Magic. 301
Copyright© 2024 by irish Writer
Chapter 16: Was It Something I Said?
I was buried. In the arms of a wonderful blonde with the sound of Karen’s voice in my ears shrieking “HANK, don’t you dare kid about that. Unless you are serious? Do you mean it? Oh God, Oh God, I wish I could call my mother. I wish I could call My Father. I need to call my brother.”
Which then descended to a series of cries, and sobs, and me finding myself wrapped up in the arms of a wonderful goddess of Scandinavian descent.
It took about ten minutes for the waterworks to slow down enough for the voice near my ear to say “YES”.
“Yes, what? You like the idea of our wedding in June?” I asked with an innocent tone in my voice.
The transformation of Karen’s face from joy to puzzlement, to curiosity to the beginnings of anger all happened in about ten seconds. Just long enough for me to ask the follow up question. Which I figured I better ask before I got fried from the inside out.
“So, you will agree to Marry me in June. At a place where we decide. Where we are surrounded by friends, your family and our clan members who all want to see us happy under a sunny sky, surrounded by green and growing things.” I said quickly.
Instant Change. Followed by sobs and then “Oh, Hank. I don’t care if it’s in a cave. So long as it’s with you. Did you get me a ring yet?”
PANIC!
“No. I am not foolish enough to get you something that you will wear for the rest of your life wherever you go and show to whoever you meet. And something that is particularly YOU. And us. Not without you being intimately involved. You mean too much to me. This means too much to everyone.” I said in my command voice.
“Good Answer, Kid” the voice whispered in my ear. “And tomorrow the two of you go Ring Shopping. And Nothing else.” Which is probably a good idea.
And for a moment, I saw satisfaction in Karen’s eyes. Followed by a bit of a snark. “I guess some younger men are smarter than they look.”
“Sometimes.” I said with an equal snark.
Tuesday Morning.
I left a note on the pillow next to Karen’s head in the morning. “Going downstairs to the jewelers and telling them to expect you today. Please be prepared to decide what You want. All I want is for you to wear it happily.” Not a bad instruction, I thought. And then I sprinted for the elevator.
“Good morning, Dagga. How are you and your clan doing today?” I asked upon entry to the Lambert Jewelers on the first floor.
“Very well, Lord Hank. What service can we do for the Clan Lord today?”
Dagga was probably one of the most gifted metal craftsmen of any age. Acknowledged by Elves, Wizards and mages, his craftsmanship adorned the necks of queens, dukes and others for hundreds of years. Some of the stuff in the Tower of London was his, created for different kings and queens in history. As was the stuff in the Vatican, and other places. He had imagination and the ability to see into the inner person of the intended recipient and fit the jewel (or jewels) to the person in a way that brought each out in settings both casual and formal. He was great. And like all Dwarfs, he was a little arrogant in knowing he was that good. But you must acknowledge the best when you come to the best.
“Dagga, I am up early before Karen has awakened. And I need to present her with a ring to announce my intention and her agreement to a union of us both.”
“It’s about frigging time, young man.” Dagga replied. “Everyone here has been waiting to see when you were going to ask this woman. Ever since her signature and the pulse that was sent across the Clan, we have been waiting for formal introduction of her as your mate.”
“Well, the wait has ended. Who won the pool?” I asked. One thing I have learned about Elves, Dwarves, and all other Fae. They are the epitome of gamblers. There’s always a pool going on about any event. And never just about IF. Always about WHEN something is going to happen. And the Gnomes keep score of who bet on when.
“When did you propose?” He replied with a smile.
“Last evening, in my living room.” I said, also smiling.
“I’ll have to check. It was probably one of the Elves. Or possibly one of Arno’s guards on rotation.” Dagga said with a smile. “In any event, when do you want to choose a ring?”
“Oh No. Not me. I’ve invited her down here to sit with you while you sketch out what She and her feel is what she wants and deserves as my mate, my bride and my consort going forward.” I said with a smile.
“You’re an awfully wise man. Are you sure you are only fifty?” Dagga asked with a snark.
“Yea, yea. I have heard all the transplanted brain and swallowed the stone cracks. No, I just listened to wise voices whispering in my ears when I am making decisions. And oddly enough, none of voices are from anyone here.” I said with a grin.
