Magic in Ithkar 3 Page 9

  Breaking free from the chain, Thera cowered into the first alley she came to. She thought she was alone until she heard an asthmatic breathing a few feet away. The man moved closer to her, and she stepped back in shock. He looked like the deformed young man from her village, the one with elephantiasis. She could have helped him. He had asked. But who had helped her when the children had taunted her? “No one,” she said, clenching her hands into fists.

  She jammed her fists into her pockets. When the right hand came out holding the vial of perfume, she knew who her adversary was. Without glancing back at the misshapen man, Thera hurried in search of the one person who could answer why.

  Lisandra did not sleep this night; she sat waiting for the inevitable. Soon it would begin. And soon afterward she would know if she had won over a successor. She hoped she had chosen the right one. She had tried to conserve her strength for this encounter. And now she tried to block uncertainty from her mind. She had made her pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Three Lordly Ones, and there was nothing left to do to prepare. If only she did not have to divide her power in an effort to veil the soon-to-be encounter from the fair-wards and wizards, she would be less worried over the outcome.

  As if it were an aroma of perfume, Lisandra sensed the fury and anger that was coming toward her. As it got closer, she marshaled the forces of the Three Lordly Ones. She would not need the eclectic sight in these tight quarters. If the outcome weren’t so crucial, she would have eagerly awaited the clash of wills, as she had many others in the past.

  The voice licked her ears like flames from a fire.

  “Old hag, where are you hiding?”

  Lisandra had time to think, At least my method of hiding is better than hers, before thick waves of rage surrounded her, almost hurling her from her chair.

  “In front of you,” Lisandra whispered. “Remove your shawl and look at me.”

  The soft rustling indicated to Lisandra that the young woman had obeyed her. The next sound Lisandra heard was the strident, pain-laden scream reverberating off the buildings that stood silent watch like soldiers at attention.

  “Close your eyes!” Lisandra commanded.

  Thera choked out an angry reply between sobs of pain. “I’ll report you to the council of wizards for what you did to me.

  Lisandra smiled to herself. “No.”

  “I won’t let you get away with what you’re doing to me.” So softly were the next words spoken that Thera had to hold her breath to hear them.

  “What am I doing to you?”

  “It’s the perfume you made! I know it is. It makes me see ugly, vicious faces.”

  “My dear, all the perfume does is to reveal your dark side.”

  Thera held her palms against her ears to mute the unacceptable words. “No!” she shouted. “I’m not like this! I’m a priestess who serves the Three Lordly Ones. I’m good.”

  “Are you really?”

  Lisandra knew this was her last chance to awaken decency in Thera. Marshaling all her strength, the aged one searched Thera’s mind to find the one thing that might make her vulnerable enough to understand. Deeply hidden beneath forced forgetfulness and pain, Lisandra found the bitter secret, and as a new dawn rose, Lisandra reluctantly made it come to life again in Thera.

  Her voice as cold as the river Ith in winter, Lisandra said, “Open your eyes, then, girl.”

  “Mommy! Is it you, Mommy?” Tears streaming from her eyes, Thera looked down at the tiny boy clutching her dress. Squeezed by the huge water-filled head, his eyes were slits. But there was a beatific smile on his face as he said, “I love you, Mommy. Why did you kill me?”

  Thera fell to her knees, sobbing and hugging the boy to her. This could not be the baby she had killed at birth. It must be an illusion. Oh, if only she’d been blind then; she would not have listened to the taunts of others. Why had she allowed shame to overcome her? Eyes closed, she screamed out in pain. Feeling a release of pressure, she opened her eyes and saw the boy was too weak to stand. He lay on his back, his brown eyes bound to hers through a love she had never known. Crying hysterically, Thera took the massive head into her hands and kissed it.

  After many long moments her grief lost its painfulness. She felt a presence beside her. Glancing up, she saw the pain on Lisandra’s face. Once again they entered the circle of every woman who has ever squeezed a baby from her womb.

