A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Good sir, you probably don’t want to meddle with that.”

  Magpie’s friendly voice had an edge of iron. Tildi glanced up from her studies. One of the guards at her right hand glared over his shoulder at the young man.

  “Silence, ignorant one,” the knight said. It was difficult for Tildi to guess his age, since human faces were so much heavier of bone than smallfolk, but she guessed he was young, perhaps in his twenties. He had thick blond eyebrows attached to bony ridges over a straight but broad nose and wellshaped, fleshy lips. “The blessing belongs to each of us. You have no right to tell me not to study what I choose.”

  “Study, yes,” Magpie said. “Perhaps you don’t know that each of us can see that you are trying to manipulate the rune on your body. You see it on your chest, but it’s visible from every angle, to all of us. I saw that little fork at the top widen for a moment. You do not understand what you are meddling with.”

  “Mind your own business,” the knight said. “This is part of our sacred cause.”

  “Now, now, Bertin, you ought to be trying to convert him, not offend him.” Bertin’s riding partner was an elderly man with nutcracker jaws. “We know it can be seen from all sides. That shows the truth with which the Mother and the Father have imbued us all. Thanks to the book, it cannot now be concealed. We are as we are.”

  “But he is trying to change it,” Magpie insisted.

  “She did it, you said, and you came to no harm.” The young man tossed an obstinate chin toward Tildi.

  Magpie nodded. “But she had a drawing of what my rune was like before it was changed. Did you write yours down somewhere lest you make a mistake?”

  Bertin’s face went red.

  “Do not seek to tell me what I may and may not do!”

  “Bertin, you didn’t see what I saw,” Inbecca said, her large eyes pleading with her fellow knight. “It would be best to study the runes now that we can see them before making any changes. The path counsels caution, does it not?”

  “And you know the whole of the writings of guidance, having been of our membership for how long?” Bertin asked offensively. Tildi saw the boy’s shoulders tighten up. No one liked to be called on bad behavior.

  Inbecca raised her chin proudly. “I know common sense,” she said. “How long has the Scholardom been trying to find the Great Book? You’ve never had it in your hands before. In fact, you haven’t touched it at all. How well prepared are you?”

  “Well enough!” Bertin exclaimed sulkily.

  The older man sought to ease the sting of the rebuke. He patted the boy’s arm.

  “Lady Inbecca’s right, boy. Give it time. The blessing is with us forever, now. What’s another day, or another year, when we’ve waited ten thousand to have it in our hands?”

  “Oh, I suppose, Auric,” Bertin said at last, his fit of bad temper passing. Tildi knew it to be frustration, an emotion with which she was well acquainted.

  “Good. Then pay no attention. We ought to be stopping soon. It’s getting dark.”

  Auric was correct, to Tildi’s surprise. Immersed in the book as she had been, she had paid little heed to her surroundings. The knights at the front and rear of the file sparked torches, but those only provided dim light. The wavering shadows they cast actually made the road under their feet harder to see.

  Night was not all darkness, as it had been before. Even dusk was lit up by myriad little stars of the runes of the things within range of the book’s influence. Night creatures zipping through the sky were invisible except for the pale gold glow of their name-sigil written upon them. She would never really get used to seeing the runes. She felt almost as if she—and her brother Teldo, too—had been deprived by their sheltered existence in the Quarters, missing out on the excitement of magic. She had attained magic since, far more than her share. She couldn’t help but feel sad that Teldo had died too soon to have experienced it, too, though if he had lived she would never be out in the wide world, and she would never have touched the Great Book, a fact that would have diminished her happiness. Still, her brothers would have been alive, and that meant as much.

  Tildi sat bolt upright, mortified. It should have meant more. She was horrified at herself that she equated possessing the book with the lives of her family. The voices coming from the scroll assured her that one could not be compared with the other. Study, they advised her. Find contentment within these pages.

  She relaxed. Study would give her comfort. Obediently, she bent her head over the scroll, determined to dismiss such unworthy thoughts from her mind. Teldo would have taken this opportunity with both hands and a grateful heart. The least she could do was do the same, in his memory.

