The Oathbound Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  When the edge was taken off his appetite, he remembered his manners and looked up at Narlh. "Want to try a slice?"

  "Don't mind if I do," the dracogriff allowed. "Must be something to be said for it, the way you're wolfing it down."

  Matt held out the chunk of meat, which took a fair amount of courage as the huge dragon's head reached down to take it from his fingers. Narlh chewed once, then turned to spit the meat out. "Yuck! Ugh! How can you stand the stuff!"

  "Sorry," Matt said, feeling sheepish.

  "I guess it smells better than it looks," Narlh growled.

  "Must be." Matt kept on trimming until he was full. Then he kept the core of the haunch roasting until it was almost charred on the outside. Well done, it should keep for a day or two—and, though Narlh seemed to be able to find game where there was none, there was no guarantee. Waste not, want not.

  While it roasted, Matt raked some charcoal from the fire, let it cool, then started drawing—long, straight lines. He still didn't trust the forest.

  "It is certain, then?" The queen sat tight-lipped, fingers pressed deep into the plush covering the arms of her throne. "He has crossed into Ibile?"

  "Not so much `crossed,' Majesty, as having appeared on the other side of the border." The messenger clenched his hat in his fists, worried about how the queen would react to her fiancé's defection. "The sentry on the topmost crag of Mount Damocles looked away, toward the other side of the range, then looked back—and saw him there. He says he will swear 'twas the Lord Wizard, an you wish him to, for he was in your army at Breden Plain, and stood near to his Lordship in the battle."

  "He must have extraordinarily keen eyesight, to be sure of him at such a distance."

  "Such clearness of sight he has, Majesty—'tis the cause of his being stationed at the mountain border." The messenger didn't mention the sentry's montagnard grandfather, who assured his descendent a warm welcome in the local villages, as well as keen eyesight.

  He didn't have to; Alisande had chosen the mountain sentries herself, and for exactly those reasons. "There is no need to swear; I credit his report."

  "He says also that he knew the Lord Wizard by his colors—his golden doublet and azure hose, and by the glinting symbols on his cape."

  Symbols in a wizard's cloak, one might expect—though why Matthew had chosen to have a block-capital M embroidered in place of the usual stars and crescents mystified Alisande. Monograms she could understand, but Matthew did not strike her as swollen with his own self-importance in any other way.

  It did, however, make him unmistakable. "I thank you, good courier." She sighed. "Now leave me, and take your refreshment in the kitchens."

  The messenger stared in surprise, then bowed and backed away the proper distance before turning on his heel and nearly sprinting out of the throne room. He knew the propensity of royalty to take out their vexation with bad news on him who bore it, and was amazed and tenfold more loyal to the queen who showed such self-restraint as to thank him instead!

  "He has done it," Alisande murmured to herself, wishing for the hundredth time for a chancellor with whom she could discuss such weighty matters—but that chancellor himself was now the subject of the discussion, and she would have to talk to herself in his absence. "You have done it, my love—you have stridden into the den of lions without care, and may shortly be without head." She shivered, feeling dread hollow her at the thought. "And what choice have I but to follow, and that with all my army, in some faint hope that I may bring you back alive." She shuddered and shook her head. "Ah, my Matthew! Wherefore could you not have thought before you swore?"

  But she knew the answer—in fact, she was the answer. She rose to call up her heralds and set the war in train.

  CHAPTER 7

  Servant, Go Where I Send Thee

  The night darkened around the camp fire, and the wind tore at its flames. Matt shivered as he sprinkled the white powder, closing the twenty-foot circle he'd drawn in the dust.

  "And just what good is that going to do, I'd like to know?" Narlh humphed.

  "A lot, if anything magical tries to get at us tonight." Matt stood up, dusting off his hands. "Or anything not-so-magical, for that matter."

  "What's the powder? Lime? Chalk?"

  "Talcum," Matt said, embarrassed "It's the only verse I could think of offhand."

  "How's it go?"

  "I'd like to tell you, but I hate singing commercials. Besides, I don't want another bottle of the stuff right now."

  Narlh frowned. "Doesn't seem like much, to keep out a sorcerer."

