“Tamer’s Tale” by JunoMagic
6. Master
The next morning, the beard was gone.
She acted as if she did not notice. He grinned but did not comment.
What had changed?
As she moved about in the kitchen, she felt her heart beating heavily in her breast. She was aware of his presence as she had never been aware of another person before. Not even at the midsummer dance, when Jehan had swirled her round and round and held her pressed tightly against him, his eyes so wide, his smile so sweet.
She watched the wizard out of the corners of her eyes.
He was old. No, he was not. Though his face was lined like that of her father and the old men of the village, there was a youthful tension to his skin. It occurred to her that the lines in his face engraved in his face seemed to be due more to care, wisdom and worry than old age. He was timeless. Yet he was ancient. Without the beard she could see that he was tired, and troubled by many thoughts. His long hair was silver; the beard, however, had been more white than silver. To be honest, she had to admit that Jehan was fairer of face and stronger in build.
Yet there was something that drew her to the wizard. Something she could not resist. Whatever it was, it had kept her waiting and wondering for almost ten years.
She felt the weight of his gaze on her body. Suddenly she wondered what forces were playing with them. For surely it was not natural for her to desire the wizard… to want to hear that voice whispering in her ears, velvet and steal. To imagine the touch of silver hair on her naked skin. She was to keep his house clean; she was to keep his garden well-tended. It was not her place to notice that his hands were beautiful.
A wizard had no woman.
“A wizard’s wife is a widow”.
“Wizards and wanderers are woe to a woman.”
She knew those sayings. Everyone knew tales of wizards, of the great wizards as wellas of the lesser wanderers of Arda. A legend of Himling held it that they had come out of the West ages ago. The grey wizard was said to have arrived in Himling on the wings of a giant eagle. Wizards and wanderers… No ties they would have, no allegiance they would swear, in no place they would abide until their task was complete. Whatever that task was. Then they would return beyond the sea.
So why was she drawn to the wizard like that?
And why did he remain where he was, looking at her with that calm, almost palpable gaze?
Finally he rose from the table. “I will go and read for a while.”
“Yes, master,” she replied softly, her breath catching in her throat.
“Master?” His eyebrows rose to dangerous heights. She inhaled shakily. Then she carefully, slowly, put the tea pot she was holding on the table. For a moment she looked at her hands. Slender hands, long fingers, curled around the tea pot. An old tea pot. Blue and white porcelain, stained from the hearth-fire on the bottom, stained from countless brews of tea on the inside. She knew she had waited for the wizard to return for ten long years. She could not deny that. Was it choice or destiny? Did that make a difference? She found that she did not care. She raised her eyes slowly. She did not know about the fire in her gaze, a deep blue fire, like the southern sea, or a brilliant sapphire.
She only knew that he could not evade her gaze.
“Yes,” she repeated. “Master.”
Master of my fate. Master of uncounted fates if the legends are true.
It was he who broke eye-contact then, he, who rose quickly, leaving soft-footed for the good room, to spend the day reading just as he had said he would.
She, in turn, spent the day in the kitchen and in the garden. There were berries to gather and preserves to cook. She kept humming as she waited for night to fall. Acceptance had calmed her heart but not her desire.
oooOooo
« Chapter 5 oooOooo Chapter 7 »