A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “But he did not bring it to him,” Magpie said, surprising himself by speaking. “He had other plans for it.” Briefly, he explained the destruction Nemeth had inflicted upon the land in northern Orontae. Calester listened with fascination. He caused the book to spin to the damaged pages and exclaimed over them. The light eyes turned woeful.

  “All our work! Oh, what a villain this Nemeth must have been, to see such a work of beauty and yet be able to harm it.”

  “He was a fool,” Soliandur said in a hoarse voice.

  “I could say the same things about you so-named Shining Ones and your penchant for fooling with Mother Nature’s pure designs!” Sharhava snapped.

  “But are we, my friends and I, not also creations of Mother Nature?” Calester asked, drawing his chin down.

  “Perhaps!”

  “Then how could the use of our talents be anything but as natural as a bird taking wing?”

  Sharhava’s eyes widened in outrage, and she sat tall, prepared to do philosophical battle. Calester seemed to welcome it. He sat back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, long fingers tented together. Magpie saw what could have been a historic moment beginning to deteriorate into hard feelings and acrimony. He stepped in between them and faced Calester, drawing his gaze. The wizard looked up, startled.

  “You say that you are in our debt, good sir,” Magpie said carefully. “You are most kind to say so. We require you to discharge that debt. We need your strength. It is perhaps no accident that you wore that stone guise for so long. You are as a giant compared with the rest of us. It will take your skills to find your ancient enemy and to obtain our friends’ release.”

  “Are you one of our creations?” Calester asked with a wry twinkle in his eyes. “Are you part nightingale, young man, that your sweet voice charms one to do your will? You have a skill with words that goes beyond any bard I ever heard.”

  “He is no nightingale,” Soliandur said hoarsely. “He is my son, a prince, descended from the first kings of Orontae.”

  Calester bowed. “And resembles his ancestors, my lord king. He does, I promise you. I but jested. He has a diplomat’s skills. You could do worse for an heir.”

  Soliandur’s dark face became purple. “He is not my heir! But he is my son, so I would prefer you treat him with respect.”

  “I shall. Forgive me if you do not believe that I do. I have been alone with my thoughts a remarkably long while, and before that in an academic community where much was said aloud that perhaps,” Calester said with a small smile, “perhaps should not have been said. I will guard my tongue more carefully.”

  Magpie fixed his eyes upon him. “You may say whatever you like to me, if you will aid us.”

  Calester returned the gaze gravely. “You do not understand what you ask, highness. You must know that we promised him everlasting misery should any of us ever cross Knemet’s path again. We settled for exile, but he deserves pain. I hate to be the one to inflict it. We were friends once.”

  Tildi could not help herself. She was all but twitching being out of reach of the book for the first time in months, and to listen to this self-satisfied wizard talk about their distant foe and thraiks as if they were no more trouble than a splinter in the thumb snapped the last thread of restraint holding her. She flung herself out of her seat and marched up to look him in the eye.

  “How dare you? Rin and Lakanta saved my life many times. They’ve been good companions. I have never had such true friends. This is more serious than anything you can imagine. My friends are terrified. Who knows what tortures they have endured in the last few days? You treat our request as if it is a mere inconvenience. Don’t you think we want to make the book safe as soon as possible? I have scarcely slept under a roof for months, performing the task that you should have. If you had intercepted the Great Book when it first came here, we wouldn’t have fallen into danger over and over again. Edynn would not have died! I want to go home, sir. I want to go back to my lessons. We woke you up so you could help us. If you don’t want to be of use, then I suggest you go back to sleep!”

  The room had fallen silent. Tildi looked around. King Soliandur regarded her gravely. Halcot hid his mouth behind his hand. She suspected from the twinkle in his eyes that he was smiling. Magpie grinned openly. Sharhava looked outraged. Inbecca, beside and just behind her aunt, nodded her approval. Tildi blushed hotly, then stared at Calester.

