Relics of War

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “You’d be alive.”

  “As would the baron’s representatives. Perhaps, if no one is harmed, they will not pursue me.”

  Garander, remembering what Hargal had said—“we need to either kill it or drive it away”—nodded. “I don’t know about Lord Dakkar, but his man said he would be satisfied if you were gone, even if you were still alive somewhere out in the wilderness.”

  “But I’d never see you again!” Ishta wailed. “You can’t do that!”

  “I do not want to,” Tesk said, “but I see no better choice.”

  “They might find you anyway! And what about the mizagars?”

  “Yes, in time the mizagars would be free to attack your people. My orders can only restrain them for a few months. But if your baron has magicians who can kill me, those magicians can kill mizagars.”

  “I’m not sure he does,” Garander said. “But somebody does.”

  “No!” Ishta insisted. “You need to stay here and show them you’re nice!”

  “I would like to, Ishta,” the shatra said, “but I do not know how.”

  “Just…just show them. Talk to them. Be nice to them!”

  “I do not know how,” Tesk repeated.

  Garander remembered more of his conversation with Lord Dakkar’s agents. “They don’t think you can control your demon side,” he said.

  Tesk had been looking down at Ishta. Now he met Garander’s gaze. “Yes?”

  “They said that if we could prove you can always control it, we could discuss…well, discuss things further.”

  “I control the demon,” Tesk said. “If I had orders and attempted to defy them, perhaps then the demon could not be restrained, but I have no orders. I have had no orders for twenty years, and the demon sleeps. It will not wake unless I allow it.”

  “You… What if…” Garander was struggling to express thoughts he had not fully formed.

  “Yes?”

  “What if we could prove that?”

  “How?”

  “Suppose someone tried to kill you, and you didn’t kill him?”

  “Please explain further.”

  “Well,” Garander said, “suppose someone attacks you. They think you would defend yourself by killing your attacker. They probably think the demon wouldn’t let you do anything else. I mean, if there was ever a time the demon would take over, wouldn’t that be it?”

  “I can defend myself without killing.”

  “Can you…” Garander was still struggling with his own idea. “Can you not even defend yourself?”

  Tesk stared at him. “Then I would be killed, would I not? This does not seem useful.”

  “No, but—you’re so fast. Could you just…defend yourself, but not fight back?”

  “Ah.” Tesk blinked.

  “I mean, if anything would show that the demon is under control, and that you don’t have to be dangerous, wouldn’t that do it?”

  “Yes!” Ishta shrieked. “We’ll show them he’s safe!”

  Tesk’s eyes met Garander’s, and they shared a moment of amusement.

  “I do not know if this plan will succeed,” Tesk said. “I think it is worth trying.”

  “If it doesn’t work, you can still flee into the mountains,” Garander said. “If you haven’t hurt anyone, they may not think it’s worth chasing you.”

  “This is true.”

  “Then you don’t have anything to lose!” Ishta said.

  “Indeed,” Tesk agreed. “It would appear I do not.”

  “Then we’ll arrange a meeting,” Garander said. “Tomorrow afternoon, in the north field?”

  Tesk nodded. “I will watch for your arrival,” he said. “Signal me with a raised arm when you are ready to proceed.”

  Garander nodded. “I’ll wave,” he said. “And if something goes wrong, I’ll do this, instead.” He patted his thigh. “That will mean you should get away while you can.”

  “Understood.”

  For a moment the three of them stood, unsure what else needed to be said; then a cold breeze reminded Garander that they were standing out in the woods in the middle of the night, with no coats, and he was freezing.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said.

  “Tomorrow.” The glow of Tesk’s face abruptly vanished, and a second later the green light on his wrist went out, as well; he was just one more shadow among the many that filled the forest’s darkness. Then, without as much as a rustle, he was gone, and Garander and his sister were standing alone among the trees. Garander shivered.

  He liked Tesk, but he had to admit there was something creepy about him—and besides, it was cold. Ishta’s feet must be half frozen in those thin slippers.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back indoors.”

  Ishta nodded, and the two of them turned and headed for home.

  Clouds had moved across the lesser moon, and the night was even darker than before; Garander found himself stumbling across roots and fallen branches, while he could hear mud sucking at Ishta’s slippers. He wondered how she would hide or explain the inevitable stains once they were safely back in the house.

  For that matter, he was sure his own breeches must be stained, and he knew they were wet—the cold was thoroughly uncomfortable.

  Then they emerged from the trees behind the washhouse and stepped down into the ditch. A moment later they were below the bedroom window.

  For the first time, Garander realized they had left it open. The room must be freezing, with all that cold night air getting in! What if the chill had woken Shella up?

  “Give me a boost in,” Ishta said.

  Startled, Garander obeyed, but even as he did he wondered how she got back in when he wasn’t with her.

  Once Ishta was safely inside he grabbed the window frame and pulled himself up—which was more difficult than he had expected.

  “Brace your feet against the wall,” Ishta called down.

  “I am!” he whispered back.

