The Mage had been gone for weeks. She was attending a festival for the Lady on the Isle of Myst, where she had trained before pledging her service to the new Emperor. She insisted on traveling alone and the Emperor had been furious. Well, not exactly alone. She had her cats and a number of those dreaded stallions she raised. They were the oddest animals; too small to be as fast as they were, too slight to be as strong as they were, each one black as a starless sky and fierce as the wildcats with which they were raised. Some said Epona herself birthed them, nursing them on wind and later feeding them on fire and brimstone. Only the Mage could handle them. They were kept in a separate stable with the cats; no servant would dare go near, the Mage tended to all their needs herself.
As the Emperor stood by the window of the conference room, looking out over the fields before the castle gate, he saw the dogs bound towards the woods and then abruptly turn and make haste back to the gate, yelping and yipping, tales tucked between their legs. As his gaze returned to the wood, he saw he Mage break through the tree line, stallions and cats clustered around her, making quite a commotion to announce their arrival. She had a few bedraggled men in tow as well. Poor sods, he thought, they should have known better than to try and rob her or worse, take advantage of her person.
She dragged them at breakneck speed through the gate and to his guard, who was waiting to greet her. They spoke for a moment and he noticed his guard was able to pet the stallion she rode and the cats too seemed at ease and quite friendly. More than I get from them. His guard dragged the men to the holding cells and the Mage made her way toward her stables. The Emperor smiled to himself and chuckled under his breath, anticipating this evening's reunion with his beautiful sorceress. He heard his name called in a rather exasperated tone and turned his attention back to the issues at hand.
Supper was excruciating. The Emperor had requested her presence, yet she was nowhere to be seen. A party of vassals had arrived from down country, and the obligatory festivities where at hand, but the Emperor was hard pressed to remain attentive. Where was his Mage? He scanned the room again; it would be just like her to be hiding and reveling in his impatience. He sat back in his chair and relaxed. He wouldn't give her all she wanted, not yet. He scanned the room again, letting his eyes loose focus, as he did when on the hunt. See what is truly there not what you think is there; his father's words rang through his head as if standing not two feet from his shoulder. They were with the Mage that day; of course she was just a girl then. The Old Emperor always took her on tracking forays; she had an uncanny ability to track and sight animals. She always bested the young prince and he resented it. But his father gently told him, "One day she will save your empire. I have seen it. It will be so." And he remembered.
As he scanned the room in his casual manner, a shock of jet-black hair caught his eye. He felt a knot in his stomach as a sweat broke over his body. Poison? Enchantment? What is that Mage up to now? The feeling passed and he returned his focus to the black head of hair. Has she dyed her hair to fool me? Is she wrapped in glamour to excite me? Well, it's working. He took a longer look at the woman under that shiny black mane. She was sweet and young, fresh and fair. She had demureness about her, but he could tell she put it on for court appearances; her eyes were far too alert as her mind strove to puzzle out the intricacies of his court. She was no flittering maid, but she was beautiful. Her hair was shiny black and flowing down her back, silvery satin ribbons braided here and there for accent. Her face was round and full and freckled; he liked the fact that she chose not to conceal them with powder. Her eyes were greenish-blue and they glittered in the torchlight. She wore a simple, elegant gown, all silvers and blues, a perfect compliment for her pale skin and dark hair. Although he knew he had exceeded the acceptable time for looking upon a lovely lady, he could not look away.
She was politely conversing with a soldier when she felt his gaze upon her. Her eyes fluttered lightly as she looked around to identify her admirer. When she saw it was the Emperor, she quickly flushed and looked away, but couldn't help herself from looking back a moment later. He laughed softly and raised his glass to her beauty; she raised her head, smiled and did the same. Unheard of! He threw his head back and laughed and her boldness. She resumed her chat with the soldier and flirted enticingly for the Emperor's entertainment.
