Strange Candy

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  The sun was warm on my face. The light shattered diamond bursts off the lake water and the silver of my armor. I had bound my breasts tight under the scale mail. I was counting on the fact that most humans think male Varellians look effeminate. And that they would look at sword and armor and think me male.

  Celandine would simply go as my wife. It was rare, but it was done. That would explain my exile. The problem was that we both stood out. We could not simply blend with what few travelers there were.

  Celandine was too aware of her royal heritage to play the common wife. She had no talent for lying or being false. I could have wasted magic to disguise myself as human, but it wouldn't have been safe. I was earth-witch, not illusionist, and disguise was not one of my better spells. So I rode as a Varellian. My hair was spun snow with a purity of color that few humans achieved. The hair could have been dyed, the odd-shaped ears hidden, but a sixth finger was something else. It was considered a mark of good fortune in Varell but not among the humans. And, of course, my eyes gave me away. Purple as a violet, the color of a grape.

  We were not your usual traveling couple. I rode a unicorn, which was very hard to hide. The unicorns of Varell are as big as a warhorse. They were the mounts of royalty and of the royal guard. Once a unicorn and a rider are bound, it is a lifelong binding. So through no fault of his own, Ulliam shared my exile among the humans and the horses.

  But he also shared my magic, though he can only feel it and not perform it. His great split hooves danced on the damp meadow grass. The earth-magic of spring was calling. My power was tied to the ground and that which sprang from it. Every meadow flower, every blade of grass, was hidden power for my magic. My power called to other things. I shared the joy of the swallow as it turned and twisted over the lake. I froze in the long grass with the rabbit waiting for our horses to pass. Spring was one of the most powerful times for an earth-witch, as winter was one of the worst. And Ulliam danced with me on his back, feeling the power. I hoped I would not need it.

  Celandine rode silently, blue cloak pulled over a plain brown dress. Visions of torture still danced behind her eyes. Her fear was an almost palpable thing. She rode one horse and carried the lead for a second. She would need a fresh mount if we were to make good time. I would have liked to rest Ulliam, but warhorses were not easily found in the wild lands. I would not ride less. You could not fight off the back of a normal riding horse. The clang of metal, the swinging shield, even drawing bow and arrow, could send a horse racing in fright. And you couldn't afford that in battle. A war steed had to be trained to it from birth; there was just no other way. Ulliam and I had been trained together. No other mount could have known my mind as he did.

  I had used magic to make him less noticeable. Most would see a great white horse and nothing more. If a wizard concentrated, then perhaps he would see past the glamour, but it was the best I could do. In Lolth they sacrificed unicorns to Verm and Ivel.

  I asked Celandine, "Have you ever worshipped Ivel?"

  She made the sign against evil, thumb and little finger extended near her face. "Don't use her full name."

  "As you like. Have you ever worshipped Mother Bane?"

  "Of course, you must not ignore any of the three faces of the Great Mother."

  I didn't argue theology with her. We had found we did not agree on matters of worship. "You've never spoken of Mother Bane as one of your Gods."

  "Because it is not wise to do so."

  "Why do the Loltuns sacrifice women to Her altar?"

  "It is a matter of theological interpretation."

  "Interpretation?"

  "Yes." She seemed reluctant to speak further, so I let the subject drop. Celandine was not happy that I could argue her into a corner using her own sacred tomes. The black road erupted from the damp meadow grass without marker or warning. It seemed to be made of solid rock, black as if the earth had bled. Legend said that Pelrith of the Red Eye forged the road. And seeing it lying there on the shore of the lake, I believed in demigods calling things forth from the earth. I urged Ulliam forward.

  The moment his hooves hit the road, I felt it. The road was dead; no earth-magic sang through it. The horse Celandine was leading shied at the black surface. I moved Ulliam to calm it before the horse she was riding could bolt as well. We rode into Lolth three abreast, with the skittish horse in the middle.

