Thrice Bound

by Roberta Gellis

  He watched her avidly, his eyes widening and his head nodding with familiarity. "I know most of those," he said, "but never put together in that way, and there are terms I have never heard. Will you say them?"

  "Of course."

  It was so strange to fix her eyes on the symbols for the mage light separate from the mark that would place it where she desired it to be and the two marks that would permit it to move as she willed. The revelation she had had became clearer and a new notion seized her so hard that she almost tripped over the words, saying them one at a time, slowly. In slow response a misty spot formed, brightened, and drew together on her hand. Yehoraz drew in his breath. Hekate held out the light to him, pushed it off her hand onto his. It sat there, glowing. She muttered, "Thialuo psuz." The light went out.

  Yehoraz breathed heavily, staring into his hand. His brow was shiny with sweat.

  *He stinks of fear,* Kabeiros said.

  Hekate kept her face still, but she laughed in her mind. *I was suspicious of him. I never thought that he might be equally suspicious of me. What if that spell . . . ah . . . did some harm, bound him in some way. But he must know now it is harmless, not even hot in one's hand.*

  *Not yet,* Kabeiros said. *It might be something that seems innocent until he casts it himself. I wonder if he will gather the courage to try?*

  Almost before Kabeiros finished his thought, Yehoraz, still sweating, leaned over the table, fixed his gaze on the first symbol and pronounced the spell words. Since he had not extended his hand, the mist of light gathered slowly over the parchment and gradually formed a mage light. Yehoraz stared at it, pushed his hand under it, extended it toward Hekate, who took it into her hand willingly. Yehoraz began to smile, although he was still sweating.

  They then went through the other two parts of the spell in the same way. When Yehoraz had a mage light that would hang suspended over Hekate or Kabeiros, without either offering any protest, and move about the room, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  "Well," he said, finally wiping the sweat from his face, "we have both honored the first part of our bargain." He hesitated, looking at Hekate intently. "You are a strange woman, to part with such a spell so cheaply."

  Hekate grinned. "Because among my people it's a cheap spell. Even hedge witches can make a mage light. Oh, if they aren't strong, the light is faint and weak and moves very slowly, but to me the spell is nothing. I have many, many others. Teach me the language of Colchis, and we can more readily discuss what you would like to have as your pay, although I can pay part in true silver. I sold my ass, and I have some earnings from my work as an herb-wife."

  "You don't suspect me of evil? What if I cast a spell that makes you my slave or puts you into a trance so I can make you teach me everything you know?"

  "You will be dead," Hekate said, smiling sweetly. "I imagine that will release me from whatever you tried to do to me. Kabeiros will watch. He is . . . a little more than a dog. If you try to fasten a hook into my soul, he'll kill you. He can do it before your servants can get here to save you."

  "But the servants will kill him!"

  "I doubt it," Hekate said, still smiling. "Kabeiros is very hard to kill and I will be recovering quickly once you are dead and your will is gone. And if Kabeiros is hurt—" she hesitated, smiled again "—your servants will be very, very sorry for a very long time."

  Yehoraz shook his head. He looked younger now that his lips were no longer drawn thin and down and his eyes were wider open. He looked worried, too.

  "It was stupid to say that. I never intended you any harm, mistress, but I was surprised by your seeming trust and wished to warn you. I had not thought of Kabeiros. Most familiars are not so large and strong."

  "Kabeiros is not a familiar, not enslaved. You need not hope he will be glad to be released from my will. He is free and he has chosen to travel with me and be my protector."

  Yehoraz was beginning to sweat again. "This is not an easy spell. Will your dog understand if the spell hurts you that it is necessary?"

  "I hope so," Hekate said drily, "because it would do neither of us any good if the spell broke in the middle. I'll tell him the spell will hurt—" she did so.

  "Tell him . . ." Yehoraz looked from Hekate to the hound. The blank white eyes met his gaze steadily. He looked away. "As you say. As you say. Well, you should sit down in this chair—" he gestured to the side where a large chair padded with leather cushions stood.

