For Love of Evil (2 page)

"Yes," she whispered.

"Will you have some milk? I have plenty."

She nodded mutely, seeming afraid to speak such greed aloud. He got up and went to the table and poured a mugful. He brought it to her.

She took it, and sipped it carefully. He knew she was honoring his cautions, which she took to be meaningless; but he knew also that she was far more likely to keep the food down if she went slowly. She was a typical peasant girl in that she had seldom if ever been properly fed.

"And so I learned the disciplines of law and medicine and magic," Parry said. "Also combat-and the arts. The art of communication among them. I doubt you have had much difficulty understanding me."

She nodded, her smile coming more freely now.

"But I suspect you are wondering why I asked for you."

The fear flared up again, and the remaining milk slopped in the mug. "I have done you no harm!"

"And I shall do you no harm," he replied automatically. "I am fifteen years old now, and in good health. I am becoming a man. That means I am ready for a woman."

Now the milk slopped over the brim. "Oh, please, lord-"

"Surely you know that my father would have brought me any woman I wished," he said.

She nodded, her hands still shaking.

"Obviously I asked for you. Why do you think I should want an illiterate peasant girl one year my junior?"

Her breathing was becoming labored. "Oh, please-"

"Stop that!" he snapped. "Answer the question."

She took a shuddering breath. "Be-because I am the only virgin without disease in the village."

"No."

"But it is true, lord! No man has touched me."

"I know it is true, but that is not why I asked for you. Try again."

"Because my father owed-"

"No! All the villagers owe the Sorcerer!"

She shrugged. "Then I do not know, Lord."

"Parry! Call me Parry! That's my name. I am low-born, like you."

"Parry," she agreed faintly.

"I asked for you because I want the best woman I can get, and you are that one."

Now she laughed. "You do ill to tease me so, lor-Parry."

"It is true that you are young, but so am I. You are potentially the smartest and the prettiest woman of the village. That is why-"

This time her laugh was wholehearted. "I am the thinnest and dumbest waif in the village!" she protested. "How can you pretend otherwise?"

Parry leaned forward, leaching for her. She shrank away, but he persisted, catching hold of a hank of her hair at her shoulder. "Look at this," he said earnestly. "Goldenesses, like few known here in the south of France. Look at your face: perfect. Not even any scars from the pox."

"I have scars," she said, almost eageriy. "But they don't show."

"All you need is some feeding, and you will flesh out into sheer loveliness. You have the frame already; I can see it clearly."

She drew her dress more closely about her, fearing that her body showed. "You shouldn't look!"

"Figuratively, I mean. I have learned to see folk for what they are and for what they can be; my father taught me that. He had me look at the villagers whenever we were in the village, and choose the best woman. Had I chosen wrongly, he would have served me as I deserved for my error."

She was not persuaded, but she was flattered, and curious. "How would that be?"

"He would have delivered that wrong girl to me."

Again she laughed. "And so he did!"

"No. I have no doubt of this. You are the one."

Her doubt remained, but she was beginning to accept the fact that he believed. "What will you have of me, then?"

"Your love."

She looked stricken, having briefly dared hope for escape. "I dare not deny you. Parry."

"I said your love, not your body! I want you to love me."

"I fear you," she said. "Is that enough?"

"No. You must come to know me, and to love me."

She spread her hands slightly. "You promised never to summon me again, after this night."

"And I shall not! You must come only if you choose."

"If The Sorcerer chooses."

"No! It must be free. It shall be free."

"I do not understand you."

Parry got up and fetched a sheet of paper, one of the valuable supplies his father provided him with. He took a stick of charcoal and began to mark it, gazing intently at her. "I have been trained also in the art of persuasion," he said. "This is my test: to persuade you. If I prove unable to do so, then I will fail, and my father will be disappointed. I must not fail, for there is no other woman as right for me as you. I must have you with me as I step out into the world as a sorcerer."

"I have no truck with magic!" she exclaimed with some asperity. "It is the work of the devil!"

"No. Black magic is the work of the devil. White magic is the work of the Church. It is white magic I am learning. It is beneficial to man and good for the soul."

She shrugged. "I wish you would let me go. I fear what sorcery you may work on me."

"Give me one more hour," he said earnestly. "If I cannot persuade you in that time, then I will know it is not to be."

"You talk so foolishly! I am not to be persuaded! I am here to be-" She hesitated, then forced herself to finish. "Taken."

"Persuaded," he said firmly. "Just as I was given a far better life by the intervention of the Lord God, so may you also be. I can offer you good food, better than what you have just eaten. Good clothing, better than what you wear now. The warmth of the fire, every night. The respect, even the awe, of the villagers-"

"Why torment me like this?" she protested. "I know none of it can be true!"

He set aside his charcoal and turned the paper to her. "What do you see?"

Her eyes rounded with surprise. "You drew this?"

"You saw me doing it. Who is it?"

"The Madonna!" she exclaimed. "You can draw! But you had no model!"

"I had a model."

"But you were looking at me-" She faltered. "It cannot be! She is so lovely!"

"It is you, Jolie-as you can be. When properly fed and dressed. When your beauty manifests to others as it does to me now."

"No!" she said, bemused and flattered.

