No, not a bargain, just a simple agreement. She forced herself to project a calmness she did not at all feel. She’d dealt with dead witches in her career and that was tricky enough. But this was a full-out wizard-lord of the type that had been wiped off the earth for the good of humanity. You tell me how to break the power of the Null Rune, and I’ll free you from its trap so you can move on into clean death without malice or revenge.

  Move on without malice or revenge, he repeated slowly. Of a certainty. And if I would share my knowledge, thou swearest to free me? Give to me thy binding oath.

  And he hadn’t blinked an eyeless socket at the phrase “move on into clean death.” He knew he was dead and was trying to deceive her. And here they were at a bargain, even though the great pitfall of bargaining with the dead was that the living were bound, even if the dead weren’t. And she would be a fool to release this powerful, ancient spirit back into the world. Yet there was also Trayn about to die the worst of deaths on a false charge. She would be worse than a fool to allow that. I shall release you, wizard-lord, in exchange for the means to destroy the Null Rune and your word to exact no revenge. This I swear as an oath as binding upon me as it is upon you.

  Of course there was also such a thing as being too clever. They were each deceiving the other, but at what point would they both know it?

  Sufficient, exorcist. Listen well. What you call a Null Rune is a Kaga, a type of anti-magic ferric rune used to entrap creatures of magic susceptible to cold iron. But over time, immersing oneself in intense sorcery can change the essence of a human into a magical creature. Too late, we wizard-lords discovered we had made ourselves vulnerable. But ferric runes are inherently fragile as they are composed of pure iron. Installed within walls or under stone flooring, they endure, but others fare worse. The Kaga that imprisons me is ported about, like most of these Church weapons, and has suffered a little from each bump in the road over time. It is ready to break. If the rune is hammered at its center, it will crack and no longer hold me. There is thy path.

  A crowd of thoughts raced through Jenna’s head. How simple the solution seemed, yet at the same time, so impossible since the Null Rune was highly guarded. But the wealth of knowledge of this dead wizard! In two minutes, he had given her complex arcane information that had been lost in time and which probably existed nowhere else in the kingdom. Yes, she now had a path, but it was an incredibly dangerous one. But there still might be a way of freeing Trayn without releasing the wizard-lord. She only had a thought at the moment, but it could turn into a plan.

  I see. Well, goodbye, she answered awkwardly and focused her thoughts on returning to her sleeping body.

  ~o0o~

  “Oh,” she groaned, opening her eyes. Her whole body ached. “And that’s why Sweetbreath is used only as a last resort.”

  Herrin rose from his chair across the room and hurried over with a cup of water. “Drink this, Jenna. And don’t try to get up until you feel better. Did you find the imprisoned spirit?”

  She took a gulp of water and lay down again. “I did, and it is awful beyond any imagining. The Null Rune is powered by a dead wizard-lord who definitely seeks release.”

  Herrin’s eyes widened. “Jenna, you can’t. Dead or alive, a wizard-lord is beyond any of us. If you think you can—”

  “I know, I know,” she sighed. “I’m probably a fool, but I can see a narrow path between gaping chasms on either side. And for Trayn’s sake, I have to try. Listen to this—the wizard-lord indicated that there were several of these Null Runes about, probably all in the hands of the Inquisition. Maybe using that knowledge, I can pressure the High Inquisitor into releasing Trayn. The Inquisition would not want it known that it’s using sorcery to fight sorcery. And employing cursed spirits for any purpose is strictly forbidden by the Church and the Office of the Holy Exorcism.”

  Herrin gave an emphatic shake of the head. “Jenna, you can’t! This is the Inquisition. They might have a dirty secret, but pressuring them will land you in a coffin before you ever reach King’s City with your complaint. You have to go at this differently.”

  She sighed. “I was afraid of that. I’m going back to the armory. Commander Frant and I need to strategize.”

  “Just don’t destroy the kingdom,” Herrin muttered.

  ~o0o~

  Trayn was sitting listlessly on the bed in his quarters, but his eyes brightened as Jenna entered. “Mistress Exorcista, how did you persuade them to let you come here?” he demanded as soon as the door closed behind her.