He was quite caught up in the reverie when he heard a smooth, soft voice, whispering through his mind. Enchanting, was all it said. He came to rather abruptly and looked to his left to see his Mage sitting in her place, a few seats down from his, looking at the raven-haired beauty, as she ate her sup. He hadn't even noticed her arrival. His guard sat beside her, in his customary seat, also eating and drinking and calling for his favorite tunes. The Mage caught his eye and smirked as she raised a brow in his direction. He slowly blinked as he casually turned back to his drink and his maid. She was gone. The soldier looked crushed, as was the Emperor himself, but as the soldier left the table, the Emperor noticed a glittering bobble at the place the maid had occupied. He called for a servant and asked them to retrieve it; a broche, silver swan in flight with a bright blue sapphire chip for its eye. Very nice, the voice intoned. You can see through my eyes now, too, he asked. No, she chided, I can see through your guard. He looked over and saw his guard was cavorting with the dancers and minstrels, much to everyone's hilarity. That left a perfect line of sight between the Emperor and his Mage. He chuckled and discretely instructed the servant to find the Lady that lost the broche and bring her to his table at breakfast. Bold, she jibbed. He got up and left the hall.
He was determined not to call on the Mage that night. She kept him waiting too long at dinner and his mind was racing with thoughts of the mysterious woman with the glittering swan broche. It was very late, but he could find no peace. This would be a perfect night to call on his serving maids for a vigorous workout, but they were long gone; fodder for the Mage's cat. Suddenly he was furious. He had expected more than this tenuous relationship with his Mage and he resented her aloofness and fierce independence. He was Emperor. She served him. How dare she cuff him to the bars of her animals' cell and leave him hanging half the night. He was amused at first, but she began to weigh on his nerves. He raised himself from bed and dressed hastily, throwing a few lengths of rope and a couple of leg holds in a sack.
He made his way quietly to her chambers through the back halls seldom used by guests or servants. The hour was very late, but he was in a mood and not to be denied. Opening her door slowly and gently, he crept into her rooms and up to the side of her bed. As he peered over the mattress he found the bed still untouched. He quickly looked to the tapestry that hid the entrance to the lair and felt a rush of cool air. He quietly made his way down the steps to a landing above the chamber and waited in the shadows for his eyes to adjust.
A fire blazed in the hearth and torchlight bathed the room in an eerie glow. There was no sound from the cells that lined the walls. The cats must be in the stables with the stallions. So, she expects company, he mused. But as he looked to the middle of the room, he saw she was already engaged. His eyes widened. The Mage was clothed in a similar fashion to the night he found her in the maze; high, suede traveling boots, suede breeches, though much shorter than standard men's breeches, much shorter, a cropped suede over-shirt. A dagger was bound to her left arm and its twin sat snuggly in a sheath round her thigh. She was bound to a chair; wrists tied behind her back, ankles tied to the chair legs, her thighs and arms bound to the seat and back. Her mouth was gagged with what looked like the scarf that signaled her as his Arch Mage. Her eyes were as yet unbound, and shown in the firelight; she looked furious.
Damn, he chuckled to himself, I would love to have seen that fight. Her 'captor' had yet to reveal himself, but the Emperor could hear him digging through some items on a table, just out of sight. The Mage rocked and thrashed in her binds.
"Careful, you'll tip it over and what good will that do? You'll just hit your head and make things worse for yourself. Now, save your strength for a real opportunity."
My Guard? The Emperor's mouth fell open, but he held back the gasp, so as not to reveal his position. Sly dog, what are you up to? As he came into view, the Emperor saw he was clothed in the battle dress of their most ruthless enemy, in the uniform of an interrogator. Uh Oh. What is he doing in that uniform? He's been on the receiving end of that scene one too many times I think. The Emperor remembered the last time his guard was captured; he managed to escape, but not in time to save the former Emperor's life. He dragged himself and the body for days and days, fighting predators, determined to give his Lord a proper burial on his own land. He shook that memory out of his head and leaned forward to ascertain if the Mage was in any real danger.
