Magician (35 page)

Pug leaped out of the boat and helped
pull it ashore. When it was fast aground, the others got out and
stretched their legs.

Pug felt as if they were being watched,
but each time he looked around, there was nothing in sight but the
rocks, and the few seabirds that lived the winter in clefts of the
cliff face.

Kulgan and the Prince studied the two
paths up from the beach. The magician looked at the other path, away
from the sorcerer’s castle, and said, “There should be
little harm in exploring the other trail. Shall we?”

Days of boredom and confinement
outweighed whatever anxiety they felt. With a brusque nod, Arutha led
the way up the trail.

Pug followed last, behind Meecham. The
big-shouldered franklin was armed with a broadsword, upon which his
hand rested. Pug kept his sling handy, for he still didn’t feel
comfortable with a sword, though Gardan was giving him lessons when
possible. The boy fingered the sling absently, his eyes taking in the
scene before them.

Along the trail they startled several
colonies of turnstones and plovers, which took flight when the party
came near. The birds squawked their protests and hovered near their
roosts until the hikers passed, then returned to the scant comfort of
the hillside.

They crested the first of a series of
hills, and the path away from the castle could be seen to dip behind
another crest Kulgan said, “It must lead somewhere. Shall we
continue?” Arutha nodded, and the others said nothing. They
continued their journey until they came to a small valley, little
more than a dell, between two ranges of low hills. On the floor of
the valley sat some buildings.

Arutha said softly, “What do you
think, Kulgan? Are they inhabited?”

Kulgan studied them for a moment, then
turned to Meecham, who stepped forward. The franklin inspected the
vista below, his gaze traveling from the floor of the vale to the
hills around. “I think not. There is no sign of smoke from cook
fires, nor sound of people working.”

Arutha resumed his march down toward
the floor of the valley, and the others followed. Meecham turned to
watch Pug for a moment, then noticed the boy was unarmed except for
his sling. The franklin pulled a long hunting knife from his belt and
handed it to the boy without comment. Pug bobbed his head once in
acknowledgment and took the knife in silence.

They reached a plateau above the
buildings, and Pug could see an alien-looking house, the central
building circled by a large court and several outbuildings. The
entire property was surrounded by a low wall, no more than four feet
tall.

They worked their way down the hillside
to a gate in the wall. There were several barren fruit trees in the
courtyard, and a garden area overgrown with weeds. Near the front of
the central building a fountain stood, topped with a statue of three
dolphins. They approached the fountain and saw that the interior of
the low pool surrounding the statue was covered in blue tiles, faded
and discolored with age. Kulgan examined the construction of the
fountain ‘This is fashioned in a clever manner. I believe that
water should issue from the mouths of the dolphins.”

Arutha agreed. “I have seen the
King’s fountains in Rillanon, and they are similar, though
lacking the grace of this.”

There was little snow on the ground,
for it seemed the sheltered valley and the entire island received
little even in the most severe winters. But it was still cold. Pug
wandered a little way off and studied the house. It had a single
story, with windows every ten feet along the wall. There was but one
opening for a double door in the wall he stood facing, though the
doors were long off their hinges.

“Whoever lived here expected no
trouble.”

Pug turned to see Gardan standing
behind him, staring at the house as well. “There is no tower
for lookout,” continued the Sergeant. “And the low wall
seems more likely to keep livestock out of the gardens than for
defense.”

Meecham joined them, hearing Gardan’s
last remar.k “Aye, there is little concern for defense here.
This is the lowest spot on the island, save for that small stream you
could see behind the house when we came down the hill.” He
turned to stare up at the castle, the highest spires of which could
still be seen from the valley. “There is where you build for
trouble. This place,” he said, indicating the low buildings
with a sweep of his hand, “was fashioned by those who knew
little of strife.”

Pug nodded as he moved away. Gardan and
Meecham headed in a different direction, toward an abandoned stable.

