how he knew about the Elizabeth. But he would always know.
“I sent you Lukastor, Lord of the Fellangels, to help in your fight against the witch queen Morgus,” he went on.
“That was generous of you,” she said. Politely.
“He was both brave and true,” the demon said. “And he loved you. Yet you returned him to me with a spear in his belly. I valued him highly: his Gift was undeveloped, but under my tutelage he would have learned to use it, and he might have achieved much. You owe me for this, Fernanda, and for many other things. The debt must be paid. Therefore my terms are not so liberal as they might have been.”
“I owe you nothing and you value no one,” Fern said with all the scorn she could muster. “I have not come to accept your terms, liberal or otherwise. I have come to offer you mine.”
There was a long, long pause—a pause such as that office had never felt before. The muted hum of something resembling air conditioning ceased. The whole force of his being shifted, focusing on her with a new and terrible intensity.
“Yours?”
“My soul is not for sale,” she said. “But I will make you a deal for yours, such as it is, if you will hazard it.”
“I—have—no—soul.” The words grated, stone on stone.
“Then I will take what you have,” said Fern. “Your unsoul—your spirit—your immortality.”
“You will take—you will offer—! What deal would you dare to offer me, least of witches? What makes you think you will leave this place alive? A word from me will melt your bones where you stand.”
“I have protection,” Fern said.
“What protection could you find that would avail you here ?”
“I invoke the Mother,” she said.
Another pause, another jolt in his concentration. All his far-flung, casual power seemed to contract into the shadow before her; she could feel the glance of his unseen eyes like a ray of darkness probing her mind.
“She will not hear you,” he sneered, yet there was doubt behind the derision. “She Who Sleeps will never rouse at your whimpering.”
“She hears me,” Fern said, and as when she had made the spell shield around her friends, another voice spoke through hers. In Moonspittle’s basement, she had touched the ancient power by accident, not knowing what she did. This time, she knew. “She was stronger than you once, Ysis-Astolantë, Pangaea Allmother, but the priests bound her in slumber, and the world was ruled by men. You found them more apt to your hand than women, did you not? But the world changes, and maybe she sleeps but lightly now.”
“So you are her handmaiden?”
“No. Not yet. I am no one’s vassal; I told you that before. I have come to buy you, if you will sell. She is my surety.”
He stood up, growing taller and darker behind the light. He no longer appeared to be wearing a suit. She was aware of clouds forming beyond the windows, pressing close to the glass with clammy hands. Stars shone through them, in pairs.
She kept her attention on Azmordis.
“What can you offer me?”
She took the phial out of her bag, holding it up. Even in that place its contents shone pure and clear. “This is a single draft of the Well of Lethe. If I drink it, I will forget the very name of Morcadis, and all that I have done as a witch—as the least of witches—all that I learned, all that I was and all that I might become will be lost. I will no longer trouble you, nor threaten your schemes. I will live out my life as an ordinary mortal, and grow old, and pass the Gate, and none will remember me. That is my offer.”
“And what must I do in return?”
“Forgo your vengeance on me and anyone connected with me, distant or dear. You must pledge your unsoul, for you and all who serve you or seek your favor. The document is ready.” She drew a file out of her bag, set it down on the desk. It was red. “I had it drawn up according to the correct procedures. There are no loopholes. It wants only your signature.”
A wind came howling around the Tower; the cloud shapes were whirled away in a writhing torrent, all groping limbs and gaping mouths. But within the office it was utterly still.
“If I should give my pledge, and break it?”
“The effects of Lethe would be negated, and your immortality would be forfeit.” The shadow was enormous now, filling