Aquamancer (mancer series Book 2)

by Don Callander

  “I suggest, however,” Douglas pressed on, “that we have these Six Sisters watched. They’ve seen the multiplication of powers through organization. One or more of them might be tempted to try it again.”

  “Your suggestion is noted. If all agree, I’ll make certain arrangements,” said Flarman, making a note on a pad of yellow paper he took from his left sleeve. All agreed at once to Douglas’s satisfaction.

  “May I address my concerns to you?” asked Pargeot.

  “Speak, of course, Captain Pargeot,” said Augurian.

  “I am the unfortunate man saved from death only by Witch Emaldar’s confusion. I have been a total nincompoop throughout this adventure. I beg your pardon, and especially that of the Lady Myrn. She was most kind to me when I was most foolish and, yes, most selfish.”

  “You are truly forgiven,” said Myrn, earnestly. “Despite all, you’ve been a faithful friend and a useful companion, Pargeot. You have nothing of which to be ashamed.”

  Pargeot smiled his gratitude and relief.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ending and Beginning

  THE Pfantas council returned from the taproom in mid-morning.

  “Speaking for Pfantas,” said Featherstone, “we know the freed slaves of Coven wait in a cold camp on the edge of the new desolation. A few are strangers to us, but most are friends and families. They all must be helped, housed and fed, restored to their loved ones and to healthy minds and hearts.”

  “Beyond that,” another councilor said, “we have to get to work at once to reestablish trade and business connections with each other and with the rest of Kingdom, in order to put food on our tables.”

  “And won’t the poor ex-slaves need care or medicine?” a woman asked.

  “Probably,” answered Willow, who had led the slaves out of danger and now spoke for them, young as he was. “Some are quite weak from lack of decent food, but they say a few good meals will bring them back to strength. A few are very ill and they’ll need medicines and nursing, I fear, but they’re not many.”

  “In other words,” said a housewife who served on the new council, “it’s time we stop talking and get to work!”

  Pfantas wildly applauded her blunt words.

  Said Flarman, late the following afternoon, “The Witchservers were self-enslaved. I suspect they’re scattering, like the Six Sisters, to avoid being punished for their petty and some major crimes.”

  “As they have no powers of their own, they are relatively harmless,” Douglas pointed out. “On their own, they’re merely bad eggs. Can we protect all World from all bad characters?”

  “Still, they’re wretched beings, even without evil magic to incite them,” disagreed Augurian. “If the town council will prepare a list of their names and crimes, I’ll undertake to publish it to any interested governments.”

  “Freed slaves will not have an altogether easy time adjusting to freedom,” thought Myrn aloud. “In that work, perhaps Pargeot would be the best adviser they could have. He is a trained leader and they’ll respect him.”

  Observed Featherstone, who had remained with his new friends, “I can imagine from my own experience how utterly crushed a slave feels, even after he is freed. The Seacaptain could do a great deal of good if he recognizes how hard it is to rebuild one’s sense of worth.”

  “That’s why I suggest him,” said Myrn. “He’s been down that road himself.”

  There was so very much to do.

  Pargeot found his role after some fits and starts. He bought a ramshackle old brick building on the lowest skirts of Pfantas and opened it as a school. Into it he took Willow and Willow’s forlorn scouts, come in from the pinelands after years of dangerous resistance to the Witches.

  They were runaway sons and daughters of Pfantas families, rebelled against the cruel Witchservers. They ranged in age between eight and eighteen. Months wandering in the pine forests, eating pine nuts and half-burned squirrel meat, had given them all an insatiable appetite for learning.

  The Seacaptain challenged them with firm but fair discipline, set them high standards, and assigned to them hard lessons, both practical and theoretical. When they were not in the classroom, his boys and girls were apt to be found along the riverfront, rebuilding tumbledown docks and piers, or helping the river men patch and clean their long-unused vessels. When the riverboats sailed again at last, Pargeot’s students (and Pargeot, himself) went along enthusiastically as crewmen.

  “Our goal is to open the river to trade again,” said Pargeot one day.

