by Dave Duncan
good at.
There was no snow or rain falling inside the
crater, but everything was hidden in bleary white
fog. Without wind the air seemed warmer, so
Radgar felt better but also sleepier. He
helped Dad unload the supplies that Leofric
had sent along for the hermits, but after that he just sat
his horse like a meal sack and paid no heed as the
trail wound through the great forest. Healfwer's new
cabin was farther from the entrance than the old one had
been.
Dad reined in on the shore of a bean-shaped
pond that curved away into the fog. "You look to the
horses," he said, dismounting. "The old
villain needs time to get ready for visitors."
He strode along the edge until he reached the
bend, then cupped his hands to bellow, "Healfwer!
It's Aeled. Healfwer?" He went on out of
sight and the sound of his hailing was soon muffled by the
trees and mist.
Radgar began unloading, unsaddling. The
high, thick branches would shelter the horses from
any real rain if it came, but in this clammy
valley there was nowhere really dry to stable them--
except the tunnel, of course, and that was too far
away. He checked their feet and gave their
backs quick rubs with a pack of coarse grass, but
they needed proper rubdowns and proper shelter
to ward off chills. Dad would surely have come
back by this time if Healfwer was not at home. ...
The fog obscured the sun; he couldn't tell
what the time was; he felt as if he'd been
riding for weeks. He fed the horses their oats
and let them go off to drink and graze--Spedig and
Steorleas hobbled and the packhorses free
to roam. Then, cold and sore and weary, he sat
down where he could lean back against a tree with an
apple and a hunk of cheese from the provision bag.
Dad and the wita must be having a long chat about
firedrakes, or perhaps the crazy old man was
being difficult. Dad would handle him. Would there be
fish in that pond? Would there be a fire in the
conjurer's cabin?
"Radgar?"
He awoke with a start and a very sore neck.
"Dad? Oh, I'm sorry!" He scrambled
to his feet. Fire and death! Sleeping on
picket duty was a capital offense! How could
he have done such a terrible, childish, stupid--
Dad smiled, knowing what he was thinking.
"Nothing to be sorry about. You've done everything
I told you to do and I didn't order you to keep
watch. Healfwer says he will chant the hlytm
for you." He eyed his son skeptically. "Sure
you're up to it? You look beat."
So did he, more tired than Radgar could ever
remember seeing him. Radgar squared his
shoulders. "Course."
"Come then. Leave the rest of the stuff for now."
Dad set off with long strides, carrying one of the
bags on his shoulder. "You're going to have to take
your clothes off. Don't ask me why--and don't
ask Healfwer, either! He's grumpier than ever
today. He doesn't require nudity for
other enchantments."
Once around the curve of the pond, they were in
sight of the cabin, a solid construction of tree
trunks that would withstand any assault by an angry
ten-year-old. If smoke was rising from the
fieldstone chimney, the fog concealed it. Dad
turned off into the woods and in a moment reached a
shadowy open space, not really large enough to be
called a clearing. It was carpeted with a mulch of
soft brown needles and bore the expected
octogram picked out in black rocks. A
larger cobble marked earth point and already a
glimmering lantern and a pottery flask had been
set at fire and water. The gaunt old conjurer
was standing there, leaning on his staff, and staring out from the
anonymous eye holes of his hood. One real
eye hole and one fake.
Radgar walked around the octogram to him and
bowed. "Ealdor, it was very wrong of me to spy
on you when I came here last, and wrong of me
to force my company upon you. I am sorry."
After a moment's silence Healfwer mumbled,
"You've grown."
"Yes, ealdor."
"What you are asking for is very frightening. Grown
men may scream in terror when they see their
weird. I have known battle-tested thegns soil
themselves or weep like women. I want no
hysterical children disturbing my peace."
Nasty old man! Radgar took a firm
grip of his temper. "I am Radgar Aeleding
of the line of Catter. I will shame neither my father
nor my forebears. I have never let fear stop me
doing anything." That was far from true, of course,
but he had heard the thegns boasting in Cynehof on
the eve of a foering, and he knew that once a
man said something like that, he had left himself no way
to back down.
"Then you are a hopeless fool. You will die so
soon that there is no point in chanting the hlytm
for you."
"With respect, ealdor, I try not
to confuse cowardice and prudence."
"Didn't I tell you not to give me
titles?"
"I forget. I am sorry, Healfwer."
Dad laughed. "Give up, old man!
He's at his very worst when he goes on his best
behavior like that, and stubborn as a limpet too.
