Adventures Of Myhr Part 10

"Love spells?" She snorted. "Those things never work."

"I've seen them work very well indeed. It's getting them to stop once they're up and running that's the big problem." I was more or less quoting Terrin. We stocked harmless love charms at the shop. I say harmless since Terrin always neutralized what he sold to infatuated girls and h.o.r.n.y guys. It was an honor thing with him. That kind of emotional coercion and manipulation rankled the h.e.l.l out of him. If something did happen between the caster and the castee it would have happened anyway, was meant to happen.

Love is its own magic, after all, but none of the lovelorn customers were ready to believe that. Everybody wants an edge. Filima looked a little wobbly all of a sudden, putting a hand to her forehead.

"Anything wrong?" I asked.

"I get like this in here. Scrying gives me headaches."

"You're not scrying, though."

"The incense, then. I'm sure I'm allergic to it."

The leftover stink of whatever she used was pretty strong. "You need to switch brands."

"But that's the kind you have to use for scrying."

"Who told you that? Never mind, there's others that work just as well you might not be allergic to. Nag Champa is a good all-purpose one, and it smells the same burning or not. . . ."

She'd stopped listening to my sales pitch, which was a leftover habit from when I helped out at Terrin's shop, and stared down at the surface of the dark mirror. "Something's coming through. That's never happened before, not unless I'm initiating it."

Now I stared at the mirror. Its polished surface did seem to be s.h.i.+fting, reminding me too much of that black fog of the h.e.l.l-river only this time in red. "Maybe we should leave."

"No, I must see. Perhaps your presence has set off some magic."

I had solid doubts about that, but was curious. She sat on the stool, and I kibitzed over her shoulder. It was hard to concentrate with the scent of flowers coming off her hair. From my vantage point I not only saw the mirror, but had a wonderful grandstand view down the front of her low-cut dress.

Oh, baby!

What a perfect spot: I could stare at those beauties all I wanted-so long as I didn't drop any drool on them.

"There!" she exclaimed, leaning forward.

d.a.m.n, she'd blocked my view.

"Do you see it?"

Reluctantly, I transferred my attention. The blood-red fog roiled and boiled, and though I first thought it my imagination, there seemed to be a form emerging from the mess. The image was distracting enough to take my mind off appreciation of Filima's hypnotic figure.

A man's face s.h.i.+vered in and out, like looking through moving layers of smoked gla.s.s. He was no one I knew, just the usual collection of eyes, brows, nose and mouth . . . but somehow he was very, very wrong .

Sulfur? Why was there a whiff of that in the air? Or was it just rotten eggs? It came and went, replaced by the stink of something putrid and festering, which also whipped away, stirred by the wind-a hot windthat should not have been in this small, completely enclosed area.

The candle went out, but light remained, coming from the mirror. It originatedfrom it, absolutely was not a reflection.

All my back hairs were up, and yes, my spine began to arch outward. Instinct from my cat DNA boomed a red alert at full force; it wanted meaway from there. My human side fought it, trying to see more. The conflict caused me to hiss, actually hiss.

The face in the mirror came closer, the mouth open and working in a scream or a curse. It seemed to touch the surface and begin to raise itself up, a three-dimensional thing trying to squeeze its way through.

The light-now turned pale green like from a rotting corpse-flowed from the mirror, bathing Filima.

Black specks tumbled in the glimmer. They spun around her head, then swirled down to the emerging face. Its mouth yawned wide to receive them.

Filima's eyes rolled up in her head, and she slumped forward with a soft moan.

Elsewhere in Rumpock Terrin hoped to gawd he was on the right street this time. Every twisty-turny way in this h.e.l.lhole looked alike to him now, and they all seemed to be uphill, even the downhill ones.

He staggered along like a drunk, keeping his legs under him only by an act of concentrated will. The air was way too thin to breathe; his lungs worked overtime and then some. Sweat ran freely down his face, but he s.h.i.+vered with cold. People hastily got out of his path. Maybe they thought he had plague or something. Good and fine. No one offered to help. That was fine, too. It would have delayed him, and he couldn't afford a delay. He had to get to shelter-magical shelter.

The bell tower, yes, there it was, useful landmark. But what direction was it from Clem's inn . . . from . . . somewhere . . . um . . . someplace. . . .

The thought slipped from his head. Dammit.

Where was he?Tower .Move .

He plunged toward it, running a few steps, slowing to gulp air, running a few more. What if he couldn't make it to the inn? Had to consider that possibility. Just getting under any old roof wasn't the problem, he had to be in a s.h.i.+elded area. Those weren't too common. The ones he'd sensed were weak, nothing compared to the safe zone he'd set up . . . um . . . where?

The inn, Clem's Place. More steps. Blinking and wheezing, his strength drained out like water from a tub, a steady, swirling stream that would take him with it in the end.

No way. No f.u.c.king way!

Anger helped him focus. He looked up and charged forward again, certain he'd spotted a familiar door ahead.

No, not that one, the next one over.

Yeah, red letters spelling out the serving hours for drink and food, the smell of both drifted from the wide-open front door.

Terrin dove through headfirst, landing hard on the bare flags of the floor.

Air. Lots of air here. He lay like a dying fish for a few moments, gradually becoming aware of Clem and Greta staring down at him.

"Usually they stagger and fall over after theyleave here," Clem remarked.

"Are you all right, Mr. Terrin?" asked Greta. "You look sick."

He recovered enough to show his teeth. It wasn't the same as a smile. "Tired. Just tired. Need to rest."

"But you look feverish," she insisted.

"I don't hold with people being feverish in my place," Clem added. "Bad for business."

