SONG OF POWER
CHAPTER VII: THE FIRST NIGHT
Ninthalsaya’s question served to ease the tension in the room, but also made everyone nervous. For a moment all that could be heard was the gentle sloshing of water from the four brass tubs until Tyroce finally spoke.
“Do any of you know the story of New Hope Keep?” she asked.
“It is not a Seelie story,” replied Ninthalsaya from her tub.
“I know it,” said Cipher.
“Please, sing the ballad,” requested Tyroce. Cipher straightened up in his tub and recited the lines.
“In times now past was wrought a tale of love
A union such forbidden b the gods
Between one from below, one from above
Forbidden by wicked and gentle gods
“The young Duke Bladeharp, both sidhe and angel
Lord of New Hope, north-west in the True World
Son of the Sun, and radiant of soul
A lord of Seven Virtues, wise and bold
“A battle won by Bladeharp ‘gainst the horde
The victor chooses trophies all agleam
But Bladeharp wanted not for coin or sword
A concubine he took, her soul redeem
“The pris’ner herself was a fell demon
Composed of and subsisted by Evil
The battle for her soul would not be won
Unless Bladeharp’s Good arose her equal
“The fiend Voronica scorned Bladeharp’s faith
Though time by time his heart remained steadfast
She sat unmoved for seven days, the eighth
Voronica came to know love at last
“Exchanging her Evil nature for Good
A bride she was and Duchess, once-devil!
Fast quickening with a child that would
Be born the child of Good and Evil
“The pe’ple of New Hope could not abide
The creature growing in the Duchess’ womb
A man with wicked claws came to misguide
To make the babe’s cradle an early tomb
“The claws of fear laid siege to New Hope Keep
Its citizens the army he controlled
Their ignorant fear caused the Duke to weep
For each of his men felled, Bladeharp condoled
“The people put fire to New Hope Keep
And watched with anger as it smoldered down
Mother and child condemned to death’s sleep
Tears and blood besmirched the tintless Duke’s crown
“The people now at last realized their sin
Acknowledged with regret what they had done
They hunted the beast-clawed man to bargain
Life for life, soul for soul, but he was gone
“From the ashes of misunderstanding
From the ground of hatred’s power, scary
There rose the welcome land of which I sing
Home to all, Free Kingdom of Domberry.
“In times now past ended a tale of love
A union such that terrified the gods
Between one from below, one from above
That terrified the wicked, gentle gods.”
When Cipher sang his wives attended him with rapt attention, and when it concluded they applauded from their hearts.
“It’s just a story, Tyroce. I’ve never been to Domberry or Northcrown. My family is Drakkenavian first, and I born on the island of Demarest,” Cipher explained.
"It is true!" exclaimed Tyroce with painful conviction, causing her spouses to stare at her. After a moment, she regained her composure, leaning cooly back.
“The legend does not end there,” said Tyroce, her face downcast. “Bladeharp’s court wizard, Belinore the Hoarfrost, escaped the siege by retreating to Northcrown. Some say it was he who betrayed Bladeharp, sowing fear among his subjects. I…I know that is not so. Belinore fled to Northcrown where he raised an army of goblins—the Frostbelt goblins. I fear he will march south from Northcrown, across the Tearfall Plains, to conquer Domberry and avenge Bladeharp’s death.”
“Belinore the Archwizard?” asked Ninthalsaya.
“The very same.”
“Did the man w-w-with beast-claws b-b-become King—er, Duke?” asked innocent Rowena.
“No. No mortal knows what happened to the man who killed the Duke. The Duchy of New Hope was thrown into a season of turmoil following the siege of New Hope Keep. Eventually one of the noble houses was able to prove, through patents of nobility, their right to succeed Bladeharp. The Kickstrong family was naught but little more than a squire with a grant of land, but they could prove that their family had ruled that meager plot of land for longer than any of the more prominent lords in the region. They rose to power, such as it is, and formed the Free Kingdom of Domberry. King Orion Kickstrong rules the Free Kingdom from New Hope Keep now as a reminder to his subjects of the horrible consequence of fear.”
“So…this Belinore wants the reward?” asked Cipher. Tyroce turned her full attention to Cipher, her red eye flashed, and every ruby on her body seemed to glow with ire.
“No. Belinore cares not for wealth. He truly loved Bladeharp, and wants to see his death avenged. Beyond that, Belinore desires to be the most powerful figure in the True World. To do that he needs you, Cipher Lostheart,” five wide eyes were fixed on Cipher, who was now more self-conscious than if he were simply naked in the tub (which he still was).
“But why me? What’s so special about me?”
