The warlock unlocked (19 page)

“Well, he’s probably built a few, by this time—but not enough. So he’s really penned in, huh?”

“He is; yet Duke Foidin lives in fear of him; it seems he is mostpowerful in magic.”

“But not powerful enough to take the spirit at the pass?”

Gwen shook her head. “And is too wise to try. Repute names that spirit mostpowerful.”

“ Mustbe a natural hazard.” Rod had a fleeting vision of a high pass with tall, sheer cliffs on either side, heaped high with permanent snow. An army doesn’t move without a lotof noise; an avalanche… “Still, Duke Foidin no doubt lives in dread of Lord Kern’s finding a way to fly his whole army in. Does he really think we’d work for him?”

“He doubts it; though what had he to lose in trying? Yet he’s not overly assured by ‘our’ victory o’er the Each Uisge;he doth not trust good folk.”

“Wise, in view of his character.”

“Yet even if we’ll not labour for him, he doth want us.” Gwen’s face clouded. “For what purpose, I cannot say; ‘twas too deeply buried, and too dark.”

“Hm.” Rod frowned. “That’s strange; I was expecting something straightforward, like a bit of sadism. Still, with that man, I suppose nothing’dbe straightforward. I’d almost think that’s true of this whole
Page 82

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

land.”

“What land is that, Rod?” Gwen’s voice was small.

Rod shrugged irritably. “Who knows? We don’t exactly have enough data to go on, yet. It lookslike Gramarye—but if it is, we’ve got to be wayfar in the future—at least a thousand years, at a guess.”

“There would be more witches,” Gwen said softly.

Rod nodded. “Yes, there would. And where’d the Each Uisgecome from, and the Crodh Mara? Same place as the Gramarye elves, werewolves, and ghosts, I suppose—but that would mean they’d have risen from latent telepaths thinking about them. And there weren’t any legends about them in Gramarye—were there?”

“I had never heard of them.”

“None had ever told us of them,” Magnus agreed.

“And the elves have told you darn near every folk-tale Gramarye holds. But a thousand years is time for a lot of new tales to crop up… Oh, come on! There’s no point in talking about it; we’re just guessing. Let’s wait until we have some hard information.”

“Such as, mine husband?”

“The year, for openers—but I don’t feel like asking anyone here; there’s no point letting them know just how much we don’t know, other than to excuse our lack of local knowledge. We don’t even know enough to know whose side we’re on.”

“Elidor’s,” Magnus said promptly.

“He is the rightful sovereign,” Gwen agreed.

“Fine—but who’s on his side? Lord Kern?”

Magnus nodded. “He slipped away from the Duke’s men, and was fleeing in hopes of reaching Lord Kern, for protection. This was in his mind whilst the Duke did whip him.”

Rod nodded. “If only he hadn’t stopped to play with the pretty horsey, hm?”

“He did not play, Papa! He knew he stood no chance without a mount!”

“Really?” Rod looked up. “Then he’s got more sense than I pegged him as having.”

Magnus nodded. “Thou hast told me I have ‘roots of wisdom,’ Papa; so hath he.”

“We must defend him,” Gwen said quietly.

“We cannot leave him to that Duke!” Cordelia said stoutly. Rod sighed and capitulated. “All right, all right! We’ll take him with us!”

Page 83

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

They cheered.

Ow! Cur… I mean, confound it!” Father Al fell back onto a grassy hummock, catching his poor bruised foot in both hands. It was the third time he’d stubbed it; Gramarye had uncommonly sharp rocks. They couldn’t poke holes through his boots, but they could, and did, mash the toes inside. He sighed, and rested his ankle over the opposite thigh, massaging it. He’d been hiking for six hours, he guessed—the sky to the east was beginning to lighten with dawn. And all that time, he’d been wandering around, trying to navigate by the occasional glimpse of a star between the bushy trees, hoping he was heading away from the monastery, and not around in a circle back toward it. He had no idea where he was going, really—all that mattered right now was putting as much distance as possible between himself and his too-willing hosts before daybreak. They’d given him one of their brown, hooded robes, but it was torn by thorns in a dozen places; his face and hands were similarly scratched, and he could’ve sworn he’d heard snickering laughter following him through the underbrush from time to time. All in all, he’d had better nights.

