Thrice Bound

by Roberta Gellis

  In the course of her talks, the name of one man was mentioned by several others as a source of interesting and esoteric spells. None had much good to say of Baltaseros, except that he had once been the strongest sorcerer in all Lysamachia, possibly in all of Thrace. The first time she heard this Hekate paid little attention, but after a while what she was hearing penetrated. "Had been" strongest was the key that drew her attention.

  Finally she asked a moderately powerful witch, whom she judged not too clever—a nice woman, who concentrated on finding—where the sorcerer called Baltaseros lived and whether he would be willing to sell or trade as others were.

  "Sell." Samira binte Kardel laughed. "Since he lost his power, that's the way he makes his living. We've all bought spells from him. But because he has no power his spells are costly. He demands trade metal for them."

  "Lost his power?" Hekate repeated. "And it never came back? How could such a thing happen?"

  Samira shook her head. "He says—" her expression implied disbelief "—that it was drained from him by an evil witch. To tell the truth, I think he burnt himself out. He is a disgusting person, sly and mean and greedy, the worst drinker and womanizer in the city, and he took every new drug that passed through the port. He abducted young girls, too, and misused them horribly. He was caught once and beaten within an inch of his life."

  "And none of his spells could protect him?"

  "Not against all of us. Together we were able to seal his power."

  "How come he wasn't killed if you sealed his power?"

  Samira shrugged. "We all got together and made sure he didn't die." She grimaced. "That would have set a dangerous precedent, letting the unTalented know that a few blows would kill us as quickly as one of them. As it was—" her lips twitched "—we prolonged his suffering considerably, but no fatal harm was done him no matter how many blows were landed on his less than worthy carcass."

  "And he took no revenge?"

  "First we were all on the watch for him; he knew that. Later . . . perhaps the beating did some damage we didn't foresee." Samira frowned. "He deserved it, but if that caused his loss of power . . . Still, we heard he had used magic afterward in dealing with clients. Then he disappeared the way he always did when he stole a woman, but no woman was missing in the town—and about a ten-day later he crept out of his house crying that his power had been raped from him."

  "Did he say by whom?"

  "A witch, he said, an evil witch . . . Eurydice. We didn't believe him. No one had seen a strange witch, but his power was gone. From that day to this, no spell will work for him. He can teach spells . . . he taught me a spell for scrying, which doesn't come naturally to me, and when I did it, it worked perfectly, but nothing works for him."

  Hekate's heart leapt when she heard Baltaseros' accusation about his loss of power but she didn't dare show how interested she was in the idea that power could be drained permanently. No Talented person would want to believe that and none would be willing to help her learn how to do it. Without saying so to Samira, she dismissed debauchery as the cause of Baltaseros' decline. More likely, she thought, it was a result of his anguish and frustration. Now she had to find the man without implying it was his loss of power in which she was interested.

  "So you and others learned spells from him. I wonder if he would have any that would interest me?"

  "He might. He has some strange spells." The finder wrinkled her nose. "But I wouldn't go there for anything any more. He's . . . you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Then she shrugged. "And he won't barter spells with any of us except for metal—and sex." She shuddered. "He says he doesn't need our spells. After all, he taught most of us the spells we know. Perhaps with you . . . You might know something that would be new to him. But he needs metal to live."

  Hekate shook her head as if she didn't like that. She had trade metal in plenty with her, mostly silver and even some gold, but she preferred not to admit it, because that might lead to attempts at robbery. She would gladly pay every piece of metal she had for the draining spell, but there was no reason to tell Samira that.

  "Well . . ." Hekate drew out the word. "I might speak with him anyway." She shook her head. "I have no idea how long we'll be fixed in Lysamachia waiting for a ship toward Thessaly. If I find I'm bored enough, perhaps I will look for Baltaseros. Where would I find him?"

