Lamma's Night (anthology)

In the darkness beyond the pig, faint cries sounded. 'Sleep well,' said the pig, and vanished.

As the days lengthened she spent more and more time in the forest, for she had ten mouths to feed now— eleven, if she counted her own. Every night she fell into bed exhausted, and every morning the pig sent her out again, sometimes with specific instructions:

Horses, hounds, and hawks he might know, she thought, but he had no herblore. When she went foraging she picked bitter herbs with the sweet, nightshade and gutburst, larkspur and amanita. She offered them all to the pig, mixed with grasses and nasturtiums and puffballs, when she went home. Sometimes the pig ate them and sometimes it didn't.

It never even got sick. Pigs could eat almost anything.

Circle of Ashes

Stephanie D. Shaver

It had taken exactly two hundred and twenty-two steps to get up to Lord Benzamin's room. Maakus knew. He'd counted every… last... one.

'Maakus, correct?'

'Indeed, Lord Benzamin,' the bard replied, trying hard not to pant.

'Please, take a seat.' The slightly gray-haired magus gestured toward a padded chair.

The bard sighed as he relaxed into the cushions, taking the time now to memorize the setup of the room he had entered, as was his duty. A comfortably sized rectangular room, the west and east walls—coincidentally, the longest—lined with books. The north wall had two beveled-glass doors that opened on to an impressive porch and a view of the City of Light. There were only two other doors in the room. One behind him in the south wall—the one he'd come through—and one in the west wall, which was shut at the moment.

Maakus turned his eyes now to the man he had come to visit. The kioko magus, Benzamin, one of the fifty High Lords of the City of Light. An unextraordinarily-looking, slightly pudgy and green-eyed man who commanded extraordinary power.

'Wine, sir madrigal?' the magus asked, and glanced toward the door in the west wall. Maakus was surprised to see that it had opened without him hearing, and a small child was looking in, her eyes flicking from magus to bard, just far enough into the room to show she was wearing the cream-and-silver of an initiate of the City of Light.

'That would be most fine,' Maakus said. 'White, please.'

Benzamin nodded and looked pointedly at the girl. 'You heard him,' he said not unkindly, and she giggled and darted out so quickly the golden curls on her head bounced. The door shut behind her.

The magus waited until the girl had returned and Maakus had had a few sips of the wine—which was chilled and excellent—before saying, 'So, sir madrigal. What brings you here?'

Maakus paused for a moment, then reached into the satchel at his hip and withdrew a leather-bound book. He set it on the magus' desk and pushed it toward the man. Benzamin leaned forward, his face now fallen into a mask of seriousness, and picked it up gingerly. He flipped through a few pages, and his face fell further, now toward sorrow.

'Aloren,' he said, a soft pain in his voice.

Maakus nodded. 'I... found this, sir. After she...'

Benzamin swallowed, his throat bobbing. 'Thank you, sir madrigal,' he said. 'I knew Aloren kept a journal. I had wondered what had happened to it. The retrieval of this is much appreciated. I can requisition you a reward of—'

'No money,' the bard said, and leaned forward. 'Sir...'

The magus raised a brow at him. 'I have a feeling you are about to ask for something I cannot give you.'

'That might be, sir magus,' Maakus said. 'But I have to know. What happened?'

The magus sat back slightly. 'That depends,' he said. 'What do you know?'

'Just what is in that journal and what I got from speaking with her.'

Benzamin nodded. 'Then... please, tell me.'

Maakus smiled slightly. 'Ah, Lord Magus, you truly know how to make a bard happy.'

Benzamin chuckled, and Maakus began.

'I am haunted,' she said, and I was inclined to believe her. The smudges beneath her eyes, the paleness of her skin, the slack fall of her ash-blonde hair. It was hard to look her in the eye for any length of time, and I never could remember her eye color. I had never met her before today, when she caught me coming into town and demanded to speak with me in private, but she was someone I instinctively knew to be honest.

'By what?' I asked. 'And why did you ask me to meet you here and not in the house?' 'Here' was the only inn the town of Waysedge had to offer. It was small and cramped, but it offered free room and board to any bard, so I couldn't complain. And the innkeep had accommodated us when we asked to be alone.

She frowned. 'If we were at my house, he would be watching. He can't leave it, from what I understand. It's where he died....'

'Who?' I asked, my hands flowing in intricate patterns in my lap. A silent spell of remembrance, so I would not forget what transpired between me and this young kioko magus.