The door was opened. Kabeiros stepped through. If he had come as a man, he would have been dead. The dog's senses were sharp enough to catch a gleam of metal and sense a violent overhand blow directed at him. He leapt forward and sideways, which put him just out of the direct line of Hekate's pointed finger. The spell of dissolution brushed him and he howled. Although he was invulnerable to magic, that spell burned.
*What the hell are you doing?* he bellowed mentally. *Are you both mad?*
Dionysos, charging forward with his left arm wrapped in the cloaks he had hastily scooped up and his right holding his long knife, tripped over his own feet and fell sprawling as the soundless voice roared into his mind. Hekate had barely time enough to avert her pointing finger. A large hole appeared in the wall above Kabeiros' head.
After the crash of splintering supports and the whoosh of falling remains of mud and withies, a dead silence fell. Kabeiros stood with mouth agape and raised hackles. Dionysos stared up at the dog that could easily have leapt on him and torn out his throat if it were inimical. Hekate sank to her knees, hope and terror making her breath come fast.
"Kabeiros?" she whispered.
*How many other black dogs of my size with white eyes have you come across recently?* he asked irritably. *Who did you expect?*
*I thought . . . he . . . had taken you and sent something in disguse . . . Oh, Kabeiros, is it really you?*
For answer, the image of the man with whom both Hekate and Dionysos were familiar rose above the dog. Dionysos climbed to his feet, sheathed his knife, hung up the cloaks again, and seated himself at the table. Hekate burst into tears and crossed the floor on her knees to fling her arms around Kabeiros.
"I thought you were dead," she sobbed. "I thought you were bound in torment."
*You don't have much faith in me, do you?*
*You know that's not true.* She sat upright and sniffed. *You know how I feel about . . . him.*
The dog shook himself. *I don't know whether to say you are completely wrong or that you're completely right. I wasn't in that house three days for nothing. One thing is sure, he isn't there. I covered the place from the roof to every outhouse. The only ones there are the apprentice and eight servants. And no one has done any magic there for some time, although a source of power exists.*
"Just power? No new spells? And he wasn't there!" She shrugged. "Are you hungry, thirsty?"
*No. I was fed and overfed. The apprentice fell in love with me . . . poor boy.*
"Poor boy! He apprenticed himself to him, didn't he?"
*I doubt it,* Kabeiros said, and went on to tell them everything, ending, "There's one more very strange thing. Whenever he receives a court official, the apprentice wears a mask.*
"A mask?" Hekate echoed the mental statement aloud.
"What kind of mask?" Dionysos asked. "Is it blank? Is it painted to create awe? Is it terrifying?"
"It's tinted and shaped to the boy's face, but there's no attempt to hide the fact that it is a mask. Nor is there any attempt to use it to frighten or awe. And I can't think why you-know-who should want to hide the boy's face; it's almost a classic Ka'ananite portrait."
Hekate shrugged. "You said his voice when speaking to the officials was deeper and more mature. Perhaps the mask is just to hide how young the apprentice is."
*Perhaps.* But Kaberiros' mental voice was filled with doubt. *I can't see how it could make any difference. Every one of them is spelled to obey.*
*Strong spells?* Hekate asked.
*Yes, but they're wearing thin. I doubt they'll hold another moon without renewal.*
"They won't need to hold as long as that," Hekate said with a slight shiver. "And they won't need renewal. Didn't you say that all those officials are supposed to go into the tomb? If his plan works, they'll all die there."
She shivered again and then got to her feet. "Well, you may have been fed, but Dionysos and I are starving. Our appetites were not at their best while you were gone."
The dog lolled out his tongue. *Serves you right. If you were willing to give me the smallest credit for common sense if not for cleverness, you would have eaten and slept. Now, where are you going to get food at this time of night? Do you want me to hunt?*
"That would take hours. No, you don't have to hunt. The food is here."
Hekate left the table and went to a shelf along the wall from which she lifted down a large covered bowl and crock. Dionysos followed her and collected two more bowls and some earthenware plates, which he set on the table. As Hekate dismissed the stasis spell that had kept the food fresh and began to serve herself and Dionysos, she showed Kabeiros each dish. To keep them company, he selected some stew and two slices of fat mutton, which Hekate put on a plate down on the floor. For a while all three ate in silence.
