- A portion of The First Accord, as renewed between witches and the Lords of Cats
Power has a price.
Magic has laws.
Not in the sense of laws in the way a king puts his seal on a decree, or even in the manner of wizards who have devoted their existence to the study of how spells are wont to behave. These are far older than that. They exist because powerful beings agreed that certain things would be done in certain ways.
The Three Great Laws of Witchcraft
For witches and warlocks, there are three such arrangements that hold sway over all others.
There is the Pact of Baba Yaga, or what some refer to as the First Pact, which dictates the duties one witch owes to another. The First Accord governs the ties between witches and the Lords of the Animals, and concerns the use of familiars. And finally, the Concordat of Mephistopheles, setting out the terms by which supernatural Powers can endow a mortal with their strength and make a warlock of him.
In truth, none of these are fully known. You will not find an original, authenticated copy in the hands of any mortal scholar. Witches are quick to dispute the finer points of the First Pact. An Animal Lord may recall some part of the First Accord that has been lost to the witches’ memory. A warlock might come to the unpleasant realization that his patron left out a clause or two in the Concordat in their verbal agreements.
But for all that, they are real enough.
The Pact of Baba Yaga
Witches will tell you the Pact of Baba Yaga is the oldest of their accords, so old, in fact, that they call it the First Pact.
Tradition says Baba Yaga had no hand in making witches. They were here before the Pact was drawn up, as was magic, long before anyone put words to what it was. What she put in place was of far greater importance: she set the rules for how witches would have to deal with each other.
The Pact is an acknowledgment of the witch as an independent creature. She might be in service to a Goddess or a demon, to the elements or some ancestral spirit, or to no divine power one can name. She can be part of a coven or a solitary figure; kind or cruel, lawful or capricious, and either respected or feared. Yet she is a witch all the same.
And the First Pact lays down obligations that transcend covenants, nations, religions, and alignments. It is the source of ancient expectations regarding hospitality, sanctuary, debts, secrets, and the resolution of magical disputes.
None of this means a witch has to like her sister. The Pact does not even preclude enmity. Two witches can be at each other’s throats and still be bound by it. That is the point. The Pact of Baba Yaga is no declaration of universal peace or sisterhood; it is a recognition that there are things a witch does not do to another without consequence.
What precisely those things are is open to debate. One tradition will have its own take on the Pact, another its own. Some tenets are made plain to an apprentice, others are not spoken of until after coven initiation, and some are said to be the province of the very old. Baba Yaga, it is thought, remembers them all.
One should not expect a bolt from the blue every time a witch is dishonest with another. Breaking the First Pact rarely brings about such immediate retribution. The aftermath is often worse. A transgressor may find herself shunned: no one will trade spells with her, put her under their roof, honor her claims, or come to her aid. Then there are the tales of those who overstepped and found Baba Yaga taking a personal interest in the affair. Most witches find that prospect enough to ensure they behave.
Which is why a witch being styled a Granddaughter of Baba Yaga is more than a matter of prestige. It is a sign that she has personally taken note of the witch. And it is a reminder to all that the witch is bound by the First Pact. There are benefits, but there are also obligations.
The First Accord is older than most surviving witch traditions, although whether it predates the Pact of Baba Yaga is a question witches and occult scholars have argued about for centuries. The Animal Lords are not inclined to settle the argument.
The Accord concerns familiars.
Witches have always had their associations with animals. They have been friends to them, compelled them with magic, or used them as tools and vessels. But the Lords of the Animals eventually took notice.
The Lords of the Animals go by many names: Beast Lords, Totem Kings, First Beasts. They are not gods as one would understand them, nor simply animals of great power. They are something older, the embodiment of the creatures in their keeping. The Cat Lord is not just a cat; in a deep magical way, she is Cat. The same holds for the Bear King, the Wolf Lord, the Crow Queen, and the rest of the courts at the fringes of the mortal world.
Under the terms of the First Accord, a witch may have a familiar, but the Accord makes clear that the animal is not property. The bond is a relationship in the eyes of the Lords, not one of ownership. The familiar may guard, advise, or teach, but it gives something, and the witch must give in return.
