“My cows come down sick!” the man shouted. Then he realized he didn’t need to be shouting over others, and he lowered his voice. “My cows come down sick, and it’s that witch. She’s sent a curse to make them die slowly.”
A woman in the crowd spoke up. “And we’re losing our daylight, little by little. Sunrise has been coming later every morning; sundown earlier every evening. And what sunlight we do have is, I don’t know how to explain it, but look around, it’s different. Pretty soon we won’t have any daylight at all. And you know what that means!” she sobbed.
Muttering broke out among the small crowd. James held up his hand for silence.
From the doorway, the farmer named Merrick spoke. “It’s not only our cows that’re sick. Our little girl, she’s gravely ill.”
James looked at Merrick and said, “What ails the girl?”
“She’s cursed,” shouted a woman from the edge of the group gathered in the yard.
Jazhara said, “May I see her?”
“Who are you?” asked the frantic-looking woman by Merrick’s side, her face pinched and pale.
“I am Prince Arutha’s personal advisor on magic,” Jazhara answered.
Brother Solon added, “And I am a monk of Ishap’s Temple. If there’s evil magic afoot, we’ll root it out.”
The woman nodded and motioned them into the small house.
Inside they found a single room, with a small hearth on the wall opposite the door. A pair of beds stood there, one obviously big enough for the farmer and his wife and the other a child’s bed. A small girl, her features wan, occupied this bed. Jazhara knelt by the side of the bed and put her hand upon the girl’s forehead. “She has no fever,” said the magician. “What can you tell me?”
The farmer said, “Nothing, save she’s become too weak to walk or stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. When she is awake, she seems unable to recognize us.”
The farmer’s wife added, “Sometimes she’ll shake.”
Brother Solon knelt beside Jazhara and examined the girl. “What is this?” he asked, fingering a small amulet. ‘This looks to be the sign of Sung.”
“Father Rowland gave it to us,” said the woman. Then she blurted, “I went to the old woman on Widow’s Point, and she gave me a charm to heal my child. She told me a great darkness was trying to take the children. She was trying to protect them.”
“Larissa!” scolded the man. “I told you not to speak of this.”
“Go on,” said James to the woman.
Defiantly, she looked at her husband. “She was trying to protect our daughter.”
“Like she ‘protected’ Remy’s son?”
“Yes, exactly like that!” She turned to James. “She was too late to save Remy’s boy, but when I got home and put the charm under the bed, my girl stopped shaking. She wasn’t getting better, but she wasn’t getting any worse! Then Father Rowland returned from a journey and came here. He prayed all last night, and my daughter began shaking again. When the sun rose, I swear he seemed irritated she was still alive!” The woman’s look was one of desperation.
“Larissa, that’s blasphemy!” said Merrick. “The good father was trying to save her soul. It’s the witch’s fault. He said as much before he left.”
“But what if it’s not?” asked the woman.
“May I see the charm the ‘witch’ gave you?” Jazhara asked.
The woman drew it out from under the bed and handed it to Jazhara. She looked at the small wooden box, within which she found several herbs and some crystals. She closed her eyes and held the box for a long minute, then said, “There is nothing malicious in this. This is a simple ward to help the child’s natural energy heal herself.” Then she looked at the child. “But there is something . . .”
She reached out and took the small amulet from the girl’s throat, then suddenly withdrew her hand as if it had been burned. “Brother Solon. You know more of clerical arts than I; will you please examine that ward?”
Solon gently touched the amulet. He closed his eyes and made a short incantation, and then his eyes snapped open. “This is no ward of Sung!” The amulet began to change and he withdrew his fingers from it. The metal seemed to ripple and warp and darken, until suddenly what had appeared to be a simple metal icon of Sung became something resembling a tiny maw, a mouth of black lips and ebony teeth. It opened wide, as if to bite, then the girl coughed. A plume of green gas erupted from her nostrils and mouth, to be sucked into the tiny black orifice. Solon grabbed the trinket and ripped it from the unconscious child’s neck. The girl gasped slightly, and her tiny body convulsed once, then settled down into the bed. With a sigh she took a deep breath, then seemed to breathe more easily.
Jazhara examined the child and declared, “Already she seems a little stronger.”
Solon held out the trinket, which was now revealed to be a claw holding a black pearl. “I would venture that this is the cause of the child’s illness.”