Lawrence Watt-Evans - Taking Flight

Thinking that through, he only half listened to the tale of how everybody at the castle had recognized Irith, and how Pirra had been eager to talk to her, and then had been really disappointed when she discovered that Irith didn’t remember how to prepare all the spells she used.

“…and she’d heard of Fendel’s Whatever-it-is Love Spell,” Asha said, “and she was pretty sure there’s a simple countercharm, but she doesn’t know what it is. She knows a different one of Fendel the Great’s love spells, Fendel’s Aphrodisiac Philtre, and she knows one that’s a lot like Irith’s, but it’s Cauthen’s Remarkable Love Spell, and it’s different, it uses mare’s sweat and stallion hairs, and she says that there are two countercharms for that that she knows, but she doesn’t know any for Irith’s spell.”

That caught Kelder’s attention.

“Did she say what the two countercharms are?” he asked. “Maybe we could try them-if the spells are alike, they might work.”

“I don’t think so,” Irith said.

“Well, would it do any harm to try?” Kelder persisted. “Did she say what the charms are?”

Irith and Asha exchanged glances; Irith let out a sigh.

“Yes, she said,” the shapeshifter admitted, “but Kelder, I don’t think we want to try them. Not until we know they’re the right ones.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because they’re difficult,” Irith said.

“What are they?”

“The easy one,” Irith said, “is for the victim to drink a cup of virgin’s blood each night at midnight, for four nights. A full cup. Without spilling a drop, or choking, or throwing up. And he has to go to sleep immediately afterward; if he speaks a word or sets foot on the ground, it won’t work.” She grimaced. “Have you ever drunk blood? The hardest part has to be not throwing up. And all the blood has to come from a single fertile virgin human female who has never been enchanted-no mixing blood from different people, or anything.”

Kelder looked at Asha, who shook her head and said, “I’m too young.”

“No,” Kelder said hurriedly, “I know that, I didn’t … I just … I mean, is that really what Pirra said? I know Irith has trouble remembering magic…” He trailed off, flustered.

“It’s right,” Asha said. “And that’s the easy one.”

“What’s the other?” Kelder asked, though he didn’t really expect it to be any better.

“It’s just one drop of blood on the back of the tongue,” Irith said. “Dragon’s blood.”

“Well, what’s so difficult about that?” Kelder asked, puzzled. “I thought wizards used dragon’s blood all the time.”

“They do,” Irith agreed, “but there’s another requirement. The blood has to come from a gelded dragon.”

Kelder thought about that.

“Oh,” he said. He sighed. “Maybe we could find someone…” he said.

“Kelder,” Irith said, “that’s a quart of virgin’s blood-if she’s as small as I am or smaller, I think that taking that much could kill her, and we don’t even know if it would work. It probably wouldn’t; it really is a different spell, and I already told you that magic doesn’t make sense. You can’t use phosphorus for brimstone and still work Thrindle’s Combustion, and I don’t think you can break Fendel’s Infatuous Love Spell with virgin’s blood.”

“Well, maybe if you got a young enough dragon…”

The others just stared at him.

“You’re right,” Kelder admitted. “It’s not the same spell. So it’s on to Ethshar, then.”

“On to Ethshar,” Irith agreed.

And that, Kelder thought as he took a bite of pear, wasn’t really anything all that terrible. It would be exciting to see Ethshar-the largest city in the World! Another city, and another prophetic phrase satisfied.

But it would have been nice, he thought as he watched Ezdral down a large mug of wine, if they’d been able to break the love spell that much sooner.

The meal continued in silence, for the most part. Asha seemed to be thinking about something; Ezdral was drinking heavily and alternately staring at Irith and forcing himself not to look at her. Irith grew increasingly uneasy under his gaze, quickly becoming too nervous to talk-not that she had anyone to speak to anyway, as Kelder was too tired.

When they had all eaten their fill, and a drudge had cleared away the plates-but left the wine bottle, which Ezdral guarded-Asha leaned over and asked Irith quietly, “Could you do something for me?”

Relieved to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t Ezdral, Irith asked, “What is it?”

“Could you fly home … I mean, to my father’s house, and tell him about Abden? And that I’m all right?”

Irith’s relief vanished; she bit her lower lip and looked at Kelder worriedly.

“Go ahead,” Kelder told her. “He won’t hurt you; he doesn’t even have to see you.”

“I’m really sort of tired…” the Flyer began.

“Oh, do it!” Kelder snapped. “I’ve been out chopping wood to earn a lousy copper, which your old boyfriend there just drank up-I think you should earn your keep!”

“Don’t you speak to me like that!”

Kelder started to say something else, but then a shadow fell over him. He turned to see Ezdral standing over him, fists clenched, the neck of the wine bottle in one of them.

“You don’t talk to Irith like that,” he said hoarsely.

For a moment the four of them were frozen into position, Kelder and Irith sitting on one bench, Asha on the other, the three of them gaping at Ezdral standing at the end of the table brandishing the bottle.

“No, it’s all right,” Irith said, breaking the impasse. “He’s right, I’m not really tired. I think it’s really sweet that Asha’s worried about her father, and I’d be glad to go tell him.”

Ezdral wavered.

“Thank you, Irith,” Asha murmured.

“Sit down, Ezdral,” Irith said.

Kelder, tired and fed up with the whole situation, said, “Yes, sit down.” Angry that the man he was trying to help was turning against him, he added the cruelest thing he could think of. Then, remembering the nature of the spell Ezdral was under, he immediately regretted it.

“Have a drink,” he said.

For much of the next morning the Forest of Amramion was visible off to their left, and Ezdral, once he had sobered up sufficiently to focus, marveled at it. He hadn’t seen a forest in over a decade.

The guards at the border post between Amramion and Hlimora waved a greeting to Irith, but made no attempt to hinder the party.

Irith had been quiet ever since returning from Abden the Elder’s house, and didn’t return the guard’s greeting. She had given no details of her encounter with Asha’s father, but had merely said that the message was delivered.

Shortly after crossing the border into Hlimora, though, she burst out, “Asha, how could you live there?”

Asha looked up, startled but silent.

“She couldn’t,” Kelder said quietly. “That’s why she’s here.”

“It stank,” Irith said. “The whole place, and it was filthy, and the house was practically falling down, and one shed had fallen down. And your … that man was drunk and singing to himself, and when he saw me he … When I gave him the message and told him his son was dead he started crying, and that wasn’t so bad, I expected that, but then he started complaining about how there was no one to help him, and you’d run off, and when I told him you were all right he got angry and started swearing and saying all kinds of horrible things, and he tried to grab me, but I turned into a bird and flew away, and I heard him crying again as I left.” She shuddered. “My father was never like that.”