Free The Book of the Beast by Tanith Lee Page A

familiarity than by anything alien, the tempter, the serpent of sex.
    Careless of the glimmering, burning tallow, Helise bowed over the body of her husband. Her kisses printed themselves along his arm, his side.
    But the hot wax did not drop upon him, and her mouth, the helpless small noise she could not now keep herself from making—these did not break in the membrane of his slumber.
    He was enchanted. And she dared do no more.
    Helise quenched the candle, and removed herself from his vicinity.
    He did not rouse even at that.
    The chamber seemed distended and tinderous with her solitary sins.
    It was because of his aversion to her that he made the opportunity to be gone. He did not want her. If she had been able to cause him desire, how could he have resisted? He would then have remained. He would have been her lover.
    But it was a witchcraft on him.
    Did a woman then have no skill in such magic? It was the most ancient sorcery, Eve’s art, practised at the foot of the apple tree in Eden, that which brought down the race of rnankind.
    They said, at d’Uscaret, they muttered that Ysanne… that Ysanne was clever in women’s business.
    “Cherish,” had said fat old Ysanne, “she must overcome her blushes.”
    “I’m unsure what is meant. The lady should be plainer,” said Ysanne. Her beady eyes were cunning.
    Helise sat in her chair and her humiliation, clenching herself to endure.
    “My Lord Heros is tired of me. Now he departs the City. How shall I provide an heir if—if—’
    “If he doesn’t assist you. Yes. A woman’s lot is a rare fix.” Ysanne had changed her tune. Now she and Helise were co-conspirators against the masculine order, conceivably the masculine God.
    “They say—’
    “And what do they say?”
    “That you can make a potion that will—enhance—’
    “That will make a girl too good to be left .alone. That will swell the male member so it must get busy. I can do that. And several other things.”
    “I think—he won’t visit me again.”
    “Ah, that’s tricky. I’ll give you a charm. It will call him. If he doesn’t arrive directly, then you must find some excuse to bid him. The charm will render him pliable. Then something for his wine, and an unction I’ll give you to rub in your skin, very fragrant. Leave it to me,” said Ysanne. “I’ve always relished that little chain you wear, with the pearl.”
    Helise removed the chain. She held it out to Ysanne.
    “No, no. Are you offering that to me? But lady, I serve the house. I’m your slave.” Then seeing the chain flutter, knowing Helise inept, Ysanne quickly added, “You’re too kind, madam. I thank you. It’s always safer to seal a bargain. Naturally, this is a secret.” And with the pearl in her bosom off she went, leaving Helise to pace about, between repentance and vaunting, dread and disbelief, praying with untame transgression for Heaven to grant her profane hope.
    She wore the charm, a mouse’s sack of herbs, under her shift. Not seeing Heros d’Uscaret by night, morning, afternoon, she sent him word. Through servants, she entreated he would speak to her before his journey. The servants said they had not found him. Further inquiry told her that her husband was dining at the house of this family and that. That her husband was dining at the palace with the Duke. That her husband was in his tower, where they did not venture to bother him except at the summons of his father, or his mother.
    Days ebbed. She stitched them into her embroidery, and picked them out again, but still they were lost.
    Ysanne’s herbal charm did not work. Her other mixtures would be as useless, the unction, the drug for the wine. She would not address herself to Ysanne again.
    Then, from a dry husk or two let fall by the voice of Lady d’Uscaret, Helise had made known to her that in three nights, Heros would leave the City. She did not even recall—perhaps they had never mentioned it to her—where he was bound. Whether by ship or