  “Well, madam apprentice,” the Maker said sternly, “if you served me I would chide you for speaking out before your betters.” Tildi opened her mouth. His expression softened, and the hooded eyes lightened. “I cannot fault you for your courage nor for your fidelity. Would that everyone should have such champions! Therefore, I cannot refuse you. You are right. The task should be mine. I ask humbly that you share it with me, though I am not worthy to walk by your side.”

  Tildi was mollified and a trifle embarrassed. “It would be my honor, Master Calester.”

  The Maker grinned. “Then we shall be honored together. Your friends shall not suffer longer than may be. Let us formulate our plans.”

  Magpie cleared his throat. “We are not certain that it is Knemet that we seek.”

  “I am sure,” Calester said, “for I know where the others are. Tell me where he is.”

  “Ah,” Olen said. “That we do not know, precisely. I believe him to be in southern Ivirenn. All of my arts have been unsuccessful in finding him, but it is logically where he must be. He has hedged himself around with so many protective spells that we cannot see him. Even the Great Book failed to show him. How is it that every living being on Alada is pictured within it, but not him? Unless he is not with his thraiks and our friends whom they took prisoner.”

  “Oh, he will be with them,” Calester said with confidence and not a little scorn. “Never has there been such a mole of a man, who preferred to be hidden away in a study than to enjoy the greater gifts that Mother Nature gave to us all. He would seem to be the most unlikely of wizards to have created the thraiks, since they range far and wide, and he has never liked to do so. We could have done him no more terrible punishment than to banish him from Niombra. And, as you say, he has returned here, though not to our college. There was likely no secure place he could hide himself in that locale. Where do you believe him to be?”

  “May we?” Olen asked. Calester made as if to offer the Great Book to him. Olen gestured to Tildi, who lifted her hands. The book flew toward her and opened like a pennant in the wind, billowing and tossing. Calester’s eyes went wide.

  “May I be tipped down a well! What are you, child? None of us has ever been able to make the Compendium do that!”

  “You haven’t?” Tildi asked. “But it’s yours.”

  Calester was dumbfounded but delighted. He came to crouch beside Tildi, all trace of severity lost from his long countenance. He looked like a schoolboy who had been given a new toy. He spread out his hand. The big scroll remained hovering where it was. He shook his head in astonishment. “Our invention, perhaps, but yours in a way that was never ours. Why, we cannot make it rise from a table without lifting it by hand. It resists all magic.”

  “I don’t know why it does that,” Tildi admitted. “It just began one day.”

  “It responded to her will after a time of great fear and stress,” Serafina added with a sideways look at the abbess. Sharhava’s brows went down, but as Serafina did not add to her explanation, she said nothing.

  “Whatever the cause, you have shown me a wonder,” Calester said. “None of us were ever able to compel the book to do anything like that. You have my admiration, smallfolk wizardess. We will explore this ability of yours when we have the time. I must know how this was accomplished. Now, show me where Knemet is hiding.”

  The book responded obediently by rolling up so that only a section as wide as the span of her arms was showing, then it spun a length of a few yards.

  “This is where we found our friends and all the thraiks,” Tildi said.

  “Ivirenn,
” Calester murmured. “Along the coast, near a large town or city. A safe harbor. Well populated. Not far away from us. I knew that of old as a village, when it was called Esterik.”

  “In ancient terms, Tiller,” Olen said.

  “What is this place?” Halcot asked.

  “Tillerton,” said Captain Betiss. “I do not need to be able to read the ancient words to know a large town on the south coast. We are making for it already.” He barked an order, and one of his crew changed into his wolf shape and bounded away. In a few moments he returned with a rolled-up chart. Haroun spread it out upon the table. “There.”

  Calester paid them no mind. His attention was upon the parchment.

  “How could I have missed him? The wretch, he probably passed by me during a time I was contemplating, and laughed at me.” He shook his head.

  “There are many ways onto the continent,” Sharhava said, “especially when one is not constrained to land or sea travel.”

  “Ah, true. Thank you.”

