Triplet

  Aha! She smiled grimly. So that was all it was: a lar, set into a defensive circle barely big enough for her to stand in. Back on her first night on Karyx she’d wondered what would happen if she tried to push her way past a lar; now apparently, she had her answer.

  Okay. So now what? She knew the release for a lar, of course, but release spells usually didn’t work unless the user had invoked the spirit in the first place.

  Or unless whoever had invoked this particular lar had added a manifold-geas to the spell so that others in Coven could also give it orders.

  She bit at her lip, running through her mind the three manifold-geas spells she’d been taught. Unfortunately, only the most general of them gave total strangers like her any control whatsoever, and it was pretty unlikely that Coven would be using anything like that. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try the appropriate release. “Harkhonistrasmylikiheen,” she muttered. “Carash-melanasta.”

  Nothing happened. Nice try, anyway, she told herself, fighting down a surge of disappointment. Now what?

  Well, when all else fails, try logic. The spirit protection spell was theorized to form a short-range barrier around a person which spirits couldn’t penetrate; if it was coupled with a release spell, the combination might at least push the lar far enough back for her to slip past it.

  Or else she’d get the same result as she’d just gotten with the geas-release combination: namely, nothing. But giving up now was to lose by default. Mentally crossing her fingers, she took as deep a breath as she could manage with the lar pressing in on her. “Man-sy-hae orolontis; carash-melanasta—”

  And lost the rest of her breath in a strangled whuff as the intangible cocoon abruptly tightened, squeezing in on her like a padded vise.

  There was no time to try anything else, even if she’d had anything else to try. She couldn’t breathe … and as the feint haze before her eyes became mottled, she knew the lar was doing its best to squeeze the life out of her …

  She awoke back in the room to find three figures standing over her: a man and a woman in the increasingly familiar Coven robes, and a second man—

  “Ravagin!” she managed.

  “You all right?” he asked, his wooden expression not giving way any hint of what he was thinking.

  Which could be any of a dozen unpleasant things. Danae felt her face flush with embarrassment and shame. “Sure, I’m fine,” she muttered. “I guess I got the spell wrong.”

  Ravagin looked at the Coven man. “I may have mentioned that we’re not particularly good spirithandlers,” he said. “Really, we’re nothing more than craftsmen. I don’t think we can be of much service to Coven.”

  The man shook his head. “You misunderstand both our purposes and our needs. Spirithandling isn’t the problem—we have all that sort of knowledge we need. But your—what was it, some new style of bow? Yes—your bow shows you’re exactly the sort people we’re always in search of.”

  Ravagin’s eyes flicked to Danae and back again. “So it’s creative talent you’re looking for, is it? And you pass out those enchanted robes to help in the hunt?”

  The man smiled. “Exactly. Each has a spirit trapped—well, not in it, exactly; that would be too easy to detect. But the spirit is associated with it in a rather complicated manner.”

  “How do you make sure the robes get to the proper people?” Danae asked.

  “Oh, we don’t,” the man shrugged. “Most of them disappear out there and we never hear of them again. But enough find their way to people we can use. You’d be amazed at how many peddlers will buy a robe that has the Coven emblem on it, almost as if our reputation for quality will reflect on them.”

  Danae felt her stomach tighten. The exact logic Melentha had used on her … and she’d fallen for the trick like a halfwit. “So is that all you dragged us here for?” she demanded. “My composite bow design?”

  “Oh, the bow will only be the start,” the woman said. “We’re extending you the rare privilege of joining the Coven community. In return, you’ll be expected to create a steady stream of ingenious instruments and tools for us to market.”

  Danae looked at Ravagin, her mouth going dry. “Did you explain to our hosts that we really can’t stay here—?”

  “I’ve tried,” Ravagin said. “I get the feeling the invitation isn’t a matter of choice.”

  “You’re beginning to understand—” The man broke off as the glow-fire of a sprite came through the wall and decelerated to a sudden stop. For a second it engulfed first his head, then the woman’s, before heading away in a smooth curve through the half-open doorway.

  “Excuse us, but we’re needed elsewhere,” the man said as he and the woman started toward the door. “You’ll be comfortable here until we return. I suggest you discuss the situation and try to reconcile yourselves to it.” They disappeared into the hallway, closing the heavy door behind them.

  Ravagin exhaled in a long sigh and turned to eye Danae. “You all right?” he asked. “Really all right, I mean?”

  “I’m as well as can be expected,” Danae told him, sitting up on the bed. “Ravagin—I’m sorry about all of this. I don’t know what happened—”

  He waved the apology away. “Forget it. You heard the man: they’ve clearly got this snatching technique down to a science. Let’s try and figure out a way out of here, shall we?”

  “I tried the door,” she grimaced. “You saw what happened.”

  “Sure did. What was that, anyway?—a fractional-possession spell?”

  “No, I think it was a lar, circling me at very close orbit. I tried combining a release spell with—”

  “A lar?” Ravagin frowned. “You sure?”

  “I’m not sure of anything, but I don’t know what else it could have been. Why?”

