The Witch Doctor

by Christopher Stasheff

  There was no room for anger now; my whole being was filled with fear, horrible fear that the torturer would do that again, and I whimpered, "Please... please..."

  "Yes, it does please me." Suettay chuckled. "And will please me for all of this day, and part of this night, I doubt not." Suddenly, her eyes blazed, and her whole countenance contorted. "Fool! To defy my will! Now will you learn the fate that befalls those who oppose Suettay! Now will you learn what it is to die in torment!"

  She motioned, and pain lanced through my hands. I screamed; then, as the pain dimmed, the thought fleeted through my mind that at least I didn't have any major sins on my conscience at the moment, so I'd die Heaven-bound...

  The realization blossomed like a flower, even through the pain, and I had no doubts as to where it had come from. By myself, I wouldn't even have thought of those terms, and if I had, I would have thought that, because I wasn't holier-than-thou, I couldn't have been good. But the inspiration came, and I realized that, yes, I was in a state of grace at the moment—not perfect, but I'd been doing more good works than bad—enough so that Satan had no power over me. That meant Suettay could only control me with physical force; as far as magic went, her spells were by no means unbeatable.

  If I could only find the right one. And if I could just get it out of my mouth.

  But Suettay saw the hope rising in my face, and screamed, "Lance him!"

  Pain bit through my thumbs again. This time, though, I knew it was coming, and I could grit my teeth and ride it out. I held tight to the thought of defense. My mind searched frantically through the verses I knew, rejecting anything the queen might expect, seizing the least likely:

  "You get a good spadesman

  To plant a small tradesman

  (First take off his boots with a boot tree),

  And his feet will take root,

  And his fingers will shoot,

  And they'll blossom and bud like a fruit tree!"

  The torturer cried out in alarm as invisible hands wrenched off his boots. A block of stone flipped itself out of the floor, and the unseen hands jammed the torturer into the dirt beneath. Then he howled with pain and fright as his arms stretched out like tree limbs. His fingers elongated like little branches, the tips bulging into buds that sprang open into flowers.

  My friends shouted with delight, and the apprentices shrank back with a moan.

  "Mercy!" the torturer cried. "Mercy!"

  "You're welcome," I muttered. I wasn't thinking too clearly, what with all the pain.

  Suettay paled, falling back a pace. I started to flounder up off the torture table, though, and the queen snapped out of her shock. "Guards! Seize him!"

  But all of a sudden, the guards were reluctant, and it gave me time to climb to my feet, searching frantically for another verse.

  "Will you not seize him?" the queen ranted. "Must I turn you all into flaming brands?"

  The soldiers paled and started forward.

  I decided to stay with Gilbert & Sullivan.

  "If you want a proud foe to make tracks,

  If you'd melt a cruel monarch in wax,

  You've but to call in

  The old resident jinn,

  From Seventy Simmery Axe!"

  An explosion of expanding air rocked the chamber, and there it was, a full-fledged Arabian jinn, complete with turban and beard. "Your command, master?"

  The companions and guards both stared, and somebody made a sick moan—maybe it was Suettay.

  "More like a client, actually," I clarified, remembering what one tradition said happened to jinn's masters. "I'd like you to clear the guards and torturers out of this chamber, banish them to some oasis in the nearest desert. But not too lush an oasis," I added, remembering what the torturers had done to me.

  "Your wish is my command." The jinn raised his hands...

  And Suettay got her mouth working. Her hands twitched through the air as she recited some incomprehensible syllables—incomprehensible to me, but apparently something understood them somewhere, because when the jinn cried aloud some ancient syllables of his own and threw his hands up, the whirlwind that sprang up just as quickly died down.

  The jinn stared, unbelieving, then suddenly gasped and spat out a string of words, making mystic passes all around himself. His form wavered and thinned, then solidified again.

  Suettay grinned, chanting again as her hands stirred the air.

  "I cannot," the jinn gasped. "The sorceress moves against me! 'Tis all I can do to fend off her magics!"

