory?"

"Eidetic."

"Yes, precisely. So Shannon is going to have to learn all of what
Ballorca will insist that she knows to be Queen, not to mention all of the
basic things he assumes she knows already.  A formidable task is ahead of
us," Reinald said, scanning the silent ring of faces around his hearth.

"And that's not all," Hannu observed gravely, "I am most concerned
about her emerging Mage powers, Reinald. I am just beginning to know
my daughter, but that 'wonderful, fiery spirit' Andalor finds so
attractive could present some real problems. I fear that Fairwoods will
be in for Magestorms such as it has never before experienced if
Shannon reacts to this plan as I suspect she will."
 

"I share your concern," Reinald admitted. "Which is why, on top of
everything else, Shannon must continue her lessons with us. So far
she appears not to have enough Mage energy to cause a Magestorm,
but it seems every day the blue in her aura grows brighter. Lita
herself has remarked on it. So learning to control her increasing Mage
power must be a priority. Otherwise she could unwittingly injure or
even kill her preceptor."

"Do you have any idea who that will be, Reinald?" Aldara said with
some trepidation. "I know Shannon has bonded closely with me since
Mulder and Scully left, but really, I do not-"

"No, Warrior Aldara," Reinald said kindly. "You have an excellent
relationship with the girl and certainly your assistance in reinforcing

the basics of her Realm knowledge will be invaluable. But Shannon's
preceptor must be someone of noble status, someone who can speak
Old Realm and other languages, someone with flawless deportment,
someone-- "

"Someone like Livirnea!" exclaimed Andalor.

"Lady Livirnea?" Reinald frowned. "I had in mind someone older, more
experienced...."

"No! This could work, Reinald. Listen! Shannon already knows and likes
Livirnea, admires her in a lot of ways. Livirnea is intelligent, has a
sweet, serene personality, and no one can say she isn't a perfect
example of a Realm noblewoman."

"All quite true. But she isn't in Fairwoods - she's still nursing
Lord Mandor at their country estate. I doubt Lord Mandor could do
without her right now."

Jourdain, silent until now, interrupted. "I've heard that Lord Mandor
grows stronger every day. I was speaking with Raviar the other day,
and he gave a glowing report of his master. He is out of danger and
now needs only time and the attention of his Healers to restore him
to active health."

"Thank the Goddess, I am delighted to hear that. Ranfaus House has
been an excellent friend, it is true," Reinald mused aloud. "Lord
Mandor may not offer an objection, then. But Lady Norilka will be
less than pleased about Livirnea acting as teacher to her successor
as Queen-to-be." He paused, then shook his head. "Even if Mandor
agrees, Livirnea is too young, younger than Shannon, even."

"Reinald, think about it," persisted Andalor. "We can name Livirnea
Shannon's Lady in Waiting. One should be appointed soon and Livirnea
would be a perfect choice. So they'll be spending lots of time together
anyway. Why not make use of that time? And who is Shannon more
likely to listen to -- some wizened up old crone who never did a
useful thing in her life, or Livirnea? Besides, if you choose a
noblewoman from one of the other Houses, how do you know you can
trust her? She might teach Shannon everything wrong, just for the
satisfaction of having her fail the Ritual."

The King could see that he was winning over the Royal Mage, and
pressed home his final point. "Say Shannon slips up, says or does
something that would give away the fact that she's an outworlder.
Who would you trust more with that information - Livirnea, or some
noblewoman from Dordinal or Maalfees?"

The Royal Mage stroked his luxurious white beard. "An excellent
point. We will probably be forced to let Shannon's teacher in on our
little secret. I feel we can trust Lady Livirnea with that knowledge.
What say you all?"

Hannu nodded. "A good choice. Excellent, Andalor - and most well-
reasoned." He smiled at his future son-in-law.

"I too agree," Aldara said. "Although I must say I do not envy
Livirnea, given the task before her."

Wryly, Andalor murmured, "I'm feeling a little guilty about that
myself." The others laughed.

"Very well. Jourdain, would your other duties permit a journey to
Mandor's country estate? Someone will have to present our proposal
to Lord Mandor and Livirnea, and provide protection for her on her way
back to Fairwoods should they find the plan acceptable."

The grizzled commander nodded. "In fact, I needed to follow up reports
of brigandage on the highways in any case. This journey will give me
the opportunity to do that."

"Very well," Reinald said. "Meanwhile, Hannu and I will continue our
lessons with Shannon to help her to control her use of magic. Andalor,
you have a message of your own to deliver to Shannon, I believe."

The young man's smile abruptly disappeared. He knew what was
coming. "Oh, Goddess!"

The group around the hearth chuckled.

Mildly, the Royal Mage went on, "You have the betrothed you wished
for, Andalor. Surely you knew there would be a price to pay?"

The young King grinned nervously. "Yeah, you're right, Reinald. Well,
I'm going up to the battlements to meet Shannon for our nightly walk.
I suppose I should tell her now, huh?"

The Mage shrugged. "Her lessons must begin tomorrow, whether you
tell her tonight or not. Whatever you think best."

The King sighed and stood up, stretching. "No time like the present, I
guess." As he reached the door, he paused and said over his shoulder,
"You might want to double the guards on the battlements, Aldara. I
may need them!"

"Probably so," Hannu called to the young man, just before he stepped
through the door. "Would you like one of us to cast a protective spell
for you?"

"Goddess!" Andalor said with a laugh. "I hope it won't be necessary!
But if you can cast some spells that might assist Shannon in her
learning, I'm sure that Livirnea will be most appreciative."

As the door closed behind the young King, Reinald and Hannu looked
thoughtful.

*    *     *     *

Clad in her warrior-green cloak, Shannon was already on the
battlements when he arrived. Formally, he bent over her hand and
kissed it as she curtseyed deeply. He took her hand in his and they
strolled past the first guard post. "Show's over, boys," she murmured
in her native tongue.

Fervently hoping it was true, Andalor cleared his throat nervously.
"Shannon, we have to talk."

"Since you're speaking English, I presume it's serious and you don't
want the guards to overhear," she said, quietly tense.

"Bungo."

"That's 'Bingo'," she corrected automatically.

They walked in silence to the end of the wall, and half the length of
the next. Shannon sighed impatiently. "Okay, since you're evidently
having a problem telling me, I can assume I won't like it. Does this
have anything to do with Ballorca?" Her eyes slid across to read his
expression.

He waggled his head noncommittally. "Indirectly, I suppose. But even
if he hadn't pressed the issue, it would have come up soon anyway."
 

"What issue? I know he was pissed off that I was helping Aldara train
the young warriors. Is that it? I can't do that anymore?" Already her
words were heated by anger.

Oh Goddess, help me, the young King thought. "That's part of it.
He was afraid you'd be hurt."

Shannon laughed shortly and without humor. "How touching that he's
so interested in my welfare. I trust you informed him that I was
perfectly safe?"

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "Everyone has reassured him on that count.
But in fact, it really doesn't matter. You're going to be too busy to
help Aldara."
 

"Too busy? I have nothing *but* time on my hands! My lessons with
Reinald and my father certainly don't take up my entire day."

"I know." He stopped and faced her, folding both her hands into his
own. "Shannon, you know I love you more than anything, right?"

She searched his face, reading the earnestness, gravity and yes,
guilt, etched on his features. "Oh, hell! The shit's really going to

hit the fan, isn't it?"

"I seriously hope not." Andalor took a deep breath and plunged on.
"Shannon, I've been in training to be King my entire life. Granted my
training may have been more intensive, because my father died when
I was just a kid. There was no one on the throne, and naturally, the
Council wanted a ruler as soon as possible. What past Kings may
have had decades to learn, I had to know by the time I was fifteen."

She nodded gravely. "I know. I can't imagine how awful your childhood
must have been - all those lessons, no time to just be a kid...."

Andalor winced.  Still holding her hand, he began strolling once more.
"At the time, of course, I resented it. But now that I'm on the
throne, I realize how valuable those lessons were." He lapsed into
silence for a dozen or more paces.

"So what are you trying to tell me, Andy?"

"Even though you won't rule - the laws of the Realm forbid it - as my
Queen there's an awful lot you need to know, and the wedding only a
season-cycle away."

She smiled. "Oh, is that all? Well, of course I figured that there'd
be a few things I'd have to pick up on. Don't worry about it."
 

Although surprised and encouraged by her attitude, the young man
doubted that she fully understood what was involved. Resolutely, he

went on. "More than a few things, Shannon. You know what our
ceremonies are like. You'll have to be familiar with all of them --
and know enough Old Realm so you can take part in them."

She frowned. "I don't know. Languages were never my thing in school."

"Shannon, there's no alternative here. This isn't a case where your
aptitude or even your choice enters into it. These are things a Queen
must know. You have to learn enough of the languages of all the other
beings in the Realm to be able to communicate with them during formal
functions. You have to know Realm history -- all of it. You have to
know exactly what to say and do in every possible situation -- and
what you must *not* do or say. You have to learn every custom
and tradition of every sort of being in the Realm, as well as those
which apply only to Royals and nobles. Shannon, you weren't born here,
and no one must ever suspect that. As a result, you have even more
work to do than someone who is a native."

She stopped and faced him, her expression stony. "And just who is to
teach me all this?" she inquired stiffly. "And so help me, if you say
Ballorca, I'll --"

"No! No, it won't be Ballorca. You will continue your lessons with
Reinald and your father regarding your magic talents. At least for
now, Aldara will help you with the basics."

