The Hag's Contract

Twelve

In Grabentod, Candabraxis descended from his tower suite for the evening meal. He had taken to spending the long winter evenings in the company of the regent Harlmut, and the two of them whiled away the hours discussing the kingdom and what might be done to improve it.

At first Candabraxis had suggested trying to shift their economy back to trade and farming from piracy, but Harlmut had only shaken his head.

“It is far too late for that,” he said. “We have bred generations of warriors, not farmers, and the few farms remaining in Grabentod produce little of interest beyond the basics for life. We find it far easier to take what we want from Müden and Massenmarch and all the other kingdoms … and, ultimately, we find it more satisfying. Here, even our poorest enjoy fine wines, silks, and spices from around the world.”

“Ah,” Candabraxis had said, as if that explained it. He planned to broach the subject again when he found Harlmut in a more receptive mood. Surely something could be done to reach acceptable terms for peace with Müden.

This night, though, Harlmut wasn’t waiting at the dining table. Instead, Candabraxis found him in his private office, staring into the fire with an intensity Candabraxis had seldom seen before. Clearly, the wizard thought, something had gone very wrong … bad news from the king, perhaps?

Gingerly he slipped into the chair next to Harlmut. He waited patiently for the regent to speak. It will all come out in good time, he thought.

“Parniel Bowspear is gone,” Harlmut finally said, glancing over at him.

Candabraxis frowned. “You mean he left the city? But surely that’s good news. He won’t be here to undermine your rule.”

“Normally I would assume so. But his ships are still in port. I can only assume he left by land.”

Candabraxis leaned back and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “You think he went after Captain Evann,” he said softly.

“What else could it be?”

“How long has he been gone?”

“I don’t know.” Harlmut shook his head. “Several days, at least. I thought my luck too good when he seemed to be avoiding me. Now my spies say he’s gone—vanished from Alber without a word. Nobody has seen him since Captain Evann left. And Bowspear has taken the best of his swordsmen along, too. At least four are gone, and probably more.”

That didn’t sound like good news, Candabraxis thought. But where conventional means failed, perhaps magical ones might succeed.

“I will try to locate him,” he said. “Do you have anything personal of his? Some piece of clothing, perhaps, that he wore often?” He didn’t know Bowspear well enough to attempt it from memory alone.

“I can get something,” Harlmut said. “Why?”

“I will scry on him for you. If he is pursuing Captain Evann, you’ll know it soon enough.”

“I almost hope he is,” Harlmut said. “If you can give me proof of Bowspear’s treachery—real proof that no man can deny—I’ll make sure he never sets foot in Grabentod again.”

“Oh, it will be real enough,” Candabraxis said, rising. He already knew what he needed to do … the spells he needed to prepare. If Bowspear truly had gone after Captain Evann, he was as good as banished.

An hour later, Harlmut climbed the four flights of stairs to the wizard’s suite. In his hands he held an old leather boot of Bowspear’s. The heel had worn down; one of his men had found it set aside for the cobbler. It had been all too easy to appropriate. Hopefully it would meet Candabraxis’s requirements.

He found the door to the wizard’s sitting room standing open. Through another door, he could see Candabraxis working at a table, stirring potions, grinding powders with a small mortar and pestle, and taking notes on a long piece of parchment.

“I have it!” Harlmut called.

“Come in, come in!” The wizard hurried into the sitting room to greet him. “I’ve finished my preparations. Is this it?” Using forefinger and thumb, he took the boot from Harlmut’s hands and looked at it with distaste, giving a small sniff.

“It’s the best I could do on such short notice,” Harlmut said. “You said—”

“Yes, yes, it will do. Odor has nothing to do with the spell’s success.”

Turning, the wizard hurried back into his workroom, and Harlmut trailed him, gazing around in surprise. He hadn’t been up here since Candabraxis had arrived, but he’d hardly expected such drastic changes.

The long wooden table at which he’d seen Candabraxis working dominated the room. Upon it sat an odd collection of bottles, vials, and jars. Some held thick, bubbling liquids of various colors. Others held oddly colored powders, crushed leaves, and bits of root, bark, and bones. Candles burned here and there, heating mixtures and letting off strangely aromatic scents.

In contrast, the walls bore intricate tapestries showing hunting scenes, banquets, and even a few portraits of old kings of Grabentod. Doubtless those had been provided for Candabraxis’s use by one of the servants. The castle had sufficient tapestries tucked away to cover every wall several times over.

Rather than stop at the worktable, though, Candabraxis hurried around it to a clear area of the floor. There, strange diagrams had been sketched in what looked like blood. The wizard set Bowspear’s boot in the center of the pattern, stood back, closed his eyes, and in a deep voice, began intoning a spell.

Harlmut felt a gathering of energy in the room, a strange crackling force that made his hair stand on end and set his teeth on edge. He shifted uneasily. He’d never been so near the creation of magic before, and it made him distinctly uneasy.

Thrice Candabraxis called Bowspear’s name. The candles flickered and almost died, and a strange wind whipped around the room, fluttering the tapestries and stirring various bits of paper on the worktable.

And, just as suddenly as it had begun, the magic ended. Candabraxis sagged a little, as though exhausted. Harlmut took his elbow, steadying him.

“Well?” he asked eagerly. What had the spell accomplished? Had he missed it? “I didn’t see anything—”

Candabraxis had to lean on the worktable to catch his balance. He took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Something is shielding him,” Candabraxis said softly. “It’s a magic more powerful than my own scrying spell. Is there another wizard in Grabentod who could have protected him?”

“No,” Harlmut said. “You’re the only wizard who’s been here in generations.”

Candabraxis furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand, then. Where would he get such a powerful charm?”

“I think I know,” Harlmut said with a grimace. So much for his hopes of finally trapping Bowspear. “He has quite a few powerful friends, including the high priestess of the Temple of Ela. If anyone could get such a charm, she could. But tell me… is there nothing more you can do? Can’t you at least warn Captain Evann?”

Candabraxis shook his head. “I wish I could. However, the same magic that shields him from our enemies also protects him from me…. He is on his own until he returns.”