“I wish I had met him. Your father. He taught you much in little time. When Karen comes down, we will set aside as much time as is needed to design the right ring to match her, and to show her bonding to you. And I thank you for coming to me first.”
“Thank you, Dagga. And take as long as you need to craft it, so long as it’s ready when she wants it.” I said with a smile.
“Of course. Enough time to be appreciated, and not enough to get her impatient.”
“Dagga. You know Karen. The patience of a forest fire. That’s a short span of time to try for.”
“Hank, her mind and thoughts and tastes are a lot easier to find then you think. Remember her shopping at Yana’s for clothes gives me a big lead. Plus, the bracelet. I just must make sure that the ring and the bracelet are complimentary.”
“I’ll leave that in your hands, my friend. And Dagga,” I continued. “Cost is not an issue, right?”
“Not at all, Lord Hank. Not at all.” Dagga said.
What he didn’t say was that there was to be no charge. The entire Clan would come down on him if he added a dollar amount to this particular construct.
Karen. Waking up.
A note. That man snuck out of here and left me a note. “Come downstairs and we’ll pick out what you want”. I take back all the complimentary things I said about this kid. He’s the most egotistical, obnoxious and unthinking man I have ever known. Do I really want to marry him? Right now, I am not so sure. Karen thought to herself that she would find him and see what she could do to get even.
All these thoughts ran through Karen’s mind as she got out of bed, got to the shower, and then followed the smells of a magically influenced breakfast and coffee sitting on the counter between the kitchen and the living room.
“Well, at least he didn’t abandon me totally.” Karen thought to herself. Looking at the clock she saw it was almost eight o’clock. “A good time to run up a big bill at the jewelry store.” Karen thought to herself.
After a brief but filling breakfast, Karen wandered out of the apartment, and down the elevator to the mezzanine floor. There she saw the sign on the open door of the Jewelers saying “Karen, please come in.”
And Dagga the Dwarf was sitting there. Out front. Not in the back of the Albuquerque workshop doing the micro-etching that he was famous for. And across the counter from him was Hank, that rascal.
“Did you find your breakfast all right?” Hank said with an open and innocent smile.
“Yes, dear. Dagga, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in Albuquerque monitoring the rest of the clan?”
“Some clients deserve personal service. And some artifacts deserve the special attention that I feel I can give. And since you are already happy with one of my creations, I thought I could try to bring you one that was specifically for you yourself. Not some cast off from a non-witch.”
“Dagga, as I have said before, this bracelet is no cast off. It has been amazing, and it tuned itself to me in the first hours I had it. Nothing could make me happier than something to compliment it on my finger. Nothing at all.” Karen said with sincerity.
Dwarves are not always appreciated, according to the rumors Karen had heard. Often seen as workers of stone and metals, and lacking the finesse of Elves, some are seen as the small brutes of the Fae. Not as big, nor as strong, they are still without peer in the metal working when they choose. Like the Silver bracer that changed itself when it was on Karen’s arm into a band with jewels and the formal Crest of Clan Lambert. With the runic spells that Dagga had developed to protect Natalie, but which adopted Karen wholly when Natalie placed it on her wrist.
Karen saw Dagga’s face lit up like a candle.
Karen thought to herself, “I wonder if this is how Hank feels when someone reacts to something he said? When you know that what you said was exactly the right thing that the person heard. Am I getting to be like Hank? If so, that’s not a bad way to be.”
Motioning Karen to sit across from him, Dagga asked her to place her left hand in his on the leather pad on the glass countertop and asked if she was comfortable. “I cannot promise that this won’t take some time” he said.
Using a flexible rule, Dagga measured from the bracer (which had not come off since the day Natalie put it on me) to the end of Karen’s hand, where the joints of her fingers under the knuckles ended, he then measured the circumference of each of her fingers and the distance between. “Can’t have this space invaded by something too wide or too thick” he murmured.
Then he sat with different alloys of Gold and titanium to find the right color to match Karen’s skin, all the while talking with her about what kind of exercise she did, where and how, and where did Hank and her go mostly.
“I want to make sure that it is not an object of discomfort when you put on gloves or clothes,” Dagga said. “Too many people pick objects to wear only on occasion. This ring should be a part of you signifying your relationship with Hank. It announces your union. It should be visible, and you should be comfortable and aware of it all the time.”