"I see you have all this planned out for me. Well, tell me, *Your
Majesty* - who's going to teach me the Queen stuff?"

He sighed. "Lita will teach you Elvish, and Pitir will teach you the
troll tongue. Tarnor, when he is around, can handle the Gargoyle.
Livirnea is being named your Lady in Waiting. She'll teach you Old
Realm, the ceremonies, history, how to comport yourself like a
Queen-"

"Well, isn't that great? My whole life has been decided, and I have
no say in it whatsoever. I'm shocked you even proposed to me, since
evidently I'm so *flawed* I need to be drilled for an entire year just
to make me suitable!" Anger and hurt glinted in her tawny eyes.

"Shannon, please don't do this," Andalor begged. "Do you think *I*
like it? I love you! I wish more than anything you didn't have to go
through all this. But I'm the King. You *know* what I went through.
Did you seriously think you wouldn't have some sort of training?"

"No. I know there'd be something. I just didn't plan on it taking
every waking minute from now until Hell freezes over to do it!
Andy," she entreated, "you know most of this stuff is crap. I've
caught on to things here pretty well so far, haven't I? I can fake
it!"

Andalor grabbed her arms, perhaps a bit more roughly than he
intended. "No, you can't 'fake it'. All eyes will be on you as my
Queen. First of all, this stuff can't be faked, and secondly, there's
a test."

She stopped dead. "A test? What kind of a test?" Shrugging out of
his grasp, she backed away from her fiance.

"Before the marriage can take place, there's an... examination of
sorts. It's called the Ritual of Readiness. Every would-be Queen
has had to pass it successfully...."

Eyes narrowed, she asked suspiciously, "And just who will be testing
me?"
 

Andalor sighed again. "The Head Priestess will act as Witness. But
the examiner will be Minister of Protocol Ballorca."

"Ballorca! Oh, fine. Great! What genius thought that one up? Ballorca
hates me! I could never pass any test he gave, he'd make sure I
flunked."

"We'll just have to see that you don't. If you work hard and learn
everything Livirnea teaches you-"

"Right! The perfect noblewoman, Lady Livirnea. You think I don't hear
the gossip -- that you should have married Livirnea, that she'd be the
perfect Queen?" Angrily, Shannon stalked back and forth. Above them,
clouds appeared from nowhere to scud across the sky and blot out the
light from the twin moons. "Well, maybe you *should* have married her,
*Your Majesty* Obviously she's a paragon of virtue and nobility. I
have no doubt *she* could pass Ballorca's test. Probably could have
passed it when she was five," she muttered resentfully. She stood
against the battlement wall seething, her arms crossed stiffly in
front of her.

Andalor approached the wall to stand near her, but neither touched
nor looked at her. Instead, he gazed out over his domain - snug little
cottages, the fields, some neatly plowed and others fallow, the dense
woods. "I don't love Livirnea; I love *you*," he replied wistfully.
 

They stood in silence for some time. Finally, Shannon dropped her
arms and moved to Andalor's side, looking down on the scene with
him. More quietly though no more happily, she said, "Okay. Say I study
my ass off, but don't manage to come up to Ballorca's standards. Then
what?"

Andalor looked grim. He had been trying not to think about that
possibility. "You won't fail."

"But what if I do?" she persisted, staring at his profile.

Andalor didn't meet her eyes, but continued to look out over the
crenellated wall. He shrugged. "I don't know," he responded
evasively.

"Don't give me that," Shannon snapped. He could feel the tension
take over her body, feel her tremble with it. "Give me credit for some
intelligence! You know very well what will happen. If I fail Ballorca's
test, they won't let me marry you. Because I won't be good enough.
That's it, isn't it?" she exclaimed furiously. She resumed her pacing,
her arms gesticulating wildly as she spoke. "And you won't do a damn
thing about it. You won't do a damn thing to stop them."

Clouds even blacker than the night rolled across the sky to obliterate
the stars. Once distant, the thunder now rumbled overhead. The wind
picked up, crazily swirling the cloaks of the two lovers. A flash of
lightning illuminated two faces - one set in stony fury, the other
hurt and anxious.

"Shannon! Shield now! I know Reinald has taught you how, so do it!
You're causing a Magestorm! Shield your powers!"

Lightning again lit her face as the rain began to pour down. In an
icily furious tone, she replied, "Screw my powers." Hands tightened
into fists, her whole body shaking, she backed away from him. "Screw
my powers. Screw my shield. And while we're on the subject - screw
*you*!" Sobbing, she whirled around and ran to the staircase at the
end of the battlement, leaving Andalor alone, drenched, and bleak.

End of Chapter Two
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
by Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One
 

Chapter Three

Lost in thought, Reinald put his tea mug down on the table beside
his armchair and resumed stroking his beard. It was a chilly morning,
and he was glad of the fire crackling merrily before him.

Not unexpectedly, the young King had sought him out after his fight
with Shannon on the battlements. The sudden Magestorm had sent
servants more accustomed to strictly controlled magic running in all
directions. Knowing Andalor's errand, Reinald didn't have to guess
twice at the storm's source. It had taken the Mage some time to calm
the Castle residents before he could give his full attention to
Andalor. Then for candlemarks he had listened sympathetically to
the young man, knowing he needed someone to unburden himself to,
someone to offer warm comfort and wise advice. Finally, with Reinald's
assurances that he would have a plan, the King had withdrawn to bed.

While the Royal Mage was happy he had been able to reassure the
young man, now he had to come up with the promised plan. The first
order of business, completed only when the first pink-gold rays of
sunlight announced the new day, was to cast two shielding spells --
one to prevent Shannon from creating any more Magestorms, and
one for the protection of the King. The girl's unexpectedly growing and
unmastered powers alarmed him; coupled with her temper, she might
inadvertently do real harm to her fiance.

He had told Andalor he would have a plan, and had been spending his
energies on little else for several days. Somehow, by the end of this
very day, he would have that plan.

But the girl was so... impossible!  Lovely and strong, she appeared as
if she would be able to bear many sons, and would be a formidable
Queen, like few before her. If true, it would pull the Realm back from
the brink of disaster, where it had teetered ever since King Barnas
and his Queen had been unable to produce more than Andalor to keep
the dynasty alive. Life in the Realm was too uncertain to rest easily
with but one male child standing between stability and anarchy.
Against all odds at times, Andalor had survived, and looked to have
all the markings of a truly great ruler. But sons would have to come
from his union with Shannon to give his rule the security and
permanence the Realm needed. So the young woman's strength
was indeed promising.

But stubborn! Reinald didn't know when he had come across someone
so stubborn. Well... on second thought, he did.... Shannon was so like
Mulder that at times even the Royal Mage forgot they weren't related
by blood. Both tall, lithe, and dark-haired, both with such strong
emotions they were all too often ruled by them. And both stubborn
enough to eschew good advice and stride down their own path, no
matter how fraught with disaster it might be.

Suddenly Reinald's hand stilled. Mulder.... Mulder had always been
close to the girl, and she to him.  There was a special bond there.

Perhaps Mulder could make her listen to reason as no one else had
succeeded in doing. The Royal Mage was out of his chair and halfway
to the Oracle Cloud before he was conscious of it. Whipping the blue
velvet cover from the orb, he noted its depths began to glow and swirl
immediately, as if his intentions were strong enough to set the device
in motion even before his mouth uttered the spell.

He closed his eyes and raised his arms. Soundlessly his lips moved
to the Old Realm words his mind focused on, as the cloud in the
crystal ball danced and swam. An indeterminate amount of time later,
it was a muffled exclamation followed by peals of laughter that popped
his eyes open.

"What are you laughing about, Scully? It could have caught the whole
damn bed on fire!"

There was a low, throaty chuckle. "Don't sell yourself short, my love.
You were doing a pretty good job of that yourself." There was a
suspicious silence interrupted only by the rustle of what sounded like
bedclothes which went on for some moments.

"Mulder? Mage Mulder? Reinald called anxiously. Finally, the clouds
coalesced into the image of the young man's face.

"I'm here, Reinald."

Mulder's cheeks were flushed and his hair tousled. From the little
that Reinald could see of him, he appeared to be shirtless, wearing
only the finely-wrought gold chain that held the oracle crystal
pendant. Though not privy to such intimacy himself, the Mage had a
pretty good idea of what he had interrupted. "I trust I'm not calling
at an inconvenient time?" he asked with mock innocence.

For some reason, his question seemed to amuse Scully; she was
giggling again. The Royal Mage smiled, already feeling better, being
with his friends again.

"Er... well, no.... No, Reinald, of course not." His face turned to
the left . "Scully!" he whispered urgently. There was some attempt
to stifle the giggling.
 

"Well, in a few moments I'll let you two get back to... whatever
it was you were doing. It's just that I needed a few words with you,
if it's not too much trouble."

Mulder sat up and ran a hand through his hair, without noticeable
effect on his coiffure. "No trouble at all. What's up, Reinald? No
invading monsters or evil-doing Mages, I hope."
 

"No, my boy, no. Nothing like that. We are having a bit of a problem,
however."

Mulder frowned.  "Serious?"

"Not at this point, but it could become so, I'm afraid. It's about
Shannon."

"Shannon! She's all right, isn't she?" he blurted, obviously alarmed.
"She's not sick, or injured, or anything?"

"No, Mulder, calm yourself. She's unharmed and healthy. It's nothing
like that." He looked around, then pulled a chair closer to the table
on which the Oracle Cloud sat. "Can you still see me, my boy? Ah,
good! It's a long story and I'm rather tired today."
 

