Rosemary Kirstein - Steerswoman 04 (33 page)

The people subsided, almost as one, suddenly silent,
suddenly still, but for a knot around Naio, who was sprawled on the floor with
Ona holding his face, calling his name, begging him to answer; and a quieter
knot around Reeder, as those nearby resisted shifting to let him pass; and
another small pocket of movement, which it took Rowan a moment to understand
was centered on Willam.

He was struggling to move forward; he seemed to want to get
to Naio. Gregori had him by the arm, pulling him back. Will tried to shake off
the captain’s hand. Gregori roughly yanked him back, shoved him against the
wall, spoke to him quietly, uncomprehending but urgent. Will stared, wild-eyed,
and suddenly subsided, head down, eyes closed, fists clenched at his sides.

Rowan could not let this continue.

Jannik had paused in the center of the open area, watching Joly.
Should he move a few steps forward, Rowan would be directly behind him, a bit
more than ten feet away.

One kills a wizard by surprise, Willam had told Bel. It’s
the only way.

Her sword was with the dragons. Her field knife was in her
pack, in her room.

The diners at the table in front of Rowan had dined on cold
boar: three very sharp dinner knives were close at hand.

Wait, she told herself; and mentally addressed the wizard,
in something almost like a prayer:
Keep looking where
you’re
looking,
but take three steps forward.

Across the room, Bel took note of the steerswoman’s sudden
intensity, adjusted herself slightly.

With the crowd now stilled again, the mayor turned his attention
to the people on their knees beside Naio. He caught the gaze of one man, moved
his head infinitesimally: a question. The reply, as small, was a shake of the
head.

Despite the smallness of the movements, Ona saw and understood.
The wailing cry she gave out, with all her breath, seemed to come from
somewhere deeper even than her heart; the core of her bones, perhaps.

Several things happened at once.

The wizard moved two steps forward.

Rowan moved closer to the table with the knives.

Reeder looked up from where Ona was clinging to her husband;
looked up and then stood frozen, staring, pale, wide-eyed, past the
wizard—directly at Rowan.

She saw his lips move: You.

Then he made a sound, but no word: a cracked noise, as if
something had broken in the back of his throat. He pushed through the people,
flung himself into the open space, toward Rowan.

But the wizard was between them. Jannik stepped back, and
aside, startled, threw one hand up—

Then Bel, somehow, was beside Reeder. She clutched his arm,
and spun him around. “Are you insane?”

Reeder struggled in Bel’s grip. “Let
go!”
He managed
to turn them both around again, and now Bel was in front of Reeder, between him
and the wizard.

Bel said, “You can’t attack a wizard!” But Jannik was not
Reeder’s target; did Bel not know that?

“No—” Reeder choked out, and tried to push past her.

“Listen
to me!”
The Outskirter had him by the elbows,
did something, some move, some yank-and-twist that made the tall man stagger to
one side, and fall to his knees, and Bel clutched his collar, shouted down into
his face. “You can’t harm him! Don’t you know that?”

“I don’t—”

“Think!
Think!”
Bel shook him. “The wizards have too
much power, you’ve just seen that. Do you think anyone can stand against them?
They can do what they want, do you think that anyone can stop any of them? One
of
us?
Some member of the common folk?

“What do you think it would take, to stop them, to stand
against them? Can you even imagine? All the things they can do, all the things
they know—do you think we could ever match that? Do you think
you
could?”

Jannik had relaxed somewhat. He said, with a condescending
amusement, “Oh, you should listen to her; she’s making a great deal of sense.”

“You know you can’t. Who could?” Bel demanded of the man on
his knees, the man gripped in her two fists. “Who in the whole world could ever
know enough to strike against a wizard?”

Rowan watched as Reeder’s face, open and unguarded, showed
him beginning to understand … then understanding completely.

Bel relaxed, spoke more quietly. “Don’t be a fool. Don’t
make this worse.”

And Reeder looked past Bel’s face, across the entire room;
and for a long moment, he and Rowan held each other’s gaze. The steerswoman
waited.

