Lamma's Night (anthology)

She took chances; why else would she be a witch and a mage if she was not ready to face the unseen and call the unknown by its name? A challenge like that appealed to her more than any of his blandishments, but she was still uncertain.

'I will think about it,' she promised.

The candles burned as she swung open the cottage door to allow the night breeze to enter. The villagers of Twin Streams had gone off to enjoy the rest of their harvest night. Now she was left with only one task to do. The spirit of Samon waited at the perimeter of the room, full of fear and anticipation as to his coming fate, for it was tonight or never.

All the materials Vinory needed were laid out. She lit each one of the candles in turn, praying to the gods that what she was about to do was right. The warm breeze caressed her bare skin as she chalked the circle on the floor and stood inside it. She took up the book and read aloud from it by the light of the candle in her hand. Her voice trembled through the first syllables, then grew stronger, though she felt the pull of unseen forces at the very stuff of her existence.

The golden light broke from the candles at the points of the compass and joined together to form a ring of fire which grew and grew until she was surrounded by it. And then it died away, leaving an arch at the north side of the circle. Through it she could see a shadow. It was a mature man with dark hair and eyes, and milk-pale skin. She smiled at her tentatively. Vinory knew at once that this was Samon. She must send him away or answer his plea now. There was no more time to decide.

'I will give you all my honor, no matter what you decide,' Samon said. He looked hopeful, like a puppy who did not dare to wag its tail. 'May I come, or must I go?'

He held out a daffodil to her, as a token of the beginning of new things for both of them. At least it would be an interesting life from now on, she thought. A considerate lover, so the girl had said. He would have to be, to make up for the part of her life the restoration of his life would take. Vinory smiled. For fair or foul.

'Come,' she said, and held out her hand to him.

Summer Storms

Christie Golden

It was one thunderstorm too many for Lauris. She had just gotten her cloak, her clothes, her juya bag and her familiar, Shadow, dried from the last deluge when the warning rumble caused her to glance up at the rapidly clouding sky. Lauris wrapped her stiff cloak around her tall frame. Shadow crouched at her feet, his gray tail swishing. She gathered the cat in her arms, doing what she could to shield the animal with her cloak.

The rain came. And kept coming as Lauris slogged her way along the dirt path that rapidly changed to mud, threatening to suck off her boots with each step.

There were weatherworking spells. Lauris knew some of them. But they were tiring, and the materials were costly, and it was easier to bundle up against the wet than defy it. Though, Lauris admitted as the rain began to scale through her cloak yet again, if she did indeed have the materials, she'd put them to good use right now.

A weathered sign announced that the village of Greenhaven lay two miles hence. The thought of a dry bed, hot food and perhaps a pint of ale cheered the weary young woman, and there was a spring in her step despite the hungry mud.

The little inn, the Blue Bell, couldn't have been more welcoming. A fire glowed brightly. The few customers inside glanced up, then back down at the games in which they were clearly engrossed. Lauris stepped inside, shivering.

'Good day, miss,' came a voice. Lauris glanced up, heaving the thick, sodden mass of her dark hair off her pale face. She smiled at the innkeeper, who took her cloak. He inhaled swiftly at the sight of the gray cat and the unmistakable sigil that marked the juya bag. His bushy eyebrows shot up.

'Yes, I'm of wizard-kind,' Lauris replied in answer to his unvoiced question. 'My home is the road, but I am happy to leave it behind in such weather!'

The innkeeper relaxed, and a spark of avarice sprang to his eyes. Lauris could tell that he was already wondering what to ask for in return for shelter and food. She strode up to the fire with a sigh of pleasure.

'You are a welcome sight, Lady Wizard,' came a voice from the nearest table. Lauris turned. The man who had addressed her lounged in his chair. Dark hair flowed down his broad shoulders. A mustache and beard hid most of his face, but his piercing blue eyes regarded her steadily.

'And why is that?' she asked.

'Our own wizard died two months ago, and we've been lost without him.' He rose and strode toward her, graceful as Shadow despite his bulk. 'The crops alternately burn or drown. Our herds grow thinner. And there have even been reports of disappearing children.'

'And who are you, to credit such rumors?'

'I am Aelfric, headman of Greenhaven. They are not rumors, I assure you.'

Lauris turned her gaze back to the fire. 'And what would you have me do, Headman Aelfric?'

'I would have you stay, and protect our village as Wizard Blayne did.' Startled, she glanced back at him. 'His home stands empty. None of us dare go inside. All is as he left it—books, tools, garden. We're poor folk, but we will recompense you fairly. Will you consider my offer?'

Her eyes searched his, seeking out the lie. Lauris knew how to sense deceit and malice—it was all part of her training. She found none. Aelfric's offer, as far as her skills could tell, was both generous and genuine. Lauris thought of the rain, the mud, the loneliness that had been her life up to now, and nodded. His face relaxed into a smile. 'I am so glad. When you are warm, sit and eat with me, and I will tell you of Greenhaven.'

Two days later, Lauris knew she had made the right decision. No lady in her manor home could have been happier than Lauris in the four-bay, stone-walled house with fresh thatching for its roof. Behind the house was a