The Wizard Heir

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Seph shrugged. “Let’s just get there.”

  They were driving close to the lakeshore now. Seph saw signs for wineries, bed and breakfasts, and Trinity College. When they rounded a curve, he saw the town itself, across a small bay, like a scene from a postcard. Quaint storefronts and Victorian houses clustered along the water, the stark white steeples of churches rising behind, a picturesque harbor and marina lined with boats. More sailboats were anchored just off shore.

  The town shimmered in the slanting sunlight, as if there were an iridescent veil draped across it, some pecu-liar trick of the light. The car slowed, and Seph glanced over at Linda. She was frowning, head tilted, as if seeing something she didn’t like. She removed her sunglasses and leaned forward, squinting through the windshield, then took a quick left at the next intersection and headed south.

  “What’s wrong?” Seph asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  They detoured south for a few miles, then cut west and back north so that they approached the town from the south. They came over a ridge, perhaps an ancient shoreline of the lake, and once again, the town lay glowing before them with the lake beyond. Indistinct, purple-pink, like a poorly printed illustration in a pulp magazine. Linda shook her head, muttering to herself, made a sudden right turn into the parking lot of a small diner, and jerked to a stop.

  “Let’s eat here,” she said. “Go in and get us a table. Get whatever you want, and order me a salad. I need to make a phone call.” She pulled out a cell phone and waved him off.

  Baffled, Seph went on into the restaurant. It was nearly empty, maybe because it was a weeknight. The only employee in evidence was wiping off glasses behind the bar. He motioned Seph to a back table, staring at his bruised face with frank curiosity, as if hoping his guest would pay for his dinner with a story about his recent beating.

  By the time Linda came in, the food had already arrived. “Who’d you call?” he asked.

  “My nephew. Jack,” Linda explained. “He’s going to meet us here. My sister, Becka, is a lawyer. She also teaches literature at Trinity College. Jack’s her son, a little older than you.”

  Seph shrugged, puzzled by the change in plans. “Okay.”

  “He’s a warrior,” Linda went on. “One of the Weirlind.”

  Seph stopped chewing and looked up. Jason had said warriors were exceedingly rare. Like an endangered species. “A warrior? Are you expecting trouble?”

  Linda shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope not. He might bring some other people along.”

  “What’s wrong?” Seph asked.

  “There’s a magical barrier around the town—a Weirweb. I want to know how long it’s been there and who put it up.”

  A Weirweb. A cold finger ran down his spine. Seph recalled the barrier around the Havens, with its smudgy, iridescent appearance. The veil over Trinity was similar. Could it be a coincidence?

  They finished their food, and Seph ordered a piece of apple pie à la mode. He was dissecting it, consuming it in a hundred small bites, when the door opened and three people walked in.

  One was an old man, very thin, with a trimmed white beard and bright black eyes. He leaned on a staff with an intricately carved bear’s head on it. Although wizards couldn’t readily recognize their own kind, he seemed to be a prototype.

  He was unlike the other wizards Seph had met. There was something kind and reassuring about his face, in the laugh lines around his eyes.

  The other two were about Seph’s age. One was a tall, athletic-looking teenager with bright red-gold hair and blue eyes that reminded Seph of Linda’s. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that revealed his broad chest and shoulders and muscular arms. He grinned when he spotted them in the corner and crossed the space between the door and the table in a few long strides.

  I’ve never seen a seventeen-year-old built like that, Seph thought. This must be Jack, the warrior. He glanced down at himself, ashamed at how gaunt he looked.

  “Aunt Linda!” The red-haired boy put his hands on her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  The third member of the trio was a girl, almost as tall as the boy, though her hair was chestnut brown. There was a certain physical grace and confidence about them. Their raw physical power seemed to push everyone else to the periphery. If Jack’s a warrior, Seph thought, then so is she.

  “Hullo, Aunt Linda.” The girl embraced Linda Downey also, a little more shyly. Seph was beginning to feel left out amid all the meeting and greeting. But he felt the wizard’s eyes upon him, and in a moment, the warriors noticed him too. Jack rocked back on his heels, and the girl’s right hand crept to her belt as if she might find a weapon there.

