The masked witches

Dulsaer cocked his head. What are you getting at? Say it straight out.

As you wish. In front of the hathrans, carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, I expressed my intent to destroy the creatures troubling this realm. But later, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that you were right: My little band lacks the resources to accomplish any such thing. You, on the other hand, possess precisely the armed might necessary Except that, if rumor can be trusted, you haven t had any luck locating the enemy.

So you re suggesting a partnership?

Of a kind that ought to suit you very well. If I don t help you win the griffons, you naturally owe me nothing. But if I do, you ll still take possession of all the animals, and simply pay a fee for my assistance. You ll go home with everything you came for, and I ll reap sufficient profit to satisfy my father even though it s not the prize he sent me to fetch.

Some people say you ve already made a deal with Mario Bez. That you were seen talking to him the last time his skyship flew back into town.

Seeking opportunity, a trader talks to all sorts of people. That doesn t mean I wouldn t prefer a covenant with an honorable officer over a sordid arrangement with an infamous mercenary.

Hm, Dulsaer murmured as he turned the proposal over in his mind, looking for a flaw. Feeling a bit like a cu

As she tramped along, planting the butt of her staff with every other stride, the snow crunching beneath her war boots, Jhesrhi kept an eye out for tracks and figures lurking behind the trees. It was probably a waste of effort. Aoth and Zyl were likely to spot trouble before she did. But life had taught her never to entrust her safety entirely to others if she could avoid it.

How much farther? Aoth asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Not far, the black hare answered, so stay close. We ll come up on the sentries soon, and we want to make sure they understand the two of you are with me. Humans aren t generally welcome this deep in the forest.

Aoth snorted. Does Rashemen have any woods that aren t forbidden, sacred, or both? he asked.

Not many, Zyl replied. Fundamentally, it s a land of spirits and fey, who tolerate what they consider to be lesser creatures just as long as we show the proper respect.

We? Jhesrhi asked.

Zyl laughed a shrill, pulsing sound enough like a human wail of pain to be u

For some reason, she said, you have a mistaken impression of me. It s true I ve acquired an affinity with fire, but I m still a human being.

If it pleases you to think so, lady, then who am I to argue otherwise? Zyl said.

I see one of your sentries, said Aoth. Ahead and a little to the left.

With that to guide her, Jhesrhi spotted the watcher, too. He somewhat resembled a slender elf archer with pointed ears and slanted eyes. But the elves she d seen had little body hair, whereas the sentry appeared to have a tawny down covering him. His face was narrower and less manlike than an elf s, and she couldn t read its expression. Long canines extended from under his upper lip, and smallish antlers jutted from his brow with shiny metal objects attached to the points.

Interesting, said Aoth. I haven t run across folk like that before.

They started out as elves, Zyl said, or so the story goes. But then, in a time of desperation, they asked a spirit called the Stag King to save them from the doom that was coming to claim them. He agreed to do it if he could lie with three of their maidens. Perhaps not understanding just how strong his blood would prove to be, the elves agreed. After a few generations, they were all like him, and made no objection when he returned to rule as their king.

As Jhesrhi and her companions marched onward, Aoth pointed out other archers watching from hiding like the first. In time, a silvery chiming like sleigh bells sounded at the sellswords backs.

What s that? asked Aoth.

The bells in their antlers, Zyl replied. Their way of telling you that now that you ve come this far, you can t turn back.

In other words, said Aoth, they think they can scare us onward like beaters flushing game. That s not very flattering or friendly, either.

They re not a friendly people.

Then why serve them if you re not really a dark fey yourself?

You ve seen that I have powers.

Yes.

Well, like the elves in the story, I had to bargain for what I wanted with one who was willing to trade with me. Now, look sharp. We re almost there.

The travelers wound their way through a thick stand of ash and alder to the clearing on the other side. At first, Jhesrhi couldn t see any reason why no trees grew on that particular patch of ground. Then she took another step, and a castle wavered into view in front of her. The lines of the spires and battlements had once been graceful and harmonious, and the walls once adorned with intricate mosaics. But everything was crumbling and faded.

What world is that fortress actually standing in? she asked.

This one, currently, said Zyl. And it hardly ever slides except at night.

Jhesrhi supposed it was as reassuring an answer as she had any right to expect. She and Aoth followed the hare through the gate and across a snowy courtyard. The inhabitants watched as they passed. The females didn t have antlers, but that didn t make the contours of their long, tapered faces any less strange.

In the Stag King s hall itself, two naked males were wrestling, alternately grappling like humans and slamming and grinding their antlers together. The little round bells wired to their points chimed with every violent, straining motion. That, the grunting, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the click of cloven hooves on the floor were the only sounds in evidence. Unlike a human audience, who would surely be cheering their favorites on, a ring of spectators watched the contest in silence.

Wait here, said Zyl. He hopped around the onlookers and out of sight.

The bout ended shortly thereafter, when the stag men locked antlers, and one flipped the other off his feet with a savage wrenching motion that involved his entire body. At last the onlookers showed their appreciation or at least Jhesrhi assumed that was what they intended by nodding and setting the bells attached to their own antlers ringing.

From the far end of the hall, someone called, Clear a path! Let me see what the hare dragged in! The voice was as deep as a cyclops s.

The stag men in the hall pivoted to regard the strangers by the door, but if they were surprised or alarmed to discover them there, Jhesrhi couldn t tell. They vacated the center of the chamber, and she had her first look at the Stag King, slouched on a finely carved wooden throne.

His height and bulk matched his voice, and though his high-backed chair was more than big enough for any elf to sit in comfort, he appeared squeezed into it. But despite his hugeness, and antlers that dwarfed those borne by any of his descendants, in some ways, he looked more manlike or elflike than they did. His features were human enough to bespeak arrogance.

He waved a hand, and four guards started forward. It seemed obvious that they intended to manhandle the mercenaries up to the throne.

Jhesrhi felt the old familiar loathing at the prospect of being touched. Aoth? she said.

I agree, he answered, sidestepping to distance himself from her. Let s make a different kind of first impression.

With a thought, she brought the fire inside her leaping forth to cloak her from head to toe. She also tapped the butt of her staff on the cracked and grimy floor, and the torches in the wall sconces evidently deemed u