The next spell differed by one word,
A few strokes of a pen.
(and read again)
The first one I had seen before,
The spell to set a spirit free;
(so I will be)
The second let the mage-born dead
Take flesh and live again!
(one spell and then I live again)
Now both these spells were equal
In their risk to body and to soul.
(I shall be whole)
And both these spells demanded
They be cast on Lammas Night.
(the darkest night)
And both these spells of spirit
And of caster took an equal toll,
(task to the soul)
But nowhere is it writ
That either spell is of the Light.
(to live and see and touch, to be)
Can it be wise to risk the anger
Of the Gods in such a task?
(yet I must ask)
Yet who am I to judge of who
Should live and who should die?
(don't let me die—)
Does love or duty call him?
Is his kindness to me all a mask?
(take up the task)
And could I trust his answer
If I dared to ask him 'Why?'
(give all your trust—my will [you must])
So now I stand within the circle
I have drawn upon the floor—
(the open door)
I have no further answer if
This spirit's friend or foe
(nor can you know)
Though I have prayed full often, nor
Can I this moment answer if
I'll tell him 'Come' or 'Go.'
Hallowmas Night
MERCEDES LACKEY
The moon is on the wane tonight, and her light is fitful and hard to work by. There is a chill and bitter wind tossing the bare branches of the trees; had there been any leaves left upon those sad, black boughs when the sun set, they would have been ripped away by now. That same wind shreds the thin, fraying clouds that scud across the moon's face, so that she seems to be dressed in the tattered remnants of a shroud. The sound of it among the trees is like the wailing of a hundred thousand lost souls.
