A Wizard In The Way

by Christopher Stasheff

  "They warm themselves at our fires(" Alea exclaimed. "You come crowding to feel our emotions, don't you?"

  "Anger, love, hatred, sympathy, grief, gratitude-no wonder you cluster around deathbeds," Gar mused. "Tell me, what does lust feel like to a ghost?"

  "Delightful," the old sorcerer sneered.

  "Don't pretend you can still feel it, you old idiot." The crone sniffed. She turned to Alea. "They're as different as flavors of food are to you, child. Love doesn't feel like the love I remember, but it wakens a delicious sensation in me, one I can't find words for. So do pity and desire and contentment-"

  "And fear," the sorcerer interrupted, grinning. "Fear feels best of all, a thrill and a glow and elation."

  "That's why you try to frighten us!" Blaize cried. "That's why you haund"

  "Those who haunt, yes." The crone threw the sorcerer a look of disgust. "Those who haunt and don't have a good reason, such as crying for justice or warning of danger. Yes, ghosts like him delight in human fear and pain."

  "The emotions become compelling, do they?" Gar asked, somewhat detached and clinical.

  "I hunger for them," the sorcerer said, grinning, and some of the other ghosts chorused agreement, magicians, hulking bandits, old roues still handsome in age forever fixed, and sly evil-looking courtiers.

  "Compelling, yes," Gar said thoughtfully. "I might even say addictive. So if a mind reader directs anger against you, the feeling is too intense. What would happen if you didn't flee from it? Would it shake you apart?"

  "You've no need to know that, foolish mortal," the sorcerer bellowed.

  "You're right, of course," Blaize said to Gar, though his gaze was still on the ghosts. "I am learning a deal of magic tonight."

  "Not least is that you are apparently a projective empath, and a powerful one," Gar said. "That means you feel what others feel and send out your own feelings to waken them in others. That's why the ghosts come flocking whenever you summon them-because you send out emotion, whatever emotion you're feeling at the time, whether it be fear or curiosity or joy. They come soaring to taste."

  "Would you really flee if I felt anger at you?" Blaize asked. "You? Not likely," the sorcerer said scornfully.

  "It's a matter of strength, boy," Conn explained. "That woman with you, now, she's been hurt sometime in her life and hurt badly, and it's left her with a river of fury likely to spill over its banks at the slightest insult. When she feels anger, it cuts like a whiplash. You, lad, if you want feelings that will do us any harm, think about folk who have wronged you or wronged people you love, then aim it at whatever ghost you want to shake apart."

  "Traitor," the sorcerer hissed.

  "I never swore allegiance to you or your kind," the outlaw retorted, "and I never asked to become a ghost."

  "Something in you did," the magician snapped, "or you'd never have twisted a wild spirit to your likeness."

  "You mean if I can make my anger intense enough, I can scare ghosts away?" Blaize asked.

  "Well, we wouldn't really go very far," Conn temporized, "just thin enough and far enough away so you couldn't see us."

  "Aye," said Ranulf. "Then we'd coast along beside you, like a hunter stalking a stag, waiting for you to fall in love or taste a delicious meal or look out at a beautiful sunrise."

  "Or lust after a beautiful woman," the crone snapped, glaring at the magician.

  "That's why ghosts come so quickly to me?" Blaize asked. "Because you can tell I'm going to be feeling deeply?"

  The ghosts fell silent, glancing at one another.

  "You've guessed rightly," Alea said. "The more mental energy a person gives off, the more these creatures are attracted to that person-and as Gar said, you're an empath, unusually talented."

  "Perhaps also gifted with an unusual sensitivity. What you feel, you feel very sharply and deeply."

  Mira's gaze snapped to Blaize, but the boy only said, "Do I?"

  "You do make quite a racket, when you're calling for help or even just company," Ranulf admitted.

  "Not one word more! Not one!" the sorcerer thundered, fists on hips. "He is our quarry, not we his!"

  "Congratulations," Gar told Blaize. "You're a natural resource."

  "Don't you mean a supernatural resource?" the magician sneered.

