He turned his head, and suddenly I realized that there was a slim shadow standing in the darkness by the door. The Duke beckoned. "Kitten, stop lurking about in the darkness. Come and meet these people."
As she came forward, Master John and I both gasped. I would like to think that it was merely the fabulous peacock blue velvet gown she wore. But I know that it was her breasts that I was looking at. How could I help it? That dress was intended to draw all eyes to those firm, white globes, crammed so tightly into her bodice that it was a miracle they didn't fall out. Her fair hair was piled up on top of her head so that her long, white neck was bare, framed only with a ruff of dark feathers. The space between her face and her nipples seemed an endless expanse of nakedness; she was more naked than if she had worn nothing at all. She was so luminescent, so soft, so touchable that it made the hands itch to feel her skin. I blushed and dropped my eyes. The sight of her made me uncomfortably aware that all of us were naked under our clothes.
"Ah yes," purred the Duke. He was obviously delighted by the effect his mistress had had on us. "One could almost believe her to be an enchantress, could one not? Come, Kitten, my love, sit by me."
She curtsied to us (which made her cleavage even ruder if that was possible), smiling and murmuring a soft greeting. Then she moved gracefully past us, slowly and languidly, her hips swaying, the cloth of the dress whispering against the ground as she went.
The back of her gown was even worse, for there was, in fact, no back, just another expanse of bare flesh. Again I was transfixed, this time by the long, smooth line of her spine. Her skin shone like soft silk against the deep midnight blue and gold peacock feathers of the gown. It had to be the most indecent dress I had ever seen. She curtsied before the Duke, and he bade her sit on a brocade footstool beside the throne. She looked graceful even in this pose, the train of her gown trailing across the steps of the dais. In one hand she carried a huge fan of peacock feathers which she draped across her lap. I stared at the floor, determined not to stare at her yet constantly aware of her on the periphery of my vision.
"Mademoiselle Dion," said the Duke, "you must realize that the safety of our dear Madame Avignon is of paramount importance to us. I'm sure I do not need to impress upon you the significance of that. Or the extent of our displeasure should any magical harm befall her. It would be an irreparable loss to our court were such a precious jewel to be harmed."
He smiled at Madame Avignon and kissed her soft, white hand (her arms were bare, too; was there anything that dress covered?), and she smiled back at him, sensuously. Then he turned his hard, bright glance back at us.
"Of course, we expect total discretion. We do not wish it to be known that you are protecting Madame Avignon. For it to become generally known might involve you both in ... unpleasantness. If anyone asks, you must say that you are merely performing healing magic. That, perhaps, is the beauty of your being a woman."
I nodded and curtsied, not knowing quite what to say.
The Duke leaned forward and smiled. It was a smile to die for. The thought of disappointing him was too dreadful to contemplate.
"I'm sure you will not let us down. Is there anything else you need to undertake this spell of protection?"
"Master John must draw certain symbols on the ground. Madame ... the lady must stand inside them. Then I must look upon the lady for a few minutes in order to weave the protective magics around her."
"A pleasant task no doubt." He and Madame Avignon exchanged smiles again. "Do you two need to be alone for this?"
"No, my lord. It is not necessary."
Thank God, I thought.
There was no need to be flustered. Yet Madame Avignon and that damned dress made me so nervous. It was so hard not to stare at her cleavage and yet ... What normal woman stares at another woman's bosom? For God's sake, Dion. You are a mage. Be dignified.
"If the lady would just come forward."
"Of course," murmured Madame Avignon. Even her voice was seductive, low and soft, with a slight foreign accent.
She smiled at me. It was the first time I'd noticed her face. It was beautiful but ... knowing-eyes heavy with kohl, lips firm and an unnatural, brilliant red. The smile seemed wrong for it. It confused me. It was so warm and friendly, somehow comforting. I felt suspicious all of a sudden. What business had she being so warm to me? She didn't know me from the next man, and yet here she was smiling at me as if I were her favorite sister.
Master John crawled around her, a little awkward in his long robes, chalking symbols on the floor. It was an odd feeling. Usually it was someone like me who did such menial tasks. He expounded on protection spells to the interested Duke as he went, explaining how they were simple to maintain by renewing the ritual four times a day, how they wrapped a person in a kind of magical cocoon, making it impossible for any other mage to fix another spell on them and how I would be able to maintain it without ever having to trouble Madame Avignon again.
"Do I turn?" she asked me.
"I will tell you."
I needed to fix a picture of her in my mind, but it was hard to picture her. I didn't want that kind of intimacy with such a woman. At least my suspicion made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand and not on her disturbing cleavage.
Master John stood up and nodded at me.
I closed my eyes, found my own center, and began to recite the incantation under my breath. Concentrating, I opened my eyes and, for the first time, looked full at her.
Magic has a strange effect on the practitioner. It pulls you away from the everyday world, the world of people, of dust under the bed and the scent of sweat, and makes it all seem flat and unreal, as if it were a picture in a book. It is this that makes mages so cold. Feelings don't touch us while we perform magic. The only thing we ever feel is the logical realization that we would probably be distressed by what we saw if we weren't performing magic. What I mean is, that in that moment I could have watched Kitten Avignon and the Duke writhing on the floor in the act of love and have felt nothing except the dispassionate realization that I would be embarrassed remembering this. So it was now easy for me to look at Kitten Avignon and concentrate on winding the incantation round her like a ribbon. I think if it were possible, most mages would spend their lives in such a state. It brings such peace and freedom from pain. But, sadly, most magic is too exhausting to practice for more than a few hours a day.
I connected that ribbon of incantation to myself, weaving it firmly into my being so that I was the weakest point in the strand. I was tired when I finished, but the magic had brought, as it always did, a residual calm with it.
I stood quietly as the two men discussed fees and other practicalities. Madame Avignon, too, sat quietly on the footstool beside the throne, her eyes downcast, as if, like me, she was merely waiting for the men to finish their business.
Master John was silent during the walk back to the college. I had an overwhelming desire to ask him what he thought of it all, how he thought things had gone, what he had thought of her. I wished deeply for Michael in that moment, for I knew he would have told me what to think. All Master John said was, "The correct way to address a duke is Your Grace, Dion."
We reported to the Dean and I had been dismissed, but before the Dean's door had closed fully after me, I heard Master John say irritably, "As usual That Woman was prancing around half-naked and the Duke was bedding her with his eyes the whole time we were there. Honestly my lord I cannot like ..."
The door clicked shut.
Chapter 2
I poured the water into the bowl and cast a spell of seeing on its surface. The water went black. Sparkling, multicolored dots of light began to appear in it. This is not always the result when you cast a spell of seeing. The spell shows