A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Yes,” Tildi said, feeling as proud of the book as she would have of a prize calf. Irithe leaned close to see. She ran a hand around it but did not touch it. She sat back and regarded Tildi.

  “It has a scent like yours when I first met you, but much stronger. It is ancient magic. I was surprised to sense it in a smallfolk, but it was not natural to you, was it?”

  “No. It was . . . well, I am sure that Olen told you everything.”

  Irithe showed her little smile again. “I do not need to know everything.

  He asked me to find you and bring you to him. I have, and I will.”

  “Where?” Tildi asked eagerly. “Is he close by?”

  “No. He waits for us on the banks of the Arown. It is many days’ walk even if we take the sky road. We can make several miles’ distance if we depart now.”

  “Oh, I’ll be so glad to see him! I have so much to tell him and show him!”

  Tildi took in a deep breath. “But I can’t go.”

  “Why not?” Irithe frowned at her.

  “The knights,” Tildi said desperately. “Their leader, the abbess, said that I have to bring the Great Book to their Scriptorium. If I tried to leave, they would march on the Quarters and slay everyone. I have no family left, but I fear for my people’s lives. She also said that any of my friends who tried to get away would be killed, too. They could all have gone free, but they stayed with me, and now they don’t act as they did before. I feel responsible.”

  Irithe frowned. A small line etched itself between the finely drawn brows.

  “Olen said there were obstacles, but these are not insurmountable. I warned you before not to give all your trust, but will you trust me on this?”

  “Of course,” Tildi said, surprised.

  “Then prepare your friends. I will make certain that you have an opportunity to go with me, and your enemies will not follow. Be ready!”

  Irithe doused the golden light with a gesture and took Tildi’s hand. She escorted Tildi back to her place on the mat, then glided silently from the glade. Tildi followed her rune into the forest, but lost it. The elf was the best woodswoman she had ever known. A glamor seemed to lift from Tildi’s surroundings, a faint rune fading away. No doubt Irithe had laid a charm of calming on the glen to keep the knights from rousing, as she did to avoid being harmed by Tildi’s touch.

  She was going to see Olen again! Tildi found it difficult to go back to sleep, knowing he was waiting for her. How Irithe was to extract them from their unwanted escort she had no idea, but the elf was resourceful. She must be ready.

  Purely out of defiance Tildi began to think of outrageous plans that would trap the knights like flies in jam. The image of Sharhava floundering in raspberry goo made her giggle. One of the guards at her side sat up at once and felt for the fallen cord. Tildi felt it tug at her waist.

  “What is it?” he demanded. “I heard a noise.”

  “It was nothing,” Tildi said. “I am sorry. A thought struck me funny.”

  “Aye? Well, go to sleep. Dawn comes too soon.”

  Tildi settled down, her hand on the book.

  Chapter Ten

  old tight,” Rin said. “This is a steep slope.”

  Tildi felt her stomach lurch at the endless downward path before them. In an effort to prevent anyone going downhill from catching a foot and tumbling for miles, someone had cut steps into the stony soil, but they had eroded from years or centuries of rain into angled, kneedeep troughs crisscrossed with tree roots and stubborn weeds. She clutched the centaur’s thick, wiry mane. Every step Rin took jarred her forward until she was resting against Rin’s back.

  “My apologies,” Tildi said, trying to scoot backward and failing.

  “No matter,” Rin said. “You do not hurt me. I am accustomed to it.”

  Tildi grimaced and peeked around Rin to see if the guards nearby had heard her, but they were concerned with the feet of their own mounts and were paying little attention to her, except to see that she was safe. As time had gone by, Tildi had become less harmful to the touch, though not much less. She feared that soon the guards would be able to seize her, or think they could. She recalled what had happened to poor King Halcot when he had touched her fragment of a copied leaf at the council at Silvertree. His hand was burned black, as Sharhava’s still was. And that sad corpse they had found on the road outside of Walnut Tree, whom Edynn thought must have run afoul of Nemeth. Tildi didn’t want to harm anyone, but if the book’s magic should leap to her defense there was nothing she could do. It had been four days since Irithe had come to her. She found it difficult to wait for rescue. What could take so long?

