Hekate was surely no seer, for no prediction could have been further from the truth than her statement that Zeus would be much happier with Dionysos than he was with her. Not that Zeus didn't welcome his son kindly. At first he was pleased to see him and very willing to acknowledge him as son. Later, when he took the full measure of Dionysos' Gifts, he bitterly regretted what he had done, but by then he had learned to his horror that he was as powerless against Dionysos as any common native.
In the beginning Zeus wanted this son close to test him and also protect him from Hera, although he soon realized that Dionysos needed protection from no one. Before he learned better, Zeus asked Dionysos to stay in his palace, insisted on it, although Dionysos told him he was welcome in Hekate's home until his vines had replaced the harsh and sour grapes that were native. Still he was glad of Zeus' invitation and soon accepted it because Hekate was seldom at home. Besides, it was easier for him to approach the other Olympians from the palace.
His memory of the leaping spell firmly in mind, Hermes was the first, and Dionysos and that young mischief maker found an instant rapport. Having sampled a few draughts of Dionysos' wine, which he had carried with him by ship from Ka'anan and then transported on the backs of two asses, Hermes became an instant devotee. He was delighted to give Dionysos his spell, on the understanding he would be repaid when Dionysos came into his full worship. In addition, Hermes volunteered to take Dionysos to places where he could leap, like Egypt, and offered to accompany Dionysos for the fun of it when he found new places to visit.
Conversions of winemakers were easy. Two beautiful men, taller and stronger and much fairer than the natives, appearing out of thin air went a long way to making a man's mind pliable. Then a taste of the wine Dionysos carried completed the job. Dionysos was certain that when those who planted his vines and followed his way of pressing and fermenting the grapes grew rich, he would be worshiped in Greece as he was among the people of the Fertile Crescent. Hermes believed him. Although he pretended mild contempt, Zeus believed him too, which might have been the root of the trouble between them.
Hekate was hardly aware of any problem. Aside from reiterating that Gration's house was open to Dionysos at any time, she didn't interfere with the new Olympian's life. She had a new focus for her attention. She had learned part of a spell absolutely forbidden in Olympus and all her mind was fixed on keeping the secret and on completing the spell.
When it was far too late, Hekate wondered whether it was Dionysos' calm assumption that he would join the pantheon of Olympians who called themselves gods that annoyed Zeus or whether Zeus and Dionysos had quarreled over Semele. Dionysos would not hear a word against his mother, placing all the blame for her "death" on Zeus. Zeus grew cold when Semele was mentioned. He might not utter any direct criticism, but his inner sneer was all too plain and he often said he pitied Hades who was now forced to deal with her.
Whatever was the cause, Hekate realized there must have been a confrontation in which Zeus came out second best. Zeus twitched whenever Dionysos was mentioned, and although Dionysos remained respectful of his father, there was a new sadness in him, a tinge of hopelessness. He left his apartment in the palace for another of the empty houses that had once belonged to a Titan. This one was not in such perfect repair as Gration's house, but Zeus arranged for it to be refurbished and refurnished. Clearly Zeus would do anything to be rid of Dionysos.
None of these events made much impression on Hekate while they were taking place because all her attention was focused on the possibility of actually finding a permanent draining spell she could use against her father. The draining spell itself, although a temporary one, Hekate had found on the voyage back to Olympus after their ship made its way into the harbor of Lysamachia.
Lysamachia was a busy enough port, but Hekate and her companions discovered that all the ships there were either beginning a trading run south along the well populated coasts of Mysia, Ilyria, Caria, and so on, or had completed their trading runs—like the ship on which they had arrived—and were now turning around to sail home to a southern port. A ship going north along the more barren coast of Thrace to Greece was rare.
Hekate was sorry they had not waited in a port like Miletus for a vessel that would island-hop across the Mare Aegaeum to Euboea and Greece. But those ships were less frequent than the coastal vessels plying northward toward Thrace, north was the direction in which they wanted to go, the captain of the ship they had selected was charming and knowledgeable . . . and they had made a mistake.