Pug moved around to the back of the
house and found several smaller buildings. He clutched his knife in
his right hand and entered the closest. It was open to the sky, for
the roof had collapsed. Red roof tiles, shattered and faded, lay
about the floor, in what seemed to be a storeroom, with large wooden
shelves along three walls. Pug investigated the other rooms in the
building, finding them to be of similar configuration. The entire
building was some sort of storage area.

He moved to the next building and found
a large kitchen. A stone stove stood against one wall, big enough for
several kettles to cook upon it simultaneously, while a spit hung
over a back opening above the fire was large enough for a beef side
or whole lamb. A mammoth butcher’s block stood in the center of
the room, scarred from countless blows of cleaver and knife.

Pug examined a strange-looking bronze
pot in the corner, overlaid with dust and cobwebs. He turned it over
and found a wooden spoon. As he looked up, he thought he saw a
glimpse of someone outside the door of the cookhouse.

“Meecham? Gardan?” he
asked, as he slowly approached the door. When he stepped outside,
there was no one in sight, but he did catch another glimpse of
movement at the rear door of the main house.

He hurried toward that door, assuming
his companions had already entered the building. As he entered the
main house, he caught a hint of movement down a side corridor. He
stopped for a moment to survey this strange house.

The door before him stood open, a
sliding door fallen from railings that had once held it in place.
Through the door he could see a large central courtyard, open to the
sky above. The house was actually a hollow square, with pillars
holding up the interior of the partial roof. Another fountain and a
small garden occupied the very center of the courtyard. Like the one
outside, the fountain was in disrepair, and this garden was also
choked with weeds.

Pug turned toward the hall down which
he had seen movement. He passed through a low side door into a
shadowy corridor. In places the roof had lost several tiles, so that
occasionally light shone down from above, making it easy for the boy
to find his way. He passed two empty rooms, he suspected they might
be sleeping quarters.

He turned a corner to find himself
before the door of an odd-looking room and entered. The walls were
tile mosaics, of sea creatures sporting in the foam with scantily
dressed men and women. The style of art was new to Pug. The few
tapestries and fewer paintings on display in the Duke’s halls
were all very lifelike, with muted colors and detailed execution in
the finish. These mosaics were suggestive of people and animals
without capturing details.

In the floor was a large depression,
like a pool, with steps leading down before him Out of the wall
opposite obtruded a brass fish head, hanging over the pool. The
nature of the room was beyond Pug.

As if someone had read his thoughts, a
voice from behind said, “It is a tepidanum.”

Pug turned and saw a man standing
behind him. He was of average height, with a high forehead and
deep-set black eyes. There were streaks of grey at the temples of his
dark hair, but his beard was black as night. He wore a brown robe of
simple material, a whipcord belt around the waist. In his left hand
he held a sturdy oak staff. Pug came on guard, holding the long
hunting knife before him.

“Nay, lad. Put up your scramasax,
I mean you no harm.” He smiled in a way that made Pug relax.

Pug lowered his knife and said, “What
did you call this room?”

“A tepidarium,” he said,
entering the room. “Here warm water was piped into the pool,
and bathers would remove their clothing and place them on those
shelves.” He pointed to some shelves against the rear wall.

“Servants would clean and dry the
clothing of dinner guests while they bathed here.”

Pug thought the idea of dinner guests
bathing at someone’s home in a group a novel one, but he said
nothing. The man continued, “Through that door”—he
pointed to a door next to the pool—“was another pool with
very hot water, in a room called a calidanum. Beyond was another pool
with cold water in a room called a fngidarium. There was a fourth
room called the unctonum, where servants would rub down the bathers
with scented oils. And they scraped their skins with wooden sticks.
They didn’t use soap then.”

Pug was confused by all the different
bathing rooms. “That sounds like a lot of time spent getting
clean. This is all very odd.”

