*That's a very good thought. Hold tight to it. I, too, think it a good time to leave Colchis and seek Olympus. But how do we leave Colchis with Aietes not willing to let you go?*
*Medea must find an escape for us, but I am not quite sure how we can use her shape-shifting to . . . And I have thought of another problem. How can I get to see Medea to tell her what we need to tell her?*
They came to no conclusion, although they discussed the matter on and off until they went to bed. In between they talked about what Hekate needed to take with her when they left Colchis and how to convince Medea to help them escape. That was a somewhat more fruitful discussion. The necessary herbs and amulets were laid aside in several packs, the one most essential made up so that either Hekate or Kabeiros could seize it and carry it, the other two to be taken if possible. They did not talk much about confronting Medea; both knew that if the devices Hekate had designed did not work exactly as she hoped, they might both die.
In the event, getting to see Medea was not a problem at all. Ignoring the heavy presence of the watcher, Hekate set out for the market the next morning. She had barely settled herself on her mat, when a rather strange figure cut in front of the two clients waiting and loomed over her. Hekate looked up and saw a tall man, cloaked in black—although the weather was mild—wearing a most peculiar beard. The hair above his lip had been allowed to grow down around his mouth on each side and was braided into long strands. Another braided strand grew from the center of his chin. His eyes were black and very narrow, set above wide, flat cheekbones, and his skin was a dull ochre yellow.
Without a word, he pointed a finger at her. Light that only Hekate could see streamed from that finger and dissipated against her shields. Annoyed, she hastily added the mirror shield to the others.
"Yes?" she asked coldly, but as if she hadn't noticed the attempt to bespell her.
Kabeiros was not as polite; he rose to his feet, snarling. The sorcerer hastily directed two more blasts of light—first one at Kabeiros, which thinned to a shining veil as it touched him and then slipped off into the ground as water slips off an oiled surface, the other at Hekate, which hit her mirror ward and bounced back. She had one moment to see his unbelieving and horrified expression before his own spell hit him. Then he stood staring stupidly at her, eyes glazed, waiting for her commands.
"Tell me what it is you want me to do," Hekate said, guessing at the kind of spell the sorcerer had cast and asking what she hoped would produce the most unrevealing answer.
She was aware of her clients and the merchants and clients in the stalls to either side of hers. They wouldn't have seen or sensed the magic exchange, of course, but quick glances showed her that they were somewhat awed and frightened. This sorcerer was known, and feared, among the common folk of Colchis.
"You must come to my house," the man in the black cloak replied, his voice flat and without expression.
"Very well," Hekate responded calmly.
She leaned around him and told her waiting clients that an emergency had arisen, then rose from her mat and packed everything into the box that came with the stall. There was nothing there she could not leave behind. It was a shame the potions and lotions must be abandoned . . . No, she would leave the key and the spell with Batshira to be given to Yehoraz. It would be her farewell gift to him.
As she worked, she asked Kabeiros if he was all right, whether the spell had hurt him? He replied he hadn't even been aware that a spell had been cast at him. *The dog,* he remarked, as they set off in the wake of the black-cloaked sorcerer, *has always been impervious to magic and that seems to be as true of the high power as of the earth power.*
*But Medea hurt you.* Now that they were to confront the princess again, Hekate was worried about Kabeiros.
*That wasn't a spell,* he replied calmly, trotting along beside her. *I'm sure that was something only the serpent can do. As long as she is in human form, I have no need to fear her. And if she changes, this time I think she'll aim her will at you.*
*And meet the mirror. I wonder what a distorted form of her own will will do to her?*
There was amusement in Hekate's mind, and the dog snorted gently as they crossed the Royal Way and walked along the upper reaches of Sorcerers Road. The black-cloaked man turned into a gate leading to one of the most secluded of the houses. Something in his stride warned Kabeiros who told Hekate to beware, that the reflected spell had worn off. Hekate shrugged. She had made no attempt to use the spell to question the man because of the watcher and she doubted he was likely to try any more spells against her.