Now, having visited every factor in the port and made their wants known to almost every person who made a living in any way at all from the sea, the three had time on their hands. Dionysos promptly disappeared into the interior, seeking farmers with suitable hillsides for grape vines. Hekate and her black dog felt and smelled for magic.
The Talented were not officially persecuted in Thrace, although it was not unknown for the guards or officals of a town to look the other way when a magic worker was beaten or even killed. They did exist in Lysamachia, however, and, sought discreetly, were willing to sell or exchange spells with Hekate. None were even near her in power or ability, but Hekate concealed that fact and was eager just to talk about sorcery. She had found that there were often new bits and pieces attached to the most common spells that were useful—and she still never forgot a spell.
In the course of her talks, the name of one man was mentioned by several others as a source of interesting and esoteric spells. None had much good to say of Baltaseros, except that he had once been the strongest sorcerer in all Lysamachia, possibly in all of Thrace. The first time she heard this Hekate paid little attention, but after a while what she was hearing penetrated. "Had been" strongest was the key that drew her attention.
Finally she asked a moderately powerful witch, whom she judged not too clever—a nice woman, who concentrated on finding—where the sorcerer called Baltaseros lived and whether he would be willing to sell or trade as others were.
"Sell." Samira binte Kardel laughed. "Since he lost his power, that's the way he makes his living. We've all bought spells from him. But because he has no power his spells are costly. He demands trade metal for them."
"Lost his power?" Hekate repeated. "And it never came back? How could such a thing happen?"
Samira shook her head. "He says—" her expression implied disbelief "—that it was drained from him by an evil witch. To tell the truth, I think he burnt himself out. He is a disgusting person, sly and mean and greedy, the worst drinker and womanizer in the city, and he took every new drug that passed through the port. He abducted young girls, too, and misused them horribly. He was caught once and beaten within an inch of his life."
"And none of his spells could protect him?"
"Not against all of us. Together we were able to seal his power."
"How come he wasn't killed if you sealed his power?"
Samira shrugged. "We all got together and made sure he didn't die." She grimaced. "That would have set a dangerous precedent, letting the unTalented know that a few blows would kill us as quickly as one of them. As it was—" her lips twitched "—we prolonged his suffering considerably, but no fatal harm was done him no matter how many blows were landed on his less than worthy carcass."
"And he took no revenge?"
"First we were all on the watch for him; he knew that. Later . . . perhaps the beating did some damage we didn't foresee." Samira frowned. "He deserved it, but if that caused his loss of power . . . Still, we heard he had used magic afterward in dealing with clients. Then he disappeared the way he always did when he stole a woman, but no woman was missing in the town—and about a ten-day later he crept out of his house crying that his power had been raped from him."
"Did he say by whom?"
"A witch, he said, an evil witch . . . Eurydice. We didn't believe him. No one had seen a strange witch, but his power was gone. From that day to this, no spell will work for him. He can teach spells . . . he taught me a spell for scrying, which doesn't come naturally to me, and when I did it, it worked perfectly, but nothing works for him."
Hekate's heart leapt when she heard Baltaseros' accusation about his loss of power but she didn't dare show how interested she was in the idea that power could be drained permanently. No Talented person would want to believe that and none would be willing to help her learn how to do it. Without saying so to Samira, she dismissed debauchery as the cause of Baltaseros' decline. More likely, she thought, it was a result of his anguish and frustration. Now she had to find the man without implying it was his loss of power in which she was interested.
"So you and others learned spells from him. I wonder if he would have any that would interest me?"
"He might. He has some strange spells." The finder wrinkled her nose. "But I wouldn't go there for anything any more. He's . . . you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Then she shrugged. "And he won't barter spells with any of us except for metal—and sex." She shuddered. "He says he doesn't need our spells. After all, he taught most of us the spells we know. Perhaps with you . . . You might know something that would be new to him. But he needs metal to live."
Hekate shook her head as if she didn't like that. She had trade metal in plenty with her, mostly silver and even some gold, but she preferred not to admit it, because that might lead to attempts at robbery. She would gladly pay every piece of metal she had for the draining spell, but there was no reason to tell Samira that.
