Lythande gripped the twin daggers hidden beneath the mage robe: the left-hand one for dealing with magical perils and the right-hand one for fighting non-magical attackers. Although the size of the thing which now burst into the clearing implied that it was magical, Lythande was taking no chances. As the giant cat rose over her, Lythande thrust both daggers through its ribcage. It popped like a soap bubble and disappeared.
“Ki-ki-kitty!” The figure that rushed into the clearing appeared to be a small child, a girl of perhaps eight or nine. Lythande, who had seen sea monsters in the form of beautiful maidens—not to mention a lady who not only changed her apparent age but also turned into a dragon—reserved judgment. When the girl threw a fireball, Lythande struck back with the already-formed water-spell.
The suddenly-soaked child sputtered with fury and lifted her left hand, which held a mage’s wand.
Not a small child, then. Lythande sheathed the daggers to have both hands free for what seemed to be shaping up to be a full-fledged magical duel—albeit one lacking both formal challenge and proper protocol.
“Hold!” A middle-aged woman halted, gasping and clutching a tree trunk for support, at the edge of the clearing behind the girl. Half-a-dozen balls of flame surrounded her, and one streaked forward toward Lythande. Lythande caught the salamander on an upraised hand, and looked at the woman.
“Eirthe, what in the name of all the gods...” A levin-bolt from the wand the child was holding knocked Lythande backwards. Feeling somewhat breathless, the magician watched the hovering salamander move to block the child.
Eirthe, who had either caught her breath or pulled more energy from somewhere, dove forward and hooked an elbow around the child’s neck in a very efficient choke-hold. The girl went down so fast that Lythande wasn’t sure whether she had time to hear Eirthe snarl, “I meant both of you, dammit!”
Lythande sat up, shaking off the effects of the levin-bolt. Fortunately there hadn’t been much power behind it, and Lythande had not been entirely unshielded when it hit. Being a minstrel as well as a musician, Lythande turned quickly to check on the condition of her lute, which had flown free when the bolt hit. Fortunately it was in a sturdy case and was less damaged than the mage. The salamander darted anxiously back and forth between the Lythande and Eirthe, who was now kneeling over the girl—or whatever the thing was.
“What is that?” Lythande asked.
“It’s a little girl, Lythande,” Eirthe replied. “Surely you have some familiarity with the species.” She did not add “you were one once.” Eirthe Candlemaker was one of the very few people who knew that Lythande was a woman and not the man she appeared to be, but she also knew that Lythande’s power—and her life—depended on keeping that fact a secret. Every Adept of the Blue Star had a secret which was the key to his powers, and if the secret became known, the powers would be lost and the magician could be killed with impunity. As long as the secret remained unknown, the Adept lived and did as he pleased until the time when he would be summoned to fight on the side of Law in the Last Battle between Law and Chaos. In the meantime, however...
“Lythande, could I hire you to help me?”
“Help you do what?”
“I’m not a great magician, and I don’t have enough power to deal with her. She has power and no idea how to use it. I want to take her to the college at Northwander so she can be trained.”
“So you want me to help you get her to Northwander without her killing somebody on the way?”
“Basically, yes. It would also be nice if she didn’t maim or injure anyone.”
“Very well,” Lythande agreed. Centuries of roaming while awaiting the Last Battle necessitated taking the odd job here and there. “I hope you don’t mind if I put a restraining spell on her before she wakes up.”
“Please do,” Eirthe said fervently.
The girl’s eyelids were already starting to flicker as Lythande stood over her and cast the spell. It wouldn’t prevent her from moving, but it would slow her down considerably, probably enough so that even Eirthe could handle her. For good measure, Lythande picked up the wand. She curled her nose in disgust at the phallic carvings and shape of the wand—why would a girl-child carry such a thing? Lythande opened her pack and removed a large square of silk to wrap the wand in; the silk would serve as an insulator and make it more difficult for the child to access the wand’s power, even if she were holding it. As she wrapped the wand and thrust it under the folds of the mage-robe, a memory teased at her brain. I have done this before; I have wrapped this wand in silk and carried it thus. When and where? And whose was the wand then?
