Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (14 page)

Talivane, a drowsy Naiji, and Chifeo were the only people I recognized in the courtyard. They waited there with eight or nine others, who ranged in age from a girl who had just entered puberty to a white-bearded man who could barely stand erect.

“The elder needn’t attend,” I said.

“Careful,” whispered Dovriex. “That’s—”

The old man glared at me. His beard appeared to draw into his face as his toothless lips worked, and then the left side of my body felt as if it had been dipped in lava. I opened my mouth to scream, but managed to gasp, “I’ll be delighted to teach him. If he wishes to stay.” The pain left as quickly as it had come.

Talivane laughed, and Chifeo tried to hide a snicker. Talivane said, “Rifkin, this is my father, Lord Mondivinaw. He suffered a stroke several years ago, so I rule in his stead. You seem to have discovered that his stroke has, in some ways, heightened his power. When iron is present and he wishes to work magic, he directs a simple spell of sensation to the left side of his victim’s body. In the lord’s half-paralyzed state, he barely notices the backlash.”

I studied the old man carefully. A wooden crutch supported his left arm, and his face, an unhealthy grey, was wrinkled on the right in something like pride or humor. “If I severed the spines of everyone here,” I said, “you could rule the world.”

Something spoke within my mind:
Very funny, young
—

And, as quickly, something else answered:
Out of my skull, impudent backwoods hedgewizard
!

Naiji was staring at me. Slowly, I realized that the others did so too. “Rifkin?” she said gently, conveying concern, curiosity, and fear.

Talivane had knelt by his father, who lay crumpled on the ground. The old man still breathed, but his breaths were loud and erratic.

“My father...” Talivane gnawed his lip, then began again. “Lord Mondivinaw is the most powerful mindspeakcr of us all. Yet you silenced him....”

I wondered who Talivane talked to, until he turned his gaze from his father’s face to mine. “What are you, Rifkin? Tell me or I swear that you die in the next instant.”

10

AROUND ME, MOST
of the guards had drawn bronze swords and watched me as if I were some monster. While my wits wrestled with a thousand frightening possibilities of what had happened and who the second mindspeaker might be, I said lamely, “I’m ... just Rifkin. Rifkin Boundman.”

“You’re also a witch,” said Tali vane. The air around his hands began to sparkle and shimmer as though he wore gloves made of lightning. “Else you couldn’t have felled my father so easily.”

“A witch? Me?” I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened to Lord Mondivinaw, but I had nothing to do with it.”

“He speaks the truth,” said Naiji. “I’d know if he didn’t. I looked into his thoughts when I met him.”

Talivane glanced at her. “Deeply?”

“Enough to know if he lied.”

“I sensed the mindspeech between Rifkin and our father, only moments ago.”

“That’s true,” I said. “Perhaps the strain was too much for an old man.”

“Perhaps.” Talivane looked at two red-haired women, twins who might have been Dovriex’s sisters. “Take Lord Mondivinaw to his rooms. See that he’s comfortable. Let me know if he regains consciousness.” He looked back at me. The lightning flared once in his hand. “What did he say to you?”

“He wasn’t amused by my comments.”

“Is anyone?”

I shrugged.

“What happened then?” Talivane said.

“Our communication ended, and your father fell.”

“You stared at him like one who’d lost his wits.”

“It’s a common reaction to surprise.”

“You seemed... more than surprised.”

“I rarely hear voices in my head, though some might tell you otherwise.”

Naiji put her hand on her brother’s arm. “You’re too suspicious, Talivane. Father’s already suffered one stroke. This is probably another. I should go to him.”

Talivane nodded slowly. “Go, then.”

Naiji glanced at me as she followed the twins who bore her father. Her look told me nothing of her thoughts.

The remaining witches still seemed suspicious, but they also watched nervously around them, hunting for hidden enemies. Chifeo’s brow was wrinkled in puzzlement, and Dovriex wore a slight, wary smile.

Talivane said, “Very well.” He shook his hand, and the lightning disappeared. “You may begin your class, Rifkin. But remember, you can’t hope to deceive witchfolk for long.”

“Fine,” I said. “Your first lesson, then. So long as the class is in session, address me as Master.”

