[Anita Blake Collection] - Strange Candy

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[Anita Blake Collection] - Strange Candy Page 8

by Laurell K. Hamilton


  “Yes.”

  “Ask him something.”

  “Where is the token I seek?”

  “Demon, demon inside.” He coughed, his body nearly doubled over with the violence of it. Bloody foam flecked his chin. Celandine stepped forward. “Let me heal you.”

  His eyes went wide. “Death want, death seek, no heal.” And he was gone, vanishing into the underbrush noiseless as a rabbit.

  Celandine stood there, tears glistening in her eyes. “He’ll die.”

  “He wants to die.”

  She shook her head, and one teardrop slid from crystalline blue eyes down a flawless white cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  I touched her arm. “Celandine, no healer can cure the madness of prophecy.”

  She nodded and pulled the cloak’s hood to hide her face. A strand of black hair trailed across the white cloth like a stain.

  I said, “This is the seventh prophet, Celandine. We must trust the information and act upon it.”

  She spoke in a low voice that I had to strain to hear.

  “Aren’t you afraid, Bevhinn?”

  I debated with myself whether she wanted truth or for me to be strong for her. I decided on truth. “I fear the black healers of Lolth. I fear being a female trapped behind their dark border.”

  “And yet you will go?”

  “It is where our quest takes us. We must go.”

  She turned to me, face framed in shadowed hood. “It is death by torture for me if I am caught.”

  I had heard the stories of what Loltuns did to white healers. They were tales to curdle the blood round winter fires.

  “I will die before I let them take you. You have my word.”

  She spun round as if she would find an answer in the spring morning. “I have your word.” She turned back to me, blue eyes hard. “What good is your word? You aren’t human. You don’t worship the Goddess that I serve. Why should I trust you to give your life for me?”

  I clamped a six-fingered hand round sword hilt. Five months I’d traveled with her. Five months of living off the land, killing that we both could eat. I had slain winter-starved wolves and fought bandits. I had guarded her back while she healed the sick. I had been wounded twice, and twice she had healed me. And now this.

  I let the anger flow into my face. I stared at her with my alien purple eyes, but I kept my voice low with menace. I had no desire to shout and bring men or a wild beast upon us. “Your fear makes you foolish, Celandine. But do not fear. Your father paid me well to guard you on this exile’s quest.”

  “You sell yourself for money like some harlot.”

  I slapped her hard, and she fell to the ground. She looked startled. I had never offered her violence before. “Your father bought my sword, my magic, and my loyalty. I will lay down my life to protect you, but I will not be insulted.”

  “How dare you. I am a white healer…”

  I finished for her, “And bastard daughter of the King of Celosia. I know all that. He hired me, remember.”

  “You are my bodyguard, my servant.”

  “I’m not the reason we’re out here in this godforsaken wilderness. You killed a man. You took that pure white gift of yours and twisted it. You used black healing and took a life.”

  She was crying now, softly.

  “The only way to end this exile is to follow the prophet’s advice and go to Lolth.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  I grabbed her upper arms, pulling her to her feet. “I’m afraid, too, but I want this over with. I want to go back to Meltaan. I want a bed and a bath and decent food. I want someone to guard my back for a change.” I let her go, and she stumbled back, sobbing.

  “I will not let your fear keep me out here forever. Your father didn’t pay me that much.”

  “You can’t leave me.”

  “I could, but I won’t. But tomorrow we travel the dark road.”

  Morning found us on the bank of Lake Muldor. A blue cloak to match her eyes replaced the healer’s cloak Celandine usually wore. She kept it pulled close around her though it was very warm for spring.

  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 t
o 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 dra
wing 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.

 

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