Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wards of the Sorceress

+++++Anise+++++

It was an open secret that Sorceress Jue had elevated to high sorceress. Why she didn't outright announce it and make things official was a subject of some speculation. If you'd asked her, she'd have likely told you that these titles and distinctions were silly things that the men could squabble over, but that she would not condescend to. The fact that it would have made her the only High Sorceress in the world might have had something to do with it, too. There had, of course, been immensely powerful and influential sorceresses in the old world, dating back to ancient times. As strange as it sounded, though, the widely-recognized tiers of elevation had only been described in modern history, in the last five centuries or so, and in that time there had never been a sorceress above the 7th elevation. The fact that women were commonly persecuted for witchcraft for half of that time may have had something to do with it.

Jue was even older than Anise's Uncle Fenrik - only by a decade or so, but that made her quite old. Much like Anise, she'd immigrated to Yuya-Sasetù at a young age. When she demonstrated extreme magical precocity, reaching the 2nd elevation at nine years old, her parents had brought her across the ocean to enroll at St. Quillia's - hers had been the third graduating class at the school, before which there had been no schools of magic anywhere that enrolled girls. Unlike Anise, of course, Jue had come from Gaoleng up north, where they spoke Gaoyun instead of Westricht. But, in principle, it was about the same.

"Tell me, Anise Derrigin, what brings the niece of Fenrik of Westval to my parlor? Has he come to ask a favor?"

"If my uncle knew I was here, he just might send the constables after me."

"Oh?" a smirk played across her face. "Do tell…"

Anise had decided some time ago that she'd no longer lie like a child, telling facile fibs to get herself out of hot stew or ingratiate herself to others. She had no problem with lying to people who deserved to be misled, but anybody whom she respected or might come to respect deserved better. Thus, she decided to tell her story to Jue over tea, divulging what she considered to be all of the relevant details - including the ones that painted her in a negative light, or even as an outright criminal. Anise's brain tried to throttle her mouth and her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest, but the words kept coming out, as if summoned by magic. The whole time, the sorceress sat in silence, displaying no hint of emotion. She might as well have been a wax statue. When she was done telling her tale, Anise took a great gulp of tea to calm herself and waited for the sorceress to respond.

"To hear you tell it, your uncle would sooner ask the King of Mendicants a favor than ask one of you." The sorceress stirred her tea and uttered a mirthless chuckle.

"This isn't about my uncle."

"It's not," Jue agreed. "Thank the gods. You just might be worth my time, Miss Derrigin. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I believe you're about to ask for my sponsorship to enroll at the St. Arbalest Etudium Mystikal. Is this correct?"

"It is." Anise pretended not to be surprised.

"After you were expelled from our sister school, St. Quillia's, in disgrace for deceiving and lying to Magistress Binar?"

"That's correct. I would explain myself, but I'm sure you can deduce my reasoning."

Jue nodded. "Because telling the truth would have meant admitting to a worse infraction for which you felt no particular guilt. Tell me, Anise… you're a clever girl. Very, very clever. You remind me of myself in some ways, but I'll not let that bias my thinking. Tell me, Anise… how am I to be assured that you aren't just a very, very clever liar?"

Anise shrugged. "There are no assurances, sorceress… but I can offer you the matter of the public record. I have repeatedly and publicly done very stupid things because I thought they were the right thing to do. Liars don't do that - why does a habitual liar spin her story? To squeak out of trouble. To take the easy way out. To avoid confrontation and castigation. I haven't always told the truth, and I'm sure I have many lies ahead of me, but I'm done with lying as a child lies."

Jue nodded her approval. "Lies are the pathway to self-deception and, in our field, the truest realm of study, there can be no deception. I agree: it is foolish to commit oneself to telling the whole truth. As long as there are dishonest people in the world, you put yourself at a disadvantage by taking lies out of your own repertoire, and when told, a lie must be told convincingly. But with each lie, I keep the truth firmly in my heart and speak to deceive those who require it, with only that intent in mind."

"Yes, exactly!" Anise said. Jue's look suggested that she didn't care for being interrupted.

