This girl with all the beauty I could never hope to own,
          In that brief, bewitching moment between child and woman grown,
          Mistress to a Monarch; this girl is half my age--
          Am I only jealous that she is the better mage?
          For I have worked and studied hard, but slowly have I learned.
          Too well I know the lessoning:  All power must be earned.
          And yet, that's not exactly what the axiom avers. . .
          "All power must be paid for--"  How has she paid for hers?

          She seems like some enchanting child, so innocent and frail,
          Like dew upon a rose, the jewels on her silken veil
          Her strength as far surpassing mine as stars surpass the storm,
          The mightiest of mages, she can change her very form.
          But magic's key is magic, I've pursued it half my days,
          In tattered book, in harpsong, and in half-remembered phrase,
          In silent meditation, beneath the sighing firs.
          All power must be paid for.  How has she paid for hers?

          Am I grown old and bitter, that I flinch at every gaffe,
          To hear such spite and malice in her charming, chiming laugh?
          How did she taint the gnomish Deep, or what the Deep contained?
          And why do all her lovers look so faded, white, and drained?
          She seems so vain and petty, with a pinched and twisted soul
          Where I'd expect maturity; she's won to such a goal,
          An age-old rule establishes, and all I know concurs
          All power must be paid for.  How has she paid for hers?

          Her room ablaze with golden light, she sat like any Queen,
          I cloaked myself in shadows, that I might not there be seen
          Her lackey knelt beside her chair, and what between them passed?
          Her face. . .as though she'd hungered, and was sated now at last.
          Silently I crept away, ashamed that I should spy
          On something more than private, that had chanced beneath my eye,
          But ever and uneasy, the memory in me stirs--
          All power must be paid for.  How has she paid for hers?

(Inspired by characters in Dragonsbane by Barbara Hambly)

(In "A Breeze Through the CONduit" book and tape)

Copyright (c) 1990 by Catherine Faber