Short Story: The Witch Queen

Fantasy

Phytos, Demon King of the North, is feared throughout the land. His hordes of goblins snatch up unwary travelers. None who enter his keep are seen alive again. At least, not by their idiot families who think he needs (yet another) maiden sacrifice. (Humans are weirdly obsessed with maiden sacrifices. . .) When young, unfortunately ugly Kasha is dumped on his doorstep, it should be business as usual. Instead, he helps her learn to rescue herself.

The raven made a streak of black against the dull, heavy sky. Sullen clouds roiled, pushed by restless winds. Sheets of rain drifted across the barren bowl of the caldera, obscuring the gray hills at the far edge. Pungent steam escaped the tormented ground with a hiss and a wail.

The raven’s claws scraped the stones of the fortress as it landed. It settled its massive wings and called out, rasping cries that echoed from the fortress walls.

A gnarled hand reached out of the shadows within an opening high in the wall, coaxing it closer. The raven ruffled its damp feathers and dropped into the darkness within.

“There, now,” its master murmured, stroking its head. “What news do you bring?”

The raven’s master wound down through the passages, leaving any lingering light from the sun behind. Lamps burning low lit the narrow stairs, flickering yellow as he passed.

The raven swayed on his perch on the sinewy forearm, claws pricking through thick cloth.

“Be still, my pet.” The air inside the keep was cool and sulfurous. The ancient volcano beneath was not dead, but slumbering fitfully.

The raven’s master stopped at a thick door, inscribed with forgotten spells and twisted runes. He turned the knob and stepped through.

He crossed the floor on silent feet. Even the raven made itself small, cowed by the power in this room.

“What is it, Hach?” The voice was deep and rough.

“Riders, my lord.”

A grunt. “So soon?”

“They will reach the keep by full dark. Two, a man and a woman.”

A thin, white hand turned a page in a thick tome. “Take care of it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Hach hurried to where the horde waited. The raven spread its wings to keep balance as they lumbered back to the front of the keep, the lamps now glinting from armor and spears.

They gathered in a cavernous entry. The unfinished stone gleamed wetly as they passed back and forth with torches, preparing for these unwelcome interlopers.

The dim light faded completely, leaving only the guttering light of the lanterns to light the fortress’ approach.

Who would it be this time? A cursed lady of blood, come to beg a cure? Or a beloved sister accused of witchcraft?

(A perfectly respectable occupation, but humans could be so perversely dogmatic.)

The presence of a female narrowed the possibilities and a single man hardly counted as an assault. Still, one had a reputation to maintain. Hach waited as the riders struggled up the final slope, caressing his pet in silence.

Boom, boom, boom.

Three heavy thuds on the keep’s main gate. Hach signaled and the winches creaked. Slowly, shrieking with disuse, the doors moved. Cold air oozed between them, damp and smelling of deep, lonely places.

In the glow of the torches waited a girl.

She sat on her horse, who stood phlegmatic before the leering horde. Her hands were tied and she was blindfolded. The other rider had already cleared the bridge, the clatter of hooves fading beneath the wind.

So much for his theory of a desperate loved one. But also, not how supplicants usually presented themselves, bound and blind.

Hach spoke softly and the raven surged forward, rising to follow the fleeing rider and report back.

“Hello?”

Hach jumped. The girl, a young woman, he saw, leaned forward, her head twisting as she tried to peer around her blindfold.

“Hello?” she repeated. “Frantu? This is ridiculous! I’m soaked! Untie me already!”

Hach sought refuge in his script. The arched ceiling above made his voice rumbled dangerously.

“Who dares disturb the Demon King Phytos?”

The girl’s mouth opened in shock, then compressed to a thin, angry line.

“Of all the—” She broke off in a string of coarse words. “That lying, back-stabbing, useless puddle of milk water!”

The horde shifted, casting Hach confused looks. Was she insulting their lord? Should they attack? Prod her with their (fake) spears?

Hach tried again. “Who comes before the Demon King?” Less threatening, but still stern.

Her voice was tart and scornful as she retorted, “Well, obviously I did not choose to come here? That ass Frantu dragged me here! And would someone get me off this accursed horse? I can’t feel my butt cheeks!”

One of his underlings whispered to him, “Master Hach? What should we do?”

