"My Name Upon You"

(A Clow Story)

WIP. Needs a bridge between the 1st and 2nd scenes; this is just a sampling.

. . .

Making a Clow Card required more artistry than accuracy; nevertheless, not an angle or line was out of place on the freshly painted surface. Writing his name, in neat letters, below the image of an obscuring veil on The Hidden had placed his magic into the Card and bound it to his will.

When Clow Reed, magician, didn't want to be seen, he simply kept himself out of sight. If a situation demanded his presence still, he would send Mirror in his place. Yet, a week ago he had dreamed of a veil, of things unseen, and had gotten the idea for this Card of invisibility. It was, after all, more conveniently sized than a traditional invisibility cloak.

He used The Dry to set the ink and color, readying the new card for use. The dusty-looking pixie, her heat-waves of hair the color of coals, danced enthusiastically across his desk, turning a pot of ink and a bowl of watercolor into powdered pigments again. Clow sealed her, his thirsty throat coughing slightly over the command, and put her back into the Deck. When he stood and released the new Card onto himself, he felt the light mist of blended magic fall softly over him. It was time to test out the extent of his invisibility…

… and time for something - anything wet - to drink.

He walked out of his workroom and down the carpeted hallway as quietly as his slippered feet would carry him. He spied Cerberus first; the golden, winged lion was yawning in the solarium. The creature's ears twitched around the room, and his face aquired a look of suspicion. Before Cereberus could start investigating, and find him out, Clow spoke.

"I have something to show you, Cerberus," the sorcerer teased.

The lion jumped. "Clow?" he asked, looking around. "Are you throwing your voice again?"

The magician nudged his creation with his hidden toes. Cerberus yelped and jumped to his feet, his tail swishing as his eyes scanned the (apparently) empty room. He grinned suddenly, and then started stalking the space from which the invisible nudge had come. Clow stepped to the side, and Cerberus sharp ears caught his movement. The lion swiveled. Impressed with his companion's abilities, Clow smiled with pride.

"I can't see you, but I can hear you," Cerberus said as he also lifted his nose and sniffed the air. "Not to mention that you had bacon for breakfast." He walked in an oblique angle from his maker, his skin rippling, readying to pounce into a space where Clow was not. The sorcerer kept still and bit down on his rising chuckle. The lions hips began their pre-pounce twitch, muscles tensed.

He leaped, twisting suddenly around, aimed directly at Clow. Cerberus muscular weight knocked the breath out of Clow, who wasn't expecting it, and landed him on the floor. The sorcerer began laughing once he was able to breath again.

"That was devious," he said with admiration.

Cerberus pawed at what looked like empty air and made contact with Clow's deceptively-firm abdomen. "What is this?" he asked. "An invisibility spell?"

"It's my new Card," Clow explained, sitting up and re-sealing The Hidden. He held the paperboard between his middle and index fingers, and looked at it assessingly. "It seems to work fine," he commented.

"Lets use it on Yue," Cerberus suggested with glee. Clow's reply was a knowing wink.

. . .

By the hearth, he laughed in the company of other men. He had an easy laugh, an companionable baritone laugh. His clothing was of fine make, and he and his drinking mates had nearly finished the second bottle of the tavern's better wine.

The servant came to their table with the third bottle of claret. She was a rose whose petals had fully blown, but not yet faded. She was no longer maidenly, but her hair was still full and black under her kerchief. She served the wine with a practiced hand and a glance toward the leader of the group.

Impossible that this man is my father, she thought.

He gave her no notice, but the balding man who drank with him caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. "Mistress of wine," he intoned in words as florid as his face, "my lips crave your mead-sweet kiss."

"Not without coin," countered Vela, twisting flirtatiously out of his embrace. "And never on credit."

"Velata, you wound me," answered the man. "I will capture you in an ode, and you will wear the gold of immortality."

The servant shook her head with a smile. "You will not capture me at all, Graiden." The attention of the other man was on her now; he watched the exchange with amusement. Here was Vela's opportunity, and she took it without thinking twice, sinking into the man's lap and draping her arms over his neck. "I am already captured," she flirted without compunction.

The table burst into laughter. "Another one for your collection, Reed," exclaimed the tall man who sat opposite the poet Graiden.

Reed, the man in whose lap she sat, seemed surprized and pleased. His hands encircled Vela's waist. "Yes, I think so," he said. There was velvet in his voice. Vela looked at him in the firelight; she studied the deep brown eyes with their slanting almond shape, the youthful unblemished skin - a face framed with loose wisps of night-black hair. She had seen an echo of this face, countless times, in her own reflection. He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him with fingertips against his mouth.

"The fee to the master," she said softly to his ear, "then a room, upstairs."

Clow Reed nodded. They rose from the table together.

Her plan had been to find a way to be alone with him, but she had not thought beyond that first goal. Now, walking before him up the stairs, she began to fret. His hands rested on her hips - warm hands, knowing hands. Not an upleasant touch, if she could ignore the taboo.

Impossibly young as he was, this man was her sire. She had her mother's assurances; the sorcerer Clow Reed was Vela's father. And she was not a whore, but a kitchen wench at this inn; she was, in fact, in her middle-age still virginal in her flesh though not in the ways of the world. They stepped onto the landing of the upper floor, and she smiled back at him with a false, but believable, allure. Her heart thrummed with an anxious drumming, but the longing deep within her that had pushed this far already moved her feet to a door, her hand to the knob, and her body into the small, private room. The handsome young sorcerer followed her in.

And as he pressed against her as one who was experienced with women, she turned her head slightly away. His hand rose and slipped around her neck. The mild roughness of a gentleman's hand touched her bare skin, and -

He jumped away from her, as if burned. And stared with wide, shocked eyes. "What is your mother's name?" he gasped.

Vela stared back. Did he know? "Benigna," she answered. "She was a hedge witch. In the ground these three years past."

Recognition crossed the man's face but did not replace the horror there. He turned away without another word and briskly left the room.

Clow nearly ran down the stairs. His hand still burned, and he felt an intense need to wash, but he was thankful for the forethought that had made him put this spell in place to begin with. It had alerted him that this woman was his own daughter, and for that warning he was willing to suffer a pain more intense than this. In his already long life, this had never yet happened.

A first time for everything, Clow thought, trying to regain some of his good humor. The attempt failed. When he crossed the last step, he stalked hurriedly out of the tavern. The voices of his table mates called after him, making jokes about his speedy return.

In the warm night air that reeked of horses and the usual odors of human habitation, he slipped into the shadows and shakily drew forth both his Cards and his staff. He covered himself in invisibility, invoked Fly, and fled.