Joss stepped forward. "I am your elder. If I choose to speak more than one or two words, I will."
Before Ta'xel could reply he looked Ra'nar in the eyes and bowed low. "Greetings. I am pleased to know you live. I thought you had passed over the Threshold of Life. If I'd known otherwise, I would have visited you. Are you well?"
Ra'nar smiled. "As well as bones nearly one hundred winters can be. Joss, the mage-priest meant no disrespect. All questionings are handled in this manner. Will you, for what we represent, answer as Ta'xel stated?"
Joss looked at Ta'xel and shivered inwardly. Rage burned in the man's eyes. Joss thought in passing, Pride will be this man's downfall, in spite of his obvious power.
He glanced back at the chief priestess and said, "Yes."
Ra'nar nodded and motioned for Sanda to step forward. "You will do the questioning." Behind her Joss saw Ta'xel stir in protest. "Goodman, these priests on either side of me are Pevan and Itor, truth readers. Witch Sanda, you may begin." Gone from Ra'nar's voice was the warmth in which she spoke to him before. Now he faced an implacable judge, the chief priestess.
"Goodman Joss," asked Sanda, "when you left your home for Ithkar Fair, did you purchase magic protection for your wares?"
"No."
"Do you know of anyone who would place a sending on you or your kin?"
"No."
“Has any member of your family ever sought out people of power to perform magic for illegal motives?"
"No."
"Does any of your kin have the ability to perform magic in any of its forms?"
Joss felt tension loosen as he answered the same again. He didn't use the wild magic, it used him. If she asked if he could identify the magic, he could not answer no. The truth readers would immediately pick up the lie.
"Did you willfully and knowingly bring magic to Ithkar Fair to use it in a manner to enhance your produce or wares?"
"No!" he answered, unable to hide the anger that rose in him. He and his kin had always been honorable in presenting the fruits of their labors.
Sanda turned to the chief priestess and bowed. "Is there more you wish me to ask?"
"Priests," Ra'nar asked the men sitting beside her, "did he speak truth?"
"He did," they answered in unison.
“Then you may go, Joss," Ra'nar said.
Joss bowed and went out the door. Shutting it behind him, he leaned against it. Eavesdropping was not his intention; even so he listened. He recognized Ta'xei's voice.
"Why did you let him go?" demanded Ta'xel. "Unknown magic rides his wagon, and the stink of it is on the old man! He should be kept here until we know what kind of power we're dealing with."
“And where do you think he will run to?" asked Ra'nar dryly. “He's an old man. A spider can scuttle faster than Joss's swiftest pace."
"Pevan, when we're finished here carry to the gate-ward this command: Neither Joss nor his kindred may leave Ithkar without permission from the temple."
"Ta'xel, I want Joss's kin brought before me."
"His son is waiting in another room," Ta'xel responded. “He approached the temple this morning and asked to speak with someone about his father. Masen is much concerned about the change he's seen in Goodman Joss this past season."
“I’ll see him on the morrow when the sun is seven fingers in the sky."
Joss hurried out of the temple. Masen had come to the temple out of concern for him, not to betray his father. Yet, unwittingly, that was exactly what Masen was going to do. Joss knew that at some point in Ra'nar's long life she had dealt with wild magic. All the chief priestess needed to hear Masen say was that his father's strangeness had come upon him after a violent storm on the Tors, and she'd identify the magic.
As Joss weaved through the chaotic yet rhythmic activity of Ithkar Fair, he thought about wild magic. It was rare that one heard of it outside the high Tors. The magic was elusive, wild, and canny, as if it had an intelligence all its own.
Wairen and Tass rose to meet him.
"What happened?" asked Wairen.
Joss put an arm around each and led them to a bench. He didn't have much time to finish the 'drake. He needed help. Sitting, he pulled Tass down beside him.
"Wairen, bring me the barrel of cider I asked to be put aside." When the boy hesitated he added, “I’ll explain in a moment."