When Hekate refilled their cups with well-watered wine, she said, "Let me see if I have the sequence of the rites clearly in mind. In eight days, the king's body will be placed in its sarcophagus. A procession of all those who will accompany it to the tomb will follow the body to the palace. You-know-who, together with the apprentice and the prince, who will be crowned king after the king's body is entombed, will meet the body and the procession in the great hall of the palace." She frowned. "What will they do there?"
*No one mentioned that,* Kabeiros said. *I suppose there will be prayers and eulogies.*
"I would think it would depend on the prince," Dionysos remarked indifferently.
"Holy Mother," Hekate breathed, "I wonder if he intends to transfer all the spells he laid upon the king to the prince at once? That could be why he didn't bother with the prince before." She blinked. "Is that possible? Would the spells have held after the old man died?"
"You're asking me?" Dionysos said, with a laugh. "Kabeiros may know something about magic, but I don't."
*I don't know that,* Kabeiros said, *but it seems a crazy thing to do before he's in the apprentice's body.*
Hekate sighed. "Yes. We must examine the whole process. To go on: In the great hall, four of the selected attendants will stand vigil a candlemark at a time, until all have served, going to wait with their fellows in a specially prepared chamber. When the last four leave the sarcophagus, it will be carried to the tomb. The funeral goods will then be carried in and placed around the sarcophagus. Finally, the attendants will enter. Each will carry into the tomb a figurine of themselves—"
"So that's why they're all so willing to participate," Dionysos said. "They think they'll leave the figurines in the tomb to attend the dead king in the afterlife."
*It must be then that the mass killing will take place,* Kabeiros pointed out. *Do you think the figurines are bespelled to kill?*
"I doubt it," Hekate said thoughtfully. "No matter what orders he gives—unless all the attendants are under compulsion, and I think that would be too much, even for him—there will be some disorder once the attendants enter the tomb. The bolder and more ambitious will probably enter the actual burial chamber to place their figurines on or near the sarcophagus . . . to be first in attendance when the king rises. No, I think it's that golden cup of sacramental wine you mentioned. You said there would be a loud fanfare of horns and they will all drink together. They'll almost certainly do that as ordered—and if we don't stop him, they'll all die nearly at once—"
*You're right.* Kabeiros stood and circled nervously before he sat down again. *That's what must be in that amphora I noticed in the workroom, the one that was sealed with a spell. What a shame I didn't knock it over and break it.*
Hekate shrugged. "If it was that important and the apprentice is as much of an idiot as you think, you wouldn't have been able to knock it over. The spell could have fixed it in place as well as sealing it." She hesitated. "Are you sure he isn't there, Kabeiros?"
*I am sure he wasn't there until the moment I left the house.*
"Then I think I better get in there tomorrow and see if I can make the contents of that amphora harmless. Then, even if . . . if I fail to control him, the spell of transferance will fail. Maybe he'll die . . ."
She thought Kabeiros would object, but he said, *That's a good idea. The servants are little more than bad automata and I think the apprentice will be so glad to see me that I will be able to keep him away from the workroom. Unless what you do to the amphora sets off some alarm . . .*
"That wouldn't matter if he is at Ur-Kabos. It's at least a candlemark away, even if he gallops a horse all the way."
"But why should he go to Ur-Kabos?" Dionysos asked. "It seems mad to go so far from a complicated work-in-progress. Does it occur to you that there is a much more logical place for him to be? The palace itself."
"Oh, dear Mother," Hekate sighed. "How could I be so stupid? He must be at the palace. He must be ensorcelling the prince!"
*That's all too likely,* Kabeiros said, *but there's nothing we can do in the middle of the night. I suppose we should have found an excuse to get inside so you could establish a leaping spot, but we didn't, and truthfully I'm so tired now, I'd be no use. I'm going to sleep for a while and think about this tomorrow.*
Hekate was herself so exhausted that she found nothing peculiar in Kabeiros' statement or that Dionysos agreed with him at once and went off to his own chamber. She, too, went to bed and was delighted and gratified when the dog leapt up and snuggled down beside her. Soothed and comforted, she drifted asleep, deeper and more quietly asleep than she had slept since working on the Minotaur's maze.
She hadn't known how tired she was, how much she needed sleep, until past noon she was wakened by Kabeiros pulling the blanket off her and poking her with his cold, wet nose.
"What?" she mumbled sleepily.
*I know why the apprentice wears a mask,* Kabeiros almost shouted into her mind.
