A Wizard In The Way

by Christopher Stasheff

  "These other women who had obeyed and gone to Roketh's castle," Gar reminded her. "What did happen to them?"

  "Their eyes ... their slumping shoulders ... their. . ." Suddenly the horror of it overwhelmed her again, and Mira burst into tears once more.

  Alea folded the young woman in her arms, murmuring, "Hush, dear, it's over, and he can't reach you now. Don't worry, whatever happened to those others won't happen to you. There, now, it will be all right."

  Gar turned his face away, gazing down the road, then glancing at the forest to either side, then behind them. He seemed rather grim, as though this were an old and far too familiar tale.

  Mira's sobs finally eased; she drew a little away from Alea and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, summoning the remnants of poise. "They ... they will seek us here. . . ."

  "Yes, but not back at our camp," Alea said. "Come, dear, we have a stew to heat."

  Mira hung back. "The ghosts ... they can find us by our thoughts...."

  "I don't think any of those specters are going to be terribly anxious to renew our acquaintance," Gar said with gentle amusement. "Let's go-we left the stew over the fire."

  Alea cast him a sharp glance-she knew very well that he had damped the flames before he followed her. Still, what he had said was literally true-the stewpot was hanging over the campfire. It was simply not lit.

  When they reached the campsite, though, she saw that the fire was lit, and the stew simmering gently. She cast a suspicious look at Gar, but he was all innocence. She grumbled under her breath about long-distance fire-lighting show-offs, then hastened to make Mira feel welcome. "Come now, dear, sit close to the flames-that's right. You'll feel better with a bit of stew in you. Where's that third bowl ... ah, there." She pulled a wooden bowl out of her pack and ladled stew into it, then handed it to Mira and filled two more. "Gar, take the stewpot off the fire, will you? We have to boil water for tea."

  Gar switched pots before he settled down with his own bowl and round of hard bread.

  As they ate, Alea and Gar took turns asking questions, then answering her answers with little tales of their own, about the villages in which they had grown and the neighbors' eccentricities. Mira actually found herself laughing, though she would have sworn the last three days had made her forget how.

  Before she knew it, she was talking like a waterfall, explaining to Gar and Alea what life was like in her village: the daily round of cleaning and tilling and mending and cooking; about Roketh and his guardsmen; about the cures he had performed when an epidemic seemed about to sweep the village and the punishments he had inflicted for disobedience.

  Gar was interested in Roketh's battles with other magicians, and she told him what she had heard. Alea was interested in the ways in which the female magicians treated their serfs, so Mira told what she had heard about that, too. As she talked, though, the strain of the last few days lifted; she began to relax and, before she knew it, was fighting to keep her eyes open.

  Alea saw it. "Time for you to sleep, I think, my dear. Here, you take this bed of pine boughs-you'll find it remarkably comfortable. No, don't argue-I can make another quickly enough, but truth to tell, I shan't need to, for Gar and I never sleep at the same time, one of us is always sitting up awake to keep the fire burning and to watch for ... unwelcome company. No, now, sleep."

  Mira protested but found that she was settling herself on the boughs as she did, and fell asleep as she was claiming that she could be comfortable enough on the hard ground.

  "She probably could have been, too," Gar said, gazing at the sleeping woman. "She was tired enough for it"

  "No reason to let her, though," Alea said sharply.

  "No, of course not. What do you make of these ghosts, Alea? Other than a rumpled bedsheet, of course."

  Alea shuddered. "Sleep with one of those things over me? No, thank you!" Then, more thoughtfully, "I don't think they're really the spirits of the dead."

  "I would guess that some of the people here are telepaths, but don't know it," Gar said, "and are projecting their dreams and superstitions into others' minds-without the slightest idea they're doing it."

  "But the ghosts have minds of their own," Alea objected. "A public dream that's easier to start than to stop," Gar guessed.

  Alea shook her head. "Too simple. The dreamers would still have to be dreaming to make the ghosts respond to the living people they encounter."

  "A point," Gar admitted. He stared at the fire in thought, then asked, "Could they be a local life-form that developed a symbiosis with the colonists?"