"You don't look all that great, either, if you'll forgive my saying
so. So what's she done now, Reinald? Because if there's nothing
wrong with her physically, I can only assume she's gotten herself
into some sort of trouble." Mulder held his breath, expecting the
worst.

"Well... why don't we start at the beginning?" The Royal Mage
proceeded to fill his protege in on the week's events, starting with
Ballorca's visit. The young man listened quietly and intently to
Reinald's recitation, frowning at times -- especially when Reinald
mentioned Shannon's Magestorm.

"Damn it! What the hell is she thinking?" he exclaimed.

In the background, Reinald heard Scully's soft, pragmatic tones.
"What do you expect, Mulder? She's been a renegade her whole life.
Yes, she adjusted to being in the Realm eventually.... But do you
remember what happened when her aura was read? She went ballistic,
feeling she was being pushed into something she wasn't sure she
wanted. Even if it were something she wanted - and wanted badly, as
much as she wants this marriage with Andalor - if she felt she were
being forced into something, she'd rebel. That kind of strength has
sustained her her whole life. Sometimes it saves her, sometimes it
makes things more difficult. But remember - she eventually accepted
training as a warrior, took pride in it and excelled."

"Very wise, Warrior Healer Scully. I too feel that in time she will
become more amenable to the idea. And I would personally be very

pleased to wait for her to become fully enthusiastic about her
training - if we had the luxury of time. But we do not. There is
already so much she must learn in so short a time that I feel quite
anxious about it."

"And she has to learn to control her Mage powers as well. Hell, that
in itself is a full time job," Mulder added, frowning.

"You did it." It was Scully's disembodied voice.
 

"Yeah - but only because of my eidetic memory. I never would have
been able to remember all those spells - in Old Realm, a totally

different language - if it hadn't been for that. Andalor also had
that advantage, as well as a hell of a lot more time...." A thoughtful
expression crossed the young Mage's face.

"What is it, my boy?"

"I was just thinking, Reinald. I don't know the spell books as well
as you do.  Is there anything in them that could, well... assist
Shannon to learn what she has to?"

"Great minds work similarly," he smiled. "I had a word with Hannu
just last night about that very thing. There's nothing in current
books, no, and I was asking him about any spells he might know of
from the distant past. He is doing some research into the matter, but
feels that most of those spells have been lost to us forever. We may
never know if one even existed. And there are potential ethical issues
involving any spell that we may have to deal with."

"But it is not impossible that one could be devised."

"Impossible, no.  Extremely difficult and uncertain, yes. I would not
wish Shannon's future to be completely dependent upon our success.
But Hannu and I were planning to start work this very day."

"So what would you like me to do?"

"Contribute any ideas you might come up with, for one thing. I know
you are at a disadvantage there as far as being able to experiment,
but you might have a theory or two to pass on that could make all the
difference. But the most valuable assistance you could provide right
now is to talk to Shannon. Reason with her, try to make her understand
exactly how important her training is. And her cooperation. We wish
to give the Houses as small a target as possible. And of course, if
our little secret were to get out...."

Mulder grimaced. "You don't have to tell me what would happen if
that little bombshell ever went off, Reinald. All right. I don't
pretend to have the answers to this one. Let me have some time to
talk this over with Scully. Right now, I'm torn between wanting to
take Shannon over my knee and give her the spanking of her life,
and wanting to protect her from the hell that this training period
will be for her. Once Scully has talked some sense into me, I can
do the same for Shannon. Fair enough?"

"I could not ask for more, Mulder. I thank you."

"And give Andalor my best. I'm sure he's going through hell, too."

"I will, and he'll be most grateful."

"Well, have Shannon standing by. I don't know how time is flowing
these days. You might consult the Professor. Let's see, it's the
middle of the night here... fortunately, tomorrow's Saturday..." he
muttered.

"Sorry, Mulder... didn't quite catch that."

"No, it's all right, Reinald. Ask the Professor to give us about eight
of our hours. Whatever works out for you there. Have Shannon contact
me, either through the Oracle Cloud, or through one of the crystals."

The Royal Mage sighed in relief. "I can't express to you how much
better I feel, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully. At least now we
have a fighting chance."

"Don't expect too much, Reinald. Shannon might tell me to pound
sand."

"Pound... pound sand? Why would she- "

"Sorry. There's no way to put that in New Realm. Andalor would know.
Suffice to say, I may not be able to enlist her complete cooperation,"
he said dryly.

"I have great faith in you and Scully, my dear boy. You have
performed miracles in the past to save us."

He chuckled wryly. "This may be the biggest one yet."

*     *     *     *

Autumn's grip had descended fully on the land, and a thick sheen of ice
was beginning to form on the lake surrounding Forst's traditional seat.
However unpleasant though it was, the weather was not Margul's major
concern.  Rather, he was increasingly vexed by the damage being done
on Forst lands by the warring bands of Dordinal lackeys who were
occupied in the worsening struggle for leadership amongst several of
Dordinal's clans.

He sat atop the outer wall of Forst's fortress-like village, in a place
that allowed him a tremendous view of the water surrounding his
family's home. Water whose lapping waves and gentle breezes often
calmed him. Today, however, there were simply too many things in his
mind and as a result, he nearly missed the small boat that was
struggling across the water toward the family's private key.

When he at least saw the tall, blonde passenger sitting at the stern,
her dark blue cloak marking her as one of the Realm's most powerful
Mages, he immediately knew who it must be. His beloved 'cousin'
Charla, who had been forced from the family by the former Householder
many season-cycles previously, had finally returned. Ian -- Margul's
uncle -- had banished her from Forst lands due to the embarrassment
that she had caused the family by her dismissal from the Royal Mage's
tutelage. But that had been just an excuse. More to the point, Ian's
eldest  brother-- her purported father -- had faced continuing
mortification as a result of her growing magical talents. Those gifts
could not have come from him, and her mother's side of the family was
also devoid of Mages. Thus the talents that had marked her out as a
Mage also proved beyond doubt that she was illegitimate. Margul alone
had accepted her for who and what she was, treating her as a member
of the family though in fact they were no more closely related than
any two humans who lived in this part of the Realm.

Had it not been for her obvious Mage talent, she would doubtless have
been put up for fosterage, as was common with the bastard offspring
of the noble class. Margul was saddened by the realization that it
might well have been better for her if this had happened, as the life
that she had been forced to lead had been far from easy. It had been
nearly twenty-five season-cycles since Margul had last seen her. Her
beauty had only grown in the intervening time. However, it was his
memories of her as a wonderful companion and source of uncommon
wisdom during their childhood that brought a broad smile to his
usually closed features. A smile that grew as he saw the reaction that
the presence of such a powerful Mage caused amongst the laborers
who had gathered to offload boats on the great stone key. It was clear
that she had not lost her ability to intimidate. But those laborers could
not know the extent of the damage done to her gentle spirit when her
own family shunned her.

"Charla!" he called. His voice reverberated in the artificial canyon
made by the walls that enclosed the family's private landing area.  He
smiled in response to the small wave that she gave him, then descended
rapidly down the hundreds of protected stairs that ran from the top of
the wall to the wide stone key.

"It has been far too long since I last saw you," he said, on catching
his breath. Her response to his greeting was subdued, her nerves at
being back on ground that she had been banished from, evident despite
the warm welcome.

His smile broadened and found his eyes as she spoke in that deep and
lilting voice that had captured his heart during adolescence. "I am
glad to see you too," she said, touching him lightly, immediately
returning to the habits that they had developed as they grew toward
adulthood so many season-cycles earlier. The electric tingle of her

touch reminded Margul of the powerful effect that her presence had on
him, and his blood raced in remembrance.

He was very glad that he had found her before one of the other, less
open-minded, members of the family  did. "Come," said Margul quietly,
"your return makes it obvious that you have much to tell me. I too
have news that you may find useful."

As they walked up the broad staircase cut into the face of the manor's
outer walls, Charla looked about at the place that she had left so
long ago. Others had told her that the childhood home always seemed
smaller when seen through the eyes of an adult, but the great gray
walls and high towers of the manor still seemed the massively imposing

structures that she remembered from her last sight of them when she had
been sent away for training during her sixteenth summer.  All had not
remained the same, however. Most notably, Margul himself had grown
into the tall and powerful man whose form could have only been guessed
at when she last saw him so long ago. His jet hair was now flecked
with silver at the temples but his eyes were the same clear gray that
she remembered -- eyes that could turn steely with anger or
determination, or soft with affection. His features were irregular
enough to save him from being branded as handsome, instead
communicating his intelligence and character. He had reached full
maturity and if she judged things correctly, the beings who passed
them on their trek from quay to village were showing him a very high
level of deference.

Much as she wanted to ask about this, she held to the Realm's customs
concerning sitting and taking tea before business could be discussed.
By the glances that her 'cousin' was giving her, it was clear that he
was equally curious concerning the reasons for her return. She was
glad to see that their minds were already functioning in lock-step,
much as they had when they were younger.

Some of her questions were answered when he led her into the manor
house and up to the Householder's apartment. Clearly then at least
part of his news concerned his rise to the leadership of the branch of
the clan based here, far from Fairwoods. This change, more than
anything that she had seen in him since her return, gave her hope
that she would be able to protect herself from Andalor's lackeys.
Margul's newly found fortunes would also meant that she would not
be forced to do the worst work of the manor in recompense for its
protection.

When they had seated themselves before the roaring fire with mugs
in hand, Margul turned to Charla, curious as to what might have
driven her to return to the family home.  However, before he could ask,
she preempted him by beginning to tell her own story, just as she had
always done when they were children.