"Well . . ." Hekate drew out the word. "I might speak with him anyway." She shook her head. "I have no idea how long we'll be fixed in Lysamachia waiting for a ship toward Thessaly. If I find I'm bored enough, perhaps I will look for Baltaseros. Where would I find him?"
She was given directions toward the least savory part of the city and then a description of the house in which he had lodging. She had to fight to stay relaxed in her seat instead of leaping to her feet and running out. It was as well, she thought, that Kabeiros had not come with her, for he would have sensed her excitement and discomfort and the dog's body might have responded with raised hackles or restlessness even though the man understood her need for secrecy.
Kabeiros was something to think about while she made inane conversation with the obliging witch preparatory to leaving. After an initial period of reserve on Dionysos' part and caution on Kabeiros', both feeling out the other's relationship with Hekate, Dionysos had asked Kabeiros to accompany him one day and see what he was doing. By then Dionysos could communicate with the dog—Hekate had insisted that they learn to mind-speak with each other because she had no intention of being the middle of a "he said" and "he answered" conversation.
Dionysos' invitation was accepted and he and the hound went off together. The expedition had worked very well. Not only had they planted grape vines and imparted "dream" instructions about how to care for the vines and make wine from the fruit, but they had found a herd of wild goats—at least Hekate had hoped the goats were wild—and hunted together. They came home fast friends and the carcass they brought defrayed the cost of lodging and meals for several days, so Hekate was pleased.
From then on, unless he felt that Hekate might be in some danger, Kabeiros often accompanied Dionysos. Hekate sighed. She could not understand Kabeiros' behavior and he would not explain. In the caves, unless he went hunting with Dionysos, he was mostly occupied with restoring order in the caverns used for offerings. He slept with her every night and proved himself a passionate and demanding lover, but he never spoke of love or of permanence.
After they left the caves and he became a dog again, Kabeiros remained much more cheerful all the while they returned to Byblos and took a ship. Most of his good humor and seeming hopefulness persisted over the whole journey. He always came with her when she chose a spot as a "home place" to which she could leap on the way back to the caves. He would smell the whole area to make sure there were no other taints of magic that might disrupt her spell and he would examine it carefully with all his other senses so he could remind her of the appearance of the place if necessary.
Aboard ship or on the brief land journeys between ports, he showed the man within and above the dog, even made the mouth move as if the man were talking . . . but he would not share her cabin on the ship or her blanket by the campfire. Hekate sighed again. In the caves it was clear he found her body exciting—but he seemed to take special pleasure when she changed.
Did that mean that he was dissatisfied in being confined to one woman? If he could have left the caves as a man, would he have gone to the city to seek out other women even if she were waiting for him? So, was his withdrawal now that he was again a dog a sign that it was only her search for a spell to free him that kept him with her?
She came alert suddenly to a question that had obviously been repeated and apologized to Samira. Her mind was wandering, she admitted. She had been worried about her dog, who was with her young companion, who she was not sure could control him. And she had better go and see what they were about, since she didn't want to be fined if the dog—great clumsy brute that he was—did some damage. With that excuse she was able to leave.
Although she would have loved to rush off and find Baltaseros, Hekate went to her lodging. Samira did not seem very perceptive, but there was no sense sparking any doubt in her about an interest in the "special" spell. Besides, Hekate was not as certain as Samira that Baltaseros had not recovered any of his power. If he were indeed addicted to evil, how convenient it would be to pretend he had lost his power. Who then could accuse him of the thievery or death of his victims? It would be best to have Kabeiros with her to sniff for magic when she met Baltaseros.
She was glad to have the black dog accompany her for other reasons when she went the next day to find the man. She suspected that if not for Kaberios' huge size and ready snarls she might have had to use magic to deter some of the men in the area from trying to seize her. She wondered if she should have been the crone, but looking around convinced her that the inhabitants would probably just have tried to rob the old woman instead of trying to play with the maiden.
