The Sorcerer's Widow Read online

  Dorna nodded as she chewed bread and cheese. “A couple of hundred yards that way,” she said, once she had swallowed. She pointed in the direction they had been walking. “We’ll catch it as soon as we’re done eating.”

  That said, she settled down cross-legged on the wild grass of the meadow, and the two men followed her example, gnawing at their meal. The cheese was dry and tasteless, and the rolls were hard chewing; Kel wished the jug of beer was larger. He looked around for water, but didn’t see anything close at hand that might provide a drink; they were seated in a broad, gently-rolling expanse of knee-high grass, with a few trees visible in the distance. A warm breeze was blowing, carrying odors Kel did not recognize.

  When all three had eaten their fill the rolls and every drop of beer were gone, but more than half the cheese remained; Dorna wrapped it up and returned it to her bag. She brushed crumbs from her skirt, then said, “Come on,” stood, and set out across the meadow without waiting to see whether the others were following.

  This gave Ezak an opportunity he had been waiting for; he leaned over and whispered in Kel’s ear, “If we can get that fill-dirt-presses thing for ourselves, we’ll be rich!”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kel replied, with an uneasy glance at Dorna’s back.

  “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”

  “She’ll know we took it.”

  “So what? We’ll sell it to some sorcerer in the city, we won’t try to keep it.”

  Kel pointed. “She has that bag full of magic. I don’t want her mad at me.”

  “Exactly, she has all that other magic! She doesn’t need the fill-dirt-presses.”

  “I don’t think it works like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to steal her magic, Ezak. I think it’s a bad idea.”

  “You what?” Ezak glared at him. “Then what do you think we’re doing here?”

  “We’re helping her get back the thing you set loose,” Kel said. “Listen, you said we were going to trick her into giving us some magic. Well, that isn’t going to happen—she knows we’re thieves. She may not really be a sorcerer, but she has a lot of magic, and I don’t want to make her angry.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do, to get a share of her husband’s magic? It’s not really hers, after all; it was his.”

  “It’s hers now. She can keep it. Let’s help her get to Ethshar and then go find some other way to get money.”

  “But we’re here, and she has all that magic!”

  “She has a list of it all. She can tell if any talismans are missing.”

  “If she bothers to check every single item, yes, but why would she do that?”

  “Because she knows we came here to steal it!”

  “Are you two coming?” Dorna called, before Ezak could reply.

  “Come on,” Kel said, setting out after her.

  A few minutes later, still in the meadow, they topped a small rise, Dorna holding her sorcerous device out. “It’s just ahead,” she said. “We should be able to see it.” She looked up from her talisman, then cried, “Look out!” and flung herself to the ground.

  Kel instantly copied her, although he had no idea why. His survival instincts had been honed on the streets of Smallgate, and he didn’t need a reason. As he dove, a red flash suddenly blinded him momentarily. He blinked, and landed hard on the ground. Lying flat on his belly in the grass, Kel twisted his head as his vision cleared, and peered through the tall grass to see Dorna equally prone. Ezak was not in sight, and Kel was trying to locate him when a howl from somewhere behind him drew his attention. He pushed himself up on one elbow and peered back.

  Ezak was sitting on the ground just behind the low ridge in the meadow, holding the side of his head. At first Kel thought that he was seeing an after-image of the red flash, and then realized that the red stuff trickling between Ezak’s fingers and down his wrist and neck was blood. The howl was coming from Ezak.

  “Shut up!” Kel hissed. “They might hear us!”

  Ezak, who had been looking nowhere in particular, turned to glare at his companion. “Who might?” he said. “It hurts!”

  “Whoever made that flash,” Kel said. He glanced ahead, but could not see anyone or anything moving.

  “Stay down,” Dorna said, without moving from where she lay. “I don’t think it can hurt us if we stay low.”

  “It?” Ezak asked. He carefully took his hand from the side of his head.

  “The talisman.”