  The book itself floated serenely along beside her like a swan sailing on a pond. Tildi gave it a loving glance. She had come to rely upon it as a trusted guide. It had opened itself to a complicated jumble of runes illuminated with green and blue. The names were unfamiliar, but the page unmistakably described the land through which they were now riding. Even with her inexperienced eye she could pick out high stone bluffs surmounted by weathered caves on either side of a mighty river, still the Oros. She wasn’t certain what the signs in between those banks meant.

  “What is this place?” she asked. Magpie usually answered those questions, but he and Serafina rode today in the center of the pack ahead of her, absorbed in each other. Shamelessly, Tildi spied upon their runes. Magpie’s radiated hurt feelings, interest, and confusion. Serafina’s had confusion, too, but also warming as one did when flattering attention is paid. Tildi was glad of that, though a little cross with Magpie. He had a young lady who was interested in him, to whom he was betrothed, and there was no confusion whatsoever in her rune. Inbecca gave him nasty glances, which he didn’t notice. Hurt added spikes to her name-sign. It had been days since Tildi had noticed Inbecca and Magpie speaking alone to each other. Had one romance broken off only to give way to another?

  “We are riding toward the Delta Bridge,” Auric explained kindly, answering the question she had asked out loud. He was immediately behind her. Because of the narrowness of the path, they could only ride single file. “Our order’s nearest home is set between the two tributaries at the south corner of where Orontae and Levrenn touch Melenatae. This bridge is to the north of our destination. Our mother house is in Levrenn, but there are many other chapters as well.”

  Tildi followed his description in the Great Book. At her eager touch, the scroll obediently turned until it opened upon a page of small runes arrayed according to their geographical location. It was better than a map, because Tildi could see every detail in these, much more than in line-pictures of countries, rivers, and mountains. The features seemed to be as large as life, even though at the same time she could cover each with the tip of her thumb. What wonder-workers the Shining Ones had been! She pointed to the river, its sinuous perfection interrupted by matter-of-fact, practical sigils: the bridges.

  He looked over her shoulder, leaning as close as he dared. “Aye, that’s it. It’ll be tricky crossing that bridge.”

  “We must do it in the dead of night,” said Rachine from behind him. She shook her head. “It’s the only bridge for sixty miles in either direction. Unless we want to ford over. It might be shallow enough at the moment, with the Oros down to a trickle.”

  “The abbess won’t allow it,” Loisan said, dropping back. “Mud’s too deep and dangerous, even now. Water might endanger the book. We cannot have that.”

  “Not to mention how little I care for trotting withers deep in mud,” Rin said, tossing her head.

  A harrumph from Loisan told them how little he cared about the centaur’s discomfort, but he did not say so aloud. He slowed his pace and kept an eye on the sky.

  The whole party had been watching the sky with trepidation since early morning.

  “I do not like the black clouds,” Rachine said, looking up at the sky. Tildi followed her gaze. The sky was darkening ominously in the west. If she had been at home, everyone would be moving the animals inside. “T
hey are coming this way. How long until we reach the bridge?”

  “A few miles. We still cannot cross in daylight,” Auric said. “We will have to find a place to halt where we cannot be detected.”

  “We must make for it.”

  “Not yet! The abbess will not permit it. Vreia has not yet returned. That means other travelers are still within range. We do not wish them harm.”

  “Can’t we risk it?” Rachine asked. “There are caves to shelter in on the other side. I smell rain. I believe that we are in for a terrible storm. It is nearly upon us.”

  “It is all as Mother Nature sends,” Romini said blandly.

  But, natural or not, the woman’s prediction came true. The sky tore open like a full waterskin, and rain roared down upon them.

  “The book!” Sharhava called back, her hood plastered to her head. “Save it!”