Wairen set the barrel before him and popped the lid. Before Joss could reach down through the cider, the femaledrake bobbed to the surface. Picking her up, he wiped her dry. The 'drake's body stretched like a cat being stroked. He heard Tass whisper, "Whaa ... I must be seeing things!"
"No, Tass. Your eyes work just fine." Joss tried to tease in his old manner. "Fine eyes they are, too!"
Wairen sat down opposite them.
Before Wairen could speak, Joss asked, "Have you two come to a decision?" Seeing them look at each other as if each represented the world to the other, Joss didn't need to hear their response. He watched Wairen reach out and run his hand down the side of Tass's face.
“I'm going with her, for a time."
"And I," said Tass, "will go to the farm, every other harvesttime. Well do this until we decide where we want to have our home."
"You are each other's home," Joss said. "Remember that in the years to come. So many forget." He laid the 'drake down and placed a hand on each of their heads.
"I give thee both my blessings . . .
"May the Three Lordly Ones guide your hearts with courage and daring as they themselves risked the void between the stars to come to Ithkar.
"May the fertile earth bless you with young and the renewal of the commitment you made to each other before me this day.
"May the roots of your love delve deep into bedrock and reach high to the burning sun . . .
"Blessings." It wasn't going to be easy for them. Masen was a loving man, but he could be hard. Joss didn't think he'd take well to the idea of Wairen's leaving. He'd better, or he would lose the boy. Joss looked over at Tass. Masen would also lose the joy of knowing Tass and the young that would spring from her womb.
"Now," said Joss, "I need your blessings and your help."
"We'll do anything," Tass said.
Wairen, more in tune with his grandfather, raised his eyebrows and said, "Without question you have my blessing and my help. What is the need?"
Joss picked up the 'drake. "To finish carving this and to be uninterrupted until the sun is at seven fingers tomorrow."
"You could stay with my family."
"Thank you, Tass, but no."
"You must hide because of that?" Wairen asked.
"I must."
“Why? What is it?" Wairen pointed at the root.
Joss thought a moment. He couldn't tell them the truth, or the priests would charge them with concealing illegal magic. "Would it be enough if I say this is something I've grown to love? I'd like to finish it before I die.''
"Grandfather," said Wairen, panic in his voice, "you're not dying!"
"But I am," Joss answered him gently. He held out a hand, palm downward. "See those brown spots? They are the body's sign that living time is almost gone. Remember our talk in regards to the dignity of choice?" He saw understanding dawn on Wairen's face.
"This is my choice," he said, lifting the 'drake. "Let me go."
"Oh, Grandfather!"
As the boy reached out, so did Joss. They held each other. Joss felt Tass's hand on his back and knew she was touching Wairen, too, trying to offer comfort.
Wairen stood and raised Tass. With their backs to him Wairen said, "I wonder when Father will get back from the temple."
"Try not to worry. Haven't our difficulties worked out?"
Joss sat for a moment and looked at the femaledrake, wondering if she was worth all this effort. The late afternoon sunlight glistened on the gray-silver root, touching it with light points of fire. The long hair he'd carved in the root wrapped around his fingers. This was the finest piece of work he'd ever done. Putting the 'drak
e into his shirt, he went to his pallet and got his carving tools. He climbed into the wagon.
In the back of the wagon was a patch of sunlight. Joss settled there. Rotating the root, he examined it, checking his work for flaws; something about the face bothered him. "It needs a dimple!" he whispered. Jena had had one at the corner of her mouth. It had flashed provocatively when she smiled. He put one in. Satisfied, he started shaping the hips.
"I am not your wife, though you carve me in her likeness."
Joss started, dropping the 'drake. It did not fall. She clung to his fingers with her hands.
Her eyes were a compelling gray and met his boldly, "Why are you surprised? You knew I was sentient."
"I don't know," Joss answered, turning his hand to cup her. Not knowing what else to do, he resumed carving, "Does this hurt you?"
"Not at all. It feels good to be born. What are you doing?" The 'drake curved her torso in the palm that supported her and rested her arms on his thumb.
