Raise the White Lantern
a post-8Bit Theater fanfic by Katzedecimal
Being top student at the Academy of White Magic had brought White Mage many accolades. She had been selected for membership in one of the most secretive cabals in the guild. She had been awarded the mission to protect Fate, a mission that had brought her into contact with the band of heroes known as the Light Warriors. She had been introduced to the great sage Sarda, and by his power had witnessed marvels untold. And now, she had been selected to become the fourth wife of the great wizard Amicus.
She wasn't entirely happy about that one. In fact, it would be fair to say that she wasn't happy about it at all. Happy people aren't usually found rappelling down a wall on a bedsheet. Disguised in a servant's plain skirt and apron, her belongings stuffed into a small bundle, White Mage was off and running as soon as her feet hit the flagstones.
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled and the rain beat down in droves, but White Mage pulled her sodden shawl tighter around herself and fled onward. As the lights of the Academy dormitory faded into the night, she slowed her pace to a steady, ground-eating jog, but kept running, heedless of the bracken that whipped her legs as she fled into the forest. It was a large forest and a deep one, with animals and beasts and faery beings and will'o'the'whisps that flickered in the dark. Ghost lights, like the one up ahead that winked fitfully, swaying like a lantern.
Abruptly it winked out. She slowed to a walk, warily listening for thieves or tinkers, and tried to remember if there were any tonberries known to walk this forest. She drew her hammer and stepped cautiously around the trunk of a large tree.
WHACK! She staggered back, shaken by the impact. Whatever she'd collided with was cussing up a storm. She gaped, astonished - she knew that voice! "Black Mage!"
He looked up, his featureless glowing eyes round ovals of surprise, "What, you again? Didn't we do this once already?" He slid the cover off his lantern and stared, "Hey what's up with you? Where's your robes? ...not that I mind the wet-tshirt look but.."
"Get me out of here!!"
"..hah?"
"Please get me out of here!" White Mage begged, "They're after me! They'll find me and drag me back and then I'll have to marry him oh gods get me out of here, whereever you're going, take me with you, PLEASE, Black Mage!"
Black Mage stared and for once, not at her chest. No robe, soaked, running in a thieves' forest in a midnight storm.. then her words penetrated. He nodded abruptly and turned around, taking her hand and leading her back to a tiny clearing. There, a tent was inexpertly pitched and Fighter squatted dismally behind what used to be a fire. "Fighter, get the gear and mount up. We're going."
"Sure thing, Black Mage! Are we running from guards again?" Fighter hopped up and hauled the whole tent up, stakes and all, with one hand, then started rolling it up.
Black Mage glanced at White Mage, who shook her head, "No? 'Kay, not guards. We're not sure why we're running.. oh, we are sure. We're running and I'm sure we'll find out why, later." He grabbed his chocobo and struggled with its saddle.
Fighter glanced at the shape beside Black Mage. Near as he could tell, it was female. "Are we running coz you messed with someone's wife?" he asked innocently.
Black Mage's eyes blazed orange, "Don't be ridiculous! It's White Mage!"
"No it's not! That's not White Mage! White Mage wears white robes!" Fighter replied confidently.
"It is too White Mage. I'm sure she's got the robes somewhere."
"Fighter, it's me!"
Radiating skepticism, Fighter walked over and bent to inspect the sodden little woman who stood more than a foot shorter than he.
BASH! "..owie! ...yesh, dash whi' maze, alrigh..."
"I told you it was her!"
"Doesn't anybody ever look at my face?!"
Fighter shook off the headache and gave her an affronted look, "Oh we wouldn't do that, White Mage, that'd be rude!"
"What?"
"Never mind that now, I've got the birds packed. Fighter, get off the ground and help her up behind me."
"Sure thing, Black Mage!" White Mage was gripped rather painfully around the ribs, swung up and deposited unceremoniously on Black Mage's chocobo. Then Fighter mounted his own bird and they spurred their mounts.
White Mage slid her arms around Black Mage's waist, to keep her seat against the lurching of the bird. She rested her cheek against his back and closed her eyes, inhaling the pungeant, unpleasant, yet familiar smells that seemed as much a part of his being as the hat that was dumping water down the back of her neck. She knew what kind of man he was, but she was safer here than at the dormitory. She closed her eyes and dozed.
She awoke to dim light and the smell of camphor and patchouli. Her eyes adjusted, showing her a wood beam ceiling and rolls of fabrics. She sat up - she appeared to be in the hold of a barge. There was no sign of the chocobos.
"Took you long enough. I seem to recall you used to be the first one up. You must have been tired," Black Mage said from behind her. She looked around to see him seated on a barrel, paring his nails with one of his daggers. He pushed her some bread and a mug of lukewarm small ale. "We'll get some real food when we reach port. We're on a trading barge. Figured we could get some sleep while still putting some miles in."
"We were riding a chocobo...? How did you get me off without waking me up?" Black Mage choked on his ale and she frowned, puzzled. Her oblivious innocence made him laugh even harder.
When he finally got control of himself, he replied, "Float ring. Then Fighter carried you onto the barge." He turned serious, "Now, what's this all about? Why are you on the lam, incognito? What's this about having to marry someone?"
"The head wizards have arranged for me to marry the wizard Amicus."
"Whom you're not in love with, I take it."
"He's fifty seven and has three wives already!"
"Ah..!"
"And nobody ever sees them and it's rumoured that he had two more and no one knows what happened to them and no one will talk about it and he says he likes 'spirited women' but anytime anyone's ever glimpsed his wives its said they all look.." She stopped, searching for an appropriate word.
"Docile? As in ..broken?"
"...yes."
Black Mage took out his pipe and lit it, then smoked thoughtfully for a few minutes. The situation had to be pretty bad for White Mage to take the risks she did. And she was genuinely glad to see him. He knew she didn't like him, though he didn't like to admit it, so for her to be glad to see him, she must have been really glad. He took his pipe out of his mouth, "If no one ever sees them, how do they know they look broken?"
"The other high mages call on him at his castle from time to time, of course," she replied, "His wives are kept in little apartments. They have to stay there, all the time. They never go out to the markets or to the theatres. They never go out unless they're accompanied by the house master and the guards and servants."
"Prisoners," Black Mage mused.
White Mage nodded, "It's said they wear fine clothes and have much luxury, but.." She trailed off, staring at her hands in her lap.
"Hmph! 'Luxury!' Pampered prisoners! Pets!" Black Mage snarled out, startling her. Abruptly he was up and stomping about, stabbing the air with his pipe, "I've seen it all before! Some spoiled jackass collecting ladies like trinkets! Treats 'em like dogs, giving 'em bones if they're good and smackin' 'em around if they bark! Then he gets bored with 'em and chucks 'em aside! Bah!"
White Mage smiled - he understood! "I had to run away. I don't care where we go, just as long as they can't find me. They'll use search stones..." she realized with horror, and burst into tears.
Search stones, Black Mage thought. They'll find her no matter where we go. Only two options left... "Right. That settles it, then: We'll go to Elfland, and then you can marry me."
It took a second for White Mage to realize what she'd heard. "WHAT?!?"
"What? That'd solve all your problems! They can't marry you off if you're already married!"
"Marry YOU?!"
"Yeah?" he said, starting to sound whiny, "What's wrong with me?"
Old feelings flared up and she blazed, "What isn't wrong with you?! You're a murderer!"
"I'm a Light Warrior!"
"A serial killer! You reek like you think you're allergic to water!"
"I am!"
"You manipulate and use and abuse your best friends!"
"That's what friends are for!"
"You're constantly stabbing poor Fighter!"
"He's a fighter! He can't fight if he's afraid of getting cut!"
"What in the worldmap would make you think I'd want to marry YOU?!"
"Coz it's better than marryin' some old geezer polygamist?"
That brought her up short. Abruptly she was back in the present, facing her reality. Two choices, neither of them very palatable. She put her face in her hands and wept.
Black Mage cast about, trying to think of what to do. He didn't know what to do when ladies cried. Slapping their backs and telling them to buck up always seemed to get him smacked. Telling them only weenies cried got him a reputation as an insensitive asshole. Mind you, most of the ladies he knew who cried were weenies, but White Mage was not a weenie and here she was crying her eyes out and he didn't know what to do. "Um, I'll just... go see where we are... I'll ... let you think about it.. yeah... um." He fled.
