Bronze Magic (Book 1) (29 page)

Wizard and woodman were staring at him appraisingly. Neither spoke.
Lacking a response from them, Tarkyn ignored them and, hunting
around for a sharp dry stick, used it to dig a narrow hole in the ground.
When he was satisfied, he jabbed one end of his staff down into it and
pushed the soil back into place around it. He grasped the rod with both
hands, closed his eyes and focused his being into it. The tiny green shoots
expanded and grew into the beginnings of small branches even as they
watched. Within minutes, a healthy young sapling was growing in the
ground. Tarkyn opened his eyes and stood back to admire his handiwork.
After a moment, he smiled apologetically at Waterstone, “I still need
a staff. Do you think you could make me one from a dead branch this
time? Then I won’t have the embarrassment of green shoots bursting
forth all the time.”
Waterstone, who was staring in bemusement at the new sapling,
nodded distractedly.
Tarkyn tried again. “Waterstone?” His voice became sharper,
“Waterstone!” Once the woodman had dragged his eyes away from the
resurrected sapling to look at him, Tarkyn said, “Hello? It’s still me. You’re
the ones who told me I could do it. So don’t act so surprised when I do
what you’re expecting me to do.”
Waterstone gave his head a shake and blinked, “Sorry Tarkyn. It’s
going to take a bit of getting used to – living with a legend.”
The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Oh for heavens sake, Waterstone! Pull
yourself together. I’m still the same person I was an hour ago.”
Waterstone smiled ruefully. “You haven’t grown up listening to the
legends as I have. It’s truly amazing.”
Tarkyn looked to the wizard for support but found him, too, gazing at
the resurrected sapling. “Not you too,” said Tarkyn in disgust.
Stormaway shook his head in wonder, “Marvellous. Just marvellous.”
“Well, that settles it,” exploded the prince, “I’ll be experimenting in
private next time. If you two, who know me, behave like besotted fools,
what will everyone else do?”
Consternation showed in the woodman’s face. “The others. We must
tell the others. There must be danger coming.”
“No,” said the prince flatly. “I forbid it.”
“But Your Highness…” began the wizard.
Tarkyn put up a hand. “No. Not yet. The woodfolk and I must work
out our terms of engagement as we are. That’s hard enough to sort out
as it is. I have to consolidate where I am before everything starts to shift
again.”
Stormaway came in firmly. “You can’t have long. The threat to the
woodfolk, whatever it is, must be discovered and prepared for.”
“I have sworn to protect the woodfolk and I will not forget.” Tarkyn
frowned at him. “You seem remarkably concerned for the woodfolk all of
a sudden. And yet you were party to creating the oath.”
Stormaway considered carefully before answering, aware of the prince’s
reservations. “Yes and no. Yes, I constructed and delivered it but I did so
under orders from the king.”
“I thought you were his advisor. Could you not have dissuaded him
from it?”
The wizard shrugged. “You saw in Tree Wind’s memory what type of
man he was. Sometimes I had very little influence. Other times, I had
more. Sometimes I had to be, hmm, what shall we say?… creative… to
protect people’s interests.”
Tarkyn glanced at Waterstone but the woodman was watching quietly,
keeping well out of the conversation. The prince turned back to the
wizard. “So, if you created it, can you also destroy the sorcery in the
oath?”
Stormaway looked squarely at him.“I could but I would not. I know
how to destroy it but I promised your father that I would not.” Seeing
Tarkyn about to protest, he too glanced at Waterstone. “I would suggest
that we continue this discussion at another time.”
Waterstone stood up. “I can leave if you would like.”
“Yes. That would be helpful, I think,” said the wizard at the same time
as the prince said, “No, stay. This concerns you and the woodfolk every
bit as much as it concerns me.”
The woodman waited irresolute while the balance of power wavered.
After a fraught moment, Tarkyn said quietly to the wizard, “Despite your
misgivings and for reasons I am not prepared to go into, I have complete
faith in Waterstone. I would appreciate it if you felt able to continue the
discussion now. However, if it involves something about you personally
that you don’t want to reveal, then of course we will wait for another
time.”