“Shaping your navel.''
She cleared her throat. "Is that really necessary?"
"I don't suppose it is, but I have the need to put one in, You'd look strange to me without one." The wild magic within him coursed down his arm to meet that stored in the 'drake. He glanced at his hand. The brown spots were spreading, soon no white skin would remain. Curious, he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. It was as he thought, the splotches were now moving up his arm.
"What are you looking at?"
"The marks of age," he answered. "As I deliver you from the root, I wither."
The 'drake was silent for a moment; then she asked, "Are you afraid?"
"A little, but then I've lived many years. Your birth will give meaning to my death."
"But aren't you too young to die?"
Joss laughed. He was enjoying himself and the 'drake's questions. He imagined, though he gave her the body of a woman, she would approach life with a child's bright enthusiasm. "My dear, I am an old man."
"That cannot be!" she argued. Shifting closer, she rested her chin on her arms. "Your spirit burns as bright as Red Eye."
"Red Eye?"
"That's what we call the sun."
Arrested by what she said, Joss asked, "We?"
"Others like me. The wild magic's children."
Joss thought while he shaped her thigh. "Are there many of you?"
"No. If there were, your kind would try harder to destroy us. They think we're evil—mischievous we are, maybe, but not evil." She squirmed about.
"Hold still!" he said. "If you don't, the knife might slip and gouge a chunk out of your body."
"Sorry. Ah . . . ah . . . Joss?"
"Hmmm?" he answered, concentrating on shaping her knees. The patch of sunlight had moved. Dusk would soon give way to night. He must get as much done as he could before full dark.
"Would you give me a name? I do not like being without one.
His first thought was of Jena.
"No!" said the 'drake, hitting his thumb with her fist. "I want my own, not your dead wife's. Joss," she said more gently, "all through your carving of me you saw your wife. I am not she, though from your memories I know Jena was a woman who knew how to love and enjoy life."
"You can read minds?"
"Of course. Can't you?"
"No."
"Would you like to?"
"It might be interesting. But first, a name." He looked at the femaledrake with new eyes. Yes, here and there, there was a look of Jena, but he had to really search for it. It resided mainly in the dimple. "Would you like me to smooth it out?" he asked, placing the blade point near her lips.
"No! I want a name."
"Persistent, aren't you." He chuckled. "The color of your body reminds me of a flower that only blooms in full moonlight. I'll name you Kalanthe. Do you like it?"
"Yes," she said, then laid her head down and shut her eyes.
Tenderly Joss ran a finger over her head. "It's fatiguing work being born," he whispered, leaning his head back. Exhaustion weighed on him, too.
Outside he heard Masen exclaim, "Where is Joss? Isn't he back yet?"
"He's been here and gone," said Wairen.
"By the Three, where is he? I want to talk to him."
Joss could hear the slight quaver in his grandson's voice. It was hard for the boy to lie.
"He said he was going to spend the night by Sanda's campfire."
Masen snorted. "Sanda doesn't live outside, but in the temple."
"That's what I said, but he said there's fire and there are other types of fire. When he left he was laughing."
"Well," said Masen, sighing, "he can't get into much trouble with her, and I am too tired to go looking for him. How were today's sales?"
Joss shut his eyes. He was too tired to listen. Just for a moment he'd rest.
"Joss. Joss!"
Hearing his name called, he struggled to open his eyes. He couldn't ever remember being so weary. Slight but insistent taps on his thumb brought him completely awake.
"At last!" Kalanthe sighed in relief. "Sanda was here looking for you. When she discovered your lie, she and Masen left to get Ta'xel. They've also set the fair-wards to seeking you, so we don't have much time! You've got to finish me. I can't run the way I am."
Joss looked at the sky. He had slept through moonrise. "It's too dark! I can't carve without light!"
"But we have light, see." Her body began to glow silvery gray. "It's the wild magic. You have it in you, too. Call it forth."
"How?" Joss asked. He was so tired, too tired to even be amazed he could call on magic.
