Two weeks easy travel brought them well into Taril. Spring had begun as they made their way west, and rain had made some of the mountain roads slippery. But the mountains of western Radalis were not tall and were broken by wide passes. Travel was messy over muddy roads, but not too difficult. Camping was wet and rainy almost every night. Vince was more concerned about running into bandits or brigands in the mountains. So they had worn their armor over their clothes, and found no bandits willing to try to rob six mailed riders.
They came first to the River Fawn, more of a large stream than a full river, but it had small boats working south along it. There were villages all along the stream, but none that had large houses they could buy, or space to build one. Continuing downstream they found the River Hart, a proper river, with larger boats, but still no big towns.
“None of these villages has any houses big enough for all of us,” noticed Jenny. “We’ve been talking about what sort of house we want, how many rooms, what size rooms, other features. We have a very elaborate idea of what we want, and I don’t know we can find it in one of these villages.”
“We may not find it ready built even in a town or city,” argued Betsy. “We have made a particular image of the house we’d like. We may have to build it from the ground up.”
“That’ll take time,” acknowledged Ben. “But it does mean we kin have ’zactly what we want. We kin stop at an inn while the house is built, I guess. But, I don’t think these villages can be the right place. My village had a carpenter who could repair a house. But we had no one who could build the sort of house we’d like.”
“This Hart River is bigger than the Fawn,” observed Horace. “It seems likely to have larger towns as we go downstream. Let’s just keep traveling until we find a better place to stay. Even if what we want ain’t already built, a good sized town or city will have men who can build to order.”
They went on, the Hart running southwest, then south. After a couple of days it turned almost northwest for a few more days before making a sharp turn straight south. At the hairpin bend in the river was a town, filling the headland created by the large bend. Above and behind the town was a two hundred foot tall hill topped by a large castle. There was no bridge across the river to the town, but Polly, looking ahead, saw an island just south of the bend. Going around the outer curve of the bend, they saw the island, and bridges joining the west bank of the river to the island, and the island to the east bank. There was a large gatehouse at the end of the bridge on the west bank.
The river widened after the bend, running on both sides of the island, which was solid rock, sticking well up out of the river. The banks on both sides were also rocky, small bluffs rather than soft clay or soil. The bank in front of the town had been cut down to provide docks along the river. The island appeared to be about three miles long and just under a half mile wide. And it had a building on it, just south of the road between the bridges. The building had a small gatehouse which was empty, the gate open, no guards to be seen. They passed through and went to inspect the grounds.
The estate was large, with a six foot wall surrounding it. There was a big garden, now gone to weeds, a modest orchard of pear trees, arbors, walkways, pools of water, now dirty and scummy. It was a mansion, obviously uninhabited, and it had seen much better days.
“This’d be perfect,” suggested Ben, looking at the size of the mansion with awe. “There must be plenty of rooms inside, ’n’ there’s certainly room enough outside for a place to practice our weapons, ’n’ for Betsy to shoot. I wonder who owns it, ’cause someone must. Do you think they’d sell it to us? How much would they ask for it, do you s’pose?”
“This is, or was, beautiful,” agreed Jenny. “But the slate roof needs repair, the gate is broken in, the garden is all weedy, the orchard needs serious pruning, and we haven’t even seen the inside. But we do have money to fix all these things.”
“There’s a decent sized town across that bridge,” commented Vince. “They may have the craftsmen to restore this mansion. They will also be able to tell us who owns it, and if the owner is interested in selling. A nice house, with a town nearby but not too close. The castle looks too big for a baron, but it seems to be occupied. There’s smoke coming from its chimneys anyway. How do you feel about living so close to a nobleman, Ben?”
“Duke Mittanolo wanted to use me, to control me. I ain’t sure about the others in Ongar. Grand Duke Gasparillo wanted me to stay around, but I don’t reckon he was gonna lock me up, just keep me near him. The others, I don’t know. They was all talkin’ up Mittanolo’s idea of buildin’ a kingdom with my help, but I’m not sure they wanted to ‘own’ me the way he did. Baron Rassalar wanted me to stay with him, but didn’t object to my leavin’.
“I’d hafta meet this noble to say if I’d hate to live near him. Mebbe if he doesn’t know I’m a wizard, he won’t bother us. I s’pose sooner or later he’ll find out. Should we tell him to begin with, ’n’ see what his reaction is?”
“I’ve told you many times to keep your talent a secret,” warned Betsy. “You don’t want powerful people trying to use you for their own purposes. I was concerned at first that you were too young and innocent to avoid being used. You’ve corrected me on that score several times. I think you should decide what sort of man you think he is. If you think he’s honorable enough, tell him. As you say, he’ll learn what you can do in time. Better to have his support from the start. I wouldn’t want to settle in here and then have to run away.”
“Then let’s go into the town and ask questions,” said Polly.
The town of Uslar had streets running from the riverfront slightly uphill toward the castle. The castle’s hill properly began just east of the town, rising gently to the fortress. The houses in the town were mostly wooden, carved and painted in a pleasant style. The party found a nice inn, the Leaping Hart, facing the market square. They got rooms facing the square and settled in. Fearless took possession of a windowsill and basked in the afternoon sun while studying the traffic in the street below. Once unpacked, the rogues asked directions to the local Temple of Pronustio so they could deposit their money.
The Temple was a large marble building nearby, also on the main square of Uslar. A clear roadway ran all around it, cutting it off from its neighbors. The road was used for ceremonial processions, but also served to reassure people that no one could easily break into the Temple. The interior held a marble floor, marble columns, a marble ceiling overhead. Marble counters lined two of the walls, where acolytes of the Temple assisted those who wished to deposit or withdraw money. The rogues’ deposit was large enough to draw the attention of a full priest, named Salvador.
“I often see large deposits from merchants,” said Salvador, as he received their money. “And often enough in gold. But I’ve never seen so large a deposit of gold in my life. Moreover, I would say, from the armor you’re wearing, that you’re, um, please excuse the term, rogues. I don’t think anyone has ever seen wealthy rogues, or any who bank their money.”
“We are rogues, adventurers if you want a nicer name,” corrected Vince. “Unlike many, we make our living hunting brigands and bandits. Done properly, it’s quite a lucrative way of life. We have also had some luck recently. We found a large number of scales in a former dragon’s lair, and sold ’em for this large sum. This letter from the chief priest of Pronustio in Olpe will explain it. It’s too much to leave at any inn, no matter how honest the innkeeper. We trust you because we believe in the Gods. They punish men for doing wrong, and especially Their own believers who go astray.”
“We got a question to ask you, as well,” added Ben. “Comin’ into town this afternoon, across the bridges, we saw an old derelict mansion. Do you know who owns it? ’N’ do you know if he’d be willin’ to sell it?”
“The palace on the ait?” asked Salvador.
“Eight what?” asked Horace.
“Ait, not eight,” countered Salvador. “It means an island in a river. You’ve never heard the word before? Well, I guess they’re not all that common. Years ago a Scholar of Grasilos taught the word in the Temple school, and, since we have one to talk about, everyone in town now knows it and uses it.
“Who owns the palace? Everyone. And no one. Officially the town of Uslar owns it, much the same way it owns the river down by the docks. The river is there, whether Uslar does anything or not. And the old palace is there, not that anyone cares about it. Let me tell you its history.
“Count Natamurk rules the County of Uslaro and the town of Uslar. That palace was built by his great-great-grandfather, for his bride. She was the daughter of a rich merchant in Offenburg, the royal seat. She was unused to castles and wanted something more, well, palatial. They lived there for a great many years, until her death. It was a lingering, painful death. The count and his son left the palace for the castle because the palace then had so many sad memories.
“They sold the palace to a rich merchant of Uslar. He and his descendants lived there for a long time, until twenty years ago, in fact. Ten years before that Harlan, the last of the merchant family, lost all his wealth. He had had a warehouse by the docks filled with goods he had just imported. It burned down the night the goods arrived, and he couldn’t make any money off his investment.
“Worse, some other deals he was involved in also failed. He was an honest merchant, and paid off all his debts with what little money he still had. But he had nothing for further investments, no way to make more money for himself. He refused loans from other merchants as charity and he was too proud to accept the charity of the town. Harlan stayed on in the palace for ten years, dismissing all his servants except one man almost as old as he was. Just a moment, while I finish handling your deposit. Boy, please take these sacks to the treasury. Have the contents counted and bring me the total.”
The ‘boy’ was a twenty-five-year-old acolyte who piled the bags onto a small wagon and moved off toward the back of the Temple.
“Where was I? Oh, yes, Harlan. We wanted to help him, because he was well-liked. The most we could do for him was to bring him food, the extra duck a hunter just happened to have shot, the spare meat pie from a family party, yesterday’s bread. He wouldn’t take charity, so we just left the food on his doorstep. That way he couldn’t refuse it.
“He was also too stubborn to sell the palace. He could’ve sold it for a good price back then, and lived in, not luxury, but comfort at an inn the rest of his life. No, he rejected any and all offers. At length the offers stopped coming. The palace was becoming too run down.
“Harlan left the palace to the town in his will. He thanked us for our unwanted, secret charity. He said this would repay us for our generosity. It hasn’t because no one wants it now. It’s too dilapidated, too much in need of repair. So, to answer your question, the town owns it and would be overjoyed to sell it to you. And you would be fools to buy such a ruin.”
“We should be the ones to decide if we’re fools,” argued Vince. “We’re looking for a large house, mansion, palace if that’s what’s available. Someplace for all six of us to live in comfort and maybe raise some children. As rogues we’re used to living outdoors on the road. We prefer to stay in inns when possible. But even good inns ain’t as good for long term residence as one’s own house.”
“I’m ’bout to begin some serious studyin’ of ancient texts,” stated Ben. “Inns’re confinin’ ’n’ noisy. A large mansion, or palace as you call it, like this would be nicer. My friends would have room to do things they liked without gittin’ in my way. I wouldn’t be botherin’ ’em, either. Certainly, if we have children the extra space would be very useful.”
“We have money, you’ve seen it,” noted Betsy. “You haven’t said what the price will be, but we think we have enough to buy it and to restore it fully. Will you tell us what the price will be?” “I would if I could, but the town council will have to decide that. And though I would tell you if I could, I shouldn’t, since I know exactly how much money you deposited with the Temple. I might be tempted to use that knowledge to squeeze some extra money from you. Pronustio expects His priests to be honest, as merchants and as priests.
“Talk to Mayor Mathias. It’s getting late in the day, and you might do better to see him in the morning. He sells jewelry in Gem Street, at the sign of the Red Ring. He won’t be able to give you a price, either, but he can call the town council together. They can decide to sell the palace, and probably will since you’re offering money for something which right now has no value to them.”
“If the mayor is a merchant, isn’t he also a priest of Pronustio?” asked Polly.
“Yes, most merchants are also priests of our God, but few of us know how much any person has on deposit. We have records, but we don’t read them to spy on others. Pronustio would not approve.”
***
The rogues were happy with their inn’s location on the main square. City Hall was across the plaza, and it was a short walk to the mayor’s office. An attendant explained that the mayor was usually to be found at his store, but he did happen to be present now. They were shown into a room where a tall, slender man with a fringe of graying hair around a large bald spot sat behind a desk.
After introductions, Betsy told the mayor they wanted to buy the palace on the ait, and asked what the city would charge them for it.
“Have you actually seen the palace?” asked Mayor Mathias. “It’s not in good repair. You’ll have to spend a lot to make it livable. I know I’m not sounding like I’m trying to sell the place, but I am. The town could use whatever money we can get for selling it. We either have to spend money to fix it up, or we have to spend money to tear it down. I’d rather have you buy it and spend the money. But I want you to know what you’re buying.”
“We’ve seen the outside and the grounds,” commented Polly. “We’d like to see the inside, but mostly to see what work needs to be done. Ben, my husband, wants this mansion. Palace. Whatever.”
“I’ll call a meeting of the town council for tonight,” Mathias said. “I’ll also ask a couple of our master carpenters to inspect the building. They’ll give us their estimate of what it’s worth. If you haven’t seen the inside, let’s go take a look now. Give me a half hour to talk to the carpenters. Meet me at the palace. You can go in when you get there, the door isn’t locked. That’s one of the problems.”
***
“The outside walls ain’t cracked,” observed Horace when they returned to the mansion. “That’s a good sign, Ah guess. We already know the roof’s gotta be repaired. What about these here windows?”
“I think the wood is in poor shape,” noted Ben. “See this part here, like it’s gittin’ mushy inside. We may need to replace ’em all ’n’ the shutters.”
“We need those craftsmen from the town to tell us what needs to be done,” added Betsy. “I doubt we can see all the problems ourselves. Let’s go inside, and see what that looks like.”
A short flight of stairs led them into a small entry hall, with a smaller room on each side. This lobby opened onto a large hall with one door on its east wall, and two more on the north wall. The walls were paneled in oak for eight feet up, above that covered in murals depicting mythological scenes. In the center of the wall was a painting of Resnorpia. Goddess of hospitality, welcoming all visitors. The paintings had all suffered from decades of neglect, and large areas had flaked off.