  I noticed bumps in the smooth surface of the road, but there was no pattern to them. I dismounted and walked Ulliam until I came to a bump that seemed higher than the others. I knelt and ran a mailed hand over the blackened lump. My eyes could not puzzle it out at first, then suddenly, it was clear. A human skull gaped from the road, barely covered in the black rocklike stuff. And I could not force the image from my mind.

  Celandine called, "What is it?"

  "Bones. Human bones."

  She made the sign against evil again.

  I mounted Ulliam, and we rode on. My eyes were drawn with a horrible fascination to each half-hidden shape as we rode. We traveled on the burial mound of hundreds.

  We came to the border guard then. There were only four of them, but two shone magic to my eyes. And I knew that I shone as well. But there was nothing illegal about being a wizard; at least I didn't think there was. A female wizard might have been stopped, but healers do not shine like wizards. Celandine would seem merely a woman until she healed someone. When she laid hands, she glowed like the full moon.

  One man came from behind the wooden gate. He stood in front of me. "Well, you must be an ice elf."

  It was a rather rude way to begin, but I had been prepared for that. It was a killing insult in Varell, but I had been five years from there. It wasn't the first time someone had called me elf to my face. It would not be the last. "I am Bevhinn Ailir, and this is my wife, Celandine."

  His eyes turned to the healer, and he said, "Oh. She's a beauty." He walked over to her and put a hand on her knee, massaging it. Celandine glared at him.

  The hand began to creep up her thigh, and she yanked her horse backward. It bumped the man, and he backed away smiling. He said, "You could make money off this one. She would bring a fair price every night you stay in our country."

  "She is a wife, not a whore."

  He shrugged. "There isn't that much difference, now, is there?"

  "There is where I come from."

  "Yes, the Varellians and their reverence for females. You and your queen."

  I had had about enough of this. "Can we pass, or must we stand here and be insulted?"

  He frowned at that and said, "I'd keep that fancy armor hidden. There are those who would take it from you."

  I smiled at him, forcing him to stare into my alien eyes. "It is good armor, but surely men aren't eager to die for a suit of armor they would never fit into."

  He returned the smile and said, "I would love to see one of your Varellian women. You're pretty enough to eat yourself."

  I said, voice low, "Your two friends over there can tell you I'm a wizard. And this wizard has grown very tired of you." I flexed a hand for dramatic emphasis, and he backed away. Truth was, an earth-witch wasn't big on instant magic, but they didn't know that. With my power tied to the spring, I sparkled like a sorcerer. It was a good time of year to bluff.

  The gate opened, and he called after us, "May you run afoul of a black healer."

  I answered back over my shoulder, "And may the next wizard you torment blow your head off."

  Forest stretched on either side of the road. The birds and beasts didn't know they had crossed a border. In truth, it looked much like the wild lands where we had spent the winter, except for the road.

  Farmland opened on either side of the road, fighting back the trees; the smell of fresh-plowed earth was strong and good. The soil was a rich black. I felt an urge to crumble the dirt in my hands and feel its growing power, but I resisted. Ulliam danced nervously under me.

  Forest returned, hugging each side of the road. But no blade of grass, no wildflower dared to
encroach upon the black road. It was late in the day when we heard a loud cracking noise, like a cannonball striking wood. The horses pranced in fright, and even Ulliam shivered under me. There was a tearing sound, as if the earth itself were being pulled apart. We rode cautiously toward the sounds.

  A wide path had been freshly cleared from the forest. Trees with jagged trunks lay in heaps on their sides. Stumps lay in a second heap, earth-covered roots bare to the sky. Stooping to pull another great stump from the ground was a demon. His skin was night-black. Muscles bulged along his back and arms. His ribbed bat ears curled tight with his effort as he strained upward. The roots ripped free of the earth. He put the stump in the pile with the rest. He caught sight of us on the road, and we all stared at each other. A silver necklace glittered round his neck. The cold eye of a diamond the size of a hen's egg winked out from it. From here it glowed with magic.

  Celandine looked at me. Was this our demon's help, or was the token inside the demon? I hoped it wasn't the latter. I didn't see myself slitting the gullet of a greater demon.

  A man stepped out of the trees. He was thin, and a scraggly beard edged his pointed chin. He said, "Be on your way. You're distracting him."

