Page 87 of Homeward for a Spell

“I will be rid of you,” Menorath spits out.

Impossible. You’re nothing without me. In fact, I think we ought to be even closer, Menorath.

Her aunt opens her mouth to protest, but the writhing, ozone-and-iron stinking purple smoke rushes down her throat, pouring itself into her as she gags. When the last of it has filled her up, she opens her eyes—now a cold, pupil-less purple—and croaks, “Help me, he’s everywhere! I can feel him. He’ll take everything, please…” Her words choke off, and she falls to the ground, fingers clawing at the floorboards as she tries and fails to wretch him up.

But what can Araphi do? What can any of them do?

“Phi!” comes a shout from the doorway. Impossibly, Bramble stands there, Phi’s mother’s lute clutched in their hands. “Are you all right? I heard screaming! And we felt the ground shake.”

“Get out of here, Bramble! It’s not safe.”

But Bramble thrusts the lute toward her. “Take this, at least. Sage thought it might help. And I’m sorry…for everything.”

Before Araphi can reply, her mother rushes forward to grab the lute. “We have to help her,” she shouts, turning back to watch Menorath’s contortions. “He’s going to kill her!”

Some treacherous part of Araphi wonders whether the world would be a better place without her aunt in it, but she shoves that thought aside. This is Yael’s mother, and a human—if a vile one—who’s clearly in tremendous amounts of pain. “How?”

Menorath screams again, clutching at her hair and pressing her forehead desperately to the floor.

You will learn to respect me, Menorath Clauneck. I will show you power like you can’t fathom and then I will—

“Clauneck, enough!” Araphi’s mother yells. She strums her skilled fingers over the lute’s strings. It’s out of tune after a season without tending, and her mother must be out of practice. But music is in her blood, and strained though it may be, the song sparks with magical potential as she hastily tunes the instrument.

“Mother, what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done long ago!” She’s growing more comfortable with her old instrument now, plucking out a complex tune, and running trills over the lute. “I’ll banish you, Clauneck!”

Banish him? Araphi had never known such a thing was possible.

Clauneck’s laughter fills the room. You? A mere bard?

“Never ever underestimate a bard! Araphi, join me. Together we can send him out of this plane and shut the door behind him.”

Brenna starts to play, weaving a complex spellsong that grows dense around them. Somehow the notes and melodies hang in the air, like dewdrops caught in a spider’s web. Araphi’s never heard her mother’s voice so firm, so sure. She’s never heard music like her mother is playing right now either. Is this who Brenna was before the Claunecks pressed her into their mold? She’s magnificent, fierce, and unbelievably powerful.

Araphi’s heart fizzes with excitement. This is it: the only way forward. This is how she brings down the worst parts of her family, stops her aunt, and gets to be with Sage. Without Clauneck, the family’s star will quickly wane, any heir made redundant. She and her siblings will be free to become something more than Claunecks if they choose. If only she and her mother can manage it…

“What should I play?” Araphi cries.

“Anything, really. Improvise! Do you know why Clauneck hates bard magic so? He despises devotion to anything but him. He hates creation for joy’s sake rather than for profit, and sees no value in passion. But he’s wrong, and we’ll show him. Our songs woven together will strengthen the spell. Pour all your intention into it. Think of freedom from Clauneck—not just for you, but for our whole family.”

The idea is intoxicating, and Araphi does as her mother suggests, her fingers playing a song that matches the tone and feeling of her mother’s notes.

Together, they play. Fast, dangerous music, fighting music. They weave the spell that draws Clauneck out of Menorath’s body in the form of a billow of purple smoke. Their patron has no solid form, not on this plane, but the suggestion of a form—a sharply clawed hand emerging and then vanishing, a mouth yawning wide in a furious scream. With every note, he’s wreathed in a cage of silvery threads spun from their shared song. Araphi imagines her life without Clauneck hovering over her, menacing her future. She imagines her siblings getting to choose who they want to be, not just who they’re expected to be. She imagines her family depending upon their own skill, hard work, and ingenuity, not on fearful bargains and market manipulations.

She imagines a life with Sage.

The silver net around Clauneck pulls closer, ensnaring him.

DO YOU REALLY THINK YOUR MISERABLE FAMILY WILL SURVIVE WITHOUT ME?

Clauneck’s voice is strained. He presses at the threads of the banishment spell, but it draws more tightly around him.

“Survive? I think we’re going to thrive,” Araphi replies.

If you banish me, we will all lose! Your family will be on its own now, with no measure of magic. No matter how much you beg.

Araphi grins and keeps playing, hearing the frantic lie in his threat. Perhaps Clauneck needs them for power on his plane, but she doesn’t need Clauneck’s magic. She never did. Her own magic is something entirely different. It brings people together, rather than tearing them apart. It builds and soothes, rather than bargains and breaks.