  "No, that's you-or the stuff you're made of, anyway." Gar looked up, spectacularly unintimidated, at the ghost who towered over him. "You do know, of course, that people with his talent are rare."

  "Of course we know that!" the magician said contemptuously.

  "If they were not," the sorcerer said with scathing scorn, "how would they gain power among their fellow humans?"

  "In the usual ways," Gar said easily. "Power is power, and its abuse is an old story."

  The sorcerer huffed up and the magician's eyes narrowed, but the crone cackled.

  "Such talent is even more rare, however, among the people of Terra, from whom your ancestors came," Gar said, "so rare that few people believe there really is such a thing. How did these gifts develop among your people?"

  Silence fell over the ghosts; they looked from one to another, startled-the idea had never occurred to any of them before.

  9

  Finally Conn turned back to Gar. "No one here knows, mortal."

  Gar stared at him for a moment. Alea watched, frowning, wondering what he was thinking, then realized what it must have been: the ghosts had obviously conferred with one another, but in a way she and Gar couldn't hear-telepathy on a different set of frequencies, perhaps? Or in a different mode?

  Gar said, "None of you here? But there are some who do, many miles away?"

  "There are," the crone said, eyeing him warily.

  "Tell him nothing more than he needs to know!" the sorcerer barked.

  "Why not?" Gar asked. "After all, your ghost leaders have already discovered this for themselves." He looked up at Conn. "Would you do me the courtesy of getting in touch with one of those first ancestral ghosts and asking him my question?"

  "Not for a second!" the sorcerer snapped.

  Conn gave him a glance of annoyance. "To spite you, I might." He turned back to Gar. "It's not so easily done, fellow. I can't talk to one so distant mind to mind, after all."

  "Not one so distant?" Gar looked thoughtful. "There's potential there."

  Conn frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing that we can do right now," Gar said. "It would take a great deal of thought and planning, then a string of very boring experiments-and I gather you have all had your fill of boredom."

  The ghosts gave a start of surprise; then the magician said warily, "What makes you say a thing like that?"

  "Why else would you be so eager to flock to a person like Blaize, whose feelings overflow for you to sense?"

  "Don't answer that," the magician snapped.

  "I'll answer what I please," Conn snapped back. "When will you shadows of power learn that you have no authority past the grave?" He turned back to Gar. "I might be interested in these experiments you speak of, mortal-at first that is. If they become boring, of course, that would be another matter."

  "Could you find me someone to take up where you left off?" Gar asked.

  Conn exchanged a glance with Ranulf. "Yes, that should be possible."

  "Let me work it out," Gar said. "I'll let you know as soon as I'm ready to try it."

  "Try what?" the sorcerer asked suspiciously.

  "A sort of message relay, like couriers on horseback."

  "We're not your servants!"

  "I never said you were," Gar said easily, "but if some of you choose to relieve your boredom by testing an idea, I won't turn your courtesy away."

  The magician fixed him with a gimlet glare. "You are far too glib, mortal."

  "Yes, I know what you mean," Gar sighed. "Sometimes I don't even trust myself. But I'll let you know when my divertissement is ready, and you can judge my worthiness then."

  "I know it now," the sorcerer said.

  "But,
I don't." Conn grinned. "Let me know when you're ready to begin, Magician."

  "Maybe then." Ranulf yawned elaborately. "For myself, I find this exchange is growing dull. Good night, mortals, and may good fortune speed your amusements." He flickered like a candle in a draft and disappeared.

  The yawn was contagious; several of the other ghosts shared it, then began to wink out, one by one, until only the sorcerer, the magician, and Conn were left.

  "They haven't really gone, have they?" Gar asked.

  "Most of them, yes," Conn said. "Your novelty has worn off"

  "But some of them are still around?"

  "I will always be near." The sorcerer made his tone a threat.

  "Well, then, so will I." Conn locked gazes with the tyrant's shade and grinned.

  "Fear ghosts," the magician intoned, glaring at Alea, Mira, and Blaize. "Fear our power!"

  "But you have no power over the living," Blaize objected, "as long as we refuse to be frightened."