  "Remind me to tell you how to keep elephants away."

  "What's an elephant?"

  Matt started to answer, then thought better of it. "A mythical beast." He glanced up at the moon, then turned back to inscribing the pair of concentric circles, hurrying now.

  "Whatcha scared of?" Narlh demanded. "Something I oughta know about?"

  "I should think you would already. The closer we come to midnight, the greater the danger from sorcery."

  "Oh, yeah?" Narlh lifted his head, glaring. "So that's why the bum could always sneak up on me! Why didn'tcha tell me this before?"

  "Because I only met you today."

  "Oh." Narlh frowned, looking away. "Yeah, there is that. Right now, though, I don't see anything to worry about." He lay down, his front legs walking around in a circle as he did, ending curled up with his head on his toes.

  "Nothing dangerous because of claws and teeth out there?"

  "Naw, and nothing dangerous because of sharp, pointy sticks and big ideas, neither. In fact, not a soul in sight."

  Matt nodded. "It's the things without souls that worry me—and the ones who have sold them."

  Narlh lifted his head, eyes narrowed, growling low in his throat. "They bother me, too." He eyed the double ring that now surrounded their camp fire, about twenty feet out. "So that's all you have to do to keep sorcerers away? Just sprinkle a powder?"

  No, I have to chant a verse, too." Matt paced around the inside of the circle slowly, intoning,

  "Weave a circle round us twice,

  And close the ends with fiery thread,

  That we may sleep in peaceful beds,

  Flames guarding us from ill and vice."

  Again, Matt could feel the magical forces thickening about him—and thickening, and thickening. It felt as if he were wading through molasses—but he kept at it, until the final rhyme.

  "Sounds pretty," Narlh acknowledged.

  "That was a spell, not a concert," Matt growled, not wanting to admit he'd adapted it from Coleridge. But he was feeling stretched taut—he should have seen something by now.

  Suddenly, fire erupted all around them, between the two chalk lines.

  Narlh stared, transfixed.

  Matt relaxed with a smile of satisfaction and tried not to worry about what would happen if he needed a spell to act instantly. Whatever was wrong with magic here in Ibile, it slowed down the response time horribly.

  How could he counteract that?

  Narlh interrupted his musing, turning to Matt with new respect, almost awe, in his eyes. "You don't do anything by half measures, do you?"

  "On the contrary," Matt said. "I try to keep a sense of balance."

  "If this is your idea of the middle, I'd hate to see you really let yourself go!"

  "It's an interesting idea," Matt admitted. He wondered if he'd have the courage to do it—or the foolishness.

  He turned to Narlh, pushing the topic aside. "Glad to see you're all tucked in."

  "Why? Should I stay up and pace?"

  "Not at all—I meant it. I'll take first watch."

  "First watch?" The dracogriff frowned. "What's that?"

  "Just what it says—staying awake and watching for enemies," Matt explained. "I'll wake you when the moon is at its highest—then you can guard me."

  Narlh nodded slowly. "Smart. Very smart."

  "Inspired," Matt said witheringly. "Evolution took care of the ones who didn'
t think of it. Shall I sing a lullaby?"

  "Oh, no, that's all right," Narlh said quickly. He put his head back on his paws and closed his eyes.

  "Already heard me sing," Matt muttered. Still, everything was under as much control as he could manage; he sat down cross-legged by the fire, keeping his back straight and looking over the flames toward the darkness. He patrolled with his eyes, letting his gaze move slowly over the clearing from left to right, then turning to look back over each shoulder, then front again. The trees were the things to worry about there was no telling what might come from them. Or how; he memorized the position of each bush and rock, in case an enemy might try to sneak up under camouflage. He didn't really expect to see anything—the only enemies who wouldn't be frightened by his wall of flame were the ones who would be attracted by its magic; and they were more apt to appear in a burst of thunder than to sneak up. No way to see them ahead of time, of course—but at least he could be awake to do something about it.

  He settled into the vigil, letting himself sink into a reverie, his eyes still watchful for anything unusual, keeping their patrolling pattern, while a part of his mind mulled over the day's events and problems.