There was no help for it. One couldn’t drag a girl screaming to the dungeons when she wasn’t screaming.

Hach signaled. A half dozen of the horde pointed to themselves, then each other, none wanting to be the one to approach the horse now eyeing them mulishly. Hach glared and the group of them shuffled forward.

With the help of a horny hand, the girl slid to the ground. Her legs wobbled and she leaned on the creature half her height.

“Be a dear and cut these ropes? My fingers are all fuzzy.”

The poor goblin was too bemused to disobey. Once free, she shook out her hands, swept off the blindfold, and looked around with interest.

Hach was impressed. She was quite the ugliest human girl he had ever seen. Not her fault of course, but whatever selfish parent had not foreseen their square forehead and beakish nose being passed down to their offspring.

She was brave, too. She gulped as she saw the horde massed in the twilight. But she swallowed her fear and stepped forward.

“Hello, then,” was her friendly greeting. “I’m Kasha.”

Hach said nothing. No screams, no whimpers. Not even a blanch of terror. Interesting.

Before he could think of what to say (they were decidedly off script), his lord’s voice rumbled all around them, a trick of the channels cut through the stones.

“What is taking so long?”

This Kasha jumped.

“Bring her,” Hach ordered. The horde again was unsure. Should they leer and harass her as they marched her through the keep? Jab her with their (again, fake) spears? That seemed suddenly impolite.

They fell back on muttering in their own tongue behind her as she followed Hach into the keep. He bypassed the tunnel that led to the dungeons. Instead he took her to a room in the south tower.

A fire was laid and lit easily. Hach hung his lantern on a hook and dismissed the goblins back to their tasks. They milled about for a few minutes, then dispersed.

Kasha sat gingerly on a wooden chair. Her face was more pinched than before and Hach didn’t have the heart to glower at her.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gruffly.

“Famished.”

“Wait here.”

By the time he had arranged a tray, his lord had heard the whole tale. He stormed into the pantry.

“What is this nonsense?”

Hach placed a wedge of cheese next to a cut of meat. “A young woman, my lord. She was abandoned. Maybe kidnapped.”

“A sacrifice? Again?” The Demon King scowled down at his second-in-command. “It’s months until the equinox!”

Hach disagreed. Those were usually beautiful maidens, adorned in ridiculous outfits and draped in jewels and pearls. After a ‘ritual’ goblet of drugged wine, Hach could generally dispose of them to a neighboring kingdom in need of a damsel for its prince to rescue.

“Well, then?”

Hach admitted his own bafflement. “She seems more annoyed than anything, my lord.”

Phytos, Lord of the Demon Horde, Master of the North, rubbed his temples. “Just get rid of her.”

The girl was standing at the window. In the south tower, the windows were leaded and filled with thick, undulating glass. She stood on tiptoes to peer into the night, the shifting clouds above giving fleeting glimpses of the early moon.

She squeaked as Hach entered with a tray, but cleared her throat to say, “Thank you, umm...”

“I am Hach, Master of the Demon King’s Keep.” He bowed. Three of the horde carried a pitcher of fresh water and a clean gown into the room. They also bowed and left silently.

Kasha giggled. Hach scowled up at her and she hastened to cover her mouth.

“I’m so sorry. I mean no offense. Just, I was expecting...”

He scowled harder. “I assure you, lady, no harm will befall you here. Please, eat.”

She hesitated, but moved back to the chair and tucked her dirty skirt around her legs. Hach served her and climbed into the seat across the table. She examined him frankly, chewing mouthfuls of bread.

“Thanks, Frantu hogged all the food.”

He grunted. She chewed some dried dates and tried again to make conversation. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”

Hach was fairly burning with curiosity, but only raised his bushy eyebrows.

Kasha nibbled at the cheese. “Honestly, I think my father was hoping you’d kill and eat me.” She eyed the food with sudden misgiving. “You aren’t, are you?”

He could not help a small smile. “No, fair lady.”

She flashed a grin. “Nothing ‘fair’ about me, Master Hach.”

That was perfectly true. Nose too large, a chin to match her forehead. Her eyes were wide and had a friendly twinkle in the firelight, but they were a muddy color. Her hair was a snarled mess and no amount of silk, pearls, or cosmetics would transform her into a beauty. He doubted even the strongest Beauty Elixir in his storeroom would make much of a dent.

