The Penwyth Curse (Medieval Song 6)

“Brecia, is it you? It is about time you have come to Penwyth. I have been waiting for you.”

“I have come to fetch my wand.”

“So, it is true, you cannot work your magic without your wand.” In a move so fast it blurred, he pulled her wand out of his sleeve. He gave her a slight bow and handed it to her. “I was holding it safe for you. How did you know I had it?”

“It seemed to me that it was something you would do, Mawdoor.”

“Ah, something clever, something you wouldn’t immediately realize. Is that what you mean?”

“That is,” she said, “more or less exactly what I mean.”

Mawdoor looked around the vast courtyard. “Where is that damned prince?”

“I don’t know. I left him in my forest sleeping away the spell I placed on him.”

“You truly guessed that it was I who had taken your wand?”

“Aye, there could be none other,” she said. “May I come in, my lord?”

He stood back, watched her enter, and stiffened suddenly. “There is something else here, something that came in with you, Brecia. What is it? What are you hiding?”

21

BRECIA WHIRLED ABOUT. In a voice no louder than a whisper, she said, “Did the wretched prince of Balanth somehow manage to slip in with me? But how?”

“Oh, no, but—” Mawdoor took two steps back. He stilled, closed his eyes a moment. She could feel him searching in the air around her, poking, prodding, and she held herself very still. She couldn’t hear the prince breat

hing, wondered if he’d managed to shield himself in yet another layer of invisibility. Without his wand? If so, that was impressive indeed.

When Mawdoor opened his eyes, the air was still and flat again, sweet-smelling from the lavender he’d sprinkled on the stone floor, probably in the last few moments. He smiled. “No. I must have simply picked up the trace of him on you. Take off your cloak, Brecia. Let me see you.”

She was a witch, she had her wand, but she wasn’t a fool. A witch who wasn’t a fool was always cautious. There was a darkness in him that bespoke thoughts and dreams that were powerful and crude. Heinous dreams he reveled in, and dominated every act in them. She knew he was not many years older than the prince, but still he looked much older, maybe because of black thoughts, blacker deeds that had to take a toll, even on a wizard. But still he was a man in his prime, fit, not so tall now as he’d first appeared but strong, thick with muscle. His eyes were bright green, perhaps another affectation, she didn’t know, but they just didn’t look natural.

Slowly she slipped her cloak off her shoulders, shook back the hood, and handed it to him. She watched as he brought it to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. “It smells like you,” he said. “Make the cloak disappear, Brecia.”

She lifted her wand, her lips moved, and the cloak was gone.

“Is it in limbo or did you destroy it?”

“It is in limbo. It is a lovely cloak, woven long ago by a ghost with great talent and flair. Why would I want to destroy it?”

He shrugged. “Because the prince touched it, perhaps. But it wouldn’t matter, would it? You would just fashion another for yourself.”

“I was not taught to do that. The cloak belonged to my mother and her mother before her. When I touch it, I touch them. I would be distraught if something were to happen to it.”

“If the prince saw it, knew it was precious to you, he would shred it like wheat in a miller’s wheel.”

She cocked her head to one side in question.

“Come, Brecia, all know that the prince saw you at the sacred meeting place, in the shadow of a mighty trilithon, and he wanted you. Not to wed and cherish you like I would, but to force you to bow to his will, to render you helpless, to make you his slave.”

“I have not heard this, Mawdoor.”

He shrugged. “Oh, the prince wanted you all right, but it doesn’t matter now since you are here, in my fortress, my honored guest. Now, I have returned your wand to you. You owe me a great deal for that, do you not?”

“You did not tell me how you got my wand. Did you take it from the prince?”

“Aye. One of my acolytes found him on the edge of your oak forest, sleeping like one of the heavenly angels, which he isn’t. He was afraid the prince would awaken and smite him. He then decided that if he didn’t try to take both wands, I would smite him.”