Hekate had leapt to her feet moments after Kabeiros and rushed after him to the cave mouth, fearing that he was about to throw himself off a cliff or do something equally fatal. When she saw the dog, she stopped short, her mouth open. In the next instant she had cried out faintly in horror and pity. Snuffling for her scent, the dog had turned toward her. Its eyes were blank and white. It was blind!
"Kabeiros! Kabeiros!" she cried, snatching up the discarded tunic and bending to throw her arms around the dog's neck. "Come, come with me," she urged, drawing him back into the cave that, blind as he was, she thought he could not find.
Inside, he became a man almost instantly, with that same sensous shudder she felt herself when she shifted form. She pushed the tunic into his hands, and began to laugh, hugging him tightly as soon as he had pulled on his garment.
"I suppose it's better to be laughed at than cast aside with loathing," he said.
"No, no," Hekate gasped. "The reason I'm laughing, dear, dearling, perfect Kabeiros is . . . Look!" And she shifted form into the woman.
He stared at her, open-mouthed, then with some effort, swallowed and said, "How beautiful you are! Which form is the illusion?"
"Neither. . . . None." She became the girl as she spoke. "I can do others too, a deer, a leopard. But those take thought and effort; they aren't natural to me. Now you can laugh, too. You've been trying to hide your shame at being a shape-shifter from me, and I've been enduring the greatest misery of aching bones and tired flesh to keep my shameful secret from you. Isn't it laughable?"
"I suppose so," he agreed, disengaging himself from her embrace, but he wasn't laughing. "I suppose we were foolish not to confess to each other, but unfortunately knowing changes nothing. You can change any time from one form to another. I'm bound to the form of the blind hound everywhere except the caves of the dead."
"You're fixed in the form of the hound outside the caves? But . . . but that's impossible if you are truly a shape-shifter. Changing form is as natural to us as breathing. How could this have happened to you?"
"A long story."
"I have time and more than time for the longest story in the world. I'll make us some tea and we can break our fast while you tell me. Is there water out there?"
"I don't know." Kabeiros smiled sadly. "I've never been out. But the dog can find water. He has a very good nose."
"But blind . . . You won't be able to get back to the cave."
"I'll find the cave. I can smell that, too. But I'm afraid I have no way to carry water if I find it."
"Hmmm." Hekate made a thoughtful noise. "Yes you could. You could carry the pannikin by the handle and dip it in the stream and carry it back in your mouth."
"So I could," Kabeiros agreed rather dryly. "And carry a pack across my back, too. I'm a big dog. What a shame that I'm also blind and would trip in a hole or over a stick. Or that I couldn't tell whether the water I dipped up was clear or muddy." He frowned at her. "You don't seem to be taking this very seriously."
"Of course not," Hekate exclaimed, throwing her arms around him again and hugging him. "Why should I? All I care about is that you can come with me. I don't mind that you'll be a dog, and we can search for a way to disrupt the spell that's interfering with your ability to change."
Kabeiros shook his head. "I can't come. Hekate . . . your name is Hekate isn't it?" When she nodded, he continued. "I—I can't tell you how sorry I am. I want to go. I want to go with all my heart. If it were only that I knew being a dog for a long time would kill me, I wouldn't care. I would go anyway. I would do anything to be free of these caves, but after a few weeks, all you would have would be a big, blind dog. There would be no Kabeiros."
"What?" Hekate relaxed her grip on him so she could step back to study his face. "The maiden, the woman, and the crone all have Hekate's mind. That doesn't change with the changing."
"But a dog's mind is small and it's filled with many things that a man doesn't notice—scents, urges . . . Little by little, day by day, the things a man thinks about become overlaid by the stronger, more urgent desires of the dog. I know. It happened to me. I was . . . truly a dog, all dog, when I wandered into the cave because it was raining very hard and even a dog has sense enough to seek shelter from such a storm. The binding spell was disrupted and I became a man again."
"Mother help us." Hekate bit her lip. "This isn't as simple as I thought it would be, but I will not lose you nor go without you, Kabeiros." She bent down to undo the pack of supplies and took from it a pan with a handle and a leather bottle. "Come," she said, "let's find that water. We must discover a way around this problem, but there's no sense in being hungry and thirsty while we think."
