Free Night's Master by Tanith Lee

thing is cursed, he thought, demon work. It has done much
ill and will do more unless I hide it in the ground. Then, his fingers
going over it, he touched the seven magic jewels.
    Others, seeing them, had hungered for them. But Kazir saw only through
his finger-ends, and this with his own curious power. For an instant he held
his breath, and then he said:
    “Seven tears shed in despair beneath the earth, seven tears shed by a
flower who is a woman.”
    In that second he knew everything—not only the bloody story of the
collar, but what had gone before, the little Drin hammering in his forge, Bakvi
the worm in Azhrarn’s garden. But more than all this, he knew Ferazhin Flower-Born
who wept beside the lake in Underearth, for Sivesh and for the sun.
     

6. Kazir
and Ferazhin
     
     
    For many
months Kazir wandered over the earth, Kazir the blind poet, Kazir the singer of
gold. He was searching for a way to the Underearth, a way to Ferazhin. A spell
had been laid on him, not of avarice but of compassion, and of love. But who
could tell him what he must know? The name of Azhrarn was only filtered in
shadows and in whispers; besides, he had so many names: Lord of Darkness,
Master of Night, Bringer of Anguish, Eagle-Winged, the Beautiful, the
Unspeakable. The entrance to his kingdom was the core of a mountain at the
earth’s center, but who could find the place, what map showed it? And who would
dare to go, dare to guide a blind man to such a spot where funnels of rock
erupted flame and the sky was all vermilion smoke?
    Kazir did not despair, though his heart was heavy. He earned his bread by
making songs, and sometimes his songs would heal the sick or cure the mad, for
such was his magic. Although he was blind, almost any house was glad to shelter
him, and, although he was blind, almost any woman who saw him would have been
glad to spend her days at his side. But Kazir passed by as a season passes,
seeking only the way to Ferazhin.
    He carried the collar hidden in his shirt, understanding the evil it
would bring to men, but when he was alone, he would reach in and touch the
seven jewels, and into his mind would steal the presence of Ferazhin. He did
not see her, not even with an inner eye, for he had been blinded too young to
remember much of images, colors or visual forms. Rather he knew her as others
might know a rose by smelling its perfume in a darkened garden, or a fountain
by feeling its refreshment play over their hands.
    One twilight, high on an open tableland, he came upon a stone house. An
old woman lived there who had once practiced the arts of sorcery, and although
she had wisely put away her books at last, a scent of spells still clung around
the spot.
    Kazir knocked. The old woman came out. She had kept one sorcerous ring:
when the wicked stood near her the ring burned, when the good were close at
hand the stone turned green. Now it shone like an emerald, and the old woman
bade her visitor enter. She saw that he was beautiful, and blind, and she was
clever from her years of witching. She set food before her guest, and presently
she said:
    “You are Kazir, the foolish one who seeks the way to Underearth. I have
heard you slew a terrible serpent in a desert valley, and came away with a
fabled treasure.”
    “Wise lady,” said Kazir, “the serpent died of age and sorrow. The
treasure is steeped in the blood of men and worth nothing. I came away only
with an agony in my heart for another, a damsel weeping in the Underearth for
light and love.”
    “A fair damsel,” said the witch woman. “A damsel made from a flower.
Perhaps I know a way to her. Are you brave enough to take it, blind Kazir?
Brave enough to search without eyes along the margins of death?”
    “Only tell me,” said Kazir, “and I will go. I cannot rest till she has
rest, that fair one underground.”
    “My price is seven songs,” said the witch. “A song for each of Ferazhin’s
tears.”
    “I will pay you gladly,” said Kazir.
    So Kazir