  Lisandra and Thera were drawn close in their pain. Too weak to cast off the countless minds straining to fuse with hers, Thera finally realized that this sharing of pain was good, for it brought love into the world. Immediately upon thinking this, she began to tingle all over, and a sensation like countless fingers massaging every inch of her body told her that pain, at least this pain, also brought integration. Why had she fought this feeling before? She lifted her eyes to Lisandra and was shocked to witness the rapid aging of the old woman. She was dying.

  Thera brought out the vial of perfume. “Why did you put a spell on me?”

  With her remaining strength, Lisandra held the lead-crystal bottle up to the light. The first red rays of sun that were fingering the square brushed the vial gently. The rays broke into myriad colors that shone upon Lisandra. Bathed in this soft light, Lisandra’s wrinkled face was beautiful in its serenity.

  Lisandra whispered, “I am the guardian of the secret. But now you must guard it against discovery from unworthy

  ones. My time has come to return to the Three Lordly Ones. You are the one who will succeed me.”

  Thera was stunned into momentary silence. Then, gathering her wits about her, she said, “Why pick me if you think I am evil?”

  “Because, my dear, your powers are so much stronger than anyone else’s. Once, a long time ago, I was like you. And time’s laden years will teach you goodness and patience—as it did me.”

  Thera began to think of the power she would have. Then she weighed this against the shriveled, blind old woman before her, and she shivered. “I will not spend the rest of my life like you. I shall discover the secret by myself.”

  Lisandra said, “No. Madness will grip you first.”

  “Thotharn will help me,” Thera said viciously.

  “No! I picked you. You will and must succeed me,” Lisandra said calmly.

  Smiling, Lisandra dropped the vial to the floor, breaking it. The scent rose like steam and within a second fused with dawn’s sun. A white cloud enveloped Thera. Though it seemed to Them to last hours, a gentle breeze arose within minutes and dispersed the cloud.

  Thera opened her eyes but could see nothing. A voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere said softly, “Trust me, my little one. You will live up to your task.”

  A calmness she had never known before permeated her bent body. Suddenly the fragments of her life coalesced into an awareness of the totality of life’s meaning. Peace was hers at last. She was now the guardian of the secret.

  As a yellow cart approached, the wizard was shocked that the aged, hunchbacked figure was that of his beloved Thera.

  Nearing the gate, she paused for a moment and smiled directly at him.

  The wizard whispered, “Good tidings, Thera.”

  As he watched the perfumer and her horse pass through the gate, he was astonished to see three rings of varying shades of blue light surrounding horse and driver. As they pulled away, the three rings merged into one soft blue glow that encompassed them.

  The wizard blinked. When next he opened his eyes there was only the vastness of space. They were gone.

  The Beggar and His Cat

  Gene DeWeese

  Beggars, I have often been told, cannot be choosers, but I have made choices far too often for me to subscribe easily to such a belief. I even chose, in a manner of speaking, to become a beggar. True, the choice was between that and starvation, but it was a choice, you must admit. Unless, of course, you choose to disbelieve, which is certainly your right, Your Lordships. After all, I did not say that only beggars may choose, eh?

  And my
four-legged friend here, he, too, has made his choices, more than most have made in their lifetimes, I daresay. He seems to have chosen to follow me, for instance, though only the Three Lordly Ones know why, and I hope that I will not cause offense if I confess that I sometimes have my doubts even about them. There have even been times when the trek from one village to the next has loomed longer than I at first believed, that he has chosen to bring me food, carrying a squirming, squeaking bundle of fur carefully in his mouth and depositing it at my feet. The fact that I do not fall upon it and devour it as he has done with its predecessors seems to puzzle him, but it does not discourage him. I suppose he imagines he has simply Rot found something to my taste. Which is, I must admit, quite true.

  And I—I chose some time ago to journey to the great Ithkar Fair, though I knew I would not likely be allowed within its borders proper, to mix with the merchants and artisans and other even more exalted personages. That did not greatly concern me, however, since I had been informed by those who had journeyed to past fairs that even the outer fringes are an experience not to be forgotten. The pickings, they said, are even more splendid there than on the busiest street corners of most villages at that or any other time of year.

