A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “It might be possible, but you must not, not without deep consideration,” Serafina said firmly.

  “Wouldn’t it be useful, though?” Tildi asked. She spotted a twisted stroke that at the moment was out of their sight, and corrected it as they rounded a long bend. She had the satisfaction of seeing masses of thorns dissolve into air, leaving a clear way for them to ride. “You could protect a person or a place, perhaps a whole region, by making sure nothing happened to its rune.”

  “You have not had a chance to read much history of the wizard wars in the distant past,” Serafina said. She tilted her head toward the group of riders around them. “These here know far more than you do. They have studied the stories of the Makers. Much of what you suggest was tried, and in some cases was accomplished successfully, but not always. Terrible stories abound as to the mistakes they made. There are perils involved in any facet of change. We lack the expertise of those who first unlocked the runes. Their deep knowledge is lost to us. We do not try anything as daring as they did—we are not so reckless. These knights are at the extreme of wishing to return things to the way they were before the first day of that knowledge, but they are not alone at all. The power of the book makes it possible again, and in that lies more peril than that of the mere physical.”

  She leaned over and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Don’t you understand, there is nothing you cannot make if you know the rune for it? Unimaginable wealth, thousands of servants, islands, volcanoes, the perfect body that will live a million years in perfect health! I dare not use it, for fear of awakening a greed in myself that I can’t stifle.”

  Tildi was horrified. “Neither would I, except I would try to keep harm from coming to those I am near. How do I know that people aren’t changing because of being close to the Great Book?”

  “You don’t,” Serafina said. “That is why it is necessary to keep an eye on one’s rune. If it begins to change, change it back. There is no harm in that. But other alterations—you don’t know what havoc you can wreak if you begin to play with reality as though it were a toy.”

  “I would use it,” Rin said. “I feel as that poor boy last night did. To use it to make myself healthier and stronger would be my goal. I have no need of those other things.”

  Serafina shook her head. “But others would feel that they did. The greatest wizards of the ages would be tempted—I am tempted—but I will not succumb. The book must write itself. We can only copy from it or study it. We must not change the book itself. If unscrupulous people knew that it existed, we would be fighting much more dangerous foes than our current escorts. I intend to stay by you, in hopes that between us we may prevent the ones around us from giving in to their misguided doctrine of correcting what they see as the Creators’ mistakes.” With a final significant glance at Tildi and Rin, she sat upright in her saddle.

  Tildi rolled the scroll back and forth. It hovered a few inches above her lap. It had been so easy to make it levitate. When Teldo had been trying to teach her magic, she had despaired of ever managing such a difficult enchantment. Now it was one of the least spells that she was capable of. She would have been proud to show him her accomplishments. Teldo would have adored the Great Book. It was everything that they had longed for in their studies. The entire world rested here, all the land and sea, and all the beasts and beings who lived thereupon, on one long roll of shimmering whiteness like a landscape of cloud. Such beauty caught at her throat and made her sigh with pleasure.

  She came once again to the leaf from which Nemeth had torn pieces and burned them. The missing places in the pure white page wrenched her heart.

  “How sad to leave it damaged like this,” she said. She drew one finger up and along the torn edges. From them she could feel a jangling as of upset nerves.

  Serafina smiled. “The book has endured millennia. There are powerful spells binding it. Either it will heal itself in time, or not. We can but wait to find out.”

  “Perhaps Master Olen knows how to fix it,” Tildi said.

  The knight riding beside Tildi cleared his throat.

  Oh, yes. He was reminding them that the book was the property of the Scholardom now, and no wizard was going to interfere with their precious treasure.

  We’ll see about that, Tildi thought, though she didn’t let her feelings show in her eyes.

  When the sun had reached its highest point, Loisan raised a fist. The party jingled to a halt. The almoner began preparing lunch. Teryn trotted over to Serafina and Tildi. Her gaze hovered between them, not certain which one to address.

