An Unexpected Apprentice

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Tildi held fast to Rin’s mane as she squinted at the nearby trees. Nothing looked very familiar, but then, she had had a rooster to contend with, as well as all the questions fired at her by her kindly host on her previous journey.

  “I see nothing here,” Serafina said.

  “They must be farther along,” Tildi said, much embarrassed. The trees and fences all looked so ordinary. “I recall a big oak tree whose rune I could read very well. I saw plenty of runes, I promise you!”

  “Did the carter see them, too?” Lakanta asked.

  “I didn’t really ask. I assumed he could,” Tildi admitted. “I thought everyone outside the Quarters saw them. Everyone seemed so much more familiar with magic than we smallfolk are. I started seeing runes as soon I had crossed over the mountains, and I thought that it was an ordinary event, not worth mentioning.”

  “That goes along with what Olen and the other wizards suspect,” Serafina said with a sage nod. “The book came from the south. It must have passed along, or close to, the road you, er, walked.” She still didn’t credit that anyone ever traveled between towns on foot.

  “But how?” Rin asked. “No ship reports having carried a wizard with such a burden. It would be difficult to hide its passage. Where did he come ashore?”

  “He or she would not need a ship,” Edynn reminded them. “Whoever carries the book commands the waves, the wind, the earth herself. He could cause the water to be solid under his feet, then soften as soon as he had passed. He could have come ashore in the belly of a beast that he caused to hold him. I heard a rumor of a creature split in two, down south near Tillerton. That could have been his carriage, as heartless as that sounds.”

  Split in two! That brought a vivid memory back to Tildi.

  “A thraik fell to earth, cut in half,” she said, seeing it all in her mind and shuddering afresh. “It was a few days before I reached Master Olen’s. It fell on a man. Everyone had stopped to look at it.”

  “A thraik, actually riven in half?” Lakanta asked. “Whew, a marvel! I’ve never met the warrior who could strike such a blow.”

  “It would take a wizard,” Serafina said. “Thraiks are powerful, but there are spells that could do what you describe.”

  “Could our thief have done such a thing?” Rin asked.

  “It would be no effort for the bearer of the book,” Edynn said solemnly. “He would not even have to touch the creature, merely slice through its rune. He could have used a pen, a knife, or the tip of a finger.”

  They all shivered at the thought of such power. Tildi felt the frisson race through the hairy back under her legs, and Rin’s thick mane switched nervously.

  “And you didn’t think to mention such an important thing to Olen?” Serafina asked, glaring at Tildi.

  Tildi flushed.

  “I thought he must already know about the thraik. He always seemed to hear news before messengers arrived with scrolls. He reads the glasses in his study.”

  She didn’t want to talk about thraik, and was sorry she had brought it up, nor did she like the disapproving glance from Serafina.

  “That wasn’t the thought uppermost in my mind. I was about to undertake my apprenticeship, and all my attention was on presenting myself in the best possible manner,” Tildi added defensively.

  “I understand that, dear,” Edynn said with an amused little smile, but Serafina wasn’t going to let the subject drop.

  “Didn’t you think more of it than that?”

  “I was glad it was dead,” Tildi said firmly. “Thraiks have been in the Quarters many times in my lifetime alone. They killed my entire family. I’m the only Summerbee left.”

  The others fell silent at Tildi’s outburst.

  Rin broke the silence with a gentle sn-sn-sn.

  “I am sorry for your loss, smallfolk,” she said. “We have had many thraik incursions, and many brave centaurs have died. It would seem that all of us share that enemy.”

  “We do, too,” Lakanta said. “The lost ones are named in our Day of Sorrow remembrance every Year’s End.”

  Serafina had her lips pressed together.

  “My apologies,” she said, but the words seemed to come with a distinct effort. “I had no idea of your history. How far from here was the dead thraik?”

  “More than two days’ ride,” Tildi said.

  “But you did see runes after that?”

  “Oh, yes, for a long while.” The young wizardess looked around, and the disapproving set of her nose made Tildi begin to feel desperate. Would they take her back to Olen and tell him she had failed?