Strip, lad, and let's get this over
before we all freeze." He held out a towel.
Radgar pulled off his wet clothes, rubbed
himself briskly but hastily, and then scurried into the
octogram. He crouched down as small as he
could in the center--which was what he had seen Wulfwer
do, and the only sensible position to adopt if one
really must do such unsensible things at this time of
year. He felt like a chicken trussed for the oven,
gooseflesh and all. He faced toward the
conjurer, who had taken his place--somewhat
surprisingly--at fire point, where the lantern
was, and not at death, which would have seemed more
logical.
If brute Wulfwer could do this, then Radgar
Aeleding certainly could.
"Blindfold him," the old man growled. "Stay
there, brat, and don't move a muscle for as
long as you can."
Dad tied a cloth over Radgar's eyes and
presumably then stepped back out of the
octogram.
"Hwoet!" the old man cried, like a scop
starting an epic song, except no mead hall
would tolerate a voice so discordant. He
launched into his chant. It was very long, coming from first
one side and then another, around and around, back and
forward, invoking all the elements in turn. No,
not all. The manifest elements, yes--air,
fire, water, earth. But not all the virtuals,
just love, chance, time. Did shivering count when one
was supposed to be not moving muscles? Death had
not been invoked, but neither
was it revoked, and
gradually Radgar began to see the logic. He
was also seeing strange lights moving in darkness, as
one did when blindfolded. Death had not been
invited, but death must be there, so the hlytm would
discover which element was hiding death.
He couldn't help his teeth chattering. He just
hoped Dad would understand it was only the cold making
them do that. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, so the
vague colors became brighter and more meaningful,
shifting and repeating their patterns. The chanting had
moved farther away, as if the clearing had grown
much larger, and there was a curious echo now,
reminding him of Stanhof, the big hall in
Twigeport where he'd been yesterday.
Flames! Was that only yesterday?
Eek!
There was something behind him, something that shouldn't be there
--he wasn't sure if he'd heard it
or how he knew, but he knew. Yes, he
knew. The back of his neck prickled and he
struggled against the need to leap up and tear off the
blindfold. Dad was here. Dad wouldn't let
anything creep up on him. He had sworn not
to give in to fear. But he did feel horribly
vulnerable with no clothes on! There it was again!
Flames and death! Cold and death. Never had
he felt so cold. Cold as a corpse. And the
chanting had stopped. Was it over? In the
reverberating hollow silence, something was coming,
slithering. It was trying not to make a sound as it
slithered closer. ...
"Radgar!" Dad screamed. "Look out!"
He jumped like a frog and spun around even as
he landed.
There wasn't anything there at all. The empty
dark floor stretched away to the walls. He
turned again, quickly. The chamber was as big as
Cynehof, but more round than oblong ...
eight-sided, of course. Dark, shiny stone or
metal. And eight empty doorways, dark
archways. The glowing lights moved faintly here and
there, things of mist going about their own business. It
was the doorways that mattered.
"Radgar!" Dad shouted again. "Come here!
Quickly!" He stood in one of the doors, not very
well lit, but definitely Dad.
"What's wrong? Where is this place?"
Radgar ran over to him. "How did we get out
of the--" The floor was too smooth for proper
footing. He grabbed at the edge of the opening to stop
himself before he plunged through, and even then his feet
slid. There was no Dad. There was a raging,
roaring sea outside. "Dad?"
"Over here, silly. Quickly, we haven't much
time."
He ran across to the proper arch, but this time he was
a little more cautious. And right to be so. Again he had
gone to the wrong door, and if he had fallen through
he might have fallen forever--there were stars down there!
Where now? The hall seemed to be getting
smaller.
"Radgar!" This time the shout came from two
directions at once. "You must get out!" shouted
one dad. "Don't listen to him," cried another.
"Come to me. Hurry!" But as he approached the
nearer dad, he vanished and appeared in two more
doors, so there were three dads calling him.
"Faster, Son! I can't wait. You have
to get here before I go. Quick!"
He ran from one archway to the next. Dad was
never there when he arrived, always calling from somewhere
else. A roaring fire, yes. A warrior
leaping forward with bloody sword raised and his
face hidden in a battle helmet. The hall was
growing smaller and smaller, Dad's shouts more
urgent. Then another voice, calm and amused--
"Oh, Radgar! Don't let this stupid
hlytm frighten you. Can't you see that's what
they're trying to do--confuse you and frighten you?"
He found the source. "Mother!" All the Dad
voices had stopped.
