The Shaman (20 page)

“There
are many marvels in this world,” Manalo told him, “and this is one among them.
Be sure, this rock will burn. If you doubt me, gather up the pebbles that have
fallen at the base of the cliff and use them to feed your fire. But first, I
pray you, kindle it farther away.”

They
did as he asked, and sure enough, the black rocks began to send up flames
themselves. Oh, they sat in the wood fire for a goodly while indeed before they
began to burn—but burn they did, and Ohaern knelt marveling, staring into the
flames.

Lucoyo,
however, clapped his hands in glee, cried out in delight, then turned to skewer
the bird he had shot during the afternoon and set it upon a spit over the
flames.

When
they were done with their meal, Ohaern knelt to bank the fire for the night—but
it roared, and shot up as tall as a man.

“Back!”
Manalo cried, but Ohaern had already leaped away, and Lucoyo was farther still.
The sage retreated slowly, though, still facing the blaze.

The
flame shot up higher and higher, twice the height of a man and higher still,
till it towered as tall as a tree.

“What
has happened, Teacher?” Ohaern cried.

“Ulahane
has sent more evil magic against us!” Manalo called in answer.

Then
Lucoyo realized that there were eyes near the top of that flame hill, eyes that
glowed more brightly than the fire itself, white-hot amidst orange, glaring
down at him. He stared back, rooted to the spot, suddenly unable to move, for
he could not find the will. The flames drew in, shaping themselves into a tall
slender shape that tapered to a point at the bottom, was rounded at the
top—and, dimly, Lucoyo could perceive some sort of a snout below the eyes, a
snout that opened to let a ruby tongue of flame lick out to taste the air.

“What
it is, Teacher?” Even Ohaern’s voice shook.

“It
is a salamander,” Manalo replied, “a creature formed of the element of fire.
Indeed, you might say that it is the spirit of fire itself. O Spirit! Wherefore
do you visit us?”

“Why,
at the behest of Ulahane,” the creature replied, in the voice of a furnace
blast.

“How
is it that you serve the Scarlet One?” Manalo’s voice did not shake.

“I
do not serve!” the furnace-voice roared, and the eyes shot jets of flame. “I do
as I please, and Ulahane has told me that there is fuel for my flame here. He
has asked me to consume the overwhelming mortals I shall find around this fire!
Who are you, small and kindling-fat, to question a salamander?”

“I
am Manalo, a teacher among the human folk!”

The
salamander’s eyes brightened to actinic sparks, and the elemental boomed, “Perhaps,
but I can see that you are more; it hovers about you like a mantle twice your
size! Will you burn?”

“My
body will burn as readily as any, I doubt not,” Manalo answered, “but I hope
you will not consume me, nor my friends.”

“Wherefore
should I not?”

“Why,
because it is not your pleasure.”

Lucoyo
couldn’t believe it; the elemental hung in midair, humming and roaring for long
minutes. Then, at last, it said, “Consuming fuel is always my pleasure.”

“True,”
Manalo agreed, “but there is so much water in these weak human bodies that it
would cost you as much to ignite them as you would gain by their burning.”

“Nay,
more,” the salamander admitted.

“Then
wherefore should you do it? Out of friendship to Ulahane?”

“He
is no friend of mine!”

“No,
nor of any, and that is his boast. But if it is not your pleasure to do what he
wishes done, then you should not.”

“That
is true.” The salamander bent, swaying down over the sage. Manalo braced
himself and stood firm. “Let me look more closely upon you,” the monster said, “for
I seldom see living creatures that make so much sense.”

“I
thank you,” Manalo said simply.

“There
is no need; I but speak my mind. Yet my thoughts are such that, if I have come
to this camp, I would not waste the effort. What can you give me to make this
journey other than useless?”

“Black
rock,” Manalo answered.

Fetch
more, quickly!” Manalo told Ohaern and Lucoyo as he stooped to catch up pebbles
from the pile they had gathered to feed the fire. “Chop it from the cliff face
with your sword, if you must—it will only dull the blade, and we can sharpen it
later!” Without waiting for an answer, he threw a double handful of the black
pebbles into the flames that were the salamander.

The
flames roared higher for a moment, then sank lower. “Good,” the elemental
judged. “Very good indeed! More, mortal, more!”

