A Nameless Witch (7 page)

"Yes. I've decided I don't need one."

We'd had this disagreement several times. My parents had neglected to name their accursed daughter, and to Ghastly Edna, I had always been "dear," or "child," or "girl." The people of Fort Stalwart managed "hag" or "crone." There never was any confusion, and I rather liked not having a proper name. It seemed very witchful.

"Everyone needs a name."

"Not everyone."

"Your duck has a name. Your troll has a name."

"My broom doesn't."

"Yes, she does. Isn't that right, Penelope?" My broom floated over and leaned against Sunrise's shoulder. "I know it isn't a very good name for a witch's broom, but she picked it."

I had no objection to naming my broom as this too seemed very witchful.

Two soldiers approached my tent. I knew from the sheepish glint in the younger one's eyes why they were here. My inner ghoul found little appetizing about the old man, but of the youth it whispered, "Not quite ripe yet, but in another year or two, a savory feast."

The older soldier pushed his charge toward Sunrise. The boy couldn't look her in the eyes. He stared at his boots and stammered.

Sunrise smiled in that patient, knowing way of hers. The way Ghastly Edna would have smiled had she been a prostitute.

The older soldier chuckled. "Vertis was wondering if maybe he might have the pleasure of your company, miss."

"Is that so, Vertis?"

The youth nodded.

"He's been saving for two months, miss. All the other men said he should find a cheaper woman, but he's got his mind set."

"Such a compliment from a fine, strapping lad. I'm flattered."

Sunrise willed a soft blush. She could will herself to glow too in a way that I might duplicate with magic. Only hers was nothing so mundane as magic, but natural talent and practice.

Vertis giggled like a child.

She took his money and told him to meet her in her cabin in ten minutes. The older soldier thanked her, and they left.

Sunrise jangled the coins in her hands.

"What is it like?" I asked, surprising even myself. I'd been pondering the question for some time.

"That all depends. When it's done right, it's difficult to describe. You could always find out for yourself. Any man in that camp would hack off a limb to lay with you if you took off that outfit."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

I began, "A good witch ..."

"Not that again. I don't believe it. I would think carnal impulses were allowed under your code."

"I'm afraid of what I might do," I admitted.

"The curse? I suppose that's justified. Although I think you could find a man willing to take the risk for a moment of your passion. No, your curse is just a convenient excuse. Because, curse aside, you are very much a normal person. And like most normal people, you want your first time to be something special."

"Was yours?"

She laughed. "Heavens no. Most aren't, but that doesn't mean you should give up on the hope. Who knows? Perhaps one day you'll find the right man. And you'll know him because he'll be the one you'll desire enough to risk devouring. But no need to rush. You're ageless. Take your time.

"In the meanwhile, you're not missing much. It can be a beautiful thing, but usually it's just a few minutes of bumping, grunting, and sweating. Not altogether unpleasant even then, but nothing to fret about."

She stood. "Good evening, Penelope. Good evening, witch."

Penelope tilted in a bow, and Sunrise went off to work.

Her words comforted me. A witch has little use for love, but I wanted to know a man once, if only for the experience. My stomach growled. The scent of flesh drifting from the settlement playing on my nose. I ran my forked tongue across my lips. I pushed such thoughts from my mind and limped into my tent for something to eat.

7

G
wurm hetdup a
handful of berries.
I popp ed one in my mouth and spat it on the ground. "No. They're only blueberries."

"Isn't that what we're looking for?" Newt asked.

"We're looking for berries that are blue. Not blueberries. I'm not baking a pie."

Gwurm shoved his handful into his mouth. He spoke while chewing. Juice dribbled down his chin. "I think I saw some over this way."

"You think?" Newt said.

"Well, they're blue."

"If you're going to be snippy, Newt," I said, "you can just go home."