The ceiling was high, held up by a complex of carved oak beams, appearing delicate but strong enough to support the roof. Light poured into the room from a series of tall windows above the south wall, and in the west wall.
“This door in the north wall leads to a corridor with the family’s living quarters,” declared Mathias as he came in. “There was a time I used to visit here, before Harlan went broke. That’s a long time ago when I was just starting out as a merchant. The rooms vary in size, though I can’t tell you why some are large and some are small. Someone later said that the smaller rooms were for personal servants, but I know that all the servants were housed in the back of the palace. Frankly, these are also too nicely decorated. You may feel free to use them as you wish, of course.
“The paintings in these rooms are in the same sorry state as those in the main halls. Some of the shutters are in need of replacement, and damp has gotten in from the river. You’ll most likely keep fires going in all the fireplaces, which will help fight the damp. It was an expense we never met when the palace was empty.
“Let’s go back through the hall; this door in the east wall leads to the Great Hall, then another large hall to match the one on the west. North of the Great Hall is the kitchen area. The palace turns north again at the east large hall, with more living quarters. These were once the rooms of the younger family members. Harlan had no children and used this wing for guests. Here at the north end are the servant quarters and the storerooms. The island is solid rock, so there are no cellars. You may have noticed some other buildings outside. One is, of course, the stables, and another is an extension of the storerooms.”
“We saw the rest of the compound yesterday,” admitted Horace. “We walked around the grounds, but hesitated going inside without permission. Ah think we know exactly what we’re buying now, and how much work’s gonna hafta be done to restore it. Ah like it, it’s perty. We can live in some rooms while the craftsmen work on others. Anyone not like it? Ben, do you still want it?”
“Yeah, there are big rooms for each couple, other rooms we kin share, and rooms for us to be alone in if we want. We’re close to the town, so gittin’ supplies will be easy. ’N’ craftsmen. ’N’ servants. Plenty of room for servants, too. Though I don’t know how many we’ll need.”
“I do,” volunteered Polly. “One of the benefits of being a rich man’s daughter is knowing all about servants. Jenny is our expert on castle defense. I’m the expert on servants. I know how to hire, train, manage, and fire them. My mother insisted I learn from an early age. ‘It’s the wife’s duty to run her husband’s household’ she told me. When she left, I took over running the house for Barnabas. Leave the servants to me.”
“Then, Mathias, all we need is a price,” requested Betsy. “We’re staying at the Leaping Hart Inn. I assume that it’ll take a couple of days, maybe more, to work up a price. We’ll wait patiently.”
“Since you’re serious about living in Uslar,” urged Mathias, “you should visit Count Natamurk, he lives in the castle up the hill. He’s often away, at court, or doing things for the king. But he’s in residence now. The day is getting late, so I’d suggest you visit him in the morning. You don’t need his permission to buy the palace, since his ancestor sold it long ago. But he does like to know the prominent residents in the town.”
“What’s he like?” asked Ben.
“He’s a decent, fair ruler,” said Mathias. “His family have ruled this county for many generations, and have generally been well liked by their subjects. Kings have given them posts as governors of provinces from time to time, and sometimes other royal posts. They’re pleased to be given these honors, and pleased to step down when their warrant expires. Modest but proud of their ancestry.”
“Thank you, I ’preciate your comments on him,” replied Ben. “ I wanna buy this mansion ’n’ it’s good to know the character of the local nobility.
***
The next morning they dressed in their finest clothing, and brushed their hair extra well. They wanted to make as good an impression on the count as they could. They mounted their horses and rode up to the castle. The road up the hill was wide and an easy climb. The castle gate was open, with two men in leather jerkins resting on a bench near it. They rose as the party approached, and, picking up their shields, stood in the gateway.
“Good morrow, gentles,” greeted the older of the guards. “I know all the prosperous people in the county, and can see that you are strangers here. What is your business at the castle?”
“We are strangers to Taril itself,” admitted Vince. “We’ve traveled a long way and, liking the look of this locality, would like to reside here. We would like to speak to Count Natamurk about this, if we may. Is he in residence today, and available to see us?”
“Cade, keep the gate while I escort these nice people inside,” said the guard. “Follow me. My name is Luis. Cade and I are on watch all the time when the gate’s open. Easy job, mainly ’cause the count lets us sit on the bench. We know almost everyone who wants to come in, so there’s no real work in keeping folk out. You can leave your horses here by the stables.”
He led them up a broad set of stairs to a large, well-decorated stone arch surrounding a stout oak door. The door was open to a warm spring day, and they passed in to a small hall beyond which was the great hall, huge, a hundred feet long and forty feet wide. Cressets lined the walls and a grand fireplace dominated the end wall. The floor was bare, except for a pair of carved wooden chairs near the fireplace.
Luis turned them over to a man of middle age in blue and white livery whom he called Aldo, and then went back to his post outside. Aldo left them in the small hall and went through a door to the left and up a curving staircase. After a few minutes, he returned and asked them to follow him up.
“His Excellency is indeed in residence, and at leisure to give you an audience,” Aldo told them. “A modest bow is sufficient to honor him. He will give you such time as he wishes. If he finds you diverting, he may keep you all day. I’ve known it to happen, though not often. If he becomes bored with you, he will send you out. That is also not common, but it is final.”
Aldo introduced them, bowed to his master, and left the room. Vince and the others bowed at the same angle to the gray bearded man in a dark green velvet tunic embroidered with gold thread. The tunic fell to his knees, below which leggings appeared in a pale shade of green. Tan slippers decorated with silvery knotwork designs covered his feet. His hair hung down to the collar of his tunic, and was held in place by a simple silver band.
Another man, younger, stood next to him with his hand on the older man’s shoulder. The younger man was dressed in hunter’s garb, but of a high quality. A fine linen shirt was covered by a well-tanned doe skin jerkin, held closed by silver clasps. A short black beard matched hair shorter than the other man’s. His boots were dark brown and came to his knees.
The room was about twenty feet square, with narrow windows on one wall that looked out over the courtyard toward the main gate. A table was placed in the center of the room, and another sat along a side wall. Scrolls were piled on both tables, and two were spread out on the table by the wall. There were two nicely carved chairs by that table, and several simple stools at the other table.
“Greetings, good gentle folk. I am Count Natamurk and I welcome you to my county. This is my son Hortamun. Postpone your hunting, son, and listen to their story with me. I’m rather intrigued by you. Not that you should wish to reside in the Kingdom of Taril, or even in my county. But that you think it necessary to ask my permission. Or has Luis misheard your request and reported it wrongly to Aldo?”
“No, Your Excellency, Luis made no mistake. Allow me to introduce ourselves to you. I’m Vince, and this is my wife Jenny. Horace and his wife Betsy. Ben and his wife Polly. We seek not just your permission to live here, which we’d have assumed to be easily granted. But we wanted you to know that we intend to buy the derelict mansion on the island in the river.”
“Really! What a strange thing to do! That palace has been in poor shape for years and years. You do realize that the town owns it now? Yes, good. If my ancestor hadn’t sold it, I might have said ‘no’ because of the family history and connections. A place we might have treasured because of that history, if for no other reason. But it’s a building that has died, and now I’m happy to see someone come who wants it to live again.
“So am I, father,” agreed Hortamun. “I was young when Harlan lost his fortune, and don’t remember it well. It was a nice palace, but not really to my taste. The truth is, father, that we enjoy life in the castle too much. The great hall in the palace is too small for our tastes, and how could we have the banquets and dances we hold without a large enough hall? I like to live here because our knights and men at arms are here and we should build a camaraderie with the men who will protect us in war.”
“Let me ask this question, then,” continued Natamurk. “Why do you want this palace? If you wish to live in the County of Uslaro, or just the town of Uslar, could you not find another house? Could you not build a new structure for yourselves?”
“We’re seekin’ a place to live in peace ’n’ quiet,” commented Ben. “Uslar is almost a week’s journey from the nearest border, which should make it safe from invaders. The country around here looks very pleasant, the town’s prosperous, ’n’ the people are friendly. I need a place to study, ’n’ mebbe start a family. Betsy, I’ve decided I like ’em.
“I warn’t sure I’d tell you this, but you been honest about your disinterest in that palace despite its origins. Many nobles cain’t be that honest. I’ll trust you ’cause of that.
“I’m a wizard.
“Not a full blown, turn-you-into-a-toad wizard. But I got some abilities, ’n’ some books on magic. I need to study these books so I kin become a better wizard. This looks to me like a pleasant place to study.”
“A wizard. Really. You expect me to believe that you, young as you are, are a wizard?” asked Natamurk, skeptically. “There is no such thing as magic anymore. Not even a little bit. It ended with the deaths of the wizards at the end of the Big War. Everyone knows that. Even someone as young as you should have heard that.”
Ben said nothing. He lit a small flame on his finger and held it out to the count. Natamurk gawked. He was gesturing with a finger raised, and Ben put out his finger’s flame and lit another on the count’s finger. Natamurk gasped to see a flame on the tip of his finger, then opened his mouth in awe as he realized he felt no pain from the fire.
“Hold your other hand over the flame,” directed Ben. “See, it is hot. It’s a real flame, but it don’t burn you. It’ll burn other things, straw, parchment, wood. I kin do some other things, too, but not all that many. I want to larn how the ancient wizards did their magic, ’n’ I need someplace to study. A house in town may not be quiet enough. A newly built house would be fine, but it would take time to build the sort of house we all want.”
“You’re a wizard,” Natamurk said uncertainly. “All right, they don’t exist, but only a wizard could make a flame like this. I have trouble believing you, but I do, I guess. I’ll have to think about you a bit. But who are the rest of you?”
“I saw them the other day when they came into Uslar, father,” disclosed Hortamun. “They were all dressed in mail, head to foot. I recognize the man with the big brown beard; he had a great axe slung over his shoulder. Don’t see one of those often. And the redheaded woman. Are you, ah, hmmm, adventurers? Is that discreet enough not to upset you?”
“Big man, big beard, big axe, that’s me all over,” laughed Horace. “Ah can’t hide except from a blind man. ‘Adventurers’ is fine, Your Excellency. We even answer to ‘rogues’ if said with a smile. We hunt brigands, mostly, and make a good living at it. Now, we’re here to protect Ben and help him become the first real wizard in three hundred years.”
“Brigand hunters sounds very good,” admitted Natamurk. “Better than ‘rogues’ or even ‘adventurers.’ But I rule a peaceful county. We have no native brigands, and my men are already proficient at destroying any brigands coming from outside. What’ll you do to earn your living here with no brigands to hunt? This is not an idle question, I’m sure you understand. I want my subjects to live in peace, and bringing in rogues might upset that peace.”
“We have a lot of money, Your Excellency,” confessed Betsy. “We think we have enough to buy the palace, restore it, and live comfortably for a long time. How long depends on the cost of buying and restoring the palace.”
“This is the first conversation I’ve ever had with people like you,” declared Natamurk. “I find you very interesting and would like to know more about you. Come with me to a more comfortable room and we can talk in ease. We can sit comfortably and sip a little wine. I’d like to get to know you much better.”
***
Natamurk led them into a different room on the same level, but this room faced over the castle walls, looking at a distant valley. It was a large open area that reminded Horace of a paved beer garden he used to visit, minus the tables and drunks. Instead, several chairs with cushions were placed with careful randomness around it.
“Sit, relax, be at home,” Natamurk directed. “If I invite you here, it is to treat you as a friend. I do not stand on ceremony in this place. Hortamun will join us as soon as he arranges some drink, food, and small tables. I look forward to having you here often from now on. I’d like to learn how you became what you are. I want to know all about Ben. But I also want to learn who all of you are.
“Hortamun says he saw you arrive in Uslar, dressed all in mail. Merchants don’t dress like that. Brigands and bandits don’t dress all in mail, though they may have some. Warriors dress like that. Men at arms for some nobleman. Rogues? I wouldn’t have thought so.”
“We made a substantial profit a year ago,” Vince remarked, carefully avoiding the manner of the profit. “We decided we needed to replace our old ragged armor with something more protective. As you noted, brigands and bandits don’t always wear good armor, but we wanted to have better armor to make sure we’d win the fights. We had the money, for a while, at least, and wanted to get the best we could find. We’ve had some further successes and so we have the money to buy the mansion.”
“So you make your living fighting brigands, and do well at it,” wondered Natamurk. “Warriors don’t often like to settle down. Would you like to keep your skills sharp by joining my troops? I can use well trained fighters, especially now. Ah, here comes Hortamun and our refreshment.
“I was just about to tell them why we need good fighters to join our men at arms. His Majesty, King Topinarien, and his son were visiting here a month ago after the news arrived that Mittanolo had invaded Ghanal. His Majesty has friends in many lands who pass on interesting information to him. He heard about the invasion almost before the unfortunate Prince of Ghanal did. He also heard rumors, with no backing, it must be said, that Mittanolo intended to invade Taril as well, and make himself king.