The water, a small clear stream in a stony bed, was not far and Kabeiros did find it without difficulty. Generally his blindness was not much of a problem—dogs seeing more with their noses than with their eyes—but he did blunder into a bush and trip over a fallen log that a sighted animal would have easily avoided. Hekate shook her head and began to run over spells in her mind.
As soon as they had returned to the cave, she asked whether Kabeiros could change to the dog in the cave. He looked surprised and anxious and admitted he didn't know. He had never tried, having conceived a horror of the dog form when he became a man again.
"To know you've been an animal—only an animal. To have lost all sense, all memory of humanity . . ." He shook his head. "And there was no purpose to being a dog in the caves. Once, it was a thrill to run in that form, to experience so many new sensations, but I never ran as a dog for more than a few hours and never lost myself."
"But you must be the dog for me to try out the spells, and if the easy one doesn't work, you must be a man to build and invoke the spells."
He was silent, staring at her. Then he asked softly, "What if I cannot change back to the man?"
"I won't let you be a dog forever," Hekate said, taking his hands and holding them hard. "I swear it! I swear that my first purpose, even before finding a way to diminish Perses to nothing, will be to break the binding that fixes you in the form of a dog."
"THRICE BOUND!"
The words echoed through Hekate's mind. Kabeiros started and cried softly, "No, don't take another burden," but Hekate looked all around and smiled.
"Thrice bound!" she agreed. "This last I take gladly, willingly, even joyfully."
And the dog was before her, his great forepaws still in her hands, his fear showing in his wrinkled lips and flattened ears. She released his paws and he stood there, pushing his head against one hand in his need for comfort. She stroked the smooth fur while he lifted his head, his blind eyes staring just a little past her.
"Do you understand me, Kabeiros?"
The dog nodded. Hekate breathed out a sigh of relief, placed her other hand on his head also, and said, "Thialuo tuphlox tha ommata." The dog's eyes remained white. Hekate made a small irritated sound. "You are still blind?"
The dog nodded again.
Hekate sighed. "That sorcerer was very angry. I'm afraid he wound them all together, the binding to the hound form and the blindness." She sighed again and said calmly, although icy chills were running up and down her spine. "We will think better when we're fed and rested. Be a man again, Kabeiros."
The man appeared, uttered a small gasp of relief, and sank down to the floor as if his knees wouldn't hold him upright. He began to laugh weakly when he saw that Hekate's legs had also given way. They sat together on the floor of the cave breathing heavily as fear released them.
"We were neither of us very sure, were we?" he asked.
"Of course not." Hekate's shoulders slumped and she allowed her head to fall forward for a moment before she straightened. "How can one be sure with a spell like that? But you had to believe I was sure so you wouldn't lose confidence. Do you know who did this to you, Kabeiros? I'm all ready to add a fourth binding so that I can wring his neck with my bare hands or maybe turn him into a toad."
"Three is quite enough," Kabeiros said. "I can fight my own battles." He gritted his teeth, then shrugged. "If I had known who it was, the black dog would have torn out his throat. When it happened, I only thought to run so he couldn't call any witnesses to my change of shape. By the time I realized that I couldn't change back to a man, he was long gone. I tried to track him by scent, but it happened in an inn yard and there were so many scents. I wasn't sure which was his."
Hekate smiled grimly. "I imagine if you ever come across it again, you'll recognize it. But I urge restraint. Don't tear out his throat. Maim him, mangle him, and I will bespell him never to heal! He'll regret his cruelty." She snorted lightly. "He reminds me of Perses."
"I doubt I'll find him. It was very long ago. Sorcerers are long-lived, but . . . Well, I'm still alive."
"And still young."
He smiled at her. "In a way I am, since no matter how many years have passed, I never truly lived between the time I was bespelled and now. But I won't bother seeking the devil. I never knew him at all and only saw him twice in my life."
"You only saw him twice in your life!" Hekate echoed. "How did you manage to infuriate him so much?"
