They had a far pleasanter homecoming than Hekate expected. Gration's house was in perfect order, ready to receive them, and the servants were overjoyed to see Hekate return. Although the Olympians had been reasonably faithful about supplying them with food, they had been growing uneasy about how long that would continue in their mistress' absence.
To Hekate's surprise, the Olympians also seemed glad to welcome her home, most of them because they had tasted the joys of using magic and wanted new spells. Hekate told each she would be glad to supply them but must first obtain the approval of Zeus, which also gave her the opportunity to introduce Dionysos. That went very well. Zeus seemed much taken with this new son. He was less pleased with Hekate's request for permission to sell more spells; he knew it was a wedge in the door to let in a greater and greater use of magic, but he was in a cleft stick, not wanting to be blamed and suspected of unfairly restraining the power of his people, and he gave his approval.
The spells, Hekate pointed out, seemed relatively harmless. Hestia's worshipers were forever appealing to her priestesses to help them find small items they had lost; Hekate gave her a finding spell that she could use herself or bud off onto favored priestesses. She also wanted to give Hephaestus a finding spell—he had not asked, but Hekate felt she had a debt to him; he was forever mislaying his tools. Hebe wanted a spell for attracting birds; she loved the little creatures, but they wouldn't come to her. Hekate was delighted to devise that one. It lightened her heart as much as Hebe's.
About one request she seriously asked Zeus' advice. Artemis wanted a spell for testing chastity; she suspected one of her women of taking a lover. Hekate was afraid that Artemis' punishment would be too severe if the woman had slipped. Zeus frowned and agreed that that might be so, but said that the woman knew what she was swearing to when she took service with Artemis and should have gone to her mistress and begged for her freedom rather than cheat. A vow was a vow.
Those words pricked Hekate's conscience. Dionysos seemed well set for the present, although Hekate could still feel the binding to him. That surprised her; she had thought she would be released when she brought him to Olympus and he was so well received. For now, however, that was barely a thread that connected them. Even when autumn and winter passed and she realized he had quarreled with Zeus and was living on his own, there was no tugging at the bond. He had found friends, Bacchus and Silenos, and seemed content.
Another year passed; Dionysos' vines had taken hold; the grapes had been trampled, and their juice was in tuns fermenting. More years passed and grape wine became the favorite and then the staple drink for all. Temples to Dionysos sprang up all over the known world. He leapt from country to country blessing the vines and the wine they produced. The vintners grew rich and offered a good tithe of their profits and produce to the young god. Hekate put her doubts aside.
Over the passing years, the binding to Kabeiros was lighter, too, although it was more demanding than that to Dionysos. Hekate understood the twinges that binding caused her for she was deliberately trying to evade it. She no longer pestered Hephaestos to study Kabeiros' problem, no longer presented Kabeiros to this and that Olympian to find one who might be able to help him. She knew Kabeiros still wanted his power to change under his own control, but she was afraid that when he held it, he would leave her.
It was his right, but Hekate's throat closed with grief when she thought of losing Kabeiros. There were men among the Olympians who found her attractive, but she could warm to none of them, even as a casual lover. As a companion, to share her concerns, to give her advice, to laugh with . . . she shuddered at the thought. Among themselves they were like all people, good and bad, selfish and generous, kind and cruel, but they had no regard for others. They would help, harm, use, or cast aside any native as whim directed.
For her there was only Kabeiros, and since he no longer urged her to find a cure, she ignored the occasional tightening of her bond. When it grew painful or when she sensed his desire to be a man was growing, she managed to find some excuse to leap them back to the caves of the dead, where he could be a man and they could be lovers.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—finding an excuse to leap to Ka'anan grew easier as the years passed. Fortunately because staying in the caves of the dead permitted the renewal of Kabeiros' role as a lover. Unfortunately for two reasons: the one that touched Hekate personally was that Kabeiros always seemed reluctant to make love to her. He always did and was as passionate and yet gentle and tender a lover as any woman could desire, but he never said he loved her, he never said he wished to be with her forever, and their coupling seemed to be profoundly disturbing to him.
The second reason was that Perses had managed, even without Hekate's cooperation, to seize the reins of power in Byblos. The seizure had taken longer, but he had succeeded at last. At first it made little difference to Byblos, even when the old king and queen died and Perses had tightened his grip on the new puppet rulers. The new king and queen were a little less rich and Perses a little more, but the cost to the people was small. A few extra men and women disappeared from the most wretched parts of the city, but such disappearances had been common enough before Perses established his hold.