  "Symbiosis?" Alea looked up, frowning. "That happens when both life-forms gain something from each other. What would the colonists gain from having the specters take on their forms and personalities?"

  "Immortality of a sort," Gar said, "though I'm sure the local spirits can't really absorb souls. If it exists, the soul has a completely different kind of reality from our universe of matter and energy."

  "True," Alea countered, "but it does leave some very strong traces, such as life and personality."

  "Strictly, a soul is life-force," Gar said thoughtfully, "and when it passes out of the body, perhaps it releases all the electrical energy patterns that it built up over the years-releases that part that belongs to our world, that is; it would take the spiritual energy, the memories and personality, with it."

  "So the local ghosts can't gain the memories and thought patterns until a person dies," Alea said thoughtfully, "which means they're not really spirits."

  "No, just some very diffuse form of matter," Gar said, "or perhaps a very concentrated form of energy; I know a physicist who claims that whether something is matter or energy depends on your point of view."

  "Not mine," Alea protested. "Wouldn't it be the ghosts' viewpoint that matters?"

  Gar shrugged. "What they're made of doesn't really signify anything. What's important is that they take on the shapes, personalities, and memories of people who have died. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen them and heard their thoughts, but...."

  "Well, they weren't figments of your imagination," Alea told him. "I saw and heard them, too. For all practical purposes, they are the ghosts of dead people."

  "Yes, and it would seem the local magicians can persuade them to do their dirty work. Which brings us to Mira."

  "A local serf on the run, just as you hoped to find," Alea reminded. "But that first ghost's thought of fear wasn't the only one we heard. I felt a wave of sheer terror, and it wasn't what the ghost was projecting, it was the response it raised in Mira."

  "Yes, and we weren't particularly trying to read minds at the time," Gar said. "She sent that through all by herself, so strongly that we couldn't ignore it-and I don't think she knew she was doing it."

  "So, she's a telepath," Alea concluded.

  "I wouldn't go that far," Gar said. "She doesn't seem to have read our minds, after all. She's definitely an empath thoughable to feel others' emotions and project her own."

  Alea frowned up at him. "Don't sound so shocked. All right, it's amazing, but if you found me, you shouldn't be surprised to find other mind readers."

  "I suppose not," Gar said, "but I grew up with the idea that most of the galaxy's telepaths lived on my home planet, and even there they were rare."

  "Maybe so," Alea answered, "but whoever told you that didn't know about Midgard-or Oldeira, as it turns out."

  "No," Gar said, "I guess they didn't. I wonder if all the Lost Colonies have telepaths."

  "Not all," Alea objected. "You've visited some of them."

  "Yes, some." Gar recovered his assurance. "And SCENT has visited quite a few more; surely they would have reported finding telepaths. Still, it seems Gramarye isn't the only world to foster espers. I'm going to have to approach other planets with an open mind."

  "Not too open," Alea cautioned. "It might be better to keep your shield up."

  "Yes, it might." Gar smiled, amused. "Though not so vital as it might be, with your shield to guard my back.
"

  "Is that all I am to you-a shield-companion?" Alea couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

  "Only?" Gar stared. "There's just one way people can be closerl What do you mean, 'only'?"

  But Alea fastened on the first statement. "One way? What's Number One?"

  A shadow crossed Gar's face; he turned away. "One that's closed to me." He smoothed his expression as he turned back to her. "I rejoice in the friendships I can know, and delight in the presence of so excellent a woman as my companion."

  Alea stared, dazed by the compliment but feeling a certain hollowness within her in spite of it. It was flattering to realize that if he were attracted to her, it was quite literally for her mind, or rather her telepathic abilities. Nonetheless, she was surprised to realize that she felt rather chagrined. That surprise bred fear, which sharpened her tone as she said, "But Mira doesn't have such a shield and doesn't know how to make one yet. Do you think her empathic ability attracted the ghosts?"

  "No," Gar said slowly, "I think her magical lord of the manor sicced them on her. But I take your point: her psionic talent probably helped them to home in on her." He gave her a sudden grin. "No need to ask how you managed to banish them. I don't expect they're used to the intensity of anger you aimed at them."

