The Ninth Talisman

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  The short woman noticed his gaze. “I persuaded them that they needed to investigate an unusual rathole,” she said. “But it won’t take them much longer to decide they’ve done their duty there, so come on.”

  “I take it you’re the new Leader,” he said.

  “I’m relieved to see you aren’t a complete idiot,” she replied. “Not that I was in much doubt, from what I’ve heard of your previous exploits, but it’s good to be reassured. Now, hurry!”

  Sword hurried, following her diagonally across the plaza toward the northwest road, and only then noticed that Snatcher, Babble, and Seer were already well on their way toward the north road.

  “You brought Babble so I’d see a familiar face,” Sword said, as he caught up with the short woman.

  “Yes.”

  “But why did you come out to meet me yourself, instead of waiting at the house? Why meet in the plaza at all?”

  “Remember the guards? I thought they might be watching for you, and I didn’t want you leading them to the house. In the plaza I could spot them all, and make sure their attention was elsewhere. Try to not let that sword of yours be too obvious, would you? Besides, I wanted to meet you, and have a few words alone before we reach our destination.” She slowed her pace, and let Sword walk beside her.

  “Ah.”

  “You’re brighter than Bow, I see. Beauty said you were.”

  Sword had no idea how to respond to that, so he said nothing.

  “Can you be trusted?”

  “That depends what you want of me,” Sword said.

  “I want you to do what’s best. To fulfill your role as one of the Chosen Defenders of Barokan.”

  “You can trust me to do my best, but I can’t promise that my best will always be good enough.”

  “No one could. I understand you’ve visited the Wizard Lord in his cozy little eyrie?” She jerked her head toward the clifftops to the north-east, where the Summer Palace stood.

  “Yes,” Sword said.

  “Lore is up there, so far as you know? We’ve been told that he is—do you know otherwise?”

  “He’s probably at the Summer Palace, yes. He was there last summer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wanted to keep an eye on the Wizard Lord, and the Wizard Lord wants him there. There’s never been anyone like Artil im Salthir before, and Lore is fascinated by him.”

  “You think that’s all? He’s fascinated?”

  “Well, that, and I think Artil might find it suspicious if Lore suddenly left. He’s wary of the Chosen.” He thought, but did not say, as you obviously know.

  “But he let you visit, and he lets Lore live in his palace?”

  “He’s wary of the Chosen as a group, but as individuals we interest him. He’s made Lore one of his chief advisors, and he’s hoping to persuade us all that he’s doing good things for Barokan.”

  “He’s trying to keep us fragmented.”

  Sword almost stumbled at that; he swallowed, and said, “Perhaps he is. I don’t know.”

  “Good.” She nodded. “What do you think of our Wizard Lord, then?”

  “I don’t really know. I think he genuinely means well, and wants to make Barokan a better place. I don’t think he’s a Dark Lord; if I did, if I thought he should be removed, I would have come looking for you months ago. Right now I think he’s doing well. His roads have done wonderful things, he’s removed some hazards, and while the Summer Palace worried me at first, this is his second year up there and it doesn’t seem to have done any real harm. The weather hasn’t been as pleasant as it might, but that’s nothing more than a slight inconvenience.”

  “An inconvenience?”

  “Yes.” He threw her a glance, but her face remained hidden behind her scarf. “Since you’re gathering the Chosen, I take it you think he’s dangerous. Perhaps I’m missing something; I know Beauty was worried by his actions. He baffles me sometimes. He’s doing things that are unlike anything I’ve ever heard of, unlike anything Lore remembers, but I don’t see any real harm in anything he’s done.”

  “Have you spoken with him about his plans?”

  “Yes, of course! I was his guest for a few days. We spoke several times.”

  “And he told you—turn right here—he told you his plans?”

  “Some of them, yes. Not everything,” Sword said, turning down the alley the Leader had indicated.

  “And did any of them worry you?”

  “Uh . . . perhaps a little.”

