Sorcerer's Son (18 page)

“Netting,” he chanted. “Netting for the night, netting for travelers sleeping under the stars. Netting.” He measured Cray and Sepwin with a glance. “I have enough here for a fine tent, young sirs, for you and your horses. Only two silver pieces.”

Cray waved him away. “We’ve no need of a tent.”

“If you plan to sleep in the open anywhere near this market, you’ll need one. And after sunset, there won’t be anyplace to buy it.”

“Why not?”

“Because we all go to bed at sunset, when the insects come out,” he said, “and we won’t come out from behind our nets just to keep strangers from being bitten.”

“Bitten? Well, what are a few insect bites? I’ve had my share.”

“A few, young sir?” He smiled and wagged his head. “They rise from the swamp by night, in their millions, hungry for blood. Why

a man was found dead in the swamp only last month. Stayed out past dark, hunting birds. He didn’t take any netting at all, poor fellow. His wife said he must have gotten lost.” He lifted the bundle of gauze from his shoulder and held it out to Cray. “You’d best buy, young sir, or else ride west past the hills to be safe; they don’t fly that far.”

“We came from those hills this morning,” said Cray, “so we know they don’t fly that far. Now we are east-bound, but we won’t need your netting, thank you.”

“If you’re taking the road into the swamp, you will surely need it.”

“Again, I thank you, but we won’t need it.”

“Reconsider, young sir! The biting will drive your horses mad! And if you should escape the swamp before succumbing, the ride to the hills would be a long and terrible one. Or the walk! If your horses should bolt from their agony and leave you behind

! Reconsider, I beg you!”

Cray drained his wine cup, and set it on the counter of the wine stall. He bowed formally to the vendor and said, “Good day to you, sir,” then walked away. Sepwin scuttled after.

At the horses, as Cray was preparing to mount, Sepwin whispered, “Don’t you believe him?”

“About the man found dead in the swamp?”

“Well, yes, that and the insects.”

Cray swung into the saddle. “There may have been a man found dead in the swamp, though possibly not from insect bites. I’m sure there are any number of deadly things in the swamp.”

“And we are going into the swamp?”

“The road crosses it. We can, too.”

Sepwin looked up at him anxiously. “Master Cray, I fear my heart fails me. At least

buy some netting!”

Cray stared down at his companion. “Do you really believe I need some of his netting to keep me safe?”

“But

what about me?”

“Master Feldar, you know that spiders eat insects.”

“Y-yes.”

“Then why are you worrying? Get on your horse.”

After one more moment’s hesitation, Sepwin mounted, and his horse followed Gallant’s easy pace out of the market, eastward.

There was no obvious dividing line between the ordinary land and the swamp. The cultivated fields about the market gave way to a wild growth of grass pocked by occasional trees, and finally wet patches appeared, sparkling in the sunlight, ponds choked by cattails, streamlets sluggishly winding. The road turned muddy; in some places it disappeared entirely, drowned, only to reappear a few paces farther on. For a time, the way was well churned by hooves and the feet of human beings, but the longer they rode the less traveled the path became, until there were no marks at all of anyone else’s recent passage.

“You’re sure this road goes all the way through the swamp?” said Sepwin.

“The map shows it so.”

“You’re sure the mapmaker was telling the truth when he drew that? He wasn’t just

being playful?”

“My mother is following my course, Master Feldar. If anything happens to me while I use this map, the sorcerer who had it made will be the first target of her anger.” He looked down at Sepwin from the vantage of Gallant’s height. “My mother would be a very dangerous person, angry. He would not dare to give her or her son anything but an accurate map.”

“I am reassured,” said Sepwin. “Now we only have to worry about the insects.”

“Come,” said Cray. “It’s late enough to stop for the night already, and our sleeping preparations will take a little longer than usual.”

“Will they?” asked Sepwin.

“You’ll see.”

They dismounted where a large tree overhung the road and the ground was reasonably dry, and Cray tethered the horses there. He climbed the tree then, and cracked the first broad bough so that it dipped to the ground while still partially attached to the trunk, forming a support for a lean-to large enough for two young men and their horses. He climbed higher after that, to break off leafy branches for the walls, and back on the ground he wove them together half by magic and half by the dexterity of his hands. Well before sunset he had completed the latticework structure and led the horses inside through an opening barely large enough to admit them. His final task was to plait a door for that aperture, and when that was ready to set in place, he turned to Sepwin with a smile.

