“It had better,” Soliandur said with a warning look at his son.
Magpie knelt before him. “I promise, sir. All will be as you hope, and more. After all, there are no more crises to pull me away, are there?”
Soliandur snorted. “Hmph. Well, I don’t expect a miracle.” He extended his hands to Inbecca. “Welcome, daughter. I hope you will accept our poor hospitality.”
“There is nothing I would like more, goodfather,” Inbecca said, a smile dimpling her cheeks. “I know my mother looks forward to visiting you. And to have you in our household. This alliance has been a long time in coming.” She looked up at Magpie. “A little too long.”
“A bit longer than anyone expected,” Halcot said. “But I am patient. I won’t be satisfied until I am the godfather of this couple’s first child.”
“First things first,” Soliandur said. “He must wash those foolish stripes from his hair. They are disgraceful.”
“I consider them a compliment to my mother’s throne, goodfather,” Inbecca said, with a grin. “I’d like him to keep them.”
“As you wish, my daughter, it’s you who must look at them.”
“There is one thing I would like to ask you, Master Calester,” Magpie said, doing his best to cover his embarrassment. “The question came up at our first council meeting, and none of us has the history to answer it. You and your brethren made most of the races we know from humans, but are humans a naturally evolved species themselves or are they a joke by the elves? That is what they told us.”
“Ah,” Calester said. “Come over here, my friend, and I’ll tell you the truth of it.” He pulled Magpie to one side and whispered briefly in his ear. Magpie listened with dawning amusement. He had to enjoy the look on the faces of his companions. “Now, I must trust you not to reveal what I have said to another living soul. Do you promise?” The deep-set eyes bored into his.
“Very well, sir, I promise.”
“What did he say?” Inbecca demanded at once.
“I . . . I can’t say.”
“Eremi!”
Magpie backed away from her with his hands up, laughing. Inbecca pursued him about the clearing. Tildi laughed to see them happy and together at last.
“And what about you, my friend?” Olen asked Calester.
“I have been in one place too long. I wish to see this beautiful world. I am sure much has changed in my days of immobility. My companions who said that they would remain to see that nothing went wrong seem to have taken their leave, in one fashion or another. Those who are still alive I hope I will see along my way. I wish to travel over the face of Alada, at my leisure, to enjoy that which we built. In truth I never thought that I would be in one spot so long. I fancied that I would stay for a while and turn back the threat, then resume my studies. Little would I guess that I would miss the threat when it came! For that, friend Olen, I thank you.” Olen bowed. Calester returned it. “You brought me back to my senses and reminded me of my responsibilities. I will use my talents to replenish, restore, and renew that which has been neglected.” He caught Tildi’s expression. “Yes, my child, like those poor creatures, the orind, that you left behind in the north.”
“You will help them?” Tildi asked.
“Oh, yes. They are not very intelligent, but resourceful and noble.”
Tildi felt infinitely satisfied. All was well. The book was back where it belonged, her friends were safe, and her family—her brothers!—were alive and well. Once they were back in Silvertree she could resume her studies. She could hardly wait to get back and tell the household staff all her adventures. She went to Olen, who laid his hand on her head.
“Well done, Tildi. I am proud of you.”
“I am so glad it is over, Master Olen,” she said, “I am longing to return home to Silvertree. I have kept my promise, as you bid me.”
Olen’s face grew sad. “And I must keep mine, my dear. As much as I want to keep both of you, the place in my household belongs to your brother Teldo. You may make your home there, of course.”
“No, Master Olen, don’t do it,” Teldo said, grabbing the hem of his sleeve.
Olen looked down at him with friendly exasperation. “He won’t say so, Tildi, but he does want the apprenticeship. As I offered it, I am obliged. I am afraid that I cannot continue as your master. I cannot tell you how profoundly sorry I am. My word was given to him. Not to you.”
Tildi felt as if someone had pulled her insides out and replaced them with ice. “You knew.”
Olen’s bright green eyes were kindly. “I did. Not at first, but it was revealed to me, as many things are. I hoped you would tell me yourself. I must admit I was disappointed that you didn’t. When you discovered him alive I expected you to say something. You did not. I couldn’t intrude upon your joy at that time, but I am sorry that it didn’t occur to you to speak thereafter. If you had told me the truth about your circumstances I might have been able to make certain arrangements to find you a place. You did not.”