He found Fighter on the deck with the birds. The bargemaster finished their conversation and moved away as Black Mage approached. "Hi Black Mage! Is White Mage awake yet?"
"Yeah, she's crying."
"Crying?! You made her cry?!" To Fighter, making a girl cry was just about a hanging offense.
"I didn't mean to! I must've said something wrong," Black Mage fretted, "Look, Fighter, how close are we to port? Get out that flute thing of yours, we gotta get a message to Thief."
"No. Ohhh no. No no no!" Black Mage groaned with his head in his hands.
"Nice to see you too, Black Mage," Thief grinned. He looked up as Fighter led the chocobos towards him.
The barges had finished their downriver journey, coming to the port city. The birds had taken the trip well and they'd be fine for this as well. Black Mage, however, seemed to have developed a sort of phobia of air travel, so Fighter was a bit worried about him. "Hi Thief! Is that your airship? Boy is it ever nice! Does it crash real good?" Fighter said. Black Mage tried to crawl up inside his hat.
"Hasn't crashed yet, Fighter. This one actually lands! Properly!"
"What'd you do, spend actual money on it?" Black Mage snapped peevishly.
Thief winced and scratched the back of his head, "Lets just say the end justified the means. At least we won't be picking bits of ourselves out of the machinery. So where's White Mage? You said she was with you..." White Mage, standing beside Black Mage, sighed. "Just kidding," Thief grinned, "How're you doing? Black Mage's letter said you were in a spot of trouble."
"Just a bit. Its good of you to come on such short notice and to give us passage to Elfland," White Mage replied graciously. Black Mage muttered something about billy goats.
"Anything for an old friend," Thief said easily.
A little too easily for Black Mage's comfort. He had long experience of Thief, too. He looked at the shiny, sound-looking airship, then at the harbour near the airship dock. He hated air travel and he hated ocean travel. He hated chocobos too, come to that. The most reliable transportation he'd ever found were his own two feet and sometimes even they let him down. He glanced around, then stared at something that caught his eye. "Um..."
Thief saw it too. "Friends, I think we'd better get on board. There's a rather large party of white mages coming into town." White Mage whipped around, then abruptly disappeared. Thief nodded, recognizing a Vanish spell, and stepped aside to let Black Mage usher their invisible collegue onto the airship. Fighter followed with the chocobos and a steward helped them down into the hold. He turned and strode up the gangway towards the bridge.
"See anything?" he asked. Black Mage handed him the scope and he peered out the bridge windows.
Black Mage twisted the hem of his sleeve nervously, "They're looking for her, alright. They've got sketches of her and they're asking people."
Thief nodded and collapsed the scope with a brisk snap, "Well they're not going to find her. Cast off, now! We're in a hurry, people! Get us back to sovereign airspace, posthaste!" Airship elves scurried to obey and the ship lurched as it rose. As they pulled out over the Aldi Sea, Thief turned to look at White Mage, who was fading back into view as the Vanish wore off. She was shaking like a leaf. "Olwyn," he called to one of the crew, "Why don't you take White Mage back to one of the cabins. I'm sure she'd like to freshen up." As she was led away, Thief turned to look at Black Mage. The magical hatshadow cast a featureless golden glow over the eyes, but he'd learned how to read Black Mage's expressions. And his friend was very worried indeed.
The elf woman had offered White Mage a change of clothes and she had accepted. The gear - boots, breeches, loose shirt and bodice - was quite a bit more revealing than she was comfortable with, but they were dry. She had just finished combing out her hair when someone knocked on the door.
"Well, well, don't let Black Mage see you dressed like that," Thief grinned, "He'll drool himself into dehydration."
White Mage blushed but chuckled, stepping back to let him into the stateroom. "Its quite a bit more...mannish than I'm used to," she admitted, "Thank you for giving us asylum."
Thief waved a hand dismissively and sat down in one of the chairs, "Like I said, anything for an old friend. Black Mage tells me you're being forced into an arranged marriage?" He listened politely while White Mage explained.
"...And then he asked me to marry him!" she finished in a tone of distress.
Thief's eyebrows jumped, "He did? Boy, that's a step and a half, for him!"
"He said it was the only other choice I had, to get off the market completely!"
"Hmm," Thief said thoughtfully. He didn't much like humans or the way they conducted their business. Their laws were so screwed, they were laughably easy to exploit, and their sense of justice was limited. Their women had practically no rights at all, daughters and wives considered property for their fathers and husbands to use and abuse at will. Heaven forbid they have personalities. A vibrant, spirited woman like White Mage was termed a shrew (among more vulgar terms) and often 'tamed' by stick or fist, a process many men seemed to enjoy. White Mage was comely, physically endowed (as Black Mage had so often observed), talented, intelligent, physicially intact (for humans ever placed an incomprehensible value on virginity) - in short, a fine bargaining chip for anyone wishing to curry favour with another high-status male. By human laws, she had no say in the matter, no rights at all. "He's probably right. At least you know what you're getting."
"Thief!! I'd have to marry Black Mage! I've always hated him!" White Mage wailed, "You know how he treats me! He's so coarse and foul and villainous! He murdered children for power! Children!"
"Actually I think they were dying anyways."
"..What?" said White Mage, momentarily derailed.
"Yeah, he told me that the Guild of Necromancers has a deal with the local orphanages for kids who are dying of incurable diseases."
"...oh."
"But if it makes you feel better, he wasn't entirely happy about that."
"It does not make me feel better!" White Mage flared, "He has the worst hygiene! Thief, I'd have to sleep with him! That way!"
"Yeah, that'd scare me into lifelong celibacy."
"And you know what his face does to people!"
Thief nodded solemnly - he did know. "He's fine if he keeps his hat on, and he does. Look, White Mage, all of what you say is true. I'll admit, I've done my best to interfere with his obsessing over you, but look at it this way - you know all this about him and you don't know anything about this other wizard. You know you'd just be chattal to the other guy, but Black Mage.. Well, you gotta admit, the guy's been devoted to you since he first met you."
"...that's true," she admitted reluctantly, sitting down.
"And he's never complained about your temper. I mean, he let you beat him up on a regular basis! He even goaded you into it!"
"...he did?"
"Yeah, I think he picked that up off of Fighter," Thief said, then explained, "Whenever Black Mage is really stressed out, Fighter'll deliberately say something stupid to provoke Black Mage into a stab-frenzy, so he'll take it out on him instead of anyone else or exploding or whatever else happens to Black Mage when Fighter isn't around. Black Mage likes you, so it kind of makes a twisted sort of sense that he'd behave the same way. In his world, that's what friends do."
"..oh." White Mage thought about that for a while, "That is really dysfunctional."
"No argument there. Anyways, I don't dispute for an instant that the man's not good husband material, but at least he'll let you be yourself and he won't keep you in a cage. That much I'm sure about."
White Mage sighed, tearing up again. "I never thought something like this would happen," she lamented, "I always hoped for... oh you know, the usual... A sweet, romantic man who'd woo me and serenade me and bring me flowers and we'd have a nice little cottage in the woods, with a dutchdoor and climbing roses over a trellis... I never thought my only choices would be a womanizing man more than twice my age, and a short sociopath in a blue dress who smells."
The type of man you're describing would bore you to tears inside of a week, Thief thought but didn't say. Instead he said, "That's true. Black Mage is really the best prospect among us. Fighter's dumb, and if there isn't a sword involved, he's not interested. Red Mage'd be rolling his dice before every encounter to see if he could perform. And.. well, you're nice, but frankly, you're human. Its a big turn-off."
White Mage, whose face had run a gamut of expressions with every description, sighed heavily. "I wish this weren't happening. I'm beginning to think I'll be better off as a concubine," she said, then looked up at another knock on the door. Thinking it was the elf woman again, she cracked it open. Black Mage said nothing, just shoved a grubby piece of parchment and a bunch of wilting plants into her hand, then left again.
"What in the worldmap...?"
White Mage looked at the bundle of sad vegetation. "A bunch of weeds?" she said doubtfully, "They're half wilted. He must have picked them earlier." Then she noticed something else, "Oh gods..."