"Very well Miss Derrigin… you've impressed me. I've been following your exploits, you know. It pays to follow the progeny of high-level mages. Far more often, they prove sad and disappointing shadows of their forebears. But sometimes, happily, they do not. A mage at seventeen and angry at the world… what sort of fool would I be not to grasp the pen to author part of that story? It sounds so much like my own, after all, and I am fond of myself. Yes, I'll give you my endorsement, but it comes with three conditions:

"First, if the board agrees to accept you - and there is no guarantee - it will be on a provisional basis, and I will agree to that provision. And, since I am the one who vouched for you, I will be your mentor. You will answer to the board and the faculty, of course, but behind closed doors, we will know who you truly answer to: High Sorceress Jue and only she.

"Second, I hear tell in your story of something I've heard rumors of from your friends at St. Quillia's. Do not underestimate the power and pervasiveness of loose lips, dear. I will speak to this girl whom you're sweet on…" Jue chuckled at Anise's surprised gasp. "I can see you don't like that turn of phrase. Fine - the girl for whom you've fallen madly in love. I have no problem with your coupling… the silly moralistic nonsense of polite society is of no interest to me. But Franyi Jashopo is of interest to me. You and she will both submit yourselves for my study, for I wish to know how two young women simultaneously achieved the 5th elevation in such an interesting manner.

"Third, until I say otherwise, you will inform me of any trouble you plan on getting yourself into. I'll not insist that you keep on the straight and narrow, because that is not in our nature, but I will not be blindsided by nonsense. And you will stay here so I can keep an eye on you. You're free to come and go as you please, but it will always be with one of my familiars, such that I may keep tabs. What do you say, Miss Derrigin?"

"Call me Anise," Anise said.

Jue wiped her lips with practiced primness and stood from the table. Anise stood, too. "Very well, Anise. And you may call me Jue. And, if you prove yourself to be an investment well-made, I might one day tell you my real name. Men may shake hands to seal their pacts, but we are women of principle and need no silly ceremony. We know what has been said, and now there is a bond between us, an obligation that pulls both ways. The next we see one another, you will bring Miss Jashopo, and you and I will convince her to join us at St. Arbalest's."

+++++

By Consent of the Lord Chamberlain of St. Arbalest, this Act of Parliament is Hereby Ratified

On This, the 23rd of Lateharvest in the Year of Our Triumph, 103 AV

AP-2703: City Peace and Order Act

Wherein: All citizens, resident aliens, and itinerants of St. Arbalest shall carry identification and employment papers upon their persons, to present to lawful authority upon request. Failure to do so shall be subject to fine or detainment at the discretion of the constabulary.

AP-2703.1: Dorthek Peace and Order Addendum

Wherein: All resident aliens and itinerants of dorthek stock shall report to the Parliamentary Authority of St. Arbalest to either present their union membership papers for a permanent waiver, else present a legally binding affidavit from their lawful employer for a temporary waiver, else register for the St. Arbalest Order Corps to receive work detail scheduling, with compensation to equal three par per two hours. Failure to comply shall be subject to fine or detainment at the discretion of the constabulary.

AP-2703.2: Urmal Peace and Order Addendum

Wherein: All resident aliens and itinerants of urmal stock shall report to the Parliamentary Authority of St. Arbalest to either present a legally binding affidavit from their lawful employer for a temporary waiver, else register for the St. Arbalest Order Corps to receive work detail scheduling, with compensation to equal two par per two hours. Moreover, a curfew of eight o'clock eventide to six o'clock morntide shall be imposed. Failure to comply shall be subject to fine or detainment at the discretion of the constabulary.

AP-2703.3: Infernic Control Addendum

Wherein: A one hundred brownback reward is offered for the capture of fugitive infernics, with twenty brownbacks for information leading to the capture of fugitive infernics and twenty-five brownbacks for the return of an infernic killed during capture. All fugitive infernics shall be the sole property of the Parliamentary Authority of St. Arbalest, to be fitted with thrall-plugs or else punished at the discretion of said authority.

Hereby do We Certify this Writ Legal & Binding for a Duration of One Year,

We, the Parliament of St. Arbalest and

Jabir of Kilva, Lord Chamberlain of St. Arbalest

+++++Anise+++++

"I don't know," Franyi said. "I don't think I can leave St. Quillia's like that… I've only got a few months more there, and what guarantee have I got that St. Arbalest won't just boot us at the first sign of trouble? I wouldn't mind being the first woman to graduate from St. Arbalest, but I don't want to be the first one to get kicked out of it…"

"Please?" Anise said. "Would you do it for me?"

Franyi laughed and pecked Anise's lips with hers. "That's not fair, and you know it… you pleading with your big hazel eyes like that… stop it, Ani! Saying no makes me feel like I'm kicking a puppy."

