The Catswold Portal

Standing in the queen’s wardrobe, she had listened to talk about imported wines and medicines from the upperworld, and Siddonie had said something about the portal in Xendenton and about a caravan carrying goods to Cressteane and Ferrathil. Vrech said they should not use the southern portal, that it opened on the upperworld in too crowded a location. Siddonie had snapped that she knew that, but it was less than an hour’s ride away and he should be able to manage his affairs so no one suspected anything. The queen spoke with cool familiarity of the upperworld cities to which the tunnels led. When the conversation lagged and a chair scraped, Melissa had fled for the hall. She had reached the other end of the passage when Vrech came out, followed by a thick, stiffly moving man with grayish skin and mud-colored hair. The two men had started down the stair when Vrech glanced along the hall, looking her over.

“That’s the girl,” he said softly.

The men had paused, staring at her. She looked back boldly, but fear touched her. Finally they had moved on, laughing. She was terrified they knew she had been listening. And now, summoned by the queen, mounting the last steps and starting down the hall, she was certain she would be punished for spying.

She had been summoned not to the black door that led to the queen’s dark chamber but to the adjoining solar which opened between the queen’s rooms and the king’s. She expected another dark room with black furniture and closed draperies.

But she entered a bright room, the draperies open to the green day, and four oil lamps burning. The walls were of a pale, smooth material she didn’t recognize. The cream satin draperies, tied back, revealed a balcony then the far forest and a sweep of granite sky. The queen stood before a white marble mantel. She was dressed in pale riding pants, soft boots, and a white satin shirt clinging to her breasts and open at the collar. Her black hair was coiled elaborately, her black eyes were intense. A memory touched Melissa—she saw the queen dressed in strange clothes, a tight dress that ended at the knee. The vision filled her with fear and hatred. Even her dislike of the queen, and her knowledge of Siddonie’s cruelties, seemed not enough to support the deep, total hatred that now swept her.

“I have decided to shorten your hours in the scullery, Sarah. Will that please you?”

“I…Of course it will please me.” She was not to be punished, then? Did the queen not know she had eavesdropped?

“I plan to give you some tests. I believe you will find them interesting.”

“What—what sort of tests?”

“Why, to discover your magic skills.”

She shivered, puzzled and apprehensive. “I have no special skills.”

“Did you not bring a light to guide your way up the passages to me, just now?”

“That is cottage magic—anyone can do that. There is no power to that—not like your powers.” She didn’t like treating this woman with deference, but she sensed that it was wise.

The queen smiled. “Do you remember the winged lizards which flew over you when you went to the Hell Pit? Ah, yes, I see that you do. My lizards saw clearly what you are capable of—Sarah. It takes a special talent to call the Lamia from the Hell Pit.”

Melissa felt naked and defenseless, as if she were suddenly suspended again over the Pit, about to be dropped into the flames.

“It takes great talent to make the Lamia obey you.” The queen’s smile was so cold Melissa shivered. “I mean to train your talent in more complicated magic, Sarah.” The queen looked at her deeply. “You are to be my disciple. You are to learn the powers of a queen.”

Melissa gawked. She dare not speak. Why should the queen want to train her?

“And now, my dear, shall we begin to use your real name? I much prefer Melissa.”

She swallowed. “If you wish.”

“Why did you lie to me about your name?”

“I didn’t mean to lie. I am used to Sarah; it is what I am called. Any other name seems uncomfortable.” She was sweating, her throat was dry and constricted.

“I’m sure you will learn to respond to Melissa. It is your birth name. Come closer and kneel.”

Melissa took three steps and knelt on the pale, richly patterned rug. Coldly she listened to the queen’s spell binding her to a disciple’s rules and submissions. She had not been asked if she wished to serve. Siddonie of Affandar did not ask, she commanded.

The spells were long and complicated. The queen’s power pressed so strongly on Melissa she was hardly able to breathe. Silently, terrified, she wielded a counter-spell to block Siddonie’s enchantment. But she began to feel deeply lazy as the malaise of enchantment took her. How rich was the queen’s voice. And Siddonie was so beautiful, her pale skin creamy against the satin shirt, her black hair and black eyes gleaming like ebony.