Later when he tried to repeat the word, he stood dumb. "Memory, memory," Hemlock said. "Talent's no good without memory!" He was not harsh, but he wasunyielding. Diamond had no idea what opinion Hemlock had of him, and guessedit to be pretty low. The wizard sometimes had him come with him to his work, mostly laying spells of safety on ships and houses, purifying wells, andsitting on the councils of the city, seldom speaking but always listening. Another wizard, not Roke-trained but with the healer's gift, looked after thesick and dying of South Port. Hemlock was glad to let him do so. His ownpleasure was in studying and, as far as Diamond could see, doing no magicat all. "Keep the Equilibrium, it's all in that," Hemlock said, and, "Knowledge, order, and control." Those words he said so often that they made atune in Diamond's head and sang themselves over and over: knowledge, or-der, and contro-----1.... When Diamond put the lists of names to tunes he made up, he learned them much faster; but then the tune would come as part of the name, and he would sing out so clearly-- for his voice had re-established itself asa strong, dark tenor -- that Hemlock winced. Hemlock's was a very silenthouse. Mostly the pupil was supposed to be with the Master, or studying thelists of names in the room where the lorebooks and wordbooks were, or asleep. Hemlock was a stickler for early abed and early afoot. But now and thenDiamond had an hour or two free. He always went down to the docks and sat on apierside or a waterstair and thought about Darkrose. As soon as he was out ofthe house and away from Master Hemlock, he began to think about Darkrose, andwent on thinking about her and very little else. It surprised him a little. Hethought he ought to be homesick, to think about his mother. He did think abouthis mother quite often, and often was homesick, lying on his cot in his bareand narrow little room after a scanty supper of cold pea-porridge -- for thiswizard, at least, did not live in such luxury as Golden had imagined. Diamondnever thought about Darkrose, nights. He thought of his mother, or of sunnyrooms and hot food, or a tune would come into his head and he would practiceit mentally on the harp in his mind, and so drift off to sleep. Darkrose wouldcome to his mind only when he was down at the docks, staring out at the waterof the harbor, the piers, the fishing boats, only when he was outdoors andaway from Hemlock and his house. So he cherished his free hours as if theywere actual meetings with her. He had always loved her, but had not understoodthat he loved her beyond anyone and anything. When he was with her, even whenhe was down on the docks thinking of her, he was alive. He never felt entirelyalive in Master Hemlock's house and presence. He felt a little dead. Not dead, but a little dead. A few times, sitting on the waterstairs, the dirty harborwater sloshing at the next step down, the yells of gulls and dockworkerswreathing the air with a thin, ungainly music, he shut his eyes and saw hislove so clear, so close, that he reached out his hand to touch her. If hereached out his hand in his mind only, as when he played the mental harp, thenindeed he touched her. He felt her hand in his, and her cheek, warm-cool, silken-gritty, lay against his mouth. In his mind he spoke to her, and in hismind she answered, her voice, her husky voice saying his name, "Diamond .... " But as he went back up the streets of South Port he lost her. He swore tokeep her with him, to think of her, to think of her that night, but she fadedaway. By the time he opened the door of Master Hemlock's house he was recitinglists of names, or wondering what would be for dinner, for he was hungry mostof the time. Not till he could take an hour and run back down to the docks could he think of her. So he came to feel that those hours were true meetingswith her, and he lived for them, without knowing what he lived for until hisfeet were on the cobbles, and his eyes on the harbor and the far line of thesea. Then he remembered what was worth remembering. The winter passed by, andthe cold early spring, and with the warm late spring came a letter from hismother, brought by a carter. Diamond read it and took it to Master Hemlock, saying, "My mother wonders if I might spend a month at home thissummer." "Probably not," the wizard said, and then, appearing to noticeDiamond, put down his pen and said, "Young man, I must ask you if you wish tocontinue studying with me." Diamond had no idea what to say. The idea of its