A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on the wizard’s face. “My boy,”
he said, “Your father would have been proud of you. I am even prouder of
you because I understand, better than he would have, the subtlety of your
style.” Stormaway addressed the woodman. “Waterstone, I hope Tarkyn’s
faith in you is justified. I suspect it will be because I am beginning to
develop a healthy respect for his judgement.” The wizard shrugged, “So
be it. Shall we take up the discussion where we left off?”
Tarkyn looked down at the badger and kept stroking it gently. “What
would happen, Stormaway, if I ordered you to remove the sorcery in the
oath? After all, you too have sworn the oath.”
Stormaway breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad you phrased it like
that. What would happen is that I would refuse.”
“Hm, I see. No surprises there. And is this because your loyalty to my
father is greater than your loyalty to me?”
“No, Your Highness, it’s not. It’s because the oath was designed to keep
you safe and without it, you might find it difficult to leave the forest alive,
should you ever choose to.” The wizard glanced at the woodman as he
said this but Waterstone offered no reaction.
The prince frowned, “And what about the safety of the forest if I
insisted on ordering you? Would you see it destroyed?”
The wizard smiled with a hint of smugness, “My concern for your
wellbeing far outweighs any consideration I may have for the forest. Now
that you know I would refuse, you could not order it because you have
vowed to protect the forest.”
Tarkyn rocked back to sit upright as he considered this. His hand came
away from the badger who, having had her fill of being stroked, took
the opportunity to head off into the undergrowth. “I can see why you
didn’t want Waterstone to hear this. Not,” he added hastily, looking at the
woodman, “that I regret my decision to allow you to stay,” He returned
his gaze to the wizard, “but I understand your reservations.”
He asked Waterstone. “What are the exact words of the oath?”
The woodman did not make the mistake of parroting the whole thing
and merely repeated the relevant section. “To serve, honour and protect.”
“According to your understanding of honour and service, Your
Highness, not Markazon’s. I achieved that much for you.”
“I suppose I should at least thank you for that, Stormaway” said Tarkyn
gruffly. He rolled his eyes at Waterstone. “You really wouldn’t want to live
under my father’s regime.”
Waterstone stood up and looked up into another repaired tree, his face
closed. After a moment’s scrutiny, he lifted himself up into the branches
and began to unwrap the injured bough. He looked down at the prince
and said tightly. “This is actually a difficult conversation for me to listen
to. I feel like my future, my whole life is being bandied around like some
sort of commodity.”
Tarkyn was instantly contrite. “Oh Waterstone, I’m sorry. We are
both affected by the terms of this oath, but of course, for you, it is even
more critical. I need to know how much leeway I can safely give without
destructive forces coming into play. I didn’t even think to ask you if you
wanted to stay to hear all this. I just assumed you would. I think your
perspective may help us all in coming to terms with managing this oath
but I can come and talk to you about it afterwards if you prefer.”
Wizard and woodman both smiled at this little speech. “Tarkyn,” said
Waterstone, “You make it just as impossible for me to leave as you did for
Stormaway not to speak in front of me. I don’t think you have any need
of an oath to get what you want.”
Tarkyn, embarrassed by this vote of confidence, bent down to pick up
a dry stick which he then began methodically to demolish. “I did mean
it, though,” he said, without looking up. “You don’t have to stay if you
would rather go.”
“I know you did. That’s what makes it so convincing.” Waterstone
shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention to the wizard. “You
need have no fear that your young prince will compromise his authority.
He just goes about it differently from his father.”
Tarkyn looked up at this and his eyes narrowed as he considered the
wizard. “Out of those who swore the oath, you alone can oppose my will
if you decide it serves my best interests to do so. Is that right?”
“How do you work that out?” asked Waterstone, as he climbed back
down out of the tree.
Tarkyn smiled ruefully. “Because no one else, not even I, would place
my welfare above the welfare of the forest.”
Waterstone considered him for a long time. “I’m not sure that’s true,”
he said slowly, “although it may be true of most people.” He shrugged,
“I would hope that you will never put me in the position where I have to
oppose you to protect you – but I will remember this if it ever happens.”
Tarkyn frowned as he tried to work out the complexities of the oath.
“It seems to me that anyone who calls my bluff will have the upper hand,
whatever the issue. I can’t afford to order someone to do something that
they don’t want to do. If they tell me they are going to refuse, I will have
no choice but to back down. I’m honour bound to protect the forest
so I can’t allow anyone the option of opposing me and invoking the
destructive force of the oath.”