  "I am sorry, good farmer, but I have never seen a greater demon before."

  A look of incredulity passed over his face. "You swear by Loth's bloody talons that you've never seen a greater demon?"

  "I swear."

  He smiled then, friendly. "Well, you have started out with a greater demon named Krakus. He's been ensorcelled to the farmers hereabout for over fifty years. He's cleared most of the fields along this road."

  I stared at the demon, and there was something in his smooth yellow eyes that said hatred. A hatred deeper than anything I could feel.

  "Good farmer, are you never afraid of him breaking free?"

  "No, the enchantment on him is strong enough."

  "What would happen if he ever was freed?"

  The farmer looked back at the demon, the smile gone. "Why, he'd kill me and everyone else he'd worked for."

  "Where do you keep the demon when he's not working? Does he go back to the pits from which he came?"

  The man found the question very funny. "Why, you don't know anything about demons. An ensorcelled demon can't leave the place he's been put, just can't leave. We keep him chained at night near where he's working."

  I shivered under the gaze of those sullen yellow eyes. "I hope you keep a guard on him at night, farmer."

  "Oh we do, but nothing to worry about. He'll still be pulling stumps fifty years from now." The farmer walked back into the cleared area and slapped the demon lightly on the arm. "No, we couldn't lose such a good worker. Get back to work, Krakus." The demon turned without a word or a snarl and stood before a full-grown tree. With one gesture and a flash of sorcery he felled the tree, blasting it off a few feet above the ground. The farmer went to sit in the sunshine. Our interview was over.

  Celandine and I rode in silence for a short time, then she asked, "Do you think that is the demon who will help us?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know. Then what are we doing here? What good is prophecy if you don't know what it means?"

  "None, I suppose."

  "Then what are we risking ourselves for?"

  I grabbed the reins of her horse and said, "The only way to understand prophecy is to do what it says. Now stop sniveling."

  She glared at me but kept her peace. Her fear kept her silent more than I did.

  TWILIGHT had fallen, spreading a blue haze across the trees. An inn sat in a small clearing. In the dim light I made out a sign. It had a crude drawing of the demon we had just seen, and words proclaimed it the Black Demon Inn. Krakus had been here a long time.

  I tied the horses up outside, and we entered. The place smelled stale. The windows were open, and the spring wind blew through the place, but it would take weeks for the sourness of winter to be blown away. When my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I saw the place was almost empty.

  Only three of the small scarred tables were in use. A group of five farmers sat drinking and laughing. Two men in chain mail sat eating at another table. Their swords were out on the table beside them, sheathed. And a young man dressed all in black sat at the last table near the stairs. A young girl no more than twelve sat with him. Her eyes were downcast, and she was obviously afraid.

  Celandine stiffened beside me. She had recognized the robes of a healer, a black healer. The host came over to us, smiling, "And how may I help you this night, travelers?"

  "Food, stabling for the horses, and a room for the night."

  "One gold ducat will get you all you desire." His leer was obvious. I looked blankly at him. He explained patiently, "All our guests have the choice of three fair ladies to keep them company for a time."

  "No, thank you. My wife and I are quite fine, alone."

  He shrugged. "As you wish, but if I were you I'd have my wife pull up her hood. And have her lower her eyes."

  "She is fine as she is."

  He shrugged again. "Just trying to help. The stables are to the left. My boy will see to them. When you return, I will have your dinners waiting."

  We went out and led the horses and Ulliam to the stables. They were cramped, and a dirty boy of about ten scuttled up to take the horses. He did not try to take Ulliam, and I did not offer. While he brushed down the horses, I tended the unicorn. The boy was dirty and perhaps not quite bright, but he brushed the horses well, and the feed he gave them was good quality.

  We took a small table near the wall so I could watch the room. It was then that I noticed a small demon, barely three feet high, cleaning tables. He balanced the dirty dishes above his head with impossibly long arms. He was a bright green in color and scaled rather than skin-covered. Celandine and I stared after him as he disappeared into the back.

