A Nameless Witch

'So is flying good or not?'

'It's good, but I prefer having hands to wings.'

'They're very practical, I grant you.'

I flipped the gobling back over and tore open its belly. I stuck my hands wrist deep into the cold innards. They were already dried and shriveled.

Newt hopped on the table and watched as I yanked the goblings insides out. Again, there was no odor and barely any fluids. I catalogued the various organs as I spread them before me. Everything seemed in order.

I dipped a finger in the brackish slime leaking from the gobling and licked it. I offered Newt a lick for a second opinion.

'Not bad. Kind of bland.'

'Exactly. But when it was fresh, it tasted delicious. So unless gobling meat turns in a matter of hours, this fellow is gradually fading away, one sense at a time.'

'Yes, so?'

'That means something. Something important.'

'What?'

'I don't know.'

I hunched over the gobling and stared at it. Its one half-opened, orange eye stared back, defying me to glean its secrets.

Newt abruptly brought up a new subject. 'I made some observations about your body while I was in it. Would you like to hear them?'

I didn't reply, engrossed in contemplation of the gutted corpse.

Newt took this as a sign to keep talking. 'For one thing, you're much stronger than you let on. I bet you could break a man's neck.'

Only half listening, I replied, 'At the proper angle, most easily, but a good witch doesn't resort to brute tactics.'

'And another thing, I was studying your naked body ear­lier.'

I frowned.

'Don't worry. I was inside. No one could see me.'

I was too intent on the gobling to bother with a lecture.

'And I started thinking,' Newt said. 'If this is a curse, why should you be so beautiful? At first, I thought a mistake had been made. Then I remembered our mistress saying once or twice that magic doesn't make mistakes.'

As did I, and my attention shifted more to my familiar than the corpse.

'That is right, isn't it?' asked Newt.

'Yes. Magic lacks only the will to act on its own,' I said. 'That's where witches and wizards and the like come in. Through us, it finds purpose.'

'You offer suggestions, and the magic acts upon those suggestions. Usually exactly as requested of it, since it isn't very creative on its own. But sometimes, just sometimes, it does come up with an idea it likes better.'

'You're saying my curse made me beautiful on purpose.'

His head bobbed up and down. 'If mistakes are impossible, then I'd have to believe so. And if you were intentionally made as beautiful as you are, then I asked myself to what end?'

'I trust you came up with a theory.'

'You're not a horrible beast meant to be skulking around in graveyards. You're a seductive predator, a ghoul wrapped in soft flesh that might draw men into your arms where they might find death in your loving embrace.'

My carnal desires were closely linked to my appetite. Almost inseparable. In my undead mind, a good man and a good meal were one and the same. This bothered me. I didn't

know why. I'd already resigned myself to never indulge in those twin pleasures of the flesh. But having Newt link them so closely and so logically made me realize how cursed I was.

Newt meant it as a compliment. He looked at me differently now. It was a quiet awe, a newfound respect. I was a perfectly designed predator, even if I didn't want to be.

Rather than dwell upon it, I returned to my study of the gobling. I hastily stuffed the guts back inside, ran my fingers along the split torso, searing the flesh closed with magic. I held up the little, green body. Its vacant orange eyes rolled back in its head. Its black tongue hung from open lips.

'Well, my little friend, you seem dead, but I'm guessing you were never truly alive. Let's find out, shall we?'

I channeled my power for raising the dead into the gob­ling. There was no soul in the meat. There shouldn't have been, but I suspected the creature had never possessed one. If that was so, then any semblance of life or death was questionable at best. I ignored the absent soul and willed the gob­ling animate.

The creature jerked to life. As it was badly damaged and decayed, there wasn't much energy. It flailed its arms and legs limply. It flapped its wings. It gnashed its teeth and hissed barely audibly.

Newt hopped back.

I held the gobling down on the table. Even if the little beast wasn't real, I didn't want it to suffer. I picked up a dagger and put it to my forehead. I took a moment to put some magic in the blade and drove it into the goblings back. It popped like a soap bubble. Nothing was left behind.

'How did you do that?' Newt asked.

'Quite easily.' I laid the dagger aside and smiled. 'I unbe-lieved it.'

I didn't bother with further explanations. I saved that for the Captain and Wyst of the West. This discovery could be of great use to the soldiers of Fort Stalwart, providing they could understand it.

The tent flapped open. I reached for my hat.

'It's just me.' Sunrise stepped inside. Penelope, who had been guarding the tent, hovered in beside her. 'I wanted to say good-bye before leaving. I assume you'll be staying.'

'It is my duty to aid to the defense of these people from this sort of threat.'

'Yes. Your duty.'

She smiled wryly, and I guessed her thoughts. They were my own as well. It was an inevitable speculation that this gobling horde was merely a convenient excuse. That my true reason for staying stemmed from my growing affection for Wyst of the West. I denied the notion, but even I couldn't comfortably dismiss it. Even if it was true, I would still be of help against this menace.

'I trust the evacuation is going smoothly,' I said.

'As smooth as could be expected. No one is happy about it, but none want to be here when the goblings arrive. The Captain has issued instructions that we should travel north and keep traveling unless we hear otherwise.'

'A sound suggestion.'

An awkward quiet filled the tent. I liked Sunrise very much. She was my friend and my mentor on the strange ways of the living. Now we were parting, and good sense told me this might be the very last time I ever saw her. I thought perhaps I wanted to hug her. But my upbringing left me uncomfortable with such close contact. I couldn't even remember ever touching my parents, and I'd only hugged Ghastly Edna once. And that was only after she'd been killed and surely a permissible exception.

I decided this was not and trusted she would understand. 'Safe journey to you, Sunrise.'

'Good fortune to you, witch. And to you, Newt, Penelope.'

My broom dipped in a bow, and Newt nodded to Sunrise. She left my tent, and I began sorting through the various ingredients for the Captain's tonic.

I KNEW THE CAPTAIN would have difficulty understanding what I had to tell, but understand he must if the men of Fort Stalwart were to stand a chance against the horde. I spent an hour tuning my presentation before finally limping off to speak with him.

The town-to-be was still, nearly empty. Where there had been dozens of lights, there was a lake of dark and quiet, deserted constructions. The stragglers skulked along the settlement like shadows, piling their possessions into wagons. I'd never truly lived among the humans, yet I felt sadder for their absence.