The Congruent Wizard

by Dave Schroeder

  That should slow them down! thought Eynon.

  He glanced below to check on Nûd. The big man was out of his own quarrels and was scavenging bolts the Tamloch soldiers had shot at him before Eynon put up his protective shield.

  Eynon saw Nûd shoot one more missile from his crossbow, then start waving his arms and shouting. He was too far away to hear what Nûd was saying, but Eynon realized the soldiers with picks and shovels had filled most of their buckets with green stones—green magestones Eynon assumed—dug up from just beneath the quarry’s floor.

  One of the wizards guarding the soldiers holding shovels and buckets launched a fireball over her head. It exploded below Damon’s hemispherical shield in a shower of glowing green sparks. Eynon watched Verro push Fercha away from him with a large expanding bubble of solidified sound. The tall green wizard dove toward the protective dome Damon had created. A tight cone of verdant energy shot from the magestone on Verro’s cuff and punctured Damon’s sphere like so much soap film.

  Verro sped toward the floor of the quarry like a hook-beaked aloysius swooping down on a squirrel. The few remaining green-garbed wizards in the air followed close behind him.

  Soldiers in green carrying weapons and full buckets joined the wizards on the ground and somehow found room on their flying disks. Stunned wizards and injured soldiers were placed on fallen flying disks slaved to the wizards who were still capable of flight. Before any of the Dâron wizards could react, Verro created a large circular black gate a foot above the ground. The Tamloch wizards and soldiers shot through it as fast as a herd of sprinting pronghorns. Verro was the last to leave. The gate closed with an audible snap behind him.

  Below and to Eynon’s right, Fercha shouted Verro’s name in frustration. Then she added a series of words Eynon hadn’t heard since one of his uncles had smashed his thumb with a hammer while trying to mount a wagon wheel back on its axle. Eynon smiled and filed the words away for future reference.

  Thirty feet down to his left, Damon was creating a small, circular black gate of his own. He dropped through it like a rabbit down its hole. To Eynon’s surprise, Merry followed Damon across the congruency’s interface before it closed with its own snap.

  Fercha paused her string of frustrated invectives. She had glimpsed the same hint of purple in a cloud above that Eynon had seen earlier. She leaned forward on her flying disk and sped up toward the suspicious cloud with Doethan a few heartbeats behind her.

  Eynon watched a wizard in a strange purple robe emerge from the cloud and cast a third congruent gateway. Her dark hair was piled on her head in elaborate braids and her purple magestone pulsed in the center of a rectangular gold plate hanging around her neck. The purple wizard took one last look at the scene below and unhurriedly directed her flying disk through the gate. Fercha and Doethan followed her at high speed—then that gate snapped closed.

  Nûd was shouting now—probably in frustration. He and Eynon were the only remaining defenders, but all the attackers and observers had left. Before Eynon could descend to reach Nûd, a small bubble of solidified sound under the leading edge of Eynon’s flying disk inflated, flipping it from horizontal to vertical. Eynon was able to grab both of the flying disk’s foot straps as he slid down and found himself hanging below his disk, which had turned completely over. He lost twenty-five yards of altitude and found his feet kicking below him like a flying frog churning butter.

  Eynon felt like he might lose his grip and fall twenty feet onto hard stone if he didn’t regain control of his flying disk quickly.

  Chee picked that moment to crawl out of Eynon’s jacket and sit on his head. The raconette’s tail tickled the back of Eynon’s neck and made it more difficult for him to concentrate on keeping his grip on his flying disk.

  “Stop fooling around and get down here,” shouted Nûd from below. “We’ve got work to do!”

  Chapter 2

  Nûd and Eynon

  Eynon managed to regain control of his flying disk and didn’t bother trying to right it. He descended at an angle to land in front of Nûd, taking a few short steps to cancel his forward momentum. Rocky was already on the ground nearby, resting from his exertions. Chee jumped off Eynon’s head and scampered around on the ground, picking up fragments of green rocks.

  “Sorry,” said Eynon. “I didn’t expect one of the green wizards to use my own trick against me, especially with a time-delay trigger.”

