Triplet (18 page)

“We like it,” the other shrugged. “This way.”

They passed between several rows of buildings—houses, Ravagin decided, for the most part, though there were more than a normal village's share of craft shops intermixed as well. A few people were visible near the center of town, near a larger and more elaborate structure. “Town hall?” he hazarded. “Or is it a temple?”

“Neither,” his guide told him. “Or both, depending on your point of view.”

“Ah.”
Must have learned his conversational technique from peris and demons,
Ravagin thought sardonically.
None of
them
can give straight answers, either.

The passersby had all disappeared by the time he and the other man reached the building a few minutes later. Up close, Ravagin decided, the temple part of the design definitely won out. The high and elaborate multi-wood main doors alone put the place beyond the village hall classification, and the matching window frames meant someone had gone to a great deal more effort than was usual in such cases.

Which probably meant that some very high-ranking spirits were routinely being invoked in the place. Elementals, perhaps? Or even the highest of the spirit hierarchy, a demogorgon? The thought made him shiver.

“Come,” the other man said, gesturing toward the doors. “The others will be waiting.”

“Right.” No one else was in sight near them … but across the way near the far edge of town more of the familiar robes could be seen going about their business. Grimacing, Ravagin squared his shoulders and pulled open the doors.

I
T WASN'T PAINFUL OR
even particularly uncomfortable, Danae found, to be standing frozen half in and half out of her room. The overwhelming sensation, in fact, during those first few seconds was that of utter humiliation.

Damn it all,
she thought viciously, the last remnants of her spirit-induced sleep burning away like fog before hot sunlight.
I should have done a protection spell before I opened the door
…
or had a sprite check things out
…
or even done a spirit-detection, for God's sake. Damn, but I'm stupid.

Carefully, putting all her strength into it, she managed to turn her head enough to get a clear look at the far end of the hallway. No one was visible; straining her ears, she couldn't hear any sounds of life. Your
standard mixed blessing,
she thought, anger fading as she realized she might have a second shot at this. If she'd called out a protection spell someone might very well have come running fast enough to intercept her. But now, if she had even a few minutes alone, she might just be able to figure out how to break this spell.

All right, Danae,
think.
There has to be a way out. What sort of clues have we got as to what this flypaper is?

It wasn't a sleep spell or fractional-possession spell of the type used to bring her here in the first place; of that much she was certain. It didn't seem to involve neural paralysis or synapse interruption, either. She'd had an experience once with an icegun as a little girl, and there was nothing of that sensation in this. On the other hand, there
did
seem to be a feint haze interfering with her vision. A haze that reminded her of something …

Aha!
She smiled grimly. So
that
was all it was: a lar, set into a defensive circle barely big enough for her to stand in. Back on her first night on Karyx she'd wondered what would happen if she tried to push her way past a lar; now apparently, she had her answer.

Okay. So now what?
She knew the release for a lar, of course, but release spells usually didn't work unless the user had invoked the spirit in the first place.

Or unless whoever had invoked this particular lar had added a manifold-geas to the spell so that others in Coven could also give it orders.

She bit at her lip, running through her mind the three manifold-geas spells she'd been taught. Unfortunately, only the most general of them gave total strangers like her any control whatsoever, and it was pretty unlikely that Coven would be using anything like that. Still, it couldn't hurt to try the appropriate release. “
Harkhonistrasmylikiheen,
” she muttered. “
Carash-melanasta.
”

Nothing happened.
Nice try, anyway,
she told herself, fighting down a surge of disappointment.
Now what?

Well, when all else fails, try logic.
The spirit protection spell was theorized to form a short-range barrier around a person which spirits couldn't penetrate; if it was coupled with a release spell, the combination might at least push the lar far enough back for her to slip past it.

Or else she'd get the same result as she'd just gotten with the geas-release combination: namely, nothing. But giving up now was to lose by default. Mentally crossing her fingers, she took as deep a breath as she could manage with the lar pressing in on her. “
Man-sy-hae orolontis; carash-melanasta
—”

And lost the rest of her breath in a strangled
whuff
as the intangible cocoon abruptly tightened, squeezing in on her like a padded vise.

There was no time to try anything else, even if she'd had anything else to try. She couldn't breathe … and as the feint haze before her eyes became mottled, she knew the lar was doing its best to squeeze the life out of her …

She awoke back in the room to find three figures standing over her: a man and a woman in the increasingly familiar Coven robes, and a second man—

“Ravagin!” she managed.

“You all right?” he asked, his wooden expression not giving way any hint of what he was thinking.

Which could be any of a dozen unpleasant things. Danae felt her face flush with embarrassment and shame. “Sure, I'm fine,” she muttered. “I guess I got the spell wrong.”

Ravagin looked at the Coven man. “I may have mentioned that we're not particularly good spirithandlers,” he said. “Really, we're nothing more than craftsmen. I don't think we can be of much service to Coven.”

The man shook his head. “You misunderstand both our purposes and our needs. Spirithandling isn't the problem—we have all that sort of knowledge we need. But your—what was it, some new style of bow? Yes—your bow shows you're exactly the sort people we're always in search of.”

Ravagin's eyes flicked to Danae and back again. “So it's creative talent you're looking for, is it? And you pass out those enchanted robes to help in the hunt?”

The man smiled. “Exactly. Each has a spirit trapped—well, not
in
it, exactly; that would be too easy to detect. But the spirit is associated with it in a rather complicated manner.”

“How do you make sure the robes get to the proper people?” Danae asked.

“Oh, we don't,” the man shrugged. “Most of them disappear out there and we never hear of them again. But enough find their way to people we can use. You'd be amazed at how many peddlers will buy a robe that has the Coven emblem on it, almost as if our reputation for quality will reflect on them.”

