it?” being her response to all concerns. And indeed it was, though the physician along among the King's advisers present was concerned as to the severity of her symptoms.
A week did pass in joyous activity, during which the King and Queen went about their daily duties with renewed pleasure and enthusiasm. With the eventual birth of a royal heir seeming all but a certainty, the atmosphere at court had received a breath of fresh, springtime air. The King was inclined to be generous and pardonable, and he did forgive the crimes and the trespasses of several poor unfortunates who had been lingering in the dungeons of the capital, while likewise enacting a variety of widely-hailed reforms to improve the social programs at work among the less fortunate citizens of Daventry. It was said by the end of that week, that Daventry would soon be a land utterly without poor, where sickness was attended to with the efforts of the finest physicians, and where work was to be had in abundance with reward to show for it. Through all of this, Queen Katherine continued in her charitable activities, but she was privately in some anguish, for as the week had progressed, her symptoms had worsened considerably. Midwives and physicians had been sought for their advice, but in truth, the Queen played her symptoms down so as not to dispel her husband's obvious joy at her pregnancy. And it could not be said that her providing the King with an heir was not a prospect that caused her a great deal of joy in turn: she attended many celebrations, and was generally of a bright and cheerful mood, entirely of her own eager will.
That very night, one week after the happy news was broken, and the bells in every church steeple had rang out with glad tidings, there was a great feast in both the public square of the capital and in Castle Daventry. King Edward had declared the day forthwith a national holiday, in celebration of the most wondrous event to occur in his realm for a generation, and everyone was given the day off of work from all but the most necessary and vital of occupations and they were brought complimentary meals by the royal messenger service, who did impart the King's personal thanks for their noble and ongoing service to the Kingdom. The King was in an extraordinary mood, and was dancing quite merrily with his courtiers, in a fashion that was most outgoing even for the gregarious Edward the Benevolent but the Queen, citing her condition, refrained from doing more than sitting off to one side. Dance was quite beyond her, as she had already begun to show “more than she should have been,” the midwives whispered; there was talk, at first, of the possibility of royal twins, but those closest to the Queen, in whom she confided the deepest of her fears, whispered among each other that she was most unwell. Meanwhile, the very smell of food abhorred her, such that she was forced to face away from the great feast laid out upon the tables of Castle Daventry's great hall. Even the sight of food seemed to disturb her stomach.
A few minutes prior to eleven o'clock in the evening, during a pause in the festivities, there was a sudden swirl of violet fumes about one end of the Great Hall furthest from the throne. Worried at first, King Edward soon beheld the familiar figure of the sorcerer who had styled himself as the Magus Deveureaux. Many of those present at court backed away from the apparition, so sudden and sinister was Deveureaux's appearance and the practice of magic, being foreign to most, flagrantly began within the assembly.
Deveureaux was dressed in long, flowing robes of utter, inky blackness, so dark that it seemed to make one dizzy to gaze upon them; it was as though one might suddenly lose his balance and fall forever into that shadowy void. Such, of course, was the mysterious way of magicians, who dabbled in things beyond the ken of the untrained and unlearned. The hem of his robes was decorated with strange runes, not unlike those upon his staff, or else the deer's skull he bore by way of moving between one place and another instantly—so Edward, though he descended from his throne and approached the sorcerer willfully with a broad smile impressed upon his face, found it difficult to look upon the man.
“This hall is ennobled by your presence, good Magus,” the King proclaimed. “Your draught has worked its wonders; my lovely Queen Katherine is with child, and all the kingdom celebrates! Truly, you have earned your reward and a place at the highest table; would you stay, and also name thine price for services so gloriously rendered?”