  "Are you truly so courageous as that?" The ghost floated closer, growing, towering over Blaize, swollen and threatening. "Yes, he is," Conn said, "especially since he knows I'm here to boggle you if you become too much of a nuisance."

  "Be still, peasand"

  "Oh, really! You command me, do you?" Conn threw back his head and began to sing, loudly and off-key.

  In Scarlet Town, where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin =

  The sorcerer winced. "Enough!"

  "Not by half." Conn sang again.

  Maybe ev'ry lad cry well-a-day, Her name was--

  "I can't take it anymore," the sorcerer groaned. "You've been warned, mortals!" He winked out.

  Conn broke off and turned grinning to the companions. "Yes, be warned, but don't think you have anything to fear from the likes of him. Oh, he can make you feel fear even if he can't really scare you, but that's all he can do."

  "As long as we remember that all we have to fear is fear itself," Gar said, "he can't hurt us."

  "Well said, well said." Conn nodded approvingly. "It was a wiser man than I who first said it."

  "And you're wiser than any magician I've met," Conn returned, "though I have heard of a few who realize that the good they do comes back to them-especially when they become ghosts. Well, be careful, mortals. We phantoms may not be able to hurt you, but living magicians and their guards can."

  "What of forest outlaws?" Alea asked.

  Conn bared his teeth in a grin. "They'll hear from me if they do!" He winked out.

  The campsite was silent for a minute. Then Gar cleared his throat and said, "I think we can conclude that going into a trance helps summon ghosts."

  "Yes, I would say that was clear," Alea said sarcastically. "However, I'd prefer to leave the rest of the lesson until tomorrow." Gar rose and stretched. "If you don't mind, my friends, I'd just as soon lie down for the night. We'll work on spectral communications tomorrow, shall we?"

  "Spectral communications?" Blaize frowned. "What's that?"

  "Gossiping ghosts," Gar said. "Good night."

  The next morning, when chores were done, Gar and Alea sat down with Mira and Blaize to start experimenting,

  "First," Gar said to Blaize, "see if you can contact Conn and Ranulf..."

  "By daylight?" Blaize asked in surprise.

  "Of course. You heard Conn last night the ghosts are still here even if we can't see them. It's just that the sun's too bright."

  "That's true." Blaize turned thoughtful. "Of course, they might not be right here with us."

  "They might not indeed. That's why I'd like you to call and see if they are."

  Blaize nodded, then closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he opened them, looking shaken. "They're here."

  "I told you we'd stay near," said a thin, faint voice. They all started, recognizing it as Conn's.

  "I've an idea I'd like to try," Gar said. "Would you mind helping us, Conn?"

  "Depends on what it is. Say, mortal."

  "I'd like to see if you can put words into the mind of a person who can't read thoughts."

  "Interesting notion," the ghost said. "Where will I find one?"

  "Well," Gar said, "I was thinking of Mira here."

  Mina shrank away in alarm.

  "Yes, I thought you might," Conn said. "She can read minds, you know."

  "No I can't!" Mira cried.

  "It's a faint talent, lass, so faint you're not aware of it but haven't you ever noticed that you have a hunch what someone else is going to do before they do it?"

  "Well, yes, but ... everybody does, don't they?"

  "Not all," Conn said, "but she has a point, mortal. Most folk in this land have some little ability to read minds-very little, mostly, but it's there. It's one of the things you learn being a ghost."

  "Well, then," Gar said, obviously digesting as he spoke, "would you mind waiting for Conn's words to come into your mind, Mira?"

  "I ...I..."

  "There's no harm in it, lass." Alea laid a reassuring hand over Mira's. "From what he says, ghosts do it all the time anyway."

  "That's true," said Ranulf's voice, "but only when we're feeling mischievous."

  Alea looked askance in the direction of his voice. "How often are you not?"

  "Only when we're bored."

  "When are you not bored?"

  "When we're being mischievous."

  Conn cut in. "Was there anything in particular you wanted Mira to hear, mortal?"

  Instead of answering, Gar frowned at Blaize, who looked startled, then gazed off into the distance.

  Mira frowned too. "Because they both begin with the sound 'r,' of course. But wasn't he supposed to try to make the words come into my mind?"

