Points of Departure

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “I-I gave her Mother’s copy of the Book of Curses.”

  There was a brief silence while Granny controlled her temper. The Book of Curses contained the most ancient writings of S’Rian, including many of the most powerful spells and curses. And among them were the details of a spell that might actually be the curse afflicting Rikiki. If Deremer intended to tamper with that…

  “Of all the fools in Liavek,” Granny said finally, biting off each word like a chip of flint, “you are the worst.”

  “But she can’t use it for anything! There can’t be any harm—”

  “She can learn a lot from it,” Granny cut her off. “And even if she can’t use it, she can get help from those who can.”

  Giresla whitened, but rallied quickly. “Who’d help her? No one of the old blood would—”

  “Oh, hush. It doesn’t matter anyway; you’re my concern at the moment. And you know the penalty for what you’ve done.”

  “Service to the gods, for a year and a day. That’s not so bad,” Giresla said, but her chin trembled.

  “Not quite. Rikiki’s involved; it will have to be a Change Price.”

  Giresla’s face turned a sickly yellow. “Granny, no! Please, I—”

  “The time will be the same as for service: a year and a day,” Granny went on implacably. “And you’re lucky it’s no longer.”

  “A year! I’ll never last that long! Deremer’s the one you want! She—”

  “She isn’t S’Rian. You are. The penalties don’t apply to her.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “You don’t have a choice, and neither do I,” Granny said tiredly. “And you may make it through. Meanwhile…”

  Her right hand made a pass in the air, cutting short Giresla’s protests. The woman’s eyes glazed, and her face became expressionless. Granny sighed again, and turned to leave.

  • • •

  As soon as she arrived home, Granny propped her cane in its usual place by the door and led the still-ensorcelled Giresla down into the cellar. At her bidding, a section of the cellar floor vanished, revealing a rough stone staircase, and they continued their descent.

  The stairway ended in a large cave. Long shelves had been carved into the stone along one wall, and they were crammed with boxes, bags, pots and strange-looking implements. At the near end of the shelves was a wine-rack, half full of neatly arranged bottles. Granny crossed to the shelves and began selecting the items she wanted, while Giresla stood watching blankly.

  When the circle of enchanted silver wire had been carefully laid, and the candles and straw positioned properly around the tiny, empty gold bowl, Granny paused. She surveyed the circle grimly to make certain nothing was out of place, then led Giresla to its center. Returning to her position outside the ring, she said formally, “You are S’Rian, and you have tried to work harm against the gods of S’Rian. You owe a Change Price for a year and a day. And may Rikiki’s appetite be satisfied elsewhere until the price is paid.” Then she began her work.

  The chant was long, and the gestures that accompanied it were complex, but though she had not needed it in years, Granny had not forgotten the smallest detail of the spell. As she neared the end, she saw Giresla’s eyes widen. Granny threw up her arms and shouted the last three words of the spell.

  The straw burst into flame, and Giresla vanished behind the resulting cloud of greasy smoke. A single scream echoed through the cave, then chopped off. It was followed closely by a pinging sound, like a pebble dropped on a metal plate. Granny winced, and settled down to wait.

  Slowly the smoke cleared. Only when the last wisp had thinned and vanished did Granny reach down to touch the circle of silver wire. It was thin and brittle; at her touch a piece snapped away and the rest crumbled into dust. Granny straightened and stepped toward the golden bowl.

  The bowl now held a medium-sized hazelnut, which seemed to have a faint, silver sheen. Granny looked down at it a little sadly. The transformation was temporary; in a year and a day, Giresla would resume her usual form. Unless, of course, something else happened to the hazelnut first. And with Rikiki involved…

  Granny shook herself, bent, and picked up the hazelnut. She pocketed it carefully, then went to the far side of the cave. She took a small broom from a hook on the wall. Frowning, she set about sweeping up the silver dust and the ashes of the burned straw. The incident with Giresla had delayed her; she’d have to hurry to get to Deremer’s house before the best time for Deremer to work her summoning spells.

