by Tanya Huff
Throwing garbage and clots of dirt, the children chased the riders from the village.
Magdelene turned and saw four of the five adults regarding her with awe. Carlos merely looked thoughtful.
"With luck, they'll convince their warlord that this village is more trouble than it's worth," Magdelene explained reassuringly, rubbing at the beads of sweat between her breasts. "Unless he has a wizard of his own, he'll only be beaten again if he comes back." She didn't add that even if he did have a wizard, he'd still be beaten – it sounded too much like bragging. Even though it was true.
"And without luck?" Carlos prodded.
Magdelene sighed. "Without luck, I'll just have to convince him myself. But I hope he does the sensible thing."
Carlos snorted. "Men who style themselves The Warlord seldom do the sensible thing."
"Men in general seldom do the sensible thing." Magdelene winked at the baker, who had, after all, only lost one leg at sea. "Fortunately, they have other uses."
Carlos cackled wildly. The baker blushed.
* * * *
"...although you did say you'd keep out of what didn't concern you."
"My home concerns me."
Yolanda peered at Magdelene through a cloud of pipe smoke. "Home, is it? I thought you were just staying for a while?"
"The village needs me."
"We neither need nor want you taking care of us," the older woman growled.
"Good. Because I wasn't planning to." Even through the smoke, she could see Yolanda's eyes narrow. The five empty saddles had been piled by the well when the fishing fleet returned. "I'll be like the seawall. Just another buffer against the storms." She spread her arms. "Without me, the persecutions your people left could well follow them."
"This warlord could send others," Carlos pointed out, pulling himself to his feet on the wizard's shoulder. "We have no way to defend ourselves."
"I can be your defences," Magdelene insisted.
Yolanda's teeth ground against her pipe stem. "You could use your power to enslave us."
"I could... But why would I bother?"
She sounded so sincerely puzzled that Carlos began to laugh. "She's right," he cackled. "The only thing she'd rather do than lie in the sun is..." Just what exactly Magdelene would rather do than lie in the sun got lost in a violent coughing fit, but more than one stupid grin flashed around the room.
"I thought I'd build a house on the headland," Magdelene said firmly, shooting Carlos a look that almost set him off again. "If no one has any objection."
"Humph." Yolanda's snort brought with it another cloud of smoke. Magdelene couldn't be sure, but she thought there was a smile behind it. "Well, if grandfather is so certain, I've no objection."
The headman sighed. "Does anyone else wish to offer an objection?" he asked mildly. Yolanda glared at the assembled villagers, who wisely remained silent. "In that case," he inclined his head graciously, "you may build as you wish, Lady-wizard."
* * * *
Magdelene studied the designs she'd drawn on the bare rock of the headland then checked them against the originals in the book. Although her hair and bright yellow shift blew wildly about in the wind, the pages of the spell book remained still and not one grain of the fine white sand she'd used for the parameters of her house shifted. The moment Juan returned from the beach, she'd be able to finish. She could have just lifted the last bit of sand she needed, but the boy had wanted to help. If she let him hang around, she figured she'd eventually do something he considered worthy and he'd let her fix his arm.
She turned her face to the sun, eyes half closed in blissful anticipation of actually having a place of her own. No more travelling and no more adventures. Adventures were highly overrated as far as Magdelene was concerned. They usually included uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, primitive or nonexistent toilet facilities, and someone – or someones – in direct and often violent opposition.
"Magdelene!"
Jolted out of her reverie, she squinted at the tiny figure scrambling up the steep path from the beach. It wasn't Juan, for the child had two healthy arms he... no, she... flailed about for balance.
"The riders," the little girl panted as Magdelene reached down to pull her the last few feet. "They've come back."
So, the warlord hadn't taken the hint. "Don't worry about it," the wizard advised, holding a hankie to a nose obediently blown. "That's what I'm here for."
"But they've got Juan!"
