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Chapter One

Party

There was a knock at the door, so hesitant as to be almost inaudible. Parry opened it.

A girl stood without, huddled and childlike. Her flowing honey hair was bound back from her face by a fillet: a narrow band of cloth that circled her bare head. Her frightened eyes seemed enormous, the irises gray-green. "I am Jolie," she whispered, her hands making a tentative gesture toward her bosom.

She had come! Suddenly Parry's mouth felt dry. He had known she would, yet doubted. He had wanted her to, yet been afraid. Now the test was upon him.

"Please come in," he said, his voice sounding considerably more assured than he felt.

She gazed at him. Her face crumpled. "Oh, please, my lord, please let me go! I never did you harm, or even spoke ill of you! I never meant to give offense, and if I have, I apologize most abjectly! Please, please do not enchant me!" She put her face in her hands, sobbing.

Parry was taken aback. "I am not going to enchant you, Jolie!" he protested. "I have no grievance against you."

Those marvelous eyes peeked from between her fingers. "No?"

"None. I know you have done me no harm. I want only to -- " He found no appropriate word. "If you will come in, I will explain."

Her tears ceased, but not her fright. "The Sorcerer said I would not be hurt," she said somewhat defiantly.

"My father spoke truly," Parry said. "I mean only to talk with you. Please come in; it is warm inside."

She hesitated. A gust of wind tugged at her garment, and she shivered. It was evidently her best dress, but it was somewhat soiled linen, given shape only by the cord at her waist. It was inadequate protection against the chill of the fall evening. "You order me, lord?"

Parry grimaced. "I am no lord, Jolie. I am the Sorcerer's apprentice. I am hardly older than you. I cannot order you, nor would I if I could. I only want your company this night."

Her face crumpled again. "Oh, please, spare me this! To you it may be nothing, but to me it's my life!"

Parry had realized that there would be difficulty, but he had not properly appreciated its nature before. The girl believed that she was doomed if she set foot inside his house.

He could let her go. But that would mean the loss of what might be his sole opportunity, and failure in his first significant challenge. The Sorcerer had little sympathy for failure of any type.

"How can I persuade you that I mean you no harm?" he asked. "I swear to you that I will do nothing to you without your leave, and that I will not force that leave-giving."

"Will you swear by the Blessed Virgin Mary?" she asked disbelievingly."I swear it by the Blessed Virgin Mary."

She watched him for some sign of disaster, but there was none. He had not been smitten for false swearing; therefore it must be safe. Still, her doubt loomed almost tangibly.

"Come in before you freeze," he urged. "I have a fire within."

That did it; her shivering was not entirely from fright. "Remember, you swore," she reminded him nervously.

"By the Virgin," he agreed.

She stepped in through the doorway, her eyes fixing on the fireplace within. There was indeed fire, radiating flickering heat. He had banked it so that it gave off little smoke and warmed the chamber without depleting the air; it was one of the arts the Sorcerer had taught him.

Jolie knelt before it, extending her hands to the warmth. Now the threadbare nature of her garment became evident; the light of the fire shone through, showing her thin arms, and there were holes. But she was oblivious; for the moment that warmth was all that she craved.

Parry closed and barred the door against the wind. It was of stout oak, and chinked around the edges, but some drafts still leaked through. He went quietly to his pantry, which was a niche to the side, separated by a dark linen curtain. He brought out a loaf of bread, a cup of butter, and a jar of blackberry jam. He set these on a tray and added a pitcher of goat milk and a knife and two mugs. He brought these to the main chamber and set them on the wooden table."I have food," he said.

Jolie tore her rapt gaze from the fire and turned to him. For a moment her eyes met his; then she turned away without speaking.

"For you," he clarified, picking up the sharp knife.

She looked again -- and screamed. She lurched to her feet and ran for the door. She would have been out and away, but the bar balked her.

"No, wait!" Parry cried, dropping the knife and hurrying to join her. "I meant -- "

Perceiving herself trapped, Jolie turned on him a stricken countenance, then fainted.

He caught her as she fell. It was no ruse; her body slumped in rag-doll fashion. He had to transfer his hold from her shoulders to her midsection as she sagged. She was so light she seemed indeed like a doll; there was little flesh on her bones.

He tried to walk her to a stool, but couldn't make it work. Finally he picked her up and carried her. He eased her down by the fireplace, propping her against the warm hearth wall, then fetched pillows for comfort.

In a moment she recovered. Her eyes popped open, and she glanced about like a snared bird.

"You are safe, Jolie," Parry said quickly. "You swooned, but you are safe."

"The knife -- "

Then it burst upon him: the knife! He had been about to slice the bread, and she had thought he meant to use it on her. No wonder she had spooked!

"I gave my oath," he reminded her. "No harm to you."

---

Excerpted from For Love of Evil by Piers Anthony
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.