  “Promise not to laugh?”

  He shook his head. “I am definitely not in a laughing mood.”

  “I claimed final conjugal privileges.”

  His eyebrows shot upward. “But we’re not married.”

  “No, but I claimed equivalent privileges as betrothed, even though even that’s not true either. You can thank Commander Frant. It was he who told me that a last ‘night of solace’ is traditional for a condemned man, and he supported that argument with the Inquisition guardsman.”

  His expression was still very strange. “Well...thank you.”

  “And I’ll summon Dwarf in a moment,” she continued hurriedly. “He’s having difficulty manifesting himself, but this will be more productive with all three of us.”

  His expression grew stranger still. “Productive,” he repeated slowly. “Somehow I never imagined sharing my ‘night of solace’ with a dead dwarf as well.”

  Jenna brushed the comment aside. “I strongly suspect that this inquest has nothing...” She paused as his words finally caught up with her. “Oh. No...this ‘night of solace’ was strictly an excuse to plot strategy.”

  “Of course,” he said quickly but turned red in the face. Then his eyes met hers, and he started laughing. “Thank you for that, Jenna. I never thought I’d laugh again.”

  She nodded, feeling rather foolish and warm in the cheeks herself. She closed her eyes. Dwarf. Please come.

  “Better be good,” came Dwarf’s gruff voice next to her. “And quick.” His translucent form came into view.

  Jenna nodded. “I’m convinced the inquest is only a facade for political intrigue. It was only a vague accusation of Sorcery Most Vile without any evidence.”

  “They know I have the sword,” Trayn said tightly.

  Jenna shook he head. “I don’t think so. But they are expecting something magical because they brought a Null Rune that deadens magical energy—”

  “A Null Rune,” Trayn said abruptly. “Those are mentioned in the accounts of the early Knighthood.”

  “And one of your old masters is trapped inside,” Jenna continued and saw Dwarf’s jaw drop in surprise.

  Trayn frowned. “What?”

  “A damn wizard-lord trapped in the Null Rune!” Dwarf exploded suddenly. “Serves those bastards right.”

  “Listen, both of you,” she said. “Tomorrow hinges upon breaking the Null Rune to enable Dwarf to free you from the gallows. But breaking the rune will also free a vengeful spirit that I’ll have to deal with—”

  “Merciful manure, you’re going to free that wizard-lord!” Dwarf spat. “You’re crazier than usual, you—”

  “—so it’s important that the two of you act independently. As soon as the noose is cut, get out of sight and under cover while the guards are distracted. And expect the morning to be interrupted at any time by a precipitous arrival.”

  “Who?” Trayn demanded.

  “Remember the notice that was sent to Harebridge at the very beginning? This whole inquest has been an elaborate ruse to embroil your brother Lanyer in the sorcery charge, but if we work quickly and there’s no cause for sorcery, the trap will fall apart.”

  “By the moons,” Trayn gasped suddenly. “You mean they’re waiting for the other wizard sword—Lanyer’s sword?” He shook his head. “Of course. When Lanyer assassinated his way to the lordship, the Inquisition must have suspected sorcery. So the Null Rune is for him, not me. Those fools must actually think that my brother will try to protect me.” Trayn gave a short, bitter laugh. “Little do they know he’d rather kill me.”

  Jenna’s gut instinct said otherwise, but it was hard to argue when Lanyer had just killed the rest of the family. She turned to Dwarf. “What do you need to keep Trayn alive before all hell explodes?”

  “Blood and lots of it,” Dwarf shot back. “But believe me, it really will be hell if that wizard-lord gets free. You think you know vengeful spirits, but it’s all donkey-snot if that gold-fingered bastard gets a toehold among the living—”

  “Noted,” Jenna nodded. “Unfortunately, we can’t act until the Inquisition brings out the Null Rune, and they may wait for Lanyer—”

  “—all day,” Dwarf interjected. “Which means Stupid here will be dangling on a rope all day.”

