The Reign Of Istar (16 page)

The goblin laughed and nodded. His mind was safe. His plans were secure. The relief he
felt almost left him light-headed. He knew a White Robes wizard would not lie and he was grateful for that flaw as much as he despised the elf for it.

The goblin busied himself, setting up camp without even being asked, which was unusual for
him, but welcome by the elf and kender. The goblin had already come to terms with what he
needed to do to get the sword at the least amount of risk to himself. All he needed was to
lay his hands on the sword for a few seconds, long enough to make his wish, which he now
knew by heart. After that, he'd have no worries at all.

The elf took first watch that evening. The others bedded down in the darkness of a thicket
at the foot of a hill. The minotaur simply stretched out on the ground, chains rattling,
and was asleep almost at once. The goblin and kender bedded down as well. After long
minutes of forcing his tension-tight stomach to settle down, the goblin closed his eyes
and prepared to take a much-needed rest.

“Are you still awake?” came the kender's voice. The goblin jerked, and his eyes opened
instantly. Then he realized the kender wasn't talking to him. The soft voice came from
where the elf had gone on guard duty.

“Of course I'm awake,” the elf said.

The goblin sighed and lifted his head slightly. With his night vision, he could see the
elf settle down on the ground next to a log, about fifty feet away. The kender wandered
out of the dark undergrowth and sat down by the elf. The little nuisance was wrapped in a
blanket he had brought from the cave. The goblin tried to close his eyes to sleep, but
found rest impossible now. He resigned himself to staying awake a while longer, watching
the elf and kender and listening to them talk.

“I can't sleep,” the kender said, scooting closer to the elf. “I'm a little excited about
tomorrow night. I've been in fights before, but never one like this. Is it bad to be
excited like this?”

“No,” said the elf. “I'm feeling a little ... er ... excited myself, but it will pass.
Just remember your part, and when the time comes, you'll be ready for it.”

The kender sighed. “I hope so. I keep thinking about what it will be like, and I can't
seem to make my mind slow down enough to drop off. My head's all full of things.”

Your head is full, yes, thought the goblin. It is full of briars.

The elf grunted. “You know,” he said, “I never did ask you what your name was. We've been
so preoccupied that I never got around to it.”

There was a little silence. “Well, I wasn't really going to tell you, because I was
talking with the goblin a few weeks ago when we first met, and he said he didn't have a
name. I figured it would be im-po-lite to tell him my name when he didn't have one to tell
me. My father taught me that word.”

“Hmmm,” said the elf. “Well, so you're worried about offending what's-his-name, the
goblin?”

“Yeah,” said the kender, scooting a little closer to the elf. “So you can't tell me your
name, either. We have to be fair.”

The goblin gently shook his head in disgust. He had long ago given up trying to plumb the
depths of the kender's bizarre mind. It simply made no sense. Still, he felt odd hearing
the kender's reason for never telling his name. It made the goblin vaguely uncomfortable,
and he couldn't say why.

The little guy was now practically stuck to the elf's side. The elf raised his arm and
hung it back over the fallen log to keep from poking the kender in the head with his elbow.

“Magic is great,” said the kender. “I never knew you had so much magic. I've wanted to see
magic all my life because my parents always told stories about it. They said it was the
most marvelous thing, but it wasn't fair because kender couldn't cast magic, no matter how
hard they studied. But elves and humans knew how. Is that true?”

“I'm afraid there's some truth to that,” the elf said. “Kender can cast spells if they
serve the gods, but the Orders of High Sorcery are closed to them.” He shrugged his
shoulders, but his voice betrayed a certain relief at his words.

The goblin was appalled. A kender casting spells? The very idea was chilling. Gods above,
there was enough trouble in the world already. Istar would be less of a threat than a
kender wizard.

“By the way,” said the elf. “That's mine.”

“What? Oh! I'm sorry.” The kender handed something back to the elf. “It fell out of your
pocket.”

The elf put the item on the ground far away from the kender. “If I lose anything else, I won't be able to cast any spells tomorrow,” he warned.

“Oh,” said the kender. There was a pause. “Here. I found these, too.”