  “Can we be sure that the book did not go back along this road?” Lakanta asked. “You only think that the thief came north. He might have started out somewhere quite different and gone south to Tillerton. We ought to travel there and see if we can find fresh clues.”

  “No. Why would you suggest that?” Serafina asked suspiciously.

  “Do you want to miss this thief?” the peddler countered. “I thought the idea was to run him to ground, and swiftly!”

  “Peace, please,” Edynn said, more gently, holding up a hand to still the two of them. “Tildi’s dead thraik is more recent than the beast found in Tillerton. That shows that it was coming northwards, at least at that time. We will see if we can pick up the trail from here, and hope that it does not die out past tracing while we pursue it. Our thief has had a long head start on us. Our other attempts to trace him have failed. Who knows where he is by now?”

  Tildi interrupted them with a shout.

  “Wait! That gnarled tree! I remember that!”

  She pointed to an ancient oak at the top of the next hill. Its bark, instead of being combed neatly like furrowed earth, was twisted and puckered. “I remember it because it looks so much like an old man’s face. Its rune was like a wart on the nose.”

  Lakanta laughed, gaining Serafina’s instant disapproval.

  “Is this matter funny to you, peddler?” the younger wizardess asked.

  The small blond woman wiped tears of merriment out of her eyes. “Oh, child, let it be. Tildi made an association that helped her keep a memory. Can I help it if it’s a funny one?”

  Serafina, exasperated, looked at her mother for support, but Edynn was smiling, too.

  “You did see it there, Tildi?”

  “Oh, yes,” Tildi insisted. She was sure of it now. The tree was as unmistakable as a face. “Rin, will you bring me to it?”

  “My pleasure.” The centaur broke into a smooth trot.

  “It looks ordinary to me,” Serafina said, bringing her mare’s neck close to the centaur’s flank.

  It did look ordinary. The rune was still there on the “nose,” but far less distinct than it had been.

  “The marking is fainter than before. I guess they fade in time,” Tildi said, dismayed.

  “Yes, but no,” Edynn said, as they drew nearer. “Do you see, Serafina? Watch!”

  “Yes!” the young wizardess said, her eyes widening. The rune seemed to lighten slightly, making it more prominent against the dark bark. “Touch it, smallfolk.”

  Tildi brought her hand out to the tree. The rune paled still further.

  “Bless me,” Edynn said. “This is an extraordinary event.”

  “It’s only the residual effect of her own exposure,” Serafina argued.

  “I think not, daughter.”

  “I see nothing,” Rin complained.

  “Wait a moment more,” Edynn said. “Tildi, do you have your fragment of the book to hand?”

  Tildi thrust her hand into her belt pouch. Olen had told her to keep the page near her, and not to let it fall into anyone else’s possession. The moment she brought out the roll of parchment, the rune on the tree turned golden. “There! That’s a little like the way I recall it.”

  “It is enough,” Edynn said. She nodded slowly, studying the effect. “Remarkable.”

  “Remarkable indeed,” Rin said, dancing forward and back to see it vanish and reappear. “All
things do have their rune.”

  Lakanta swung off her pony and came over to look at it between the legs of the horses.

  “I see it now,” the peddler said with a satisfied nod. “I can see why your carter missed it. I might not have paid attention. It might look brighter to you, with your witch-sight.”

  “It’s weaker than it was before,” Tildi commented, tipping her head to study the rune critically.

  “This is a much stronger evoking than was brought out by your fragment,” Edynn said. “Draw back your hand.”

  Tildi obeyed, and the rune faded back to its normal bark color. Lakanta shook her head.

  “It’s gone, at least to me.”

  “To me as well,” Rin said.

  Edynn nodded. “Once the influence of the book has gone, the runes change back very quickly, just as the chairs and the other things in Silvertree did. With the Great Book it might take minutes or hours, instead of seconds, depending upon an object’s sensitivity to power.”

  “The candle stayed blasted apart,” Lakanta pointed out.

  “Well, it had been physically altered,” Edynn reminded her. “If I changed this tree’s rune while Tildi held it unlocked for me, it would remain changed when we withdrew.”

