Sword and Sorceress 30

by Waters, Elisabeth

  The young woman’s grayish pallor was alarming, and she dragged her feet to keep from staggering. The thong of her necklace had snapped and dangled from either side of her fist.

  ~o0o~

  The All-Father’s guards arrived in time to intercept the bandits who had evaded the townsfolk. Tyana announced her return to Pimchan before joining Nadia—and the All-Father—in the kitchen.

  Messages sent back and forth moved the feast from the Temple of Chaos to the town’s main square.

  There, before retiring to her compound, Pimchan mounted the cryer’s tower and spoke through the megaphone fixed there.

  “We have all suffered irrecoverable losses today. You have lost friends and family, who are also my children by decree, and I have lost my freedom. People of such fierce courage hardly need a Warrior in residence, but I have yielded to your petition and agreed to not request release. Indeed, although I wished to be freed from the burden of snapping at rats who came to nibble at a granary, I do not wish to leave the company of a town full of Chaos hearts. Those who fell today will be burned with a Warrior’s honor, with amber and incense upon their pyres. Those disabled today will be given guards’ pensions from the All-Father’s treasury.”

  It was her right to claim this, and it gave her great satisfaction to do so. It would have been unkind to wish more had been disabled, but she couldn’t help wondering how far she could stretch the definition.

  The old peasant at the back of the crowd, shadowed by the young woman who could have been (but wasn’t) his granddaughter, smiled and nodded.

  ~o0o~

  “You won’t be needing this, then.” The All-Father held out Pimchan’s letter. She ignored it.

  “A simple ‘No’ would have sufficed. People died today.”

  “Many more would have died without you. The town would, eventually, have been taken over by the bandits or destroyed by them. All of Cloud Mountain would have become lawless. I didn’t place you here on a whim.”

  “You had only to refuse my request and I would have stayed.”

  “Unwillingly, still apart from and at odds with the townsfolk. Now, you’re one of them. More than that: you’re their Battle Mother. And some say,” he leaned forward and muttered, impressively, “you keep a familiar spirit in the form of a harmless old man.”

  “Do they.” It wasn’t a question.

  The All-Father poked at the necklace on the eating table between them. Two of its beads were dull and cracked; one bead had shattered and had left only its dust on the cord.

  “Your female is something of a marvel,” he said. “She’s had no training?”

  “I said she’s had no training that I’ve assigned or approved. With Nadia, that isn’t the same thing. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn she’s picked up lessons and defensive spells on the quiet.”

  “Understandable.”

  Pimchan scowled. “Some training might not come amiss. Just when we most needed the compound closed, her spell failed and left you exposed.”

  The All-Father laughed, a reedy chuckle beloved by his friends and dreaded by his enemies.

  “She wasn’t trying to keep the bandits out. She was trying to keep me in.” He prodded the dusty mark on the neck cord. “She did a creditable job of it.”

  “She was—” Words failed.

  Pimchan gathered the necklace, pulled off the cracked beads, and tossed them into the flaming brazier nearby.

  “She may weave a net of caution around Tyana, and she may certainly make another bead to guard the compound, but Nandan and I need no housekeeper’s charm to keep us safe. There’s an end to that.”

  “Is it?”

  “I’ve forbidden it!”

  “Have you?”

  The girl wouldn’t dare defy her! She would beat the female until she was sure Nadia would obey! She would....

  She sighed.

  The All-Father chuckled again and stuck the edge of Pimchan’s letter in the flame. He held it until the fire licked perilously close to his blue-veined fingers before he let it go.

  Admissions

  Michael H. Payne

  Despite being a squirrel, Cluny is a powerful wizard. Last year she saved her study group from a fellow student who was trying to kill them. Now she is trying to get him re-admitted to school, despite the reasonable objections of the faculty and the terrified and hysterical objections from his near-victims. This is probably not going to turn out the way she anticipated....