  A moment later he sprawled awkwardly across the top of the chest of drawers, and barely caught himself before toppling heavily onto the floor. He peered over at the dark lump that was Shella; she did not stir.

  “She never wakes up,” Ishta said. “I don’t know why she sleeps so soundly, since she hardly does any work, but she does.”

  Garander could not be sure in the darkness, but he thought he saw Shella move, as she had not when he made his clumsy entrance; she seemed to hunch her shoulders. She might, he thought, not be as sound a sleeper as Ishta thought.

  But that did not matter. Moving as quietly as he could he closed the casement and the shutter, then slipped out the bedroom door and headed for the attic stair.

  Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day, he told himself as he climbed. Once in his room he sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his muddy boots, hoping he would be able to sleep in such a state of nervous anticipation.

  He need not have worried; he had scarcely settled back on his pillow when his eyes closed and slumber overtook him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Guests or not, there were chores to be done in the morning—livestock to feed, water to fetch, and any number of other mundane tasks to be performed. Garander was startled to find Azlia helping him with the chickens; she offered no explanation beyond a cheerful “Good morning!” and he decided not to ask.

  As they finished up, she said, “Tell me about the shatra.”

  Garander suddenly realized why she had been helping him; she wanted to know more about her quarry. She had gotten him alone, ingratiated herself…

  But he had nothing to hide. In fact, he wanted to tell her. As he hung up the feed bucket he said, “We call him Tesk because we can’t pronounce his name; it’s long and strange. He speaks Ethsharitic, but he pronounces his words strangely and sometimes gets things a little wrong.”

  “Where does he live? Do you know?”

  “He lives in the forest—he doesn’t need a house. His magic keeps him warm and dry. I’m not
sure how he finds enough to eat.”

  “You’re sure he doesn’t have a cave or some other hiding place somewhere?”

  Garander turned up an empty palm. “How could I be sure? But I don’t know anything of one, and I’ve seen him sit in a snowstorm as comfortable as an ordinary man at his own hearth.”

  Azlia nodded. “How long has he been out there?”

  “He says he’s been alone in the woods since the end of the Great War—he was out there watching the borders when the gods destroyed the Empire. I suppose they overlooked him.”

  “He’s been alone out there for twenty years?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Why didn’t anyone know about it until now?”

  “He didn’t want them to. He can hide really well when he wants to.”

  “But then how did you find him?”

  “Ishta led me to him.” Before Azlia could ask the obvious next question, he continued, “And she found him because he wanted her to. He got lonely, and thought that a child wouldn’t know any better than to talk to him.”

  “Don’t parents around here tell their children not to talk to strangers?”

  The empty palm came up again. “Do children in Varag do everything their parents tell them?”

  Azlia smiled at that. “I suppose not.”

  “He didn’t come looking for her, after all; he just stayed in the woods and let her find him. I think he may have known she wasn’t allowed there, and if she was already breaking one rule, why not another?”

  “I see.”

  “He didn’t want to just stay out in the forest forever. He may be part demon, but he’s part man, and men get lonely.”

  “He waited twenty years, though.”

  “He knew what would happen if the overlords of Ethshar found out a shatra had survived. He hoped that by now we’d all have forgotten what shatra were.”

  “That’s not the sort of thing people forget.”

  “I guess not,” Garander acknowledged, turning up a hand. “But remember, he doesn’t know much about us. His people were different from ours.”

  “People are people,” the wizard said.

  Garander’s mouth twisted wryly. “So you’re saying Northerners were just like us?”

  Azlia paused. They had left the barn and were standing in the yard, halfway to the house. “Well, no,” she said. “Some things were different, some were the same.”

  Garander nodded. “So he hoped that shatra were forgotten. But he wasn’t surprised when we figured out what he is.”

  “So you did know?”

  “Not at first. But our father told us some things about the war, and we figured it out.”

  “And you still talked to the shatra?”

  “By then we knew him, and we knew he didn’t mean us any harm. After all, if he wanted to kill us, he’d had twenty years to do it.”

  “If he was really here all along.”

  “Where else could he have come from?” Garander asked.

  Azlia took a second to think, then said, “So you really don’t think he wants to hurt anyone?”

  “The war’s over. He knows that.”

  “What about the demon?”

  Garander hesitated, then said, “He says that the demon can’t control him unless he tries to disobey his orders—and for twenty years now, he hasn’t had any orders, so the demon’s harmless.”

  Azlia considered this for a moment. Garander glanced around, and saw Hargal and Grondar walking through the west field. No one else was in sight; Shella and their mother were probably in the house, but where Ishta, Sammel, and Burz might be he did not know.

  “You don’t want us to hurt him, do you?” Azlia asked.

  “No, we don’t,” Garander confirmed. “Ishta and I, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else. We like him.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t gone off where we can’t find him?”

  Garander took a deep breath. “Because I talked to him,” he said. “Last night.”

  Azlia smiled. “Ah,” she said.

  “He’d be willing to talk to you all, to show you he’s safe.”

  “Oh?”

  “If he does, if he can convince you he won’t hurt anyone, will you go away? Go back to the baron and tell him there’s no need to kill the shatra?”