"What?"
She shook her head, half laughing, "When we were kids.. we used to give dandelions to our teachers. They were just weeds but we thought they were pretty flowers. I think he thinks this is a bouquet of wildflowers. Nobody ties a handful of weeds with a ribbon."
Thief laughed, "Yeah that's pretty good alright. What else did he give you?"
"Its a letter," she replied, unfolding it, "Whenever he's got something he really wants to say, he writes me a letter. Otherwise he gets all stupid."
Thief chuckled, "Well, you know what they say about men getting stupid around beautiful women. Black Mage gets really, really stupid."
White Mage blushed, disconcerted. "You're better at it than he is," she murmured, then started to read...
Dear White Mage,
I know you don't really like me very much and for the most part, I don't blame you for that. I know that what I said wasn't something you ever wanted to hear from me. Believe me, its something I never thought I'd say. But it doesn't take a crystal ball to see where the alternatives will lead you, 'cause I can't see you living like that for very long.
I want to tell you that if you do consider my offer, I can promise you that you will never be a prisoner, locked away in a little room somewhere. I can't afford servants so nothing would ever get done if you were locked up. I can also promise you that I will never raise a hand to you. I never have, no matter how much you beat me up, and I never will. I'll probably yell a lot though, but you yell at me lots too so there'll probably be some really good screaming matches. I have a tendancy to hurl insults when I'm angry, so I figured I'd better say right here, I don't mean any of them, I just say stupid things when I'm mad. I have a short temper but so do you, so that's okay. It just means we'll fight a lot, but we do anyways and I'm okay with that.
I can also promise you that I will never force myself on you in any way. I don't see the point, for one thing. Its no fun if the lady isn't into it. Besides, there's lots of reasons why ladies aren't in the mood, like when they're getting close to their time of the month. Oh yay, I can think of lots of things I'd rather do than try to get it on with a lady who's PMSing. Gargling with acid comes to mind. Pulling my toenails out with pliers is another option. Oh yeah, if you're PMS, just tell me and I'll go hide out at the pub or something until you're over it. That's okay. Ladies go crazy that time of the month (well crazier than usual), I understand that and that's okay. Its just a thing you go through.
I also promise you that I'll listen to whatever you say. I can't say I'll do what you ask though. I probably won't. Especially if it involves me doing something I don't want to do. But I'll listen to you. I also promise that I won't cheat on you or start collecting wives or bullshit like that other jackass. I just don't see the point in looking at second-rate goods when there's a dream girl at home.
And lastly, I can promise that I'll do everything I can to try to make you happy. I just hope that I can succeed once in a while.
Black Mage
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," White Mage said as her eyes overflowed.
Thief finished reading over her shoulder. "Neither do I!" he said, though apparently he chose laughter, "That has to be the lousiest attempt at a love letter I've ever read! Gotta give the guy props for honesty, though. And realism. You can't say that those aren't realisitic promises."
"And they're the kind of promises that should be made, but aren't," White Mage agreed, wiping her face with her sleeve, "He can be sweet... He's been sweet like this before... But there's the rampant murder... I couldn't be proud to be the wife of a murderer."
"What about the wife of an Avenger?" Thief grinned into White Mage's puzzled look, "Ever heard of them?"
"They're some sort of guild, aren't they? They think they're above the law?"
"They deal out vigilante justice for those the law lets down. Wives, daughters, whores, tinkers, gypsies.. anybody can go to an Avenger and request, well, vengeance. And they deliver. People who really need to get their comeuppance will get it."
White Mage thought about it for a few minutes. "I guess that does sound like something he could do," she said at last, "I guess I'd be okay with that." She looked at the letter and sighed again, "I really don't have a choice, and you're both right, this is the better choice."
"The lesser of two evils," Thief quipped, grinning. He looked at the parchment critically, "And this does confirm something I've suspected for some time. The line about a dream girl clinches it."
"I wondered what he meant by that."
Thief shrugged, "Maybe you should ask him."
Out on the bridge, Black Mage felt something hit his hat. "Oh no... There's a summons in my hat, isn't there," he groaned. He reached up and pulled down what was indeed a piece of paper, pinned there by a throwing knife. He read it; all it said was "Dream girl?" in White Mage's neat handwriting. He turned the paper over and started to write. When he was finished, he folded it into a paper airship and threw it towards the stateroom. It flew about twelve inches then did a nosedive into the floor. Muttering curses, he picked it up and tried again, only to have it crash again. A third try produced the same result.
"Let me try it, Black Mage," said Fighter. He put a few deft tweaks and folds into the paper, then sent it soaring into the stateroom door. Black Mage glared at him and drew his dagger, then glanced at the stateroom and put it away.
White Mage unfolded the paper airship and read what was written there. She started to laugh and shook her head, "Oh Lords... if I'd known this... I don't know..."
Thief took the paper and read, "'Hell yeah, I mean, you cast magic, strong magic, you're not stupid like pretty much everyone else I know, you're gorgeous, you don't take crap from anybody, not even me, you got red hair and as if that weren't enough, you got the best rack on the face of the worldmap. How could I not' and that last bit is scribbled out."
"Yes," she sighed and looked at it again, "I wonder if it matters to him that I can cook."
"Can you make pecan pie?"
"Yes."
"It matters."
Thief almost skipped back onto the bridge, looking entirely too smug for Black Mage's comfort. "They're following us," he said.
"Good!" Thief replied, "Then we can have a nice little chat! I seem to do well at having nice little chats with white mages."
"Oh, that's where you were," said Black Mage, then abruptly his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Thief grinned, seeing this. "I can read upside down," he lied. Black Mage relaxed a bit, still unhappy. "Not a bad letter," Thief continued, "Didn't know you were so sweet of heart."
"That's because I never use it," Black Mage snapped back, embarrassed. He changed the subject, "How much is this going to cost me?"
"Oh, plenty!"
"Oh, gods..."
"The expenses just keep piling up! Airship fuel, crew's wages, docking fees, wedding expenses.."
"Wedding?!"
Thief affected to look shocked, "Of course! You didn't expect to just run to a justice o' the peace, did you??"
"And really, you just can't get married in this! Granted, its an improvement over the old blue dress and straw hat, but come on...!"
"Quit pawin' at my robes! What's wrong with my robes?! They're perfectly good wizardy robes!"
"For wizarding, maybe, but not wedding! And then there's the dress for White Mage..."
"Oh, gods..." Black Mage groaned. He had a fleeting vision of gil bounding away into the tall grass.
"... food and musicians for the wedding feast..."
"OH, gods..!" Now the gil were streaming over a cliff like a flock of sheep.
"Why, I estimate you'll be working for me for years to pay it all off!"
"Working for YOU?!?"
"Why, SURE!" Thief beamed, "We'll be opening a garrison.. er, I mean, an embassy, near Corneria in the fall. I'll need a wizard to help develop... diplomatic skills."
"Weapons," Black Mage translated.
"Only as insurance, I assure you."
"Against bandits and the like."
"Negotiations breaking down..."
"Having a bad day..."
"I knew you'd understand."
"Hmmm..." Black Mage scratched his chin, mulling over the prospect, "No."
"No?!?"
"I know you, you elfin bastard! You'll rig the payroll around so that I'll end up paying you!"
"An intriguing thought... Ha! Just kidding. Of course I wouldn't do something like that. You'll have a wife to support! You'll be a family man!"
"OH, gods...!!"
"Did I mention the garrison has a tower?" Thief wheedled, playing the 'classic evil wizardry' card.
"...Tower?"
"Yes, a lookout tower. With a circular room on top and an antichamber just below. My wizard must have proper workspace, after all."
Black Mage was visibly wavering, but he rallied one more time, "That's fine for me but what about her? She won't want to live in no elfin 'embassy.'"
Thief was ready for that one, too, "Oh I'm sure we can work something out so you can pay off your debt while supporting your wife in comfortable luxury in pleasant accomodations. With roses."
"Hah?"
"Never mind, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. Good, I'll have the employment contracts drawn up as soon as we've reached the castle."
"OH, gods...!!!"
"And for your information, my parents were married."
