SORCEROUS SIGNALS
Written by Donald Jacob Uitvlugt / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti
Serpent's Heart



























And with light steps the cuckold now departs,
And soft the lover slips into her bed.
He screams to wake and see her hungry stare,
A serpent's form to match a serpent's heart.
-- final stanza of an old Accalian ballad

"By the ice-teats of Uvera!"

Cale ap Corwin rubbed his head where he had just banged it against a rafter. Gods-damned cellar. Some
instinct warned him, or perhaps a hush in the air. Cale ducked just as a spurt of flame blazed where his
head had been moments before.

"A simple extermination job, Mura said. The tavern had a rat problem, he said."

Cale stabbed where his opponent had been a moment before. A hiss and the sound of claws on wood.
Cale picked up his dropped torch. Not that he cared if he did catch the casks of the tavern's wares on
fire. The drinks in The Boar's Snout were so watered down, Cale doubted they would burn in the first
place.

"Here, puss-puss." Cale strode carefully around the casks. "I'm not going to hurt you. That's Mister
Sword's job."

Cale jumped up, avoiding a nasty burn at the level of his ankles. This was crazy. He knew The Boar's
Snout had had a rat problem. Everyone knew The Boar's Snout had a rat problem. Half the patrons
probably thought rat droppings were a standard stew seasoning. So where the tavern keeper got the
bright idea of buying a dragoncat…

Cale froze, a chill of certainty running up his spine. Mura. The whole setup stank of the moneylender. Sell
the dragoncat, and then when the flaming furball got out of control, sell extermination service. And if the
first exterminator gets roasted alive, Mura would probably just charge the tavern keeper more for the
second.

Or maybe Cale was the second. Or fourth or fifth. The tavern keep had shown a profound reluctance to
go down the stairs. Perhaps there were piles of charred exterminators down here, clogging up the paths
between the casks.

"Cale's life-lesson number fifteen: Always, always ask why they didn't take care of the problem
themselves."

The sound of the world's largest hairball being horked up. A crossroads among the casks. Cale spun into
the right-hand path just as a spout of flame roared where he had been standing a moment before. A
streak of snarling black fur chased the flame. Cale blessed his luck, knowing there would be no guarantee
he would be so lucky next time. He was on his own.

The only plan that occurred to him sounded insane, but he could think of no other. With a sigh, Cale
climbed to the top of a stack of barrels. He sucked in air around his teeth. Trying to squeak like a rodent.
Here, puss-puss. Come and get the nice, fat, injured rat.

The creature stalked around the corner. It looked like a big, black tomcat, to which some cruel child had
glued accents of red scales. There was definitely something more reptilian than feline in its red eyes. Eyes
that stared at Cale in hatred when it saw him rather than an easy dinner.

Cale swung his sword as the cat began horking up another ball of flame. The fire deflated in a soft
woosh, died on the floor with the dragoncat. Cale frowned. Mura hadn't said anything about returning
the beast to him alive, but the way Mura worked the moneylender would probably charge him for the
destruction of his property.

Cale wiped down his sword and sheathed it. He picked up the two parts of the corpse. The creature
looked almost peaceful in his arms, like it had fed on cream and cake its whole life instead of rat flambé.
Well, at least he would have the tavern keep's gratitude out of the deal. Perhaps he would stand Cale for
a few drinks. The thought made Cale's stomach turn as he emerged from the cellar.

"'Ere now. 'E's killed it."

Cale cracked a weary smile, expecting some applause from the tavern's evening patrons. Or at least
some good-natured teasing. He did not expect to be pelted in the face with a hunk of half-rotted
cabbage from someone's soup.

"What that poor puss ever do to you?"

Cale opened his mouth to explain the incendiary nature of his relationship with the feline in question.
Only to have a hunk of potato stop it. Thrown, no doubt, by a patron smart enough to not drink the ale.

"Cat killer! Someone should tell the city watch."

Cale spat out the potato and looked over at the tavern keep. This immense personage seemed more
concerned his customers might damage his establishment than that they might injure Cale. He looked
the swordsman right in the eye.

"Somebody guard the kitchen door. Don't let him escape."

Benches slid back on the pounded dirt floor. The tavern keep's words had the desired effect of moving
the impending mob to the rear of the tavern and thereby forcing Cale out the front. Cale shot a last
hateful look at the tavern keep, wishing he could spit fire. Then he ran out of The Boar's Snout, with the
fleeter of its patrons close at his heels.

Thankfully, Cale could still outrun a few half-drunk buffoons. More evidence, if Cale needed it, that
patronizing The Boar's Snout was detrimental to one's wellbeing. Cale threw one last look over his
shoulder to make sure he had lost any pursuers. As he did so, he ran into something and fell sprawling
into the mud of the Accalia city streets.

