“There is something you should know about this lady, my lord Aslak,” Arik said quietly. “We can hear her voice.”

The old man jumped backward with shock. “Evil!” he insisted pointing a bony finger at Lara.

“No, my lord Aslak,” Arik told the high priest. “We hear her voice because she is not of Terah, but even more amazing, she had told us that our women do indeed speak. It is we who cannot hear,” he explained.

“What blasphemy is this?” Aslak demanded angrily. “The women of Terah were condemned to be voiceless through eternity.”

“No, my lord Aslak,” Lara said softly. “It was the men who listened to their women who were cursed. Because I am of Hetar you can hear my voice, and I have both heard and spoken with your women.”

Aslak had grown pale at the sound of Lara’s voice. Now he stumbled backward, clutching at his chest. His eyes began to roll back in his head, and his mouth moved but no sound could be heard. Suddenly he collapsed onto the floor.

Arik knelt, and sought for a pulse. He drew a small smooth metal square from his robes, and held it before the High Priest’s nostrils. The mirror remained clear, and unblemished. “He is dead,” Arik said sanguinely. “He was very old.” Then rising he went to the door of the High Priest’s chambers, and called out. “The High Priest has collapsed! Come quickly, my brothers!”

And there was suddenly the ringing of a bell, and the chamber filled with the men belonging to the order.

“The High Priest was just giving his blessing to the Dominus and his proposed wife when he collapsed,” Arik explained loudly.

It was a reasonable explanation, and the sight of the modestly garbed and veiled woman clinging to the Dominus, her head hidden in his shoulder, certainly gave credibility to the scene.

“He was an old man,” one of the brotherhood said. “All praise to the Great Creator for his goodness in taking Aslak in such a merciful fashion.”

“And all hail to the new High Priest Arik,” another of the brotherhood said, and the chamber echoed with huzzahs.

Arik nodded graciously at their acclaim. Then he said, “Nephew, take the lady Lara from this scene of sadness. It is not fit for her lovely eyes. My brothers, we must prepare our departed brother Aslak for his funeral pyre.”

As the men of the order surrounded their fallen leader, the Dominus led Lara back to the guest house in the lake.

“This is terrible,” Lara said softly to him. “I have killed the old man with the very sound of my voice.”

“He died because it was his time,” Magnus Hauk said. “He was very old, and narrow in his thinking. He would have been an impediment to our plans to reverse Usi the Sorcerer’s curse upon us. My uncle will be a more forward thinking High Priest which suits me, and that will be better for Terah. There is magic here. There always was, but under Aslak’s influence those who have it were forced to keep silent.”

“But he was so shocked at the sound of my voice,” Lara worried.

“Your voice is a beautiful one. I think it was that beauty that overcame him,” the Dominus told her.

Lara laughed weakly. “What a time, Magnus, to be so gallant,” she said.

“Sit down,” he ordered her, and then he poured them goblets of wine.

“Drink this. It will calm you. And then you must go to bed. We have an early start.”

“But will there not be a departure ceremony of some sort?” she asked him. “Should you not be there for it? He was your High Priest, and you are the Dominus.”

“We do not celebrate the passing of a soul from this place into the domain of the Great Creator. Death on this side of the door is the natural course for life to take,” Magnus explained. “Even as I speak to you Aslak is being placed upon his funeral pyre. Our dead are burned within the hour of their passing. That way we are able to put the past aside and concentrate upon the future. When I have seen you settled in bed I will go and pay my final respects.” Then he put her to bed as if she were a child, making certain she drank all the wine in the goblet. “I will be back within the hour,” he promised.

But whether he was or not Lara never knew, for she slept soundly the night long, awakening to the sound of singing birds and the promise of sunrise. Magnus lay on his back next to her, sleeping peacefully. Lara observed him for several long minutes. He was a very handsome man, but rugged, much as Vartan had been. Not at all like Kaliq, who had been almost as beautiful to behold as she was, Lara thought with a fond smile of remembrance. Suddenly she became aware of the faint scent of burning on the morning wind. Aslak’s funeral pyre, she realized, as she slipped from the bed, and quickly dressed herself in her leather pants, silk shirt and vest. She was pulling on her boots when the Dominus awoke. “It’s morning,” Lara told him.

He groaned. “I was longer than I anticipated, and then innumerable cups of wine had to be drunk to Aslak and to my uncle.”

“We could wait a day,” she offered.

“Nay,” he said pulling himself from the bed. “I want to find Usi’s private chamber, and the book of spells. Tell me, what does Sirvat’s voice sound like?”

“Like rough yet delicate chimes. All of your women have exquisite voices. Usi’s curse was a cruel one that you have been denied the sound of your women’s voices. To think you never heard your mother singing to you as a child.” Lara picked up the delicate green gown she had worn the evening before, and before his astonished eyes poured it back into the open half of the wooden peach. Adding the veil, she closed the carved fruit and tucked it in her saddlebag.

“If I had not seen you do that I should not have believed it,” Magnus Hauk said.

“It always astounded my husband, too.”

They both heard the door to the guest house open, and a wary look touched Lara’s face. She fell silent. The servant entered with the early meal and set a tray upon the table in the chamber outside before departing again.

Magnus Hauk peered into the other room. “He’s gone. Let us eat, pay our respects to my uncle and then be on our way. The men-at-arms will be awaiting us.”

Arik greeted them warmly, and as there had been no time the night before he listened to Lara’s quick explanation of where she believed the book of spells could be found. “Send word to me when you have found it,” he told them. “It should be hidden away where it can never again be used,” the new High Priest said.

“If I find it, once I have reversed the curse,” Lara said firmly, “I will destroy the book. Evil has a life all its own, and draws other evil to it, my lord Arik. We should take no chances.”

