by Steven Brust
Above her, a lazy falcon broke through the overcast, saw her, and haughtily ignored her. She didn’t mind; they had nothing to argue about until the falcon made a strike; then they could play the old game of You’re-quicker-going-down-but-I’m-faster-going-up. She’d played that game several times, and usually won. She had lost once to a cagey old goshawk, and she still carried the scar above her right wing, but it no longer bothered her.
She came into sight of a large structure of man, and her mate, who saw it at the same time, joined her, and they circled it once together. She thought that, in perhaps a few days, she’d be ready to mate again, but it was so hard to find a nest while traveling all the time.
Her mate sent her messages of impatience. She gave the psychic equivalent of a sigh and circled down to attend to business.
Chapter Four
I will not marry a magic seer,
I will not marry a magic seer.
know how to keep me here.
Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!
Step on out ...
Savn had thought they would be going into Vlad’s room, but instead the Easterner led them out onto the street. There was still some light, but it was gradually fading, the overcast becoming more red than orange, and accenting the scarlet highlights on the bricks of Shoe’s old house across the way. There were a few people walking past, but they seemed intent on business of their own; the excitement of a few short hours before had evaporated like a puddle of water on a dry day. And those who were out seemed, as far as Savn could tell, intent on ignoring the Easterner.
Savn wondered why he wasn’t more excited about the idea of learning Eastern magic, and came to the conclusion that it was because he didn’t really believe it would happen. Well, then, he asked himself, why not? Because, came the answer, I don’t know this Easterner, and I don’t understand why he would wish to teach me anything.
“Where are we going?” he said aloud.
“To a place of power.”
“What’s that?”
“A location where it is easier to stand outside and inside of yourself and the other.”
Savn tried to figure out which question to ask first. At last he said, “The other?”
“The person or thing you wish to change. Witchcraft—magic—is a way of changing things. To change you must understand, and the best way to understand is to attempt change.”
“I don’t—”
“The illusion of understanding is a product of distance and perspective. True understanding requires involvement.”
“Oh,” said Savn, putting it away for a later time to either think about or not.
They were walking slowly toward the few remaining buildings on the west side of the village; Savn consciously held back the urge to run. Now they were entirely alone, save for voices from the livery stable, where Feeder was saying, “So I told him I’d never seen a kethna with a wooden leg, and how did it happen that ...” Savn wondered who he was talking to. Soon they were walking along the Manor Road west of town. Savn said, “What makes a place of power?”
“Any number of things. Sometimes it has to do with the terrain, sometimes with things that have happened there or people who have lived there; sometimes you don’t know why it is, you just feel it.”
“So we’re going to keep walking until you feel it?” Savn discovered that he didn’t really like the idea of walking all night until they came to a place that “felt right” to the Easterner.
“Unless you know a place that is likely to be a place of power.”
“How would I know that?”
“Do you know of any place where people were sacrificed?”
Savn shuddered. “No, there isn’t anything like that.”
“Good. I’m not certain we want to face that in any event. Well, is there any powerful sorcerer who lives nearby?”
“No. Well, you said that Lord Smallcliff is.”
“Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I? But it would be difficult to reach the place where he works, which I assume to be on the other side of the river, at his keep.”
“Not at his manor?”
“Probably not. Of course, that’s only a guess; but we can hardly go to his manor either, can we?”
“I guess not. But someplace he worked would be a place of power?”
“Almost certainly.”
“Well, but what about the water he used?”
“The water? Oh, yes, the Dark Water. What about it?”
“Well, if he found water in the caves—”
“The caves? Of course, the caves! Where are they?”
“Not far. It’s about half a league to Bigcliff, and then halfway down the slip and along the path.”
“Can you find it in this light?”
“Of course.”
“Then lead the way.”
Savn at once abandoned the road in order to cut directly toward the hills above Bigcliff, finding his way by memory and feel in the growing darkness. “Be careful along here,” he said as they negotiated the slip that cut through the hill. “The gravel is loose, and if you fall you can hurt yourself.”
“Yes.”
They came to the narrow but level path toward the caves, and the going became easier. Savn said, “Remember when you told me about how you encourage bandits to attack you?”
“Yes.”
“Were you, uh, were you jesting with me?”
“Not entirely,” said Vlad. “In point of fact, I’ve only done that once or twice, so I suppose I was exaggerating a bit.”
“Oh.”
“What makes you ask?”
“I was just wondering if that was why you carry a sword.”
“I carry a sword in case someone tries to hurt me.”
“Yes, but I mean, was that the idea? Is that why you do it, so these bandits—”
“No, I carried it long before that.”
“But then why—”
“As I said, in case someone tries to hurt me.”
“Did that ever happen? I mean, before?”
“Someone trying to hurt me? Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Sometimes I fought. Sometimes I ran.”