  “Because that wasn’t typical lar behavior.” Ravagin gazed into space a minute. “No. You couldn’t set a lar to form a tube around a person like that. You only get that kind of full circle as a large perimeter—it reforms as a localized column in front of anyone who gets too close.”

  Danae thought back to that first night on Karyx. Sure enough, that was how the lar had behaved. “You’re right,” she admitted. “But the haze and—well, the basic sensation—both felt more like a lar than anything else.”

  “Great.” Ravagin sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Just great. You realize, of course, what it means if you’re right.”

  “Coven’s come up with some brand-new spells?” she hazarded.

  “Bull’s-eye. And not just new spells, but ones that create entirely different behavior patterns in the invoked spirits.”

  She thought that over for a minute. “But the old spells should still work, shouldn’t they? I mean, they work now, and—well, relativity didn’t negate the accuracy of classical mechanics, you know.”

  Ravagin looked her in astonishment. “What does relativity have to do with it?”

  “I meant that in its proper sphere, classical mechan—”

  “I know what you meant,” he cut her off. “Look, Danae, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not dealing with electrons and frictionless sleds here—we’re dealing with living, sentient beings. There are no guarantees here—we’re damn lucky that someone in Karyx’s past found any way of controlling these spirits. But the whole thing is strictly empirical; if there are basic laws governing the interaction of spells and spirits, no one’s come up with them yet.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Danae snapped, getting to her feet. “You’re welcome to start work on that oversight right away—I’m going to find a way past that lar.”

  Stomping to the door, she opened it a crack. This time, knowing what to look for, she found she could see the faint haze between her and freedom. “You said you tried a standard release spell?” Ravagin called from behind her.

  “Yes,” she gritted, trying to summon up courage to try this again. The memory of being almost crushed to death …

  “I’m surprised you were able to get any words out at
all, given the way you looked when we found you.”

  “It didn’t try to strangle me until after I said the release,” she told him. Maybe if she used one of the other geas spells this time … Clenching her teeth, she inhaled deeply—

  “It did what?” There was a creak from the bed, and a second later Ravagin was peering through the door over her shoulder. “A lar shouldn’t react that way to a release spell from the wrong person.”

  “Well … I did try using the control spell for a manifold geas first,” she admitted. “Maybe that—I don’t know, sensitized it or put it on its guard or something.”

  “It shouldn’t have,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “With a manifold geas you’re either in control or you aren’t, and if you aren’t the spirit’s just supposed to ignore you. Certainly not attack you.”

  “If you’re implying I said the spell wrong—”

  “No, no, I’m sure you did it right.” He exhaled thoughtfully between his teeth. “Damn. This gets worse and worse, Danae.”

  She twisted her head to look at him. “What do you mean? You said we were probably dealing with a new set of spells and spirit behavior here.”

  For a long moment he was silent. Then, reaching around behind her, he carefully pushed the door closed. “You don’t want to try the release again?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to try any spells for a while,” he said quietly. “There’s something wrong here—something very wrong—only I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Danae licked her lips. The most experienced Courier in the Corps, she reminded herself. If he thinks something’s off-key … “You want to give me a for instance? Besides the overzealous lar in the hallway, I mean?”

  Ravagin stepped over to the window and stood looking out, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s just feelings so far,” he said. “Something about Coven feels … empty, somehow. I mean aside from the two people we’ve talked, to, everyone else in town’s been keeping their distance.” He nodded toward the glass. “There are some people over there now near where I left my horse, but they weren’t there when I rode up.”

  Danae came up behind him and peered out. “Yes, I saw them earlier—or another group; you can’t really tell them apart with those robes.”

  “But why are they all over there?” he persisted. “When I was being escorted here I saw people milling around this building, too, but by the time I got here they were gone.”

  “Maybe they don’t want us to get too good a look at them,” she suggested. Now that he mentioned it, it did sound a little odd. “If they’re all victims of this same recruitment scheme, it could be the village leaders don’t want us to identify any of them.”

  “Which could mean they aren’t yet sure they can keep us here,” Ravagin said slowly. “If we were stuck in Coven for the duration, without any possibility of a way out, they shouldn’t care if we know who they’ve snatched.”

  “Pretty flimsy logic,” Danae muttered.

  “I’ll take what I can get at this stage,” he shrugged, running his fingers experimentally along the window frame. “Probably a waste of time to try and get out this way, but for the moment it’s about all we’ve got available.” Reaching to the back of his belt, he pulled a dagger from beneath his tunic and dug the point in between the frame and glass.

  “They didn’t bother to disarm you?” Danae frowned.

  “Oh, the peri in the forest disarmed me, but good,” he grunted, working the knife back and forth. “Released the dazzler from the sword Melentha lent me. Lot of fireworks and frost—you’d have loved it. Melentha’ll probably kill me for losing it.”

  “Why’d the peri do that? Couldn’t it have handled you even with a bound-spirit sword?”