  “This is going to make it hard to follow the thief’s trail,” Rin said. “If these are a month and more gone.”

  “Not if trees and animals retain a sensitivity to the Great Book,” Edynn said, sensibly.

  “Is that possible?”

  Edynn said, “Let us see if it provides us with a distinct enough trail to follow.” She smiled at Tildi. “Come along this way, child. We will see if we can awaken more traces with your help.”

  Rin shook her great mane. “It is going to be very slow, and we have no time to lose.”

  “Better slow and sure than to miss him altogether. Let us experiment.”

  With Edynn’s encouragement, Rin trotted to the head of the party, alongside Captain Teryn. North of the old man tree were berry bushes. They, too, glowed into life when the leaf neared them. Their runes had changed, but so had the bushes, now covered in nearly ripe fruit.

  Tildi kept her eye open for landmarks she recalled, and held out the leaf to them. If the faint runes awoke, they continued in that direction. Once in a while they disappeared entirely. Tildi glanced back now and again to meet Edynn’s eyes. The elder wizardess smiled at her encouragingly, and urged her to continue.

  Rin kept to the left side of the road. She and Tildi sampled the landmarks on the right side from time to time, but the stronger evocations were clearly to be had on the west edge.

  “I believe your thief must have traveled at night,” the centaur announced to the others. “I beg your pardon,” she added, to an annoyed carter who had to swerve to avoid her. “Otherwise he would be walking in the faces of many travelers.”

  “If he stayed upon the road,” Lakanta said. “The woods are thin here, and anyone could ride or walk just inside the tree line, if he chose. I’d want to stay out of sight, if I had just stolen the key to unlocking all of nature. I’ve gone that way now and again myself, when the company on the road looked a bit too rough for my comfort.”

  “We will see,” Rin said. “Hold tight, Tildi.”

  Keeping the copy leaf in one hand, the smallfolk girl grabbed Rin’s mane just as the centaur gathered her haunches and leaped over the berm that bordered the road. Tildi ducked to avoid a faceful of twigs.

  “By heaven!” the centaur exclaimed.

  Tildi sat up. Just off the main thoroughfare, she could see numerous small tracks winding in and out of the trees. Most of them had been made by animals, but a few bore thin wheel-ruts and hoof marks, the evidence, as Lakanta suggested, of those who wished their passage to go unnoticed. In fact, it would be possible for a few lightly laden travelers to travel in parallel, though over much rougher ground than the wellkept road behind them. It seemed to have been the choice of their unknown quarry, for as soon as they penetrated the screen of trees, runes burst into golden light.

  “What is it?” Edynn asked, bounding up behind them. The others followed swiftly. “My goodness! Well thought-out, Lakanta. Yes, what a result! No wonder your kindly escort did not pay heed, Tildi. This is a trail, and more! I would like to see what it looks like when one is close to the book.”

  “It’s still not half as bright,” Tildi said.

  Serafina let out an exclamation. “But don’t you see what that means? If what you saw was more distinct than this, it means you had to have been right behind the book thief. If you were following prominent, bright runes all the way to Overhill, he could not have been far ahead of you.”

  Tildi’s heart leaped into her throat.

  “He … I … he could have killed me then.”

  “But he didn’t,” Edynn said, dismissing the speculation. “He didn’t see you. And we do not know the radius of the Great Book’s power. He could have been a good ways from you, just as he got ahead of Indrescala, who saw the cows, but not their desecrator.”

  “She might also have been right on top of him,” Lakanta said. “I know the road she traveled. It’s one of two on the west side of the Arown. The good road is on the east bank. The west road, up on that cliff, leads only from Tillerton. And from the Quarters, I beg your pardon,” she said, bobbing her head at Tildi. “The other is a tow path down along the Arown itself, almost right on the riverbank, which I suspect is what the thief took. She is luckier than she knows. You would never have seen each other.”

  Tildi let out a sigh of relief. It had been enough of an adventure for her to have traveled on her own, for the first time. To think that she was within arm’s reach of a powerful and merciless magician made her tremble in retrospect. “I’m glad,” she said.