  “And there are our friends,” Olen said, creating a point of light that danced over the smooth parchment and spread into a tiny ring. Calester opened out his hand and the runes expanded. “Ah, yes. Still alive, thank the Mother.”

  “Show me,” Calester said. “There are many people in this small space, and more than one each of centaur and dwarf.”

  “Tildi, will you draw one of their runes, so he may see whom we seek?” Serafina asked.

  Through her long training, Tildi had no trouble producing a creditable copy of the images she had seen hovering before her, day after day. Calester followed every stroke she made with great interest.

  “A centaur, and a comely one at that,” Calester said, stroking his chin. “How all things have changed. I was vigilant for so long. I cannot believe that my attention slipped in the way it did. I didn’t know the Compendium had come to the north.”

  “We all miss things,” King Halcot said kindly.

  Calester gave him a sharp look Tildi had last seen on the face of her schoolmaster. “You don’t understand. We are not used to making mistakes.”

  “Not that you admit to,” Sharhava said.

  Calester studied her. Tildi knew he was reading her rune. “You are steadfast. I would have had much trouble with the likes of you when we Makers were together.”

  “Perhaps I would have been able to stop you,” Sharhava said with a touch of her old hauteur.

  “Perhaps you would. Then you would not have the delightful company you presently enjoy.” Calester raised his eyebrow at her. Sharhava nodded.

  “That would have been my loss.”

  “Ah,” the Maker said, pointing to a spot on the page not far from Lakanta’s sign. “He is there. He cannot hide from the Compendium. For how long has he remained dug into that hole?”

  “Since I was a small child at least,” Tildi said. “Ten years or more.” She peered at the page. The place he indicated still looked as though it was blank.

  “I cannot see him,” Olen said. “There are many people, but none such as you describe.”

  “For that matter, we can’t see you in the pages of the Compendium, as you call it,” Magpie said.

  “Ah, well, that is part of the nature of its construction,” Calester explained. “We are the book. We put part of ourselves into it, so it is of our substance. We exist within the pages, not on the surface, as all other things are. But we can see one another. Let me try to bring out Knemet so you may see him.” He began to scribe on the air. The lines, unlike the dark or silvered strokes that Tildi or Olen made, were a fiery red.

  On the white surface of the page, a shimmering word appeared beneath his fingertips. Tildi could read the parts that indicated man and magic, as well as parts that indicated sharp intelligence, weariness, and deep anger.

  “A formidable foe,” Olen said.

  “There are other red names here,” Tildi said excitedly. Two more had appeared upon the page, moving around like fish in a bowl. “Where are they? Are they near Knemet? Can they help us find him?”

  “As I told you,” Calester said, “we Makers are seen only by one another. The ones you see no longer live in the world. There they are. Nuthen. Ayrcolida. Boma.” He stroked each in turn.

  “They are dead?” Inbecca asked sympathetically.

  “They have rejoined their runes, my lady.”

  “They’re alive?” Magpie asked.

  “Aye, of course they are alive.” Calester seemed insulted by the question.

  “They are trapped inside the book?”

  Calester looked shocked. “No! Not trapped. This was their choice.”

  “But would it not be a dull existence, to live inside a mere book?” Soliandur asked, curious in spite of himself.

  “They have the world to study, Your Highness, and one another for company. They are happy. I told you two of my friends perished during our battle. One, Zecayre, passed away a few centuries later, his dearest wish after a long and fruitful life. Most of us preferred immortality so we could see and protect our work. It turned out to be a gift that was both sweet and sour. I cannot die or change. Nor can they. Nor can Knemet. My three friends whom you see grew weary. They wanted to retire from the world. It was the safest place for them to go. They do not exist in the world as you know it, so they do not appear on pages, except when I reveal them.” He turned to Tildi. “You see why I do not want to march into Knemet’s lair, little one? I do not want my friends to fall into his hands, either.”

  Olen was rapt with delight. “Living men and women inside the Compendium?”