being up to him had not occurred to him. "Do you think I ought to?" he askedat last. "Probably not," the wizard said. Diamond expected to feel relieved, released, but found he felt rejected, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said, withenough dignity that Hemlock glanced up at him. "You could go to Roke," thewizard said. "To Roke?" The boy's drop-jawed stare irritated Hemlock, thoughhe knew it shouldn't. Wizards are used to overweening confidence in the youngof their kind. They expect modesty to come later, if at all. "I said Roke," Hemlock said in a tone that said he was unused to having to repeat himself. And then, because this boy, this soft-headed, spoiled, moony boy had endearedhimself to Hemlock by his uncomplaining patience, he took pity on him andsaid, "You should either go to Roke or find a wizard to teach you what youneed. Of course you need what I can teach you. You need the names. The artbegins and ends in naming. But that's not your gift. You have a poor memoryfor words. You must train it diligently. However, it's clear that you do havecapacities, and that they need cultivation and discipline, which another mancan give you better than I can." So does modesty breed modesty, sometimes, even in unlikely places. "If you were to go to Roke, I'd send a letter withyou drawing you to the particular attention of the Master Summoner." "Ah," said Diamond, floored. The Summoner's art is perhaps the most arcaneand dangerous of all the arts of magic. "Perhaps I am wrong," said Hemlock inhis dry, flat voice. "Your gift may be for Pattern. Or perhaps it's anordinary gift for shaping and transformation. I'm not certain." "But you are-- I do actually --" "Oh yes. You are uncommonly slow, young man, torecognize your own capacities." It was spoken harshly, and Diamond stiffenedup a bit. "I thought my gift was for music," he said. Hemlock dismissed that with a flick of his hand. "I am talking of the True Art," he said. "Now I willbe frank with you. I advise you to write your parents -- I shall write themtoo -- informing them of your decision to go to the School on Roke, if that iswhat you decide; or to the Great Port, if the Mage Restive will take you on, as I think he will, with my recommendation. But I advise against visitinghome. The entanglement of family, friends, and so on is precisely what youneed to be free of. Now, and henceforth." "Do wizards have no family?" Hemlock was glad to see a bit of fire in the boy. "They are oneanother's family," he said. "And no friends?" "They may be friends. Did Isay it was an easy life?" A pause. Hemlock looked directly at Diamond. "Therewas a girl," he said. Diamond met his gaze for a moment, looked down, andsaid nothing. "Your father told me. A witch's daughter, a childhood playmate. He believed that you had taught her spells." "She taught me." Hemlock nodded. "That is quite understandable, among children. And quite impossiblenow. Do you understand that?" "No," Diamond said. "Sit down," said Hemlock. After a moment Diamond took the stiff, high-backed chair facing him. "I can protect you here, and have done so. On Roke, of course, you'll be perfectlysafe. The very walls, there...But if you go home, you must be willing toprotect yourself. It's a difficult thing for a young man, very difficult -a test of a will that has not yet been steeled, a mind that has not yet seenits true goal. I very strongly advise that you not take that risk. Writeyour parents, and go to the Great Port, or to Roke. Half your year's fee, which I'll return to you, will see to your first expenses." Diamond sat upright and still. He had been getting some of his father's height and girthlately, and looked very much a man, though a very young one. "What did youmean, Master Hemlock, in saying that you had protected me here?" "Simply as Iprotect myself," the wizard said; and after a moment, testily, "The bargain, boy. The power we give for our power. The lesser state of being we forego. Surely you know that every true man of power is celibate." There was a pause, and Diamond said, "So you saw to it...that I..." "Of course. It was myresponsibility as your teacher." Diamond nodded. He said, "Thank you." Presently he stood up. "Excuse me, Master," he said. "I have tothink." "Where are you going?" "Down to the waterfront." "Better stayhere." "I can't think, here." Hemlock might have known then what he was upagainst; but having told the boy he would not b
