Thoughtfully, I cut another slice from the loaf and buttered it slowly. Over and over, I’d seen technology defeat magic. Iron could destroy magic just by its presence. Iron pellets killed the wind wizard. Dewara blamed the weakness in his magic on having been shot by my father with an iron bullet. I’d witnessed a small steel blade bringing the Dancing Spindle to a sudden halt.

So how could magic do this to me?

I touched iron every day of my life. Magic should have no power over me. I was a Gernian, a follower of the good god, and a damn good engineer. Magic was for ignorant tent-dwelling nomads. I picked up the bread knife and studied the blade. Then I set it, flat-sided, against my arm. I felt nothing. No burn, no freezing cold, no antipathy to the metal at all. Disgusted with myself for even trying the experiment, I put the blade to its proper use, carving off another slice of bread. My ale mug was empty. I refilled it.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to sit down and talk with a priest. Most of them, I knew, dismissed magic entirely. It was not one of the gifts the good god extended to his followers, and therefore not the province of just men. They didn’t deny it existed. It just wasn’t allotted to me. I knew that from the Holy Writ. But what about what was happening to me? I didn’t desire it, so how could magic reach out and take hold of me this way?

In the next instant, I admitted to myself that perhaps I had desired it. What else had I intended that long-ago night when I had followed Dewara over the cliff? He had made me want to be Kidona, enough that I had been blindly willing to risk my life. Had that been an offense to the good god? Had that been when I had literally fallen into the powers of magic? Unbidden, the image of the sacrificed birds came to my mind. The old gods had been willing to grant magic to those willing to make such offerings, or so the old tales said. I shivered, and the warm and friendly kitchen suddenly seemed darker and more ominous. As a child, I’d been taught that followers of the good god were immune to the horrors and brutality of the old gods. Had I lost that protection when I stepped over the cliff’s edge? An image of a croaker bird came to my mind, wings extended and neck shot out as it cawed at me. I’d interfered with the sacrifice to Orandula, the old god of balances. He controlled death and life, fortune and misfortune. Had I offended him? Was I vulnerable to him now? Superstition stood all the hair up on my arms, and I nearly leapt out of my skin when a harsh voice spoke suddenly behind me.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped guiltily and turned. “Just having a quick bite to eat, sir. I came in late and didn’t want to wake anyone.”

My father crossed the kitchen with quick strides. I suddenly saw myself as he must see me: a fat boor, hunched over food in the dark, gobbling it down out of sight of others. The half loaf of bread, the greasy knife, the plundered crock of butter, and the ale mug all spoke of furtive gluttony.

“You pig. You lying pig. You avoid your family and refuse to eat with us so you can do what? Creep down here in the dark and stuff yourself with food?”

“I didn’t eat that much, sir.” I came to my feet. I stepped in front of the crumb-strewn table like a guilty child concealing a broken vase. “I ate only a few slices of bread and butter. Sergeant Duril and I went out for a ride and were out much longer than we intended. I came in hungry.”

“You’re supposed to be hungry, you fat idiot! That’s the purpose of the work I gave you, to whittle the fat from your lazy back. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, Nevare! I can’t understand when or why your changed into this…greedy, gluttonous liar! Oh, you had me fooled these last few days. You made such a show of staying away from the family table. I’ve talked to the cooks. They say you eat only one plate of food and then leave. I thought, ‘Well, the boy is trying, he’s recovered some of his self-discipline and he’s saving us having to watch him eat. He’s working hard and eating little and soon enough he’ll put himself right.’ I could not understand why the weight was not falling away from you, but I thought perhaps I was being impatient. I was even, may the good god help me, thinking of using my influence to get you back into the academy once you’d shown you had the backbone to change yourself. But what do I find tonight? The truth! You put on a show for us, with your hard work and small meals, but in the dark of night, you creep down here and stuff yourself! Why? Didn’t you think I’d work it out eventually? Do you think I’m a fool, Nevare?”

I was standing at attention now. I reined in my anger. “No, sir. Never, sir.”

“Then what, Nevare? What? Have you heard the reports of fresh skirmishes with the Landsingers and renewed clashes with some of the Plainsmen? They’re blaming us for the damn Speck plague and rising up. In times like these, a good officer can make his career. But you seem to be running away from all your opportunities! Are you a coward? Are you too afraid to serve your king as a soldier? You’re not lazy; I’ve had reports, you do your work each day. What? What is it?” His bafflement was driving him to rage. “Why do you want to bring shame on us all this way?” My father advanced on me, his eyes never leaving mine as he came on. He reminded me of a stiff-legged circling dog, selecting his position before he attacked. My thoughts ran in tiny circles. He was my father. He was being unjust. Most of this was his fault, not mine. I was transfixed by a question I could not answer: if he struck me, did I accept it, or did I strike back?

Perhaps he saw that uncertainty in my eyes, or sensed that I held fury in check. Whatever the reason, he stopped where he was. I heard his teeth grind, and then he spoke. “Discipline should come from within a man. You should have learned it by now. But as you have not, I will impose it upon you, as if you were a spoiled child. You will go to your room tonight, Nevare, and you will stay there. You will not leave it again until I give you permission to do so. I will regulate what you eat. Before the good god, I vow I will take that fat off of you.”

“We can try that,” I agreed, my voice flat. “But I don’t think it will work, Father.”

He snorted in disdain. “It will work. You’ve never seen a prisoner kept on bread and water for two months. You’d be amazed how fast a man can dwindle away.”

“Probably I would, Father. And if this fat were because I’d been greedy or slothful, such a cure would probably work. But it isn’t.” The truth was all I had to offer him. With no forethought, I went on, “I’ve explained this to Mother. I know she told you. I know you believe I lied to her. I didn’t. I’ve put on this weight because of a curse from a Speck wizard-woman. Or a goddess. I don’t know exactly what she was. But she is the one who has done this to me, by claiming me for her magic. And she was able to claim me because you put me in harm’s way when you fostered me out to Dewara the Kidona for training when I was fifteen. He ‘trained’ me, all right. He starved and abused me, and eventually he convinced me that the only way to be a true warrior was to become as Kidona as he was.” My voice rang with accusation. My father stared at me, his mouth slightly ajar.

“I was drugged with something he put on our campfire one night. The smoke was sweet and very thick. And when he told me to follow him, I did. I jumped off a cliff after him, and I found myself in a different world. We traveled in that world for days, perhaps weeks. We reached a dangerous bridge and he commanded me to do battle with its guardian. And that was where I encountered the Tree Woman. But I could not bring myself to fight a woman; I underestimated the sort of enemy she could be. And so I fell to her, and came under her control. And this, this body that looks so fat, this is what she did to me. Inside this body, I’m the same person I’ve always been, with the same dreams and ambitions. I’ve never stopped wanting to be a soldier. I’m trying to undo what happened to me. Tonight, I went to a Kidona encampment, to try to find a way to break free of her magic. But there isn’t, or at least that’s what—”