  She stared at me, and I shrugged. In the end it would be Celandine who said what the token was and where it was. My job was just to help her get it.

  The little demon also brought our food. Neither of us spoke as it put down bowls of stew, thick slices of brown bread, and tankards of some liquid. He seemed accustomed to silence and raced back through the tables with his empty tray.

  The stew was hot, the meat and vegetables a little stringy, but it had been a hard winter. Stores were running low everywhere, but the bread was fresh and good. One of the farmers I had noticed earlier came to stand beside us. He bumped into our table, unsteady on his feet. He smelled of beer. "Is this pretty thing your wife, Varellian?"

  "Yes."

  "How much for a night with her?"

  I stared at him a moment, not sure I had understood. "I said she is my wife."

  "I heard you. How much for the night?"

  "We are new to Lolth and do not understand all the customs. Are you saying that Loltuns sell their wives for money, like whores?"

  "You brought her in here, with her face showing. She looked at every man in the place, bold as a basilisk. What else would you be doing but selling?"

  I understood the host's warning now, but it was too late. "We are not Loltun, and I am not selling my wife."

  He scowled at that. "The other three women are busy, and I don't go near a black healer. I have need of a woman, and she is the only one available."

  "You'll have to wait then."

  "Loltun men do not wait for women." He grabbed at Celandine surprisingly fast and jerked her to her feet.

  My sword was out before I had time to think. "Let her go, or die."

  The sight of naked steel seemed to catch his attention. He let go of her, and she sank back into her seat. The man stared at the end of my sword, and finally said, "Well, if you don't want to sell, then have her keep her eyes to herself. You could get a man killed over a misunderstanding like this."

  I said nothing as he shuffled back to his companions. Celandine pulled up her hood without being asked. I resheathed my sword, and we ate in silence. But there was another sce
ne taking place.

  The black healer and his girl were having a fight of sorts. He would touch her and then laugh, and she would scream. And then he would touch her again and laugh. I asked Celandine, "What is he doing?"

  She swallowed. "I think he is hurting the girl and then healing her."

  "To what purpose?"

  "Many black healers are insane. They pervert their healing power into harm, and it contaminates them."

  The girl was pretty. She had long yellow hair and light eyes that I guessed were blue, but couldn't be sure at this distance. Her body had just begun to swell to womanhood, but she was still more child than woman. A bleeding scratch appeared on her cheek. He touched it, and the cut vanished.

  "How did that cut appear? He didn't touch her."

  "He is a very powerful black healer. He has a gift similar to sorcery."

  "As you have."

  She nodded. "As I have, but I must not use it again on peril of my soul."

  That was what the quest was all about. The token, whatever it was, would cleanse the healer's soul of the stain of black healing.

  The girl screamed, a full-blown shriek. She stood, knocking her chair backward. Even in the dim light I could see the open sores on her arm.

  Celandine started to rise, and I gripped her arm. It was automatic for her to help the sick, but not here. My grip seemed to remind her of her fear, and she sat down.

  I had seen this sudden bravery many times. It came from her healing. She was afraid of so many things. But her healing made her different. I had seen her risk death to save a drowning child. Many times she had walked among bandits to heal their sick. It was as if all her strength, all her bravery, went to healing, and there was none left for Celandine herself.

  The black healer caught the girl-child. She struggled as he clutched the diseased arm. She broke away from him and stared at the now-healed arm. He laughed.

  The host went up to him, and his voice carried in the sudden silence. "Sir, we are honored at your business, but your lady friend is upsetting the other guests. Would it please the most honorable healer if he would take her up to his room?" The man had bowed low but never took his eyes off the healer.

  What would the host do if the healer moved to touch him? The healer laughed again. "You should be honored that I come to this piss hole of an inn. I am of the highest rank of healer. I talk to your Gods for you. I face them when you cower in fear." He was addressing the entire room now. "I hold the power that pacifies the Gods themselves. I consort with the demons of the pit. I do things that would crack your minds like brittle kindling." And he walked over to the now-quiet farmers. "But you turn away from me when I show power. Oh, heal me, please, heal me. But then leave us alone. That's how it is."