"I have no idea, but I can tell you what happened and even what the man looked like—that is stamped firmly into my brain."
"Food first," Hekate said firmly.
Kabeiros gathered a pile of stones that he could heat while Hekate filled the pan with water from the bottle and went through the supplies. While the tea brewed he told her that he had been running as a dog when he had smelled magic and out of curiosity trotted over to see who had such a strong Talent. He had found an old man—it was from him that the powerful smell of magic oozed—and a young one, who was surely Talented but not so strongly. They were sitting in an inn yard and talking earnestly.
Since he didn't recognize either man and those with magical abilities always interested him, Kabeiros decided to introduce himself. He had gone behind the privy and changed to a man. He had then entered the inn through the back door, bought a tankard of beer and gone out into the yard, but the men were gone. He returned to the inn and asked the tapster what had become of them and had learned they had gone into a private chamber.
"That was disappointing. I was ready to introduce myself to men sitting in an inn yard, but not to intrude on sorcerers who had made it clear that their business was private. I was a bold fool in those days." Kabeiros swirled the herb tea in his cup until he managed to swallow a bite of flatbread smeared with honey, then he sipped to help the bread and honey down. "But not bold enough for that. I finished my beer, and since they had not come out, left the inn."
"But you went back."
Kabeiros looked a trifle shamefaced. "I went to find some friends to ask if they knew of new sorcerers in the city, but before I found anyone I became aware of strong and terrible magical energies. I ran back to the inn."
Hekate shook her head. "Young and foolish, yes. Brave, too. I think I would have run the other way."
"Brave? I don't know. I didn't have time to think, and anyway, I don't think I could have resisted." Kabeiros frowned. "There was a drawing in of magical power . . . a—a swallowing. It stopped before I was pulled into the inn and sucked dry myself."
"And you didn't run then?"
Kabeiros grimaced. "Neither would you have done. I was so curious . . . The remnants of the spell drew me to the window of the place where whatever happened happened, and I looked in. There must have been a duel. To my surprise, the old sorcerer lay across the table. I think he was dead. The young one was just releasing his grip on the old one's hands. He turned his head and saw me at the window. His face was terrible. He said, 'The curious dog. Well, you will never see what you should not again, and you will tell no one.' And I was the dog—and blind."
"He had recognized you?"
"Perhaps from my aura. For those who can see such things, it is strong for shape-shifters. I'm not sure. All I knew was that I was in an inn yard and I hadn't noticed whether others were there too. If so, they had seen a young man approach the window and now a dog stood beneath it. It would be enough, I was sure, to bring me bound as a sacrifice to the caves of the dead. I ran."
Hekate munched a date in silence then took a last bite of her bread and honey and washed it down with tea. She poured herself another cup and while waiting for it to cool enough to drink, asked, "What did the young sorcerer look like?"
"He was tall and broad-shouldered, handsome in a hawk-nosed, full-lipped way. To me he looked more like those who come from Ur or Urik, with a mixture of the black Egyptian in the blood. What surprised me most was that the magical smell was that of the old man. I must have been mistaken when I first thought the young one was the weaker. Somehow he had stolen the old man's magic."
"Or had the old man stolen the young one's body?" Hekate muttered. "I have heard of such things among the priests of Egypt, those favored with the ability living on and on . . ."
"I never thought of that," Kabeiros admitted. "That might have been the drawing I had felt. But how had he magic enough left to bespell me so deeply if he had expended the power it would take to pull a man's soul out of his body and thrust himself in?"
At first Hekate made no reply, mutely offering the dates to Kabeiros and, when he shook his head, folding them into a packet. Still silent, she gestured at the bread and honey to restore the spell of stasis, then packed all away. When she was done, she looked at Kabeiros and sighed.
"I don't think he did bespell you. That's why I couldn't find a spell when I looked. I think he tried to kill you by sucking out your life, but you were something he had never touched before, Gifted rather than Talented, and all he managed to do was to somehow tangle the threads of your Gift with his magic." She sighed again. "It will be no mean feat to unwind that drawing spell from your Gift. I admit I don't know how to do it . . . but the world is wide. There are great sorcerers, great mages. We'll seek them out."