Okay, Karen thought. If the kid found someone this serious to create a ring to mark our relationship, maybe I will forgive him. Maybe.
“And how many children do you intend to have?” Dagga asked.
That set Karen back a moment. “Because the wedding band should have small stones for each one, and those need to be placed to be on either side of the main stone. To show that they are part of the family, but beside the main stone that announces your relationship” Dagga continued. “Like they were in the ancient Roman and Slavic times.”
For the first time, Hank spoke up.
“Dagga, what about many very small stones in the engagement ring? Entwined around the band, like the Secret Garden setting, which signify all of those in our clan’s family, not just our children? And we can add larger stones to the wedding band later to signify children, both natural and adopted.”
WOW. Karen suddenly realized that this was a major announcement. To all of everyone. That she was first and foremost Hank’s wife, consort, and the partner of everyone within the Clan. “Was I ready to make that announcement? And kids?” Karen thought to herself.
Natalie’s speech about the charter’s intent echoed in Karen’s mind. “First is the agreement with yourself. Second is the relationship with the singular other that you choose. And then to everyone else here in the Clan.” That speech suddenly took on a new meaning.
Karen realized that this bracelet was the first agreement. And that this ring was both the second and the third.
“If we do the entwined band like the Grand Secret Garden, we need to make it in Gold overlaid on platinum or titanium, to ensure a firm alignment with the magic of the bracer. But that is not difficult.” Dagga said with a smile. “Most people will see the ring first and not look past it to the plain old bracer with the crest of Clan Lambert. We can also allow the bracer to grow a gold layer to match the ring. Which will further announce the change of this lady’s status.”
“Karen, would you like that?” Hank asked with a small self-satisfied smile.
Karen was in shock. To think of this much message in a simple ring.
“When would this be ready, Dagga? And do you need to take off the bracer to treat it first?” Hank continued.
“Not at all. Just a moment, here let me do this.” The Dwarf replied.
With that, Dagga reached into the counter and pulled out one of the small ingots of gold that we used to act as weights on the corners of the blue velvet cushions within the case. He set it on the counter and asked Karen to please lay her wrist across it. She did and Dagga said “Now Karen, say the following with intent. ‘Meld and join, with intent and brilliance’”
Karen did. And suddenly felt the metal below her wrist soften and warmly flow up and around the bracer. There was warmth, but not uncomfortable, and the gold took on a bright sheen as it flowed evenly around the bracer, leaving the detail of the runes beneath marked and clarified with silver writing visible against the background of gold. She felt the same feeling as it gently flowed along the inside and across the outside of the bracer. Where before it was bright silver, it now was brilliant gold, with the etching of the runes into the silver below.
“Wow. Dagga, you are a magician.” Karen spoke.
“Not at all, Karen. This bracelet wants to be part of you and for you to be happy with it. It’s the first of the three agreements of the Charter. To you alone as part of yourself.”
The unresolved remainder of the ingot lay on the cloth. “I’ll use this remainder to make the other three rings. Engagement and Wedding for you, Karen, and wedding for you, Hank. Those will take a little more time. Karen, your engagement ring and wedding ring as a set will be ready tomorrow evening.” Dagga said with a smile.
“Karen. Would you like celebrate our engagement here, or in Albuquerque, or wherever?” Hank asked.
“There, I think. There’s more room. For everyone,”
“I’ll reach out to Ogernaut. Tell him he has dinner for two tomorrow evening.” Hank said with a smile.
Maybe I won’t kill him. Karen thought to herself. Or smack him again with a pillow.
Elsewhere, a Conversation with a Hunter
England has a long and complex history with Mages, Witches, wizards and witch hunters. Going back to far before Mathew Hopkins in the 1640s, there was a very interesting connection between the witch hunters, the nobility and the Mages and witches. As well as the Royal Family of England. Like everywhere else, politics always pointed out the “guilty” in public and demanded punishment for their “crimes” At the base was the simple fact that if you denied the relevance of Christ in any manner, you were guilty of a Crime against the Church. Which was considered treason in England at that time. This work has been continued in some form or another up to 1944 with the prosecution of Helen Duncan.
The interesting thing is that “good” mages and “good” witches who supported the Anglican Church (by donating money) were frequently overlooked, with the donation of wealth being considered penance. The amount of the penance depended on the status and wealth of the witch or mage.