  • • •

  The streets were not busy in the mid-afternoon. Most people preferred to do their business in the morning, before the heat of the day reached its height, or in the evening, when it had passed. Granny simply ignored it and walked on.

  Outside Deremer’s house, Granny paused. Deremer might well be out gathering materials for the summoning. Perhaps it would be better to wait and catch her at Tam’s Palace in the evening, or—Granny’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and she muttered a word. Yes, there it was; a subtle spell of avoidance, guarding the house. Her lips tightened. The girl was as good as Trav had hinted. Frowning, she went up the steps and tried the door.

  It was locked as well as warded, but she had expected that. She placed her palm flat against the door, just above the lock, and whispered a brief spell. A moment later, the door swung inward. She went in, and closed it softly behind her. As she did, she heard voices coming from a room just down the hall. She went quickly toward them.

  “—still don’t know, Deremer. I mean, I don’t even have my luck yet.” The voice was a rather whiney-sounding male.

  “Dealing with gods isn’t the same as doing ordinary magic,” answered a woman’s voice, rich and smooth as cream. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” the male voice grumbled.

  “We can stop now, if you’d like,” the woman said with deceptive casualness. “Of course, that would mean postponing your investiture another year. At least.”

  “No, no, I’ll do it. I just—well, I’m still not sure.”

  “You’ve said that twelve times if you’ve said it once. Either begin now or go away, but for Irhan’s sake stop dithering.”

  “All right, all right. Which one do you want first?”

  “Rikiki. I’ll call Irhan myself, later.”

  “Are you sure about this? Without my luck—”

  “Will you stop whining about your luck!”

  The argument sounded as though it might continue for hours. Granny pushed the door of the room open and stepped inside. “And just what do you think you can do with them once you have them?” she said.

  During the instant of stunned silence that followed, Granny glanced quickly around the room. A tall, carved wardrobe stood against the wall beside the door. In the middle of the floor lay a circle of silver wire, in the center of which was a small golden bowl full of nuts. A little table just outside the circle held an unlit candle and several bowls of herbs, laid out ready for use. A dark-haired man stood beside the table. His resemblance to Giresla was obvious; somehow he managed to look startled and sullen at the same time. Seated in a silk-draped chair next to him was a beautiful woman with light brown hair. She held a worn book with a green leather cover, and Granny smiled grimly when she saw it.

  “It appears that I’ve arrived just in time.”

  Raivo was gaping like a beached fish; Deremer recovered more quickly. “Who are you?” she demanded, rising. “How did you get in here?”

  “Most people call me Granny. I walked.”

  “You can just walk right back out again, then,” Deremer said angrily. “This is my home, not a public dining place!”

  “More shame to you, then. There’s a mouse’s nest behind your wardrobe that should have been cleaned out a month ago.” She pointed in the general direction with the tip of her cane.

  Deremer looked bewildered. Before she could reply, Raivo found his tongue at last. “Now, Granny, you don’t want to get mi
xed up in this,” he said coaxingly.

  “Don’t patronize me, you young clamhead. Hush up and answer my question.”

  “Question?” Raivo looked as bewildered as Deremer.

  “Just what do you plan to do with Rikiki and Irhan once you’ve called them?”

  “Nothing harmful, you may be sure,” Deremer said soothingly. She shot a glance at Raivo, who had opened his mouth to speak, and he closed it again quickly. “But I agree with Raivo; you really ought to leave.” She gestured gracefully with her free hand, and light glinted on a heavy gold bracelet.

  Granny felt a pressure like an invisible hand, pushing her toward the door. Automatically, she recited a counter-charm in her head, and broke the spell with ease. She leaned on her cane as though she had noticed nothing, and said pointedly, “If there’s no harm in it, why do you need the Book of Curses?”

  Deremer’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know quite a bit about my business.”

  “As long as it involves Rikiki, it’s my business as well, young woman. Answer the question.” Granny added a magical shove to the command.

  “For my revenge on—” Deremer stopped, and her eyes widened. “How dare you!”

