Daughter of Magic - Wizard of Yurt - 5 (32 page)

“Are you just not paying attention, Daimbert?” he asked and shook his head in a scolding way. “I realy have given up magic. Your bishop inspired me. So if I’ve worked just a few little spels since then ...

Have you ever worked with a demon yourself?” he added suddenly.

“No.” It came out harsher than I intended; I was, after al, trying to seem friendly, at least until he took us to Antonia.

“My, you sound dismissive. You’re as bad as Vlad. It’s quite a chalenge, I’l tel you! You find yourself doing things you hadn’t quite intended, like kiling a frog and bringing it back to life to impress the little ones. That’s why I’ve decided not to do magic at al anymore.”

“Are you sure the demon wil be as wiling to break away from you as you are from him?”

“Wilpower, that’s al it takes,” said Cyrus airily. “After al, while I was in Caelrhon I often went several weeks without practicing magic of any kind. But I remember wel the arguments Vlad gave me when I first asked him about black magic. He tried to tel me that he’d never had demonic assistance with his spels, that it would be a sign of incompetence if he couldn’t get results with unaided magic, and that as wel as taking your soul demons wil often make your life miserable even while supposedly granting al your wishes. My guess,” and he gave a broad wink, “was that Vlad had tried himself to interest a demon in helping him and got turned down flat. Why should the devil offer anything valuable for a soul already on its way to hel? Mine, of course,” with a smug smile, “was different.” Something he’d said caught my attention. “Are you sure,” I asked cautiously, “that Vlad wasn’t trying to goad you into summoning a demon because none would work with him, or did he stil hope to shield himself from the effects of black magic? It sounds as though he was hoping to put al the burden on you but get the benefits himself.” .

“If so, it didn’t work,” Cyrus replied, stil smug. “He did hint that I should ask the demon to repair his body for him, but I refused, of course. I knew already that I planned to save my soul, and helping such an evil old man couldn’t do any good!”

“Have you,” I asked in amazement, “said any of this to the bishop?”

“Not yet. I intend to surprise him once the saints assure me that I’m truly saved.”

If this wasn’t the only man who could take us to Antonia I would have fled. Horror and revulsion filed me—both at him, with his self-absorption, complacency, and pathetic belief that he could save his soul through wilpower, and especialy at the demon, who had alowed him to believe he stil had the slightest chance.

Cyrus became serious suddenly. “I know you’ve studied magic a lot longer than I have, Daimbert, but haven’t you sometimes felt its inadequacies?”

“Magic,” I said carefuly, “is part of the same natural forces that shaped the world, but even the best wizards can do no more than tug at its edges.” Cyrus looked at me a long moment, and for once his eyes looked both sober and sane. “You’ve put it better than I could. Though I might add, magic’s other limitation is that it only works in this world. To transcend material limitations, you need religion. That’s the message I learned in Caelrhon’s seminary. The bishop wil be very happy when he hears I’ve rescued you.”

“What about kidnapping the children?” demanded Theodora. “The bishop wasn’t happy about that! And you told me you’d take us to them.”

“Soon, very soon,” he replied, his expression once again wild. “Piping them out of town was actualy the demon’s idea, not mine. It was a good one, though!” with a chuckle. “I certainly taught a lesson to al those citizens of Caelrhon who couldn’t even say thank-you politely after I’d cleared up their rat problem for them. But you see, that’s the beauty of Christianity. You can sin, but its al right if you’re penitent and make restitution afterwards.”

It sounded to me as though he had not been paying very close attention to basic concepts in seminary.

“So I’l make restitution by letting them al go again! I have to tel you, Daimbert,” with almost a giggle, “that I was especialy pleased to get revenge on you. It was your meddling that made the bishop distrust me in the first place, when my ultimate purpose was always so pure! Once I found out you-had a daughter in Caelrhon, I knew my piping would bring her along with the rest. Vlad especialy thought that was a good idea—he’s planning his own revenge, of course. It did occur to me that she might know a spel or two, so I was on guard. Good thing I was, too! Do you know, Daimbert, she tried to put a transformations spel on me?”

“What have you done with Antonia?” cried Theodora.

“Nothing at al,” said Cyrus, turning to look at her. “I haven’t even pointed her out to Vlad. I just broke her spel before it took effect. Pretty good spel for one so smal!” So Antonia did know at least the elements of transformation—could Elerius have taught her?

“And of course,” Cyrus continued, “I told her very sternly not to try anything again with a man who was friends with a demon. Are you then this girl’s mother? Curious, Daimbert. I had assumed the blonde”—with a nod toward Gwennie—”was your sweetheart.”

