Free Spell of the Witch World (Witch World Series) by Andre Norton Page B

flattened to her ribs, her face was a mask of bone covered thinly with skin. Only her hair remained the same.
    But her lips stretched in a scornful smile. And for the first time she struck at me with words. Though whether she spoke them aloud or from mind to mind I did not know.
    “Witch one—look at me and see yourself. This is how you look to others!”
    If she thought to catch me through vanity— Had she so poor an idea of human women that she believed such a small assault would win her any even temporary victory?
    Her words meant nothing. It was the noose to which I must pay attention.
    “What man follows such as you—” Her taunting stopped. Her head went up, her eyes no longer strove to hold mine, even her hands were still, the noose of hair hanging limply from one. Her attitude was one of listening. Yet I could hear nothing.
    Once more a change came over her, beauty flowed back to round her body, make her the idealized image of what any man would joyfully claim as a bed-fellow. Again she laughed.
    “Witch, I have underrated you. It seems you do have one willing to follow where you led. But what a pity—from a beggar even his bowl shall be taken. Watch, Witch, and see how works the power of—” Then she shook her head and my heart warmed. For I realized how nearly she had been off guard, almost she had said her name. And, if she had uttered that, she would have truly lost. It had been so long since she had faced any kind of opposition that she was careless. Therefore I must be ever alert, ready to take advantage of any such slip.
    “Turn and look, Witch,” she urged. “See who comes now at my calling, as did all of these fools!”
    I did not need to do so, nor would I lower my guard. If Jervon had come, then he must take the consequences. I could not let myself be shaken in any way from the battle between the silver woman and me.
    I heard rather than saw him move into place beside me. Then his hand came into my line of vision and I saw he had drawn his sword, was holding it point out to the woman.
    She began to sing, a sweet beguiling. And she held out her hands to him, though she had not dropped the noose. And in her, woman that I was, I could see all the enticement my sex might ever hold for a man, promising him every delight of body.
    Jervon moved forward.
    Nor could I lay any blame on him, for this was sorcery which even the blazing loop cross at his throat could not avert. It was too distilled, too potent—
    And that potency awakened in me the same anger which I had felt before, as if the silver woman threatened all I could ever hold dear. Still I was a Wise Woman and to such the body and emotions must ever be controlled by the mind.
    She was speaking, a flow of crooning, compelling words—aimed at Jervon. I saw the sword waver, the point sink to the ground. His other hand went to paw at the loop cross, pull at it as if he would break the chain and throw that talisman from him. But also I sensed something else.
    Strong was her spell, yes. But he was fighting it. Not in fear, as the others might have fought when they came to realize the deadly enticement they faced, but because he knew in some part of him that this was not truly his desire.
    How this came to me I do not know, perhaps because it struck at her also. Her arms reached, she was desire incarnate—waiting for .him alone. His hand was on the loop cross, no longer pulling at it, no, rather clutching as if that gave him safe anchorage in the midst of a storm.
    What I had been waiting for happened; the noose spun out through the air. But not aimed for me—at Jervon, as if his stubborn refusal to surrender had again shaken her from careful planning.
    I was waiting, the tip of the wand catching into that loop. Straightaway it curled itself around the peeled branch as it would have around flesh had it touched. But as swiftly it released that hold, made to slip down to my hand.
    I shook the wand, saw those coils loosen, and the noose was sent