A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Magpie sighed. Then Inbecca was safe. “You have relieved my mind already, sir.”

  “My pleasure.” Olen smiled next at Teryn. “Captain, I may not be the one to thank you for your service. That honor belongs to your lord.”

  “I see,” Teryn said stiffly. Magpie could tell that she felt disappointed, even dishonored by the omission.

  “My lord Halcot,” Olen called softly.

  One of the tall men standing in the bow turned about. Bright hair surmounted by a thin gold crown with a brilliant blue sapphire in the center capped a suntanned and red-cheeked visage. Deepset, bright blue eyes peered out from under corn-colored brows. A short beard, cut to an elegant point, emphasized the strong chin. He wore a tunic of bright red with a white flying horse outlined in gold upon the breast over practical trousers and seaman’s boots.

  Captain Teryn startled, then bowed deeply. Morag followed suit a trifle more slowly. Smiling broadly, Halcot stalked over to them.

  “Well, then, well met. Captain, Olen has kept me apprised on what he could of your progress. I am glad to see that you and Morag have not failed in your duty to me.”

  “We have striven to serve,” the captain said, straightening up and jutting forth her chin. “It has not been an onerous duty. Mistress Summerbee has given no trouble.”

  “But circumstances have,” Olen said. “Well done for reaching us so efficiently.”

  “You deserve my thanks and praise,” Halcot told them. “I have brought the rest of your company. Take your place at their head as you deserve.” He gestured toward the stern of the vessel. About twenty men and women in Rabantae’s livery stood there. As Teryn stared, they raised mops, paintbrushes, and hammers into the air and cheered wildly.

  “Hail to our captain!” cried a man. “Hurray!”

  “Hurray!” the others chorused, hoisting their tools on high. Magpie realized with a grin that they had been put to work on the voyage by the enterprising young ship captain.

  “Hail to our sergeant!”

  “Hurray!”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Teryn said, holding herself more proudly. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She saluted again, and marched toward the cheering company. They rushed to salute her and clap Morag on the back. The guards were proud of them. Magpie was glad.

  The second tall man made his way more slowly to Olen’s side, a deeply disapproving expression on his face. Descending suddenly from vicarious triumph, Magpie felt as winded as if he had been thrown off his horse. His father, here? He sank to one knee. When no words were said, he peered upward through his hair, which had been tossed untidily by the onshore breezes. His father glared down at him.

  Soliandur of Orontae always looked, said a minstrel who had once stopped over one cold autumn night and was not asked to stay after dinner, as though he had not slept well in years. His long oval face, so very different from any of his sons’, was the color of walnuts, and shaded darker in half-moons underneath his eyes and at the corner of his pinched mouth. His hair was the same shade as Magpie’s, though shot through with startling white streaks. More white, Magpie noted with shame, than had been there when he had last seen his father. His fault. No one needed to say it; he knew it.

  “So you live,” the king of Orontae said, surveying his third son. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Would you have preferred it?” Magpie asked, unable to help himself. His father was silent for a long while. “I see,” he said sadly. “Nothing has changed.”

  “It’s not like that at all,” Halcot said, closing the distance between them with a long stride. “My brother king was deeply concerned for your safety.” He looked from one to the other, a bemused expression on his open face. “Well, I’m pleased to see you. When you disappeared from the hall . . . well, you caused a good deal of talk.”

  “My brother!” Soliandur exclaimed. His face went very red.

  Halcot clapped his brother king on the shoulder. “We need not talk about it. That’s water under the bridge and long down the river. It’s what caused us to agree to commission the ship when Master Olen sent us word it would be needed. But where is your ladylove, lad? She went after you with purpose in her eye.”

  “She . . . chose to stay with her aunt,” Magpie said.

  His father gaped at him. “Boy, you have brought endless disgrace upon my house and the house of your ancestors yet again! I weathered the storm of humiliation that fell upon us when you left that night, from each and every noble who serves the Tiger of Levrenn. The master wizard here has been at pains to assure me that you left for good reasons—but how dare you return without Princess Inbecca this time?”