"You poor boy. Let me help you up."

A warm female voice caressed Cale all over, making him blush like the boy he had been called. A hand
touched his arm, laid delicate fingers with red lacquered nails against his arm. The skin was so white that
it made Cale feel filthy. Filthier than he was, at any rate. The touch was warm, hot even. Or perhaps that
was further evidence of Cale's embarrassment.

"Not at all necessary, milady." Cale stumbled to his feet, looking no doubt like a drunken lout. "But I
thank you for your kind offer."

The woman wore a long ermine cloak that covered most of her body, though her bare arm strongly
suggested that the whole shared like grace and beauty. Cale wondered why the grime of the streets had
not touched the garment. And then the sight of the woman's face drove all questions from his mind.

Long black hair was pulled back from a noble brow, so white Cale could see the tracery of veins
underneath. High cheeks with the faintest of blushes gave the woman an exotic air. Lips as red as her
painted nails. Eyes as dark as the midnight sky, eyes that Cale was certain would be mesmerizing, if they
did not bear the look of puzzlement they now held.

Cale supposed that if a man carrying a severed cat ran into him, he'd be curious as well.

"My wi…, err, girlfriend's cat. Strayed into the courtyard while I was training with the sword. Need to get
it to a necromancer before she returns from a visit to her mother's in the morning."

As plausible of a story as he could create on short notice. He might even go to a necromancer at that,
just to see if he could get the cat reanimated long enough to collect his full fee from Mura.

A single, rapier-thin eyebrow raised. Then the woman's face warmed into a smile. Cale felt his heart
pound. He had been right about her eyes. "My dwelling is not far from Mage's Row. Let me accompany
you that far."

She silenced Cale's protest with a finger on his lips. She had to perfume her hands, as the scent of
jasmine and midnight glories enticed Cale's nostrils. A shiver ran up his spine.

"Or let us rather say you are escorting me home. You are a brave and strong young man, and these city
streets are full of wicked things now that the sun has set."

Wicked thoughts, at the very least. But Cale said nothing as the woman draped herself on his right arm.
He moved the dead cat to his left arm. The same perfume Cale had noted earlier wafted from the
woman's hair, with the slightest undernote of musk. A scent that hinted at nighttime excesses promising
to leave a man very tired in the morning, but very happy. As she leaned against him, Cale noted the
woman was at least half a head taller than he was.

A full moon peered through hazy clouds, scarcely above the houses of the city. The night noises of
Accalia seemed faint, dim. Or perhaps it was Cale in the haze, befuddled by his companion as they glided
along the streets.

Cale looked around them. They had stopped moving. He had been distracted…by what, he was not sure.
Perhaps it was the way the moonlight sparkled in the woman's hair. Perhaps it was the voluptuous
curves so tantalizingly hinted at by the drape of her cloak. Perhaps it was the perfume that seemed to
grow more potent by the moment. Perhaps it was that Cale had not spent the evening with a woman for
weeks, and was rarely in the company of one so beautiful.

Whatever the reason, he had paid no attention to the journey, and now found himself in a part of Accalia
he did not recognize. Cale prided himself on knowing the city better than most natives, parts savory as
well as those considerably less so. But this street was unknown to him.

They had stopped before a structure that was more a mansion than a house, built in the white-columned
style popular generations ago. The grounds were quiet, and somewhat neglected. The overall effect was
of a temple that had fallen on hard times.

"Thank you for seeing me home, my fine young gallant. Please, let me offer you some refreshment before
you continue on your way."

Cale opened his mouth to protest, but the only sound that came out was a soft squeak. The woman
laughed, a chiming of starlight. Cale found himself past the gate and moving up one of the curving ramps
leading up to a large ebony door, not quite sure how he had gotten there.

Once. Twice. Three times the woman let the large bronze knocker drum against the door. It swung
inward without making a sound. It closed behind them with a dull thud. Cale never saw who or what
opened and closed the door.

The interior of the building only strengthened the impression of a temple. Tall, fluted columns were lit by
lamps along the wall. Cale's nose told him the lamps were fueled by some sort of animal fat, but he could
not identify the species.

"Perhaps you would like to bathe before your refreshment?" Cale nodded.

The woman took the dragoncat's body and laid it on a table in the hallway. She then led Cale to a side
chamber, warm with the light of dozens of lamps. In the floor was a circular pool with steps leading into
the water. Steam wisped upward from the smooth surface.

"I will leave you to your bath while I make some preparations."

Cale cracked a toothy grin. "I had hoped that…you might join me…"

The woman's smile dazzled. "I will not be gone long, my lusty youth. I promise."

As the woman glided off, Cale turned to wrestle out of his clothes. The swordbelt proved especially
stubborn. He set his clothes aside and stepped into the water, sighing as heat sank into tired muscles.
He spied a bar of soap and some washcloths nearby and began to scrub off the grime of his recent
felinicidal escapades.

