An Unexpected Apprentice

by Jody Lynn Nye

  A shout from the main room brought her head up sharply. “Oh, whatever now?” Mistress Golt nodded to her guests. “Do you require anything else, ladies? Accommodations all right? I’ll send my boy in with your dinner right soon.”

  Edynn inclined her head gracefully. “We are comfortable, thank you.”

  With another nod, Mistress Golt retreated. Tildi heard more shouting, rising until Mistress Golt’s voice rose above them all, then the noise in the bar fell to a more usual hum.

  “He was here,” Serafina said with some satisfaction.

  “I think not,” Rin replied. “Unless Tildi’s page has failed, the traces do not come this far. I think perhaps the thief we found attempted three crimes, not two. I wonder if any other guests were missing goods, such as the owner of the silver chain.”

  “Yes, he was unlucky if he tried to steal the—”the merchant said.

  “Shhh!” Serafina hissed. “We do not want to be overheard.”

  “What? This is a private room with two armed soldiers at the door!”

  “There are other means of listening,” the young wizardess said.

  “Peace, daughter.” Edynn poured some wine for them all. “Here, take some refreshment. Rin, were you able to glean any other clues about our quarry from the trail while running point?”

  “He’s a soft-foot,” Rin said at once, downing her first glassful and pouring another. “Good grapes. He has chosen the simplest way, even if it meant changing paths often. He knows where he’s going, though I haven’t divined his destination yet. He’s heading northeast, and soon he must cross the Arown.”

  “There are only six bridges over the river,” Lakanta said, “though that’s more than we can oversee alone. What about setting a magical snare for him?”

  “I’ve tried and tried again,” Edynn said with a sigh. “He is well hidden. I have not been able to detect where he has gone, nor have dozens of the finest mages alive today. I have not given up hope of conceiving some magic that will guide us to him. Let it be. I will send messages to other observers to mount a guard on the bridges. Tomorrow we will go back to where we left off, and hope we can find a fresher scent very soon.”

  Lakanta rubbed her hands togther. “Well, now that we’ve settled that, let us dine. I am ravenous.”

  “So am I. I didn’t eat much of lunch,” Tildi admitted, then cringed. She glanced at the door. No, there was no way that Morag could hear her.

  Rin followed her eyes. She snorted, flaring her nostrils humorously. “He is a terrible cook, I agree. I can tolerate it for the time. He was undoubtedly a most faithful servant and brave soldier, and for that I will eat what he serves me.”

  “So will I,” Tildi said bravely. She was thankful that at that moment the door opened, and a stolid teenaged boy came in carrying a heavy tray. With possibly days of inedible meals ahead of her, Tildi applied herself solidly to the platters of food.

  “Tell us what life was like at Silvertree, Tildi,” Lakanta said, around mouthfuls of delectable lamb cutlets. “It seems a marvelous place.”

  “It is,” Tildi said. In between servings, she told them about her life as Olen’s apprentice. The others listened appreciatively, interrupting often with questions.

  “About Silvertree,” Rin said, helping herself to another plateful. “I have visited twice before this. I firmly believe that it has a personality. When my brother said something disparaging about its doorways, they all seemed to become smaller.” She whickered in amusement. “He either had to admit that he had offended it, or claim that all the bumps on the head he got trying to pass through them were the result of his own clumsiness. My brother is vain about the grace of his movement. All of us are. It is a point of pride among centaurs.”

  “Oh, Silvertree does have a personality,” Tildi said. “It … ,” she was ashamed to admit it, but she had promised herself not to utter any more untruths, “it helped me on my first day when Olen was testing my skills.”

  Edynn smiled. “He must have known.”

  “I think he did, but he didn’t say anything to me then. He was very kind about putting me at ease.” Tildi felt herself relaxing in the wizardess’s presence. A good deal about Edynn reminded her of Olen, especially her quiet wisdom and sense of humor.

