The Complete Lythande

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Abruptly the stairs came to an end, and Lythande came to a stop with an unpleasant jolt. It was fully dark now, and Lythande could see only a little way through the thick darkness. She came to a stop, and looked around, wanting to assess this strange country somewhere above and behind the inn. Behind her, the stairs seemed to disappear into a thick mist.

  If I turned around now and went down the stairs would I wind up in that same bar? she wondered, She would not bet on it; or even that she could, even now, return to the cozy fire-lit interior of the inn. At least not by simply turning round and heading back the way she had come, whether it might be up or down. Magic simply did not work that way; and by the prickling of the Blue Star on her forehead, she knew that powerful magic was somewhere in the darkness around her.

  She felt within her pack; Her hand came out clutching a little carved-wood crucifix which she had been given a few years ago by a wandering priest. Now she began to worry whether this powerful talisman kept her from seeing something very evil. She cast away the cross, and all at once, as if a veil had been snatched from her eyes, a burning metallic sun turned the landscape an evil sulphurous yellow. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if indeed she were on the familiar earth at all or in one of the magical or demonic realms. And, if so, how had she come there, and why? And what were the magical realms doing that they should be at the head of a painted staircase—which oddly she had climbed—or descended—outside a window in an inn?

  She thought she should return to the inn, now she saw what was here; go back and tell them what lay behind their curtain. But would they do anything, or would they simply thank her, draw the curtain and let it stay there, out of sight and out of mind? And if she did would she violate her Magician’s oath to fight the forces of evil wherever they should be found? The prickling of her brow told her that this was a place of evil, and her oath bound her always to fight evil in any place whatever. Even, she wondered, outside the known world?

  Yes, she thought, even there. She took a reef in her backbone, and stepped into the burning sunlight, which felt terribly hot on her face. She felt like turning about, and bolting back up—or was it down?—the stairs.

  But she did not. She told herself that she had seen no evil yet, only guessed at an evil so great that while she carried such a symbol of good as her crucifix—never mind that to her, not being a Christian, the crucifix was essentially meaningless. This place was—must be—evil beyond guessing. And both her word to the innkeeper and her own vows bound her not to turn her back on such an evil without at least doing her uttermost to fight it.

  Was she even equipped to fight it? She had left her harp with the barman and more than once the sound of her harp alone had been sufficient to drive some evil away. Well, it was no good thinking about it; for better or for worse, She had come into this place without her harp, essentially unarmed, and without any magical weapon she must face it.

  Face what? So far she had only seen the wicked color of an alien sun. Maybe she would see nothing else.

  Although that sun, she told herself instinctively was evil enough.

  Then she recoiled within herself. Just what could be so evil about an alien sun and a sulphur-colored landscape? Was it only that they were different? In some ways it would almost be considered weirdly beautiful.

  But that concept was too much for her. Her mind so revolted at the thought of calling that lurid landscape beautiful that she thought she would vomit. With a fierce effort she controlled herself, and brought her rebellious stomach to order. She drew herself fiercely upright and forced herself to take a few steps into the burning alien landscape.

  After a few steps she turned about seeking the door where she had entered. There was no sign of any door or exit.

  So, she told herself; there may be no return—no obvious return, at least not now.

  No! Against that, her mind rebelled. She thought, I cannot stay here. There must be a way back; anything else was completely unthinkable. Yet she knew the unthinkable might well become fact and wanting it to be different would not make any difference at all. So she must put all her ingenuity to the business of return; She must above all remember where the doorway had been located, and hope that sooner or later she would have a chance to go through it again even if it must be at a dead run being pursued by whatever evil was there. And from hoping there was nothing there, she began to wish that she would discover something even those people would recognize at once as evil, if only to induce them to pay her. She guessed that the people at in this town would cheat a working woman out of her lawful due, even if they did not know she was a woman. Some folks would enjoy tricking any magician out of the lawful hire, and all the more so if the magician happened to be a woman. Over my dead body, she thought.

  There was a sound in the darkness; it sounded like some beast, but no normal beast she could think of. If she had ever thought of what a Tyrannosaurus rex sounded like, She might have expected it to be something like a dinosaur. But that was impossible—or was it? In a place like this, a dinosaur was no more unlikely than anything else. Maybe she had traveled not only in space but time. Or maybe—if this were a magical realm, a dinosaur was rather more likely than not. And she was no more unarmed against a dinosaur than she would have been against a dragon, or roc, or any other nonexistent but unpleasantly tangible creature.

  And she had had no psychic warnings of any magical beast either. But were her sudden fears of a magical beast some form of warning? Magic sometimes worked that way. She had not let the possibility of dinosaurs cross her mind in years So why was she thinking of them now? Like an answer, somewhere in the burning glow came that same dreadful roaring. Lythande thought that if the doorway had still been there, she would have run up—or down—through it at once. Maybe that was why it was no longer there. Above all she must keep track of where it had been, in case there was really a dinosaur or a dragon somewhere here, and she could escape it only by taking to her heels.

