Thrice Bound Read online

  "Why do you not come in? Can you believe you will not be an honored guest in my house?" he asked.

  Hekate smiled slowly. "You are a good man, Yasmakh, and I am sure I would be well treated and honored in your house. The question I must ask is whether I would be as free to leave it as I was to enter it."

  "Why would you wish to leave? You will want for nothing, ever."

  Hekate's smile broadened into a full laugh. "Except for anything to interest me. I have told you that I have grown very fond of traveling, that I am eager to see new places and learn new remedies and to find a healer who will take me as an apprentice. Is there such a healer in your city?"

  "We don't have female healers in Quatna," he said, lips pinched a little in distaste. "Women are properly cared for here." He frowned. "You are a fine and beautiful woman, Hekate. I have told you I will put the care of my house and my daughter in your hands. I will even marry you without any dowry or—"

  "Thank you, Yasmakh," Hekate cried, clasping his hands and then nearly laughed aloud again at his expression of consternation; clearly the thought of marrying a woman without a dowry, no matter how good and beautiful, was not completely to Yasmakh's taste. Having had her fun, she put him out of his misery by saying sadly, "But I must refuse your most generous offer."

  A flash of relief, then indignation. "Refuse? Why?"

  Hekate sighed. "Because I will die of boredom in your house. Besides, I don't wish to be your wife—or any man's wife. I am determined to become a healer. You know I have ability; look at Yasmina running about."

  Unease marked Yasmakh's expression when Hekate reminded him of her `abilities' and Yasmina's cure. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and said, "Ridiculous. Why should you be barely above a servant, needing to obey anyone's call, when you could be mistress of a fine house?" He put his hand on her arm and Kabeiros growled. Yasmakh looked down. "He doesn't like me. And a city is no place for a dog of his size. You will have to be rid of him."

  For one instant Hekate froze. Then she leaned closer to Yasmakh, her body rigid with threat. "I will never be rid of Kabeiros," she hissed. "I would far sooner be rid of you. And I can be!" Yasmakh let go of her arm and stepped back, staring. She straightened and smiled meaningfully. "Don't take it as a personal failing. Kabeiros doesn't like any man who thinks he has a claim on me. You have none, Yasmakh."

  "Not true." Stubbornly he would not yield to a woman, even though his voice was somewhat tremulous. "You saved my daughter's life," he protested. "Now I owe a life to you. I can't allow you to travel on alone."

  "I had no intention of traveling on alone," Hekate said, brows raised. "I will find another caravan and offer myself as a healer, Kabeiros as a guard and hunter. And for assurances of my skill and honesty and his ability, since I wear your badge, I intended to give your name." She met his eyes. "Will you deny me a few words of praise? Is this the thanks I get for healing Yasmina?"

  "It is for your own good!" he exclaimed. "It is not safe or reasonable for a woman to desire to live alone without the support and guidance of a man."

  Hekate shook her head. "I will not stay with you, even if you give me the reputation of a thief and murderess. I will simply go on alone with Kabeiros . . . and hope your lies choke you." Yasmakh stiffened and put a hand to his throat, his eyes wide. Hekate smiled again. "You don't really want me here any more, Yasmakh. You suspect all kinds of things about me, but I saved your daughter and you will never be able to say them." She nodded as he touched his throat again. "Let me go, and I will bless your name."

  "Very well, very well," he agreed. "I know a good, honest caravan master who is headed toward Hamath. Will that suit you?"

  "That will suit me perfectly, Yasmakh. I will wait here, by your gate, until you are ready to take me to the caravanserai and introduce me to the caravan master."

  CHAPTER 11

  Fifteen—or perhaps it was seventeen—caravans later Hekate walked wearily beside her pack ass in the string of animals as they moved steadily toward the river. Her glance took in the busy traffic. Colchis was a prosperous city and from her present vantage point, very beautiful.