He hesitated. “Or you won’t teach?”

“You are quick.”

He smiled suddenly. “Then I’ll address you as you please. Master Rifkin, for so long as you have anything I wish to learn.”

Lucky me. I said, “All right, everyone! Leave your boots and weapons by the wall, then form a line.”

No one moved to obey. I stepped over and began unbuckling my sword belt. Dovriex, saying nothing, joined me. Then Talivane and Chifeo followed, and then the others. Naiji and the twins returned while my students were still ridding themselves of shoes and weapons.

“Da sleeps,” she told Talivane. “I think he’ll recover.”

“Thank the gods,” said Talivane. “We need him.”

The class formed a ragged line before me on a cold, bare patch of ground in the courtyard. I was glad for a bright morning sun. I studied each of my students. Chifeo and Dovriex appeared eager, but I could not read Talivane’s face. Naiji seemed proud of me, or possibly amused. The two red-haired women were impatient, perhaps a little dubious of learning anything useful from a dark little foreigner. The rest, two boys and a pretty girl about Chifeo’s age, a burly man, a middle-aged woman as stout as the man, and a thin, balding fellow of Talivane’s age, were still mistrustful of me. Obviously they were only here because Talivane had ordered it.

I smiled as though I had perfect control of my class. “You may already know my name. It is Rifkin Teacher. You’ll address me as Master in any matter concerning the Art, and at all times when we gather to learn it together. I do not claim the title for any ability of mine, or because I demand your respect. When we gather, I represent the Warrior-Saint’s teaching. All courtesy done to me is done to her, as is all discourtesy. Lack of respect will not be punished. It will merely be acknowledged, and the discourteous one will be dismissed from this class. Is that understood?”

They all nodded.

I said, “Say, ‘Yes, Master.’”

“Yes, Master,” they answered in unison, even Talivane.

I smiled. I liked teaching. “Good. Then this is the first lesson for you all. In the short time we have, you cannot hope to learn any tricks that’ll aid you in battling the Duke’s warriors.”

“What? This is a waste of time?” said Talivane.

I scratched my neck, looked at my fingernail, then looked at him. “Did I say that?”

“No.”

I waited.

“Master.”

I smiled again. I considered telling him that true study of the Art did not end when a class was dismissed. “You’ll learn no tricks. But if you listen, and study, and learn, you may be able to act more efficiently in times of stress.” I thought about my own behavior since I had arrived at Castle Gromandiel and said, “Then again, you may not.”

Talivane raised an eyebrow in question, though he nodded.

“Master?” asked Naiji. Her smile at the name was such that I had difficulty restraining mine.

“Yes?”

“What is this Art?”

“It’s a way of life. Some say it’s the best way for people to live, but the truth is that it’s only one of many paths to a goal, and not a goal in itself.”

“And what’s the goal?”

I shrugged. “I rarely know where I’m going. I just choose the road that looks easiest.”

A few students chuckled. Naiji said, “That’s no answer.”

“True. If you’re lucky, you’ll find one for yourself.” I looked around. “Have any of you studied fencing?”

The older man nodded. His moustache was thin, flecked with white, and the hair at his temples had receded. A scar was etched along his left cheek, which was the reason I had asked about fencing.

I said, “Why did you choose to study the sword?”

He smiled coldly. “Because a witch cannot defend himself with a harp.”

I might have told him that would depend on the harpist, but he would not understand. I said, “And has anyone studied dance?”

Chifeo raised his hand.

“Ah. Why?”

“It’s pretty.”

Several of the others laughed. “A good reason,” I told him.

The pretty girl of Chifeo’s age said, “I also dance, Master.” Her smile suggested she was thinking of a more private ballet.

“Why?”

“Because I enjoy learning the things my body can do.”

Dovriex said, “I’d enjoy learning the things your body can do.”

The girl laughed with the others. “Dovriex,” I said quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of classroom spirit. “You wish to become a Master Chef. Why?”

“Because I like to eat.”

The stout woman laughed. “That’s why
I’d
become a chef, but you’re too thin, Tanager.”

Dovriex cocked his head to one side, then said, “But I do like to eat. And cooking’s an easy life.”