“Will you step inside, Master Feldar?”

Sepwin eyed the lean-to uncertainly. “I know excellently well that this will keep the rain off, but

what spell have you woven into it to keep the insects away?”

“None,” said Cray.

“I shall smother if I must sleep wrapped in my cloak from head to toe,” said Sepwin.

“You shall not smother. Enter. The sky is fading.”

With a last furtive glance at the setting sun, Sepwin obeyed.

Inside, Cray set the door securely in place, then laid both of his hands against it and closed his eyes. From his sleeves, the spiders scuttled, more than a score of them, all colors and sizes. They swarmed over the branches and immediately began spinning. Slowly, a fine net, layer upon layer of silk, spread over the walls and floor until a gray cocoon surrounded Cray and Sepwin and the horses. Gallant was not disturbed by the spinning, but Sepwin’s horse swayed nervously from foot to foot, and its master had to soothe it until the last rays of sunlight had ceased filtering through the gray curtain and it could no longer see the moving spiders.

“I’ve slept in rooms this small,” said Sepwin, “but never before with such a feeling of imprisonment.” He laughed nervously. “But of course, this is hardly a prison; I could tear these walls apart with my hands, after all.”

“Not these walls,” said Cray.

“No?”

“Not even the horses could break down these walls, Master Feldar.”

“I see.” He was silent a moment, in the darkness, then he said, “What if I wanted to get out?”

“And face the insects? I can hear them humming already. Listen.”

The sound was soft, but increasing, a high-pitched buzz rising all about them, and once more Sepwin’s horse shifted uneasily and had to be soothed.

“Well, I don’t want to go out now, of course,” said Sepwin, “but just for the sake of argument, if I wanted for some reason to go out, how would I do it?”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of spiders, Master Feldar. Or have you decided you’re afraid of me?”

“Oh, no

but if something should happen to you. To be quite blunt, Master Cray, I don’t fancy being locked in here forever.”

Cray laughed. “Always worrying, Master Feldar. Well, let me assure you that even magic webs don’t last forever. Especially my magic, which is of a very inferior kind. It would fall apart within a few days, and you would emerge none the worse except for a bit of hunger.” He yawned. “But I don’t plan to die or desert you right now, so why don’t you go to sleep? We’ll want an early start in the morning. I don’t want to spend more time than absolutely necessary in this swamp.”

In the morning, he gathered the spiders into his sleeves, and the webs broke apart at his touch, like any spiderwebs, letting the companions out into the sunshine. After a quick breakfast, they rode on. Deeper in the swamp, there were ever fewer trees and more coarse grass, more open water, and ever more waterfowl; about noon Cray netted a brace of ducks and hung them from his saddle for later. Shortly after that, the companions found themselves facing a wide sheet of water. They could see the road continuing on the far side, but on the near it ended at a pair of wooden posts.

“So much for the accuracy of the map,” said Sepwin.

Cray dismounted to examine the wood, to pick at it with his fingers. “There was a bridge here. A fairly old bridge. I’d like to think that it washed away since the map was made.”

“If there was a bridge,” said Sepwin, “then the water is too deep to wade.”

“I would presume so. We’ll have to swim it.”

“Swim? I don’t know how to swim.”

“Neither do I, but the horses probably do.”

“Probably?”

“It should be easy. The current looks slow enough. You won’t be swept away. Just hang on tight.”

“Not I,” said Sepwin.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Cray shook his head. “Have we come all this way to balk at a little water?”

“Can’t we go around it?”

“If there had been an easy route around it, the road would go that way instead of crossing. Come along now. Or shall I leave you here to face the insects alone tonight?”

Sepwin stared at the water. “I’m really frightened Master Cray. We don’t know how deep the water is.”

Cray looked all around. “I would build a raft for us,” he said, “but there aren’t enough trees around here.” He rubbed at his cheek with one finger, frowning, and finally he said, “There may be another way, Master Feldar. A way you won’t have to get wet. If you’ll trust me.”

