4. Fugitives

The seats were cushioned and covered in satin, with plush matching pillows strewn in the floorboard. But the luxury of the carriage was lost on me. I knelt on my knees by the door, curtain cracked just enough to peek out and watched the courtyard flash past. I strained to see behind us, to listen for any sound of alarm in the streets as we approached the city gates. The road rattled by beneath us, sharp clop of horses' hooves punctuating the grinding rhythm of wooden wheels against cobblestones.

We passed out of the city without incident, and a mile south of town my nervous strength finally drained from me. I collapsed back onto my heels. Above me the curtains swayed with the constant roll of the carriage and did little to stop the chill draft that flowed in from the night. Every bump in the road jostled me, throwing my shoulder hard against the wooden box of the seat, but I didn't bother moving.

Claighan sat with arms crossed in the corner opposite me, staring at nothing. His eyes were sad, his body bent in dejection. The confrontation with the king had hurt him. And again, as he had on the road from Sachaerrich, he mumbled to himself as he laid plans. I tried at first to talk with him, but he ignored me. I spent a while watching the night flow past outside, but the darkness and the cold wind robbed the sights of their interest.

Two long, squat chests rested in the luggage area atop the cabin, apparently arranged beforehand and carrying Claighan's possessions. I had my sturdy leather bag inside with us, stuffed full and taking up most of the floorspace. Every now and then I looked at Claighan to see if he was still awake. He always was. He never answered when I spoke to him.

I tried to think, to understand what had happened. Apparently Claighan had not won his race. The king had called him a traitor and conspirator to rebellion. I had heard Claighan speak of the king in less than glowing terms, but it had never seemed beyond the scope of an Academy Master's pride. This was something else.

Rebellion. I closed my eyes and thought of Cooper's commission to join the Guard. I thought of regiments disbanded to be replaced with Academy wizards. The king's army had only one serious engagement at the moment: the constant, quiet threat of rebellion in the Ardain. But if they were taking on new Guards....

I raised my voice across the small cabin. "There's a rebellion, isn't there?" Claighan didn't even seem to hear me. I looked down at my hands. "There's a war."

He gave me no answer, but I didn't need one. I had heard more of the conversation with Edwin. They'd spoken of a wizard tempted by power, going over to the duke. That would be Duke Brant. If he were involved, if he had access to a battle wizard of his own....

I let my head fall back against the wall of the carriage, and felt the same distant, disconnected shock that seemed to have wrapped itself around Claighan. A traitor, Academy-trained. I would have killed him by my own hand. One man, probably some soft nobleman's son swollen on the pride of his own power and lusting for more, and he had cost me whatever future Claighan had been willing to offer me.

I opened my eyes and looked across the cabin. "What was his name?" I asked.

Claighan raised his head. He met my eyes. "Lareth," he said. "And he has cost us everything."

Before I could get another answer from him, he let his head sink down onto his chest again and descended back into his toneless muttering. I tried to draw him out, tried to learn more, but that was as much as he would give me. A name. Lareth. I felt my lips peeling back in a snarl, intended as much for the king's quick temper, for Othin's petty rage, even for Cooper's sneering disdain.

And now...now we would go into hiding. Not in the princely luxury of the capitol, but in some quiet little village across the channel, or perhaps in the hostile halls of the Academy. Claighan would pull strings, and Edwin would do what he could. He seemed to have considerable influence. And while they strove to return to the king's good graces, I would play my part, too. I would study under Claighan. He could teach me, if I could just draw him out of his dark reverie. I would practice the sword. I would be ready next time, to show the king I was worth sponsoring.

It wouldn't be easy, and I knew enough of the treacherous games noblemen played to know it wouldn't be quick. But I could wait. This still offered me greater opportunities than I could have hoped for herding sheep in some quiet Terrailles township. It might be slower, but that could even help me. Things had been moving awfully fast.