  “It pays to figure out how to defend against your own tactics,” said Nûd, “because I guarantee they will be used against you.”

  “That’s good advice,” said Eynon. He lowered his flying disk and put it down, then double-checked to make sure everything in his pack was still secure before strapping his flying disk on top of it.

  Nûd nodded.

  “What’s next?” asked Eynon.

  “Help me recover quarrels,” said the taller man. “I wish Damon, Doethan, and my mother had stopped to plan, instead of popping out through random gates without thinking. Was the young redhead your girlfriend?”

  Eynon wasn’t expecting Nûd’s question. He flushed and replied in a rush without thinking.

  “Uh huh,” he said. “Her name is Merry. She’s from Applegarth and she’s incredibly smart and well-read and wonderful. She taught me my first spells. We were traveling downriver to Tyford together.”

  Nûd nodded again, then smiled at Eynon’s enthusiasm.

  “My quarrels have blue and white fletching,” said the big man. “Pick up any of those you find and any of the Tamloch quarrels that are close to the same length. Once that’s done, we can plan.”

  “Right,” said Eynon. He started to search for Nûd’s quarrels near where the Tamloch soldiers had been digging. “Found one,” he said, after a few seconds. Chee put down the green stones, joined Eynon, and helped recover more quarrels.

  “There should be at least a dozen,” said Nûd, “I had eighteen, minus the five or six that hit their targets.”

  Eynon continued to look. He could feel the magical energy of more green magestones emanating from the holes around him.

  “Where did everyone go?” asked Eynon as he kept searching.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Nûd, “but if I had to guess, I’d say that Damon and your girlfriend are in Riyas and Doethan and my mother are somewhere in Occidens Province. Nova Eboracum, maybe.”

  Eynon tried to ignore Nûd’s teasing about Merry.

  “Why would Damon and Merry take a gate to the capital of Tamloch?” he asked. Then he answered his own question with another question. “To see what that green wizard—Verro?—was up to?”

  “That’s my bet,” said Nûd. “Damon has friends—spies, really—in Riyas. He probably wants to check with them in person.”

  “Why do you think Fercha and Doethan are in Eagle People territory?”

  “The purple robes are a giveaway,” said Nûd. “The Eagle People are the only ones to wear that shade.”

  “Her magestone was purple, too.”

  “That’s the color Roma wizards prefer,” said Nûd, “though they sometimes use black ones.”

  “Made from obsidian,” said Eynon.

  Nûd eyes widened when he looked at Eynon. It seemed like he was surprised at himself for being surprised Eynon knew the word.

  “What’s Roma?” asked Eynon.

  “That’s what the Eagle People call themselves.”

  “Thanks.”

  Eynon had pretty much figured that out from context, but he appreciated the confirmation. There wasn’t much he could do to help Merry, or Damon or Doethan or Fercha, for that matter. He tried not to worry and hoped Merry and Damon would get along well, though he had his doubts about Merry putting up with Damon’s teaching methods. He kept picking up quarrels and mused that it was far better than picking quarrels, like he did with his little sister. Braith was probably up now, feeding the chickens. She wasn’t far away, and neither were his parents.

  “Would you like to stop at my place for breakfast
while we plan?” asked Eynon. “My family lives nearby and my parents are great cooks.”

  “Breakfast sounds great, and I’d love to meet your sister,” said Nûd. “She has long braided red hair and freckles, right?”

  Now it was Eynon’s turn to smile. Nûd had been isolated two thousand miles away to the west in Melyncárreg, the site of Master Mage Ealdamon’s castle and a major school for Dâron’s wizards, for many years. He hadn’t had much of a chance to meet young women close to his own age. Braith would certainly appreciate Nûd’s attention, even if she was too young for courting.

  “Red hair in braids, freckles, a lovely singing voice, and can shoot a plum off a post at a hundred yards with a longbow. Mind your manners around her—she’s only fourteen.”

  “You will find me the epitome of decorum,” said Nûd. “But forgive me if I admire her.”

  “There’s a lot to admire,” said Eynon.