  In a constantly changing world, Michael has just entered his 10th year writing and drawing his Daily Grind webcomic, his 25th year working at the local library, his 31st year hosting his radio program at the local university, and his 33rd year singing and playing guitar at the local Catholic church. He’s also recently gotten more involved in the fandom surrounding the current My Little Pony cartoon show and now helps select fanfiction to spotlight at both the Equestria Daily and Royal Canterlot Library websites. His site hyniof.livejournal.com will be happy to provide further details.

  “No.” The wrinkles from Master Gollantz’s glare made his forehead look like a topographical map, but his words were oddly quiet. “It’s entirely out of the question.”

  “But sir!” Cluny leaped from her pocket along the front of Crocker’s robes and flicked a quick levitation spell from her whiskers to make sure she landed safely on the edge of Master Gollantz’s desk. “Fitzwilliam Goulet isn’t—”

  “Isn’t what?” Master Gollantz didn’t raise his voice, but the sight of him sitting ramrod stiff in that ornately carved chair with his fingers steepled in front of him was more than enough to make Cluny squeeze her mouth shut. “Are you saying he isn’t the student who smuggled a home-built mana flayer onto campus and attempted to kill several of my most accomplished students, the three of you included? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Sophomore?”

  Forcing away memories of that horrible day in the middle of last year, Cluny glanced back at her familiars, Crocker sitting stiffly in his own chair, his lips tight and his pasty face even paler than usual, and Shtasith draped around his shoulders, the rich black and gold of the little dragon’s scales standing out against the dun of Crocker’s robes. The magic of the human and the firedrake enveloped her just as strongly and supportively as ever, but she couldn’t help noticing the pinpricks of their disapproval, the lumpy feeling that told her they didn’t think this was a particularly good idea. But—

  “No, sir,” she said, turning back to Master Gollantz. “He... he did do all that. But he’s sorry, sir, and he’s—”

  “Sorry you stopped him, you mean.” Master Gollantz’s eyebrows bristled. “Your generous heart does you credit, I suppose, Cluny, but may I remind you that when you and your familiars turned his mana flayer against him, it stripped his aura completely and left him devoid of all magic?” He spread his hands. “Huxley is a school dedicated to training students of sorcery, and readmitting Goulet when he no longer has any magical ability—”

  “But that’s just it!” Cluny sprang forward but forced herself to stop in the middle of his blotter pad, her tail jittering and her claws wanting to sink into the thick paper. Yes, she had a special relationship with Master Gollantz—he was one of only two people in the world who knew that, even though she was a squirrel, Cluny had more sorcerous power potentially at her command than most humans—but still, leaping into the Magister Magistrorum’s lap didn’t strike her as wise.

  Taking a breath, she tried to settle her thoughts. “The cat who used to be Goulet’s familiar, sir: we got him and Goulet back together after Goulet was released from prison earlier this week, and the two of them, they... they sparked, sir! I don’t know how else to explain it, but—!”

  “Sophomore?” Master Gollantz again spoke softly, but the rumble behind the word froze Cluny’s throat. “By Monday, you will have on my desk a fully researched report detailing the phenomenon of Aura Ghosting.” A flick of his fingers made the quill pen rise from his inkwell, and he gave the slightest of nods toward
his office door. “You’re dismissed.”

  Behind her, she heard the rustle and shuffle of Crocker rising to his feet, and as much as she wanted to present some of the arguments she’d come up with over the past few days, she turned and jumped for Crocker’s lapels instead. Master Gollantz liked to think things over, she’d noticed in the nine or ten months that she and her familiars had been coming to his office for their regular weekly meetings. Trying to rush him into making a decision wouldn’t help anybody.

  Crocker bowed to the magister, Cluny clinging to the edge of her pocket and bowing as well, Shtasith’s snaky neck dipping his head in Master Gollantz’s direction. Then Crocker was turning, pulling the door open, stepping out into the front office. “Don’t wanna say I told you so,” he started.

  But Cluny kicked a hind leg against his chest. “Not here,” she muttered. She put on a quick smile, gave a wave to Lauren, Master Gollantz’s office manager, and waited till Crocker was moving down the front steps of the admin building, the early October noontime sunlight bright but watery over the Huxley campus. Taking a breath, she blew it back out. “We just have to give him time.”