"Before you ask me why I am here, Margul, know that my presence may
pose more trouble for you than it is worth," she said.

"Charla," he said quietly, his usually hard gray eyes softening as they
surveyed her face, "your presence in this house will never  be an
inconvenience to this family so long as I stand as Householder."

In like tone, she replied, "Thank you. You can't know how difficult
the last few season-cycles have been. Not to have family in a place
where family means everything.... It was very hard to provide for my
needs, not to mention keeping an eye on those here and at Fairwoods
who would have seen me banished from the Realm."

"I was told that you were forced to leave the Castle at the tip of the
Guard Captain's sword," Margul said. "I nearly went to take my
vengeance on the man myself, but unfortunately, a boy of only fifteen
summers would have done you, and himself, little good by such an
attempt."

"Very true," responded Charla. "It would have done me no good, and

unless you had managed to kill Reinald as well, I would have been
even less safe than I have been."

"So I thought at the time," he replied. "Tell me in your own words
what the problem was that led to your banishment."

She sighed. "As you know, I have always felt that my knowledge of
the magical arts could and should be extended to its maximum reach so
long as I posed no threat to those around me. Certainly I know how to
bespell others, and how to bring disease and death by casting against
them, but I have never desired to do so. The problem was, and is, I'm
sure, my willingness to learn these magics in the first place. To say
that Reinald was... uncomfortable... with my interest in the so-called
Black Arts, would be more than fair. It finally became clear that I
would never be able to learn what I desired to from him. So, only a
season short of acquiring my blue, he forced me to leave the castle
at Fairwoods.

"Having no other choice, I completed my training with other Mages.
But now King Andalor has renewed his decree that all Mages who
practice the Black Arts must either be stripped of their powers or
banished from the Realm. In light of the Dark Queen's acts, I suppose
it is not surprising. But I am faced with losing my arts, my gifts. My
only true alternatives were to leave the Realm, or return here in
hopes that the new Householder would be more sympathetic to my
situation than your uncle would have been."

Margul sat back to think. The King's decree, which had been largely
ignored at Forst as there were no Black Mages in residence in its
lands, posed a serious threat to Charla and, if she stayed in
the manor, to the family as well.  No matter what his plans might be,
he had to ensure that if they failed, there would still be a House
from which others could, at some point in the future, take revenge
against Dordinal. More importantly, however, Charla had fought at his
side against the others when he was young, much as he had stood
with her as they got older. He would not break any of the commitments
that they had made to each other so long ago.

"I must say that this news doesn't please me," he finally said quietly.
"Obviously you must be protected by this house. If it weren't for the
fact that you have already been seen here and your aura is so
distinctive, we could probably have hidden you within the manor's
walls for many season-cycles. Since you have been seen and it is
certain that your presence will be reported to Fairwoods, I believe
that it is best if we proceed as though you were any other member
of the family. I also think that your capabilities may help me in my
effort to take advantage of the confusion on Dordinal's lands, finally
avenging our House on them for their insults both past and present."

"How will you handle matters if the King or one of his Mages should
demand that I be stripped of my powers?"

"I shall simply tell them that you haven't used your powers in any
untoward way. Although they may suspect that you are controlling
me in some way, they won't be able to prove it. And with no proof,
they won't dare move against us. It would be too costly. They need
our political support against Dordinal and Maalfees too much to turn
us against them. Further, the cost in lives that would result if they
tried to break our walls should also make the King's lackeys think
twice. The Royal Guard and the energies of the three Mages at
Fairwoods are stretched thinly as it is, given the state of the Realm
after the Dark Queen's wrath."

Relieved, she smiled. "I see," she said.  She was truly pleased by
Margul's growth and maturity.  He had become wise beyond his years,
and had grown into a man who was both was attractive in form and
politically skillful enough to ensure her protection. Unfortunately,
she would not be able to stay there forever, as she knew well that
sooner or later, King Andalor would demand that she submit herself
to the mercies of her former mentor or Mage Hannu. She also knew
that although Forst's walls were strong, they were not indestructible,
and that the combined strength of the three Mages would, indeed, be
enough to break them, given time.

However, for the moment, she would be able to rest and recuperate,
and for this she was grateful. "I truly do appreciate your willingness
to help me in my time of need," she said solemnly, her hand moving to
touch his wrist.

Again, his heart raced at her touch, but his tone remained even.
"Think nothing of it," Margul replied. "After all, it will be good to
have you here. Later we will talk of family business, and the problems
which beset us. I'm sure that there are solutions, and with both of us
working to find them, it will be far easier to make them reality. But
for now... rest, and make yourself at home."

"I agree," she said, rising to her feet. "No matter what happens, it
is good to be home, and it will be good to re-enter the games. It
has been far too long."

"That it has," Margul agreed. He ushered her across the hall to the
quarters that she would occupy. As he turned to leave her to her
unpacking, he smiled grimly. After all, forcing his rival at Fairwoods
to find other accommodations on her occasional visits to the manor
was the first of many political benefits that would come from having
Charla back at his side.

End of Chapter Three
 
 
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One
 
 

Chapter Four
 
 

Jourdain walked at a relaxed pace through the hallways of the
pleasant manor house. So far, he had little to complain about,
other than the separation from his beloved wife and daughter.
The roads had been quiet on the way south, the weather clement,
the journey unmarred by the smallest delay. Since their arrival the
night before, he and his men had been treated like royalty, with
servants drawing their baths almost as soon as they had dismounted,
and a delicious hot meal waiting when they had dried off and changed.
But the hour had been late, too late for Lord Mandor to be able to see
him. Though the noble was indeed making a nearly miraculous recovery
from severe wounds he suffered in the destruction of the Great Hall,
he did so only by obeying every instruction of his Healers. His early
bedtime was not open to negotiation.

In reality, Jourdain was just as glad to put off his errand. He was a
soldier, and as such felt awkward when called upon to perform
diplomatic duties. He was far better at them than he gave himself
credit for, as Aldara and the King never failed to remind him. But he
would have been far happier riding into battle than sitting down in
a formal salon, having to mind his manners and keep his temper in
check. Though he doubted that his temper would be tried on this

errand. Rather, his reluctance stemmed from having to ask Lord
Mandor, who had been such a friend to the Crown, for yet another
favor. Jourdain was the sort of man who wanted to be beholden to
no one, whether he be friend or foe.

He looked around appreciatively as he strolled. The manor house
was certainly different in design and function than the thick stone
walls at Fairwoods Castle.  The Ranfaus manor was built to be a
country estate, a working farm that was a place of respite from the
politics of the capital and the machinations of the other Noble
Houses. Surrounding the house on its rise, manicured wooded

hillsides looked down on orderly fields belonging to the manor, even
now being harvested of their crops by sturdy peasants. The house
itself was a large but charming half-timbered affair. Whitewashed
plaster walls were criss-crossed with beams blackened with age,
and leaded windows holding panes of bevelled glass threw rainbows
of color everywhere as the sun poured in. Inside, the chambers were
spacious and comfortable, with gleaming hardwood floors spotted with
islands of soft carpet, and walls hung with rich tapestries. Everything
spoke of quiet, downplayed luxury. Aldara would love it here, he
thought.

He arrived at the door of the salon and knocked. His interview with
Lord Mandor's son Tallor had gone well that morning, though the
young man was obviously curious regarding his errand. Jourdain
had told the young man that his purpose must wait for Lord Mandor's
ears, but he promised not to upset the recuperating noble. Tallor
had to be content with that. He gave Jourdain directions to the salon,
and a meeting time of just after the midday meal.

An elf servant opened the door to admit him. The salon was the primary
meeting chamber at the manor. Thickly cushioned armchairs ringed
small, exquisitely carved tables scattered about the room, perfect for
conversation. But Lord Mandor was by the hearth, reclining on a sofa
which looked as if it had been placed there since his injuries. His
legs were covered by a hand-loomed blanket of softest wool. Tallor
and a stern-faced Healer stood in close attendance.

Jourdain bowed low before the noble he both liked and respected.
"Lord Mandor, I bring you greetings from His Majesty, King Andalor,
and his best wishes for your continued recovery. And may I say,
milord," he continued less formally, "I bring the good wishes and
prayers of all of us at Fairwoods."

"Captain Jourdain, please sit," the noble smiled. "This is a pleasure.
Things have been far too quiet here of late." He shot a meaningful
glance at the tall, brown-cloaked man, who rolled his eyes. Evidently
now that Lord Mandor was on the road to recovery, he was beginning
to try the patience of his Healers.

While tea was distributed, Jourdain took the opportunity to study
the Ranfaus Householder. His hair was grayer than it had been short

moon-cycles before, and new lines of pain were etched into his face --
evidence that his recovery was not as easy as he would like everyone
to believe. Still, his color was surprisingly good, and his pleasant
baritone was both strong and tinged with his trademark dry humor.

The noble took a deep swallow of restorative tea. "Your good wishes
and prayers are gratefully received, Captain. But surely that is not
the reason for so long a journey."

Trust Mandor to want to get straight to the point, thought Jourdain.
"No, milord, it is not. I am here with a request from King Andalor,
meant for your ears only."
 

Mandor nodded. "Anything you say may be said in front of my son
and my Healer. Both are discreet and know full well that nothing said
here may leave the room." He caught their eyes and they nodded gravely
in response. "Tallor has temporarily taken on my duties, and I'm proud
to say he's doing a fine job of it." The young man flushed in pleasure
at his father's words of praise. It was clear they had a warm, close
relationship.