“True or not, it made King Topinarien think about the kingdom’s defenses. He immediately set out to inspect all the border provinces. He had me muster my entire force and reviewed it carefully. I have a large enough force of men at arms and knights, but we have little real experience in war. Hunting the rare brigand is mostly what we do. I don’t have any rebellious barons, or ambitious neighbors. Taril is all like this. Our kings have sought for many generations to govern well and peacefully. Taril hasn’t been attacked often or recently because it can put a very large army in the field. Large, but untested.
“King Topinarien was kind, but I could see that he found weaknesses in my force. I saw them, too, when I looked harder. The men at arms know how to use a sword, the basics and some more. There are only three, no, two of you, but every...”
“Five,” objected Jenny. “We’ve dressed up in our good clothes to visit you, but we all fight. Betsy is an expert archer, and knows how to train your archers. Horace and his axe, well, you may think you don’t need him, but you haven’t seen him in action. Polly is very good with a spear, and can teach your men how to use the spear in new ways. Vince and I can teach sword work.”
“Vince? Vince. Vince! Yes, that’s the name!” exclaimed Hortamun. “Remember when Sir Apathon and I went to the tournament in Ongar years ago, father? He told me about some hot-shot winning all the fights in the rogues’ tournament. We watched his last few fights and he did very well in the quarter final and semi-final rounds. He was very impressive. I bet a pile on him to win. He lost, in three blows, to a woman. That man was Vince, this Vince. I recognize him now.”
“Two blows,” corrected Vince. “And that woman is Jenny. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize her red hair.”
“It was very overcast that day,” explained Jenny, “and my hair was dirty and dusty from all the fighting.”
“If these are those two, father, we have a very fortunate meeting here,” remarked Hortamun. “You want to bring up the skill level of our warriors. Even Vince as I saw him then was better than a lot of our men. Have you learned anything from your wife since then?”
“Oh, yes, a great deal,” laughed Vince. “She taught me all she knows. She’s taught all of us, except Horace. I’m bigger and stronger than she is, and she’s more agile and dodges more easily than I can. That’s the only difference between us. If you want men trained, Jenny can do it.”
“I used to help my father train men for Baron Kipelsky in Nes, a small county on the east coast of Orilon,” revealed Jenny. “I started learning the sword at age nine. By age ten, I was giving the men shield practice. By twelve I was training them on my own. I learned an awful lot from my father, and even more since I’ve been on my own. Any man I can’t train must be dead.”
“Axe and spear are not weapons we normally consider,” noted Natamurk. “Peasants with spears and billhooks help cover our flanks in battle, in theory, but we haven’t fought a real battle in my lifetime. Are you, all of you, willing to help train my men at arms? I’ll only pay what I would pay any other instructors. Still, that should help you pay for your food.
“Can you train a whole army? I have fifty knights and five hundred men at arms. I have some archers, but not more than a dozen or two. I can’t even tell you how skilled they are, it’s been so long since I saw them shoot. Mittanolo has just conquered Ghanal and will have to spend at least two years maybe, we think, reorganizing its government. What could you do in two years?”
“Two years!” exclaimed Jenny. “In three months of steady work I trained Ben into a good fighter, and Polly became an expert at spear. In five months I could give you a very good army. In two years I could give you the best small army in Orilon, if they want to learn. As I helped my father train swordsmen, Betsy helped her father train archers. Archers take a long time to become strong enough to be useful, but two years may be enough for a start. Horace and Polly can train your men in axe and spear. Horace has a lot of experience; Polly less, but she’s inventive.”
“Then I’m glad I invited you in for this talk,” confessed Natamurk. “I hope, as His Majesty does, that we will not have war. But I want, also as His Majesty does, to be prepared to defeat any invasion. How soon can you start training my men?”
“Once we buy the mansion we can start. Give us some time to dicker with the town over the price,” declared Betsy. “Some time to hire craftsmen to do the work. A few days, too, to get to know the town better. We want to be familiar with it, with its people, its customs and celebrations. Ben may spend all day studying magic, but the rest of us want to be a part of the town.”
“Oh, so do I,” added Ben. “When I’m not busy, that is. I was practicin’ a magic skill a few months ago up north in Ethe. All day, every day. But my friends made me stop in the evenin’ to eat ’n’ drink ’n’ socialize at the inn. It did help me concentrate more the next day.”
“Do you need a quiet word from me to persuade the town to sell the palace?” asked Natamurk. “I prefer to rule with a light touch, and that lets me get away with a little pushing once in a while.”
“No, Your Excellency,” objected Vince. “Mayor Mathias is all in favor of selling to us. All we’re waiting on is a price. He asked some master carpenters to inspect the palace and evaluate it. We should get the price in a day or two. We have what we think will be enough money to buy it, and enough more to restore it as well.”
“Here comes some help on that now,” commented Hortamun. “In addition to our food and drink, I asked Aldo to find the records from great-great-grandfather’s time.
“Many people think nobles care nothing about expense. That we spend our money as fast as it comes in, with no thought about the future. Some do, but they usually wind up paupers in fine clothes. For a long time the Counts of Uslaro have kept strict accounts of their money. We can see every mug they ever received in revenue, and how it was spent. They started a scroll for each year and kept adding new sheets as needed. Every little expense noted in detail.
“Ah, here’s the palace. It took several months to build, and the expenses are spread out quite a bit. Oh, still not finished at year’s end. The next scroll, then. Yes, finished in the second month. The total cost, for everything except the furnishings, was sixty-three thousand moons. That is for a brand-new palace just like the one out there. In perfect condition.
“Our ancestor sold the palace for, um, here it is, fifty thousand moons. That was thirty years after it was built, and it was still in good condition.”
“I know what Salvador offered Harlan almost thirty years ago,” Natamurk told them. “Just a few years after Harlan lost everything, Salvador offered him thirty thousand moons. It was considered to be a high price, over-generous because the town liked Harlan. He still turned it down. How sad. Such a good businessman, except in his own interest.”
“So, you’re suggesting that anything over thirty thousand moons is too much?” asked Betsy.
“Thirty thousand was a high price thirty years ago,” replied Natamurk. “The palace has only deteriorated more in that time. I tell you this because I don’t want you to be fleeced by the merchants of the town. They liked Harlan and would give him a charitable price. You’re strangers and they owe you no favors. Don’t try to take advantage of them, either, though. They are my subjects, and I would have them be prosperous. Poor merchants pay little in taxes. They will, in any case, make up the difference in the price from the money you’ll spend on just ordinary living expenses. They get a lot of their taxes back every year selling us produce.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency, for your kind treatment of us, strangers though we are,” observed Vince. “I think we’ll enjoy living here, working for you in some way, and helping Ben become a great wizard.”
***
“Mayor Mathias would like you to come over to the town hall,” announced the young man standing outside the door to Ben’s room in the Leaping Hart. “He says to tell you the council has made their decision. And that you should come right away. And, um, oh, yes, I’m supposed to say ‘Please’ to be courteous.”
“Thank you, to return your courtesy,” bowed Ben. The young man made a slight bow and left. Ben motioned to Polly to set Fearless down and follow him, and went down the corridor to Vince’s room where the others were.
“The mayor ’n’ the town council wanna see us,” he told them. “Now. ‘Please.’ It’s been half a week to decide to sell to us. I was afraid they’d changed their minds.”
“Ben, five days for the craftsmen to look the mansion over and decide what it’s worth in its current bad state isn’t all that long,” countered Betsy. “The council needed time, too, to decide how high to set their price. If the carpenters set the price too low for the town to like, they may have been figuring out a way to raise it.”
“Now? Our town clothes are respectable enough,” decided Jenny, “so let’s get going. Do we need to bring the money with us?”
“No, once we agree on the price there’ll be time to get the money,” answered Betsy.
The town hall was across the square from their inn, and was impressive. Two stories tall with a high-peaked roof containing at least one other floor of rooms, it was built with smooth white stone, contrasted with red stone window sills and lintels. The entrance was grand, carved with twining vines and heroic figures. The lobby had a yellow marble floor and walls painted with murals depicting the town’s history. Behind the lobby was an open door with Mayor Mathias standing by it. He was dressed in a plush red velvet tunic that reached to his knees, over yellow leggings. A gold chain of office with a large medallion hung about his neck.
“Welcome, welcome. Please come into the council chamber,” he greeted them jovially. “The full council is not here today I’m afraid. We all have our own occupations to attend to, and they were all here for a long meeting yesterday. But we agreed on a price, and they gave me a certain leeway, as mayor, to adjust the price if it was necessary to make the sale.
“Gentlemen, here are Ben, who wishes to buy the old palace, and his wife, Polly. His friends, Vince, Jenny, Horace, and Betsy. My honored guests, these are some of the members of the town council. Reginald, Dimitri, Leandro, and Alvaro, all merchants, and Maurice, a priest of Grasilos, representing all the Temples.
“Since most of the council isn’t here, we might as well sit around this end of the table. Sit, have some wine, and we’ll begin our discussion. The council has decided to sell you the palace. Frankly, we’re happy to be rid of it. It was long a beautiful element of our surroundings, but it’s been in such poor shape for so long that it’s become a civic embarrassment. When Harlan willed his palace to the town he expected it to repay us for our past generosity to him. It would’ve done that and more, if we could’ve found a buyer. No one wanted to pay to restore the palace. Your offer was fortuitous, a real godsend that saves a wonderful structure and avoids the town having to pay for its demolition.”
“Then all that’s left is to discuss the price,” began Betsy. “Don’t look so shocked about my opening up the bargaining. Maybe your wives are rich enough they don’t dicker with their tradesmen or their tailors, but us commoners need to watch every mug. I have the best head for money of any of us, so I get to handle our finances. You can talk to Ben directly if you want, or Vince, or Horace, but they’ll ask my advice if they think they need it. How much do you want for the palace?”
“I sell jewelry,” said Mathias with a smile. “Women buy jewelry and always haggle over the price. Their husbands may pay what I ask without a quibble, but never the wives. The council has set the price at thirty thousand moons. Are you able to pay that amount now?”
“Able, yes. Willing, alas, no,” argued Betsy. “We took your advice, Mayor Mathias, and talked to His Excellency, Count Natamurk. He told us what the palace cost to build, how much it was sold for the first time, and what the last offer was when Harlan was destitute. Ben wants this mansion, and I want to get it for him, but not at any price.
“I don’t know what the craftsmen said about the condition of the building, but I know what I saw. The physical structure, the beams and stonework, is still good. The windows all need to be replaced, their frames and shutters are badly rotted. The roof needs some serious work. The rooms all need to be repainted, and most need a new coat of plaster. The gardens are overgrown with weeds. The well has no bucket or windlass. The orchard is in desperate need of pruning.
“All of this work, and more that I haven’t mentioned, will be performed by the people of Uslar. Carpenters, plasterers, painters, gardeners, other craftsmen will make a lot of money as they restore the mansion to its former glory. The town will benefit from their incomes, as you well know. What the town loses in the purchase price, it’ll regain in the increased wealth of its inhabitants.
“I haven’t even talked about the continuing payments we’ll make to our servants, who will be your town’s sons and daughters, or for our food, drink, and clothing. The town will benefit from an occupied mansion much more than it ever could from an empty building, or a cleared plot of ground.”
“Ahem, well, the council anticipated that you might be cautious,” mentioned Mathias. “That was a starting price, you understand. Since you’re so aware of the shortcomings of the palace, I’ll drop our price to twenty-five thousand moons.”
“Quite frankly,” countered Betsy, “I think ten thousand moons is a reasonable price for the palace as it stands now. However, Count Natamurk also advised me not to take advantage of you. I’ll make you a counteroffer of fifteen thousand moons. Cash, payable today as soon as we’re finished.”
“Uslar is not a poor town,” objected Mathias, “but we do have expenses for a great many things. We don’t have many paupers, but there are a few. More of an expense are the almshouses for the elderly who have no family left. We have plans for a new fountain in the square. That’ll require some money. I think a better price is twenty thousand moons.
“Done!” agreed Betsy loudly.
“Wonderful!” declared Mathias. “It’ll take a few minutes for our clerk to write up the official contract. I understand you have your money at the Temple of Pronustio, which is always a good sacred place to seal deals. And since the town trusts the Temple, we’ll have no need to doubt their counting of the money.”
To the clerk he ordered, “When you’ve finished, bring the document and two guards to the Temple. Then, with all of our signatures and the payment, we’ll be done and can celebrate.”
As they left the town hall, Maurice the priest of Grasilos asked Ben a question.
“Mayor Mathias told us you were interested in buying the old palace as a place to study in peace and quiet. As a scholar, I’m interested in what other people study. What is your area of interest?”
“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell the mayor,” replied Ben. “I told the count, but not him. I’m a wizard in trainin’, ’n’ intend to study magic. I got two grimoires ’n’ another book that’ll help me read ’n’ understand the grimoires.”
“Magic! Wizardry!” yelled Leandro in the middle of the square. “Such an abomination should never be allowed in Uslar! Mathias, how could you not inquire what he was going to study? Of all the ancient evils, magic was the worst! How many thousands of people died because of wizards in the Big War? We haven’t yet signed the contract. We can still forbid this evil from entering our town!”