Jannik stirred, slightly, uncertainly: he seemed to sense
something amiss. He looked over his shoulder.

But Rowan was no longer looking at Reeder; there was nothing
to distinguish her from the others present; she was a face among faces.

Jannik’s suspicion wavered, waned. He turned back to the
crowd at large, considered them a moment, then spoke. “Well. As I was saying,
we have a problem. You are all in a great deal of danger, and you don’t know
it.” He paused, made a self-deprecating gesture. “And not from me, although you
may not believe that at the moment.”

He began to pace again, thoughtfully, gloved hands behind
his back. Someone gave Reeder a chair; Bel helped him to sit.

“No,” the wizard went on, “our problem, our mutual problem,
is that this city has an enemy. You all know his name, although none of you has
ever seen him.” He faced them again. “It’s Olin. That’s right”—he strolled
again—“the Red wizard, against whose forces some of our citizens fought so
bravely during the last conflict.” Rowan thought for a moment that he was
referring to the battle Earner had seen as a child, then remembered: the more recent
war, when Shammer and Dhree had established their own holding.

“Perhaps some of you present took part in that conflict yourselves?”
Jannik asked. He paused as if for response; predictably, none came. “No? Well,
each of you knows someone who did, perhaps even a family member. Perhaps a
family member who did not return.

“But what you do not realize is that this Olin is causing trouble
again. No, you’ve been mercifully ignorant of the fact. But I’ll tell you now—”
And here he became suddenly furious, suddenly terrible, as he flung out his
arms, and shouted:
“He’s
trying
to free the dragons!”

Startlement from the crowd, then fear, passing by glances
among the people. “Oh, you don’t know,” Jannik said, moving again, his steps
now quick, agitated, “how I’ve been struggling against him, you don’t know what
strange battles, magic against magic, have been taking place, invisible to you,
while you went about, so complacently, in your easy daily lives. You don’t
know—because I don’t tell you of these things. You don’t need to know of them.
Those responsibilities are given to me … and only a wizard can stand against
a wizard.”

He turned to them again, a look of pained innocence painted
on his face. “Haven’t I always tried to protect you?” he asked. “Haven’t I
served this city, faithfully, for more than forty years? But now, Olin,” he
became spiteful again, “with his tricks and subterfuges, his little games—have
you never wondered why he lives so isolated, in no city, nor even a town or
village? He doesn’t care about people.

“For him, it’s all for amusement. The inconceivable powers
of magic are his toys, and people—I think, sometimes, that he must laugh when
they get in the way …” He paused, and seemed very sad. “Yes, I do think that
sometimes.”

Reeder sat watching Jannik with a fascination of naked
hatred. Bel still stood beside him. And Wiliam

Will had remained where he was, against the back wall. His
pose seemed to have changed not at all. His head was down, his eyes closed,
hands clenched at his sides

His lips were moving, silently.

Rowan felt a sudden flare of hope, and a stab of fear: an
incantation? Could Will possibly act against Jannik directly?

Trying to keep her face neutral, Rowan watched Will unobtrusively,
watched his lips …

Willam was counting. He was merely counting. He had reached
612. When the wizard shouted again, Will startled, but did not open his eyes,
nor stop his counting

“A dragon escaped!” There were sounds of fear from the
people. “Yes, Olin succeeded—briefly. And only with a great struggle was I able
to cast the spells to confine it again, and send it back to the dragon fields.
It had been heading toward the city!”

It had not been. Rowan and Will had been very careful about
that.

“But this danger is not over. Even now, Olin is still trying
to break my spells, trying to set the dragons free to wreak havoc on this city.
The battle of magic continues … and yet”—he seemed to speak simply now—“here
I am. And here you are. Why are we here? And what has this to do with—” He
gestured. “—poor Naio?

“Naio had been cooperating with an agent of Olin.” Muted
sounds of disbelief from the crowd. “No, it’s true. One of your number, one
single wise citizen, had the sense to inform me. Through either malice or
simple credulity, Naio allowed himself to be taken in by a minion of Olin’s,
and to assist in the undermining of my power. This minion, this wicked person,
has been working under the guise of a steerswoman.