  She had found her rune again, surrounded by a cluster of runes that looked familiar, on a corner of a page devoted to details of the country of Orontae.

  A glimpse of rosy red light caught the corner of her eye. It was that boy again, she thought impatiently. If he had been a lad of the Quarters, she might have reached over and thumped his knuckles, as would any adult who noticed he was doing something that he should not.

  “Sir Bertin,” she said, hoping to distract him. “Do you know where we are? I hear a roaring ahead.”

  His fingers dropped from his chest in guilty haste. He looked as if he wanted to reply harshly to her, but she knew she was entitled to some courtesy to her face, as the bearer of the book.

  “I know not what it is,” he said at last. “I have never been here before.”

  “Do you come from far away?”

  “Levrenn.”

  “Is your home a pleasant place?”

  “Pleasant enough.” He kept his answers as short as possible. Tildi knew he was uncomfortable speaking with her, and he wanted to return unobserved to his experimentation.

  “Did you learn magic there?”

  “We do not practice magic!” he burst out. “Magic is . . . magic is not for scholarship! You don’t learn about the world, you just manipulate it.”

  “Ah, that’s not what my masters have taught me,” she said. “We must study everything very carefully. Magic is mostly scholarship.”

  “That’s not true,” he said.

  He is so young, Tildi thought.

  A white-sleeved arm went up at the front of the file.

  “I smell fresh water,” Rin said.

  “What is the concern, Abbess?” Loisan called from the rear of the file.

  “The path must have veered down toward the gorge and was cut off by Nemeth’s spell,” Sharhava said. “The road is gone. There is a waterfall ahead of us. We must backtrack to the last crossroads and find another way.”

  “The main road ran along the river,” Magpie reminded them helpfully. “There are plenty of animal trails leading off, but not all of them are through routes. We have been very lucky to get so far on this one.”

  Loisan wheeled his horse and spurred until he passed the two Rabantavian soldiers and their guards. The others turned in place. Rin swiveled her flexible body until she was looking directly at Tildi, and eased her hooves in a tight circle until they were facing the rear. A couple of the knights near Tildi looked as though they envied her the maneuverability of her centaur mount. Their own horses were clearly nervous having to turn on such a narrow pathway, but there was no choice.

  Loisan sent a rider with a torch out ahead of them to find an alternate route. The land to the side was mountainous, and any other path was likely to be treacherous and steep. Tildi didn’t enjoy the idea of riding those ways in the dark. The ridge itself bore a huge, glimmering blue rune that loomed over them forbiddingly.

  “Who is that?” Magpie asked her. “Old Man Mountain?”

  “I don’t know how to read its name yet,” Tildi said.

  “I am only teasing you,” he said lightly. “I know a few songs about this part of the country. Shall I sing them to you? It would take our minds off the hazard of the journey.”

  Tildi looked at the knights around them, grim-faced. “Best not,” she
said. “But thank you. You have been so kind to me, and you a king’s son.”

  “Smallfolk girl, I owe you my life and much more,” Magpie said, serious for once. “Being a king’s son is far less important to me than many other parts of my life.” He cast a woeful glance at Inbecca, who was riding a few feet ahead of him, pointedly not looking back. “Perhaps you can tell me stories of your life. We know so little of the Quarters, really. Humans of my size are not encouraged to stay long. We sing our songs, vend our wares, and are invited to leave as soon as we possibly can.”

  Tildi laughed. “That is true. The elders don’t want to be touched by ideas, you see. If you remained, you might get into discussions. Until Olen began to teach me, I didn’t know that you could question a tutor. In Morningside Quarter, if you knew your lessons, you didn’t get a smack on the hand or sent out of the schoolhouse to stand in the rain, but even questioning what my schoolmistress knew and how she knew it was asking to be expelled.”

  “Did you ever see anyone expelled?”