Some are companions for life, others are inherited, and some come and go with little explanation. But any proper arrangement between a witch and her familiar falls under the protection of the Accord. When a witch is unkind to her familiar, she is in danger of more than just being without a handy magical companion. She risks the displeasure of powers that have an entire kingdom of animals to answer for.
The First Accord has its own history, though the details are not entirely clear. The earliest records we have put it down to negotiations between witches and some of the more formidable Animal Lords; later on, tradition speaks of further meetings to clarify or renew those terms. In the time since, certain witches have made their living as intermediaries between the two worlds.
One might be called a Bearer of the First Accord, a mark of recognition from the Lords of the Animals and an acknowledgment of the obligations she has been given. Then there is the rarer title of She Who May Approach. To a mortal ear, it is unassuming, even unimpressive, but the Animal Lords would disagree. A mortal who may approach has been recognized. She may enter places where other mortals would be intruders. She may speak before powers that would otherwise ignore her, or worse, see her as prey.
It does not make her safe; the Bear King is still the Bear King, but at least she will be heard.
There is also the Peace Talker, for those who have habitually stood between the witches and the Animal Lords. These are privileges of a sort, yet like most occult designations, they come with strings attached. A Bearer of the First Accord cannot flout the rules and then claim the title. A Peace Talker is expected to make conversation before making threats.
Every title grants something.
Every title also takes something away.
Warlocks are a different matter altogether. While a witch’s power comes from study, initiation, and the good graces of her Patron, a warlock bargains. For the origins of that, you have to look to the Concordat of Mephistopheles.
Do not believe the clerics' claims that all warlocks are in service to Mephistopheles. Most have never uttered his name, and some of the Powers that make warlocks would count him an enemy. Mephistopheles did not lay claim to them all; he simply set the terms of the bargain.
Before the Concordat, there was no dependable way for a supernatural Power to put some of its strength into a mortal on a permanent basis. You had your miracles from the gods, your possessed mediums, your demons teaching sorcery, but it was an unstable business. Mephistopheles put an end to that. He created a metaphysical framework that allowed a Power to bestow ongoing abilities in return for whatever consideration was deemed fit: allegiance, sacrifice, or obedience. And so the warlock was born.
It hardly matters what the Power is. An archdevil or demon prince can make a warlock, as can an ancient dragon, an archfey, an elemental sovereign, or something from beyond the stars for which our scholars have no name. The Concordat is the mechanism; the pact itself sets the terms. That is why you will find no two pacts alike. One may give up her soul, another seven years of her life, another must see to it that a lost relic is found. Some of these deals seem quite generous. They are not safe for all that.
Warlocks come to understand the central tenet of the Concordat in short order: power given is power owed.
What the original text of the Concordat says is anyone’s guess. There are plenty of forgeries in circulation among the occult set. Demonologists will tell you Mephistopheles put out contradictory versions on purpose, while infernal types say the true copy is in Hell. Warlocks have been known to put their hands on fragments in languages older than any mortal tongue. But the principles are plain enough. A Power must deliver on its word, and a mortal must put something on the table. Both are held to the letter of the agreement, not to intent. And there is always a price.
This accounts for the precise way warlock patrons talk. Devils are well known for it, but Faerie Powers can be worse given how differently they view a promise. It is also what makes a witch deeply suspicious of a warlock. Her Patron can do as he pleases, teach, punish, or leave her to her own devices. A warlock’s Power has entered into a deal.
An outsider might not see much in the way of a distinction. For witches, however, it is everything.
Three Agreements, Three Relationships
Taken together, these three ancient agreements describe much of the hidden structure underlying witches and warlocks.
There is the Pact of Baba Yaga, which puts to rest the question of how witches are to conduct themselves with one another. The First Accord is there to determine the terms between a witch and her familiars, as well as the Powers that give voice to them. Then the Concordat of Mephistopheles to settle what price a Power will exact from a mortal for bestowing its supernatural gifts.
In short, the First Pact is about community, the First Accord is about relationship, and the Concordat is a transaction. But running under all of them is an age-old tenet of magic: no power is ever given without some obligation attached.
Power is never free.