  “I’ve had converse with the Morgen of Long Lake,” Augurian told him. “They plead that Pfantas help them stop the filth and wastes of Pfantas and Coventown from pouring into their waters. I urged them to patience. The pollution is fast clearing, now that Coventown is destroyed and Pfantas clean once more. If Pfantas is careful of its wastes, they will help open the lake to shipping from abroad.”

  “It’ll help make Pfantas prosperous once more!” cried Pargeot.

  “How will you get cargoes through the rapids and over the falls,” inquired Marbleheart, always interested in matters of ships, Seamen, and Sea.

  “I don’t know, yet” said Augurian. “The Morgen say there are ways and they’re far more expert in such matters than even I. A system of locks, perhaps? We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Homeward Bound

  They were all seated upon the newly painted benches before Onstabula one noontime after lunch when Flarman said, “I think it’s time to leave these good people to solve their own problems. We have problems of our own waiting at Wizards’ High and on Waterand Island.”

  “Yes, vacation is over,” agreed Augurian, straightening up from a comfortable, uncharacteristic slump. “There are all those unbroken enchantments of Frigeon’s to undo. And I have an Apprentice who has been sadly neglecting her studies these past weeks.”

  “I think I’ve learned a great deal out here in the field,” protested Myrn.

  “Much and much more, no doubt,” said her Master, “but there are still things that you have to learn from your books and my fascinating lectures.”

  “I’ll be happy to see the High again,” thought Douglas aloud. “I’ve some serious studying to do myself.”

  “Yes, there is the matter of the Examination,” agreed Flarman. “Wong, by the way, has agreed to be the third auditor for your orals, as is required by the Fellowship regulations. You’re lucky, m’lad! Without him, it might take considerable time to find a third Master qualified to sit in on your examining board.”

  “I’m very lucky and grateful, too,” replied Douglas, bowing to Wong, who returned the salute gracefully. “And there are other matters...”

  “Such as a wedding next Midwinter’s Day? I think Autumn Equinox might be a good time for your test, Douglas. I don’t have any doubt about your passing to Master,” said Flarman. “If, that is, you hit the books yourself for a few weeks now.”

  “Finesgold’s Feather Pin is still working well,” put in Myrn. “We can use it to return to Dukedom, don’t you think?”

  “My way is much quicker,” said Flarman.

  “But I have some people I’d like you to meet on the way,” Douglas told him. “And flying by Feather Pin is really very pleasant and will be less wearing on you, Magisters.”

  “You make it sound as if I am getting old,” sighed Flarman. “I won’t be two hundred and eighty until next decade. Oh, well, I do enjoy free-flying. The scenery is so much more interesting that way.”

  They left quietly, without prolonged good-byes to any of their friends in Pfantas, all of whom were working very hard from first light to dusk. The once-dingy and filthy houses now sparkled with new paint, scrubbed bricks, and retiled roofs. The several levels were being recobbled and the connecting stairs leveled and provided with railings, so that no one would stumble and fall when climbing up or down.

  At the top of the town the old town hall had been roofed over again. Local
artists were busy decorating its interior walls with murals of the events of Douglas’s journeying—the centerpiece was a fanciful depiction of the eruption of Blueye.

  Everywhere there could be heard sawing, pounding, the squeal of cranes, shouts, singing, and laughter. Gardens, long abandoned to rank weeds, were bringing forth green spearlets of new growth: onions and carrots, tomatoes, radishes, cabbage and lettuce, four kinds of beans, and six kinds of peppers. The afternoon air smelled of late-blooming jasmine and baking bread.

  “It must have been one of the loveliest towns in World,” sighed Myrn. “It certainly is well on its way to that again.”

  “Everyone join hands, or you might get left behind,” she added, and when Douglas, Marbleheart, Flarman, Caspar, Augurian, and Wong all said they were ready, she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “Cumulo Nimbus!”

  The good folk of Pfantas who happened to glance up saw what seemed a strange flock of birds circling their sun-washed, conical hill.

  “I must be working too hard,” said a middle-aged leather merchant to his son, Featherstone, as they worked side by side resetting stones in a wall. “I could have sworn one of those birds looked just like that Sea Otter friend of the Wizards’!”