"Then don't say no…"

Franyi met up with Anise at Jue's residence in the Old City. Hers was a sprawling city estate that took up an entire block of the old town. It had no yard to speak of but, instead, offered a great verdant courtyard in the estate's center occupying up about half of the building's total footprint. The two of them sat in that courtyard after their meeting with Jue, nestled underneath a little archway of purple flowers that managed to be in bloom despite the season - a dryad's touch, no doubt. The moon was yellow high above and the air was chilly. Anise snuggled against Franyi, a shawl wrapped around both of them as the late autumn breeze whipped around.

"Can I get you ladies anything?" Jue's servant asked.

"If you've got any dessert wine, I'll have a small glass," Anise said, and Franyi indicated that she'd also like some.

Sorceress Jue had a dozen or so servants - a small number for such a large house but, like Anise's uncle, she kept much of the house off-limits to conduct her research and oversee her various projects. Among that number were three infernics - though Jue was quick to point out that she did not burden her servants with thrall-plugs. It was not required to give infernics plugs, even though most mages did. Jue thought it was a sign of poor control and poor leadership if the only way you could make a summoned demon do your bidding was to force them under threat of pain. Instead, Jue acquainted them with the realities of infernic life in the city and offered them a life of relative comfort if they would remain in her service and agree to a magical pact binding both parties (and one did not lightly engage in a pact with Jue). Otherwise, they were free to go and take their chances in a city that would pay anybody a hundred brownbacks to drag you to the Lord Chamberlain's doorstep.

Jue stated that she'd summoned a total of five infernics to Medias, of whom three had opted to remain oath-bound to her, treated as high servants within the household and given enough privilege that it was clear Jue valued them over the non-magical household servantry… Anise wondered how well that went over with the non-infernics on staff. Two other infernics had opted to take their chances. One had met his end at the hands of an angry mob when he did some bit of infernic magic in public. The other was Berhu, who was now Plenakton's chief lieutenant. Anise didn't suspect many people knew that. Anise figured a fifty-fifty shot was about what most escaped infernics had.

"Your drinks, ladies," the servant said, a smooth-pated kao-etema man with no hint of infernic about him.

"Thanks."

Anise sipped at her sherry and snuggled into Franyi, enjoying her warmth and the scent of her skin. She'd changed her oils and now smelled faintly of jasmine and cloves. Anise wasn't sure which scent she preferred… the important thing was that it was Franyi. Something in Franyi's scent set some deeply limbic instinct in Anise, putting her at ease. If you'd told her a year ago that she'd be sitting in Sorceress Jue's courtyard, sipping sherry and leaning into Franyi, sighing at her warmth and taking in her scent as the evening darkened into night… well, she'd have had a number of questions. She hadn't even realized she liked girls back then.

Her hand snaked around Franyi's waist and pulled her closer, their hips touching and Anise's hand resting upon Franyi's side. Anise was happy to wile the evening away in silence, using Franyi's closeness to ward off the outside chill.

"I don't know," Franyi said eventually.

"It's okay," Anise said, and she kissed Franyi's cheek. "Jue wanted me to ask, and so I did. We'll tell her that you're going to graduate from St. Quillia's and then you'll enroll at St. Arbalest. It might be nice, being the first at something for once…"

"Oh, you're awful," Franyi giggled. "Beautiful and awful. I'll do it if you really want me to, you know."

"I know," Anise sighed. As improbable as it sometimes seemed, Franyi somehow thought Anise was as intoxicatingly alluring as Anise found Franyi - how such a thing could be, she could only chalk up to the inscrutable secrets of love. If Anise was willing to bring her emotional capital to bear, Anise was sure she could get Franyi to do just about anything… and she would never, ever do that. When she was around her girlfriend, what was best for Anise took a servant's seat.

"It's getting late… I'm going to miss curfew," Franyi said.

"You should stay here. It's not safe to go back, anyway."

Even from Jue's courtyard, they could smell the smoke from the riot fires. The protests and riots were in their third day now. Hundreds had been arrested or worse, and yet people kept pouring out into the streets and the jails were filling up with angry people - mostly urmal and dorthek dissidents, but with plenty of other folks, too. Anise reflected that she was very privileged, indeed, to be able to stay at a famous sorceress's estate, safe from what seemed like a city gone mad, a city ripping itself apart at the seams. How many young urmal women her age were out there right now, sleeping rough because their homes had been burned down or because they'd been forcibly evicted? How many were sitting in parliament jails, prosecuted for demanding the basic rights that Anise took for granted? Which of those distant screams would have been Anise if humankind had been deemed undesirable?