Though Perses had done nothing really horrible yet, Hekate felt uneasy. The vow that bound her to her father's destruction pinched and pulled, but the draining spell she had learned was all but useless. Unless she could discover what Eurydice had done to make it permanent, Perses would recover his power. Wary and hating, she would have no second chance; she would fail and die, or worse, fall into his power.
Still, she could think of no other way to destroy Perses without killing him. She began a serious search for Eurydice, often leaping with Dionysos to his shrines and wandering the roads, towns, and cities asking for a witch of that name. She was cautious about lodging in any populated place—because of the way witches were hated and feared—and often set up a campsite warded by magic at a crossroad. Sometimes as rumors of her presence traveled the land, she found suppliants waiting for her. Often she just slipped away, but the sick and the wounded drew her, so she healed while she searched. And, where she found the Talented in danger, she taught magic so they could protect themselves.
For a very long time, Hekate continued to search but she could discover no trace of Eurydice. She began to believe as the mages of Lysamachia did that Baltaseros had imagined a powerful witch to cover his own evil or ineptitude. And still Perses did nothing that could drive her to confrontation. Over the years, rulers changed in Byblos, but he held his power. Perhaps, Hekate thought, power was all he wanted. If that was so, all she need do was watch and wait; Perses was showing signs of ageing. A small hope flickered to life. She had not aged at all, but perhaps Perses could die.
Then she was distracted by a crisis in Dionysos' life. Temples had been founded to him in Crete and in one of those temples was a priestess who could interpret the Visions, which still came to him from time to time, and could give him peace in other ways. Then she was gone.
For a time, while Dionysos believed she had deliberately abandoned him, he ran berserk and fructified his precious vineyards with rampant lust and wanton spilling of blood. Hekate, Kabeiros, Aphrodite, Eros, and Hermes did what they could to assuage his hurt and grief. Sometimes one traveled with him and tried to control the madness of lust and fury that he induced in his followers because that only hurt him more—he feared he was going mad.
None of them thought to go to Crete; Hermes, Aphrodite, and Eros because they didn't care about the native people and getting to the island would be a lot of trouble. Hekate didn't go because she was so angry she knew she would have killed the priestess and destroyed the temple. However, when Dionysos' suffering made that punishment seem reasonable, Hekate did go. There she discovered that the priestess had not abandoned her god for another one or for a native man. She was old; she had died.
Dionysos was almost as outraged by the priestess' death as by her imagined defection, but he understood that native people had much shorter lives than Olympians and the violence of his "blessings" diminished. He was changed, however. The rage and panic he could loose upon others was much nearer the surface and he seemed to have less control over them. The Olympians grew wary of him; they made haste to accede to any request he made so long as he would go and leave them in peace.
Hekate could do nothing about that. She offered what comfort Dionysos would accept, but her inability to understand and interpret his Visions, which were growing more and more complex and disturbing and plagued him unmercifully, made her sympathy virtually useless. However, in those years a great joy came to Olympus. Eros, who had lost his soul through the evil he had done in the reign of Kronos, regained it in the love of a native woman called Psyche. And even Zeus, who had decreed the punishment, rejoiced at the reunion of beauty and the soul.
In the general aura of good feeling that enriched Hekate's circle of more-than-acquaintances if not quite friends, the loosening of her bond to Dionysos was hardly apparent. Until, as the years slid by, a new priestess named Ariadne was consecrated in Crete. She, like the first Ariadne, could interpret Dionysos' Visions and bring him peace.
Joyfully Dionysos reported that the Mother had taken pity on him and returned to him all that he had lost and more, that this Ariadne was Mother-blessed and could draw the Mother down with her dancing. Unnoticed, Hekate's bond to Dionysos thinned to nothing and fell away.
Partly she didn't notice that she had been freed of her first binding because the situation in Ka'anan dominated her attention. Perses was old now, but no weaker, and Hekate knew it was blood magic that was sustaining him. More and more people were disappearing in Byblos, and not only the criminals and others who would not be missed. As his need grew, Perses was even taking daughters and sons of well-to-do established merchants, sometimes even scions of the lower nobility.
The second binding was tightening around Hekate's heart. She knew that she would have to act against Perses, but every time she tried to think of what to do she became faint with fear. Kabeiros repeatedly offered to kill Perses for her, claiming that he was invulnerable to magic; however, Hekate remembered that Medea had pierced that invulnerability and knew Perses had been attacked many times even by otherplanar beings and it was always the attacker who died . . . if worse did not befall him. Dionysos also offered his Gifts in whatever way Hekate thought they would work best, but not only would Dionysos be vulnerable to Perses' magic, all she could envision was the rage and panic causing her father to let loose all his most destructive spells at once.