  When he thought about it, Eynon realized he wasn’t just saying that because she was his sister. Braith was growing up and would soon be on her wander year. He hoped she didn’t settle too far away from Haywall. Then he realized he was likely to end up far from his home village in a wizard’s tower somewhere—maybe one he shared with Merry, if they both survived the upcoming conflict with Tamloch. He couldn’t see any king, let alone one as mercurial as young King Dario, tolerate an invasion and theft of magestones by a foreign power, which would likely escalate and accelerate the next war.

  “Here’s the last Tamloch quarrel,” said Nûd, tugging a green and yellow-fletched bolt from the wooden side of the quarryman’s wagon.

  “And here’s the twelfth one with blue and white fletching,” said Eynon, stooping to pick it up.

  “That should be all of them. Is it time to leave for breakfast?”

  “If Rocky is awake,” said Eynon.

  The black wyvern opened one eye, then the other, and yawned, showing impressive dentition. Eynon was glad Rocky liked him. The great beast flexed its wings and allowed Nûd and Eynon to board. Chee held on to a pair of protrusions farther up the wyvern’s neck where he had a good view. After a glance to confirm everyone was secure, Rocky launched himself into the air and Eynon directed him southeast toward Haywall.

  I’ve got to land away from the milking barn, thought Eynon. Half the cows would go dry if they saw a wyvern.

  It seemed like less than a minute for Rocky to fly the two-and-a-half leagues from the quarry to Haywall. Eynon used a ball of tasty, magic-infused solidified sound to guide the wyvern down to a stone square just east of his home. Rocky landed to one side of the village well in the center of the square. Several cottages, including Eynon’s, screened Rocky from the milking barn. Most people in Haywall were still in the barn or making breakfast, but Braith was near the middle of the square chasing a chicken who seemed determined to drown itself in the well instead of peck at grain.

  Chee jumped back on Eynon’s shoulder. When Nûd and Eynon stepped down from Rocky’s back, Braith was there to meet them, holding the confused chicken upside-down by its feet.

  “What are you doing back?” she said, smiling at Eynon. “Wander years are supposed to be a year and a day, not a week and a day. And who’s your friend?”

  “I’m Nûd,” said the big man, trying to stand tall.

  “Not you,” said Braith. “The wyvern.”

  Her eyes were dancing and Nûd gave Braith a slight bow to acknowledge her teasing.

  “That’s Rocky,” said Eynon, sweeping his arm to indicate the wyvern.

  “Who’s your other friend?”

  Nûd puffed his chest out, waiting to be introduced.

  “This is Chee,” said Eynon.

  The little raconette puffed his chest out, imitating Nûd. Then Chee bowed and shifted to Braith’s shoulder from Eynon’s.

  The little beast reached down and shook Braith’s hand, then offered her a damp dried cherry.

  “I wouldn’t eat that,” said Eynon. “It’s probably been in his cheek pouch.”

  Braith rubbed Chee under his chin and the raconette’s body seemed to vibrate in happiness.

  Eynon finally took pity on Nûd and introduced him.

  “This is my new friend, Nûd.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Braith.” She gave Nûd a slight bow of her own. “And this—” she indicated the chicken, “—is dinner.”

  “Or maybe breakfast,” said Eynon. “Do you think we could talk Mother and Father into making us some?”

  “If it will give them a chance to hear what you’ve been doing since you left home, I think you can count on it,” said Braith, “though it might be wiser if Rocky went hunting for deer on top of one of the mountains first. People might talk.”

  Eynon laughed. He was sure other village dwellers had spotted the big wyvern and tongues would be telling the tale for several decades to come.

  “Would you like a nice white-tailed deer for breakfast, Rocky?” he asked.

  The wyvern’s head bobbed up and down. Eynon still wasn’t sure how much the beast understood, but there seemed to be some sort of bond between wizard and familiar. He sent the sphere of solidified sound arcing up towards the mountains to the east and Rocky rose to follow it. Eynon hoped he would find a wild deer, not some farmer’s prize ewe to dine on.

  Braith motioned to Nûd.

  “Our house is this way.”

  Nûd and Eynon followed his sister and the chicken, the younger man grinning at the older.

