“I'll pay you well for the name of who told you.”
“That's right generous,” he said, suddenly going after something amongst his tail feathers. “But that name's not for sale, my dear maistresse, so just save your generosity for my request...”
“I'll pay you better than he paid you...”
“Hey!” he said, pointing himself at her as if he were about to fly into her face. Do I get my traveling spell that you've owed me all along, or not?”
Demonica studied Ocker for a moment with a squint that sent a scald of fear through him. “Well,” she said as she picked up her cup for a sip, “Here's your traveling spell. When you decide where you wish to go, check your scrying marble to make sure it's safe and then recite the very same spell which you've been using all along. Just declare your new destination instead of saying, 'Demonica's keep.'“
“You stinking queinte!” he awked, bristling up from head to tail. “You pissen me right smart! Here you up and do hit to me again.”
“What?” said Demonica with a gasp of innocence. “Have I failed to give you what you asked for?”
Ocker hopped onto the table to grab up an egg-in-a-hole and spill the salt cellar before flapping to the window sill.
“You knocked the flowers into the milk, this time!” she cried as she rushed to set the vase upright.
“Yea?” he awked. “Well your tricks stink, witch. Play hit straight from now on or my business goes elsewhere!” And with that, he dove out the window and flew to the roof. After a few moments of gobbling down egg-in-a-hole and rolling his marble about, he vanished from sight to reappear right at the edge of his nest.
Urr-Urr bristled up at the sudden sight of him and popped her beak. “Are you the toute or the very stinking netherhole himself?” she awked, giving herself a convulsive shake. “Please! From now on, reappear out there in the air somewhere.” She looked at his wide eyes of bewilderment and began nibbling at his ear.
“I'm really sorry...” he said as he preened the feathers of her neck.
“Hit's good you're back,” she said. “Razzorbauch and his mistress just now vanished into thin air, right in front of the stone bench, down on the balcony. By snippets of things I could hear them a-saying, I'd allow that they were on their way to Demonica's.”
“Good thing I got out of there...”
“Did she give you the traveling spell?”
“No, but now I can use hit to go anywhere I want...”
***
“Well,” said Demonica as she studied Ugleeuh up and down, the moment Razzorbauch departed. “I never imagined that you'd take me seriously.”
“Why not?,” said Ugleeuh. “You certainly owe me.”
“And why would you ever imagine that?”
Ugleeuh drew in an angry breath.
“You might...” said Demonica, causing Ugleeuh to hold it. “You might not want to sully me with more of what you've already told me, my dear. I couldn't possibly owe you a thing, particularly since my lessons are mine to give as I see fit. You certainly wouldn't want me to make you go away...”
Ugleeuh gave a wide-eyed swallow in spite of her defiant resolve.
“Would you?” said Demonica.
“No Mother, I would not,” said Ugleeuh, hating the sound of her very own words.
Demonica slowly walked around Ugleeuh where she stood, disdainfully studying this and that about her person. “Well then dear,” she said as she paused to whisk away a piece of lint from Ugleeuh's kirtle, “the very first thing you need to learn if ever you become a sorceress is how to keep your feelings hidden, while you quietly read the feelings of those around you.” She flicked away another piece of lint. “And you're just cooking, sweetheart. A blind man could read your antipathy.”
“You're entirely...” said Ugleeuh as Demonica patted her under the chin, freezing her throat.
“You needn't trouble yourself with deceptions, dear,” said Demonica as if she were telling a guest not to bother with the dirty dishes. “I've felt your hatred from the moment we met. No matter. We don't need your adoration. Never have. But if you want to know how to use your magic, you shall follow my instruction to the very letter. So. Nod your head if you agree.”
Ugleeuh threw open her mouth without so much as a squeak and promptly turned red with fury. “I'll kill you!” she thought.
Demonica gave a disdainful wave at Ugleeuh's throat and began walking for the doorway.
“She's going on to other things!” thought Ugleeuh. “Mother!” she said, speaking out in the echoes. “I agree. I'll do what you say.”