  Seph stood up. “I’m Seph,” he said, sticking out his hand to the wizard. Seph sensed well-controlled but elaborate power behind the grip. He had the feeling the old man already knew exactly who he was.

  Linda nodded toward the wizard. “I’m sorry, Seph. This is Nicodemus Snowbeard,” she said. “And my nephew, Jack Swift, and a friend, Ellen Stephenson.” She put her hand on Seph’s shoulder. “This is Seph McCauley.” She didn’t qualify him in any way.

  Jack Swift, Seph thought. Where have I heard that name before?

  “You never said he was a wizard,” Jack said, not bothering to hide his surprise. They were all three looking curiously at Seph’s cut and swollen lip, his battered face. “Since when does a wizard need sanctuary?” There was a degree of challenge behind the question.

  Seph lifted his chin and looked Jack in the eyes. He was almost of a height with the warrior, though Jack probably outweighed him by half. “Why? You the gatekeeper?”

  “Jack, you of all people should know it’s not difficult to make enemies, no matter who you are,” Linda said quickly.

  That was it. Jack Swift was the warrior who’d played in the famous tournament at Raven’s Ghyll. The rebel behind the change in the rules. And he was Linda Downey’s nephew.

  Seph remembered what she’d said in the car. My nephew was in trouble, and . . . well ... I got distracted. Seph studied Jack with new interest, like he’d suddenly discovered a celebrity sitting next to him in a movie theater.

  The newcomers pulled more chairs around the table.

  “How did you get through the barrier, Nicodemus?” Linda asked.

  Snowbeard nodded at the two warriors. “Jack and Ellen brought their blades. They were able to cut a path for us.”

  “And before we were through, we had company.” Jack stretched his long legs into the aisle. “Four wizards showed up, all excited at first, but they lost interest when they saw who we were.”

  “The wizards who put up the web can detect any disturbance in it. Rather like a spider waiting for its prey,” Snowbeard said. “Whoever did it has a real talent and an excess of power. It’s incredible that it went up that fast.”

  “What did the wizards look like?” Seph pushed aside the remains of his pie, no longer interested.

  “They were all pretty young, maybe a few years older than us,” Ellen said.

  “They asked about an enchanter and a young wizard, matching your descriptions,” Jack added, fixing Seph with a gaze that conceded nothing. “They were typical wizards—arrogant and pushy—but I guess they decided they didn’t want to get into it.” The warrior flexed his hands and rested them on his knees, as if he wouldn’t have minded getting into it.

  “They ordered us to leave the web alone,” Ellen added.

  “How does a Weirweb work?” Seph asked.

  The old man stroked his beard. “It’s a soft barrier that selects for Weir, for people carrying a stone. Anaweir can pass through it without even noticing. For us, it’s a very sticky trap. It will hold you fast if you touch any part of it. Given enough time, I could force an opening. But it’s made to be resistant to spellcasting.”

  Barber had put up the wizard wall at the Havens. But how could they have tracked them here so quickly? And why let him go, only to come after him here?

  “The Weirwe
b is an interesting choice of weapons,” Snowbeard said thoughtfully. “It was commonly used in the wizard wars back in the sixteenth century. Wizards would trap Weir from the opposing houses in the web and then pick them off at their leisure, or take them prisoner. It’s fine work. I haven’t seen anything like it in several hundred years.”

  Seph blinked at the wizard. How old could he be, anyway? Jason had said wizards lived almost forever, but Seph had thought he was exaggerating.

  “Well,” Snowbeard continued. “We’re going to have to assume that someone wants to keep you from reaching the sanctuary. Their use of the web suggests they want to take you alive. Otherwise they would have set a different kind of trap.”

  “So,” Jack said, leaning across the table, speaking directly to Seph. “Did you piss somebody off, or what?”

  “Will you relax?” Ellen said, frowning at Jack. “Can’t you see he’s had a hard time?”