Hekate worked desperately to make her shields impervious and studied spells of destruction. She hoped she still had a little time. Perses did not seem ready to act; he had taken an apprentice—something utterly unprecedented—and it would take him some time to teach the young man. Only Hekate soon discovered that Perses wasn't attempting to teach his apprentice anything, that the apprentice had very little Talent, only enough to make him particularly open and vulnerable to a stronger mage. She was bewildered until another piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place.
The king of Byblos was slowly dying, whether of natural causes or not Hekate didn't know and didn't much care; the present king of Byblos, corrupted almost from birth by Perses, would be no loss to humanity. Hekate paid little attention until she learned of the plans for the king's funeral. Perses intended to replace with real people the hundreds of terra cotta figurines of attendants and servants that were customarily buried with the dead to serve them in the afterlife those people who would be sacrificed, ostensibly to honor the king, but in reality so that Perses could drink their life-force to perform some great act of magic.
Careful spying—the whole court was utterly corrupt and it was easy to buy information—informed Hekate that Perses' apprentice would play a large role in the funeral rites. Little by little that role became clear. At first Hekate could not believe the implications, but in the end she was unable to deny what Perses intended. He was planning to steal the young man's body, transferring his mind and will to it while sending the apprentice's mind and soul into his outworn husk, which would immediately die of the strain.
Then Hekate knew she would have to confront Perses alone. Caution bade her take him right after the transfer, but she couldn't bear to see so many die just for the hope of catching Perses in a weakened condition. Besides, who knew whether he would be weakened. Perhaps enough of that blood-force would have been generated to make him stronger than ever. And perhaps he would be weaker as an old man; perhaps he had waited too long to start his evil procedure.
Even so, Hekate did not really expect to survive. She now regretted the wasted years while she sought Eurydice. She should have been trying to free Kabeiros from his curse because if she died or was enslaved, his future was bleak. There was only one strong hope—one to which she had, deliberately, she feared, turned a blind eye in the past.
Had she not always managed to be elsewhere in the spring when Persephone came to Olympus to help her mother Demeter fructify the fields? In the caves of the dead, Kabeiros was a man. Hades' power negated the draining spell that afflicted the dog. Might not Hades have the answer to Kabeiros' problem? She should have spoken to Persephone, asked her help.
Now she couldn't wait for spring. If the king of Byblos died sooner than she expected she would need to try her strength against Perses before then. She would have to ask for an audience with Hades directly. She went to Zeus, lashed by guilt but still hoping he would say what she wanted was impossible. The hope was vain. It was much easier than Hekate expected to be invited to visit the underworld. As soon as she mentioned the effect of the caves of the dead in Ka'anan on Kabeiros, Zeus said he would arrange a visit. However, when she said she hoped Hades would be able to help Kabeiros regain his shifting power, Zeus shook his head.
"Hades doesn't know magic at all, as far as I know. His Gifts are working with rock and stone, but he uses no spells. Persephone . . . you need to meet Persephone to believe her. She has unlimited power, but no Talent for magic. However, I'll gladly tell Hades you are coming, and I'm sure Hermes will take you."
Hermes was not at home that afternoon, but they went the next day at a time when Hermes knew that Hades and Persephone held court. Hermes gripped Hekate firmly around the waist with one arm and fixed his other hand onto the loose skin between Kabeiros' shoulders. One moment they were in Hermes' reception room, the next Hermes was crying out in surprise as his hand slipped away from the man Kabeiros' shoulders, and Kabeiros, naked as the day he was born, dropped face forward to the ground.
"Gracious Mother!" Hades exclaimed mildly, rising and holding out his hand. "Cloak," he said over his shoulder, and a handsome cloak was dropped into his hand.
He went down the step of the low dais and tried to give the cloak to Kabeiros, but Kabeiros could not take it because he was struggling not to fall flat. When they leapt to the caves of the dead in Ka'anan, he was prepared for the change. This one had taken him unaware, leaving him dizzied and nauseated, unable for the moment to get his balance.
Hermes was staring with open mouth. He had never seen Kabeiros in man form. Hekate, somewhat stunned by Hades' appearance—for he looked as she had imagined the Titans would, huge and hard and black-bearded—and by Persephone's beauty, was also a trifle slow to respond. It was Hades who lifted Kabeiros upright, swirled the cloak around him, and steadied him on his feet.
"Kabeiros," Hermes breathed.
