Thrice Bound

by Roberta Gellis

  When they were out of the district, Kabeiros looked up at her face and sighed. *It's not the end of the world, Hekate. You can bring it back to him when you have what you want out of it.*

  *So I can,* she said, feeling as if Atlas had returned and taken up the burden of the world again.

  * * *

  It took Hekate three days to find the key to unlocking the grimoire's secrets. It was a good grimoire, and had not originally belonged to Baltaseros. Hekate wondered how he had obtained it, and then put the matter out of her mind. A grimoire generally did not leave the hand of its maker until that mage was dead. She did, however, read every spell in the book very carefully.

  Most of the spells were harmless or, at least, no worse than those well-known by many sorcerers. Only the draining spell was truly dangerous, and even that was less dire than it might have been. Having learned the spell, Hekate understood what Baltaseros had said. It was not a spell that could be cast from a distance or infused into a lifeless carrier like an amulet. The spell-caster had to hold his victim until the draining was done . . . and nowhere was there any implication that the spell was permanent. It could be used to drain the life-force to nothing, but then the victim died.

  Hekate laid her head down on the book and struggled against tears. She would never dare use the spell unless it was permanent. To drain Perses dry would be murder and the Kindly Ones didn't approve of daughters murdering fathers, no matter what kind of a father. In fact, she doubted she would dare use the spell in any case; she shuddered at the thought of needing to embrace Perses.

  Poor Asterie . . . The thought of her mother let her spirits rise for a moment when she thought she might teach Asterie the spell. Then her mother could do to her father what he had done to her for so many years. But that hope died as quickly as it formed. After so many years of complete subjugation, Asterie might not be able to use the spell against Perses' will. Worse yet, since Asterie would have to touch Perses for the spell to work, he could easily overpower her physically.

  She was so absorbed in her misery that she didn't hear Dionysos come in and wasn't aware of him until he rushed to kneel beside her and beg her to tell him what had made her so sad. She could sense something rising in him, something so deadly that it frightened her. She hurried to explain that no person had offended or saddened her, only what was growing, the more she studied it, into an insoluble problem.

  "Nonsense." Dionysos sat back on his heels and grinned at her, the red and black roiling inside him gone as quickly as it had developed. "With you and me and Kabeiros working on it, nothing is insoluble."

  Hekate couldn't help laughing at his youthful confidence, but it cheered her all the same so she went on to discuss with him whether to return the grimoire. It made her very anxious, she admitted, to have a draining spell in the hands of a man like Baltaseros. On the other hand, she simply could not live with the knowledge that she had taken from him his last resource.

  "Then take out that page and give the rest of the book back," Dionysos said, looking puzzled.

  "It's not so easy to remove anything from a grimoire," Hekate pointed out.

  Dionysos cocked his head. "For you?"

  *Don't encourage her!* Kabeiros protested. *Grimoires are often protected by dangerous spells.*

  Hekate acknowledged that Kabeiros could be right, but gentle probes of this grimoire produced no reaction, and eventually she was able to remove the page on which the draining spell was indited. The next day, Hekate and Kabeiros returned to Baltaseros' rooms.

  They climbed the shrieking steps and found the door to Baltaseros' place slightly ajar. Hekate touched the door and frame and found that the spells she had set were still active, although weaker. She dismissed them and pushed open the door, half expecting to see Baltaseros' corpse. For a moment she thought the still form in the foul nest was dead, but then it murmured a low litany of pleasure and she realized that Kabeiros had guessed half right. The creature was awash in drugs.

  She was about to go out again, still carrying the grimoire. At the rate he was going, Baltaseros would soon be dead and the grimoire might be lost or taken by someone unfit to use it. The thought made her grimace. Who could be more unfit than Baltaseros? She shrugged. That was not for her to judge; the book was his . . .

  He opened his eyes. "I have no spells to sell. A thief . . ." he began, then saw who it was and began to gargle with rage.

  "I have come to bring back your grimoire," Hekate said. "So do not call me a thief. I paid well for a look at it. You have no reason to complain against me. However, there is one thing more I want to know. Who was the witch who drained you? Does she live here in Lysamachia?"