The more I thought about it, the calmer I became. My heartbeat slowed, my brow smoothed, and gradually the knots in my shoulders began to relax. At some point during the night I drifted asleep. I slumped back into the corner and let my head fall against the polished wood because the bench was too narrow to stretch out on. The shaking of the carriage wall bruised my head, but I eventually ignored even that, and sank into a shallow sleep. For hours more we rolled on, my dreams constantly tinged with the little sense impressions of the night journey. Finally a coarse, low shout interrupted one of my dreams. The carriage jolted to a stop and I sat up, looking around. A thin gray light suffused the cabin, starlight and some stray beams from the moon cutting in through the curtains. I yawned and stretched, grimacing at the stiffness and pain of half a night's journey.

I heard the same voice growling through the night and realized it was not the voice of a friendly stableman come to help unhitch the carriage. Of course not. We wouldn't make Souport until well after dawn. So why had we stopped? I heard another shouted order and grew cold. Who had stopped us? My tension returned. It had to be the King's Guard. I sank quietly down off the bench and darted back to my place at the window, peeking past the curtain.

I expected to see soldiers in uniform, though it would have been difficult to get word here so quickly without the help of another wizard. I did see several shadowy forms in the night outside, gathered at a careful distance and brandishing arms that flashed in the moonlight. They did not wear the uniform of the Guard, though. They wore clothes as ragged as mine had been, and I saw faces smeared with mud. One man stepped forward into the light cast by the carriage's lamps, and as he approached his words became clear.

"Get down from there, old man, or I'll stick you clean through! Lewin, Kent, get the luggage!" I heard a thud as the old driver jumped down from his high perch and landed by the roadside. The sound was followed by the clatter of two men climbing the steps to the top of the carriage. These were not soldiers, but thieves. Brigands had stopped us on the King's Way, on the Isle.

My heart began to pound, my mind racing. Forgetting my caution, I threw myself away from the window to grab for my leather bag in the far corner.

"Claighan," I hissed. I fumbled at the drawstrings for four desperate heartbeats then growled under my breath and tore at them until they broke. Then I reached within and drew the Green Eagle's sword from its sheath. "Claighan, wake up!"

The blade was magnificent, the balance perfect. I barely had room to hold the weapon upright, but I did my best to position myself within the cramped space, facing toward the voice of the bandit leader. He was still croaking orders in that low bark of his. I bumped the wizard with my hip, trying to wake him without making a noise, and he gave a little snort and blinked his eyes in a confused flutter.

But before I could catch his attention I heard a rattle as the leader of the brigands took the handle of the door. His growl turned to a shout as he flung the door open, a battle cry intended to startle us awake and terrify us, but I was waiting.

I fell forward onto my right knee, let my right arm straighten, and in those movements I drove the sword forward and down in a textbook-perfect thrust. Behind me, Claighan cried, "No!" but I could not have stopped myself. I had spent years perfecting that maneuver, practicing under the protection of our silver-penny spell, until my body drove the blade straight and true without any thought from me. But there was no magical pressure and dancing light to stay the sword's sharp tip this time. I caught the thief just below the eye, felt the thin bone crunch on both sides of the skull, and in that instant his cry was silenced. He fell off the blade and landed in the roadside grass with a wet thud. I knelt there, arm still extended and blade glistening, and stared down at the dead man on the sod. I forgot the other bandits in the night, forgot the danger and the fear. I leaned forward and vomited, trembling through my soul at the thing I had just done.

In an instant the wizard was beside me. I lay trembling on the floor of the carriage, but I heard him curse softly above me as he gazed out into the clearing. The other bandits stood in a loose circle, looking bewildered. Claighan spoke mystical words that felt strangely familiar. I felt a flash of blinding light and an instant's searing warmth, and that quickly his spell was done. Everyone was gone, bandits and driver alike transported far away. I lay still on the floor of the carriage, panting and sick, and a terrible silence fell around us.

