Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (16 page)

 
          
The
misty figure nodded.

 
          
"Well,
that'll be some relief to your father anyway."

 
          
"That
I was tortured?" Then she realized what he had said.
"My
father?"

 
          
Deru
nodded. "Your parents sent me," he said "Didn't I say
that?"

 
          
"No,
you didn't!" Kirna felt cheated; this ghostly figure hadn't come from the
Wizards' Guild after all. Then she remembered the rest of the conversation.

 
          
"You
think they'll be relieved that I was tortured?"

 
          
"No,
they'll be relieved that Gar was collecting your tears," he said.
"Normal tears aren't worth anything, but a virgin's tears are used in at
least half a dozen different spells; if Gar was collecting yours, then he
didn't rape you."

 
          
Somehow
Kirna found that annoying. "Yet," she said. "He still might, now
that he's filled that jar!

 
          
"I
suppose he might, at that," Deru agreed. "Virgin's blood and hair and
tears are all valuable, but so are various parts of unborn children."

 
          
Kirna's eyes widened in horror.
"He wouldn't."

 
          
"Well,
people do," Deru said. "And if he kidnapped a princess, who knows
what he might do? On the other hand, he might just keep you here and murder
your parents—there are a few very powerful spells that call for the tears of a
virgin queen, rather than just any virgin. Those spells are beyond my
abilities, but maybe Gar knows them."

 
          
Kirna
shrieked. "Murder my parents?"

 
          
"The
Guild wouldn't approve, but . . ."

 
          
"No!
You need to stop him!"

 
          
"The
easiest way for me to do that would be to take you home," Deru said.
"I'm sure that if you were safely
back
at Quonmor
Keep, with guards all around you, that he wouldn't bother—he'd find an easier
target."

 
          
"Take
me home!" Kirna said.

 
          
"I'd
be glad to," Deru said. "The question is
,
how do we get you out of here?

 
          
Do
you think Gar would just let you go, if you asked?"

 
          
Kirna
stared at him. "Haven't you heard anything I've told you?" she said.
"He kidnapped me and dragged me here and locked me up and tortured
me!"

 
          
Deru
sighed. "But he might have just wanted the blood and tears. He's got those
now, so maybe he'll let you go."

 
          
"You're
crazy!" Kirna said. "He intends to keep me here forever, I'm sure of
it!"

 
          
Actually,
Gar had said something about sending her home in the morning, but she wasn't
about to admit that. She had failed to impress Gar, but perhaps this other
wizard, this Deru, might be more amenable. Perhaps, once they were out of this
awful tower, she could convince him to run away with her, so they could marry and
have adventures and he could teach her all his magic.

 
          
Maybe
she could even get him to kill Gar! A wizards' duel, fought over her—

 
          
She
shivered with excitement at the thought.

 
          
Deru
sighed. "Well, you're probably right. I'll just have to get you out of
here without him knowing it."

 
          
"Oh."
Her excitement dimmed. That meant no duel.

 
          
But
still, it would be a dramatic rescue that might lead to romance.

 
          
"How?"
she asked.

 
          
"Leave
that to me," he said.

 
          
Then
he vanished.

 
          
"Hat!"
she called. "Where are you?"

 
          
No
one answered.

 
          
Deru
stepped out through the locked door of the third-floor chamber, back out into
the stairwell, ignoring Kirna's calls.

 
          
He
suspected the princess was embellishing her story somewhat; he still didn't
think Gar had brutally kidnapped her and dragged her away, as she alleged. The
Wizards' Guild forbade its members to interfere with any sort of royal
succession, and kidnapping a princess would qualify; Deru had trouble believing
Gar would openly defy that rule. To do so was suicidal, and Gar didn't appear
to be sufficiently deranged.

 
          
Besides,
how could he have done it without being noticed—and without putting a single
mark on her face? Deru had studied her briefly before becoming visible. He was
in no hurry, since the Cloak of Ethereality lasted a predetermined length of
time and he could not remove it for hours yet, so he had taken a few minutes to
explore the tower and look over the princess. He hadn't seen a bruise or
scratch anywhere on her, except for the one little incision on her hand.

 
          
But
Gar had locked her in, and collected blood and tears and hair—and besides, it
would make a much better story to carry out a magical rescue than to simply
walk her home, and it would be easier to collect a huge fee if he had a good
story to tell.

 
          
Deru
drifted invisibly up the stairs to Gar's workshop, and peered in at his fellow
wizard.

 
          
There
was no need to do anything to Gar; he appeared to be settled in for the
evening, and if Kirna disappeared, he probably wouldn't notice anything until
morning.