  “As I said, it’s my business.” Granny eyed her thoughtfully. “Revenge. I see. And you certainly wouldn’t need such an elaborate scheme to deal with Master ola Silba.”

  “Ola Silba can wait! It’s Irhan I want now.”

  “Why?”

  “He agreed to protect my father, and he broke his word.”

  “I’m not surprised. Irhan has never been the most reliable of gods. Good-looking, but not dependable.”

  “Then it’s time he was taught a lesson. My father died because of him!” Deremer paused and looked speculatively at Granny. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join us? I’m willing to pay quite well.”

  “Deremer!” Raivo sounded appalled. “You can’t—”

  “Don’t be tiresome, Raivo. Your grandmother is a bit of a wizard herself, or she wouldn’t be here. She could be very helpful.”

  Granny suppressed a snort. Deremer had plainly been studying the Book of Curses with care. The rites for summoning Rikiki could be performed by anyone who knew them, but they were most effective when performed by a woman of S’Rian blood. A male S’Rian was a distinct second choice, and Deremer herself would have only a small chance of success.

  “I’m too old to buy a fish in a flour-sack,” Granny said. “Perhaps you’d explain your proposal in more detail?”

  Deremer hesitated, and Raivo jumped in again. “It’s quite easy, Granny. We’ll summon Rikiki, and Deremer will cast a spell to hold him. Then she’ll summon Irhan and we’ll duplicate Rikiki’s curse on him.”

  “You make it sound simple. These are gods you’re dealing with.”

  “Well, neither of them is a very powerful god. And all the spells we need are in the Book of Curses.”

  “Then what do you need Rikiki for?” Granny demanded, though she was afraid she knew already.

  “We can’t get all the ingredients for the ritual,” Raivo said reluctantly. “So we need Rikiki as a model, to get the new spell started. It won’t hurt him.”

  “That constitutes tampering with Rikiki’s curse,” Granny snapped. “Which would force him to spend another hundred thousand years as a chipmunk. I won’t permit that.”

  “It’s not like that, it—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Raivo,” Deremer said, giving him a significant look. She waited until he stepped aside, then moved toward the silver circle and looked at Granny. “Do you truly believe you can stop me? How? You don’t really think I’ll waste all these preparations, do you?” She waved her left hand in a sweeping arc, and ended with a chopping motion. Light gleamed on her golden bracelet, and the wood of Granny’s cane shattered.

  “Now, Raivo!” Deremer shouted. “That was her luck-piece; she can’t stop you without it!”

  Raivo started forward, and found himself looking down a long, thin swordblade. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Granny said acidly, “but it’s not my luck that I stored in my cane.” She shook a few remaining splinters from the gleaming metal, and Raivo backed away.

  “You’re lying!” Deremer cried. “I saw you use—” Her right hand clenched on the Book of Curses, and she made another sweeping gesture with her left.

  Granny shifted her attention away from Raivo long enough to dispel the attack, and Deremer’s eyes widened. “Impossible!”

  “Nonsense. Now, if you’ll just—”

  “Nuts?” a bright, high-pitched voice piped from the floor behind Granny. “Where nuts?”

  Granny turned, appalled. She had been so concerned with stopping Deremer’s summoning spell that it had never occurred to her that Rikiki might notice the preparations and simply show up. In his human form he would know better; but then, as a human he would have no difficulty handling a minor threat such as Deremer Ledoro. The mental limitations inherent in his present shape were one of the main reasons behind the creation of Granny’s position, so long ago. She thought of the silver hazelnut in her pocket; if she fed it to Rikiki, he would regain his human form for a few minutes, long enough to deal with Deremer. But there had to be a way of getting him out of danger without sacrificing Giresla.

  “I have nuts at home, Rikiki,” she said. If she could persuade him to leave before Deremer had a chance to begin her spells…

  “Home?” Rikiki’s black eyes stared up at her. “Where home? Want nuts!”