The sorcerer smiled, and he seemed quite truly glad of these tidings, even to the point of appearing kindly despite his high, sharp features, which had initially struck the Queen herself as being slightly sinister; for all that, the Queen now was quite grateful to the man's reappearance, such was her joy at providing her husband with a son and heir. Despite her sickness, for she believed that to be an effect of her pregnancy, she smiled upon the Magus in her own turn. “Nay, I fear that I might not remain,” the sorcerer explained, and he bowed apologetically, though it would be fair to note that for many of those gathered in the suddenly quiet and still Great Hall of Castle Daventry, the reaction to the sorcerer's hurry was one of hushed relief. To behold the man was after all, most disconcerting, though some of the younger persons in attendance did thereby resolve at once to follow the magician's path themselves once they were able. “I am in the midst of several experiments and in the fashioning of a gateway to—well,” and he chuckled gently. “Let us simply say that I am regrettably quite occupied, and shall remain so throughout the evening.” Those who were not aware of just what had transpired, by way of the Queen finally conceiving a child after so many years of trying, were soon informed of the nature of what had passed, and all looked upon the scene with growing wonder.
Magus Deveureaux did not seem particularly worried about hiding his appearance, even if it did belie his intentions; whatever else might be said of a sorcerer, it was well-known that their motives and intentions were oft veiled in secrecy as were the practices by which they worked their magic, as the common person would not fully understand their methods. The Magus Deveureaux, as was the way of all magicians, worked by mysterious and wonderful ways to manipulate the very nature of the reality which most took for granted; so it was seen that, while his appearance might be discomforting, it did not necessarily reflect what lay in the man's heart.
With magic being what it was, it could not be justly stated that there weren't a few present in the hall who were somewhat concerned.
“I shall, however,” Deveureaux continued, the general aura of unwelcome which permeated the chamber not being lost upon him, “claim my payment for that tremendous feat which I have accomplished for you, upon which I shall leave you and yours to your revelries, and refrain from troubling you further.”
King Edward cast a reproachful glare about the room. “Say not that you are troublesome, good Magus,” Edward cried, “but tell me only: what do you require for compensation for your marvelous elixir? Any possession of mine, be it indeed mine to give, will be so given, and gladly. You have brought joy and security to the Kingdom of Daventry.”
“I am your Majesty's humble servant,” was the reply, whereupon one narrow hand was raised, and a single finger, tipped with a well-manicured nail (which was painted a glossy black) was pointed at the wall to the left of the King's throne. “You have in your possession this mahogany framed mirror; surely, within this great castle, you have many other mirrors? Thereby, as I did promise originally, no qualities of this object which are of use to you shall be missed by its departure. I will have that item, and no other, as compensation for the many dangers and difficulties which I did face, not to mention the expenditure of precious materials in crafting your good Queen Katherine's elixir.”
There was silence throughout the Great Hall. The King opened his mouth to reply, then shut it tight and then opened it again. He thought to beg the sorcerer to reconsider but was suddenly aware of what a neatly woven web he had become stuck in: obviously, Deveureaux had known from the start of the magic mirror that hung in Castle Daventry and the nature of its powers. They had proven greatly beneficial to the kingdom but even as Edward reflected, he understood that he had given the Magus his word, however treacherously he had been approached, and he further realized that Daventry's many neighbor
s were themselves quite extant without the need of such powerful items of ancient magic.
Surely, Daventry could get by without the King's mirror, much as it had for centuries before it was acquired.
“Your Majesty...” Magus Deveureaux was waiting for his response; his sharp-eyed stare glittered with sudden malevolence. “Surely, you intend not to go back upon your word? Is your good Queen not bearing the child for which you have both, for such a count of years, yearned and longed for, yet were forever unable to conceive? I have fulfilled my side of our bargain.”
“As I shall mine…” replied the King.
Edward steeled himself against the sudden murmuring that swept through the Great Hall, as wide-eyed courtiers contemplated his surrendering of the precious mirror so easily. Some might even have been heard to argue that it was not his to give, but indeed it was: “You may have the mirror, Magus, and I... I thank you, once again, for your miraculous service to the realm. You are sure that you will not... stay and share in the celebrations?”
But Magus Deveureaux's intricately rune-carved deer skull was