  “The one we’re chasing? It can…it cut off the top of my ear?” He stared into the blood-filled palm of his hand. Kel could not see what he held, but he could see that something had cut a gouge in the side of Ezak’s head, a shallow gouge that was bleeding profusely. A large hank of Ezak’s hair had been sliced away and had tumbled down across his shoulder and tunic, scattering black hair in the blood, and his ear looked wrong—apparently a sliver had indeed been removed from its upper curve.

  “No, not that one,” Dorna said, shading her eyes with one hand as she peered out across the meadow. “The one it repaired.”

  “What?” both men said in unison.

  Dorna pointed. “That thing,” she said.

  Ezak and Kel turned to look in the direction she indicated, and Kel started to lift his head to see over the grass.

  “Stay down!” she snapped. “It won’t blast you if you stay hidden in the grass.”

  Ezak let out a low moan, and fell forward onto his belly; from Kel’s vantage point he vanished behind the rise. “What is it?” Ezak wailed.

  “I don’t know,” Dorna said, “but I would guess it’s Northern sorcery left over from the Great War. I saw it pointing at us right before that flash.”

  “I’m bleeding a lot,” Ezak said. “Am I going to die?”

  “I don’t think so,” Dorna said. “Shut up and I’ll see if I can help.”

  Kel glanced over and saw Dorna twisting around to head back over the rise, carefully staying below the top of the grass as she crawled along. He did not follow; he didn’t know much of anything about caring for wounds, and if she needed his help he was sure she would ask—or order—him. Instead he scanned the land ahead, trying to locate the Northern sorcery and make sure it wasn’t coming any closer.

  “What’s that?” he heard Ezak ask, his voice unsteady.

  “A healer,” Dorna replied. “Hold still.”

  “I never heard of healing sorcery,” Ezak protested.

  “You don’t know much about sorcery, then. Witchcraft is usually cheaper, but sorcery can heal, too.”

  Kel had never heard of sorcerous healing, either, but he had heard that not only could witches heal injuries, but so could warlocks and wizards and theurgists. It didn’t seem very surprising that sorcerers could, too. He kept his attention focused forward.

  Nothing was moving, so far as he could see, unless he counted occasional small ripples where the breeze disturbed the meadow grass. He heard insects buzzing, but could not see them. Cautiously, he lifted his head and saw the afternoon sun glinting from something almost directly ahead of him, easily a hundred yards away.

  “I think I see it,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “What?” Dorna replied.

  “I said, I think I see it,” Kel repeated, a little more loudly.

  “Well, of course,” Dorna said angrily. “I saw it, too. That’s why I said to get down, which your big clumsy friend, who has now passed out on us, chose to ignore.”

  “But all I see is something shiny,” Kel said quietly. “How could you tell it was dangerous?”

  “Will you speak up? It can’t possibly hear us from this far away, if it can hear at all.”

  “I said, how could you tell it was dangerous?” Kel shouted.

  “I didn’t know for sure, but when I saw it swivel toward us I thought we’d better be careful.”

  “It swiveled?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t see that. It’s not moving now.”

  �
�It’s probably still pointed straight at us.”

  “Why isn’t it coming closer?”

  “I don’t think it can. I think it’s fixed in place. The fil drepessis isn’t moving, and I think it would be following the Northern thing if the Northern thing was moving.”

  “Why?”

  The silence after Kel asked that was long enough that he was beginning to worry, but at last Dorna said, “You’re right. It might have just shut down where it was when it finished its job. I don’t know what your idiot friend told it to do.”

  “Neither does he,” Kel said.

  “So I understand.”

  “What do we do now?”

  The pause was not quite so long and worrisome this time. “I don’t know,” Dorna finally said. “We need to stop that thing and get the fil drepessis back, but I don’t know how.” More quietly, she added, “I wish Nabal were here.”

