‘They …?’ Enas Yorl probed.
‘Ah … No. I confess: it’s only one that I can swear to.’
‘How old were you?’
‘I was nine. And six grown men took pleasure of me, before they beat me with
wire whips and left me for dead.’
‘I see.’ He retrieved the scroll and with its end tapped the table absently.
‘Can you now divine what is in this message? Bear in mind that it forced me
hither.’
‘Forced? But I’d have thought -‘
‘I found myself here by choice? Oh, the contrary!’ A bitter laugh rang out,
acid-shrill. ‘I said we’re both victims. Long ago when I was young I was
extremely foolish. I tried to seduce away the bride of someone more powerful
than me. When he found out, I was able to defend myself, but … Do you
understand what a spell is?’
She shook her head.
‘It’s … activity. As much activity as a rock is passivity, which is conscious
of being a rock but of nothing else. A worm is a little more aware; a dog or
horse, much more; a human being, vastly more – but not infinitely more. In
wildfire, storms, stars, can be found processes which with no consciousness of
what they are act upon the outside world. A spell is such a process, created by
an act of will, having neither aim nor purpose save what its creator lends. And
to me my rival bequeathed … But no matter. I begin’ to sound as though I pity
myself, and I know my fate is just. Shall we despise justice? This scroll can be
an instrument of it. Written on it are two sentences.
‘Of death.’
While he spoke, there had been further changes under his concealing garb. His