The girl was glaring at the olives she held. “That’s probably why father dumped me here.” She crushed the olives between her teeth (they were decently straight and white, he would give her that) and spoke around her mouthful. “He hates me.”

Hach didn’t know what to say. She guessed his unease and smiled again.

“Don’t worry, I hate him, too. He’s a nasty, grabbing pig. And I clearly wasn’t going to bring in any offers, no matter the dowry he advertised. I’m just surprised he didn’t have Frantu slit my throat once we crossed the border and dump my body in a ditch.”

“That would certainly have been more efficient.”

Her laugh tried to be merry; it fell bitter and disillusioned to the stone floor, too old and knowing for her still plump face. “I thought so, too. Which is why I didn’t try to escape. I figured wherever Frantu was taking me had to be better than my home.”

Suddenly, she yawned. Hach signaled her to follow him. The sleeping chamber was simple, but snug. The water stains on the walls were mostly paint, with a touch of enchantment.

She kicked off her boots and curled up in the bed.

“Thank you, Hach,” she said, eyes half-closed. “Good night.”

Hach seemed to have lost his voice. He made a dignified bow and retreated before he succumbed to the impulse to tuck her in.

Phytos was displeased. “How soon can you ship her out?”

Hach trembled slightly, but drew an unopened vial from his pocket. “I... er, that is...”

Phytos peered at his loyal servant. “What in the Great Divine’s name am I going to do with a girl?”

Hach tried to explain what Chrrirr had told him, what this Kasha had said. “The girl’s father is Ghrent, Lord of the Shadow Wood.”

Phytos scoffed. “‘Shadow Wood.’ More like the Slightly Dim in the Head Wood. And?”

“And it seems he needed a way to rid himself of a useless daughter.”

His lord’s face darkened. “Thinking we would do the deed for him?”

Hach did not want to commit to an opinion. Phytos pushed back his chair. “Where did you put her?”

“Asleep in the south tower.”

Phytos paced the room. “Have any of the Triumvirate sent word they needed a maiden? Any open quests you’ve heard tell of?”

Hach shook his head.

“What is so ‘useless’ about her?”

“She is... not beautiful.”

Phytos rolled his eyes. Hach explained further. “And I fear of a frank and — erm — inquisitive nature.”

Phytos continued to pace, eyes unseeing and thoughtful.

“Leave me,” he said finally. Hach bowed himself out and spent the night thinking of whom among their clients could do with such a girl.

He presented his solution to his lord while the sorcerer breakfasted.

Phytos waved him aside. “I will see her, then decide her fate.”

She was awake and dressed in the new gown, which fit her better than her own frock. A simple spell, but worthwhile. She was munching an apple when Phytos stormed into the room, Hach scurrying in his wake.

She leapt to her feet and paled perceptibly under Phytos’ hard stare.

“I am Phytos, Demon King of the North.”

She stood frozen a moment, swallowed her full mouthful, and gave a wobbly curtsey.

“Your majesty,” she squeaked.

Hach was relieved to see his master’s mouth thin to hold back a smile.

“What is your business here, girl?”

“I am so sorry to impose on you,” Kasha rushed to explain. “My father — I assume it was he — had me abducted and carried here. I will leave at once, if I may beg some food from you, and perhaps a horse. I... I cannot return to my home... if perhaps you could suggest somewhere I could seek asylum?”

She was so pathetically brave. Phytos frowned at her for a long moment.

“I must consult my oracle,” he said finally and swept out. Hach hurried to follow.

The furrow in his master’s brow stilled the many questions Hach was eager to ask. Up a steep stair and into a wide tower led to the oracle.

Phytos leaned over the silver basin, only a finger width deep and polished so it resembled a mirror. The water that filled it had come from a high mountain spring and was perfectly clear.

The Demon King spoke sternly and the water stilled its restlessness. The sunlight reflected off the basin and highlighted the sharp features of Phytos’ face.

Hach moved so he could see into the scene below.

No sound, but he could well imagine the clamor of horses and men in the courtyard. Their mouths opened in unison, weapons raised in assent. A man stood above them on a balcony, his face red with emotion as he gestured.

More cheering and the men mounted. The activity blurred and the scene narrowed, following the man back into the small fortress.