  “Come, then,” Edynn said. “Since we have all had a lucky escape, let us continue. Rin is right: we have no time to lose in catching up with our thief.”

  Now even Serafina was convinced that they were following the correct trail. Ignoring protests from Captain Teryn, Rin took the lead.

  Astride her back, Tildi held out the rolled-up page like a wand, careful not to let it brush Rin’s shoulder. The centaur ran onward, taking the coarse forest path as smoothly as if they were sailing on a pond. They whipped past sweet-smelling leaves and brushed aside hanging feathers of moss. Tildi could hear the others threshing along behind her. Now and again she caught a glimpse through the trees of the slower moving travelers on the main road, which drew near, then veered away again. Rin changed direction toward the brightest traces. If she missed one, Tildi pointed it out to her, but she seldom went wrong. She was as good a tracker as she had claimed.

  According to the failproof compass that Olen had given Tildi, they were moving nearly due north, but edging ever so slightly to the east. She tried to picture the map of Niombra in her mind, and could not guess toward which of the many countries and provinces he, or she, as Serafina had said, might be going. She hoped they could find their quarry soon, but she had no idea how they—two wizards, two soldiers, a centaur, a smallfolk, and a peddler—would be able to stop a powerful mage and take back the Great Book.

  If what Edynn had suggested was true, then she had been close to the thief almost all the way to Overhill. Could she have seen him? She tried to imagine all the odd folk, both human and otherwise, that she had encountered along her way. The only one who struck her as truly odd was Irithe, but Olen had shown no interest in her. Why could the thief not have been an elf? She must mention it to Edynn when they stopped.

  Rin was moving so swiftly that Tildi’s whole world shrank to what she could see before her, a narrow tunnel of sight between the centaur’s shoulder and neck, and the deep green of the forest crown. Rin kept her arms up so that branches and twigs didn’t strike either of them, but the hiss of brushing by them and the thud of Rin’s hooves on the earth were all the sounds she could hear. The glowing sigils flashed past them in a blur. The muscles in Tildi’s arm holding out the leaf started to
twitch, then burn. She propped her elbow upon her thigh, then gave up and tucked the parchment roll into the breast of her tunic, with enough of it sticking out to awaken the runes. She buried her hands in Rin’s mane, glad to have something to hang on to. She didn’t have time to think or be afraid. All she could do was watch the runes and make sure they stayed on track.

  The shadows falling around them from the sun at their backs traveled from far to the left to some distance to the right before Edynn’s faint voice cried for a halt.

  Rin slowed to a trot, then a walk.

  The trees around them were thinning out. Just ahead Tildi could see bright sunlight. Rin passed between two noble beech trees and stepped out into a clearing, where the trail they had been following split up into three shallow rabbit tracks that all went off in different directions over the meadow. The air smelled fresh and inviting. Tildi wiggled her shoulders, enjoying being able to stretch for the first time in hours. Teryn caught up with them almost at once, followed by Serafina. Edynn and the other two were too far away to be seen. Tildi listened to the crunching of their horses’ hooves until they, too, emerged into the meadow. Half a mile to their right was the main road. Carters directing their plodding horses along the way glanced up at the sight of the seven travelers, but their curiosity faded quickly, and they were soon out of sight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Let us stop here, Captain,” Edynn called. Teryn nodded. She scanned the area, then guided them to a flat, grassy sward in a hollow surrounded by tall grasses and wildflowers. Tildi looked down at them with delight. The flowers looked like the wild irises that grew in the Quarters, but they were almost the size of her head. “I don’t know how far we are from the nearest inn, so I propose that we have a meal now. I apologize. I did not realize how long it is past midday.”

  “No harm done!” Lakanta said cheerfully. “I believe that it’s a good three hours or more to the next inn along the road, if we were on the road. If I recall, it’s the Stirrup Cup, a decent place, with good beer and good baths. We can surely make it before they lock the doors for the night if we keep up the pace we have.” She swung down from her short horse and loosened the beast’s girth. It immediately moved off to pull up mouthfuls of grass. “My bottom’s rubbed raw, and I am sure Melune hasn’t had a run like that since she was a filly!”