  Hekate thought that she, too, had prospered in the nearly two years since she had left Yasmakh. The pack ass had been purchased with fees she had earned and gifts from grateful patients. She could have purchased a riding ass as well as the pack animal, but she could not bring herself to ride when Kabeiros had to walk every foot of the way. And the distance from him when she was mounted, the inability to touch him, had an unsettling effect on her. From the back of an ass, she saw the man too clearly. She needed to touch the dog to remind herself of what was real, what unreal, no matter that her heart cried for it.

  She put her hand on the dog's head. Now they were in Colchis. Perhaps she would find someone who knew how to untangle strands of magic trapped in a Gift—but she didn't dare think much about that tantalizing prospect until she discovered whether the Gifted were regarded with the same toleration that use of magic was.

  The pack ass's head was hanging. It was tired, poor beast, and had a right to be. It was just as well that she hadn't bought a saddle ass; she couldn't have done much riding in the past three moons anyway. She shuddered slightly as she recalled that trek, in turn freezing and burning desert and nearly perpendicular mountains cut by madly rushing, unfordable rivers. No more comfortable caravanserais; no more busy markets by the city gates where she could lay out her herbs and packets of remedies.

  Almost all of her profits had come from the cities—Aleppo, where she had to wait a full moon for a caravan master she could trust and Kanish and Satala where she had spent the winters. No one in the meager villages they had stopped at to find shelter since leaving Satala could pay in metal for her cures—and many needed them.

  Most could barely afford the food they offered her. But in one place she had been given small rugs of unusual softness and exquisite design. Those were offered by the weaving community as a whole for a remedy she had devised for the swollen, aching finger joints engendered by their work. The salve was purely herbal, as she assured the village wise-woman who asked if the spell would need to be renewed, and she told her how to prepare it—if she could find the ingredients. But the question about magic had not been fearful, and the farther north they traveled, the more acceptable magic became.

  In another place, she had been asked by the priest of the village if she had any healing spells and had exchanged one for a spell that could hold people and animals frozen in a moment of time. The priest warned her that the spell never lasted long. He thought the life-force of those it was cast upon negated the spell. Judging from how she read him and that Kabeiros could hardly smell his magic, Hekate thought the priest simply didn't have enough power to cast the spell properly. She was more concerned about the length of the spell itself than how long it would last. The invocation was so lengthy, she was sure the intended victim would have time to walk away or even to attack the spell-caster.

  More interesting even than the spell was the fact that she had no reluctance at all to teach the priest her spell to stop bleeding and no reluctance—even an eagerness—to learn the new spell. When she considered casting it to see how long it would take and whether she could make it work, she again felt her body stiffen, her throat close with fear.

  That was ridiculous! She had just learned the spell from the village priest. He used magic all the time—he had told her so, and the villagers clearly regarded magic as a useful tool, not something to be feared or hated. Moreover the priest had said nothing about magic being reserved for those consecrated to a god. Yet within her was a frantic warning that giving her the spell was a trap, that if she tried to use it, she would be caught and punished severely.

  Once they were out of the village, Hekate had fought down her ridiculous fear and attempted to use the spell on a rabbit she spotted in a field, holding Kabeiros back from his normal instinct to chase. As she expected, the rabbit hopped off out of sight before she had finished the lengthy invocatio
n.

  *Useless,* she had said to Kabeiros. *Even with much practice, there is a limit to how fast words can be spoken without slurring one into another. Too bad. If it were less unwieldy, that spell could be of value. If I had stopped that rabbit, you could have walked over and taken it at your leisure.*

  *Don't you dare!* Kabeiros had responded. *You will deprive me of half the pleasure this life affords, and atop that make me feel like a murderer. It's one thing to pit the prey's speed and skill at dodging and hiding against my ability as a hunter. It's another to kill a poor paralyzed beast. I'd have to be very weak, sick, and hungry to be willing to take an animal in that condition.*

  So the useless spell had been stored away in Hekate's capacious memory. She never forgot a spell no matter how worthless it seemed or how long it had gone unused. The spells must be intact and perfect because . . .

