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At first he used this minor magical power to move people to tears when he sang a lament for a fallen king he'd recently written, but he was an upbeat, happy man, and quickly shifted to the opposite effect - and his sights were set at once on his melancholy wife. She cried so often recently, and he couldn't say why! Hadn't the faintest idea, really! And she couldn't explain it to him, so it seemed his best option was to use sweet music to assuage her pain. So, he always was sure to have a flute or small harp at the ready, and whenever he saw her eyes misting up, he would begin to play, weaving notes of contentment into the music. And it worked! Cinnamon found that, every time he played, her fears and shame melted away at once, instead filling her head with a vague pleasure she couldn't get enough of. Suddenly this life was not a curse, reducing her to a mute ball of nerves - it was just bliss. Everything was better now. Until, of course, it wasn't. Some years of lovely contentedness were achieved, and Cinnamon gave Borovius three more daughters. She practically never used her brain anymore, and it absolutely wasted away. Forget retaining memories - she couldn't really think anymore. Fortunately, Jessamine and Hendon were still close by, and helped to raise the kids, because she was hardly capable anymore. Cinnamon was 44 years old, and just about to finish her first trimester for number five, when...
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