"Ah," Hades said. "The black dog. There are many of your ilk among us. Will it help you to sit down, Kabeiros, or do you need to stand and walk?"
Hekate had hurried to Kabeiros' side. "I didn't know," she said. "I thought it was only the caves of the dead in Ka'anan that could free him—"
"Free him?"
The voice was soft, pleasant. Hekate turned to look at Persephone and gasped. Under the skin of an exquisitely beautiful Olympian woman was a well of power that Hekate suspected could no more be drained than could the Mother's power. Hekate bowed.
"You are a true avatar of the Mother, Queen," she said. "I beg you both to help Kabeiros."
"Help him how?" Hades asked.
As Kabeiros could now speak for himself, he did, starting with the simple fact that he was frozen into the form of the dog everywhere except the caves of the dead. In answering startled and sympathetic questions, he described when and as much as he knew about how the power to shift at will had been lost to him. Listening, with the knowledge of what Perses intended to do with the mass immolation at the king of Byblos' funeral in her mind, Hekate became aware that the scene Kabeiros described—the young and old sorcerers handfast together, the old one dying, the young one rising to punish Kabeiros—had also probably been an exchange of bodies.
Perses. It had been Perses who had renewed his youth in that disgusting way. It was Perses who had tried to drain Kabeiros, failed because he was too much weakened by the dreadful magic he had performed, and condemned Kabeiros to years of suffering. And Perses would change bodies again and again. Likely each change would require more power and more would have to die to provide it. If she didn't stop him, hundreds, perhaps thousands, would die so that Perses' evil life could continue.
His tale told, Kabeiros offered all he had or was if Hades could free him from his curse. Tears rose to Hekate's eyes. The passion with which Kabeiros spoke seemed like a knell of doom to her, a confirmation of his desire to be free. Nonetheless, she added her pleas to those of Kabeiros, pledging anything she had or could devise if Hades would free Kabeiros from the spell that was eating his power.
"I wish I could." The face that had at first looked as if it were carven of granite, twisted in dismay. "I have my Gifts and those can perform magic, but I can't even see what you say Hephaestos perceives in Kabeiros. I can light this cavern. I can walk through stone and mold it in my hands, but I know no spell that could free Kabeiros."
"Then why is he free in the caves of the dead?" Hekate whispered.
"I can't tell you that either," Hades admitted with a sigh. "All I can tell you is that in the distant past, in the time of my father Kronos, another people, the Titans, lived in Olympus. They were very skilled in magic and grew more so as time passed."
Hekate nodded. "I am living in the house of one of the Titans. It's as firm and fresh as in those ancient days. There was a stasis spell on it, as good a spell as I have ever seen."
"Yes, they could devise all sorts of spells and never seemed to lack power. This wasn't pleasing to Kronos, who feared they would grow so strong they would dominate or cast out his people. He was wrong. The Titans had no such plans, but Kronos began to torment and oppress the most powerful among them. Some stayed and resisted him—to their destruction—but others slipped away. And some must have come to the caves of the dead."
"Why?" That was Hermes, his eyes alight with curiosity.
"I think because they didn't wish to go far from Olympus. Some leaders, my poor Koios and others, felt they could come to an understanding with Kronos. I suppose those who took to the caves hoped they could return if Koios made peace."
"A triumph of hope over good sense," Hermes said, shaking his head, "considering what I've heard about Kronos. Surely they should have taken the measure of Kronos by then. Hadn't they traveled with him from the north?"
"Perhaps that was why. He was a hero to them, having stood against Uranos, and he had married a Titan."
"Your mother Rhea was a Titan?" Hermes seemed amazed. "Zeus never mentioned that."
Hades shrugged. "I'm sure he wasn't hiding it deliberately. He loved her. She was with him the longest, and in the end she died to protect him. But she had no Talent, I believe, or very little. I suspect it was the greatly Talented that took refuge in the caves, daring to remain close to Olympus in the hope they could regain their homes. But because they feared Kronos, I think they cast spells that negated magic."
"Not all magic," Persephone remarked.
"Perhaps only evil magic, although how a spell could determine what is evil, I have no idea. I know that when I fled Kronos, even before I discovered my Gifts, I was safe here. Mostly he could not find me, and once when he did his Gift seemed weak and I was able to slip away from him before he could draw out my warmth."
"That must be true," Persephone said, her eyes lighting as something that had puzzled her suddenly made sense. "You know that not all of those sacrificed to you are innocent of wrongdoing. There must be some who have spell-cast death or destruction. Yet no one—not one as far as I know—has cast an evil spell in our caves."
Hermes' brows lifted. "You say the dead are all good?"
