Suddenly aware of her nakedness, she gathered the blanket around her body to shield her from the eyes of her visitor whom, she knew by Shadow's discomfort, had not yet departed. Lauris couldn't sense him any more, though. Where was—
And then he announced his presence a second time. As she watched, the pages of the book lying in front of her began to turn, as if flipped by a gentle wind, then stopped. Her heart nearly shaking her with its pounding, Lauris glanced down at the spell.
"A Spell to Reanimayte the Dead."
She blinked, confused. This spell seemed identical to the first. Same list of items, the same charge that it be performed on Lammas Night—it was a duplicate. No, not quite. One word was different. One single word—the difference between true death, and new life.
I want to be with you, whispered the voice inside her head.
Lauris knew that when she accepted the privileges of wizard-kind, there came hand in hand with those advantages a terrible responsibility: to always use the magic wisely, and in the service of the Light. She had sworn at the end of her apprenticeship to help, heal, do no harm, perform no spell that was not of the Light. But neither spell indicated if it were for good or ill. She could not ignore the situation. She would go mad. She had to act—but which spell should she cast? Should she send the spirit of Blayne, clearly cut down before his time, to eternal sleep?
Or should she bring him back?
At that instant, Lauris wished with all her heart that she were married to the lowliest, crudest, drunkest peasant, with no shoes, no learning, four children to tend and a fifth swelling in her belly. It would be easier than this dreadful decision.
She bowed her head and began to cry.
From a corner of the room where he had taken refuge, Shadow stared at the unseen thing and hissed angrily.
It was fitting that Lammas Night fell when the moon was in her crone phase—dying, as the young god, as the harvest season itself, symbolically died. The winds were fierce and batted the clouds about the heavens, alternately revealing and obscuring the waning moon.
Lauris had moved the furniture into the corners to create a working space. She moved jerkily, her mouth set in a thin, grim line. She did not look like a wizard in control of the spell; she did not feel like one. Murmuring the incantation written in both the spell for banishment and reanimation, she strewed wheat flour on the floor, casting a sacred circle.
The door was open. Though the wind raged outside, it did not penetrate inside to disturb her work.
Now it begins, she thought. Oh, gods, give me the strength to make the right decision.
She closed her eyes and began the chant common to both spells, sanctifying the circle and honoring each of the four quarters with a gift: a feather for the East, a lit flame for the South, a bowl of water for the West, a dish of loam for the North.
"I call forth representatives of the forces of Light and Shadow, who would battle for the soul of this man!" she cried imperiously, flinging up her hands. To her right, she felt rather than saw something warm and protective materialize. But on her left, the essence of darkness manifested, and from that part of the room she sensed a deep, deep cold, and a malevolence that extended far beyond the confines of this world. She shuddered, but knew that her circle protected her.
"I summon the spirit of the wizard Blayne of Greenhaven to this which was his home in life!" Her voice was hoarse, and she realized that the wind had risen. In the distance, but growing ever closer, thunder boomed. A storm would be here soon.
Dust billowed, caught by the wind, directly outside the door. No—not dust. It was something else, something that swirled and twisted and out of which grew a shape, a shape that Lauris knew, had held, had kissed.
He was nearly transparent at first, then began to take on color and detail. He stood at least six feet, slender but not slight. His face contorted with the agony of being brought back into form and substance, but it was a face with clean lines and dark, wise eyes. His hair was the color of wheat, his skin milky pale.
Lauris's voice caught in her throat. The next step to complete the incantation—either one—was to issue a Command. One word would send Blayne back permanently into the sleep of death. The other would give him a second life.
Shadow crouched behind her, safe within the circle. He hissed and cowered, spitting angrily. Does he know something I don't know? Lauris thought despairingly. But that could not be it; for good or evil, Blayne was at the moment an unnatural creature, caught between death, undeath and true life. She knew that Shadow would have hissed at her, had she been where the other wizard was now. The familiar's hostile reaction was no clue as to Blayne's nature.
She had to speak, choose, or else the circle would collapse and the agents of Light and Darkness would battle for possession of them both. Desperately, Lauris glanced to Them for aid, but They remained silent. This was her choice.
Let me come, pleaded Blayne silently, warm in her thoughts. The Blayne-thing stretched out its arms imploringly.
If she chose wrongly...
She opened her mouth, not knowing which Command would come out, surrendering to that part of her mind beyond thought.