"I'm staying," Franyi said eventually. "But I'm not staying outside - it's getting too cold. I've got something to show you… in private… if you'll escort me to your room." Her expression had such mischief in it that Anise couldn't possibly deny her.

Anise yawned and, with a little groan of discomfort, pulled away from Franyi's warmth. The dusk air was cool, perhaps unseasonably so, and the jaundiced moonlight did nothing to warm them. She downed the last of her sherry and set the glass on the little serving table just inside the courtyard doorway. Taking Franyi's hand in hers, she gently tugged her toward her room, a small guest suite near the library, the study desk stacked high with the two dozen books that Anise was currently working her way through.

Jue's library took up two large rooms, one of them an elegant parlor lined with bookshelves and the sorceress's glossy mahogany study desk, along with two smaller guest desks and a dozen parlor seats - another dozen seats could be brought in from storage for salons and intimate lectures. The other room was just bookshelves, the aisles wide enough for the petite Jue to glide through without much trouble. Anise wasn't quite so slim. She had to do some angling with her backside and bosom to keep from knocking books off the shelves. Jue's collection was impressive - smaller than the St. Quillia's library, obviously, but far more eclectic and with enough unique or very rare volumes that the sorceress had limited Anise to two dozen volumes out at a time. Two dozen sounded a lot more limiting than it ought to have been.

They wandered past the darkened library, its shelves looming like the slabs of dark obelisks in the shadows, and Franyi already had her hair down and her top two buttons undone before she was even fully committed to the bedroom. Anise gave her a little nudge before stepping in and closing the door behind them.

+++++Anise+++++

Anise tugged at the hem of her girlfriend's blouse.

"Wait!" Franyi yelped. Her amber eyes alit with mischief as she crept to the desk like a sneak thief and retrieved a book that wasn't one of Anise's. Anise had the color, texture, wear patterns, and (of course) titles of each book committed to memory, so she'd have recognized it. She was certain she hadn't requisitioned Etchings of Servic: Fostlean Paintings & Selected Sketches. "Do you know about Servic?"

Anise nodded, but it was an uncertain nod. "He was a painter, right?"

Franyi sauntered over to the bed and beckoned Anise over, placing her hand atop Anise's as she sat next to her and using her other hand to open the book to a detailed etching of a pastoral landscape where little winged cherubim and a flower-haired borreniad attended to a beautiful, nude goddess, her hair splayed like a wreath and gleaming in the dawn. Anise looked to Franyi, the confusion plain to see on her face.

"She was a painter," Franyi said. "Two hundred fifty years ago in Fostley and three or four other countries in southeast Muyyinde. Of course, they didn't know she was a she. Servic was the daughter of a local Fostlean lord and, when she showed promise in art and poetry from a young age, was extensively tutored in those things in the hopes that it would attract a highborn husband. Of course, if you'll pay attention to Servic's choice of subjects, you'll see that she probably didn't have much interest in a husband."

Anise flipped through the book and soon gathered what Franyi meant: most of the reproduced paintings prominently featured nude or seminude women. Many of the scenes were ostensibly from literature or religious history, but the sensuality (and often unabashed nudity) were undeniable. Ms. Servic had an interest for women… and for women with women. Often, the subjects of the paintings had a lady and her attendant… and the attendants often seemed a bit too familiar with their ladies. Conspiratorial, even. In the several paintings featuring a woman with her 'lover', generally a historical or mythological couple, the young man had a delicacy and refinement of features that made you wonder whether he was a she trying to pull a fast one on her lover's parents.

"Servic disguised herself as a man and painted in the courts of Fostley for fifteen years, receiving a commission of two thousand gold ducas to paint the queen herself… and it's rumored that their relationship was more than professional. Of course, her deception was eventually uncovered and she was forced to flee the country. She turned up five years later in the court of Burnhal the Wicked in Westval… of course, when her deception was uncovered there, Burnhal didn't give a damn because he was 'wicked'. He loved the notoriety and had Servic sculpt a twenty-foot sculpture of Moon & Medias Eclipse, which featured the two goddesses engaged in a very intimate act, and which is said to contain five spots upon which mattresses can be perched for upon-statue coupling. Including upon the heaving bosom of Medias herself. When Burnhal was assassinated, Servic once again fled and was never heard from again. Some say she went to Gaoleng and became a well-regarded poetess there, but that's just speculation."