The elf took the offered items with a deep sigh. Thanks," he said, and all was quiet for a
while.

“I used to ask my parents if I could learn to cast magic when I got older,” the kender
said. “My mother said maybe it was a good thing I couldn't, since if you want to become a
magic-user, you have to pass a test, and they make you do terrible things in the test. Is
that true?”

The elf was silent for perhaps a minute. It was a differ ent kind of silence than merely
thinking. The goblin found himself turning his head to hear better, straining to hear more.

The kender poked the elf gently in the side with an elbow.

“What?” asked the elf blankly. “Oh, the test. Yes, we do have to take the Test of High
Sorcery. The test doesn't really make you do terrible things, but you ... you have to ...
um ... go through some terrible things. The bad things just ... happen to you. I don't
think I want to talk about my test right now. I want to keep my mind clear and ready for
tomorrow.”

“Oh.” There was a brief silence. “Would I have made a good magic-user? I'm thirteen now.
Is that old enough to be a wizard?”

The news surprised the goblin. He had seen very few kender in his life, but because they
had all looked to be the size of human children, he never thought twice about this
kender's age, assuming it was about thirty or so. Thirteen was far younger than he had
expected of someone, especially a kender, with so much ability at wilderness survival and
lore.

“Thirteen is a little young,” the elf finally commented. “But a few wizards start not long
after that age. Some slightly younger.”

The kender seemed to be thinking hard about something after that. Finally, he blurted out,
“Could you cast a spell for me?”

The goblin blinked in shock. What?

“Well, I could,” said the elf slowly, “but most of the spells I have right now should be
saved for tomorrow night.“ He paused for a moment, then said, ”I suppose I could try one small thing. I can
relearn a new spell in its place in the morning.”

The kender leaned forward in excitement. “Really? A real spell?”

He dropped his voice, glancing back at the goblin and minotaur. The goblin closed his
eyes, though he figured they'd never know if he was awake or not unless he moved around.

“All right, I'm ready!” the kender whispered. “You won't set anything on fire, will you?
It's awfully dry out here and it hasn't rained in the last five days. Anything but that is
fine.”

“Don't worry,” the elf said softly, and he raised his hands. “IMPILTEH PEH.”

A faint blue light - a tiny ball the size of a fingernail - began to glow in the darkness
between the elf's fingers. The goblin caught his breath, not daring to make a sound and
reveal himself. He had never seen magic before; either, and the sight of it frightened him
as much as it excited and fascinated him.

The elf's fingers began a slow, waving dance around the ball, and the ball responded by
moving from one hand to the other, swaying back and forth. In a moment, the ball divided
into two balls of equal size, then each ball divided again and there were four, then
eight, each rolling to the rhythm of the elf's hands. By the faint, mobile light, the
goblin could see the kender's eyes shining.

The elf's hands moved, altering the pattern. The eight blue balls began to chase each
other in a small circle, changing colors from blue to violet, then to red, orange, yellow,
green, and blue again. The balls began to change colors out of sequence with each other,
whirling around between the elf's outspread fingers as he manipulated their magical
essence. They formed an oval pattern in the air, chasing each other faster and faster,
until they were a single, unbroken cord of golden light that gyrated like a coin rolling
on its edge in a tight circle, just before falling flat.

The elf's lips pursed, concentrating on the pattern. The circle began changing shape as it
revolved in the air, taking the form of a square, then a triangle, then a five-pointed
star. Then its shape altered even more: a flying bird, a leaping rabbit, a swimming fish, all whirling around without sound.

The elf's fingers changed the pattern again. Now it was deep glowing green, a narrowing
column that revolved more slowly until it stopped over one outstretched palm and began to
grow leaves like a live plant. Each leaf appeared in outline, then filled in with soft
color; thorns formed on the main stem. The top of the plant bloomed into a bright red bud,
which slowly grew until a rose of crimson light reached up toward the sky.

The elf uttered a soft word, and the plant collapsed into a small ball of pale white
light. In moments, it formed a mouselike shape that scampered around on the mage's palm
with lifelike curiosity. When it had finished exploring the hand, the mouse stood up on
its back legs, did a short dance, took a deep bow to the kender and wizard, and vanished
into a dot of light that slowly faded from sight.