  "He was," Gar said, "but you only heard him speaking more loudly than he had been, didn't you?"

  "That's right."

  "He didn't speak aloud, lass," Alea said. "I was careful to listen with my ears, not my mind, and you were the only one who heard his words."

  Mira looked startled. Then she began to look frightened. "I thought the question at Blaize," Gar said, "and he thought it at Conn, who thought it at you."

  Mira still looked frightened, but she asked bravely, "Was I right?"

  "It's as good an answer as any," Gar said. "The man who thought up the riddle didn't tell us the answer, and for six hundred years people have been trying to figure out why a raven is like a writing desk." He looked toward the section of air that had generated Conn's voice. "Could we try again, only this time, have Conn tell the question to Ranulf, who will tell it to Mira?"

  "You're just saying that because I was feeling left out," Ranulf's voice answered.

  "No, I really do have a purpose," Gar assured him. "Will you help?"

  "Of course! This is really interesting. Ask away, mortal."

  "This time, think the answer to Alea," Gar said, "and let's see if she can relay it to Mira. Is that all right, Alea?"

  "As Ranulf said, this is becoming interesting." Alea sat up a little straighter, smiling. "Ask away"

  Gar's brow knit. Blaize gazed off into space. After a few seconds, Alea looked surprised, then Mira did, too. "How can one hand alone make the sound of clapping?"

  "It can't, of course," Gar said, "but pondering that point will clear your mind of all other random thoughts. Thank you, Conn and Ranulf-it seems ghosts can pass messages from one to another, and the last can deliver the words to a mortal."

  "I should have thought that was rather plain," Conn's voice sniffed.

  "It was, but I wanted to make sure," Gar said. "Do you suppose ghosts would be willing to pass such a message from one to another over miles of land?"

  "There would likely be many willing," Ranulf's voice said, "if for nothing but to pass the time-and of course, if the message had strong emotions toning it, they'd be all the more willing."

  "Exactly what are you trying to invent here?" Alea asked. "A ghost-to-ghost hookup," Gar answered.

  "It bothers me." Blaize did look agitated.
"This is too much manipulation of spirits; it seems more like the way most of the ghost leaders go about controlling the specters-by blackmail and bribery, not by the sort of persuasion my master Arnogle used."

  "We heard of Arnogle," Ranulf said. "There were more spirits willing to help him than any other ghost leader, simply because his projects were exciting, which meant they were willing to protect him, too, so that the projects could go on."

  "Little good it did him!" Blaize said mournfully.

  "Some mortals become so excited that they won't listen to advice," Ranulf sighed. "Remember that, young fellow. When you do make friends of a ghost, pay attention to what it tells you."

  "I shall," BWze said fervently. "But is binding phantoms to service as messengers a way of making friends?"

  "I would not be binding them," Gar objected, "only asking them to join in if it pleased them."

  "But so many ghosts all at once, all on one errand! Surely that is greedy!"

  "Rather selfish of us, you mean?" Alea asked. "Well, I suppose it is, if the message were only for our benefit, but I know Gar well enough to say that he would have the good of all the serfs in mind."

  "Communications can be very important when you're resisting a tyrant," Gar agreed, "but we're not simply saying that the ends justify the means."

  Blaize frowned. "What?"

  "That it's all right for us to hurt people or exploit them, as long as it's going to end by making all the serfs happier, for instance," Alea explained.

  Mira leaned backward, eyeing Alea as if at the end of a long pole. "I would be very wary of such an idea!"

  "Many people fall into it," Gar said. "Alea and I try to resist it, though."

  Alea nodded. "But we don't think there's anything wrong with the means in this case. Any ghosts helping with Gar's message chain would be doing so of their own free will-we're not planning to threaten or blackmail anybody."

  "Neither living nor dead," Gar agreed.

  Blaize wondered why Mira was looking at him in so strange a way. "So you're not trying to gain power and wealth for yourselves, and you're not enslaving anybody or forcing them to work for you."

  Gar nodded.

  "I can see no wickedness in that. I can't say that of very many other magicians, though."