Hades and Persephone laughed in chorus. "Not at all. There are many, many among us that pray at your shrines, O maker of mischief," Persephone said.
"And rape and murder and adultery . . . alas, I have meted out punishments enough for those." Hades shook his head. "But that is a fascinating idea, a spell with a conscience. Too bad we have no truly great mages among us who could probe this wonder."
"Perhaps Eurydice?" Persephone asked.
"Eurydice?" Hekate echoed. "Do you have a witch called Eurydice among the dead? Oh please, please, may I speak to her?"
"Of course!" Hades exclaimed. "What a fool I was not to think of her at once. Perhaps Eurydice could heal Kabeiros. She is a healer and finder of great power and excellence." He looked over his shoulder. "Acteon, do you know where Lady Eurydice is?"
A horribly scarred man stepped forward. He looked as if half his face had been torn away, and deep bite marks showed on his shoulder and down one arm. Hekate shivered slightly as she took in how many of those in Hades' Court were scarred or broken and twisted. She had a flash of memory of Kabeiros wanting to be invisible so he could protect those being sacrificed to the king of the dead.
"Likely with Orpheus in the cave of the children," Acteon replied. "I'll fetch her out."
While they waited, Hades, Persephone, and Hermes discussed the fascinating possibility of a spell that could determine evil intent, or, if not, how the spell of the ancient Titans worked and why it had not faded. Hekate knew the answer to the last; the caves of the dead were awash with earth-blood power and doubtless the spell was bound to that power, but she said nothing. She was watching for the coming of Eurydice, wondering what kind of woman she was and how to approach her to ask for a spell that must be considered evil.
In following Acteon's path, she had become aware of the immense cavern to which Hermes' leap had brought them. It was so high, she could see nothing but darkness above, but they were not in the dark. The cavern was supported by rows of immense white stone columns, and each of those columms was circled by quite ordinary torches, burning a bright, cheerful yellow that was reflected from the smoothly polished stone and gave a warm sunlit glow to the chamber. Behind them the cavern went back and back until, Hekate thought, there was a stone stair leading upward. There were people, too. Those close to them were listening to the talk, but farther away they seemed to be moving about on their own affairs or talking in groups.
Acteon still had not returned and Hekate felt a sudden qualm. Had the witch detected what she wanted and refused to come? No, that was foolish. More likely, considering the size of this cavern, Acteon had a long way to go. Hekate looked toward her guide and hosts, noticing for the first time the immense chair . . . throne . . . in which Hades sat. Beside it was another, obviously Persephone's, very slightly smaller but even more decorated with carving and jewels.
Behind the thrones were a pair of enormous bronze gates, one side of which was standing open and showing beyond a wide, square corridor in which Hekate could barely make out doorways. That corridor also opened on the side she could see into a passageway with a number of closed doors. One was open; light streamed from it and, faintly, the sound of women's voices.
"Ah, here she is," Persephone said.
Hekate turned quickly in the direction where Acteon had disappeared. Coming toward her was a small girl, quick and light as a bird in her movement. She had curly hair, cut quite short, and large, luminous, dark eyes. Smiling, she came right to the foot of the dais and asked how she could help Hades and Persephone.
"We have a strange problem here, Eurydice," Hades said. "This young man—" he gestured at Kabeiros "—is a shape-shifter, but outside of these caves he is locked into the form of a black dog."
"Locked in?" Eurydice's voice was light as her step, soothing and pleasant. She turned and took Kabeiros' hand. "I never heard of such a thing, but then, I never met a shape-shifter until I came into the underworld." She stared earnestly into Kabeiros' eyes and then shook her head. "I can feel nothing wrong. Your body is sound."
"It is not my body but my organ of power that is affected," Kabeiros said.
Eurydice closed her eyes. After a moment she said, "Yes. Yes. I . . . there is a film, a web . . ." She shuddered and opened her eyes, then suddenly, with a little gasp, let go of Kabeiros' hand and stepped back.
"You know what spell is crippling him, don't you?" Hekate asked softly. "Can you remove it?"
"It shouldn't need to be removed." Eurydice's voice was high and frightened. "It should die of itself. It should never have attached itself to his power." She swallowed. "I have no idea how such a thing happened."
Hekate's heart fluttered. She was torn between hoping that Eurydice was lying about not knowing how the spell could be bound to the power source within a person and knowing that if she was lying she would deny having such a spell. Her only hope of convincing Eurydice to open up to her was to deal with the matter in private. She must convince Eurydice of her need for the spell and the need for Eurydice to remove the spell from Kabeiros, neither of which would be possible if she exposed Eurydice as knowing a draining spell. That knowledge wouldn't be welcome, even in the caves of the dead where the spell probably wouldn't work.