"The greatest mages I know of live in the enchanted city of Olympus, far to the west."
"Olympus," Hekate repeated. "Olympus. Why do I know that name? Good Mother! That's the place my father hates and fears. Years upon years ago my mother told me that his enemies lived there."
Their glances met and held, then Kabeiros nodded. "We have a goal," he said, "but I must warn you that I fled the west because they were even less accepting of the Gifted than those here in Ka'anan. It is not only the shape-shifters they sacrifice to the king of the dead."
"But you said that there were great mages in Olympus."
"Those of the west call them 'gods.' Mostly they've forgotten the Mother and some wage war on those who still worship Her. My village was destroyed." His lips twisted. "Not that I was any favorite there either. Fortunately it happened after I had been driven out for being the black dog. I had actually started going north and east to look for Olympus, but I could never find it."
"Are you sure it exists?" Hekate asked.
"Yes. That's how I know the 'gods' are great mages. I came across two of them in one of their temples. I smelled magic—" he smiled. "As the black dog, I smell all magic; as the man I see some things, like the blood of the earth in its veins and auras, but not most magic."
"You smelled magic, so you went to see." Hekate shook her head and sighed. "As the black dog, you manage to get into more trouble than ten mischievous children. When we travel together I will have to leash you! How come you escaped with your skin whole?"
"They weren't fierce or evil. The girl was so . . . so . . . I can't even tell you what she was like. I loved her. No one could help loving her. And the man . . . Holy Mother, he aroused lust in me, and I am no man lover; my taste was always for women." He sighed. "I don't know how long ago that was, but I'll never forget them."
"But have they forgotten you? Did they notice you?"
"Oh, yes. They were gathering up the offerings on the altar and when I first saw them I thought they were thieves and was about to bark, but the girl turned and put her finger to her lips, and the man smiled at me and mouthed 'Hush, brother'—and they both disappeared with the offerings."
"Disappeared?"
"Vanished. Without a sound. They transported themselves elsewhere."
"Transported themselves?" Hekate scowled. "I feel like an echo valley. All I do is repeat what you say, but I can hardly believe my ears and need to hear the words again. I can transport things with a spell—if they aren't too heavy—but how can one transport oneself?"
"I have no idea, but it was a spell. I could smell the magic, but the magic was . . . was inside themselves, not pulling them away from outside. And they weren't thieves. They were the 'gods' that were worshipped in that temple. I saw them drawn in the frescoes and carved into statues. Of course, the images couldn't really reproduce the beauty of the originals, but they were close enough to prove that the artist had seen the girl and the man."
"Then why do you say they are mages and not gods? The Mother is over all, but there are other gods."
"Like Kabeiros?" Kabeiros laughed. "What true god comes to take away the sacrifices? Does a god need to eat food like you and I? Does the Mother? Even the king of the dead isn't a god. Doesn't he send his people to gather up the grain and dried meat and fruit? So he eats too."
"But the caves? They can undo the damage that sorcerer did to your Gift."
"The caves are something else. I don't think what they do is owing to the king of the dead. I didn't smell any magic . . . except yours . . . when I changed to the black dog."
Hekate nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You may be right after all. As soon as your spell of terror and despair was gone, I felt comfortable here. Warm inside. Safe. To me that's a sign of the Mother. There's never any feeling of 'magic' with her, only power . . . endless power. But the feeling was different from that of the secret shrine in the forest so I assumed it was owing to a kindly king of the dead. Still, the Mother has many forms."
"If only the Mother can help me in the aspect that is manifested in these caves—"
"We won't know, will we, until we look for another answer," she interrupted, then sighed impatiently. "Well, if those who live in Olympus are mages and not gods, so much the better for us; perhaps one has a Gift that will solve your problem and mages are easier to bargain with than gods. But if we can't find the place—"
"I think I could find it as the dog. I was ages younger when I first sought Olympus and didn't think of changing to the dog and smelling for magic. Then the hound form was for play, to enjoy. Also I know better where to look, now. After I had come here to Ka'anan, I learned that Olympus is in a cup among the mountains between Hestiaeotis or Perrhoebia and Pieria. But by then I was enjoying my life here and I had no special reason to go back."