  “Only a little? Then I agree that he didn’t tell you everything. Did he tell you why the weather is so hot?”

  “Uh . . .” The alley wiggled past fenced-in yards, then narrowed to squeeze between two stone walls. “Well, he’s not controlling the weather directly; I suppose it’s been hot because that’s what the ler want.”

  “It’s not his doing?”

  “No, I don’t think so. He told me that he instructed the ler in what to do during his absence, then left them to do it—his weather magic doesn’t work in the Uplands.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No; he left all his magic behind when he left Barokan, just as Lore and I did.” They emerged from the alley onto the north road, and Sword wondered why they had taken such a roundabout route—did the Leader really think someone might be watching them, or following them?

  “Did you? All of it?” She pointed to the left.

  Sword turned his steps in the indicated direction. “All of mine, certainly; I can’t be sure of the others, but I don’t see why they’d be any different. You hadn’t known?”

  “We weren’t sure. The Speaker said that was what had happened, and of course the Seer couldn’t tell where you and the Scholar and the Wizard Lord were when you were up there, not even the vague idea she has when we carry ara feathers, so she thought it was true. I wasn’t completely certain it wasn’t a trick of some sort.”

  Sword nodded. “It seems insane, doesn’t it? Deliberately giving up his magic?”

  “Yes. And removing insane Wizard Lords is one of the duties of the Chosen. Is he insane?”

  “I don’t know! Honestly, I really can’t be sure. I don’t think so. If he is, it’s a far subtler insanity than that of the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills.”

  “You’ll tell us all about it, then, and we’ll see if we can’t decide. This way.”

  As he had expected, they were heading toward the Beauty’s home. The familiar door opened as they approached, a man in the black garb of the Host People beckoning them inside. It took Sword a few seconds to recognize him as Bow, the Chosen Archer.

  Snatcher and Babble and the Seer—Azir—had taken a more direct route, and were already seated in the chairs by the hearth as Boss and Sword stepped in. Beauty was nowhere to be seen. Babble had doffed her veil and hood. Sword nodded politely to them.

  “Sit,” Boss told him, pointing at the edge of the hearth; she was already settling down onto the bricks herself. Sword sat.

  For a moment everyone was quiet; Boss reached up and pulled down her hood and scarf, revealing an astonishingly young face framed in thick black hair. Sword was looking at her, trying to think what he should say, when Beauty emerged from the back of the house. She was unmistakable, even with her hood up; the very way she walked marked her.

  “We’re all here, then,” Boss said. “Except Lore. Seer, would you do me the courtesy of confirming that everyone is indeed who he should be?”

  “My name is Azir shi Azir,” the Seer said.

  “Oh; sorry. Azir, is everyone who he should be?”

  “Everyone here is Chosen,” the Seer said.

  “Good. Does anyone need any introductions? Sword, you know everyone?”

  “Well enough for now,” Sword said. “I have only just now met you, and only recently the Seer and the Thief, of course.”

  “So we know one another. Good. Sword, you spent some time in the Summer Palace, yes?”

  “Just four days, but yes. Last summer.”

>   “And you observed the Wizard Lord there? You spoke with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You told me that he’s no longer controlling the weather, that he’s relinquished control of the elements by leaving Barokan.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Sword glanced around at the others; their full attention was focused on Boss and himself. “Well, he says so,” he said. “I’ve had no reason to doubt him; I know I lost my own magic while I was in the Uplands.”

  “So the heat and the rains coming in the wrong times and places, and that thunderstorm in Talltrees aren’t anything he’s doing deliberately?”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” Sword said. “A thunderstorm? There was . . . the Wizard Lord paid Mad Oak a visit last autumn and used lightning to dispose of a nuisance, but that was nowhere near Talltrees, and I hadn’t heard of any other storms. We don’t hear a great deal from the Midlands up there. What heat? What rains? What storm?”

  “The heat that’s made the Midlands unbearable this summer,” Bow replied.