  “Teldo,” she said, smiling. “My brother. He was older by a year than I. We had dreams, you know. He was going to be a great wizard, and I would be his first apprentice. We never let anyone out of the family know our ambition, of course. My brother Gosto was the head of the family after my parents . . . died. Teldo was expelled for asking questions about history that were not in the history book. Gosto brought Teldo back in and made him apologize. The teacher let him rejoin the class, after a week outside to think over his sins.”

  “Mother and Father, I am glad that I had a tutor who let me talk!” Magpie exclaimed. “I’d have been out in the rain for years, the way I interrupted that poor man.”

  Tildi was charmed by how easy it was to converse with this young man. He was more than twice her size and of high birth, but he treated her as if she were his dearest friend whom he had known all his life.

  A blaze of light rose up, along with a wild yell. Tildi forgot what she was going to say. She automatically clutched the book to her chest. Her guards clustered in close to her, protecting them both.

  “Halt!” Sharhava shouted from behind them. “Go see what happened. Lar Romini might be in trouble.”

  Loisan snatched a torch from one of the riders at the rear of the file and touched spurs to his mount. Magpie kicked up his horse to follow, as did Serafina.

  The lieutenant suddenly spun his horse sideways, blocking them. Serafina’s normally placid horse reared. Magpie leaned out of his saddle. He grabbed the white horse’s reins and held tight until it calmed down.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Loisan demanded as Magpie sat upright and threw the reins back to Serafina.

  “To assist,” Magpie said urgently. “Think, man! I was brought up here, and this lady is a master wizard. If your man is in trouble, who can be of better help?”

  Loisan scowled, but he was a reasonable man. He laid reins to his steed’s neck. “Come, then, and hurry!”

  Hot yellow flames licked the night sky, blotting out all runes but a wild red one that danced at the heart of the fire. It looked as though the entire road was ablaze. The horses danced, reluctant to get close to the conflagration. The riders dismounted, and went forward on foot. The fire baked Magpie’s face even from a distance. Sweat ran from under his hair and down his neck.

  “Heaven’s heart,” Serafina exclaimed. “What happened here?”

  “Romini, where are you?” Loisan shouted.

  “Here, sir!” a voice called feebly. “I’m not hurt, but I’m stuck. The path is all spongy.”

  “It wasn’t spongy when we rode over it,” Loisan said. “Do you smell pitch?”

  “It’s all pitch,” Magpie said, pointing to the burning road at their feet. “It looks like the entire trail is spread with it. An ember falling from Romini’s torch must have set it ablaze.”

  “We’re not alone? Someone followed us and laid a trap, knowing we would have to come back this way!” Loisan’s beady eyes picked up the fire’s fierce glow. He drew his sword and studied the wooded slopes for signs of impending ambush. “They will never take the book from us! I must tell the abbess!” He started back for his horse.

  “No! How could anyone know we would ride this way?” Serafina asked impatiently. “Look down! Was the road gold before this?”

  “What?” Both men looked where she pointed. Streaks of bright yellow showed in the path’s surface. Magpie scrabbled up a handful of pebbles. He showed them to the other two.

  “It is gold! I would have thought the dwarves in this country would have mined every scrap of precious ore centuries ago.”

  “It was not here centuries ago,” Serafina said. “It has barely been minutes since that was created. Look at the runes.”

  “I cannot interpret them, lady,” Magpie said. “I know some ancient signs, but these are too complex.”

  “I can read them somewhat,” Loisan said, though uncertainly.

  Serafina waved an impatient hand. “Let me translate. It says resin underneath the flames. It’s not so far different from the ancient rune soil. This part under our feet is mixed up. The runes for gold and earth are interwoven with smaller runes for creeper and water. Don’t you understand? No one is following us. It was a normal road until the book passed over it and unlocked the runes. We changed it by riding over it. Our horses’ hooves altered the strokes. Romini is lucky to be alive. We might have noticed an abyss opening up underneath us, but not a change in surface unless it was so unusual we would perceive it without seeing it. Tildi is close to the rear of the line, so the changes might have been gradual. I do not know. All this requires study. I wish we had stayed at the castle until we knew more!”