  Alisande came first to mind, of course. Now that there was a moment of stillness, he was surprised how much he missed her—her laughter...the glint of her eye...the occasional, very restrained, flirtation...her sudden bursts of anger, quickly controlled...her iron-hard resolve when she was crossed...her insistence on propriety...her avoidance of a wedding...

  He took a deep breath, realizing he was growing angry again. Too much of a distraction; he was supposed to be on guard. Oddly, though, even his pique couldn't quite cover up the hollowness within him when he thought of her. Even if he had to be caught and shipped back to her, he decided, he did want to get back.

  How could he arrange to get caught? Without being executed shortly afterward, that is.

  Light flared.

  A huge ball of light, too bright and too clear to be flame, so vivid that the blaze of his camp fire seemed to pale beside it.

  Matt was on his feet, a dozen verses rushing through his mind, hoping that he'd be able to see what kind of creature this was who had invaded his circle in time to choose a spell and cast it. The bright, clear light made it unlikely to be a sorcerer, but what else was there in Ibile?

  Then the core of the flare seemed to coalesce, and a form became discernible within it—something humanoid, with a suggestion of huge wings, and a face that shone so brightly that its features couldn't be seen. Matt raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sight, but a voice echoed inside his head: "Wherefore mockest thou the Lord, vowing aye and doing nay?"

  Matt stared, taken aback. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and said, "I beg your pardon?"

  "Even now, thou didst seek a means to evade thy vow." The light-form's tones deepened, with the beginnings of anger.

  "Hey, now, wait a minute!" Matt held up a hand—and was surprised to see the little hairs on the back standing straight up. Now that he thought of it, his whole scalp was prickling. Whatever this being was, it packed a lot of voltage. "I think you were taking me too literally!"

  "Literally!" The form's voice was a whiplash. "Aye, to the letter! Dost thou care naught for the words thou dost use?"

  "Of course not! I was an English major..."

  "Then thou art bound by them—to the word, if not the letter, and most assuredly to the spirit!"

  "No! I didn't mean..."

  "Thou hadst warning. Did not our Lord tell thee to say "yes' when thou didst mean `yes,' and `no' when thou didst mean 'no'?"

  "Not that I remember, no. In fact, I'm not aware of ever having had a chat with Him..."

  "Hast thou never prayed?" the light thundered. "Then didst thou converse with thy God! Hast thou never bided in silence long enough to feel the impulse toward good within thee? Then didst thou hear His answer! And when thou hast read the Gospel, thou hast heard His word!"

  With a sinking heart, Matt remembered hearing the passage about prayer being read at Mass one Sunday. Stalling, he said, "Hold on a minute! You might be a devil, sent to tempt me to my doom! How do I know you come from God?"

  "Canst thou truly doubt it?" The anger was approaching righteous wrath—and, in truth, Matt felt a growing certainty inside him. But the form of light went on. "Canst thou doubt that I am an emissary from the God of Abraham and Isaac, and His Son Jesus Christ?"

  At the mention of the Holy Name, Matt's fear stilled. He was, after all, on the same side as the form of light; he needn't fear it. "He said we would know one another in the breaking of bread."

  The center of the form of light grew out, separated into two hands holding a glowing loaf. They broke the bread in half and held out one piece. "Take, then, and eat—if thou dost think thyself worthy."

  Matt paused in midgrab. "There was some talk about my actions, wasn't there?",

  "Thy words, say rather."

  "All right, my words." Matt eyed the glowing form narrowly. "Are you an angel, then?"

  "I am."

  Somehow, Matt couldn't doubt it. "Your pardon—and God's. My intention did not accord with my words."

  The form was still; a high-pitched humming emanated from it for a moment. Then it said, "It is true—thou didst grow to manhood on an impious world, whose folk have long forgot the Third Commandment."

  "Forgotten it, yes. Even people who claim to be religious use the word god as an expletive."

  " 'Tis even as thou sayest." There was as much sadness as anger now in the angel's tone. "Yet surely thou, who wast trained to know the power of words and hast seen such power made clear in Merovence these three years past, should have known the impiety of that foul usage!"

