Sorcerer's Son (14 page)

In the center of the brazier, in the center of the ring, the reddish glow of a coal turned white-hot. Rezhyk chanted on, demanding, insisting, compelling. Abruptly, a pillar of flame roared from the brazier, rising through the ring, constricted there like sheaves of wheat clutched in a fist, but billowing above into a mushroom of fire. Over the roaring, whipping blaze, a voice shouted, “No! No!”

“Take your earthly form!” said Rezhyk. “I command it!”

The flames flickered against the ceiling, and in them a thousand shapes danced that might have been men, women, animals, creatures real and fantastical, all translucent, insubstantial. Flamelets broke away, skittered about the walls like leaves fluttering in an autumn wind, like butterflies about a tree in blossom, and then they swooped back into the pillar of fire, moths seeking death.

“Take your earthly form!” Rezhyk said again. “I command you!” He held his left hand out toward the flames, showing the ring, and the firelight glanced off the stone, bursting into a thousand rainbows. A limb of fire reached out for the gem, stopped short, played above it, throwing coruscations across the walk and floor, looped, spun, then dived back into the main body.

“Three times I command you to take your earthly form!” said Rezhyk.

The blaze shrank and coalesced into a creature no larger than a cat. It settled among the glowing coals of the brazier, the loose folds of its belly skin completely engulfing the large ring that lay there. It was an ugly and ungainly chimera, part scaly, part hairy, with long snout, great ears, and too many legs. Its tail, which roved restlessly among the coals, was studded with winking eyes. Its mouth was a wide, drooling slash across the top of its head.

It said, “My lord.”

“Inscribe your name upon the ring,” commanded Rezhyk.

The creature drooled. “It is done.” Its voice was harsh and grating, as if torn from a throat that had not known speech in many years.

Rezhyk pulled the ring from his finger. On the inner surface of the band, the name Harolando now appeared. “Welcome to Ringforge, Harolando,” he said. “You may go now, until I have had time to make a more pleasing form for you.”

“As you wish, my lord,” said Harolando. And then its head lifted and its tail twitched, and all of its many eyes gazed past Rezhyk’s shoulder, to Gildrum, who still labored with hammer and chisel on the stone vault. “Greetings to you, cousin,” the new demon said. There was no trace of cheer in its voice.

Gildrum, who had averted her eyes during the conjuring process, looked toward the brazier now, briefly. She did not know this demon. She guessed that it had not existed when she herself had been caught. Still, she said, “Greetings, cousin.” The new demon flared into flame and vanished. It left the coals glowing behind it, and Rezhyk had to remove the large ring from them with tongs. The name Harolando was inscribed on its inner surface.

He turned to Gildrum. “Are you finished with that yet, my Gildrum?”

“Almost, my lord.” And she struck the chisel so hard that the remaining vertical section of the vault sheared away clean, leaving the small mass of lava that directly encased the sheets standing exposed on a dark stone pedestal. “Just a little more,” she said.

She found herself remembering what her own first call had been like, so long ago, the summons that had cut her off from the other free demons forever. Before that moment, she and they had scorned the slaves; afterward, she had never looked at them without seeing their scorn. She pitied Harolando—the adjustment to captivity was not an easy one. But at least Harolando had demon companions about Ringforge. There had been no cousin slave to greet Gildrum, just Rezhyk himself, standing in a glade in the woods where Ringforge was to be built.

She could scarcely remember her own earthly form, save that it had been large and many-limbed. She had never used it beyond that once, the first time she had ever visited the human world. It must have been ugly, for Rezhyk had bade her stay in the flame-body until he could fashion a more pleasing one. By the time Ringforge was finished, he had given her the form she wore now, the first of many.

Already, he was molding clay for the new demon’s first human semblance.

Delicately, Gildrum chipped at the dark stone. She had discarded the large hammer and chisel in favor of a very small pair, and with these she reached the thin layer of black that had been oxhide and then the metallic surface itself. As the lava crumbled under her taps, she perceived a pattern of markings incised on the steel.

“Ah,” she said, and instantly Rezhyk was at her shoulder, brushing powdered lava from her work space with a tuft of camel’s hair, reading the ancient words as she uncovered them. The first sheet was the hardest to clean; the rest were nested so snugly against it and each other that no lava had seeped between them—only their edges were sealed with once-hot stone.