At last Claighan knelt and put a hand on my shoulder, turning me over to look at him. "Daven, this...." He struggled for something to say. I could only stare at him. He sighed. "This should not have happened."

I shivered, head to toes, and squeezed my eyes tight shut. I realized even now I was filled with panic. I fought for control of myself, I fought to slow my thundering heart. "There were brigands, Claighan. On the king's road. They attacked us. I—"

He smiled at me, his eyes filled with sadness. "You did what you knew, Daven." He looked with regret at the torn cords of my leather pack, at the blood-stained broadsword still in my hand. "You used the only weapon you know." He straightened, then he reached down and caught my hand, pulling me to my feet. I sank limply onto the uncomfortable bench, my mind still reeling.

"I killed him."

"No, Daven, I killed him. This was a terrible mistake." He pressed a hand to his forehead, scrubbed it over his eyes, and nodded. "I have been far too distracted. But you...you need to sleep."

"I couldn't possibly sleep!"

"You will sleep. I will help you. Close your eyes." I sank back into the corner again, pulled my knees up before me and wrapped my arms around them. I was still trembling. When I closed my eyes I saw a man's bloody, lifeless face. The tears felt cold against my skin. I fought to keep my eyes closed as the old wizard chanted, fought to ignore that hideous image, but it leered at me and I felt sick again.

Claighan's hand on my shoulder was no comfort as he chanted in a low, soft voice. I heard him falter once, and I heard great sorrow in his voice, but even as his words washed through my head the gruesome images remained, and finally I jumped to my feet, crying out. Claighan stepped back and let the spell die away, concern in his eyes.

"I am sorry, Claighan. I'm sorry, but the visions...."

"I understand. It is probably for the best. We have far to go." I waited for his direction, but for a long time he stood staring at the wall of the cabin, thinking. Finally he sighed and sank down onto the bench. "There is no easy way out of this. There may be no way at all." He looked up at me, as if suddenly remembering I was there, and then changed his voice. "Daven, we must continue on our way. The king is not pleased with us, and when he hears of this he will be less so."

"He would blame us for the bandits?"

"He would blame me for them. It was my fault. We must move on, but we have no driver now—"

"I can drive." He threw a questioning look at me, but I persisted. "I drove for the nobles when I was a boy. It's how I paid for father's...for father's food. And mine. I drove carriages in the city for almost a year."

He nodded. "You did. Yes, I think I knew that. Well, there is one answer at least. You will drive us to Souport and I will make arrangements from there. Climb up front and sort out the reins." I did as he instructed, trying to ignore the sounds of effort that came from behind me. He was putting the corpse inside the cabin. The corpse was going to Souport with us. I grimaced and turned my attention to the horses. They were a fine team, and the road was an easy one. I counted seconds under my breath. Finally Claighan climbed up onto the seat beside me, panting from the effort. He met my eyes for a moment then quickly looked away. "We are ready, Daven. Just follow this road."

I clucked to the horses and snapped the reins. They started off at a quick but even pace. They knew the way. I sank back against the wall of the car and watched the landscape slide past. The air on my face was fresh and cold. I drove for hours, until the red-gold glow of morning touched the sky over my left shoulder. I watched the sun climb into the sky and let the cold night fade into the darkness of memory.

I thought about the things the wizard had told me on the road to the City. I thought about my father who had died in a dank cell for stealing a loaf of bread. I thought about the man I'd killed, and Claighan's earlier mention of a demonstration on the road to Souport. I thought of his answer earlier, "No, Daven, I killed him." I was lost in these dark thoughts when a soft, dangerous voice spoke from the air between us.

"Claighan, can you hear me? It is exceeding important that I speak with you." I nearly jumped from my seat, but the old wizard merely shook his head and pulled a small, ornate mirror from within his robes.

When he held it up to his face it showed the king's adviser instead of Claighan's reflection. "I am here, Edwin. I expected to hear from you."