"So?" Hekate sat up, yawning, and pulled the blanket back over her. "I'm glad one puzzle is solved."
*You won't be when you learn the answer,* Kabeiros snapped. *That blockhead with near no Talent was chosen because he's the living image of the prince. I got into the palace early this morning—*
"You did what?" Hekate shrieked.
*Be still,* Kabeiros said sharply. *I am a man grown and no fool. And if you want to know why I went without telling you, I'm tired of you behaving as if I were a witless dog and trying to stop me from doing what I am peculiarly suited to do by this curse I carry.*
"But—"
*But me no buts. There was no danger for me. The worst that could have befallen was that I would be driven out before I learned what I wanted to know, but that didn't happen. I went in before dawn under a delivery wagon. If anyone saw me, they didn't think me important enough to mention. For at least four candlemarks I had the place to myself except for a sleepy guard or two. It's a big palace, but I can smell my own trail so I don't retrace my steps. There's no new magic in the whole mess of buildings.*
"No new magic? How can that be?"
*The only way I know it can be is that you-know-who isn't there. If he were ensorcelling the prince, I would certainly have smelled that—and I saw the prince. I got quite close to him by sneaking behind the throne. He didn't smell of magic.*
*And you're sure there's no magic workroom . . . *
*There may be a hidden cellar somewhere. I was down the main cellars with someone fetching wine for fast breaking. I was down the dungeons, which, believe it or not, are totally empty.*
*Oh, I believe it,* Hekate thought back bitterly. *I'm sure within hours of being taken prisoner, no matter how minor the crime, any man, woman, or child ended up yielding up life-force to him.*
The dog shivered his skin as if ridding it of pests. *I forgot that.* Kabeiros sighed gustily. *Well, as I said, there may be some hidden place, but I did cover the palace thoroughly and there wasn't a smell of magic except some remnants in the king's apartment. The prince hasn't moved in there yet.*
"No magic," Hekate muttered. "No workroom. Not at his house nor at the palace. Where is he? What is he doing?"
*Preparing to change bodies,* Kabeiros said. *Don't you see what the prince and the apprentice having virtually one face means?*
"What?" Hekate cried, jerking more upright so that the blanket she had drawn back over her when she sat up fell away from her naked breasts.
Kabeiros looked away. *What do you mean 'what'? It was the first thing I told you when I woke you.*
"Maybe my body was awake, but my mind was still asleep. Anyway I was so shocked at hearing that you went to the palace that everything else went right out of my head. I didn't properly understand . . ."
Her voice faded. Slowly she got out of bed and began her morning activities. She chewed a green twig of lemon and brushed her teeth; she washed her mouth with wine; she washed her face and hands—later on an ordinary day she would have gone to the bathhouse; she drew on an Egyptian robe of thin linen and belted it around her; she combed her hair. Automatically she got the little remaining food from the shelf and ate some hard bread with cheese and olives.
After she had swallowed the last bite, she turned to Kabeiros and said, "Of course there was no need to ensorcel the prince. The prince will die in the tomb with all the others. You-know-who will seize the body of the apprentice using the tremendous outpouring of life-force that the deaths will provide. The old body, the advisor, will also die and will take with it the hatreds that he has generated in all these years of evil. The apprentice, wearing the prince's face and clothing and carrying his mind and will is the only one who will emerge from the tomb."
*I thought so too,* Kabeiros agreed, *although I'm not sure exactly how he will explain how he survived.*
"I wouldn't," Hekate said with twisted lips. "I would say something like 'A great force struck me and then I felt a warmth and a pulling and I followed a soft and beautiful light and when I opened my eyes all the others were dead . . . ' And maybe some 'oh, woe is me, that I live when all my friends and advisors are gone.' Maybe someone else will come up with an explanation, and what odds do you want to lay that the dead prince's face under the apprentice's mask will have suffered some severe damage."
*No odds on a sure thing.* Kabeiros shivered his skin again. *Well, at least none of it will happen. Let's wake Dionysos and get to the advisor's house so you can change or destroy whatever is in that amphora.*
"We won't need Dionysos. If he isn't there, I don't have to worry about anyone detecting my aura, so no one's mind needs to be clouded. I'll just go in wearing the look-by-me spell. You can stay with the apprentice. Don't try to keep him away from the workroom, just bark when you're outside the door so I know he's coming in and can get out of the way. I'd be interested to see what, if anything, he does with that amphora."