“What way?”

“My mother could build us a raft of snakes. There must be enough snakes in these waters for that.”

“Snakes?” He leaned forward on his horse’s neck and peered at the water. “I haven’t seen any snakes yet, have you?”

“A few.” He grinned. “But don’t worry about that No snake will harm you as long as you’re with me.”

“You control snakes as well as spiders?”

“No, nothing like that. They just stay away from me unless I call them. Another trick my mother taught me, useful to a child growing up in a castle full of snakes.”

“Your castle is full of snakes?”

“Oh, yes, and spiders, too.”

“Then I’m glad we didn’t stop there,” said Sepwin.

“You would soon grow accustomed to it, Master Feldar. Now, what do you say to a raft of snakes? I fear your horse will have to swim, though; snakes might be too much for her.”

“We’ll both swim,” Sepwin said firmly.

“You’re sure?”

“Let’s do it already!”

Cray nodded, mounted, and guided Gallant into the stream. The water rose swiftly to the horse’s knees, its chest, its neck, and then the sudden fluid motion of its limbs indicated to Cray that it was swimming. In midstream, Cray glanced back, saw Sepwin still on the bank. “Come along!” he called.

Clinging to his mount’s neck with both arms, Sepwin spurred it into the river with a kick.

Gallant was already climbing the opposite bank when Cray realized that he should have taken his chain mail off before making the crossing, at least the leg harnesses, for they, like everything else he wore below the hips, were now very wet. He dismounted immediately, stripped off his surcoat and the leg sections of his chain and wrapped the wet metal in the dry cloth. While he was doing this, Sepwin emerged from the river and slipped off his horse to sit wearily on the ground. He watched Cray handle the chinking metal.

“I have never seen you take that off before,” he said. “Do you really wear it all the time?”

“As often as I can.” He unsheathed his sword then, and dried it on a patch of grass, leaving the scabbard propped upside down, dripping.

“You know

if you had fallen off your horse, it would have dragged you straight to the bottom.”

“I doubt that. It’s not really so heavy.”

“Steel? Not heavy?”

“I‘’m accustomed to it.”

Sepwin wriggled his shoulders. “I’m glad I don’t want to be a knight. Too much weight for me.”

“Far too much,” said Cray, “for such a skinny frame. It’s handy stuff, though, if someone goes at you with a blade.”

“Well, I promise not to do that, so you can take it off if you like.”

Cray shook his head. “One can never tell when it might be needed. Some enemies don’t give warning of their attacks. In the village, for example, if I hadn’t been wearing my chain, if someone had gone after you with a blade instead of bare hands

where would we be? My Gallant would be pulling a plow, and you and I would be fertilizer for the crops. Thank you, but I’ll continue to wear my chain. Truth to tell, I’d feel strange without the shirt at least.”

“Not comfortable for sleeping, is it?”

“The quilting beneath keeps it from annoying me.”

“Hot in the summer sun, I’ll warrant.”

“Sometimes.”

“I was thinking about last night’s shelter

couldn’t you have your spiders spin a suit of chain that would be just as strong as steel but far lighter?”

Cray smiled. “I suppose I could, though it would have to be spun fresh every few days as the spell wore away. And I’m not sure I could find a lord to accept the service of a man who wore magical armor. I have seen how little ordinary mortals care for being near the sorcerous breed, and I think I would do better to keep that part of my heritage a secret.”

“You’ll have to get rid of those spiders, then.”

Cray lifted one of his arms to inspect the score of tiny bodies that clung to its inner surface, hiding themselves among the links of chain. “Perhaps,” he said. “But for now, and until my future has some pattern to it, I’ll keep them. They still disturb you?”

“Somewhat. But as long as they don’t crawl over me, I can stand them.”

“You’d hardly feel them. They won’t bite you unless I order it. Not like lice.”

“I haven’t any lice!”

“I presume not, since I haven’t seen you scratch.” He clapped Sepwin on one shoulder. “Come along now, let’s ride on. You’ve recovered from your swim.”

“I’m still wet.”

“WelI, so am I. The sun will dry us.”

“Will there be any other rivers to cross?”