  Magpie could stand it no longer. He raised his voice to overpower his father’s.

  “She chose to stay with her aunt!” he bellowed. Everyone on deck turned to look at them. Seeing the shock on his father’s face, he dropped his eyes. “I did not abandon her. It was not my choice. I would have brought her. I would prefer to have her away from the Scholardom. They do her no good.”

  “You could have borne her away,” Soliandur said. Magpie gawked like a street urchin.

  “Father, you’ve known Inbecca since she was a baby. Do you really believe that I could bring her where she did not wish to go?”

  Halcot hid a smile behind his hand. “From what I have seen of the young lady over the years, brother, I believe that the lad speaks no more than the truth. I would not call her willful, but rather strong of purpose.”

  Soliandur frowned, unsatisfied. “But what is her purpose?”

  Magpie was reluctant to say. How would he explain a convenient bank of fog and an ambush, a hurried conference, followed by a midnight ride to meet a pack of bearkin who listened to the pulses of the earth?

  “It is complicated,” he offered, knowing that his words sounded weak and inadequate.

  Soliandur glared. “ ‘Complicated’? How could it be more complicated than interrupting the joining of two dynasties, before every important guest in the northern continent? Your mother usually has an explanation for your behavior, but even she was hard-pressed to find an excuse. Your antics over the years have caused me much embarrassment and worry, but this was greater than the sum of everything else.”

  Magpie hung his head. “I am sorry, sir. I thought I had made my meaning known to my lord Halcot, but there was no time to explain further. If you had only seen what I saw in Oron Castle. Sir, I believe that as bad as things turned out, we kept it from being far worse. I had to be there. For the sake of your kingdom, sir, and for every living being in it. Including, I do have to say, myself.”

  “Well, then,” Soliandur said. Magpie couldn’t tell if he was mollified or not. The king turned to shout. “Cortin!”

  A page came running up, holding a package wrapped in oiled leather. Magpie recognized the shape and raised his eyes to his father’s. Soliandur looked a trifle embarrassed, but his voice held all its usual bluster.

  “Thought you might like to have this with you. You left it behind when you went.”

  Magpie unwrapped his precious jitar and tried the strings. They only needed a bit of tightening. The wood was intact and looked as if it had been newly polished. He raised his eyes to his father’s. “I cannot tell you what this means to me, sir.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Soliandur said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Once you were gone I was treated to hours-long tirades on your virtues. As if I wasn’t aware of them myself. Still, I hear my brother here nearly stabbed you to the heart before the betrothal ceremony. I’m sure you deserved it.”

  “I rather fear I did, sir,” Magpie said sheepishly.

  “No doubt you did.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Soliandur glanced away, but not before Magpie had seen in them something that had not been there for years: love. “It’s nothing. Your mother is worried about you!”

  Magpie felt his heart swell. “I will send her a message, sir.”

  “See that you do.” Soliandu
r backed off, as though unable to bear another moment of raw emotion. “By the stars, I could use a drink. Is there anything fit for purpose aboard this vessel?” He stalked away. Magpie turned to Halcot.

  “I know I have you to thank, my lord. For bringing him. For this.” He stroked his precious jitar, glad of the feel of the smooth wood, and the hum of the light song the wind played in its strings. He felt as though a missing dimension had been restored to him. No, two dimensions. When he took a deep breath, it was as though his heart expanded with his lungs.

  “Not me,” Halcot said. “It was all his idea. Once he learned you lived he couldn’t wait to see you. He holds back, son. He’s afraid of falling over the precipice if he says one kindly word too many or one more compliment, but the love is still there. Admit I was surprised. I’m used to his outbursts; known them of old. But you’d have been gratified if you’d seen him when word came back that the Oros Valley had been destroyed, and you not seen or heard from.”

  Magpie held himself stiffly. “I am sorry to have caused so much worry.”

