The Curse Giver

by Dora Machado

  Instinctually, she understood the difference between the Strength and the common concept of strength right away. Elfu wasn’t talking about what most people meant when they talked about being strong, but rather about a new notion, a different type of Strength, a unique and remarkable quality that required distinction and understanding.

  She squeezed Elfu’s hands before she let go. “This Strength you talk about,” she said. “Can you tell me more about it?”

  “At last, yes,” Elfu said, visibly relieved, “of that I can speak.”

  “Why can you speak of it now but not before?”

  Elfu looked at her as if it was the silliest question she had ever asked. “Of the Strength I can’t speak unless you and only you ask.”

  “So if I had asked this before—”

  “I can’t refuse you any answers I may have.”

  A twinge of exasperation joined the tangled emotions coursing through Lusielle. Elfu should have told her this before. But how could he give her any answers if she hadn’t asked the right questions?

  It was a lot to take in, but Lusielle was ready to ask her questions now.

  “This Strength you talk about,” she said. “Is it the healing in my remedies?”

  “It can be,” Elfu said, “but it doesn’t have to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the old days, odd ones practiced all kinds of gifts,” Elfu explained in his accented voice. “Healers, story tellers, teachers, builders, warriors, rulers, farmers, anybody of the odd line was free to realize their Strength.”

  “What exactly is the Strength?”

  “The Strength is the special power that the Odd God grants to his children,” Elfu said. “It’s the vessel that holds the gifts.”

  “What gifts?”

  “Reason, knowledge and awareness.”

  Lusielle scratched her head. “I don’t think I follow.”

  “Elfu will show you.” He dug up his amulet from beneath his shirt and displayed it for Lusielle.

  “This amulet is the symbol of the Odd God’s protection.” He tapped the opaque crystal in the middle of the amulet. “This represents the Odd God himself, the darkness in him, the mystery that shields the faceless one.” His long fingernail rimmed the amulet’s oval edging. “This is the Strength.” He pointed at the three wavering lines coming together at the top. “These are the gifts; they compose the Strength just as the Strength comprises the gifts.”

  Lusielle examined the amulet. “What’s the purpose of the gifts?”

  “How can I say it?” Elfu struggled to find the right words. “The gifts grant the odd ones the… chance—yes, the opportunity—to find and develop power through the Strength.”

  “Is that why people feared them?” she said, letting go of the amulet.

  “People fear what they can’t easily achieve for themselves.”

  How right Elfu was.

  “The Strength,” Lusielle said. “How does it work?

  “It creates fusion.”

  “What do you mean, ‘fusion’?”

  “I can’t explain,” Elfu said. “It’s a notion of faith, the Odd God’s sacred mystery.”

  Faith. Mystery. These were words unfamiliar to Lusielle, frightening in so many ways and yet also enticing.

  “How does the Strength manifest itself?” she asked.

  Elfu flashed his crooked teeth. “In many, many ways—but confidence is the easiest to see.”

  “And you say that somehow I have this Strength?”

  “You do,” he said as if he didn’t have any doubts.

  Lusielle wasn’t so sure. “I don’t feel very confident.”

  “And yet you are,” Elfu said. “When you mix your remedies. When you study ingredients. When you help the sick.”

  “Any good remedy mixer can do all those things.”

  “But you get results that others don’t.”

  That was true. Her success rate was better than other mixers and healers that she knew about.

  “Is the Strength the reason why I’ve always felt this need to help others?” she asked.

  Elfu shrugged. “The Odd God’s realm is not suitable for comprehension. Who knows? Perhaps you’re just more compassionate? More insightful?”

  Lusielle thought of something else. “Do you think that’s why I like him so?”

  “Who?”

  “Bren.”

  “You think that your—er—attachment to that Laonian thug is of the odd nature?”

  “The attraction is rather strong,” Lusielle said. “The force that binds me to him seems a lot like the Odd God, dark and mysterious.”

  Elfu scoffed. “It would certainly feel like that. To you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Aponte.”

  “What about Aponte?”

  “He tried to stomp it out.”

  “Stomp what out?”

  “The possibilities in you.”

  “What possibilities?”

  “The possibilities to trust and be trusted,” he said, “to give and take, care and be cared for. Your attachment to the Laonian is not odd. It’s just reckless.”

  The tumult in her head turned to chaos. She wasn’t making any progress.

  Focus. How was she going to help Bren if the mere notion of him muddled her logic?

  “My mother’s book,” she said. “It isn’t an average book. It’s an instrument of her practice.”

  “Yes?”

  “Other than the parchment being very fine, is there something special about it?”

  “Of their arts, the odd ones spoke to no one.”

  “I saw the book in the vision, when I was under the airs,” Lusielle said. “I know it’s somehow important. I wish I had the time to go back and retrieve it from the shop.”

  “You never got the chance to go back for it.” Elfu unknotted his little satchel and pulled out a small parcel. “But I did.”

  Lusielle couldn’t believe her eyes. Her mother’s little book emerged out of multiple layers of carefully wrapped skins. The weathered leather covers were familiar to her hands and dear to her heart. “H-how?”

