The Wizardwar - Elaine Cunningham [31]
The secrets of her own life had been bared. If there was answer for her, a way out of this endless prison, it was not in her lifetime, but her mother's…
It was twilight, Keturah's favorite time, and the three young wizards with her seemed as happy as she to be out under the open sky. The four of them stood on the flat roof of the guesthouse, watching as the setting sun turned the storm clouds over Lake Halruaa into a dragon's hoard of shining gold and ruby and amethyst. Behind them loomed Keturah's tower, its green-veined marble gleaming in the fading light.
Keturah watched as the apprentices practiced a simple spell of summoning. Earlier that day, she had taught them to call the bats that emerged with the coming of night-tiny, chameleon bats that changed color as they wheeled against the sunset clouds.
The youngest apprentice, a girl not yet in adolescent bloom, had donned gloves of bright pink silk. A bat landed on her hand, hanging from her finger like an endearingly ugly fuchsia blossom. The girl's laughter was happy and excitedchildhood's magic blended with that of her emerging Art. Keturah chuckled in sympathy.
A bell tolled from the garden below, indicating a visitor too important to ignore. Keturah signaled the students to continue and headed for the stairs to answer the summons.
Her visitor was an elf, an exceedingly well-favored male with coppery skin and a strikingly handsome face. But for his traditional white garments and the bright blue, green, and yellow enameling on his medallion, he might have been mistaken for either a warrior or a professional male courtier. Keturah knew him by name and by sight, as did most of Halarahh society. King Zalathorm might be reclusive, but the same could not be said of his queen. Fiordella enjoyed grand fetes and festivals, and she was frequently seen in the company of Zephyr, her favorite counselor.
Keturah put the gossip firmly out of mind and exchanged the expected pleasantries. As soon as she could do so without offending proprieties, she asked what service she could render her queen.
"No more than is required of all wizards," Zephyr observed sternly. "You will follow Halruaa's laws."
Keturah blinked. "How have I failed?"
"You are not yet wed."
"That is so," she said cautiously, "but I am young, and in no great hurry."
"You are six and twenty," he pointed out "Wizards are required to marry before the age of five and twenty."
"I have never heard of that law," she protested.
"Most wizards are early wed, so it is seldom necessary to evoke this law.
But a law it is, my lady, and you cannot flout it."
"I suppose not," she said, and sighed. "I will consult a matchmaker before moondark."
"There is no need. The match has already been made."
Keturah's heart seemed to take flight, only to reach the end of its tether and thump painfully back into place. "It is the woman's prerogative to initiate the match!"
"There are exceptions," he pointed out. "From time to time, it is determined that one wizard's lineage is exceptionally well suited to that of another."
"Determined? By whom?"
"The match was submitted to the Council of Elders and approved."
Ordinarily, suggested matches could be appealed, but if matters had gone that far, there was no undoing them.
"Who was chosen for me?" she said resignedly.
"Dhamari Exchelsor."
Disbelief swept through her like an icy wind. "That is not possible! He was my apprentice. It would be unseemly."
"He left your tower nearly a year ago," the elven jordain pointed out. "His current master deems him ready to test for the rank of journeyman wizard, generalist school. His specialty is the crafting of potions. He will not require your tutelage in the Art of evocation."
Keturah took a long, steadying breath. "When two wizards matched for marriage are already acquainted, it is custom to consider the nature of their feelings. Never did anything pass between us that should lead to marriage!"
"He has already agreed. The match is made and approved. It is done but for the wedding feast,