The really terrible conditions through which she passed had raised doubts in Hekate about Baltaseros' retention of power. Surely if he had any magic, he would have found a better place to live. The house, when they found it, added to Hekate's hope that Baltaseros' power had, indeed, been reft from him, and the man, when they managed to rouse him from his drugged stupor to let them in, confirmed how low he had sunk.
His eyes looked like dead horseflies drowned in yellow mucus; his beard was matted with spittle and spilled food, his hair tangled with unmentionable substances clinging to it, his clothing unspeakable. The room into which the outer door opened was filthy and cluttered with rags that might once have been pillows; gelatinous patches marked the splintery floor, and battered and chipped cups and platters stained with dried who-knew-what lay here and there.
Kabeiros sneezed violently and gagged as the stench hit him. Hekate managed to swallow the bile that rose in her throat and control the impulse to back away from the creature who had opened the door. It wasn't necessary because he staggered away to a foul nest near the far wall, leaving her to close the door. Considering the glaze in Baltaseros' eyes, there was no sense in trying to be subtle.
"I want to buy a spell," she said.
The dead horseflies moved enough to show Baltaseros was looking at her. A dull expression of lust made his face even more repulsive as he took in her appearance. "Why not?" The words were slurred, the voice thick and phlegmy. "But there's a little ritual we need to do in my bed before I give you a spell." He reached toward her and Kabeiros growled and showed his teeth. "Put that dog outside," he mumbled. "No ritual of protection, no spell."
Hekate took a twist of gold wire out of her purse and held it where Baltaseros could see it but not reach it. For a moment she couldn't speak because her gorge had risen at the thought of any physical contact with the creature, never mind coupling with him.
When she had control and his eyes had fixed on the gold, she said, "No ritual. The dog stays. I have heard what you do with women whom you can overpower. However, I have trade metal. I will pay in silver and in gold for the spell I want."
He didn't answer at first, staring at her, licking his lips and dropping a hand into his lap to stroke his rising phallus slowly then faster and faster. Hekate had to grab Kabeiros by the loose skin between his shoulders to keep him from leaping on Baltaseros and killing him. She felt almost sick enough to abandon her quest and leave—almost but not quite—because he was finished so fast. And as soon as he had uttered a strangled cry and a stain appeared wet against the many other stains on the rag that covered him, his dead horsefly eyes moved to the gold wire that still dangled from Hekate's fingers.
"What spell?"
He sounded more dazed now, barely able to speak. Hekate wondered if the effect of whatever drug he had taken was increased by physical excitement. She spoke slowly and clearly.
"The draining spell."
There was a silence. Some kind of emotion worked behind the dead eyes and filth. Finally, Baltaseros giggled. "It won't do what you want," he said. "It won't wipe out any other sorcerer the way it wiped me out."
"Why not?" Hekate asked.
He giggled again. "It takes a real witch to do that, a hot witch who's willing to futter a man out of his wits, so he can't spell her or put up shields. A frigid bitch like you wouldn't have a chance. But I'll sell the spell to you—for a mina of gold."
"I don't have a mina of gold," Hekate said, "but I have many spells that I could add in barter to what gold I do have. You could sell those to others. I have ways of making a spell last forever, of binding spells together. Many would pay well for those."
His eyes closed and he swayed. "I'm not interested in your spells. There's only one other payment I'll take for the draining spell—under me in bed until I get tired of you. I've got plenty of spells."
The words were so garbled together that Hekate needed to think a while to understand them. Baltaseros began to giggle weakly again and his hand drifted toward his body. Hekate stiffened and looked away, thinking he was going to begin to masturbate again. She wanted to leave, but she was not sure she could force herself to come again, even for the draining spell. Suddenly Kabeiros' ears rose to alert.
*Magic,* he said. *This place stank so much physically that I couldn't sense it at first.*
*He still has magic?* Hekate asked, raising shields.
*No.* Kabeiros' mental voice laughed. *He's got a grimoire!*
So he had. In fact when Hekate looked at him again, he was holding it open against his chest with one hand, the other was again stroking his phallus. His eyes were still closed. She should have guessed a wreck like Baltaseros would have a grimoire. Many sorcerers kept grimoires or bought them or stole them. Perses had many. Hekate had never bothered because she never forgot a spell; probably she wouldn't be able to forget one even if she wanted to.
