“The shears are a part of him,” I said, more to myself. A glance in the mirror showed me that Rose was on the floor above, a book resting on the railing as she turned a page. Did he leave them behind? Would he?
Barbatorem is mute, making dealings hard. He will see a contract up to seven times before refusing all further contracts. In this event, one can dismiss him and summon him again, but it must be to offer something else. In a dealing, he will offer expert skill in medicine, in exchange for enough blood to make the practitioner pass out – take care to avoid spilling any on the circle. He will offer to extend a practitioner’s natural lifespan by half-again or by twenty-five years, whichever is less, at the cost of the practitioner forever smelling blood, rot, and/or burning hair. He can offer to ensure that one’s blades never dull, in exchange for enough of the practitioner’s flayed skin to fill two cupped hands.
There were two diagrams drawn out in black, with measurements along each face, and a ritual for summoning him. The rest of the pages had stories. Mutilated men driven to madness, without a thing left. Limbless, suckling fruitlessly on the teats of livestock. Blind men frantically scratching out endless letters to loved ones lost to this ‘barber’, using stones on cobblestone, using their fingernails when no tool was at reach, then their blood, and then the uncovered bones of their fingers. That last one was a practitioner that tried to bind him and failed.
I reached the last page. Lines were drawn out, with words, followed by a shorthand cipher. ‘I have changed the contract.’ ctuvag ‘I have changed the contract.’ cvtuaa.
“So?” Rose asked, behind me.
“He has to be in the circle, still,” I said. “Or I wouldn’t still be here. Apparently we can’t sense him until we’re awakened, which might explain why I couldn’t see him. This guy’s spooky.”
Rose nodded, solemn. “The bit on abstract entities is basically elaboration on what’s in the note. The bit on attack and defense only matters if he’s loose. There are a lot of charts. Describing what aspects to pay attention to, what elements and objects are most effective.”
“Blood, burning hair, rot,” I said.
“Not like that. Like in Essentials, malignant Others are going to react to purifying substances and patterns, like salt and running water. Fresh wood against dead things.”
“Iron against things that are born from nature,” I said.
“Right. But he’s not entirely physical, so you need something prepared in advance, meeting a few prerequisites at once. Like, this isn’t the right answer, but drawing out a pattern on a baseball bat and hitting him with it.”
“So you’re working past the abstract bit,” I said. “No, I get it.”
She lifted another book, turning it around so I could see a painting of a brown-skinned man with a funny little golden hat and a magnificent beard.
Rose explained, “Suleiman. Sorcerer king. He was the first practitioner who really worked for the betterment of mankind and actually made headway. He established rules and contracts, and he systematically worked to challenge the biggest, baddest Others out there that he could, then used them to help get others. It brought about an age where humans could stop being the playthings of Others and start developing as a civilization.”
“Okay,” I said. “And the seal?”
“A formal acknowledgement on the part of an Other, that they won’t interfere with mankind without excuse, they’ll obey certain rules, and the practitioners will leave them be. Typically an Other bears some symbol or token of this bargain. Over time it’s gained a power of its own. Being sealed physically alters the Other, but it also affords them certain protections against us.”
“Essentials alluded to that same deal,” I said. “It was pretty vague.”
“It was because it is,” Rose said.
I glanced at her, waiting for elaboration, but she only shrugged.
“We know what Grandma was dealing with now,” I said. I didn’t add ‘which I wanted to do in the first place, before you stopped me from reading that book.’
Instead, I said, “We can’t know if he’s inside that circle or not without awakening. Which we need to do anyways.”
“On to the next part of the game plan?”
I nodded.
“My circle is drawn out,” she said. “Want help?”
I didn’t, but I was happier if she was on my side. “Please.”
Together, we walked through the steps of drawing out the chalk circle. Circle first, then measuring it out so that there were five circles at set distances around that circle, the line running through the middle of each before I carefully erased each with a damp cloth. One symbol in each little circle.
Another circle, larger than the last, around the entire thing, with six circles at set intervals. I carefully set out each one.
And then a third, bounding the others. Seven circles.
“You’re a lot quicker at this than I was,” Rose said.
I shrugged. “You’re faster at reading. Next?”
“Cabinet,” Rose said. “Bottom shelf, far left.”
I opened the cabinet. Bottom shelf, far left… the space as empty.
I looked back at the mirror, shaking my head.
“They were on my end.” Rose lifted a bowl with crystals in it.
Once she showed me, I was able to find it. Bowl, crystals… ah, and a bag with other components, middle shelf, off to one side. It was all clustered together.
Each circle on the innermost and outermost ring got a little gold-rimmed bowl. I spoke aloud as I got each set up. “Crystal… myrrh… oil… spice…”
“Holly and holly berries,” Rose said, at the same time I said, “raw iron.”
We exchanged glances. I stood up and checked my book.
“Why?” Rose asked. “Mine says holly.”
I approached the mirror, book held out. We each held our books out so her book was almost a reflection of mine. Sure enough, the text, the symbol for the inside of the little circle in question and the art for the token were all different.
“Grandmother?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I get that Molly would have moved the components, but… I don’t think Molly altered the book.”
“The question is, what do we do about it?” Rose asked. “Do we each do a different ritual? Do I do your ritual, assuming it’s right? Or vice versa?”
“If it’s sabotage,” I said, thinking aloud, “Which of us was sabotaged?”
We sat there for a good minute, thinking. Rose flipped through her book as I flipped through mine, as we searched for more discrepancies.
It was the only one we could find.
I hated doing nothing, being stalled like this. It was in the quiet moments that I felt like trouble would start breathing down my neck.
I turned to the bags, searching them. Not the contents, but the bags themselves. Holly… Iron…
The Holly bag had a different knot. Tied tighter, more neatly. Full.
“Let me see your ingredients?” I asked. “Show me the ones you haven’t touched?”
Rose did.
Her iron ore nuggets were tied the same way my holly was.