  Jenna shuddered and didn’t pass that along. Instead she said, “Dwarf, you’re vital in saving Trayn’s life tomorrow. Don’t let us down.”

  “As in drop him like dead weight,” Dwarf humphed. “I’ll do my part—just have lots of blood handy. Just hope they don’t get antsy and go directly to the drawing and quartering. Or do you want me to break all the horses’ legs, too?”

  “Whatever it takes to keep him alive,” she said, glad that Trayn hadn’t heard any of that.

  “Work me to death, why don’t ya—oh, I’m already dead.” Dwarf gave a rude laugh and added, “Guard’s coming.”

  She managed to undo a few buttons of her blouse as the door opened behind her. “Awkward timing,” she said, turning.

  The Inquisition guard glanced around the room. “This visit wasn’t approved through proper channels.”

  “I’m being executed,” Trayn said coolly. “Is that not proper enough?”

  The gaze swung to Jenna. “Out, wench. Get a move on.”

  She gave a sigh and moved toward the door. They were mostly finished anyway. And dawn would come all too soon.

  ~o0o~

  In the harsh early morning light, the village gallows looked depressingly solid. Jenna kept hoping for a small miracle like the whole thing had blown down in the night, but saw nothing of the kind. A low-grade headache told her the Null Rune was close, though she didn’t see it.

  There was a good-sized gathering in the village square. All the Inquisition personnel, of course, and most of the local villagers with even more from Byriver. Hangings were rare spectacles hereabouts. But the Knighthood as a group was conspicuously absent. Except for Commander Frant. He stood near the gallows, waiting and staring at nothing. He had exchanged a quick glance with Jenna at the edge of the crowd when he entered the square, but nothing since.

  Hopefully, nothing more needed to be said between them after their long strategy session last night. They had covered all the possibilities of this morning—or so they hoped. A plan with so many twists and turns could still go dreadfully wrong.

  When a brace of Inquisition guards brought Trayn out into the square, he looked haggard, already in pain even before his execution began. Jenna gritted her teeth at the thought that he had been tortured after she left last night, then immediately discarded the possibility. She had to look no further than her own nagging headache. House Harebridge carried a magical heritage in its blood. Whatever was affecting her was affecting Trayn even worse.

  When Trayn was up on the gallows with the noose around his neck, the High Inquisitor stepped forward to read the charge of Sorcery Most Vile and the sentence. A murmur of dismay circulated through the small crowd as they realized it was not just a simple hanging, but the prolonged agony reserved for traitors.

  Standing slightly apart from the rest, Jenna turned her head and murmured, “Dwarf, are you here?”

  She heard no response but felt a touch of chill on her arm. Maybe that was as much as he could manage with the rune so close. It was time. Turning her back on the spectacle, she produced her ritual silver saucer and a plump wineskin. Uncorking the wineskin, she poured a stream of thick, red liquid into the saucer. It disappeared as fast as it hit the silver. She kept pouring and eventually discerned the dim outline of Dwarf coming into focus. “Enough for now,” she whispered.

  Among her several bundles, she had two wineskins of blood with her, donations from several dozen Knights who knew nothing except that the blood would help her help Trayn. She turned, looked up at the gallows, and met Trayn’s eyes. She attempted to signal that the plan was in motion, but at that moment, the guards pulled on the rope, hoisting Trayn slowly into the air. His eyes bulged.

  “Please, Dwarf,” she whispered to herself.

  After a dangling eternity, she saw the stocky ghostly form climb up on the platform and grab hold of Trayn’s lower body to push upward. Because she was watching for some sign, she saw his shallow breath of relief as the pressure was taken off his neck. She doubted anyone else noticed.

  The morning shadows shifted slowly, and the restless crowd devolved into smaller groups. Some had bread and cheese to share with their neighbors; others only gossip. Twice more, Dwarf came to her for more blood as his strength faded. It took only a moment each time, but Jenna was painfully aware that Trayn was choking at the end of the rope while Dwarf fed. By the third time, she was into the second wineskin and starting to worry the supply wouldn’t last. But then a mounted guardsman in black galloped to the edge of the crowd.