White Mage walked the halls of Castle Elf, following the map that Thief had sketched out for her. She was dressed more comfortably now, no longer in the airshipwoman's gear, but now in a loose-fitting, laced dress. She thought about what she was about to do and felt ill. If she had a choice... but she didn't. The news that the white wizards had followed the airship forced her hand. When they reached Elfin airspace, they'd still have to negotiate landing rights, and Thief was determined to make these as complicated as possible. She had a little time.
She climbed the stairs, looking for the drawing room that Thief had indicated. When she found it, she knocked on the door, then turned the handle. "Black Mage? Am.. am I disturbing you?"
He was standing at a table, bent over a sheaf of papers and scrutinizing them with a magnifying glass. At her voice, he stopped and turned to peer back at her over one shoulder. The impenetrable hat shadow and glowing eyes were so soulless that White Mage shuddered.
"I am ever yours to disturb, dear lady," he said mildly, straightening up and turning to face her. He put the magnifying glass down and gestured at the stack, "Thief offered me a job contract and I'm looking for the catch. So far I've found fifty of them."
"Fifty?"
"I expect to find more. What can I do for you?"
Why did he have to phrase it like that? She took a deep breath and swallowed hard, stepping towards him, "Actually, um.. what you've always wanted to do. Since my... my virtue... has become a liability... and the white wizards have followed me... I would probably be best to.. lose it." She realized she was twisting her hands white and stopped. The silence stretched out a lot longer than she'd expected it to, and she looked up.
"You know, that had never occurred to me, when we first met. And then I wondered if there was something wrong with you or if you were possessed or something."
"Possessed?!"
"Well yeah," Black Mage said, a little defensively, "Among black mages, a total lack of interest is one of the signs of magic gone awry. If a girl hasn't started by the time she's sixteen, people start wondering if she's all there."
White Mage blinked twice, astonished. "I've.. heard of that," she said slowly, "But... the church... they have this thing about chastity..." She looked at the floor, then in a tiny voice asked, "Will it hurt?"
He shrugged, "It might."
"I guess I can cast Cure afterwards..."
"No no, during! What's the point of casting it afterwards, that'll just put you back the way you were. Cast it during and you'll heal up to the right size and it won't hurt again."
White Mage blinked again, "I hadn't thought of that. That's... that's really compassionate."
Black Mage looked puzzled, "That's how we do it.. mind you we use heal potions.. Why, how do white mages do it?"
White Mage sighed, "We're supposed to wait until our wedding night.. and then the next morning... the husband hangs the sheet from the window... to show the blood... to show that she was pure..." She trailed off in the face of Black Mage's 'Look.'
"And you say I'm sick!" he gasped, "Why the hell would you want your wedding night associated with pain and blood? Wedding night's supposed to be fun! Hang a bloody sheet out the window? Bah, if they want blood, I'll stab Fighter and we can hang him out for 'em to gawp at."
"Black Mage..."
"What?"
"I... I can't be the wife of a murderer."
The silence stretched out until it filled the whole room. Finally, in a small voice heavy with disappointment, he said, "oh."
"But you're a Light Warrior and you've done a lot of good that way. The end.. doesn't always justify the means... but most people think it does. Have you ever heard of the Avengers?"
"...Yeah?" He sounded bewildered, not sure where this was going.
"I.. I couldn't live with the knowledge that you shed the blood of innocents... but I could live with you shedding the blood of guilties," she said, "I've seen enough of good that does evil. I could live with evil that does good."
He stared at her for a few minutes, then nodded, "Okay. That's fair enough. I can do that for you."
I'd rather you did it for yourself, but that's never going to happen, White Mage thought but didn't say. Instead she asked, "There wasn't time to think this through... Where will we live?"
Black Mage sighed, "Good question. Fighter and I share a flat but..." He remembered something Thief had said and glanced at her, "Where would you like to live?"
"I don't know. I always dreamed of a little white cottage in the woods, with a dutch door and.."
"...Roses?"
"How'd you know?"
"An educated guess that had nothing whatsoever to do with Thief."
White Mage chuckled, "You can't lie at all. Did he tell you about the serenades too?"
"Oh, gods you must be joking! I only do that when I'm feeling really sadistic! I swore I'd never harm you and that includes subjecting you to my singing!" White Mage laughed. "Okay on the roses, but its gotta have a corkscrew chimney. You always hear about black mage ladies living in cottages with corkscrew chimneys."
"You're not a black mage lady, though."
"I'm a black mage and you're a lady, its close enough."
She laughed, "Okay. Corkscrew chimney it is. And it has to have a nice bath house AND you're going to use it!" Black Mage winced and she pushed her point, "AND you'll have a bath tonight, before you're fit for me!"
Black Mage winced again, "If I have a bath tonight, I won't be fit for anything."
"What do you mean?"
"Well it stings! It hurts! And the rash lasts for days!"
She frowned, puzzled, "Are you serious? Bathing shouldn't give you a rash. What are you using?" Black Mage rummaged around in his robes and produced a cake of brick red soap. White Mage recognized it immediately and realized that it was one of the notes in the bizarre aroma that clung to Black Mage. "That's carbolic acid soap! Good lords, you use that? You'd need skin like iron to use that! No wonder you have a rash, your skin must be so irritated, here let me have a look..." She grabbed his arm and, ignoring his squawk, pushed up his sleeve. "Oh my goodness, Black Mage, no wonder you're having problems! Look how dry your skin is! Its even cracking in places! And you use carbolic acid soap on skin like this?"
"...its all I know," he said, feeling humiliated.
"And you have psoriasis too..."
"Is that what it's called? I thought it was some kind of creeping crud."
"No, that's psoriasis. We don't know what causes it but we know its not contagious. I can make things to help that."
"...Really?"
"I've got better soap too, much gentler, and some lotion to soften your skin up, its so dry. This'll be a much better bath for you, I promise."
"...Okay."
"Ohhhhhh GODS! Gods, that feels so good!"
"Y'like that?"
"Yeah... yes, right there...!!! Ohhhhhh...! Gods, if I'd've known you were this good at it, I would've let you do this years ago."
"I kept offering," Black Mage said. He dug his thumbs deeper into her shoulders, eliciting another ecstatic moan. Boy did she hold a lot of tension in her shoulder muscles. He poured out a little more oil, then started kneading further down her back. He knew this'd be a good opener and he thought it'd show a little gratitude - after all, she was right about the bath. Guess he wasn't allergic to water after all. "Stick with me, baby, and it'll be backrubs all the way."
"I'm holding you to that promise," White Mage groaned again as another wave of muscular pleasure washed over her. She was pretty sure that backrubs weren't among the luxuries offered to the concubines of Amicus. If they were, they were probably given by servants, not by the wizard himself. This was a pleasant surprise.
So was that tattoo. She'd recognized it immediately, though she'd only heard about them and never thought she'd see one. She shouldn't have been surprised - Black Mage had always been after power, and that guild's practices were rumoured to bestow great power. Maybe this won't be so bad after all, she thought.
"Um... White Mage... " he began nervously, "Seeing as we're... kind of intimate... can I tell you something? Without getting beat up?"
This'll probably be something about my breasts, she thought. She gave him a wary look, then hesitated before saying, "Alright."
He fidgetted, "Um..." then grabbed the brim of his hat and twisted it down onto his head, "Um.. You.. you have..." He hemmed and hawed a bit more, then leaned forward and whispered, "You have the most incredible eyes I've ever seen."
She jerked back and looked at him in shock. He flinched back and grabbed his hat again, almost cowering into it, certain that she was going to reach for her hammer. "Why do you say it like that?" she asked, baffled, "I mean, why now? Why haven't you ever said that before?"
"Because that's your face!" he hissed, sounding mortified, "That's your private parts!"
She did a double-take, "Eyes are private parts?" Something clicked. "What did Fighter mean when he said it was rude to look at my face?"
"It is rude!" Black Mage sounded shocked that she would even ask. "Only cowans walk around with their faces naked for all to see. Mages don't. Even Red Mage wears a scarf."
White Mage was staring at him, "But.. white mages don't."
He scratched his head, "Um.. yeah.. um..."
She held up a finger, "Black Mage.. Do you mean to say that, all this time, you've been talking to me like how you would talk to a lady black mage?"
