by James White
The work had been well done, he was greatly pleased and felt comfortable with it, and he told the old man warmly of his feelings. Then he made a small bow to Padraig's wife and seamstress, who looked up at him and smiled a secret smile. Declan wondered if she was remembering another young man and, perhaps, times and people and opportunities long past, and walked out to join the waiting Sean.
The boy stared at him for what seemed like a long time without speaking, then said, "Of a certainty, Declan, you do not now look like a beggar. In truth, you look very well."
He eyed the boy up and down. "We both look well," he said.
Sean gave a long sigh. "But now you will visit the drinking house," he said, "and I must wait close by to help you find your way back to the wagon?"
Declan drew out Ma'el's purse and shook it gently. From the light, quiet sound it seemed that there were very few coins remaining in it.
"Not this day," he replied. 'The information and guidance 1 would have sought in the drinking house has already been given to me by Padraig. I have a mind to return Ma'el's purse to him while it is not quite empty, and surprise him."
The boy smiled for the first time in many days.
"Do that," he said, "and you will certainly surprise me."
CHAPTER SIX
Ma'el Report on the Investigation of Earth. Day 112,547…
On this exercise in foretelling I shall risk no gratuitous displays of Taelon technology, but shall use instead the combination of knowledge, past experience, and observation that these people refer to as common sense…"
–
Without further let or hindrance they followed the southwestern path that took them past the Galty Mountains and under the frowning mass of Galty Mor toward Fermoy where they stopped to eat and sleep. This was because Ma'el, rather than proceeding due south to Cork, wished to make preparations for the coming voyage. He did not specify their nature other than to say that they involved materials and spells brought with him from his recent visit to the Hill above the Strand in distant Sligo.
Declan knew that hill well, having been taken there by his father. It was a beautiful if disquieting place whose gentle, seaward facing slopes bore the burial stones of the past Kings of Connaught, and far above them on the dark mountain of Knocknarea, the burial chamber of the famed and infamous warrior Queen Maeve herself. Thinking of those markers, their westward facing stone surfaces weathered by the Atlantic storms, Declan shivered without knowing why.
"What reason," he said to Ma'el, "had you, who are plainly not a native of this land, for visiting that place of our heroic dead?"
"As I have already said," the old man replied in his usual inscrutable fashion, "it is a place of power for me where I renew myself and my magic before setting off on any journey."
Declan looked at the other, thinking about his own unhappy and unruly past, then he shrugged angrily and said, "It is not a place where I shall ever lie."
Ma'el stared at him for a moment and seemed about to speak, then shook his head before returning to the wagon.
For much of the following night, while Sean slept on the canopied driving bench and Declan by the fire, a low, half-humming and half-singing sound came from inside the wagon, and there seemed to be more of the pale blue light than usual squeezing out between the folds of the heavy skins hiding its interior.
The streets and buildings of Cork were similar to those in Cashel, but writ large and with much more noise and movement of people, beasts of burden, and the drays and wagons they pulled. In spite of several days of cold, dry weather, there were so many comings and goings that the ground had no chance to remain frozen and it formed a deep, uneven layer of mud under their wheels. But the noises were of commerce rather than conflict because here the community had learned the lesson well that there was more profit and longlasting pleasure to be gained from honest, or more often dishonest, trading than in the more customary forms of robbery.
They drove to a market square that was but a short distance from the busy establishments of the shipwrights and boatbuilders, and the even busier drinking and gaming houses along the waterfront, which Ma'el said they would have to visit at a later time. This square was busy with the owners of many stalls and benches displaying their different wares. They paid the usual tithes to the two very large Cork City Gardai, who were on duty at the entrance to discourage the activities of thieves, pickpockets, and others whose crimes were not cloaked by commercial dealings, and were fortunate to find a place large enough to accommodate their wagon with space all around it.
Sean, who was no longer wearing his helmet, cloak, and sea boots because they were apparel not appropriate for a lowly servant boy, unharnessed the horse and led it to a nearby stable, which looked to be well-ordered and clean. There he made payment for its comfort, feeding, and safety from thieves before returning to assist Declan in setting up the old man's stall and displaying his amulets, potions, and the other arcane wares of a magician and fortuneteller against one side of the wagon.
Ma'el took up his position on a padded stool behind the stall, his cloak and cowl arranged so that his hairless features were in shadow, and gave quiet directions.
"Sean," he said. "You will move about among the other stalls seeking to buy the freshest food they have to offer. My tastes are simple with no strong preferences, so choose the varieties Declan and yourself prefer. While you have done that, move about in the crowd and speak of me in a loud but confidential voice, as if you were excited and imparting great secrets, about the accomplishments of the great magician and soothsayer who has come among them. You already know well what to do, so please do it once again.
"Declan," he went on, "your hearing is keen and your movements fast. You I would like to stand at a distance, but ready in case one of the visitors to my stall offers me violence. Make it appear that you are adjusting items of your equipment or some such ruse so that it will it seem that your attention is elsewhere. This is because some of the people who will come to me may wish to discuss matters that are confidential, and it would save them embarrassment if you did not appear to be listening."
