A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Chapter Forty-one

  shout went up as they came toward the end of the path. Olen stood as they had left him, arms raised, keeping the spell-gate open, but he was chatting over his shoulder with Teldo. As Tildi stumped down the long passage in Calester’s wake, she could hear a bit of what they were saying.

  “Of course I am proud of her accomplishments,” Teldo said. “I always knew she could do as much as I. Never thought she could do so much more. It’s nice to have a hero in the family.”

  “I’d never say as much to her face,” Olen said, slewing his eyes in her direction to show that he knew she was listening. “It might give her a big head.”

  “Aye,” said Teldo, his brown eyes alight with mischief, “so it might.”

  Tildi opened her mouth in outrage, then closed it. They were teasing her. She had almost forgotten what that felt like.

  “Hurry, then!” Olen called. “The gate is closing. I could hold it open longer, but I shouldn’t. You want it as strong as possible.”

  “The ages demand it,” Calester said. He vanished from just in front of Tildi, and reappeared the next instant at Olen’s side. “Well, come on, child, don’t hold us all up!”

  Abashed, Tildi ran through the gate, feeling walls she could not see looming nearer and nearer. Serafina walked sedately at the back of the file. As soon as she passed, Olen lowered his arms. A wind rushed into their faces as though a heavy curtain fell. “There. It is done?”

  “It is well done,” Calester said.

  Olen smiled down upon Tildi. “I am glad that you have returned to us.”

  Tildi took a deep breath and let it out. “I am glad, too.”

  “The way must be closed for all time, now,” Calester said. He took a small wand from his belt and began to scribe upon the air. Line built upon silver line, growing in complexity, but not before Tildi recognized the base word as wall. With every stroke the Compendium was placed farther and farther from her hands.

  “May I assist?” Olen said.

  Calester gave him a friendly glance. “I would be glad of your help.”

  Together the two wizards wove lines into the rune until it was a woven knot as dense as chainmail. Calester gave it one final tap, and the rune spread across the face of the mountain like a curtain. It sank into the surface and vanished. Tildi could still feel its presence, tingling just below the ground. The book was safe for then and all time.

  “Do you still have regrets?” Serafina asked softly.

  Tildi looked up at her. Her mind was easy now. “No. No regrets. It was an adventure and a privilege. I am ready to be done with both.”

  “In regard to privilege, Master Calester,” Sharhava said, pushing forward. Calester turned. “You will require new guardians for this site.”

  “Indeed I will,” the Maker said amiably. “I shall create them, using characteristics that are most desirable from across the animal kingdom. You will find the process most interesting.”

  “You will make them out of nothing? Is that how you did it in the past?”

  Calester smiled. “Not then, not after the wars. We had many volunteers. Many who wished to keep the Compendium safe from my brother who is now inside it. I have not that force behind me. But no matter. I can create what I need.”

  “You need not form such creatures from nothing. We offer ourselves for that duty,” Sharhava said. “You know the purpose of our order.”

  “You committed to guard the Compendium, and make use of it for your own reasons,” Calester said. “I have heard.”

  Sharhava’s face turned red, but she pressed on. “The aim became perverted over the course of years, but I assure you that we have come back to our original mandate. We want to take the place of those guardians that were killed. You may change us as you see fit. You will find us as intelligent and brave as anyone who stood forward in the past.”

  Magpie felt his mouth drop open. He had never expected it. The Scholardom had behaved differently since they had returned aboard the Eclipse, but he would never have expected such a request. Calester regarded them with some skepticism, but Sharhava was completely sincere.

  Most of the Scholardom stepped forward, expectant looks on their faces. Loisan nodded at the assembled knights. “We are all in agreement—well, nearly all of us. We wish you to transform us so that we may guard the book for all time. It is our task and our honor. And truth to tell, some of us would like to be winged again. That was a marvelous experience.” The knights at his back nodded enthusiastic agreement.

