Far away, in a small, heavily wooded country on the fringes of Central Europe, Lady Merial’s father, Lord Jezail, sat in the top-most tower of his great citadel. Hunched over a glowing crystal ball, he listened with a stony face to the threats of the witches and watched as they disappeared amid the rising storm.
Gorgeously dressed in velvet robes, he was an impressive figure despite his age. A mane of dark hair hung to his shoulders, bushy eyebrows flared above shrewd black eyes and a beak of a nose towered above lips that could smile charmingly when it suited him. This air of somewhat austere kindliness, however, hid a cruel, vindictive nature and although he was generally regarded as a wizard of integrity, he was, actually, nothing of the sort. Indeed, he had quite successfully hidden his true character from the world of magic for more years than he cared to remember.
Leaning back in his chair, he raised his eyes briefly to meet those of the other occupant of the room and together they looked on in silence as his daughter’s car, half hidden by what was now a raging blizzard, moved slowly down the driveway towards the main road.
Had he held the eye of the crystal on the house for just a few seconds longer, he would have seen the shambling figure of the old man as he approached the house — and would, most certainly, have recognized him, perhaps even have hexed him. But, as it happened, he didn’t. The crystal followed the car and the moment was lost.
“Well, Vassili,” Lord Jezail muttered a few minutes later as the crystal dimmed and became misty, “what do you make of that, then?”
His aide, Count Vassili, dark-haired and slim in the elegant robes of his calling, inclined his head. Years of serving his master had taught him to choose his words carefully and although he’d been asked for his opinion in quite a few tight situations, nothing quite compared to the enormity of this one.
“Milord, what can I say? I … I am terribly, terribly sorry. To lose your daughter like this …” he gestured vaguely and his voice petered out as his master looked at him in surprise.
“Sorry?” Lord Jezail seemed puzzled. “Sorry? Oh, I see,” he waved his hand irritably, “yes, well, it is a pity, I suppose, but then she always knew that this was going to happen to her, didn’t she?” His face darkened and anger gleamed once more in his black eyes. “Serves her right for marrying a human!” he added coldly. “But that isn’t what I meant!” he leant forward, frowning darkly. “I want to know what you think of her hiding the silver talisman!!” His voice rose in anger. “Hiding it, Vassili!” he repeated.
Vassili tried not to look shocked and it was only with a great effort that he managed to keep his face blank. He’d always known that Lord Jezail had a pretty cold heart but, until now, hadn’t realized just how frozen it must be — for incredible as it seemed, it was obvious that even at a time like this, all he could think of was the talisman!
“I … er, I can’t believe it, milord,” Vassili looked at him helplessly, throwing his hands out in disbelief.
Lord Jezail eyed him sourly, drawing his fur-lined cloak around him with a sweeping gesture that all but knocked the crystal off its stand.
Noting the twitching eyebrows and tight set of his master’s lips, the count bowed low and eyed him watchfully as he rose angrily to his feet and started to pace the floor.
“How could she do this to me?” Lord Jezail muttered, his voice rising. “My own daughter,” he said, “hiding the talisman not only from the eyes of the world of magic but from me, her own father.”
Vassili made a vague noise that could have meant anything.
“She knew perfectly well what was going to happen to her!” his master added. “Why the devil didn’t she send it back here?” He turned round and glowered accusingly at the count as though it were all his fault.
“I’m sure …” Vassili attempted to soothe his master’s anger but wasn’t given the chance to finish his sentence.
“I should never have given it to her in the first place!” Lord Jezail continued. “I must have been mad to even think of it!”
“Forgive me for asking,” Vassili ventured as his master continued to pace the room, “but what is it that’s so … well, special about the talisman?”
Lord Jezail turned and looked at him through hooded eyes. “Well, to begin with, its magic is extremely powerful and it protects its owner from danger of any sort,” he explained. “That was the reason I gave it to Merial in the first place; to protect her from harm. But it has many other magical properties; it can cure evil spells and has great power over nature. That’s one reason why the witches must never have it, for in the wrong hands they could, and would, use it to cause earthquakes, tidal waves and hurricanes; to say nothing of drought, flood and famine.”
“But the witches have that power already,” Vassili pointed out, “and so do you,” he added reasonably. “Why, even I can call up storms and the like and,” he deftly slipped in the compliment, “I’m nowhere near as great a magician as you are, milord!”
“Ah, but the talisman can control the witches and the storm carriers,” Jezail answered. “It works for the good of the earth. That’s why Merial couldn’t …” he stopped in mid-sentence “… that was why she couldn’t leave it to any of the witches.”
“You said that before,” Vassili acknowledged.
“Yes, but the point is that she must have known that in so doing she was virtually leaving the talisman to me.” Lord Jezail replied.
Vassili eyed him warily.
“Think about it,” his master smiled, rubbing his hands together almost gleefully. “She’s hidden it! It has no owner now that she’s gone; which means, Vassili, that as I gave it to her as a gift, it is mine by right! It must return to me!”
Vassili nodded, his mind working swiftly. “Yes,” he agreed, “yes, it would work like that, milord. But … what if the witches find it? I mean …”
“Let them find it,” Lord Jezail said, smiling nastily. Vassili looked at him, startled. “It will save us the trouble of looking for it,” he pointed out coldly, “and if we keep an eye on the witches through the crystal, we can take it from them whenever it’s found!”