  Alea turned her head a little to the side, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "Are you sure my capacity for anger is a good thing?"

  "That," Gar said gravely, "depends entirely on who you choose as a target ... and why," he added as an afterthought.

  "Well, there was a good deal of indignation in it too," she told him. "After all, they had no right to pick on that poor girl."

  "They certainly did not," Gar agreed, "but how did you know telepathy would banish them?"

  Alea stared at him, momentarily at a loss. Then she said, "It only made sense. If they implanted fear in their victims by telepathy, they should have been vulnerable to it themselves." A need for honesty made her add, "Of course, I didn't think that through before I acted."

  "Yes, you did," Gar said. "You just didn't put it into wordsyou understood it all in an instant." His smile was slight, but his eyes glowed at her.

  Alea looked away, embarrassed. "I didn't know why I was so sure aiming my anger at them would work-I just knew it would."

  "As indeed it did," Gar said. "I suspect that it was your selfconfidence that daunted them as much as your rage."

  Alea frowned. "You mean they're all bluff?"

  "No, all thought," Gar said, "even if they are made of gossamer. Their essence is mind-energy; they're creatures of ideamental constructs."

  "And if they're shaped by people's minds, they're vulnerable to them." Alea nodded.

  "Therefore they should be attracted by telepathy. I see how you worked it out." Gar nodded. "Let's try the experiment."

  "What experiment?" Alea asked in alarm.

  But Gar was gazing off into the night. She could feel the pressure of his thoughts, hear his unvoiced words: Here I amhere, for all to see. Come find me if you will and match me thought for thought.

  Alea leaped to her feet. "You're crazy! You have no idea what might answer that call! Gar, stop!"

  But he didn't; he was already in a trance in which the world of thought seemed more real than the world of the body. She had to distract him, make him break off that mental searchlight. In a panic, she leaned forward and planted her lips squarely on his. She knelt frozen, shocked by her own brazen conduct, then was amazed by how good his lips felt, how surprisingly soft; they almost seemed to swell, to turn outward, to become sensuous instead of the thin gash he showed the world. His arms came around her, the kiss deepened, and she knew with certainty that he was no longer issuing his mental challenge. The kiss had served its purpose. That was enough.

  The trouble was, she didn't want to stop.

  5

  A moan of grief swelled out of the night and wrapped them in its lament. Startled, they broke apart, and Alea knelt trembling, frightened, looking up. A ghost towered over them, an amorphous thing with upright ovals for eyes and a larger one for a mouth, arms spread wide in grief, and Alea told herself it was the specter that made her tremble. Yes, that was it. Surely. The ghost drifted closer, moaning, arms uplifted-in supplication, Alea realized with a shock, then wondered how she knew.

  "Beware!" Mira called, awakened by the moans, her voice shaking. "It is a wild ghost, a half ghost! It will be hungry." The ghost turned away, looking back over the slope that passed for a shoulder, and began to float away from them, its moan becoming piteous. "Such are their tricks!" Mira cried. "It will beguile you into following it, lead you into a mire, then wait for you to sink and die so that it may feed upon your spirit!"

  "We'll have to be very careful, then." Gar stood, gaze fixed on the ghost. "Will you come with us, damsel? It might not be safe for you here alone. Or perhaps Alea could stay with you."

  "And let you go chasing a will-o'-the-wisp into some swamp?" Alea snapped. "Not a chance!" She glared at the fire; it shrank a little, then flared up again. "Oh, be dimmed to you!" she snapped, and scooped dirt on the flames. They went out, but smoke spiraled up; she tossed more dirt to smother it completely, then pushed herself to her feet, resolving to practice her telekinesis. "Come, lass," she said to Mira. "We can't let him go hunting by himself-there's no telling what kind of trouble he'll find!"

  Trembling, Mira stood and followed them.

  The ghost drifted away, its tone changing to one of relief, then to worry. It flitted into the trees.

  "I'll watch the ghost," Alea snapped. "You watch the ground."