Getting in with the look-by-me spell was easier said than done, however. When she came to the door, Hekate found it blocked. Kabeiros had already trotted through and he stopped halfway across the kitchen to look back at her.
*What is it?* he asked, coming back to the door.
*Warded against magic,* she said.
*Can't be,* Kabeiros said. *All the servants are under compulsion spells and all the officials, too.*
*He must have tagged his own spells so the ward recognizes them. I don't have time to try to find the tag and duplicate it. Tell me when the kitchen is clear of servants. I'll just walk in and reinvoke the look-by-me.*
It wasn't a long wait, but even after she dismissed the spell that concealed her, Hekate couldn't enter. *Worse,* she said to Kabeiros. *It's warded against those with power. Maybe, if the apprentice's Talent is so weak, against power of a certain level—to keep out other mages, I guess.* She sighed. *I'll have to undo the spell and hope there's no alarm to warn him.*
*Can you undo it and then redo it quickly? If you are quick enough, even if there is an alarm, it will appear and disappear so fast he might not notice.*
*A good thought. I'll try.*
Still, it took time to examine the ward, make another as close to the first as possible, dispell the ward, step into the empty kitchen, and reestablish the ward. She could only pray that Perses would not come to this house again, or that he wouldn't bother to check the wards and thus possibly recognize the replaced ward as her work.
Midmorning Hekate finally dimissed Perses' ward, stepped into the kitchen, reinvoked the ward, and then reinvoked the look-by-me spell. She was not quite in time. A dull-eyed servant was in the doorway of the kitchen when her spell took hold. He looked at the empty space beside her for as much as ten heartbeats. Hekate waited for him to cry out, but his gaze slid away to the top of the table, on which he laid the platter he had gone out to get.
Letting her breath trickle out softly, Hekate followed Kabeiros, who had been waiting in the shadowed passageway, to the workroom. For the next few candlemarks, during which she was only trying to understand what spell had been used, she was nearly uninterrupted. The apprentice came to the workroom only once; Kabeiros barked; Hekate dismissed the spells she had been using and backed into an empty corner.
The apprentice entered and to Hekate's and Kabeiros' surprise shut the dog out. He then unlocked a concealed cabinet with a key from around his neck and took from it a short black rod that radiated power. Hekate nodded. The power source Kabeiros had sensed. The apprentice approached the amphora, touched it, and whispered a word Hekate could not catch. Then he whispered again, held the rod against his forehead for a count of ten. Finally he replaced it in the cabinet, relocked it and, smiling, went out to join the dog.
First Hekate had to restrain a sigh of relief when she saw why the spells on the apprentice and the amphora were fresh and strong; her father didn't need to be near to renew them. Then a too-familiar chill ran over her. Her father also had the ability to feed power into an inanimate article and let someone else use that power source. If he knew that, what else . . . She buried that idea, which could only increase her fear, and went back to the amphora.
The spells on it reduced her anxiety again by being very simple. So simple, in fact, that she became acutely anxious and spent several candlemarks studying what scarcely needed half a candlemark's attention. The magical seal was just that, a seal that would prevent anyone from touching the contents of the jar, plus, as Hekate had suspected, a spell for stability, so the jar couldn't be tipped over or moved from where it stood. She could hardly believe that Perses would not take greater precautions.
Then she felt foolish for her doubts. What need was there for greater precaution? No one entered that house except those already under compulsion spells. There was nothing to attract a casual thief to the workroom or the amphora and probably most were too afraid to try to steal from Perses' house anyway. And as for other mages, there were the wards against them, but Hekate suspected they had seldom been tested. The other mages might fear Perses even more than thieves.
The simplicity was deceptive, too, she found. The two spells were twined together. She spent several more candlemarks finding a way to alter the seal spell without touching the stability spell so she could withdraw a sample of the liquid in the amphora. She then carefully smoothed over the breach she had made, hoping, since the spell that held the vessel steady had not been touched, that Perses would simply dismiss both spells together when he came to use the amphora . . . if he survived and she didn't. Hekate took a short, deep breath, held it for a moment and then sent to Kabeiros that she had what she wanted and was leaving.