  “Just your imagination, Papa,” grunted Featherstone. “Pry up this corner while I line this stone up.”

  The Falls Undines were playing jacks on a flat, wet rock beneath Bloody Brook Falls and didn’t notice the flock of strange birds when it flew over. Some weeks before they had watched in relief when three former Pfantas constables had finally managed to scale the canyon wall and escape. The Undines were heartily tired of their constant whining and bickering.

  “Someone must drive the Goblins from the Great Barrows,” said Marbleheart as they flew over Battlefield. “They have no business haunting the burial places of the Last Battle dead of either side.”

  “You’re quite right,” said Flarman. “I spoke to Cribblon about it. He should have a new task to do, since he’s decided to seek Journeyman. Wizardry under my auspices. You and Douglas can give him a hand, but he’ll have to do most it on his own.”

  “Cribblon has the guts and the grit to do even a nasty job like barrow clearing,” said Douglas. “Do you realize he crawled up and down that volcano for three years before he’d gathered enough information about Coven to send us that message?”

  The Nixie singers saw the flock of Wizards coming from afar and raised a cheerful shout and a glad song as they flew overhead. Douglas and Marbleheart waved and called out greetings.

  “Cribblon will be a welcome addition to the Fellowship of Wizards,” said Augurian. “What’s that ahead?”

  “The Forest of Forgetfulness—or Remembrance, if you’re a Faerie Friend,” answered Marbleheart, proud to be able to tell the mighty Wizards something they didn’t already know.

  “Oh, good! Augurian, Douglas, Myrn, and I are Faerie friends in good standing. Let’s fly right over, to see if we can catch a glimpse of the Great Gateways,” said Flarman. “They say it’s a truly marvelous sight.”

  “Not a good idea, without permission!” warned the Otter, but Flarman led them directly over the great forest at a low level. They were immediately intercepted by a squadron of Faerie soldiers mounted on their great, emerald green and ruby red hummingbirds.

  “Uh-oh!” squeaked Marbleheart. “Now you’ve gotten us into trouble, Magister!”

  “Hail Master Pyromancer, Marget’s foster father!” the leader of the Faeries called out as the troop approached within hearing. “Hail, Wizards all, and Seacaptain and Apprentice and Familiar Otter! Welcome to the Forest of Remembrance!”

  “How do they do that?” exclaimed Marbleheart. ‘They knew all our names and about my new position, too!”

  “They’re Fairies, after all,” explained Myrn. “Aren’t they handsome, and so magnificently dressed!”

  The Riders led them to a landing in a green glade before the splendid, shimmering Great Gateway to Faerie, and invited them to stay the night and be entertained at a changing of the guard before dinner in their Faerie Hall under a low, rounded hill nearby.

  “I’ll set a Counterclockwise Spell so we won’t be here more than this single night,” Flarman told the worried Otter. “Enjoy yourself!”

  “I intend to!” cried Marbleheart. “What do Faeries eat?”

  But Flarman was already deep in conversation with the Rade Captain. News had just come that Queen Marget’s time had arrived and she had been delivered of a beautiful Faerie Princeling. She had named him Justin Flowerbender, for he was large as Faerie babes go, the Captain laughed, delighted at the news.

  “Heartiest congratulations!” cried the Wizards and their company.

  “We’re expecting Prince Aedh himself any minute” said the Captain. “You can congratulate him in person. Look! They’re emerging from the Gateway just now.”

  To a soaring fanfare of long golden trumpets and the heart-stirring throb of eight huge, tuned kettledrums, Prince Aedh appeared in the glow of the Gateway, riding a magnificent white charger in baby blue trappings, in honor of his firstborn son, Justin.

  The guards at parade shouted in loud, happy voices, “Hail the Prince! Hail the war leader of his people! Hail the father of our next King, Justin Flowerbender!”

  “They do like to make a fuss when I come this way,” was Aedh’s modest but pleased comment as he reined up before the officers and their guests. He dismounted from his snow white destrier and handed his sword and lance to a young squire before he pummeled everyone, except Myrn, on their backs in soldierly greeting. Myrn, he kissed soundly, making her blush brightly.

