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butterfly for hours. This isn't to say that she's dumb, only that she's been
totally adapted to her condition by the spells. We've already pushed the sign
language as far as we can without using spelling, I suspect. She's a good
pupil and catches on fast. It's basic, and that's all it'll ever be. It helps
that she has such an expressive face and that she seems now, at least, to wear
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her emotions like a signpost."
"So how long will it take you now to break the spell?"
"Never. And I mean that."
"What! But that's impossible! Even Coydt can't be that good!"
"He isn't. No, if he had imposed this spell, rather than just written it, it
could be peeled off, layer by layer, although there would be some problems,
because of the language system, and some danger. But he didn't put it on her.
She put it on herself, with the binding spell."
Kasdi was suddenly on her feet. "What? But how is that possible? She doesn't
know enough to use that spell!"
"You know she has your old Soul Rider."
"Yes, but you don't mean did it?"
it
"No, as far as I can tell, it was its usual passive self. And since it didn't
take on Coydt when it had its chance, that means this is only the first part
of a much larger plot. In fact, it's the most downright diabolical thing of
all. You see, there a way to break the spell."
is
That statement was almost as great a shock to her as Spirit's condition. "But
you taught me it was impossible!"
"There is one way, but it's a hard one, and I think Coydt knows it. If someone
of equal or supe-
rior power voluntarily takes on the spell, and if the spell will fit the
volunteer, it can be moved.
That was almost certainly the bargain. He ran her through three days of terror
using Flux power, then offered her this way out with the chance it could be
broken. She took it. I would have, too, under the same circumstances and with
her ignorance of the limits of Flux power."
Kasdi sat back down again, looking weak and drained. "I see. And that's really
what this is all about. Coydt sends her back like this, knowing it will tear
me apart."
"Not to mention embarrass you through the empire," the wizard pointed out.
"You can take on
Fluxlords but couldn't save your own daughter. It sows nervousness and
insecurity."
She nodded. "I don't really mind that, though. It'll pass. But the real kicker
is that the spell will only really fit Spirit or me right?"
"He seems to have arranged it so. Are you considering it?"
"I'm tired, Mervyn. Sick and tired. If this thing can't go on without me, it
isn't worth doing at all. Don't I owe her that?"
"Perhaps. I will not argue politics with you. It is still not a solution, as
Coydt well knows. It's his final joke on us, so to speak. You see, the
self-binding spell is a rather simple one, as you know, and it is always the
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same. It is the spell or spells that attach to it that are the important ones.
Should you take Spirit's binding spell, the mathematics would balance and the
flow would go in both directions. You would get Spirit's binding spells and
she would get yours."
Kasdi sighed. "I see," was all she managed. It was all too clear a vision.
Spirit would be bound to all the vows of the Church and to the ascetic
lifestyle that Kasdi had imposed on herself. It was the sort of existence she
could never imagine for Spirit, particularly without the job or any sense of
commitment. She would be able to talk, and to learn to use and develop her
Flux powers, but she would also not be allowed any possessions of her own,
would be denied sex, would be bound to the kind of simple drudgery Kasdi now
was, bound to obey all the vows, rules, and laws of the
Church absolutely and to the letter; yet she would not be a priestess. She
would want and feel all the things a seventeen-year-old wanted and felt, but
she would be unable to attain any of them.
Instead of merely condemning Spirit, he would condemn them both.
"So what can we do?" she asked him pleadingly. "What will become of her? I
mean, the way you talk, she is going to be like that ten years from now, a
hundred, perhaps forever."
He nodded. "I can see no other way, although we shouldn't underestimate the
Soul Rider. Re-
member, it got you out of some impossible situations doing these things that
we all were certain was against the rules. Coydt's way of dealing with that is
quite interesting, but untried. Since the
Soul Rider can act only through its host, he has limited her access to Flux
power. She is passive, prevented from using any power or even committing any
act to force her will on anyone. That's why she came along with us so readily.
Her power is only available for self-defense or self-
preservation on a conscious level, and while it is considerable, she has the
preset spells to call upon only under those circumstances. Since the whole set
of spells is integral, all must be broken to break one. He's counting on that
spell holding, so that the Soul Rider, trapped in an immortal body, can not
use its powers and knowledge against anyone, including them."
"Will it work?"
"We won't know until and unless the Soul Rider tries and succeeds. But the
other key is in that bizarre language. If we can discover its origin and
original users or intent, we might be able to mitigate the spells somehow. In
the meantime, though, I would let her go."
"What?"
"I mean it. The word is already spreading. In a few days all of World will
know of the spell and its nature. She's in no danger. There is a shell over
the spell that maintains it absolutely. She is as immune from Flux power as
anyone could be. Let her do what you always wanted to do and what
I'm told she did, too. Let her walk the length and breadth of World and see
what there is to see."
"But like that
?"
"She must learn to live with it. People will recognize her and let her go.
They will tolerate in her things they would not tolerate in themselves, for
she'll be a curiosity and something of a celebrity."
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"A freak, you mean."
"So? She's already restless down there. Sooner or later she's going to go
away. Let her adjust and let World adjust to her. She is going to live like
that for a very long time."
It was a sobering thought.
It was a bar in a Fluxland up in the north wilds called Hjinna. Like many of
the Fluxlands in the wilds, away from any Anchors, it tended to be populated
with people in the business of Flux
minor wizards false and true, retired stringers, and a fair number of
fugitives. Powerful ex-
stringers usually established the places in reality and relaxed to enjoy them
rather than rule them.
The bar was Flandy's Bar, and inside tough-looking men and women were drinking
and talking and showing off and even gambling, something not usually possible
in Flux, but possible here under the rules of the Fluxland's proprietor, as he
liked to call himself.
Through the swinging front doors stepped an enormous man, well over two meters
tall and weighing, it seemed, better than two hundred kilos. He was clearly a
dugger, with a purplish complexion, a misshapen, hairless face, and a
permanent, insane grin, while his skin seemed all mottled and full of
discolorations. In many places he would have been the object of horrible
fascination and some fear, but not in Hjinna. Lots of retired duggers and
those taking a break between six-month-long stringer routes were always about.
In fact, although this one was a stranger to almost all of them, only one, an
elderly man who'd been drinking pretty heavily, eyed the newcomer with
recognition and then growing fear. He got up and made his way quickly to the
back of the bar and then stepped out into the alley behind, still clutching
his bottle.
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