Kalanthe put a finger in her mouth and chewed on her nail. "I do it by looking into myself until I see a reflection of the wild magic, then I ask it to share its light. There are other things you can call from that source. Later I will teach you."
Joss didn't say there'd be no later for him. He did not have to; she'd take the thought from his mind.
He shut his eyes and tried to see as she told him. To the left, if there could be such a direction in one's thoughts, a light began to glow, and his mind was filled with the familiar tingle that came only when he carved on the 'drake. He had come to recognize it was the wild magic moving in him, seeing its purpose fulfilled.
"Open your eyes and look."
His hand glowed, and light shone through the shirt-sleeve. He rolled up the sleeve. His arm was no longer white, but deep brown. It felt hot and dry, and the thickened skin was taut. The wild magic was working a change in him, too!
Joss picked up his knife and began working on Kalanthe's calves. He'd committed himself to this and would see it finished.
"Grandpa?"
Not looking up, he answered, "What is it, Wairen?"
"They've gone to get the priest. They'll be back soon. Sanda said Ta'xel thinks it's wild magic you're hiding. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"Grandpa, it's dangerous!"
"All life is dangerous. Wild magic lives, though differently than we do. What the people and their priests do not understand, they often fear," Joss said, sliding his knife carefully over the wood, delicately forming an ankle.
"You've got to stop! I didn't understand what you were doing!"
"I didn't intend for you to understand." Joss drew a deep breath. "Did you or did you not give me your blessing? Or was it merely words?"
He waited out Wairen's silence while he finished the other ankle.
"I gave it with all my heart."
“So did I," said Joss. 'Try to delay entry into the wagon. And Wairen," he added, hearing him move away from the wagon, "I love you."
"Me, too, Grandpa."
In a small voice Kalanthe asked, "Do you love me, too?"
"You know I do. You only have to look into my mind to see the truth."
Kalanthe laid her head on his hand, and a small tear fell, tracing its way down a knuckle. "I needed to hear you say it. You're giving up so much that I might be free." She stretched, looking down at the knife. "Don't c
ut those off! I need them."
Joss had started to pare away some of the fine, long hairs at the bases of the bifurcated root. When the 'drake had lived in the ground she'd used them to draw nourishment from the earth. "Some must go, so that I can carve your feet." He continued to work. Nearly finished on the last foot, he heard Ta'xel's loud voice. "The wild magic is here. Even you should be able to smell its stink!"
Joss muttered, "By the Three, I dislike that man."
"Grandpa's not here. The tent is open. Do you see him anywhere?"
"Good for you, Wairen," Joss said. He opened his palm, setting Kalanthe on it. He smiled as she climbed rapidly up his arm to sit on his glowing shoulder.
"Joss," she said in his ear, using mind-voice as well. It felt strange having words form inside his mind. "Open your shirt." Using the knife, he slit the laces of his vest and through his shirt. His chest was nearly covered in the thick brown skin. As he watched, it spread farther. Weakness washed over him, and he slumped, then slid to the floor. He no longer had the strength to hold himself upright. Joss watched the femaledrake scamper around him, then climb up on the arm supporting his head.
''Come with me," she asked.
"What?" A fog was beginning to cloud his thoughts and to obscure his vision, but he could still hear.
Outside the wagon Wairen, Masen, and Sanda were arguing with Ta'xel, but he was no longer concerned with them. His task finished, Joss knew he was dying.
Kalanthe was pulling his hair. Why hadn't she run? Joss opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd shut them. She was still standing on his arm. Surrounding them were several strange creatures; a few looked something like Kalanthe.
"These are the wild magic's children," she said, answering his unspoken question. "They always come when the wild magic gives birth. I am the first to be born in many years." She paused and touched him between the eyes. "Joss, you haven't answered my question. Will you go with me?"
"I cannot. I am dying."
"Yes, you are, but the wild magic is in you. You can use it. It gifted you with itself. Try, Joss. Let it give you life."
Norton, Andre - Anthology Page 11
