Free Shards of Time by Lynn Flewelling Page A

continued to buck and thrash, screaming hoarsely through clenched teeth. Thero gripped Sedge by the hair and managed to trace a hasty sigil on the man’s brow with his thumb, murmuring some spell under his breath. The mark writhed like a tiny eel, then disappeared in a little puff of malodorous steam.
    “That’s not good, is it?” asked Seregil. “Put him to sleep, will you?”
    Thero managed to grip the man’s head again, one hand pressed over his eyes and commanded, “Sleep.”
    Sedge screamed and thrashed harder, throwing both the wizard and Seregil off.
    Seregil grabbed Thero by the arm and pulled him back toward the door. “I think we’re only making things worse,” he shouted over the stricken man’s screams. “What did the smelly sigil mean?”
    “That he’s probably not mad. Some sort of curse has been placed on him. Inside, he’s screaming for help.” Thero extendeda hand in the frothing man’s direction and held his other out to Seregil. “Would you like to see what he sees?”
    Seregil clasped Thero’s hand and was immediately surrounded by blood. It was smeared across the walls, dripped from the edge of the bed, and covered Sedge’s hands and face. Flies were thick in the room, crawling in the blood and over the man’s eyes and mouth. Seregil and Thero looked hulking and demonic to him, with slitted pupils and blackened lips.
    “Illior’s Light!” Seregil pulled his hand away. “That’s what he sees all the time?”
    “Yes.” Thero looked down at the tormented man with pity in his pale eyes.
    “It must be necromancy.”
    “Not necessarily. There are other magics that include such spells. Whoever put the curse on him was skillful in covering their tracks. I think even a drysian would be—”
    Sedge suddenly stopped thrashing, then sat up and looked at them with dead, empty eyes. The air around them went clammy as he let out a thick, bubbling laugh and pointed an accusing finger at them. “Sorcerer, you are going to die, and you, too, skinny man. Only the dead can walk with the dead.” He made a horrible retching sound and spat a gob of black, slimy spittle at Thero’s feet.
    “Are you going to kill us, Captain Sedge?” asked Thero.
    Sedge lunged at them but Thero was ready. Raising his left hand palm out, he shouted “Halt!” and Sedge fell to his knees, snarling and frothing like a mad dog.
    “I think we’re done here, for now, don’t you?” Seregil turned and pounded on the door.
    The warder looked in at Sedge as they hurried out, then slammed the door as the madman threw himself against it. “Told you to be careful, didn’t I?”
    “Thank you for the warning,” Thero replied, looking shaken despite the success of his spell.
    “Get any sense out of ’im?” the tall man asked as he led them downstairs.
    “Hard to say,” Seregil told him.
    Seregil waited until they were safely outside before asking, “What else did you get from his thoughts?”
    “Terror mostly, but also just a glimpse of a young woman’s bloody face disappearing into darkness.”
    “He said Phania was ‘pulled.’ What do you make of that? Ghosts?”
    “I don’t know. It’s like someone has built a wall around the man’s memories.”
    “There are still Plenimarans on the island. One of them could be a necromancer,” said Seregil.
    “If we can heal Sedge’s mind, he may be able to tell us. We need a strong healer, someone who can calm him enough for me to brush his mind more deeply.”
    “So far the only one we’ve heard of is this Doctor Kordira. And she’s Plenimaran. For all we know, she’s the one who put the curse on him.”
    “Now who’s jumping to conclusions? I’ll pay the good doctor a visit tomorrow.”
    Micum and Alec stayed with Klia for a few rounds of Blue Goose, then bid her good night and went to their own rooms.
    Micum opened his door and shook his head. “I could fit the whole family in here, along with the household, dogs, and horses!” he whispered, careful