  “It was the abbess’s will,” Loisan said, though at that moment he looked as if he wished they had waited, too.

  “Is that going to happen everywhere we go?” Magpie asked.

  “It could,” Serafina said, her brow furrowed. “Only Time and Nature know how Nemeth got all the way to Orontae from Sheatovra without making so many changes we could have tracked him by them. But perhaps it was because he was only one man, doing his best to stay away from anyone else. Once the influence passes, the runes are safe. As long as we ride close to Tildi, we trample the runes the book reveals.”

  “No wonder it was locked away!” Magpie exclaimed.

  “Would that it still were,” Serafina agreed. “None of this would have happened, but for Nemeth’s theft.”

  “Can you pull loose, Romini?” Loisan called.

  “It’s sticky mud, sir, but it doesn’t seem to be catching fire. I’m trying to dig out Burry’s hooves.”

  “We’ll get to you somehow, lad.” He cast about him. “We’re all trapped if it comes to that, until the fire goes out. We can’t haul water up from the gorge to extinguish that blaze. It’s too steep.”

  “Oh, that I can mend,” Serafina said. She held up her open hand, then snapped it closed. “Ano crettech tal!”

  The roar ceased as suddenly as closing a door. The flames sank like a mountebank falling through a trapdoor onstage, and vanished, leaving a simmering hot, shiny, black ribbon of road. Magpie had to wiggle a finger in his ear to make sure he had not gone deaf. It really had gone silent. He wiped his hot face.

  No fool, Loisan had backed away from the altered portion of the trail with his torch, for fear of setting it afire again. They did not need it to see the knight, Romini, thirty or forty feet away from them, because he was lit by his own rune. He had a shovel in his hands. In the distance, the matter on the scoop looked like earth, until it started to ooze off in huge droplets.

  “Can you do anything about that?” Loisan asked Serafina.

  “I’ve never seen that rune before,” she said after a moment’s study. “It has only come about by chance, not design or nature. I hope it will not harm him.”

  Loisan watched the two of them, then appeared to make a decision. “Keep an eye on him, if you would, honorable. I must report to the abbess.”

/>   Serafina inclined her head. “I am grateful for your trust.”

  Loisan made a noise in his throat that said it was by necessity, not inclination, but he went alone, leaving them in the runelit darkness.

  “What can we do?” Magpie asked.

  “I wish my mother were here,” Serafina said, staring at the shining black expanse of road. The sharp planes of her face were lit by runelight, a beguiling illumination. She was a pretty woman, though he had not taken the trouble to observe her before as a woman. She chewed upon a thumbnail. “I must think. Why would that woman not give us time to think?”

  “She’s impatient,” Magpie said cheerfully, trying to lighten her mood. “She always has been. Haste runs in the family, I am sorry to say, for I otherwise love them with my entire heart, but Sharhava is an extreme example. Having secured her prize, I fear she saw nothing but success and long years of interfering in other people’s affairs ahead.”

  “You should not be so disrespectful,” the young man’s voice broke in. Magpie looked up to see the knight leaning upon his shovel. The man’s light-colored habit was marked with black stains, but his horse stood free upon the verge, cropping grass. “The lady Sharhava is honored among us. You should not speak of her for your amusement.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Magpie said, sweeping him a bow. “I can’t help myself. It’s my nature. You scholar-knights believe in nature.”

  “As the superior species of Alada, it behooves us to cultivate courtesy to all,” Romini said sternly.

  “Well, he’s told you,” Serafina said, a little smile breaking the concentrated scowl.

  Magpie would have been content to play the mountebank as long as possible to help lift Serafina’s sorrow. She had taken over the leadership of the seekers without a moment to breathe, taking the responsibility placed upon her mother by Olen and the council onto her own slim shoulders. Kings and generals might have done worse than this young woman. Practical measures would be of more service than jokes at the moment. He looked up at the ridge, just visible against the star-flecked sky.