The wizard nodded. “Now you see why I didn’t want any woodfolk
here for this conversation.”
“Waterstone is not just any woodman, even as I am not just any
sorcerer.” The prince replied stiffly. “But I do see what you mean,” he
conceded. He looked at Waterstone. “So where does this leave us then?”
Waterstone’s green eyes travelled slowly from the prince to the wizard
and back again. His eyes were glittering with anger. “Both of you have
forgotten that the woodfolk are also people of honour. We agreed to
swear that oath in good faith as a debt of gratitude for the assistance
rendered to us by King Markazon and you, his wizard.He did not respect
us enough to trust our word. Obviously you do not either.”
“Oh no, Waterstone, don’t think that.” The prince was mortified. “I
do trust you - you the woodfolk, I mean, to keep your word. I had just
forgotten that angle on things because I was focusing on the danger to the
forest. I have to be sure we know how to manage the destructive magic
in the oath.” The prince turned impulsively to the wizard. “Couldn’t you
find your way clear to neutralise your spell?”
“No, Your Highness. Do not demand it of me.” Stormaway shook his
head regretfully. “I am sorry if I offend you, Waterstone, but I do not
know or trust the woodfolk well enough to risk the prince’s safety. I will
not break faith with his father.”
Waterstone shrugged. “You have certainly offended me but there is
not much I can do against blind prejudice.” There was a pause while he
visualised Sparrow going to live among a large group of stern, unfriendly
wizards and sorcerers. He shared the image with Tarkyn and sighed. “I
suppose I can understand how you might feel, at least to some extent.”
Tarkyn smiled wryly and sent an image back to Waterstone of Sparrow
ordering the sorcerers around, with the sorcerers glancing sideways at her
with their eyes filled with resentment and malice.
Waterstone raised his eyebrows in response. “True. To an even greater
extent, I understand, but I am still offended.” He shrugged, “However,
I suppose I can still work with you, Stormaway. I cannot purport to be
honourable and, at the same time, expect you to break your own oath to
Markazon.”
“Good.” said, the wizard, suddenly all business, “because if this young
man is truly a guardian of the forest, there are bad times coming and you
are going to need all the help you can get.”
ight had fallen. Everyone was sitting around a new firesite. After
some discussion earlier in the day, it had been agreed that mind
talking was permissible if it was for private conversations or routine
communications. There was some initial constraint, but gradually the
atmosphere around the firesite had become more congenial than it had
been previously. The woodfolk were not as relaxed with the prince in the
way that they were with each other but they were making a clear effort
to include him and to fill him in on any mind talking that occasionally
wandered into the middle of conversations in which he was involved. As
for Tarkyn, he was used to being set apart and felt that he had achieved
as much familiarity as he could manage.
“Tarkyn,” said a little voice at his side. The prince looked around
to see Sparrow’s upturned face. “Could you hold these for me while I
finish making this village?”She held out an assortment of rocks, twigs
and leaves. Tarkyn held out his hands and she tipped her treasures into
them. “I’ve just collected them all and I don’t want them to get dusty
sitting on the ground while I finish this bit off.” She pointed at several
little assemblies from bark and small branches that Tarkyn rightly
surmised to be houses.
“They’re not woodfolk houses,” he pointed out. “Have you ever been
to a village like that?”
Sparrow shook her head. “No, but I’ve seen one from the forest edge.”
She gave an anxious frown. “Have you been to one? Do you think I’ve
got it right?”
Tarkyn smiled. “Near enough. There’s usually one bigger house
called an inn which is where everyone goes for a chat and a drink in the
evenings.”
Sparrow scowled at her creation. “I don’t think I have time tonight to
build a bigger one as well. This will have to be a village without an inn.”
She set to, smoothing out the dirt between the houses to make roads and
straightening up her houses. Then she began to place her collected items
around the village as decoration. By the time she reached into Tarkyn’s
hand for the last stick, tiny green shoots were clearly developing on it.
Sparrow shot a sharp glance up into Tarkyn’s face. An image of him
asking her to be quiet accompanied by a feeling of complicity appeared
in her mind. She barely missed a beat. “This will look good as a tree in
the front of this little house,” she said placidly as she dug the sprouting
twig into a small hole.