Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

“You heard from that agent you sent to the sidhe?” Lily asked.

In a manner of speaking. I suspected that the artifact disrupts time, which—

“It what ?”

Everyone else reacted, too. Cynna repeated, “Disrupts time?” Arjenie exclaimed wordlessly. Isen frowned. Rule asked what that meant. Karonski said, “Son of a bitch!”

And Cullen sat bolt upright. “It’s named?”

That was an odd reaction even for the magic-obsessed Cullen. Never mind that the artifact disrupted time—he was worried that it had a name. Lily frowned at him. “Why did you—”

Be quiet. I do not have time for endless questions. Your sorcerer’s astonishment denotes a decent grasp of reality. A number of spells and rituals cause a minor disruption of time, either intentionally or inadvertently. Gates, for example. However, time is resilient and extremely difficult to damage in a meaningful or sustained manner; most such workings have no lasting repercussions, except at times for the practitioner who attempts them. I was not, initially, alarmed by the flux. It was quite minor. Even among those capable of discerning such phenomena, very few who are not dragon would have noticed it.

However, it was still present after I finished working on Julia Yu’s mind. This did alarm me. In addition, I observed a troubling flow in the probabilities. I sent an inquiry outlining my observations via an agent to one of the sidhe—you might call him a historian—whom I know in Iath.

This time it was Arjenie who was startled into speaking. “Iath? The Queens’ home realm? But their time is completely different from ours. It will take months to hear back, surely.”

Arjenie did not get told to be quiet. Iath is highly dissynchronous with our realm, making communication difficult, but there are ways of managing this. My agent planned to travel through multiple dissynchronous realms, managing her route in a manner that allowed her to arrive in Iath at a now that corresponds roughly to three days ago in our time.

Lily looked at Rule. “Did you understand that?”

“If I did, then Sam’s agent arrived before she left.”

Sam ignored them. My agent did reach the historian. I have not, however, spoken with her myself. I received her report from the emissary from the Queen of Winter who arrived outside my lair approximately two hours ago. Winter invites me most courteously to visit her and discuss this matter in person.

Lily’s breath hissed in. That was . . . good? Bad? Major, anyway. “Is that the kind of offer you can’t turn down?”

Naturally I could turn it down, if I wished. I do not. I have been in conversation with Winter’s emissary. Much of what I will tell you comes from that source; I judge it to be incomplete but accurate. The artifact in Robert Friar’s possession is almost certainly a knife called Nam Anthessa. I refer to it by a call-name; its true name has been lost for centuries. Its existence violates Queens’ Law. It is used to tamper with the dead.

“Oh,” Arjenie breathed. “That’s bad.”

Yes, in ways you do not comprehend. It means, first, that Alan Debrett is not simply dead. The knife cut him out of time, making it as if he never existed. You will note that this loss does not affect the material world; his daughter still exists. Records of his life exist. Memories of him do not.

I will not attempt to explain the relationship between reality and sentience. A few of your physicists have begun to approach this subject, though their grasp remains limited. Accept that this relationship exists, that tampering with the dead—removing a sentient being from the time stream—disrupts time, and that the excised memories mean the disruption will not heal on its own. Put simply, the fabric of this realm is in danger. The existing disruption has not worsened, so the realm is not yet unstable, but even a single additional use of the artifact could destabilize it. The artifact must be destroyed so time can heal. It must be destroyed before it is used again.

“Mage fire,” Cullen said promptly. “I’ve used it on—”

You have not used it on a named sidhe artifact possessed of vast amounts of magic and arguai . Mage fire might damage Nam Anthessa, but only to the extent that it burns through the restraints laid on the blade. The likely outcome of such a loss is the utter destruction of this realm.

“Oh. Right. No mage fire, then. So how do we do it?”

To destroy Nam Anthessa, one must wield its true name, which no one now alive knows. The name might be discovered were the knife in the possession of one with sufficient skill and patience who is firmly guarded against it, but that is a slow process. We do not have time for me to undertake it. We need Winter’s assistance.

She also needs us. The Queen of Winter has sought Nam Anthessa for many centuries. She wants badly to destroy it.

“If it can’t be destroyed without its name,” Rule said, “and it would take more time than we have to discover that name, I don’t see how involving her helps.”

I will explain, and you will understand why I accepted Winter’s invitation. This is not one of the Queens’ Realms, and the Queens have good reason not to act here. If Winter believes Nam Anthessa is here she will act, but in a way that minimizes her cost and risk. She will seek to take possession of it so she may spend the necessary time and focus to uncover its name, then destroy it herself. She is capable of doing so more quickly than I, but it is unlikely she would finish before the stability of this realm breaks down. Therefore, I will negotiate so that she will send a Hound.

Lily frowned. “A hellhound, you mean? We want that?” According to Arjenie’s half sister Dya, they were bad news.

There are hellhounds and there is the Queen’s Hound. The second begins as the first. I will not explain the distinction now. Both are dangerous, and either will do for our purposes.

“And what will you negotiate with?” Rule asked.

Good question. What did they have that the Queen of Winter might want? The knife, yes, or at least its approximate location, but she must have guessed that, or she wouldn’t have sent the mysterious emissary.

How I choose to bargain with Winter is not your affair.

Cynna spoke. “If this knife can’t be destroyed without its name, what can a Hound do?”

Hounds are exceptions to many things. They are Wild Sidhe, all of whom are dangerous, but hellhounds are feared more than most due to the nature of their powers, which are limited in number but absolute within those limits. They cannot be corrupted or turned aside from a hunt given them by their Queen. They are not true immortals, but they are extremely difficult to kill. And they can kill anything.

“Anything?” Rule repeated.

“Even immortals,” Cullen said, “according to stories I’ve heard. Even a semi-sentient, semi-immortal artifact, I guess . . . because that’s what it means for that damn knife to possess a true name, isn’t it? It’s alive. Aware. Sort of.”

Yes. Because Nam Anthessa is aware, it can employ its own power. It is highly dangerous. Magically, it can compel. Spiritually, it can persuade and corrupt. If you should encounter it before I return, do not, under any circumstances, touch it. Immediately remove everyone from its vicinity, including yourselves. The emissary suggested the equivalent of sixty-one feet for a safe distance, but his knowledge relates to sidhe. I do not know if humans would be more or less susceptible than sidhe.

“Would wards help?” Cullen asked.

Certain types of wards would diminish the effect of the knife’s compulsion. They would not affect its ability to persuade and corrupt, which is based on arguai , not magic. A holy person should be proof against that. I do not know if holiness on the part of one would protect others.