There was silence, then, "Claighan, this is grave business. What—"

"Another mistake, that is all. Another in a string of tragedies. I hate what has happened, but—"

"What has happened? I do not understand. I have only the reports from the men you sent me, and they are quite confused."

"I was distracted. I lost myself in concern for what happened at the palace and I forgot about what awaited us. Daven...the boy proved himself a most remarkable warrior. Once more he surprised me with his ability, and this time—"

"This time was one too many! If what they tell me is true, I don't know that I can save you."

"You don't have to save me, Edwin. Do what you must to keep yourself in favor. I am certain we can reach the Academy before his soldiers, and then I can return to set things straight. Until then, distance yourself from my name."

"You have no idea." His voice sounded sad. "Timmon believed I had killed you. He was outraged. For a moment he forgot his anger and...and he nearly cried. That simple trick almost won you free, but I cannot hide this. Too many of the soldiers knew you were involved."

"I know," Claighan said. "I understand the importance of this, but I cannot change the past. I cannot undo what has been made, I can only shape the uncertain. You taught me that."

"I did. I did." He sounded as though he wanted to say more, but the silence stretched on, and finally the old man's face faded from the glass.

Claighan put the glass away. "I hope he does not pay for my mistakes, Daven. Too often we pay for others' mistakes."

I didn't know what to say to that. After a time I shrugged. "You said something like that before."

He nodded. "It is something I think on often." Silence stretched, and then he added, "I have made many mistakes this season."

We rode on, and the sun rose high.

Then I drove the carriage over the crest of a hill, and in an instant Souport stretched out below us. It rolled lazily down into the sea, its houses and markets scattered across a long slope that ended at the grand harbor. The gray stone houses all had roofs of white slate that made a mosaic of the town, splattered here and there with the colorful markets. At the bottom of it all the great sea crashed against ancient stone docks, the noonday sun splintered into a sparkling mist that hung over the harbor and dazzled my eyes. I stopped the horses and sat for some time staring down over the view.

Claighan noticed when we stopped and sat forward, looking down and squinting against the bright light. Finally he nodded. "Very good, Daven. Very good. You've brought us to Souport. Go on down into the town." He stretched an arm out toward the spindly piers that jutted into the sea. "Straight to the docks. We haven't much time."

I went down the King's Way, passing broad boulevards paved with granite blocks. Near the bottom of the hill the sound of the sea danced rhythmically through the air and I could taste the salt tang on the breeze. Claighan caught my attention just as we approached the docks and waved me over to a dirt-floored alley near the sprawling stables there. I turned down the alley and before I'd even stopped Claighan hopped down from his place and started walking back to sunshine.

I ran to catch up with him. "You're just going to leave the king's coach?"

"Edwin will deal with it."

"But shouldn't we wait?" I asked. "There are...things in that carriage that must be explained!"

"I will explain later. Right now our main concern must be getting off this island before the king's guards find us. They will know I have come here." He was carrying the strap of my pack in one hand, and as we stepped out onto the main road he passed the pack over to me. I noticed that the sword had been replaced in its sheath, and the broken strings knotted inelegantly to hold it closed. It felt unbearably heavy, but I slung it over my back and kept pace with him.

He stopped at the intersection to look back up King's Way, though he could not have discerned anything within the jumble of crowds. After a moment he turned toward the sea.

A low stone wall separated the harbor from the rest of the town, and we passed beneath a decorative stone archway to get to the docks. A skinny man with ink-stained fingers met us just inside the wall. He bowed briefly before fixing us with a sharp, appraising look.

"I am the harbormaster here. How may I help you gentlemen?"

Claighan pulled a small signet ring from his finger and pressed it into the man's palm. "I am Master Claighan from the Academy and I have instant need of a Swift."

The man examined the ring closely then passed it back, nodding. "You are in luck, Master Claighan. Three Swifts arrived this morning and are only just now ready to depart."