“Leandro! Leandro, restrain yourself!” urged Maurice. “Power-mad rulers caused the deaths of the Big War. Wizards helped them, yes, but so did noblemen like Count Natamurk, merchants like you, and even ordinary peasants. We can’t blame everyone who helped carry on that war.”
“I’ve heard the same stories Leandro has,” mentioned a man in a green tunic who overheard them. “Wizards using their magic to kill people, innocent people, with no mercy. One turned a whole town to stone just as a joke. We don’t need evil like that here!”
“That story is a lie,” objected Maurice. “I’ve studied the history of the Big War, and nothing like that ever happened. That story was first told by a king who wanted to destroy all other kings’ wizards. He wanted to make people hate all wizards except his. Shouldn’t we at least learn what sort of a man this Ben is? Blaming him for the evils of the past is wrong. He didn’t do those things, wasn’t even alive then.”
A loud cry of anguish broke the air, followed by a great clamor of alarmed and angry voices. Off to the left, down a side street, a crowd was gathering around something on the ground.
“My daughter! My daughter!” came the loudest cry. “Help her, somebody! Please! Oh, dear Gods! Please help my daughter!”
A man came running from the crowd straight for the mayor.
“Come quickly, your honor, there’s been a terrible accident,” he informed them. “A wagon driver was careless and ran over a young girl. Her leg is broken, and the crowd wants to punish the driver.”
Mathias led the way into the crowd of angry townsfolk. They parted for him out of respect for his office and quieted down at his request. The wagon was on the side of the street, its driver standing with his back against it, hoping it might protect him. The girl was lying on the street, crying loudly in pain, her dress pulled up to show the leg horribly bent and smashed.
Mathias took charge of the scene, changing from a jovial gem dealer to a man who knew how to lead and inspire people in an instant.
“We need to lift her up carefully,” he directed. “She can’t be allowed to lie there like that. Take this board from the back of the wagon. Now gently put it under her leg to support it. Raise her up now. Bring her into that inn while we send for a healer. Has anyone gone for one yet? Well, do so, please. A healer won’t know to come here if no one asks for one. Make way, let us get through here.”
The men who were carrying her placed her on the first large table in the inn. Mathias talked to the innkeeper about why his house was being commandeered. A distraught man, crying uncontrollably, was holding the girl’s hand and stroking her hair, still asking for help.
Three healers came into the inn, out of breath because they had run from their Temple. Mathias told them, “Blaise, Karen, Tania, this girl needs your help very badly. She was run over by a wagon, and her leg is broken, crushed.”
They gathered around the crying girl and began to examine her leg. The bone must have been totally shattered since the flesh was flat, without any internal support. Ben squeezed through the crowd and approached the girl. He examined her leg, and saw no tears in the skin. He sat on a bench next to the table and took her leg in his hands. Polly and the others followed him in and stood behind him.
“What are you doing with my daughter?” the distraught man asked in anguish.
“Here, leave her alone,” growled Blaise. “Let us healers take care of her.”
“I’m gonna try to heal her leg,” explained Ben. “Please try to keep quiet. I need to concentrate to do this.”
“He’s not one of the healers,” shouted another man. “They’re already here; he’s not a healer!”
“Ben asked, politely, for quiet,” demanded Polly, putting the point of her dagger against the man’s throat. “If you will not be quiet on your own, I will cut your throat and make you be quiet that way.”
The room went quiet, except for the cries of the injured girl. Even her suffering father gave up his wailing. Ben moved his hands over the crushed leg, feeling the place where the wagon wheel had broken the bone and flattened the flesh.
The bone’s broken, but I don’t reckon the blood vessels’re torn. No, damaged mebbe, but not torn. The bone’s in so many fragments. Kin I put it back together? What’s this like? Think, Ben, think. That sheep that broke its leg. We had to kill it. We ate it, of course. What was that leg like when we carved it up? Splinters. Lots of bone splinters. All through the leg, but all close to one another.
I thought it would break like a branch, one jagged break, but only one. But after dinner pa had taken the unbroken part of the bone ’n’ hit it with a hammer. He shattered that bone into even more splinters. So that’s what bones do when they break. If I kin put all the pieces of bone back together again, the bone should support her like it did before. The flesh I know I kin do, just like Vince’s arm.
All these little bits, but every splinter must be near the rest of the splinters it was next to when it was a whole bone. When pa smashed that mutton bone, the pieces flew all over. But the flesh of this leg has kept the splinters close to each other. So this piece must go with this one, yes. ’N’ this one is next to it here.
An hour later Ben lifted his hands from the leg. It was no longer flattened and distorted. It was straight and the flesh looked normal. The girl had stopped crying half an hour earlier. Ben looked tired but not about to pass out.
“Do you think you kin stand up?” he asked the girl.
“I don’t know,” she whispered weakly. “I’ll try.”
She shifted her weight to swing her leg off the table, assisted by her father and Ben. She lowered her uninjured leg to the floor first and stood on it. Then she brought the other foot to the floor and put some weight on it. It held. She took a step. It held. She jumped. It held. The crowd erupted in joyous cheers. Her father hugged her to his chest, crying tears of joy now.
And Leandro came up to Ben. He threw himself on his knees on the floor before Ben.
“Ben, I apologize!” he confessed with regret and shame. “I was wrong. I am wrong. I apologize from the very bottom of my heart, my being. I know this girl and her family, they’re my fellow townsmen. I would’ve paid a great deal to have the healer mend her leg. You did it even though you never saw her before in your life. Such a great man! Please forgive me! I don’t deserve it because of the horrid things I said about you. But please have mercy on me!”
“Have mercy on you?” asked Ben. “For what? For ’spressin’ your dislike of wizards? Is that a crime? I disagreed with your opinion, obviously, but I wouldn’t punish you for havin’ it. There ain’t been no wizards for centuries, so how could you ever meet a nice one? As for healin’ the girl, how could I not heal her? She was in great pain, ’n’ needed help. I could offer that help. Not helpin’ her when I could woulda justified your complaints about me. Helpin’ her when I could is, well, good neighborliness. I want to be a friend ’n’ neighbor to all the people of Uslar.”
“How much do you want from me?” asked Leandro. “I said I would have paid for a healer. I will pay you just as much.”
“Nothin’,” refused Ben. “I may need to charge for magic when I’ve larned more about it. But right now one of the few magics I got is the ability to heal some wounds. I won’t charge to save someone from pain ’n’ bein’ a cripple. I didn’t do this to earn your friendship, either, though I will accept that if you are offerin’ it.”
“Oh, most certainly, Ben, I will be your best friend ever,” gushed Leandro.
“And I as well. My name is Xavier, and that is my daughter Joan you healed. I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay. They say you’re going to live in the old palace. I’m a butcher, and supply the count. Let me supply you with my best cuts of meat, free, for as long as you stay here.”
“No, I cain’t do that,” objected Ben. “You need to earn your livin’. For your own sake, ’n’ for your daughter’s sake. Joan mustn’t starve ’cause you feed me for nothin’. ’N’ you mustn’t sell me your finest cuts of meat. The count should continue to git your best, ’cause he’s the count. I will let you sell me your second best cuts. At the same price you’d sell to anyone else. Is that fair?”
“How can I refuse the man who has saved my daughter? I agree.”
“Then, let us go to the Temple of Pronustio,” directed Mathias, “to complete the sale of the palace. Then we’ll all go to the Leaping Hart and celebrate, everyone of us, the whole town, at my expense.”
***
Uslar was a fair sized town, with several thousand inhabitants, dozens of streets, and its people were always scattered through the entire town, at home, at work, running errands. Who could gather all of them to the town square in an instant?
Whoever could, did. Ben stepped out of the Temple of Pronustio to see what seemed to be the entire population of Uslar waiting for him. Men were trying to set up tables in the throng, even with no space for them. Other men were pushing barrels of beer toward the tables, beer supplied by the Leaping Hart and all of its rivals.
The cheering was more than Ben could stand. He wasn’t used to being wildly popular, the center of attention, the idol of an entire town. In Ongar, he saw only the dukes and his friends honoring him for healing Jenny. He was unaware of any public celebration, acclaim, or adoration. He hadn’t expected anything else here. He wanted to run away, but the crowd was too thick and too insistent on seeing, touching, being with him.
“I never thought ’bout what it would mean to be the most famous wizard in Orilon,” he lamented to Polly. “I just helped heal a young girl. That’s all. Is that so special?”
“Yes, dear, silly Ben,” Polly chuckled. “You didn’t see the people at Ongar after you healed Jenny. Why did you think the dukes were so attentive to you? A world that saw wizards as just a dim memory suddenly sees a real wizard again. And not the wizard that Leandro feared, out to harm everyone because he hated them. But a wizard who helps people. Not for money, but just because he could.
“That was a very kind and generous thing you did for Joan. We expect that sort of thing from you, but we’ve lived with you for this whole year. These people don’t know you, and want to show that they like you. I know you don’t want to be the center of attention like this, but what did you think fame was? Accept it today. It is their natural, unforced gratitude for what they believe is a miracle.”
Food, meat, bread, fruits of all kinds began to appear as well, filtering awkwardly through the crowd. Music sounded from a few minstrels, not quite able to wander, but playing for everyone’s enjoyment. There was no space to dance, but people swayed to the rhythm.
Some men lifted Ben into the air and carried him to a table in the center of the square, where he could barely find space for his feet among the beer barrels and the piles of food. He stood there awkwardly, his face red, embarrassed at his unwanted fame. He looked down at his feet, trying to make sure they weren’t going to step wrongly. He looked out at the throng of smiling, cheering faces and realized that Polly was right.
This is what gratitude, immense gratitude looks like. I wanted to be the great ’n’ famous wizard that everybody loved. This is what I wanted when I started out. I wish I’d known what fame woulda been like back then. No, I woulda still healed that girl. Joan. I didn’t even know her name then. But she needed help, ’n’ no one else coulda helped her. I wouldn’ta ever refused to help her. Much as I dislike bein’ a public spectacle, Polly’s right. This is an honest feelin’ from these people, ’n’ I should be grateful to ’em for bein’ grateful to me. Not every decent act gits a “thank you.”
“People of Uslar, thank you for this here reception,” he spoke as loudly as he could. “I’m ’mbarrassed by your cheers. I’m a young man, only seventeen despite my scraggly beard. A year ago I was just a simple farm boy, herdin’ sheep. It was all I was good for. I’ve larned how to do a little magic, ’n’ I’m happy that it’s benefited one of your daughters.
“I’m gonna be livin’ in the old palace, the mansion on the island, the ait. I’m gonna be studying books on magic so’s I kin become a better wizard ’n’ do even more useful magic. I want to be a part of this town. If you love me like this, I love you just as much in return. Thank you for welcomin’ me!”
More cheering. Ben blushed even redder. He jumped down from the table to try to avoid all the adoring faces. He accepted a mug full of beer thrust at him by a man standing close by. Belatedly, he recognized him as Xavier, Joan’s father. And there was Joan, looking at him raptly. The crowd was still cheering so loudly that Ben almost didn’t hear her.
“I want to marry you,” she told him blushing deeply. “Please marry me! I owe you my life. I want to marry you!”
“I ’preciate your very kind offer,” Ben, also blushing, thanked her. “But I already got a wife, Polly here. ’N’ you look a trifle young to be gittin’ married. How old are you?”
“Ten,” she mumbled.
“Please forgive her enthusiasm,” begged Xavier. “I told her she was too young for you, but you did save her from a life as a cripple. She would’ve survived, but the healers could only cut her leg off. We’ve seen it before. I’ll keep saying ‘thank you’ for what you did, forever. And so will she.”
The celebration continued late into the night, with more people arriving from the outlying farms. Count Natamurk and Hortamun and their wives came down from the castle to join in the praise for the young wizard. A cart full of cooked meats accompanied them. The count found Ben surrounded by his old friends in the midst of his new friends.
“I didn’t really believe you could be a wizard,” confessed Natamurk. “You never told me that you were such a great wizard as this! Healing serious wounds! I didn’t believe them when they told me some wizard healed a girl with a shattered leg. Then I remembered your flame. I said I barely believed you were a wizard, but I went along with your joke, as I thought it was, reluctantly. Now I have no doubt at all. I’m glad you’re settling here, in my county, in my town, under my protection.
“I’ve brought more victuals for the party. Most of the town’s celebrations are planned in advance, so the costs can be budgeted for. Unexpected celebrations lead to unexpected expenses, and I like to help them with a donation from the castle larders. It costs me something, but the reward of a happy town is worth it.”
At midnight, as they went to bed at last, Ben paused on the stairs. He turned to Betsy and told her, “I want to do somethin’ for the people who gave us all that food ’n’ drink today. I s’pose every inn, butcher, ’n’ baker must have contributed. Kin we give ’em money to pay for it all? I know, they were bein’ generous so the town could celebrate. But I kin be generous to ’em, too, cain’t I?