  “Indeed, yes. It was not so difficult a translation as we feared it might be. They exist as long as the book does.”

  “So the voices I have been hearing are real,” Tildi said. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her. “The book was not affecting my mind.”

  “Not at all,” Calester said, smiling at her. “They have been speaking to me just as you are. We have so much to say to one another after being apart for centuries.”

  “And what do they say about Master Knemet?” Halcot asked wryly.

  Calester’s face turned solemn. “You may guess. But, soonest attempted, soonest finished.” He tapped the parchment over the single red rune. “This is his fastness.”

  “There are so many people of many races in this area,” Magpie said with a glance at the page of the Compendium. “How is it that no one has seen hordes of thraiks moving to and fro?”

  “He is too intelligent to allow his emissaries to be seen. As long as they are moving, they can vanish from fairly small spaces. Is there a castle or manor in the area, preferably one hidden by trees or within a valley?”

  “No,” Captain Temur said. “There is an old citadel that was once used by the lords of the shores to protect their people in case of pirates, but it is visible from the water’s edge. It’s all cliffs and escarpments along there. No estates of any size. Beyond the bluffs lies the rivers that surround the Quarters.”

  “He lives in the caves,” Tildi said, as a memory came to her with sudden clarity.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “How do you know that?” Sharhava asked. “What caves?”

  “The whole headland is riddled with tunnels,” Tildi said. “My brothers used to take them down to Tillerton to trade. It is a much shorter trip than going over the hills.”

  “Aye, there are caves near the town,” Temur agreed. “Above it as well. The original fortifications against pirates are in them. Tillerton was built outward from them. They use the old places for storage.”

  “That is the way I recall the place,” Calester said. “It has grown much from those days.”

  “Yes, but tunnels?” Halcot asked. “We’ve traded with Tillerton for centuries, and I’ve never heard of them.”

  Tildi felt a little foolish explaining. “Smallfolk don’t like many people to know about them, but everyone does. They’re very low. Humans don’t like them because they have to stoop over. They
probably don’t think of them, because they’re always there. But outsiders rarely use them. The passageways worm through the stone, not straight like a road.”

  “Probably the result of natural wearing,” Olen said. “The Quarters are blessed with an abundance of fresh water that flows from the Eye Lake at their center, and it must go somewhere.”

  “Tell me more,” Halcot said. “How far do they go?”

  “That’s all I know. Some of them lead right back to my home Quarter. I’ve never been in them.”

  “Ah!” Magpie said. “Then wouldn’t it be possible that there are tunnels to the west as well as the east?”

  “Of course, that’s what these signs mean,” Olen said, following the complex rune around and around with his point of light. “There is at least one great chamber. Many branching tunnels. My heaven, but he has quite a kingdom, if you count all the passageways in which you can see thraiks. But none to the east,” Olen added. “If as you say traders travel through them and use them as storehouses that would explain all the runes arranged so.”

  “Can we enter through the cave mouths?” Soliandur asked.

  “Almost certainly,” Haroun said. “I have been in those storehouses myself. So have we all. I never thought to seek their end.” He nodded to the others who signaled their agreement. “You have given us all the information we need, Mistress Summerbee. Now we need to work out how to use it.”

  “Indeed, yes,” Sharhava said thoughtfully. “And how do we put paid to a wizard who cannot die?”

  Chapter Thirty

  do not like being used as bait,” Rin growled, for the hundredth time or so. “How could that mushroom-colored creature thing use me to betray my friends? Me! A princess of the Windmanes!” She stamped a hoof on the stone floor of their cell. The sound echoed hollowly in the darkness.

  “Seems to me he’s used to getting his way,” Lakanta said, feeling the piles of straw she had propped against the wall. Since they had been thrown into it by the moss-men, Lakanta had counted five days by the sounds of expansion and contraction of the stone as the sun rose and set far above them, warming and cooling the earth. By her reckoning they were quite far underground. “In nearly everything, or so it seems. And keep in mind he might be listening to us.”