"Eurydice," Hekate said gently, "Kabeiros needs his freedom. He has lived bound to me and to the form of a dog for a very long time. Won't you examine his problem and see if you can devise a spell that will remove this curse from him?"
"I never devised a spell in my life," Eurydice breathed, large eyes even larger with fright. "My finding and my healing, those are Gifts. And I have the power to work magic spells also, but I can only use those I have learned. I . . . I don't know how to devise a spell."
Hekate smiled. "That I can teach you, if you are willing to learn. Will you come aside with me and Kabeiros? I fear we have already taken far too much of Lord Hades' and Lady Persephone's time. I can see their people are growing impatient for their attention."
"Not impatient," Hades said. "The dead are very patient, but they have their problems, as do those of the upper world and to each his own problem is the most important. Eurydice, you know you are free here to do as you please. Are you willing to go aside with Hekate and Kabeiros?"
"Oh, yes," Eurydice said, her voice stronger. "If I can help, of course I must."
"And if you need power, child, you only need to tell me," Persephone said, "and I will feed you."
Hekate wondered who could need power when the whole cavern was nearly drowned in it, but she said nothing. She remembered how surprised Kabeiros had been when she saw the veins of earth-blood in the other caverns so long ago, and remembered also that the Olympians didn't seem aware of the sea of earth-blood in which they lived. Perhaps it was just as well. She shuddered to think what Olympians would do with unlimited power. Then she remembered something else, that Hermes had brought them and might well be growing impatient, not being one of the dead.
She looked around for him and saw him talking earnestly to Acteon. "I'm sorry to keep you so long, Hermes," she said, coming close and touching his arm. "Can I use your spell to leap home from here? If so, you need not wait for me and Kabeiros. We will be a while longer, I fear."
"It doesn't matter," Hermes said. "Acteon tells me that a saurima has been bedeviling the moss gatherers in one of the upper caverns, so a-hunting we will go. If you get hungry or thirsty, Hades will arrange for food and drink from the upper world to be brought to you. They have a store of such things for invited guests."
Hekate nodded, thanked him, and said that when he wanted her he would find her in Eurydice's quarters. Then she went back to where Eurydice and Kabeiros waited. He was assuring her that he didn't blame her for his plight.
"It was a man who cast the spell on me," he said, "and Hekate thinks that he may have done something even more foul. He may have stolen the body of a younger man and sent that man's spirit to perish in his outworn flesh."
"That is terrible, terrible," Eurydice whispered. "Oh, sometimes I understand why the Greeks hate magic so. It must seem to them that the only safety lies in extirpating the ability completely."
"Throwing out the baby with the bath water?" Hekate suggested, smiling. "By destroying all magic, they also destroy healing, which does much good."
She won a small smile from Eurydice, who then led them to the right and back behind the dais to enter the open side of the bronze gate. To the right was that gleam of brighter light that betokened an open door; women's voices and laughter came from there. Hekate's head turned in that direction, but Eurydice touched her arm and led her to the left.
"Arachne and her weavers are in those rooms. They seldom close the door when Hades holds court." Eurydice smiled a small, mischievous grin. "I think they have a few very keen-eared women and they listen to what goes on."
"It hardly seems worthwhile," Hekate said. "The court is open. Why not attend it if they're curious?"
Eurydice shrugged and grinned. "Perhaps it makes them seem more mysterious . . . you know, shut away weaving but they still know everything." Hekate laughed and Eurydice smiled again. Pointing to the door to the corner room, she added, "Koios' chamber. It is closest to Hades' own rooms, which are down the square corridor we passed. He is so crippled, poor Koios. Sisyphus is next, but he is rarely here."
"Sisyphus." Hekate frowned. "I've heard that name."
"Oh, yes. He got into a terrible quarrel with Zeus and . . ." She stopped, folded her lips, went on. "He's much better off here. He's the chief miner, and aside from Hades telling him what ores are in greatest demand he does pretty much as he pleases. Mostly he lives near the mines. Orpheus and I are at the far end so Orpheus can practice. In the beginning, we were out in the general living quarters, although near the great hall so I could be summoned for healing, but everyone stopped what they were doing to listen every time Orpheus began to play, so Hades moved us in here."
She opened the door as she spoke. Hekate stepped in and then aside, Eurydice followed, touching a column of stone near the door that immediately came alight. Last came Kabeiros who shut the door behind them. Eurydice spoke a soft word, and a myriad of tiny sparks lit the ceiling. The room was now bright as day.
