Lamma's Night (anthology)

'Why?' I let out my breath in a great sigh. 'Look you, I've seen the type again and again during the War: the mage so lost in the pure lust of magical invention that he can't see the horror he's unleashing.' I'd been there myself. 'But you...' I shook my head. 'You remind me of something else.'

'What?'

'Why did you want to be human?' I countered.

The demon—or former demon—shuddered, as human a movement as anyone could want. 'What can I tell you?' he asked softly. 'I grew weary, so very totally weary, of evil. I had made my escape or thought I had, and was nearly in this mortal realm when I was snared. Until now.'

His gaze met mine. And in it I saw the same thing I'd seen often enough in my own reflection: not bitterness or even regret. Ah no, the emotion goes too deep for that. What I saw reflected in his eyes was nothing but utter, soul-aching weariness.

And I forced a smile. 'I made the right choice. I only hope you like being mortal.'

'I do.' It was said with utmost certainty. 'I will.'

'Say that again in about fifty years or so.' I scrambled to my feet, trying to brush out my wrinkled, grass- stained robe. He rose more slowly, plainly absorbed in the novelty of a new, tangible body. I looked him up and down and felt a grin forming. 'I do good work.'

That caused his second laugh, more convincingly human than the first. 'For which I am truly grateful.' He paused. 'I wasn't sure how to court a mortal woman. Did you like the rose?'

'Till the cursed thing stuck me, yes.'

'Ah.'

'Just what does that mean? No, never mind. We have time to work on... whatever. But first we need a name for you. I don't suppose you have one that—'

'No.'

'Right. You wouldn't.' After a moment's thought I said, 'Seirach. A good, solid name owned by so many men in my own land that it won't rouse suspicion.'

'Seirach,' he echoed, plainly startled at the idea of actually owning a name. 'Yes.'

'But how am I to explain you to the good folk of Woodedge? A wanderer, perhaps.'

'I don't want to lie,' the newly named Seirach said firmly. 'I've had enough of lying.'

'Not a lie. Just a slight… exaggeration. Ah well, we'll see.'

I raised my arm. Seirach, puzzled, raised his own, and I let my hand rest on it, feeling it warm and solid and, yes, human. The first rays of the morning sun dazzling us, we went together back to Woodedge.

Midsummer Folly

ELISABETH WATERS

Amber awoke with a start, her heart pounding. She had fallen asleep—over a spell book and dreamed the same dream again. And even though she was awake now, she could still feel the presence of the spirit who had been lurking in her dreams for more than two weeks. It was getting harder to convince herself that they were only dreams and that the feeling of not being alone in the house was only her overactive imagination.

She sat up, stretching cramped muscles and forcing herself to breathe deeply and slowly in an attempt to calm her rattled nerves. The sun shone brightly through the window she had left unshuttered the night before, highlighting the supper dishes she had pushed to one side when she started reading. A flower lay on the plate: a single blossom that had not been there the night before. One forget-me-not.

Her breath came quickly again as she lifted the flower with a shaking hand. 'So now I know,' she said aloud. 'He is still here.'

As she automatically gathered up and washed the dishes, a task she had always found calming—if not mind-numbingly boring—she thought back on the events of the past few weeks. She had been traveling for the better part of a year before she had come here; her magic school required a year of wandering from each journeyman mage. After that, they could settle down anywhere they wished or return to the school for more study.

Amber planned to return to the school as soon as was permitted. Not only did she have a passion for the study of magic, but Sammel, her betrothed, waited for her there. He had done his year of wandering during her last year of apprenticeship, and they planned to marry when she returned from hers. She had been slowly heading back towards the school when she entered this village.

It was not unusual for the entrance of a mage into a small village to attract attention, but it seemed to Amber that the entire village came to stare at her. The headman approached her as rapidly as his dignity allowed and gave her a bow much deeper than her journeyman status warranted. This was strange enough to arouse Amber's curiosity, her strongest character flaw—or strength, depending upon who was describing her and what her curiosity had led her into lately.

The first part of the mystery was explained easily enough when the headman told her that their mage had died recently—he even admitted that they didn't know how or why—and begged her to stay. The villagers all seemed to feel strongly that they needed a wizard. Amber knew that a mage could be useful, but she didn't suffer from such self-importance as to believe that a village could not survive perfectly well without one. These people were clearly terrified of something, but what?

Then the headman told her that the former mage's house and books were hers if she would agree to remain. The house was a simple cottage, although it had a very nice herb garden, but when Amber saw the books, she accepted his offer on the spot. There were enough volumes to keep her occupied for several months, there was a mystery to solve, and she would not willingly leave anyone to face the terror these people so obviously felt. She still