  But I had taken time for a thinking break, and chanted,

  "And the might of the Gentile,

  Unsmote by the sword,

  Hath melted like snow

  In the glance of the Lord!"

  The guards cried out as a huge, invisible hand slammed them against the wall. They crumpled to the floor, out cold.

  "I cannot prevail," the jinn gasped. "I can at best withhold her might!"

  "You're doing just fine," I assured him. "While you're holding her off, I'm free to work on her henchmen. Now, let's see... a verse about torturers..."

  Suettay's face twisted, and she snarled, "Seize her!"

  The apprentice torturers leapt to Angelique's body.

  Frisson and Gilbert struggled against their bonds, but Suettay snapped, "Hold! Move, and her spirit dies!"

  I whirled to her, staring. She was holding a corked bottle over her head—and it looked to be made of very thin glass.

  One of the torturers, hearing, whisked out a knife and held it to the throat of Angelique's body.

  "So," I said. "When your men knocked me out, you managed to compel her ghost into a bottle."

  "Why, how quickly you understand!" Suettay crooned.

  "So break it." I frowned. "All you'll do is free her ghost again."

  "Nay, for I'll scream the spell as I do—and as the lady comes out from the flask, her ghost will leap to her body. Look at it! The boot is on!"

  I whirled to look. Sure enough, the iron boot was clamped around one of Angelique's feet, and there were thumbscrews on each hand. I knew, with a sick certainty, that they had been there ever since she'd died. If her ghost went back in there, and the body came alive again, it would be in instant agony.

  But the explanation had taken time from Suettay's spells, and the jinn shouted what sounded like an oath. A huge scimitar appeared in midair, slicing down at Suettay. The queen answered with a curse, and the huge blade winked out just before it hit her. She broke out in a sweat and snapped, "Banish him, Wizard, or the woman lives!"

  I was in no shape to appreciate the irony.

  Neither was the jinn; he was chanting again. Suettay's face reddened, and her hands sawed the air furiously; she managed to croak a verse...

  The torturer pricked, and a drop of blood welled up on Angelique's pale throat. Frisson groaned, and Gilbert cried out in dismay.

  I capitulated. "Thanks, O Jinn—but I'm afraid we're outflanked. Back to the place of your people, now."

  The jinn cried out in relief and delight, and disappeared.

  Suettay wiped her forehead with a shaking hand, drew a deep breath, and forced a grin. "Now, Wizard. I believe we understand our positions."

  "Not quite." My eyes narrowed. "If that slab of beef harms a hair on her head, I'll turn him into a turnip."

  The torturer looked up, appalled.

  "I think not," Suettay purred, "while I can prevent it."

  "True. First, I'll turn you into a pig. Not that it will take much."

  Frisson crowed his approval, then caught himself, eyeing the queen fearfully.

  Suettay reddened, and her eyes narrowed. "Attempt it, and she will wake into agony while you chant."

  "Not if the torturer knows you'll gobble him up the next minute—or do you really think you'd be able to resist the temptation? You're not too good at that, you know."

  "I think I shall still be as I am, and you shall be a toad!"

  I raised my hands, ready to gesture. "Ready
to try it? On the count of three..."

  "Be still!" Suettay watched me with narrowed eyes. Beyond her, I saw Frisson's abstracted gaze, and knew I could count on magical help from an unexpected quarter. On the other hand, I wasn't sure what the effects of that help would be—if inspiration struck, he was apt to forget practicalities.

  "You prevaricate," the sorceress guessed, "for you would not chance the woman's life."

  I said slowly, "Not if there's a way to guarantee her safety, and that of my friends, no. Trouble is, I don't see any such way."

  "There is one," Suettay said, with a leer. "Ally yourself with myself and with evil, and the maid shall go free."

  I lay rigid with shock—but beside me, Gilbert called out, "Nay, Master Saul! She would smite the lass nonetheless!"

  "I would not," Suettay retorted, "for if I did, the wizard might turn against me."

  "That... makes sense," I said slowly.

  "Surely you are not tempted!" Frisson cried.