  “And the rains that have left some crops stunted and dying from lack of water, while others are drowning,” the Seer said. “Rains that fall by day more and more often, rather than at night as they should.”

  “And there’s been a report of a storm with lightning and thunder that frightened everyone in Talltrees half to death, though the lightning doesn’t seem to have hit anything,” Boss added.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Sword said. “There hasn’t been anything like that in the vales since last fall, beyond a few afternoon showers that most of us rather liked. I hadn’t heard much beyond ordinary complaints about the heat.”

  “Life-loving ler tell me that wind and water and weather run wild, untamed and untethered, doing whatever they will, unmindful of what harm they cause and what help is withheld,” Babble said, in her familiar singsong. “The spells that bind them are still twined about them, but no one holds the strings, no one pulls them as they should.”

  “Oh,” Sword said. He looked at the faces surrounding him; their expressions were grim.

  “So the Wizard Lord said nothing to you to justify this neglect?” Boss demanded.

  “Not specifically,” Sword said. “He spoke to me about wanting to give up magic, and run Barokan without it, but he said he had left instructions for the weather ler to behave themselves and maintain the usual patterns.”

  “They haven’t,” Boss said.

  Sword shrugged.

  “He hasn’t said why he allows these ler to run loose?”

  “Well, he . . . he has this idea that we should give up magic entirely, that it’s growing weaker and we don’t need it anymore and would be better off without it.” Even as he spoke, Sword knew he was not doing the Wizard Lord’s position justice. The words had sounded so much better when Artil said them!

  “Why?”

  Sword hesitated. “I don’t . . . I don’t entirely know,” he admitted. “When he was chosen to be the new Wizard Lord I asked whether we really need a Wizard Lord anymore, since there haven’t been any rogue wizards in centuries but there have been Dark Lords, and no one seemed to listen to me, but he says now that he thought about my words and decided I had a point. He thinks the old ways are doomed. The wizards are dying out, and he said that other magic is weakening as well, that we would all have to live without magic eventually and we might as well learn to do it now, rather than wait until we have no choice.”

  “So the Wizard Lord who is charged with protecting Barokan with his magic has abandoned his magic to go live in the Uplands?”

  “I suppose he has, yes. In the summers.”

  “And do you see any reason we should not see this as neglecting his sworn duties, and cause to remove him from office?”

  Sword had seen that coming, but had not managed to ready a good answer. “He isn’t neglecting his duties entirely,” he said. “He has his men doing things to maintain order. He’s still giving orders; he just isn’t using any magic.”

  “But he is sworn to protect Barokan,” Boss said. “Not to send others to do it for him.”

  Sword had no reply to that. He glanced around at the others, but they were all watching silently; they obviously felt this conversation was between Sword and Boss, and not something they were all participating in.

  Well, they had probably discussed it with Boss before.

  Boss pressed him. “Can you honestly say that you don’t think he’s guilty of dereliction of his duties as Wizard Lord?”

  Sword thought for a moment, but finally admitted, “I can say I’m not certain either way.”

  “But if he is guilty, then you know what our duty, as the Chosen, is.”

  “No,” Sword said. “I don’t. We’re supposed to protect Barokan, but not to just blindly follow a lot of outdated rules. He hasn’t directly harmed anyone, or broken any of the rules save by omission, has he? Shouldn’t we give him a chance to make it right, and take up his duties properly?”

  “Perhaps, if it were just the weather,” Boss said. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “There is?” Bow asked, startled out of his silence.

  “There are the bandits . . .” the Seer said, uncertainly.

  “Much more. And much worse. I wouldn’t have gathered you if there weren’t.”

  The other Chosen exchanged glances, then all turned their attention to Boss.

  “All right,” Sword said. “What else?”

  “You said he thought wizards were dying out, Sword? Well, he’s been helping them along. He’s been murdering wizards.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” the Seer objected. “He hasn’t killed anyone, not directly. He hasn’t used his glamour to compel anyone else to kill, either. I’d know.”