  “How are the Queen and the Princeling?” Douglas asked for them all.

  “Very well! Extremely well, both! He’ll grow taller even than I, we think, which is very tall for a fairy.”

  “When can we see him and his royal mother?” asked Myrn, eagerly.

  “It’s custom for the Queen and her new babe to remain in seclusion for a few weeks after birthing,” Aedh told her solemnly. Then he smiled. “We’ll come to Wizards’ High with Justin on Midwinter for your wedding, you can be sure. Men will first greet Prince Justin Flowerbender then and there. My wife is eager to show him, and to see you all!”

  “What an honor!” cried Douglas. Myrn beamed as brightly as the sun, beside herself with pride.

  “What are friends for, except to pay honor when honor is due?” asked Aedh. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to ride on now, dear friends. We go to investigate the damage done by Emaldar and Blueye Mountain. I understand the destruction was widespread and quite awesome!”

  “Ah, so it was you who Flarman asked to keep an eye on Pfantas and search out the runaway Six Sisters?” asked Douglas.

  “Right you are, Pyromancer! We’ll have a report for you by Equinox, be assured. Good-bye for now!”

  And he leaped lightly into his saddle and led his Royal Ride into the gathering forest dusk. The jingling and sparkling of their harness faded quickly in the coming night.

  Finnerty the Savannah Stallion called to his Mares, who had wandered half a mile off down the grassy banks of Bloody Brook while he napped under a grandfather willowtree.

  “Do come back, ladies and children! You know we’ve seen some fearsome creatures fleeing downriver recently, by day and by night! Something’s happened, far upstream, I tell you. You shouldn’t wander too far afield!”

  The graceful mares and their frisky foals trotted quickly back to his side just in time to see the Wizards’ party arrive.

  “We just dropped in to say hello and then good-bye,” explained Douglas after he had introduced the party to the Savannah Horses and given each Colt a sugar cube he’d brought from the inn at Pfantas. “We’re on our way home at last.”

  He told the Horses the outcome of his journeying westward, ending with a lively description of the eruption of the volcano.

  “We were aware of the explosions,” said Finnerty with a nod. “They happen every third or fourth century, accord
ing to our family traditions. From what you say, the people of Coventown would have been wiped out had you not come along to save them. They should be grateful to you for that.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re quite right,” said Myrn. “A lot of people are alive today because of Cribblon, Marbleheart, and Douglas.”

  “And a host of others, including the Savannah Horses,” said Douglas, modestly. He quickly changed the subject.

  “Tell us if all has been quiet on your beautiful savannahs.”

  Finnerty mentioned seeing dark strangers fleeing downriver in the past weeks.

  “Hard to pinpoint, but I know I smelled Witch reek when they passed,” he said, wrinkling his nose distastefully. “Good riddance, if that’s so! We want our sons and daughters to move safely out into World now. Living here on our savannahs is peaceful and quiet, but it lacks a sense of useful purpose, of service, of accomplishment. When you need stout, strong, and intelligent mounts, I hope you all will call upon us.”

  “Wouldn’t they pine for this bright place?” asked Wong. Horses were rare in Choin, and he hoped, he said, to import some one day soon, where they could do great things for his people, especially the artists, who hadn’t had anything nearly as beautiful to paint or draw for many a century.

  “They’ll always return here to rest or recover from injuries,” said proud Finnerty. “We don’t want them to think our sweet savannahs are all of World there is, you see, although we want them to think of it as home.”

  “What noble beasts!” exclaimed Wong as they flew east again.

  “We’ll stop to say hello to the people of Summer Palace,” decided Douglas, “and then leave in the morning to reach Westongue by tomorrow’s dusk.”

  “A feast with Delond and dinner with Thornwood!” exclaimed Marbleheart to Flarman. “I call that excellent planning.”

  “We should be safe at Wizards’ High tomorrow before supper,” added Douglas to Myrn. “Your Feather Pin is certainly a wonderful way to travel!”