  "Why should I tell you anything?" he asked.

  He seemed to have forgotten his spurt of anger. His objection was like that of a two-year-old—for the sake of being obstructive without any particular reason. The resistance seemed to make him happy; he began to hum a little tune, grinning like an idiot and drooling.

  "You should tell me because your grimoire is in my hands," Hekate said dryly. "Because you are too drugged to try to take it back from me, and because if you don't answer, I'll just walk out and keep the book."

  Baltaseros' look of complacent idiocy changed to a tragic mask. Tears ran from his eyes and he began to sob. "No. No. Don't keep my grimoire. It's mine. Please give it back to me. He was my master. He left it to me. Don't take it away."

  "Then tell me who drained you and where she lives."

  Baltaseros sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Will you avenge me?" he asked.

  "I have no idea," Hekate replied. "It depends on the woman, on why she drained you, on many things. Don't try my patience. The smell in this place doesn't encourage long visits. Tell me the name of the witch. Now."

  The voice of command pierced the drug haze. "Eurydice," Baltaseros said. "Eurydice. That was her name."

  He began to curse the woman in the foulest language and to weep with self-pity. Hekate was almost in sympathy with him before his drug-loosened tongue slipped and made clear what rankled him most. Apparently he had found one he considered an innocent girl in a small village outside the port, sensed her Talent, and brought her to Lysamachia for the sole purpose of draining that Talent from her. He had been sipping her strength for about a week, when she found his grimoire, discovered the key to make it legible, and drained him dry.

  That was interesting and Hekate resolved to remember what Baltaseros said for when she found Eurydice. More important right now was that Samira binte Kardel, the finder who had told her how to reach Baltaseros, had also called the witch Eurydice, which meant that, at least in naming the witch, Baltaseros had told the truth.

  "And where can I find Eurydice—in case I should want to avenge you?" Hekate asked.

  The violent emotions he was experiencing—now Baltaseros was weeping copiously—seemed to have focused his mind. His speech was almost clear when he said, "I don't know. On my master's grave, on the grimoire he gave me, I swear I don't know. She left me so weak, I couldn't rise from my bed for near a ten-day. Do you think that if I knew where she'd gone I wouldn't have pursued her? And every sorcerer and witch in Lysamachia would have helped me."

  "Oh?" The word was replete with sarcasm. "Were you so greatly beloved of the other mages in the city?"

  Rage and spite temporarily cleared the drug haze. "Whether I was beloved or not," he spat, "the others wouldn't have wanted a strange, foreign witch to run loose holding that draining spell. They would have killed her for me. But she was gone. No one knew I had brought her to Lysamachia and she had just slipped away."

  "But they didn't kill you for having the draining spell."

  "No one knew I had it then. I was careful how I used it." He began to weep again. "Everyone would have thought that accursed Eurydice brought the spell with her and she would be dead and my power would have come back . . . Oh, I know it would have come back. Instead they laughed at me for blaming someone who didn't exist. They all blame
d me for my own misery. Some said I had cast a spell wrong and it backlashed and burned me out; others insisted I tried to work such a mighty and evil magic that it drained me out. No one would believe me." He held out a hand which shook pathetically. "Please. Please give me back my master's grimoire."

  Hekate was about to hand it to him, but Kabeiros blocked her way. *Don't trust him. Don't go near him. Remember how he tried to grab you, and you don't want his filthy hands on you. Give the book to me.*

  The dog's skin shivered with revulsion and Hekate was about to protest that, considering his sense of smell, it was worse for him than for her. But then she thought of Baltaseros touching her, perhaps pulling her off balance—he was grossly heavy and because he was lying down would have his weight to use—so that she fell into the filth he lay in. She let Kabeiros take the grimoire in his mouth and drop it in Baltaseros' hand.

