gained her nothing. In each village it was the same: either she was perceived as a threat to local magic folk, or no one would take her seriously. Until now. She had to give them a chance, and convince them to give her one as well.
'I have many spells, in here,' Alluen assured them all, tapping the side of her head. 'And my magic is true, as I have said.'
'Ah, you see? Well and good!' Jon said, trying the grin again. 'You'll get coin, too, what we can give, and trade. And our gratitude... er, eventually.'
Room and board and more sounded wonderful, especially with the winter season approaching. And the needs of these people were small, surely. After all, one could keep the dark at bay simply by building a fire. 'Whatever the task, I shall meet it,' she promised. Before much else could be said, Jon began to lead her up the street to the wizard's house, leaving most everyone else behind amidst a din of mumbling.
The house itself looked like any other on the street, two stories, wood frame, daub and wattle walls. Jon opened the front door. Alluen entered but Jon did not. Even when she asked.
'The Dark,' he said 'Good day.'
The house seemed cozy enough, and the collection of books, some written in exotic languages, was more remarkable than any Alluen had ever seen. Her favorite was the late wizard Lennet's book of spells—she assumed it was his—which Alluen was sure would take her weeks just to look through. Meanwhile the townsfolk brought her ample food and drink, even clothing, yet not one of them was willing to set foot inside her house.
Each time she was needed, which had only been twice in three times that many days, someone from the village would come and knock, then ask her to follow along. She had used an old and simple spell that seemed to help one young girl rid herself of a mild fever, then she'd done much the same for an old man's rash. Each time, she asked those present to come to her house for a visit. 'Thank you,' the girl's mother had said, and the old man and his wife as well, 'but we must not. It's the Dark, you see.'
By the end of a week, Alluen decided she had had enough. She asked Jon to meet her at the village inn where, in a quiet corner, she managed to entice Jon to tip first one tankard, then another. When she thought he had gained a sufficiently pliable disposition, she cast a spell that rarely worked, one intended to coax the truth from reluctant lips. Controlling another's thoughts was nearly impossible, even for the most skilled adept, but with enough help from a good brewer the effect could be quite... magical.
'Have you ever cheated on your wife?' Alluen asked, just testing.
'Of course I have,' Jon boasted, taking yet another swallow. He grinned at her, then wrinkled his nose. 'But you are too young and scrawny for me.'
'I will trust in the gods to make me worthy, one day,' Alluen replied. 'For now, you will tell me why no one will enter my house.'
Jon's head flopped left as if support had been suddenly withdrawn. 'Oh, you'd like me to tell you that, wouldn't you... tell you all our secrets.'
'Yes, I would.'
Jon shrugged. 'Very well. A sorcerer by the name of Kimall, a vile old fool of a man, they say, once made our village his home. This was long before my time, and the story is not always the same.'
Alluen leaned a bit closer. 'Go on.'
Jon drew a long breath. 'In an attempt to gather more power, he summoned a creature of some sort, a thing of pure darkness as dreadful as Kimall could ever have hoped, but of no mind to tell its secrets, or do Kimall's bidding, alas.'
Alluen's father had told her stories of looking over the edge into the dark abyss, of those lured by its vast potential—but the danger, like the pull of the darkness, was always great. 'And this is the thing you call the Dark?'
'Aye,' Jon said, somewhat chagrined. He finished his third tankard, examined the bottom of the empty vessel as he went on. 'Kimall commanded the beast to surrender its powers to him, but the demon apparently preferred the quick harvest Kimall himself supplied.'
'It ate Kimall,' Alluen clarified.
'So they say.'
Alluen beckoned to the innkeeper for more ale. 'But what became of the beast after that?'
'It cannot stay in this world for long, we believe. It weakens quickly, fades to nothing, and returns to the nether realms, where it remains until it can renew itself and enter our world once more. Which makes it hungry enough to eat a small family at least, as some of our villagers have learned too well. Most flee, but it finds some of us. Always, it appears in the wizard's house first. So that is where you must stop it. The last wizard, Lennet... failed.'
'Why?'
'Alas,' Jon said painfully, 'I cannot say, though my good wife, you see, and many others, they have their ideas.'
'You said you think he did something wrong. Tell me what?'
Jon puzzled over this for a moment. 'We think he tried to make a deal with the beast. A partnership of some sort. The power of the Dark is great, and a sorcerer who controls it would be... greater, I think. Some worry that Lennet believed he could succeed where old Kimall failed. Many of us worry the next sorcerer—you—will try to do the same.'
Alluen looked closely into the other's eyes. 'And you didn't intend to tell me of this?'
'At length,' Jon assured her. 'But you would have known about the Dark, no matter.'
'How?'
'The Dark comes always on Lammas Night. But they say an adept can sense the creature's coming before that.'