*I wonder,* Hekate mused, *whether it was a very short-term spell because Medea is here already and he didn't want her to know he had bespelled me or whether the mirror's distortion weakened it.*
*In either case, beware!* Kabeiros warned.
*You may be sure—* Hekate didn't complete the assurance she was about to give Kabeiros because at that point they passed some kind of barrier—Hekate saw it as a very faintly glowing line of mist—and the watcher was gone.
Almost at the same moment she became aware of that, Kabeiros said, *The smell of lightning is gone. I think magic isn't supposed to work here—but I still smell your shields. The ward is against the high magic, I think.*
The absence of power gave the black-cloaked sorcerer's garden a peculiarly dead feeling. Hekate watched his back speculatively. If this was his work, he was a powerful mage, far more powerful than those whom Aietes had ordered to examine her. So he hid his power from the king . . . from Medea too? Not possible if she was here to meet them; she would be aware of the ward against power. It was a shield of a magnitude Hekate had never come across before and she was tempted to ask how such a ward could be constructed and powered. Only she was not supposed to be aware of it.
They entered the house—that too was dead feeling—and Hekate suffered a definite twinge of envy. Kabeiros, sensing her curiosity, growled a soft warning. A great deal, possibly even their lives, depended on Medea underestimating them. To expose that they were aware of the high magic might be fatal. Hekate sighed and nodded.
The corridor was lit by square openings in its roof. A faint breeze wafted down from them, so they weren't covered with that impossibly thin crystal that roofed Aietes' audience chamber. No obvious doors broke the walls of the corridor, which was paneled in dark wood. The panels alternated between those carved with delicate, fantastic scenes of gardens, high-humped bridges, peculiar houses with upcurved roof beams, and tiny people in strange clothing and those carved with angular symbols in which Hekate could find no familiarity at all.
The sorcerer went about two thirds of the way down the corridor and touched one of the symbols. If he murmured a word, Hekate did not catch it; she hoped Kabeiros might have heard, his ears being keener. A door swung open to reveal a small landing and a flight of stairs. Midway down the stairs was another landing on which the sorcerer stopped and murmured a word. The door, this one not concealed in any way, opened. He stepped aside and waved for Hekate and Kabeiros to enter. The door closed behind them, and something in the way it shut made Hekate think it would not be easy to open again.
Medea was sitting on a high-backed, intricately carved chair of black wood set on a dais. On each side of the chair stood one of the stone-eyed guards. Hekate felt at once that this room was not dead—although she couldn't feel the watcher. Still, magic would work here . . . magic had been worked here . . . much magic.
Hekate bent her lips into a smile and started forward, saying, "Lady Medea, thank you for summoning me. I didn't know how to reach you—"
The princess turned toward one of the guards and said, "U pozorisnom komadu. Kill her."
The guard stepped forward, drawing his sword. "You are making a mistake, my lady," Hekate cried, but there was no more time for explanation. "Mrznutise!" Hekate shrieked, and unbidden, the image of the dragon's tooth came into her mind. The result left her open-mouthed with shock.
Both creatures collapsed to the ground, sword
s and armor ringing hollowly as they struck the stone floor. Hekate stared wide-eyed as weapon and armor as well as the guards' bodies fell to dust and disappeared, leaving on the floor two curved and shining teeth, a handspan long.
Medea screamed, then began to moan, "Fool! Fool! You don't know what you've done! How could my father have been so besotted that he taught you that command?"
And the serpent was there, coiled in the high-backed chair, bending its beautifully marked neck to reach the side of the chair where the mouth gripped Kabeiros' staff and lifted it so the metal tip pointed at Hekate.
"No! Don't! Please!" Hekate cried as she stepped in front of Kabeiros and drew into her mirror shield every bit of the unused earth-blood, which virtually pooled on the stone floor.