e his master any longer, he
could not in conscience command him. "You have a true gift, Essiri," he said, using the name he had given the boy in the springs of the Amia, a word that inthe Old Speech means Willow. "I don't entirely understand it. I think youdon't understand it at all. Take care! To misuse a gift, or to refuse to useit, may cause great loss, great harm." Diamond nodded, suffering, contrite, unrebellious, unmovable. "Go on," the wizard said, and he went. Later he knew he should never have let the boy leave the house. He had underestimatedDiamond's willpower, or the strength of the spell the girl had laid on him. Their conversation was in the morning; Hemlock went back to the ancientcantrip he was annotating; it was not till supper time that he thought abouthis pupil, and not until he had eaten supper alone that he admittedthat Diamond had run away. Hemlock was 10th to practice any of the lesserarts of magic. He did not put out a finding spell, as any sorcerer might havedone. Nor did he call to Diamond in any way. He was angry; perhaps he washurt. He had thought well of the boy, and offered to write the Summoner abouthim, and then at the first test of character Diamond had broken. "Glass," thewizard muttered. At least this weakness proved he was not dangerous. Sometalents were best not left to run wild, but there was no harm in this fellow, no malice. No ambition. "No spine," said Hemlock to the silence . of thehouse. "Let him crawl home to his mother." Still it rankled him that Diamond had let him down flat, without a word of thanks or apology. So much for goodmanners, he thought. As she blew out the lamp and got into bed, the witch'sdaughter heard an owl calling, the little, liquid hu-hu-hu-hu that made peoplecall them laughing owls. She heard it with a mournful heart. That had beentheir signal, summer nights, when they sneaked out to meet in the willowgrove, down on the banks of the Amia, when everybody else was sleeping. Shewould not think of him at night. Back in the winter she had sent to him nightafter night. She had learned her mother's spell of sending, and knew that itwas a true spell. She had sent him her touch, her voice saying his name, againand again. She had met a wall of air and silence. She touched nothing. Hewould not hear. Once or twice, all of a sudden, in the daytime, there hadbeen a moment when she had known him close in mind and could touch him if she reached out. But at night she knew only his blank absence, his refusal of her. She had stopped trying to reach him, months ago, but her heart was still very sore. "Hu-hu-hu," said the owl, under her window, and then it said, "Darkrose!" Startled from her misery, she leaped out of bed and opened theshutters. "Come on out," whispered Diamond, a shadow in thestarlight. "Mother's not home. Come in!" She met him at the door. They heldeach other tight, hard, silent for a long time. To Diamond it was as if heheld his future, his own life, his whole life, in his arms. At last she moved, and kissed his cheek, and whispered, "I missed you, I missed you, Imissed you. How long can you stay?" "As long as I like." She kept his handand led him in. He was always a little reluctant to enter the witch's house, apungent, disorderly place thick with the mysteries of women and witchcraft, very different from his own clean comfortable home, even more different fromthe cold austerity of the wizard's house. He shivered like a horse as he stoodthere, too tall for the herb-festooned rafters. He was very highly strung, andworn out, having walked forty miles in sixteen hours without food. "Where's your mother?" he asked in a whisper. "Sitting with old Ferny. She died thisafternoon, Mother will be there all night. But how did you gethere?" "Walked." "The wizard let you visit home?" "I ran away." "Ran away! Why?' "To keep you." He looked at her, that vivid, fierce, dark face in itsrough cloud of hair. She wore only her shift, and he saw the infinitelydelicate, tender rise of her breasts. He drew her to him again, but though shehugged him she drew away again, frowning. "Keep me?" she repeated. "Youdidn't seem to worry about losing me all winter. What made you come backnow?" "He wanted me to go to Roke." "To Roke?" She stared. "To Roke, Di? Then you really do have the gift --you could be a sorcerer?" To find her on Hemlock's side was a blow. "Sorcerers are nothing to him. He means I could bea wizard. Do magery. Not just witchcraft." "Oh I see," Rose said after a
