Taking Flight

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  "No," Valder replied, "but my wife is."

  "It's called Fendel's Infatuous Love Spell," Kelder said, wondering why a wizard would ever have married an inn­keeper.

  "Oh," said Valder, grinning cheerfully, "that should be no problem, then—Iridith knows just about all Fendel's spells. Fendel was in here just about five years ago, and the two of them traded recipes."

  This was too much for Kelder; his jaw dropped, then snapped shut.

  "You're teasing," he accused.

  "No, I'm not," Valder said.

  "Fendel the Great is dead, isn't he?"

  "Well, he wasn't the last time I saw him," Valder said, "but I don't know for certain whether he is now. It seems unlikely; he's been around for a very long time."

  Over his initial shock, Kelder remembered that Perina had said Fendel was rumored to still be alive. He moved on.

  "Iridith," he said, "do you mean the famous wizard, Iridith of Ethsharr

  "I mean my wife, Iridith," Valder said, "and she's a wizard, and a good one, but I didn't think she was particularly fa­mous, and she's from Ethshar, but I didn't think she hud a cognomen. She's just Iridith."

  "But there are other people named Iridith . . ."

  "And I suppose you're the only Kelder from Shulara?"

  Kelder decided that argument wasn't going anywhere. "You're trying to tell me," he said, "that you're married to a powerful wizard and that Fendel the Great is a friend of yours? Why in the World would a wizard marry an ordinary innkeeper, and why would Fendel associate with one?"

  "I like to think," Valder said, with both amusement and sarcasm in his tone, "that Iridith married me because she likes me. And Fendel isn't so much a friend as a business acquain­tance; we met during the War."

  "What war?" Kelder asked, afraid he already knew.

  "The Great War, of course," Valder said. "How do you think Irith and I came to be friends? Those of us who live longer than normal—I wouldn't go so far as to call us immor­tals, you understand, but on the other hand, I don't have any intention of dying any time soon—anyway, those of us who live more than a century or two tend to run into each other eventually."

  Asha was staring wide-eyed at the innkeeper.

  "You're telling me," Kelder said, eyes narrowed, "that you're hundreds of years old?"

  "About two hundred and fifty," Valder replied. "I'm under a curse, you see—Fendel made a mistake in a spell he put on my sword when I was in the army." He pointed at the sword that hung above the fireplace. "I can't die until it kills me, and it can't kill me until it's killed a few other men first, and the war's over, which means I could get in trouble if I went around lopping off heads. Besides, I'm in no hurry to die."

  "Oh," Kelder said, not sure he believed this.

  "I don't usually tell people this," Valder added, "but if you dragged Ezdral here all the way from Shan on the Desert, at least your intentions are good."

  "So you . . . you met Fendel the Great during the war, be­cause he was enchanting swords?" Kelder asked. "And he still comes to visit? And was it during the war that you met Iridith? And Irith?"

  "No," Valder said, "I met Fendel accidentally, when I stumbled across his hiding place, and he enchanted my sword to get rid of me. I've only seen him once since then, when he stopped at the inn on his way somewhere and talked shop with Iridith. As for my wife, I met Iridith after the war, when I was looking for a wizard who could fix the spell on the sword. And I met Irith about fifty years after that, when she turned up here at the inn, and since you don't meet very many girls with wings, I got interested and found out her story." He paused, then asked, "You do know who she is, don't you, and how she got that way?"

  "She's told me," Kelder said warily.

  Valder smiled wryly. "I don't know what she told you or didn't," he said, "but it probably wasn't the entire truth. Did she say why she used Javan's Second Augmentation?"

  "Yes," Kelder said. "She was bored . . ."

  "She was scared green," Valder interrupted.

  "She said there was a scare that the Northerners were go­ing to invade . . ."

  "There might have been," Valder conceded, "but mostly she wanted to get out of serving her term."

  "Serving?. . ."

  "Sure," Valder said. "There was a war on, and every jour­neyman wizard was required to serve a five-year term in the military—sometimes more. And Irith wasn't about to do that."