  Azlia hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’ll take more than words to convince us.”

  “I think we can show you more than words.”

  “You have something planned?”

  “Maybe.” Garander frowned. “I’m glad I had a chance to talk to you; I don’t think Sammel really listens to me, and that Hargal scares me. I don’t know if I could have told them what I just told you.”

  “You don’t think it’s an accident that I’m the one who helped you this morning, do you?”

  Garander had not given the matter any conscious thought, but now that it had been pointed out, it seemed obvious. He grimaced; these people weren’t stupid. At least, the magicians weren’t, and Hargal didn’t seem to be; he really couldn’t say about Burz. They must have noticed that he found Azlia easier to talk to than the others. “I guess not,” he said. “But could you talk to the others, then? Sammel and the soldiers?”

  “That’s what I plan to do, yes. So, when did you have in mind for this demonstration?”

  “After lunch.”

  “Today?” She sounded surprised.

  Garander nodded.

  “I thought you would need a few days to arrange it.”

  “No,” Garander said. “This afternoon.”

  “Then I have some preparations to make.”

  Startled, Garander said, “You do?”

  “I do.” She looked around, and spotted Hargal. “Excuse me.” Then she turned and marched off, headed directly toward the soldier and Garander’s father.

  This abrupt departure caught Garander by surprise; for a moment he simply stood and watched her go. Then, gathering his wits, he headed into the house.

  Burz was standing just inside the door, watching Garander’s mother and sister as they worked in the kitchen. The soldier turned as the youth came in, and asked, “Where’s the wizard?”

  “She went to talk to Hargal,” Garander said, pointing.

  Burz frowned. “Excuse me.” He brushed past Garander and stepped out the door. Garander let him go, then greeted his mother and settled on a chair by the hearth.

  A moment later the door opened again, and Ishta entered. “They’re all talking over there,” she said, pointing to the west.

  “All of them?” Garander asked.

  She nodded. “The sorcerer was following me around while I did my chores, but when he saw the others talking he went over there, too.”

  “Did he talk to you?”

  “He tried to. I wouldn’t talk to him. They want to kill Tesk, so I’m not going to talk to any of them.”

  “Oh.” That was typical of Ishta, Garander thought—though he wondered whether she might have talked more than she wanted to admit. Sometimes she couldn’t keep quiet, especially when she was excited or angry. But Sammel didn’t know her; he wouldn’t have known how to get her started.

  “Would you two like to make yourselves useful?” their mother called.

  Garander resisted the temptation to answer her question honestly, and instead got up and headed for the kitchen.

  He had expected the baron’s people to be impatient to get on with meeting Tesk, but they did not seem to be. When Grondar came in he reported that they had been talking quietly and not letting him hear, and had then all gone into the barn and closed the door. He clearly did not appreciate being shut out of his own barn, but he was not inclined to argue with soldiers and magicians.

  The family went about their business, not saying much about their uninvited visitors. When the time came to make lunch, Garander asked his mother, “Should I tell the…our guests?”

  His mother snorted. “Let them feed themselves!”

  Accordi
ngly, the five of them ate a quiet meal, leaving the baron’s agents to their own devices. Garander did not think any of them would starve.

  When everyone had eaten, the table had been cleared, and Shella the Younger was washing the dishes, Garander rose. “I need to talk to the wizard,” he said.

  “I’ll come along,” Ishta immediately announced, springing to her feet. Garander repressed a sigh; Ishta could be distressingly obvious, and indeed, the rest of the family plainly saw that something was up.

  “Fine,” he said, with a glance at their father. “But be quiet.”

  Ishta nodded.

  “Son,” Grondar said.

  “Yes?” Garander answered, dreading what his father might say.

  “I assume you are not simply looking for the wizard in hopes she might show you a few spells.”

  “No, Father.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning to do anything that might bring the baron’s wrath down upon us. Remember, while he may not have a great deal of power in his own right, he is one of the Council of Barons. If Ishta’s friend angers Lord Dakkar, it may bring not just the soldiers of Varag, but the armies and magicians of Sardiron and all its allies down upon us. Don’t judge them all by the two out in the barn, either; there are wizards in the World who can move mountains. And the dragons who fought for Ethshar in the Great War are not all dead; I don’t know what became of them, but I’m sure there are those in the baronies who do know, and who can call some of them back if the need arises.”

  “I’m not trying to anger anyone, Father. I just want to convince the baron’s people that Tesk is harmless and should be left alone.”

  For a moment the two men, father and son, looked at one another, assessing each other. Then Grondar said, “You do have a plan, then?”

  Garander nodded.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Garander started to say that there was not, but then a thought struck him. He glanced at Ishta, but she was leaving it all to him. “You know, if you could bring some of the neighbors, so they can see that Tesk won’t hurt them, that might be helpful.”

  Grondar raised his chin, considering, then asked. “How long do I have?”

  Garander turned up an empty palm. “I’m not sure. Perhaps an hour? Perhaps two? No later than mid-afternoon.”