He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the bruised left one hit the ground. Enough hiking; time to try to find a place to hole up for the day…

There was a flutter of cloth, and a thump. He whirled toward it, sudden fear clutching his throat. She was a teenager, with fair skin and huge, luminous eyes, and lustrous brown hair that fell down to her waist from a mob-cap. A tightly-laced bodice joined a loose blouse to a full, brightly-colored skirt…

… And she sat astride a broomstick that hovered three feet off the ground. Father Al gawked. Then he remembered his manners and gathered his composure. “Ah… good morning.”

“Good… good morning, good friar.” She seemed shy, almost fearful, but resolved. “May… may I be of aid to thee?”

“Why… I do stand in need of direction,” Father Al answered. “But… forgive me, maiden, for I have been apart from this world almost since birth, and never before have I seen a maid ride a broomstick. I have heard of it, certes, but never have seen it.”

The girl gave a sudden, delighted peal of laughter, and relaxed visibly. “Why, ‘tis nothing, good friar, a mere nothing! Eh, they do keep ye close in cloisters, do they not?”

“Close indeed. Tell me, maiden—how did you learn the trick of that?”

“Learn?” The girl’s smile stretched into a delighted grin. “Why, ‘twas little enough to learn, good friar—I but stare at a thing, and wish it to move, and it doth!”

Page 84

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Telekinesis, Father Al thought giddily, and she treats it as a commonplace. “Hast thou always had this…

talent?”

“Aye, as long as I can remember.” A shadow darkened her face. “And before, too, I think; for the good folk who reared me told me that they found me cast away in a field, at a year’s age. I cannot but think that the mother who bore me was afrighted by seeing childish playthings move about her babe, seemingly of their own accord, and therefore cast me out naked into the fields, to live or die as I saw fit.”

Inborn, Father Al noted, even as his heart was saddened by her history. Prejudice and persecution—was this the lot of these poor, Talented people? And if it was, what had it done to their souls? “Ill done, Ill done!” He shook his head, scowling. “What Christian woman could do such a thing?”

“Why, any,” the girl said, with a sad smile. “Indeed, I cannot blame her; belike she thought I was possessed by a demon.”

Father Al shook his head in exasperation. “So little do these poor country people know of their Faith!”

“Oh, there have been dark tales,” the girl said somberly, “and some truth to them, I know. There do be those harsh souls possessed of witch-power who have taken to worshipping Satan, Father—I have met one myself, and was fortunate to escape with mine life! Yet they are few, and seldom band together.”

“Pray Heaven ‘twill never be otherwise!” And Father Al noted that most of these ‘witches’ were not Satanists, which pretty well assured that their Talent was psionic. “Thine own charity shows the goodness of thine own sort, maiden—thy charity in seeking to aid a poor, benighted traveller; for I’d wager thou knew I had lost mine way.”

“Why, indeed,” the girl said, “for I heard it in thy thoughts.”

“Indeed, indeed.” Father Al nodded. “I had heard of it, yet ‘tis hard to credit when one doth first encounter it.” In fact, his brain whirled; a born telepath, able to read thoughts clearly, not just to receive fuzzy impressions! And that without training! “Are there many like thee, maiden?”

“Nay, not so many—scarce a thousand.”

“Ah.” Father Al smiled sadly. “Yet I doubt me not that Holy Matrimony and God shall swell thy numbers.” And up till now, there had only been two real telepaths in the whole Terran Sphere!

“May I aid thee in thy journey, Father? Whither art thou bound?”

“To find the High Warlock, maiden.”

The girl giggled. “Why, his home is half the way across the kingdom, good friar! ‘Twill take thee a week or more of journeying!”

Father Al sagged. “Oh, no… uh, nay! ‘Tis a matter of some import, and I mind me there is need for haste!”

The girl hesitated, then said shyly, “If ‘tis truly so, good friar, I could carry thee thither upon my broom…”

“Couldst thou indeed! Now bless thee, maiden, for a true, good Christian!”

Page 85