110

A WIZARD IN ABSENTIA

Nor to the freelance. “So late at night?”

“It was this morning, sir,” lan improvised. “But I lost my way, and try as I would to find my home, I think I’m even further lost. So I have no idea where I am, or where my home is.”

The freelance scowled, like a thundercloud. “You are a very poor liar,” he said severely. Suddenly, he smiled again. “Well, I am properly served. It is no business of mine, why you are out here—and if you lie about it, you seem to feel no need of my help to get home again.” He looked lan over, puzzled. “Too young to have a brand on you. Still, there is no doubt you are a serf’s son. If the soldiers catch you here, late and alone at night, it will go hard with you.” He seemed to come to a decision, and stood. lan stared up at him, awed, for the process of standing seemed to go on and on as the man unfolded and expanded.

He was a giant, or at least, much taller than any man lan had ever seen!

He held out a hand. “Walk with me, then, boy, and I’ll be your protection from them. You are my apprentice, accompanying me to polish my armor and mend my clothes.”

lan seized the hand with relief and gladness—here was a friend where he had least expected to find one, his passport out of the forest and to safety.

But…

“Sir,” he said, “will the foresters believe it?”

The freelance smiled. “It is rare, true. Few blank-shield soldiers would wish to burden themselves with a child. Still, it is not unknown,* and when we’ve come out of the forest, I will buy you some ill

clothes that befit your new station. We will say that you are my nephew.”

But lan remembered that the soldiers who were looking for him would scarcely believe such a tale—

and that they were still looking for a young serf boy who had run away.

It was almost as though the soldier heard his thoughts. “There were foresters and soldiers thick about here just now. Like as not, they were hunting for you. They would scarcely believe such a tale.” He nodded, agreeing with himself. “Yes. We had better go quickly, then, boy, and very quietly, by back trails.

What have you done, that they should search for you by night in this wilderness?”

lan’s heart leaped into his throat—but he swallowed, and forced himself to speak. What could he say, except the truth? Anything else would be to abuse this new-found friend. If he chose to have nothing to do with a runaway, well, then lan was no worse off than before—but if he found it out later, then he might betray lan to the foresters in anger. “I have escaped, sir.” Not all the truth, perhaps, but enough.

And the soldier seemed satisfied. He nodded and said, “Come, then. I know what it is, to escape—and be found.”

lan looked up, startled at his tone—but the freelance was no longer smiling, nor looking at him. He was gazing straight ahead, frowning—and remembering.