  Hekate sat down. Kabeiros walked around until he could see her face clearly and also sat down. Yehoraz took a beaker and some flasks and jars from the shelves. He brought these over to Hekate and showed them to her. At her nod, he poured a drop of this and a bit of that into the empty beaker and mixed it all carefully together. When he was done, he chanted sharply for a few minutes, took the rod with which he had been mixing and marked Hekate's lips, ears, throat, and forehead repeatedly, until the small beaker was empty.

  Hekate took a chance and opened her senses as wide as she ever had. Nothing. Nothing at all . . . or was there the faintest tickle, no, not a tickle, a prickle, like the sensation one felt in an arm or a leg upon which one had slept, but fainter, much, much fainter . . . if it was there at all. Hekate deepened her search, and it was gone.

  Now Yehoraz put the rod and the beaker away and began to chant again. Hekate forgot her search for power. Her head began to ache, and ache, and ACHE. As the chanting went on, the sensation went far beyond an ache; long, thin skewers were piercing her head. She gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles whitening. She bit her lips, barely able to keep herself from screaming, but she had experienced this kind of learning before and Kabeiros was standing, growling softly.

  She waved at him to sit down again, being unable to use mind talk to reassure him. The chant rose in volume. Yehoraz gestured. Hekate gasped. He gestured again. Her eyes rolled up. She heard Kabeiros snarl and managed to gasp, "No. This must be." Yehoraz came close and touched her lips, her ears, her forehead, her throat, then clapped his hands together. The most piercing pain of all accompanied the sound, dragging a wail from her, and then the agony began to ebb. Hekate blinked and breathed out. Kabeiros sat down beside her again.

  Yehoraz wiped sweat from his face. "For a moment there, I thought your dog had lost patience and that I was a dead man."

  "He doesn't like to see me suffer, and I think he was a little annoyed because you didn't use a sleep spell. Of course, I wouldn't have . . ." Her voice trailed off and she began to laugh as she realized she had been speaking the language of Colchis in an instinctive response to Yehoraz's remark in that tongue. She rose from the chair, held out her hand. "I'm delighted, even if my head feels as if it will split open any moment."

  Yehoraz grinned. "Sorry about that. No one has ever been able to soften the reaction. Have I fulfilled my promise to teach you the language of Colchis?"

  "Indeed you have."

  "Then you owe me fifty-seven shekels of silver—or several new spells on which we can agree."

  "That was the bargain and I hold by it. I will even barter the equivalent of fifty-nine shekels—since that was what I said at first . . . but of your mercy, not tonight. I will come back any time you say . . ."

  "Oh, of course." The old man laughed but raised a brow. "You are stronger than anyone I know if you can even think about magic after that spell."

  Hekate was not comfortable with that remark or Yehoraz's expression. She sighed. "I can think about it. Whether I could perform it is another thing entirely. Shall I come tomorrow at the same time?"

  "If you are recovered and willing, I will be waiting eagerly."

  Porters Way and Sorcerers Road were both empty when Hekate and Kabeiros walked home. As they turned from one into the other, they could hear a confused noise farther down toward the docks. As quietly as possible they hurried up Sorcerers Road—Hekate had not tried to cast the look-by-me spell in her present state—and reached the Black Genie without trouble. The inn still had customers in the main room, but He
kate went directly to the stair.

  "Got it?" Rakefet called in Cholchis.

  Hekate closed her eyes and winced.

  "Up to bed with you," Batshira said. "Rakefet will bring your breakfast and let Kabeiros out in the morning if your head still hurts."

  Mumbled thanks were accepted with a wave of the hand, but what Hekate wanted far more than food or rest was to be alone with Kabeiros, who during the whole walk to the inn had been emanating a suppressed excitement. It was that, far more than her headache, that drove her to her room.

  *What is it?* she asked, wincing and putting a hand to her head as overused pathways in her brain responded with a sharp pang to use of mind speech.

