To the Hells with Umurhan, he thought. He's going to throw me out anyway. What do I have to lose?
So he said, quite formally, Your wish, Ladyship, he said, is my command."
Nerisa clapped her hands and cried, Thank you, Safar! You won't be sorry. I promise."
Overcome with her delight she threw caution to the winds and hugged him and dared to kiss him on the lips. Then she pulled back, blushing furiously. She ducked her head and concentrated on a stray thread as if the task were one that required immense concentration. For the first time Safar noticed she wasn't wearing her usual urchin rags. There was no sign of boyish pretense in the Nerisa sitting beside him. She was feminine through and through, from the tilt of her chin to the graceful arc of her wrist as she plucked at the thread. He saw she'd also dressed with care in a costume that set off her best womanly featureslong legs beginning to find shape despite their slenderness. Soft slippers defining her small, well-formed feet. A narrow waist with a broad belt pulled tight over budding hips. From the experience of a large but close family he guessed her bosomhidden under the loose material of her tunicwas just beginning to develop. He remembered his sisters embarrassment at Nerisa's age. And how that embarrassment had quickly become something else entirely when they started looking at the village lads differently and the age of long romantic sighs began.
Nerisa recovered and raised her head to look at him. She was smiling, but her lower lip was trembling. Her eyes were unguarded and he could see emotion boiling just beneath their dark surfaces. He realized that if he said the wrong thing just now she'd burst into tearsand suddenly he knew the reason for those welling tears. Nerisa was in love with him. He'd seen his sisters fall in love with much older lads and suffer the same torment. It was a quickly passing illness, he knew. A malady of the very youngalthough just as painful as anything an adult endured. It would be even harder on Nerisa, he thought, because she was so aloneso unloved. Safar, who still wore scars from his encounter with Astarias, knew that anything he did to hurt Nerisa would wound her deeply. He wondered what he ought to do about the situation. Then he thought, why do anything at all? Give her a chance to grow out of the crush, like his sisters had. He'd just have to tread carefully from now on.
Safar cleared his throat and picked up the turtle. Nerisa tensed for words of scornful dismissal.
"This spell will be much easier if you help me, he said calmly.
Nerisa's reprieved heart soared. She leaped to her feet. What do you want me to do? she asked eagerly.
He pointed to a battered trunk across the room. You'll find a wooden case in there, he said, with most of the things I need. Then, if it's no trouble, you might start a fire under the brazier."
"No trouble at all, she said, adopting Safar's casual tones.
She fetched him the case, and while she got the fire going he poured different colors of scented oils into a wide-mouthed jar. Then he sprinkled packets of mysterious powders and strong-smelling herbs into the oil, mixing it all together with a stone mortar. Nerisa heard him chanting as he worked, but his voice was so low she couldn't make out the words. When he judged the fire hot enough, he carried the large jar and turtle to the brazier. He set the jar on the grate and while it heated he drew colored chalk marks on the floor, making an elaborate, many-sided design that enclosed the fire.
When he was done he said, Now, if you'll sit right there… He motioned to a spot well inside the design.
She did as he directed, scooting in as close as she could to the brazier. Safar sat across from her. His image appeared watery through the heated fumes rising from the jar.
"Are you comfortable? he asked.
She nodded.
"We'll get started then, he said. But you have to promise me you won't laugh if I make a mistake. I'm just a student, you know."
Nerisa giggled. She was sure that, student or not, Safar just had to be the best wizard in all Esmir. Then she realized how relaxed she'd become since he'd asked her to help. She wondered if his request had been a ploy to put her at ease. If so, she loved him even more for it.
Safar sniffed the fumes. It's ready now, he said.
"What do I do? she asked.
Safar handed her a long-handled brush with a narrow blade made of boar's bristles. Dip this into the jar, he told her. Stir it around and get a good load on the bristles."
She stirred the brush through the thick, bubbling mixture. She wrinkled her nose at the fumes, although later she couldn't have said if the scent was foul or fair, sweet or sour. Safar signaled with a nod and she withdrew it. He picked up the stone turtle, centered it in his flattened right palm, then extended it over the fumes.
"Now paint the turtle's back, he said.
Nerisa gently stroked the brush across the green image of the island. Although the mixture from the jar was tarry black, it left only gray streaks on the green.
"Lay it on thick, Safar said. This isn't a job for a timid hand."
Nerisa furrowed her brow and daubed with a will until the goo spread all over the stone and spilled into Safar's hand.
"That's exactly right, he said. Now dip up some more and do another coat. Thicker than the last, if you can. But this time we need a chant to help things along. So listen closely to what I say and repeat it exactly."
Nerisa nodded understanding, loaded the brush again, and as she laid the mixture across the idol's back they chanted together:
"Light dawning through the night, What pearls hide beneath the stone? All that is dark emerge into bright, Give flesh to rock and marrow to bone."
Nerisa's pulse quickened as she saw a faint light emanating from the stone idol. She swore she saw the turtle's legs move and then she gasped as the idol twitched into life and scuttled across Safar's palm. He whispered for her to be still and laid the turtle on the floor. Instantly the light died and the idol sank down, freezing into its former lifeless pose. Safar swore, then looked up to give Nerisa an abashed grin.
"This is going to be harder than I thought, he said. We could chant all night and still not come up with the right spell.
From his sleeve he withdrew a small silver knife, double-edged and etched with elaborate and mysterious designs. It was the witch's knife Coralean had given him to unravel difficult problems.
"Fortunately, he said, indicating the knife, I have a way to cheat."
Again he signaled for Nerisa to be silent and he laid the knife against the idol's stone shellpoint touching the red painted mountain with the monster's face. He chanted:
"Conjure the key That fits the lock. Untangle the traces, And cut the knot…
Safar's voice dipped lower and the rest of the chant was lost to Nerisa. But she was so struck by his intensity that she probably wouldn't have heard the words even if they'd been shouted. She'd never seen such concentration. Safar's eyes seemed to be turned inward, smoldering with smoky blue fire. A soft light formed about his whole body, a rosy band shot with pinpricks of color. His long face shone with perspiration, making the hollows seem deeper and the edges sharper. Nerisa smelled the faint musk rising from his body and felt a great calm settle around her like the softest of blankets. Her eyes, as if they had a will of their own, fixed on the monster's painted face and became riveted there.