"Yeah... You're a mage... It wouldn't be right to treat you like a cowan!"
"Lady black mages wouldn't be offended by your constantly commenting on their.. their chests?" she asked in disbelief.
"What else is there to see on a black mage?"
"Oh for..! There's... there's gotta be... er..." The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there really wasn't. "...okay, you got me there."
Black Mage looked hopelessly lost. He cast about, looking for something. Thinking she knew what, she found a pencil and some parchment, passed them over, then waited politely while he wrote.
"I really don't know what to say here. I've tried to treat you like a fellow mage and it keeps blowing up every time. You just aren't like any woman I've ever met. You don't go for any of the things that black mage girls go for. They say that 'power is the ultimate aphrodisiac' but that doesn't seem to apply to you. You aren't impressed by it, my compliments offend you and you aren't pleased by anything I try to do for you. I know I screwed up, when we first met. I knew I didn't stand a chance with you after that, but you're so funny when you're mad, I guess it just became a game. But I guess this is a second chance of sorts and I don't want to screw it up again. I really do want to try to be better for you than that jackass geezer wizard. I don't want you to look back on your life and think you should have been a shut-in pet. But I give up. I have no idea how to do that if I can't even compliment you right. I don't know how to please you or what impresses you or how to make you happy. Little help here? Please?"
Black Mage was twisting his hands anxiously, watching as tears welled up in White Mage's eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She turned the paper over and started to write, muttering as her tears dripped and smeared the pencil. "No, you're right, power and wealth don't impress me, otherwise I would have married the geezer wizard. The things you've done for power have sickened me, but its your matter-of-fact attitude that sickens me more. You behave as though its all perfectly ordinary to you. But I guess maybe it is, if the things you do are normally accepted by other black mages. I've tried to say it before but it just never came out right. I think you're on to something with these letters. Maybe ours will be the only marriage in the world based on passing notes, but I guess that's alright if it means we can understand each other. I grew up in a cloister and really didn't go outside much until I had graduated and was sent on my mission. The church has this thing about chastity, and I have a bad reputation because of my temper. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I never really expected that someone would 'like' me the way you do, and I wasn't prepared to deal with that. There was nothing in anything I was ever taught or told, and the way you acted didn't match up to anything I was told. So I probably reacted very poorly and I kept on reacting that way. You kept getting worse and worse and I should have realized that you were trying to bait me deliberately, but I didn't. You once scared me very badly and for a long time, I was very afraid of what you might do. I didn't trust you at all. But when I fled the dormitory the other night, I felt safe with you and I knew I could trust you. I'm surprised by the lengths that you've gone to to help me and by the sacrifice you're willing to make for me.
Your letters are very sweet and I was touched by your promise letter. If you can keep those promises, and the promise about the Avengers, I think it'll be alright. It means a lot to me that you want to try to make this work so much. It makes me feel wanted and it makes me feel like I have some value to you beyond sex. That's important to me, and I've never felt that way from you before. (I don't think that sentence made much sense.) It makes no sense to me that such a sweet man can do such horrible things, but I guess maybe it makes no sense to you that a pretty girl can have such a temper as mine. But if you can keep those promises, then I'll try not to dwell on the things you've done. We can't change the past but we can shape the future."
Black Mage read this and felt a bit nettled by the slight accusing, holier-than-thou tone he read in it. Like her cloistered unreality was any good? But that's White Mage for you, he thought, Maybe he could get her to make a compromise of her own, some day. He said nothing and instead, took another sheet of paper. "Whatever it was I did that scared you, I'm very sorry. I think I understand what you're hinting at and believe me, I'm terribly sorry if I gave you that impression of me. I do like you and that's part of my problem right there. As I think you know, I don't like very many people, so I'm not very good at it. I'm also not used to respecting people or having equals, so I'm kind of a lost cause for that as well. I guess I just don't show it very well. And I don't know what to do when you cry."
This made White Mage almost laugh and she turned the paper over. "Crying is just, I don't know, how I release emotions. You stab Fighter, I cry, I guess. That's the best analogy I can think of, anyway. What I want most when I cry is just someone to hold me and let me cry on their shoulder. It makes me feel less alone."
"Should I hold you, then?" Black Mage asked aloud, upon reading this. White Mage nodded and, a little awkwardly, he put his arms around her, "Um.. the shoulders aren't used to this... Be gentle, its their first time." White Mage laughed through her tears and hugged him tight.
"Did I do that right?" he asked, when she'd finally cried herself out. If her crying was as to his stabbing, this must've been a double-dagger massacre.
She nodded, "Yes. That was perfect." She lifted her head out from under his chin and looked at him. "Thank you for rescuing me," she whispered.
Gods, she looks horrible after a long cry. Best to keep her from having to cry, then, he decided. "You're welcome," he replied, unable to think of anything more glib. She tilted her face to be kissed and he obliged.
A few hours later, Thief peeked into the drawing room to see if Black Mage had finished with the contract. Finding the room empty, he scribbled a few more clauses, then went off to check on White Mage. The tailors were doing an amazing job on such short notice; the dress would be ready by morning. He stopped outside her room, intending to update her about her pursuers. He was about to knock on the heavy oak door, but froze at what sounded like a cry of pain. There was a flash of magical light from under the door, then Black Mage's concerned voice asking, "Are you okay?"
Thief's stomach did a fast roll and dip to the left. I so did not need to hear that, he thought as he hurried away.
White Mage sipped a mug of spiced mead as two elf ladies braided her hair and a third wove a chaplet of flowers. Black Mage had been right - it didn't hurt the second time, after she'd cast Cure. Or the time after that. This morning had been pretty good too. Now she sat, attended by elves, preparing for her wedding.
She wasn't the only one. Elsewhere in the castle, Red Mage stood outside the privy door, shaking his head at the ugly sounds from within. "You going to survive?"
"I can't help it. I'm so nervous! I never thought I'd be doing this! It's insane!"
"Fighter, it's not you who's getting married!"
"But I've never been a best man before!"
"If you're going to puke this much, let's hope you never are again," Black Mage snapped, shaking out the shirt that Red Mage handed him. It was a soft silk in a poet's cut, more foppish than Black Mage preferred, but he had to admit, it did drape nicely over the silk brocade trousers. He put on the embroidered and bejewelled waistcoat then threw the double-layered cloak over the ensemble and pinned it with a jewelled brooch. His guild crests and award gems had already been pinned to the cloak. He tied the frothy lace jabot to his collar and fluffed it over the cloak. Then he put on his best hat, the leather one with the copper crescent moon. How Red Mage had known to grab all of this stuff from his and Fighter's flat was beyond him, but he suspected Thief was behind it. Thief seemed to have put an awful lot of things in motion in the short time between receiving Black Mage's note and meeting them with the airship. Right now he was negotiating visitor visas with the white wizards, after having kept their airship aloft until it was almost out of fuel.
He pulled on the silk gloves and tweaked the jabot a few more times, then took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the dressing screen. "Well? How do I look?"
"Like a pile of animated clothes. Like anybody can see you anyways, Black Mage!" Red Mage retorted.
"It'll make up for seeing far too much of you, Debora," Black Mage shot back, "It's maid of honour, not mage of honour."
"You have a best man. She needs a bridesmaid," Red Mage said primly, adjusting his French twist hairstyle, "And anyways, I got this gown on sale. Do you think the decolletage is too low?"
Black Mage rolled his eyes, "Oh no, it's just fine, it covers the sweatsocks nicely. Were you able to find the type of ring I wanted?"
"Yes, but I had to pay the synthesist quite a lot of money and give up a few of my own items. I quested hard for those, so you owe me."
"Well it was a quest to get the ring, so there."
"Ah! True! Very well, I'll deduct the quest XP gained..."
"Oh shut up. Fighter, are you done yet?!"
"Almost! ...hrralp"
"Oh gods... So who's conducting this ceremony, anyways?"
Red Mage beamed, "Why, Thief! By the power vested in him as Prince of.."
"Thieves?"
"Elves, you ninny."
"How's he going to do that if he's distracting the white mages?"