  “You are resolved to this?” Calester asked, regarding them with respect and, Tildi was sure, a little awe. “Once the runes are laid, it is permanent. You see me as I am, and my poor brother as he was. His only choice was translation into the Compendium. You will be changeless throughout history.”

  Sharhava straightened her shoulders. “I would be proud to undertake the challenge. My whole life has been spent preparing to protect the Great Book. It is here; what else have I to look forward to?”

  “Don’t shoulder this burden if all that awaits you is finding a new path,” Olen said, but his green eyes were alight.

  She smiled at him wryly. “You know me well, Master Olen, or you would not have shut me and my knights out of your first council. When I am resolved, I keep my bond. I am resolved.”

  “Forever is long,” Calester said.

  “So is faith,” Sharhava said. “If you please, those of us who would become the permanent guardians of the Great Book await your pleasure.”

  “And I,” Inbecca said, pushing forward. “I am a sworn knight. I will be part of this as well.”

  “No, Inbecca!” Magpie said, horrified.

  She turned to face him. “I made you a promise, Eremi, but my second vow supersedes it. If the abbess leads, I must follow. I have no other place than here, in her service, and in service to the Great Book.” Her sea-blue eyes swam with tears. “Perhaps you will visit me sometime. You said you do come to Sheatovra. I hope I will still recognize you.”

  Magpie locked her in his arms. “You can’t take her, Sharhava. This is wrong.”

  “I gave my word,” Inbecca said. She pushed free and went to stand by her aunt.

  “No, child,” Sharhava said. “You took your vows in anger. Though you kept faith with me most admirably, you are not part of this company. Go. You have a task before you that more befits your talents: to see if you can mold this young ne’er-do-well into a fit consort for a queen.”

  Soliandur stood forward and cleared his throat gently. “I would consider it an honor to my house, Your Highness, if you would give my son a second chance. You might find him to be . . . amusing. He does write songs well.”

  Inbecca looked from one to the other, her face pinched with emotion and uncertainty. Magpie was sure she did not want to stay until the world’s end as a half lion, half eagle, but her word had always been as powerful a bond as her aunt’s.

  “Inbecca, stay with me.” Magpie smiled at her. Sharhava let out a “tut!” She plucked up Inbecca’s hand and tucked it into Magpie’s palm.

  “Go. I absolve you of your vows. Think of me sometimes.”

  Inbecca embraced her aunt. “I will. Please know that you taught me much.”

  Sharhava smiled down at her. “And I learned from you, Inbecca. Now, don’t delay this any longer. The Great Book must be guarded. You others,” she said, addressing those in livery who did not stand with Loisan, “I absolve you, too, of your vows. May you find peace on some other path.” The knights, Lar Mey among them, looked ashamed of themselves, though Magpie could understand their reluctance. “If you please, Master Calester. But if I may ask a boon of your magic, can you leave us the power of speech?”

  “You shall have all your faculties,” the Maker said with a quirk to the side of his mouth.

  “And Master Olen,” Sharhava said. “May I ask a favor of you as well?”

  “Of course, my lady,” Olen replied.

  “Leave the plaque with our runes upon i
t here in the valley, so that those who come may know who we were in years past.”

  Olen bowed deeply. “It shall be done.”

  Calester regarded the knights with grave respect. He removed the small wand from his belt and drew it upward like a conductor about to address his orchestra. The knights held themselves proudly erect as Calester wove new runes before them, murmuring to himself all the while. Tildi could see the word for wings intertwined with many she did not know. Beside her, Serafina and Master Olen followed each stroke with smiles of anticipation on their faces. When Calester finished scribing, they nodded their heads as though they had just witnessed a masterful performance by an artist or musician. The rune hung in the air, glistening. It was not like any spell she had seen before. There was a sense of permanence to it, as though it had been wrought from steel instead of silver. She almost wanted to touch it to see what it felt like, but common sense kept her hands twined before her. Calester gave one more glance at the assembled Scholardom.

  “One last chance before it is done,” he said.

  “Finish it!” Sharhava said impatiently.