"I understand," said Declan, turning to take up the position assigned. "I will view each of them briefly on their approach, in case one appears ready to make a sudden attack on you, otherwise I shall listen only for what I judge to be threats against you, then act accordingly."
Without further speech, Ma'el began to arrange the collection of charms, small carvings, and strangely shaped roots on top of his bench.
The first to take an interest in the stall were two youths, clean and fresh of feature, who were a few inches taller than Sean, deeper-voiced, and with the look of brothers born within a year of each other, or they might even have been twins. Their clothing was plain, well-fashioned, clean, and bore no signs of the stains and wear of recent toil so it was likely, Declan thought, that it was rich parents who had toiled to provide the garments for them. They paused at a distance that they must have considered was beyond earshot to talk together when they were not trying to push each other forward or breaking off to giggle nervously like a pair of immature colleens.
"A good day to you, young men," said Ma'el in a voice just loud enough to carry the distance to them. "In what manner may I assist you?"
The one who seemed to be older, by a year or perhaps only a few moments, came closer with his brother a pace behind him.
"You are a wizard?" he said. "A purveyor of charms and potions that… that would cause others to change their feelings toward me?"
"Of course," said Ma'el, dipping his head. His next words were a statement rather than a question. "You desire of me a love potion."
The timid brother edged forward. "It, it must be a true love potion," he said in a nervous voice. "There must be enough for both of us to use. We will recompense you, but it must not be a phial of colored water."
Ma'el ignored the insult. "Let me comprehend your situation correctly," he said. "Have you each a single object of desire or…" he hesitate
d in what might have been mild disapproval,"… do both of you desire no specific object in particular?"
The brothers looked at each other for a moment, then the second one stammered, "We each… They are sisters, but they won't even…"
"… talk to us…" the other joined in, "at least, not for more than a few moments. They say that we're unmannerly, impetuous gossoons who…"
"Good," Ma'el broke in. "Whenever possible 1 prefer not to cater to persons who want to shake a tree for whatever fruit chances to fall out. A potion that will bring you true love, that I can provide."
He had their complete attention as he went on, "But for the greatest efficacy it must be supported and sustained by your own actions and words, and the manner in which you converse when next you meet them. Remember that you are young men, not impatient and impetuous and unmannerly boys, and you should not act or speak as if you were. My words are for each of you. Be slow and gentle in your approach, listen rather than trying constantly to impress with a braggart's speech, and instead try to relate interesting rather than boastful things about yourself, and invite her to do the same about her family, friends, life, and future hopes. Above all be unselfish and patient but very persistent. The potion will make her see that you are a serious, responsible, and thoughtful young man who knows what he wants in life and who may already have found it and, if such be the case, one who will work with patience and consideration to achieve his goal. Follow these instructions with care and perseverance, young men, for this is how the potion of true love will work for you."
He reached down to a small wicker basket at his feet, opened it and withdrew two small flasks containing a deep purple liquid with traces of a black sediment at the bottom, which he shook vigorously before he placed them on top of his bench. The brothers stared at them, silent and serious. The first brother cleared his throat.
'The liquid is a strange color," he said. "In water will it show? Has it a taste? How and when should it be given to them?"
"Regrettably, the taste is truly vile, and lingering," Ma'el replied, "and it is not to be given to them. Instead, you will each take it as soon as is convenient before your next meeting with these young women. Place a few drops on your tongues and allow them to remain there for as long as possible without swallowing. The lingering taste will serve to remind you of my other words to you, which are an important and continuing part of the very powerful spell that accompanies this potion."
Ma'el gave a small nod to indicate that the consultation was over and watched as the first brother placed a coin on the bench before him. He continued to look at it without expression until the other had added three more coins before he gave another small nod, this time of dismissal.
As they were leaving, Sean returned carrying a large sack in each hand. He was still looking at their departing backs when Declan joined him to help put away the foodstuffs.
'Those two looked as if they were having deep and serious thoughts," he said. "1 wonder what Ma'el told them. And Declan, you look angry. What has happened? What's wrong with you?"
Declan knew that he looked angry, but his anger was not directed at the old man or the boy or even at himself. It was simply that for the first time in many years he was thinking of what his life might have been like if his father had talked to him with the same sympathy and consideration and good sense as Ma'el had shown to those two young men, and he was angry because his only parent had never at any time done so. He shook his head.
"Nothing," he said, pulling his lips into something like a smile, "nothing but an unpleasing childhood memory."
When they had transferred the food into the wagon's exterior storage boxes and draped them in wet cloths to keep the contents fresh, Declan and the boy withdrew to the position and distance stipulated by Ma'el. There they kept watch on the stall while making a pretense of talking together. But a passing listener, if there had been one, would have heard no words pass between them because they had nothing to say to each other not, that was, until the fat, capless, red-haired man with a deeply freckled face appeared.