  "Oh," Kelder said.

  "And did she tell you about the glamour?"

  "The what?"

  "The beauty spell," Valder explained. "She was pretty to begin with, but come on, do you think a face like that could be natural? She used a glamour, a spell that enhances appearance, makes you more attractive—it was one of the set she put in there, but somehow she never happens to mention it— does she?"

  "No," Kelder admitted, "she didn't."

  "And she probably told you about the eternal youth," Valder continued, "since she wouldn't have put a love spell on an old man, so she must have done it while he was young, and you'd have figured that out."

  "She told me about that," Kelder said a little defensively.

  "Did she tell you all about it?" Valder insisted.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, did she tell you that not only can't she grow old, she can't grow up! She'll be fifteen forever, not just physi­cally, but mentally."

  "She said she was fifteen," Kelder agreed warily.

  "She meant it," Valder said. "She's fifteen in every way, except chronologically. She can't ever change, can't mature. She'll always be flighty and spoiled and selfish."

  "Well . . ." Kelder began.

  That didn't sound possible, somehow. He turned to see what Asha thought, only to discover that the child had fallen asleep in her chair.

  Then Irith called from the stairs, and the kitchen door opened for the delivery of their dinner, and Kelder decided to worry about it later.

  Chapter 33

  Valder, in a generous gesture that Kelder found him­self not really appreciating, gave Ezdral, Irith, and Kel­der separate rooms, at no charge; Asha he put in Thetta's room.

  The dinner, too, was on the house—except for the wine. That he charged for. Ezdral didn't seem to mind, however, having obtained oushka somewhere. Valder had to carry the old man to his room.

  Asha had woken up long enough to stuff bread and cheese in her mouth and had then dozed off again, and been turned over to Thetta for the night.

  When Valder returned from hauling the unconscious Ezdral upstairs, he took a place at the table and said seriously, "We need to get that spell off him."

  "I know," Kelder said. Irith looked down at her plate.

  "Iridith should be back in a couple of days," Valder went on, "and I'm sure she knows what to do—it's probably some­thing very simple, really."

  "She's not here?" Irith looked up.

  "No, she's up at the other inn," Valder replied.

  "What other inn?" the Flyer asked.

  "Oh, didn't I tell you?"

  Irith shook her head.

  "We bought another inn, up in Sardiron, in The Passes," Valder explained. "The man who built it was getting old and wanted to retire to his grandson's farm. It's called the Crim­son Wolf, and it's in a really good location, on the road from the Tazmor mines to Sardiron of the Waters. I figure that every so often I'll move up there, and then my son can come back and run this place a few years later."

  "Your son?" Kelder asked.

  "He doesn't have a son, silly," Irith explained. "That's how he keeps people from realizing he's two hundred years old."

  This confirmation that Valder really was ancient, and that he and Irith apparently did share a good many secrets with one another, was reassuring. It meant the innkeeper was nei­ther lying nor mad. "I see," Kelder said.

  "I guess we'll just have to put up with him until she gets back," Irith said.

  Kelder nodded agreement.

  "Well, you're welcome to stay until then," Va
lder said. "You may have to double up if it gets busy, though—I don't usually have three empty rooms."

  "That would be fine," Kelder said, "but we don't have much money . . ."

  "Don't worry about that," Valder said. "I never charge Irith or her friends."

  "Oh," Kelder said, "if you're sure . . ."

  "I'm sure."

  "Well, thank you."

  "And I'll do what I can to keep liquor away from the old man," Valder continued. "But it probably won't do any good."

  "I know," Kelder said. "Thank you anyway."

  Valder waved his gratitude aside. "That takes care of him, then," he said. "But I don't think he was the only problem you brought with you. What about the little girl?"

  Kelder and Irith looked at each other, then back at Valder. "Her father beat her," Irith said, "so she ran away from home. She was going to stay with her brother, who had joined a party of bandits in Angarossa, but they tried to rob a caravan that had hired a demonologist as a guard." She shuddered del­icately. "The merchants are getting mean about Angarossa now."