“Gently, my Gildrum, gently,” said Rezhyk. “The metal surely lost its temper during the slow cooling, and a sharp blow might crack it.”

“I know, my lord.”

“They are not

welded together, are they?”

“I think not,” the demon replied, easing a thin blade between the top two sheets. “The lava was cooling by the time it reached the vault, and I suspect that it was never hot enough to weld steel. There!” The top plate separated from the others as the last bits of adhering rock broke.

Rezhyk snatched the freed sheet away, to examine it under the strong light of an oil lamp. “Fortunately,” he said, “the sorcerers of Ushar recorded their wisdom on the most durable material they could find. If they had chosen copper instead of steel, this book would be a solid block of metal instead of individual, still legible pages.”

Gildrum pulled the other sheets apart with little difficulty, passing them to Rezhyk one at a time until there were no more, and then she went to look over her master’s shoulder.

“I’ll be many months in deciphering all this,” said the sorcerer. “But it appears, from the little I can make out, to be exactly what I was seeking.” He smiled at the demon. “Once again you have served me well, my Gildrum.”

“I made certain assumptions from my knowledge of Ushar as to the most likely locations for such books. We have legends of the city, too, we demons, and they are perhaps not so garbled as human legends, for they have not passed through so many generations.”

“Ah, you would be perfect if only you could read these inscriptions as well as bring them to me.”

She bowed her head. “I am sorry, my lord, but they who could have read those words are gone, every one of them. Even demons die at last.” She peered up at Rezhyk through lowered lashes. “Nor do I think, were they alive yet, that they would reveal this ancient and powerful language to one who served a sorcerer. Freed by the destruction of Ushar, they would not wish to chance being enslaved again.”

“Well, you and I shall puzzle this out.” He brushed a trace of clinging powder from one of the sheets. “Look here—these are familiar lines: the conjuration of a minor fire demon, if I am not mistaken. Yes, yes.” He bent close to make out a portion of the inscription that was not engraved as deeply as the rest. “But here he recommends a far greater proportion of nickel to gold than I have ever attempted. And this symbol here

do you think it might stand for jade? Could the sorcerers of Ushar have conjured demons with opaque stones as well as translucent? Bring me my notebook, Gildrum, and those sheets I bought from Klarinn. He may have thought ancient history useless, but I suspect it shall aid me in this translation.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Gildrum, and after she got the notebook she pulled up the tall stool, foreseeing a long session ahead. She sighed. Rezhyk found the deciphering of ancient lore fascinating, but she found it tedious; she had no talent for such things, and her contribution was usually limited to a nod of her head or murmur of agreement or, at most, a reminder to the sorcerer of something he had already said. Rezhyk insisted this was all useful, and so he bade her sit by while he worked.

She sat, and if her mind was elsewhere, he did not notice. She thought of the skeleton in the lava—a woman’s skeleton, she decided, too delicate for a man’s, the hips too broad in proportion to the shoulders and rib cage. Many women had died with Ushar. Gildrum wondered if this one had been old or young, dark or fair, ugly or beautiful: Beautiful, she resolved, as all women should be—tall and brown-haired and beautiful. Unbidden, the image of Delivev rose in the demon’s mind—beautiful and melancholy enough to tear the heart from any man’s breast. Heartless in any anatomical sense, Gildrum still felt a pang deep within her being—not the human form worn like a mask upon the truth, but the demon essence, the intangible, inhuman reality. As her eyes could almost see Delivev, so her ears could almost hear the music drifting upward from Spinweb’s garden. Her fingers interlaced tightly upon her lap, as if that tension could drive the memories from her. Resolutely, she turned her mind to thoughts of Cray, upon the road to Falconhill.

Upon his quest for a knight who never existed.

Cray and Feldar Sepwin arrived at the third fork in the road.

“We’re to turn south here,” said Cray, “and then we must ask directions of some local, for I have no further knowledge of the route.”

Sepwin nodded, squinting up at the sky. “Does it look like rain to you? Perhaps we should seek shelter.”

Cray glanced up at the clouds bunched gray about the sun. “No rain for a few hours yet, I’d say. Let’s go on.”