"I like not his manner," said Sean in a quiet voice. "He moves toward Ma'el, but his eyes twitch about among the other wagons and stalls."
"Nor do I," Declan agreed, reaching back and sliding out his axe. "Your eyes are sharp, boy. That cape he wears is too short to conceal a sword, but there could be knives or cudgels in his belt Slowly and quietly, let us move closer."
"You're not going to use that frightful thing!" Sean protested, looking around him. "Not in the middle of a marketplace. Why is there never a Gardai about when you need one?"
Having already looked all around him and seen that nobody was paying him any attention, the red-haired man now had eyes only for Ma'el. He advanced toward the stall, smiling and loosening his cape. There was a moment's view of the knife and short-handled stone hammer that he carried.
"How may I serve you, good sir?" said Ma'el.
"I heard a boy in the crowd telling everyone that you were a great magician who can foretell the future," he said in a quiet but threatening voice, "and I want to foretell your future. The credulous men and women among us say that great magicians can turn stones into gold, but I have always doubted that. Instead I believe that they have a hoard of gold or silver coins hidden about their persons or possessions. You may serve me by yielding them up now. And your future, old man, if you do not give them to me without delay, will be to die with your scrawny chest and bald egg of a skull stove in."
Declan moved closer, to a position five paces from both the red-haired man and the stall, and changed to a one-handed grip on his long-axe at its center of balance and began to spin it in vertical circles. It was a difficult trick to do with such a heavy, thick-shafted weapon, and he knew that more than a few moments of it would pain his wrist, but it impressed and often discouraged a would-be attacker. In this case it had the effect of making the other's freckles look black in his suddenly pale face.
"Master," said Declan, giving the man a look of disdain, "would you have me open this one's stupid head?"
"No…!" Sean began, before Declan silenced him with his upraised, unencumbered hand.
'The boy is a healer and soft-hearted," he said to the man. "He would feel shamed if I did something to you that he, with his limited experience of the healing arts, could not mend. I myself care little what I do to one who threatens the life of our aged and frail master…"
"No, no, I beg you," the other broke in, beginning to back away. "Have pity. I am impoverished, weak with hunger and needing only a few coins to support my ailing wife and children. I drew no weapon and no bodily harm was done to your master. Please, I meant to threaten his life only with words…"
The last few of his words were lost as he suddenly turned and ran with remarkable speed, Declan thought, for a fat and starving man.
Declan watched as the would-be robber dodged out of sight between the other stalls and wagons, and sighed. "I'm going soft," he said, "talking like that instead of doing physical violence to him. I suppose it comes of spending so much of my time with a healer."
Before Sean could reply, Ma'el raised a finger to point into the crowd behind them and said quietly, "My thanks to you, Declan. But now this frail and aging body of mine is no longer at risk and I would like both of you to withdraw as before and remain watchful. We have another caller."
CHAPTER SEVEN
This time it was an old man, a merchant wide of girth and halting and feeble in his movements, who said that he wanted not so much to know his own future during the few short years remaining to him as whether or not his three sons would agree to his proposed division of his property between them. When Ma'el asked what manner of young men they were, the other spoke without hesitation and at length about their virtues and vices large and small. But soon his talking moved to other subjects, his business concerns and those people who lived and wrought in the town and who envied him his success. He said that he welcomed this chance to talk to and be advised by a traveler who kne
w nothing about the people he spoke of and whose advice, therefore, would be more balanced than that of self-seeking friends who might seek advantage from the words he spoke. But it was evident to the listening Declan that the old merchant wanted to talk, and even gossip and relate shameful or humorous facts about others to what he considered to be a safe pair of ears. In time he left pleased and with his own ears filled with Ma'el's good advice, which included the suggestion that his future might not be as short as he expected.
There followed two colleens, bright, fair, open of face, and scarcely mature who, like the young men who had called earlier, pushed each other forward in their shyness. They, too, wanted to know the future but as yet had no clear idea of what they wanted their futures to be. Ma'el talked to them kindly and sent them away with good advice and vague promises that satisfied them. They were followed by another caller who apart from being female, Declan could see at once, was in no other respect the same.
She was a young woman, small, strongly built, and with a confident and competent look about her that was at odds with the hesitancy of her approach. Her bare feet and the hem of her well-worn dress were splattered with the mud of the soft ground, but the shawl around her shoulders was new or at least freshly washed, and her long, dark hair was held in a comb that was worn with an air that suggested that it might be her most valued decoration. Her face was broad and plain with eyes that were dark and lively and, Declan thought, in spite of the hands worn rough by toil and her lowly circumstances, she had a mouth that was no stranger to a smile. It was Ma'el who spoke first.
"Come forward, young woman, and speak of yourself," he said quietly. "Doubtless I look old and strange to you, but I am not a demon, and the passage of years and the kind of life I must lead have robbed me of all my hair. Is there a service you would ask of me?"
The other's face deepened in color and she spent more than a little time in thought before she nodded her head with firmness before giving answer.