Irith stared at him in surprise.
“Because I can't, stupid!” she shouted. “I don't know how! All I can do is put it on, not take it off!”
This revelation left Kelder speechless.
Irith filled the silence by babbling on, trying to explain.
“I didn't know how it worked, don't you see? I mean, I'm only fifteen, and I'd been cooped up in Kalirin's stupid house in the hills near Degmor ever since menarche, and the only people I ever saw were wizards and army officers and a few servants with the brains of a turnip amongst them, so I didn't know anything about love or sex or infatuation or any of that stuff, and there wasn't anyone I could try the spell out on, to see how it worked, and there's a counterspell, yes, but it isn't part of the spell itself, and I didn't include it, maybe I tried, I don't remember, I can't remember, and I can't do any other magic! I couldn't even touch Kalirin's book of spells any more!”
“But that spell ... From what Ezdral said, it ruined his whole life!” Kelder said.
“Well, I didn't know it would do that!” Irith said defensively. “I didn't know how it worked! I'd used it a couple of times, but those were different, and they're all dead now, and Ezdral was so cute, when I saw him there—he was big and handsome and he was so good with those horses, they calmed right down when he petted them, I mean, I almost wanted to turn into a horse so he'd pet me that way, and he wouldn't even look at me hardly, and before I knew it I'd done it. And he came and talked to me, and he was so sweet, and it was just wonderful, and we had a great time, we went all over the place together and did all sorts of stuff, and he was the best-looking man everywhere we went, and he was gentle and playful...”
“Then why did you leave him?” Kelder asked.
She shrugged. “Well, it got boring,” she said. “And he was talking about us staying together forever, and I knew we weren't going to do that, because I'm only fifteen, I'm not ready to settle down, and he was getting older, and everything, and besides, I knew he didn't really love me, he was enchanted, and I was young and pretty and everything, and even that was magic, so it wasn't real, you know? So it didn't count. So I didn't want to stay with him forever, and I knew I'd have to leave sooner or later, and when we had that fight about my dancing I decided it might as well be sooner, and I thought it would wear off! I thought that if I wasn't there, the spell would wear off and he'd forget all about me.”
“Really?” Asha asked.
Irith blushed again, and looked down at the table.
“I thought it might," she muttered. “I didn't know. I thought it might wear off. But I guess it didn't, at least not right away.”
“Not ever," Asha said. “He's still in love with you.”
Irith shuddered. “Well, I'm certainly not in love with him," she said. “Can't we just forget about him and go on without him?”
Kelder knew at once what the answer to this was—no, they couldn't. Maybe Irith was capable of that sort of selfishness, maybe even Asha was, but he wasn't. Not when he was who he was, and not when he was fated as he was.
He did not say so immediately, however; he paused to think it over, to consider not just what to say, but the entire situation.
He expected to marry Irith—Zindre's prophecy said he would, and he had liked the idea very much. Irith was bright and cheerful, incredibly beautiful, and her magical abilities gave her all the appeal of the mysterious and exotic.
He still liked the idea, but it was obvious that Javan's Second Augmentation had changed her into something that wasn't quite the girl she appeared to be, and the thought of loving and marrying a creature that might not be quite human any more was a bit frightening.
And he knew that Irith was far from perfect; she could be selfish and thoughtless. In particular, it was obvious that she would leave him when he started to show any sign of age—or maybe even just signs of maturity.
He did not want a wife who would leave him when he aged; the Shularan custom, and his family's tradition, was to marry for life. He had assumed that that was what Zindre had prophesied for him, that he would have Irith with him for the rest of his life, but now that he knew Irith, knew who and what she was, that looked very unlikely.
But then, was that really all that bad? He would survive if she left him, just as he would if he were widowed, and while the marriage lasted, she could certainly be an agreeable companion when she chose to be.