  “And well he would. He saw a good deal of promise in you, as do I. Should we be successful, and return to our normal ways of life, I predict a life rich in experience,” Edynn said. “Ah, I envy you learning again all of the arts I have studied over the years! But we must not look too far ahead. Our task is more important. You have an important role to play in this drama. You undertook this task willingly, and for that many people have reason to thank you. With your aid we were able to follow our thief’s trail, surely in a manner that he cannot have foreseen.”

  “Indeed,” Rin said. “We have covered many leagues more than I would have thought possible in a day. If you had not observed the phenomenon of the glowing runes, I don’t know how we would have been able to trace this path. If you wish for Olen’s approval, you had only to see his face when you told him you could provide guidance. You may be the key to saving us all, smallfolk.”

  Tildi felt very humble as all of them, including Serafina, regarded her with respect.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, dropping her eyes modestly to her plate. She felt as if she ought to say something profound, but couldn’t think of a thing. “I want to help.”

  “Of course you do,” Edynn said. “I promised we should scry for our thief. Have you ever tried Seeing before?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Tildi said.

  “Then it will be an experience for you. Serafina?”

  The young wizardess took her goblet and poured a mere film of wine into the bottom. She swirled it lightly and set it down. Edynn opened a hand on either side of the glass. Tildi felt the warmth of power.

  “Look into the glass, Tildi. Open your mind to the unseen. We seek a traveler with a treasure like yours. Help us find him.”

  Tildi concentrated as deeply as she could. The magic touched her, and made her feel as though the eyes of her mind were sharper and could see farther. For a moment she could see endless trees and branches flying, but that was probably a memory of the day, not a vision. She focused harder, and realized that all she really saw was the faces of her companions reflected distortedly in the glass.

  “I don’t see anything,” she admitted at last. She was suddenly very tired. The day of jogging along on Rin’s back had been more exhausting than she had realized. She looked at Edynn for encouragement, but the wizardess’s handsome face seemed to swim in her vision.

  “Alas, that is because there is nothing to see. He hides from us yet. Rest now, my dear. You will have plenty of time to prove yourself.”

  Tildi nodded. She felt, rather than saw, the hands that took her fork out of her fingers and lifted her gently out of the padded chair.

  Tildi’s bones were vibrated to their marrow by the time Edynn called a halt in the middle of the day. She lay in the bed of moss in which Rin had set her, ever so gently, and did her best to stomach Morag’s inedible victuals. In her plate were some unfamiliar vegetables, crunchy green fingers and little white tubers that once probably tasted good, but all had been subjected to his merciless cooking technique and thoroughly scorched.

  “It’s no use, child,” Lakanta whispered to her. “I tried persuading him to learn a few foolproof recipes from me, but he wouldn’t listen. You’d think a soldier would understand about timing, or marching on his belly. Maybe he can’t understand me.”

  Tildi thought he could understand very well. She caught a glimpse of the soldier’s ears, red with embarrassment, as he scrubbed out the cooking pot with a scrap of knitted wire mesh. She was fond of Lakanta, and grateful for her endless good humor and knowledge of life on the road, but her penchant for thoughtless gossip would have gotten her thoroughly shunned in Clearbeck. She ate what she could, and scraped the rest under the moss when the soldier wasn’t looking. She
filled up on bread which Lakanta had bargained from the innkeeper upon their departure.

  Serafina fluttered over and knelt down beside Tildi. She put her long hand on the smallfolk’s forehead. Tildi sat up at once.

  “Hold still,” Serafina said impatiently. “We must ride as far as we can today. I will try to ease your muscles.”

  Tildi lay back and closed her eyes. The young wizardess wasted no words explaining what she was doing, but Tildi was fascinated to feel a sensation of warmth spread out from Serafina’s fingertips and down through her scalp and into her entire body. She had not realized how tight her back and legs had become until they began to unknot.

  She became aware of a hand, far less gentle, shaking her. She opened her eyes to see Rin grinning down at her.

  “You’ve slept an hour. The others are impatient to be off. Are you ready?”

