by Tim Akers
“Did you get your needfuls?” I asked.
“No, I… I didn’t care for the price,” he said crossly. “Now come on.”
He marched off, shouldering his way through the crowd. I lay Harlon’s money on the counter, and some of my own, then pried the bottle of Culdrian green from the vendor’s wrinkled hands and followed Jovin. Becca would like it, as long as Jovin didn’t spoil the evening.
####
To my relief, Jovin didn’t show up at the club room after dinner. We quickly discovered that Culdrian green wine tasted more like moss than was to our taste, but Becca was kind about it. Elia never touched it, not even a drop, and Harlon was sour about the cost involved, and was even more cross when he discovered I had put my own money toward it.
“How often have we had this conversation, Rae? There are three good wines in the world. Thaelian black, Yves red, and anything white that comes from east of the Dunje. If it’s my gold you’re spending, have the decency to follow those basic rules, can you?” He asked, grimacing as he forced down another mug of the green wine. Despite his protests, half the bottle had gone into his mouth, and not a little down his chin.
“I think it was a sweet thing to do,” Becca said. “Stop being so harsh, Harl.”
“Speak to the wine about harshness, if you please,” Harlon said. He poured the remains of the bottle into his mug, topping off Becca’s mug while he was at it. “Now, if we can finally be finished with this monstrosity of a vintage, I can pull something from my collection and we can get on with the business of the evening.”
“You make it sound like such a burden,” Becca said, rubbing his arm. “Have you lost the joy of wine, my dear?”
“Not at all. I just feel put upon, having to shoulder the majority of this bottle on my own. What with Elia not drinking and Jovin not showing up, someone had to step up and make the sacrifice.” He drank half his mug in one swallow, shivered unhappily, then poured the rest down his throat. “Gods. What are those people thinking, putting something like this in a bottle and selling it to soft-headed fools like Rael, here? How can they sleep at night?”
“Gods, Harlon, I’m sorry. I thought the lady would like a taste of something different,” I said, trying to catch Becca’s eye and missing. “Won’t happen again.”
“I imagine not,” Harlon said, crossing to his private shelf of wines and going through them. “What will we use to cleanse that from our tongues, hm? Elia, are you even going to drink tonight, or should I choose a smaller bottle, lest Rael drink too much and try to summon a spirit again?” He paused and leaned over Elia’s shoulder, squinting at the book she was reading. “What in gods is that?”
“A book about life and death,” she answered simply. “And yes, to your question. One of those whites you were mentioning.”
“Hm? Oh. The wine,” he said, taking a bottle and uncorking it. It splashed, red and thick, into my mug as he poured. “That’s a lot of subject for such a small book, my dear. All of life and death, or only certain parts?”
“The planes, you idiot,” she answered. “The binding of life and death.”
“Oh. Oh, gods, must you?” Harlon asked, crossing back to the new couch and sitting heavily next to Becca. Becca leaned forward, her green eyes curious.
“Where’d you get it, El?” she asked.
“The book? Harlon’s generous library,” she said, nodding to the shelf. “Came in with the last batch, after our little trouble with the fire. You’ll have to ask Harlon where it came from.”
“I just bought everything the vendor had on spiritbinding,” Harlon said. “It’s not like I went in and… chose certain titles. Gods, you don’t think it’s a banned volume, do you?”
“Do you really think they would sell banned books on the Feral, within sight of the Iron College?” Elia asked. “I’m sure it’s harmless enough.”
“Life and Death are fifth year subjects,” I said, nervously. “We really shouldn’t mess with it, not until…”
“Hush, Rae. Always so nervous,” Becca said with a twinkle in her eyes. “What does it say, El? Do tell us.”
“I’m just getting into it. Lots of rules, lots of patterns,” Elia said, flipping a few pages forward, grimacing. “It’s very complex, honestly. I can see why they reserve it for fifth years.”