*Go, and quickly,* he responded. *Some officials are coming and if we don't need to take the chance they will see us, so much the better. They are compelled to follow his plans, but most can still think. I will slip away as soon as they arrive. The apprentice will be too busy until they are gone to miss me. I'll follow you home soon.*
When he arrived, he found Hekate sitting at their table regarding the innocent-looking wine she had brought from Perses' workroom with some puzzlement. The remains of the evening meal she had shared with Dionysos were pushed carefully away to the other end of the table, as far as possible from the small cup she had taken from Perses' house. Dionysos made some sharp remark to Kabeiros about being left out of the "fun" when he let him in, but Hekate didn't look up.
"It's laced with a very virulent poison," she muttered as much to herself as to her companions, although plainly she had been waiting for Kabeiros, "as I suspected it would be, but there's a spell on it too."
"What kind of spell?" Dionysos asked, sitting down at the far end of the table again.
Kabeiros came to sit beside Hekate, but she waved him away. "Just in case it spills or splashes. I think it would work through the skin as well as if swallowed."
"Is it the spell that makes that possible?" Dionysos asked.
That Hermes! Hekate thought. He was infecting her innocent Dionysos with his own insatiable curiosity. On his own, Dionysos had little interest in magic, being content with his own Gifts and the simplest of spells, like making fire and preserving offerings made to him with stasis. She had to grin, suspecting that when they returned to Olympus—a little shiver of fear that she would not see Olympus again ran down her spine, but she ignored it—Hermes would be their first visitor, demanding the tale of their adventures in the greatest detail.
"No, not the spell," she said. "The virulence is the nature of the poison itself. As to the spell . . . it seems to be some kind of youth-preserving spell. What that can have to do with such a poison . . ." She bit her lip, then said, "Catch me a rat, Kabeiros. I want it alive."
*Yech!* Kabeiros exclaimed, *I hate to catch rats and having one squirming around in my mouth isn't my favorite pastime.* But he rose obediently and Dionysos let him out.
Rats were common enough in the alleys of Byblos and it didn't take long for Kabeiros to find what he wanted. When he returned, the food was cleared from the table and the cup of poison stood alone near Hekate's chair.
*Where do you want it?* he asked, leaping onto the chair that Dionysos had used so the rat in his mouth was well above the table level.
"There." Hekate pointed almost directly below where he was. "Lift your head high. There are wards." Kabeiros put his front paws on the table and stretched up. "Yes, right there. Drop it."
The rat fell to the table top and lay panting. Its fur was matted and mangy. It had lost an ear and part of its tail. There was an ulcer that had eaten away part of one cheek and other sores on its body.
Dionysos came over and peered down at it. "That's the worst looking rat I ever saw in my life," he said. "And I've seen plenty of them in the storage sheds and vineyards. Actually, they're kind of nice creatures, not vicious if they aren't cornered. I like their beady little eyes and clever ways. If only they weren't so destructive . . ."
Kabeiros was pawing at his mouth. He jumped down and went to his water bowl to lap water and let it run out of his mouth again. *It's the worst tasting one too, but I looked for something that wouldn't mind dying, since I assume Hekate plans to poison it.*
"Yes." She couldn't help smiling at Kabeiros. "If the poison works as swiftly as it should, you will have given the poor creature a 'grace' it surely needs. I hope it has life enough in it to eat."
*That's what it was doing when I caught it.*
It was, indeed, enough alive to eat and struggled upright when Hekate put into its invisible cage a piece of bread with a few drops of the poisoned wine on it. In fact, despite its dilapidated appearance, the creature had a very healthy appetite. The bread disappeared in a few heartbeats' time. In less time than it took to eat, the rat let out a thin, high screech and began to convulse.
Dionysos stepped back from the table with a look of distress. Hekate was surprised. She had seen him take part in tearing apart alive a human sacrifice—but that was in an orgiastic frenzy, and he had later hated what he had done. Kabeiros lifted his head and shook the remaining water out of his mouth.
"It will be dead in a moment," Hekate assured them.
Only it wasn't dead in a moment. The keening continued. The convulsions intensified until it was clear that the poor rat's bones were snapping in their violence.
*Kill it!* Kabeiros roared. *Kill it at once!*
Dionysos had already drawn his knife. Shuddering, Hekate dismissed the wards that had confined the rat, and Dionysos cut off its head. In the silence that followed, all three stared at each other with dilated eyes.
"That was what he planned for the attendants and officals?" Dionysos breathed. He drew in on himself with horror. "How long . . . ?"
