Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Sorcerer's Widow

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.

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.”

“Oh? How?”

“Kel and I both ducked before that red flash, so we didn’t see what it was. You were looking almost directly at it. What did you see?”

“A red flash,” Ezak said, as if addressing an idiot. Kel winced.

“I know that,” Dorna replied. “But what kind of a flash? Was it a flash of light, or a burst of flame? Was it in a beam, or all over? Why did it take off your hair and trim your ear, but not cut off your entire head? Was it a fireball, or lightning, or something else?”