Claighan bit his lip, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Three, you say? When did they arrive? Do you know whom they carried?"

"Only Masters, of course. I believe Seriphenes was among them, as his Young Swift is one of those at dock. There were others, as well, but I spoke only with Seriphenes." He paused for a moment, examining Claighan's expression, then added, "I am certain they intended to speak with the king, Master Claighan. They hired four coaches and set out immediately for the City."

Claighan cursed under his breath. "We might even have passed them on the way here. And Seriphenes among them...." He shook himself, apparently returning to the here and now, and looked at the harbormaster. "Thank you for the information. I am sure it will be quite helpful. I...I will have need of all the Swifts. Please find men to man them, and lead the boy and me to one of the Old Swifts, if you would."

"Are you certain, sir? As I said, the Young Swift Master Seriphenes is in dock—"

"We will not ride the Seriphenes. That would be an ill omen in a voyage already too full of them. Please arrange passage on one of the Old Swifts for us, and prepare all three to sail." The harbormaster started to turn away, but Claighan caught his arm. "One thing more! If any other Swifts arrive and any of the king's men ask permission to ride one, you are to deny that permission."

"My lord, I am certain I could not—"

"The Swifts are and have always been the property of the Academy, harbormaster, and have nothing to do with the king! We only allow them passage as a courtesy."

The thin man looked around and lowered his voice. "My lord, refusing the king's request would be something close to treason."

"I have done worse than that today. My order stands, and you are bound to obey it."

Looking sick, the harbormaster turned and disappeared into one of the small buildings along the wharf.

Claighan forgot him. He turned to me. "Come, the Swifts always dock at the east end." He led me to a pier where three magnificent boats rested lightly on the water. The afternoon sunlight glowed dully off the silver-gray sides of the ships, but the white mainsail reflected it in a blaze like a torch. The boats looked tiny against all the great fishing and merchant galleys farther down, but their decks held only one mast, and the rigging stood high above the ship, leaving most of the deck space free. I saw two men on each of the Swifts, scurrying about and preparing to sail.

As we made our way out onto the pier, a dockman sprinted up behind us and pointed to the second ship on our left. It took him a moment to catch his breath, but finally he panted, "You're...to board...the Old Swift...Master Edwin."

Claighan nodded, smiling despite himself. "Master Edwin. Excellent." He strode quickly up the gangplank and I followed close at his heels. The two sailors I had noticed earlier turned away from the main mast as we stepped up onto the deck and both saluted Claighan. He shook his head. "That is enough of that. We sail to Deichelle. Can you get us there by morning?"

One of the sailors stepped forward. "You will be eating your breakfast there, Master Claighan. Now—" he cut off, staring past us in surprise. We turned together and found a dozen of the king's soldiers trotting along the harbor toward the Swifts' pier. They saw us, but in the same instant Claighan cried some word of command, and the Swift leaped forward into the small waves of the strait. I looked back and saw both of the other Swifts darting away as well, pulled as if on strings out into the water and already speeding south with sails full. Sailors on the other ships looked about in confusion, but as I watched they shrugged it off and returned to their duties.

Claighan clapped me on the shoulder, then tightened his grip. "Wind and rain, you're shaking, boy. That was a close call, but things shall get better from here on out." I looked over and up at him, hoping to show him my gratitude, but his eyes were on something far off and they bore none of the confidence his words had expressed.

He looked back to the harbor quickly dwindling behind us. "Although, with Seriphenes in the capitol...." He trailed off, his eyes grim.

I ducked my head. "That danger, at least, is behind us."

He squeezed my shoulder again, and nodded. "Indeed. Indeed. Now we must prepare for the dangers ahead."

I sank down on the deck, leaning against the railing, "There has been nothing but danger since you turned your eyes on me, wizard."

He sighed. "It is a fair accusation." For a while I thought he was going to say more, but he fell silent. I watched him.

After a time I said, "Who was it that I killed?"