  Seph shoved his chair back. “Hey, if we can’t get in, I’ll just go somewhere else. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

  Linda put her hand on his arm. “No. I want you in the sanctuary.” She glared around the table, daring anyone to disagree.

  “What’s so special about the sanctuary?” Seph asked “Attack magic is not allowed within its boundaries,” Snowbeard replied. He covered Linda’s hand with his, and murmured something to her. “Now, then. It will take some time to get through the web, and I don’t think we want to have to entertain four wizards while we are doing it. So I suggest we create a distraction.”

  He leaned forward. “We’ll spread out. Jack and Ellen will cut a path through for Seph. They’re familiar with your car, Linda, yes? So you and I will create a diversion with the car. With any luck, they’ll come after us. By the time they discover their mistake, you’re in.” He paused. “Hopefully. At least it will split them up. I can create a rather spectacular diversion, if I do say so. I’m the most likely to succeed and come out alive, and if I don’t, I’m nearly four hundred and ninety-two years old.” He turned to Linda. “Is there anything you would like to get from the car?”

  Linda paid the check, and they walked out to the parking lot together. A black Subaru stood in a secluded spot in back of the restaurant. Jack opened the trunk and lifted out two ornate swords, handing one hiltfirst to Ellen.

  The weapons illuminated the parking lot, bright sparks in the gathering dusk. Jack’s was the larger of the two, and it had a large red ruby set into the hilt. Jack handled it as though it weighed nothing. He buckled on a leather harness with a scabbard that slanted across his back.

  Maybe those are magic pieces from the golden age of sorcery, like the dyrne sefa, Seph thought.

  “Let’s synchronize our watches. It’s seven forty-five,” Snowbeard said. “Linda and I will break into the web at eight fifteen. Wait a few minutes, then cut through yourselves.”

  Snowbeard slid behind the wheel of the BMW, with Linda on the passenger side. Jack and Ellen and Seph climbed into the Subaru, laying the swords down between the seats.

  They drove in tandem, with Snowbeard leading the way along country roads, turning as often as necessary to keep close to the shimmering border. It seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, even arching over top of the town. It would be easy to walk into, if you weren’t paying attention.

  About a mile to the west, Jack pulled well off the road, into the edge of a field. The three of them climbed out, Jack and Ellen carrying their swords. Snowbeard drove on, disappearing over the next ridge.

  They’d chosen a spot where the barrier cut across a field. A battered farmhouse crouched next to the road, its paint gone gray with weather. The foundation of the house was overgrown with wild roses, sprays of red and white flowers with yellow centers. In the pasture, cattle wandered back and forth through the barrier, oblivious to it. The late day sun slanted across the barnyard.

  They slipped past the house, moving behind the barn where they would be less likely to be seen from the road. Here, between the barn and the fenced pasture, the grass was nearly knee-high and concealed hidden hazards: rusty pieces of old farm machinery and piles of cow manure.

  Up close, the barrier was revealed as an intricate network of nearly translucent cords, as thick as Seph’s little finger. There was hardly an inch of space between them anywhere. There was something mathematical about the pattern, like the spokes of a spiderweb. It had a kind of malevolent presence, as if it were alive and watching them. He couldn’t tell how thick it was.

  Jack paced up and down impatiently, swinging his sword like a scythe, clipping off the tops of weeds. Seph and Ellen sat down in the grass and waited. Biting insects buzzed around their faces.

  At 8:15, they queued up at the wall, Jack first, then Ellen, followed by Seph. “We’ll only be able to hack a narrow path,” Jack warned Seph. “This stuff is tough to get through and it kind of fills in behind. So be careful not to touch any part of it.”

  In the distance, they heard a boom and saw flames fountaining into the air like a series of gigantic Roman candles. The diversion had begun.

  They’ll be lucky if they don’t draw the local police, too, Seph thought.

  Jack’s blue-edged blade bit into the web, sending bits of cording flying. The net responded immediately, shrinking back before them. A muttering arose from the Weirweb, like the sound of an angry crowd. It grew until it became a great wailing clamor.