Hunters were almost always male, always healthy, and always devout. Their religious affiliation moved from the church of God in Italy to the one in London. And like MI-5 and MI-6 and the Official Secrets Act, their work was almost always protected from the public long before the nineteenth and twentieth century.
For the good of the Empire, of course.
It had been eight weeks since Sir Thomas had his meeting with Sir Robert. It took that long to get int touch with the current Hunter. The reason Sir Thomas was forced to do this meeting was because Sir Robert Barron held too high a position in the house of lords and would be visible in any connection to the activities that would have to be taken to resolve the Clan Lambert problem.
The current Witch Hunter was a senior executive with BAE Systems, one of the largest defense contractors in England. Who manufactured everything from fighter planes to bullets. And it was in the bullet manufacture that this conversation was particularly important.
“So, Sir Thomas. What can we do for service to the Crown?”
“We have a situation here that is complex. One which involves the return of Clan Lambert and his evil mechanizations.”
“Let me understand this. You wish to engage me to hunt a Warlock? One that you already know. Why aren’t you tasking one of your own enforcers to do this?” the tall grey clad man asked Thomas. “Why don’t your friend Robert Baron bring in some of your famous Russian friends?”
“Because this wizard killed them.” Thomas answered. “Besides, this was an Anglo-American issue and after European failures to call this person to account for his sins, Lord Robert Barron had decided that we must take this into our own hands. The eastern incompetents have only demonstrated their inability in conflict with this man, and we need a true expert to hunt and destroy him.”
“You say the right things. You seek to make this an issue of pride. Yet none of the covens in England or any of the British Isles want anything to do with hunting this man. What has he done to deserve this? The Catholic Church has not found anything in his history that impinges on English covens, other than the brief conflict with the Iron Circle Coven. Who have since signed a treaty and agreement for commerce with the Caldron. Which guarantees free shipping to the witch, wizard or mage who seeks commerce. Again, what has this man done?”
“You didn’t need any reasons for the executions you have done in the past.” Thomas said.
“Those witches and Mages were against the word of God. This man has done nothing so far that sets him against the word of Christ’s church. He does no chants, worships no idolatry, and does not seek to place any spells against Father Church. He uses Magic as a tool. He makes and sells clean artifacts of power to those who buy them, and he assigns those artifacts to the users only.”
“Isn’t that ungodly?” Thomas asked.
“If it were to be judged that way, you and Lord Barron would be easily closer and easier targets for my sword or bow.”
Thomas began to sweat. Now he realized the danger he had placed himself in by meeting in person. Thinking fast he replied “We don’t defame Christ’s church. We are simply independent of Rome. We are spiritual in our observance and seek the justifications of higher authority. This man seeks nothing except crass commerce, disguised as simple exchanges among like-minded peoples. His actions have no respect for the word of God.”
“If you would seek to have me find and place god’s punishment against this man, you first must pay a penance. Fifty Thousand pounds in the charity box of Tower Hill Mission. There to pay partial penance for the forty Martyrs of England.”
Thomas gulped. Not for the amount, but for the destination. As a Protestant, such a donation was clearly a mark of penance and was doing two things at once. Putting a dent in the bank account and admitting the guilt of English councils from the seventeenth century forward. A long-standing sore on the history of England.
“And this is to be done in advance. In full. I realize the risks I am taking, as well as the punishment I’m placing against you.” The form in grey said.
“For that much in advance, you should get his consort as well. She’s the one that stood down the Iron Circle. Bring us her head and get Lord Lambert in his grief.” Thomas said by way of a suggestion.
“Has he married this woman?”
“To my knowledge, he is living in sin with her. And she’s a Scandinavian descendent. Possibly one of the descendants of the foul breeding farm in America.”
“Place the money in the poor box, and I will see what I can do. I need all the intelligence you have, and that your European fellows had before I seek what you want.”
Thinking quickly “I’ll get you what we have” Thomas answered. After a little editing to leave out the part about Dragons, Gargoyles, and all the other Fae.
As usual, neither of these two were paying attention to anything but each other. Let alone the small invisible form of Springtime, the fae sprite sitting in the upper corner of the room, silent and all seeing. I don’t know who this person is with Sir Thomas. But we will find out quickly and we will look to discover who and where he works. Perhaps a few good words would discourage him. I hate to see Lord Hank upset.