“Have you ever ... I mean—”
“I’m still alive; that ought to tell you something.”
“Oh. Is that how—I mean, your hand ...”
Vlad glanced down at his left hand, as if he’d forgotten he had one. “Oh, yes. If someone is swinging a sword at you, and you are unarmed, it is possible to deflect the blade with your hand by keeping your palm exactly parallel with the flat of the blade. Your timing has to be perfect. Also, you ought to remember to keep your pinkie out of the way.”
Savn winced in sympathy and decided not to ask for more details. A little later, he ventured, “Isn’t the sword annoying to carry?”
“No. In any case, I used to carry a great deal more.”
“More what?”
“More steel.”
“Why?”
“I was living in a more dangerous place.”
“Where was that?”
“Adrilankha.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes, indeed. I’ve lived most of my life there.”
“I’d like to see Adrilankha.”
“I hope you do.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s what you make of it. It is a thousand cities. It is a place where there are more noblemen than Teckla, it seems. It is a place of ease, luxury, and sudden violence, depending on where you are and who you are. It is a place of wishes fulfilled, and of permanent longing. It is like everywhere else, I think.”
They began climbing up toward the caves. “Did you like it there?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Some people wanted to kill me.”
Savn stopped, turned, and tried to look at Vlad’s face to see if he was joking, but it was too dark to be certain. It was, in fact, almost too dark to walk safely. Vlad stopped behind
him, waiting. There was a flapping sound overhead. Savn couldn’t tell what sort of bird it was, but it sounded big. “We should get to the caves,” he said after a moment.
“Lead on.”
Savn did so. They came up the rise toward the first one, which was shallow and led nowhere interesting, so he ignored it. He said, “Have you really killed people?”
“Yes.”
“Was there really someone in Adrilankha who wanted to kill you?”
“Yes.”
“That must be scary.”
“Only if they find me.”
“Are they still looking for you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you think they’ll find you?”
“I hope not.”
“What did you do?”
“I left.”
“No, I mean, why do they want to kill you?”
“I annoyed some business associates.”
“What kind of business were you in?”
“One thing and another.”
“Oh.”
“I hear water from below.”
“The river flats. That’s where the people from Brownclay and Bigcliff go to bathe and wash clothes.”
“Ah, yes. I was there earlier; I hadn’t realized we were in the same place. This must be Bigcliff, then.”
“Yes.”
“You say you know a cave that has water in it?”
“One of the deep ones. That’s where I’m taking us.”
“Very good. It sounds like just what we’re looking for.”
“What will we do there?”
“You’ll see.”
“Okay. This is it. It goes way back, and down, and the further down you go, the wetter the walls get, and I remember once we heard water trickling below us, though we didn’t actually find it.”
“Excellent. Let’s see what it looks like.”
The immediate area filled with a soft, yellow light, displaying the weed-covered rocks. Savn said, “Was that witchcraft?”
“No, sorcery.”
“Oh. My Paener could have done that, then.”
“Yes. Let’s go in.”
The entrance to the cave was narrow and low, so that it would have been difficult to find even in the daylight if Savn had not known where it was. He pointed it out to Vlad, who bent over and caused his sorcerous light to fill the entrance. This was followed by the sounds of small animals, disturbed from their rest, who scurried off to find hiding places.
“Best not to know what they are,” said Vlad.
“I agree,” said Savn, and led the way into the cave.
At once it opened up, and in the sourceless, hazy light it appeared rather bigger than Savn remembered. He was very aware of the sound of their soft boots, and even the sound of his own breathing.
“Can you make light with witchcraft?”
“I don’t know,” said Vlad. “I’ve never tried. It’s easier to bring torches. Which way?”
“Are you sure you want to go deeper, Vlad?”
“Yes.”
“This way, then.”
The pale light moved with them, growing brighter in small spaces, then more dim as they entered larger ones.
After a while, Savn said, “Do you want to go all the way down to the water?”
“If we can. It is certain to be a place of power.”
“Why?”
“Because Lord Smallcliff used it. Even if it weren’t before, it would be when he was done. He’s like that.”
“This is as far as I’ve ever gone.”
“Bide, then.”
Savn waited, listening to the flapping of bat wings, while Vlad’s eyes narrowed, then widened slightly as he shook his head, and at last he moved his lips as if uttering an incantation. “All right,” he said at last. “It’s safe. If we climb over this ledge, crawl that way about forty feet, and drop down, we’ll fall about five feet and land on a flat surface.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s what you’ve come here to learn, isn’t it?”
“Was that witchcraft?”
“Yes and no. Without the Art, I couldn’t have done it.”
“And you’re certain—”
“Yes.”