“Complex and incredibly dangerous,” I said. “You’ve certainly put me at my ease, Elia. Please, just put the book down, for now at least. What sort of wine is this, Harlon? Since it’s a red, and something you’re willing to drink, I have to assume…”
“I’ve heard it said that spirits of death are those that have gone on,” Becca said, with a tinge of excitement in her voice. “That you can contact those beyond the grave, and bind them for their wisdom.”
“I’ve no interest in the wisdom of the grave,” Harlon said. “Give me life, any day. Tell me they’re not the souls of those who have yet to die, or something.”
“Those who have yet to be born,” I said. “Or, I mean. That’s what our priest used to say. That binding life meant preventing those spirits from coming into the world, and that the gods…”
“Gods and priests and spirits, Rael,” Becca said, laughing. “Listen to you! A very old idea, in a very modern world.”
“She’s right, Rae,” Elia said, without looking at me, as though it embarrassed her to correct me. “That sort of talk has mostly been undone. Whatever voices the spirits use, they seem to come from us. A man who binds the spirit of his dead wife will surely find her, but only because he looks so hard.” She closed the book and looked at me sadly. “Just as a heartbroken boy will find love in every glance and laugh, no matter how dry that field may be.”
“You’re all putting me off my drink,” Harlon said, taking a long pull directly from the bottle. “Between Rael’s awful green and Elia’s talk of spirits dead and unborn, it’ll be a miracle if I can pass out tonight at all. Come, let’s be to our business.”
“Our business, indeed,” Becca said, pulling the bottle from Harlon’s grip and pouring for Rael, smiling warmly. “And no more talk like this, yes? There’s no need for it.”
There was a scratching knock on the door, then someone was fumbling with the latch. Harlon furrowed his brow.
“Did we lock the door? I don’t remember locking the door.”
“You should, with all you keep in here. A moment, please,” Becca called out, standing. She went to the door and pulled it open.
Jovin, his face battered and shirt torn, stepped into the room. He didn’t quite make it to the couch before he fell to the rug and began to twitch.
####
“Withdrawal,” Elia said. We had Jovin on the couch, a cold rag to his head and thin wine to his lips. The shakes had stopped, but his face was still as pale as sheets. “Anyone know how long it’s been since his last?”
“Anyone know what exactly he’s putting into his body?” Harlon asked glumly. He had soldiered on with his mission of drunken stupor, but he was alone on the expedition. Becca had gone for medicine, with a list written out by Elia in her hand.
“He tried to buy something this afternoon, but said he didn’t like the price. He tried to get me to give him some of the wine money, but I refused.”
“You refuse him, yet you throw it away on green wine. I will never understand you, Rae,” Harlon said.
“I’ve no patience for Jovin’s habits, or your wounded pride, Harlon.” Elia replaced the rag on Jovin’s head and felt his pulse. “You did the right thing, Rael. If it’s this bad, feeding it won’t make it better. But we’ll need to give him something.”
“You say it’s withdrawal, but the shakes don’t account for his busted lip and puffy eye,” Harlon said.
“Depends on how desperate he was,” Elia said. “Depends on what he tried to do to feed his hunger.”
“First spirits of death and green wine, and now thuggery. I’m calling this evening ruined. We may as well start over again tomorrow.” Harlon lay down on the couch, closing his ey
es and setting his bottle on the table. “Good night, folks.”
Fortunately, Becca returned before Elia could say anything sharp and regrettable. The girls busied themselves with the articles in Becca’s basket, and were soon pouring something tan and thick down Jovin’s throat. Coughing, he came to life.
“What in hells was that?” he asked, sputtering.
“What does it matter?” Elia snapped. “You’re not dead or dying, so you’re welcome. For all you care.”
“I care a great deal, actually,” he said, lifting himself gingerly to his elbows and then swinging his legs off the couch. “It might be better if I didn’t, though.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I’m in a bit of a spot, to be honest,” he said, not meeting our eyes. “You all know that I have certain tastes, and these tastes require gold.”
