“Still think it’s a sheepherder?” Taliesin asked.
“No,” Roland grumbled. He walked to the table. The chair was pushed aside and there was no sign of dust on the floor.
Taliesin joined him. A bottle of ink and a quill lay beside a piece of fresh parchment. Someone had drawn a large raven on the parchment. Placing his finger on the parchment, Roland smeared the drawing; the ink was still wet.
“The artist is very talented,” Taliesin said. “It’s a raven.”
“That’s odd,” Roland said. “I’ll look under the bed. Check out the wardrobe. Let’s find out if it’s a woman or a man who lives here.”
Taliesin and Roland froze at the sound of a loud sneeze.
A second sneeze brought Taliesin hurrying to the far corner of the room. Empty space greeted her eyes, but as she stared harder, she noticed a shape starting to materialize. She gasped as a short, skinny, old man with white hair that fell past his shoulders appeared. The man, dressed in a ragged blue robe that stopped at his boney knees, apparently didn’t realize he was visible, for he ignored Taliesin and gazed at a large, yellow cat that reminded her of the dog at the inn. It was the same color and just as brazen, for the cat jumped from the top of the wardrobe into the man’s arms.
“Is your name Viktor?” Taliesin asked.
The old man gave a shriek of alarm. “Oh dear! You can see me.” The cat jumped to the ground and went to Roland and curled around his boots, purring loudly. “Ginger, you traitor. Come here this minute. You haven’t been formally introduced yet, you strumpet.”
“I think we found the artist,” Roland said, bending to lift the cat into his arms. The animal purred as he scratched it behind the ears. “Is this the man you saw at the Black Rock Inn?”
Taliesin moved aside as the old man brushed past her.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” The curious fellow gazed at Taliesin. His eyes were gold, reminding her of the eyes of an eagle, and his voice was cheery. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve been using so much magic of late my invisibility spell faded too quickly. I must be getting rusty. The cat is Ginger. I already said that, didn’t I? Well, Ginger normally doesn’t take on so fast to strangers. What’s your name, big man?”
“I’m Roland and this is...”
“I know...it’s a female,” the funny, little man said. He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Brought her here to catch a pinch and tickle, didn’t you, big man. I can’t say I blame you. I like red heads, too.”
“I don’t suppose you also draw maps?” Taliesin asked. “Been near Raven’s Nest recently? I only ask because an old man turned up a few weeks ago, gave my friend, Hawk, a poorly-drawn map, and told him a story about a magical sword in the Salayen Desert. That wouldn’t have been you, would it?”
“Maybe, just maybe. I’m Zarnoc. And who are you?”
“I’m Taliesin of the Raven Clan. We aren’t alone. We came with friends.”
Taliesin wasn’t quite sure what to make of the little man. He certainly wasn’t an artist, and ‘rusty’ was not a word she would have used to describe his magical abilities. She had never met a magic user before, but all signs pointed to that. He owned a yellow cat, had jars full of lizards’ eyes and potions, and had, suspiciously, drawn a raven. It didn’t seem like a coincidence at all. Roland seemed quite taken with the cat, and continued to pet the purring feline.
“Are you and your friends staying the night?” Zarnoc brushed a hand over the front of his robe and it grew in length and turned yellow, like the cat. “I really have nothing to offer for dinner, but you’re welcome to stay. It’s going to rain all night.”
“If you don’t mind, yes, we’d like to stay the night here.” Taliesin expected a response. He merely blinked at her. “We brought our horses inside. There are five of us, or rather eleven, if you include the horses and the mule.”
“Leaving animals outside in the rain would be rude,” Zarnoc said. “But it may get a bit messy by morning. The bed isn’t large enough for all of us, but you can use it, Taliesin. Send Roland downstairs and I’ll show you something really magical.”
“Um, no, but thank you,” Taliesin said. She grabbed Roland by the arm. The cat let out a loud hiss and jumped to the floor. “Aren’t you going to say anything? What’s wrong with you?”