"Very well, milord. Please understand that King Andalor was hesitant
to make this request. You have been a valued friend to the Crown, one
to whom we already owe so much. It seems unappreciative to ask for
more.  But this is a matter of some urgency. Still, His Majesty wants
you to understand that you may turn down his request without
prejudice."

"Understood, Captain Jourdain. I know it must be of great importance
or he would not have sent you. How can I help?"

Much as Mandor might trust his son and his Healer, the truth of
Shannon's origins was simply too explosive to divulge in this
setting. He was unsure of how even Lord Mandor would take the
news. Livirnea had to know the whole truth, if she hadn't guessed
it already. If he could get a few moments alone with the noble, he
might tell him yet. But for now....

"The time has come to name a Lady in Waiting for Lady Shannon.
It is well known that the King's betrothed was not born to the
nobility. The woman named to the position of Lady in Waiting
must be a paragon of feminine nobility, it goes without saying. But
because Lady Shannon has so much preparation to do before she can
take on her duties as Queen, it was hoped that her Lady in Waiting,
both by example and by instruction, could teach her what she needs
to know."

"A sound plan," Mandor said cautiously. "However, I hope you are not
here to ask Lady Norilka to serve in that capacity."

Lady Norilka, Lord Mandor's wife, was a known bigot, scold and
harridan who made the lives of everyone who lived around her
miserable. "Lady Noril- ! Oh, Great Goddess, NO!" The words were
out before he could stop them. Jourdain looked at Lord Mandor in
horror.

But Mandor was helpless with laughter, as were his son and even the
grim Healer. "Oh, Captain, thank you!" he said, when he could finally
speak. He wiped tears of mirth from his cheeks. "That was the first
laugh I've had since I can remember. You should have seen your face!"
That provoked a new wave of giggles.

"I apologize, Lord Mandor," Jourdain said, flushing. "I should have
known you would think that, as the Lady in Waiting is usually an
older woman."

Mandor waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "And I apologize
for having a joke at your expense. The thought of my wife, trying to
instruct Lady Shannon, after everything that has taken place...!
Andalor would have to have taken leave of his senses!" he chortled.
Once more he wiped his eyes, then he continued more seriously.
"Then I take it you mean Livirnea."

"Yes, milord. Lady Livirnea is young, but no one could think of a
finer example for Lady Shannon to follow."

Mandor smiled in genuine pleasure. "Well, that is a compliment
indeed, Captain, and I thank you for it. In truth, Livirnea has been
begging for the past week to be allowed to go back to her studies

at Fairwoods. She wouldn't leave my side when I was first brought
here, and did as much to speed my recovery as did my Healers.
But she knows now that it is only time which will cure me, so she
feels quite useless here, which she hates. And of course there is
my Lady wife...." he concluded darkly. He looked meaningfully at
Tallor.

The young man blanched before his eyes. "Goddess! You mean *I'll*
have to tell her?" Tallor choked. Jourdain was strongly reminded of
Aldara's story about Andalor having to confront Shannon.

"It will be a true test of your courage, son. But I'm afraid my Healer
would have it no other way. Am I correct, Fedil?"

"Entirely, milord. No excitement, no stress, and above all, no Lady
Norilka." Though the Healer's voice and face gave nothing away,
his eyes twinkled with humor.

Mandor shrugged. "You see how it is, Tallor. When she starts
screaming, just be sure to let her know that I said the option to
be banished to our frontier outpost still stands. It should help."

"Very well, Father."

"You make me proud, Tallor. Well, why don't you send for your sister,

and then inform your mother of my decision - subject to Livirnea's
acceptance, of course." He looked over at Jourdain as his son left
the room.

"His Majesty would have it no other way, Lord Mandor. You know Lady
Shannon. She has many wonderful qualities, but is a bit wild and
headstrong. This will be no easy task for Lady Livirnea. If she wishes
to decline, she will continue to have the King's close and most valued
friendship. It is only that we could think of no one that would be
more inclined to succeed in this mission than Lady Livirnea, with
her impeccable upbringing, keen intelligence and sweet personality."

A short time was spent in exchanging news of the Castle and the
politics of the Realm. Jourdain kept the tone of the conversation
light, and did not bring up any subject which could excite the noble.
Soon, there was a tap at the door, followed by Livirnea's entry.

Her color had improved as well, Jourdain noted. She had probably
been spending as much time out of doors and away from her scourge
of a mother as possible. The roses in her cheeks made her even more
lovely, and the thick ashen braid down her back contrasted nicely with
the simple dark blue gown she wore.

"You sent for me, Father?"

"Yes, child. Captain Jourdain has come all the way from Fairwoods
with a request from the King."
 

"Andalor? What would he want of us?" she asked with curiosity.

"His Majesty is hoping you will do him and Lady Shannon the great
honor of consenting to be her Lady in Waiting. But he also wants you
to know that an even more important task is needed - to instruct Lady
Shannon in the ways of the nobility, how to dress and act, perhaps
teach her Old Realm and some of the ceremonies she will have to
attend - in short, how to be a Queen." More gently, Jourdain went on.
"Understand that His Majesty is not insensitive to your position,
Lady Livirnea. He realizes that few young women would accept the
role of having to teach their successor what you already know so
well - not for all the gold in the Realm. And Fairwoods being
Fairwoods, there will be talk, not all of it complimentary to you. You
may turn down his request and it will not change his affection for
you."

Livirnea's light laughter rang out. "Let me guess - Shannon didn't
take it very well that her days of freedom were coming to a close."

Jourdain grinned back. "Not well at all."

"I'll wager that was some Magestorm."

"Yes, well... Reinald has since taken some steps to help ensure
that won't happen again. And Lady Shannon's lessons to control
her Mage powers will continue. That will give you time on your own
to do what you wish. Perhaps, to rejoin the Professor in his
laboratory. He has missed having your help."

She looked uncertain. "I think I can do what you ask. And I
would be most anxious to get back to Fairwoods and assist the
Professor in his experiments. But if Father needs me- "

"Go, child. It will be good for you, and you will bring honor to our
House. I trust the roads are safe, Captain Jourdain?"

"I won't lie to you, milord.  There has been widespread trouble from
brigands. But our journey here was peaceful. That is why we brought
so many Guards, all well-armed and among the best the King has."

"Lord Mandor, I am afraid- " began the deep-voiced Healer.

The noble raised a placating hand. "All right, Fedil, all right. I
am coming. Livirnea, my dear, I will leave you to entertain our
guest, if neither of you has an objection. It appears my jailer is
insisting on my having a treatment and then a nap, as scheduled."

"But one cannot argue with the results, milord," Fedil rejoined good-
humoredly.

"And thanks be to the Goddess and your good efforts," declared
Jourdain. He rose as the door opened and the elven servant entered,
pushing in a strange-looking contraption. It was an ordinary straight-
backed chair, but small wooden wheels had been attached to the
bottoms of the legs, and an iron tray jutted out from the bottom front
of the chair.

"Ah, you see my very special wagon, Captain Jourdain!  Designed by
none other than my lovely daughter, in a moment of intellectual
boredom," Mandor explained, looking on Livirnea with pride.

She blushed prettily. "The Professor said such a thing might be
possible. I merely drew up the plans, and then gave them to Derig,
a master carpenter. He did the real work."

Effortlessly, Fedil lifted the noble and set him in the chair. The
servant covered his legs once more with the blanket and began pushing
his master toward the door.

"I hope you will join us for dinner," Mandor called back over his
shoulder. "I'll send Rendi here to fetch you. A bit earlier than you
are used to dining, because of my cursed schedule, but not an
inconvenience, I hope."

"I will be looking forward to it, Lord Mandor."

He waved in reply and disappeared through the door.

Jourdain and Livirnea settled themselves once more. "Actually, Lady
Livirnea, I am glad to have this moment alone with you. There are
certain conditions and... difficulties... that the King feels strongly
you must know about before you make your decision."

"Do you mean any resistance on the part of Lady Shannon?"
 

"That is a big part of it, yes.  I know the two of you have been
friends, but that friendship will be sorely tried. She will not give
up her present independence without a fight, and I fear that both
you and the King are the ones most likely to feel her anger. I am
sure that in time she will come to see the wisdom and necessity
for her training, but right now...." he trailed off, shrugging.

Livirnea nodded, her serenity unruffled. "Knowing Shannon as I do,
I would expect that. I have envied her that freedom, as she well
knows. But I have no doubt that she will come around eventually. She
has no choice - she must."

"Granted. But until that time she will take all the patience both
you and the King can muster."

"If Andalor is willing, then so am I."

Satisfied on that score, Jourdain nodded. "I thank you, my Lady.
But there is something else you must know. And once knowing it,
you must promise to keep it a secret - from everyone," he said
gravely.

She frowned. "Including my father?"

"For right now, that is the case, I am afraid. The King does not
wish to create a problem between you and your father. He knows
you are very close. Moreover, he trusts Lord Mandor implicitly. But
with his healing treatments, there is the small chance that, if he
knew, one of the Healers might discern the secret. Much as the King
regrets the need for secrecy, let me assure you it is of the most
critical importance. If it became known, it would surely mean his
Crown, if not his head."

Livirnea gasped. "I would never do anything to endanger either. If
Andalor feels it is necessary, then I would never reveal what I know
-- to anyone."

"Thank you, Lady Livirnea.  In that case -- this involves Shannon's
origins-- "

"Oh, that. I know about that already. Well, I have a pretty good idea
anyway. I have theorized that Shannon comes from the same place
that Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully and the Professor are from.
Wherever that might be."