  As Granny started to answer, a flicker of motion beside her caught her attention. She dodged, but not far enough. A heavy wooden club landed on her shoulder, knocking her to the floor. Rikiki gave a startled squeak and ran under the wardrobe. Half stunned, she brought up her sword, sparing a brief mental curse for her own carelessness. Before she could use it, the spell of immobilization struck.

  It was a good spell; she could hardly even breathe. She heard Deremer say coaxingly, “Nuts, Rikiki! See? Nuts!” Hurriedly, Granny cast her counter-spell.

  Nothing happened. Shocked, Granny shoved at the spell. It gave a little, but not enough. She studied it, and saw the difficulty. Deremer had clearly prepared well for the appearance of the two gods she planned to summon. The enchantment had been cast earlier, with all the care and subtlety possible in a ritual spell. All she had had to do was set it in motion at the right moment.

  She could break the spell eventually, Granny decided, but was there time? Rikiki was already sitting beside the golden bowl, stuffing nuts in his cheek-pouches. Deremer opened the Book of Curses and ran a finger down the page, while Raivo moved closer to watch. Granny took a breath and closed her eyes, visualizing the pattern of the spell she wanted as she mentally recited the words. She felt the paralysis weaken again, but the counterspell did not have the power that came from a full ritual. All she could move were her fingers. She still held the sword, but Deremer was well beyond its reach.

  Deremer started to chant, moving her left arm in a rhythmic motion in front of her. Granny’s eyes narrowed suddenly. She flicked the tip of her sword in an intricate pattern, hoping her guess was correct. Deremer cried out and dropped the Book of Curses to clutch at her left wrist. She was too late; the gold bracelet was dissolving. In a moment more, all that remained was a fine gold dust, sifting slowly to the floor. Deremer paled and swayed as though she had been struck, then collapsed.

  The spell holding Granny dissolved, and she started forward. Raivo lunged for her, but another gesture froze him temporarily motionless. She took a moment to catch her breath, then went over to Deremer and examined her. She straightened with a satisfied smile. The bracelet had been Deremer’s luck-piece, and the shock of its destruction had made her collapse. Granny made certain Deremer would sleep for a while, then looked around.

  Rikiki had finished the nuts and disappeared, she noted thankfully. She picked up the Book of Curses and stowed it safely in the pocket of her skirt. Rapidly, she scanned the room, searching for the threads of other spells. S
he found two more paralyzing spells and a death-curse, and unraveled them all. She turned to the circle of silver, then paused.

  Raivo was S’Rian, one of the old blood. He had knowingly threatened Rikiki’s welfare; by the ancient laws, he owed the same price Giresla had paid. Granny glanced at the table of herbs; yes, the proper ingredients were all there. Her lips tightened. Pity she couldn’t do the same to Deremer, but Deremer wasn’t S’Rian. Well, perhaps being sick for a week from the sudden destruction of her magic-source would teach her a lesson. Being magicless until her next birthday might do her good, too, though it was too much too hope that the destruction would be permanent.

  Granny made the arrangements quickly, then left the circle and began the spell. When it was over, she pocketed the hazelnut with a grimace. Rikiki would likely get indigestion from that one, if it were ever used. When she turned back, Deremer was watching her.

  “Who are you?” Deremer whispered at last. Her voice was ragged.

  “Tenarel Ka’Riatha.”

  Deremer’s eyes widened in fear. “Ka’Riatha—the one the Book of Curses calls the Guardian of the S’Rian Gods? You’re that old?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m hardly the first to hold the title since S’Rian fell,” Granny snapped. Which was true, as far as it went; she saw no reason to mention her real age.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing whatever.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Deremer’s eyes shifted toward the empty bowl in the middle of the floor, then turned quickly away.

  Granny sighed. “You’re not S’Rian and you didn’t actually succeed in doing anything. As long as you don’t try it again, I’m through with you. And I think you’ve been given sufficient warning.”

  Deremer looked down, and the fingers of her right hand circled her other wrist. Granny almost felt sorry for her for a moment; it was not easy for a wizard to live without magic, however short the time. “How did you know?” Deremer asked.