“More
you shall have!” Manalo began to toss the pebbles one by one, aiming as high as
he could, near the salamander’s mouth.

But
Lucoyo and Ohaern had already turned away, hurrying back to the cliff face.
Lucoyo drew his knife, but Ohaern caught his arm. “No, we need speed! Let us
try this first!” So saying, he picked up a boulder as large as his own head,
hefted it high, and hurled it against the cliff face. The crack of its impact
was drowned by the salamander’s cries for more, but as the stone rebounded, a
shower of fragments fell loose and a huge slab of the black rock fell to the
ground.

“Take
it!” Ohaern grunted as he hefted the boulder again. Lucoyo darted in, caught up
the huge shard, and hefted it back to Manalo. In a lull between the salamander’s
calls, he heard the boulder crack into the cliff face again.

“Hurl
it in anywhere!” Manalo said, and Lucoyo heaved. The giant flake of black stone
arced high, then fell into the salamander’s belly. A grin of fire spread under
its snout, and it smacked unseen lips with a sound like the falling of a
burning branch. Lucoyo shuddered and hurried back to Ohaern.

The
smith was just lifting the boulder again, but as he saw Lucoyo coming, he
lowered it to the crook of his arm and stood panting. “Aye, take another for
him, Lucoyo! Belike I shall join you soon enough—my arms feel leaden already. I
cannot keep this up much longer!”

“I
hope you will not have to.” The half-elf dashed in, then grunted as he heaved a
huge lump into his arms. He was amazed to see how the pile of black boulders
had grown. He turned away and lugged the second lump back to the salamander,
hearing Ohaern’s boulder crash into the cliff behind him.

Manalo
nodded, and Lucoyo heaved the great rough stone into the salamander’s belly.
Again came the crackling of appreciation, and the elemental grunted, “More!”
This time Manalo turned away to accompany him. “Not a great deal more, I
suspect.”

Lucoyo
looked up with hope. “How do you know?”

“Because
it only said ‘more’ once this time.”

Ohaern
stood bent over, hands on his thighs, heaving great lungfuls of air. His
hammer-stone lay on the ground by his feet. Manalo surveyed the black heap and
nodded. “That will be enough, I think.”

“What
... wizardry is this,” Ohaern wheezed, “that can make .. . stone burn ... or
satisfy ... a salamander?”

“The
burning stones are no magic of mine, but that which the world itself fostered
as it grew. As to the salamander, fire will always feed on what it finds next,
but it can be assuaged by banking.”

“And
we are . . . banking it?” Ohaern gave him a keen glance.

“That
we are. Come, Lucoyo! Bear up!”

“I
bear,” the half-elf grunted, staggering under a huge piece of rock.

“That
... is mine.” Ohaern plucked it from Lucoyo’s grasp. “Do you take . .. another.”

The
half-elf squalled protest. “You are wearied, Ohaern!”

“I
recover,” the smith said grimly, “and we have need of haste. Do not make me
lift, Lucoyo. Take another.”

Grumbling,
Lucoyo turned back—but he had to admire Ohaern’s tact. The big man had managed
to make him feel guilty at the thought of taking the bigger lump. Still, to
show Ohaern, he took another almost as large and lugged it to the salamander.

Back
and forth they went, hauling huge lumps to throw into the elemental. When the
pile was gone and only rubble remained, Manalo said, “Will that content you for
a time, O Fiery One?”

“A
time,” the monster allowed. “In truth, the taste and the bulk inclines me to
warm feelings toward you.”

“What
other kind could he have?” Lucoyo muttered, but Ohaern shushed him.

“I
would repay this kindness,” the salamander told them, “when you have need of my
flame. If you do, call me thus.” And it made a sound like a series of
explosions, such as come from green, resinous wood thrown into a blaze. Lucoyo
stared, incredulous that the monster could think such sounds could be made by a
human throat—then even more amazed as Manalo imitated them exactly.

The
sage turned to Ohaern. “Do you say them, too, Ohaern. Like this.” He repeated
the pops and booms, one by one, until the chieftain could imitate them
perfectly, both singly and in series.

“It
is well,” the salamander told .them. “You are friends now, and need never fear
me again! Farewell!” Then the blaze of his form seemed to double, roaring
upward toward the heavens. The mortals leaped back, raising their forearms to
shield their faces—but the blaze shrank as swiftly as it had swelled, then
dwindled away to a mere campfire again.