Jourdain's face must have shown his horrified surprise. If this mere
girl had heard a rumor, or had been able to figure it out, how many
others, he thought, his stomach churning. His nightmarish musings
were interrupted by Livirnea's low chuckle.

"Don't worry, Captain Jourdain. I feel the secret is safe. I have told
no one. It is only that I spent so much time around the Professor and
Shannon that I began to see a pattern emerging. The Professor's
acquaintanceship with Shannon seems to go back much further than
her relationship with anyone else. But nothing was said directly. And
the Professor said I have great powers of... inductive and deductive,
I think he said... reasoning. I daresay no one else would have even
noticed."

"Let us pray to the Goddess you are correct, Lady Livirnea. And you
know what it also means - that you will have much more to teach
Shannon, for she is ignorant of many of the things that anyone raised
in the Realm would know."

She nodded. "How much time do we have?"

"The day has not yet been chosen. But we believe it will be late next
harvest season."

"So there is no time to lose."
 

"Precisely. So, Lady Livirnea -- do I understand that you will accept
the position of Lady in Waiting?"

"It shall be my great honor to do so, Captain Jourdain," she
replied formally, but her eyes were twinkling as he bent over her
hand.

"Very well then. We shall depart for Fairwoods in the morning."
 

End of Chapter Four
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
by Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter- Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One
 

Chapter Five
 

"Go. Away."

Lita humphed, a sound only she could make convey scorn and
annoyance so brilliantly. Her dark eyes narrowed. Oh no you don't,
missy, she thought.  She rapped on the oaken door once more.

"I said, go away. And if that is His Majesty, King Andalor - go far,
far away!"

The little elf pushed open the door and stood glaring at Shannon,
her hands on her hips. The teenager barely raised her head from
where she was sprawled, face down, on the bed.

"No, it's not His Majesty," Lita snapped. "He's busy trying to carry
on the work of the Realm. Though with no food or sleep for the past
week or more, it's a wonder he can do it." She stalked to the end of
the bed. "And how long are you going to carry on like this?"

The answer was muffled. "You don't understand. No one understands."

"Aye, you'll get no argument from me on that," the servant replied
sourly. "You've spent eight days moping about and acting like the
child that you must still be. Meanwhile, the King and Mages Reinald
and Hannu have been trying to hold both the Realm and your betrothal
together. Well, get yourself out of bed. There's someone who wants to
talk with you."

Shannon pushed herself up and sat crosslegged on the bed. Her hair
was mussed, her tawny eyes reddened in a tear-streaked face.
"Reinald, I suppose. Wanting to read me the riot act."

"No - though I'm surprised he hasn't. It's not like you don't deserve
a good talking-to." She paused. "It's the Oracle Cloud. Mage Mulder
wants to talk to you."

"Mulder!" The girl's face lit up for a fleeting moment, quickly
replaced by uncertainty. "It can't be a coincidence. Did Reinald
squeal on me?"

The idiom did not translate easily into New Realm. "Now why should
the Royal Mage want to make a noise like a swinebeast, I'd like to
know." Lita shook her head, her silver-frosted dark curls dancing.

"What I mean is - did Reinald tell Mulder about... you know, me and
Andy?"

"I really have no idea. But in any case, I don't expect Mage Mulder
will wait forever. The Royal Mage has vacated his quarters so you
can have some privacy. Now, I strongly advise- "

"I'm going." Shannon hopped down from the bed, straightened her
simple pale green satin sheath, and pushed some stray locks of hair
back into its long braid. Grabbing her warrior green cloak, she
fastened it around her neck. She took a deep breath, then opened the
door and ventured out into the hallway.

All along the labyrinthine corridors to Reinald's quarters, Shannon's
mind whirled. She was sure of one thing -- Mulder was going to give
her a thorough reaming. She could only imagine what he had been told
to inspire this little talk. As she strode along the drafty stone
walkways, servants darted out of her way or gathered in knots of twos
and threes to peer at her, whispering behind their hands. The girl
did not fail to notice. Great, Shannon thought. In just a few days
I've become the Wicked Witch of the West. Why can't anyone see *my*
side?

At last she came to Reinald's door. Pitir answered her knock, gestured
to the Oracle Cloud on a table in the center of the disorderly room,
and silently withdrew from the chamber. She approached the crystal
orb, its center opaque and swirling in ever-changing patterns of blues,
grays and white. Pulling a chair up to the table, she sat, her heart
pounding as she waited for Mulder's face to appear in the depths of
the sphere. He's gonna be so pissed, Shannon thought miserably.

Finally, when she felt like she would jump out of her skin if something
didn't happen soon, the swirling in the Oracle Cloud increased and
with it, a soft blue glow began to emanate from the orb. In a few
moments, she could see Mulder's face, and behind him an unfamiliar
background. Here goes, she thought glumly. She had played out various
scenarios in her head on the walk over from her quarters, trying to
judge which one might be more palatable to her Taabsut - the Homesick
Waif, the Misunderstood Outsider, the Wronged Young Maiden, the
Misjudged Teen. She decided that none of them would fool Mulder for
a heartbeat. In the end, she crossed her fingers and hoped the timing
of his contact was indeed just a happy coincidence.

"Hi, Mulder!" she said brightly. "Where are you? I don't recognize the
background."

He smiled. "I'm at work, in my office. How's it going?"

She relaxed just a little. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after
all. He didn't seem pissed off, so maybe no one had told him what
had been going on for the past week. Maybe - just maybe - she
was home free. "Well, you know," she giggled nervously, "same old,
same old. How's Dana?"

"Oh, Scully's fine," he said smoothly. "She'd be here, but she's out
at Quantico doing an autopsy right now. She said to pass on her
love."

Tears stung the girl's eyes. Hoarsely, she replied, "And mine to her."
She cleared her throat, and continued less emotionally, "Business
must be pretty slow if you have time to call me from work. No
interesting cases?"

"Maybe. We'll know when Scully's finished slicing and dicing." He
paused and looked at her... *really* looked at her. "So... you're sure
there's nothing you want to tell me?"

"Like - like what?" she stammered, her heart racing.

He didn't say anything, just regarded her with those hazel eyes that
were windows to his soul and showcased every emotion he was feeling.
Eyes that could reflect the same in others. Yelling she could have taken,
tuned it out as she had for most of her school days. Nagging, lectures
- piece of cake, she could have dealt with them easily. But his
silence, his gaze, showing so clearly his disappointment in her....
That she could not withstand. Her eyes filled and then spilled over.

"Oh, Mulder! I've screwed things up royally!" she wailed.

He chuckled, not unkindly. "No pun intended, I'm sure. Okay, baby,
tell me what happened," he said. His hand went to his tie, loosening
it, and he leaned back in his seat.  Out of focus, the Oracle Cloud
blurred then sharpened again as Mulder found a comfortable position
and held it.

She made several abortive attempts to speak, each one halted by
several minutes of sobbing. Finally she managed to get the story out.
"So-so I'm going to have to take Ballorca's test, and he hates my guts
and he'll make sure I never pass it, no m-matter how h-hard I work.
And then -- and then Andy will have to marry someone else and I'll
just get tossed away like t-trash and Andy won't d-do a th-thing to
s-stop it!" The sobs shook her tall, lithe frame.

Mulder let her cry it out, using the time to think about what he was
going to say to her. Scully had been planning on taking part in the
conversation, but the sudden appearance of the body, laid out
in ceremonial fashion with glyphs carefully carved into the extremities
and torso, put an end to that. He felt her absence keenly, needing his
partner's strong pragmatic streak to balance his own more emotional
tendencies. He let himself seek her out through their unique bond.
<<Scully, did you get any of that?>>

<<...Liver, some changes associated with alcohol abuse. Weight...
one point six eight kilograms.... Yes, I did, Mulder. My advice is
this - realize you're getting just her side of the story here. I love
Shannon almost as much as you do, but I recognize that she could
always wrap you around her finger. I know she's a stranger in a
strange land, so to speak, but from what you said Reinald told you,
she's been behaving badly. If she loves Andalor and she wants
to be Queen, there are certain things expected of her, and she's just
going to have to face up to it. And the sooner she does it the
better.>>
 

His head waggled. <<I know... and I agree. Still, what she says about
Ballorca rings true. That son of a bitch won't give her a break.>>

<<I know, sweetheart. And there's no doubt she has a hell of a task
cut out for her. I don't think schoolwork was ever her forte, even in
this world. But your sympathizing with her is not going to do her any
good at this point. If she wants to come back here, she can do that.
Or she can stay there and be a warrior and eventually settle down
with someone else. Or she can get her butt in gear and start cracking
the books so she can be Queen and marry the man she loves.>>
 

Affectionately, he smiled. Trust his bondmate to go straight to the
heart of the matter, cutting away all the emotions that distorted the
real issues and made giving practical advice so difficult. <<Thanks,
Scully. When she's like this, all tearful and upset, I just want to
hold her and make all the troubles go away.>>

Scully sent a burst of love down their link. <<I know you do,
sweetheart. But Shannon will just have to face some things, however
painful. It's all part of growing up.>>

<<True. But she's already had to face so much.>> The wistfulness of
his reply was more than apparent to his bondmate. Her spirits lifted,
then, when seconds later he continued in a more upbeat tone, <<Okay,
you've bolstered my resolve, Scully. I promise not to be too soft on
her.>> She felt his own psychic hug, then a light shield came down
on their connection as she returned to work.