She held out her arms. "Come, love! It's
a very foolish, cruel thing they're doing to you and you
don't have to play this game anymore. Come."
He walked over to where she stood in the archway
and Dad was right behind her, not speaking but grinning rather
sheepishly as if he'd been caught out doing
something foolish. "Mom? Is it really you?"
She laughed. "It's really me."
"Sorry if we upset you, Son," Dad
said. "I love you too, but this was necessary."
There were other shapes behind them, people he felt he
ought to know. Nice people, good friends, dear people. "Come!"
they all cried at once, all holding out their
arms. "Dearest!"
"Yes, I love you," he said. "You won't
mind if I just take a last look in all the
other doors first?" He backed away a step.
Arms grabbed for him, the hands become talons.
He screamed and leaped out of reach. The other
doors were closing in on him, all shouting for him,
in Dad's voice, Mom's voice, even
Aylwin's and other friends' voices. Hands
beckoned, the hall shrank smaller.
"Dad!" he screamed. "Dad, where are you
really?"
"Here, Son," Dad said quietly. "All
right. It's over."
Radgar jumped into his arms.
Dad caught him in a blanket and hugged him
tightly. He shivered so hard he thought he would
fly apart, and his heart was racing. Then he
realized that he still had the blindfold on and he could
smell the pine trees, so he dragged an arm
free and uncovered his eyes. The dark and foggy
forest had not changed. Healfwer was leaning on his
staff, still panting. Dad's stubbly
face was right next to his, smiling.
"Dad? Did you call me?"
His father smiled. "No. Did you hear me? I
didn't say one word. I just ran around after you,
trying to guess where you were going to come out."
Then Radgar remembered the purpose of the
ordeal and looked down. He had kicked over the
lantern.
GESTE
Very
A burning log collapsed in a spray of
sparks and a waft of smoke. Wasp, being
closest and most junior, glanced inquiringly at
King Ambrose. Receiving a nod of permission,
he knelt to stoke the fire, which had wasted to glowing
embers.
"So I knew my weird," Raider continued.
"And all the voices I had heard had just been a
single shout from the conjurer. That wasn't how it had
seemed to me; but both he and my father insisted that I
had barely hesitated--just jumped up and run
around the octogram once before I jumped out at
fire point. That meant, Healfwer said, that my
doom was not far off."
"The college would like to hear about this conjuration,"
the King growled. "We shall instruct Grand Wizard
to discuss it with you."
"I shall be happy to give what information I can,
sire, although after so many years I remember very little
&nb
sp; of the ritual itself."
Sir Janvier stepped forward, and Wasp handed
him the empty scuttle--passing it around the back
of the settle, of course, and not in front of the
King. Wiping his hands on his jerkin, he resumed
his seat to hear the rest of Raider's story. It was
still incredible to him that his best friend had turned out to be
one of the Baelish monsters, the savages who had
burned his family to death, callously driving
women and children back into the inferno. Raider was a
wonderful, caring person, not an inhuman fiend.
Yet the loving and well-loved father he was
describing had been the chief monster. These things
would need much thought.
"I think my father would have liked to ride off again
that night, so anxious was he to tackle the
firedrake, but Healfwer insisted that warding against
fire could only be done at sunrise. I was
exhausted and I doubt my father was in much better
shape. I even doubt that the old hermit could have
managed three conjurations in so short a time, but as
it was we spent the night in his cabin and at dawn
my father and I stood and held hands in the
octogram, and he warded us simultaneously.
That was a much simpler and shorter conjuration. That is
how I became fireproofed, Your Majesty, as
I demonstrated to Your Grace earlier this
evening."
"Tell Grand Wizard whatever you can about that
one, too."
"I shall try, sire. All I can recall is
that it almost never mentioned fire itself. I had the
impression that all the other elements were being invoked
to repel fire. It was a long time ago and I was
young."
King Ambrose adjusted his bulk in the leather
chair. "You're still not exactly old, yet you have
tucked a lot of living into your years." That was the
first half-agreeable remark he had made since
Raider had refused binding. "Tell us about the
firedrake."
Raider smiled ruefully. "I was allowed
nowhere near it, sire, warded or not. When we
reached Waro`edburh, my mother was there. She put
me straight to bed and I slept the sun 'round.
Dad--my father took ship to Wambseoc right
away. The next two days were very anxious for us,
as you can imagine. My mother was distraught. But he
came sailing back a hero, even more of a hero
than he had been before. The experience had taken
toll of him, though. He went off
to Hatburna with no one but my mother and did not