  "The brother's dead?" Valder asked.

  "Oh, yes," Kelder said. "We built his pyre ourselves."

  "Any other sibs? Or her mother?"

  "Her mother's dead," Kelder replied, "and there weren't any other sibs."

  "She's very stubborn," Irith remarked.

  "Tough, too," Kelder said. "I think that if she just had a roof over her head and steady meals, she could take care of herself just fine."

  "Do you want to keep her with you?" Valder asked him.

  Kelder hesitated, then said, "The problem is, I don't have a roof over my head, or steady meals."

  "Do you have a home somewhere?"

  "Well, my parents are back in Shulara," Kelder explained, "but I don't think they'd take Asha in. Or maybe they would—I don't really know." He hadn't really considered it. He had planned on taking Irith back to Shulara as his wife, but the idea of taking Asha there had simply never occurred to him.

  "Can she work?" Valder asked.

  Kelder and Irith looked at each other again.

  "I don't know," Kelder answered.

  "If she can," Valder said, "and if she wants to, she can stay here. I'm not short-handed right now, but Thetta keeps talking about leaving, and Semder wants to leave and find an appren­ticeship now that he's old enough, so I probably will be short-handed soon enough. The work's not hard, really."

  "You'll have to ask her," Kelder said, "but it sounds good to me."

  "Me, too," Irith agreed.

  "Well, then," Valder said, rising, "I guess that's every­thing."

  "I suppose so," Irith said, also rising. "And I'm going to bed—I'm tired, and I've been using the bloodstone spell too much lately."

  "I'll be up in a few minutes," Kelder said. He sat where he was and watched Irith walk gracefully up the stairs. She was wearing a plain woolen tunic of Thetta's, simple and un­adorned dark blue, with a black wool skirt, and neither garment was particularly attractive; even so, she was astonish­ingly beautiful.

  Valder watched, too, and then looked at Kelder. He sat down again.

  "You're in love with her, too, aren't you?" he asked.

  Reluctantly Kelder admitted, "I think so." He started to say more, to tell Valder about Zindré's prophecies, then stopped. The innkeeper seemed like a trustworthy sort, the kind of per­son one wants to confide in, but really, Kelder thought, it wasn't any of his business.

  "Do you think she might have used the spell on you, too?"

  Kelder considered that, but shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm certainly not as obsessed with her as Ezdral is. And Irith says that if she had used it on me, I wouldn't ar­gue with her so much."

  "Do you argue with her?"

  "Sometimes."

  "Then you're right, you're probably not enchanted."

  It was a relief to hear that from a knowledgeable third party. "Thank you," Kelder said. "She is, though," he added a moment later.

  "Is what?"

  "Enchanted," Kelder explained. "I'd like to break that, too."

  Valder's eyes widened. "There isn't any love spell on her," he said, "is there? I didn't think that was possible—she's sup­posed to be immune to magic."

  Kelder shook his head. "I didn't mean a love spell," he said. "I meant Javan's whatever-it-is."

  "Oh, that," Valder said. "She doesn't want to break that, though."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Well," Valder said slowly, "Iridith offered to try to break the spell, years ago, and Irith wasn't interested."

  "She might be now, though," Kelder said.

  Valder shrugged.

  "She might," he said.

  That night, lying in bed alone, Kelder thought long and hard about his future.

  He had had his fill of traveling. The towns along the Great Highway were all very well, but he had no place in them, and he had no great urge to spend his life wandering from one to the next, working odd jobs and living in inns. He was ready to settle down again, at least for a while.

  But did he really want to go home to Shulara?

  Zindré had said he would go back, so he had taken it for granted, but did he want to go back? Back to the rolling green hills, the hard, boring work on the farm, his oh-so-superior older sisters? Returning covered in glory might be fun, but living there again—somehow, after all his traveling, Shulara seemed smaller and duller than ever in retrospect. The Great Highway hadn't been lined with magicians and minstrels, he hadn't seen a single dice game or bedded any serving wenches; the World was not the bright roaring carnival he had hoped for. It was, instead, larger and more complicated than he had imagined.