  She was given directions toward the least savory part of the city and then a description of the house in which he had lodging. She had to fight to stay relaxed in her seat instead of leaping to her feet and running out. It was as well, she thought, that Kabeiros had not come with her, for he would have sensed her excitement and discomfort and the dog's body might have responded with raised hackles or restlessness even though the man understood her need for secrecy.

  Kabeiros was something to think about while she made inane conversation with the obliging witch preparatory to leaving. After an initial period of reserve on Dionysos' part and caution on Kabeiros', both feeling out the other's relationship with Hekate, Dionysos had asked Kabeiros to accompany him one day and see what he was doing. By then Dionysos could communicate with the dog—Hekate had insisted that they learn to mind-speak with each other because she had no intention of being the middle of a "he said" and "he answered" conversation.

  Dionysos' invitation was accepted and he and the hound went off together. The expedition had worked very well. Not only had they planted grape vines and imparted "dream" instructions about how to care for the vines and make wine from the fruit, but they had found a herd of wild goats—at least Hekate had hoped the goats were wild—and hunted together. They came home fast friends and the carcass they brought defrayed the cost of lodging and meals for several days, so Hekate was pleased.

  From then on, unless he felt that Hekate might be in some danger, Kabeiros often accompanied Dionysos. Hekate sighed. She could not understand Kabeiros' behavior and he would not explain. In the caves, unless he went hunting with Dionysos, he was mostly occupied with restoring order in the caverns used for offerings. He slept with her every night and proved himself a passionate and demanding lover, but he never spoke of love or of permanence.

  After they left the caves and he became a dog again, Kabeiros remained much more cheerful all the while they returned to Byblos and took a ship. Most of his good humor and seeming hopefulness persisted over the whole journey. He always came with her when she chose a spot as a "home place" to which she could leap on the way back to the caves. He would smell the whole area to make sure there were no other taints of magic that might disrupt her spell and he would examine it carefully with all his other senses so he could remind her of the appearance of the place if necessary.

  Aboard ship or on the brief land journeys between ports, he showed the man within and above the dog, even made the mouth move as if the man were talking . . . but he would not share her cabin on the ship or her blanket by the campfire. Hekate sighed again. In the caves it was clear he found her body exciting—but he seemed to take special pleasure when she changed.

  Did that mean that he was dissatisfied in being confined to one woman? If he could have left the caves as a man, would he have gone to the city to seek out other women even if she were waiting for him? So, was his withdrawal now that he was again a dog a sign that it was only her search for a spell to free him that kept him with her?

  She came alert suddenly to a question that had obviously been repeated and apologized to Samira. Her mind was wandering, she admitted. She had been worried about her dog, who was with her young companion, who she was not sure could control him. And she had better go and see what they were about, since she didn't want to be fined if the dog—great clumsy brute that he was—did some damage. With that excuse she was able to leave.

  Although she would have loved to rush off and find Baltaseros, Hekate went to her lodging. Samira did not seem very perceptive, but there was no sense sparking any doubt in her about an interest in the "special" spell. Besides, Hekate was not as certain as Sami
ra that Baltaseros had not recovered any of his power. If he were indeed addicted to evil, how convenient it would be to pretend he had lost his power. Who then could accuse him of the thievery or death of his victims? It would be best to have Kabeiros with her to sniff for magic when she met Baltaseros.

  She was glad to have the black dog accompany her for other reasons when she went the next day to find the man. She suspected that if not for Kaberios' huge size and ready snarls she might have had to use magic to deter some of the men in the area from trying to seize her. She wondered if she should have been the crone, but looking around convinced her that the inhabitants would probably just have tried to rob the old woman instead of trying to play with the maiden.

  The really terrible conditions through which she passed had raised doubts in Hekate about Baltaseros' retention of power. Surely if he had any magic, he would have found a better place to live. The house, when they found it, added to Hekate's hope that Baltaseros' power had, indeed, been reft from him, and the man, when they managed to rouse him from his drugged stupor to let them in, confirmed how low he had sunk.