“All he wants is food,” Roland said. “We brought food, old man, but it isn’t that grand. You’ll have to make do with cheese and bread.” His grumpy mood caught Taliesin by surprise. The cat continued to curl around his ankles. She watched, amazed as his surliness vanished, replaced by a big, toothy smile. “We brought ham. We have pears, too, and apples. A good dinner will be our payment for staying the night in your home. I’m sure we have something for Ginger, as well.”
“That would be nice,” the old man said.
“Have you cast a spell on Roland?” Taliesin said, annoyed. “It has to do with your cat, doesn’t it? She’s been rubbing herself all over him. Tell Ginger to stop it at once. I can’t have Roland giving you everything we’ve brought with us. Don’t try to put a spell on me because I won’t like it. I have a little magic myself, so I don’t think your magic will work on me.”
“No?” Zarnoc smiled.
His teeth were perfectly even, sparkling white, and reminded Taliesin of tiny teeth set in the mouth of a doll. She found it impossible not to like him. Had to be a magic spell. His toe nails needed trimming, and he smelled slightly of cat piss, but she didn’t mind.
“I am Zarnoc the Great,” he said, a hand to his chest. “I am the last wizard in the realm. Technically, I’m the only wizard, which is why I’m the greatest. But what does that matter, dear lady? Stay the night. Stay the week. And welcome! Welcome to my humble home!”
The old man walked over and shook Roland’s hand, pumping it in a theatrical fashion. He reminded her of one of Osprey’s friends, Blunt, an elderly man who preferred the company of cats and lived in a shack at the back of Raven’s Nest.
“Thank you,” Taliesin said. Zarnoc turned toward her and extended his hand. She took it, finding his skin to be warm and soft. The old wizard kissed her hand. “That isn’t necessary. I’m not a noble woman.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” Zarnoc said. He giggled when Ginger jumped into Roland’s arms.
The big man held the cat close and kissed her head. While it was novel to see Roland petting any animal, it was more astounding to see how much the cat liked him. The animal was purring loudly, and seemed quite content with her new friend.
“Ginger should be ashamed of herself for acting so brazen,” Zarnoc said.
“I’m sure she is a fine cat,” Taliesin said, thinking the old gent was a bit senile. “Roland, is that you purring? Stop it and put the cat down.” She glanced at the doorway at the same time as the old man. Voices below could be heard in idle conversation.
“There is nothing to fear from us, old man,” Roland said. “We’re really quite nice, once you get to know us. Come downstairs and say hello to everyone. None of us have ever met a wizard before; I’m sure they will all be delighted to meet you.”
Taliesin walked to Roland and let the cat sniff her hand. Given permission by a loud purr, she began to pet the cat. Her hand brushed against Roland’s and she caught her breath as she met his dark-brown eyes. The cat grew silent, then hissed. Taliesin jerked her hand away and stepped aside.
“I don’t think Ginger likes me.”
Zarnoc took the cat from Roland’s arms. “Ginger only likes men,” he said. “I hope you have an interesting story to tell me. I love stories about families on the run, fleeing from the persecution of some awful baron or knight, or about wives running away from their cruel husbands, or questing knights.” He paused. “Yes, I get all sorts coming through here on their way to somewhere else.”
Zarnoc turned around and around, searching for something. The cat jumped out of his arms and streaked down the stairs. He went to the table to collect a long ivory pipe with the bowl shaped like a sea turtle, and a bag of smoking w
eed. “I don’t like people from Garridan,” he said. “It’s not that nice of a place, so the people aren’t so nice. Its sand, scorpions, and nomads. I hope you’re not going there.”
“Like you don’t know already,” she said. “I have no doubt you are the one who arranged for us to come here, so don’t pretend otherwise. What I don’t know is how you knew about me, or why you have any interest in the Raven Sword? Just admit it and then come downstairs and explain to my friends what is really going on.”
“Do you have any cheese?” Zarnoc headed toward the stairs. “I love cheese.”
“Guess that makes him a wizard.” Roland winked at Taliesin.
Hurried on by Roland and Taliesin, Zarnoc descended the stairs two at a time. He behaved in a sprightly manner, as if underneath his wrinkled skin were young bones full of energy and zest. His chattering voice could be heard, along with a friendly greeting from the Ravens. Roland nudged Taliesin and nodded at the bed. She shook her head, mortified at the thought, and headed to the stairs. He caught her arm and pulled her against his chest.
