The Spell pf Seven by L. Sprague de Camp

Author:L. Sprague de Camp [Camp, L. Sprague De]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
Publisher: Pyramid Books
Published: 1969-12-10T00:00:00+00:00

Anon, Gezun and the bearers went back to the crossing. The place was now deserted but for one of their own crew, who lay there badly hurt. They placed the injured man in the abandoned litter and picked it up. Later, Gezun and his retinue arrived at the house of Bokarri.

Gezun knocked and identified himself. When he heard the bolt drawn back, he stepped in, followed by Dzerhas.

In the front room were Bokarri, Yorida, Zhamel, and Derezong. The last had just weighed out a hundred nasses of gold, in rings and ingots. These he was now dropping with musical tinkling sounds into a small buckskin bag. Bokarri said to Dzerhas:

“I’ll weigh out the trade metal for you and your crew.”

“Yorida!” exclaimed the confused Gezun. “And what do you here, Derezong?”

The Lorskan wizard smiled pinkly. “Recovering a piece of—ah—strayed property.”

“But—but—how did you…

“Shortly after you and she eloped,” said Derezong, “Noish’s bully-boys invaded my house seeking her. Since she was not there to be found by the diligent search, I got rid of them by soft answers. So I bear you no ill-will; for, as things turned out, you saved her for me after all. Now, since it is late, Yorida and I will be getting home.”

“What’s this?” cried Gezun. “How got you Yorida from Lord Noish? I was too busy trading knocks to see.”

“As to that,” said Derezong, “whilst the attention of the minister and his rogues was directed upon you, Master Bokarri and I hauled the wench from the second litter. Then, lest our abduction be discovered inopportunely, I performed the incantation of Ansuan and cast a pinch of syr-powder, which formed a simulacrum of Yorida in the litter. We cut the cords that bound the authentic maid and hustled her away. I suppose that Noish has conveyed her double on to Kurtevan’s Tower to present to Zyc. If so, there’ll be more surprises this night. Come, child.”

“Come nothing!” said Gezun. “She’s mine!”

“By what right?” asked Derezong mildly, while Zhamel laid a hand upon his knife-hilt.

“By right of conquest. She loves me, and I’ll fight to the death any wight who’d snatch her from me!”

“Be that true, my dear?” said Derezong to Yorida.

“It is not!” said Yorida.

“What?” shrieked Gezun.

“I said, it is not,” repeated the girl. “You tore me away from Derezong’s nice, comfortable house with its good food and soft cushions and carried me into the wild mountains, to live in a smelly old cave and sleep in the dirt, with nothing to eat but a stale loaf of barley bread and that tough old ram you killed. And all you did was talk about yourself, and make love to me three or four times a day until I was sore, and all the time I was too frightened to say anything for fear you’d slay me in a rage. Derezong is a nice, kind master who’ll feed me well and won’t want me oftener than once a week, and I’m glad to get back to him. So there.”

“That,” said Derezong, “would appear to be that Good night, dear friends.

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