George Martin: The Way of the Wizard

He was woken by a frantic pounding at his door. He rolled over and squinted at the window, and saw that it was morning. He crawled from bed and opened the door. In the hallway stood his sandy-haired young cousin, Garrett, who said, alarmed, “The baby. Sebastian. He’s sick.”

Garrett went scurrying off. Simon dressed and made his way down into the rooms of his late father, then up again into Bernard’s section of the tree. A newly-created archway framed the stairs that led to Sebastian’s branch.

Simon knocked on a door, which was then pulled aside, revealing Bernard’s face, upon which hope and worry warred. “Simon,” he said. “Come in.”

Simon entered the chamber, where Elizabeth sat in a rocking chair, clutching her son.

“A fever,” Bernard explained. “There were so many people around yesterday, all wanting to hold him. Uncle Reginald sneezed on him, I think. I’m sure it’s nothing, but… ”

Simon nodded. He greeted Elizabeth, then took a look at Sebastian, who seemed pale.

A short time later Garrett returned with Simon’s mother in tow. When she saw the baby, she froze. She was silent a long time before saying, “It’ll be all right. But he should have healing. Simon dear, I don’t suppose your talents at the gentler side of magic have improved any these past years?”

“Sorry, no,” he said.

Garrett piped up, “I’ll get Clara.”

“Wait,” said Simon’s mother. “No. Fetch us Meredith, please.”

Bernard was shocked. “Mother,” he grumbled, “we don’t need any help from her .”

Simon’s mother said, “She’s a powerful healer, far more so than Clara, and everyone knows it. She’s here now. We must take advantage of this opportunity.” She waved at Garrett and said, “Go.”

He went, and returned an hour later with Meredith. All eyes were upon her as she entered, crossed the room to Elizabeth, and said, “I’m sorry to hear that Sebastian is unwell. I’ll do what I can. Here.” She held out her arms.

Reluctantly, Elizabeth handed over the child.

As soon as Meredith touched him he began to cry. She held him to her chest and closed her eyes, then stood like that for a minute, murmuring, as Sebastian wailed. Elizabeth shot a worried look at Bernard, who glared at Meredith.

Finally Meredith looked up. “There. All done.” She returned the baby to Elizabeth.

“Thank you,” Simon’s mother said quietly.

Meredith departed, meeting Simon’s gaze briefly as she closed the door behind her.

Two days passed, and Sebastian continued to sicken, but there was nothing more to be done, as any further healing magic would simply disrupt the operation of Meredith’s more powerful spell. That evening Bernard came to Simon’s chambers and said, “Simon, I need you. Elizabeth has taken Sebastian up into his branch, and she refuses to come out.”

They made their way through the arch and into the newly-grown section of the tree. The halls were dim and deserted, and as they climbed Simon could hear wind rustling the leaves outside, as well as, more faintly, the sound of a woman sobbing. In an empty room they found Elizabeth sitting on the floor in the corner, holding Sebastian. Darkness hid her face.

Bernard knelt beside her. “Darling, please. Come downstairs.”

“No,” she said.

Bernard turned to Simon, who knelt beside her too and said, “Elizabeth, listen to me. We can’t stay here. If he dies—”

“He won’t!” she cried.

Simon said, “If the branch—”

She shook her head. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” Simon said. “Come on, give him here.” He took hold of Sebastian and lifted him from her limp arms. She trembled.

Bernard helped her to her feet, then held her as he guided her down the stairs, and Simon walked beside them, carrying the baby.

When they crossed the threshhold into Bernard’s section of the tree, Simon breathed easier. If a male line of the Archimagus family died out, the corresponding branches of Victor’s tree withered as well, which could be dangerous for anyone inhabiting them. Thus branches that seemed imperiled were generally abandoned.

Simon sat on a sofa with the baby while Bernard put Elizabeth to bed. When Bernard emerged, he said, “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“What?” Simon said.

“She’s such a great healer, but she can’t even help a sick child?”

“You think her talents are exaggerated?”

Bernard was grim. “Or she’s not really exercising them on our behalf.”

“No. I won’t believe that, not of Meredith. I know her.”

“You knew her,” Bernard said. “People change.”

Simon sighed. “Get some rest. You’re exhausted.” He nodded at the child in his arms. “I’ll watch him. He’ll be fine.”

Bernard hesitated. Then: “All right. Goodnight.” He walked over and kissed Sebastian’s forehead.

“Goodnight,” Simon said.

Two nights later, as Simon lay in bed reading, he heard a rustle from his desk. He glanced up and saw one of his pens jittering. Then the quill swept up into the air, stabbed itself into an inkpot, and began a wobbly dance across one of his parchments. Simon tossed aside his book and hurried over.

The quill lay itself down beside a few words of Meredith’s flowery script: I have to see you .

Simon’s heart leapt. He snatched up the pen and scrawled, Meet me in the garden , then set the pen down.

A moment later it came to life again, and wrote, I will .

So down into the trunk of the tree he went, and out the postern gate, and down the hillside, where the long grasses swayed, and across the bridge over the gurgling stream, to the garden where he and Meredith had played as children, and where they’d met in secret, later, on nights like this. The place was guarded by a high stone wall from which the ivy dangled, and the gates were all rusted partway open, and inside were cobbled walks that wound among the trees like the paths of drunken men, and shallow ponds ringed with lily pads, and hedge mazes into which a boy and girl could vanish together and not be found by anyone.

He waited for her, by the marble bench beside the statue of the sad old lion, who was missing one ear, and it made Simon think of that other night, years ago. This time she came though, her dark form slipping along the pathway like a ghost. Simon hurried to her, and took her in his arms. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too,” she said, into his shoulder.

He held her like that for a long time, there beneath the moon.

Then he said, “Come away with me.”

She drew back, staring. “What?”

“Did you ever love me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then come away with me. I was right, wasn’t I? We belong together. Not with them. No good will come of staying here.”

“Simon.” She pulled away, and sat down on the bench. “No. It’s impossible.”

“Why?” he said.

“I told you—”

“Yes.” He sat down beside her. “You told me. That you’d been promised to another. Well, no longer.”

“And that Victor would not be pleased—”

“But I have my own tree now,” he said, “so we wouldn’t—”

“And our families,” she said finally.

“We can live without them. I’ve shown that, haven’t I? If you ever loved me—”

She looked away.

“Meredith,” he pleaded. “Forget them. We’ll start our own family, and they’ll be the best damn wizards anyone’s ever—”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Simon. I’m not like you. I can’t just walk away and never look back.”

He stood, and scowled into the shadows.

After a time, she said, “Simon, we need to talk. About these rumors.”