The Warlock's Last Ride (10 page)

stepped up beside him and followed his gaze into the fire. "What pictures do you see in the flames?" she asked softly.

Seven

ROD LOOKED UP, SURPRIZED BY COMPANY, THEN smiled. "Those I saw when I was a child, damsel—fairy castles and shining knights fighting dragons."

Alea smiled, too. "Do you still cheer for the knights?"

"It depends on the dragon," Rod said. "I suspect you've faced your share of them."

"Literally? Only on one planet, and they were scarcely a few feet long—wyverns, really, not true dragons."

"A local life-form?" Professional interest quickened Rod's tone, and Alea wondered how much he had given up to remain on Gramarye.

Far less than he had gained, no doubt—but enough for nostalgia. "They were, but the colonists had tamed them— not that their descendants remembered, of course. Only a few still had the skill of writing."

'Typical retrograde colony." Rod nodded. "But the oral tradition held?"

"Yes, but in its usual garbled form." Alea said. "Spaceships were incomprehensible, so their legends only told that their ancestors had come from the stars and didn't say whether or not they had brought the wyverns with them."

"Medieval?" Rod asked.

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Alea nodded. "I'm beginning to realize why Magnus understood the people so well."

"Yes, he grew up with knights and wizards on every side," Rod said, "but with Newton and Einstein and Hawking in his books. I think he was twelve before he realized that not everyone was reared with that blend."

"He wasn't caught between the two cultures?"

Rod shook his head. "Never saw the slightest conflict— but then, he had a very good tutor."

"Really! I would like to meet her. Who is she?"

"A him—sort of," Rod said. "My horse, Fess."

Alea stared at him, suddenly wondering if grief had unhinged him.

"He's a robot," Rod explained, "with a very powerful computer for a brain. In fact, when I was between stars, he piloted my ship."

"Oh!" Alea laughed with relief—and saw Rod's smile widen. "But if it's a robot, why do you say it's masculine?"

"It's the tone Fess takes." Rod shrugged. "Probably because I'm male, and all but one of his previous owners have been, too. Besides, it'd be a little awkward if you fell in love with your robot—though there are stories about my grandfather."

"Such as?" Alea was beginning to feel that the old man was trying to impress her in some way and was surprized to realize she was enjoying it.

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"He went a little dotty in his dotage," Rod explained, "and started seeing the world as a medieval romance. He must have thought the serving robots were wenches, because he started making passes at them."

"Not really!"

"I've always wondered about that," Rod said, "after I grew up, anyway. Was he really delusional or just putting us all on?"

"When you grew up? What did you think of him when you were little?"

"That he was an awful lot of fun." Rod's gaze strayed to Cordelia. "I hope my grandchildren think of me the same way." But he saddened.

Alea hurried to change the subject. "May I meet this cybernetic horse?"

"A.I., actually." Rod pulled his gaze back to her. "He's an artificial intelligence—though sometimes I wonder about the 'artificial' part. I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Maybe give you a ride, too."

"It wouldn't be the first time a male has taken me for a ride."

"Oh, really!" Rod frowned. "I think I'd better have a stern word with that son of mine."

"No, the problem with him is that he'd never even think of taking me for a ride."

"That's not entirely reassuring."

"Oh, you want him to think about it but not do it?" Alea rushed on so that she couldn't think about what she'd said. "You have every reason to be proud of him, especially in his conduct toward me."
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"I suppose he does make you feel safe." Rod still seemed concerned.

"Dare I say he's a good boy?"

"Not if he's listening, you don't."

Alea laughed and spent the rest of the evening chatting with Magnus's father. When the guests had left and he bade her good night, then went to his room, Magnus took her aside and said, "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Taking care?" Alea asked in astonishment. "I thought he was keeping me company."

"Really!" Magnus seemed surprized.

"If he hadn't, I would have felt very awkward amidst all these strangers."

"Surely you didn't feel you were in the way!"

"Not with your father talking to me." Alea frowned. "It's surprizing how comfortable I felt with him."

"Yes … He was in good spirits, wasn't he?" Magnus frowned toward the stairs, brooding.

"He was putting on a good face." Alea's tone sharpened. "You don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?"

"If that were all it was, no …"

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"You don't think he's grieving enough?"

"You could say that." Magnus turned back to her, face creased with worry.

Alea stared at him in surprize, then realized what he wasn't saying. She touched his arm gently. "It's denial, Magnus. It will wear off."

"I hope so." Magnus turned to the stairs again. "I do hope so."

IT LASTED THE rest of that week, at least. The siblings agreed it would be better that Rod not stay in the house where he and Gwen had been young parents, so they moved back to the castle. It had happy memories, too, but they weren't so overwhelming. Rod seemed quite cheerful, quite relaxed about the matter, friendly and amiable, and went right to the room he had fitted out as a study (it had been the tower magazine). On his way, though, he told one of the servants to set up a bedroom for him in the room next door.

Other than that, he seemed quite content, poring over his books, adding a few lines to his history of Gramarye, or wandering around the castle with a very peaceful, contented look.

Magnus didn't like it. "You don't suppose he's gone back into shock, do you?"

Alea frowned. "He passed that almost at once and went into denial."

"He still is," Cordelia said. "One of us must speak to him and make sure of it."

Magnus didn't wait to be appointed. Dreading the conversation, he fell into step with his father as he wandered through the great hall. Frowning about, he said, "We must be thinking about Christmas."

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"Christmas?" Rod blinked up at him. "It's scarcely September!"

"Aye, but the Yule log should be cut soon so that it may season well. Did we not always do that at the end of summer, Dad?"

"No, we usually waited till October," Rod said, but not with any sign of nostalgia, simply reporting a fact.