  Calester smiled broadly. “I shall. Arvteg!”

  The steel rune opened out, forming a broad disk many yards across. It flattened on the air. Calester gestured at it, sending it to hover over the heads of the knights. Sharhava and the others looked up, just as blinding golden light lanced down upon them. Tildi’s eyes squeezed to slits against the glare. Within the glow, she saw forms bulging and shifting like storm clouds. She heard cries and moans from the knights that made her quail with pity, but the sounds turned to exclamations of joy, even laughter. The rune sank over the bodies like a blanket, and dislimned into nothingness.

  Those that stood before Tildi and the others were creatures the likes of which she had only ever seen in a book of legends. They had the bodies of lions, with shaggy bodies, black manes, and sharp, curving claws, but broad black wings. Their faces were still human in cast, except for mouths full of pointed teeth.

  “Magnificent,” Olen said.

  “Thank you,” said one of the beasts. It flashed sea-blue eyes at them, and Tildi realized it was Sharhava. “We go to take up our duties, then. Master Calester, you shall not find us remiss. The Compendium will never again be set free upon Alada.”

  Calester bowed deeply to her. “I depend upon you.”

  “I shall visit you when I am home for the season,” Patha said, coming forward to embrace the shaggy neck. The sable wings spread out and surrounded her like a pair of arms.

  “I shall look forward to it,” Sharhava said in her new gruff voice. “Bring me the news. I will be curious to hear what is happening in the world.”

  Patha’s yellow eyes glinted. “I will, my sister. “Good hunting.”

  “Farewell!” Sharhava said. She sprang into the sky. The Scholardom followed her with a cry as if the freedom of the winds was what they had been waiting for all their lives. As they had in the battle against the thraiks, the Scholardom spread out across the sky and began to circle the mountain on their broad wings. No threat would be able to approach it ever again.

  Inbecca watched them go with regret on her pretty face. Tildi noticed one other expression of rue among those watching, Sergeant Morag. She realized she had never kept her promise to him.

  She went to tug the Maker on the sleeve. “Master Calester,” she said. “Could you manage just one more transformation?”

  “Eh?” Calester said. Tildi led him to the sergeant, who stood at rigid attention, refusing to look either of them in the eye. “My proud escort? I wondered what had befallen him. Tell me, brave warrior. How came you to enjoy this . . . unique physiognomy?”

  “A magical accident during the war,” Morag blurted out.

  “How is it that you never asked before?”

  “He did,” Tildi said. “I wanted to help him, but I don’t know how. The Compendium only showed him as he is now, not as he was.”

  “Ah,” Calester said. “Perhaps you know it is possible to reach back into the memory of an object that you owned. We wizards have a spell that can seek the past by means of the present.”

  Morag marched to the train of pack animals and brought from it the collection of humble pots and pans in which he had cooked their meals for months. He offered them to Calester. The Maker shook his head.

  “Not these humble things. They bear a trace of you, but it is as you are now.”

  “My sword?” Morag asked.

  Teryn stepped forward and cleared her throat. “That, too, is new, Master Wizard. His was lost at the ford when he was wounded.”

  “I need something that is closer to you,” Calester said. His eyes lit upon Captain Teryn. “Or someone. You are the friend of his heart, are you not?”

  “Master Wizard, do not embarrass us in front of my guards!” Teryn snapped.

  Calester bowed. “I apologize. But you are two handsome people. Would you not have accepted him if he had asked you?”

  “I . . . but, he never did.”

  He couldn’t, Tildi thought, watching the shame and longing on the craggy sergeant’s face.

  “Will you help him?” Olen asked her. “Will you be the book of his past?”

  She looked from one wizard to the other. “I . . . I will.”

  “Good,” Calester said. He took Teryn’s hand and looked into it as if it were a page in a book. He glanced up at Serafina and Tildi. “Is one of you quick to scribe? For if I am successful, I will see this rune only for a moment. It must be accurate, or we will kill this noble soldier instead of remaking him.”

  “I will do it,” Tildi said. She hurried to Calester’s side.