  And these probable restrictions on our movements concerned my friend even less. With his four-footed stealth and slit-eyed cunning, he knew he could not be held back by mere humans, even those such as yourselves with priestly authority and finery. He has, I imagine, had a most agreeable day and night, what with the morsels that, by intent or accident, find their way from the fine tables down to his more earthy level. I suspect that, had he fetched me a few of those in the same way he offered me those tiny creatures of the field and forest, I would have been sorely tempted to accept.

  But, alas, he brought me nothing, not even his companion-ship, during those hours. Not that I would ever censure him, certainly. There was, after all, no leash upon him, and he was as free to choose then as when he first chose to accompany me. And there were doubtless many things to occupy him, others of his own kind, for example, such as that fine creature there in the door with its silken fur and curious eyes. And there are times, as I am sure Your Lordships are aware, when the lure of such companionship is not to be denied even to the humblest of creatures.

  As for my other friend—

  Ah, I see from his scowl that he does not appear overly comfortable with my choice of words. My acquaintance, then? Yes, that would be better, I agree. It certainly would be better than those names by which he first addressed me, I assure you, when in truth we were perfect strangers.

  But as I was on the verge of saying, I cannot speak for him, whether he be an acquaintance or a friend or even a stranger. I can speak only of what I have seen and heard and been subjected to, though for me that is quite sufficient. I only hope, Your Lordships, that it will be the same for you, and that when you have heard me out, I will be rendered guiltless in this unfortunate affair.

  My first sight of this man—he asserts his name is Arkola, and I have no reason to doubt him—was less than twelve hours ago when he set upon me like a madman while I was engaged in nothing more offensive or magical than attempting to find an unoccupied patch of ground on which to rest during those few remaining hours until dawn. Though I am not normally a nocturnal creature, I had not sought rest earlier because, in keeping with what my informants had told me, the pickings were indeed excellent here at the fair, and the sights most wondrous. Though many of the hangers-on were a trifle surly and did refuse me, many did not, and even of those who refused me, none were overrough in their manner of refusal. Thus I had eaten better that day than any other day in recent memory. I had even been afforded the wherewithal for a few spirits. Nothing as fine, of course, as those splendid wines and ales that can be found within the borders of the fair, but to my own taste it was veritable ambrosia, and I must admit that my head was in something of a fog, albeit a most pleasurable one, as I searched for a resting place. I earned a few curses as I stumbled over those already retired for the night, but none seemed upset enough by my clumsiness to offer blows. Or perhaps they, like myself, were in something of a fog and hence either incapable of violence or simply not inclined in such directions.

  But my acquaintance here, the merchant who calls himself Arkola, was very much inclined.

  “So!” he shouted into my face as he took my poor garment in his hand and virtually hoisted my feet from the ground. “It is you! I have you at last, thieving sorcerer!”

  I tried to disengage myself, not alone because of his words, but because of his breath as well. My own, I know, is foul, but it is a foulness to which I have grown accustomed and which therefore no longer troubles me overmuch. His, however—

  But of course, Your Lordships. I understand. Such details are not relevant, I agree, and I will not trouble you with them further. I will only state that, regardless of his claims, I did not recognize him, and I still do not. I thought he must certainly have mistaken me for some villainous person who resembles me in some small way, or perhaps he was simply mad. There was certainly a look of madness in his eyes and the strength of madness in his hands. I have known madmen in my day, though none with his peculiar brand of madness, so I am sure you can understand my reasons for struggling.

  “Who are you, sir?” I asked, though I may not have phrased it so properly in the heat of the moment.

  “My name is Arkola,” he said, shaking me in his fury, “as you well know!”

  Well, of course I did not, but I could see, even in my mildly besotted state, that he was not open to a rational discussion of his beliefs. Even so, what could I do but state my own ignorance of his meaning?