Mulder turned his attention back to the girl in the crystal. "All
right, Shannon. Wipe your eyes and let's talk about this."

She composed herself and looked hopefully into the Oracle Cloud.
"Do you think there's something you can do, Mulder?"

He spread his arms out questioningly. "Like what?"
 

She shrugged. "I don't know. Like maybe casting a spell on Ballorca?
Or getting Andy and Reinald to see all this from my point of view?

"I would be very surprised if both of them hadn't already seen things
from your point of view. Reinald has chosen you friend Livirnea to
teach you what you have to learn and he's keeping Ballorca away
from you, at least for now. I would say they had both been extremely
sensitive to what you'll have to go through."

Shannon gaped at him. "Do you mean you're not on my side, either?"
 

He sighed, trying to retain his patience. "It's not a matter of sides,
Shannon. Do you remember, way back when we were looking for Hannu,
and you knew you were in love with Andalor, but it didn't look like
there was any way that you would be able to get together? I told
you at the time that because of his position, some things just had
to be the way they were. That's no less true now. And the same will
be expected of his Queen - there's no escaping that."

Long dark lashes drooped onto her cheeks.  "I know, but- "

Gently but insistently, Mulder said, "There are no 'buts', Shannon.
Do you have any idea how far Andalor and Reinald have stuck their
necks out for you? If it's discovered that you come from an entirely
different world, it could well mean not only Andalor's throne, but his
and Reinald's heads as well. Literally. And the lives of all of our
friends there who have helped to perpetrate this myth. Do you
understand that? It was because Andalor was in love with *you* that
everyone went to these extraordinary lengths to make sure you two
could be together."

Shannon gulped back fresh tears and nodded. "I know, and I'm grateful,
I really am.  But Mulder, it's impossible! You have no idea how much
there is to learn."

"No one has a better idea of how much there is for you to learn than

Andalor and Reinald. And they obviously feel you can do it, or the
betrothal never would have taken place," he replied reasonably.

Bitterly, she smiled. "Maybe they do think I can do it. But look at
the people they know from our world. You. Dana. The Professor.
Hell, they probably think that everyone from our world is a friggin'
genius! Dana's super brilliant, and so are you, plus you have that
photographic memory thing going on. And then there's Dr. 'Missed a
Nobel Prize By the Skin of His Teeth' Neumann. That's not me!  I'm
not in that league, or anywhere close to it! When I was in school, I
had to work my ass off just to pull a C average. And nothing short
of a straight A performance is going to satisfy Ballorca."

Mulder frowned. She had a point. It was true that the first three
visitors to the Realm from their world were of higher than average
intelligence. It had never crossed his mind that they had perhaps set
a standard of expectation for their friends in the Realm. He also
accepted that Ballorca's test was going to be rigorous. The
Minister of Protocol took his responsibilities very seriously.
No matter who the King's betrothed was, the test would be tough,
designed as it was to separate those worthy of the position of
Queen from the unworthy.

And in truth, he knew little about Shannon's life before her mother's
death had brought them together. He knew that she hadn't gotten
along with Karen and had been somewhat of a discipline problem.
He had assumed that, having a scientist for a mother, Shannon
would have been at least above average in intelligence, and would
have been brought up in an environment that fostered education.
"You really had to work that hard for C's?" he asked with misgiving.

"Well...." She hesitated and had the grace to blush. "Maybe I didn't
exactly work my ass off, but for me, I worked hard. Mom always
thought I could do better, based on my IQ test scores and stuff like
that, but grades just never came as easily to me as she seemed to
think they should."

"I can't tell you why school was difficult for you, Shannon. Maybe it
was distraction, maybe a lack of goals, some sort of borderline
learning disability, who knows? None of that matters. All I can say
is that now you have the best of all possible incentives. Work hard,
and the whole enchilada is yours - the man you love, fame, position,
power...." He stopped, hiding a smile as he regarded her, deep in
thought. Time to play my ace, he decided.

"Of course, you can just give up. You can decide that Andalor's not
worth the effort. Then you can come back here, go to boarding school
and college, and forget the Realm even exists. Or stay there, and be
a warrior and maybe some day meet a nice guy and settle down. He
won't be Andalor, but- "

"No! No, Mulder, I love Andy, I do. I want more than anything else to

be his wife."

He nodded approvingly. "That's my girl! Shannon, you are an
extraordinary young woman. You're courageous, lovable, funny,
smart, strong and beautiful. You're going to make a wonderful
Queen."

"If Andy still wants me, and Reinald hasn't decided to call the
Council of Representatives together to overturn the betrothal," she
replied mournfully. "Mulder, I really have been a bitch on wheels
for the past few days."

He laughed out loud. "So I understand. But for a start, young
lady, you are going to have to keep your magical abilities under
control. When you don't, it reflects badly on Hannu and me. Got it?"

"Yeah," she smiled.

"Secondly, Andalor loves you so much he can't see straight, and
Reinald has not given me any sign he wants the betrothal overturned,
if that makes you feel any better."

"That's a relief." She frowned. "Though I can't help but feel like I've
flunked the first test in becoming Queen, reacting like I did."

He shrugged. "You can't change the past. What's done is done.
What you *can* do is go out there, show them all you've learned
your lesson, and you're ready to get serious about your preparation."

"Okay, Mulder. I just wish I felt like this is something that is

actually in my power to succeed at. I'm scared to death that I'll do
my best, but it won't be good enough."

He nodded. "I know, baby. I'll have a talk with Hannu and Reinald."
At her inadvertent squeal of joy, he held up an admonishing finger.
"Don't get excited. First of all, we can't use magic to give you all
the knowledge you need, nor bespell Ballorca so he gives you an
easy test, nor bespell you so you can pass the test. That would be
a betrayal of the ethics of magic, and none of us would be a party
to that, understood? And don't get any ideas about using your magic
to try it yourself. You'll end up killing yourself or somebody else.
However... there should be something we can do. I don't know whether
the spell even exists yet, but if we put our heads together we should
be able to come up with something that will help. Remember, though...
you're still going to have to do the lion's share of the work."

She smiled, obviously relieved. "That's fine, Mulder, that's great.
I'd just like to think I have a fighting chance of passing Ballorca's
test, and if you and Dad and Reinald can come up with anything - and
I know you will - it would help so much." Almost shyly, she continued,
"Thank you, Mulder. I've really missed you, both you and Dana but
especially you. I guess I've been feeling kind of alone since you
left, and then when all this came up about the test, I just kind of
lost it."

He felt a flush of pleasure suffuse his features. "Well, I'll try to
keep in better touch. It's hard, without the Professor around to
calculate the time-flow difference between here and there. How
long has it been since we left?"

"Almost seven weeks." There was a hint of plaintiveness in her
answer.

"Hell, I'm sorry, Shannon. It's been less than two weeks on this side.
No wonder you were feeling deserted."

"Well, don't worry about it. Mulder, thanks so much. Look, is there
any way you could talk to Andy and Reinald and maybe- "

Not unkindly, he laughed. "Sorry, baby. You're going to have to make
your own apologies. If it's any comfort, I think you'll find them very
relieved and happy that you're going to cooperate, and willing to let
bygones be bygones. But I'll call back soon to see how you're doing

and to touch base with Hannu and Reinald on our little project. If you
need to talk to me or to Dana before then, you call us, okay? We
love you, baby."

Eyes shimmering with tears once again, "I love you, Mulder. You and
Dana stay safe, okay?"

"Okay, Shannon. You work hard. We're all pulling for you." His
features began to cloud and waver in the center of the orb.

"Bye, Mulder," Shannon whispered, as the face of her Taabsut
disappeared.

She sat there a moment longer, gathering her thoughts. Then she
stood, her back straight and head held high.  "Time for me to start
rebuilding some bridges," she murmured. With a last look back at
the now-dimmed Oracle Cloud, she left the chamber.
 
 

End of Chapter Five
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter - Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 
 

Chapter Six
 
 

Elbows on the age-polished surface of the old oak table, Aldara
rubbed her temples wearily. Darliss of Forst and Hegan of Dordinal
had been at it for candlemarks now, and had yet to get to the point
of the Crown's concern. Had yet to accomplish anything, for that
matter. Sometimes she wondered if the King had misplaced his faith
in her. There must be someone he trusted that could better deal with
the Noble Houses and their incessant squabbles. She was a warrior,
not a diplomat. With an effort, she pulled her focus back on the two
nobles with whom she shared the table. She groaned inwardly as
Hegan droned on. Surely, it was a test - the Goddess was testing her
patience.

"Lord Hegan, while I sympathize with you over the injustices of two
hundred season-cycles ago, that is not why we are here," Aldara
said firmly. "I must insist that we address the subject at hand -
Cresscreek."

"I agree," declared Lady Darliss in her high-pitched voice. "What
happened that long ago is hardly the point. What is happening now,
in Cresscreek, is!"

Aldara sat back to assess her companions at the table. Lord Hegan
was one of the young bucks of Dordinal, no better and no worse than
the rest.  Dordinal in particular had suffered from the Dark Queen's

attack on the Great Hall. All of their elders had perished, crushed
beneath massive beams or swept into the great crevasses that
appeared in the floor of the edifice, never to be seen again. What
was left was a gang of young nobles, indoctrinated in the hatreds
and prejudices of their House, and at each others' throats in a fight
for supremacy. At the present time, it seemed that Hegan would
emerge the victor.