  Hekate never got beyond that because. She remembered noticing that at the time she told Kabeiros the spell was useless, remembered resolving to think about why it was necessary to remember so many spells . . . but she had never done so. At that moment Kabeiros had shot away from the caravan and around the patch of brush in which Hekate had seen the rabbit disappear. The thought had slipped away while she waited for the dog to bring back his prey and never returned until just now.

  Her brow furrowed. Why now? Why was she thinking of spells and magic while she was watching the movement of boats in the river? And then she stared more fixedly. It was a perfectly calm day. No breeze stirred the leaves of the trees along the road and most of the boats in the river were being propelled by oars. One ship, black and slender with a pointed prow painted with huge, staring eyes and a high stern, was speeding up the center of the river, against the current, its large sail bowed forward as if it were filled with a strong wind. Behind the sail, in the stern of the boat, Hekate could make out a man pointing a staff at the sail. She drew in her breath, her hand stroking her own staff. Kabeiros suddenly pressed against her and butted his head into her hand.

  *You are looking at the ship, too, aren't you? That's strong magic . . . But Hekate, I don't smell it.* The mental voice sounded uncertain, shocked. *I don't sense any magic at all!*

  *Neither do I,* Hekate admitted, her heart pounding in her throat.

  *Be careful,* the hound warned. *Be very careful. I thought at first that no one would fault you for using magic here. I saw people openly hawking spells along the road as we passed—*

  *Yes, but I thought they were worthless because I couldn't feel them.*

  *And I agreed with you because I couldn't smell them. But it seems, instead, that their magic is invisible to us.*

  There was a long pause, empty of mind touch. Man and dog had both withdrawn, blind eyes turned toward the river. Hekate watched too, fascinated, as the man in the stern of the ship lowered his staff. The sail sagged, sagged more. The staff tip touched the deck. The ship's forward motion slowed. Oars were lowered into the water. The helmsman, half hidden by the man with the staff, moved his arms. The ship turned toward the dock. Wet oars flashed in the sunlight according to some pattern the helmsman or the man with the staff decreed, and the ship was maneuvered toward the docks bordering Colchis.

  *I wonder—* Kabeiros' mind voice continued *—if our magic is invisible to them? And if they cannot sense it, will they think that what is merely magic is a Gift?*

  *Do you think that would be dangerous? That here, too, the Gifted are not welcome?*

  Hekate could feel the dog's shoulder rise and fall against her thigh. *I hope not. If being Gifted is forbidden here, we have come a long way for no purpose.*

  *Unless someone has a draining spell I could use against my father.*

  Even as she said it, Hekate knew she was not ready yet to confront Perses, even if she had a draining spell. But that didn't matter. She would remember the spell perfectly because . . .

  They were at the river. Now she would need to make her farewells to the caravan master. And, indeed, she could see him making his way along the line of pack animals, counting off nine, unhooking the lead rein of the tenth, and summoning a groom who came running to take the lead.

  Meanwhile the head groom was leading the nine animals onto a wooden pier built out into the river. He untied the fourth animal from the first three and his assistant came to hold them while he induced the three he led onto a broad gangway connected to a large, flat-bottomed barge. He fastened the beasts to something on the deck and went back up the gangway to lead down another three. The groom who had taken the lead of the tenth animal, now led it down toward the dock. The barge was being untied from the dock. Several men distributed themselves at the stern and began to push with long poles while two men at the prow pulled on a thick, knotted line that led across the river.

  By then the caravan master had reached Hekate. "My agreement with you ends when we cross the river," he said, "but I would gladly extend it. You have been useful—and despite being a woman, no trouble. I don't know what you did to my drovers, but I can tell you they didn't even talk among themselves about having you."

  "I think it is more Kabeiros than me," she said, smiling. "You know he warns off any person he feels is unwelcome to me. Since your men fear and respect you too much to consider murdering me, and since they all knew I would never rest until every person that harmed Kabeiros was dead, they left me alone. Of course, I made it plain that I was not seeking any man. And I thank you for your offer, but I must stay in Colchis for some time."