Gwennie blushed pink, but Cyrus wasn’t paying attention. “We should go see the children now. Vlad is stil occupied with the lightning storm I settled over the castle. This has been a fascinating discussion, Daimbert, but I sense your sweetheart is growing impatient. Come, and I wil take you to where the children are hidden.”
IV

Again we hurried down stairs, corridors, and twisting passageways, scrambling through narrow openings mostly blocked by falen stone, at one point descending a staircase set within a wal: probably once a secret stair before the wal that concealed it had falen. In the damper passages our hands brushed against mold-encrusted stones, in dryer ones the sharp, sticky threads of giant cobwebs. A distant moaning could have been the wind or could have been the cals of evil apparitions of men long dead. At least we never seemed to approach the celars where the demon lurked.

There had to be an easier way, I thought, to get where we were going. Either Cyrus was deliberately confusing us or else he was staying out of Vlad’s part of the castle.

I tried to keep track of our many turnings and, looking at Paul, tliought he was doing the same. It must be easier for him—after al, he had explored this castle by daylight.

“Now, you won’t be able actualy to talk with the little girl,” said Cyrus, “but—”

Theodora whirled on him so fiercely that he backed up a step. “You said we could see her! You said she was al right!”

“Yes, yes!” he said quickly. “You can see her, but she won’t see you. Vlad has imprisoned al the children behind an invisible shield.” I didn’t want to dwel on what Vlad’s plans might be for them. Would he think children’s flesh, because younger and fresher, better for rebuilding his body than that of adults? “How hard would it be to break this shield?” I asked, thinking fast. I might be able to improvise a way to dismantle the spel—if doing so didn’t bring Vlad racing through the castle at once to stop me.

“Very hard,” said Cyrus, looking concerned for a moment, but he immediately cheered up. “I know! I can have the demon break it!”

“You said you’d done your last demon-assisted spel,” Gwennie pointed out, her lips white.

“Whoops! So I did. See how difficult it is, Daimbert?” he said, hurrying ahead of us through an arcade. ‘Tou have to be constantiy alert.” Beyond the arcade was a final passageway, shadowed and reeking with menace. But the fight from Cyrus’s candle bobbed down it without hesitation, and after a second I reached for Theodora’s hand and folowed. The passage opened onto what must have once been a chapel. But the stained glass windows were gone and the cracked stone altar had a rooks’ nest built on it. Desecrated long since, I thought—no aura of tfie saints lingered here. And in the chapel were the children.

There were at least a hundred of them. Theodora threw herself forward with a cry, to be stopped by air turned to glass. I probed the spels even while straining to see Antonia beyond the barricade. It was complicated magic, seemingly built on different principles than what I had used against the undead warriors and the wolf.

The chapel was lit only by a few candles. Most of the children were asleep, curled up in heaps like puppies on the stone floor. Their shoes were worn to ribbons. The poor kttle things,” said Cyrus, as sympathetic as though it hadn’t been his own piping that had brought them here. “They must be exhausted!”

The few who were awake seemed unable to hear or see us. I spotted the Princess Margareta, who must be the oldest person there, sitting with two very smal children on her knees.

Margareta’s slightly squeaky voice was loud in the ruined chapel. “And of course the children were frightened in the dark house,” she said in the voice of a storyteler. “But they would have been much happier if they had only known that, just a few miles away, a brave knight was on his way to rescue them!”

Nobody was going to reseue these children unless I found a way through this barrier. I looked toward Theodora, wondering if she might have a possible approach with her witch-magic, but she was stil trying to spot Antonia.

The brave knight was very handsome and very strong,” Margareta continued. “He had blond hair and green eyes, and he rode a red roan stalion.” I caught Paul’s eye; his jaw was set in angry determination.

“But did he rescue the children?” piped up the little boy on her lap. “Of course. I’m just coming to that part.” Theodora put a hand on my arm. There she is.” Antonia was on the far side of the room, sitting up talking to an older boy and drawing a horned figure on the wal with a piece of chalk. We hurried around to be closer. “You see, you realy can’t he friends with a demon,” she was saying seriously. “My wizard has a book that tels al about demons. So therefore the Dog-Man must either be a very bad person—though I don’t think he is—or else in big trouble.” Cyrus giggled beside me. “What a sweet little girl, Daimbert! Big trouble! You’l have to teach her magic— and a little more accurate demonology—when she gets older.” He turned to Theodora. “But now, my dear, I’m afraid we have to get back to those nice chambers I prepared for you.”