He flinched away as though I'd stricken him. His grip on my shoulder tightened in something like a spasm, and then he let his hand fall away. "I do not know his name," he said, "but he was a captain of the King's Guard."

I nodded. Pain blossomed high in my stomach, and I felt it reaching up into my chest. I blinked, and my eyelashes glistened a bit. I swallowed and found my voice to ask, "Why?"

Claighan lowered his eyes. "Do you remember what I said on the road to the City? About your being too physical a spirit and that causing problems in your training?"

I nodded slowly, and he nodded back. "I had a solution planned. I meant to demonstrate for you how creativity and will can do something easily that physical force can only do with effort."

"You...." I sighed and shook my head. I caught my breath. "You were supposed to thwart the robbery."

"Indeed."

I felt my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles hurt. I closed my eyes. "You set it up. You were going to teach me a lesson."

"Indeed."

"And you fell asleep."

For a long time he said nothing. He caught his breath with something that sounded like a sob. He let it out with something like a sigh. I waited another heartbeat for him to say again, "Indeed."

I opened my eyes to meet his gaze. My chest ached. My shoulders ached. I said, "You have made me into a murderer."

"And a fugitive of the king's justice," he said. "And once more someone else must pay for my mistakes. It is deeply unfair. But I attempted too much. I strove too hard. Eventually even a wizard's body fails him."

"You fell asleep," I growled. "And now an innocent man is dead."

I expected him to flinch again at that. He didn't. He didn't sob, either. He held my gaze for four heavy heartbeats, then he raised his chin half an inch, and every trace of uncertainty melted from his expression. "I do what must be done," he said. "It is a tragedy. But one innocent death will pale to nothing against the threat that is coming."

I felt my jaw fall open. My fists at last relaxed, fury fading in the face of the wizard's madness. "Nothing?" I said.

He nodded slowly. His eyes were serious. I would get no apology from him. He would have sacrificed everything in this mission. I thought back to his conversation with Edwin, to the things he'd been saying about the greater threat. I remembered what he had told me on the road to the City and shook my head. "What is it?" I asked. 

He tilted his head, waiting for me to clarify, and I asked, "What is the dragonswarm?"

The wizard held my gaze. "There are old legends, myths, that tell of a time when the dragons began waking." He said it almost offhand, but there was a terrible intensity in his eyes.

My mouth was suddenly dry. I had to swallow. "Which dragons?"

"All of them," he said. "Enough to fill the sky to black at noon. Enough to burn the world to ash."

I chewed my lip. I remembered the strange vision I had intruded on during our trip to the City. The whole experience felt like a dream, but the image of the dragons in flight stood out stark within my memory. Enough to burn the world to ash. I believed it. "That would be a fearsome thing," I said.

He nodded and said nothing.

It did nothing to change what I had done. It did nothing to lessen the dangers I now faced from the king's justice. It only added new nightmares to be feared. I fought against them and fought to catch my breath.

The ship flew south, dancing along the waves. Warm sunlight bathed us, and a cool spray occasionally touched my cheek, my hair, the skin of my neck. For a while I tried to think about that instead of the dangers. It didn't work. At last I said, "Why did you recruit me?"

Claighan's mouth turned down in a sour frown. "This is the fourth time you've asked me that."

"And the answer never satisfies." Before he could respond, I pushed myself to my feet and faced him. "Am I to be another battle wizard in the Royal Guard?"

He shook his head and I nodded. "I thought not. Am I to be an answer to a rebel army?"

His head sank, but I saw another little shake no. I nodded again. "You mean for me to fight dragons."

His eyes found mine. They burned with a vicious fire. "All of them."

He was a madman. He was my only hope for refuge now, for redemption, but he was clearly a madman. But I remembered again a vision of the dragons waking and my breath caught in my throat. "It's just a story," I said. It sounded unconvincing even to me.