  “So do I,” Kel said to himself, too softly for the others to hear. Then more loudly, he said, “Couldn’t we go find another sorcerer to take care of it? Or a wizard, or some other magician?”

  “No!” Dorna said. Then a moment later she added, “At least, I’d rather not. That’s my fil drepessis out there. I don’t want anyone else to take it. And I don’t want it destroyed—it might be the last one.”

  “But…” Kel began. Then he stopped, uncertain what he was going to say.

  “It is mine!” Dorna snapped. “I know I’m not a sorcerer, so I’m not supposed to have it, or most of the other talismans, but Nabal never had an apprentice, living in that miserable little village the way we did, so it’s mine. I’ll decide who I sell it to!”

  “But couldn’t you hire someone to smash the Northern thing and leave your feel-drapes-hiss alone?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But this is my fault, so I should take care of it.”

  Kel blinked, and turned, but could not see the sorcerer’s widow. “Why is it your fault?” he asked.

  “Because I knew you two were thieves come to steal my husband’s magic, and I didn’t just chase you off. I thought I could outsmart you and make you work for me, and now look! Here we are in the middle of nowhere trying to fight Northern combat sorcery, and that whole wagonload of magic is sitting there at the inn just waiting for someone else to steal it!”

  “Irien’s watching it.”

  “Irien’s just an innkeeper! What does she know about it?”

  “Innkeepers are usually pretty good at dealing with thieves,” Kel said. “It’s part of the job.” Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, though, he wondered whether that was as true out in the country as it was inside the city walls.

  Kel heard a loud sniff before Dorna said, “I suppose you’re right,” and he realized she was crying quietly.

  “Couldn’t we go back and get your wagon safely to Ethshar, and then come back for the feel-drapes-hiss when we have a plan for catching it?” he asked. “After all, if we can’t get near it, neither can anyone else. We know where it is now.”

  “No,” Dorna said. “No, it’s too dangerous. Someone might get killed. Ezak was lucky it only took off some hair and part of his ear—if he’d gotten any closer it might have cut off his whole head. Besides, even if that thing doesn’t kill anyone, someone might get to it and claim the fil drepessis before we get back.”

  Kel had to admit to himself that her first point was a good one—anyone who wandered into the area unsuspecting might get cut to pieces by that red flash, and while this meadow wasn’t exactly farmed, they had seen a few signs that they weren’t the first people to wander through the area—trampled grass, discarded apple cores, and the like.

  What was that flash, anyway? Northern sorcery, yes, but how did it work?

  “Dorna?” he called.

  “What?”

  “Do you have any idea what that Northern thing is?”

  “A weapon, of course.”

  “But what kind of weapon?”

  “I don’t know! I’m not a sorcerer, and Northern sorcery was different, anyway.”

  “If it’s different, then how could the feel-drapes-hiss fix it?”

  “It obviously wasn’t that different! I told you, sorcery uses the natural order of the World, and that’s the same everywhere. The basic principles don’t change, but how they’re used…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “But if the feel-drapes-hiss is Ethsharitic, why would it want to fix Northern sorcery? How would it know how?”

  “I don’t know!” Dorna shouted. “I don’t even know for sure that the fil drepessis was Ethsharitic originally; it could have been Northern, for all I know.”

  “Oh,” Kel said.

  “The Northerners used sorcery more than Ethshar did in the Great War. A lot of old sorcery is Northern.”

  “But…” Kel frowned and stared more intently through the grass. “But the Northerners were evil, weren’t they?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then is it safe, using their sorcery? Isn’t it evil?”

  “It isn’t good or evil, it’s magic. It’s a tool. It can be used for good or evil.”

  “The demonologists say that, too,” Kel said, remembering some of the testimony the magistrate had heard at his trial. “But most people think demonology is evil.”

  “That’s different. Demons are alive—well, I think they are, anyway. Sorcery isn’t.”

  “That feel-drapes-hiss looked alive to me,” Kel said.

  “It isn’t. It’s just a spell in solid form.”