The child sat up, slowly, looking dazed. “Ki-ki-kitty?” She looked around anxiously, and then her gaze fell on Lythande. “Eirthe,” she wailed, “the bad man ki-killed Ki-ki-kitty!”
“Lythande is not a bad man, Raella,” Eirthe said firmly. “He is going to help us get to Northwander.”
“I want Ki-ki-kitty!”
“Would that be the cat-form that attacked me?” Lythande inquired wryly.
Eirthe sighed. “Big enough to put its front paws on your head? The color of carven oak?”
“Sounds familiar.”
“How dead did you kill it?”
“Stabbed with both daggers. It popped like a soap bubble.”
“Oh dear,” Eirthe said. “Alnath, would you mind?”
The salamander, still hovering in the middle of the clearing, dropped to hover a hand-span above the ground, and the other salamanders hanging back at the edge of the clearing moved to join in the search. After a moment, they all clustered in one spot, then shot upwards as Eirthe reached into the low-growing plants and pulled out a small piece of oak crudely carved in the shape of a cat. It didn’t even fill her palm as she brought it to her face to examine it.
“The basic form is intact, Raella; your father can probably fix it.”
“He is not my father!”
“We are going back to the wagon now.” Eirthe tucked the carving into her belt pouch and hauled the child up with a firm grip on the back of her tunic.
Lythande fell in behind them as they left the clearing, accompanied by the salamanders.
~o0o~
Eirthe’s wagon wasn’t far. It was stopped next to a stream, where she had obviously begun to set up camp. The donkey had been unhitched and was eating the plants at the edge of the stream, there was a fire in the portable fire pit that Eirthe carried with her, and a pot of soup hung over it. And sitting on the bench that folded out of the wagon when it was set up as a display booth, was... well, the man was clearly dead, but he turned his head. As his eyes met Lythande’s, she remembered where she had seen that wretched wand before.
“Rastafyre the Incomparable.” Also known as Rastafyre the Incompetent. The last time I saw this wand was when he hired me to return it to him after it was stolen from him.
“Health and prosperity to you, O Lythande,” the corpse replied carefully.
Eirthe dropped the carving into his lap. “Can you fix this, please?” she asked.
Rastafyre ran a pallid hand over the wood. “I need my wand,” he said. “Have you seen it?” He looked around vaguely.
Lythande pulled the wand out of the mage-robe and handed it to him, being careful to keep her hand on the silk and not touch either him or the wand itself.
Rastafyre took it without comment and waved it over the cat, muttering something under his breath. After several minutes of obvious effort he looked up and extended it to Raella. “Here you are, child.”
Raella grabbed it out of his hand, clutched it to her chest, and rapidly retreated several steps.
“What do you say?” Eirthe prompted her.
“Thank you.” It was a sulky mumble, but at least the words were correct.
“Would you please stir the soup so that it doesn’t scorch?” Eirthe asked her.
“Wait,” Rastafyre said suddenly. “Co-come here, child.” Raella moved to stand before him, eyeing him warily.
“Lythande,” Rastafyre said urgently. “You were right.”
“About what?” Lythande asked.
“Other men’s wives.” Rastafyre held out the wand to Lythande. She reached for it with the silk, but Rastafyre dipped it so that it touched the back of her hand. It stuck there. “I gi-give you my wand, Lythande, and my magic, and,” he took Raella’s hand and placed it on the wand between himself and Lythande, “my daughter. May you be a better father to her than I was.” His eyes closed and his body dropped to the ground, every remnant of life gone from it.
“He is not my father!” Raella said angrily. “He killed my father!”
“Stir the soup, please,” Eirthe reminded her. “We’ll be back soon, and the salamanders will watch over you.”
She pulled a length of canvas out of the wagon, and wrapped Rastafyre’s body in it. Lythande helped her secure the wrappings, and then lifted the body into her arms while Eirthe took two shovels from the wagon. Lythande waited until they were out of Raella’s sight before shifting the body to hang over her shoulder for easier carrying. They moved far enough away from the stream so that they could bury the body without its contaminating the water.