"What!" Magdelene spun around and stared down at the village, the distant scene snapping suddenly into clarity at the touch of her will. Not the same riders, but the same type, their robes of tan and brown billowing in the wind. A full two dozen men faced the well this time, a red pennant snapping about over their heads as if trying to leap from the lance tip. One horse stood a little forward, and Juan had been thrown across the pommel of its saddle, his good arm twisted cruelly back.
She could see the villagers gathering. The kayle run had stopped, and the seas had been too high to put out for a less certain catch. Carlos, the headman and Yolanda at his back, stepped out of the crowd and spoke. Magdelene could see his lips move, although the wind whipped away the words. Juan began to struggle and squirm.
The rider's grip shifted, and it didn't take a wizard's ears to hear the high-pitched scream that rose on the wind.
"Magdelene!" The little girl tugged on the wizard's shift. "You gotta do something!"
Juan went limp.
Magdelene's fingers closed on the child's shoulder. The next instant, the two of them stood by the well. The child tore herself out of Magdelene's hold and dashed to her mother.
"Did you see, Mama? Did you see? We went poof!"
Alone now, between the villagers and the riders, Magdelene took a deep breath, clamped her teeth, and forced the wobbling world to steady. The last time she'd used the transit spell, she'd puked her guts out upon arrival. This time she couldn't give in to the nausea; retching at the warlord's feet might be unpleasant, but it could hardly be considered intimidating. When she regained her ability to focus, most of the riders still wore expressions of combined fear and disbelief.
Only the man who held Juan looked unaffected.
He smiled down at her. "You must be the wizard," he said.
She returned the smile with equal sincerity. "And you must be the warlord."
"I got your message. I'm here to give you my answer. And," his eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't suggest a repeat of the last incident, not while I have the boy."
Magdelene wasn't particularly worried. She could send the warlord and his men back where they came from without disturbing a hair on Juan's head. The problem was, they'd only come back. If she played to the warlord's ego, she might be able to negotiate a more permanent solution. "What do you want?"
"You." His smile broadened, the scar that split one side of his mouth twisting his face unevenly.
Magdelene's brows reached for her hairline. "I beg your pardon?"
"I have decided I could use a wizard." He waved his free hand expansively. "You are to put yourself under my command."
Pompous bloody twit. He actually sounded as if she should be thrilled with the opportunity. She folded her arms and glared up at him. "Why would I want to do that?" she demanded.
"If you don't, I will kill the boy."
"And if I do?"
"I will spare both the boy and the village."
"Magdelene..." Carlos' voice sounded strained, all the laughter gone from it.
"It's all right, Carlos," Magdelene muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "I've got things under control." Or she would have shortly. A man who expected his mere presence to overwhelm all opposition could be dealt with.
"While I appreciate your very generous offer," she told him, preparing to launch a special effects extravaganza that would convince him to never tangle with her village again. "I'm afraid I shall have to decline."
His smile never wavered. "Pity," he said. Throwing one arm about the boy'
s upper body, he grabbed the small head and twisted.
The crack sounded very loud.
Juan's body slid to the ground to lie in a crumpled heap, the head bent around at an impossible angle.
Magdelene's mouth worked, but no sound emerged. She hadn't really believed he would do that. Behind her, she heard a wail of grief from Juan's mother.
The warlord's men moved forward until they surrounded the villagers with a wall of steel.
"Now," said the warlord, still smiling, "what have you to say to my most generous offer?"
The smile slipped as Magdelene raised her head and met his eyes.
"Die," she told him.
He didn't have time to look surprised. His eyes rolled up, his mouth went slack, and he collapsed forward over the pommel. Startled by this new limp weight, the horse tossed its head and shied sideways, dumping the warlord's body to the sand beside the small heap of bones and flesh that had been Juan.
In silence that followed, the breathing of the surrounding horses sounded unnaturally loud. Their riders made no sound at all, each hoping desperately that the wizard would not now turn her attention to him.