My familiar grumbled. He'd always grumbled, even in Ghastly Edna's service, but the tendency had grown worse of late. When he wasn't complaining, he was muttering. Or glowering with unspoken irritation. There wasn't much for a ferocious, part demon duck to do in this village. There hadn't been much in Ghastly Edna's isolated cabin either, but that was before he'd gotten his taste for blood.

He'd tried applying his killing lust to more productive ends by hunting game for the village. It just wasn't the same. I gave him credit for trying and allowed him his muttering.

Gwurm led us to the blue berries that yet again proved to be blueberries. I did find some scraps of moss though that would help treat infections.

"What do you need these for anyway?" Newt asked.

"I'm mixing a poison."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You're going to kill someone?"

"Perhaps."

"Who? Don't tell me. Let me guess. That fat man, the smithy! No, not him. I know. That snooty woman with the six children. The one who said I had a silly walk." His eyes shone with enthusiasm for the first time in months.

"I haven't decided yet."

Gwurm brought some more berries. "How about these?"

"Those are just blueberries," Newt said. "Can't you tell the difference? I think there's some this way." He dashed into some bushes. "Over here! I think I've found them."

The berries were the exact ones I needed. He watched me collect them with a sinister glee.

"What's next?"

"I need some black crickets for a potion of itching boils. I'm thinking of pouring it into the village well. Just for amusement."

Newt practically squealed with delight and began his bug hunt.

"You aren't going to kill anyone," said Gwurm.

"Hush. Don't ruin it for him."

After Newt had brought the crickets, I sent him after some tree sap to sicken the beasts. Then pinecones to bring nightmares to the children and roots to send the soldiers into murderous rage. Once he realized they were all ingredients for salves, tonics, and ointments, he'd be very disappointed and return to his grumbling. But he was happy for the moment.

"Now this is more like it, mistress. Nothing against the healing, but it's only proper you finally inflict some woe on these people. Just to keep in practice for when you really need it."

We walked back to the village. I entertained Newt with tales of curses and afflictions I intended to send down on Fort Stalwart. Plagues of projectile vomiting and exploding skulls, and other maladies. He skipped along, offering suggestions of his own. Gwurm put forth a few as well, and Penelope twitched in my hand at approval of the truly dreadful ones.

"Rot all the food," Gwurm proposed.

"No," Newt said. "Don't just rot it. Fill it with maggots. But not so anyone can see by looking. That way, they'll bite into an apple and get a mouthful of worms."

"Poisonous worms," Gwurm added.

"Poisonous, screaming worms. Big gooey white ones full of veins that shriek when you bite into them."

"Excellent suggestion," I said. "I shall have to remember that one." And I would, as it was a very good idea, should I ever desire to inflict a true plague.

Newt and Gwurm played their game and came up with several other worthwhile possibilities. Newt was the most excited I'd ever seen him, including our years with Ghastly Edna. The demon in him delighted in thoughts of cruel mischief, and I was truly sorry that this trick would only work once.

Gwurm pointed down the road. "Somebody's coming."

We stopped and observed a horse and a rider coming our way at a brisk trot. His appearance surprised me. No one ever came from the west. No one but me. It was unsettled land, the kind of country where a witch and her charge might live unmolested.

"Are we going to kill him?" Newt asked.

"We'll see."

"If we kill him before he gets to the village, no one will ever know."

"I said, we'll see."

A powerful aura of magic covered the rider and his horse. It was not witch magic, but there were many varieties. I had only a passing familiarity with all but the witching kind, but I couldn't perceive its exact purpose.

Despite the enchantment upon him, I didn't think him a disciple of the arcane. He didn't look like a wizard or sorcerer. He was tall and lean, adorned in a chain mail vest and casual garb. A sword hung on his hip. This too possessed some unfamiliar enchantment. He was a very dark man. I didn't know men came in such a dark shade. His hair, cropped short, was black as coal. His eyes were even darker if such a thing were possible. His horse should have been black, or at least a deep, rich brown. But it was gray and a very light gray at that, almost white.