“I…I do not know. But Belinore sent his goblins out of Frostcrown and into Drakkenavia looking for you, and they nearly had you without any resistance. This is why I was sent to retrieve you, Cipher.”
“Retrieve me? For who?”
“That I cannot tell you, not yet. It is not safe here, and I have already said more than I am comfortable with. Once we cross over into Emeria we will meet another who will aid us on our quest. An old friend, and better than I deserve...” Tyroce’s voice trailed off mournfully. She recovered her composure and continued. “I can say only that we must continue to head west. Now, I believe that I am done,” Tyroce stood up, water running down her snowy flesh and the ruby piercings that adorned it. The others quickly averted their gazes.
“Honestly, what sort of marriage is this if we cannot even look at each other? ‘Tis a good thing that Cyen is destroyed; were it not, there is no way Cipher could bed the three of us before the allotted time had expired!” laughing to herself, Tyroce dried herself and then donned one of the modest, ankle-length white gowns that the Liquid Chicken had provided. One by one the others followed suit, still maintaining as much modesty as possible. The quartet quit to their room, leaving the tubs to drain and ponder all that had been said.
There was only one bed.
“I disapprove,” pouted Ninthalsaya.
“W-w-well….” murmured Rowena.
“Cozy!” exclaimed Tyroce. “I guess my being the oldest doesn’t matter.”
The four stood around the single, large bed. The room distinguished itself by being the finest that the Liquid Chicken had to offer. A large tapestry which depicted Gaia kneeling between Naturion and Lucifer hung on the wall facing the bed. Phosphorescent fungus that the room nurtured along its ceiling cast a pale blue glow on the masterfully-woven carpet that warmed the floor. No other furniture loafed about to distract from the room’s beauty. The room’s polished walls glowed with pride.
Dominating the room was the luxurious gnomish bed, which had six short legs and stood a hand off the ground. The bed’s four wooden posts were fluted wooden columns holding aloft a delicate wooden canopy carved to appear like a coat of chain armor, which allowed the light from the ceiling to filter gently to the pied quilt that gave the mattress its modesty. The bed, besieged by pillows, stood ready to accept the newlyweds into its embrace.
“We are married, ergo we should share this grand bed. We require sleep. Tomorrow the rooster will herald our departure,” Tyroce declared to her companions. She mounted the bed and began to oust the pillows.
“She’s right. Once the bed is won from the pillows there will be plenty of room for the four of us to share,” Cipher said as he joined the war against the pillows. Once the pillow population was reduced to a more manageable size, Cipher sat with his back against the headboard and motioned to his two shyer wives.
“Grrarg, fine,” Ninthalsaya groaned, taking the side of the bed next to Tyroce. She wanted to be near the window so she could see the night sky—it always helped her sleep.
Rowena stood at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands and biting her lip. She shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the next. Seeing her anxiety, Tyroce got up and whispered something in the young maiden’s ear. Seeming relieved, Rowena entered the bed next to Cipher, a large grin on her face. Cipher looked at Tyroce, puzzled, but the unseelie shook her head. She instead took Ninthalsaya’s hand and led her to the door.
“I am feeling peckish. Ninthalsaya, dear, lend me a hand. We will be return shortly,” Tyroce said, her eye locked on Rowena. The human nodded, and with a light tug of the arm Tyroce pulled Ninthalsaya into the hallway.
“What’s the meaning of this? Gluttony is a sin, you know,” Ninthalsaya raged at Tyroce in the hallway.
“Our wife, Rowena, knows much of Cyen’s traditions—in fact, all of them. From what I have ascertained she was trained by Friar Weert as a lore-keeper. Cyen is fallen, but not gone forever. She is married not just to a man whom she fancies, but to two others she now cares for. Her entirety has been shaken to its core, and the poor thing is clinging to whatever she can to right herself. If tradition is something she knows, something solid she can siphon strength from, who are we to deny her? We are married, so it is the most natural thing we can do,” Tyroce whispered loudly to Ninthalsaya. Tyroce whispered a few syllabic words of magic and put her finger to the keyhole, with no visible result. With another word of magic she opened the door to the adjoining room and, finding it unoccupied, led Ninthalsaya there. The half-elf’s large eyes grew wide.
“That spell seemed familiar,” remarked Ninthalsaya.
“Yes, I cast something shiny for Rowena,” Tyroce whispered with a nod toward the fine room that contained their husband and wife.
“So she is going to…?”
