Witch Doctor - Wiz in Rhyme-3 by Christopher Stasheff

see to it that she moved on from suffering to ser vice.
    "I repent me!" she cried again. "Dear Lord, save my soul!
    inflict what trials Thou wilt, what sufferings Thou dost deem just!
    Only let me come into Thy presence!"
    There was a howl of rage and frustration somewhere, distant, but ringing. I looked up, surprised, but I didn't see anybody except my angel.
    He was smiling a very smug smile, though. "That, Saul, was her personal tempter. You cured her mind, and she saved her own soul." I stared.
    Then I gave my head a shake. Whatever sort of dream this was, working within its rules was working very well. "Okay," I said, "but we'd better hurry up and save her life, shouldn't we?"
    "Should we? For the longer she lives, the greater the chance that she'll slip back into sin."
    I looked up at him, scandalized-but he wasn't even looking at me, he was talking to empty air on the other side of the hole. I felt the gooseflesh rise.
    "Indeed, you are right," he said with regret. "If the Lord doth wish her home, naught we can do will save her."
    "So if we can save her," I said, "that means it's not her time." He looked down at me in surprise. "Indeed, Saul. You see it most
    clearly. " Well. I wasn't impressed. I'd figured that one out, long ago. Hadn't he been watching? "So how do we get her out?"
    "Try a verse," he suggested.
    "Ridiculous!" I snapped. "You can't make things happen just by talking!

Is
    peak of that to Madison Avenue," he retorted. "'Twas you put her down there, did you not?"
    I just glared at him. I always hated it when the other guy was right.
    But he was right-so I sighed and called down into the hole,
    "The day doth daw, the cock doth craw, The channering worm doth chide!
    'Gin you must be out of this place, Though in sore pain you may bide!"
    And she was standing beside the hole, looking about her in surprise that very quickly became major fear. "How-how did you achieve that?"
    "By poetry," I said impatiently, "or at least a very, very old folk song. What's the matter-don't you even know the rules of your own universe? " She shook her head, faster and faster, stepping away from me, hands coming up to fend me off. "I know only the rules of good and evil! " That stonkered me. "Then how did you work magic?"
    "Why, by reciting the spells my mas ... doomer gave me." Rote memorization. Parrotlike repetition. Coincidence and association. She hadn't understood anything about what she was doing. No wonder she was a minor functionary. "There are other rules," I said.
    Then I remembered. "But you don't need to know them any more."
    "'Tis true." Her hands came down. "All I need now is the justice of God, and the need for faith in Him."
    Suddenly, she was on her knees, clutching at my jeans. "And 'tis you who have rekindled that faith! 'Tis you who have cured my soul of the curdled anger called hatred, that did drag it down! 'Tis you who have freed me to suffer for the right and seek to aid my fellow creatures! Oh, a thousand thanks, young Wizard, and a thousand blessings!" Then she remembered herself and dropped her hands. "If the blessings of a corrupted soul may be of benefit to you." I was hugely relieved. I just don't like having things clutching at me-unless they're young, female, and shapely; and even then I'm wary. This one may have been female, but she was anything but beautiful, and I could have sworn she was growing older by the second.
    "Your soul shines like newly minted silver," my angel said. I looked up at him, startled. Compliments were one thing, but this ...
    Then I realized he was prompting me. "Say it yourself," I snapped.
    "No way am I going to deliver a line like that!"
    "To whom do you talk? " Sobaka quavered. I looked down at her, then looked up quickly at the angel. No, he was still there. "Him," I said, pointing. "Can't you see?" She looked where I was pointing, and fear creased her wrinkled face, not that it made much difference. "Nay," she said. "There is none there."
    "Well, there is," I sighed,