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“It must go to my cave. But first, Brecia, you must realize that a day will come when the curse must end. Do you know, I believe I have another labyrinthine thought.”

He grabbed her. Brecia was so startled that she dropped the cask. But the prince snapped it up even as he kissed her ear. “Yes,” he said, laughing and kissing her, “one day, long in the future, the curse will no longer help. It will hurt. It will have to be lifted, and thus I have decided to tie Mawdoor to the curse.”

“Mawdoor? Are you mad?”

“No, listen. I will tie the curse to the cask, and since Mawdoor is inside, he must be a part of it. Trust me. You know, Mawdoor doesn’t really deserve to remain forever with demons. No one is that rotten. It is too much.” The prince opened his voice so that it could be heard in the very depths of a demon’s mind and said, his mouth close to the cask, “Mawdoor, you now have only one ear, since I sent my knife through the other one, so you must listen carefully. You can free yourself in the future by breaking my curse and swearing to leave your demons in their realm. You will swear to become a wizard all can trust.”

The cask shook in his hands. The prince leaned close, nodded, then straightened and smiled. “He is very, very angry, but how long can that last? Yes, I see it all clearly now. The time will come when the curse must be broken. A man will come, a man with a brain, perhaps a man with just a touch of magic. I will direct him, and all will be well.” He closed his eyes, murmured words she couldn’t hear, then said, smiling, “It is done.”

She said, “This man will lose his magic and become completely mortal again?”

He looked down at her. “I don’t know if I would go that far.” He snapped his fingers. “Don’t forget, just a touch of magic. This man will find the cask.”

“Mortals always find things, no matter how well you hide them. With magic, this man will walk right to the cask and kick it. I certainly would. Will this man look like you, prince?”

“Since I am such a splendid specimen, what more could a man ask?”

She touched her wand to his nose, and he felt it kiss him. She was laughing as she said, “There must needs be a woman, to guide him, to make him laugh, to love him, to save his life countless times.”

Brecia could have sworn that his chest puffed out larger than it should. He said, “And will she look like you?”

“Why not? Then they will be well matched. You know, I will give our man a little nudge as well. Let us hope he will deal well with Mawdoor.”

“He will be my man. He will deal well with everyone. Perhaps he will have a bit of trouble with the woman, if she is too much like

you. But he will win her over. He will tame her and she will worship him.”

“Your arrogance,” she said, kissing his chin, “charms me.”

She saw that all the people were talking about them but were too afraid to come close. “Let us leave them with a tale to tell over their winter fires.” She took his hand and cried, “Home!”

And they vanished.

The staring people heard a woman’s voice, as if from the very air above them, “Come, show me unnatural things, prince. Will you really ask me to be on my knees for hours at a time?”

A great laugh rumbled through the sky.

33

Present

WHEN THE VOICE SCREAMED “NO!” Merryn thought her heart would stop and she would collapse and die in this wretched hole twenty feet under a cave floor.

Bishop was still, not moving even a finger, staring into the cask.

The earsplitting noise of wild animals charging toward them slowly fell away, until it became nothing more than a sound that, oddly, soothed the mind and the ear, like the smooth breaking of waves against a shore.

“There is something in there,” he said.

She grabbed his hand. “No, don’t reach into that thing. We don’t know what will happen.”

“That’s true, we don’t. But we must know.” She was so afraid, she’d locked her teeth together. She didn’t want to watch, but she did. Her eyes followed his hand as it sank slowly into the cask.

The cask wasn’t deep, no more than six inches at the most, but his hand kept going down, down, down even further, until he was up to his elbow.

He was on his knees, leaning over the cask now, his entire arm in the cask, his fingers outstretched.

He looked at her. “I don’t feel anything, nothing hot, nothing cold.”


Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical