A new rune sprang into being and began to spread out. Instead of the roughly rectangular gate that Tildi had seen made before, this one was round. Olen opened his hands as if to plaster the rune across the sky. It grew larger and larger until part of it seemed to dip below the roiled surface of the Arown. Olen nodded, as if satisfied, then beckoned with both hands. The edges of the shimmering wall turned and rolled toward him. Tildi was delighted. It did look like a big sack!
“Tildi, you next.”
Hoping that she had seen everything that he had done, Tildi held out her belt knife and repeated the incantation.
“Fornlau chnetegh voshad,” she said.
A tiny dot appeared within the mouth of the bag.
“Tildi, put some force into it,” Olen said. “That is a most unconvincing ward, no matter what you would use it for.”
Stung, she urged the disk to grow. As it touched the inside of Olen’s molded spell, it began to turn and change shape, lining the glowing bubble with an inner skin brighter than the outer. The edge of her wards were not as neat as Olen’s. Tildi glanced at him guiltily. He beamed at her.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I had not yet seen how your magic prospers under the aegis of the book, but it has made you capable of prodigious spells. We will make great use of that in days to come, wait and see.” With a wave of his hand, the uneven wards met and married with the outer shell. Bound together, the sphere glowed like the light of a lantern in the fog.
“Very pretty,” King Halcot called, “but it isn’t doing anything!”
“Not yet, my lord,” Olen said. “Now, Serafina, will you assist me in creating such a ward for our sister ship?”
Serafina seemed to feel, rightly in Tildi’s view, that it was a test, and a public one at that. The apples of her golden cheeks darkened as she stood with Olen at the high stern rail. The wonder-working on the Corona had not gone unnoticed aboard the Eclipse. Crew and visitors alike crowded the rail. Most of them pointed and commented to one another. However, when the werewolves noticed the wizards pointing at them, they set up a howl of protest. Captain Temur came running up the ladder from his cabin. Tildi couldn’t understand the series of yelps that passed between him and Haroun, but it was clearly a demand for an explanation. Haroun gave a musical yodel ending in a downturn of tone that sounded like a positive conclusion. Temur seemed satisfied with it. He repeated the ululation to his people, who settled down to watch. He clapped his helmsman on the shoulder, and waited at his side, looking curious and excited.
“Well, that is settled,” Olen said. He swept his staff across the sky. The wards took shape. The second time he did it, Tildi noticed how the rune itself changed as it billowed outward. Serafina watched, too. She bit her lower lip between her teeth. When Olen turned to her, she raised her staff. Her movements were jerky and unpracticed in comparison with his. She recreated the sign in the air well enough, but when the time came to make it expand outward, she glanced back at the glowing shape hovering in the air behind their own ship. She changed a line or two so they matched better, but it was not perfect yet.
“Don’t forget the crosspiece at the top,” Tildi advised, watching her with a critical eye.
“I am supposed to be teaching you!” Serafina said crossly, embarrassed at having been caught copying, as though she was borrowing answers from an examination.
“Ah, but, you see?” Olen asked. “Even one more practice session can create great differences in technique.”
Serafina was not placated. She slashed her hand across, and the missing line took its place. The spells melded seamlessly. Following Olen’s instructions, the two young women reached out to the swirling lines over their heads. It was rather like clipping gigantic sheep, Tildi thought. She felt the powerful waves under her hands like muscles under smooth skin. With her hands in the air it looked as though she were winding the wind like a ball of yarn. Only when zephyrs kicked away from the mass did she recall that it was a living force.
“Mold them and set them in place,” Olen instructed. As the wizardess and apprentice pushed the glowing, twisting runes into the confines of the bags, he closed them. “Well done!”
“I confess, master, that Tildi’s is neater than mine,” Serafina said, albeit mulishly. “I apologize.”
“Now, don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s a specialist subject,” Olen said pleasantly, seeking to diffuse the argument. “I go to my fellow wizards for further education, when they are expert in something that interests me. I will definitely send Tildi to Volek for instruction in weather magic.”
He called out to the sailors at the wheelhouse. “When I let go of this, Captain, it will send us flying. Are you ready?”
Haroun grinned toothily. “Ready and willing, master!” he said. The others echoed him in their rough voices.
“Then, we will let fly! Slowly first, then increasing until we have the full force behind us. We can make them stronger in the daylight, but we must make speed all the while. Ready, now? Go!”
Olen dropped his hand. Tildi held tight to the rail. She and Serafina opened the necks of the spells. The pent-up winds gusted out of their insubstantial containers. The sails billowed forward and snapped taut. The ships jumped forward, twin dolphins leaping on the black breast of the river. Tildi had to bend her knees to keep from being thrown off her feet. Serafina grabbed unceremoniously for the nearest spar and held on.
Howl of delight came from the captain and his crew.
“Oh, what a joy!” Haroun yelped. “Where were you when we were trying to make time this spring, master?”
Master Olen! That ship is full of water! And that little one beside it.”
“You can let it out, if you choose,” Olen said. “Is there anyone on board any vessel? Tip them up gently, so whatever tools and nets are within do not spill out, and empty the water. Can you?”
“I will try,” Tildi vowed.
Serafina guided her to correct the keel of a few of the boats, but Olen stopped her when she tried to right them all.
“I appreciate that you want to help everyone you can see,” he said dryly, “but it is part of the peril we must all share. They will be much happier having to bail out their vessels than finding them changed into sea monsters, or whatever it is this rogue Maker wants of the book.”
“A Maker,” Serafina echoed, intrigued. “So, poor, mad Nemeth was right. Are you sure? Do you know who he is?”
“I believe I do, but we are going where we can get confirmation. I want to speak with the Guardian, the only other Shining One I know to be abroad in the continent of Niombra.”
Tildi goggled. “A Shining One? A living one? Where is he?”
“Down on the coast,” Olen said. “At this rate, no more than two days’ sail, I hope. He is the reason I wish to make haste. With his help, we might withstand the attack I have foreseen.”
“The Guardian?” Serafina asked. “Do you mean the statue that stands at the mouth of the Arown?”
“I do.”
“But it’s not a person.”
“I believe it is,” Olen said. “Not only a person, a human, but one of the Shining Ones.”
“If he’s real, what’s he doing there?”
“Guarding, I imagine,” Olen replied. “We will ask him if we can.”
“How do you know? Why does no one else know of him?”
“Because I have been looking for him, and no one else has,” Olen said. “I do not spend all my time teaching apprentice wizards, my dear.”
Angry shouts came from off the port side of the ship.
“Hey, there! Slow down! You’re fouling our nets!”
Tildi ran to the side just in time to see a cluster of small fishing boats, lit by small lanterns hanging from single poles in the sterns. The smock-clad humans on board were shaking their fists at the passing ships. They were too slow to get out of the way.
“Ah, well,” Olen said. “Sometimes one must simply take action.” He raised his staff. A brilliant green li
ght burst upward from it. It arced high, then fell down toward the fishermen. They screamed as the luminous sphere exploded silently over them, raining down green light. Tildi didn’t see what had happened, but the screaming stopped. She could still hear hoarse shouts as the boats dropped far behind them.
“Master Olen, what are you doing?” Halcot asked, coming up behind them. He looked somewhat shocked.
Olen threw a hand in the direction of the angry fishermen.
“I put a charm of generosity on them, and a spell of attraction on their nets for tomorrow,” he said. “It’s the least I can do to make up for tonight’s spoiled catch. But who knows what those catches may be if we fail to keep the book out of the Maker’s hands? Now, ladies and gentlemen, I left my story unfinished. Would you care to hear the ending?”
King Soliandur led the way back to the cabin and called for wine all around. The servants in slate-blue livery sprang to his bidding, filling cups and handing them to the guests as they returned to their seats.
“By the stars, master, I have never seen the like!” he said. “It would be a different world if ships could travel as swiftly as this. Why do wizards never lend their skills in that fashion? Commerce would prosper. I for one would make it worthwhile to the man who could do that—or woman,” he added, courteously, to Tildi, just inside the door.
“Wizardry is not a common or simply-won skill, Your Highness,” Olen said. “You were fortunate to see two extraordinary talents this evening; three if you include me. I would not have captured the wind in this fashion if I did not feel it to be of vital importance to the world, not just to one merchant or one kingdom.”
Soliandur frowned. “That is what he always said—Nemeth. Not that he was capable of more than a waking dream.”
“I would not denigrate his talent, highness,” Olen said gently. “True sight is not an easy gift. Think of it: not only would he know the truth of what lay before him, but he would also know ahead of time when he would or would not be believed when he spoke. How many of us would continue to speak out, when only disappointment awaited?”
“Hmph. You sound like my son. Where is he, by the way?”
Tildi refused the cup of wine offered to her by the dark-skinned servant and slipped out into the night. She knew where Magpie had gone. When the Scholardom had debarked for the other vessel, he had gone with it.
She made her way to the rail. At Corona’s side, the Eclipse plied her way on the heaving waves as easily as a horse might canter over a meadow. It had taken little time for the ship’s complement to become comfortable with the increased speed. They had gone back to eating, laughing, and telling stories. Even some of the knights were taking part in the festivities.
Two who did not sat alone together on the steps leading to the upper deck. Tildi didn’t need a lantern to distinguish their runes: Magpie and Inbecca. They did not touch, but their runes were twined together. Still, she could see distance between them. They were held apart by an element in Inbecca’s. She heaved a sigh of pleasure that they were together.
Watching them, alone at the rail was Serafina. Tildi made her way to stand beside her teacher. She felt sorry for Serafina, who had to witness the joy of their reunion, with a hearty embrace and a shy, tentative kiss, but this was the way Tildi thought things ought to be; though, she realized with dawning maturity, it was not her choice to make one way or the other. There was still a distance between the lovers, one that could not be denied. The unhappy Sharhava’s rune did not seem to hold sway over the girl. Rather it was an element of Inbecca’s personality, strength of will, that held back the complete joining that the two clearly wished. The lady was still wearing the habit of the order. Time would only tell what would be the right outcome.
Serafina wore a wistful look. Tildi glanced at her and was ashamed of herself. She wished she had not been so fierce in her disapproval of any dalliance her teacher had enjoyed. It was not her business, either. “I am sorry, master.”
The wizardess gave her a quick, sad smile. “It was not meant to be. We were lonely together. I did not misplace my trust, I assure you. It is not his fault that I allowed myself to hope; she was always in his mind. It shows me, though, that my mother was right, as she always was. I have to learn to open my heart. Not yet, but someday.” They looked again at the couple on the steps.
Satisfied that it was the way things were meant to be, they left the side of the ship and rejoined the company.
Chapter Twenty-four
inding the wind spells was not difficult, only time-consuming. Olen had stood the night’s watch, yet he seemed as fresh as if he had slept and breakfasted at his leisure. Tildi, who had taken over for him at dawn, saw the sun reach its midmorning station and felt as if the day had been going on for a week. The morning air had been crisp with frost, reminding her that winter was pursuing them from the north. She had found it hard to get out of bed, and even harder not to think of returning to the cozy bunk. Tildi could correct any problems that arose, usually with a single line added or removed from the twisting, billowing runes, but the fragile nature of the spells made it difficult for her to leave them. The increased speed of the ship also made it imperative to be certain that the hull of the ship was not damaged by the water over which they raced. The rune was larger and far more complex than the fishing vessel she’d repaired in Lenacru. Not only the waves endangered the ship’s coherence: the horses were brought a few at a time up the ramp from below to take exercise around the large main deck. Rin had joined them, happy to get a chance to stretch her legs.
Tildi had a further spell to maintain. Olen wished to see more of the Great Book.
“As much as humanly possible, until we need to put it aside,” he said emphatically. Since she loved the old wizard as dearly as she did the book, she was all too happy to let the scroll hover near him, turning it to the next page at his instruction. But her duties did not end there. She had to take her turn to maintain the integrity of the ship so the runes that were disturbed by the rush of the Arown beneath the hull did not cause it to break apart or change into another material. Serafina also insisted that her daily lessons go on until their attention was claimed elsewhere.
Serafina often took her place beside her to learn from Olen as well. For anyone else to set aside her authority and become once again a humble student would be a challenge to dignity, but Serafina proved she was more devoted to her craft than her pride. Tildi respected her deeply.
She tried not to waste a single moment of their time, as she had at Silvertree. She thought of the great tree fondly, and had to ask after her welfare.
Olen smiled, his thick mustache lifting over the corners of his mouth. “She is well, thank you. Oh, I forgot. She sent you a gift.” From a pouch at his belt he brought forth a curling leaf, transparent and green, and still smelling fresh. “She does not shed her leaves while they are green, except for you, it would seem. Once you make your wand from the twig she gave you, you’ll change that twig’s fundamental nature, and that will be your own. But the leaf will always have Silvertree’s rune for you.”
“I will treasure it,” she said, holding it to her breast. The fragrance made her remember those happy days all over again. “I will keep it with the things that belonged to my brothers.”
“Well, it’s not as though you will never see Silvertree again,” Olen said, drawing her attention away from her sorrows. “She would like to have you return. Anytime you would like. Your room is yours, as long as you would like to have it. It is your home. At the moment you have none.”
Tildi felt a yearning to return to that cozy room, but pushed it aside with an effort. “Please, Master Olen, don’t talk to me of home. I can’t even think of it right now. I won’t be able to finish my mission if I know I have a safe place to go to.”
“The trouble with a fallback is that one tends to fall back upon it,” Olen agreed gravely. “Sometimes, my child, you are wiser than I. I should have more faith in you. You have no need of a reward to move forward. T
hat puts you ahead of any number of heroes and kings I could name.”
Tildi looked guiltily at the two royal gentlemen seated together on U-shaped chairs at the stern, enjoying the thin yellow sunshine.
“They cannot hear us, child,” Olen said. “In any case, it would not apply to them. For all their failings, both have always sought to do well by their people at the cost of their own happiness.”
“She does need a wand, Master Olen,” Serafina said firmly. “If she has the materials, perhaps the moment is at hand.”
“You are quite right, Master Serafina,” Olen said, giving her her proper title. “Tildi, do you have the twig here?”
“With my things, master,” Tildi said, feeling her heart race with excitement. Olen smiled kindly upon her.
“Go get it. This will be a good lesson for you, and a useful reminder in technique for the two of us.”
Serafina gave her a gracious nod of approval. Tildi beamed.
She dashed down the steps from the high stern, past the kings in their grand seats. The parade of horses was still circling the wide deck. With a bare thought, she solidified the air under her feet and leaped over the back of a black mare, who threw her head wildly. Rin, two behind the black horse, grinned up at her and tossed her long, waving hair.
“Sorry!” Tildi called back to the startled groom leading the mare as she pelted down the steps to the lower deck. At last she would have her own wand! She yanked open the cupboard where her knapsack was stored and dug through it, looking for the cloth-wrapped twig, the gift from Silvertree.
The school of kotyrs galloping along the high bluffs of Ivirenn made no sound when they saw the rune far to the east, but turned toward it as one. A sheer drop of over sixty feet lay at their feet, but it did not frighten them. An arch of silver droplets, they dove off the cliff and plunged into the Arown. They saw their goal, and that was all that mattered to them. Their sharp noses sensed the true rune. Their long bodies wriggled through the water as swiftly as the current.
A Forthcoming Wizard Page 40