moment. "But I don't see why you ran away." They had let go of each other'shands. "Don't you understand?" he said, exasperated with her for notunderstanding, because he had not understood. "A wizard can't have anything todo with women. With witches. With all that." "Oh, I know. It's beneaththem." "It's not just beneath them --" "Oh, but it is. I'll bet you had tounlearn every spell I taught you. Didn't you?" "It isn't the same kind of thing." "No. It isn't the High Art. It isn't the True Speech. A wizardmustn't soil his lips with common words. 'Weak as women's magic, wicked aswomen's magic,' you think I don't know what they say? So, why did you comeback here?" "To see you!" "What for?" "What do you think?" "You never sent to me, you never let me send to you, all the time you were gone. I was justsupposed to wait until you got tired of playing wizard. Well, I got tired ofwaiting." Her voice was nearly inaudible, a rough whisper. "Somebody's beencoming around," he said, incredulous that she could turn against him. "Who'sbeen after you?" "None of your business if there is! You go off, you turnyour back on me. Wizards can't have anything to do with what I do, what mymother does. Well, I don't want anything to do with what you do, either, ever. So go!" Starving hungry, frustrated, misunderstood, Diamond reached out tohold her again, to make her body understand his body, repeating that first, deep embrace that had held all the years of their lives in it. He foundhimself standing two feet back, his hands stinging and his ears ringing andhis eyes dazzled. Thc lightning was in Rose's eyes, and her hands sparked asshe clenched them. "Never do that again," she whispered. "Never fear," Diamond said, turned on his heel, and strode out. A string of dried sagecaught on his head and trailed after him. HE SPENT THE NIGHT in their old place in the sallows. Maybe he hoped she would come, but she did not come, andhe soon slept in sheer weariness. He woke in the first, cold light. He sat upand thought. He looked at life in that cold light. It was a different matterfrom what he had believed it. He went down to the stream in which he had been named. He drank, washed his hands and face, made himself look as decent as hecould, and went up through the town to the fine house at the high end, hisfather's house. After the first outcries and embraces, the servants and hismother sat him right down to breakfast. So it was with warm food in his bellyand a certain chill courage in his heart that he faced his father, who hadbeen out before breakfast seeing off a string of timber-carts to the GreatPort. "Well, son!" They touched cheeks. "So Master Hemlock gave you avacation?" "No, sir. I left." Golden stared, then filled his plate and satdown. "Left," he said. "Yes, sir. I decided that I don't want to be awizard." "Hmf," said Golden, chewing. "Left of your own accord? Entirely? With the Master's permission?" "Of my own accord entirely, without hispermission." Golden chewed very slowly, his eyes on the table. Diamond hadseen his father look like this when a forester reported an infestation in thechestnut groves, and when he found a mule-dealer had cheated him. "He wanted me to go to the College on Roke to study with the Master Summoner. He wasgoing to send me there. I decided not to go." After a while Golden asked, still looking at the table, "Why?" "It isn't the life I want." Another pause. Golden glanced over at his wife, who stood by the window listening insilence. Then he looked at his son. Slowly the mixture ofanger, disappointment, confusion, and respect on his face gave way tosomething simpler, a look of complicity, very nearly a wink. "I see," he said. "And what did you decide you want?" A pause. "This," Diamond said. His voicewas level. He looked neither at his father nor his mother. "Hah!" said Golden. "Well! I will say I'm glad of it, son." He ate a small porkpie in onemouthful. "Being a wizard, going to Roke, all that, it never seemed real, notexactly. And with you off there, I didn't know what all this was for, to tellyou the truth. All my business. If you're here, it adds up, you see. It addsup. Well! But listen here, did you just run off from the wizard? Did he knowyou were going?" "No. I'll write him," Diamond said, in his new, levelvoice. "He won't be angry? They say wizards have short tempers. Full ofpride." "He's angry," Diamond said, "but he won't do anything." So it
proved. Indee