“I am not loaning you a penny,” Harlon said from across the room. “Just so that’s out of the way.”
“I think I’m beyond the point where that would do any good, Harlon, though I thank you for your generosity,” Jovin said tightly. “No, I am safely in the debt of certain dangerous men. And the price that they are asking can not be paid in gold.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Harlon said, swinging to a sitting position. “Everything can be paid in gold. There is no finer currency.”
“You forget who we are, I think. All of us,” Jovin answered.
“I know who I am, Jovin,” Harlon said. “I know who my father is, and his father. Our name is on half the counties east of here. So tell me, friend. What does that matter?”
“Not our names, or our histories. Who we are today. Now.”
“Students of the Iron College,” Becca said nervously. “’Binders, someday. Jovin, what sort of price are these people asking?”
“A price to be paid in souls, dear girl. A price paid in spirits, summoned and bound.”
Harlon was fully awake, now, his eyes sharp as a hawk. Gone was the drunk student, the sullen child.
“Jovin,” he said, tensely. “What do you mean by that? I will be no man’s soul slave, nor will any friend of mine submit to that.”
“Not our souls, of course. They have…” Jovin stumbled, a ragged sob in his voice. “They have other people for that. Other debts that are collected. They mean only for us to bind spirits to these other people.”
“Surely they know we’re not up to the task,” Harlon said, standing. “And when did this become we? We did not run up your debt, Jovin. Why is it up to us to pay it? Do you know what will become of us, if the Iron finds out that we’re involved in such a thing? Gods, do you know what my father would do?”
“Harlon, be calm. One thing at a time,” Becca said, then turned to Jovin. “You can’t mean for us to do this, in seriousness. We haven’t the art. There’s barely a year of study under our belts and, if you had not noticed, we are not the best students.”
“I don’t have any other choice, Bec. I told them about our summoning, and how Rael was nearly able…”
“Wait, you told them these things?” I asked. “What in god’s height made you do that? Why involve us at all?”
“Because, otherwise… otherwise they were going to settle the debt in other ways, Rae.” He looked down at his feet. “Prices I wasn’t willing to pay.”
“They have our names, then?” Harlon asked, furious. “They know where we live? I assume you’ve told them of our families, as well. Gods, Joe, how could you be such an idiot?”
“They mean to bind to him,” Elia said quietly. “They mean to use his soul, as they would have us use the souls of others. That’s it, isn’t it, Jovin?”
Tearfully, Jovin nodded. Becca sighed and rubbed his shoulder.
“Well, we can’t let that happen, can we?” she asked. “So what do we do?”
“What can we do?” Harlon asked. “You saw our last try! If we start doing this on a whim, we’re going to end up killing someone.”
“It’s not the same,” Elia said. “Binding to a soul slave is not the same at all.”
“She’s right,” I said nervously. “When you bind a spirit to yourself, you have to be careful. You have to lace the pattern into your soul without disrupting either the spirit or your heart. Too much one way, and the spirit isn’t anchored. It escapes, or just dissipates. Too much the other way…”
“And the spirit takes over the soul,” Elia said. She went to the shelf and started browsing through the books.
“So that’s what we do,” Harlon said. “If you’re so worried about this. We bind the spirit loosely, and in time the elemental slips free and the slave has his life back. What’s so bad about that?”
“That’s not what these people want,” Jovin said, his voice miserable. “It’s not how they do business.”
“They want it the other way, Harlon,” Elia said, drawing a book from the shelf and flipping through it. “Here. It works like this. We would push the binding in the other direction, fraying the center of the subject’s soul and weaving the spirit directly into the pattern.”
“What becomes of the…” Becca paused, swallowing. “The subject?”
“That soul is consumed,” I said. I had seen soul slaves, back home. One of the reasons the church was so strong where I grew up was the revulsion people felt toward the shambling brutes and their masters. “They maintain some sense of self, but no true will. They do whatever their master commands. And the spirits have no way of escaping, only obeying.”