  “It is safe,” Tildi said placidly, tipping a hand toward the scroll. She hadn’t known how to build a ward to protect her from rain before, but the voices seemed to know what she needed before she needed it, and whispered words in her ears, words that for once she knew. The rune covered her, the book, and Rin like an awning. No drop of water touched her.

  “That’s a blessing,” Auric said, blinking water out of his eyes.

  All the horses slipped on the beaten-clay road. Tildi could not see them well through the rain, but she saw their silver-gilt sigils twisting suddenly or dropping several feet. She heard an annoyed yell as one of the knights was tipped out of his saddle and cascaded downslope through the mud. He picked himself up, swearing. Droplets of liquid mire, each marked with its own symbol, flew off him.

  Rin kept her balance, but only by holding her arms out to steady herself when the path sloped precipitously downhill toward a curve.

  “It’s a pity you cannot shield the way before us from water as well,” Rin said. “Only fools would not have hesitated when they saw the skies.”

  “I do not dare,” Tildi said. “I wish I could, but I might make things worse.”

  “They cannot be worse.” Rin picked her hooves up carefully. “I am carrying pounds of mud with every step.”

  Rain roared down upon them, growing more intense the farther they descended. Whoever was ahead of the party that the abbess was trying to avoid must have been moving at the speed of a crippled ox. The sound of the cataract all but drowned out the knights shouting to one another.

  “We might as well be in another world,” Rin said, eyeing the silver wall. “I cannot see anything ahead of us. Can you lengthen the shield a little so I can judge my footing?”

  “I don’t really know how I did it,” Tildi admitted. “The voices told me what to do.”

  “Never mind, then. I will hoof it gingerly and hope that nothing . . . who are you?” Rin danced as a hooded figure slipped into the dry circle. The centaur’s hand flew to the whip hanging from her waist. The newcomer pointed a long finger at her, and Rin stopped in mid-movement. The centaur’s eyes flashed fury. “How dare you bespell me? Name yourself!”

  In answer, the figure threw back its hood to reveal long dark hair framing a golden-skinned face and two large, dark eyes.

  “Irithe!” Tildi exclaimed. She leaned over to clasp the elf’s hands.

  “You know this person?” Rin asked.

  “She is a friend. What are you doing here?”

  “I have little time,” the elf said, stepping lightly beside them down the muddy slope as if it was a fine spring day. “The moment is coming. Trust in what you can actually feel. Keep your friends close if you can. Do not fly. You must stay upon the ground. They must be able to hear you approach.”

  “Who are they?” Tildi asked.

  The elf’s hand flew to her lips. “Hush! You will see. The knights must not cross the river. Go south. My allies will find you. They will identify themselves. Trust them as you trust me—with reservations.” Irithe gave her quick smile, and Tildi echoed it.

  “I trust you. What do they look like?”

  “You will know they are not friends to your enemies,” Irithe said tersely. “Move slower now. You are missed. The weather has made them nervous. It will continue to do so. I do not know when we will meet again, meadow child, but we shall. You have my word.”

  “I will be glad to see you anytime at all,” Tildi said.

  Irithe gave her a quick smile. “You open your heart so swiftly. Farewell, then, for now.”

  She pulled her hood over her head and backed away from Tildi. At once she was swallowed up in the roaring silver curtain. At that same moment, the rope pulled taut around her waist.

  “There you are!” Loisan shouted hoarsely as he broke through the rain, hauling himself closer hand over hand on her tether. His horse snorted and gasped, out of breath at struggling with the weather. “The abbess said we must risk the bridge. We cannot find shelter here. It is not far.” He backed away, and was instantly swallowed up by the deluge.

  “Who was that elf?” Rin asked.

  “Her name is Irithe,” Tildi said, feeling hope flood her like the warmth from a fire. “She is a friend I met on the road north to take lessons with Olen.”

  “What did she mean by her allies?”

  Tildi hesitated. She didn’t know whether her friends’ unnatural complacency extended to revealing confidences to the enemy, but time was short. “She is going to try and help us get away from the knights. She said she can help. I don’t know what will happen, but . . . don’t be frightened at whatever comes.”