The silence grew and stretched, broken only by the sobbing of Juan's mother. Pushing her hair back off her face with a trembling hand, Magdelene knelt by the boy's body. She straightened his tangled limbs and gently turned his head until it sat naturally once again.
"Lady-wizard..." It was the first time Carlos hadn't used her name. "...this isn't to say you haven't done what you felt you had to in removing this man from the world, but..."
He fell silent as Magdelene took Juan's cold little hand in hers and called his name.
The slight chest began to rise and fall. Juan hiccoughed and opened his eyes.
"I wasn't here," he said, scratching his nose.
"That's right." Magdelene was a firm believer in telling children the truth. "You were dead."
"Oh." He thought about that for a moment. "It sure was boring."
She moved out of the way as his family rushed forward to claim him. He squirmed, looked disgusted, and tried to avoid the sloppiest displays of affection.
"Mama, stop it."
"Lady-wizard?"
Magdelene turned to face the villagers. They'd ask her to leave now. Or they'd deify her. Things wouldn't be the same. She stifled a near hysterical giggle. People so often overreacted to the raising of the dead.
"If you can bring back Juan," the headman told her quietly, "you must bring back the warlord and right the wrong you've done."
"Wrong?"
"We don't believe in the taking of life." He glanced down at the warlord's body, and his lip curled. "As much as we may recognize the emotion that prompts it." Behind him, the villagers stared at her, no two expressions the same.
She heaved a sigh of relief. If that was all they wanted, they were taking it rather well. Maybe she could still salvage the situation. "But what of that lot?" Magdelene shot a glance back over her shoulder at the warlord's men, who tried very hard to appear harmless and insignificant. "Cut the head off a snake, and the snake dies. If I rejoin the head then the snake lives and eats the heads of others and..." She frowned, lost in the metaphor, and sighed again. "Look, I don't think it's a good idea."
"If you want to make this your home," Yolanda told her bluntly, as unaffected by miracles as she was by most things, "you must respect our beliefs."
"But he deserved to die."
A couple of the villagers nodded in agreement. Yolanda stood firm. "You have no more right to decide that about him than he did about Juan. If you wish us to respect you, you must respect us."
Was it as easy as that? Magdelene wrapped her arms about herself and thought it over.
"Does your warlord have a name?" she asked the riders at last.
They looked at each other and then down at the body of their leader.
"Harrick, Lady-wizard," ventured the young man who held the lance with the warlord's pennant. She smiled her thanks, and he began breathing again.
Squatting by the warlord's body, Magdelene took his hand in hers and called. She didn't bother to make him more comfortable first.
This time, she wouldn't underestimate him.
His eyes opened. He looked around, slowly untangled himself, and sat up. "Bleshnaggle?" he asked, grabbing for a blowing strand of Magdelene's hair.
She pulled it out of his hand and stood. The warlord pouted for a second then discovered his boots. He gazed at them in fascination, babbling nonsense words and patting at the air with limp hands.
Everyone, the villagers and the riders, took a step forward.
"What happened?" Yolanda asked finally.
Magdelene watched the warlord trying to catch the billowing end of his own robe. "Death seems to have unsettled him a bit," she said.
"But Juan was fine."
The wizard shrugged. "Children are a lot more adaptable about..."
"Would you make up your mind!" A dark-haired, pale-skinned young woman appeared suddenly beside the warlord, hands on hips and eyes flashing. Her black robes hung straight to the sand, unaffected by the breeze from the bay. "What are we playing, musical souls? First I've got 'em, then I don't. You're not supposed to do that!" She spotted Juan worming his way to the front of the crowd. "Hi, kid."
Juan's mother grabbed his ear and yanked him behind her, cutting off his cheerful greeting. As far as she could see, there was no one there and her baby had been involved with quite enough strangeness for one afternoon.
"Death?" Magdelene hazarded.
Everyone, the riders and the villagers, took a step back. At this point, they were willing to take the wizard's word for it.