  "And I shall watch before and behind us." Mira pressed close but kept going, trembling but resolute.

  They went into the trees, watching every step. The ghost waited until they were about ten feet away, then drifted onward, staying close enough so that its glow could show them roots and rocks in their path.

  "Strange, for a wild ghost." Mira frowned. "They don't usually help you see your way."

  "It may only be half-formed," Gar said, "but it's not halfsmart."

  "Let's reserve judgment on that, shall we?" Alea asked, "We haven't come to the mire yet."

  Mira was deeply puzzled. Ghosts didn't behave like this, trying to keep you from falling--they wanted to trap you, or so everyone said. Why did this one seem to care about them? Why did it sound worried?

  They followed the ghost for half an hour before she discovered the reason. The phantom stopped by a huge old oak, with leaves so thick the ground was bare all around it. The tree was so old that a waist high root bulged out of the earth-and beneath that root huddled a man, a young man. The ghost's glow showed her a strained, frightened, but very handsome faceone smudged with dirt from a dozen falls, a cheek swollen with a bruise, but the large eyes faced them bravely and the square chin firmed with determination that did not quite hide its dimple. His lips were full and supple, promising a sensuous nature. His nose was straight, his forehead high, and his hair tousled. Looking upon him, Mira felt something turn over within her, and knew it was her heart trying to escape to him.

  The ghost hovered near the young man, its moan turning to a plea. Gar came slowly to stand across from it, gazing down at the lad. "It would seem our specter has a friend."

  "A friend who needs help," Alea agreed. "No wonder it wanted to make sure we came here safely."

  They stood close enough so that the ghost-glow fell full upon them, and the young man glanced at Gar, then Alea, but his gaze went past them both to Mira, and his eyes widened in awe. She stirred uncomfortably-why was he staring so?

  "I had thought there were no goddesses," the young man breathed, "but here is one glowing before me!"

  "Enough of pretty speeches, boy." Alea sounded nettled, perhaps because he had not spoken to her. "What is your name, and how have you come here?"

  The young man hesitated, then said, "My lord lost a battle and was slain. I tore off my livery and fled. The ghosts shielded me from the enemy's soldiers, but I lost
my way."

  Mira was amazed. He must be a very good man indeed for ghosts to care for him.

  "But your name?" Alea pressed.

  "He fears we will use it to work magic against him," Gar told her. "Come, lad, do we look like magicians?"

  Mira had to admit that they didn't, though she knew that they were, but she also knew she could trust them, so she did not betray them to the young man.

  "You do not," he admitted. "My name is Blaize."

  "A good name." Gar reached down. "Come, lad, on your feet-or have you turned your ankle?"

  "No." Blaize took Gar's hand and pulled himself upright. "I hide only for fear of Pilochin's guards."

  He wore a peasant's tunic and leggins, but not a plowman's buskins-his feet were cased in well-made boots, like a soldier's. Mira's heart went out to him-a poor serf, pressed into service as she had been, though his duties hadn't been as degrading as those Roketh had intended for her. They might, though, have been just as shattering, or even fatal. She stepped up to take his arm. "You are favoring that ankle. Will it hold your weight?"

  Blaize turned to her in surprise, and Mira saw the awe and admiration in his eyes. She began to glow inside and it must have showed in her face, for his gaze was riveted to hers, and his eyes seemed to expand to become the world. Mira shook off the trance, looking down at his foot. "Come now, stand on it."

  "Oh, I can walk." To prove it, Blaize took a few steps, though with a slight limp.

  "You are hiding pain," Mira accused. "Come, lean on my shoulder." She looked up at Alea and Gar. "He needs warmth and hot broth."

  "Yes, he does," Alea said, amused, but Gar only nodded gravely and turned away. "Come."

  "Call if we go too swiftly for you," Alea told Mira, "and we'll slow down." Then she turned away to walk beside Gar.

  They kept their pace slow and Mira found she and Blaize were able to match it. "Did your lord press you into his service, or did you volunteer?"

  "Volunteered, in a way." Blaize gave her a sickly grin. "I ran away, found a magician who was kind to his peasants, and enlisted in his service."