“No!” I said brusquely. “I’m going to get my daughter free!” And, not caring anymore if it did attract Vlad, I plunged into the forces of magic, trying to find a way to unravel this spel.

“Stop! Stop!” cried Cyrus. “Don’t cal Vlad’s attention to tbe children now! There’s stil time to rescue them if—”

He was trying to put a paralysis spel on me, but I realy had studied wizardry a lot longer than he had. School magic worked just fine blocking the not-quite-thoroughly understood spels of someone who had only been Vlad’s apprentice, learning from him the magic of blood and bone but never completing his studies.

In a few seconds I had Cyrus tied up in a binding spel. “Now!” I said firmly. “That should keep you from interfering any more while I find out how Vlad put this invisible wal together and take it apart again.” Cyrus looked desperate. “Don’t do it, Daimbert. I’m serious! If you start dismantling Vlad’s spels he’s bound to notice. Don’t you know what he plans to do with the children—doubtless starting with your daughter? I’ve got him practicing weather spels al night, but you and I have to work together in the meantime on a plan to free these children. Let’s go back to those comfortable rooms where Vlad won’t even find us! We can plan there.” ‘

I had stopped to listen to him, but now I started on magic again. This was an arcane, highly convoluted spel and might take a while. “I can’t wait any longer, Cyrus. I can’t trust the man who kidnapped my daughter to help set her free.”

“But how wil I make restitution for capturing the children if you don’t give me a chance to release them?” His mouth was puled into a grimace. “Don’t make me do this, Daimbert! I know you think you’re going to help them, but you’re putting their lives in immediate danger! I’ve stopped asking the demon for his help, but I’l do it again if it’s the only way I can stop you from hurting the children.” He dropped his eyes. “Amen, ever and forever, glory the and power the and kingdom the is thine—”

“Stop,” I said harshly. “Al right. Let’s go back. You’ve made your point.” He didn’t even have to say the whole Lord’s Prayer backwards. The demon would come aid him with only a single mental cal. I sniffed but smeled no brimstone—yet.

Nothing, I thought bitterly, would do any good at this point. Vlad might hold off whatever plans he had for the children for a few hours yet, but as soon as Cyrus and I figured out a way to free them—

assuming we could, and assuming I could trust Cyrus’s assistance—he would be on us. I broke the binding spel that held him.

“This is much better, Daimbert,” said Cyrus, rubbing his arms to restore circulation. He started back down the passageway, and Theodora took my arm, her amethyst eyes sober, as we folowed. “I realize,” Cyrus said gaily over his shoulder, “that wizards always have trouble working with those who folow the path of true religion, but you and I should be able to manage!” I turned for what might be my last glimpse of my daughter. Antonia had again taken her colored chalk out of her pocket—die same chalk the bishop had given her a few weeks ago, I thought—and was drawing something else on the floor, to the evident interest of the boy with her. “And so they were rescued,” came Princess Margareta’s voice. “There! Wasn’t that a good story?” Paul, I could see, could hardly contain himself. Cyrus and I, back in the chambers the demon had provided us, became involved in a rather desultory discussion of magic and whether it was possible to break Vlad’s spel from here, where theoreticaly Vlad would not spot us at work. There didn’t seem to be any way. The king, on the other hand, was ready to act, to act now, to start on a bold plan to rescue us and a hundred children, and waiting for something to happen was not an acceptable alternative.

The women, exhausted by fear and the long night, huddled together, half-dozing, but after a while I looked up to see Justinia slowly rise. She met my eyes for a second, put her finger on her lips in silent warning to Paul, who had also glanced toward her, and advanced toward Cyrus.

“If there isn’t a way to dismantie the barrier without Vlad noticing,” he was saying, “maybe we’l just have to give him even more to think about than the thunderstorm.” Again, while discussing strategy and spel structure he had become, at least for the moment, disconcertingly sane. “Could you come up with a diversion to make him think this castle is under attack?” he continued. “Ilusion won’t do, I’m afraid. And I’m also afraid I used my whole supply of spel bones attacking your castle.” He gave a chuckle. “But almost any commotion might work if it was over on the far side of the castle. Your manservant,” meaning Paul, “seems to know this castle, so he can guide you. If you could try something, then in the meantime I—” He noticed Justinia then. Her long black hair, damp and uncombed but stil magnificent, swung over her shoulder as she came closer, hands on shapely hips. ‘T have not yet had a chance,” she said with a slow smile, “to thank thee for saving us al from Vlad.”