  Halcot waved away the apology. “I think the concern was good. It unlocked a door in your father’s heart that has been closed for years. But what good are regrets? You and your companions have done a worthy thing! Now that the Great Book has come this far, we will ensure that it will go the rest of the way back to its place. Master Olen is being unnecessarily mysterious about where in Sheatovra we are going, but he will have to tell someone sooner or later. Perhaps you can help persuade him to loosen his tongue. Now, I wish to pay my compliments to the young lady who has made it possible. Come with me.” He slapped Magpie on the back.

  Tildi, of course, was tongue-tied to be addressed with respect by a king, but Halcot had the gift of diplomacy. Magpie left him drawing her out about her experiences on the road, and went to see to his horse.

  At the rear of the vessel a ramp had been fixed to allow horses to descend to the middle deck, an enclosure that also held livestock. The first horse Magpie spotted was Olen’s beautiful mount, Sihine. The shimmering silverwhite animal bowed its head to him. Feeling honored to be recognized, Magpie bowed back. Sihine gave him a curious look that echoed that of its master, and went back to its feed.

  Tessera had been stabled beside his father’s favorite riding horse, a pale gray gelding named Honpera, who had never shared his father’s animus for his third son. They nickered at one another. Honpera was a savvy one. He stretched his nose in the direction of the feed box. Magpie found a bag of treats hanging on a nail above it. Honpera had a sweet tooth. He offered a handful of the sticky biscuits to both horses.

  As he returned abovedeck, he could hear Soliandur’s voice rising peevishly over the thuds and bumps of crew loading cargo. When he emerged, he could see the kings and wizards all gathered about Captain Haroun.

  “What do you mean, we do not take sail? We’ll lose the wind before too long,” Soliandur said peevishly.

  The werewolf captain was unmoved by the dignitaries confronting him. “Pray listen, honored ones,” he said, his thin face respectful. His accent was typical of the south, thick with slurred consonants and sudden gutturals.

  Magpie tilted an ear, but it scarcely required keen hearing to discern what Captain Betiss referred to. The sound of howling came again, not from the warehouse where the longshoremen had awaited the ship, but from farther away. It was echoed on the pier by the workers, and picked up by the sailors themselves. Halcot frowned.

  “Too much echo. Can’t pick up what they’re saying.”

  “They say,” Betiss said patiently, “that we cannot set sail yet.”

  Little Tildi stood by Olen’s knee. Every time a fresh howl went up, she quaked. Magpie hurried to insinuate himself into the conversation.

  “Is there nothing we can do, Captain?” he asked. “Is it a matter of a fee or a visit to a dignitary that is missing?”

  Haroun smiled, showing his sharp teeth. “No, honored one. I see you are experienced in the ways of the watermen. It is nothing like that. We must wait, that is all. The eclipse has not come yet.”

  “An eclipse?” Magpie asked keenly. “I had no idea one was foretold.”

  “No, master,” the werewolf said, his expression one of pity for someone too stupid to understand his meaning. “The eclipse.”

  “It is all right, highness,” Olen said, his even tones meant to soothe Soliandur. He was the only one of the group who was not put out by the setback. “I foresaw this. It is right. We will wait.”

  “But the runes,” Tildi said, her small face set. Magpie guessed that she had been putting forth her argument while he was out of earshot. “The town is in danger while we are here.”

  Olen shook his head. “Lenacru must put up with us for a while longer, I fear.”

  “Can you turn them off? Can you block the magic from touching them?” She held the scroll up to him.

  “The power of the Great Book is far beyond me, Tildi.”

  “She has been maintaining the runes of what is around us, to prevent mishaps,” Serafina said, and explained the process.

  “I see,” Olen said thoughtfully. “Most admirable. So you see it as your responsibility, Tildi? And you have been a good teacher, Serafina, to show her how to fix a problem rapidly and without thinking too deeply. A skill useful to any wizard—or any soldier—and make no mistake: this is a war in which we are engaged.”

  Serafina dimpled, and her pale face took on a becoming rose color. “Thank you, Master Olen.” Magpie gave her an encouraging grin. She looked grateful and embarrassed at the same time.

  Olen turned back to Tildi. “You have borne too much of this burden yourself, though it was a good experience for you to learn. We two will take it in turns to share it with you now. I welcome my chance to learn more about this marvelous artifact while there is time—I hope that there is time. The enemy has yet to move against us directly. He will not wait for much longer. I have seen a gleaming silver weapon, but the shape of it has not been made clear yet.”

  Tildi looked down at the book, which spun in her hands. Magpie leaned over her shoulder, but he saw nothing he could recognize, silver or not.

  “There is much to do while we do wait, but not all at once,” Olen said. “You must wash and eat and tell me all your adventures. I know much, but because you were hidden from me, I could see only portents, then the impressions that remained upon the land and air after you had passed. You can be seen, as you know, but it is good to know that the protections that Edynn laid upon you and which you maintained after her death withstood even an old friend like me. That means that an enemy, with no claims upon your thoughts, cannot penetrate with any knowledge. He has missed many times, but he is intelligent and growing impatient.”

  He led them all into the main cabin behind the wheel. The room, as tidy and well made as any Magpie had ever seen on a sailing vessel, had been arranged as a drawing room. Three bunks lay in alcoves beneath deep windows that overlooked the starboard, port, and stern of the vessel. Some of the barefoot sailors followed them in and arranged folding wooden seats in a circle facing a trio of grand chairs lapped with tapestry and cushions. Olen stood before the center chair and waited for the two kings to be seated in the other two. A scribe wearing the livery of Olen’s servants in his home, the living wonder Silvertree, spread out his tools on a small desk that jutted out from one of the bulkheads, and took up a sharpened quill. The wizard gestured to the others.

  “Pray make yourselves comfortable. I call this second Council of Elders, and offer my congratulations and greetings to the company, formerly under the guidance of the Master Wizard Edynn and now under her daughter, the equally esteemed Master Wizard Serafina. In the names of the lords of the noble countries of Orontae, Rabantae, and the nation wherein my own home lies, Melenatae, I bid you all welcome.”

  Magpie chose the U-shaped seat at the farthest point of the circle from his father. The jitar in his hands provided something for him to clutch. Soliandur paid him little attention.
He sat drumming his fingertips on the arms of his chair, staring at nothing.

  “Now,” Olen said, sitting down and clapping his hands upon his knees. “Tell me all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  veryone spoke at once. Lakanta clapped her hand over her mouth and laughed.

  “It’s Tildi’s story,” she said. “Let her tell it. We’ll all join in if she’s missed something.”

  Serafina inclined her head. “Agreed.”

  Tildi blushed. The book in her arms almost seemed to nudge her. Her shoulders relaxed. “So much has happened. I’ll try, but I am sure I have forgotten so much.”

  “I am sure it will all come along as soon as you try,” Olen said. “Tell me the thing that comes first to your mind.”

  He always did have the means of bringing out her best. Tildi took a deep breath, and began to speak.

  By the time she paused, her throat dry, her eyes sagging closed of their own accord, the sky visible through the square ports were dark except for the gleaming runes that named each and every thing on board the Corona, and a hint of pink lightening the inky blue in the eastern sky. Captain Teryn’s contingent of guards had been assigned in turn to serve the company. They set up a trestle table, laid it with a white cloth and priceless gold and porcelain dishes encrusted with gems. Tildi hardly knew what she ate, though she remembered savory tastes and a touch of honey afterward. Small dishes of hearty food brought on board from cookshops along the quay were offered to her during the course of the evening. Wine and water were always at hand, offered by silent-footed guards in red-and-white livery.

  Crewmen had been passing the open door, leaning in as they scrubbed the floor for the ninth time, or gave a touch of strong, pine-scented varnish to the framework, or loitered with a lantern as they made the rounds on watch. Olen didn’t mind their listening in, so she didn’t either. When she swallowed, a big man with deep lines bracketing molded red lips bowed solemnly to her and offered her a chased golden wine cup that looked in his hands no larger than a songbird’s egg. She accepted with gratitude, and swallowed the sweet red nectar within. The wine spread its warmth through her body and stopped the shivering of her tired muscles that she had not even perceived until then.