by Sharon Lee
Gamely, the two judges nodded. Dignity might yet be salvaged from the occasion.
The little mage waved the crowd quiet; carefully whistled a tuneless whistle. As he whistled he could feel the Power rise in him.
Braddak cawed experimentally from the roof.
Kinzel stepped away from his chair, past the judges, spectators giving way before him. Looking up at the bird, Kinzel reached with his mind, as he would in healing. As he concentrated the staff in his hand grew warmer, leaves plump and swaying in the windless afternoon.
"Braddak," Kinzel said. "Brad-dak!" He offered his arm. The bird's eyes gleamed. It half-hopped, half-flew the short distance to the proffered wrist, talons piercing blue wool to prick the skin beneath.
Kinzel raised his arm so that the bird stared into his eye. It weighed less than he had supposed for so large a thing; its intelligence evident in the way it, too, reached with its eyes.
Resting his wrist against the staff, he felt the remarkable Power within shift, connect anew.
The bird was ... aware.
Kinzel spoke, using no words.
Here there are two whom you know. Each claims to hold you as a treasure, as you might hold a bright-thing or a colored stone. Each is angry that the other is favored by your company and by your gift-bringing. Each requires that you bring all gifts to him alone; that your gifts and yourself belong to him now and always.
Which of these men do you recognize as your own, as one you would answer at all times, as one you would bring all gifts to?
How say you? Listen once more to their calls.
From the bird, a flicker of thought. Bright-bringer I joy at the game, joy at my treasures. Each offered, each received! I regard them!
The link broke. Kinzel turned and held the bird toward Falter and Stirt.
"Call him, judges."
Both whistled their own whistle, trying to persuade the bird to him. Each held out an arm; each a hand, as if he held something of interest.
Braddak regarded the men as carefully as if he appraised a shiny new stone. His grip on Kinzel's arm tightened momentarily and then with a sudden motion he made his choice.
He gathered himself, raised his wings and leapt. Straight at the judges he flew, but up, rising quickly, accelerating as his wings snagged the sweet afternoon breeze, circling upward until, high above the bridge, he dove, more like a hawk than a crow, and sped off down-river, toward the sea.
Kinzel sighed heavily.
"You've sent her away! It's a trick," yelled Stirt.
"A spell!" cried Falter. "Not a decision at all!"
Kinzel climbed slowly back to his chair, momentarily drained. The minstrel offered his waterskin and the wizard drank before speaking.
"I have not tricked you. I placed no spell on Braddak.
"You each wanted to own what is not property. The crow is his own person, not yours; with care he might have been a companion to either of you.
"The true gifts were not the bribes you traded between you, but this..." Kinzel held up a brightly shining bit of quartz, "and this..." a blue stone with a green and white serpentine stripe writhing through it. "...and the gift of having a creature be aware of you and share with you without fear or force. That is the treasure of the legend."
Kinzel turned to the young minstrel, pointing to the parchment record. "Let it say that the gray crow is its own person, as any conscious mind is its own person. The crow might as well own a man as a man own the crow. Braddak's gifts - the stones, the broken things, his companionship - he bestowed as is his right. Neither of these men has shown evidence overruling Balance or indicating that they own the bird."
Kinzel shed the rich judicial robe, gathered up his staff, strapped on his small bundle and walked away into the late afternoon, ignoring the lack of payment for his efforts. He ignored too, the pleas of the two men, feeling drained but sure of his decision.
The lenses were forgotten until, stopping to munch a bit of cheese and taste of the last of ale, he held the glasses one before the other, and distant Crowsbridge drew close once more.
At both ends there were still crowds; beneath the central pavilion the minstrel still held court before an admiring band of travelers, speaking perhaps of dragons, or of griffin-hunting armies, or of Kinzel the Arbiter.
Two sunrises later Kinzel woke by his cold fire to find a blue, white and green pebble and a shiny bit of quartz by his hand.
He refrained from whistling, expecting nothing. When the sun climbed higher and the shadow passed between him and the sun he smiled, and as the day moved further toward dusk he shared its brilliance with the gliding, wheeling, joyous dance of his new friend.
About This Book
When originally published by General Avocations, The Naming of Kinzel represented what the world knew of the collaborative writing of Sharon Lee and Steve Miller - three short stories about a most unusual wizard. Since then, of course, have come the Liaden Universe™ novels Agent of Change, Conflict of Honors, and Carpe Diem as well as the short stories "To Cut an Edge" and "A Day at The Races" which together became the first SRM Publisher chapbook Two Tales of Korval.
This chapbook, like the original, exists because of the reality of electronic community. Where the original edition depended on the good will and support of the unlikely crew of modemers using their 300, 1200 and amazingly fast 2400 baud modems to connect with the Baltimore area BBS known as Midnight, this edition is the result of requests from a world-wide community brought together on the Liaden Universe™ mailing list in the Internet.
The stories here have stories. The first Kinzel story written was "Kinzel the Innocent." Sharon started the story but left poor Kinzel stranded on a stairway in the midst of a summons from Madog when a sudden job opportunity presented itself. Steve finished the story, which once written demanded a prequel to explain how Kinzel had gotten there in the first place. That story became "Kinzel the Foolish," which led to a novel (all copies of which have been lost) attempted for a publisher now long out of business.
In the meantime, Fantasy Book magazine had come along, and published Sharon's story "The Handsome Prince." The editor asked for more fantasy from Sharon. A job having occurred, what Sharon had on hand were the collaborations - and to the delight of the authors Fantasy Book bought and published the first two Kinzel stories in 1984, and asked for more.
Alas, Fantasy Book went on "hiatus" and never returned, leaving an unpublished Kinzel story waiting in the wings. It was then that Midnight's madcap crew rallied around Kinzel, sending money and encouragement and even helping to collate and staple the finished product.
Those original 300 copies have long ago been dispersed to the supportive online community of the BBS and convention fans, and specialty bookstores, leaving new Lee and Miller fans no chance to visit the little wizard. With interest in the forthcoming Liaden Universe™ book Plan B bringing ever more readers in search of Lee and Miller stories, it was time for the new The Naming of Kinzel.
-Richard Horn, 1998