  “Let your mind go back to those happier times,” the Maker told her. “Relax.”

  Teryn fidgeted, unable to do just that. Tildi could see how awkward she felt as the center of attention. Calester held her wrist firmly. Suddenly silver lines appeared on the skin of her palm. Tildi hastily began to draw the rune in midair, exactly as she saw it. She must not be wrong.

  She had barely added the final flourish to the name when the image on Teryn’s hand winked out. Tildi studied the sign. She could see how closely it resembled Morag’s present rune. Had she gotten it right?

  “Well done. Now, will you apply it to this good man?” Calester asked.

  “Why not you?” Tildi asked.

  The Maker shook his head. “Ah, this is not my time. It would be like a bonfire where a careful glassmaker’s lamp is what is needed. You are more than worthy, and he trusts you.”

  “Very well,” she said. She looked up at Morag. He was as nervous as she. “I don’t know if you can trust me.”

  “I trust you,” Morag said. “Any outcome will be better than I am now, even death.”

  Tildi winced. She looked at the scribed rune from several directions.

  “It isn’t going to change just sitting there,” Teldo said. “Either it’s right or it’s not. Think of the fire spell. You’ve done it many times, haven’t you?”

  Tildi nodded. She held her hands around the rune as if steadying it, then let it float forward until it touched the rune she could see on his chest. The silver rune overcame the pale image, overspread it and changed it, lengthening that stroke, bending that spiral. She looked up at Morag.

  The sergeant covered his face with his hands. The fingers that had been clublike and twisted straightened and squared until they looked as capable as a carpenter’s tools. Morag lowered his hands to stare at them. Tildi, and everyone else, stared at his face.

  He would never be called handsome, but the mild brown eyes, palelidded, looked out from under straight brows. The nose between them was a triangular beak. His jaw and cheekbones were prominent but proportionate.

  “He looks younger than he did,” Serafina said, eyeing him critically.

  “The rune of his health is the rune of his younger days,” Calester said. “He will age, but normally. He will make you a fit consort, Captain.”

  Teryn blushed. “He
could look for a younger woman, now that he is healthy again.”

  Morag’s face turned scarlet, too. He bent his head, as if he was still trying to conceal his face.

  “But, I want no one else, if you will have me. You stood by me when anyone else would have taken away my pride and seen me retired from the guard, pushed me away. If maybe you still care for me.”

  Teryn’s face, unaccustomed to tenderness, nevertheless softened. “I always have. I would like nothing better.”

  “But he cannot marry a superior officer,” Halcot said peevishly. Teryn looked at him in dismay. The king smiled at her. “Therefore, he must also be made a captain. He has been heroic enough throughout his long and distinguished service. I decree that you, Captain Teryn, will be the leader of the palace guard, and Captain Morag will be leader of the town guard. So neither of you answers to the other. Not while on duty, in any case.”

  “And they ought to live happily ever after,” Magpie said, in delight. “As all the best stories end.”

  Very shyly, Teryn put out her hand. Morag took it. The Rabantavian guard burst into cheers.

  “Now, let us return to the north,” Halcot said. He took Magpie’s and Inbecca’s hands in both of his. “I would be proud to hold a wedding feast for this young couple.”

  “A wedding feast?” Magpie acted surprised. “I would say yes, my lord, but I don’t know if Inbecca has forgiven me.”

  Inbecca looked outraged and raised a hand as if she might slap him. He grinned at her. She took him by the ears and brought his face down so she could kiss him. “How could you think I would want anybody but you? My lords, we should renew our betrothal before you.”

  “You are not really answerable to kings for your promises,” Halcot said. “Only to the Creators and each other. You could renew them before the community at my castle in Rabantae.”

  “The honor is mine,” Magpie’s father said sourly, all but shouldering his fellow king out of the way. “He is my son.”

  “But my home is closer,” Halcot said. “Let it be, brother. There’s nothing to stop you holding another fête later on, and this time the revelry will end as we expect it.”