“Uphold one of Cyen’s oldest traditions by consummating her marriage on her wedding night? Absolutely. I am only sad that Cipher is bedding us one at a time, as I am anxious for my turn with him,” Tyroce said, and for a moment she seemed to be not the mysterious, intimidating sorceress, but rather a young maiden with heart aflutter.
“Is now really the time?” Ninthalsaya began, but Tyroce shook her head.
“If not now, when? The act of lovemaking is a way for spouse and spouse to grow closer together. It is an intimate moment of vulnerability and sharing, where there is nothing between each other save emotion. When the participants care for each other it can sing louder than any words. Tonight, their souls are joined by the acts of their bodies,” Tyroce’s voice was full of passion.
“You…speak as if from experience,” Ninthalsaya began delicately, and Tyroce heaved a heavy sigh.
“Perhaps you are right. Cipher cares for both of you—he gave you his tokens with purpose. Cipher told his cohorts that he would give tokens you both before they set out, and was true to his word. He knew Rowena, and however standoffish you were, he knew you. Cipher does not know me.
“It is plain to see that Rowena must have thought highly of Cipher long before this day came, and would have been miserable with any of the other young men of Cyen. So what they are sharing right now is natural, beautiful…I am more than a little jealous,” Tyroce admitted wistfully.
“How do you know what Cipher said?” Ninthalsaya asked, less perturbed than usual.
“I came to Cyen to save Cipher. I was watching him. He was ridiculed for choosing you,” Tyroce said sweetly.
“Ridiculed? On what grounds?” demanded the easily-angered Ninthalsaya.
“On your being a loony elf-born hermit-witch, that’s what. Regardless, he said there is something about you…well, he left it at that, but I know that tone of voice,” Tyroce recalled vividly the conversations she had eavesdropped on.
“He…said that?” Ninthalsaya blushed slightly at the thought of Cipher premeditating giving her a token. “What about you? How did you get his token, when he didn’t know who you were before setting out?” Her question clearly caused Tyroce some discomfort, and she was sorry for asking it.
“He gave his first token to one of the other women, one he knew he had no chance of winning the hand of, nor had he the true desire for. Cyen’s tradition requires that all men give out all tokens, so he gave that one away to someone he knew would not choose him,” Tyroce replied.
He gave it to someone he knew wouldn’t choose him? That means…he wanted two wives, Rowena and I. The thought made Ninthalsaya’s head swim. Shaking it to clear it, she looked Tyroce in the eye, “How did you get his token, then, if it was already given?”
“I am a dreadfully powerful sorceress,” she pointed at herself. “Or did you forget?” Tyroce replied with annoyance. Ninthalsaya bit her lip behind her veil.
“So you used magic to return the first token to Cipher? How, then, did you know he’d give it to you when he met you?” Ninthalsaya was determined to understand the plan. In response Tyroce rose pulled her nightgown tight against her curves. Ninthalsaya couldn’t help but admire Tyroce, whose proportions were something from a man’s fantasy—long, shapely legs; a trim, fit tummy; enormous yet perky breasts; toned arms; a beautiful face—and her voice was sweet in the ears as her body was in the eyes. Ninthalsaya understood instantly that Tyroce relied on her natural assets to win Cipher’s token.
“You are gorgeous,” Ninthalsaya conceded. Tyroce smiled and bowed to her unwilling wife.
“As are you, wife. I am glad you think so, because eventually all four of us will be in that bed,” Tyroce reminded Ninthalsaya.
“Why would you want Cipher to marry you? If you had to save him from the goblin invasion, why not just use magic to sneak him hot of the town?” Ninthalsaya asked.
“I married him because I wanted to marry him. He is young, handsome, courageous…I have, er, could do far worse. I count myself lucky to number among his wives, and I wish only to obey and please him…and to keep him safe, of course,” Tyroce replied sincerely.
“So we are his wives, and we must obey and please him. Rowena is our wife, and you…does this mean that tomorrow night…” Ninthalsaya paused, not wanting to let the question pass her painted lips.
“I will go tomorrow, and gladly,” Tyroce purred.
“Then I on the third night,” Ninthalsaya sighed, nonplussed. Tyroce placed a hand on the witch’s shoulder.
“Trust me, wife, it is not a bad thing. You have a right to be nervous—Rowena was, but I spoke some courage into her cute little ear. What awaits in Cipher’s bed is a beautiful, intimate act. You will not be displeased, I promise,” Tyroce’s suddenly warm demeanor comforted Ninthalsaya.
“Thank you. I just don’t think I’m ready for all of this,” Ninthalsaya admitted. Tyroce took Ninthalsaya’s hand and the pair sat in silence, thinking deeply in the night air.
And Rowena was a maiden no longer.