“Do you think we can trust the hermit?” Roland said. “I mean, if you seriously think he’s the one who put Hawk up to this, then it’s obvious he has an ulterior motive, and the last thing we need to do is become too fond of him. Wizards are notorious for getting people to do what they want, and it has more to do with personal charm than mere magic. The question we should be asking is why he wants you to find Ringerike.”
“Why not just ask him to come along with us? Besides, I like him; but I like you much better.” Taliesin slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Not everyone has an ulterior motive. Some people can be obvious about what they want in life. This place reeks of urine, and I don’t mean the cat. I very much doubt the sheets on that bed are clean.” She glanced at a small square window filled in with a pillow. Water dripped around the corners of the pillow, pooling into a bucket on the floor. “I don’t imagine that’s only water in the bucket.”
“If that’s supposed to be romantic,” Roland said, “it most certainly is not.” Despite his comment, Roland held her close and kissed her passionately. Something brushed past their legs, and they separated, glancing at the cat as it slid past them holding a small hunk of cheese between its teeth. An outraged Zarnoc gave a shout; apparently, Ginger had stolen his snack.
“This is probably his wife,” Taliesin said. The cat went to Roland and dropped the piece of cheese between his boots. “I think that’s for you, darling.”
Roland grabbed her hand. “Come on, woman. Let’s join the others. I’m hungry.”
“Food before love,” she laughed. “You’ll never change, you big oaf.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twelve
The warm glow of the fire was contagious, spreading a feeling of good will amongst the Raven Clan. Outside the tower, the wind howled, and the rain pounded against the old wood shutters that covered the narrow windows. Crates and planks of worm-ridden wood were stacked in front of the door, providing an adequate barricade against the storm.
Taliesin sat next to Roland on a rickety bench beside the cheery fire. Hawk perched on a crate on the opposite side of the table, a glum look on his handsome face, while Wren and Rook set the table for dinner. A white cloth was placed over the table and Wren placed the flower vase in the center of the table. Provisions set out included a large portion of ham, cheese, bread, sliced pears, and apples. An odd assortment of chipped teacups was used to drink wine.
“I think we should take another look at that map,” Roland said. “Maybe the old wizard can read it, Taliesin.”
“What if he really is the old man Hawk met on the road?” Taliesin rested her chipped blue cup on her knee. Her back felt warm. She’d removed her leather tunic, and her undershirt had a funny smell, similar to the odor of a smelly old shoe. Roland didn’t seem to mind and didn’t smell any better. “Hawk? Is he or he not the man you met on the road?”
“I can’t be sure,” Hawk said. “He’s shorter than I remember. The man I met had a deeper voice and his beard was gray and groomed.” He opened his own map and laid it on the table. “Funny thing is, this map leads us right to Pelekus. It’s a straight line from here to the cave, and no towns are listed, just bad drawings of small towers and castles along the way. Each one is marked with an ‘X’ that I figure means we are meant to avoid them.”
“He seems harmless enough, Roland,” Taliesin said.
“So, we’re not to call you Grudge anymore, but Roland, is it?” Hawk finished his cup of wine and refilled it to the brim. “That’s an upper-class name if I ever heard one. How high and mighty you’ve become after sleeping with the Raven Mistress. Don’t you want to know my real name, Taliesin? Do I get a turn if I tell you my birth name?”
“Are you drunk?” Taliesin asked, angrily. “Nobody gets a turn on me, Eugene.”
“Don’t call me that,” Hawk said. “I hate that name. I was stupid to think I had a chance. Of course, you’d prefer a Roland to a Eugene.”
“Honestly, Hawk, you’re acting like a jealous little boy,” Taliesin said.
The yellow cat returned and circled around Rook’s legs until he stopped slicing the ham and picked her up. Ginger purred as he rubbed the top of her head. Taliesin glanced over at Zarnoc, who was kneeling beside her horse and holding a bucket beneath Thalagar as the horse pissed with great force.