The sky grew no darker, but in a short time they were forced to stop anyway because Gallant began to limp. Sepwin examined the favored hoof, found a sharp stone lodged there, and carefully removed it with the point of Cray’s knife. He said, “He shouldn’t walk on this foot anymore today.”

“There’s a hut up ahead,” Cray said, gesturing with one hand. “I saw it from the last rise. We can stop there and be sheltered if the rain comes.”

“Unless it’s abandoned and has no roof,” said Sepwin.

“Do you always think of the worst possible eventuality, Master Feldar?”

“For beggars, that is the usual one,” Sepwin replied.

“But you are not a beggar any more. Come along. I predict that not only does the hut have a sturdy and weatherproof roof, but it is inhabited and we will find a hot supper there.” He took Gallant’s reins and walked ahead, the horse trailing after, still limping.

Pulling his own mount along, Sepwin fell into stride with Cray. “What is the source of this prediction, Master Cray? Wishful thinking?”

“Look at the grass encroaching on the road. Someone has cut it back recently, someone uses this road. Who more likely than the folk who live in yonder hut? We’ve seen no other dwelling in many miles. ”

“Perhaps the lord of .this land sends his men to keep the roads clear,” said Sepwin.

“Always the worst possible eventuality, as I said. Would you care to wager on it?”

“With what, Master Cray? My rags?” He halted abruptly. “Wait—I see smoke rising from that hut. Perhaps you are right after all.” He lifted one hand to his face, covered his right eye with it. “Have you a rag, Master Cray? A scrap of something?”

“I have a kerchief. I’m sure that will do.”

Sepwin nodded. “Quickly, before someone sees us.”

Cray found the fine linen square in one of his saddlebags. It was embroidered with his initials.

“Rather an elegant eye patch,” said Sepwin, folding it into a bandage and tying it at the back of his head.

“It does make a bit of a contrast with your other clothing,” remarked Cray. “For one thing, it’s clean, Well, perhaps we can do something about that while we wait for Gallant’s hoof to heal.”

“My clothes have lasted me a long time, Master Cray. They may fall apart if washed.”

“I have extra clothing in my saddlebags. It will fit you well enough, I think, if you need it.”

Sepwin stared at him, one-eyed. “Why do you offer me such favors, Master Cray? First the horse, now clothing

”

“I have plenty of clothing, Master Feldar. And you could not travel with me on foot, after all.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cray shrugged. “I grew up

alone

except for my mother. I had all the clothing I wanted, all the food, all the toys. There was a pony when I was old enough to ride it, and later Gallant here. My mother never denied me. But I never had a human friend. It was a long time before I realized that I wanted one.” He smiled at Sepwin. “Now you are my friend. If I can give you a few small presents, what is the harm in that? It is no sacrifice for me to give you a horse and clothing. I can hunt excellently, I can weave a shelter from the weather if I must; I have no real need of my little silver save for luxuries. So I choose the luxury of a friend.”

“I never had a friend either,” said Sepwin, and his fingers brushed the bandage over his eye.

Cray’s brows knit, and then he pointed to Sepwin’s face. “Didn’t you have the other eye covered before?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not. But

isn’t that patch uncomfortable?”

“I am used to it, Master Cray.”

“But you must be frequently among people, and half blind. Do you never tire of having one eye covered? Do you never peek out from under the bandage, to see with both eyes?”

“I try not to, Master Cray. A one-eyed beggar, even if both of his eyes are the same color, dares not be seen as a fraud. This is my livelihood, or was until I met you. People haven’t near so much pity for a beggar without ills.”

Cray nodded slowly.

“I am ready now; shall we go on?”

The thin plume of smoke they had seen rising from the hut actually came from a small fire built behind the structure. An old man sat close by the flames, feeding small twigs to them while a pot of porridge bubbled in the heat. He seemed not to notice his visitors until they came quite close, and then he jumped up and backed a few steps away, bowing jerkily.

“Your pardon, sirs,” he said in a loud voice. “I did not hear you approach. Your pardon!”

“Good day,” said Cray. “We are travelers on the road with a long journey both behind and ahead of us, and one of our horses has gone lame. We were wondering if we might stay here today and perhaps tomorrow, until he is fit to travel again.”