It was completely dark now. The goblin had forgotten how to breathe. He slowly shut his
mouth, unable to believe it was over. He blinked and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. It
was magic. Real magic.

Then he heard the kender sniffle.

He looked at the little figure by the elf's side. Both of the kender's hands were pressed
to his face, covering his eyes. The kender suddenly drew in a ragged breath and began to
cry.

The elf's arm dropped over the kender's shoulders. “What's wrong?” he asked in confusion.

The kender leaned into the elf's chest as he wept, his thin body shaking. Long minutes
passed in the night as the goblin watched.

“My mamma and daddy told me magic was beautiful,” the kender sobbed. “They said they had
never seen it before, but they knew it was good. They wanted to see it so badly but no one
would show them. They told me that humans weren't all bad, and maybe someday a human or an
elf would show us some magic if we were patient with them. They didn't think humans would
hurt them, but the humans did. The humans hurt them, they hurt my mamma and daddy a lot
and I couldn't help them because I was too scared and I hid, and when the humans were
gone, I had to bury them and say the goodbye prayers like they taught me. I was too scared
to help them, even when they were really hurt bad. I wish I had magic then so I could have helped them. They wanted to see magic so
bad.” He shook as he wept, his face hidden in the elf's clothes.

The goblin realized that his hands were clenched into cold, trembling fists. Something
burned in his eyes; it was hard to see. Slowly, the goblin unclenched his hands and
covered his hot face with them. He hated weakness, he had hated it all his life, and now
he was filled with it. He hated himself for it, and it was all the kender's fault - the
damned, weak, stupid, wretched kender. Wet streams flowed down the goblin's cheeks, and he
bit his lower lip until he tasted blood.

Tomorrow, he thought. Let tomorrow come fast. *****

No stars were out. A tall fire burned just up the slope of the hill, visible through the
thick trees and under-brush. The crickets called from all around.

“So you think you know how to handle that elf girl?” the grinning guard said. “You think
she's not too much of a match for you?”

The smiling guard had turned to face his companion, who was bending over to pick up
firewood. The goblin drove his knife into the grinning man's lower back, straight through
his leather armor. The guard knew instinctively he was going to die, the pain was so
great. He was terrified and tried to scream, but the scream wouldn't come out through the
goblin's calloused hand that was clamped over his mouth and face, twisting his head back
with incredible force. The man reached back to grab his attacker, but agony filled his
head and made him forget everything. The goblin let the body sag to the ground.

“You bet I can handle her,” said the guard picking up the firewood. He crouched down to
adjust the load in his arms, reaching for a few more pieces. “Good redeems its own, they
say, and I'm gonna redeem that elf girl before she gets to Istar. She's gonna know the
ways of man, and I'm gonna be the head priest. They can have the other slaves. I've waited
too long to pass this one up.”

He picked up the last piece of wood, and the goblin slapped his hand tightly over the
man's mouth and pulled him into his hard chest. The razor-sharp blade sliced swiftly through his throat. The man knew what was happening, but could do nothing to stop it, and
trying to scream did nothing useful at all.

Then it was quiet again in the night woods, and soon the crickets began to chirp.
Everything smelled of blood. The goblin grinned, wiped off his blade, and moved on through the wood. He felt no weakness at all now, not with the spell of magical strength
the elf had cast upon him. He thought he could lift a horse now if he wanted to, maybe ten
horses. And he wore a ring that altered the sounds around him, so a man would think he had
heard an owl hoot if the goblin spoke, or heard the wind blow if he walked up. It was too
good to be true. In his excitement, he barely noticed the cold.

The main encampment of Istarians was on the hilltop, packed tightly around the bonfire in
the chill air. Down the slope, in a clearing, half hidden from the hilltop by trees, was a
cluster of several wagons and all the Istarians' horses. The elf had scouted ahead with
his spells and reported finding slaves in one wagon: an elven woman, an old dwarf, and
three children - human or elven, he couldn't tell. The other three wagons were empty. The
kender's estimate of twenty men was close; the goblin guessed twenty-four - twenty-one now
that he had killed three men in the last few minutes of circling the camp.