Free The Cataclysm by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman Page A

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     force me to marry him, against all propriety and my own wishes. He is a mage of great
     power, feared by all the folk of Tambor, and even beyond. He is away now, gathering
     components for his magecraft, but when he returns, he will compel me to wed. You have
     arrived none too soon, my knight.”
    “Well, why don't you simply run away?” Matya asked. Ciri gave her another chill look. “I
     fear it is not so simple. You see, my uncle dabbles in the BLACK ARTS, heedless of the
     peril to his soul. He has cast an enchantment upon me. I am unable to leave the village.
     The banks of the stream are as far as I may tread. Should I take but one step beyond, I
     would perish.”
    “But what of your father?” Trevarre asked. “Will he not protect you from your barbarous
     uncle?”
    Ciri shook her head sadly. “My father and mother both died many years ago. There is no one
     here to protect me. That was why I wove the boat of rushes and sent the doll down the
     waters of the stream, hoping someone might find it and hear my plea”
    “How does the doll speak with your voice?” Matya asked, not caring if she aroused more of
     Ciri's displeasure.
    “It was but the echo of my voice,” Ciri explained, her eyes on the knight. “The doll is a
     magical thing. My rather brought it all the way from Palanthas for me when I was a child. If you speak to it, or
     sing it a song, it will echo your words back to you with the rising moon, exactly as you
     spoke them.”
    Matya's eyes glittered brightly. This was better and better. The doll would be almost
     beyond price. ALMOST, that is. Matya always had a price.
    “And how can I break this grievous enchantment?” Trevarre asked earnestly. He was good at
     this knightly business, Matya had to admit, despite his sorry looks. Ciri stood and walked
     to the window, gazed through it sadly a moment, then turned to the knight.
    “There, in the center of the village, stands a shrine. In that shrine is an altar carved
     of marble. The altar is the focus of all my uncle's dark powers. I know, for I have seen
     him work his wicked spells there. From it, he draws his strength. But the magic of the
     doll has the power to counter it. If one who is strong of heart sets the doll upon the
     altar of his own free will, the enchantment will be broken.”
    “And what will happen to the doll?” Matya asked suspiciously.
    “Its magic will be dissipated,” Ciri answered. “It will become an ordinary doll and
     nothing more.”
    She walked to Trevarre then, and he rose to meet her. She laid a hand gently upon his
     breastplate. Matya could see the pulse beating rapidly in the man's throat. It was clear
     Trevarre was not immune to Ciri's bewitching beauty. Another weakness of knights, Matya
     thought acidly. Not that she cared one way or the other, she reminded herself.
    “Will you do this task for me, my knight?” Ciri pleaded. “I cannot break the enchantment
     with my own hand, and there is none in the village brave enough to defy my uncle. Will you
     help me?”
    Trevarre sighed and glanced at Matya. “I would, with all my heart, that I could do this
     thing, my lady, but I fear I cannot. You see, I have given Matya the doll in payment for
     bringing me to this place. On my honor, I cannot ask her for it back”
    Ciri's face twitched. She shot Matya a look so filled with malice that Matya shivered.
     Then, aware of the knight's eyes on her, Ciri's sweet, sorrowful look had returned to her
     lovely face. She bowed her head.
    “Then I am doomed, my knight.”
    “No,” he said, with a fierce smile. “No, I cannot think that. I am no sorcerer, but I
     expect there is another - albeit cruder - way to free you.” His hand moved to the hilt of
     the sword at his hip. “I will stand before your uncle when he returns, and I will demand a
     duel. The enchantment will be broken when your uncle lies dead at my feet. Won't that
     solve your problem, my