“Would you care to tell me what’s going on here?” Lythande asked. “Obviously your job offer was missing a few details.”
“After supper,” Eirthe sighed. “I’ll give her a sleeping potion—she’s had too many shocks to cope with in the last couple of days—and we can talk then.”
Lythande nodded, and they finished burying Rastafyre’s body in silence. Eirthe said a short prayer for the repose of his soul as they filled the grave. Lythande really couldn’t think of anything to say that seemed appropriate.
~o0o~
The soup was a bit on the salty side; Lythande suspected a few extra tears had gone into the flavoring, but it was good to be able to eat without having to worry about another of her troublesome vows. In addition to keeping her sex a secret, she was also forbidden to eat or drink in the sight of any man. But Rastafyre was dead and buried, his child was a girl, and the salamanders were patrolling the surrounding area to make certain no bandits remained in this part of the forest.
Raella ate her soup, drank the herb tea Eirthe gave her, and went to bed in the wagon, sinking so deeply into sleep that Lythande suspected she would have slept even without the potion.
“All right, now,” she said to Eirthe. “Let’s have the whole story. Am I correct in thinking that Rastafyre was her natural father and that her mother is another man’s wife?”
“That’s the start of it,” Eirthe said. “Rastafyre wanders—wandered through this area every three years or so, while I come here twice a year to sell candles. This year I met up with the Lord of Sathorn on the road as I came in. He was returning from a trip to court a day sooner than he was expected, and we passed a charcoal burner’s hut, which should have been empty this time of year. There was smoke coming from the chimney, so the lord and his men went to check it out. Unfortunately, he had taken Raella to court with him, so she saw the whole mess.”
“Rastafyre and his wife?”
“Yes, and with the number of men with him, he couldn’t ignore the situation. His wife seemed to think he’d forgive her anything, but he said that he’d forgiven her when Raella was born and she had obviously failed to amend her behavior.” Eirthe sighed. “He ran her through with his sword. It was quick, and I don’t think he realized that Raella was right behind him. She screamed, he was distracted, and Rastafyre managed to knife him in the ribs. He returned the favor before he died, but Rastafyre had some sort spell set up. The men went to get carts for the bodies while I tried to get Raella calmed down, and while they were gone Rastafyre got up and—I think it must have been a geas—the next thing I knew I was traveling away with an animated corpse and a hysterical child with out-of-control magic. She’d met Rastafyre a few times—he gave her Ki-ki-kitty when she was two—but she had no idea that he was her father, or that the Lord of Sathorn wasn’t. Apparently she adored him, and seeing him kill her mother and then be killed, followed by being forced to travel with his murderer...”
“Latent magic awakened by severe trauma.”
“Now you know why I need you. And why she needs both of us.”
“And a safe haven and a lot of training,” Lythande added. “She’ll get it.”
“Did he put a geas on you as well?” Eirthe asked. “At the end?”
“More than a geas, I suspect,” Lythande admitted. “Probably a full binding. And unbinding spells are not my specialty.”
“Raella really needs you, binding or no.”
“True enough. And I need sleep. Can you take the first watch?”
“The salamanders will wake us if need be,” Eirthe yawned. “They haven’t been carrying bodies and digging graves. And tomorrow’s likely to bring still more problems.”
They bedded down in the wagon, with Eirthe sharing one bunk with Raella while Lythande took the other one.
~o0o~
As her eyes opened the next morning Lythande realized what the next problem was. And even if she hadn’t, Raella’s first words would have been a clue. “I want to go home!” She rolled out of bed and eyed the adults defiantly.
“Of course,” Lythande said promptly. “We’ll take you home. How far is it?”
Eirthe sat up and stared at both of them as if she thought them deranged. “Half-a-day’s travel, but we can’t take her home! We have to take her to Northwander for training!”
Lythande frowned at her. “Is the geas that Rastafyre put on you still in effect?”