Still, he had doubts. This whole adventure was turning out differently than he had expected, and he was not sure yet if it was better or worse. The Great Highway was a dirt road, most of it ugly. He had seen the great city of Shan, but only very briefly and without pleasure; he had seen the vast plain of the Great Eastern Desert, and it had frightened and depressed him more than it had awed or exhilarated him. The wife he had been promised appeared to be a flighty and unpredictable creature, an immortal shapeshifter rather than an ordinary woman. Championing the lost and forlorn he had expected to be a matter of facing down thieves or slaying a dragon or some such traditional act of heroism, not stealing a dead bandit's severed head on behalf of an abused child, or defending the rights of an ensorceled drunkard.
If this was the destiny he had been promised—and really, how could he doubt that it was?—then he had to consider whether he wanted it.
And if he decided he did not, could he refuse it, or was he foredoomed?
He really couldn't say; he had hardly been thinking of such things when he spoke to Zindre as a boy of twelve. He might be doomed to carry out his destiny, or he might not, he simply didn't know.
If he wasn't trapped, did he want to go on?
Well, discharging his promise to Asha was easy enough now; he would certainly go on and hold Abden's funeral, as he had said he would.
But did he still want to marry Irith?
She was as lovely as ever, and he thought he would enjoy her company for as long as they were together, but there was the little matter of what she had done to poor Ezdral. That was not something he wanted hanging over his married life, that some dismal old sot was madly in love with his wife, that she had been completely responsible for it and didn't seem to care.
And that spell of hers—that wasn't anything he wanted hanging over him, either. What if Kelder tired of her before she tired of him, or even if he just refused her now and turned away—what if he decided not to marry her after all, and she decided otherwise? Would she use her spell on him?
Would he know it if she had? Would he even care? Ezdral knew that Irith had deserted him, had avoided him, but he was still in love with her, still looking for her.
Kelder had no desire at all to live out his life under such a curse.
Of course, spells could be broken—Kelder knew that, at least in theory. Irith had said there was a counterspell for the love charm—or at least, that she thought there was; by her own admission, she was unreliable on any question having to do with magic.
Could the love spell be broken?
Could Irith's spell be broken—Javan's Second Augmentation of Magical Memory? Irith hadn't been able to do any new magic for two hundred years, so anything she might say would be out of date; maybe a counterspell had been found long ago. If she were restored to an ordinary, non-magical existence, that would certainly simplify any marriage plans.
Of course, he didn't know if Irith wanted all her spells broken, but there was certainly one she would like to be rid of—Fendel's Infatuous Love Spell.
There was supposed to be a counterspell for that. The prophecy hadn't mentioned anything about it specifically, but Kelder knew where all the great wizards were supposed to be, and Zindre had said he would see cities, plural. Shan was one; there had to be another.
The three of them had been sitting in silence for several seconds, thinking their several thoughts; now Kelder broke the silence.
“Listen,” he said, “suppose that after we're done in Angarossa, after Abden's funeral is all done and his soul set free, we all go on along the highway, all the way to Ethsha
r, all four of us—you, Irith, and you, Asha, and me, and Ezdral—and see if we can't find a wizard who can break the love-spell.”
“All four of us?” Irith asked, startled.
“That's right,” Kelder said, gathering enthusiasm, “all four of us! It would give poor old Ezdral a chance to be with you one last time, just as far as Ethshar—I'm sure we could find a wizard there who could cure him of his infatuation.”
“But why bother?” Irith asked.
“So Ezdral can live out the rest of his life in peace, of course,” Kelder said, annoyed. “And so you can either get rid of the love spell permanently, so you won't accidentally use it again, or so at least you can learn to dispell it if you do use it.”
As he finished saying this he suddenly realized that he might be making a mistake—if she could turn the love spell on and off, Irith might well use it more often. That was scarcely a good thing.
She would be able to use it on him, whenever they argued.
Well, he told himself, the words were out now, and it was too late to take them back.
