“All right.” She stood, and Tobas followed suit.
As she led the way through the castle, he quickly became lost in the maze of rooms and corridors; there was nothing traditional whatsoever about the layout of this fortress, and it was far larger inside than it had appeared from the outside. The walls were all of gray and black stone, some hung with drapes or tapestries, but the majority bare. The carved faces were only in a few passageways, not everywhere. Most of the corridors were dark and gloomy; Karanissa carried a torch so that they could see their way. The windows they passed were not particularly comforting, as the light that poured in was the now-familiar red-purple glow that seemed to have no source, but permeated the void around the castle.
At least the wind could not penetrate; the interior of the castle seemed a trifle warm and dry, but not truly uncomfortable, and a welcome change from the cold and damp of the hills of Dwomor.
Finally, when Tobas had lost all idea of where they were, they arrived in a small room on an upper floor where one wall held a tapestry that was just as odd, in its own way, as the one Tobas had taken from the downed castle.
The scene depicted in this tapestry was so utterly simple as to be almost an abstract design; it was done entirely in black and dark gray and showed a bare stone chamber that Tobas recognized, with a start, as the room where the other tapestry had originally hung, seen from a point two or three feet in front of the tapestry’s wall, looking back toward the passageway that led to the wizard’s study.
Looking closely, Tobas could make out the patterns in the stonework and other details that established it beyond question as the same room. The scene was exactly as he had seen it when taking down the tapestry, save that Derithon’s skeleton was missing.
He reached out and ran a hand over the tapestry and felt only cool, smooth fabric. He had hoped that he might be able to use it, that some protective spell prevented only Karanissa from stepping through, but that was obviously not the case.
After another moment’s study, he shrugged and turned away. He could see nothing odd about the tapestry that might explain why it had stopped functioning.
“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll need to see that Book of Spells.”
He tried very hard to sound calm, but it was difficult, very difficult, when he realized he might at last be about to achieve his long-sought goal of learning more magic. If he could learn a few of the enchantments from Derithon’s book and somehow return to the World, he would be ready to start a career.
These, however, were no circumstances he had ever imagined that achievement might be made under. He was trapped in an otherworldly castle with a beautiful witch four or five hundred years old, trying to make an unfamiliar spell work in order to return to the real World.
What a strange way he had found finally to see a powerful wizard’s Book of Spells!
CHAPTER 21
As he followed her along the dim corridor to Derithon’s study, Tobas watched the way Karanissa walked, her long black hair swirling about her. He had already noticed, on the way to the tapestry, that she moved with grace and confidence. It was obvious that she knew every inch of the castle intimately, but then, that was hardly surprising after she had spent more than four hundred years trapped in it.
It was also obvious that that four hundred years hadn’t affected her beauty at all; Tobas could see why Derithon had taken an interest in her. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He wondered if her witchcraft, or Derithon’s wizardry, had contributed anything to that.
At first, when she had led him into the castle, she had seemed a trifle hesitant and unsure, presumably because of Tobas’ startling arrival and unfamiliar presence, but she was over that now. She had already outwardly adjusted to the abrupt change in her circumstances.
Karanissa opened the heavy door of the study and ushered Tobas inside; he paused for a moment to stare around at the shelves upon shelves of jars, bottles, boxes, and apparatus before reaching for Derithon’s Book of Spells.
The book had a place of honor, centered on one end of the long worktable in the vast cluttered study. It was big and thick, bound in black hide, and a heavy metal clasp lay unlocked and open. Tobas hesitated just before his hand touched the cover. “Are you sure there aren’t any protective spells?” he asked Karanissa.
“No,” she replied. “I’m not sure of anything about it, but I never had any trouble opening it. I just couldn’t get the spells to work.”
That, Tobas thought, might mean that Derithon had attuned the protective spells to accept her, and her failure to make any of the magic work might indicate that some sort of confusion spell was in use; the book could still be dangerous, but he decided to risk it. He reached down and lifted the cover.
Nothing happened. The book opened as easily as any ordinary volume, revealing the blank flyleaf. A faint musty odor reached Tobas.
He lifted the flyleaf in turn, revealing the title page, which read, in sprawling, awkward runes, “Derithon of Helde, His Spells, Begun in The Thirteenth Year of His Age, The Four Thousand, Five Hundred, and Twenty-Third Year After the Gods Taught Men to Speak, During the Great War Against the Northern Empire.”
Tobas marveled at that for a moment; this book was almost seven hundred years old. He guessed that it must bear some powerful preservative spell, as the paper was still white and supple and the ink only slightly faded.
Carefully, handling the book with great respect, he turned past two blank pages. The next page was smudged and indecipherable; he skipped over that to the next.
The writing on this page was still sharp and clear, and Tobas stared at it for a long moment, a smile gradually spreading across his face.
The page was neatly headed “Thrindle’s Combustion” and described that familiar spell accurately and succinctly. There was obviously no confusion spell at work.
A footnote at the bottom of the page caught his eye; the handwriting and ink were slightly different, leading him to assume it had been added later. It read, “Use caution! Application of the Combustion to anything already burning seems to result in an explosion out of all proportion to the materials involved.”
He had more or less found that out for himself back in Roggit’s little cottage, but it was somehow reassuring to see it confirmed independently.
A moment’s study also revealed why Karanissa had been unable to make the spell work. Under “Ingredients,” Derithon had listed only brimstone and a small cross-shaped mark that appeared to be a mere decoration or space holder. Similarly, in describing the two motions that the spell required, one was also marked with the little cross.
No mention was made anywhere of an athame or even of a dagger; the gesture marked with the cross was the one made with the athame, while the unmarked motion was, as Tobas well knew, made with the free hand while flinging a speck of brimstone.
Even in his private Book of Spells, Derithon had done his best to keep the Guild’s secrets. Karanissa, being a witch, would have no athame, at least, so far as Tobas knew, no equivalent to the athame was used in witchcraft, and would not have guessed at the little symbol’s meaning. She would have no reason to think it had any meaning; Derithon had done a good job of making it appear to be no more than a flourish. Not every wizardly spell required an athame, though — or, at least, so he understood. He flipped quickly through several pages, however, and found the little athame symbol on virtually every one. Derithon had apparently not cared for spells that did not use the athame, or perhaps he had simply never come across many.
Tobas did find one; but as it was indeed a hypnotic spell, he could see how Karanissa would have had great difficulty testing it, as she had said. Much farther on he found a love potion that did not call for an athame, but she would have had little use for that, either.
He wondered for a moment, though, whether Derithon had often used such a potion, perhaps even on Karanissa.
Quite aside from his discovery of the athame symbol, he found an amazing and fascinating variety of spells, more than he had known existed; the book was a fat one, several hundred pages long, perhaps even a thousand.
