by Rick Cook
"Well," she said. "Well indeed. I was going to wait until the next full moon to lay this creature. But since your lordships are here, I suppose I can do the job tomorrow."
"Very well then," Philomen said. "I presume there is a place we can get dinner and stay the night."
"Oh, there is no inn in the village," Alaina said. "Much too small, you know." She hesitated.
"I would ask you to sleep here, but…" She swept out her arm, indicating the clutter and the single bed. "In any event, I am sure you would be much more comfortable staying at the mayor’s house. No, I am sure he will insist that you stay with him as soon as he knows you are here."
"I am sure you know best, Lady," Philomen said.
"He is out on the brook gathering reeds for thatching," the hedge witch told them. "I will have someone send for him immediately." She stood up. "Will you excuse me, Lords?" She bobbed a curtsey and went out.
"Political, huh?" Wiz said once he was sure their hostess was out of earshot.
"Such matters usually are, Lord. At least to some extent. I would suggest that we let her lay this creature." He looked at Wiz. "Unless you have reason to do otherwise."
The man’s tone made Wiz uncomfortable. "No, none at all," he said, looking down at his boots.
"Might I further suggest, Lord, that we stand ready to aid her should the need arise? Her style does not give me confidence in her abilities."
Wiz and Philomen sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minute more. Wiz still wasn’t sure whether Philomen’s coldness grew out of his nature or a dislike for him. A mixture of both, he suspected increasingly.
Alaina came rushing back breathless with the news that mayor Andrew had been summoned from the reed marsh and his wife was preparing to receive them at their house. It would take a few minutes, she told them, but they would receive a proper reception.
Wiz was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with both of them, so he excused himself.
"I want to stretch my legs a bit," he explained.
Philomen nodded. "As you will," and he turned his attention back to Alaina’s latest story.
There wasn’t much to the village, just a gaggle of houses spread out along a narrow lane. Most of them were timber or wattle and daub, but a few of the larger ones clustered around the place where the lane widened into a village square were made of native stone.
There weren’t many people about, or if there were they were keeping out of sight. Once or twice Wiz passed someone in the street who bowed or curtseyed and then moved on quickly. He saw children peering at him from windows and doors, but very few adults.
Either people hereabouts were afraid of strangers or they knew who he was and they were nervous around wizards. Judging from the reactions he got, Wiz suspected the latter.
At the end of the village, where the stream made a looping bend, there was a grove of poplars on a bank overlooking a water meadow. As Wiz approached he smelled smoke and the smell drew him on toward the trees.
Maybe there will be someone here to talk to, he thought.
There was a wagon, hardly more than a cart, and an ox grazing in the meadow nearby. A man in rough brown breeches and a coarse linen shirt was busy building up a small campfire. He was burly with a greying beard and a seamed, weatherbeaten face. He looked up and smiled a gap-toothed smile as Wiz approached.
"Well met, My Lord."
"Uh, hi. Just passing through, are you?"
"Aye, My Lord," the man chuckled. "Passing through on my way to a better life. I am called Einrich."
"Wiz Zumwalt. Pleased to meet you. But why are you camped out here? I thought the villagers put travellers up where there are no inns."
The man shrugged. "I know no one here and I have no claim to guest right. Doubtless a place could be made for me, but the weather is fair. The people are willing to let me pasture my ox in their meadow and gather wood for my fire. That is sufficient.
"Besides," he added, "they have seen many like me recently. Better to save their hospitality for those who are travelling with their wives and children."
Wiz looked around and realized there were three or four other campfire rings under the trees. No one was using them now, but most of them looked as if they hadn’t been long out of use.
"Where is everyone going?"
Einrich grinned, showing the place where his front teeth had been. "Why for land, young Lord. They go into the Wild Wood for land."
"You too?"
Einrich nodded. "I tarry here for a day or so to rest and feed up my ox. Then I am also on my way east for new land."
"All by yourself?"
"My sons and their families stay behind on the old farm to gather in the harvest." He grinned. "They can spare a dotard such as me and this way we can get an early start on our new farm."
Looking at Einrich’s powerful frame, Wiz would not have called him a dotard. Old perhaps, by the standards of the peasantry, but he looked like he could still work Wiz into the ground.
"How far are you going?"
"As deep into the Wild Wood as I can. That way when my sons follow we will all be able to claim as much land as my sons and my sons’ sons will ever need."
"Aren’t you worried about magic?"
"No more!" Einrich said triumphantly. "With the new spell I can defeat any magic in the Wild Wood. Trolls, even elves, I can destroy them all."
Wiz frowned. ddt, his magic-protection spell, wouldn’t destroy anything. It would only ward off magic and tend to drive magical influences away.
Wiz opened his mouth to say something, but Einrich interrupted him. "Oh, it is a grand time to be alive!" His eyes shone like a child’s at Christmas. "Truly grand and I thank fortune that I lived to see this day. No longer must mortals cower at the threat of magic. Now we can walk free beneath the sun!"
"Wonderful," Wiz said uncomfortably.
"Will you join me for dinner, Lord? Plain fare, I fear, but plenty of it."
"No thanks. I think I am expected back at the village for dinner."