Tildi was shocked to her core, but she could not escape the consequences of her own failure to speak. She swallowed hard. A Summerbee never shirked responsibility. “I understand. I did tell you a lie when I came to Silvertree. I was never really meant to be your apprentice. It was Teldo you were corresponding with, not me. I just used the opportunity to escape from the Quarters. I couldn’t stay in such a situation as I had been left in that day. My whole family was dead, or so I believed. I had nothing left but that last letter. I had to try. I came so close so many times to telling you the truth, but I never did. For that I am sorry. I never wanted you to lose faith in me.”
Olen nodded. “You took a risk. But I accepted you, and you did well under my tutelage. I have enjoyed so much having you as a pupil, but the place belongs to Teldo. His work earned it for him. You would not rob him of it? If he had not lived, I would have been proud to keep you on, no matter how you came to me. You may live with us, of course, if you prefer not to return to the Quarters. I will give you every opportunity to continue your education on your own.”
Tildi clasped his big, bony hand in both of hers. “I apologize with all my heart, master. Teldo will be a much better pupil than I was.”
Olen’s mustache twitched upward a little at the corners of his mouth and glanced up at the mountainside, now circled by the beings that had been knights. “I can scarcely imagine a pupil who will accomplish more than you have, child. I will miss being your teacher. You will always be welcome as a guest. Silvertree would be angry with me if you never came back to visit. She will want to give you a new wand to replace the one burned upon the ship.”
Tildi tried to smile, but her heart had fallen to somewhere near her shoes. Visits would scarcely feel like enough, and when she had to leave, where would she go?
“No, Master Olen,” Teldo protested. “Keep her on, please. Gosto still needs me on the farm. I will wait until another opportunity offers itself.”
“And how do you know it would?” Olen asked, drawing down his shaggy brows. “Asking comes once in a lifetime. The opportunity is yours. If I did not think you had the potential, I would not have given you the place.”
“It’s yours, Teldo,” Tildi said, her heart torn in two. “I only took it because I thought . . . I thought you wouldn’t need it any longer.” She made herself smile, though she was truly willing to relinquish her place to her favorite brother. “I am glad that you can start again. You will be very happy in Silvertree. There’s so much to learn. He’s much smarter than I am, Master Olen.”
“No, I’m not,” Teldo said. He put his arm around her waist and held his cheek against hers. “Two peas in a pod, that’s what Mother always said about us. There’s not a thing to choose from between us.”
“It’s true,” Lakanta said, surveying the pair of them. “You’re as alike as twins. Except for those thin cheeks of yours, lad, and they’ll fill out again once we’ve all had a few more cracking good meals. I know I could use a few more.”
“
Then it’s settled,” Tildi said. “Teldo will have his rightful place.”
“Never mind, Tildi,” Gosto said, dropping an arm around her and giving her a tight hug. “Come home with us. The stories will make great telling. The folks in Morningside Quarter won’t know what to believe. We’ll be a family again.”
“That’s what you need, Tildi,” Pierin said. He and Marco joined the circle and embraced their sister warmly.
Tildi thought desolately of the restricted life she would lead, the hard work, and the endless disapproval of her friends and neighbors. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Never again to return to Silvertree? Never to sit with Olen in his dusty attic and listen to stories? Ah, but what must be must be. She wiped her eyes with the cloth she had carried across two continents. She cleared her throat. “After all that’s happened, how can I go back to the Quarters? Magic still isn’t respectable, you know.”
“We’ll make it so,” Gosto promised. “With two wizards in the family, we’ll make the others pay respect as they ought.”
Tildi couldn’t restrain a giggle through her tears. “They won’t like it. I can just see the look on Mayor Jurney’s face.”
“I haven’t ever found anything that he does like,” Gosto replied. “He’d turn down gold and say it wasn’t shiny enough.” Tildi giggled again.
“Come to Melenatae,” King Halcot offered. “I would give you a place of honor in my court.” Behind him, Teryn and Morag encouraged her with their eyes.
“We would be delighted to have you at our court in Levrenn,” Inbecca said, kneeling to take Tildi’s hand. “I’d be proud to have you as my court wizard.”
“And I,” Soliandur said. “You could teach my sons a thing or two about courage.”
“You can stay with me if you like,” the Guardian said. “I will teach you well. I am finding it pleasant to stretch my legs upon the earth once more. Perhaps you can teach me some manners in the meanwhile.”