  The caravan master frowned. "I hope you know what you do. This is a very strange place. The goods I find here are so rare and precious, it is worth my risk to come, but I would not stay here for long."

  Hekate shrugged. "I hope to find a master who will teach me magic that I don't know. And to tell you the truth—" she grinned at him "—I cannot think of anything that would induce me to go back over the mountains and deserts we have passed. If I must leave Colchis . . . I will take passage on a ship."

  The caravan master stared at her, eyes round with horror. "But that is ten times more dangerous than the deserts or the mountains," he protested, shuddering. "You dislike the wastes and the heights so you will trust yourself to a few frail boards floating on a heaving ocean?"

  "Ships are not so frail, or many traders would have no goods to carry over land." Hekate laughed. "Anyway, that is moons or even years in the future. For now, I must see if I can find a master."

  "Well, if you will not listen to reason, will you at least take my advice about the city?"

  "Indeed I will, and with gratitude," Hekate said.

  "Very well." The caravan master sighed. "You had better come on the last barge with me. When we come off the barge, we will start toward the palace on Merchants Road, but do not tie your beast to the others. You will go only a short way with us. We will pass a large market that is bordered on its north side with a broad, paved road. I will point it out to you. That is Market Road. You will turn left onto that road and follow it a fairly long way until you come to a five-way crossroad all of paved roads. Do not go straight ahead as that is the Royal Way and is reserved for visitors to the palace and for the great nobles who live around the palace. The crossroad that is not the Royal Way—it is not so grand as the Royal Way, but very smooth and clean—is Sorcerers Road. I would suggest to you that you turn left into Sorcerers Road and walk down until you find an inn in which you can be comfortable."

  "Why not turn right? Is that also noble territory?"

  "Almost." The caravan master grimaced. "To the right are the sorcerers and magicians who are richest and most closely allied to the palace. I doubt you'll find a lodging or a teacher you can afford on that part of the road. Also, you should make sure you understand what is accepted, welcomed, or forbidden before you deal with those."

  "Do you know of anyone I can go to for advice about magical matters?"

  He pursed his lips. "I wouldn't say I know any of these people or trust them either, but I've dealt with an old man called Yehoraz. I use h
im to make sure the goods I buy are not enhanced by magic—or if they are that the magic will last, not fade and leave me with dross. He's a sullen sort, but I can't complain that he didn't do his work. I've had no complaints about the goods I sold."

  "And are you willing to tell me where to find this man?"

  "Why not?" He shrugged. "Everyone likes to be recommended by his customers, and Yehoraz sells his services just as I sell my goods. He may not be willing to deal with you if he thinks you'll be a rival, but that's between you and him. So, when you come to Sorcerers Road and turn left, you walk almost down to the docks. There are many inns by the docks and they're cheap, but I wouldn't lodge there. The nobles' bodyguards come down there to protect their masters' goods and they're a rough, arrogant lot. Kabeiros is a fine dog, but he wouldn't last long against ten soldiers."

  "You may be sure I'll stay away from those docks," Hekate said. "I've no reason to go there. What of other places on the Sorcerers Road? Would they be safe?"

  The caravan master shrugged. "I've never lodged there, but I don't think the sorcerers would favor the nobles' guards assaulting their clients so it should be safe. The trouble is that Yehoraz lives on the street I mentioned, Porters Way, and the porters and guards take that road to the Royal Way. Yehoraz's house is about midway up that street so you'll have to use it."

  "I think I could manage not to be noticed going to Yehoraz's house, but for lodging?"

  After thinking a moment and making a dissatisfied moue, he said, "It wouldn't be practical for you to lodge in the Merchant's Quarter. It's not far from Sorcerers Road as the crow flies, but the palace is in between and you can't cross the palace grounds or travel on the Royal Way." He snorted gently. "You should be able to find a place on Sorcerers Road north of the Porters Way. That should be safe."

  All the while they were speaking, they had been moving closer to the pier. The barge had crossed once, returned, and taken a second load. It was midway back on its second trip, and the caravan master left Hekate to attend to the order in which the last two batches of animals would go.