  “Horsemen!” he called out. “On the East Road. Riding fast.”

  The High Inquisitor who had lapsed into contemplation shouted a stream of orders. Suddenly four more guardsmen appeared, carrying between them the lead box that they ported directly to the gallows platform.

  Yes, finally, Jenna thought, her heart beginning to pound as heavily as her aching head. They had taken the bait, thinking Lanyer was attacking with armed men. It was a ruse, of course, part of the strategy. It was only the return of the “scouting party” that Frant had sent out on patrol before dawn. The tricky part was slogging through the marshes to the northeast to make a roundabout return along the East Road.

  She reached among her things for the leather-wrapped sword Dwarf had brought to her earlier. Trayn’s wizard sword. She might be a total fool to attempt to use it, but it was their only weapon against a wizard-lord.

  The pounding in her head suddenly surged. Glancing up, she saw that the lead box was open and the Null Rune sat exposed. But the focus of the Inquisitor and his guards was on the East Road. Stealthily, Commander Frant moved towards the box, holding close to his tunic a steel chisel from the smithy’s forge. Perhaps this one act would bring a death sentence upon him, but Frant had insisted. He was the only one who could stand next to the gallows without suspicion. Jenna would never be allowed within twenty paces.

  “Steady,” she whispered to herself as she moved quickly toward the gallows. She focused a thought. Dwarf, watch Frant’s hand and—

  A faded thought came back. Not now. My hands are full— Stupid weighs a ton.

  Just tell me when he’s about to—

  An explosion of green knocked her to her knees. Looking through the scattered, screaming crowd, she saw Frant had been knocked halfway across the square but was rising shakily to his feet, and the Inquisitor was still in a tangle with his captain. Trayn was also on the ground, free of the gibbet, his noose severed by Dwarf. But hovering over all was a swirling column of shadow carrying with it the overwhelming sweetness of rotten fruit. Essence of wizard-lord.

  She tore into the leather wrappings of the sword, slowing only as the hilt with its wicked red jewels came into view. Quickly dowsing it in blood from the wineskin, she paused to take a breath, then grabbed the sword by its leather covering once again. There was still a slim chance she wouldn’t have to actually touch that deadly, bloodied hilt. Then rising to her feet, she started toward the gallows.

  But when she reached the platform, there was no swirling dark cloud, only the Inquisitor and his captain. “Sir?” she asked.

  The Inquisitor stared back at her with wide, terrified eyes. Then the captain at his side turned and looked at her with dark, empty eyes. “Ah, exorcist,” he purred. “Hast fulfilled thy end of the bargain.”

  Jenna swallowed hard. Not just overshadowing, this was a living soul completely consumed by a dead spirit. “And your promise to move into a clean death without malice or vengeance?”

  The empty-eyed thing smiled eerily. “I lied. I shall exact historic vengeance on thy pathetic Church.” It raised a hand and conjured a fireball with no apparent effort, and the crowd gave a collective gasp. “You weaklings have no concept of true power...but you shall.”

  Behind the captain, the Inquisitor wheezed, “Kill it. Kill it”

  The wizard turned back around and slapped the Inquisitor to the ground with a burning hand. “Fool. She can do nothing to save thee.”

  Jenna didn’t think, simply reached for the hilt of the blade. A small bolt of lightning ran up her arm as her fingers skimmed the slick surface, numbing her hand. Then the sword was jerked out of her grasp. Whirling around, she saw Trayn glowering at it. Then he plunged it into the captain’s back. An inhuman shriek sounded as red fire clashed with green. Then it all vanished. The dead wizard slowly turned his badly charred body and fixed empty eyes first on Trayn, then on her. “Thou hast surprised me, exorcist. So I fulfill my end of the bargain after all.”

  And he dissolved into ash. The crowd gave a loud aaah and broke into applause.

  The sequence of actions was quick—too quick, she hoped, for the crowd to catch that Trayn had used an obviously sorcerous sword. But the High Inquisitor had been part of it. He was wide-eyed and clutching his burned arm, but already his gaze had fastened on Trayn and the glowing blade in his hand.