Claighan stepped away from the rail. "That is what everyone insists," he said. "It is a comforting thought." He turned and walked away.

---

Hours later I was still sitting at the deck rail when Claighan came and joined me. I stared out over the waters slipping past, afternoon sun flashing gold and silver off the dancing waves. I didn't look up as the old wizard joined me, just spoke to the wind. "Three days ago, at this moment, I was putting sheep in Jemminor's pen."

He sank down to rest on his heels for a moment, then sat stretched out on the deck beside me. He leaned his back against the rail and drew out an old, ornate pipe. While he filled it, he nodded at my comment.

"An hour later you fought and conquered one of the king's elite guards."

"I had a job, a home, a family...."

"You had a closet dug from the basement wall, Daven. You had one pair of pants and two shirts. You had a taskmaster."

I nodded. The waters danced by while a light blue smoke drifted up and away. "It was home to me. I had friends."

"Do you wish to go back?"

"No." After a moment, "Could I if I wanted to?"

"At this point...no. You could, but they would find you eventually."

"Of course." A school of fish skipped past, one great shadow just beneath the surface. "What now?"

"Now we go to the Academy. You will be safe there, and in time I will go back to the capitol to set things straight."

"Won't he kill you?"

Claighan smiled. "Wizards are not easy to kill. I imagine I'll survive."

I nodded. In my head the sheep were bleating, the sun beating down on a cold pasture, the flock milling idly beside a quiet stream. Terrailles had plenty of quiet streams. I sat in the shade of an old tree and watched the day melt.

"Tell me about magic."

The wizard snorted at me, and I took it for a question. I turned to face him and waited until he met my gaze. "You set that up," I said. "You did all of that so you could teach me a lesson about magic." I took a deep breath and let it out. "So go ahead. Tell me about magic."

Claighan looked up at me, then took the pipe from his mouth and stood to face me. "There is...reality. We all know reality, and we are all part of it, but..." he looked around, tapped the deck of the boat with his foot, "nothing that we sense is real. The world we work with, live in, is a flexible framework we build on top of the underlying reality."

I nodded. He chuckled. "Fine, pretend to understand me." He drew a deep breath, and turned to look at the sea over his shoulder. "The inner structure is Chaos. It is the power on which we build reality as we know it. Like the deep currents, fast and strong, far beneath the water's surface."

He pulled a scrap of parchment from a pocket of his robe, frowned at it for a moment, then flicked it over his shoulder. I watched it slice down through the air to settle lightly on the water's surface. It stained to dark, but even when it was soaked it didn't sink far. Claighan faced the other way, so he watched my eyes instead of the paper, but he nodded.

"We are not creatures of Chaos, humans. We are creatures of Order. We do not fare well among the rushing and tearing forces of the deep currents, so we prefer to live our lives somewhere far removed. We're driven by the power of Chaos, but we live above it, away from it. We take a million little filaments of nothing and drape them over the Chaos like a dress, until our reality is shaped by true reality, changed by true reality, but it is far, far separated from true reality. Then, and only then, does the world make any kind of sense to us."

While he spoke I stared out over the waters. Now before my eyes they danced across a deep, terrible web of pulsing filaments. Claighan went on, "Every time we speak, every time we accept some sensory impulse as real, we help maintain that façade that keeps the human sane. Once you understand the façade, though, you understand it's not real. It's not necessary. So whether you see a harmless wave over there, or," I felt him wave a hand behind me, and in the distance the sea waters rose into a terrible wall that came hurtling toward us, matched with a roar that shook the boat, "or a great tidal wave, either way it's the same thing, and your mind makes use of it."

Terror gripped me as the waters rushed toward us. I grabbed the rail and tensed every muscle in my body preparing for the impact, but through all the fear Claighan's words fell like little drops of rain, and at the last the crushing wave splashed harmlessly into the sea below and was gone.