He was darkly handsome, with streaks of premature gray in his hair
that gave him an air of distinction and sophistication that was wholly
undeserved. Like most of those who had fought for the leadership of
his House, he was clever but not particularly intelligent. Unlike most
of his predecessors, however, he could be charming when the situation
warranted. Personally, Aldara wouldn't trust him as far as she could
throw him. Not even half that far.

House Forst had lost only Lord Ian in the Dark Queen's attack. But
Forst was still bearing the scars from reverses suffered season-cycles
before. Once they had been a major House, pre-eminent among the
others. But a combination of bad luck, bad leadership and an unfailing
ability to support the eventual loser in any difference of opinion had
rendered them impotent. Since then, the families of Forst had spent
most of their time fighting amongst themselves and squandering any
opportunity to better their House's position. Even with charitable
consideration, they were a second-class House, and as such, easy
prey for the others.

Lady Darliss was indeed the personification of the Fairwoods
contingent of House Forst. A homely woman, she had bulging, watery

blue eyes, a jutting nose, and a chin that receded almost unnoted into
her ropy neck. Completely ineffectual, she could not even tame her
wispy mouse-brown hair, which escaped from its bun at every
opportunity. Inbreeding amongst the families had assured that
intelligence hadn't been among the most prominent features of
the leaders of the House for generations, and she was no different
in this regard. It was hardly a fair match, thought Aldara. Not that
there was anyone in Forst's manor in Fairwoods who was any more
formidable.

"Very well," said Lord Hegan pleasantly, "let us speak of Cresscreek.
I was unaware there was any problem there."

"Un- ! Unaware!" Lady Darliss screeched. "I have sent message after
message to your House, insisting that Dordinal cease and desist its
encroachment on traditional Forst lands! How could you possibly have
been unaware of the problem?"

"I must apologize, gracious Lady," Hegan responded. "After all the
tragedies we have lately suffered, things have been somewhat...
muddled. Until quite recently, the... chain of command, shall we
say?... has been uncertain. I give you my complete assurance that
communication will improve, now that everyone is clear who should
receive such messages."

He was smooth, Aldara would grant him that. She was in a position
to know, however, that the 'chain of command' had been established
through a ruthless campaign of intimidation, blackmail and, when all
else failed, assassination. Her Guard had discovered several up and
coming Dordinal nobles, their throats slit ear-to-ear, their corpses
stiffening on Fairwoods' midden-heap outside the Castle walls.

"Very well," Darliss sniffed. "But what do you propose to do about

it?"

"My dear Lady, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Suppose
you tell me all about what is happening, and we can discuss it."

Yes, please, Aldara thought. Anything to move things along.

"I have been receiving reports from Cresscreek. As you very well
know, Lord Hegan, Cresscreek has always been considered a Forst
village-- "

"I think, dear Lady, it may be more accurate to say that Cresscreek
is in a neutral area, though admittedly the village has looked to
Forst for assistance more than to Dordinal.  At least they have in the
past...." Hegan's smile was oily.

Aldara was new to diplomatic negotiations, but she sat up a bit
straighter and paid closer attention to the conversation after Hegan's
interjection. Surely, Lady Darliss couldn't be stupid enough to have
missed the implication in the Dordinal noble's words.

"I'm sure you think of it that way," the Forst noblewoman replied
coolly. "In any event, there have been reports of trouble - barns
burned, crops destroyed, villagers driven from their homes,
fieldbeasts stolen or slaughtered. Then a small contingent of
Cresscreek artisans, their wagons loaded with their summer's toil,
was set upon by brigands. Three townsfolk were killed and the
fruits of their labors stolen or destroyed!"

Lord Hegan feigned his most heartfelt expression of sympathy.
"My dear Lady, I had no idea! What terrible misfortune!"

"Misfortune nothing!" she snapped. "Dordinal is behind this, I just
know it. For generations you have had your greedy eyes on Forst
lands. And now, when the Realm is trying to recover from the calamity
that has befallen it, you think you can just walk in and take over.
Well, I'll tell you something, Lord Hegan of Dordinal- "

Hegan extended his palms outward in a gesture of innocence.
"Lady Darliss, you misjudge us! Surely a Lady as fair as yourself
will give me a chance to explain...." His hand chanced to come into
contact with his adversary's, and he held it warmly for a moment
before freeing it.

Aldara had difficulty not rolling her eyes, as Darliss simpered under
the attentions of the handsome Dordinal noble. "Well, of course I will
listen, Lord Hegan. But I promise nothing," she concluded archly,
toying with the jewels hung around her scrawny neck.

He nodded. "First of all, I support you wholeheartedly in your
pursuit of justice. Dordinal has long been associated with passion
for justice in the Realm, where, sadly, there has been so little in
recent times...."

Goddess, I'm glad I wore my long boots, Aldara mused. The manure
was getting deeper than in the Guards' horse stalls....

Hegan prattled on. "Forst is not the only House to suffer from
brigandage, gracious Lady. Why, just the other day, several of our
own Guard were set upon, for no other reason than to steal their
weapons. Happily, they were able to beat off their attackers. Yes,
the Crown has taken little effective action to stem the lawlessness
outside Fairwoods' gates. Oh - no offense intended, Captain Aldara."

"None taken," she ground out between clenched teeth.

Hegan turned his attention again to his adversary. "So you see,

Dordinal is quite innocent of such an outrage. We would hardly rob
our own clan. We of Dordinal are victims like you of Forst."

"Perhaps," Lady Darliss diffidently admitted. "Perhaps. But there
are the other occurrences...."

"For which I am sure there are many potential explanations. For
instance," he went on slyly, "during the recent unpleasantness,
there were several incidents which resulted in spilled blood in that
area. Could it not be possible that some Fawnleaf elves are finally
taking their revenge for acts committed when the Dark Queen- "

Aldara felt her part-elven blood beginning to boil. "Such baseless
accusations are getting us nowhere, Lord Hegan."

He shrugged. "They are no more baseless than any other theory.
Still, if it is a tender subject with you, Captain, we can move on,"
he replied with a smirk.

"So you deny Dordinal's involvement. I suppose it could be elves,"
Lady Darliss said tentatively. "Or even bandits...."

He patted her hand soothingly. "Well, of course it could. I tell you
what, Lady Darliss. I could never resist a fair maiden in jeopardy.
Why don't we form an alliance? Surely, our similarities far outweigh
our differences, is that not so? We have neighboring estates to the
north, similar histories, similar... philosophies.... Let us draw up
a non-aggression pact between Forst and Dordinal. More than
that, we can agree to assist each other. I know how stretched your
resources are, after the damage caused by the Dark Queen. Dordinal
would be more than happy to provide a Guard in Cresscreek
to prevent such lawlessness in the future -- wherever its source," he
concluded, looking smugly at Aldara.

Forbidden by her role as facilitator to advance an opinion, she
shifted restlessly in her chair. Come, Lady Darliss, you cannot be
that witless, Aldara thought. You are inviting a soul-eater into the
very midst of your flock!

"I will put your idea before the elders of our House," the noblewoman
said slowly.  An idea had occurred to her. How better to cement this
alliance than with a marriage? She had never completely resigned
herself to a life of spinsterhood, no matter how likely it seemed. And
now... marriage to a Dordinal noble to seal the deal - perhaps even
the dashing Lord Hegan himself! Her heart thudded but she forced
herself to remain calm. Better not to show her cards yet. But before
the deal was final, there would be one or two things added to the
formal agreement. More energetically, she went on, "But we both have
enemies enough. I must admit to drawing some comfort from the idea
of an alliance in this difficult time. I will inform our elders that as
Head of House, I support your offer, Lord Hegan. I think there will be
little trouble convincing them it is for everyone's good."

"Excellent! And I can assure you that Dordinal, too, will be
overjoyed with this plan."

And why shouldn't Dordinal be overjoyed, Aldara groaned
inwardly. Darliss just did everything but hand you the keys to her
keep. "You are both sure this is the step you want to take?" she
asked, looking Darliss straight in the eyes.

"Quite," the noblewoman shot back icily. Her expression made it
perfectly clear she wanted no mere low-born half-elf questioning
her decisions.

Aldara sighed. "Very well. I shall report your decision to His
Majesty."

"See that you do," Lady Darliss said grandly, rising from her chair.
She giggled as Hegan bent deeply over her hand and kissed it. Then
the two nobles swept out of the room, leaving Aldara once again
rubbing her temples. The arrangement the brainless Lady Darliss had
agreed to almost guaranteed further strife in the Cresscreek area.
It would be a miracle if open warfare between the two Houses were
not the eventual result -- now, when the cooperation of everyone was
needed to rebuild the Realm.

Andalor would not be pleased.

*   *   *   *

Despite the growing impatience that he felt at being away from
Aldara, Jourdain was pleased with how the trip had gone so far.
Raviar had reported possible brigandage between the Ranfaus
estate and the Castle, but their return to Fairwoods seemed to be as
peaceful as the trip to Mandor's home had been.

The delays brought about by the need for diplomacy had frustrated
him greatly, and Livirnea's concern that time was growing short
for training Shannon brought him much worry as well. For these and
other reasons, Jourdain pushed his men and their horses hard. They
responded to the pressure with the skill and endurance that marked
the warriors who made up the Royal Guards regiment. Thanks to the
Goddess, they were now only a candlemark's ride from the Castle. If
all went well, they would reach it by nightfall.

It was too bad, he thought, that they were not able to enjoy the
comforts of the road as harvest season was, without doubt, the most
beautiful time of year in this part of the Realm. The fields, golden
with ripe grain and green with the leaves of other crops were a marvel

to behold, and the diverse colors of the leaves in the forests were a
wonder