  "Tempted, sure." I shrugged. "Anybody can be tempted, right? Can't avoid that. Giving in to it is another matter... but yes, I am tempted."

  "Tempted most shrewdly." Suettay's leer broadened. "Come, Wizard! Swear allegiance to me and to Satan, and the soul of the lass shall go free. Nay, further—I'll remove the spell that keeps her body alive, so that her soul may fly to Heaven."

  It was a good deal, and it was very tempting; I loved Angelique dearly, and sending her to eternal bliss would have made her very happy. Unfortunately, it would also have made me very sad. I finally admitted to myself just how thoroughly I'd fallen in love with her, and how much I wanted her with me. With me, in body as well as spirit, I might add—I might have been substantially in a state of grace, but I was no plaster saint. I wanted Angelique and I wanted her alive, well, and corporeal.

  But that was selfish.

  "No, Master Saul!" Gilbert cried. "You must not! Without you, we should all be—"

  Suettay nodded at a guard, who slapped Gilbert hard across the mouth, then stuffed a gag in.

  But he'd said enough. Without me, this whole complex of forces that was gathering to oust Suettay and clean up Allustria might falter and fail. I know that sounds conceited, but I didn't really know what my part in the whole scheme was—only that I was definitely a part of it, and if one part failed, all the rest probably would, too.

  But more importantly, Suettay still needed Angelique for that virgin sacrifice—and once I committed myself to the power of evil, I would be under her authority, and powerless to stop her.

  "He hesitates," Suettay snapped. "He is a fool, and will do us no good."

  The torturers rumbled agreement—of course—and Suettay stepped up to Angelique's body. She handed the flask to one of her henchmen. "Pull the cork when I bid you, and the spirit shall be sucked back into the clay." Then she began to weave a pattern of strange, vaguely obscene gestures over the corpse, chanting in that strange, eerie language.

  I had a sudden vision of that poor, gentle body coming alive, convulsing in pain, screaming in agony. "No, wait!"

  "Will you join me?"

  My heart twisted within me, and my whole body twisted with it. All the fears and horrors of the evil I'd seen flitted through my memory, and an intuitive impulse such as I'd never had surged through me, adding up to a panic of denial—but there lay Angelique's body, with her ghost ready to hand... "No."

  "Curses!" Suettay spat. "How strong is your love, then, if you will not sell your soul to save the maiden from pain?"

  That suddenly made everything clear, and I felt the peace of certainty flow back through me, for I realized that selling my soul would be the denial of love. Love is healing, love pulls the soul toward Heaven, because it's a tiny taste of Heaven—so if I sold my soul, dedicated it completely to evil, I'd be locking myself away from love. If I signed up with Suettay, I would no longer really be able to love Angelique.

  But I would still desire her—and what might I do to her then, with no conscience and no empathy?

  "No," I said. "If I sold my soul, then I'd be placing her completely in your power—there would be no one left to shield her."

  "A curse upon the spirit that has told you that!" Suettay snarled.

  I suddenly realized where all these inspirations had been coming from. "Won't work. He's curse-proof."

  Suettay's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll proffer you another bargain. Cease your hold on this world, and I shall let the girl's ghost go free."

  Panic again, at the thought of leaving Angelique, but the logic of it made me hesitate. Sure, if Suettay could augment her power by converting a wild card of a wizard to her side, it would make her that much stronger, and her enemies that much weaker—but if she couldn't subvert me, she could at least get rid of me. That would give her one less thing to worry about.

  A return to my own world was what I wanted anyway, right? Except that I was trying to find Matt—but I'd sure found out where he had gone, and there was no particular reason to think he wasn't alive and well. If I really wanted to find out, all I had to do was go back to my own world, find the parchment he had used, read whatever spell it contained, and it would take me to him. Nice double cross for Suettay, too.

  But what would happen to my friends in the meantime?

  I summoned all my nerve and said, "No."

  "That was my final kindness, fool!" Suettay screamed. "Why do you disdain it?"

  "Because," I said, "as soon as I'm out of the way, you'll go ahead and sacrifice Angelique anyway, then start in on my friends."