  That roaring might well have been a dinosaur or even a dragon, if she had had the faintest idea what a dragon or dinosaur might have sounded like; and the prickling of the Blue Star told her that it was no natural beast but something of magic. Well, for that she had a magical dagger; but she could have used a sword. She had never carried a sword in her life, and wondered why she was suddenly thinking of one.

  The answer was not far to seek. A little path led through the trees, and at the very edge of the road stood a stone about waist high, on which was standing another round stone. It was engraved in low relief with a carving of a strange, long-necked. beast, And driven into the stone halfway to the hilt was a long sword.

  She stared at it in disbelief. She knew of such things from old ballads, but that there might be such a creature or such a sword even in the magical realms strained her belief to the breaking point. Even to a magician, such things did not happen, and yet, unless she wished to deny the evidence of her own eyes, there it unmistakably was. If there was such an animal as a dinosaur on the face of this world, that was a dinosaur, and an extremely large and fierce one, at that. She had never seen anything like it, not even in a menagerie or an exhibit of exotic beasts, not even in such a display of magical beasts kept by a magician who had a roc and a camelopard. Yet the evidence of her own eyes was undeniable. And she had been thinking of a sword, but she had not expected to receive an answer so quickly.

  At that very moment she heard through the bushes, a terrible roaring sound, and saw the bushes swaying and jerking as if something very loud were crashing through the plentiful underbrush. Galvanized, she jerked the sword free of the great stone, and ran. If she was to see a dinosaur—or a dragon—but she was in no hurry to validate her fears. Not even to reassure herself about her own sanity.

  Now she caught a glimpse of a long snakelike neck, unusually high, of a curious leathery green. It had large reptilian eyes which looked almost as if they were on long insectoid stalks. The eyes swiveled and Lythande had the uncanny feeling that they were searching for her
in the underbrush, She told herself not to be fanciful, but she could not help herself. She was not eager to try out her new sword against anything so large or fierce. But, it seemed, she was not to be given the choice. Well, she thought, I hoped there would be something fierce enough to justify my fears about evil. That will teach me to be careful what I wish for; like to the puppy who chases a wagon wheel. What would he do if he caught it? What will I do with this dinosaur?

  And by what right do I assume I am meant to do anything about it? I came into its world, not he—or more likely it—into mine. It is big and terrifying; but if I let it alone it will let me alone. Nor did I ask for the sword. This is certainly not my fight.

  They did not pay me to go up against a dragon.

  Especially they did not pay me to kill or dispose of a dragon; they very specifically paid me to go into the world behind their window and see what was there. Just to see it, not to do anything about it. I made it clear that for what they paid I would but go and look if anything was there. They never expected anything would be there and spoke as if, the curtains drawn, they would be quite all right, So Lythande really should do nothing, but go back at once and tell her story. But in order to do that, she must remember where the door was located. Could she find it even now?

  As she looked around the beast seemed to sigh, growl and breathe out fire. By the light of the burning forest, she turned about, and ran toward where she had seen the door to the stairs. Once inside, she almost tumbled down the stairs and with great relief through the door into the bar.

  The little barkeep with bat-ears looked up, and said, “So, sir magician, back again? What did you find on the other side of those stairs?”

  “A dragon, or perhaps a dinosaur, breathing fire. It was trying to set the woods on fire.”

  He looked perturbed. “And did you kill it?”

  “No.” said Lythande. “I did not; for three silvers I agreed to go into that wood and see what was there. For killing a dragon or dinosaur, my price is substantially higher. And for no reason at all, I got the notion that you grudged the price; you made it clear that you paid me only to look and find what was there.

  “Oh,” said Bat-ears, “I believed your Magician’s Oath bound you to destroy evil wherever you found it.”

  “And so you believed you could get me to kill it for you without payment? By what right do you expect me to destroy an innocent beast blamelessly going about on its own affairs and harming no one? It is only doing what all creatures do. Looking for its food, and troubling no one.”

  “But it will burn the woods up, breathing fire!”

  “That does not trouble me; if it bothers you, you can go and kill it yourself.”

  “But it will burn up the woods!”

  “They are not my woods; if it wants to burn them, whoever owns the woods may go and kill it, or pay someone to do so. I am a magician, not an exterminator. The beast does not menace anything of mine.”

  She picked up the case with her harp and slung it over her shoulder. She went into the street. She would rather walk all night than stay anywhere near these people. Behind her she began to see through the door, a great fire breaking out. It must have spread from the dragon in the woods, she thought.

  She turned back to look at the inn. Suddenly it buckled and with a great explosion, erupted skyward.

  With all this, she thought, they should not have grudged me a lawful fee. She turned away from the inn, and began to walk. Maybe she could reach the next town before the moon set or it began raining.

  North to Northwander

  It had been several years since the minstrel-magician Lythande had dared to go near Northwander at the height of summer, but this year she felt it should be safe enough to do so. Surely, she thought, the effects of the spell which had made her think it prudent to avoid the place had been nullified by now.