  His eyes looked like dead horseflies drowned in yellow mucus; his beard was matted with spittle and spilled food, his hair tangled with unmentionable substances clinging to it, his clothing unspeakable. The room into which the outer door opened was filthy and cluttered with rags that might once have been pillows; gelatinous patches marked the splintery floor, and battered and chipped cups and platters stained with dried who-knew-what lay here and there.

  Kabeiros sneezed violently and gagged as the stench hit him. Hekate managed to swallow the bile that rose in her throat and control the impulse to back away from the creature who had opened the door. It wasn't necessary because he staggered away to a foul nest near the far wall, leaving her to close the door. Considering the glaze in Baltaseros' eyes, there was no sense in trying to be subtle.

  "I want to buy a spell," she said.

  The dead horseflies moved enough to show Baltaseros was looking at her. A dull expression of lust made his face even more repulsive as he took in her appearance. "Why not?" The words were slurred, the voice thick and phlegmy. "But there's a little ritual we need to do in my bed before I give you a spell." He reached toward her and Kabeiros growled and showed his teeth. "Put that dog outside," he mumbled. "No ritual of protection, no spell."

  Hekate took a twist of gold wire out of her purse and held it where Baltaseros could see it but not reach it. For a moment she couldn't speak because her gorge had risen at the thought of any physical contact with the creature, never mind coupling with him.

  When she had control and his eyes had fixed on the gold, she said, "No ritual. The dog stays. I have heard what you do with women whom you can overpower. However, I have trade metal. I will pay in silver and in gold for the spell I want."

  He didn't answer at first, staring at her, licking his lips and dropping a hand into his lap to stroke his rising phallus slowly then faster and faster. Hekate had to grab Kabeiros by the loose skin between his shoulders to keep him from leaping on Baltaseros and killing him. She felt almost sick enough to abandon her quest and leave—almost but not quite—because he was finished so fast. And as soon as he had uttered a strangled cry and a stain appeared wet against the many other stains on the rag that covered him, his dead horsefly eyes moved to the gold wire that still dangled from Hekate's fingers.

  "What spell?"

  He sounded more dazed now, barely able to speak. Hekate wondered if the effect of whatever drug he had taken was increased by physical excitement. She spoke slowly and clearly.

  "The draining spell."

  There was a silence. Some kind of emotion worked behind the dead eyes and filth. Finally, Baltaseros giggled. "It won't do what you want," he said. "It won't wipe out any other sorcerer the way it wiped me out."

  "Why not?" Hekate asked.

  He giggled again. "It takes a real witch to do that, a hot witch who's willing to futter a man out of his wits, so he can't spell her or put up shields. A frigid bitch like you wouldn't have a chance. But I'll sell the spell to you—for a mina of gold."

  "I don't have a mina of gold," Hekate said, "but I have many spells that I could add in barter to what gold I do have. You could sell those to others. I have ways of making a spell last forever, of binding spells together. Many would pay well for those."

  His eyes closed and he swayed. "I'm not interested in your spells. There's only one other payment I'll take for the draining spell—under me in bed until I get tired of you. I've got plenty of spells."

  The words were so garbled together that Hekate needed to think a while to understand them. Baltaseros began to giggle weakly again and his hand drifted toward his body. Hekate stiffened and looked away, thinking he was going to begin to masturbate again. She wanted to leave, but she was not sure she could force herself to come again, even for the draining spell. Suddenly Kabeiros' ears rose to alert.

  *Magic,* he said. *This place stank so much physically that I couldn't sense it at first.*

  *He still has magic?* Hekate asked, raising shields.

  *No.* Kabeiros' mental voice laughed. *He's got a grimoire!*

  So he had. In fact when Hekate looked at him again, he was holding it open against his chest with one hand, the other was again stroking his phallus. His eyes were still closed. She should have guessed a wreck like Baltaseros would have a grimoire. Many sorcerers kept grimoires or bought them or stole them. Perses had many. Hekate had never bothered because she never forgot a spell; probably she wouldn't be able to forget one even if she wanted to.

