Chapter 83
Lester: “Every man to his work.”
His days were blending into each other, becoming seamless, like waves that crash upon the shore and are renewed by more water, the same water, repeating endlessly the same patters with minor changes.
Each morning he arose and practiced his pathspace weaving, getting a little better, a little quicker in reshaping the flowing lines of tendency. He was never quick enough to satisfy Xander, who kept emphasizing that the smallest delay could mean the difference between surviving and not.
After lunch, they went to the metal workers and he made more swizzles and invisibility shields, as many as he could manage, while Xander sat grimly at a table turning metal disks into everflames. The old wizard was too busy to show him how it was done, saying that he should concentrate on his pathspace until he had mastered that. Later he could move on to other weavings.
In the late afternoon they would troop up to Aria's garden floors, where Xander spent his time refreshing the ceiling glowtubes that would keep Aria's gardens blooming through the long winter ahead.. After dinner Lester would resume reading his way through the old wizard's bookshelves, searching for clues in the old volumes that lines the walls of the wizard's den. He supposed that Xander must have done the same thing, but another set of eyes could not hurt.
He wasn't even sure what he was searching for, but there had to be something.
“Did the Tourists have any kind of weapons?” he asked Xander one evening. The older man did not answer immediately, distracted by something he held cupped in his hands. “What is that?”
Xander was about to drop it into a pocket of his robe. He hesitated, then changed his mind and held out the hand, palm up, and opened it.
Lying in his palm was a flat round locket from which the chain had broken off, long ago. Framed by the old metal was a portrait carved in stone, of a woman's face seen in profile. The whole thing was only an inch or two across. Lester had never seen anything like it. “It's an old art form called a cameo.. Some people still make them, from time to time.
“Where it you find it?”
“I had it made.” The old wizard seemed lost in thought.
“So it was someone you knew? Was it your mother, or someone special?” For some reason, the profile reminded him of Aria. Lester wondered if he could find someone to make a portrait of her.
“Someone special,” said Xander.
“What happened? Did she marry another? Or did one of the plagues take her?”
Xander snapped the locket shut and dropped it into his pocket. “Neither,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked away. “She was already married, to an important man. I couldn't take her away from him.”
“But you're an important man! You're the only wizard in Rado!”
Xander grimaced. “You won't find many people who agree with that,” he said. “And besides, you're wrong. You're becoming one too, and at the rate your ability is growing, you will be a greater wizard than I ever was.”
“I don't know about that. But what about the girl? How could you just give up on her like that? Didn't she love you too?” Lester brooded on it. “All right, you said she was already married. I can see you;d respect that. But people don't live forever. Is he still alive?”
“No. He died years ago.”
Lester let his bafflement show. “Then why don't you go to her? Did you find someone else?”
The wizard sighed. “Maybe I should have, but no. She's the only one.” He seemed to finally notice Lester's questioning face. “And I never gave up on her, either. I know, it sounds ridiculous. There used to be a saying: 'no fool like an old fool'. One day you'll understand.”
“I'm not sure I want to.” I hate it when adults say that to me! He knew that most humans go through the same kinds of learning experiences, but he had always resented the smugness of it, the certainty that he'd always come to the same conclusions that they had.
Xander looked at him, seeming to read his mind, and shook his head. “I know, you won't grow up to be the same as me. You'll make your own mistakes.”
Lester raised an eyebrow. “So you think love is a mistake, now?”
“Never. But it can lead to mistakes. When you look at Aria, remember that.”
Pathspace Page 83