“It only works for elemental spirits,” Elia said, reading on. “Spirits of Law and Chaos are too powerful. They would take over the empty body and impose their own will on the flesh. Spirits of Life and Death on the other hand…”
“Let’s not speak of that, for now,” Becca said. She had gone as white as snow. Much as I hated to think it, the color made her eyes even more beautiful. “Not in front of Jovin. Not until we’ve sworn to help him.”
“I’m not sure about this,” Harlon said. “I can’t risk my family…”
“Please, Harl?” Becca said, her eyes wet. “Please don’t be a brute, just this once. Say that you’ll help.”
“Becca, listen, there are a lot of things to consider, and we don’t…”
“I’ll help,” I said. Becca’s eyes lit up, just like stars. Damn, but those eyes. “Don’t worry, Joe. We’ll fix this.”
“Oh, gods, thank you so much,” Becca said. She rushed over and hugged me, with Harlon and Elia looking on, distaste evident in their faces. Jovin was too broken up to do more than nod and cry. “I knew you’d help.”
“I won’t let you do it alone,” Elia said eventually, when Becca had released me. The girl’s warm breath and the feel of her skin lingered in my head, sending my skull abuzz. Elia slapped the book she was holding into my chest. “And if we’re really going to do this, we best get studying.”
“You’re a bunch of fools,” Harlon muttered. “There are things to consider, things to… things that worry me. If the Iron finds out, or our families…”
But he relented, in time. Becca convinced him, later, after we were gone. I tried not to think on that, other than to wish I had needed convincing.
####
For two weeks, we bent our eyes to the books as we never had before. Even Harlon got involved, once Becca convinced him that it was for the best. Becca, soft and charming, collected books from the library at the college, books that got us some unwanted attention from the faculty, but we simply didn’t have the time to be subtle. Not if we were going to save Jovin from an unlife as a soul slave. Jovin cleaned up, as best as he was able, and served to keep us fed and the club room clean as we studied. We learned everything we could about imprinting an elemental spirit on an unwilling soul. It was much more than I wanted to know, and perhaps more than I could live with, after. But we were determined to save our friend.
One day, Harlon walked in to our little domain with a thick book, bound in red covers with letters of gold on the spine, and an e
normous sheet of paper. He banged the book down on the table that we had brought up to the room, his face alight. He started to unroll the paper.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a solution to our problem,” he said.
“Harlon, gods, we don’t have time for anything fancy,” Becca said. She had taken to sometimes sleeping in the club room, and was dressed as plainly as I had ever seen her. “We have less than a week before Jovin’s debt is due, and we have to get this right the first time. Otherwise they’ll be back for more.”
“They’ll be back for more anyway,” Harlon said. “I don’t know how you can’t see that. Once we do them this one favor, they’ll have us. Do you think they’ll just let us go? They could get us kicked out of the Iron, Bec. They could bring disgrace to my family, to our friends… they can ruin our lives.”
“What does that matter, Harlon? We don’t have a choice in this.”
“Don’t we?” he asked. He finished unrolling the paper and turned it so we could see. In Harlon’s careful, tiny hand was a diagram of great complexity, the sigils and language of the ‘binder’s art mingled with spiritual formulas of summoning. “I think there’s something we can do.”
“What is this?” Becca asked, pulling at the paper. “Harlon, this doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s a double binding,” I said, running a finger along the ink. “The patterns aren’t quite right, but I’m not sure what you’re trying for here. This is the subject’s soul, and this is an element of fire. But I’m not sure what all this is.”
“Spirit of Law,” Elia whispered. She was hunched over the soul map, pulling at her lip and squinting. “The binding isn’t very tight. I don’t think it would hold, not for long at least. What are you getting at?”
“Simply this. I have no intention of letting these bastards dictate the rest of my life. They can think they’re jerking around a junkie and his college friends, but gods help them if they think they’re going to push me around.”
