“Certainly. 1 have extracted all of it by myself.” Amer’s voice rang with a note of pride.
“Ah. So I feared,” Moggard said. “I am sure, Master Amer, that you can appreciate our predicament. We cannot have a man practicing without—ah—having been initiated.”
Amer’s gaze sharpened. “I wasn’t aware you had any jurisdiction over the situation.”
“Not technically, perhaps.” Moggard’s smile turned toothy. “But we have ways of influencing affairs, for people who disagree with us. For example, I’m certain you have realized that your expulsion from Salem was not purely spontaneous.”
Amer frowned. “That the goodfolk did not originate the notion of my being a warlock? I was aware Samona had put the idea into their heads. . . .”
“But you also must have realized that a female, so young and with so little influence, would not have sufficed to arouse so fierce a movement.” Moggard crowded closer. “No, no, she had a great deal of support from some very influential citizens, very influential.”
“Such as . . . Goody Coister? And Sexton Karrier?”
“Them, yes.” Moggard nodded vigorously. “And others—there were several others, all substantial citizens.”
“And all members of your coven.”
“Not mine, no; my coven is elsewhere. But of the Salem coven, yes. We did wish it to be lethal . . .”
Samona looked up, shocked.
“. . . so that the problem you represent would have had a final solution—but unfortunately, you were too adroit for the mob.”
“The action was ill-considered.” Amer frowned. “It will rebound on you—not immediately, perhaps, but it will rebound.”
“Oh, I think you underestimate us—as we underestimated you. No, the knowledge and skill you have demonstrated make you a problem of great significance.”
“Why, thank you!”
“I assure you, though it is a compliment, it is also a statement of menace—so you will understand that we must revoke your powers.”
Amer smiled slowly. “May I ask how you propose to accomplish this?”
Moggard pursed his blubber lips thoughtfully. Then he said, “It’s somewhat irregular, but a man of your ability merits the courtesy.”
Meaning, Amer realized, that Moggard hoped to frighten Amer out of his dedication to God and goodness, and add both him and his powers to the coven.
Grinning again, Moggard said, “Master Amer, all your powers are based on knowledge of certain laws which your investigations have revealed, are they not?”
“They are.”
“Then I am certain you realize what the consequences would be if these laws were suspended in a certain area and if that area were to surround you, rather like a cloud, no matter where you were to go.”
The smile faded from Amer’s lips. “You have the power to do this?”
“Yes, my—ah—superior has arranged it for me.”
“And of course you would not hesitate to use it.”
“Of course.” Moggard’s grin widened. “Unless, of course, you were to apply for membership in the Brotherhood.”
“I see.” Amer’ s voice was calm, but his face was white. He turned away and looked at the fire in the grate. “And if I don’t choose to apply, you will cancel my powers by suspending all natural and supernatural laws within my immediate area.”
“That is correct.”
“The forces that hold the tiniest bits of matter together would lose their hold—and everything about me would turn to dust.”
“To a dust so fine that we could not see it,” the warlock agreed.
“Including food.”
“Ah, I see you have grasped the essence of the situation,” Moggard chortled.
“In short, if I refuse to sell my soul, I die by slow starvation.”
“Indeed you would! Admirable perception, sir! Really, you delight me.”
“Starve!” Samona turned to the warlock sharply. She was white-faced, and her lips trembled as she spoke. “No, Moggard! You said you would do no more than make him powerless!”
“True, my dear, but at that time I had no idea that he had garnered so much—ah—wisdom.”
“I’ll not let you harm him!”
A new glint appeared in Moggard’s eye, and he waddled up to her with a rapt, fascinated stare.
“Oh, do try to stop me, my dear!” he gurgled. “Such an act would make you liable to discipline” —and his voice dropped to a low, giggling tone— “of my choosing.”
Samona backed away from him, revolted and trembling. Giggling, Moggard followed her.
“Let her be!” Amer shouted, brandishing the poker. Moggard spun, and then he waddled up to Amer, and his giggling became almost hysterical.
“So you, too, wish a display of my powers?”
Amer fell back. A bony hand shot out and closed round his wrist. He stared down into the flaming eyes of Death.
“Loose me!” Death said in a low, angry voice. “Loose me and I’ll rid you of him forever!”
Amer stared at Death, and then he looked up at Samona, pressed blanched and trembling against the wall. He shook his head slowly.
“Are you a fool?” Death hissed. Then, in a tone of mild disgust, “Don’t worry, these two have convinced me you’re no sorcerer.”
Amer just shook his head again.
“Why?” Death’s voice was hoarse with rage. But then he realized that Amer was looking at the witch, not the warlock. He sat back in his chair, glowering at the alchemist.
“I see,” he said bitterly. “Thus are men made powerless. I’d thought better of you than that, Amer.”
“Come, sir!” Moggard gurgled. “Will you sign your name in our—ah— ‘captain’s’ book? Or will you die?”
Cold determination crystallized within Amer. He stood straight and tall, giving the sorcerer a stony glance. “I have never had any dealings with the Devil, Master Moggard, and I will not have any now—even at the cost of my life.”
“As you will, then,” Moggard giggled, and his voice had the sound of twigs crackling in a fire. He stretched out his paw and spoke a polysyllable that was mostly consonants, and Amer saw the objects around him dissolve as all laws, natural and supernatural, ceased. In a few seconds everything near him was powder.
Including the miniature skeleton, the wire, and the table and with them, the spell that held Death bound.
Death shot to his feet, and the skeleton hand closed on Moggard’s neck. The sorcerer turned to stare into the flaming eye sockets, and his face had scarcely registered his horror before he fainted.
“You see what comes of cowardice, Amer,” Death said. “Had you loosed me when I asked, I might have spared your witch for you. But now she too must come with me.” And he stalked toward Samona.
“Wait!” Amer shouted. “Give her a chance. Can’t you spare her if she gives up her witchcraft?”
Death halted. He fixed his blazing stare on Samona.
“Your absinthe was good,” he said. “This one time I’ll be clement.”
Amer breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come then, she-devil,” Death said. “Which will it be? Life or damnation?”
Samona looked from Death to Amer and back again, and then she stood away from the wall and straightened her back.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” she said, and the look she threw at Amer was pure hate. “Yes, I renounce the darkness.”
“Well enough!” Death turned and stalked to the door, dragging Moggard along like a rag doll. He paused with his hand on the latch and turned to Amer.
“Farewell, alchemist. You’ve won your witch. But I wish you luck, for you’ve made a bad bargain.” And Death threw open the door and in two long strides was lost in the stormy night. The cabin returned to normal, but only for seconds. Then the wind shrieked in joy and tore into the cabin.