"Come here," Baltaseros said. "Come close enough and you can read the spell for yourself."
Hekate cast the freezing spell at him, but the hand rubbing himself never faltered. She looked at Kabeiros.
*He's got no shields, but the spell's gone as if something in him ate the magic . . . * There was a tremor of uncertainty in Kabeiros' mental voice. *Like something inside me eats my magic. He can't do magic, but no magic can affect him either.*
"Come here. Come here to me," Baltaseros chanted. "I will let you read the spell, even two spells." In horrible contrast to the depraved and disgusting physical creature, the voice had lost its phlegmy quality and was smooth and seductive.
Hekate dismissed her shields and invoked a seeing spell. Everything sprang into incredible clarily. She could see a louse crawling through the hair on the back of Baltaseros' hand and the minute cracks in some liquid that had spilled and dried on the rag that covered him. Only the words on the page of the grimoire were still blurred.
That did it! The last shred of sympathy that Hekate had felt for a man deprived of his power evaporated. She knew that his promise that she would be allowed to read spells from the grimoire was false. No matter how close or how far from the book, the words in it would remain unintelligible until some magic condition was fulfilled. Not that Baltaseros would ever admit that; he would blame her, saying that the book refused to accept her or that her magic was insufficient for her to understand it.
Hekate's teeth set. She meant to have that spell. If Baltaseros would not set reasonable terms for a sale, she would simply take the grimoire and work out the spell for herself. She looked around, saw a fairly large copper pot; it had a crack in the bottom, but that wouldn't interfere with what she wanted it for. Gripping it firmly by its handle, she walked up to Baltaseros.
The floor creaked loudly. He heard her coming. His eyes opened a slit. Quick as a snake, his right hand left off stroking his phallus and grabbed for her. Quick as he was, Hekate was quicker. She raised the pot and brought it down with all the strength of her arm on the top of his head. With her other hand, she snatched the grimoire from him. Kabeiros, who had been standing ready to tear out Baltaseros' throat if Hekate's assault failed, and had been shuddering with horror at the idea of what he would have to take into his mouth, lolled out his tongue in relief and laughter.
*Magic is good, but a strong right arm is often better,* he said. *Come, let's go. You can study that thing just as well where it doesn't smell so bad.*
Hekate removed her purse and dropped it on the floor by Baltaseros' hand. Then she reached inside her tunic and pulled out the twisted cloth that held the bulk of her trade metal. She picked out all the gold except two pieces and put that directly in his hand. Kabeiros pulled at her skirt, growling, and she put away the rest of the metal and followed him.
However, outside the door, she stopped uncertainly. *It's his grimoire,* she said. *It's all he has. What will he do when the gold and silver I've left him is gone?*
*He won't last that long,* Kabeiros said, yanking on her skirt again. *He'll be able to buy enough drugs with what you left him to drift off into the underworld in a haze of joy. Or someone will discover what he has and send him off more abruptly and less pleasantly. Come away before he wakes up and begins screaming.*
Still she hesitated. Kabeiros sighed impatiently and pulled her toward the rickety stair, but Hekate resisted long enough to touch the door and the door frame and speak a spell. Now Baltaseros could come out of the door, but no one could enter. Kabeiros' remark about what would happen to Baltaseros if someone discovered he had gold had reminded her that the door had been locked when they arrived and they could not relock it. In this area, doubtless an unlocked door was an invitation to theft and murder. Until Baltaseros woke and could hide her purse and the gold, he would be safe.
Then she hurried down the stair, knowing that although they would not care what happened to him, Baltaseros' screaming that he had been robbed would be a perfect excuse for the hopeless denizens of the area to fall upon those who seemed better off. She could use the look-by-me spell to escape, but Kabeiros could not. He had strength and ferocity; nonetheless, if there were too many, he would be hurt. But she could not be glad of what she had done, and the grimoire tucked into the bosom of her robe, over the crossed girdle, seemed to weigh a thousand mina.
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 blamed 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.