Wiz walked slowly back toward the village square, scowling and scuffing his boot toe in the dust of the road. This was what he had fought for, wasn’t it? That people like Einrich could live their lives without having to fear magic constantly. Most of the Fringe and part of the Wild Wood had been human at one time, before the pressures of magic had driven the people back. Wasn’t it just that they were reclaiming their own?
Then why do I feel so damn uncomfortable with Einrich and what he’s doing?
The mayor met Wiz partway back to the village square. He was a stout, balding man with a face red from exertion. He was wearing a red velvet tunic trimmed with black martin fur obviously thrown hastily over his everyday clothes. He had washed the muck off, but the odor of the reed marsh still clung to him.
Mayor Andrew turned out to be almost as garrulous as Alaina. This time it suited Wiz because it meant that aside from complimenting the mayor on the village and making agreeable noises, he did not have to talk.
Dinner that evening was a formal affair. All the important people of the village turned out in their holiday best to honor the visitors. The villagers’ manners were strained as they tried to follow what they thought was polite custom in the Capital. It reminded Wiz of a dinner he had attended once where the principals of an American software company were doing their best to entertain and avoid offending a group of powerful Japanese computer executives. That one turned into a rousing success after both sides discovered they shared a strong taste for single-malt scotch consumed in large quantities. For a moment Wiz considered trying to conjure up a bottle of Glenlivet, but he realized it would take more than booze to help this party.
"What is this thing that threatens you anyway?" Wiz asked Andrew during a particularly strained pause in the conversation as the mountainous platter of boiled beef was being removed and replaced with an an equally mountainous plate of roast pork.
Andrew twisted in his chair and pointed. "That!"
Wiz followed the
mayor’s finger out the window. Hulking against the night sky was the huge granite hill, its mass and shape cutting off the stars near the horizon.
"The hill?"
"Aye, the hill. We have lived in its shadow too long."
Wiz realized everyone was looking at him and the mayor.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Dangerous enough," the mayor said grimly.
"What does it do?"
"It mazes people. Those who climb it are overcome by its power and stricken dumb. For days or even weeks they wander as if simple."
"Young John fell off it and broke his back," a slat-thin woman halfway down the table put in. "The healer said it was a wonder that he ever walked again."
Wiz toyed with the pork that had been heaped on his plate. "Uh, maybe this is a dumb question, but why don’t people just stay off the hill?"
There was stony silence all down the table. Philomen concentrated on his plate and everyone else glared at Wiz.
"Okay, so it was a dumb question," Wiz muttered.
"The thing is magic and I will not have magic so close to my village," Andrew said fiercely.
"Look, don’t worry. I’m sure that we can take care of this thing tomorrow so it will never bother you again."
Somehow the rest of the meal passed off without incident.
Deep in the Wild Wood a wren perched on a finger and trilled out its message. Seklos, now second in command of the Dark League, considered carefully the news the bird had brought.
So, he thought, our Sparrow leaves its nest. Very well, we will be ready when he seeks to return. He dismissed the wren with a flick of his finger and turned to his work. In concert with the others of the Dark League, he had a demon to create. A most powerful and special demon.
As he reached for a spell book Seklos wondered idly what that fool in the Capital meant about attempts on the Sparrow’s life. The Dark League would make only one such attempt. And when it came it would be crushingly, overwhelmingly successful.
Seven: Demon Debug
The three most dangerous things in the world are a programmer with a soldering iron, a hardware type with a program patch and a user with an idea.
computer saying
The morning was bright and clear. The day promised to be hot, but by the time Wiz and Philomen emerged from the mayor’s house the whole village was astir.
"Oh, this is a great day," Mayor Andrew told them, rubbing his palms together. "A great day indeed."
"I am sure it is," Philomen said soothingly. "We are honored to be here to observe. Now, if you will excuse us, we must consult with your hedge witch before the ceremony."
As the villagers drifted in the direction of the monolith, Wiz, Philomen and Alaina retired to one corner of the meadow for some shop talk.
"Okay," Wiz said, looking over his shoulder at the enormous mass of granite. "Probably the best tool for this job is the Demon Deterrent Trap, ddt."
"Why not demon_debug?" asked Alaina.
"What’s that?" "A wonderful cure for magic of all sorts," the slatternly hedge witch told him. "It wipes it right out."
"Where did you get it?"
Alaina gestured vaguely. "It is being passed through the villages. Much better than ddt, I assure you."
"Well, let’s see it."
Alaina nodded and raised her staff.
"demon—debug exe!" she bawled at the top of her cracked voice.
There was a shimmering and shifting in the air in front of them and a squat demon perhaps three feet high and nearly as broad appeared on the grass before them.
Wiz looked the thing over and frowned. "This isn’t one of my spells."
"Of course not, My Lord," the hedge witch said. "This is better."
The warty green demon leered up at him, showing saw-like rows of teeth in a cavernous mouth. The thing looked singularly unpleasant, even for a demon.
"How does it work?"
Alaina shrugged. "It is magic of course. How else does a spell work?"
"No, I mean how does it function? Haven’t you listed it out to examine the code?"