  “Detour,” Elfu said. “When you sent me to find the old one, Hato.”

  Detour? Many leagues stood between Bovair and the store and yet Elfu had managed to race there and still find the Lord Hato and the Twenty with utmost speed. “But the river … it should have ruined it—”

  “I wrapped it,” he said. “All my trouble was for naught.”

  Elfu dipped his hand in the nearby basin and sprinkled water over the cover. Before Lusielle’s befuddled eyes, the drops disappeared, leaving the book as dry as it had been before.

  “It—it doesn’t get wet?”

  “So it would appear.”

  Lusielle clutched the little book against her breast. She had read it from cover to cover many times over, but never knowing what she knew now. She thought about her mother, about her vision.

  What’s the unholy, forbidden burden that turns the just into outlaw, robs the blessed from grace and grinds the dutiful down to dust? You can never see it, but you can sense it.

  Lusielle had felt there was something different about Bren from the time she first saw him. She had sensed that he was a tormented man. Even her lips had tingled with a warning when he kissed her. Was the Odd God’s Strength capable of enhancing her perception to sense what others couldn’t see?

  Another question confounded her. “Why will no one speak of the plight affecting Bren?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? How?”

  “We—Neverus—we never speak of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a powerful evil.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re calling on a scourge that once begun cannot be contained,” Elfu said haltingly. “A blight capable of total destruction. Highborn fear it for good reason. Even Teos fears it.”

  Elfu was right again. Teos feared the very notion of curse
s. Why else would Teos proscribe them with such zeal? And look at the Lord of Laonia. He was a most capable man, yet not even the house of Uras with all of its resources has been able to defeat the powerful evil.

  “I understand it’s a terrible malady, but why can’t we say the word?”

  “It can build a connection,” Elfu said. “When you speak it, you run a high risk of alerting it as to your whereabouts.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “The word.” Elfu gripped his amulet with renewed resolve. “It calls it.”

  “Who?”

  Elfu whispered so softly that Lusielle could hardly hear him. “The curse giver.”

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  BREN STARED FROM HATO TO LAMBAGE, unable to believe what Hato’s prized recruit was telling him. “I don’t understand,” Bren said. “The mark has always been scarce and hard to find.”

  “Not anymore,” Lambage said, blinking nervously. “After I received my lord Hato’s instructions, I was able to locate some twenty-three instances of the mark.”

  “Twenty-three branded women in just a few weeks?” Bren stared. “How’s that possible? We haven’t found that many in four years!”

  “I know, my lord.” Lambage’s bony hands flopped like fluttering wings. “I found it difficult to believe myself. Based on my lord Hato’s training, I was able to determine that at least twenty of those occurrences were faked.”

  “Faked?” Hato said. “How?”

  “Some were the work of cheap ink artists. The better attempts were the work of Ali the Craftsman. We’ve seen some fakes before, but never this many and at the same time. During interrogation, some of the women admitted to receiving coin in exchange for submitting to the procedure.”

  “Coin from whom?” Bren asked.

  “Strangers, for the most part,” Lambage said. “See, my lord, most of the women we found were in the trade. They do far more troubling deeds for coin and they don’t ask questions.”

  “Are you saying that someone has gone to the trouble of planting these fake brands?”

  “There’s always been a little of that, but now it appears that someone is systematically crowding the field on purpose, to confuse us, to make it more difficult for us to locate the right woman. If my experience during the last few days is any indication, they are succeeding.”

  Bren cursed under his breath. They didn’t need any more trouble added to the mix. Whoever was doing this was playing to win. “What about those three women you brought with you?”

  “I couldn’t eliminate those three as possibilities with my means, my lord. Their marks may be real. Besides ….”

  “What?”

  “These are not whores, my lord. They’re not even baseborn. They’re highborn. All three of them.”

  Bren felt like puking on the floor. Three credible brands, all found at about the same time, all found on wealthy highborn?

  The gods must be in a joking mood.

  How could it be? Was he supposed to kill not one, not two, but three women at the same time?

  “We’ll test them again,” Hato said. “My tests are more conclusive than Lambage’s.”

  “Your tests hurt,” Bren pointed out.

  “Do we have any other choice, my lord?”

  The screech struck him without warning. The pain and the sound were one and the same. Bren’s head throbbed with the blare. His muscles knotted, his vision failed, his eyes watered. He wanted to die. Aye, those women would be a lot better off if he died. He wanted the ague to crush his skull and free him from the curse. Instead, he motioned for Lambage to leave the room.

  As soon as he was gone, Bren buried his head in the berth and clamped down on a mouthful of blankets.

  “Is it the ague again?” Hato’s voice tortured his ears. “What can I do?”

  “Go test them,” Bren rasped. “I’ll … come … afterwards.”

  “I can’t leave you alone.”

  “Keep the barge moving … downriver.” Bren groaned. “Go.”