  “He can’t kill anyone when he’s up in the Summer Palace,” Sword said. “Not magically, anyway.”

  “He isn’t doing it magically. He’s giving orders to his men and sending them to kill wizards. That doesn’t take any magic at all. And he’s doing it while he’s up in his Summer Palace, where the Seer—where Azir won’t know.”

  “Are they rogue wizards, then?” the Beauty asked. “The people he’s had killed?”

  “Who has he killed?” said the Archer.

  “Why would he hide it, if they’re rogues?” Azir asked.

  “How many were there?” asked Sword.

  “How do you know?” asked the Thief.

  “He says they were rogues, of course,” Boss said. “Four that I know of. And I know because one of the other wizards told me, before going into hiding. After all, isn’t that how the Chosen are intended to operate? The Council of Immortals tells us when the Wizard Lord must be removed, and we remove him.”

  “Sometimes,” Sword said. “But we use our own judgment, we aren’t the Council’s slaves.”

  “Which is why I’m explaining this, and not simply telling you to go kill him,” Boss replied. “You’re absolutely right. We make our own decisions. And I’ve brought you here so we can make this one.”

  “Shouldn’t Lore be here, then?” Beauty asked.

  Boss turned to her. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Not necessarily, anyway. I think he may have fallen under the Wizard Lord’s spell, and we’re better off reaching a consensus without him. We’ll talk with him before we do anything drastic, of course, but I want you all to know the situation first.”

  “He can’t be under the Wizard Lord’s spell,” Bow protested. “We’re immune to his magic, and besides, Sword said magic doesn’t even work in the Uplands!”

  “Barokanese magic,” Sword corrected. “The Uplanders may have their own.”

  “I didn’t mean it literally,” Boss snapped. “I mean he’s under the Wizard Lord’s sway; he believes in him and his plans for a better Barokan, his plan to sweep away a system that’s kept us safe for seven hundred years.”

  “A system that doesn’t seem to be needed anymore,” Sword said. �
��I think Artil’s right about that. His roads have done amazing things! Every town I’ve seen in the past two years seems far richer than before.”

  “Does that give him the right to murder his fellow wizards? To leave Barokan unprotected against malevolent ler?”

  The others looked at one another uneasily. Finally Sword spoke.

  “How certain are you that he really did order those wizards’ deaths? Couldn’t the wizard who told you be lying? Or if he’s not, how does he know?”

  “And how did anyone kill the wizards, anyway?” Bow asked. “It’s not as if they don’t have magic protecting them. They’re not just farmers.”

  “When did this happen, anyway?” Snatcher wanted to know. “Why haven’t any of the rest of us heard about it?”

  Boss sighed.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  [ 17 ]

  “I was traveling along the coast,” Boss said. “I set out to see where the roads went, and got as far as Kurias Saltmarsh, where I got my first look at the ocean, and when I saw it I knew I wanted to sail on it, but the only boats in Kurias are the little skiffs they use for fishing and crabbing. They told me that I could find real ships in Blackport, so I was on the coast road, walking south toward Blackport, when a wind came up out of nowhere.”

  “Sea breezes can do that,” Snatcher remarked.

  Boss shook her head. “This wasn’t an ordinary sea breeze. This was a whirlwind. I tried to take shelter under some trees overhanging the road, hoping they wouldn’t mind, but then a man fell out of the sky and landed in a heap in front of me.”

  “A wizard,” Seer said.

  “Of course,” Boss replied. “A wizard. One I hadn’t met before, an old man. He lay there on the road, and I could hear him breathing, deep rattling breaths, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t move.

  “I was cautious, but I approached him and knelt beside him and said, ‘Are you all right?’

  “He just moaned.

  “I took his shoulder and tried to roll him over, but he was heavier than he looked, the way old men sometimes are, but he pushed himself up so I could see his face, and there was blood smeared in his beard and across the bottom of his nose, and one eye was blackened.