"It is what you will be, if you come to me. If you love me, and let me love you. It is the potential I see in you, that I know will appear if it is allowed."

She stared at the sketch, fascinated. "You believe this?"

"I know this. Yet this is only the lesser half of it. Even as the soul is more than the flesh, your mind is more than your body. You can be brilliant!"

"I cannot even read," she said. "Or figure."

"I can teach you these. I know you can learn. I believe you have the desire. Will you not allow me to try?"

Her gaze became canny. "So I will return to you every night for your pleasure? You would fool me with impossible promises, so that this night will be not the end, but only the beginning?"

"Only the beginning," he agreed. "But not of delusion. All that I have told you is true-or will be true, if you accept it. Please, I beg of you-give me this chance!"

"You beg of me? You have no need to beg, only to command. You know that."

"A command is made to an unwilling person, without love," he said. "A plea is made to a person one respects."

"Peasants are not respected!" she exclaimed.

"Jolie, I will offer you a job, so it is legitimate. To be my servant. I will pay you a fair wage. I will give you a coin tonight, that you can take home and show as evidence. Then will you return?"

"But you said you don't want my body, you want my love. A servant doesn't love."

"It is only a pretext. I will not treat you as a servant. I will treat you as an apprentice."

"An apprentice! To be a sorcerer?"

"And to be my wife."

"Blessed Mary!" she breathed, staring at him almost in shock.

"What more can I promise you?" he asked. "I want your love. I want you to know me and to love me. I will do anything you ask."

She sighed."I know my place. I am a poor, ignorant peasant giri. I know that none of this is to be believed. I wish you would just do what you mean to do and let me go, so that I need not fear evil anymore, because it will be behind me. You have no cause to mix up my mind."

Parry saw her slipping away despite his best effort. He could not let it happen. He realized he would have to do what he had sought to avoid. He would have to enchant her.

"What do you fear of me?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you that! The uttering of it might make it come true."

"Do you fear that I will ravish you and cast you out despoiled, so that your father will beat you for being of lesser value on the marriage market?"

She nodded, agreeing without uttering.

"Do you not wonder why I have not done it long since, instead of talking with you?"

"I have been asking you that!"

"Can you not accept that what I am telling you is true?"

"I cannot."

"Then let me show you the nature of my power."

She tried to shrink back against the hearthstones. "I believe it already!"

"Look at me, Jolie. Gaze into my eyes and do not flinch."

She nerved herself for the inevitable and obeyed.

Parry invoked the magic of mesmerism. He accessed her mind through her eyes and made it responsive to his verbal commands. She would now obey any reasonable directive, and any unreasonable directive if it were suitably couched to seem reasonable. Almost anything could be done with a mesmerized person, if the sorcerer was sufficiently skilled.

"Listen to me," he said. "Believe what I say. Do not question it."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his.

"I am about to teach you to fly," he said. "Follow my instructions, and you will fly. Are you ready to fly?"

She hesitated, obviously wishing to question this, but constrained by his injunction against that. She nodded, ill at ease despite the power of the spell.

"Spread your arms," he said. She did so. Now the holes in her dress were revealed; she had held her arms close to her body before, hiding the condition of the dress. Stitching had made up much of the damage, but it was not enough; he could see a portion of her right breast through the stitching. The breast was small, because she was young and because she was ill nourished; still, it threatened to distract him from this demonstration, so he forced his gaze away from it.

"You are now poised for flight," he said. "When you flap your arms you will rise into the air. Be careful, because the space is limited here; you do not want to bang into the roof. Do it slowly, and remain in control."

Still she looked doubtful.

"Flap your arms," he said.

She lifted and dropped her arms, imitating the motion of the wings of a bird, awkwardly.

"You are now rising from the floor," he said. "Look down. What do you see?"

She remained on the floor, moving her arms. But her face as she looked down changed. Sheer wonder showed. "I-I am hovering in the air!" she exclaimed.

"I have taught you to fly," he said. "But you are as yet clumsy. It takes practice to do it well. When you can do it well, we can fly outside. Now come down, carefully."

She changed her motions, then her knees bent and she almost lost her balance. She recovered, and stood normally, her bosom heaving. "I am down!"

"The lesson is over," he said. "Do not attempt to fly again tonight. Fix this experience in your memory. When I snap my fingers you will be free of my power."

He waited a moment, then snapped his fingers.

Her attitude changed. She looked warily at him. "You enchanted me!" she exclaimed.

"I enchanted you," he agreed.

"But I flew!"

"You did, and you did not. It is a matter of perspective. I made you seem to fly, but later I can make you fly in reality. This is an aspect of my power."

She looked about the room. "It was so real! But I didn't really fly?"

"You had a vision of flying. It would not have been safe for you really to fly at this time. You aren't dressed for it."

She glanced down at herself, and quickly pulled in her arms, covering the flaws in her dress. "Why did you do this to me?"

"To show you the kind of power I have, taught me by my father, the Sorcerer. I appeal now to your logic: if I can make you believe you are flying, do you understand I could make you believe that you must undress and do whatever I ask of you?"

She considered. "Yes," she whispered, awed.

"Can you now believe that what I am telling you is true? That I value your person, and want your love, not your enchantment?"

"Almost," she whispered.