He had a surly face, not unhandsome, but spoiled by chronic displeasure. Hach could see some of Kasha’s features in the man as he sat and shouted at the others in the room.

“Ghrent?”

Phytos only grunted, concentrating. He watched the man a moment more, then the oracle whisked forward in time to see the riders. They were moving fast and not waiting for those who fell behind. Ahead of them, a distant shadow in the sky, was the Demon King’s mountain keep.

“Why on earth are they coming here?” Hach demanded. It was sheer lunacy to launch an attack on the most powerful sorcerer east of the Hypinar Sea.

Phytos stroked his chin thoughtfully. “They come to rescue the girl.”

Hach mentally juggled the conflicting facts. “Ghrent abducted his own daughter, just to have her rescued?”

“Bait. For a fat purse, to be paid when his troublesome daughter is securely married to her rescuer.” Phytos laughed. “A stupid and convoluted scheme. I like it.”

“You will allow them to come?”

“Oh, yes. Though they may find their task harder than they expect.”

Kasha was bouncing on her toes when they returned to her.

“You, girl. Can you read?”

She cringed under Phytos’ barking question, but nodded.

“And do figures?”

“I had a tutor until a few years ago.”

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be seventeen at the Rabbit Moon.”

Hach thought of the rough faces of her father and the men sent to ‘rescue’ her and winced.

Phytos made a disgruntled noise. “Follow me.”

She had to jog to keep up with the sorcerer’s long strides. The front of the keep was towering and filled with twisting corridors, empty rooms, and ominous echoes.

Phytos unlocked the ensorcelled door and waved Kasha through to the main wing.

“Oh!” The girl’s eyes opened wide.

The near half of the courtyard was filled with blooming flowers, kept in perpetual summer. The far half was tidily planted with vegetables and miniature fruit trees. The goblins assigned to tend the beds bowed to their lord and cast curious looks at Kasha.

Phytos led them to the workroom where the goblins prepared powders, potions, and elixirs from carefully measured ingredients. Their lord leaned over them to sniff a vial here, finger a bright blue powder there. The kitchens were busy with the preparation of the noon meal.

Kasha seemed to shrink smaller and smaller until Phytos led them to his own study, a large room with high windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with the bits and pieces of his magic. She sat on the edge of a stool and jumped when Phytos spoke to her.

“You will attend me in the mornings for lessons. It is well you can read, though I doubt it has been of any use to you. In the afternoons, you will take your instruction from Master Hach. He manages my keep and my goblins.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hach will see to your rooms and personal effects. You may go.”

“Excuse me, my lord?”

“Yes?” Phytos was less threatening wearing reading spectacles, but still quite ferocious.

“What about my father? My family?”

Phytos dismissed them with a negligent wave. “They mean nothing.”

Hach wanted to draw his lord’s attention to the sudden swell of tears in the girl’s eyes. Instead, he gently led her to her new rooms. Certainly more comfortable than the cell she inhabited last night, she looked around with a watery, but smiling face.

It had been many years since a woman had stayed in the keep longer than a night. This room would do well enough for now, until something permanent could be arranged. The bed was narrow, but freshly aired. A wide window looked north. Rather than the rocks and wasteland visible to the south of the keep, you could see the fields growing the Demon King’s grain and hay. The goblin workers were darker dots moving along the lazily waving rows.

“Thank you, Hach,” Kasha said, running the back of her hand across her eyes to rid herself of her sorrow. “It is lovely.”

Over the following weeks, she learned how the gardens were managed, the produce dried, salted, or milled for winter. She eagerly learned the name of each plant, both magical and mundane. She helped, clumsily at first, but with growing skill, to ready the leaves, roots, and stems for the workers.

They were shy of her at first. But her infectious giggles soon became a normal part of the hum of the keep’s daily activity.

The field workers proudly showed off their herds of tiny sheep and goats, pigmy cattle giving rich, warm milk. She spun the golden fleeces from Phytos’ prize herd into glistening strands, a chore she declared she hated but showed remarkable dexterity for, for a human.

She continued to be meek in Phytos’ presence, but attended her lessons with determined focus and was soon reciting on the movements of the planets and their earthly effects. Her spelling was atrocious, but she had a quick head for figures and loved to plot charts by the hour.

Ghrent’s warriors reached the keep just after the next full moon. Phytos stood on the highest reaches, watching them through his spy glass.