Savn hesitated a moment, but Vlad, without waiting, went over the indicated ledge, actually a narrow slit in the rock wall which was barely large enough for them, and began creeping along it. Savn became aware that he’d been hearing the gurgling of water for some few minutes. He followed the Easterner; then, at the same place Vlad did, he hung over the edge and let go, landing easily. The sound of trickling water was louder as he landed. The yellow light grew until it faintly illuminated a large cavern, with a dark, narrow stream, perhaps four feet wide, making its leisurely way back into the hill.
“Is this the place?” said Savn, hearing his words come back to him. “Or should we go further in?”
“What do you think?” said Vlad. “I don’t know.”
“Can you feel anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Open yourself up to sensation. Do you feel power?”
Savn closed his eyes, and tried to feel something happening. There was a slight chill on his skin, and a soft whisper of wind against his ears, but that was all. “No,” he said. “But I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be feeling.”
“Let’s try it here, then. Sit down on that rock. Take my cloak and fold it up behind your head so you can lean back.”
Savn did these things. “Now what?”
“Relax.”
He tried to settle back into the unusual position, with only some success.
“Can you feel your scalp? The top of your head? No, I don’t mean touch it. Put your hands back in your lap. Now, can you feel the top of your head? Think of your scalp relaxing. Imagine each hair on your head relaxing. Your temples, your ears, your forehead, your eyes, your cheeks, your jaw. One at a time, try to relax each of these muscles. Now the back of your neck. Feel your head sink into the cloak, pretend you are falling into the wall behind you....”
Sometime later, Vlad said, “How do you feel?”
Savn realized that a great deal of time had passed, but he didn’t know how much, nor what had occurred during that time. “I feel good,” he said, surprised to discover it. “Like I’m, I don’t know, alive.”
“Good. You took to it well.”
“You mean I’m a witch now?”
“No, that was only the first step, to prepare your mind for the journey.”
“It feels great.”
“I know.”
“What do we do next?”
“Next, we get you home. It’s late.”
“Is it?” Savn reached for the time and blanched. “The gods! I had no idea—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Mae and Pae—”
“I’ll speak to them.”
“But they—” He bit off his words. He’d been about to say they wouldn’t listen to an Easterner, then realized there was no polite way to say it. In any case, Vlad would find out for himself soon enough.
The Easterner did not appear to notice. He made a sign for Savn to approach, and when he was there, he clenched his fist, screwed his face up, and Savn found himself once more in Smallcliff, on the north side of town, barely able to make out his surroundings in the faint yellow radiance that Vlad continued to produce.
“You teleported us!” he cried.
“I know you live out somewhere in this direction, and this is the only place I knew well enough to—”
“But you teleported us!”
“Well, yes. You said you were late. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, no, but I don’t know anyone who is good enough to do that.”
“It isn’t all that difficult.”
“You’re a sorcerer.”
“Well, yes, among other things.”
Savn stared at him, his eyes wide, until he realized that he was being rude. Vlad just smiled back at
him, then said, “Come. I don’t know where you live, so we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.”
Stunned, Savn set off along the deserted road. He said, “How do you teleport? I’ve heard of it—”
“It isn’t that hard; you just have to be certain you know exactly where you’re going. The tricky part is not getting sick afterwards, and for that there is witchcraft.”
“But how do you know where you’ll end up?”
“You have to remember it very well—perfectly, in fact. It’s the remembering that allows the journey to take place.”
“What if you can’t remember it that well?”
“Then you’re in trouble.”
“But—”
“Sometimes you can prepare a place to teleport to. It limits you, but it’s good if you’re in a hurry.”
“Can you teach me all this?”
“Maybe. We’ll see. Where is your house?”
“On the other side of this hill, but we should take the road around, because the flax here hasn’t been harvested yet.”
“Very well.”
Vlad seemed to have no trouble finding the road up to the house, though whether this was because Easterners had better night vision, or because of his magical powers, or for some other reason entirely, Savn didn’t know and couldn’t decide on a good way to ask, so he ended by saying nothing, and they spoke no more until they stood before the one-room house, with its single door held on with straps, and two windows covered with oiled paper. There was a pale yellow light from the lamps and the stove.
“Nice place,” said Vlad.
“Thank you,” said Savn, who had been thinking how small and plain it must look to someone who had lived in Adrilankha.
They had, evidently, been seen, because just before they reached the door it flew open so hard that Savn thought it would tear off its leather hinges, and there were Mae and Pae, silhouetted in the soft glow of the stove. They stood almost motionless, and while Savn couldn’t see the expressions on their faces, his imagination had no trouble supplying Mae’s wide-eyed anger and Pae’s annoyed confusion.
As they stepped forward, Mae said, “Who are you?” which puzzled Savn for a moment, until he realized to whom she was speaking.
“Vlad. You saw me earlier today, at Tem’s house.”