  “We are short on supplies,” she said very casually. “We expected to go back by way of one of the villages on the west of the river. I seem to recall that there is a town not far ahead. We should reach it by twilight.”

  A town! Tildi felt her heart leap within her chest. The Scholardom could hardly parade her through the streets with a rope around her waist. There would be questions if they appeared to be escorting prisoners. Magpie—Prince Eremi, as she must try to think of him—would have authority there.

  “Serve us what you can,” Serafina said, her voice even. “We will find a way to replenish our stores as soon as possible.”

  Chapter Five

  ildi ate her meager lunch of scorched bread and hard cheese without complaint.

  Rin knelt down beside her. “Apple?” she asked, offering a wrinkled sphere. “They are a little past their best, but sweet. There are many in the trees, above the horses’ reach.”

  “Thank you,” Tildi said. The apple was the size of a melon in her small palms. She turned it over until she could find a place narrow enough to take a bite. The crunchy flesh was sweet and juicy enough to fill her parched and dusty-tasting mouth with liquid. “Do you know this part of the land? I know we are north of your homeland. I just don’t know how far.”

  “I have been here before,” the centaur said, chewing an apple meditatively. She gestured with the core to the south and east. “Some of it is disputed land between Orontae and the plains of Balierenn. Once in a while hot weather drives the Windmanes north to the cooler borderlands. We have few permanent buildings, so we can move as we please. Other times, the humans come south to gather grasses and roots. Over the course of a year, our peoples see little of one another. It has worked out this way for centuries. There are wastelands that neither of us claim to the east, full of stinging desert creatures and few wells. It is good country to run in, but useful for little else. I look forward to introducing you to my people one day.”

  “Soon, I hope,” Tildi said pointedly.

  “We’re not going there,” the guard said, interrupting them.

  “Your pardon,” Tildi said, putting on her most imperious go-to-Meeting expression, “but we weren’t addressing you.”

  The guard withdrew to the end of Tildi’s tether. Rin laughed, her long throat rippling.

  “Little one, unless you want to make the rest of the trip in chains, you will stop showing your eagerness to run. Everyone knows we are approaching a town. Do you think they will let you have an opportunity?”

  Tildi felt her face go scarlet. “But why are you being so patient with them?”

  “They outnumber us,” Rin said simply. “We are weary. We have been through much, and little has been decided beyond the end of the day’s journey ahead of us. We will end up harming one another, and there is no reason for it. Life is not over. The book will reach its destination, just not yet. Be calmer. None of us are content, but we must protect you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Tildi said, feeling very foolish.

  “But you cannot take care of us,” Rin said. “Be patient yourself. It will be all right in the end, I promise you.”

  Beyond the trees, a team of oxen pulling a broad wooden cart appeared at the edge of the field. Men and women wearing gartered trousers and loosesleeved tunics, just as if they were smallfolk about to conduct a harvest. They climbed out and began to pull up root vegetables.

  The harvesters sho
uted to one another, laughing. A tall, strongly built woman in a brown dress with a honey-colored apron and head kerchief laughed over her shoulder and started walking toward the row nearest the concealed knights. Tildi stared in amazement. She was coming toward them! Hope surged in her heart. This woman was a fellow farmer. She would understand Tildi’s plight.

  “Move,” the guard ordered at once, tugging on Tildi’s waist rope. “Into the bushes. The rest of you, follow us.”

  “I will not!” Tildi said indignantly. Impulsively she sprang to her feet. “Help!” she screamed, waving her arms to attract the attention of the woman in brown. “Save us!”

  Unceremoniously, the knight threw the rope around her, pinioning her around the arms, and lifted her off the ground. He clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Silence!” he hissed.

  Tildi fumed, wishing the man would shrivel up and die like a slug with salt poured on it. She kicked and struggled against him.