"How lovely," Hekate said.
"Hades sets the spell, but I don't know what kind of spell—there don't seem to be any special commands or symbols—and then a key word is all one needs to cause the lights to come awake."
"That's the way it is for all magic that comes from a Gift," Hekate said.
Eurydice smiled again, gesturing toward a small table with a polished top that had four stools around it, and said, "Sit, please."
On the other side of the small room two comfortable chairs with leather seats and backs faced each other, but there were only two, and Hekate understood why Eurydice had chosen the stools around the table. She went to one. Eurydice sat next, and Kabeiros sat next to her, across from Hekate.
"I know the draining spell too," Hekate said softly.
Eurydice drew a sharp breath and hugged her arms around herself. "I never told anyone. And I never used it, except that once. Never."
Hekate nodded acknowledgement and acceptance. "I believe you, or you wouldn't be so beloved of Hades and Persephone. I have never used it either. But I also got the spell from Baltaseros or, I should say, from his grimoire."
"Then you know everything about the spell that I do, Lady Hekate." Eurydice shivered. "He was draining me. You don't know how terrible that is."
Only Hekate did know. She had seen it happen to her mother, seen her life drawn out of her drop by drop until poor Asterie was no longer really a person. But she didn't speak, not wanting to distract Eurydice.
"He found me in a village not far from Lysamachia," the girl continued, eyes fixed on her knotted hands on the table. "And he told me he would make me his apprentice and teach me much magic that I didn't know. I went with him, like a fool, all unwarded. And he put a compulsion on me so that I couldn't leave and whenever he needed more power, he drained me. He—" she lifted her dark eyes and they glittered with rage and revulsion "—he forced me into his bed too."
Hekate covered Eurydice's hands with her own and Kabeiros leaned forward and patted her shoulder.
"I pretended to be completely broken, following him about and pressing attention and service on him. He liked . . . No, I don't think I need tell you that—"
"I don't think we need to hear it. We met Baltaseros, Kabeiros and I, and know what kind of creature he is."
Eurydice sighed. "He grew accustomed, contemptuous of me, and he was often drunk or drugged and careless. I found the grimoire." She hesitated, almost smiled. "It had some very good spells in it—a freezing spell that I have often used. It is wonderful if one must set a bone or cut out a putrid place. The victim never feels any pain. And a look-by-me spell . . . And then I found the draining spell."
She fell silent, her face white, her lips dry.
"And you had to get away. And you used it on him. I don't blame you, Eurydice, but I need to know—I will tell you why before you tell me. I need to know how you made the draining spell permanent. All these years—ten? twenty?—and Baltaseros still has no more power than the totally unTalented. He knows the spells, but he cannot even light a candle with magic."
"No," Eurydice cried, shaking her head. "I didn't. I swear I didn't. I used the spell just as it was in the grimoire . . . oh, I think I did. I was so frightened and in such pain. He was mounted behind me, hurting me dreadfully, making me grip him so he could thrust harder . . . and I just said it. I said it twice . . ." Her voice broke and she began to sob. "Oh, poor Baltaseros. He was disgusting, horrible, but I never meant to punish him so dreadfully as that. I just meant to drain him so deeply that he would be unable to pursue me for a few days, and then I ran south, into the Cheresonesos and there I met Orpheus and found a new life."
"Do you remember the spell you spoke, Eurydice?"
The girl looked at her with haunted eyes. "How could I forget?" she whispered.
Hekate sighed. "I know the spell from the grimoire and I know it exactly. I . . . There is a compulsion on me that prevents me from ever forgetting a spell. Tell me the spell you used so I can see in what way the spells differ or if it was the double casting that made the difference . . ."
Eurydice withdrew her hand from Hekate's clasp and cast an angry glance at Kabeiros. "No! It is bad enough to drain the power from a person, but to do so forever . . . No. I won't help you do that!"
"It's nothing to do with Kabeiros," Hekate said hastily. "We aren't seeking revenge for the hurt done him, I swear it."
"Then why is he here?" Eurydice asked coldly.
Hekate blinked. "He is here because we are always together." She had to stop for a moment and swallow as the thought came that free, he would leave her. "And because I knew you had the spell and thought you might know a way to remove it as well as cast it."
"I told you," Eurydice said. "I only know spells I have been taught. There was no removal spell in the grimoire, and why should there be? The draining only lasts as long as one embraces the victim. When caster and victim part, the victim slowly recovers . . ." She looked stricken. "Or so I thought." She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath. "I always recovered when he left me."