"Good guess," Death snapped. "Now, do you want to explain what's going on around here?"
"It's a long story."
"Look, lady," Death began, a little more calmly.
"Magdelene."
"Okay. Magdelene. Look, Magdelene, I haven't got time for a long story, I've got places to go, people to see. Let's make a deal – you can keep the kid, but tall, dark, and violent comes with me." She pointed a long, pale finger down at the warlord. Both her ebony brows rose as he pulled off a boot and began filling it with sand. "Now look what you've done!" she wailed, causing every living creature in earshot to break into a cold sweat. "You've broken him!"
"Sorry." Magdelene spread her hands.
"No, you're not." Death tapped one foot against the sand. "Okay. I'm sure we can work this out like sensible women. You can keep him, just give me one of them." She swept her gaze over the riders.
One sensitive young man fainted, falling forward in the saddle, arms dangling limply down each side of his horse's neck.
"Sorry," Magdelene said again, lifting her shoulders in a rueful shrug. "They're not mine to give. Why don't you just take one?"
Three saddles were suddenly wet.
"I don't work that way." Death shook her head. "I can't take someone if it isn't their time.
"Lady?"
Both Death and the wizard turned.
Carlos stepped forward, one twisted hand held out before him.
Death's expression softened, and she smiled. She had a beautiful smile. "Don't I know you?" she asked softly.
"You should," Carlos told her. "I've been expecting you for some time."
Her voice became a caress. "Forgive me for taking so long."
When she took his hand, he sighed and all the aches and pains of his age seemed to drop off him. He stood straight for a moment, his face serene, then he crumbled to the ground.
All eyes were on the body of the old man. Only Magdelene saw the young one, tall and strong, who still held Death's hand. Lips trembling, she gave him her best smile. He returned it. And was gone.
Magdelene stood quietly, tears on her cheeks, while the villagers lovingly carried Carlos' body away. She stood quietly while the warlord's men managed to get their leader onto his horse, and she didn't move as they headed out of the village. She stood quietly until a sma
ll hand slipped into hers.
"I've got the rest of the sand," Juan told her, a bulging pouch hung round his neck. "Can we go finish your house now?"
She looked down and lightly touched his hair. "They want me to stay?"
He shrugged, unsure who they were. "No one wants you to go."
Hand in hand, they climbed the path to the headland.
"Are you going to stay here forever?" Juan asked.
Magdelene met the anxious look in his black eyes and grinned. "How old are you, Juan?"
"Nine."
The image of the young man she'd pulled from the future stood behind the child and winked. She shooed it back where it belonged. "I'll be around long enough."
Juan nodded, satisfied.
"So... I took you back from Death today. Can I fix your arm now?"
He tossed his head. "I'm still thinkin' about it."
The most powerful wizard in the world stared down at him in astonishment then started to laugh. "You," she declared, "are one hard kid to impress."
[Publisher’s note: “Be It Ever So Humble” is the second story in chronological order. To go to the third chronological story, jump to “Mirror, Mirror, on the Lam.” To continue in written order, proceed to the next page.]
Author’s Note for "Nothing Up Her Sleeve"
A reanimated mummy of mine once said, back in Blood Lines, that beer and bureaucracy never change. This story contains no beer, only Magdelene dealing with bureaucracy. I can't remember for sure, but there may have been beer involved in the writing of it.
There are two lines in this that made me laugh out loud while editing.
And you would not believe the amount of unnecessary italics I removed from the original copy.
Nothing Up Her Sleeve
Leather soles slapped down against sand and rock, and something in the sound convinced the small grey-brown lizard that it might be safer to move off the path. Claws scrabbling for purchase, it launched itself forward just as a booted foot came down smack on its patch of warm ground. Jewel-bright eyes peered out from the safety of a pile of loose rubble, and, if looks could kill, the wearer of the boots would have, at that moment, reached the end of their road.