"Got too much sun is all," said Terrin, making an effort to stand. He dragged himself onto a bench, and squinted outside. The street s.h.i.+mmered violently in his vision. It wouldn't stop. Dizzy-making. What the h.e.l.l was going on out there? "Is Myhr around?"

"He got taken off awhile back," said Clem, with a nod toward the door. He didn't seem to notice the s.h.i.+mmer at all. "Couple of fellers carted him right out just like that. He told us to tell you."

Huh, what?"What fellers? What happened? Was he kidnapped?"

"Looked more like a pretty firm invite. Could be an arrest, but they wasn't city watch. One of them was in Burkus House colors, and I think the other might have belonged to Darmo House. Mr. Myhr yelled something that sounded like Lady Filima's name as he was going out. She's important in these parts."

"Arrested? You think he was arrested?"

"Maybe, but the clan houses don't have the authority for that, only the overduke's people are allowed to make city arrests. I'm not too happy about all this fuss; Mr. Myhr's supposed to do a late afternoon show-"

"Who took him away?"

He got a more detailed report from Greta, who cheerfully provided some background on the housenames involved. "Those two men came in, had a huge lunch, and drank like tomorrow wouldn't come.

Real chummy they were, then they had a little nap, but perked up when Mr. Myhr began the noon show.

They seemed to know to look for him."

"And they took him away just like that? People can do that here?"

Clem shrugged. "It happens. Usually for a good reason."

"Good for who?"

Another shrug. "Well, if he don't come back, you'll have to pay a proper rent on the room. Nothing personal, just business."

Room rent was the least of Terrin's problems. He'd gotten his breath back, but still felt weak. And cold.

And sweaty. And . . . itchy. Like his skin was on inside out.

"Are there any healers around here?Magical healers?" No time for circ.u.mlocution. He'd take the risk of getting burned at the stake. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Magic?" said Greta, surprised. "There may have been, once upon a time. We usually call in Doc Warty.

She's not magic, though."

"I don't hold with that weird-fangled magic stuff," said Clem. "Too unpredictable. Scares off customers."

Terrin groaned, but wasn't surprised. If there was some kind of draining field floating around this berg, little wonder all the Talents were gone. But had they vanished, been sucked dry, or just moved out? And why couldn't anyone remember them?

And what theh.e.l.l was out there that was so efficiently sucking him dry of magical energy? He was safe in here for the time being. The s.h.i.+elds and wards he'd set last night seemed to be holding up well enough, like a brick house against a storm. Perhaps he could shrink them down to cover a smaller area and recharge himself with the leftovers. That would confine him to his room, though, unless he could establish a moving s.h.i.+eld he could take with him. Those never lasted very long, though.

He had to find Myhr. Clem and Greta might be talked into going on a search, but they'd have to know where to look. Terrin excused himself and crawled upstairs. Literally. The last few yards of steps he took on all fours to conserve himself.

Myhr had left the black candle bought that morning on a small table. Good man. Cat. Whatever. Terrin fumbled for a Bic lighter in his backpack, pulling out a few other useful items. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he lighted the candle, then held it in front of him, gazing at the flame, working up a good strong visualization. Gawd, it was hard.

Usually he had no need of props. When he did use things like candles it was only to keep the energy up and running while he went off to do other stuff. Sort of like setting the VCR to catch a show.

Not this time.

He focused on the flame, took it into himself, and surrounded himself with its glowing image. He began to warm up a little. Illusion only, but wasn't everything? Myhr! Where the h.e.l.l are you?!

Chapter Six.

Back at Darmo House I caught Filima before she hit the mirror, before she could touch thatthing trying to come through. She was in a dead faint.

The face glared at me, sucking in more black specks, pausing to mouth more stuff I couldn't hear. Well, screw him. I swatted at the table and sent it and the mirror cras.h.i.+ng over. The sickly light abruptly winked out.

Scooping up Filima, I pushed past the velvet curtains.

"What happened?" Shankey demanded. He was right there, making no apology for eavesdropping, or rather pavilion-dropping.

But it was nonstop for me to the nearest couch, which was next to a nice, bright sun-filled window with lots of fresh air coming in. Perfect, we needed both. I put Filima down, then sat rather suddenly on the floor next to her. There hadn't been a lot of lifting effort involved since she didn't weigh much, but I felt like I'd run for miles.

Shankey patted her cheek. "Lady Filima?"

"Fainted," I gasped. "Don't. Know why."

"What did youdo ?" Debreban wanted to know.

"Nothing. Just. Rescued her. Is all."

Shankey snarled, yanked on the bell pull, and yelled orders. Definitely a man of action. For the next few minutes the place was full of freaked-out servants shouting, waving their arms, and running around. Very intense. Finally, a matron-type woman came in, sensibly told everyone to calm down, and pa.s.sed an open vial under Filima's nose. It must have been the same stinky stuff Greta had used on Terrin last night.

I sniffed ammonia again; Filima popped wide awake.

"Argh! Agh! Foo!" she said, waving it away.

Now they were asking her if she was all right, and she had no immediate answer to give, probably trying to figure it out herself. No one asked aboutme , of course. It must be that aura of competence I give off that makes people think I'm a hundred percent all the time. I shut my eyes and rested.

"Myhr?"

Her hand on my shoulder. A light caress. Nice. The kind that makes me purr. Then an impatient thump. "Myhr!"

"Hah? What?" I jolted out of my fog.

"You all right?" Filima was up, blinking, concerned. Scared, too, judging by the ashy tint of her cinnamon skin.

"I think so. What was that all about? And please don't tell me I should know, 'cause I don't."

"That makes two of us. I've never seen anything like it before. Had no idea the mirror could do that."

"Who was he?"

"He?"