They literally hand it over.” Among the whiskers, his lip curled. “Like a prize in some ridiculous contest of virtue. Except . . .” His piercing gaze traveled from Erik to Cenda and back again. “They did with you two.” Planting both hands on the table, he leaned forward. “Didn’t They?”
Cenda flushed a fiery red. Erik’s mouth snapped shut. His fingers tightened on Prue’s so hard she winced.
“Look here.” With an impatient grunt, Deiter bent to extract a leather tube from his satchel. “Clear a space, lass,” he said to Katrin, and she hastened to obey. Using an unusual degree of care, the wizard eased out a thick parchment and unrolled it on the table.
Next to Prue, Erik inhaled sharply. On the thick, creamy surface was a Pentacle, magnificently rendered in colored inks and gilt—all except for one side, so lightly drawn as to be barely there. “Gods, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
Deiter shot her a narrow glance. “I made it.” A pause. “In a vision. I’ve been having them for about a year now.”
“But what does it mean? Why isn’t it complete?”
“Hasty piece, aren’t you?” He beckoned to the fire witch with an ink-stained finger. “Show her, Cenda.”
Slowly, Cenda came forward. With a muttered prayer, she touched her forefinger to the Pentacle. Immediately, it burst into flame, tongues of fire running greedily around the pattern.
“No!” Prue leaped for a dishcloth to smother the flames, but Gray’s arm barred her way.”
The fire subsided with a contented crackle. Sweet Sister, the parchment was untouched, save for one side of the Pentacle, but there . . . Prue resisted the urge to rub her eyes. Tiny salamanders, each one a perfect miniature of the one in the fire witch’s hair, danced back and forth, the essence of fiery joy.
“Now you, Gray,” ordered Deiter.
Gray shot him a glance. “You sure?”
“Bloody well get on with it, man!”
“Fine.” With a shrug, Gray placed a fingertip on the line that wasn’t there.
The diminutive salamanders turned as one and hissed their defiance, but beyond that, nothing happened.
“Right as usual,” said Deiter with satisfaction. “Whatever Magick you have, it comes from within, not from the gods.” Raising pouchy eyes, he smiled thinly. “Moment of truth, Erik.”
Erik’s jaw bunched. Without a word, he strode forward and slammed a big palm down on the parchment. “This what you want, old man?”
But Deiter wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were fixed on the Pentacle. “Oh yes,” he breathed.
“Fuck!” Erik snatched his hand away, but the parchment was already rippling.
Prue squinted, staring. Was that—? Merciful Sister, it was! Dust motes danced in a gentle turbulence above the five-sided shape. A current of air made its chuckling, merry way around the Pentacle, again and again, faster and faster. It was perfectly visible because it was forming tiny, sparkling clouds that whirled with rainbow iridescence. Surely it was her imagination, but the air in the kitchen vibrated as if everything innocent and sacred had been distilled into pure joy—the gurgle of a baby’s belly laugh, a soaring hymn of adoration, true love’s whispered promise, the liquid trill of a night bird.
A blazing smile lit up Cenda’s face. The tiny salamanders capered about with delight. “That’s it, that’s what I felt. Oh, thank the Lady.” She touched Erik’s arm. “It is you.”
Erik stared down at her, his brow knotted. “What the hell are you talking about?” When Prue laid a cautious hand against his back, every muscle was rigid beneath her palm.
“Don’t give me that, Erik. You know. Deep inside, you’ve probably always known. You’re the second Side. Air.” Deiter studied the parchment, brooding. “Cenda’s Fire.” He tugged at his beard. “So where the fuck is Water?”
“Hold on, you’ve lost me.” Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s a Pentacle got to do with anything? And in case you hadn’t noticed, it has five sides, not three.”
The old wizard snorted. “Give me credit.” He took a hasty gulp from his wine jug, his wrinkled throat working.
“The elements,” said Prue slowly. “But aren’t there four? Fire, air, water—and earth? And what about the blank Side, the one that’s missing?”
“Only the gods know who or what the fifth Side is.” Deiter’s mouth took on a sour twist. “Of course, They haven’t seen fit to enlighten me, for all that I’m supposed to fight Their damn battles for Them.”
The wine jug rose six inches off the table and dropped abruptly. Deiter’s hand shot out with astonishing speed to break its fall. “Godsdammit,