"By making them go through Customs," Thief said smugly as he stepped into the room. He looked Black Mage up and down - or rather, down and further down - approvingly, "Very nice. Is that Fighter throwing up in there?"
"Hi Thief! ...hrralp"
"Yep."
Thief waved his hand in front of his face, wrinkling his nose, "Guess it'll be him we spray with perfume, then. Red Mage, why don't you take Fighter and clean him up. You can meet us down on the lawn. You know, with the landing fees, fuel tax, reservicing fees, visa taxes, customs taxes, not-paying-attention taxes and any other taxes I can think of to charge them, I think we can clear the cost of this wedding!"
Black Mage sneered, "Better them than me."
"Oh you're still in debt for the rescue run and the house."
"The what?" Black Mage stopped in his tracks.
Thief turned around with an innocent face, "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm having an architect draw up plans for your house. Two storey cottage, three bedrooms okay? With a modern stove and a stop-storage cabinet.."
"And a dutch door. AND a corkscrew chimney."
"That's extra. Just kidding! How do you make your eyes do that, anyways?"
The elf ladies put the finishing touches on White Mage's face, then set the polished silver mirror before her.
She stared at herself. She'd always thought of herself as cute, at best, but the lady looking back at her wasn't merely cute. 'Men get stupid around beautiful women', Thief had said, 'And Black Mage gets really, really stupid.' Looking in the mirror, she wondered if this is what Black Mage saw when he looked at her.
She sighed. What she didn't look was happy, but then why should she? She was marrying against her will, about to marry someone she'd loathed almost from the start. But then she thought about the night before, the things he'd said and written and she remembered the letter of promises he wrote. If he could keep those promises, perhaps he might not be beyond redemption. She tweaked the neckline of her chemise, revealing a bit more of her bosom.
So this is the way the world works, she thought as she crossed the lawn at a measured pace. They bring you up on tales of wooing and romance and happily-ever-after, then they auction you off to curry favours. They lead you to expect gallant and dashing young men, but they don't tell you that 'love' means something more physical to them than it does to you. You grow up believing that one day you'll fall in love, and the next thing you know, you have to choose between two men you don't even like. At least I'll have the wedding I've always dreamed of.
She looked up. Well. He's more galumph than gallant, but he's got the dashing part alright, she thought, impressed - Black Mage looked positively elegant, if short.
He was also positively dazzled. White Mage was garbed in a full length chemise of oyster silk, ruffled at the neck and sleeves and puffed through the sleeves of the overdress. The overdress of forest green brocade was laced down the front to the hips, where it split to pull back into a train, revealing the chemise. The bodice was boned to support her ample bosom, pushing it up into the most magnificent cleavage he'd ever beheld. Her coppery hair was partly braided, in tiny braids that looped about to frame the remainder, which frothed in shimmery curls down her back, dazzling in the mid-morning sun. A crown of flowers topped this vision and he felt utterly weak as she took his arm. The moment was only spoiled when she turned to look at her bridesmaid and realized that it was Red Mage.
She wasn't familiar with elfin wedding customs and glanced with curiosity at the large bowl containing a small grey-green sphere, sitting on the altar. There was also a ladle and two goblets. The rings sat on a velvet cushion. Two of them? she thought, curious. Then Thief began to speak and she tried to listen, wondering where the white wizards were and worrying that they would crash the proceedings. Halfway through the ceremony, Fighter started to cry.
Thief poured steaming water into the bowl, signalling the part of the ceremony where they would exchange vows. The elf ladies had explained this to her, how the grey-green sphere was a tea that would open up and flower, like your life was supposed to when you married. That didn't happen for Amicus's other wives, she thought wistfully, watching the petals swell and unfold as the tea steeped. The tea was steeped in one bowl, signifying their union, but would be served in two cups, acknowledging their individuality. As they spoke their vows, they would each drink, then drink together with arms linked. It sounded so beautiful and romantic. She wished she were sharing it with someone she loved.
The tea was ladled into her cup and she picked it up. She couldn't quite look at Black Mage as she spoke her vows, keeping her voice quiet so that it wouldn't sound quite so hollow. Not that she had to worry much, as she was nearly drowned out by Fighter's bawling. She sipped, then put the cup down.
Black Mage's hands were shaking so much, he could hardly hold the cup steady. She felt a surge of sympathy and took pity on him, putting her hands around his. Fighter wailed even harder at this touching sight. Black Mage rolled his eyes.
When Thief took out a piece of paper and began to read, White Mage frowned. He was reading Black Mage's vows, but wasn't Black Mage supposed to be saying them? Why was Thief saying Black Mage's vows for him? But he drank at the appropriate time, and they broke with tradition by drinking one after the other from his cup, since there was no way he could hold his cup without spilling the contents all over. Fighter started hiccupping. Black Mage shot him a death look.
Then he picked up the rings and placed hers on her finger while Thief spoke the traditional Cornerian wedding vows. The other ring went on his own finger in a move that surprised White Mage - men didn't usually wear wedding rings. As they linked hands, White Mage whispered, "I thought you were just speechless! Did you cast Silence on yourself?" Black Mage nodded miserably. "You did? But... oh, so you wouldn't say anything stupid and wreck everything?" Another miserable nod. White Mage melted, "Oh..! That's so sweet! Fighter, will you shut up?!" Then she wrapped her arms around Black Mage and kissed him for all she was worth.
Midway through the feast, the white wizards got through Customs. They walked in a stately formation, their anger controlled yet palpable as a thunderstorm. The dancers stopped and parted before them, the musicians trailed off, and White Mage felt the blood drain from her face.
"I am surprised at you," said the head wizard as he approached, "You have always been headstrong but not disobedient. I did not expect this behaviour from you."
White Mage swallowed, "No sir."
"The Elf prince claims that you were already betrothed to the Light Warrior. You did not tell us this."
"You didn't let me speak, sir," she replied, managing to evade the Spell of Truth laid upon her as a white mage.
"We were under the impression that you did not like the Light Warrior."
"I don't like the Wizard Amicus either, sir," she said. The wizard's face darkened with anger. Amicus himself looked enraged. "The Black Mage offered to make me his first wife and to build for me the house of my dreams. He is wizard to the Prince of Elfland and a Light Warrior, one of the great heroes of our time." - that was stretching it but she still managed to keep it within the Spell, she thought, "The offer was more appealing than to be the fourth concubine of a man old enough to be my father." A murmur ran among the watching elves.
"A wedding is not valid until it is consummated," Amicus said loftily, then turned on the head wizard, "You promised her to me!"
The head wizard nodded and took White Mage's arm, "And you shall have her." BAMF
She materialized behind the head table. Red Mage and Fighter stepped before her and drew their swords. Black Mage was up on his chair, one foot on the table, hands at his side. They glowed and were beginning to spark.
Thief sauntered up and stood by Black Mage, just slightly behind him on his non-casting side. "Gentlemen, the punishment for kidnapping in these lands is death."
"We did not kidnap her!"
"You were about to. Do you deny it?" Thief knew about the Spells of Truth, too. "Seems to me you're humans and its a sunny day - the punishment for that is death, too."
The ball between Black Mage's hands was so bright, it hurt to look at it. "The last man to leave catches this between the eyes," he growled. The wizards looked at each other. They could cast Wall...
"That is the Hadoken," White Mage called, "He means it. Go." ...but Wall doesn't stand against the Hadoken. They broke ranks and fled.
"HADO- oof!" Black Mage looked down to see White Mage glaring at him, "If ya don't carry a threat through, you lose all credibility!"
"No!"
"Aw c'mon, they deserve it!"
"NO!"
"...okay, okay." The Hadoken fizzled as it expired. "I never get to have any fun," he grumped.
"What was this morning, then?"
He pondered that and nodded, "Yeah, okay. But this would've made the day perfect!"
"Oh well. Can't have everything."
Can't have everything, White Mage thought as she climbed the stairs, But they were determined to give her quite a lot. Too bad it was almost all Thief's ideas - he seemed to understand her better. She'd seen the architect's drawings for the proposed cottage and it was like they'd taken the vision in her head and put it on paper. She'd approved it instantly. She'd also approved the modern iron stove and the stop-cabinet food storage and the design for the bath and she was already planning the garden. She'd be living well, at least.