“Swine,” he muttered. “The lot of them.” The telescope clicked as he slammed it closed. “I should turn them into swine and let them loose to be eaten by wolves.

Chrrirr the raven had been reporting to his master of these ‘rescuers’ and their activities. Their journey across the countryside had left several villages weeping after their passage.

Phytos stilled his pacing. A slow smile curved his thin lips. “Or...”

Kasha trembled when Phytos told her of the approaching riders.

“You aren’t—” She gulped. “You aren’t going to give me to them, are you?”

Phytos gave her the softest smile Hach had ever seen on his face. “No, little one. But I will need your help to be rid of them.”

Her eyes popped as Phytos opened his Book of Spells, an ancient tome she had been expressly forbidden to touch.

“Read this, child.”

She mouthed the words. A grin lit her face and made her almost lovely.

“Can you remember it?”

She nodded and hugged herself.

They had a store of ‘ceremonial’ garb collected from the girls dumped here in the past. Kasha squeezed into a glistening, gossamer gown. She hitched the bodice up and scowled.

“How did they walk in this thing, let alone ride?”

Hach dressed her hair with gems, adding a few muttered incantations to aid in her costuming. She, in turn, rehearsed her own lines. When Hach finished, he pressed her hand. She stooped to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, then followed him to the south wing of the keep.

The wind was howling, encouraged by Phytos’ magic. The horde had gathered and their chuckles of delight were truly terrifying. Kasha stalked through them, a fierce frown of determination on her face.

It was not long before a rumble of hoofbeats could be heard. Hach appreciated the clouds looming overhead and hoped the men’s ride was wet and miserable.

They drew up before the massive gate. One braver — or stupider — than the rest dismounted and came forward.

“Demon King! I am Fhyrnheld. I come to reclaim the maiden you stole from good King Ghrent!”

“Ha!” Kasha muttered from the shadows.

“Come forth and face justice for your crimes!”

Hach let the man’s echoes fall to silence, then signaled to start the spectacle.

The great doors groaned as they opened, thunder laughing mockingly overhead. The torches writhed as a gust of wind nearly swept Fhrynheld’s feet from under him, icy and merciless.

He kept his footing and readied his weapon, his comrades doing likewise behind. A few muttered useless prayers. He saved his breath.

Something gathered in the shadows, mist slinking out to caress the broken stones. He tensed, ready to spring away. A crack of thunder deafened him and from the keep came... a woman.

He stared, unable to move as she glowered down at him. Her arms spread wide and her voice shook the earth.

“Behold! I am Kasha whom ye seek!”

Fhrynheld could only gape. He had seen Ghrent’s whelp. This glorious, glowing creature could not be she.

He found his voice, shaking off the enchantment. He would not be so easily caught.

“Hold your tongue, witch!” he barked. “Bring forth the girl!”

She threw back her head and laughed. A musical but dark sound and Fhrynheld was suddenly uneasy.

“Do you not recognize me, Fhrynheld, Brenheld’s son? Have you forgotten me so soon?”

He felt markedly alone before her, the others cringing back. She did not forget them. Her eyes found each one and gleamed her displeasure. She named them, man by man, and showed her teeth.

“What a mighty band my father has assembled. A pity he had not the courage to join you.”

Who else could it be, to know them so? “Lady Kasha, whatever the Demon King has done to you—“

“Silence, dog!” she shrieked. Lightening cracked, so close it and thunder were one sound. “You think I would return to my father’s hovel? Do you think I would suffer to join with such as you? I, who have been given such power by the Demon King himself? You are nothing! Worms! Swine!”

She pointed at them and spoke terrible words, a mass of glowing, hateful eyes surrounding her. Fhyrnheld scrambled to escape her spell, but it caught him and twisted his bones, pulling him down to his hands and knees as he desperately tried to crawl away.

“Be gone! Run, like the stinking cattle you are! Tell my father he will rue the day he cast me aside, hoping the Demon King would do the wicked deed he dare not! Tell him that Kasha, Queen of the North, will cause him and his seed to suffer into eternity!”

Fhyrnheld ran with the others, fleeing her taunting, hysterical laughter. He could only crawl, his throat tearing with a grunting, braying noise of terror. His hands and feet twisted in pain, icy rain soaking his back.