An invisible sign marked his forehead. I could see it through a witch's vision. The brand was the source of his enchanted aura.

Newt winced and belched softly. "I don't feel so good." The rider drew closer, and Newt gurgled. "I think I'm going to be ill." When the man was but a few feet away, the duck mumbled a curse and ran, retching, into the deeper forest.

The man wasn't handsome in a traditional sense. At least, I didn't think so. Yet he was pleasing to look upon, and I could not get myself to look away. Especially from those eyes. Finally, I gathered enough sense to lower my head and hide most of him behind my brim.

Distantly, the heaves of a vomiting duck reached my ears. It was an odd sound, beginning as a quack and ending in a hoarse gasp.

The man brought his horse to a halt. "Ho there, my good woman. Is this troll bothering you?" He loosely gripped his sword hilt.

"Actually, he's with me." I raised my head enough that everything below his nose fell below my brim. He had a strong, round jaw.

Newt stumbled to the road, smacking his bill and moaning. He glimpsed the man and gagged. My familiar dashed back into the bushes and commenced vomiting anew.

"Is that your duck as well?" the rider asked.

"He is."

"Is he ill?"

"Apparently so. Nothing serious, I suspect."

I raised my hat to glimpse the man's eyes. He met my gaze without blinking. I was unaccustomed to that. Most people turned from my sight. Either because they thought I was a madwoman, not to risk antagonizing, or knew I was a witch, and feared the evil I might inflict through my stare. But he didn't, and neither did I.

I couldn't sort through all the dark whisperings of my curse. I wanted to devour this man as I had none before. I didn't know why. He was a healthy specimen, but there were many healthy specimens at the settlement. Yet, even as I imagined sinking my teeth into his flesh, an inexplicable nausea seized me. Nothing so serious as the sickness Newt was suffering. In fact, it was not an entirely displeasing sensation.

We stared into each other's eyes for what seemed a very long time. He turned away finally and broke whatever strange spell held me. I quickly lowered my gaze away from those hypnotic eyes.

He cleared his throat and avoided looking directly at me. "Is this the way to Fort Stalwart?"

"Yes. Just keep to the road, and you'll be upon it in another mile."

"Thank you. Good day, good woman, troll. I hope your duck feels better."

He spurred his horse to a gallop. I watched him go. I had no choice. Something, perhaps his magic aura, made me. I noticed the fullness of his shoulders and wondered what it might be to nibble at the flesh with soft, gentle nips. Then to tear it away to savory mouthfuls. Then I would turn him over and split his chest, scooping out the delicacies within. I'd lap up the blood for dessert.

I wouldn't eat his eyes. Those, for reasons not entirely clear to me, I wanted to save.

As if sensing my thoughts, the man glanced back with a severe frown across his face. I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I stared without bothering to hide it until he disappeared around a bend in the forest.

Newt dragged himself from the bushes.

"Dark gods, such purity of heart. The demon in me was unprepared for it."

"You've never met a White Knight before then," Gwurm explained. "They're famous for their virtue."

"He seemed very dark for a White Knight," I said.

"They enjoy a small but diverse membership."

I bent down on one knee and wiped Newt's bill with the hem of my dress. "Feeling better now?"

"Now that he's gone, I'll be okay."

"Come along then. We have much to do."

"Oh, right. The boils. I'd nearly forgotten."

"Yes," I agreed. "The boils and the rotting food."

We started back to the fort, and I dallied, preserving Newt's happiness as long as I could.

8

T
he settlement buzzed by
early evening at the arrival of a genuine White Knight. While performing my daily rounds, I listened and learned. Everyone knew of the White Knights though none had ever seen one in the flesh. They were an order of heroes dedicated to vanquishing evil in all its forms. They slew unruly monsters, deposed mad kings, put down illegitimate rebellions, and labored to make the world a better place. They were most famous for their virtue that rendered them invulnerable so long as they kept themselves pure.