"So it seemed to me it would be from reading the spell and from studying its parts. Naturally I haven't cast it. But I need a spell that . . . from which the victim will never recover."
"No!" Eurydice said, leaning away from them.
"It's not for myself. I don't want the power!" Hekate shuddered and swallowed sickly. "It's blood-magic power. I couldn't bear it."
"Hekate," Kabeiros said. "Begin at the beginning and tell her."
She looked at him, face pallid.
"No child is responsible for its parents," he said with a half smile.
"There is a very, very strong and very, very evil sorcerer in a land called Ka'anan. That man was my father . . . is my father . . ." Hekate began.
She told Eurydice how Perses had drained her mother, what he had planned to do to her so that she had been forced to flee and take sanctuary in the caves of the dead where she had met Kabeiros and why many years later they had returned to the caves of the dead, what she discovered Perses had done to seize power in Byblos, and for a long time how he had seemed to be satisfied but that he now planned to slaughter at least a hundred people to drink their life-force so he could prolong his own life in the stolen body of an innocent.
"I cannot permit that. I cannot! Still, he is my father," Hekate concluded. "I cannot simply kill him, nor can Kabeiros kill him for me—the Kindly Ones are too clever to be deceived by such a ruse. All I can do is take away his power and any ability that he might in the future regain his power, which will render him harmless. I beg you to help me, Eurydice. I swear on my poor mother's soul, on my favor from the Mother of us all, on whatever you wish me to swear on, that I will never use the spell on any other person or being, or that, if a case equally monstrous arises that would necessitate its use, that I will come here and explain to you and gain your permission before I use the spell."
In the beginning Eurydice had listened almost in silence, except for a brief expression of dismay now and again. However, toward the end of the tale, she had begun to look very thoughtful.
"You say that now this Perses plans to slaughter hundreds to prolong his life and you cannot bear it, but he has already done so one or two at a time and you . . . looked the other way. Why is this different?"
Hekate stared at the seemingly young woman, her short curly hair and soft mouth childlike, her luminous eyes sad . . . old . . . but she didn't speak. Only what little color had been in her face as she told her story drained away. The hand lying on the table trembled; Kabeiros put his over it firmly.
"You are a very powerful mage," Eurydice added softly. "You know more magic and in some ways have more power than the gods of Olympus. Zeus himself does your bidding without argument and has made no attempt to drive you out, although I know that Zeus does not love magic. So why have you watched your father torture and destroy . . . hundreds . . . over the years and done nothing? Because they were themselves evil? Did their crimes make his less? But many were not evil. Many were only poor and helpless—"
"Stop," Kabeiros said, getting up and going to where he could stand beside Hekate and put an arm around her. His eyes were very bright, fixed on Eurydice, his lips drawn back, and his voice carried a touch of the snarl of an angry dog. "She has helped as many as he has hurt. And it was only a little time ago that we found the spell for which she had searched since she fled Perses."
Eurydice blinked at him. "I don't hurt unless I must to heal," she said. "I cause pain when I treat a wound or set a broken limb. But my purpose is to help."
"Because I am afraid," Hekate said. She clutched Kabeiros' arm tighter around her, shivering. "Don't tell me it's ridiculous. Do you think I don't know it? I know how strong I have grown both in power and knowledge. And you are right, Eurydice. I don't fear Zeus or any of the other Olympians. Oh, I know that if they combined they could overwhelm me, but I also know that if I give them no reason to hate me, they will leave me in peace. Perses would not."
"No, but there is only one of him," Eurydice said.
"And I will be there, Hekate," Kabeiros promised, leaning down as if he would enfold her with his body. "I will savage him, distract him. And Dionysos will cloud his mind with panic."
"You are speaking reason," Hekate cried, pushing back the stool and getting to her feet, turning and trying to shrink more deeply into Kabeiros embrace. "In this there is no reason." Her wild cry sank to a whisper as she admitted, "I am afraid! I am afraid! And if I fear, my spells will fail . . . I will forget them . . . I will misspeak them so they lash back at me." She turned in Kabeiros' arms to face Eurydice again, screaming, "Don't you understand? I am afraid."
"Yes," Eurydice said softly. "I do understand. Some healings take me too deep and I fear I will lose myself, so I understand. But now it is too late for you to find other reasons to avoid a confrontation. You must face that fear and master it." She paused and looked down at her own hands, knotting and unknotting on the table. Then she said, "Some day you will. Sit down, and I will give you the spell that I used against Baltaseros."