  The sun had moved well along the arc of the very blue sky. Tildi jumped up, full of remorse, and brushed crumbs from her clothing. She checked her collar to make sure the precious page was still in place. Rin gave it a distrustful glance, and stamped a hoof.

  “I only hope that that is leading us on a true path,” the centaur said, as she helped Tildi mount.

  Tildi hoped so, too. Edynn was sure, and she trusted Edynn, but what if their thief was setting a false trail for them to follow?

  Chapter Twenty

  “My brother always wins the tourneys. He is the fastest among us. I am not far behind him, but he is a wonder,” Rin said, turning her head again to address Tildi as she ran. She never seemed to run out of breath, no matter how long they ran. Her horse half perspired but lightly, adding a spicy aroma to the fresh scent of the air. Tildi admired her stamina.

  They had left the Stirrup Cup several days before, and were still following the trail of runes north to northeast. The group stayed in an inn or farmhouse when one presented itself, but often enough, the glowing track led them far from a thoroughfare. When that happened they ate fry bread made from the stores of flour and grease in the packhorse’s panniers and game snared by Teryn and burned by Morag, and slept under the stars.

  Edynn’s scrying was no more successful than it had been on the first night. The thief must be taking more care not to be seen, after the fatal attack upon the cutpurse. Tildi willed them to catch up with him, but part of her was afraid of what would happen when they did. It was a subject on all their minds, but no one wanted to raise it.

  Tildi tried to picture in her mind what one of the Shining Ones must look like after ten thousand years. Would he still look like a human, or wizened and dried-up? The thought of the latter frightened her, but she was afraid to mention it lest Lakanta laugh at her fancies.

  The path there, though not a well-used one, ran between a narrow river and fields that had been allowed to grow fallow. A veil of round-leafed, pale green weeds lay over the rich, dark brown earth, the scent of which made Tildi feel homesick. Fallen seeds from past harvests had sprouted into golden shoots of wheat and barley, with the occasional curl of dark green pumpkin vines spreading their huge leaves over all. Tildi assumed they were quite near another village, one that understood good land husbandry. She heard the splash of a waterwheel that probably ran the local mill or weaving looms. A stubby, square, stone milepost beside the lane was too covered with moss for Tildi to read. Rin continued her narrative, not noticing Tildi’s inattention. “Many songs have been written about my brother by our bards. They say that he is the fastest warrior-stallion in two hundred years!”

  “You must be very proud of him,” Tildi said.

  “He is my greatest rival!” Rin laughed. “Those songs should be sung about me! Did you never vie with your brothers for supremacy in anything?”

  “Girls and boys don’t compete with one another.”

  “How dull for them!” Rin said, and Tildi was beginning to agree with her. “By the Meadows, look at that!”

  Tildi gawked.

  “I believe we have found a sign,” Rin said, trotting to a halt. She raised a hand to signal to the others, but they hardly needed it. The others came galloping up, staring at what lay beyond.

  Within a space often yards, the runes they had been following brightened from a glow to a sunburst. A golden sign appeared on every leaf, every blade of grass, every rock. Edynn spurred her mare to Tildi’s side.

  “What has changed, Tildi?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Tildi reached for the page and found it tucked as it always was, safely secured in her shirt’s lacings, but something in the air itself felt different, not unlike Serafina’s healing power suffusing her body. The plants smelled stronger, and the sound of their hoofbeats was louder, though not as loud as the pounding of her heart in her chest. “Are we … could he be … ?”

  She did not need to finish the sentence. Captain Teryn and Morag drew their swords and trotted out in front of Tildi. Serafina pulled her staff from the slings that held it flat against her horse’s side.

  “I do not know, child,” Edynn said. She held out her hands and closed her eyes. “If he is here, he is not aware of us yet. Let me listen a moment.”

  At that moment, they heard the screaming. Rin jumped at the noise, and a shiver ran down the hide on her back. Voices howled and yelled, then began chanting.

  “Are they in pain?” Rin asked.

  “No,” Lakanta said, listening carefully. “It sounds like they’re happy.”

  Edynn’s eyes opened. “That’s most unexpected. Well, let us see what it is that is making them rejoice.”