I suspected this might be true to a degree. But his invincibility was as much due to the invisible brand on his forehead as his pure heart, and true invulnerability is beyond magic. Any enchantment, however well aided by a virtuous soul, has a flaw somewhere.

Everyone was interested in this White Knight. Even Sunrise, which surprised me. I didn't think her the type to swoon over a man she hadn't even seen. She'd been working on his arrival and hadn't gotten a glimpse before he'd disappeared into the fort.

She threw question after question at me while sitting in my tent.

"What did he look like? Was he handsome? He must have been handsome." She didn't squeal, but she came very close.

"He was attractive," I replied, "but handsome, I think not. His ears were too large. Not in an arresting way, but noteworthy."

"And tall? Was he tall?"

"He seemed tall, but he was sitting on a horse. It was hard to tell."

"But he must have been fair skinned with shimmering locks of gold."

"He was darker than any man I've ever seen."

"So, he is a not quite handsome, possibly tall or not, dark man."

I nodded.

"I won't say I'm not disappointed. Although there is a certain romance to the darkness."

"Legends are always better from afar," I said. "He was truly pure of heart. He made Newt sick. And he had the most handsome, deep black eyes."

Sunrise tapped her teacup. "You're smitten."

"Am I?"

"Very much so."

I believed her. On matters of love and lust, I trusted Sunrise as I had Ghastly Edna on witchly subjects. To be sure, she tested me.

"When you speak of him, you smile, and you are very spare with your smiles."

I felt the slight grin on my lips. "Is that all there is to it?"

"Not all. When you think of him, do you feel a flutter inside?"

I paid attention to my body and found, if not a flutter, then a flittering in my stomach.

"Flittering is even worse," she said. "Do you find yourself wanting to be near him, to kiss him?"

"I want to eat his face."

"And if, while eating his face, your lips should happen to touch his ..."

The flittering in my stomach moved lower and tingled softly in places that had never tingled before. I smiled, and realizing my smiling, I blushed.

"Most definitely smitten." Sunrise patted my hand to comfort me in much the same way Ghastly Edna had on occasion. "It's nothing to be embarrassed by. It's perfectly natural."

Newt chuckled. "Didn't you hear her? She wants to eat his face. There's nothing natural about that."

"Oh, be quiet. This is a good thing. You should be happy for her."

"Have you ever devoured a man?" I asked.

"No. But I'm a mortal woman. You're a witch, and cursed, and undead. So I think the ghoulish impulses are perfectly healthy."

This was logical, and I pushed aside my embarrassment. "Do you really think this is a good thing?"

"I see nothing wrong with it. It just shows that you're more human than you thought."

"Can I really love him?"

Sunrise laughed sweetly. "I said nothing about love. I said smitten. It can lead to love, but more often than not, it is merely a temporary infatuation."

"How do I know which it is?"

"You'll find out in due course."

Newt scowled. "She can't be smitten. He's a White Knight."

"Which only makes him more dashing and romantic."

"But she's a witch. Witches and White Knights don't mix."

"Who's to say?"

"You didn't sense his virtue. It's an abomination. Unnatural, I tell you. Not a speck of sin at all."

"Not even a speck?" Sunrise asked.

"Perhaps a speck. He is a mortal man, after all. But not nearly as much as would be healthy. I suspect he's never known a woman. Nor can such desire dwell in his heart."

Silently, I agreed. The White Knight was a poor choice, and I felt foolish. But Sunrise explained that no one chooses to be smitten. It just happens, and I felt better.

"You could have picked an easier man, but with my help and your considerable unwitchly assets, he might be yours."

"No. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't right. I can't kill a good man."

"Perhaps if you had a large dinner before . .."

"You heard her," Newt barked. "She isn't interested. Although if she did consume him in her passion ..." He grinned in demonic fashion.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort. These feelings will go away, won't they?"