My fear did not disappear so quickly, though. My heart still raced and my stomach burned sour. I threw a frantic, furious look at the wizard, but he seemed entirely at ease. The sailors beyond him were as well, casually going about their chores. 

I caught my breath and frowned at Claighan. "So it is all illusion?"

"It is all illusion, but the 'it' is bigger than you think. It's not magic that's the illusion. Not at all. No, reality is illusion—a complex, communal hallucination that keeps us all sane—and we as wizards bend that hallucination to meet our needs. The underlying fabric is the real power, the real substance, but it is not something I would toy with."

I turned back to the sea, trying again to imagine the complex web of energies I'd envisioned before. I thought of great and terrible powers far beneath the feeble illusion of reality and imagined taking hold of those powers, bending them to my will. "Is that... is that what you would teach me?"

He sank back down to his place on the deck, relit his pipe with a word. "No. Even Masters of the Academy rarely study such forces. It is not in our power to shape them, but when you understand how they work you gain insight into everything else. When you can see what is real, it becomes a somewhat trivial matter to change what is illusory."

"And that is everything," I said.

"And that is everything." He tapped a finger to his temple and nodded to me. "No, you do not need to learn sorcery to become a special power. You need only learn the practice of will in support of the practice of body. I believe that alone could make all the difference." He took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. "Though I don't know that I will be able to teach you at all."

Two days ago he'd ripped me from Jemminor's resistant arms, and now he was almost ready to give it up. So much had gone wrong, so quickly. I frowned, thinking it over, and then I said into the silence, "Who is Lareth?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're perceptive." He wrinkled his nose. "You have heard of the duke  Brant?"

I nodded. "A lord of Southern Ardain, right? He has been trouble for years."

"He's the lord of Tirah, one of the most important cities in all Ardain. Second only to the capitol in all the kingdom, probably." Claighan shook his head. "And he is more than trouble. He has been working his way up to treason for years now."

"I've heard rumors."

"Well, the rumors finally came true late last year. The king's taxmen didn't return, which probably means the dozen king's soldiers sent with them were killed. That means war."

"Rebellion," I said.

"In the middle of our nation. It will tear us apart, and it is not something we can afford, not now. Our army is too small as it is. So I advised the king to seek other methods. We sent one of our recent graduates to the Court, and I advised the king to use him as an emissary, to negotiate a peace that would not send thousands of soldiers to die on Sarian soil."

"What happened?"

"He turned. The wizard, Lareth, ceased contact with the crown on the same day he reached Tirah, and ever since there have been reports of a powerful magician fighting for the rebels."

We both sat for a while, those terrible words hanging in the air between us. "And the king blames it all on you?"

"Of course."

"And since I was with you...."

"The king has a very short temper, especially of late. He was prepared to hold you as a traitor just for being in my presence."

"Of course." I forced a smile I could not feel. "Then it hardly matters that I have added another high crime to my record."

He shook his head. "I have made many mistakes, Daven, and I fear now you shall have to help pay for them. I...regret that."

I looked at him for a long time. He was small and frail again. I gave him an easy little shrug. "I've been paying for my father's mistakes all my life," I said. "I can pay for yours, too."

He did not look sad when he turned to me. He looked proud. "If only I can make it work, it will still be worth it. Give me time, and I will make you a legend."

I shook my head. "Give me another hole in the wall, another job to fill my days, and I will be as happy as I was before. Give me anything else and you've done me a favor."

He rose and tucked his pipe away somewhere in his robes. "You are a good boy. Better than most." Out over the waves the sun was setting, casting deep crimson rays into the ocean's depths. "I am going to sleep, we have a long ride tomorrow. There is another bed in the cabin, if you like, or you can take one of the rooms below. Good night."

He left, his boots thumping on the weathered wooden planks. I sank down to lie on the deck and stared up at the sky. I watched until the stars came out, a billion brilliant points penetrating the night's darkness, and I thought of yesterday and tomorrow. And then I thought of dragons.