“Natamurk said he brought food to offset some of the ’spense to the town. All right, he’s a count ’n’ owns the town, ’n’ I’m not. But the innkeepers ’n’ the others normally make their livin’ by sellin” this food ’n’ drink. I can’t let ’em bear the entire cost. Why save Joan’s leg if I’m gonna make her father poor? His gratitude shouldn’t impoverish him or any of the others.”
“Ben, you’re such a kindhearted man,” answered Betsy. “Are you the same tough guy who scared a dragon off? Yes, I’ll go around to all the suppliers tomorrow and offer them repayment for their donations.”
***
A few days after healing Joan’s leg Ben was sitting in the Leaping Hart’s main room, sipping beer and reading his Treatise on magic. Fearless sat on the table, allowing Ben to idly stroke his fur. Three people entered the pub and introduced themselves.
“I am Blaise,” announced the older man with a longish gray beard. “These are Karen and Tania, and we’re priests of Lesopatia, the Goddess of Healing.” Karen was a tall blond woman and Tania was short with flowing black hair.
“Welcome, good healers,” greeted Ben. “Sit down, please, ’n’ join me in a drink. Innkeeper, another three mugs of this delightful beer, please.”
“Thank you,” Blaise accepted. “We’ve come to ask you about your marvelous healing ability. When we heard about the accident all three of us came to help, since a crushed leg is a very serious injury. Lesopatia may heal such a wound, but only after a great deal of prayer. You may remember seeing us trying to help Joan. Maybe not, you pushed us away rather quickly. We would have complained but we saw you sitting there, calmly running your hands over Joan’s calf, as if giving her a light massage. That puzzled us.
“You could not have been working on her for more than an hour, and then she was standing without any problem. We were as amazed as everyone else. I’ve seen few such injuries cured so well by the Goddess, though most of them have been young people such as Joan. Lesopatia favors such innocent victims of fate and tries to ameliorate their suffering.
“But you’re not a priest of Lesopatia. More, you say you’re a wizard. I wouldn’t believe that, but you healed Joan without Lesopatia’s assistance. The Goddess told us that you’re not one of Her priests, and sought no aid from Her. She also told us that She’s very grateful for your generous act, and for other magical healing you have done. So are we, of course.
“Since Lesopatia apparently approves of magical healing, we’d like to ask you to teach us how to do it. We don’t often have such awful injuries to heal, but even milder ones can strain our abilities. If we could do what you did, we’d be much more helpful to our fellow townsfolk. Will you please teach us your methods?”
“Hmmm, this’ll be difficult,” confessed Ben. “I’m a wizard, but more accurately a wizard in trainin’. I kin do some magic, but what I kin do I’ve taught myself. I’m only now beginnin’ to larn the secrets of the ancient wizards, ’n’ don’t ’spect to master their methods for a long time yet.
“’N’ what I taught myself I mebbe cain’t teach others. I’ve taught my wife Polly some magic, but she has some magical talent. I reckon that’s necessary to do magic. This Treatise on magic I’m readin’ says it’s very important. There warn’t all that many wizards in the old days, so I guess if you didn’t have talent, you couldn’t do it. Like singin’ really well, or paintin’ a life-like portrait of someone.”
“How can we tell if we have any talent?” asked Karen. “Is there some way of knowing? Some obvious sign?”
“No, nothin’ obvious,” replied Ben. “Look at me. Do I look like a wizard? I’m very ordinary, goofy lookin’ actually. Even with some talent, it may take some effort to develop it. Polly has talent, but it took her some time to larn the first bit of magic I taught her. She’s still workin’ on larnin’ how to heal wounds.”
“That doesn’t answer Karen’s question,” countered Tania. “How did you know Polly had talent?”
“She could find things just by thinkin’ ’bout ’em,” explained Ben. “If I showed her a ring, ’n’ hid it in another room, she’d think about the ring, ’n’ go find it right away. She’d just know where it was. That had to be a magical talent of some sort. I tried to teach her some other simple magic, ’n’ she larned.
“Here’s the first real magic I ever did. It’s simple ’n’ you’ll know immediately if you larn it. It took me a while to git it at first, ’n’ it took Polly a while to larn it. But it’s not hard. Look at my finger. I kin put a flame on the tip of it. See. I worked this out a few years ago when I needed to go to the outhouse in the middle of the night. I wanted to see my way ’n’ couldn’t in the dark. I kept thinkin’ how useful it would be to have a light. Then one night I had one.
“You gotta think kinda hard about what you want. You gotta want it a lot. The first time I healed a wound, my friend Vince had a nasty cut on his arm. I really wanted to heal it, ’n’ I did. Since then I’ve been able to heal wounds much more easily. Joan’s leg was hard ’cause I had to use only my mind to see what was wrong inside her leg. But all the magic I do uses my mind to do the work. This introductory book on magic emphasizes that one uses one’s mind to do everythin’.
“Your mind’s gotta do all the work, ’n’ you gotta be able to make it do what you want. When I was healin’ Joan I was thinkin’ about what a shattered leg looks like inside. As a boy, we had a sheep that got its leg broken, so we ate it. When we cut open the roast leg, I saw all the bone shards. I remembered that ’n’ that helped me visualize what Joan’s leg looked like inside. I ‘saw’ all those bits of bone, ’n’ pushed ’em ’round with my mind until they were back in their proper places. You gotta make your mind git inside the thing you’re working on ’n’ change it.”
“Think about a flame on my finger,” mused Blaise. “and it’ll pop up. All right, I’m thinking about it, trying to visualize a flame. Nothing. I really want to see a flame. Still nothing. Karen, Tania, any luck?”
“If it works, it works. You ain’t gotta ask,” Ben advised. “But I said it may not happen the first time. ’N’ if you don’t have a talent for magic it won’t happen at all. I’ll give you some more things to try at home. Here’s how I heal cuts. I cut myself like this, just a small cut. I press the sides of the cut together ’n’ hold ’em. You’d do this if you was tryin’ to stop the wound from bleedin’. But I kin fully heal the cut. See, not even a scar.
“Don’t try cuttin’ yourselves to do this. Cut a scrap of leather, or a piece of meat. It works the same, ’n’ you won’t git hurt. Or take your knife ’n’ whittle some small scraps of wood from a stick. Try to move the little scraps around with just your mind. Think about a scrap shiftin’ a little this way or that, as if they was bein’ blown by the wind, but without the wind.”
“If we can’t do these things, does that mean we have no talent for magic?” asked Blaise. “How long should we try before we give up?”
“If you ain’t got no success with any of these in two weeks, give it up. Don’t feel bad about it. Most people cain’t do magic. If you have some success, even a little, come back ’n’ we’ll talk again. ’N’ if you do somethin’ else that don’t seem normal, come back. Mebbe your talent is different than mine.”
***
Two days after Joan had been healed, the craftsmen of Uslar – the carpenters, plasterers, painters, masons, gardeners – had arrived to inspect the work to be done. They gave their estimates, in time and money, of what it would take to make the mansion beautiful again. Ben and his friends hired teams of workers, described the changes they wanted in the layout of the mansion and its grounds, and left them to their work.
Once the work on the mansion had begun, Ben’s friends began the work of training Count Natamurk’s men at arms. His five hundred men included four hundred from his eight barons. All needed to be trained, and trained in one place by one team. The weather was turning into full spring and getting warm enough to spend a lot of time in tents.
Each baron led his own force in battle, in theory, but peace meant they tended to leave their warriors under the care of one of their knights. Wars did not happen in Taril. Fighting brigands counted as a battle, but even that did not happen often. Natamurk’s army may not have impressed the king, but it was as good as a permanently peacetime army could be.
Count Natamurk led his army when it went after brigands, and he planned to lead it in any real battle that might occur. His son Hortamun would assist him, as would Griffin and Cooper, his two marshals who were responsible for the army. While their troops settled into their camps, the barons and their captains joined Natamurk and Hortamun in the castle to meet their trainers.
Jenny began by describing how a shield line with spearmen and axemen behind it could do better than a regular line. She saw several skeptical faces.
“That’s mighty big talk, Jenny,” argued Griffin. “I’ve never seen a woman who could train men at arms, but you say you started training men when you were twelve. Fine, I’ll assume you can train our men. But how can we be certain that your changes will actually improve our army? We know sword and shield, everyone knows sword and shield. Why tinker with something that works?”
“Because it works, but it could work better,” countered Jenny. “Your shield wall faces off against his, swords clang, shields parry, hardly anyone gets hurt. If your men are well trained, and his men are equally well trained, it becomes a stalemate. Attack, parry, attack, parry, all day.
“Things only change when someone gets killed or injured. Then the line begins to weaken, but only then. My system makes their line fall apart sooner, with less effort on our part. I was also hesitant to accept these changes. But I saw them in action and saw how effective they are.
“I want to demonstrate this to you. I want to take fifty of your men and have them fight a practice fight against another fifty. The first fifty will get half a week of special training before the fight. Three men will get spears and two will have axes. This is the minimum number of spearmen and axemen I think will work for a team of fifty men. May I have fifty men to train this way? To show you what we can do for you?”
“I don’t think it’ll be all that effective,” replied Griffin. “But I’m willing to go along, because I might be wrong. I’m old-fashioned, but not a stick in the mud. Styles of fighting change, and I’m willing to look at other styles. If you can prove that this works, I’ll gladly fight your way.”
“Thank you for saying that, Griffin,” approved Natamurk, “because I was going to grant Jenny’s request however you felt. All of you, please study these people and their style of fighting. They’ve told me of some of their fights, where they have beaten much larger forces. I think we can build upon their way of fighting.”
“Any fifty men?” asked Cooper.
“Any fifty at all,” answered Jenny. “We’ll pick those to get spears and axes. We’ll give them the minimum training with those weapons and train the rest on how to work with them. Five days is not really enough to build a high quality fighting force. But it’s enough to show what can be done with these types of warriors.”
“I’m Baron Midalto and His Majesty was the most upset with my troops. In my defense, I claim not only the long peace, but my late father. He didn’t think we needed to worry about the quality of our men, and he lived to a great age. I succeeded him last year, but haven’t done anything either. So, my men are the least effective and if you can make them better in five days, I’ll support anything you want to do.”
***
“Aren’t you going to lead the men you’ve trained?” asked Natamurk. “Cooper is leading his team.”
“I won’t be there to lead them in a war, Your Excellency,” observed Jenny. “I think they will do a credible job without my leading them. This is just a demonstration of what can be done with more time. Give the order to begin when you want.”
Natamurk raised his hand, a trumpet blared, and the men began fighting. Natamurk didn’t have any of the simulation weapons used in the tournament at Ongar, but any wooden weapons made combat safe. Wooden axes didn’t split wooden shields, but the shieldmen were told to drop their shields if they were hit hard. Hard blows from axes and hard pokes from spears brought cries of mild pain, and men dropped, playing dead.
Both shield lines held well at first. Then an axe dropped on a man’s head and he withdrew from the fight, replaced by a man from his team’s second rank. One of Baron Midalto’s men forgot his training and was penalized by a sword across his helmet. As he pulled out of the line, a spear thrust through his empty space and “killed” the man who had hit him.
Three more of Midalto’s men were sloppy in holding their shields properly and went down. Again, spear points struck into the gaps in the line. Cooper’s men couldn’t seem to push through the breaks fast enough. Midalto’s second rank was always stepping in right behind the spears.
The spearmen seemed to be getting used to their work now, and two more shieldmen in the opposing line fell out, but not close together. An axeman took advantage of one of them being absent to take out his immediate neighbor. Now there was a two man hole in Cooper’s line, and three of Midalto’s men pushed into it.
Cooper’s line was still holding, but the break had come toward its end. That end was being bent back and crowding the second and third ranks together. Another spear and axe combination opened another hole in the middle of the line. Five men pushed into this hole, widening it enough to break the whole line. It fell apart and the fight dissolved into one on one fighting. One of the spearmen dropped, but the other two danced away from all attackers and kept on sticking their foes.
“Hold!” shouted Natamurk. “That’s enough. Thank you all for your efforts. There’s food and drink for all of you in the tent over there.”
“I’m sorry, Your Excellency,” Cooper apologized. “She trained them well, in very little time. We took out five or six of her front line men, but we lost twice that many. And they broke our line in two places. I like this approach to fighting a shield wall. I saw mistakes some of the men were making, but I could also see how well this will work without the mistakes. More training will remove those errors. How soon can you start training the whole army, Jenny?”
“Tomorrow, if you want,” replied Jenny. “We need to make new wooden weapons, though. This morning Horace was going through your armory and found a stash of old halberds. He thinks they will be more useful than his great axe.”
***
Five days later Ben had gotten tired of reading his Treatise. It was written in a heavy script that was not easy to read. He had gone out for a walk and was now standing by the town gate, waiting for the others to return from training the count’s men at arms. A dusty man in ragged clothes had just crossed over the eastern bridge and was about to pass Ben to enter the town when he stopped and looked at him in amazement.