"List?" Alaina said, puzzled. "Forgive me, Lord, but how do you make a spell lean? And what good would it do."
Wiz shot her a dirty look. Then he realized she was sincere. She didn’t have the faintest idea how a spell worked or how to find out.
He shook his head. "Well, let’s see then."
Philomen and the hedge witch hung back to watch the master work.
"Emac."
"Yes, master?" A small brown mannikin popped up at his feet. It was perhaps three feet high with a head almost grotesquely large for its body. It wore a green eyeshade on its bald brown head and carried a quill pen stuck behind one flaplike ear.
The Emacs were one of the first classes of demons Wiz had created when he declared his one-man war on the Dark League. They were translators and recorders of spells in Wiz’s magic language, magical clerks.
"backslash." Wiz commanded.
"$," said the Emac.
"list demon_debug," Wiz said.
The Emac pulled the pen from behind his ear and began to scribble furiously on the air in front of him. A mixture of runes, numbers, and mathematical symbols appeared in glowing green fire.
Wiz frowned as he studied the symbols.
"It’s based on ddt, but it’s been changed." He turned to the Emac again.
"backslash."
"$."
"dif demondebug/ddt."
Again the Emac scribbled and again the lambent characters hung in the air. But one section of spell stood out in violent magenta against the neon green.
Wiz bent forward over the Emac’s shoulder to study the magenta section. It represented the changes between the original ddt and this new version. He traced his finger along the lines and his lips moved as he worked out what the changes did.
"Jesus H. Christ," he breathed at last. "What a nasty piece of work!" He straightened up and glared at the other two magicians.
"Who’s responsible for this?"
"Ah, responsible for what, Lord?" Philomen asked.
"This!" Wiz shouted. "It isn’t a defensive spell. It’s offensive, a magic killer. You turn this loose on any kind of magical creature and it won’t just protect you, it will destroy the thing."
"So much the better," the hedge witch said firmly. "That way it will never come around to bother us again."
"But why kill it?"
Alaina set her jaw firmly and her eyes glittered. "Because it is magic and because it threatens us. Perhaps the Mighty do things differently in the Capital, but we are simple folk out here on the Fringe. We treat harmful magic the way we treat poisonous serpents."
Before Wiz could reply Philomen placed a hand on his arm. "Forgive me, My Lord, but perhaps we should discuss this. Will you excuse us, My Lady?"
Alaina curtseyed stiffly and withdrew to the other end of the meadow.
"My Lord, it is unwise to give an order you cannot enforce," Philomen said as soon as the hedge witch was out of earshot. "Were you to forbid this, she could simply wait until we are gone and use demon_debug herself."
"This is too much. That thing doesn’t hurt anyone permanently. From what they say it doesn’t even affect anyone who doesn’t climb it."
"Still, it is strong magic and that makes it an unchancy neighbor. The villagers’ desire to rid themselves of the thing is understandable."
"Great. But where will it all end? Are these people going to go around destroying anything just because it’s magic?"
"If they have the opportunity."
"That’s crazy!"
"No, it is understandable. It is the people in the villages, especially along the Fringe, who have suffered the most from magic. To you in your pale tower in the Capital magic may be a thing to be learned and applied. Here it is a thing to be hated and feared. Is it any wonder that as soon as they were given an opportunity to practice magic safely, they should go looking for a weapon?"
"I gave them a defense," Wi
z protested. "I didn’t expect them to turn it into something so dangerous!"
"You did say you wanted even common folk to learn your new way of magic," Philomen said mildly.
"Yes, but not like this!"
"Are you now complaining because someone took you at your word?"
"I’m complaining because this spell is fucking magical napalm!" Wiz yelled. "I expected people to have more sense than this."
"Sense?" Philomen asked with a trace of malice. "My Lord, forgive me, but when have the folk of the villages ever shown such sense?
"Once it was the Council’s job to maintain the balance of the World. But as you have said, the Council is outworn and lives beyond its usefulness. Or did you expect the folk along the Fringe to learn restraint and balance overnight?"
"I never said the Council was useless."
"You never put it in words," Philomen retorted. "But you said it with every act, every gesture, every roll of the eyes or yawn in Council meeting. Oh, your message got through, right enough. Even to the villages on the Fringe of the Wild Wood.
"Then you compound your actions by giving villagers a powerful spell they can use freely and telling everyone who would listen that you do not have to be a wizard to practice magic." Philomen’s lip curled in contempt. "No, My Lord, you are getting exactly what you strived for."
Wiz couldn’t think of anything to say.
"So come, My Lord, let us attend the laying of this thing. And for the sake of what little order remains in the World, let us put a good face on it." With that he turned and walked back across the meadow to where Alaina was waiting. Wiz hesitated for an instant and then followed.
The entire village was gathered before the stone by the time the three magicians arrived. All of them were wearing their holiday best. The adults were clumped together talking excitedly and the children were running around laughing and shrieking at play.
They parted like a wave for the three magicians. Andrew was standing at the front of a few of the other people from the feast last night.
Alaina looked over the crowd, eyes shining and her coarse face split in a huge smile.
"Well," she said briskly, "shall we begin?"