  “Hell, it could have handled me with two bound-spirit swords,” he told her frankly. “You have to remember that spirits aren’t like a pack of idiot dogs or something panting eagerly for the chance to be dumped on by humans. Being entrapped is the equivalent of slavery for them, and they’ll do practically anything to get out of it. It’s probably the main reason that getting a binding spell wrong is so dangerous; the spirit knows what you were trying to do and lashes out in self-defense …”

  He trailed off, and the knife in his hand came to a halt. “What is it?” Danae asked, feeling the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

  “Coven,” he said slowly. “Danae … what is Coven’s claim to fame on Karyx?”

  She frowned, thinking. “You told me it was their trade goods. Well crafted, many of them spirit-enhanced—”

  “Spirit-enhanced,” he nodded. “Is it just me … or is there something wrong about a peri who’s able to release spirits working for a place that routinely binds those same spirits?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it again. “Maybe … could the peri be under a geas of some kind?”

  Ravagin shook his head. “I don’t think so. But there’s more. When we got to the village itself … yes. The peri told the man that it was heading back to the forest. Told him. Didn’t ask permission, didn’t wait for orders of any kind. And the man accepted this as apparently normal behavior.”

  Danae gnawed thoughtfully at her lip. “Well, it at least indicates that that particular man isn’t in control of that particular peri.”

  “Maybe,” Ravagin said slowly, “it indicates that there aren’t any men in control of the spirits here.”

  Danae moved up to where she could see Ravagin’s face. If he’d been making a joke, it didn’t show in his tight expression. “Are you suggesting the spirits could be in charge of Coven themselves?” she asked. “May I remind you that you just got done saying spirits don’t like being bound?”

  “I also said we’re a long way from knowing what the rules are that govern them,” he reminded her. “There could be a whole set of power struggles underway we know nothing about. Maybe the—I don’t know—the demons, maybe, are perfectly willing to trap the weaker spirits in the hierarchy for their own purposes, while the peris generally release them whenever they can get away with it. Something like that.”

  “Or maybe all of the spirits in Coven are united against the rest of Karyx,” Danae said quietly. “With the bound-spirit goods they sell as their version of a fifth column.”

  Ravagin turned away from the window to face her. “Are you suggesting there might be a way for bound spirits to release themselves when they wanted to?”

  “Or else that one of the great powers could release them all at once,” Danae said, speaking slowly as it gradually crystallized in her mind. “Neither elementals nor demogorgons are supposed to be particularly localized. But even if the bound spirits never get out it might still pay an aggressor spirit to give them as wide a distribution as possible. Economically, bound-spirit items are the heart of what passes for technology on Karyx. The more the people here grow dependent on them, the more power the spirits have.”

  “The wolf hunter method,” Ravagin nodded grimly. “Makes sense.”

  “The what?”

  “Old story I once heard about a man who trapped a particularly cunning pack of wolves by setting out food for them every night for a few weeks while during the day he slowly built a fence around the area. By the time the fence was completed the wolves had become so accustomed to coming there for food they walked right into the enclosure and he simply closed the gate behind them. Moral was that you’re vulnerable to the same extent that you’re dependent. If this is what the spirits—or any subset of them—are doing, we’ve definitely got to get out of here and blow the whistle.”

  Danae looked at the spot where Ravagin had been digging with his dagger. It was hardly marked. “We’re not going to break any speed records going at it this way.”

  “Yeah.” Ravagin scowled at the window frame and jammed his knife back into its sheath. “The whole building’s probably crawling with bound spirits. I wish to hell you’d been out there in the forest with me when that peri released the dazzler—with that high-retention memory treatment of yours y
ou might have been able to remember the spell it used.”

  “I’m not sure I’d care to have a whole swarm of freshly released and possibly hostile spirits buzzing around me, anyway,” Danae said, shivering. “Looks to me like all we have left is the direct approach. Through the door.”

  “With a spirit-protection spell around us?” Ravagin said doubtfully.

  Danae gritted her teeth. “And the possibility that you at least might be able to get out while the lar’s busy holding me.”

  “Forget it,” Ravagin shook his head. “We leave together or not at all.”

  “This is no time for male overprotectiveness,” Danae growled, tension draining away what little native patience she possessed.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Ravagin shot back. “Male protectiveness is usually reserved for friends and lovers. But you’re a client, and I’m a Courier, and I’ll be damned if I’ll chase you all the way to Coven just to turn around and desert you.”

  “Well, then, the hell with your Courier pride, too,” she snapped. “This is just a shade more important—”

  And without warning the door slammed back on its hinges.

  Danae jumped, spinning around as the Coven-robed man strode into the room. Damn, she thought viciously. Possibly their last chance to get out of here, and they’d thrown it away arguing.

  And then she caught the look in the man’s eyes … and abruptly her stomach tightened within her.

  Chapter 18

  RAVAGIN TENSED, MUSCLES AND senses automatically shifting into combat mode. If the man assaulted Danae he would have to intervene … But a moment later the wild eyes shifted instead to him. “You—Ravagin,” he ground out. “The woman called you ‘Courier.’ I heard her. Who—what—are you?”