“Very well then,” said Demonica, turning smoothly about, “but mind you, I allow people one mistake, and you've just made yours. Now. Show me what you've learnt from your father.”
“I have nothing to show...”
“Are you still fighting me?”
“No!” said Ugleeuh with a face of alarm. “He refused to show me things...”
“Ah yes. How well I remember his many rewards. Have you managed to teach yourself anything?”
Ugleeuh nodded smugly.
“Show me.”
Ugleeuh went to the open window and triumphantly flung up her fists at the fluffy white clouds. Demonica sauntered over to the window to watch them gather themselves into a rumbling thunderhead. “My word,” she said. “We really do have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 17
Ugleeuh took a spoonful of raspberries and milk and made a face. “Mother,” she said. “They brought this up with honey strung all over it, and there's not a grain of sukere out on the table at all. Why would you ever let your kitchen use honey when you invested your dragons in our sukere business? Fates! You're even putting honey in your tea.”
Demonica raised an eyebrow as she licked her fingertips. “You're not serious, I hope,” she said, pausing to string more honey onto her raspberries. “Oh, but I see by your looks that you must be indeed...”
“Of course I am. That big dollop of honey on your berries is disgusting. It's Elvish for one thing. And it's too sweet and it doesn't have that...”
“That what? That singular satisfaction for your craving? I thought I saw your fingers trembling when you grabbed up your spoon.”
“Pooh! Its sweetness happens to be perfect, is all. It gives you energy, a feeling of well being and...”
“And your uncle Razzorbauch let you eat it without giving you any warning at all about its dangers,” said Demonica, squinting as she studied Ugleeuh's puffy eyes. “By all means sell all the sukere you can possibly manage, but never touch the stuff yourself. Did he tell you about sukee?”
“Sukee?”
“Well then, I see he didn't,” she said, swallowing and wiping her mouth for a sip of tea. “I wouldn't bring it to anyone's attention, either, at least not until my trade in sukere was fairly well established. Sukee's mean stuff. The Gwaels have a serious problem with it. It makes cider, wine and mead seem like child's play. Instead of getting drunkards every so often, as one does with those sorts of spirits, sukee drinking becomes a lifelong habit in short order for practically every fool who drinks it. And sukee drinkers don't live but half as long as everyone else...”
“This is terrible and everything,” said Ugleeuh, “but what does this have to do with sukere?”
“Are you looking for something?”
“Well I'd like some sukere for my berries...”
“You're not following this, are you?”
“When it makes sense.”
“Sukee is fermented from sukere, dear, if you're demanding clarity,” said Demonica as she spooned out the last of her berries and paused to drink the milk from her bowl. “And sukere comes from the sukere cana plant, in case that might have gotten by you.”
“It has not.”
“Well that's good. Your uncle Razzorbauch thought about starting with sukee but decided against it on the grounds that people would be slower to recognize what was causing the damage if they were eating sukere in their food instead.
Sukee would be rather more obvious, being drunk by itself. He thought it had a better chance of being spotted as a poison before his market was established. And both are poison, indeed. Once you've eaten sukere, you're driven to continue eating it, which is what makes it such a good business opportunity.”
“I don't believe you,” said Ugleeuh as she plunked her spoon into her uneaten raspberries. “If sukere were dangerous, Uncle Razzorbauch never would have encouraged me to use it.”
“Oh I'm surprised myself, dear,” said Demonica. “Perhaps his use for you is rather different than either of us might have imagined.”
Ugleeuh shoved her bowl away, spilling it. “You're jealous!” she shouted. “You don't want to share Uncle Razzorbauch's attention with me, so you're trying to ruin everything! You're ugly! No wonder Father kept me away from you!” And with that, she shot to her feet, toppling her chair as she wheeled about to leave.