"I don't know," Hekate whispered. Her eyes were full of tears. "That's what the spell did . . . it didn't let the rat die."
*What are you going to do?*
For a little while, Hekate just stood, staring down into the cup of poison and shivering. Then the shivering stopped. She cocked her head to the side, nibbled softly on her lower lip. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she grinned. "If the poison were destroyed and the spell left intact, what do you think would happen?" she asked.
The dog lolled out his tongue to laugh. *I suppose all those intended victims would live long and healthy lives.*
Dionysos chuckled. "A fitting solution."
"Yes, but I'll need two more rats," Hekate said, her expression alight with mischief. "Only this time, get me two young healthy ones—only be sure they are of the same sex. Mother knows, I wouldn't want those breeding if this spell should happen to be a long-lasting one."
"Why two?" Dionysos wanted to know.
"Well, if I don't get the amount of antidote right or if my memory is at fault about the antidote . . . or if the antidote doesn't work, one might die, but I won't let it suffer. If it shrieks, I'll kill it instantly."
*You don't sound very sure about this antidote.*
Hekate shrugged. "The poison usually works so fast there's no time to administer an antidote. However, it did work in cases where a person got so tiny a dose that the poison wasn't instantly fatal. It is only a rat, after all."
*Yes—" the dog managed a comical grimace "—but I have to catch them and bring them back alive.*
Two nice, healthy, sleek young rats were soon settled into warded spots on the table—which Dionysos remarked with a wrinkled nose would have to be thoroughly cleaned before they could eat on it again. By the time the second one was imprisoned, Hekate had rummaged through the things she had purchased in her guise as an Egyptian trader in medicinals. There were herbs, there were amulets, there were well-stoppered flasks of many-colored liquids, there were packets of fine-ground solids, some of which looked like sand but smelled quite different. A selection of these now sat on the table not far from Perses' cup of poisoned wine. Hekate sighed with relief.
"I have all that I need," she said. "There's no sense in you both sitting up and watching me prepare the antidote. Probably it will take me all night. Go to bed."
For once neither Dionysos nor Kabeiros argued. They knew they would be of no help and that watching Hekate grind, boil, filter, and mix would be of little interest since neither had the least notion of what she was doing. Dionysos did leave his door open so that he would hear if Hekate called him; Kabeiros merely stretched out on her bed. Once both stirred because of a high-pitched squeal, but the sound stopped so quickly that neither really woke.
In the morning, the poisoned wine was gone from the cup and a slender flask that could be easily concealed within the flowing robes of an Egyptian woman stood beside the empty cup on the table. At the other end, two wonderfully handsome rats groomed their shining fur and wiggled their little pink noses. As Dionysos and Kabeiros approached the table, the rats tensed and ran to hide but the wards confined them, and in a remarkably short time their efforts to escape ended.
"I see you succeeded," Dionysos said, "but are those the same rats? They are elegant, and more than usually clever."
Hekate laughed aloud. "Oh, yes, they're the same. I nearly lost one of them. I hadn't put enough antidote in the wine and the poison started to work, but enough of it had been countered by the antidote that I was able to give more antidote to the rat directly and from that determine how much to put into the amphora. I gave a double dose of the treated wine to the second rat, and he had no ill effects at all."
*Good,* Kabeiros said. *We should go and put that antidote into the amphora at once. I dreamed all night of that first rat's death throes.*
"I agree," Dionysos said. "And when you return, I think we must make ready to go to Ur-Kabos and see if the one we want is there—although I still don't see why he should be."
"I think I know that," Hekate said, sighing with weariness. "He had to bring all his sorcerous equipment back to his old workroom in Ur-Kabos."
Then she explained, reiterating the events she and Kabeiros had deduced Perses had planned for the funeral. An essential part of the plan was that the body of the old advisor, who was greatly hated, would be found as well as that of his apprentice. Seemingly then the taint of evil magic would be gone from Byblos because only the innocent prince would appear to have survived. Perses, Hekate pointed out, would want to keep the king free of any sorcerous taint because he would then be able to say he hated sorcery and be free to rid Byblos of other sorcerers, even to make war on any neighbor that tolerated magic.
To protests from Kabeiros, she replied that Perses would need no magic with which to influence the king because he would now himself be king. Even so Hekate agreed that she could not believe Perses would give up the power of sorcery; thus, he would need a place to work. Ur-Kabos, she pointed out, was ideal. Far enough so that the doings of that less-important place were of little interest in Byblos and close enough, less than two candlemarks ride on a good horse, for Perses to travel back and forth frequently.