“What’s a geas?” Raella asked.
“It’s a spell that makes a person do something she doesn’t want to do—like kidnapping you.”
Eirthe looked at her in horror and sagged back against the wall, closing her eyes. Obviously this view of her actions had not occurred to her.
Raella looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you mean to kidnap me?”
Eirthe shook her head. “I don’t even remember much of anything from the time Rastafyre got up off the floor until we met Lythande yesterday.”
Raella frowned. “I don’t remember much either. Everything’s all mixed up in my head.”
“We’ll stick to the simple version, then,” Lythande said. “There was a fight, your parents were killed, and Rastafyre was mortally wounded. Before he died he put a spell on you and Eirthe and made her take him and you away in her wagon. He died of the wound your father gave him late yesterday, we buried his body, and now that you and Eirthe are free of his spell, we’re taking you home. What family do you have left?”
“My brother and sister,” Raella said.
“Is your brother of age?”
“He’s twenty-two and Suella is nineteen. I guess he’s my guardian now—if he still wants me.” Raella’s voice trailed off uncertainly.
Eirthe got up and hugged the child. “None of what happened is your fault.”
Lythande nodded confirmation. “And in the unlikely event that your family doesn’t want you, I’ll take care of you.”
Raella eyed her suspiciously. “Did he put a spell on you, too?”
Lythande shrugged. “He might have, at the end. Sometimes you don’t notice a spell on you until it makes you do something you wouldn’t normally do. I am sworn to uphold Law, and I protect the innocent, so I don’t need a spell to make me do that.” She decided a few words on Eirthe’s behalf would be a good idea. “And Eirthe, of her own free will, would protect you from enemies and make sure you got the best magical training she could get you, so Rastafyre didn’t have to work hard to get her to start to Northwander with you—all he had to do was get her to believe that you were in danger where you were.”
“Did you believe that?” Raella looked up at Eirthe.
Eirthe nodded. “You actually are in danger; an untrained magician is a danger to herself and everyone around her. That’s why I went to study at Northwander. I don’t have nearly as much magic as you do, but I have enough th
at I almost got someone I cared about killed.”
Raella looked wide-eyed at her. “You did?”
Lythande chuckled suddenly, remembering an incident in which she had come unpleasantly close to being sacrificed to a volcano—not that it had been amusing at the time. “She certainly did.”
“Am I evil, the way he was?”
“No,” Lythande said positively. “You are not evil.”
“But you are rather grubby,” Eirthe said calmly. “Let’s go down to the stream and get cleaned up, and then we can take you home.”
~o0o~
Once they got out of the forest and back onto the main road they soon met up with a party of Lord Sathorn’s vassals, coming to attend his funeral and swear fealty to his son, so they entered the castle courtyard as part of a large party. Eirthe went off to park the wagon in its usual place, while Lythande took Raella by the hand and headed for the main hall. They had barely crossed the threshold when a beautiful dark-haired girl in a black velvet gown ran the length of the hall and grabbed Raella into a hug tight enough to make the child gasp for breath.
“You’re safe,” she sobbed. “We were so afraid when the men found you missing!” Raella started to cry as well.
Lythande pulled two handkerchiefs from under her robe and handed them to the girls. “Lady Suella,” she said with a bow, “I am sorry for your loss.”
Suella looked up uncertainly. “Thank you,” she cast around for a polite form of address to one to whom she had not been formally introduced, then spotted the lute case hanging from Lythande’s shoulder, “Lord Minstrel.”
“He’s not a minstrel; he’s a magician,” Raella said. “Like—is it true that Rastafyre was my father?” The last came out as a wail and several nearby heads turned in their direction.
“Let’s continue this discussion in the solar,” Suella said hastily, dragging Raella towards the stairs. Lythande followed.
“I was a minstrel before I was a magician,” she said, making calm conversation for the sake of their audience. “Now I am both. I am called Lythande.”
“I am honored to make your acquaintance,” Suella said politely. “How did you meet my sister?”
The Complete Lythande Page 33