  At the end of the field, the humans looked around for the source of the unfamiliar noise. Tildi scratched at her captor’s arms, but the rope restricted her reach. She scented burning flesh, as if Morag had scorched yet another joint of meat. She realized the smell was coming from under her nose. She twisted her head, wanting to get away from the stench. She caught a glimpse of the knight’s face contorted with pain. It was he! His skin was burning from contact with hers, but he didn’t let go. He staggered backward across the road.

  Twigs tore at her hair and face as he dragged her into the far hedge, out of sight of the field hands. She kept kicking, but it was no use. She was as weak as a kitten compared with a human. He forced his way underneath a hazel copse and dropped to his haunches on the bare soil next to the roots of the arching switches. He nodded in the direction of the field. Tildi could still see a tiny patch of blue sky, but she was surrounded by shadow. His voice murmured in her ear like a hot breeze.

  “If you keep struggling, I will order my brethren out there now, and they will kill every single person in that field. Do you understand me?”

  Tildi gawked at him, horrified. Slowly, she nodded. He winced. The pain in his hand must have been excruciating.

  “I’ll move my hand, now. You let out another caterwaul, and the blood of those farmers will be on you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, chastened. Freedom had seemed so close!

  “Do you have her, Lar Findor?” Abbess Sharhava asked.

  “Yes, Abbess,” Findor said. Tildi clambered to her feet. He thrust a finger into her face. “Stay there, curse you!”

  Tildi was so shocked at the sight of his black-scorched finger that she stopped and sat down.

  “Get the others,” Sharhava said over her shoulder to the knights behind her. They rushed away.

  Two more of the scholars shoved into the small shelter and thrust Serafina down beside Tildi. The wizardess gathered her up like a child. Lakanta and the others were forced in behind her. Teryn and Morag were bound with ropes.

  “Are you all right?” Serafina asked.

  “Yes,” Tildi said. “I am so sorry. It’s my fault. I . . . I had to try.”

  “The book,” Sharhava demanded, pushing aside the branches and glaring down at them. “Where is it, Findor?”

  “She must have dropped it,” the knight said. “I had to get her away from there, Abbess. The peasants were coming to see who shouted.”

  “You were right to do so, but the Great Book must not lie unguarded. Where?”

  Findor gestured in the direction from which they had come. Sharhava parted the bushes to look. The road lay empty. Sharhava hissed orders. The knights fanned out to search.

  “How could it be gone?” Findor asked. “I never saw it fall. It wasn’t there. Where did you put it?” His hand started toward Tildi’s shoulder, but it was shaking in pain. Angrily, he pulled it back.

  “I was holding on to the book until you grabbed me,” Tildi said indignantly. “You made me drop it!”

  “The Great Book is worth your life!” he snarled. Tildi retreated as far as she could from the angry human.

  “You are hurt,” Serafina said, looking at Findor’s hands. “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t trust your spells,” Lar Findor said, batting her away.

  “Can you ride with both hands burned? Let me help! We will do you no harm. I swear it by my honor. You have no reason to doubt me.”

  Findor hesitated, but he looked at Morag. The dark-haired man nodded dumbly. Findor held out his hands and turned them over. Tildi gasped. The flesh of the palms was black, and the white bones that connected to the fingers were exposed and yellowed.

  Serafina closed her eyes and put her hands over his. Tildi watched as the man’s rune changed very slightly, two thin, tight scribbles near the center widening out to graceful strokes. When Serafina moved back, his hands were restored. Tildi noticed that they were beautiful in shape. She was glad that they had not been maimed forever.

  “That’s better,” Findor said, his voice hoarse. “My gratitude, honorable.” Serafina nodded gravely to him. He didn’t look at Tildi.

  “Why would I take it?” Magpie’s voice asked indignantly, from outside the shelter. Tildi peered through the curtain of thin branches. The tall, imperious abbess confronted Magpie, almost eye to eye with him.

  “Because you are a mischief-maker,” Sharhava said impatiently. “Did you?”

  “No. I have been near Lady Inbecca all this time. She can vouch for me, if she needs to.”

  “Lar Inbecca?”