  “A Windmane, frightened?” Rin demanded, sounding affronted, but she snorted to show it was a joke. “If your friend will free us of these pests, then I am all for it.”

  Within a few yards the weather began to change again. The silver wall softened and began to churn into clouds of fog. The roaring lessened, then ceased. Tildi saw the rune of the spell over her head break apart. It must have been meant specifically to cope with rain. The rolling mist brushed Rin’s flanks and washed around Tildi, surrounding them in a moist cocoon.

  “This is what she meant by help?” Rin demanded, putting her hands out before her. “I cannot see the ground at all now.”

  “Hush!” Tildi said. “The others can hear you now.”

  “Do I care if we are about to be set free?”

  “Rin!”

  “Oh, very well—listen! What is that?”

  Tildi felt her ears perk at the low growling ahead of them. She huddled tightly against Rin’s back and pulled her knife from its sheath. The book huddled to her other side, providing her with a shield.

  Howls erupted all around them. Tildi felt her blood turn chill.

  Rin reached for the whip that Irithe had prevented her from drawing. She unwound its length partway and looped it over her other hand. Suddenly three figures, man-sized but not man-shaped, appeared out of the mist beside them as if surfacing in a pail of milk. Their faces had long snouts with black noses and tall, triangular ears. Their dark brown lips were pulled back to show sharp fangs. Tildi let out a scream. The newcomers snarled at Tildi and Rin, then vanished again as swiftly as they had appeared. Tildi heard one of the knights give a wild yell.

  “Werewolves!” Rin exclaimed. “Yes, there was a full moon last night. The Pearl was at her height.”

  “Knights!” came Loisan’s voice, echoing down the muddy slope. “Ware enemy!”

  Rin turned one way and another. More werewolves bounded past them, heading downslope. They carried no weapons that Tildi could see except for coils of rope, but she wondered if they needed any, with their sharp teeth and claws. One male bounded into Rin’s path, making her rear in alarm. He scanned them with hot yellow eyes, which stopped in surprise when they lit on Tildi. Before either of them could move, he was gone again. A loud ululation made chills go up Tildi’s spine.

  “How did they get through the wards?” Rachine yelled.

  “The spell is broken,” Loisan said. “Treachery! Where is that wizard?”

  “Serafina!” Tildi shouted. The
knight was correct: she could no longer feel the wards around them. Someone had undone the protection. Thraiks could see them! Had something happened to Serafina? She scanned the forest of runes for the wizardess’s sign. Everyone was moving so quickly.

  “Look behind you!” Mey’s voice shouted.

  “Where?” Braithen shouted back. “How can you see . . . aagh!” Tildi heard the snick of a weapon being drawn and the grunt of effort from Braithen’s throat.

  “Lightning strike you, monster!”

  Tildi saw the flash of light and read the rune of lightning as Mey came to his brother knight’s rescue. The Scholardom’s study to employ the book’s magic as an offensive weapon had borne fruit. Tildi cringed. To her relief the werewolf rune was thrown backward but not destroyed. Another word had interposed itself between them.

  “Why do you not die?” Mey shrieked.

  More snarls came, followed by a cry of pain. Horses shrieked in fear. Rin danced at the noise. More steeds, both before and behind them, echoed the scream. The cries of humans mingled with them as werewolf teeth and claws must have found their marks. Jingling tack and the thud of hooves on the slope added to the cacophony. Tildi cowered. She had never been in the midst of battle before.

  “Olen said they were allies,” Tildi said, frightened. “Why are they attacking us?”

  “We must have killed one of their number with Sharhava’s spell,” Rin said grimly.

  “Get us away, Rin!” she pleaded.

  “I’ll carry you safely,” Rin said, gathering herself. “Guards, let go!” She pulled forward. Tildi felt her tether drop loose.

  “Smallfolk, where are you?” Auric called. He had been on the other end of the quirt.