  *Lightning,* Kabeiros said. *When Yehoraz cast that spell, I smelled lightning.*

  *Lightning?* Hekate repeated. *I didn't know lightning had a smell. But there was no lightning . . . except in my head.*

  Kabeiros whined in frustration. *I'm not sure it is a smell, exactly, but when those flashes in the sky come really close—and there's no rain—there is . . . I don't know . . . something in the air. But of course there was no lightning. We were inside in a deep cellar. I think it was the power he was using that I smelled. I don't know how to explain it better, but it was a too-dry smell that should have made my fur stand on end, sharp, prickling—*

  *Prickling!* Hekate exclaimed, and grabbed for her head again.

  The gesture was automatic; she was hardly aware of the pain that caused her to make it. She remembered sensing a prickling in the air when Yehoraz began his chanting. Slowly she lay down on the bed, her brow creased. When a soft scratch on the door heralded Rakefet with food, Hekate left the frown in place and closed her eyes. To her relief the girl did not speak, only put the pitcher and basin on the floor and the tray of food on the little table. When she left the room, Hekate sighed softly.

  *He draws his power from the air?* she thought to Kabeiros. *How can that be? The air is . . . too thin, too spread out . . . except when there is lightning.*

  *We have a hint and I think we have it right.* Kabeiros sounded excited. *He didn't use the blood of the earth even when he cast your spell for the mage light. He used his own power—and the spell worked! You will teach him other spells and we will watch him closely when he repeats them. I will smell higher, as if a scent is running in the wind. You should feel `higher.' Try to ignore the sense of the earth's blood. That's so strong to you that it's shutting out all other sensings.*

  CHAPTER 13

  It wasn't easy to shut out the sense of the earth's blood, and Hekate was rather frightened of trying. She feared that if she closed off the sense, she wouldn't be able to find the veins of the Mother again. That, at least, turned out to be a vain fear. When the desire to use the "invisible magic" became stronger than her fear, she did try. It was like being deafened, shut in a black room, suspended midair so she lost even the sense of touch. Terror dried her mouth and almost stopped her breathing, but the full sense of the Mother's touch resumed the moment she opened herself.

  The experiment having been made, the terror of being shut off from all warmth and power became less and she dared try in Yehoraz's presence. At first the sense of deprivation was too strong for any fainter power to make an impression. However, over the moons that followed while she taught Yehoraz spells, until he said the full price for the language of Colchis was paid, and then bartered spells with him, Hekate began to feel the source from which he drew his strength.

  It was, indeed, "higher." Some energy existed far above the clouds where there was a rushing about of she knew not what but it could be tapped. Patient trials made the source clearer; repeated effort showed her the source was not as diffuse as she had believed. There were running streams and eddies and even whirlpools of power that she could draw upon. Then one day when there was a violent thunderstorm, Hekate drew so much power she almost "burned" and had to send what she had received down into the earth. There the power ran at once into one of the veins of the earth. It was all one power, Hekate realized, just drawn in different ways.

  That removed the last of her fears about using that power. She had been a trifle concerned that the Mother would be angry, would think her ungrateful and greedy to be seeking more power than she already had. But it was one power, all the Mother's power . . . only Kabeiros assured her that when she drew from the air he could no longer smell her magic, only the faint, acrid sense of lightning.

  Although she had come to like and trust Yehoraz, Hekate never used the power of lightning in his presence and continued to assure him she could not feel his magic any more than he could feel hers. This was not completely a lie; all she ever felt was that very, very faint prickling, but now she saw the power those of Colchis used, saw the power as swirls and flows of color in the air around her and as sparkles and stabs of light when the power was used.

  Had Yehoraz needed to use the power of earth-blood, Hekate would have tried to teach him how to reach it because she felt she owed him a considerable debt. The need to teach him to make each spell anew so he could use it with his own power had taught her how to take apart spells she had used from childhood and for which she had lost the true structure. From that, she learned how to fold together other, greater spells.

  The freezing spell, for one, she could now invoke with two gestures and three short words. Now Hekate combined that with a technique her mother had taught her in secret when she was a child, to invest a spell in an inanimate object—an amulet, a precious stone, even a ceramic cup or saucer. Then the spell could be invoked from its container with a single common word, a key. She had delivered healing spells that way when she wanted to hide that she was using magic.