She reached the top of the stairs and paused to look out of the embrasure at the moon. On this issue, she totally agreed with Black Mage: Her wedding night shouldn't be associated with pain and blood. Who would have thought he was a Hidden Dragon? He certainly didn't act the part, but that was the genuine tattoo, curling around one buttock and down his inner thigh. Bashfully he'd explained that, although the Tantric cabal taught lots about what to do with a lady, they didn't teach much about how to get one in the first place.
She opened the door of the bedchamber and was greeted by the warm smell of incense. The room was lit with candles and a fire burned in the grate. A soft rug and many cushions were on the floor and the soft, fluffy bed was dressed with fine sheets and plush quilt. Black Mage was wearing a crimson robe and lighting the last candle. He had explained the sex magic ritual to her and she was intrigued -- using orgasm to boost your MP sounded a lot more interesting than hanging a bloody sheet out the window.
"So, um.. you like the ring?" he asked, to break the silence.
She looked at her wedding ring, with its five oval stones - a diamond, a topaz, a ruby, a sapphire and an aquamarine - all arranged into a star. "Yes, its very beautiful, but why does the setting twirl about?"
"You spin it around to the jewel you want, then lock it. Its a complete elemental set of Aras: Thundara, Aera, Fira, Aquara and Blizzara," he explained, "I figured you could use it for, like, filling baths, starting fires, and if someone tries to hassle you, you can give 'em whatfor. The band has a Banshee status effect, so you can't be Silenced."
White Mage was smiling, enchanted, "Was this another of Thief's ideas?"
He scratched his head, embarrassed and suspecting he'd flubbed again, "Um no... it was mine.."
He was visibly relieved when she hugged him, "Ohhh that's so sweet and thoughtful of you!" They smooched and hugged again, then she traced the line of his collar bone and cooed, "So... what's this about 'getting magical'...?"
He grinned, "Ya wanna?"
She gave him a coy look, "You're sure it won't hurt?"
"It didn't hurt this morning, did it?"
"That might've been a coincidence."
"Or the other times last night?"
"I was distracted."
"Boy are you skeptical!"
"I need more proof..."
"C'mere..."
It was a dark and stormy night. The rain ran down in sheets, turning the roads to quagmire and making it difficult for the chocobo to find her way. It'd be a long, wet, slippery journey to the city in this muck, but Thief wasn't headed for the city. He headed deeper into the forest.
The cottage sat in a clearing, surrounded by tall trees. It was nearly obscured by the driving rain, but he could make out the warm glow of the windows. It had a garden out front and roses climbed a trellis around the door. Smoke curled from its corkscrew chimney. "Hello, the house!" he called as he approached.
The upper section of the door swung open and a woman looked out. "Thief!! Come in! Stable your chocobo, I'll put the kettle on!" Thief nodded and slid off the bird, then led her to the stable. Only White Mage's bird was present; Black Mage must be out, he thought.
"Brrr!" he commented as he stepped into the boot room and shrugged off his cloak, "Thieves' Almanack didn't say anything about having my assets liquified."
"Come in and warm up. You must be exhausted. Are you hungry? Have some wine." White Mage bustled about her kitchen, ladling warm spiced wine into a mug. Thief sat down at the oak table, spread with a black and white checked cloth and decorated with a vase of autumn roses. "Aren't they lovely?" she asked, seeing him looking at them, "Preston Piersson grows such lovely roses. He wins prizes for them. I had to do some apologizing after Black Mage raided his garden." Thief snorted and grinned. "He's out on a call," said White Mage, setting the mug and a plate before him and sitting down opposite.
"Avenging? Thank you, this is great. He seems to like it, doesn't he."
White Mage rolled her eyes and nodded, "Like a duck likes water. A little too well, for my preference, but what can you do? At least he's terrorizing people who deserve it. He likes the magic too. This time, he had to resurrect two little girls' corpses to find out who'd killed them."
"I didn't know he could do that."
"Well, he is a member of the necromancers' guild. Its not like casting Life, though, it was gruesome! It was worth it though. They'd found the one girl and hung up some poor tinker lad who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, then a few weeks later the other little girl turned up dead and they knew they'd hung the wrong man. The tinker family hired Black Mage and he resurrected the girls and learned that they'd been raped to death by their own uncle! Isn't that horrible? He and Fighter have been hunting the man for three days now."
Thief grimaced and shook his head, taking a sip of wine, "Some people deserve to have Black Mage happen to them." In the two years since her wedding, White Mage had plumped out a bit in the manner of a pampered housewife. Their house was cozy and inviting, with soft armchairs beside the fireplace and a painting over the mantle. White Mage's harp sat in a corner of the main room and her robe hung from a hook in the boot room. She now seemed quite comfortable with her life. It hadn't always been that way. "Tell me something... You seemed unhappy with your life, after your marriage - understandably, I thought, being married to Black Mage. Then last fall you changed, now you seem really happy. What happened?"
White Mage blushed and smiled, "I ran into some old schoolmates. They're married now. We got to talking about our husbands... well, they did. I mostly just listened. I didn't want to talk about Black Mage. I didn't want them to be jealous."
Thief raised his eyebrows curiously, "Jealous?"
White Mage nodded and sipped her wine, "Yes. The things they said... Mathilde was much like me, she gets... temperamental... at certain... times of the month. Her husband doesn't put up with that. He's in jail for three days for using a stick wider than his thumb to beat her. She's feeling very satisfied about that." Thief curled his lip; elves didn't treat their women like dogs. She took another sip and continued, "Neela's husband gives her an allowance every week and she has to account for every penny she spends. If he doesn't consider it to be a needful expense, there's whatfor. Flavia says her husband 'loves' her - y'know - as though they were cattle. She sees it as just another household chore. She's proud of his station, though. They're well off, at least. None of them are white mages anymore, though. I'm the only one still practicing."
"Speaking of which, your star machine will be ready in three weeks."
White Mage squealed delightedly, "I can't believe you're doing that for me! A real star machine! Only the best and richest wizards have those!"
"Nobody else has room for one," Thief laughed, "It'll fit into the tower, I made sure of that. It seemed fitting since Black Mage has the other tower - one black, one white. Your astrological advice has been very beneficial and has helped us avoid some.. costly mistakes."
"I was always one of the best at reading the stars," she beamed. She turned serious again, "I found out what happened to Maria, the girl Amicus chose to replace me."
Thief was immediately interested. The fate she had avoided by marrying Black Mage had hitherto been speculation and hearsay. "What happened?"
"Flavia's husband is a fairly high-stationed merchant, as I said. He went to Amicus's castle and took Flavia with him when he heard that one of his wives was her classmate. Thought they could have a visit while the men discussed business." Her lips thinned. "Flavia was rather shocked. Maria used to be vivacious and friendly and now she's withdrawn. Flavia said it took her a while to realize that she was drunk. You know, the kind of stupor drunk when you've been drinking almost constantly? Flavia said Maria drank wine the whole time she was there. She said Maria's stuck in this little apartment in the castle, catfighting with the other wives and all of them competing for Amicus's attention. Whomever wins his attention gets spoiled and pampered - and slept with - and gets to run the household for the next day and everyone has to obey her. None of them like each other so you can imagine how that turns out. And you know what else? - his second wife hung herself not long after he brought Maria home. He hardly pays any attention to his first wife and they think maybe the second wife knew she'd end up ignored the same way. Isn't that sick?"
Thief shook his head in amazement, "It sounds like you really did get the better deal."
"Did I ever!" she agreed vehemently, "Do you remember that letter he wrote me? With all the promises? Do you know, he's kept every one. To the letter, mind you, which means we do yell at each other a lot and sometimes he calls me a 'psycho hosebitch' and he hardly ever does what I say, but if I ask him, he can repeat what I said verbatim, so he is listening. But I found a way around that, a way to get him to do what I want." She blushed and didn't elaborate. "And he always brings me flowers, every day. Isn't that sweet? Mind you, he doesn't always get it right - sometimes they're weeds or stolen, like these roses. But he's trying."
"Sometimes he's very trying," Thief agreed and she laughed. "I've found him at the pub a few times, during what he calls 'hell week.'"