  “Oh.”

  “Demonology was originally Northern magic, too,” Dorna added. “Even more than sorcery. Both sides used sorcery, but only the Northern Empire used demons during the war.”

  “But we have demonologists now,” Kel said.

  He could almost hear Dorna turn up an empty hand. “The demons probably can’t tell our demonologists aren’t Northerners. Or they don’t care.”

  Something that had been bothering Kel suddenly fell into place. “So that thing that cut off Ezak’s ear is a Northern weapon from the Great War, right?”

  “I assume so, yes. This area was Northern territory sometimes during the war.”

  “So it’s supposed to kill any Ethsharites it sees?”

  “Apparently.”

  “So how can it tell?”

  “What?”

  “How can it tell we’re Ethsharites?”

  Dorna took several seconds to answer slowly, “I don’t know.”

  “If we could convince it we’re Northerners, it would probably let us walk right up and smash it, wouldn’t it?”

  “It might,” Dorna admitted. “It must have… I mean, the Northerners who put it there must have had some way to get past it.”

  “So all we have to do is convince it we’re Northerners!”

  “You’re right,” Dorna said. “That…that should work!”

  Kel felt himself puffing up with pride.

  “But,” Dorna said, “how do we do that?”

  Kel’s ego abruptly deflated again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But there must be some way!”

  “Well, if you think of one, tell me,” Dorna said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kel was still lying in the tall grass on the northeast side of the little ridge when Ezak finally woke up. Kel had been trying to think of some way to make the Northern sorcery think they were Northerners, but had not yet with come up with anything more sophisticated than circling around so that they came at it from the north, instead of the southwest. Somehow he doubted that would be enough, and Dorna had agreed that it wasn’t likely to work.

  “It might be worth a try if we get desperate enough, though,” she had said.

  So he had lain there, trying to think of something else, and hoping that Ezak, who was, after all, the clever one, would have a suggestion. When Dorna finally called, “He’s awake!” Kel turned and almost sat up before he remembered where he was, and what might happen if he stuck his head above the grass. Instead he
began crawling back over the rise to where the others were.

  Dorna was sitting cross-legged on the grass, her head bent down, while Ezak lay flat on his back beside her, blinking up at the clouds drifting lazily overhead. She had wiped off the worst of the blood, and her healing sorcery had done its job—while his ear was still missing a piece, and his hair was cut short or gone entirely on that side of his head, the wounds were closed and partially healed, looking as if the injuries had been sustained a sixnight before, rather than merely an hour or so earlier.

  “How are you feeling?” Dorna asked him.

  “My ear hurts,” Ezak replied.

  “That’s hardly surprising,” Dorna answered. “Anything else?”

  “My head hurts.” He reached up a hand to touch his wound, and winced.

  “Again, not a surprise. Do you remember what happened?”

  “Something…hit me?” He gingerly fingered his shortened ear, feeling its new shape.

  “Northern sorcery,” Dorna told him.

  “There was a red light?”

  “That’s right.”

  He blinked. “It cut the top off my ear, and cut a groove into the side of my head.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have I been lying here? It feels…” He stroked the side of his head. “Well, it doesn’t feel fresh.”

  “I did some healing.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember that. Did you put me to sleep?”

  “You fainted.”

  Ezak winced again, then repeated, “How long have I been lying here?”

  “About an hour,” Kel volunteered, startling both Dorna and Ezak.

  Ezak pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at his companion. “And you two have just been sitting here, waiting for me to wake up?”

  “Yes,” Kel said, as Dorna said, “No.”

  Dorna glared at Kel, then said, “We’ve been doing some planning.”

  “But we haven’t come up with much,” Kel added, drawing a fresh glare from Dorna.

  Ezak looked from Dorna to Kel, then back. He rolled over and sat up. “What was it that cut me?”

  “Northern sorcery,” Dorna said. “We don’t know exactly what kind. In fact, you might be able to help with that.”