  Shtasith puffed a gust of steam. “Forgive me, my Cluny,” he said in that raspy voice of his, “but I continue to see no way in which Master Gollantz will ever budge on this point.”

  Not for the first time, Cluny wanted to be one of her non-sapient cousins so she could scurry up a tree and chitter her frustrations to the leaves and sky. “But he has to! You saw how Goulet and Polaris reacted to each other! It’s humans and familiars working together in unison and in tandem that create a wizard, and we need to do whatever we can to make sure everyone understands that!”

  An itchy sort of silence settled around them, Crocker heading down the path from the stucco and red-tile architecture of North Campus toward Eldritch Park, the magical woods at the center of Huxley College. Concentrating on the arguments she’d need for her next meeting with Master Gollantz, Cluny flinched when Crocker suddenly asked, “So what’s Aura Ghosting?”

  Cluny blinked up at him. “What?”

  “Aura Ghosting.” Crocker crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Master Gollantz just assigned us a research paper on it, remember? One that we’ll hafta spend all weekend putting together since he wants it Monday?” He looked down at her, and his mouth went sideways. “Can I also point out that I’m not usually the one who hasta keep track of this academic stuff?”

  The puff of steam Shtasith gave off this time came with a breathy laugh. “For which we are all eternally grateful.”

  His gaze still on Cluny, Crocker nodded. “Now, I’m not complaining since Tzusy’s probably gonna be at the library, too, working on whatever she’s got going on this week, but—”

  “Tzusy!” Cluny dug her foreclaws into the edge of her pocket, ideas sparking through her. “Of course!”

  They’d just stepped into the shadows of Eldritch Park, and Crocker stopping on the path made Cluny crane her neck at him. “No, Cluny,” he said, his scowl nothing compared to Master Gollantz’s, but it still made Cluny’s tail frizz. “Not another step till you tell me what you’re planning.”

  Students hurried past along the stone walkway, their defensive auras so bright, they almost made Cluny squint. One of the hazards of her having to keep her existence as a wizard secret: she and Lady Hesper, the unicorn dean of Huxley’s Healing Arts Department, had been forced to put together a cover story to explain why Crocker didn’t act the way anyone expected a sorcerer to act, a story that pretty much boiled down to Crocker being one of the most powerful and most unbalanced people ever admitted to the school. So except for Tzu Yin and the other four undergrads in their independent study program, pretty much everyone kept their distance.

  Still, when Cluny didn’t have to pretend she was the familiar and Crocker was the wizard, it made it easier for them to have honest conversations. And Cluny was all for honesty—even when it meant she had to tell Crocker little white lies.

  “I’m not planning anything,” she said. “But Tzusy was there when we reunited Goulet and Polaris. I’m sure she’ll want an update on our efforts to get them back into school.”

  Crocker just looked at her with his eyes narrowed; it was Shtasith who asked, “An update? Forgive me, my Cluny, but to the best of my knowledge, you’ve mentioned to no one other than Master Gollantz, the simian here, and myself your ideas about getting Fitzwilliam Goulet readmitted to Huxley. You’ve not even asked Master Goulet if he’s interested in returning.”

  “What?” It took Cluny a few sputtering seconds to find her voice. “But, I mean, of course he wants to come back! He was in the same advanced programs we’re in and was doing really well, too! Why wouldn’t he want to continue his studies?”

  “I dunno.” Crocker gave an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe because he tried to kill a bunch of us last time he was here?”

  “That’s not—!” Swallowing her comments, Cluny turned, settled deeper into her pocket, and folded her front legs across her chest. “If you would please take us to Podkamennaya Hall, Crocker? We’re late for our study group.”

  The silence this time seemed to solidify the air, but after a moment Crocker began walking along the path again, Eldritch Park closing in on all sides, its darkness thicker than Cluny had ever felt before.

  Dumb magical woods. Growing up on her parents’ nut farm, she’d gotten to know trees quite well, and the main difference she’d noticed between these enchanted ones and the regular ones back home was that these were a lot less subtle. All trees had weird senses of humor, looming without moving and silently laughing at strange times and in strange ways, but adding magic to them just seemed to make them get stupid.