They ran for the edge of the caldera, the horses towering over them as the mass of squealing swine escaped the wrath of the Witch Queen.

Kasha ran up the stairs, lifting her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the trailing silk. She burst into Phytos’ study, face flushed and sweaty, the dazzle enchantment wearing off.

“Have they reached the outer wards, yet?” she demanded. “How did I do? I thought I stumbled over the second phrase, but it worked! I turned them into pigs! You weren’t helping were you, Lord Phytos? I did it myself?”

The Demon King smiled fondly on her. “No, child, you did it yourself. Though I may suggest my work in the heavens added to the general atmosphere.”

Kasha hugged Hach and danced around the room. “Can we watch them? Do you think they’ll make it to Ghrent’s keep? Will they turn back in front of everybody?”

A quiet voice interrupted her queries.

“Pray, tell, what trickery you’ve been up to, Phytos.”

Kasha peered into the corner. “Who are you?”

Phytos chided her, but it was easy to see he was only amused. “This is Daem, an associate of mine.”

Kasha curtsied perfunctorily. “How you do? Lord Phytos, will you show me how to use the Oracle next? So I can see them when they turn back to human? Oh! Will they be naked? How funny! Cousin Belina will faint!”

Daem nodded greeting to Hach as the goblin went to him. “Who is this creature?” the man asked, watching her spin so her skirts flared out.

“A sacrifice,” Hach summarized. “An unwanted daughter, by the sound of it. She’s just been ridding herself of her rescue party.”

“And quite pleased to do so, it appears.”

Hach still had trouble with human expressions, but noticed the bright gleam in Daem’s eyes as they followed the girl. She settled on a cushion at Phytos’ knee and preened over her accomplishment.

Her hair was a snarl, her features as uneven as ever. But her eyes glowed with a light not quite natural, some magic still burning inside her. Her smile was quick and cheerful. With the scant gown falling off her shoulders and the ruby headpiece cast aside, she looked a grubby, rumbled mess.

Hach met Phytos’ knowing look and asked the young man, “How long do you stay this visit, my lord?”

Daem dragged his gaze away from the girl. “My uncle gave no orders for my immediate return. Perhaps I may impose on your hospitality these next few days?”

“You are always welcome here, my lord. Did you find the Scroll of Inzeri?”

“I did. Paid a fair amount for it, too.” He drew a tightly sealed scroll case from his bag.

Phytos, missing nothing, broke into Kasha’s gloating. “Child, go change that ridiculous outfit and fetch us some refreshments. I wish you to see this scroll Lord Daem has travelled so far to recover.”

“Yes, Lord Phytos!” She skipped out of the room, calling to the goblins to hear her thrilling news.

Phytos held out his hand for the scroll. “An engaging child, yes? Ugly, which is a pity, but unquestionably gifted. Turned twenty men into pigs with the barest education in the Arcane Arts.”

Daem’s tanned face was a little darker than usual. “Certainly a prodigy, my lord. I have started a translation.”

Hach watched the young man closely as he argued linguistics with Phytos, as Kasha interrupted them with eager questions. As the confused, but interested look in Daem’s eyes grew softer and warmer over the following days.

The young human took his leave a week later. Kasha begged him to return soon and bring her a present from his home by the sea. She peered longingly through the door that led not to the fields beyond the keep, but to a warm and sunny city, the tangy sea air blowing crisp into the courtyard.

Daem waved farewell and Phytos shut the door and locked it.

“Can I go to the sea?” Kasha pleaded. She had a smudge of dirt by her nose. “I’ve only heard stories of the sea. Are there really fish as big as houses? And monsters that can swallow a man? Birds that swim like fish?”

“One day soon, child. Now, you have delayed your lessons long enough.” When she made to complain, he raised a thin eyebrow. “Lord Daem was only fourteen years when he mastered all of the Third Lexicon. Surely, you will not be outdone by a mere scholar. You, who has the Gift?”

Determination set her chin in stubborn lines. “When do you think Lord Daem will return?” It was asked so casually Hach had to turn away to hide his grin.

Phytos smiled smugly at his own machinations. “Oh, I am sure we will be seeing him soon enough. Now, go to my study and copy out the First Incantation. Neatly, if you please.”

Kasha scampered away and Hach gave into his laughter.