  Not quite within reach of her destination, Lythande stopped in a small village, looking around the darkening streets. Not for the first time, she cursed to herself the geas which demanded she must forever travel in the guise of a man. Most of the time she simply lived with her fate and did not think about it much; it was simply the price of her magic, like the Blue Star tattooed between her brows, and she thought about it as little; but here in this town there was a cozy cafe filled with women, and hearing the sound of their voices, she felt a vague hunger, like the ache in a long-missing tooth, to join their company as one of them.

  But, she asked herself forthrightly: would she sacrifice her magic? For a moment she entertained the idea; then brought herself back to sanity. For what else had she sought and suffered, if not to be free of this vast tedium? The life of a woman had wearied her before her breasts has fully grown. She would not have it again as a gift!

  She had entered the cafe as she thought, and now the owner was looking inquiringly at her. She asked for a pound of raisins and two of prunes, with a single pound of dates, and obtained the loan of a mortar and pestle in which she pounded raisins and prunes into a single fragrant mass. Adding a few pitted dates for flavor, she spread them into sheets which dried quickly into leathery squares of a flavorful paste. She rolled each sheet into a tasty mouthful, to be stowed in the pockets of the mage robe and be eaten when she had no leisure for a meal unobserved.

  Then she asked, “Am I right for the castle?”

  One of the swaddled ladies, bearing themselves cozily upright like hens, almost clucked. “Right there. You can’t get nowhere else from here, Lord Magician. An’ may I ask why you’re a-goin’ there at this season?”

  Not pleased—why in heaven’s name had she been able to tolerate even the thought of living as a woman—she said calmly “I am a poor minstrel and magician; I must earn my bread by song or by magic; and often at festival, there are some who seek my arts or those who need my magic for hire.”

  “A magician for hire,” said one of the women. “What an entertaining idea. Tell me, what sort of magic can you do for hire? Just for a f’rinstance, Sir Magician. What kind of magic can I hire you to do?”

  Vastly entertained, Lythande prepared to give one of her sales pitches. “Oh, there are many things; once a township hired one of my kind to rid them of an infestation of magical beasts like rats—wuzzles—invisible creatures infesting the grain. And I do a nice business, of course, in love-charms; in fact one of my greatest businesses is in love charms. Could I work for you a love charm—find you a nice young cavalier, ma’am, madly in love wi’ you?”

  “Ai!” the woman giggled. “What would my ol’ man say to that?”

  “I know not, lady, but once I heard somewhere—though I have none—of such a potion which was strictly moral, having no effect whatever on faithful married persons.”

  The woman giggled again. “Could you make me up one of that kind? Strictly moral so me old husband wouldn’t object?’

  Good heavens, Lythande thought, what madness prompted me to bring that up!

  “Oh, come on,” giggled the woman, “I don’t believe there ever was such a thing.”

  “Are you doubting my powers, Madame?

  Lythande knew she would be better off to say nothing—for she doubted it too—but some compulsion had prompted it—no doubt for its own reasons.

  “Well, yes. Yes, I am,” the woman replied, still giggling. “I don’t believe anyone, however much a magician, can do such a thing. Nor I don’t believe they ever could or would, so there! You’re just bragging, like all those fellows call themselves magicians an’ make up things they can’t do.”

  Lythande told herself furiously that she should simply accept this, humiliating or not. What had prompted her to bring up the subject? And yet, as if compelled, she heard herself say, “Oh, I will take the challenge. But first, let us be clear about this: you wish for a lover who will be besotted with you and yet in no way endanger your marriage or your husband’s feeling for you, or your own sense of morality.”

  “Yes, but it sounds pretty silly when you put it like that, don’t it.” The
woman tittered.

  Somehow, Lythande felt compelled by this challenge of her powers. She felt a sense of recklessness—and—perhaps too, at last, an element of caution.

  She said calmly, “I will do even as I say,” and looked straight at the old woman whose eyes fastened on her with a tardy half-horrified awareness. “But I must first consult my books of magic,” she said, thinking that at last this would give them a few sane minutes to reconsider. To reconsider what, she did not know or care.

  Within her voluminous magician’s robe she found her small condensed book of spells. A peculiarity of this book was that no particular spell was ever within this book until she had formulated a need for it. Now, suspecting that what she wanted did not exist, she searched only at random. What she sought could hardly be a love-charm; a romantic relationship for a married woman which could endanger neither health nor morals was almost by definition not a genuine love affair. What it was, she did not know; but by the end of this ill-fated experiment she might. This might be why she had agreed to it. Her inability to imagine such an affair might simply lie in the failure of her own imagination. And curiosity was a strong motivating force.

  She arranged to sleep in one of the community barns, and before she slept, formulated in her mind all the qualities of the lover she sought. At least, she thought, if it met this standard it could not do her any great harm... explicitly no damage to her morals or her well-being. At last she drifted into a fitful sleep.

  ~o0o~

  Outside the barn was a strange sound, a weird moaning. As Lythande slowly came up through the veils of sleep, she realized that what at first she had thought the mooing of a cow was the wailing sound of some great beast outside, wailing and moaning what appeared to be—of all things—her name.

  “Lythande! Lythande!” and then a most frantic and desperate cry.