The man leaned on his staff. “So
it must seem to you, Pug. Still, I expect those that built this house
would consider your keep halls strange as well.”

Pug started. “How did you know my
name?”

The man smiled again. “I heard
the tall soldier call you by name as you approached the building. I
was watching you, keeping out of sight until I was sure you were not
pirates come to seek ancient loot. Few pirates come so young, so I
thought it would be safe to talk to you.”

Pug studied the man. There was
something about him that suggested hidden meanings in his words. “Why
would you speak with me?”

The man sat on the edge of the empty
pool. The hem of his robe was pulled back, revealing cross-gartered
sandals of sturdy construction. “I am alone mostly, and the
chance to speak with strangers is a rare thing. So I thought to see
if you would visit with me awhile, for a few moments at least, until
you return to your ship.”

Pug sat down also, but kept a
comfortable distance between himself and the stranger. “Do you
live here?”

The man looked around the room. “No,
though I once did, long ago.” There was a contemplative note in
his voice, as if the admission were calling up long-buried memories.

“Who are you?”

The man smiled again, and Pug felt his
nervousness vanish. There was something reassuring about his manner,
and Pug could see that he intended no harm. “Mostly I am called
the traveler, for many lands have I seen. Here I am sometimes known
as the hermit, for so I live. You may call me what you like. It is
all the same.”

Pug looked at him closely. “Have
you no proper name?”

“Many, so many that I have
forgotten a few. At the time of my birth I was given a name, as you
were, but among those of my tribe it is a name known only to the
father and the mage-priest.”

Pug considered this. “It is all
very strange, much like this house. Who are your people?”

The man called the traveler laughed, a
good-natured chuckle. “You have a curious mind, Pug, full of
questions. That is good.” He paused for a moment, then said,
“Where are you and your companions from? The ship in the bay
flies the Natalese banner of Bordon, but your accent and dress are of
the Kingdom.”

Pug said, “We are of Crydee,”
and gave the man a brief description of the journey. The man asked a
few simple questions, and without being aware of it, Pug found that
soon he had given a full accounting of the events that had brought
them to the island, and the plans for the rest of the journey.

When he had finished, the traveler
said, “That is a wondrous story indeed. I should think there
will be many more wonders before this strange meeting of worlds is
finished.”

Pug questioned him with a look. “I
don’t understand.”

The traveler shook his head. “I
don’t expect you to, Pug. Let us say that things are occurring
that can be understood only by examination after the fact, with a
distance of time separating the participants from the participating.”

Pug scratched his knee. “You
sound like Kulgan, trying to explain how magic works.”

The traveler nodded. “An apt
comparison. Though sometimes the only way to understand the workings
of magic is to work magic.”

Pug brightened. “Are you also a
magician?”

The traveler stroked his long black
beard. “Some have thought me one, but I doubt that Kulgan and I
share the same understanding of such things.”

Pug’s expression showed he
considered this an unsatisfactory explanation even if he didn’t
say so. The traveler leaned forward. “I can effect a spell or
two, if that answers your question, young Pug.”

Pug heard his name shouted from the
courtyard. “Come,” said the traveler “Your friends
call. We had best go and reassure them that you are all right.”

They left the bathing room and crossed
the open court of the inner garden. A large anteroom separated the
garden from the front of the house, and they passed through to the
outside. When the others saw Pug in the company of the traveler, they
looked around quickly, their weapons drawn. Kulgan and the Prince
crossed the court to stand before them. The traveler put up his hands
in the universal sign that he was unarmed.

The Prince was the first to speak. “Who
is your companion, Pug?”

Pug introduced the traveler. “He
means no harm. He hid until he could see that we were not pirates.”
He handed the knife to Meecham.

If the explanation was unsatisfactory,
Arutha gave no sign. “What is your business here?”

The traveler spread his hands, with the
staff in the crook of his left arm. “I abide here, Prince of
Crydee. I should think that the question better serves me.”