Ohaern
breathed out a shaky breath. “You have a most amazing gift for making friends,
Teacher!”

“It
is convenient,” Manalo admitted, “though there are many with whom I have
failed.”

“How
is it done—making a friend of an enemy?”

“By
first being sure he
is
an enemy.” Manalo turned to him with a smile. “Those
Agrapaxians we met held no ill will— they simply happened to be in your path,
and the two of you startled one another. In similar fashion, this salamander
had no personal reason to wish us ill, so I asked him why he did. Always ask,
Ohaern. If they will talk, they may become friends, or at least not enemies.”

“I
have known many who would talk all day and still slit my throat if they could,”
Lucoyo said darkly.

“So
have I.” Manalo’s face turned grim. “And if a man seeks to kill you, of course,
you must disable him before you can ask him questions.”

“You
may kill him in the disabling,” the half-elf reminded.

“You
may, and you must take no chance that he will slay you,” the sage agreed. “However,
if he does not attack at once, but takes time to threaten, you can usually find
an opportunity for a question. Come, let us seek something calming, then sleep.”
He turned away to the fire, drawing a small bag out of his robes. “Set a pot of
water over the fire again, Ohaern.”

They
drank an infusion of herbs in hot water as they sat and discussed the day’s
events. Whether it was the talk, the heat of the fire, the brew, or all three,
Ohaern and Lucoyo soon found themselves growing sleepy. They rolled up in
blankets, feet toward the fire, and slept, while Manalo watched, meditating.

In
the morning, when they had breakfasted and buried the fire, Manalo took up his
staff and turned to them. “I am now confident that you can survive any danger
that comes your way. Remember only to be careful and quick, ready for any
mishap that may befall.”

“Or
any enemy that may spring out at us,” Lucoyo said.

But
Ohaern frowned. “You speak as if you would leave us, Teacher!”

“And
so I must,” the sage said. “You Biriae cannot go up against Kuru alone and hope
to win. There are many other tribes who would join you if they knew of your
venture: those with grievances against Ulahane or Kuru, those who fear one or
the other only from what they have heard, and those who are ready for any quest
so long as it promises glory.”

“And
those who are ready for any quest that promises loot,” Lucoyo said with a
wicked smile.

“Such
as they are usually dedicated to Ulahane already, though they may not know it
yet. At any rate, no tribe that might aid us can rise and march if they do not
know of the campaign.”

“So
you must go to bear word to them?” Ohaern asked.

“Word,
and a bit more,” Manalo admitted. “Some will not come unless they see it is I
who ask it; some will not come unless they are given good reason. Nay, it is I
myself who must go, and accompanying me would delay your progress intolerably.
Go south without me, Ohaern. You have much to do on the way.”

The
smith frowned. “What manner of doings?”

“You
shall find them as you go.” Manalo turned to the half-elf. “Do not be so
desolate, Lucoyo. You can manage well enough without me.”

Lucoyo
smoothed his face on the instant. He had not known that his feelings showed so.

“He
feels no worse than I.” But Ohaern looked somber, not bereft. “Still, we
managed without you when we went to Byleo to bring you out of prison, and we
shall manage again if we must.”

“Stoutly
spoken!” Manalo clapped him on the shoulder. “Be sure you shall see me again,
at Kuru if not before. When the time has come for the attack, I shall be
there—but by the same token, I shall ask you not to assail Ulahane’s city
without me.”

“Oh,
we promise,” Lucoyo said fervently. “Be sure, Teacher—we would not wish to
begin the festivities without you!”

Manalo
laughed and set a hand on the half-elf’s head. For a brief instant Lucoyo felt
a strange tingling, as if something flowed from the sage into him—but Manalo
took his hand away and it was gone.

The
sage turned to Ohaern. “You must give me your promise, too, Ohaern.”

“Oh,
I promise.” The big smith grinned. “I am not so much a fool as to attack a city
without you, Teacher, or with only one tribe behind me. Nay, we shall wait for
you, and for those you bring.”

“Well
said! Then I shall go to find them. May your journey be smooth and your road
straight!” So saying, the sage turned away, striding off toward a huge
wind-sculpted bluff. Beneath it he turned back to wave once, then set off
around the huge outcrop and was gone from sight.