190

A WIZARD IN ABSENTIA

Gar frowned. “Strange.”

lan looked up. “Why, sir?”

Gar was slow in answering. “I should think your lord would not let you learn any skills that would allow you to fight against his soldiers, if it came into your head to do so.”

“But it would not,” lan said, surprised. “What quarterstaff could hold against a sword, or even a halberd, my lord?’

“Any,” Gar said flatly, and the answer jolted lan.

“If they never tell you that, though, you would never think of it. But there is a way a quarterstaff can best a sword—and be sure I’ll teach you that. And, if you know a quarterstaff, you can learn a blade easily—

well, not easily,” he amended, “but you’ll catch the knack of it more quickly.”

“But Master Gar, it is against the law for a serf to touch weapons! If I am caught, they will hang me!”

Gar smiled, amused. “You are already a fugitive, lad. If they catch you, they’ll flog you within an inch of your life, then make you walk home, and you’ll probably die on the way. Which way would you rather pass?”

lan swallowed, and was silent.

The freelance was as good as his word; by the time they reached the castle of Lord Aran two days later, lan had already learned how to care for the horses, saddle and bridle his own mount, pluck a few chords on the harp, and thrust and parry with his sword. Of course, Gar would not let him use the real blade, when the two of them dueled in practice, nor would 191

he himself—he insisted they use willow wands.

Then, after the practice, he demanded that lan stand still, holding his sword across his palms at arm’s length for a minute, then two, then three, then four, then five … lan was amazed at how quickly his arms began to ache, but found he could bear it.

They chatted as they rode, Car telling lan amusing stories of his travels, and exciting tales of battle. Between them, he asked lan about himself, even though the boy protested he had never done anything interesting, only lived in a little village and done his chores. But Gar pressed him for details anyway, and seemed fascinated by the homely accounts of lan’s boyhood friendships and conflicts, of his games and fights, of the holy day celebrations and the winters’

tales against the darkness and the blizzards. lan was reticent at first, but talked more and more easily as the sincerity of Gar’s interest became apparent, until he was chattering away, warming to Gar’s attention as a flower opens to the sun, until he found himself telling of his father’s flogging and his own escape.

Here Gar reined in the horses and dismounted to walk a while with his arm around the boy, saying little, but comforting him by his mere presence. When the tears had dried, Gar said gently, “What I can’t understand is how you lasted through the first night, until I found you. Did you spend it all in the Stone Egg?”

“No, sir. I hid with the Little People.”

“The Little People?” Gar looked up, startled. “Are they real, then?”

“Oh yes, sir!” lan looked up at him, wondering 192

again how Gar could have lived all his life in this land and not known so simple a thing. “They hid me in their hall, but only for the one night—they feared Lord Murthren’s searchers would lead him to me, and they would be discovered.”

“So they fear the soldiers, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How is it I haven’t seen them?”

lan shrugged. “Because of that fear, sir. They hide in their halls, and none see them unless the dwarves themselves wish it.”

“Well.” Gar paced a moment in silence, then said,

“If you should chance to see them again, tell them I said they have suceeded far better than they know.”

lan wondered at that, but knew better than to ask.

They mounted again, and rode on their way through the night.

They came to Lord Aran’s castle shortly after dawn. The country was flat here, farmlands and woodlots spreading out as far as the eye could see, with no hill on which to build a castle—so Lord Aran’s stronghold sat in the middle of a cleared plain, on an island in a small lake. The villages of his serfs were scattered all about the shore, three or four of them, and a score more out in the fields.

The castle itself was of granite, with four tall, bat-tiemented towers around the squat central cylinder of the keep, which rose high above the sixty-foot curtain wall. A long wooden causeway, built of timbers a foot thick, stretched out to the castle, but stopped twelve feet short of its gate, and the drawbridge that made up the rest of its length was drawn up now.