  Jack looked over his shoulder, making a face. “Hard to take, isn’t it?” He turned back to his work. He flowed from stance to stance like a fencer, the sword a bright blur, singing as the web keened. The warrior’s swordplay was poetry in flesh, although it wasn’t long before his T-shirt was stuck to him, and sweat poured down his face. Ellen followed behind, clearing loose tendrils and widening the path behind Jack. They swapped places every few minutes. Seph watched to the rear, looking for any sign of pursuit.

  They had cut a path about thirty feet into the net when it happened. One of the tendrils Jack had broken whipped back, and Ellen sidestepped to avoid it. Her arm brushed one of the loose tendrils at the side of the path. The web reacted swiftly, throwing three new cords around her waist.

  “Jack!” She hacked at the cords with her sword, but a line tangled around her legs, and she fell. More strands wrapped around her sword arm, seemingly attracted by her violent efforts to free herself.

  “Will you hold still?” Jack plunged into the growth around her, slicing away at the bonds that held her whole body prisoner. He used his blade like a surgeon, slicing through the web, miraculously never drawing blood. Ellen sat stone still, unflinching, though swearing creatively. But the net responded by throwing out more cords. Jack had to be careful not to become entangled himself. He was making no visible progress. He yanked a blade out of a sheath at his belt and looked over at Seph. “Listen, are you any good with a knife?”

  Seph was no good with a knife at all, but he accepted the blade and began hacking at the thick tendrils, conscious of time passing, working as quickly as he could while trying to stay away from vital organs. All around them, the web seemed to be chuckling triumphantly.

  After five minutes, Ellen was wrapped up as securely as before. She looked up at Jack and Seph. “Go on,” she said. “You’ve wasted too much time already.”

  “No,” Jack said stubbornly, slashing at the cords at her waist. His hair was plastered down with sweat.

  “Linda told us to get Seph to the Sanctuary. Take him and come back for me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Right,” Jack growled. “Against wizards. When you’re trussed up like a . . .”

  “Whose fault is that? I mean, if you were a little less clumsy with that sword of yours . . .”

  “Don’t think you can make me mad enough to leave you here.”

  “I know these people,” Seph said, chopping at the cord that bound her ankles. “We’re not leaving you here.”

  “That’s brilliant. Let’s all three get captured.” When they didn’t respond,
she added, “You know I’m right.”

  “Fine!” Jack swiped at the sweat that streamed down his face. “You come on!” he said to Seph. “The sooner we get through, the sooner I can be back.” Jack pivoted away from Ellen and began hacking away again with a vengeance, sending tendrils flying. The keening wail started up again. They moved forward rapidly. It was probably another twenty yards to the inner wall of the barrier and half a mile beyond that to the edge of the town.

  When they broke through, Seph turned and looked back at Ellen. She was sitting quietly, no longer struggling. She scowled and waved him off when she saw him looking at her.

  “Go back for her,” Seph said. “I’ll go the rest of the way on my own.”

  Jack shook his head. They would be in the open from the edge of the barrier to the city limits. “Let’s go.” He started across the field at a run, his long legs covering the distance in great leaping strides. Seph followed, determined to keep pace despite the complaints of his tortured muscles and bruised body.

  Once they passed the edge of the barrier, Ellen could no longer see Seph and Jack, or hear the sounds of their progress, only the gloating whisper of the web around her. She tried to ignore it. She was uncomfortable, but she kept still, because the web around her tightened every time she moved. A cow passed through the barrier and stopped a few feet away, staring at her curiously. The cow lifted her head and looked back down the pathway. Ellen heard something, too. Someone was coming.

  It was one of the four young wizards they’d encountered on their way out of town. He had backcombed, white-blond hair, and a stubble of beard so pale as to be almost translucent. His eyes were a diluted color, like whitewash spread too thin over blue.

  He looked surprised to see Ellen, as though it was inconceivable that she would disobey his orders. “You again. I told you not to touch this.” The tendrils making up the wall responded to his presence like snakes to a charmer, curling over his shoulders and sliding between his feet, murmuring excitedly.