  The precautions had probably been unnecessary, Hekate thought. The small period of clarity was fading fast as whatever drugs he had taken damped out his burst of rage and grief. His hand closed over the grimoire, but his eyes were already glazing over and he began to giggle as he tried to conceal the book in his rags and it kept getting caught. Hekate and Kabeiros exchanged glances, agreeing wordlessly that there was nothing more worth trying to pry from him. Without more ado, they left the room, closing the door behind them; Hekate renewed the spells she had set with a touch and a word and they returned to their lodging.

  Although Hekate did ask questions in the town about Eurydice, it seemed that Baltaseros had told the truth about that, too. Most did not recognize the name at all. The few who did, associated it, as had Samira binte Kardel, with Baltaseros' story about a strange foreign witch. And several said that if there had been a Eurydice and she had done what Baltaseros had accused her of, she had surely taken a ship and fled Lysamachia as soon as she could.

  Little as she liked to acknowledge that it was highly unlikely that she would find Eurydice in the area, Hekate had to accept the logic of her informants. Her frustration was a little assuaged because Dionysos said he would ask for Eurydice everywhere he went. He had bought a horse and was ranging farther and farther abroad, staying away several days at a time, as the season waned to autumn. Autumn was the best time for planting, giving the vines a chance to root well before the burst of growth in the spring. It was also the worst time for sailing so there was little fear that Dionysos' absence would make them miss a ship.

  Kabeiros no longer traveled with Dionysos. He told Hekate he was quite sure the young mage could protect himself and he was reluctant to leave her for so long at a stretch, specially when she had taken up healing again. Partly that came about by accident—Samira had taken a putrid fever and Hekate found her half dead one day when she visited; she had cured Samira, and Samira had recommended her to everyone who even had a sniffle. Since Hekate's store of trade metal was now very low, she gladly accepted the clients and began to repair her finances.

  Dionysos did not find Eurydice nor any hint of where she came from or where she had gone. The autumn passed. Hekate did a good business in healing over the winter and could now afford to consider retracing their journey back to Miletus to find a ship that would go to Greece when a factor arrived with goods scheduled for Myrcinos in Thrace.

  Alerted by one of the chandlers they had plagued for news of a ship in that direction, Hekate hurried to speak to the factor. He assured her that—barring a tragedy—a ship would arrive by April or May to take his goods. Since that was early enough in the spring for them to follow their first plan if the Greek ship didn't arrive, they decided to wait. The ship came in the beginning of May and willingly accepted them as passengers, but the captain explained it would make a very long coastal voyage. Hekate didn't mind because she would be able to mark several places outside ports to which to leap, Kabeiros didn't care, and Dionysos was delighted. Each stop gave him more places in which he could introduce his vines. However, they did not arrive in Olympus until late summer.

  CHAPTER 24

  They had a far pleasanter homecoming than Hekate expected. Gration's house was in perfect order, ready to receive them, and the servants were overjoyed to see Hekate return. Although the Olympians had been reasonably faithful about supplying them with food, they had been growing uneasy about how long that would continue in their mistress' absence.

  To Hekate's surprise, the Olympians also seemed glad to welcome her home, most of them because they had tasted the joys of using magic and wanted new spells. Hekate told each she would be glad to supply them but must first obtain the approval of Zeus, which also gave her the opportunity to introduce Dionysos. That went very well. Zeus seemed much taken with this new son. He was less pleased with Hekate's request for permission to sell more spells; he knew it was a wedge in the door to let in a greater and greater use of magic, but he was in a cleft stick, not wanting to be blamed and suspected of unfairly restraining the power of his people, and he gave his approval.

  The spells, Hekate pointed out, seemed relatively harmless. Hestia's worshipers were forever appealing to her priestesses to help them find small items they had lost; Hekate gave her a finding spell that she could use herself or bud off onto favored priestesses. She also wanted to give Hephaestus a finding spell—he had not asked, but Hekate felt she had a debt to him; he was forever mislaying his tools. Hebe wanted a spell for attracting birds; she loved the little creatures, but they wouldn't come to her. Hekate was delighted to devise that one. It lightened her heart as much as Hebe's.