“What an excellent disguise that is! Steerswomen are
harmless. Steerswomen are pointlessly curious, like children. Steerswomen are
indulged by the common folk—sometimes, I feel, merely for the distraction and
amusement they provide. And I have nothing at all against them …

“But I tell you now: this woman is a false steerswoman! She
has been abusing your kindness, she has been working for

Olin, and anyone assisting her”—his pale blue eyes grew
hard—“is assisting Olin himself. Our enemy.”

Rowan’s vision shrank to a small space centered on the
wizard. There seemed to her to be nothing else in the world. Jannik still did
not know that she was here.

“I see some of you are beginning to show … a touch of nervousness,
shall we say? Some of you have also helped this person? Well … be easy. Naio
was by way of example. Sometimes … I’m afraid that sometimes people do need
an example.” Sadly. “Yes. They have to be reminded. I’m going to assume that
the rest of you were merely taken in by this clever person, and aided her in complete
ignorance.”

And every eye in the room was on Rowan.

There could be no escape. It would only take one touch of
the wizard’s deadly hands. In a struggle, more people might get hurt, in error
or through negligence. Rowan must step forward.

And now the wizard, too, had turned and was looking in her
direction

But not at her face …

A tug on Rowan’s trouser leg. She looked down.

A small form, a small face with a huge grin, a small hand
holding up to her a folded bit of paper. The handkerchief boy.

Get away from him—or get him away from her. He must not be
near when the wizard touched her.

But do not startle him. Cause no panic.

Rowan took the paper from his hand, unfolded it, gazed at
the scrawled drawing with half-blind eyes, and said to the boy: “Thank you very
much.”

She raised her eyes to find the wizard Jannik standing
directly before her.

He was looking, not at her, but down at the child, as if some
interesting thought was occurring to him, and he showed a strange, hard-eyed
amusement.

Rowan said, immediately: “Let him go.” The wizard transferred
his glance to Rowan, seeming amazed that she would dare to speak to him.

And, forcing herself to remain composed, she gathered her
strength, drew a breath to speak further, to say, as calmly as possible: I’m
the one you want

“Sir. Wizard. Jannik.” He looked back.

The head groom had crossed the entire room, was now standing
in the open area, with no one around her, no comfort or support from anyone.
Only Joly was nearby, behind her, watching her with open astonishment and admiration.

The head groom said: “Sir, he’s only a child. He doesn’t understand
what’s happening here. He won’t learn from it. He won’t even remember it. He’ll
just get scared, for no good end. Let us take him out of here.”

Jannik studied her a moment, then scanned the crowd, slowly,
evaluatively; and Rowan understood that he was deciding what act would best
serve him at this moment. The boy, perhaps sensing Rowan’s own tension, had
shrunk back against her legs. Jannik looked down at him, raised one hand, and
Rowan hissed an intake of breath; Jannik glanced at her, amused, regarded his
own hand as if realizing that he could not, at the moment, safely tousle the
lad’s hair. He smiled at his own foolishness, and turned and walked away.

The groom passed him quite close, almost brushing against
him as she hurried to the boy. Jannik himself politely stepped aside as she
went by.

Arrived, the woman and Rowan regarded each other for a moment,
the head groom with relief, Rowan with resignation. Get
him away from me,
Rowan
told her silently, hoping the woman understood.

She did not. With a careful show of calm for the child’s benefit,
the head groom took one of his hands in hers, and very deliberately placed his
other hand in Rowan’s.

No. No, she would not use a child for cover, for protection.
But the groom was already trying to lead them off, and the boy was tugging
impatiently at Rowan’s hand.

The steerswoman looked around the room.

Jannik was playing at indifference and nonchalance, his back
now toward her as he idly paced the edge of the crowd. Of the people, all eyes
were on her, and at that moment Rowan realized Jannik’s error.

He had hoped to inspire obedience by fear, and justify it
with a show of reason. This was exactly the reverse of what he ought to have
done.

There are some things
they
don’t understand at
all,
Willam had said of the wizards. And among these, apparently: the heart
of the common folk.