"How have I never heard this before?" Anise asked. She flipped through several more etchings - they were breathtaking in their artistry and in the sublime attention Servic had paid to detail. Not just the beautiful women frequently featured, but in textures and landscapes that lesser artists wouldn’t think to replicate, from the organic chaos of the clouds to the subtle atmosphere and brooding chiaroscuro encapsulated in the architecture and landscapes.

"It's not often taught because it's embarrassing to 'proper' society. Even so, this book is only a dozen years old, and it says that most of Servic's paintings and about half of her sculptures are still preserved. So some people must have had the presence of mind to take the sticks out of their arses and preserve her work, thank the lord. But it's also worth noting that Servic had a significant influence on art and beauty for half a century after she left Westval, even if the prudes there called her a pervert. For instance, what do you notice about the women?" Franyi tapped on the bosom of Ludvmil in Ludvmil at the Sacrificial Altar, and Anise had to admit it was a very nice bosom.

"They're beautiful?" Anise said eventually.

"Keep looking."

Anise flipped through the pages, examining the women on the pages, often nude, smooth and with pleasant curves, their eyes intense with an inner light, their lips expressive whether in beatific bliss or murderous rage, their slim brows furrowed in fury or raised as they moaned at the caress of an attentive lover. Their soft bellies curved to little fuzzy thickets when they were nude, and the set of their round shoulders and the prominence of their large bosoms bespoke of a maternal physicality that would not be present in a slimmer woman like, say, Franyi.

Anise gasped. "They… they look like me!"

Franyi's nodded vigorously and her fingers threaded into Anise's. "This was the standard of beauty for sixty years." Her free hand traced along the curves of Troyeki, Maiden of the Morning, along rounded hips and yielding thighs. "This is what I see when I look at you."

"Oh…" Anise said, and her ears burned red. She couldn't possibly count the number of times she'd been called a fat little girl as a child. And, even now, after years of moderate dieting under the supervision of the St. Quillia's matrons, she would never be called slim. When Anise looked at Franyi's lithe body, she saw what she thought a woman should look like, supple but slender and with the lithe elegance of a dancer. Her own belly was soft, her thighs too thick, her proportions far too unsubtle to be a thing of beauty. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Part of her knew that Franyi found her beautiful, but her rational mind had always found the prospect absurd. It made about as much sense as declaring the pelican to be the most beautiful bird. And yet Franyi's fingers went soft through her hair and her eyes took in Anise like she was watching the sun rise.

"You're so beautiful," Franyi said. Then she slid on top of Anise, straddling her so their skirts were pooled together, and she set the Servic book to the side. "I've heard it said that magic is more an art than a science… so I've decided that you're my muse, Anise Derrigin."

Anise's hands slid up, holding Franyi by the slim waist, her breath growing fast as part of her marveled that this was Franyi straddling her, looking down at her with such adoration. Franyi, whom boys at St. Arbalest's fawned moon-eyed over on a regular basis, with her coal-dark hair and her amber eyes and her brilliant mind. Franyi mounting Anise with her sex pressed right against Anise's belly, her hips instinctually rocking as if she and Anise could meld into one being. Franyi bending down so they could kiss, her wild tangle of hair draping over Anise like black, silken coils and sliding past the sides of her face as their lips pressed. She giggled at the feeling and giggled again when her girlfriend drew back far enough that they could gaze into one another's eyes.

Anise's hands ran under Franyi's blouse and along her taut belly. "If I'm your muse, then you have to be my muse, too, because I'm not going to pine away at home while my great sorceress wife tinkers in her laboratory…"

"Wife?" Franyi gasped.

Anise bit her lip and nodded coyly, her stomach jumping like a sack full of rabbits right above where Franyi straddled her. "Some day, I hope. I know… I mean, I know it doesn't work that way, but I thought…"

Tears brimmed in Franyi's eyes and she planted quick little kisses on Anise's lips as the tears spattered down onto her cheeks, hot like a summer rain. "Yes, I'll be your muse. I'll be your anything, Ani. And yes, I'll go to St. Arbalest's if they'll have me, because as long as we have one another, nobody on Medias can stop us. Nobody."