He rinsed himself and was just starting to notice a rumbling in his stomach when his hostess returned.
Cale couldn't help but blush again at the hungry way she studied his body.

"All is ready."

The woman had removed her cloak to reveal a white dress whose split sleeves left her arms bare. A full
skirt fell to the floor to trail behind her. Cale climbed out of the pool and reached for his clothes.

"Leave them."

The woman held a large white towel open. Cale blinked but wrapped the towel around his body and let
her lead him to the next chamber.

The room was smaller than a banquet hall but larger than a family kitchen. The ever-present fat lamps
were here in abundance, as well as a number of censers that gave off a musky perfume similar to that
worn by his hostess. A large stone table stood empty in the middle of the room under a window in the
ceiling open to the night sky. A sideboard held a large goblet, a number of pitchers and ewers, some
utensils and a few things Cale could not identify, and a black-haired kid.

The goat did not seem to have been cooked. The sides moved slowly. Definitely rarer than Cale usually
liked his meat. The kid's legs were bound together, and it stared at Cale with drugged eyes.

Cale did not have time to take in much more, as his hostess's nails pressed against the skin of his arm.
She directed Cale to the table and smiled an inviting smile as she ran a hand over the smooth marble.
Cale cocked an eyebrow. Not really his sort of thing. Although he had spent an interesting evening in the
duke's kitchen with one of the cooks. And the daughter of a beekeeper Cale knew had some fascinating
uses for honey…

Cale coughed and climbed up onto the table. He laid down, turning onto his stomach at a gesture of his
hostess. He shivered at the cold marble. The woman gave a smile that hinted at everything and promised
nothing. Then she turned to the sideboard, signing softly under her breath.

Cale almost jumped as cold oil drizzled onto his back. Hands began to work the oil into his body, the
woman's long fingers surprisingly strong. Cale moaned, giving himself over to the pleasure of the
massage. He gave only a token protest as the towel was pulled from his lower body. The smell of herbs
and musks grew as the oil warmed. A very...arousing scent, if a little heavy on the musk.

While she worked, the woman said nothing, just continuing to sing. The song had a droning, exotic
quality, and was not in the common language of the city.

"Salve, Salisator Domine, dominus noctis…Suscipe hanc oblationem…"

Cale shivered again, shifted position on the marble. "Your husband must be a very lucky man."

The hands on his body paused. There was a distance to the woman's voice when she responded.

"I have been a widow…for a long time."

"I'm sorry." Cale turned onto his side. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

The woman smiled, though her dark eyes were very distant. "I have learned to take my pleasure where I
can. On your back, please."

As Cale did as he had been asked, he looked up at the high window. The full moon was just starting to
make herself seen through the opening. Then he started as the woman poured more oil on his body.

"Cold," he said with a sheepish grin.

The woman said nothing, her hands working faster, as if she took no pleasure in what she was doing,
but simply had a task to perform and was running out of time.

"Salve, Salisator Domine, princeps serpentum…Ecce haedus niger et vas fortis…"

The chant grew louder. Around the perimeter of the room, the lamps sputtered and then flamed up
above the height of a man. The censers billowed spirals of smoke that snaked out into the room.

"Salve…Salve…Salve…"

Cale could see almost the whole disk of the moon now. The spirals of smoke seemed to almost fill the
room. One brushed past Cale's foot, sticking for a moment before sliding past.

"Salve, Salisator!"

As the chant came to a crescendo, four tendrils of smoke shot out like striking cobras. A gust of wind
drove in from the window in the ceiling, cold as if it had come from the frozen mountains of the moon or
beyond. Cale attempted to sit up on the table, but too late. Two of the smoke tendrils coiled around his
ankles and a third around his right wrist. Each held tighter than a python. Only by thrashing around was
Cale able to keep his left arm free.

A laugh colder than the icy wind. "Yesss. Ssstruggle. He likes the blood pumping in the veins of his
victims."

Cale looked up to see his hostess, transformed. The wind whipped her hair into long black tendrils that
snapped behind her, as did the billows of her dress. The dark eyes stared hungrily with slitted pupils
while a forked tongue ran over fangs like curved needles.

The worst was below the waist. The wind had lifted the woman's skirts, revealing not legs but the
writhing bodies of dozens of serpents. Black and red, sickly yellow and green, the serpentine limbs coiled
and twined around each other as the woman swayed from side to side. A snake about to strike.

The full moon filled the center of the window and the unnatural wind grew stronger. The incense smoke
swirled higher and higher and began to resolve itself into a form. A vast, serpentine form.

"He comes. He comes. Bringing the pain that is pleasure and the pleasure that is pain. He comes bringing
destruction. He comes bringing life. Lord Salisator, feast on your sacrifice. Fill this vessel I offer that I
may reign with you as your consort."