d, to Golden's amazement, Master Hemlock sent back a scrupuloustwo-fifths of the prenticing-fee. With the packet, which was delivered by oneof Golden's carters who had taken a load of spars down to South Port, was anote for Diamond. It said, "True art requires a single heart." The directionon the outside was the Hardic rune for willow. The note was signed withHemlock's rune, which had two meanings: the hemlock tree, andsuffering. Diamond sat in his own sunny room upstairs, on his comfortablebed, hearing his mother singing as she went about the house. He held thewizard's letter and reread the message and the two runes many times. The coldand sluggish mind that had been born in him that morning down in the sallowsaccepted the lesson. No magic. Never again. He had never given his heart toit. It had been a game to him, a game to play with Darkrose. Even the names ofthe True Speech that he had learned in the wizard's house, though he knew thebeauty and the power that lay in them, he could let go, let slip, forget. Thatwas not his language. He could speak his language only with her. And he hadlost her, let her go. The double heart has no true speech. From now on hecould talk only the language of duty: the getting and the spending, the outlayand the income, the profit and the loss. And beyond that, nothing. There hadbeen illusions, little spells, pebbles that turned to butterflies, woodenbirds that flew on living wings for a minute or two. There had never been achoice, really. There was only one way for him to go. GOLDEN WAS immenselyhappy and quite unconscious of it. "Old man's got his jewel back," said thecarter to the forester. "Sweet as new butter, he is." Golden, unaware of beingsweet, thought only how sweet life was. He had bought the Reche grove, at avery stiff price to be sure, but at least old Lowbough of Easthill hadn't gotit, and now he and Diamond could develop it as it ought to be developed. Inamong the chestnuts there were a lot of pines, which could be felled and soldfor masts and spars and small lumber, and replanted with chestnut seedlings. It would in time be a pure stand like the Big Grove, the heart of his chestnutkingdom. In time, of course. Oak and chestnut don't shoot up overnight likealder and willow. But there was time. There was time, now. The boy was barelyseventeen, and he himself just forty-five. In his prime. He had been feelingold, but that was nonsense. He was in his prime. The oldest trees, pastbearing, ought to come out with the pines. Some good wood for furniture couldbe salvaged from them. "Well, well, well," he said to his wife, frequently, "all rosy again, eh? Got the apple of your eye back home, eh? No more moping, eh?" And Tuly smiled and stroked his hand. Once instead of smiling andagreeing, she said, "It's lovely to have him back, but" and Golden stoppedhearing. Mothers were born to worry about their children, and women were bornnever to be content. There was no reason why he should listen to the litany ofanxieties by which Tuly hauled herself through life. Of course she thought amerchant's life wasn't good enough for the boy. She'd have thought being Kingin Havnor wasn't good enough for him. "When he gets himself a girl," Goldensaid, in answer to whatever it was she had been saying, "he'll be all squaredaway. Living with the wizards, you know, the way they are, it set him back abit. Don't worry about Diamond. He'll know what he wants when he sees it!" "I hope so," said Tuly. "At least he's not seeing the witch's girl," saidGolden. "That's done with." Later on it occurred to him that neither was his wife seeing the witch anymore. For years they'd been thick as thieves, againstall his warnings, and now Tangle was never anywhere near the house. Women'sfriendships never lasted. He teased her about it. Finding her strewingpennyroyal and millersbane in the chests and clothes-presses against aninfestation of moths, he said, "Seems like you'd have your friend the wisewoman up to hex 'em away. Or aren't you friends anymore?" "No," his wife saidin her soft, level voice, "we aren't." "And a good thing too!" Golden saidroundly. "What's become of that daughter of hers, then? Went off with ajuggler, I heard?" "A musician," Tuly said. "Last summer." "A namedayparty," said Golden. "Time for a bit of play, a bit of music and dancing, boy. Nineteen years old. Celebrate it!" "I'll be going to Easthill with Sul'smules." "No, no, no. Sul can handle it. Stay home and have your party. You've
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