Even so, the blast of power that struck Hekate sent her staggering backward, which drove her against Kabeiros. Unbalanced, she fell heavily, but fortunately the dog's quick reaction permitted him to move when Hekate bumped him and position himself so his body cushioned her head. That saved her from knocking herself unconscious, which could have been utter disaster; unconsciousness would have dissolved her shields and left her naked to Medea's wrath. Hekate was still shuddering with relief as she levered herself upright, but then she realized she had been in little danger.
The room seemed full of sparkles of light as released power scattered. Wherever wisps of Hekate's hair were not confined, they stood away from her head, writhing. Kabeiros' fur was also all standing on end and little crackles came from it when he moved. The serpent was gone. Medea was limp and sagging, supported by the arm of the great chair, her head hanging, her eyes glazed. Hekate breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the princess was still breathing.
*Should I put a compulsion on her?* Hekate asked Kabeiros. *Her shields are down.*
*No!* Kabeiros exclaimed. *It would be too dangerous to trust the spell—it might fade or fail suddenly—so you would have to convince her anyway, which would be harder because she would sense the spell and the hatred she would feel . . . It would expose your real power also. No, we're better off trying to convince her without any magical aids.*
*She hates us anyway.* But there was little energy in Hekate's argument; she wasn't fond of coercion spells and she dropped the idea as Medea began to stir.
"I begged you not to loose that blast at me," Hekate sighed, as soon as sense came back into Medea's eyes and she straightened in her chair. "If you had let me speak, my lady, I would have warned you. Spells cast at me sometimes just die and sometimes bounce back . . ."
Hekate spoke as if she hadn't seen the serpent, didn't know that what had been directed at her had not been a spell but a blast of raw power, hadn't recognized the staff in which the power had been stored. Medea stared at her, open-mouthed, for once looking as young and vulnerable as an ordinary frightened girl of her age.
"Who are you? What are you?" Medea breathed.
"I told you when you first asked. I am an herb-wife who has learned magic—more magic than I ever expected to learn and more than I need or want. How I do that magic and how I am protected from magic, I can't tell you. Neither can your father, who has been testing and prying for moons and has discovered nothing."
There was a pause and then Medea asked, "Are you a goddess?"
"If I am, I don't know it," Hekate replied, but her brow was suddenly creased in a thoughtful frown, and she allowed her voice to hold a note of doubt. "I believe," she added slowly, "that I was born in the ordinary way and I know I had a father and mother, who were not gods."
As she spoke the words, her lips thinned. Was it possible that Perses was a rogue "god," driven from Olympus because of his evil propensities? Not that what she had heard of the Olympians made them good and pure. The tales that Kabeiros had told in the caves and on the journey to Colchis made them out to be very human—proud, petty, greedy, selfish, and lustful, but also occasionally good-hearted and generous. None was truly evil.
She pushed that thought away. Even to think of Perses weakened her and she needed all her strength . . . Yes, strength. It came suddenly to Hekate that appearing weak was no longer any protection from Medea. It was time to abandon that ploy. Possibly the opposite would work. Certainly a Medea wide-eyed and trembling, asking if Hekate were a goddess was less dangerous than the Medea who thought she could squash Hekate like a bug.
Let the princess fear she was a goddess. There were tales enough of gods who had lost themselves and didn't recognize their own powers. Let Medea think she was an immortal and further attempts to harm her would be useless.
*Let her think me a goddess?* she asked Kabeiros.
*Try. Mother knows acting a simpleton didn't help.*
She had no time for a further exchange with Kabeiros, because Medea was saying, "If you are a goddess, you knew Ming Hao was my messenger and you knew I wished you ill. Why did you come? Are you planning to punish me or teach me?"
"No, I am not," Hekate said, allowing a touch of contempt to color her voice. "For all your malice, you have done me no harm, and I need you to find me a ship out of Colchis."
"A ship?" Medea's eyes widened, then narrowed. "For what does a goddess need a ship?"
"I never said I was a goddess . . . you said that. I said, and it's true, that I don't know. I can do things I never expected, but some of those things happen without my will or intention. You think I threw back your spell at you, and I suppose I did, but I don't know how. Since I have come to Colchis, my powers have increased hugely but they are nearly new to me. At present I have no way to escape Colchis. In fact, I didn't know the sorcerer was bringing your summons, but I hoped it was so."