  “Yes, Abbess,” the young woman whispered. “He has done nothing. He has not touched the book. How can he? It would destroy any of us, except the smallfolk girl.”

  Sharhava was in no mood to apologize. She turned to her lieutenants.

  “It is still nearby. The runes are strong upon us yet. We must find it before anyone else does! All of you, seek!”

  A trio of knights attempted to herd Rin away from the road. The centaur reared and kicked at them with her front hooves.

  “Hands off me! I am a princess of the Windmanes!”

  “Go farther from the road!” the stout almoner demanded, stepping up to her with hands on his hips.

  “I do not take orders from you, nor your mistress,” Rin said, her deep green eyes flashing. The blood was high in her dark cheeks.

  “Please come with me, highness,” Magpie said, stepping in between Rin and her tormentors. He bowed deeply and stretched up a hand for hers. “They do not wish to attract the attention of the field hands.”

  Rin was somewhat mollified by his polite tone. “They should ask, not offer violence.”

  “So they should,” Magpie said. “It is clear that their studies do not include advanced manners. Will you keep me company during this pause in our journey?”

  Rin snorted. “Very well, then.” She placed her fingers in Magpie’s and aimed a glare over her shoulder at the knights. Magpie led her away from the copse. Tildi felt forlorn, having them out of reach.

  The humans fanned out among the trees, their eyes intent upon the ground, going over the path that Findor had taken when he carried Tildi away from the road, and moving outward.

  “They aren’t going,” the voice of a male knight whispered, almost beside her. Tildi could not see him through the thicket. “Curse those people to nonexistence! We cannot have them interfering with us.”

  Another speaker, a little nearer, let out a long sigh. “Keep an eye on them. They have seen the runes. If they become too inquisitive we must deal with them. We cannot have rumors fly.” The cold way in which the second voice spoke chilled Tildi’s heart. They did not care about the lives of others. She huddled in a miserable bundle beside Serafina, determined not to cause any further offense whatsoever.

  The searching went on for what seemed an endless time.

  At last, the Scholardom congregated beside Tildi’s hazelwood prison to confer.

  “Report,” Sharhava demanded, though she kept her voice low.<
br />
  “We have not found it, Abbess,” Brouse said, his frown creasing his doughy face.

  “The book cannot have disappeared into the air, Abbess,” Loisan said. “It must be here.”

  “Perhaps the Mother and Father have called it home,” said the sturdy female ostler.

  “Impossible. One of the cursed wizards must have put a spell on it,” Sharhava said. She pushed aside the curtain of switches. “It must be you,” she spat at Tildi. “You want us to be stopped. I tell you this is the way to your death. You will not deter or delay us. Where is the Great Book?”

  “I don’t know!” Tildi protested.

  “Keep your voice down!” one of the knights hissed. Tildi subsided, huddling close to Serafina’s thin side. “You magicked it away somewhere we cannot find it, but none of us leaves this spot until it is found.”

  “It has not been ‘magicked away,’ ” Serafina said impatiently. “The runes are still upon everyone and everything, are they not? You have observed that—in fact, that is the main point of your complaint. If the book was gone, they would be gone, too. I will assist you to look for it.” She rose, unfastening her cloak clasp. “Tildi, remain here. No one will harm you.”

  “Don’t leave me,” Tildi asked. Serafina knelt and tucked the rose-colored cape around her. Her dark eyes looked deeply into Tildi’s brown ones.

  “Wait. It will be all right. I promise you. Stay here.”

  “I’ll help, too,” Lakanta offered.

  “No!” the almoner said, pointing. Reluctantly, the dwarf woman settled down again. “You stay here. Just her.”

  “It will be all right,” Serafina assured them all. She slipped out silently behind the knight.

  Tildi fretted in her absence. What if it had gone to ground of its own accord? What if it did not want to be by her any longer?

  “Did you make it invisible?” Lakanta asked curiously. “I’d dearly love to be invisible sometimes. It’d be a wonder to hear what people were saying if they didn’t know you were there.”