  “I advise against it, honorable,” Teryn said.

  “Then ride before us, Captain. You see the runes. Our path lies that way.”

  Tildi clung to Rin’s mane, making herself as small as she could as the two soldiers led the way into the village. The shabby houses were tall enough for humans, but had almost as small a footprint, so to speak, as a typical house in the Quarters, barely large enough for a family to live in. Everything was much coarser and poorly made than at home. A cluster of men and women danced wildly in a circle, throwing caps and aprons into the air. Barefoot children in dirty linen shirts raced in and out under their parents’ arms, shrieking with joy.

  A big man with a linen cap tied on his head spotted the party and came running toward them. Teryn spurred her horse to block him, but Edynn urged her back.

  “You come on a happy day!” the big man said, beaming at them all. “Welcome t’ Walnut Tree, honorable ladies! Join us in our revel!”

  “We thank you,” Edynn said. “What is the reason for the celebration?”

  His simple, big-jawed face was luminous with happiness. “We have a miracle, noble lady. Come and see our miracle. It returned to us!”

  “A miracle?” Edynn allowed him to take the bridle of her horse. “Tell me about it?”

  He beamed back at her. “A moon and a bit ago, our great tree bore a sacred sign, noble lady. None o’ us could make out what it said, but it glowed like the sun! Then, one day, the tree walked, as if it was a real person. Walked a whole yard. D’you see?”

  “You say that it walked?”

  “I swear it, lady. From there to there, see?”

  None of them could avoid seeing the huge tree that sat nearly in the middle of the common. Tildi paid little attention to the spot on the ground indicated by the headman. Instead, she stared in open amazement at the sigil emblazoned upon the tree itself. It was as bright as molten gold, but as Rin brought her closer, the rune became still brighter until it was too hot to look upon.

  “Well, that is curious,” Edynn observed mildly.

  The villagers stopped dancing. They turned to stare at their visitors in wonder. They took in the two soldiers in livery, the wizards in their flowing robes, the centaur with her gleaming dark skin and striped hide, and looked back at the glowing tree.

  “You must indeed be blessed by the Mother and Father,” the man said in awe. The others ducked their heads, looking uncertain whether they should make a deeper obeisance. “I
t hasn’t been like that since the day it went out.”

  Serafina nodded her head to them. “May I approach it?”

  “Please yourself, lady!” the headman said eagerly.

  The young wizardess dismounted and walked around the big tree. “This is indeed remarkable,” she said. She stopped, and felt the bark with a slender hand. “It’s hollow.”

  “It’s more than three centuries old, my lady,” a woman explained, bobbing her kerchief-covered head. “But the outside goes on livin’. It’s one of Nature’s wonders, so it is.”

  The power is here for you, a voice seemed to say inside Tildi. It’s yours. Claim it!

  “What is it, Tildi?” Rin asked quietly. “You are trembling.”

  Tildi could hardly find the right words. She looked around. “There was power here, more than I have ever felt anywhere.”

  “Is it something new?” Edynn asked, drawing close.

  “Not completely new,” Tildi said, thinking carefully. “I felt this way when I left the Quarters. In truth, I put it down to being out on my own for the first time, and when I discovered what I thought to be, well, everyday magic.”

  “So it is a good feeling? A euphoria?”

  “It feels good to me, but it overwhelms me, too,” Tildi admitted. “I feel … a kinship to it.”

  “No wonder,” Rin said. “If this is the true book, you have felt a diluted taste of its magic all your life.”

  “I ought to be afraid of it,” Tildi said. “I can feel it calling to me. I like it, too.”

  “It’s tied through your fragment of the book,” Edynn said. “Fight against it. It will overmaster you if you are not careful. It contains all the power put into it by eight experienced and powerful magicians.”

  Tildi took a deep breath, but the feeling worked its way past her defenses. Why should you shut it out? the voice asked her. You have earned the right to it. Accept it. Use it. Edynn was not blind to her struggle. She reached out and put a hand on Tildi’s wrist.