“You're probably right,” Irith agreed thoughtfully. “If one of them could break the spell, I guess that would be nice for poor old Ezdral, wouldn't it? I mean, it wouldn't give him his forty years back or anything, he'd still be a horrible old man, but maybe he wouldn't be so bad.” She brightened. “And then he wouldn't have any reason to follow me around any more, or bother me at all—not even sit and wait for me, or anything!”
Kelder nodded, pleased that she seemed to have missed his accidental suggestion.
“That would be great!” Irith said. “I don't like the idea of that awful old man thinking about me all the time.” She paused. “Do we all need to go?”
“Well,” Kelder said, “we probably need to have you there so the wizard can see how your spell works, and we need Ezdral so we can use the counterspell on him, and Asha doesn't have anywhere else to go except with us, and I want to see that everything works out all right.”
Irith nodded. “I don't like the idea of being around him,” she said, “but I guess I can stand it as far as Ethshar.”
“Why do we have to go all the way to Ethshar?” Asha asked plaintively.
“Because that's where all the best wizards are, of course,” Irith told her.
“There are wizards in other places besides Ethshar, aren't there?” Asha asked.
“Of course there are,” Kelder agreed, “and we'll look them up along the way—we'll ask in every village and castle along the Great Highway. I've always heard, though, that for real, serious wizardry, the best place to look is Ethshar of the Spices.” Besides, Zindre's predictions clearly implied that he would see Ethshar before returning home; what other great city was there? The Great Highway ran between Shan and Ethshar, it didn't go to Sardiron of the Waters or Tintallion of the Coast or any other important cities.
“You can find good magicians in any of the three Ethshars, really,” Irith said, “but Ethshar of the Spices is supposed to be the biggest and best, and it's certainly the closest. I've never been to the other two.” She sipped her ale, and added, “And I haven't been to Ethshar of the Spices in ages!"
“There are three Ethshars?” Asha asked, in a pitiful little voice.
“Four, actually,” Irith said, counting them off on her fingers. “There are the three in the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, of course—Ethshar of the Spices, Ethshar of the Rocks, and Ethshar of the Sands—and then there's a place that calls itself Ethshar of the Plains that's one of the Small Kingdoms, one of the smallest, over to the southeast of here, just south of Thuth. It split off from Dria right after the Great War ended, I think. Or maybe even before the war ended.”
“I didn't know that,” Kelder remarked. “I thought there were just the three big ones.”
Irith shrugged. “Well, nobody knows all the Small Kingdoms,” she said, “or at least I don't think so. There are more than a hundred in all, and who could remember that many? But I know a lot; I've traveled all over the northern half of them, not just along the Great Highway.”
“Well,” Kelder said, lifting his ale in salute, “you've certainly had time for it.”
Irith eyed him, trying to decide whether he meant anything insulting, and decided that he did not. She smiled at him and sipped her ale.
Kelder watched her, wondering whether her enchantments could all be broken, whether she would be any different if they were, and whether, if both of those were the case, the changes would all be for the better.
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first sign that Ezdral was finally waking up was when he let out his breath in a long, loud whoosh, and stopped snoring.
Kelder and Asha turned to watch him; Irith, sitting by the window brushing her hair, paid no attention.
The old man had not stirred, his eyelids had not so much as flickered, when the three of them had carried him inside, hauled him up the stairs, and dumped him unceremoniously on the little rag rug in their rented room. He had slept the night through without complaint.
Fortunately, his snoring had not been constant, so that the others were able to sleep, as well.
Now he smacked his lips noisily, wheezed slightly, and then blinked.
His eyes opened, widened, and then closed again. His hoarse breath stopped for a moment. He made a guttural noise, and brought one clawed hand up to wipe at his gummy eyes. Then he slowly, carefully, lifted his lids.
He was looking at a tidy little rug, a well-swept plank floor, and one corner of the featherbed Kelder and Irith had innocently shared. (Kelder wished that they hadn't been quite so innocent, but with Asha in the cot nearby and Ezdral on the floor, he hadn't pressed his point.)