  Like it did with everything else, she was tempted to think, but that wasn’t fair. Yes, her first year at Huxley had opened her eyes to things she wished she hadn’t seen; the bickering and the back-biting and the just plain viciousness among students, faculty, and staff, for instance, had almost gotten her, Crocker, and Shtasith killed several times. But that was just a part of growing up, really, coming to realize that all people, humans and animals alike, were nuttier than the north forty, to quote her father’s favorite saying.

  But for Crocker and Shtasith not to understand what it meant to get Goulet and Polaris back into Huxley? That was worse than nutty! She’d seen the estate where Crocker had grown up largely ignored by his parents when he kept falling short of the goals they set for him. And Shtasith had served the Ifriti Ranee as her personal Immolator throughout the Realms of Fire until Her Majesty’s paranoia had led her to betray and exile him. How could they of all people not see the importance of second chances?

  Tzu Yin would support her in this, though, Cluny was sure. Well, she was pretty sure. Cluny just needed to present the idea to her in the right way, and everything would fall into place!

  Of course, she’d also thought that about Master Gollantz...

  The gloom around her started to brighten, and she looked past her funk to see that they’d reached the edge of the Park, the scant sunlight ahead seeming as fulsome as a summer day. The silence went on, though, Crocker carrying her and Shtasith along the path past what looked for all the world like an ancient mound of moss-covered boulders. Stopping at the proper indentation, though, Crocker raised his right hand, the thumb and forefinger curled to meet in an ‘O’ shape, and blew through it, Cluny’s whiskers tingling to feel the little airball spell she’d designed for him.

  As always, it proved just powerful enough to disperse the illusion around the library door, a weathered slab of wood popping up on the side of the nearest boulder. With a sigh, Crocker grabbed the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped into the entryway of Podkamennaya Hall, the dust swirling its regular laughing gavottes in the light streaming through windows that couldn’t be seen from the outside. “I’m sorry, Cluny,” Crocker said. “But you know me and the Teakettle’re right about this whole thing.”

  Shtasith’s tail lashed Crocker’s right shoulder.
“I’ve warned you, filthy simian! I do not care for that nickname!”

  Crocker waved a hand. “’Cause it’s not just Goulet and Polaris you need to think about. It’s everybody at Huxley, especially Eubie and Meeshele and Ric and Jeanette and Tzusy. I mean, they’re the ones Goulet prob’bly woulda killed if we hadn’t been here that day.”

  “Enough,” Cluny said, and while she hadn’t meant for the word to come out as hard as a slap, it did, Crocker’s magic freezing around her and making her wince. “I... I’m—” she started, but by then they were moving from the entryway into the downstairs stacks of the library, Tzusy wearing her red-and-black plaid shirt over her robes and sitting cross-legged on the chunk of granite with the word “Information” carved into it that sprawled through the center of the room.

  Which meant that Cluny had to stick to their cover story and slip back into her role as cute woodland creature. After all, as far as Tzusy and nearly the rest of creation knew, Crocker was the wizard, Shtasith was his familiar, and Cluny was just a random sapient squirrel Crocker had fixated on in his disturbed state, convinced that he couldn’t exercise any of his magical powers unless she was with him. And acting all polite and deferential in these situations, Cluny often felt, was harder than any spell craft could ever be.

  At least Tzusy had her usual effect on Crocker: he brightened, his heart rate, Cluny could tell from her spot leaning against his chest, picking up considerably. “Don’t tell me,” he said, a sudden jauntiness in his voice. “Eubie’s betting on me being late again.”

  Tzusy smiled, but it was tight and quick, her levitation spell when she drifted to the floor from her seat atop the boulder a little more jagged than usual. “Kind of,” Tzu Yin said. “But I had to bet him.”

  That made Cluny prick her ears. “Is he sick?” she asked. It sometimes seemed like every other sentence Eubie or his stoat familiar Tangle spoke had the words I betcha in it.