“You’re him! The man who was attacked by thieves in Olpe! I’m Duncan, I mopped up the blood off your floor. I heard you talking with your friends about danger, and fighting, and magic. It sounded so exciting! I wanted to join you but you left the next morning.
“But you came back and everyone was talking about how you were selling dragon scales! Wow! Dragons! I really wanted to join up with you then, but, well, I got cold feet. I don’t know how to fight, and would probably wet myself if I ran into a dragon. Then you left again.
“I thought, ‘This is my only chance to do something big, so I have to follow them.’ I ran away from home a couple of years ago when I was fifteen. I wanted to be more than a farmer. Even being a blacksmith or a shopkeeper seemed better to me. But no one was hiring in Olpe, except at the inn. The innkeeper is nice and treated me well, but it wasn’t exciting. I didn’t mind until I met you and your friends.
“So I went after you. Lamar, the innkeeper, gave me my pay and a little more for the road. He wished me luck and said I could have my job back if I gave up and returned. I asked around and people said you were going to Taril, so I went west. I had to walk ’cause I ain’t got a horse. I asked at every town and village if you’d been there. I didn’t know all your names, but I asked about the big guy with the axe and the woman with the red hair.
“It’s taken me weeks to get here ’cause I kept running out of money. I hadda take odd jobs and get some more cash for the road. And here you are! Finally! I’m so happy! Can you make me a part of your band? Please?”
“Hmmm. You don’t know how to fight. Well, Jenny kin fix that. ’N’ you did travel a long way on foot without gittin’ killed. Armed with what? A dagger? Is that all? Impressive. Bold. I cain’t promise that we’ll let you join us, but we will at least give you a roof tonight ’n’ a good meal. You look like you could use one.
“We’ve bought that mansion you just passed ’n’ when it’s repaired, we’ll need servants. We can find you a place as a servant if you want, even if we don’t want you in our band. That’ll depend on the others. They should be comin’ home soon, from the castle up there.”
Duncan looked where Ben was pointing, toward the castle two miles away. He looked for a while, then squinted and looked again.
“They should be here in half an hour,” declared Duncan. “They just left the castle. What’s the design on the castle wall above the gate?”
“It’s a stag, for the Hart River. Wait, kin you see that at this distance? That’s two miles away. ’N’ how kin you tell who left the gate?”
“The big guy with the axe and the redhead. The sun is bright today and her hair looks like fire.”
“Fine, but it’s still two miles from here to the castle. How kin you make out any detail at this distance?”
“I don’t know. I just look hard, and squint a bit, and then things that are far away seem to be really close. Can’t you do that?”
“No. No one kin. Ain’t you ever noticed that no one else was spottin’ things far away when you did?”
“I just figured they weren’t trying hard enough. I have to make an effort myself to do it. You really can’t?”
“No. You kin see the castle gate? Yes? All right, what’re the two guards doin’?”
“They’re sitting on a bench. Kind of lazy of them. The nobleman better not see that or he’ll punish them.”
“No, he put the bench there for their comfort. I cain’t see that, I only know it ’cause I’ve visited the castle many times. I cain’t see it, but I know why you kin. You have a magical talent. ’N’ you’ve just earned yourself a place with us. I’m gonna train you to become a wizard.”
“Really! A wizard! Wow! That’s just so fantastic! Are you serious? I’d love this so much. Thank you, great Gods, for this blessing!”
“Yes, I’m serious. Do you know how to read ’n’ write? There’s a lot of readin’ in larnin’ to be a wizard.”
“I read some, but not a lot. Not much call for reading for a farm boy, or working in an inn.”
“That’s fine, I’ll send you to the scholars in town. They’ll teach you to read well, ’n’ write. I’m still larning how to be a wizard myself, but I’m already teachin’ my wife, Polly. One more student will be no problem. Come with me to our inn.”
As Duncan had predicted, half an hour later Vince entered the tap room of the inn. The others followed him in and looked at Ben sitting with a dusty young man, drinking beer.
“You look vaguely familiar,” commented Polly. “Who is he, Ben?”
“This is Duncan. He was the servant at the Pear Tree Inn back in Olpe, the one who mopped the blood off the floor when we took care of those thieves. He’s also our newest member of the band.”
“Ben, I’ve said I’ll go where you want to go, and do what you want to do,” objected Vince. “But, since you don’t want to be our official leader, I still lead this band. I think I, and the others, should have some say in who gets to join.”
“I’m sorry, Vince, I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m gonna be trainin’ him, so I figured you’d like him in the band. One wizard is good. Two, with Polly, is better. ’N’ three, with Duncan, must be better still. He’s got the talent! He kin see things far off as if they was right in front of him. He saw you leavin’ the castle, ’n’ then asked about the count’s arms over the gate.”
“Another wizard! Ben, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Betsy. “Innkeeper, more beer here, please!”
The next day Ben took Duncan to the Temple of Grasilos and turned him over to Maurice for instruction in reading and writing.
“Make sure his writin’ is legible,” directed Ben. “He’ll have a lot of writin’ to do when I git him back. He needs to read well, so give him difficult books to read. The texts I have for him to read are written in an old script that’s hard to figure sometimes. Here’s some money to pay for his lessons. When this runs out, let me know ’n’ I’ll give you more.”
***
More than two months later they were able to move into the mansion. The painters were still working on the fancier murals in some of the rooms, but the main public rooms were finished. The storerooms were full of supplies, wine, and beer. The kitchen was ready to feed any number of people, the servants were bustling about on their errands. Fearless prowled the storerooms, discouraging any mice or rats who wanted to move in, too.
Everyone but Ben would spend the morning and most of the afternoon training Natamurk’s men at arms. The work kept them in practice and in good physical shape. The count paid them generously, more than the “food money” he had offered. They knew the money would dry up once the count’s army was trained, but it was useful income.
Ben had asked the builders to turn the rooms just beyond their personal rooms into his study, school, and magical library. He was thinking about the future and the possibility of teaching others about magic. He’d sit in his study or under a shady tree and read his Treatise.
He had an artist paint a large portrait of Humoparmia, Goddess of Magic, on the wall of the schoolroom, and a smaller one in this study. The Treatise included a picture of Her the artist used as a model, a dignified mature woman seated on a throne. He felt odd, but proud to become Her first priest in three centuries. He enjoyed sitting before Her picture and admiring her sedate, calm image of authority and skill.
The Treatise told him how to worship Humoparmia, and he led Polly and Duncan in praying to Her every day. The night after he first prayed to Her, he had a dream. She appeared to him, as She had in his dream in Ongar, smiling this time. She spoke to him again.
I am pleased that you have begun praying to Me, that you are studying the proper books, that you are serious about becoming a wizard. I am pleased with the talents you have already developed, without any instruction. I have great hopes for you, Ben. Study well. Do not disappoint Me. You must do the hard work to learn how to be a wizard. I can give you all the powers you need, but I will not do so. Magic is too powerful to give to someone who has not earned it. If you do the work, you will get your reward.
Ben was enormously encouraged by this dream. Humoparmia likes what I‘ve already done without Her help, ’n’ wants me to do more. I had kinda hoped She’d give me lots of magical power when She saw what I was doin’. But She’s right, I should prove that I’m serious about this. She was very impressed with my healin’ of Jenny. She didn’t say this, but I got the feelin’ that She wants me to teach others to do magic, mebbe not as grand as Jenny’s healin’, but serious magic.
After two months he was getting a good understanding of the language. The Treatise told him the rules of the language were the same as for Humanish, only the words were different. But they weren’t different, they only looked different. He learned that the text of a grimoire was entirely in Humanish, but the letters of the words had been replaced by other symbols. One part of his apprentice wizard’s book was a list of the symbols of the wizard language alongside the letters they stood for. All he had to do to read, and translate, the grimoires was to learn what letter each symbol replaced.
The most important part of the apprentice’s Treatise was teaching the most basic elements of working magic. This part was written in Humanish, though in a script that was sometimes hard to follow. Ben didn’t mind reading slowly as it helped him focus on what he was reading.
As Ben had suspected, all magic was controlled by the mind manipulating the world. The Treatise included exercises for developing one’s mind and strengthening its power. A strong mind could do more magic, easier, and more impressively. Concentration was very important, but with practice distractions didn’t matter. One had to use one’s mind to see into some objects, to work with other objects at a distance. The Treatise explained that these were the basic skills of a wizard, things that every wizard was expected to know by heart.
Ben learned that there were no “spells” such as his grandfather had told him about, nor any need for a magic wand. There were only magical “feats,” things done with magic. Rather than saying a magic phrase, he just had to think about what he wanted to do. The Treatise and grimoires had no incantations, just the methods for thinking about doing some magical feat.
Grimoires contained all the magical feats, starting with very simple tasks and progressing by stages to more complex deeds. Each succeeding feat built on the earlier lessons. Some Ben had already done by his own efforts. For some of those he learned newer, simpler ways of producing the same effect. Other feats were new to him. His grimoires also included the more advanced techniques some wizards had developed for special purposes.
Both of Ben’s grimoires had almost the same text, with the same skills and feats. At the end of each volume was a section written in a different handwriting. This he assumed to be that wizard’s own personal additions, notes on special feats. His own creations, or preferred ways of doing common feats.
All grimoires were written in the same wizard symbols. The wizards weren’t trying to hide their secrets from each other, Ben learned, but from non-wizards. The wizards shared their techniques widely, but they did not always want their countrymen to know all their secrets. He found that magical talent was actually common, if not often developed. With effort, most people could learn how to do magic, and the wizards wanted to restrict admission to their order. If others couldn’t read the works, they couldn’t learn how to work magic.
But if one had practiced the mental exercises in the Treatise, and learned how to read the symbols, one could learn how to work magical feats. The methods were described in great detail so the apprentice wizard could follow along easily. Some techniques required several pages of instruction to perform.
Ben realized as he read the Treatise that he was already learning magical techniques. He wanted to try them out, but he also wanted to know what other, more advanced, techniques were included later in the two grimoires he had. He looked at their size and groaned in dismay. He knew it would take him a long time to read through even a small part, translating each wizard word letter by letter.
“Betsy, I need a big pile of parchment,” Ben stated that night at dinner. “I wanna make copies of the Treatise. That’ll make it easier to teach Polly more magic, ’n’ Duncan, or any other students I might git. I wanna have copies to sell also. I also wanna translate these grimoires word for word into Humanish. That’ll make it easier for me to read ’n’ use. Which shop should I visit to git parchment?”
“Those books are big,” Betsy considered. “Have you counted the number of pages in them?”
“Yes, about four hundred in each grimoire, and three hundred in the Treatise. Is that too many?”
“Eleven hundred pages of parchment! And that’s just for one copy each. You want to sell lots of these books, right? That is going to be hard to do all at once. I doubt any local craftsman has that much on hand. I’m not even sure a local man can make that much easily. There are a number of scribes in Uslar and they can tell me where they get their parchment. I may have to order that much from Offenburg. I’ll get you as much as I can tomorrow so you can start your work. The rest I’ll get as I can.”
“Do you need to have copies in Humanish of both grimoires?” asked Vince. “Didn’t you say they were the same? They look about the same size. Don’t they have the same spells?”
“No, there ain’t actually any spells like in the old stories. No magic words that do somethin’ amazin’. The books talk about ‘feats’ ’n’ not ‘spells’ or anythin’ spoken like that. My two grimoires are mostly the same text. But at the end of each is a personal section written by the wizard. It contains his preferred techniques for doin’ some magic, or a feat he invented. And my Treatise is not just for translatin’ the grimoires. It also has all the techniques for developin’ a strong mind capable of workin’ magic, written in Humanish.”
***
Translating the grimoires was slow work, but Ben told himself that he’d have to spend just as much time and effort to read it once. If he didn’t memorize it as he went along, he’d have to translate it again. So the time was not wasted, just tedious. As he progressed and learned the symbols by heart, the work went more quickly.
Two weeks into his translating, their major-domo Malcolm, who ran the household, introduced a visitor to his study. Tania walked in, her clothes stained with blood, and a smile on her face. Ben looked at her, noticed her clothes and her smile, and rose to meet her.
“You’re smilin’ ’n’ bloody, why?” asked Ben.
“I cut myself accidentally this morning. A very nasty cut, right to the bone, almost took my finger off. I grabbed my finger with my other hand and tried to hold it in place while I sought help from one of the other priests. I was thinking about healing it somehow myself, as you did with Joan. I remembered what you had said about healing your friend Vince. You really wanted to do that. You told us we had to really want to do something for the magic to work.
“I couldn’t find the other priests right away, and I was worried about losing my finger. I focused on it, thinking how it should look if it were healed, how the flesh should be all solid and the skin smooth. When I finally found Blaise, I told him what had happened to me. He looked at my hand and asked, ‘Which finger was it that you cut?’ I looked and they were all in perfect condition. Look! Not even a scar!
“Did Lesopatia heal me as a courtesy to Her priestess? Did I heal myself with magic? Blaise couldn’t tell me. I prayed to Lesopatia and asked Her directly. The Gods do speak to us, sometimes. We’re Their priests and priestesses, and what use would we be if we couldn’t speak with Them? But They do not always answer us clearly. Lesopatia merely told me I had been blessed. She didn’t say She had healed me. Blaise told me to ask you if you could tell if I healed myself.”