“What is that crazy wizard doing?” Taliesin said.
Hawk tapped his skull. “The old fella isn’t right in the head. Said he’s an astronomer and the only way to keep his instruments safe from bugs is to soak them in urine. Clearly, he doesn’t know anything about rust, let alone hygiene.”
Wren went to Zarnoc and made him wash his hands before sitting at the table. There was only one chair left. She glanced at her brother, and he drained his cup before standing.
“Fine. I’ll go stand watch,” Hawk said. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
The young man grabbed a hunk of bread, removed his sword harness from the back of the chair, and went to the door. There was a hole in the center, and he peered out at the rain, chewing on the hard crust. Rook took several slices of ham and joined him. The Erindor spear rested against the wall beside the door, along with Wren’s javelins. The wizard helped himself to a cup of wine, making yummy sounds as he drank. Roland cut into the cheese with a knife and handed a piece tor Zarnoc. With a cry of glee, Zarnoc stuffed the cheese into his mouth, and eyed the cat curled under his feet.
“If you want to keep your instruments clean,” Roland said, pointing at a rusty telescope leaning against the wall, “you should wipe them every day with a soft cloth.”
“If I don’t soak them in urine,” Zarnoc said, with his mouth full, “the beetles will eat them. They won’t eat metal that has started to rust.” Cheese caught between his teeth, he pointed at their bags on the floor. “Mind you keep your weapons off the floor tonight or you’ll have nothing but the leather wrapped around the hilts come morning.”
Wren sat next to Zarnoc and hid a yawn behind her hand. She’d put on a wool tunic to keep out the chill. The wizard patted her on the head as he would a child, leaving a tiny piece of cheese behind where her blonde hair parted. “Are there truly beetles that eat metal?” Wren asked. “Do they eat anything else?”
“No, but they are a nuisance and caused this fortress to fall long ago,” Zarnoc said. “One night beetles arrived and ate the guards’ weapons, so in the morning they were defenseless against Dire Yadru, a powerful sorcerer, who arrived with an army of mercenaries. Dire Yadru had summoned the beetles to eat the weapons and then laid siege to the castle, tearing it down, stone by stone. The sorcerer left no one alive, but he didn’t keep Pelekus for long; King Magnus heard what happened and had Dire Yadru tied to a stake and burned alive. The beetles are still here.”
“My mother often talked about a wizard called Karnok the Magnificent,” Wren said. “He knew about magical herbs and potions like she did. Karnok made
a love potion for a client, but drank it by mistake and fell in love with a goat.”
“That is true,” Zarnoc said, giggling. “Have you heard of Prudilla of Eagon, my pretty little starling? Prudilla had long fingers she’d wave in front of her enemies, and when they watched her fingers moving, they turned to stone.”
“That worked,” Wren said, “until one day, when a lad named Doran used a silver shield to reflect the witch’s fingers. She looked, as she was meant to, and turned to stone. Then Doran saved Princess Hermenia, and they lived happily ever after.” She refilled Zarnoc’s cup of wine. “Who else do you know about? Tell me more.”
“Let me see now,” Zarnoc said. He took a sip of wine, wiggling as the tasty liquid trickled down his throat. “There was Ankharet the Wise. Grangwayna of the Lake. The White Witch Ismeina. The Ruby Sisters, Jesmond and Iseuda, and Ysemay the Beguiling. Her eyes were like emeralds and her lips were ruby red. When she’d dance before the lords, they were hypnotized and compelled to do her bidding.” His smile was one of melancholy. “She was bewitching, but I got over it.”
Taliesin glanced at Roland. “Zarnoc couldn’t possibly have been alive a thousand years ago. Ysemay lived in the court of King Korax, the Raven King.”
Roland, thoroughly amused, winked at her and made himself a sandwich.
“I always liked Frithswith,” Wren said. “I hope I’m saying the name right. He was a royal sorcerer. They say every morning he created a rainbow for the king to enjoy, and every night he made the moonrise full and bright just for the queen. Frithswith cast out demons and dragons from the realm with a wave of his wand. He knew every magic spell and could make every potion. The king and queen relied upon him completely.”
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