  About one request she seriously asked Zeus' advice. Artemis wanted a spell for testing chastity; she suspected one of her women of taking a lover. Hekate was afraid that Artemis' punishment would be too severe if the woman had slipped. Zeus frowned and agreed that that might be so, but said that the woman knew what she was swearing to when she took service with Artemis and should have gone to her mistress and begged for her freedom rather than cheat. A vow was a vow.

  Those words pricked Hekate's conscience. Dionysos seemed well set for the present, although Hekate could still feel the binding to him. That surprised her; she had thought she would be released when she brought him to Olympus and he was so well received. For now, however, that was barely a thread that connected them. Even when autumn and winter passed and she realized he had quarreled with Zeus and was living on his own, there was no tugging at the bond. He had found friends, Bacchus and Silenos, and seemed content.

  Another year passed; Dionysos' vines had taken hold; the grapes had been trampled, and their juice was in tuns fermenting. More years passed and grape wine became the favorite and then the staple drink for all. Temples to Dionysos sprang up all over the known world. He leapt from country to country blessing the vines and the wine they produced. The vintners grew rich and offered a good tithe of their profits and produce to the young god. Hekate put her doubts aside.

  Over the passing years, the binding to Kabeiros was lighter, too, although it was more demanding than that to Dionysos. Hekate understood the twinges that binding caused her for she was deliberately trying to evade it. She no longer pestered Hephaestos to study Kabeiros' problem, no longer presented Kabeiros to this and that Olympian to find one who might be able to help him. She knew Kabeiros still wanted his power to change under his own control, but she was afraid that when he held it, he would leave her.

  It was his right, but Hekate's throat closed with grief when she thought of losing Kabeiros. There were men among the Olympians who found her attractive, but she could warm to none of them, even as a casual lover. As a companion, to share her concerns, to give her advice, to laugh with . . . she shuddered at the thought. Among themselves they were like all people, good and bad, selfish and generous, kind and cruel, but they had no regard for others. They would help, harm, use, or cast aside any native as whim directed.

  For her there was only Kabeiros, and since he no longer urged her to find a cure, she ignored the occasional tightening of her bond. When it grew painful or when she sensed his desire t
o be a man was growing, she managed to find some excuse to leap them back to the caves of the dead, where he could be a man and they could be lovers.

  Fortunately—or unfortunately—finding an excuse to leap to Ka'anan grew easier as the years passed. Fortunately because staying in the caves of the dead permitted the renewal of Kabeiros' role as a lover. Unfortunately for two reasons: the one that touched Hekate personally was that Kabeiros always seemed reluctant to make love to her. He always did and was as passionate and yet gentle and tender a lover as any woman could desire, but he never said he loved her, he never said he wished to be with her forever, and their coupling seemed to be profoundly disturbing to him.

  The second reason was that Perses had managed, even without Hekate's cooperation, to seize the reins of power in Byblos. The seizure had taken longer, but he had succeeded at last. At first it made little difference to Byblos, even when the old king and queen died and Perses had tightened his grip on the new puppet rulers. The new king and queen were a little less rich and Perses a little more, but the cost to the people was small. A few extra men and women disappeared from the most wretched parts of the city, but such disappearances had been common enough before Perses established his hold.

  Though Perses had done nothing really horrible yet, Hekate felt uneasy. The vow that bound her to her father's destruction pinched and pulled, but the draining spell she had learned was all but useless. Unless she could discover what Eurydice had done to make it permanent, Perses would recover his power. Wary and hating, she would have no second chance; she would fail and die, or worse, fall into his power.

  Still, she could think of no other way to destroy Perses without killing him. She began a serious search for Eurydice, often leaping with Dionysos to his shrines and wandering the roads, towns, and cities asking for a witch of that name. She was cautious about lodging in any populated place—because of the way witches were hated and feared—and often set up a campsite warded by magic at a crossroad. Sometimes as rumors of her presence traveled the land, she found suppliants waiting for her. Often she just slipped away, but the sick and the wounded drew her, so she healed while she searched. And, where she found the Talented in danger, she taught magic so they could protect themselves.