The smoke being grew more solid, adding a loud hiss to the sighing of the wind. Cale struggled against
the tentacles that held him in place. The woman-thing approached, nails scoring Cale's skin. Its eyes
were fixed on the being as it materialized. The look mixed lust and devotion and fear.

Cale strained against the coils, his fingertips just reaching the sideboard. Just a little further. His fingers
touched a long-handled fork. Closed on the end. He used his fingertips to inch it toward him until he
could hold it firmly in his palm. Cale then rolled in his bonds. Stabbed upward.

The woman-thing screamed and drew back, hand trying to pull the fork out of its left eye. Blood and a
clear gel streamed from around the tines. The scream went on and on, serpentine limbs fluttering in pain.
At last she was able to pull the fork from her eye. A wet pop. The woman-thing stared at Cale with
hatred in its remaining eye.

The room grew quiet. Darker. The lamps had returned to their original levels. The wind had vanished.
Only a sliver of the moon was visible through the window. Whatever had been about to happen, the
woman-thing had missed its chance. And it hated Cale for it.

With a shout, she sprang at Cale. He rolled to the side, tumbling off the table in the process. The snake
limbs billowed and roiled under the woman-thing, raising her to twice Cale's height.

"You will die. You will die slowly. I will rip your life from you, one bite at a time."

Cale backed up slowly as the woman-thing advanced on him. Made it think he was afraid of it. The
woman-thing glided forward, forked tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. Tasting Cale's scent. It
smiled as it backed Cale up against the wall.

"And now your death begins."

"Not tonight, thank you."

Cale snatched up one of the lamps and threw it against the woman-thing. The clay shattered, spreading
grease and fire over the monster. The woman-thing screamed in pain, arms and snake tails flailing, trying
to beat out the flames. Cale threw a second and third lamp for good measure and then dashed from the
room.

Behind him he heard a sound like a stampede of snakes. Cale ran faster.

Thankfully the room he had bathed in was only a short distance away. Cale reached it precious seconds
before the woman-thing. It saw the opportunity presented by the pool and plunged in, extinguishing the
fires from its body. Wet tatters of the white dress clung to the creature. Where the skin was not
charred, it was red and blistered. Its hair had burned away, the bald pate making its resemblance to a
serpent more complete.

Cale's sword rang out as he drew it from its scabbard. Uncertainty flickered in the woman-thing's
remaining eye. The snake limbs sank down, lowering the woman-thing's center of balance and providing
a barrier of agile flesh between Cale and its torso.

Cale swung, taking off the tips of half a dozen snake tails. Black ichor more viscous than blood oozed
from the wounds. The woman-thing hesitated, lunged. Cale thrust, the tip of his sword slipping between
the ribs. Penetrating the heart.

Cale pulled out his sword. The creature looked down at the wound, a leering red gash. Blood sprayed
out, a thick red-black. The woman-thing stared at Cale with hatred. Made one last lunge. Collapsed into
the pool in the center of the room.

Cale paused. Unsure if this was a feigned death. The night called to him, or anywhere away from the
monster. The first tremor spurred him into motion. The floor shook. Great cracks appeared in the
columns. Chunks of masonry began to fall, striking the body. Definitely time to leave.

As Cale ran for the door, the columns began to fall with thunderous crashes. He hurtled over one that
had fallen in his path, coughing at the clouds of dust in the air. The great ebony door had already been
shaken open, and Cale had hardly passed through it when the whole house came crashing down.

A haze of dust obscured the moon. Cale laughed in relief as it settled. He looked to where the house had
stood and saw…nothing. A lot where it seemed no building had stood for a century or more. Cale's mirth
changed to a frown of puzzlement, until a breeze reminded him he had other matters to worry about.

A glance about told him he was not far from Mage's Row. A friend of his was studying to be a sorceress.
She would no doubt lend him clothes and a bed for the night. Not necessarily in that order. Cale began
to move from shadow to shadow. The city did not seem busy this evening, but Cale had no intention of
explaining his state of dress to the city watch.

As he turned into Mage's Row, Cale cursed. The dragoncat. No way Mura was going to pay him without
the body. He shook his head. "Cale's life-lesson number sixteen: A dragoncat in the hand is worth more
than a serpent's heart."

With a sigh, Cale knocked on the window of his friend's lodgings.
Donald Jacob Uitvlugt grew up in Western Michigan and now lives in Central Arkansas with his
wife and dog. His short fiction has previously appeared in numerous print and online venues,
including Ray Gun Revival, A Thousand Faces and Renard's Menagerie, as well as the
anthologies Cinema Spec, The Phantom Queen Awakes, and WolfSongs 2.

Find out more at http://haikufiction.blogspot.com.