"But now you do, and it's certainly worth trying to find such powerful mages. It's as good a place to go as any other, and if we can't find it or if no one there can help you, we can always come back here."
Kabeiros looked away, ashamed. "Except that it's a very long way, and by the time we get to the lands of the west, I won't have enough mind left to remember what I'm seeking."
"Yes, you will," Hekate said. "The reason you lost yourself to the dog was that you lost contact with humans. Few knew you were a dog and even those feared to show they knew you were also a man and didn't try to speak to you or make you think. If we talked together constantly—well, as much as we spoke in the caves, for example—neither of us would welcome constant chatter—you would never forget your humanity and the dog would never dominate the man."
"You would extend my time, I'm sure, but without the power to reply to you and to present my own thoughts, I'm afraid my interest in what you said to me would fade."
"But you would be able to reply! I meant we would speak together mind-to-mind."
"I know that Gift exists," Kabeiros said, sighing, "but I don't have it."
"Neither did I," Hekate replied with a grimace, "but that is not always a natural Gift. It seems it is also a skill that anyone's mind—perhaps only those who can use power, but you can do that—can be taught. My father forced it on me when I was a child the better to control me. It wasn't a pleasant experience. He might as well have raped my body."
Kabeiros stared at her, appalled. "Have you known what I was thinking all the time we've been together?"
"Of course not! Holy Mother, always knowing what everyone else was thinking would drive a person mad." She stopped speaking abruptly and her glance went past Kabeiros, her brow suddenly creased with thought. "Hmmm," she muttered, "I wonder if those who hear voices and are said to be mad have some kind of uncontrolled Gift . . ." She shook her head impatiently and waved away the idea with a quick gesture. "I wish I wasn't so easily distracted by this and that idea."
"I am not so easily distracted," Kabeiros said, his voice harsh. "You did know what I was thinking."
"Sometimes." Hekate raised her brows. "But that was from how you looked or held your body, not from listening to your thoughts. Nor will I be able to know what you wish to keep private after I show you how to hear me and send thoughts to me." She laughed bitterly. "Do you think my father would have taken any chance that I would learn what was in his mind? This is a skill, just like talking. You must think at me what you wish to say—and only I will 'hear' you, no one else."
"Truly? It will be like talking to you? That's all?"
"Truly, but I'll tell you that giving you this skill will be very unpleasant, like having hot needles stuck through your skull—at least, that was how it affected me. I think I screamed for a week straight." She frowned. "Should I put a sleep spell on you?"
"Will the teaching—or whatever it is you do—work through a sleep spell?"
"Why not?"
"Your father didn't use one."
Hekate laughed again, a single bark of sound without mirth. "My father enjoys others' screaming. He may even have some way of gathering power from another's pain."
Kabeiros wrinkled his nose, lifting his upper lip; if he had been a dog, his tearing fangs would have been exposed. "I am not of Perses' blood," he growled. "The 'Kindly Ones' would not trouble me if I killed him."
"He is not so easy to kill," Hekate said with a shudder. "Worse than the tangling of your Gift might befall you if you tried to attack him."
"What worse? He could kill me. That's all."
"He could enslave you, turn you against me." She shuddered again and then her mouth thinned until only the sharp tips of her teeth showed; her eyes shone with a blue glitter. "And I'm not sure I want him dead so easily as a torn-out throat," she added in so sweet a voice that Kabeiros recoiled. "That would be too easy for him." Her eyes looked like polished metal, nor was their expression any softer. "He should live, utterly without power, utterly helpless under the control of one who really hates him, and knowing he will die a drooling nothing. No, I do not want him so easily or quickly dead."
Kabeiros took a deep breath. "You know how to hate, Hekate."
"I have learned, over long and painful years." She stood quiet a moment, breathing deeply, then shivered. "No, I am not yet ready to try my strength against Perses, and I won't risk you, my only friend, before I'm sure we have a good chance at winning. Let my power grow. Let me learn from other mages. When I'm ready, we will return."