Danae felt her stomach tighten. The exact logic Melentha had used on her … and she'd fallen for the trick like a halfwit. “So is that all you dragged us here for?” she demanded. “My composite bow design?”

“Oh, the bow will only be the start,” the woman said. “We're extending you the rare privilege of joining the Coven community. In return, you'll be expected to create a steady stream of ingenious instruments and tools for us to market.”

Danae looked at Ravagin, her mouth going dry. “Did you explain to our hosts that we really can't stay here—?”

“I've tried,” Ravagin said. “I get the feeling the invitation isn't a matter of choice.”

“You're beginning to understand—” The man broke off as the glow-fire of a sprite came through the wall and decelerated to a sudden stop. For a second it engulfed first his head, then the woman's, before heading away in a smooth curve through the half-open doorway.

“Excuse us, but we're needed elsewhere,” the man said as he and the woman started toward the door. “You'll be comfortable here until we return. I suggest you discuss the situation and try to reconcile yourselves to it.” They disappeared into the hallway, closing the heavy door behind them.

Ravagin exhaled in a long sigh and turned to eye Danae. “You all right?” he asked. “
Really
all right, I mean?”

“I'm as well as can be expected,” Danae told him, sitting up on the bed. “Ravagin—I'm sorry about all of this. I don't know what happened—”

He waved the apology away. “Forget it. You heard the man: they've clearly got this snatching technique down to a science. Let's try and figure out a way out of here, shall we?”

“I tried the door,” she grimaced. “You saw what happened.”

“Sure did. What was that, anyway?—a fractional-possession spell?”

“No, I think it was a lar, circling me at
very
close orbit. I tried combining a release spell with—”

“A lar?” Ravagin frowned. “You sure?”

“I'm not sure of anything, but I don't know what else it could have been. Why?”

“Because that wasn't typical lar behavior.” Ravagin gazed into space a minute. “No. You couldn't set a lar to form a tube around a person like that. You only get that kind of full circle as a large perimeter—it reforms as a localized column in front of anyone who gets too close.”

Danae thought back to that first night on Karyx. Sure enough, that was how the lar had behaved. “You're right,” she admitted. “But the haze and—well, the basic sensation—both felt more like a lar than anything else.”

“Great.” Ravagin sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Just great. You realize, of course, what it means if you're right.”

“Coven's come up with some brand-new spells?” she hazarded.

“Bull's-eye. And not just new spells, but ones that create entirely different behavior patterns in the invoked spirits.”

She thought that over for a minute. “But the old spells should still work, shouldn't they? I mean, they work
now,
and—well, relativity didn't negate the accuracy of classical mechanics, you know.”

Ravagin looked her in astonishment. “What does relativity have to do with it?”

“I meant that in its proper sphere, classical mechan—”

“I know what you meant,” he cut her off. “Look, Danae, in case you hadn't noticed, we're not dealing with electrons and frictionless sleds here—we're dealing with living, sentient beings. There are no guarantees here—we're damn lucky that someone in Karyx's past found
any
way of controlling these spirits. But the whole thing is strictly empirical; if there are basic laws governing the interaction of spells and spirits, no one's come up with them yet.”

“I'm aware of that,” Danae snapped, getting to her feet. “You're welcome to start work on that oversight right away—
I'm
going to find a way past that lar.”

Stomping to the door, she opened it a crack. This time, knowing what to look for, she found she could see the faint haze between her and freedom. “You said you tried a standard release spell?” Ravagin called from behind her.

“Yes,” she gritted, trying to summon up courage to try this again. The memory of being almost crushed to death …

“I'm surprised you were able to get any words out at all, given the way you looked when we found you.”

“It didn't try to strangle me until after I said the release,” she told him. Maybe if she used one of the other geas spells this time … Clenching her teeth, she inhaled deeply—

“It did
what
?” There was a creak from the bed, and a second later Ravagin was peering through the door over her shoulder. “A lar shouldn't react that way to a release spell from the wrong person.”

“Well … I
did
try using the control spell for a manifold geas first,” she admitted. “Maybe that—I don't know, sensitized it or put it on its guard or something.”

“It shouldn't have,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “With a manifold geas you're either in control or you aren't, and if you aren't the spirit's just supposed to ignore you. Certainly not attack you.”

“If you're implying I said the spell wrong—”

“No, no, I'm sure you did it right.” He exhaled thoughtfully between his teeth. “Damn. This gets worse and worse, Danae.”

She twisted her head to look at him. “What do you mean? You
said
we were probably dealing with a new set of spells and spirit behavior here.”

For a long moment he was silent. Then, reaching around behind her, he carefully pushed the door closed. “You don't want to try the release again?” she asked.

“I don't want to try
any
spells for a while,” he said quietly. “There's something wrong here—something very wrong—only I can't put my finger on it.”

Danae licked her lips.
The most experienced Courier in the Corps,
she reminded herself.
If he thinks something's off-key
… “You want to give me a for instance? Besides the overzealous lar in the hallway, I mean?”

Ravagin stepped over to the window and stood looking out, hands clasped behind his back. “It's just feelings so far,” he said. “Something about Coven feels … empty, somehow. I mean aside from the two people we've talked, to, everyone else in town's been keeping their distance.” He nodded toward the glass. “There are some people over there now near where I left my horse, but they weren't there when I rode up.”

Danae came up behind him and peered out. “Yes, I saw them earlier—or another group; you can't really tell them apart with those robes.”

“But why are they all over
there
?” he persisted. “When I was being escorted here I saw people milling around this building, too, but by the time I got here they were gone.”