  But that, ,as you may have surmised, was not satisfactory. He neither loosened his hold nor changed the formidable set of his features. He merely turned me in his grip and directed my quaking gaze toward a nearby spot on the ground. To my surprise, there in a darkness lit only by the distant torches of the fair, was my friend, my four-footed companion of this last year. He seemed none the worse for his recent absence, nor even the slightest bit regretful, though I fancied I could discern a touch of apprehension in his eyes as he gazed unblinkingly at my captor and myself. Perhaps he sensed the danger, as wild creatures are known to do, or perhaps it was my own fright that was reflected there.

  “Do you deny,” my captor near shouted, gesturing toward my friend with his free hand, “that yonder creature is the selfsame one you stole from my household in Audris only this past summer?”

  At that point, Your Lordships, I began to realize that, even though this man was indeed mad, he may not have mistaken me for another. For I had indeed been in Audris at the time he claimed. And it was indeed during my sojourn in Audris that my four-footed friend first attached himself to me. But steal him? Never, Your Lordships, I assure you! I am a beggar, not a thief. If those I approach choose not to heed my pleas, I say no more.

  And how, I ask you, could one such as myself steal a creature such as that? I have no house in which to imprison it, nor even a cage or leash, so it is free to come and go as it wishes, now as always.

  The truth of the matter is, this poor creature was quite literally hurled out through the door of some fine home in Audris to land, trembling, at my feet as I chanced to be passing by. Accustomed as I was to being treated in such a way myself, I of course paused to offer what comfort I could, kneeling down and stroking its fur. Before I could do more, however, a man and woman appeared in the door. They were dressed in a manner befitting the house, which is to say, most well and expensively, but their shouts at each other would have done justice to two like myself battling over a discarded crust of bread. I remember nothing of what they said, if I apprehended their meaning at the time. I only remember their fury, which seemed directed not only at each other and the creature one of them had just pitched into the street, but at everyone and everything in this world and the next. The woman, I recall, gestured toward the animal as she screamed, and the man turned from her, his face seeming
purple with rage, and stalked toward where I still knelt with the animal.

  I knew not what his purpose might have been, but I knew from sad experience that such anger cannot portend well for such as myself. Hence I scrambled to my feet and was gone, scuttling down the street and through an alley as rapidly as I could, not once looking back to see if I was being pursued. It was only when my breath gave out, and then my legs as well, that I paused. Neither the man nor the woman, I was overjoyed to see, was anywhere in sight.

  The animal, however, was only a few yards distant, sitting quietly and watching me. He was not even, so far as I could perceive, breathing hard, and as I looked at him, he came slowly toward me and began to nuzzle at my legs.

  Now I swear to you, Your Lordships, that that is all I did. I will admit that this merchant Arkola might indeed be the man from that fine house, though I would never in my life swear to it. That other man was well fed and florid of face, while this gentleman is lean and pale and not nearly as richly dressed, but for all I know, they could well be one and the same. And, since he claims to have recognized both the animal and myself . . . well, how am I to deny it?

  But that is all I can in good conscience admit to the possibility of. I did not, as he so angrily stated, scoop the animal up in my arms, nor did I, as I ran, hurl magical curses at him. In my somewhat less than robust state, I barely had the strength to carry myself away from those angry shouts. I certainly could not have borne the extra burden he claims, nor would I have had the breath to shout anything. Had I known magical spells, I would have used them to lend wings to my feet, nothing else, but alas, I knew none then, nor do I now.

  If I did, I assure you, I would not have submitted as I did when he came for me last night, nor would I be here before you. I would—

  Yes, Your Lordships, I heard his charge, that even though I may not have cradled the animal in my arms as I ran, my magic bound it to me, forcing it to follow my retreating footsteps. But I ask you, could even the most accomplished of wizards cast two spells simultaneously? One to force a recalcitrant animal to race after me, and yet another to bring ruin and calamity on the head of a merchant whose very name I did not know? And do I look as if I have magic at my beck and call? Would I dress as I do, in little better than rags? Would I linger on the fringes of the fair, among others such as myself, or would I have long since cast the spells necessary to raise my station in this world?