"Eventually," she said. "It's your choice, but should you change your mind, feel free to come to me with any questions you might have."

I thanked her for the offer, but on this, I was inflexible. Ghastly Edna had warned me of my curse. Now I understood what she'd meant. To desire a man was to hunger for his flesh. This might not have been a problem except that as I was a very picky eater, I was also a very picky lover. I couldn't eat a good man, and I didn't want a bad one. I resigned myself to eternal virginity.

"I wonder why he's come?" Sunrise pondered.

"Gwurm says the White Knights wander the world, trust ing fate to take them to wrongs needing righting. Most likely, he's just passing through. I can't think of any wrong righting required here."

"If he were just passing through, I don't think he would have stopped and talked to the soldiers."

"If you'd really like to know, I can find out." There was more to the offer than a friendly favor. I wanted to see the dark White Knight, even if seeing him was all I could ever do.

"Newt, I need your body."

My familiar balked. "I'm using it right now."

"Only for moping."

I threw him a disapproving glare, and he walked to my side. I bent down and kissed his bill. Switching bodies with my familiar was a small magic. I thrust my mind into him. His jumped from his body and fell into mine for easy storage. My skin could have been an immobile prison for him, but I allowed him to move in it as a polite gesture.

I looked into my emerald green eyes. All the grime on my face did little to hide my beauty Fortunate for me so few looked below the surface.

Newt glowered with my mouth. He set me down on the table where I mixed medicines.

He spoke with my voice. "Egad, what a form." He felt my lips and the teeth. He pulled at the ears and ran his hands up and down my body. He squeezed my left breast and patted my bottom. Then ran fingers down my stomach to my thigh and back to . ..

"Would you please stop fondling my flesh?"

"Sorry." He stood, but my body swayed almost off its feet. He flapped my arms to regain his balance. They weren't wings, and it didn't help. Sunrise caught him before he could topple over. "The weight distribution is a little tricky." He sat. "All in all not a bad form. I'm not sure I care for all the bare skin or the feet. But I've always wanted teeth and what fine teeth they are. Sharp and deadly I bet you could crack bones with these." He chomped the air and gnashed my teeth.

"You can crack bones with your bill," I reminded.

"It's not the same."

"There's some fresh pheasants over there. Crack their bones all you like while I'm away"

He picked one bird from the small collection and ground my teeth enthusiastically.

I hopped off the table. I'd borrowed animal forms before as part of my education. Ghastly Edna had taught me to listen to the body. "Tell it where you want to go, dear, and it will tell you how to get there." Newt's body moved easily. His odd walk, programmed into the flesh by his years of uninterrupted use, remained part of it.

Sunrise parted the tent flap for me, and we stepped outside.

Gwurm, who made a habit of sitting outside my tent should I need him, raised his head. He was short an eye and rolling something from cheek to cheek. "Leaving so soon?"

I explained my switch with Newt and how I was off to the fort to check on the White Knight.

He spit out his missing eye and licked it to a lustrous, saliva-coated shine before popping it back into its socket. "How does being a duck who can't fly help?"

"Newt can fly. He's just forgotten, but my mistress taught me so I could take full advantage of a bird's body. It's very basic. Jump in the air, flap your wings, and mind the ground."

I stretched out my wings to loosen them. Sunrise and Gwurm wished me luck, and I was off. It took a few hops, but soon I was flying. It was a lurching, ungraceful spectacle, but better than any flight Newt had taken. I soared over the settlement in wide circles until I'd gotten the hang of it.

I banked to a flying pattern over the fort proper. I'd never seen it from this angle. It was a square of stone walls with only one gate. Smaller buildings of wood and stone had been built within. Lanterns and moonlight lit the large open areas. There weren't many soldiers. Most were in the barracks, attending the financial needs of prostitutes, or spending time with their families. One duck slipped past the night guard with very little trouble.