“Well stop then,” murmured Demonica, freezing her mid-stride with a flick of her fingers. She rose with a sigh and ambled around the table to stand in front of her. “Your stubborn conviction that I've nothing but ill will for you is simply wrong,” she said, brushing a lock of hair out of Ugleeuh's eyes. She snapped her fingers, suddenly releasing her. “Come along, dear. I've something to show you to let you know that I've been thinking of you.”
Demonica was nearly to the doorway before Ugleeuh overcame her wariness enough to follow her. She chased her echoes down the stone corridors, hurrying after glimpses of her red kirtle vanishing over the tops of steps and around corners. She lost sight of her winding down into a deep stairwell to the dank bottom, where there was the clank of an iron latch and the slow squeal of hinges. A rush of warm putrid air rose to meet her before she reached the last steps. Just beyond the doorway at the bottom she found Demonica addressing a couple of bristly faced turnkeys who had been sitting across from one another over their card game and flagons of mead on a barrel head. She was surprised to find the small room well lit by a large grated window near the ceiling. She could hear the cries of gulls and the pounding of surf.
“My word, gentlemen,” said Demonica as she gestured for them to be seated. “One would think that you were alarmed at the very sight of me.”
“Why no,” said the first one as he settled onto his nail keg.”
“But I did indeed startle you, didn’t I Joran?” she said to the one still standing. “By all means, sit.”
“You did, sort of,” said Joran as he nervously straddled his keg. “We just thought you might think we were drinking mead on guard.”
“Well I know you’d never do that,” she said. “You and Remont would sit there and drink vinegar before you’d even think of having mead on the job.”
“Oh, we certainly would, Mistress,” he said, sharing a panicky glance with Remont.
“Keep your seats. As long as you don’t forget your duties, I have no problem with your card game,” she said, stepping aside into a dark passage as she motioned for Ugleeuh to follow. “We go down this corridor, here.” As soon as they were several steps into the tunnel, she set a brilliant white mage light to hovering above the palm of her hand, to light their way.
“So you’re going to convince me of your good will by locking me in here?” said Ugleeuh as she splashed into the water in the middle of the floor which ran the length of the tunnel. “What’s this wet, all up my legs?”
“Sewage, dear. It trickles out of the cells. You want to stay out of it…”
“Yuck! You think locking me in…”
“Leeuh, Leeuh,” said Demonica, turning aside to send their shadows racing along the walls. “I see that Razzmorten did more damage than I ever guessed. You might make it so that I have to freeze your mouth, but I’m not about to lock you away in this dungeon. Just be patient and follow behind me.”
Meanwhile, Joran picked up his flagon and leant across the barrel. “That was close, don’t you think?” he whispered.
“Oh, my!” said Remont, shaking his head as he picked up his drink. “A fellow never knows what she might do.” And with that, both of them tossed back their heads for a good long drink.
“Gaah!” gargled out Joran, soaking the front of his shirt.
Remont banged down his flagon in a seizure of coughing. “What is this?” he gasped.
“Vinegar!” cried Joran with a frothy howl, pivoting aside for an urgent vomit.
Demonica came to the last cell in the row and rapped the padlock against its great iron hasp like a knocker, whereupon it fell open as if she had a key. “O Ma-dog?” she sang out as if she were merely the lady next door. “I’ve someone you might want to se-e.”
“See?” he said, stiffly getting up onto his knees like a straw-matted lion. “How would I do that, blinded out of the blackness by your light? Get out of here, or at least kill me quick.”
“Quick? I can’t imagine being abrupt with my own guests,” she said as she looked him over. “I wouldn’t just walk out on you either. I thought you’d like the chance to speak with my own flesh and blood. Madog, this is my daughter, Ugleeuh Dewin.”
Madog threw open his squinted eyes for a look at Ugleeuh and squeezed them shut at once, shaking his head.
“You!” gasped Ugleeuh.
“Perfect,” said Demonica. “You do know each other. And this leads me to an important question, Leeuh. Just how did you come up with the kitten you had Madog deliver to Princess Branwen as a gift from Prince Hebraun?”