“Easiest thing in the world to do,” indicated Ben. “How do you feel now? Are you tired? Do you feel up to some more magic?”
“I feel fine. Exhilarated, actually.”
“Good,” ordered Ben, pushing his sleeve back and slicing his forearm. “Heal this cut.”
“Oh, my! I’m not ready… I wasn’t expecting … Oh, it’s bleeding!” She grabbed his arm and wrapped her hand over the cut. She pressed it hard for several minutes until Ben told her to stop.
“A small cut like this is easy to heal. It’s still a test of your skill, but even a weak skill should heal it in just a minute or two. ’N you needn’t press too tightly. As long as the edges of the cut are brought together ’n’ held, they’ll rejoin. But you did it, ’n’ a nice job, too. Congratulations Tania! You do have the talent! I’m so excited.”
“Me, too! I feel so … I don’t know, powerful!” exclaimed Tania. “I don’t know how I did this, but I did. I can still do it. Is that how it is with you? Is this how you felt when you healed Joan?”
“It’s the way I feel whenever I do somethin’ great for the first time,” confirmed Ben. “I felt happy that I could heal Joan, but she warn’t the first, or even the hardest, healin’ I’ve done. But the first time does give that thrill of achievement. The feelin’ that no one has done anythin’ like this in centuries. That I kin do it ’n’ no one else can. But now Polly is larnin’ some of the things I kin do. ’N’ you’re doin’ somethin’ on your own, without my showin’ you. It is a wonderful feelin’, yes.
“I’m beginnin’ to understand more about how I’m doin’ it. My Treatise talks about how to use your mental powers to do things. It also mentions somethin’ I already knew, that practice makes it easier to work magic. The more I did somethin’, the less effort I had to use to do it again.
“I want to train you to do more magic, if you want to larn. I’d like you to come here every day, even for an hour or two, dependin’ on your duties at the Temple. You should start with the mental trainin’ by makin’ a copy for yourself of this here Treatise. It tells how to read the wizards’ language, but, more importantly, how to strengthen your mental powers. Once you’ve copied it, you kin begin to copy my translations of the grimoires. Polly’s also makin’ copies. If I have enough copies made, I kin even start a school for wizards. But I cain’t train you in real magic without the grimoires, ’n’ I’m still workin’ to translate ’em.”
“You said practice helps one learn how to do the magic. How should I practice?”
“You have the perfect position for gittin’ practice. Pray for healin’, but also add your own skills in magic to help the healin’. The Goddess won’t, I think, begrudge your help, ’n’ She’ll make it easier for your magic to work. If you have no serious injuries to heal, do what I suggested when you first came to see me. Cut a piece of leather or meat, ’n’ try to heal it. It’s easier to heal live flesh, but with some effort, you kin heal a slab of meat.”
***
Six months later King Topinarien arrived to inspect the count’s army again. He came with an escort of fifty horsemen and fifty men at arms, armored head to foot. The king arrived a day earlier than anticipated. This was not a major problem for Count Natamurk, but the welcoming feast had been set for the next evening. Topinarien was kind enough to settle for an ordinary feast that first night.
In the morning Topinarien reviewed Natamurk’s forces. He was surprised to see so many spearmen and halberdiers in their ranks. He turned to Natamurk and asked him, “Why all those spears and halberds? I was expecting to see a good strong shield wall. Why this?”
“Ah, Your Majesty, that is a strange story,” began Natamurk. “Several months ago some adventurers – you know, rogues – came to Uslar and persuaded me to change my formations. This is the result.”
“Rogues? You reorganized your army because some low-life rogues told you to? Are you crazy?”
“No, Sire, I’m quite sane. May I show you why I made the change? One of the rogues, their best swordsman, used to train warriors for a baron in eastern Orilon. She gave fifty sloppy fighters five days training and they beat my best fifty men. I let her and her friends train my whole force, and I will put it against any of your men, or anyone else’s for that matter.”
“She? A female fighter? And you let her train your whole army? Are you sure you’re sane? You really think they can beat my foot guards?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Fifty of my men against your fifty. We have wooden weapons for everyone; we used them in our training.”
“I don’t think much of your sense, Natamurk, but I do like your confidence. All right, give us these wooden weapons and we’ll teach you how good shield walls work. I’ve been training these men since I was here months ago. I don’t think they’ll be beat by your men.”
Wooden weapons were brought out of storage and given to all the fighters. Natamurk chose to use Baron Midalto’s men, since the king had thought them the worst of his troops before. King and count stood together with their officers at the edge of the field and watched the warriors take their places.
At the king’s signal the two forces began to batter each other. Topinarien’s men followed the traditional tactics, attack, parry, attack, parry, attack, parry. But, slowly at first, then faster, holes appeared in their line. Soon a big push from Midalto’s men broke through the king’s line, sending the two ends of it reeling back.
“Enough,” cried Topinarien. “I’m very impressed. I remember those men you used, they had been your worst troops. I’d like to meet this marvel of training and her partners. Do they live here in your court?”
“No, Your Majesty, they live near the town. But I’ve already invited them to dine with us tonight. You wish to see Jenny, but you will really delight in meeting Ben.”
“What does he train your men in?”
“Ah, Your Majesty, please pardon me, but I’d like to surprise you with Ben, because he’s a most surprising young man.”
***
“Your Majesty, I am honored to meet you,” said Jenny, dropping a perfect curtsy.
“I’m most pleased to meet you, young woman. And surprised. I was told you were a rogue, and yet you curtsy as well as any courtier.”
“My father used to train men at arms for a baron in Nes, on the east coast of Orilon. I grew up at his court and learned social graces as well as how to fight.”
“I saw the result of your training on Natamurk’s army and I’m quite impressed. After centuries of peace Taril may soon have to fight a real war. I want my kingdom to be prepared for it. I’d like to talk to you later about this.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” answered Jenny.
“Your Majesty, this is my surprise for you, Ben,” introduced Natamurk.
“Natamurk tells me I’ll be delighted to meet you, Ben. Why is that?”
“I s’pose, Your Majesty,” volunteered Ben, “’cause I’m a wizard. After the feast I’d like to ask you to lend me your battle sword so I kin sharpen it for you.”
“My battle sword! I think it’s fairly sharp already. I have servants who take care of such things, you know. And what makes you a wizard? You don’t look very old.”
“I don’t look very bright, either, do I? That’s all right. Everyone thinks that when they first meet me. I don’t care. But here, hold your hand up with all your fingers pointin’ up. There, that’s why I think I’m a wizard.”
A small flame stood on each of the king’s fingers. Topinarien stared in amazement, his fingers flaming, but not burning. He touched his thumb with his other hand and drew it back quickly as it felt the flame’s heat.
Austin, the king’s bodyguard, rushed up and slashed at Ben, cutting his arm. Ben stepped back and held his cut arm.
“I warn’t tryin’ to hurt His Majesty,” exclaimed Ben.
“I’m not harmed, Austin,” cautioned Topinarien. “I apologize, young man, for my guard’s reaction. I hope you are not hurt badly. But really, claiming to be a wizard! Ha! Ridiculous! Please go get yourself healed, now. Honestly, Natamurk, do you truly believe this youth is a wizard? There’s no magic on Orilon, or the whole planet Sarpala, anymore. I’ll willingly listen to these rogues who have trained your men so well. They have proved they can do something useful. But a wizard? Oh, that is just too funny, Natamurk.”
“But, Your Majesty...” began Natamurk.
“Are you going to argue with me, Natamurk?” asked the king. “I’m not some young dreamer who believes in grandfather stories. Even my son is too old to believe in such nonsense. I know a goodly amount about history, and how all the wizards died out at the end of the Big War. They are gone. Totally gone. They do not exist any more. I don’t want to hear any more about this.”
Ben blinked in disbelief. He considered arguing with Topinarien, but thought arguments with kings might not go very well. He waved his clean arm around, and left the room.
***
Topinarien stayed an extra day. He spent a long time that night with Jenny and the others who had trained Natamurk’s army, talking about training, tactics, and other military considerations. The next morning, he talked to Jenny, and the others, about training the whole royal army.
“We women are all pregnant now,” explained Jenny. “That makes it awkward to travel long distances to train your men. Betsy doesn’t need to go, anyway. Any decent archer can build up your archer corps. She teaches skill, aim, and accuracy. Military archers need strength to pull the bow back enough to shoot the arrow a long way. Enough arrows landing in an area is deadly in itself. No one aims at the tall shieldman in the first rank.
“Vince and Horace can train your men anywhere, and Horace will give them the training in halberd. But the spear work is also very important, and Polly doesn’t want to travel either. Can you send some of your men here for training? Small numbers who can be trained to train others?
“How many would you like? I rule a very large kingdom, and it fields a very large army. I don’t know how effective it is now, but I’d like to improve the whole army. Natamurk has eight barons under him. There are dozens more barons throughout the kingdom. They will all need training.”
“We trained just fifty of Count Natamurk’s men first. It made a small but practical unit to show the concept. You saw them yesterday. Fifty men at a time from any of your lords will be good. Fifty smart men who can learn quickly and teach their comrades back home.
“My father was a trainer. He taught me how to train men. I can teach these new groups how to train their friends back home. It’s not just the trainer, it’s what he teaches.”
***
It had taken him a year, but Ben had finally finished translating the two grimoires. He learned the symbols from constant practice with them, which made the work easier as he went along. And the duplication of most of the text also sped up the work, but the script in both copies was not always clear and easy to read. Replacing a symbol with a letter was slow work, even as he memorized the symbols. The personal notes at the end of each volume were also difficult to read. He was glad Polly had insisted on his learning to write clearly, and not scrawl.
The work translating counted as reading the books, but he couldn’t translate and concentrate on the text, so he only had a superficial knowledge of the content. Once he was done with the translating, he went back to the beginning of one volume and read the text carefully, trying to understand what it was teaching him. He experimented with the instructions, learning as he did. Sometimes he thought of a method of making magic that was easier for him than the method in the text. That was a revelation to him. Wizards did not just follow a recipe, they could do magic in their own way. He began making side notes of these discoveries.
Ben had three students now, Polly, Duncan, and Tania. He had ordered more parchment and each of them was writing out a full copy of the Treatise. Working from Ben’s finished copy, they could make a new copy of the Treatise in six weeks. The full text of a grimoire took about eight weeks to copy. He combined the personal sections of the grimoires into one text to go at the end of the translated grimoire. Ben worked with his students in the morning, when their minds were fresh and strong, helping them understand how to use those minds to manipulate the world. The afternoons were devoted to copying the texts.
One feat they performed was simple, implausible, and utterly amazing. Ben learned the technique and thought about it until he was sure he understood what he had to do. He concentrated on compacting the air in front of him into a solid wall, made up entirely of air. Nothing appeared to his eyes, but he put his hand out and felt an invisible wall. He called his friends to show them his new achievement.
“What do you see? Nothin’, right? Horace, try to walk up to me.”
“That’s easy,” declared Horace. “Oof! Ah cain’t. What’s this in the way?”
“That’s my new feat, an invisible wall. The grimoire says it’ll protect a party campin’ in the open, like merchants on the road. Make it long enough to surround the camp ’n’ wrap it around the area. I kin adjust the height ’n’ length. If we were still goin’ on the road, we wouldn’t need to keep watch at night.”
“What is it?” asked Jenny.
“Solid air. I kin somehow condense air ’n’ pack it together into a solid wall. I’m still not sure how this works, but it does work.”
***
“We need more knowledge,” Ben decided one day. “We have two grimoires, ’n’ they’re identical ’cept for the end sections. Each wizard seems to have added his own personal feats or preferred methods. Think how many wizards there were. All right, we don’t know how many there were, but we do know there were an awful lot of ’em. If each one added his personal touches to his grimoire, there might be a lot of extra feats available to us.
“Nowhere in our grimoires or the extra notes in ’em is any reference to Duncan’s ability to see distant things as if they were close to him. Yet it is a magical skill, ’n’ we’re learnin’ how to do it, slowly but successfully. Polly’s ability to find things is also missin’ from our texts. If we had to rely on the grimoires for that feat, we wouldn’t have it. Because of Polly, now we kin learn it, ’n’ teach it to others.
“What she does, ’n’ what Duncan does, are like all of a wizard’s feats, produced by their minds. Different minds, thinkin’ about different problems, will come up with different types of magic. I’m only startin’ to realize just how much magic there could be in the world. Think of the things we kin do that aren’t in the grimoires. Think then about the things that other wizards long ago must have been able to do, things they added to their own grimoires.
“That’s why I want to look for more grimoires. I’ll write to all the Temples of Grasilos ’n’ ask if they have any grimoires. Not for the standard text, which is probably the same among all of ’em. But for the notes at the end, notes added by a wizard who had some special skill no one else had. What other skills did some wizard have ’n’ write up, that no other wizard could do? That’s what I want to know. This is the only school for wizards anywhere in Orilon, ’n’ I want it to be the most thorough.”