That gave Magnus gooseflesh. "Dad—I am glad that you are so peaceful…"

"But you wonder why?" Rod gave him a keen look. "It's because I know she's not really gone, son."

Denial! "But, Dad … she is no longer here …"

"No, she's gone away—but I know where."

Magnus stared at him. "You do?"

"Of course—to Tir Nan Og. Everybody knows that."

Magnus froze, as much as he could while still keeping pace with his father. Then he said, "Well, yes, every Celt knows that the dead go to the Land of Youth—but they stay there, Dad."

"Exactly! So all I have to do is find Tir Nan Og, and I'll have found Gwen." Rod's gaze strayed from his son's. "We only know it's in the west. I've been working through the old legends, but that's all I can find out about its location."

Magnus struggled within himself, weighing the kindness of letting Rod keep his illusions against the possibility of a "cure," of putting his father back in touch with the real world by confronting him with the
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truth—that his mother was dead, gone no doubt to Heaven, not Tir Nan Og, and couldn't come back. But he saw the look of peace on Rod's face, remembered his past spells of delusion, and opted in favor of sympathy.

When he told his siblings, Cordelia nodded with satisfaction and said, "The dream will sustain him until denial passes."

"Yes," said Gregory, "but then comes anger, and he is likely to seek her out to scold her for leaving him."

"A possibility," Geoffrey admitted, "but let us see him across that bridge when he comes to it."

So, when all was said and done, they did nothing—but they kept a close eye on their father while they did it.

So did Alea, reminding Rod that he had promised to introduce her to his horse. Agreeably, Rod took her on a tour of the stables and brought her to the stall where his oldest friend spent his time with mechanical patience.

The black stallion stood with his head over the stable door, munching a mouthful of hay. Alea stared; if Rod hadn't told her what Fess was, she would never have guessed.

"You can stop the charade, Fess," Rod said. "She knows what you really are. He doesn't swallow the hay, Alea— just lets it fall out of his mouth. Horses aren't known for their table manners."

"One must keep up appearances, however," the black stallion reproved him.

Alea had to fight to keep from jumping out of her skin. Even forewarned, it was a shock to hear a horse speak.

"Ever concerned for the honor of the family," Rod sighed. "Fess, this is Alea, Magnus's companion."
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"I am honored to meet you, Damsel Alea. I have heard of you from Gregory's reports."

"Well, I'm here to set the record straight." Alea managed a smile. "This kind gentleman tells me you were Gar's tutor—excuse me, I mean 'Magnus.' Gar is the alias he assumes when he lands on a planet to start another revolution."

"A wise precaution, and one that preserves the family's reputation," Fess agreed. "I was indeed Magnus's tutor and found him an excellent student."

"But as naughty as any little boy?"

"Rarely," Fess said. "He was aware that he had to set an example for his younger brothers and sister. In fact, one might say he seemed to feel responsible for their behavior."

Alea frowned. "I'll have to make sure he doesn't feel that way any more."

Rod smiled. "Good luck. Habits of thought that start that early are awfully hard to shake."

"Surely he realizes they're grown now!"

"Yes, but I do not think he acknowledges that they have become capable of assuming responsibility for their own lives," Fess told her, "especially since, when he left Gramarye, they were all still adolescents."

"He wasn't much more than that himself." Rod shook his head. "How could I ever have let him go?"

"Did you have a choice?" Alea covered a laugh. "I can imagine anyone trying to keep Gar from doing what he thought right!"

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"It would have been counterproductive," the horse agreed. "You speak as one who knows."

"Oh, I've never known him to do anything he knew was wrong," Alea said. "Foolish, perhaps, but not wrong."

"And you attempted to stop him?"

Alea remembered Gar's exasperated search for a government on a planet where there seemed to be none. "No. But I did try to explain why it wouldn't do any good."

"Did he listen?"

"Of course not! But he found the facts for himself."

The horse nodded. "He is still Magnus, under the layers of experience he has accreted."

That, Alea was glad not to dispute—but the more they talked, the more she learned about the child who had been Magnus, and how much of that little boy was still there, carefully hidden and protected, inside the giant she knew.

As they discussed Fess's memories, though, Rod began to look nostalgic, then sad. Realizing that immersion in the past might not be the best thing for him at the moment, Alea ended the conversation and left the stable, telling Rod of her first meeting with Magnus. He was fascinated, so she went on to detail their wanderings on her home world of Midgard—and realized that it wasn't the wonders of the giants and dwarves that interested Rod, but the deeds of the boy who had grown into a very effective social engineer.

OVER THE NEXT few days, she had a chance for a conversation with each of Magnus's siblings and their spouses—though she kept avoiding Allouette. Rod strolled about the castle with a distant gaze and a soft smile; she came across him several times and, not liking his look of not being quite there,
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engaged him in conversation to bring him back to the here and now. Rod always proved capable of drawing laughter from her, and she returned the favor.

On the third evening, when the others had gone up to bed, she and Magnus sat by the fire talking a little longer— or rather, Alea talked, trying to draw Magnus out of brooding. Finally, exasperated, she said, "You're really not the most cheerful companion right now, Magnus. What's wrong?"

"I'm worried about him," Magnus told her, "about Papa."

"Yes, I know what you mean." Alea frowned. "He doesn't seem to be quite here all the time, does he?"

"No—and he's far too happy being wherever he is."

"You're worried that he might decide to stay there?" Alea shook her head. "He has children here, Magnus. Each of you gives him a stake in the real world. But he does have to work his way through his grief."

"Yes, if it doesn't unhinge him," Magnus said. "I hadn't thought to mention it, but he hasn't always been of excellent mental health."