mask the appearance of the village, much of what I told you
last night was the truth. An enchantment does prevent me
from leaving the village, and only the doll can break it.”
“How is it you came to be here in the first place?”
Matya asked.
“I have always been here,” Ciri said in her crystalline
voice. “I am old, Matya, far older than you. You see me
now as I was the day the Cataclysm struck the face of
Krynn, more than half a century ago.”
Matya stared at her in shock and disbelief, but Ciri did
not pause.
“By my magic, I saw the coming of the Cataclysm. I
prepared an enchantment to protect myself from it.” A
distant look touched her cold eyes, and her smile grew as
sharp and cruel as a knife. “Oh, the others begged at my
door for me to protect them as well. The same wretches
who had mocked my magic before wanted me to save them,
but I turned my back on them. I wove my magic about
myself, and I watched all of them perish in agony as the rain
of fire began.” Ciri’s face was exultant, her fine hands
clenched into fists.
Matya watched her with calculating eyes. “Something
went wrong, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ciri hissed angrily. “Yes, something went
wrong!” She paused, recovered her composure. “I could not
have foreseen it. The power of the Cataclysm twisted my
magic. The enchantment protected me, as I commanded, but
it also cursed me to remain here alone in this ruined town,
not aging, not changing, and never able to leave.”
Matya shuddered. Despite herself, she could not help
but pity this evil woman.
“I want to be free of this place – I WILL be free of this
place,” Ciri said, “and for that I need the doll.”
Matya was no longer afraid. Magic was Ciri’s element,
but bargaining was Matya’s own. “And what would you
give me in exchange for the doll?” she asked. “It is worth a
lot to me.”
“I made that one, and once I am free I will have the
power to make more,” Ciri replied. “I will fashion you a
dozen such dolls, Matya. No one in Ansalon will be
wealthier than you. All you have to do is give the doll to
Trevarre. HE wants more than anything to rescue me, to
preserve his precious HONOR”. She said this last word with
a sneer. “He will place the doll upon the altar, and I will be
free. And so will you. I swear it, by Nuitari.”
“And what will happen to Trevarre?” Matya asked, as if
she didn’t much care.
Ciri shrugged. “What does it matter? You and I will
have what we want.”
“I’m curious, that’s all,” Matya said, shrugging.
“You’ll find out anyway, I suppose,” Ciri replied. “He
will take my place in the enchantment. He will be
imprisoned within Tambor even as I am now. He will not
suffer, however. I will see to it that HIS soul is destroyed.
The empty husk of his body will dwell here until the end of
all days.” Ciri arched her eyebrow. “Are you satisfied?”
Matya nodded, her expression unchanging. “I’ll need to
think this bargain over.”
“Very well,” Ciri said, annoyed, “but be swift about it. I
grow tired of waiting. Oh, and if you are thinking of
warning the knight, go ahead. He won’t believe you.” The
enchantress turned and stalked away, vanishing among the
ruins of the village.
*****
Matya retrieved the leather pouch with the doll from its
hiding place in her wagon and tied it to her belt. She sat for
a time on the wagon’s bench, alone with her thoughts, then
finally made her way back to Ciri’s cottage. Like all the
others, this building was in ruins. The roof was gone, and
two of the walls had fallen into a jumble of broken stone.
Trevarre had risen and was in the process of adjusting
the straps of his ornate armor. He looked up in surprise.
“Matya. I did not hear you open the door.”
Matya bit her tongue to keep from telling him there
WAS no door.