  Hato’s steps hurt his ears. The click of the door struck him like a bat to the head. He inhaled an agonizing breath. Fumbling with the flask, he managed a sip of the tonic. His throat ached as if he were swallowing blades. He forced himself to breathe even though his body wanted to quit.

  The ague be damned. He wasn’t going to go mad before his time like his brother Harald. He would not give up until Laonia’s future was assured. He would not die leaving Lusielle in Khalia’s hands. He dug his nails in the back of his skull and settled down to fight this latest attack.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  THE PRIMAL FEAR LUSIELLE SPOTTED IN Elfu’s eyes sent shudders down her spine. In all her life, she had never seen her unflappable companion as terrified as he was now. Elfu was one of the bravest men she knew. He had endured over a half a century of danger. He had survived Riva’s cruel persecutions. He had dared the flames to save her life when the inn burned down, and faced the perils of the last few weeks undaunted. It was odd to see him cowering at the mere mention of an ancient mythical creature.

  “Elfu,” she said. “I need to know. What exactly is a curse giver?”

  “I rather we don’t speak of it,” he said, holding on to his amulet.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury.”

  “It’s as the name suggests, a dark and frightening creature.”

  “What kind of creature is it?”

  “A spawn of the gods, they say.” His knuckled blanched around the amulet. “A weapon of the divine wars.”

  “Is it one, or are there many?”

  “In the old times, there were said to be many. Now, well.” He shook his head. “Nobody knows how many survived.”

  “Is it of this realm?”

  “It must wander this realm if it can hear us when we call its name.”

  “How does it do what it does?”

  “It has never been explained.”

  “How did you learn about it?”

  “When Carfu and I were young,” he said, “we trained as Neverus in the lands beyond the Wilds. They spoke about this creature, but only a little, because odd knowledge is dangerous to those who are not born to master the arts.”

  “What did they teach you?”

  “We were told never to allow it to come close to our wards,” he said. “It has a particular violent loathing for practitioners of the odd arts.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, mistress.”

  “How are you supposed to protect your wards from the creature if it can hear you when you don’t see it?”

  “Ah, that.” He clutched his amulet. “The amulet will alert the wearer if the creature is listening.”

  “How?”

  “The crystal darkens when the creature is listening.”

  “Have you ever seen it work?”

  “No, but we were told that in the old times, many were saved by amulets such as these.”

  “Fascinating,” Lusielle said. “But how can a creature who might be thousands of leagues away listen to our conversations?”

  “Water.”

  “Water?”

  “They say the creature can straddle space through its favorite medium, water.”

  “Has anybody ever proven that theory?”

  “No mistress,” Elfu said. “The creature is shrewd. It shies from Neverus and oddities. Nobody has seen it in recent times. But long ago, when we were training, no water was allowed in the hallowed chamber. Not even a wash basin or a glass was allowed within the protected walls so that the creature couldn’t sense us.”

  No wonder her mother’s little book was protected against water. It was a most pervasive medium. If everything that Elfu believed was true, this creature was shaping up to be an unbeatable adversary. “Is there a way to destroy it?”

  Elfu’s chest puffed up. “Do you think we would fear it so much if we knew that?”

  “Fair enough,” Lusielle said. “Can it be stopped, slowed or trapped?”
/>   “You want to avoid it at all cost, flee if you see it.”

  “But what if a Neverus had to face it? What did they tell you to do in that case?”

  “There was a very old teacher.” Elfu squinted, trying to remember. “He taught that to repel an attack, one must first, identify the creature’s weapon and second, control its weapon. But he admitted that there had never been a documented account where the creature actually held a weapon.”

  “All this time I thought you and Carfu took turns wearing that amulet to keep the evil spirits away.”

  “It’s a protective charm and whoever was with you got to wear it.” He slipped the leather cord over his head and handed the amulet to her. “For you.”

  “But it’s yours.”

  “Your mother gave it to us and now that you know about the Strength, we must give it to you,” Elfu said. “Mistress, please. You must always wear it.”

  Lusielle hesitated. She finally donned the charm, if only to please Elfu. It felt strange and warm against her skin.

  “All right,” she said. “What can you tell me about what the creature does? Is it a spell? A hex? An ancient incantation of some sort?”

  “Of that, we were told nothing.”

  “How is it done? Why is it done? How can it be defused?”

  “We were never meant to know those things.”

  “Can the creature be defeated?”

  “Not by any means we know,” Elfu said. “We were told they are long-life traders and stronger than any other being walking the realm.”

  “Long-life traders?”

  “I don’t know what it means.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me understand it better?”

  “I’m sorry, mistress, I’ve told you everything I know and, to be honest, I’m glad that’s all of the terror I know.”

  “Why?” Lusielle asked.

  “Because evil like that has no place in this realm,” Elfu said knowingly, “not even among the Odd God’s mysteries.”

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  HATO WAITED UNTIL THE WOMAN’S SNIVELING subsided before gesturing for Lambage to mix the powders. The water hissed when Lambage dropped three spoonfuls of purple dust into the bowl, filling the hull with a piquant scent. The powders had been fair Harald’s last achievement before his death.