  In gratitude, she gave Yehoraz the freezing spell; she invested it in a very pretty piece of clear quartz that looked as if it contained snowflakes. All Yehoraz had to do was to touch the crystal and say the three invoking words. For an unTalented person, that would have been the end of the spell, for the power with which Hekate had invested it would be drained. However Yehoraz was a sorcerer; having frozen and released one of his servants, he attempted to recharge the crystal by feeding it lightning power. To Hekate's delight, the spell worked perfectly a second time. Yehoraz stared at the crystal and then began to weep.

  "Dear Mother," Hekate cried, "what have I done wrong? How have I hurt you? You are my friend. I would not harm you for the world!"

  "No harm. No harm." The old man patted her shoulder. "But you are ten years too late." He was silent, caressing the stone. Then he said in a rush, "If you had come with this ten years ago, I would still be living in a lavish house two doors down from the palace gate. I angered Medea, for I would not do what she desired, and before I could explain why, she had blasted me. I almost died, and when I recovered, my great spells would not work."

  "I am very sorry," Hekate said, lips thinning. This Medea seemed to be another Perses.

  "No. No. Those were tears of gratitude. I'm not sorry at all. I was just thinking how merciful are the gods. I would have used this spell if I had it, and perhaps far worse would have befallen me. Because she blasted me, I came here and did small magics for small people. And I became free. For the first time since I came from my school, I wasn't afraid. Living near and serving the court was spiritual death. I became hard and cruel. I found myself looking at every other sorcerer who should be my friend, as if I expected to be robbed or killed. No! I would not go back, but the spell will be useful . . . very useful."

  "Nonetheless what Medea did was very wrong. Perhaps she needs to be taught a lesson."

  "No!" Yehoraz touched Hekate gently. "You may be as strong as she, but you haven't the ruthlessness. You can both do terrible things, but she would without a thought, and you would stop to think . . . and be destroyed. Besides, she is the king's daughter and has mundane powers as well as sorcerous ones. Let her be. She didn't mean it, but she made me a happy man. I have more than enough to eat and drink. I have, thanks to you, spells that will make my clients devoted forever. But
it would be an infinite asset if I, too, could invest amulets with spells."

  Hekate had not intended to part with that secret, but Yehoraz swore that the art would go no further. "I have a woman whose husband beats her. If I could give her an amulet that would make his arms and legs numb every time he began to hit her . . ."

  Hekate's silver eyes narrowed; Yehoraz knew she had a weakness. "Very well, I'll show you, but it isn't easy. You can't simply transfer the spells. You must go back to the beginning and do each part of the spell separately."

  It wasn't true. Hekate was able to transfer her spells to the inanimate container in their finished form by means of a transport spell she had devised, but she didn't want to make it easy to invest an innocent-seeming object with an evil spell. Not that she suspected Yehoraz of doing that; he was a good man . . . but not a very strong one. She was afraid he would be unable to resist showing off his ability or might be pressured into teaching a less scrupulous sorcerer the skill.

  The difficulty Yehoraz had in transferring a spell to an object brought a new advantage to Hekate because he knew that spells fade, no matter how carefully nurtured. Thus, he implemented his work with a very tiny binding spell that sealed the power inside the spell and, incidentally, concealed it. The binding spell was new to Hekate. Yehoraz taught it to her, laughing with delight over having something to give her, aside from his company and his advice.

  Needless to say, the ability to create amulets and invest innocent-looking things with magic did wonders for Hekate's business. She had been doing well as an herb-wife because her salves and potions were good in themselves. Now they were doubly effective—a little spell here and there helped immeasurably and being invisible passed any scrutiny by a practicing sorcerer or a priest. Add to that amulets that could easily be disguised as jewelry, say to aid a merchant in testing the quality of goods or the truth-telling of those with whom he dealt, she was growing quite rich.

  However, her personal problem remained. Although she used magic constantly now, she was still subject to her fear and distaste for casting spells, and that constant miasma of unease frequently made her miserable. She knew the fear was ridiculous; in Colchis magic was a way of life, so much so that there were laws governing its use and standard fines and punishments for misuse. Reason, however, had no effect on Hekate's anxiety and she grew more dissatisfied than ever with the inner compulsion to avoid magic.