Ben’s letters to the Temples of Knowledge brought a great many replies. The letters had taken months to reach many of the Temples, and the replies came back no faster. Most did not have grimoires and did not know where any might be found. Five Temples replied that they had a book which no one could read, one that was rumored to be a grimoire. Was Ben interested?
Of course he was. He made them an offer for their books. Just because these Temples couldn’t read their grimoires, that didn’t mean they’d just give them away for nothing. Ben offered them each a copy of the Treatise for the loan of their grimoire. He promised to return it with a translated copy after three months or so. The offer was so generous it was enough to get him all five grimoires. He also told them that he was offering copies of the Treatise for sale to anyone interested. And that he was opening a school for wizards.
Months passed waiting for the books to arrive. Translation took more time, but Ben was correct in assuming all the grimoires were identical except for the personal notes at the end. That made translation much faster, that and a growing familiarity with the symbols. A year after his inquiry went out, Ben had the most complete and useful collection of grimoires in Orilon. He and his students were now able to learn magical techniques from the personal notes they had never dreamed of. Ben’s only regret was the missing grimoires. There had been a great many wizards in the old days, and so few grimoires had survived.
He had also received several orders for copies of the Treatise. He hired scribes from the town to make the copies. Soon he had half a dozen scribes working for him, copying the Treatise and the grimoires. He decided to divide the grimoires into two parts. One would be the standard text, common to all the books. The other would be a compilation of all the notes and special techniques from the end papers of all the grimoires. This could be added to if he ever found any more grimoires.
Ben and his students went through the notes from all seven of his grimoires and made lists of the different techniques. They organized them by general type of effect, such as healing wounds, flying, and floating. They added in their own feats such as increasing the senses (like Polly’s ability to find hidden things, or Duncan’s distant vision).
Ben left out of the copies several similar techniques for killing people with magic.
“I threatened to use somethin’ like this on the dragon,” he explained. “If you can use your mind to shape metal, or manipulate flesh to repair cuts, you could use your mind to harm the body. I told the dragon I could squeeze his heart ’n’ burst it. I didn’t know where in his body his heart was, but I do know where a human heart is. Someone may figure out how to do this, but I don’t want to give anyone any ideas. Leave this out.”
The completed grimoires were then copied out as two volumes of magical techniques. Ben offered them for sale with a copy of the Treatise. Temples of Grasilos all over Orilon ordered complete sets, and Ben and his friends never had to worry about money ever again.
The other rogues were less busy. They still did some training of the king’s army, but it took up less of their time now. Jenny had insisted that some of her trainees learn her methods so they could train others. One of Polly’s students of spear in Natamurk’s army took her place in training more spearmen.
Three babies now crawled around the mansion, and three more were expected in a few months. Polly hired an extra laundress to handle the dirty diapers, and a nanny to watch over the children when their parents were busy. The rough, tough adventurers were finding domesticity delightful.
***
One day Xavier the butcher came with meat for the household. He was accompanied by his daughter Joan, who never missed a chance to visit with Ben. She was twelve now, over her infatuation with him, but still grateful for what he had done for her. She’d talk with him if he wasn’t busy, and he usually found a little time for her and her father.
As she entered his study, she was carefully staring at a feather, about two inches long, floating in front of her. Ben was at his desk, reading a grimoire and petting Fearless. Ben looked at her, noticed her stare, and saw the feather floating in air.
“Amazin’! How long have you kept it floatin’?” asked Ben.
“Since I left the kitchen,” Joan replied. “Cook pulled it off one of the chickens we brought in and tossed it into the air. The door was open and a light breeze was coming in and the feather just floated on it. I tried to push it around and it moved. I thought it was just the breeze, but I tried to make it go out the door and down the corridor to here, and it did.”
“That is amazin’, Joan! Let that feather fall ’n’ rest your mind a bit. Chad!” he shouted for a servant. “Please go to the cook ’n’ bring me half a dozen chicken feathers. Thank you.
“Now, Joan, I want to test you. It’s early in the day, do you feel rested? Yes? Good. Now, think about that feather floatin’ again.”
“But it’s not floating now.”
“I know. I want you to pick it up with your mind ’n’ make it float again. Imagine it risin’ from the table ’n’ floatin’ again. Think about you bein’ the feather ’n’ liftin’ yourself. There, see, it moved a little. Don’t try to force it to move. Think of it lightly driftin’ upward. More movement, that’s good. Yes, it’s off the surface of the table, definitely. Fearless! Leave it alone! Go on, Joan, make it float higher. YES! You’ve done it!
“Congratulations Joan! You have the talent! I’m so excited. I wanted to do that for such a long time. I can do it now, but I had to read the grimoire to learn how. I wonder if different people have different magical talents, like paintin’ ’n’ singin’. Some are good at one form but not another. Tell me, how did you do this?”
“I was just idly thinking of keeping it floating. There was nothing important about this. Just a whim. Could I keep the feather from falling to the floor? And it kept floating. Now that you ask, I realize that I was consciously thinking about holding it up. Not with my hand, but just with my thoughts. Does that sound right?”
“Yes, that’s how magic works, ’n’ you have the talent! Here’s Chad. That was quick, thank you. Now, Joan, can you lift this feather? Good. Now can you also lift this one without droppin’ the first? No, there goes the first feather. Can you try to think of both of ’em in the air at the same time? Lift one, hold it, now try the next one. Can you understand what I’m suggestin’?”
“Yes, sort of,” Joan wavered. “Let me try again. I have to figure out how to think of two of them in the air at once. No. That’s not working. This is so frustrating.”
“I know. Before I could read these grimoires, trial ’n’ error was all I had to work with. Oh, there, two of ’em moved! Yes, lift ’em a bit more. Yes! Two in the air at the same time! Wonderful!
“Where’s your father? Ah, here he comes. Welcome, Xavier, I have good ’n’ bad news for you. The good news is that your daughter is able to do some magic. The bad news is that I want her to come to my school of magic ’n’ study, which will interfere with her work for you.”
“Master Ben, you saved my daughter from a life as a cripple,” answered Xavier. “Had she lost her leg, she could’ve done very little work for me, she wouldn’t have attracted a husband when she was older, she would’ve been a burden to me, much as I love her. You prevented all these bad things. We both owe you more than we can repay you.
“If you think she can do magic too, then train her. It would make me and her mother proud to have a wizard for a daughter, and another thing to be grateful to you for. This solves a problem for me, too. Donald the grocer wants me to take his youngest son Jared as an apprentice, telling me I need more help. Joan is very helpful in the shop, but I need someone bigger and stronger to handle sides of beef. But I don’t have enough work for two helpers. Now I can hire Jared.”
***
Vince walked into the school one afternoon looking for Ben. He saw him seated at a table, reading a grimoire, turning its pages.
“Ben, it’s a nice day out,” he said, “would you like to go for a little ride to pass the time?”
The figure at the table gave no reaction to Vince’s question, but a voice behind him said, “That sounds like it’d be fun. I’m ready for a break. What do you think of my latest feat?”
Vince spun around and saw Ben sitting on a chair in a corner of the room, stroking Fearless. He gasped, looked at the figure reading at the table, then at the man in the corner.
“Ben, which is you? What have you come up with this time?”
“I’m here in the corner. That’s somethin’ I just learned to do. Makin’ an illusion. I can make an appearance of a real thing, detailed enough to fool almost anyone. Although it looks solid, it’s not. It’s imaginary, created from my mind. I’ve been playin’ with it for a few weeks now, ’n’ can finally control it enough to have illusory movement, like turnin’ the pages of that book.”
“Is this something you created on your own, or is it from one of your grimoires?”
“The basic idea is from a grimoire. It showed how to make an illusion of a stationary object, like an armed man standin’ guard outside a door. Useful, especially if you can make several of ’em. Thieves won’t try to break in to a house with a dozen armed men watchin’ it. But I thought it could be improved with motion.
“The illusion is just a picture in my mind, projected outwardly for others to see. It takes a lot of mental strength to do this, but all of us have been workin’ with magic for so long, we have the power. Then I just think of manipulatin’ the illusion. Like I imagined manipulatin’ Jenny’s neck when I healed her. My mind makes the image walk or raise an arm, whatever I want. I can leave that illusion of me readin’ sit there all day, whether I’m here or not. Once it starts, the feat just continues.
“Polly ’n’ Duncan have been workin’ with me on this, so I can’t claim the whole credit for doin’ it. Doesn’t matter, we now have a wonderfully improved feat. That illusory guard can now walk back ’n’ forth, makin’ him appear that much more real, ’n’ effective. You told us once what a scholar taught you about the Big War, how the king’s wizards made illusions of him to protect him from assassins. This is the same feat.
“We’ve been here for almost three years now, almost two years since I finished translatin’ the grimoires. Polly ’n’ I, with Duncan, ’n’ then Tania ’n’ Joan, have been tryin’ out all the feats in the books. Some are interestin’, but not very useful. Some are dangerous, how to kill people with magic, for instance. Some are potentially useful, but difficult to master, like this illusion.
“Every new feat we master gives us a better idea of how magic works, ’n’ why. We keep learnin’ more about what we’re doin’, ’n’ what we might be able to do in the future. Some of these feats should have some use to ordinary people, if we can just figure out what ’n’ how.
“Here’s another useful feat. I wish I could call these things spells, like in grandfather’s stories, but they’re nothin’ like a spell or incantation. Just a technique for doin’ somethin’. Oh well, here it is.”
He stood, put Fearless on the chair, and disappeared from his place in the corner. Vince felt a tap on his shoulder, turned, and saw Ben standing behind him, smiling.
“I can move by magic from one place to another. I always wanted to fly. I was ecstatic when I learned how to float. That led us to really fly. But this is even better. I can just wish myself someplace else, ’n’ I’m there. I haven’t got a lot of range, yet, but that’ll improve with practice. We’re all learnin’ this.
“The method isn’t obvious but it’s not difficult once you learn it. The hardest part is seein’ where you want to go. In this room, it was very easy. But if I wanted to go to see Count Natamurk in his private room, I’d have to remember what that room looked like. Once I imagine the room, I can sort of ‘see’ what is in it now, where people are standin’ ’n’ so forth. I need to do that so I don’t appear right on top of someone.
“It’s not really seein’ the place, just a shadowy glimpse, like in a thick fog. I imagine the room ’n’ think about it, ’n’ my mind seeks it out so I can go there. ’N’ as it seeks out the room, my mind is somehow noticin’ any obstacles to my travel. People, animals, tables, whatever is in the room. I don’t really see ’em, but it’s like a foggy view, as I said. Someplace I’ve never been is a lot more difficult. I’m still workin’ on that.
“This is not goin’ to be a skill we’ll be teachin’ to everyone. Burglars ’n’ assassins would love to be able to do this.”
***
“Have you had enough practice?” Ben asked Polly. “I know your mind is strong enough for the length of the trip. Are you comfortable with it?”
“Ben, I’m fine. I know this as well as you do. You’re just worried because we’re taking the kids with us. I’m glad you’re worried about them. That proves you’re a good father, which I never doubted. Pick up Dan, I’ll take Lily, and let’s go.”
An instant later they were standing in the yard of Ben’s parents’ house. It was late afternoon on a warm early spring day. They could see men plowing the field behind the farm. Ben waved to them, and, as they turned to face him, he saw they were his brothers Ken and Joe. They began shouting, and the noise brought Ralph out of the house. He looked toward the field, then at the figures in his yard. He was dumbfounded.
“Ben! Where did you come from? When did you git here, just now? How did you come? Where’s your horses? Marge! Look who’s here again! Ben’s back!”
Marge came out and stopped, amazed. She uttered a cry of welcome, of thanks to see her son was still alive, of confusion as to how he got there. She hugged Ben. She hugged Polly. Then she saw the two children at their feet.
“Ben! You’ve given me more grandchildren! Bless you, and you, too, Polly! What are their names?”
She hugged them each in turn, then together, as Ben introduced them.
“Dan is the older, he’s two. Lily is only one. As you can see, they are not at all shy around strangers, which is good, because we have lots of visitors.”
“We thought you should meet them,” began Polly. “And it’s been a few years since we were last here. Ben wanted to reassure you that he’s still doing well. He’s become a very good wizard, in fact. That’s how we got here. He’s been teaching me magic, and we can both travel by magic anywhere we want to go.”
Ben and Polly stayed a few days, talking about Ben’s school of wizardry, his students, and the magical feats he was learning. Then he realized he hadn’t told them about his other adventures. His family was thrilled at the story of the brigands, amazed at the story of the goblet, and completely astonished at the story of the dragon.
“I’ll be back again,” explained Ben as they prepared to leave. “Not every week, or even every month, probably. But now that we can travel magically, it’ll be easy to come back. I’m goin’ to put this slab of stone here, in front of the house. I call this a ‘jump disk’ because it helps a wizard make the magical jump to someplace. Now, any of my students can come visit you, too. Take good care of yourselves. I love you all.”