"Then it is likely he is there," Dionysos said. "Good. If you are still unwilling to face him, Hekate, I will go alone." His generous lips thinned as a red light behind his blue eyes seemed to make them glow purple. "I am tired of your father. He has hurt you long enough. Not to mention that a person who would inflict such suffering on near a hundred innocents to better drain the last dregs of their life-force is better gone from this world."
"No, Dionysos!" Hekate cried.
The blue eyes glared, but his voice remained soft when he spoke to her. "You need not worry," he assured her. "I'll not risk myself. The whole city of Ur-Kabos will be roused to fall upon him and tear him to pieces."
Hekate was aware of a whole mix of emotions. There was pride and relief because the wild, half-mad boy was now a man. No longer a victim of his enormous powers, he was able to leash them and free them deliberately as he needed them. She felt relief, too, that Dionysos had sense enough not to wish to expose himself to Perses. And she felt a kind of resigned amusement because she was aware that many more than a hundred innocents might suffer when he sent a whole city into a frenzy of rage and terror. To that, Dionysos seemed unaware or indifferent. But above and beyond all the other emotions was her awareness that even if the whole city razed the house in Ur-Kabos, they might not find Perses if he sheltered in the buried workroom.
Hekate went to Dionysos and touched his cheek. "No, love," she said gently. "I am ready now—at least I will be as soon as the amphora is fixed. I'll not risk the chance that—" she took a breath and then said deliberately "—that Perses will win and doom those people."
Rendering the contents of the amphora harmless, even beneficial, was more easily accomplished than Hekate had expected. She already had the means to dismiss and reinvoke the door wards, and she was uninterrupted both in entering and while working. Either Kabeiros had successfully distracted the apprentice or the power source was only used for renewal of the spells at intervals.
She carried with her not only the flask of antidote—to be safe she had doubled the amount she thought she would need—but a rather scruffy mouse. Kabeiros had had a terrible time catching such small prey, but Hekate refused to carry a rat.
When she had again made a penetration of the sealing spell, she first drew out the same amount of liquid that she intended to add and neutralized it. Then she mixed the antidote thoroughly into the contents of the amphora. After waiting a few moments to be sure the antidote had destroyed the poison, she took the mouse and a piece of bread from her pocket, added a few drops of the liquid in the amphora to it, and put it and the mouse under a dark ward.
The mouse ate the wine-soaked bread, took a few tentative steps, and fell over. Hekate drew a frightened breath, thinking for a moment that her antidote had failed. But the mouse didn't squeak, didn't twitch, didn't seem uncomfortable. Hekate leaned closer. It was breathing well, softly and for a mouse deeply. It uttered a tiny, contented snore.
Hekate clapped a hand to her mouth to suppress her giggles. She had put too much wine on the bread. The mouse was drunk. Still smiling she removed the wards that imprisoned the mouse, sent her mind voice to Kabeiros to warn him that she was leaving, and went out of the house with no more difficulty than she had entered it.
Now one part of her screamed to set out for Ur-Kabos at once, to end, one way or the other, the fear that had eaten away at her all her life. Perhaps if that were gone, she wouldn't cling to Kabeiros so tightly that he was half smothered. Perhaps if she weren't afraid, she would manage to survive if Kabeiros left her . . . if either of them were alive . . . if either of them were sane . . . if either of them were not helpless slaves.
She stumbled, needing to catch herself against the wall of a house to keep from falling and realized how very tired she was. Could she walk the distance to Ur-Kabos? Did she have the strength . . . She stumbled again and went to her knees. One passerby looked at her with disgust, apparently thinking she was drunk; another came to help her up and, seeing her close, made a lewd suggestion. Hekate tried to pull away. He gripped her arm . . . and the black dog was there, snarling at the man who retreated in haste, offering his sturdy shoulder for support.
Hekate steadied herself and pushed away the desire to finish, to escape immediately from the fear that oppressed her. She was too weary, having been up all night, to do more that day, and it was the ultimate stupidity to set out for Ur-Kabos exhausted. If she were anything but completely ready, completely at the top of her powers, the worst would not only befall her but likely Kabeiros and Dionysos. And even if they escaped, Perses would be free to play his evil games again.