 
          
And
when he did notice, he probably wouldn't do anything about it. After all, Kirna
was Crown Princess of Quonmor, and the Wizards' Guild had rules against
meddling with royalty. If Deru could just get the girl out of the tower, that
should be the end of Gar's involvement. And after that, it was only twelve
miles back to Quonmor Keep; that wouldn't be a difficult walk.

 
          
Deru
looked past Gar at the open window; the cool outside air was stirring the
curtains slightly, and the light of the greater moon tinted the white muslin
orange. Somewhere in the forest outside the tower an owl hooted.

 
          
It
all seemed peaceful enough. There was no point in being unnecessarily
complicated; all he had to do was get Kirna out of the tower. He had come
prepared for that. He had brought the materials he needed for Riyal's
Transformation, and had even prepared the oakleaf-tea count-ercharm in advance.

 
          
He
allowed himself to sink through the floor, back to Kirna's room, to wait for
the Cloak's spell to break.

 
          
There
was no flash or bang; one moment Kirna was lying in bed, half-asleep but kept
awake by wondering about her mysterious ghostly visitor, alone in her
candle-lit room, and the next instant a curly-haired young man in a blue silk
cloak was standing next to her, holding a finger to his lips.

 
          
Her
eyes opened wide; she flung off the blanket and sat up. "You're
back!" she said.

 
          
"Yes,
I am," he said, his voice low. "And in a few hours we'll be out of
here and on our way back to Quonmor."

 
          
"A few hours?"

 
          
"Yes,"
he said. "We'll be going out that window." He pointed.

 
          
"But
it's barred," Kirna said. "Are you going to turn me into a ghost like
you?"

 
          
He
shook his head. "No, that spell only works on wizards—but I brought
another that can affect us both. It will shrink us down until we can easily
walk between those bars, and then I can levitate us safely down to the
ground."

 
          
"Shrink
us?"

 
          
He
nodded. "We'll be not much larger than mice. It takes about three hours to
prepare."

 
          
She
hesitated. "Is it safe?"

 
          
"Oh,
yes," Deru assured her. "It won't harm you, and the countercharm is
very easy—just a drink of a special tea." He slipped a battered leather
pack off his shoulder, opened the top flap, and pulled out a brown glass flask.
"This is the cure right here. A sip of this will break the spell and
restore you instantly to your normal size. Once we're well away from the tower
we'll drink it, and then it's just a matter of walking you home."

 
          
"Oh,"
Kirna said.

 
          
This
was exciting, in its way—the idea of being shrunk down to the size of a mouse
was strange, certainly—but it wasn't quite what she had hoped for.

 
          
Walking
home? Not flying, or vanishing in a puff of smoke from one place and appearing
with a flash in another? Shrunk down, but not turned into birds?

 
          
Well,
it would do, and perhaps it would be more interesting than it sounded.

 
          
"Now,
I need you to stay close, and stay quiet, while I prepare the spell,"

 
          
Deru
said. "Oh, and you'll need to open the shutter and casement, so we can get
out once we're small."

 
          
"All
right," Kirna said. Rather than wait, she rose and opened the window
immediately, while Deru removed and folded up his silken cloak and fished more
items out of his pack.

 
          
Beneath
the rather dramatic cloak he was wearing a disappointingly ordinary brown-and-cream
tunic and suede breeches. Kirna had hoped for something more wizardly.

 
          
A
moment later, as she sat on the bed and watched, Deru began the ritual. He drew
lines on the floor with something white and waxy,
then
positioned three candles on the resulting design before seating himself
cross-legged at the center.

 
          
He
lit the candles one by one while mumbling something Kirna could not make out/
then set out a dagger, two scraps of fur, and two tiny, bright-red objects
Kirna did not recognize. The mumbling turned into a rhythmic chanting, and his
hands moved through the air in curious patterns.

 
          
Every
so often he would lean over and move one of the objects, and sometimes he was
holding a lump of the white stuff, sometimes he wasn't.

 
          
It
was all very mysterious and magical—and after the first few minutes, boring.
Kirna watched, waiting for something to happen, but the chant droned on
endlessly. . . .

 
          
She
awoke with a start to find Deru standing over her, shaking her gently. "
Your
Highness!" he said. "Wake up!"

 
          
"I'm
awake!" she said irritably, sitting up and looking at the room.

 
          
The
air was thick and hot, and she had trouble seeing clearly, whether from sleep
or smoke she was not sure. All the candles had burned out but one, which was
down to a smoking stub; the design on the floor had vanished, but an identical
design of white smoke hung in the air a foot above where it had been drawn. The
dagger was sheathed and on Deru's
belt,
and the other
things were gone.

 
          
Her
head seemed to be buzzing, and she suddenly was unsure whether she was awake or
dreaming or somewhere in between.