The Mousetrap

[LaraCooper]

Mousetrap

I strolled out of father’s study and into the sunny space on the small platform at the top of the side stairs, a book about alchemy open to the third chapter in my right hand, and another two books, one about magical item creation and one about common flora and fauna of coastal Ni’hal tucked under my left arm. My eyes scanned the open alchemy book with greed and curiosity. I had mastered the first level spells I had been given thus far with a great deal of accuracy, and found that distraction was my biggest problem. I was bored and my mind wandered. My tutors were frustrated with me. Morpheus scolded me often.

“Lizzy, what’s wrong with you? These spells should come easy to you. You know them by heart. Where is your head young lady?”

“Master Morpheus, we’ve been practicing Chromatic Orb since my last Solstice Celebration, my 13th. Have I not done ass you’ve asked? Are you not pleased?”

“Of course, but your eyes turn as cloudy as your mind these days when we practice.”

“Perhaps some new spells would clear the fog.”

“You know I can’t do that. Your father has a careful plan for your studies, and he is absolutely right. Understanding the nuances of the energies you manipulate, perfecting the rhythm and cadence of these spells sets a deeper understanding of the spells to come.”

“What spells? Nothing comes. Not for at least another year. Father says I am to practice what I know until my 16th Summer Solstice. When the full moon rises and we begin the Falling Feast, I am to be given more for my spell book. Not before. A conversation Father and I have had four times now.”

So I made due and filled in what gaps I could with books from the library. I read The Observational History of Sea Nymphs, The Ogre Rebellion of Saints Crossing, The Life and Times of Ignacio Peelbottom, and The Secrets of Gryffons, twice. I had taken to wandering through Father’s personal library more frequently, hoping to find hidden spells tucked away in dusty forgotten tomes, and had recently turned a sharper mind and eye toward alchemy. This was hardly magic, but the knowledge of it gave the common man an almost magic-like power over healing, over death, over effects on the human and dwarven body and it was this that I was pouring over, stood on the stairwell platform, when my mother happened upon me on her way downstairs.

“Elizabeth, youngling, you are going to fall headlong down the stairs staring at your books. Go DO something constructive. Have you thrown daggers today? Your archery could certainly use some time from what Straella telsl me.”

“No, mother.”

“And what is so enthralling that you are stuffing yourself away in the dark instead of…” she leaned over and her cold elvish eyes widened slightly as she recognized the books I carried with me. “Oh, Elizabeth.” She frowned, her auburn eyebrows knitted together in concern. She always addressed me so formally. Never Lizzie, and never “my little Mouse” like my father did. I swear there was no love in the woman’s heart – only duty. “Why do you squander your time on the trivial and mundane?”

“Healing isn’t trivial. Poisons aren’t trivial. I think they are interesting. It seems as if there is great power in understanding how these ingredients work together. They use many of these at the temples to ease the suffering of the sick, to restore rigor. Look! Here is a tea made from an infusion of elder bark, lichen beetles and some sort of spotted mushroom that will kill Stag Moles.”

“I hardly see how you will ever need to know how to kill Stag Moles, Elizabeth. Your archery, on the other hand, could save your life.”

“I don’t just study for myself. Someday, when I am here by Father’s side, and yours, and am helping lead the city, someone must be able to explain to the farmers how to rid their fields of Stag Moles. Father would become undone if the hops fields were suddenly decimated by a sea of Stag Moles eager for tender roots. He would have to break into his own personal stores to console himself.” I was teasing her. I knew she hated father’s very human tendency toward overindulgence. I knew she admired his mind, his innovative spirit and his resolve, but I also knew her mild disgust at his loud drunken war stories and raucous laughter. I never remember my mother laughing. As much as I expected her irritation and perhaps even anger at my poking, I was surprised to see her beautiful angular face soften into something balanced between sadness and tenderness.

“My dear, your destiny will lead you far beyond the walls of Luciferian Rock. You won’t stay here forever. You are a Von Dunlap daughter. You will marry and take your place with your rightful husband. Suitable matches have been discussed since your last Summer Solstice. You are on the bridge of womanhood and will see your 14th year the next full moon. It IS time to think about your duties to the family, but those duties will not likely involve Stag Mole infestations.” She gently pulled the alchemy book from my hands as I stared at her. She could not have injured me more if she had cut my sword arm from my body.

“What do you mean? I won’t be staying here? I don’t want to leave! That’s stupid! Why would I want a husband? Go and live with some stranger’s family in some unknown place? Be told what to do? Not know anyone? No. Who is going to take care of The Rock?”

“Your father and I will, of course, and Tiberious is receiving exceptional training at the capital. He will return home in a few years to attend the military academy here and he will eventually work with me to defend the city.”

“With you? You mean when Father dies. I always wondered if this is what you saw as your reward for your patience. You marry a human man, give him children and wait for him to die so you can rule over the city for the next 200 years as you please. Now I see cl…” The slap was sudden, and violent and I never even saw her hand move. There was fire in her icy eyes, and her face was sharpened steel.

“Don’t mock me, little mouse. I had dreams of my own once, all the elves did. Bringing life through my children is at once my sacrifice and my gift to the world. Everything I am, was, or will be, hinges on my children. You may curse me under your breath all your days, provided that your days are long in number and filled with children of your own. Everything your Father and I do is to ensure your future and the future of so many others. If you want to truly help this city, and lead people into a better life, you will take a husband, and you will defend your children’s lives as your own, with sword and axe and bow and magic and tooth and claw and bone and blood if you have to. Every time your lungs fill and hear heart beats, is the only reward I have ever wanted or ever needed.” On that, she turned on her boot heal and descended down the stairs quickly, silently, angrily. She took the books with her.

I stood in the streaming sun, stunned, hurt, confused, angry, sad. I reached out and felt the cool stone of the palace walls under my hands. Home. For now.