“Then let it be as you have said,” Arik replied. “I bow to your wisdom.”

“Not so much wisdom as caution,” Lara said with a small smile, and the two men chuckled at her observation.

Then uncle and nephew embraced. Arik turned to Lara, and hugged her, too. “Farewell, faerie woman,” he said. “We will meet again, I have not a doubt.”

“I hope so,” Lara told him. She liked Arik.

They rode out from the Temple of the Great Creator on a glorious summer’s morning, passing what remained of Aslak’s funeral pyre on a nearby green hillock as they rode. The day remained fair, and by sunset they once again espied the towers and turrets of the castle of the Dominus.

“Tomorrow,” Lara said, “I will ride about the castle, and see what I can see.”

Sirvat was awaiting them, eager to learn what had transpired. Magnus Hauk left Lara and his sister together, asking only if husbands had been found for his three former Pleasure Women. “Tell my brother I have almost concluded negotiations for them all,” Sirvat said to Lara, who repeated the message.

“Good,” Magnus Hauk said. “The sooner the better. I have no wish to listen to Uma’s carping once my hearing is restored.” Then he stamped off to his own quarters.

Sirvat called for the meal to be served. Seeing but two places set at the table, Lara asked why.

“I cannot bear their company any longer,” Sirvat admitted. “Felda is sweet, but has the disposition of a milk cow. She is too bland and placid for intelligent conversation. Alcippe’s tongue is too sharp, and she is critical of everything now that she knows she is to be wed and gone from the castle. As for Uma, well, you know her nature. And her complaints haven’t stopped since you left. I should rather be alone with my own thoughts than bear their company. Now tell me, what happened?”

Lara carefully outlined their journey. She told Sirvat of Aslak’s demise.

“He was a cranky old man,” Sirvat observed. “He always looked at me as if I were a bug or a beetle, and once he suggested I be sent to the Daughters of the Great Creator, as my older sisters were married. I’ll shed no tears for him,” she sniffed.

“How well do you know the castle?” Lara asked her friend.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” Sirvat said, “and I have explored much of it, but I’ve never come upon a chamber that might qualify as Usi’s. I would think you could feel his evil in such a place, but I want to help you search, Lara.”

“What of the marriage negotiations for the others?” Lara asked her.

“Felda’s and Alcippe’s arrangements are already made. They have chosen husbands from among the aspirants for them. Only Uma remains obdurate. I don’t like to marry her off to someone she has not approved, but I may have no choice if she does not pick soon. I don’t know what to do with her.”

“Let me speak to her,” Lara said.

“She hates you,” Sirvat replied. “She thinks my brother was madly in love with her until you came and ensorcelled him. She won’t listen to you.”

“I think I can persuade her,” Lara told Sirvat.

“Let us eat first,” Sirvat said. “You have had a long day’s ride, and you will need your strength to deal with that termagant.”

Lara laughed, but agreed, and together the two enjoyed a pleasant meal. When it had concluded, and the servants had taken away the remnants, Lara arose and went to Uma’s little chamber. She knocked, and without waiting for a reply, entered.

Uma was creaming her lithe body. “What do you want?” she snarled, looking up.

“Sirvat tells me you have not picked a husband,” Lara began.

“Oh, I have,” Uma said. “It is the Dominus, and I will not be satisfied with any other man. He loved me until you came and worked your faerie enchantments upon him.” She spread more lotion along her shapely leg.

“Magnus has never been in love with you, Uma, and in your heart of hearts you know that. He is a cold and powerful man. He took women into his household for his own personal gratification, nothing more. He has never shown you anything more than his lust when you enjoyed pleasures together. It is all he offers to any woman, even me.”

“No,” Uma said low. “He looks at you the way he never looked at any of us.”

“Does he?” Lara laughed. “If he does it is because I am unlike any woman he has ever known, or will know. I intrigue him, but it has nothing to do with magic. I am Lara, daughter of Swiftsword, and Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries. I am widow to a great man. I travel with a horse, a staff and a sword, magical creatures all. And I am magic. But Magnus Hauk’s fascination with me has nothing to do with magic. It is of his own making. I am the one woman he cannot, will not, ever tame or bend to his will. One day he will love me, Uma, and when he does there will never be another for him but me.”

“He is already falling in love with you,” Uma cried bitterly.

“No. Not yet. But one day. Now it is nothing more than lust,” Lara told the girl. “But his lust for me is greater than it has ever been for any woman. And you, despite what your eyes and heart tell you, are being a fool. Sirvat has found several men, all more than suitable to be your husband, yet you demur, Uma. Why?” Lara reached out and yanked Uma’s head up. “Look at me! Do you really believe he could prefer you over me? Do you know what he said about my hair? That it was gossamer, all sunlight and moonbeams. Has he ever said words like that to you?”

Uma burst into tears. “I…I hate you!” she sobbed.

“Then choose the man that suits you best from those Sirvat has found. Marry him, and leave the castle with honor and dignity. Be with a man who will love you, and give you children of your own in your own house. Or remain here, and watch as the Dominus falls in love with me, and you become a poor shadow ignored by all. The choice is yours to make, Uma. But in the morning you will make it one way or another. You will go to Sirvat and choose your mate. Or you will tell Sirvat you wish to remain here, wasting the rest of your days in the futile pursuit of a man who will never love you because in the end he will belong to me, body and soul. You have but one opportunity to make your choice, Uma. And once you have made it you will have to live with it. There will be no second chances for you. Be warned, for I speak to you out of kindness. I have no hate for you as you claim to have for me.” Then loosening her hold on Uma’s hair, Lara turned and left the stunned woman, who had begun to sob again.