“What does that matter?”
“Quite a bit, truth to tell. I’ll need to hear what you have to say before I can clear everything up for you. When you sent the kitten with Madog, what did you have to do first?”
“I had to find a young girl with a high fever and bloody diarrhea and pains in her right lower belly and in her joints. But it was tedious and took forever because she had to have a pet kitten. Not only that, but the kitten had to have lice and I had put a spell on myself before I ever touched it. So when I finally found a nine year old girl with those symptoms and a lousy pet, I took her stupid kitty. Then I put it in a basket lined with linen, and with a tight lid, and said a long incantation...”
“Good,” said Demonica. “This is pretty complicated for you to come up with by yourself. Did someone instruct you? Where'd you get the spell?”
“Oh, from an old book of Father's. He called it a grimoire and went to a lot of trouble to keep it hidden from me...”
“Forbidden Spells and Forgotten Curses and Charms?” said Demonica, as if it suddenly was a map to treasure.
“Something like that. It was in the handwriting of some Cathal person...”
“Cathal of Head. He was my father, dear, your very grandfather. Do you have it?”
“No. I was right careful to put it back exactly as it was.”
Demonica didn't appear to listening for a moment. “Well,” she said as she snapped to. “I'm afraid it was mine in the first place. Father gave it to me on his deathbed. Razzmorten, bless his heart, hid it from me because it made him nervous. So what were you trying to do to Branwen with it, dear?”
“I just wanted to make her sick for a while...”
Suddenly Madog had Ugleeuh by the wrist. “Right!” he shouted, tottering on his knees as Ugleeuh jerked and wrenched against his grasp. “You said she'd be the only one sick! But you knew better, didn't you? You started the very plague that killed her and rages even now! They need to cut out your bowels and quarter you in front of everyone in Far and Niarg together!”
Ugleeuh yanked free to give him a furious slap, splashing crackling blue flame across his eyes, sending him rolling in the straw on the floor, howling with pain.
“You hauled the stupid cat all the way to Far!” she cried. “You gave it to her!”
“What?” he woofed into the straw. “Like I was the one who killed her? You told me she'd only be sick for two days.”
“She was.”
“Yea,” he said, rolling onto his back. “And dead on the third. You knew da
mned well what you were doing.”
“Just how is showing me this fool supposed to convince me of your good will, Mother?”
“My word, dear,” said Demonica with a gasp. “You're not grasping this? You've not pictured your popularity in Niarg with him running lose? He was as shrill as can be when he came here demanding that I stop your plague. Aren't you glad that I detained him? Besides, wouldn't you enjoy some entertainment?”
“Entertainment?”
“I consider him yours, dear. My favor. What do you want to do with him?”
“Let him die. What else?”
“Well, exactly how he dies is quite important, wouldn't you think?” said Demonica. “It has the ring of legal propriety, for one thing. Besides, how he dies is your call, and there are alternatives. For example, I happen to have a very well equipped torture chamber here in the dungeon which has been neglected lately. Why have his death be bland? I find taking apart a stinker piece by piece to be a lively experience.”
“You're actually serious, aren't you?”
“Oh my dear, I take the torture of my prisoners most seriously.”
Ugleeuh glanced at Madog to find him watching her. He caught her eye and she quickly looked away.
“She hasn't the courage, Demonica,” said Madog. “That's why she had me deliver the kitty. Look at her. You can see it in her face. That's why she wants me to stay in here and turn to dust. So I'll make it easy. Turn me lose and I'll never breathe a word to anyone about the plague.”
“I didn't force you, Madog. You owed me for the charm which made Crysten fall hopelessly in love with you. She even married you. Did you expect not to pay up? I nearly got caught going through Father's library to make that stupid charm for you.”
“Whooee! What a sacrifice!” cried Madog, tossing a double handful of dusty straw into the air like confetti. “You think a plague killing countless people is a fair trade for any of that?”
“No,” she said. “That's why Mother's going to help me cut you to pieces.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 18