The old man turned his head and spotted first Asha, and then Kelder. He blinked, and slowly, cautiously pushed himself up into a sitting position. He made a noise that might have been construed as “Good morning” by someone who spoke archaic Mezgalonese, then cleared his throat and said the same thing, more clearly, in Trader's Tongue.
Then he turned and looked around the room—or at least, he started to.
When his gaze fell upon Irith, sitting by the window humming to herself, it was as if he had been struck. His mouth fell open, his eyes widened; his shoulders tensed, jerking his hands up off the floor, and he swayed unsteadily.
“Irith,” he said hoarsely.
“Good morning, Ezdral,” Irith said, not looking at him.
“Irith,” he said again, his voice stronger now. He started to rise.
Irith turned to face him and announced, “If you touch me, Ezdral, I'll be out this window and flying away before your fingers can close, and I swear by all the gods that if that happens, you'll never see me again.”
Ezdral froze as he was, crouched on one knee, staring at her.
“And don't stare at me,” Irith said pettishly. “It's rude.”
Ezdral quickly averted his gaze, looking at the rug instead.
“Irith,” he said, “it's been so long...”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “I guess it must have been pretty awful.”
“I love you,” Ezdral said.
“I know,” Irith replied. “You can't help it.”
“I'll always love you,” the old man insisted.
“Well, maybe not,” Irith said. “we're hoping to fix that.”
Ezdral blinked, and risked a quick look at Irith.
The window faced southeast, and the sun was pouring in behind Irith, turning her freshly-brushed hair into a halo of golden fire, outlining her in light. Ezdral gasped in awe.
“Kelder,” Irith said beseechingly, "you tell him.” She looked away, out the window.
“Tell me what?” Ezdral asked, still staring at Irith. Kelder could see him trembling at the sight of her.
“Ezdral,” Kelder said gently, “do you know why you love Irith so much, even after she deserted you and you haven't seen her in so long?”
“Because she's the most perfect, beautiful creature in the World...” the old man replied, before his voice trailed off uncertainly.
“No,” Kelder told him uneasily, “it's because she enchanted you.”
Ezdral frowned, and glanced quickly at Kelder before turning back to his object of worship.
“She enchanted you, Ezdral,” Kelder insisted. “She used a love spell on you, a charm called Fendel's Infatuous Love Spell, and it's permanent, and she didn't know how to take it off! It's all magic! It's just a spell, a trick!” His voice rose until he was shouting as he concluded, "That's why you love her!”
Ezdral frowned again.
“No,” he said, “that can't be it. I mean, maybe she did, but I'd love her anyway, I know I would. By all the gods, just look at her! Have you ever seen anything so radiantly lovely?”
Involuntarily, Kelder looked, and had to admit to himself that in fact no, he had never seen anything else so radiantly lovely—but he didn't say it aloud. That didn't matter. Ezdral was enchanted, and besides, looks weren't everything.
She certainly was beautiful, though; Kelder had to swallow hard before he could continue.
“It's a spell, Ezdral, really. Maybe you would have loved her anyway, but it probably wouldn't have been such an obsession. Anyway, we talked last night, and we all agreed that it wasn't right for you to be enchanted like this, and we're all going to take you to Ethshar of the Spices and find a wizard who can break the spell. Or maybe we'll find one on the way.”
“You don't need to do that,” Ezdral said, his gaze still fixed entirely on the object of his adoration. “I'm perfectly happy like this.”
“But you wouldn't be,” Kelder said desperately, “if Irith weren't here.”
Ezdral's head snapped around. “She's not leaving, is she?” he asked. It snapped back. “Irith, you aren't leaving?”
Irith put down the hairbrush and let out a sigh. She stared helplessly at Kelder.
“No, she's not leaving,” Kelder said, “as long as you agree to come with us to Ethshar and get the spell removed.”
“All right,” Ezdral said. “Whatever you want, Irith, I'll be glad to do it. If you want the spell off, that's fine.”
Taking Flight (Ethshar) Page 17