  Going back to Shulara—he didn't think it would work.

  But if he didn't want to go on wandering, and didn't want to go back, what was left?

  He could settle somewhere else, of course—find a home, a steady income. Friends, maybe.

  He remembered Azraya, who intended to become a sailor, and thought that might be the best of both paths, in a way— your ship was your home, your crewmates your friends, yet you traveled the World, seeing its wonders.

  That might be worth trying.

  He couldn't sign onto a ship here on the river, though—at least, not so far as he knew. From here, he had two routes he could take.

  Ethshar lay one long day's march to the south—Ethshar of the Spices, the largest city in the World, which the bolder storytellers claimed was home to a million people; Ethshar, the greatest port in the World, whence ships sailed to the far­thest lands of north, south, and west; Ethshar, home to the in­vincible army of the city's overlord, to all the greatest magicians, the wisest scholars; Ethshar, where it was said that absolutely anything could be had for a price.

  He could be there in a day, once Irith's spells were all bro­ken. And he could find work there, even if it was just soldier­ing in the city guard.

  Or he could go back home to Shulara, to the farm and family.

  There wasn't really anywhere else he wanted to go in the Small Kingdoms; none of the towns he had passed through stood out as a good place to settle. If not back to Shulara, then on to Ethshar.

  But should he go home? That was what the prophecy had said.

  But it had not said when, and it had implied he would see Ethshar first. If Iridith could break the spells on Ezdral and Irith right here, there was no more need to go to Ethshar—but there was no reason he couldn't. He could always change his mind and go back later.

  And if he went home, he could leave again, couldn't he?

  Well, perhaps not, not if he had crops and children to worry about. Better, then, to see Ethshar first, then go home.

  And then there was Irith to consider. He did not think she would accept a marriage proposal just yet; maybe she would, but he wasn't ready to try it.

  But would she be more likely to accept if he was going on to Ethshar, or if he was going home to Shulara?

  He tried to imagine Irith living with hi
m in the hills of Shulara, tending the house and crops, trading at the market. The image wouldn't come; every time he thought of her he saw her spreading her wings and soaring upward, away from anything so mundane as farm and family.

  If her spells were broken, though, she would have no wings.

  He remembered once, as a boy, he had watched the prin­cess ants emerging from their nest, swarming upward into the sky on their transparent, shining wings. His father had ex­plained how each one would find a new place, a new nest, where she would settle in. Her wings would fall off, and she would become a queen, staying safe underground and laying her eggs while her offspring tended to her.

  Irith was like that; she had fled her old home, where there was no safe place for her, and had flittered about the World.

  Sooner or later, though, came a time to shed the wings and settle in.

  Kelder had been away from home less than a month, and he felt he was ready to settle—if it was with Irith.

  But somehow, he knew she would never settle while she had her magic. She might try, but he would age, and she would not; he would mature, and she would not; and one day she would get bored and fly away.

  But he was sure she would agree to give up her magic. Af­ter all, after two hundred years, she must be tired of it all, must be ready to grow up and settle down.

  It might take her a while to realize it, but surely she would.

  He rolled over and went to sleep.

  Chapter 34

  Iridith returned to the Inn at the Bridge some three days after Irith and her companions had arrived; she flew up to the door around midafternoon of the third day, startling Kelder considerably. He had never seen anyone fly without wings before.

  That three days had been pleasant enough; Asha had been delighted at the suggestion that she might stay at the inn per­manently and had immediately set out to learn her way around the kitchen, yard, and stable. Ezdral had remained much the same, drinking surreptitiously, staring at Irith, fol­lowing her and muttering incoherently when awake, and spending most of his time asleep, or at any rate unconscious.

  Kelder and Irith had wandered about the area, admiring the broad river, the vast open sky of the plain, the impressive en­gineering of Azrad's Bridge—and each other.