Lawrence Watt-Evans: Relics of War

“He was using a spell to help him slip away,” Garander said.

“The Mantle of Stealth,” Ellador explained. “It’s a simple invisibility spell.”

“Ah,” Tesk said, lowering his wand-but only partway, Garander noticed.

“I’m Ellador of Morningside,” the wizard said. He started to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. “My friend Azlia asked me to help this young man out with a bit of magic, and I agreed.”

“I am Tezhiskar Deralt aya Shatra Ad’n Chitir Shess Chitir,” the shatra replied. “Your people call me Tesk.” He still did not put his weapon away.

“I take it you are not comfortable around wizards,” Ellador said, pointing at the black rod.

“I am not,” Tesk agreed.

“That could be awkward. To perform the spell Garander wanted, I’ll need to draw your blood with my own knife. Can you allow that?”

“How much blood?”

“Oh, just a few drops-a pinprick, really. Though if the spell works it will look like far more.”

“ If the spell works?”

“Well, it’s probably never been attempted on a shatra before,” Ellador said cheerfully. “ I certainly haven’t used it on one!”

“Does that matter?”

Ellador turned up the palm of the hand that was not holding the cloth. “Who can say? But the spell is meant for humans, and as I understand it, you are not fully human.”

“I am not,” Tesk acknowledged.

“Then we won’t know until we try it.”

Tesk considered that, and finally lowered his weapon the rest of the way, though he still did not return it to its place on his back.

“Ideally,” Ellador said, “I would draw blood from your throat. Anywhere will do, though, if you can’t bring yourself to let me get that close.”

“Why would the throat be better?” Garander asked, before Tesk could respond.

“You seemed worried that someone might want to make sure he’s dead by cutting off his head,” Ellador replied. “Well, wherever I cut him, it will appear the flesh in that spot has been cut open clear to the bone. If I nick his throat, just ever so slightly, it will look as if his neck’s been sliced clear to the spine; cutting his head off the rest of the way would be pointless.”

Tesk and Garander exchanged glances. “It will?” Garander asked.

“If the spell works at all, yes.”

“I like that idea,” Garander said.

“It is not your throat,” Tesk retorted. “But I see the wisdom in this.”

“Then shall we proceed?”

“It will last until morning?” Garander asked.

“It will last until at least sundown tomorrow, and will be gone without a trace by dawn of the day after.”

“I am not sure I can allow you to cut me,” Tesk said.

“If I meant you any harm, I wouldn’t be here, plain to see. I could have kept the Mantle of Stealth, after all.”

“It may be that you could not use other magic while it lasted.”

“Well, yes, in fact that’s true, but really, why would I be here , instead of using a spell that would kill you from afar?”

“Yes,” Tesk acknowledged. “Your words are convincing.”

“Then will you trust me to draw some blood from your neck?”

“I am not sure I can allow it.”

“But you just agreed…!”

“I am not sure I can allow it. The demon may object.”

Ellador looked startled. “There really is a demon inside you?”

“Yes,” Tesk replied flatly.

“You doubted it?” Garander asked.

“Well, I haven’t ever seen anything like it before! No one in Ethshar ever knew how to merge a man and a demon.”

Garander had nothing useful to say to that. Instead he suggested, “What if Tesk held your wrist while you make the cut?”

“That might help,” Tesk said.

“All right,” Ellador said. He drew the knife on his belt, and took a step toward the shatra .

Tesk’s hand came up so fast that Garander did not see it move; the black rod was just suddenly there , pointed at the wizard’s heart.

Ellador stopped. “I can’t work the spell without your blood,” he said.

“I know,” Tesk said. Slowly and carefully he returned his weapon to its place on his back; then he reached out and gripped Ellador’s wrist.

Ellador’s face went pale, the change visible even in the faint moonlight. “Do you need to hold it so tight?” he asked.

“I apologize,” Tesk said, and Garander thought he could see the struggle on the shatra ’s face as he forced his fingers to loosen their hold.

“That’s better,” the wizard said, as Tesk’s grip relaxed. “Now, guide the blade to your neck.”

Tesk jerked the wizard’s hand closer, forcing Ellador to stumble forward, and then the tip of the shining dagger touched the shatra ’s throat.

For a moment nothing more happened; both men stood motionless, staring at one another. Then Ellador jabbed, and Tesk’s fingers tightened; the wizard let out a gasp of pain. Garander started toward them, but before he could intervene Ellador had stepped back, and Tesk had released him.

“I am sorry,” the shatra said. “I warned you. Do you want to try again?”

Ellador began massaging his wrist with his other hand, but looked at Tesk, startled. “Why would I want to try again?” He held up the knife. “That’s enough blood right there.”

Garander could barely see the speck of dark red on the tip of the blade. “It is?” he asked. He looked at Tesk’s throat, and saw the tiniest of scratches, no bigger than a spider’s bite.

“I told you I didn’t need much,” Ellador said, and Garander thought he sounded a bit smug. “Now I need to mark you with it.” He dabbed the index finger of his other hand on the dagger, then reached out and drew a faint line across Tesk’s throat with the blood. The shatra did not resist.

“A few more marks might be useful, but that one will probably do,” the wizard said. Then he waved the dagger in a peculiar zigzag motion, and said something that did not sound like anything that should come from a human throat.

Garander was about to ask a question when the dagger began glowing faintly purple. He stared as the wizard continued his incantation.

Then Ellador finished his chant with a flourish, and lowered the dagger. Garander turned back to Tesk, to see what he thought.

Then he stopped, and swallowed to keep from vomiting.

Tesk’s throat had been laid open clear to the spine, and thick, dark blood was spilling out. The shatra ’s face was ashen gray, with bluish blotches on the cheekbones; blood dribbled from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth. He was obviously dead-but still upright, still moving. “Gods!” Garander exclaimed.

“Oh, good,” Ellador said, smiling. “It worked.”

“It…” Garander said, but was unable to force more words out.

“I do not feel anything unusual,” Tesk said, and thick blackened blood ran from his mouth with every word. The effect was appalling.

“There’s no reason you should,” Ellador said. “But if you look in a mirror, you’ll see. And if you need more blood for some reason-say, you don’t think there’s enough on one of your arms-just cough, and you should have plenty.”

Garander swallowed again.

Tesk looked at him. “I feel no different,” he said.

“Believe me, you look different,” Garander told him.

“I’ve done what I promised,” Ellador said. “I’ll be going back to camp now.”

“Yes, of course,” Garander said, still staring in horror at Tesk. “I’ll go with you, so you don’t get lost.”

“Thank you,” the wizard said. “I’d appreciate that.”