The Witch Doctor

"Deer haunch." Gruesome nodded sagely and turned away. "Yom!"

I pulled out my clasp knife, snapped it open, and stepped up to touch the point against Suettay's throat. "Cut it," I snapped, "or I will!"

The last syllables of the chant died in the sorceress' throat as she read the conditional sentence in my eyes. But she saw something else, too, and a slow, mocking smile spread over her face. "You believe you have beaten me, then?"

"I did sort of have that impression, yes." Privately, I wondered how long I could hold the knife still.

"Slay me, then." Suettay smiled, showing teeth. I stared.

I clamped my jaw, narrowed my eyes. She was mocking me, riding a bluff. She should have known better; it only made sense for me to kill her. I braced myself for the thrust-and stayed braced. Suettay's eyes danced, mocking me.

I ground my teeth and tried to summon up the resolution for the fatal blow. "Start a spell."

Suettay shook her head, grin widening.

"Damn"' I whirled away, plunging the knife into the earth. Suettay laughed, a mocking bray. "I congratulate you on your ... honor, Wizard."

I swung about, fuming.

"Aye, slay the helpless old woman," the sorceress jeered.

"When you rendered me defenseless, Wizard, you bound your own hands."

"Nothing," I ground out, "gripes me more than someone who takes advantage of someone else's good nature."

"I could not be more pleased with your ... virtue." Suettay made the word an insult.

I spun away, burning, taking a deliberate step away from the woman so I wouldn't do something I'd feel sorry for in the morning. Behind me, the sorceress sang out a rhyme in that ancient language I didn't know. I spun about in alarm. She was stretching luxuriously.

"Thank you for affording me a moment to recite my counterspell, Wizard. Be assured, I'll not return the favor." Her hands started weaving.

I snatched up the knife and turned back to her, shifting from side to side, coming in low. Of course, she could have blocked that with three words, so I chanted,

"Her freedom is gained,
Her malice unfeigned!
The blow need not hold,
For blood's no longer ..."

Suettay stared, alarmed, then broke off her chant to cry, "Hist!" She held up a hand, turning her head a little to the side and frowning, as if listening to a distant sound.

Then she turned back to me, snarling, "How you have worked your vile spells, Wizard, I do not know - but I grant You've been far more formidable than I had thought you would be."

A truce? I wondered if it was wrong of me to feel relieved.

"I would I could stay and finish what we've so lately begun," Suettay spat, "but sudden, urgent affairs have arisen, which require my Personal attention - blast that monk and his obstinancy! We shall meet again, be certain - yet I must own, I've gained some respect for you. When next I see you, 'twill be with an army at my back."

Yes, I decided, wanting a truce was wrong. I screwed down my mercy and began reciting.

"Fear no more the heat of the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages."

Suettay looked up in amused surprise. I set my teeth and went on:

"Thou thy worldly task hast done;
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages."

Suettay cocked her head to the side suddenly, as if she were again listening for something.

Trying to distract me, I thought. I focused tightly on her face, chanting:

"Golden lads and girls all must"

Suettay turned back to me with a long, gloating laugh that ended abruptly in a shouted, unintelligible phrase as she swung her arms in opposing circles.

"As chimney sweepers!"

I shouted.

Suettay disappeared.

"... come to dust,"

I finished. "Damn. too!"

Then I started wondering what she had been laughing about. Probably just trying to distract me, as I'd thought ... but ... How about if she had seen some trouble coming for me and my companions?

On a wide-open plain? In the dead of night? Ridiculous! After an act like that, what trouble could make any difference?

Then I heard the clank of arms, Gilbert's shouting, and Frisson's howl, faint but clear across the plain. Gruesome roared, and a crowd of voices answered him. Metal clashed on metal.

"She sent an ambush party while she had me out of the way!" I cried. But I didn't answer; I was already running, and trying to figure out how I could get there faster.

Faster? I skidded to a halt. I was a wizard, wasn't I? At least, that's what they kept telling me. I could get to any place I wanted, instantly - at least, within this hallucination. All it took was the right spell.

"The trouble's fast-moving, and so must move I,
Till I'm set by the fire
'Neath this bright midnight sky.
Let me, in an instant, a league or more gain,
In the bat of an eye, far out 'cross this plain!"

There was a sudden rush of giddiness-then my head stopped swimming, and I looked up at mud-and-thatch walls, crude plank furniture, and dirty, unkempt people in ragged, dun-colored home spun.

The man of the house looked up, startled, from his place at the table. He had a long beard and a large axe.

I stared. What had gone wrong?

Terminology. I'd said "by the fire," but I hadn't specified which one. And I had said "across the plain" - so here I was, in a peasant hut presumably on the far side of the plain.

I gave the denizens a toothy grin and tipped an imaginary hat.

"Sorry about the intrusion, folks. Just semantics, that's all." The man's lips writhed back in a snarl as he came up from the table, hefting his axe.

Obviously a grammarian. I adlibbed,

And I had a good excuse,

"The lure missed the fish,
and wound up in a shack.
I return to the world, 'cross the plain.
I go back!"

The axe swung down - and I was suddenly in the midst of bright moonlight again. I turned around, totally confused - and saw a bright spot on the horizon. Dimly, I heard clashing and yelling. I sighed. Overshot again! Well, I hadn't exactly had time to get specific.

But my friends were in a jam. I had to come up with a spell while I made it to them.

"The starry welkin cover thou anon
With gloomy fog as black as Acheron
And lead these treacherous soldiers so astray
As each come quickly in the other's way!"

Suddenly, fog rose up from the ground, getting thicker and thicker as it climbed. In two minutes, it had hidden the stars - and the distant clash of arms was liberally interspersed now with shouts of surprised and angry pain, and cursing.

That would hold them for a while. I dredged up an orientation verse:

"Take me back to my new friends
At the campsite where they fend
And guard themselves with might and care
From the foes attacking there!"

There was that moment of disorientation again - then things steadied, and I found myself staring at the coals of our camp fire. I whirled about to see Gruesome tossing soldiers like Indian clubs. Gilbert was laying them about him with his broadsword, and Frisson crouched by the fire, reading scraps of paper aloud. Angelique flitted here and there, trying to scare enemy soldiers, and not terribly worried by their weapons.