  "Come here," Baltaseros said. "Come close enough and you can read the spell for yourself."

  Hekate cast the freezing spell at him, but the hand rubbing himself never faltered. She looked at Kabeiros.

  *He's got no shields, but the spell's gone as if something in him ate the magic . . . * There was a tremor of uncertainty in Kabeiros' mental voice. *Like something inside me eats my magic. He can't do magic, but no magic can affect him either.*

  "Come here. Come here to me," Baltaseros chanted. "I will let you read the spell, even two spells." In horrible contrast to the depraved and disgusting physical creature, the voice had lost its phlegmy quality and was smooth and seductive.

  Hekate dismissed her shields and invoked a seeing spell. Everything sprang into incredible clarily. She could see a louse crawling through the hair on the back of Baltaseros' hand and the minute cracks in some liquid that had spilled and dried on the rag that covered him. Only the words on the page of the grimoire were still blurred.

  That did it! The last shred of sympathy that Hekate had felt for a man deprived of his power evaporated. She knew that his promise that she would be allowed to read spells from the grimoire was false. No matter how close or how far from the book, the words in it would remain unintelligible until some magic condition was fulfilled. Not that Baltaseros would ever admit that; he would blame her, saying that the book refused to accept her or that her magic was insufficient for her to understand it.

  Hekate's teeth set. She meant to have that spell. If Baltaseros would not set reasonable terms for a sale, she would simply take the grimoire and work out the spell for herself. She looked around, saw a fairly large copper pot; it had a crack in the bottom, but that wouldn't interfere with what she wanted it for. Gripping it firmly by its handle, she walked up to Baltaseros.

  The floor creaked loudly. He heard her coming. His eyes opened a slit. Quick as a snake, his right hand left off stroking his phallus and grabbed for her. Quick as he was, Hekate was quicker. She raised the pot and brought it down with all the strength of her arm on the top of his head. With her other hand, she snatched the grimoire from him. Kabeiros, who had been standing ready to tear out Baltaseros' throat if Hekate's assault failed, and had been shuddering with horror at the idea of what he would have to take into his mouth, lolled out his tongue in relief and laughter.

  *Magic is good, but a strong right arm is often better,* he said.
*Come, let's go. You can study that thing just as well where it doesn't smell so bad.*

  Hekate removed her purse and dropped it on the floor by Baltaseros' hand. Then she reached inside her tunic and pulled out the twisted cloth that held the bulk of her trade metal. She picked out all the gold except two pieces and put that directly in his hand. Kabeiros pulled at her skirt, growling, and she put away the rest of the metal and followed him.

  However, outside the door, she stopped uncertainly. *It's his grimoire,* she said. *It's all he has. What will he do when the gold and silver I've left him is gone?*

  *He won't last that long,* Kabeiros said, yanking on her skirt again. *He'll be able to buy enough drugs with what you left him to drift off into the underworld in a haze of joy. Or someone will discover what he has and send him off more abruptly and less pleasantly. Come away before he wakes up and begins screaming.*

  Still she hesitated. Kabeiros sighed impatiently and pulled her toward the rickety stair, but Hekate resisted long enough to touch the door and the door frame and speak a spell. Now Baltaseros could come out of the door, but no one could enter. Kabeiros' remark about what would happen to Baltaseros if someone discovered he had gold had reminded her that the door had been locked when they arrived and they could not relock it. In this area, doubtless an unlocked door was an invitation to theft and murder. Until Baltaseros woke and could hide her purse and the gold, he would be safe.

  Then she hurried down the stair, knowing that although they would not care what happened to him, Baltaseros' screaming that he had been robbed would be a perfect excuse for the hopeless denizens of the area to fall upon those who seemed better off. She could use the look-by-me spell to escape, but Kabeiros could not. He had strength and ferocity; nonetheless, if there were too many, he would be hurt. But she could not be glad of what she had done, and the grimoire tucked into the bosom of her robe, over the crossed girdle, seemed to weigh a thousand mina.