"You wished to see me?"
"Yes. I told you I need you to get me a ship. I think you're the only one powerful enough to do that against the king's order and save me."
"Save you? I just ordered you killed. How can you believe I would want to save you."
"Because you can't kill me, can you?" Hekate smiled.
For a moment Medea looked as if she might try again, but she only said, "Not by magic, it seems, and since you already can control the dragon's tooth guards—" she choked over the words, but continued "—and will soon be queen of Colchis, too—"
"But I don't want to be queen of Colchis!" Hekate interrupted.
Medea stared at her, then said, "Liar."
Hekate shook her head firmly. "I'm not lying. That's why I need to leave Colchis against the king's will. I only learned yesterday that Aietes wants to marry me." A flicker of satisfaction showed in Medea's face, and Hekate's suspicion was confirmed; it had been Medea who had fogged her mind from time to time. "So it was you who hid his intention from me. You fool! Do you want me as a mother-by-marriage, Medea? If I'd known Aietes' intention, you would have been rid of me much sooner—and I wouldn't have learned as much as I did from your father."
"You liar! You would have learned more, using his lust to lead him to indiscretion. How, how did you induce him to teach you the command that would return a servitor to his original form?"
"He never told me anything about the guards." Hekate smiled pityingly. "You were the one who taught me that word. Don't you remember? The time you almost killed Kabeiros because you chose not to believe he couldn't change? I saw you turn off the guard so you could play your games in private, and I heard the word, and I remembered." Hekate paused then went on, threateningly, "I remembered everything about that meeting. Now, I want out of Colchis." Her silver eyes grew darker, met Medea's colorless gaze.
"You heard and remembered . . . I thought you were nothing, an herb-wife with a silly trick . . ."
"Then I was nothing. I have learned a great deal. Have sense. Arrange for a ship to take me away before I learn more."
"You only want me to find you passage on a ship so you can tell my father I was trying to be rid of you. You want to make ill-will between us."
"No." Hekate shook her head almost sadly. "King Aietes is a wonderful man, handsome, intelligent, and a powerful sorcerer, b
ut—" she put her hand on Kabeiros's head and held Medea's gaze with her own; Medea knew that Kabeiros was a man as well as a dog "—I have a man already. I want no other and, in particular, I don't want to be bound to the duties of a queen. I need to be free to pursue my own destiny."
She gave a little emphasis to the last word, to remind Medea what that destiny probably was. The princess looked down at her hands, now folded sweetly in her lap and slowly shook her head. She seemed pensive, slightly sad.
"My father won't let you go. He is really set on having you totally within his power so he can use your invisible magic. You know, I suppose, that coupling creates a special binding. I am very much afraid that if you wish to be free, you will have to . . . ah . . . render him powerless. Then, of course, I could—"
"No, Medea," Hekate interrupted coldly. "I will do King Aietes no harm. I am very fond of him. I consider him a friend and it grieves me greatly that I must leave and without even a kind farewell. However, I am thrice bound to other duties. Don't try again to make me harm your father."
"I never said you should harm him!" Medea burst out. "You are trying to injure me in his opinion. You've already done me great harm. Last night you told him I was tampering with your mind—"
"I told him nothing, but you did meddle in serpent form, didn't you? And look where it has got us, you silly child!"
If Medea heard her, she gave no sign of it. Eyes fixed, she shrieked, "He came raging into my chamber and threatened to destroy my powers. He told me he intended to marry you so he would have you, whom he could trust, and not need me any more to assist him."
"All the more reason to be rid of me, you fool," Hekate said to Medea and then to Kabeiros, *Why is she fighting what she should devoutly desire?*
*I would guess because she cannot bear that anyone who bested her should escape without punishment.*
Hekate's eyes narrowed. *You know, Kabeiros, the world would be a better place without this one.*
*Let her be. It is for the Mother to judge her, which She will do in Her own time.*
Thrice Bound Page 24