  "But you would have no knowledge of that! You would not care!"

  "Oh, I would care," I assured her, "very much."

  Her eyes narrowed to glitters of malice. "Then we shall remove all the sources of that care—by simple murder! I am loath to waste objects of pleasure in quick killing, but if it will speed you hence, I shall do it! Guards! Slay—"

  "No!" I shouted. "You kill them, and I'll hang on in this universe just to get revenge on you!"

  She broke off, looking up at me with a strange, malicious smile. " 'Tis tempting—for revenge is sinful, and in letting yourself be consumed with hatred and the desire for vengeance, you would succumb to the lure of evil, and be subsumed in it."

  My heart sank.

  "Sweet though that would be," she said regretfully, "it would be of no aid to me, myself... and might hinder me, in your rebellion."

  I saw my chance. "Yeah! And the sinfulness of my revenge might even be balanced by the good I did in getting rid of you!"

  " 'Tis even so." Her eyes were back to the nasty glitters again. "So it would seem that you must join me, or die."

  I felt my stomach drop down to the bottom of the shaft, but I set my jaw and said, "Death. Definitely death." And I tried to sneak in one more spell:

  "He took the Wine and blessed it,

  He blessed and broke the Bread..."

  "Enough!" Suettay screamed. "Silence him!"

  A hard fist backhanded me across the mouth. I saw stars, and wondered if I'd need a dentist or an orthodontist.

  "To the dungeons with them!" Suettay ranted. "The wench shall remain imprisoned in this flask, until I incorporate her to watch his final agonies! Let them rot in my most dreary cell, while I begin preparations for a revenge dealt in a manner that will most please my master!"

  Then I was running to try to keep from falling as the apprentice torturers hustled the three of us down the hallway and into a cell. My skin crawled with apprehension. Somehow, I didn't think the "master" Suettay had referred to was anyone human. I had a nasty, sneaking suspicion that I knew how high up in the nonhuman hierarchy that individual was—and what kind of revenge he would find most pleasing.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We landed sitting down—hard, and it hurt. The door boomed shut behind us.

  Oddly, my initial impression was one of peace. It was so nice and cool after the heat of the torture chamber, and the darkness was soothing, especially since it was relieved by the dim glow
through the little barred window in the door.

  My second impression was one of amazing satisfaction. I had put a long-term crimp in Suettay's plans; there was no telling how long the queen would be tied up trying to figure out a way to cancel my existence. Apparently I was an odd enough customer that she would have to do it carefully. For a moment, I was tempted to believe it was the overwhelming strength of my "spells," the legacy of my nearly-completed English major—but skepticism got the better of ego, and I realized that it probably had more to do with who had brought me into this cockamamie universe, than with me, myself.

  If I ever met that guy...

  I chopped off that line of thought as a new suspicion dawned. If I was such a delicate article, no wonder Suettay had tried to deal! Which raised the possibility that she might try to bargain again; I decided I'd better get busy figuring out a new set of counterspells. If she had any brains, she'd gag Frisson at the outset.

  Or kill him...

  I mumbled a quick charm to clear my head; I knew I couldn't concentrate through the pain. Then Gilbert swore, with loathing.

  "What's the matter?" All other concerns were instantly forgotten.

  "Something with warmth and fur did brush my thigh!"

  "Don't try to hit it if you can't see it!" I had a sinking certainty that I knew what it was.

  Then I heard a dry, high-pitched chuckle from the depths of the lightless hole.

  I froze and hissed, "Everybody stay still!" Then, aloud, "Who's there?"

  The chuckle came again, with a nasty edge to it.

  It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "I warn you, I'm a wizard—and the queen herself has just found out to her sorrow that I'm not without power even here, within the realm of evil! Answer! Who are you?"

  The chuckler was still. Then a rasping voice came out of the darkness. "Have you hurt the queen, then?"

  "Not really," I said, "but I do seem to have snafued her system."

  "I do not know that spell," the voice said. "Tell me, does it cause her humiliation?"