Tildi looked up at him. She was too unhappy to smile.
“Wait a moment,” Serafina said. At her imperious tone everyone turned to look at her. “I have not yet released Tildi as my apprentice.”
“Eh, what, my dear?” Olen asked.
Serafina’s face was set in her fiercest and most stubborn scowl. She felt in her belt pouch and produced a tight roll of parchment. “You transferred Tildi’s apprenticeship to my mother, Edynn. Upon her . . . departure, she put Tildi in my care. I have not yet given her back to you. And I do not care to.”
Olen’s shaggy eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “You claim her as your apprentice?”
“I only state what is true,” Serafina said. She looked down at Tildi. “I realize I am very new to my own mastery, Tildi, but I will teach you everything I know—everything my mother taught me. You’ve been a good companion. I . . . I did not give you a fair chance at first. Forgive me. But come with me. You’ll be a friend as well as an apprentice. We can reach for greatness together, though I’ll have a long run before I can catch up with your achievements. Will you?”
Tildi caught herself goggling. She embraced Serafina around the knees. “With all my heart. My! I can hardly believe it!”
“If you cannot believe you have confirmed your place after all you have done, I don’t know what I can do to convince you,” Serafina said brusquely. “I have one other gift for you. Rin will be going back to her own people, so you will lack a steed. I can’t have you running after me on those small legs of yours.” She clapped her hands and nickered. Both of the white mares threw up their heads, but only the one with the green tack trotted toward them. “This mare belonged to my mother, as you know. She would have been pleased to have you take her as yours.”
Tildi’s eyes went huge. The white mare leaned down and nuzzled the top of her head with its soft lips. “But she’s so big!”
“That should not matter,” Serafina said. “I saw you walk up the air to get to Rin’s back often and often again while we were on the road.”
Tildi looked at the mare in delight. “I don’t really deserve Edynn’s horse.”
“You do. Or you will. Take her.” Serafina thrust the reins into her hand. “You will have to name her. A wizard’s horse should have a name that means something special between the beast and its owner.”
“You are a wizard among wizards now, child.” Olen smiled.
“But I hardly know anything,” Tildi protested. She stroked the mare’s silky nose. It nickered softly.
Olen’s mustache drew upward. “That is the mark of a true wizard, to know what you don’t know. Your name will be inscribed among those of the great. Trust me on that. And I hope you will invite me to your learned councils when you hold any.” His green eyes twinkled, and she knew he was teasing. “Let us make our progress to the north, then. Gosto, as the spokesman for your family, I invite you all to Silvertree for the first of what I foresee as many celebrations. Will you come?”
“Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve been home,” Gosto began slowly, fingering his beard. Then his eyes slewed to Tildi.
“I can’t believe you’re turning down a chance for a fine feast!” she exclaimed.
He burst out laughing, and the others joined him. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, and thank you greatly, Master Olen. It’ll give us all stories in plenty to tell in the Quarters when we go back. Sure you won’t come home with us, sister? Do you mean never to come back?”
“Perhaps someday,” Tildi said thoughtfully. “I’ll come back to visit when I have stories of my own to tell.”
“Stories!” Teldo exclaimed with a laugh. He gave her a hug, and she felt as though she had come home again at last. “You’ve written the Book!”
Magpie went to the bow of his saddle for his jitar. He bowed before the smallfolk girl.
“I promised you, Tildi, that when you finished your quest I would sing you another song.”
“I’m honored, Your Highness,” Tildi said.
“It is I who am honored,” Magpie replied. He struck a chord.
Tildi listened with delight as he sang.
“My tale of Tildi comes to an end,
Her courage and heart have made all her friend,
Her company larger than it were,
Increased by those who believed in her.
Werewolves and knights have set aside
Their ancient hates and let peace abide.
Wizards everywhere you turn,
And lo! Those who were lost return.
Brother kings find peace simpler than it seemed,
A bride’s consoled and a groom’s redeemed,
Two soldiers whose lives were held apart
Found they shared but one true heart.
The Great Book at last is put aside
In the crystal room where it will abide
Under the mountain’s verdant slope
Forever and a day, we hope.
Such large successes for one so small:
Friendships forever have been made
An old path ends, but a new one’s laid.
Hail, Tildi! Hero of us all!”
A Forthcoming Wizard Page 61