She blushed and looked embarrassed, "That's.. that's near my... my time of the month.. I can get very.. temperamental... He usually runs away, but he comes back. He only stays away until coming home to me is preferrable to listening to any more karaoke."
"Which usually takes about four hours," Thief agreed.
"And he brings me home some fine mead and chocolates, too. He got that right by accident one day - the bartender suggested it."
"Awwwwww," said Thief, endeared.
"Mind you, he eats half of them before they get home, but still, I get a few and the mead is very nice. He can be really sweet and caring sometimes." She blushed and hesitated, "I can get... pain, during my... time of the month... it can make me throw up. He was horrified, the first time, so now he casts Sleep on me as soon as it starts. Isn't that sweet? The pain usually lasts a couple of hours, so he keeps me enchanted the whole time. I Sleep right through it and never feel a thing. Right then, I thought he was the most wonderful man in the universe."
"Who is he and what has he done with Black Mage?" Thief said, incredulous.
White Mage giggled, "I know, he's not very good at compassion, is he. But he's getting better. Anyways. Talking to my old friends made me realize what I had. He's not perfect and he still makes me want to bash him sometimes, but he's good for me in the ways that really count. I'm not always happy but I'm happier than I would have been if I'd married any of those other men. And compared to how I'd be if I'd married Amicus, I'm bloody blissful! ..oh, excuse my language.."
Thief laughed and waved a dismissive hand, "After that story, you have every right to cuss. I'm glad its working out for you. Both of you. He seems to be just as happy."
"Yes. There's pecan pie in the stop-cabinet, waiting for when he comes home. If he does something very good, I'll make my special pecan pie. He'll do just about anything if there's a pecan pie in it for him. He'll even eat his vegetables."
"I've heard about that pie. He calls it 'mouthgasmic.' I've noticed he's gained a bit of weight."
White Mage giggled again and nodded, "He likes my cooking. He says I can even make vegetables taste good and to him that's a miracle." She looked up at a tap at the window and opened the upper door to a soggy moogle.
"Letter for you, kupo!"
"Thank you so much. Will you come in and get dry?"
"Can't stay, kupo. More letters."
"Well, here then, take some manjyuu with you. I stuffed them with kuponut butter."
"OooOOOOooo!! Thanks, kupo! Byebye!"
Thief arched an eyebrow at her as she closed the door, "Kuponut butter manjyuu?"
White Mage smiled as she took the letter out of the envelope, "He writes me letters when he's on a mission, to let me know what's happening and when he thinks he'll be home, so I see the moogles a fair bit. I like to make things for them, to show my appreciation." She unfolded the letter and read it. "Ahh good, they found the jerk," she reported, "He says he'll be home tonight but not until late. He always tells me not to wait up for him but, of course, I always do."
"That's nice of you," Thief smiled, "That must be nice to come home to, especially on a foul night."
"If it gets to be too late and I can't stay awake any longer, I'll light a fresh twelve-hour candle and put it in the window for him. That way he knows how long ago I went to bed. He blows it out when he comes home, so I know how long after he came home." She smiled tenderly at the thought of their little habit.
You aren't fooling anybody, Thief thought but didn't say. You're happy and you love your husband and he loves you and always has. Only he's too chicken to admit it, even to himself, 'cause evil wizards don't fall in love. You're too naive to know what you need to be happy; you based your whole idea of happiness on fairytales and wishes. It took a wake-up call to make you realize you were happy. You're both happy with him Avenging because you've got a nasty streak of righteousness in you, and he's got a soft spot that makes him suck at being evil. He says he wants to destroy the world, but the little petty evils make him sick, and you get your 'justice' thrills with bad things happening to bad people. You're both vain and uppity and you make a perfect couple. But he didn't say any of it, because that would be rude.
"Will you stay the night? It's not going to let up raining."
Thief nodded, "I will, and if you don't mind, I think I'll turn into a pumpkin."
She smiled and nodded, "I'll go fix up the guest bed while you wash up, then. If you fling your wet clothes outside the room, I'll put them up to dry."
"You're a good hostess, White Mage. Black Mage is a lucky man."
"Thief... Thank you," she said seriously, "For everything. For listening to me when I needed a friend. For a while there, the thought of marrying Black Mage upset me so much, I was all set to go back to the dormitory and become Amicus's wife. You really helped me."
"I think his letter helped you more." He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder, "All I did was enable him to give you what I knew he wanted to give you - the wedding, the dress, the house, the tower. Its all coming out of his paycheque!"
"Yes I know, he never stops grumbling about it," she laughed.
"Good night, White Mage."
"Good night, Thief."
A sharp crack of thunder woke him up. Thief opened his eyes, then winced as another brilliant flash lit up the room, accompanied by another earsplitting crash. That one was close, he thought, and went to the window to peek out. Out in the forest, a shadow was moving. Another flash showed it to be a chocobo and rider. The figure cast a momentary fireball, then picked up its pace, hurrying towards the house. She must have looked out the window and he saw her, then did that to let her know he was almost home, Thief thought. The diagnosis was confirmed when he heard the door open a few minutes later. Their voices were quiet and distant, but his sensitive elfin ears could make out what they were saying.
"Hi, welcome home. Thief is here for the night, he's asleep."
"I thought as much when I saw the extra chocobo. The pixie boots confirmed it. Ahh, wine! Thanks, babe, its colder than a witch's tit out there."
"I would think just about any weather would be. They must be pretty warm, under all those layers of robes. How did it go?"
"Pretty good, actually. He led us quite a chase. He knew we were after him. 'Course, Fighter's bellowing doesn't help."
"He just can't get the hang of stealth, can he? What's in the bag?"
"Ah! Well we stopped for lunch at the pub of a hunting lodge..." Thief's eyes snapped open. "...And it made me realize, we're hunters, and we've bagged our prey every time..." Oh dear, Thief thought, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Oh no... Black Mage... You didn't..."
"Whaddya think?" There was a small shriek. "..You don't like it?"
"Black Mage!! No! It's awful!"
"Aw, c'mon, babe, it'll be a great coathook once its stuffed and mounted!" ...Coathook?
"No! Absolutely not! I will not have any trophies in my house! No deer heads, no bearskin rugs, no stuffed trout and definitely no... no 'nads!!" ...oh ye gods! Thief folded the pillow over his head.
"Well what about this, then, we put spikes up around the fence and I can mount the heads on them..."
"Look at me, Black Mage..."
"Just like a Baba Yaga's house! Its a clas...sic... uh..."
"That's right, Black Mage.. look at them... you're powerless before them..."
"...p'wr'lss..."
"You will do as I ask..."
"...boobies..."
"No trophies, Black Mage. You will not bring home any hunting trophies."
"...no... tro-feez..."
"Thaaaaaaat's riiiiiiight. Wake up!" She snapped her fingers. Thief wanted to hurl.
"Huh? Whuzzat? Whuddafug? What was I saying?"
"I don't know, darling, what were you saying?"
"Must not have been important. Hey, look! - I've got a hard-on! Ya wanna?"
"Hmmmm, I don't know... You sure it won't hurt?"
"It hasn't hurt in two years! If it hasn't hurt by now, its not going to!"
"There was that time last summer..."
"I slipped! I didn't mean to!"
Thief felt around under the bed for the chamber pot to throw up in. Having two mages under his thumb wasn't worth this. Well, okay, it was, but had he known he'd have to listen to Black Mage being titnotized, he would have thought of something else. Okay, it was funny. Black Mage had occasionally muttered something about 'hypnotits.' White Mage had found a way to exploit his weakness, like any good wife, and like any good husband, Black Mage played along.
Yes, they made a good team, and neither of them suspected his true motive in securing their loyalty through his 'generosity.' With White Mage's accurate forecasts and Black Mage's 'insurance' and 'influence potions', the elves were making slow but steady progress in their nefarious plot to dominate the world through control of its finances. Actually, Black Mage probably did suspect but as long as his own whims were met, he wouldn't care. As for White Mage... well, bad things happen to bad people, take from the rich and give to the poor... She seldom looked beyond the surface of things. Seldom... occasionally she did, and then he'd have to be careful. But as long as Black Mage kept her distracted, he'd be okay.
He stuffed his ears with cotton, then went back to sleep.