  Braith turned and took in her brother’s red magestone in its intricate gold setting.

  “You have been busy, haven’t you?”

  Chapter 3

  Damon and Merry

  Merry bumped into someone—Ealdamon, she assumed—and they bounced off something—probably a wall. It was hard to tell because she couldn’t see. It was as black as Queen Cashelle’s cats wherever they were. From the echoes of her footsteps, she could tell the ceiling was low. She smelled cider and beer.

  “Where are…” she began to ask. A hand covered her mouth and Merry could feel warm breath near her ear.

  “Quiet, girl,” whispered a voice she thought was Ealdamon’s. “Wait until I see if it’s safe to speak.”

  Merry nodded and the hand moved away from her mouth. She felt Ealdamon shift around her, then heard the distinctive creak of old wooden stairs behind her. A crack of light appeared and Merry turned around. The old wizard had lifted a trap door at the top of the stairs and was peering out into whatever space was above them.

  As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Merry could see huge tuns of cider, wine, and beer along one wall of a low-ceilinged cellar. They were nearly as tall as she was. She spotted a loading ramp at the far end of the space where the huge casks could be brought into the cellar and a square platform with ropes and pulleys around it that could serve to raise a tun to the next level. Taffaern’s inn had a similar cellar in Tyford.

  Merry increased the glow of her new magestone and used its light to read what was burned into the ends of the casks. Sammadd’s Ale, read one that smelled like beer. Five Lakes’ Grapes’ Blood was the label on a large tun of wine. She ran her finger around the tap. It was a sweet and fruity red. Merry remembered the Five Lakes region was in western Tamloch, at least according to her father’s maps. The lakes, which looked like five fingers on a hand, were in territory that had frequently passed from Tamloch to Dâron and back again. She thought they were under Tamloch’s control at present.

  She nearly stumbled over a smaller barrel stored horizontally on a short X-shaped frame that kept it off the ground. It looked familiar. Merry leaned in to read the logo etched in its lid, then pulled back in a hurry.

  Applegarth Select, read the inscription.

  How did Applegarth cider end up in a cellar next to Five Lakes Grapes’ Blood wine? Merry wondered.

  She didn’t have long to think on the question. Ealdamon was coming back down the stairs.

  “There’s no one upstairs in the pantry,” said the old wi
zard. “It’s safe to leave. Follow me.”

  They ascended the stairs together and both pushed the trapdoor up. Merry held it in place for Ealdamon to exit, then he returned the favor and gently lowered the door back into place. The room above was wide and deep. The mechanism for raising tuns of beer and wine was in the back and a strong, iron-banded oak door was at the opposite end.

  “You’re Ealdamon?” asked Merry.

  “Call me Damon,” said the gray-haired wizard. “Ealdamon makes me feel old.”

  “But you are old,” said Merry.

  “Not you, too,” said Damon. “It was bad enough to hear that from Eynon.”

  Merry smiled.

  “Sorry, Damon.”

  “Whatever made you decide to follow me to Riyas?” asked Damon. “I’d planned to make this a solo reconnaissance.”

  “It seemed like the right thing to do. I’m Merry, by the way.”

  “Hrrumph,” said Damon. “I’m seldom of that disposition—not for two decades, anyway.”

  “What happened in those ancient times to change your outlook?” asked Merry.

  She waggled her eyebrows and one corner of Damon’s mouth turned up for an eye blink.

  “That’s too long a tale for present circumstances, lass,” he said. “For now, I need to see if the kitchen and common room at the Blue Whale are occupied.”

  “On the other side of that door?” asked Merry, indicating the stout oak portal. “Let me.”

  She went through the words and gestures needed to invoke the listening spell and put her ear to the door.

  “There are two people in the kitchen—one large and one small, from their voices and breathing,” she whispered. “The common room sounds empty. I can’t even hear spoons scraping bowls.”

  Merry stood up and crossed to move next to Damon.

  “Why are we in Riyas, by the way? Are we chasing Verro?”

  “I’m trying to find out what he’s up to first,” said Damon. “Verro plays a long game—but so do I. Once we know, then we can act.”