  "Yes." Matt's heart grew heavy. "Yes, I should have. But I was very upset, you see, and in my anger I spoke foolishly, without thinking."

  The angel stood in silence; Matt heard only the humming which, he suspected, came from physical causes—molecules impacting an electromagnetic field about it?

  The thought made him suddenly aware of a feeling that had been growing all along—a feeling of having been steered, manipulated. He narrowed his eyes. "Is not the Lord a little quick about taking my vow literally? Does He not consider my intentions in it? I sinned, in taking His name in vain—but would He not forgive, and release me from my geas?"

  "He will forgive any human sin, as thou knowest! Yet what audacity hast thou, to ask Him to release thee!"

  "I know." Matt bowed his head. "But the fact of the matter is that I didn't mean what I said—and when I realized what I was taking on, I definitely wanted to be free of it! Will the Lord really compel me to so suicidal a course?"

  "What matters the life, 'gainst the soul's eternity?"

  Matt's anger flared. "Easy for you to say—you've never had a body!" The surge passed, and Matt lowered his eyes again. "Sorry. But it's not so easy to face death and torture when you're corporeal. I thought the Lord only wanted willing volunteers."

  " 'Tis even so." The angel's voice was grim. "Thou art forgiven thy sin—and He will not compel thee. Turn, and return to thy place."

  Matt sagged with relief. "Blessed be the name of the Lord!"

  "Yet bethink thee," the angel said sternly, "thou didst swear—and this task thou hast sworn to do is greatly needed—not by God, but by thy fellow mortals. Dost thou not love Him?"

  "Well, yes, but..."

  "Then love also them! For hath He not said, `So long as thou hast done this for these, my little ones, thou has done it for Me'?"

  "Well, yes, I do seem to remember the passage, but..."

  "Dost thou not wish to serve the Lord thy God?"

  "But it's impossible!"

  "All is possible, to God."

  "But I'm not God! Not even a close relative! Besides, whenever I say the Lord's Prayer, I ask Him to lead me not into temptation! Isn't there greater danger in Ibile for my soul than there is for my body?"

  "There is great peril, aye, for in
Ibile a magic-worker may become a sorcerer and gain great worldly power indeed! Yet thy soul was in greater peril when thou didst take the Name of God in vain! Aye, thou art hereby forgiven, since thou didst come from a world far removed in time from this and had not gained full awareness of truth—as thou shouldst have had! For the God of thy universe is the God of this, and thou hadst the Scriptures and the Law! No more didst thou need! Thou hadst but to cleave to them, and thou wouldst have kept thy soul free from sin! Oh, beware, Wizard! For the next such sin will put thee into the hands of the enemy! And if thou dost pass from the state of Grace, he shall use thine own powers of magic to tempt thee and damn thee!"

  Matt stood, frozen, feeling the horror that the angel felt. Then, very softly, he said, "How can I, then, have the audacity to confront the powers of Satan in a land whose rulers, and many of whose people, are dedicated to him?"

  "Through the power of God, Wizard! For be assured, He will not forsake thee! He will be thy staff, he will fill thee with all strength thou dost need! So long as thou art within the state of Grace, thou hast but to call on Him, and He will give thee all the fortitude thou couldst wish, to defend thee against temptation! God will not allow that thou be tried beyond thy strength!"

  "That is very reassuring." It really was; Matt began to feel a bit of courage returning. "But say, angel—how shall I stand against the power of sorcery? Can the Lord give me...No, of course He can, what's the matter with me? But will He? Will He give me the power to defeat a sorcerous king? And all the hierarchy of sorcery at his command? For surely, only a saint could channel so much of God's power!"

  "Hast thou no wish to be a saint?"

  "Well, of course. I mean, I do intend to be one, someday—but I had just naturally assumed it was going to take a long time in Purgatory, and..."

  "No saint can intervene in the affairs of that benighted land of Ibile;" the angel said sternly. "God will not send one of Heaven's host bodily against mortal humans, no matter how great their evil. He will not so strongly upset the balance here on earth; His saints work through the agency of human beings who open themselves to God and all His blessed ones."