Finding the Knight was also easy. Half of Newt's demon essence belonged to his mind, but the other half rested in his body. I walked a few minutes, and let my uneasy stomach guide me to the Captain's office, which was a logical place to go anyway. The window was too high for me to look through. I hid in the shadows and listened.

"This is terrible!" moaned the Captain. "Horrible! This is supposed to be a quiet region. Nothing ever happens here."

"Exactly why I believe they are coming this way," the Knight replied. Even just his voice put a smile on my bill even as my nausea increased. "They intend to push their way up into the kingdom, past an unguarded border. You were fortunate to put this fort up when you did."

"Fortunate." The Captain grunted the word as one might a curse. "Yes, fortunate."

Then came silence. Not true silence, but whispered mutterings I assumed to be coming from the Captain.

I spotted a crawling beetle nearby.

"You, come here." I spoke softly in the language of insects.

Controlling insects
is
very basic magic. All one has to do is speak, providing a talent for talking to bugs, and they'll re spond to any suggestion without hesitation. They're too simple to know their own wishes from another's.

"I need your eyes." I would have been polite, but politeness would only confuse the beetle. I cast a minor spell attuning my vision to the bug's. "Fly to the window, and see what's going on."

The beetle did so in due haste. I learned that a bug's eyes are made for a bug's world, and in a bug's world, everything fits into three categories: Things you can eat, Things that can eat you, and Everything else. The Captain and the Knight were monstrous blurs. I couldn't tell one from the other or the furniture. Another spell rectified the problem, and the world became clear.

The dark White Knight was better-looking than I remembered. His ears did stick out, even more than I'd first noticed, but it just made them easier to nibble on. He was taller than I remembered too. Glimpsing him through a bug's eyes was probably the reason for that. I watched him a minute, studying the lines of his body without hearing the conversation. Then the Captain finally said something that caught my attention.

"I've heard tales but didn't think them true."

"It's true. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"But goblings don't amass in hordes. It's unheard of." The Captain leaned over the table to pour himself a glass of wine. "Exactly how many goblings are in a horde?"

"I didn't perform an exact count. Just take the largest number you can imagine and double it. Then double that for good measure."

The Captain frowned, gulped down his wine, performed the mental calculations, and frowned deeper. "I'll organize an evacuation immediately."

"Very good. And I've already formulated some battle strategies that should help. I'll begin drilling your men in the morning."

The Captain squinted. "Perhaps you misunderstand. I'm talking about a complete evacuation. Soldiers included."

"The soldiers will be staying." The White Knight spoke with quiet authority. It was not a command so much as a fact shared with the unenlightened Captain.

"Surely, you can see that this is a small fort. We aren't a match for such a force. I've got only five companies."

"Five hundred will have to suffice." Again, he said it as an indisputable truth.

"Not these five hundred. These are the five hundred worst soldiers in the kingdom. Most of them haven't seen a battle. Those that have are alive only because the death maidens weren't paying close enough attention. That's why Fort Stalwart was commissioned in the first place. It's not a fort. It's a dumping ground for all those soldiers barely competent enough to avoid dishonorable discharges. It was deliberately put here because this is where nothing ever happens."

The Knight said nothing. He stood tall. His face betrayed not a hint of despair or fear.

"You see my point?" the Captain asked.

The Knight still said nothing.

"This is a horde. A gobling horde. This requires the best men available. Or at least not the very worst."

"Those men are not here," the White Knight observed.

"We'll send for them."

"By then, it will be too late. The goblings will have pushed deeper into the realm, and once the horde is entrenched, it will be nearly impossible to get rid of. I fear the damage they'd inflict in the meantime."

"I fear the damage these men might inflict on themselves with their own swords."

"Five hundred men will be enough," the White Knight said. "I've seen the destruction this horde has wrought on the ravaged countryside. I've been tracking it for months, always too late to mount a defense. Now that I finally have the opportunity, I won't throw it away. I have pledged my honor that the rampage ends here."