David Grace - The Accidental Magician

During the afternoon Grantin's nervousness increased. By the time they had commenced the last leg of their journey he gave voice to the concerns which troubled them both.

"Chom, I've heard that Cicero is surrounded by great walls. Is that true, do you think?"

"It has been so reported to me. It is a city of five walls and five gates."

"Do you think I'll be able to slip inside?"

"I do not know, but it seems unlikely. If you could perform a spell of disguise you might take on the appearance of someone you observe leaving the city."

"I don't have such a spell, and even if I did the plan seems risky. I might be challenged by acquaintances of the person I imitated. And what about you? Do you think you'll be able to find a place to hide while I look for Mara?"

"Hide?"

"You don't expect them to let you through the gate, do you? Unless… tell me, do any of your people live near here?"

"No, they abandoned this country long ago, shortly after the arrival of the Gogols."

"Then you must find someplace to hide. If you are seen you will be taken and questioned."

"There is, of course, another solution to the problem," Chom suggested.

"Which is?"

"If you cannot go to the female, perhaps the female will come to you. If she could be lured outside the city, then various opportunities might present themselves."

Grantin considered Chom's proposal. Fragments of plans whirled through his mind.

During the night the character of the landscape changed, became more settled, thicker with farmsteads and tilled soil. Grantin and Chom were forced to take exaggerated detours around the habitations, careful always to pass through the gullies so as not to be silhouetted on the brow of any hills. By full morning they reckoned they were still several miles from Cicero, with no secure hideout in sight. The best cover they could manage was that supplied by the tree-lined banks of a small stream which cut diagonally across their path.

Grantin and Chom ducked beneath the cover of the trees. They worked their way upstream in only marginal safety. Grantin assumed the lead, breaking trail, while Chom as much as possible fixed his eyeballs in their telescopic mode. While functioning in this way he was able to give warning of distant dangers yet had only the blurriest apprehension of details near at hand. He relied on Grantin to choose an easy trail.

Sometime after the second hour Chom tapped Grantin on the shoulder, signaling him to stop. With a wave of his upper right arm he indicated a point of danger three or four hundred yards distant. Grantin was able to make out a vague gray hump on the earth. The bulge moved in slow jerks, finally raising itself up to be revealed as the shape of an Ajaj Gray.

Chom motioned for Grantin to continue his advance while the Fanist crossed the brook and broke from the line of trees on the far side. A few moments later the startled Gray sprinted for cover behind a nearby tree. Certain that he had been seen, Grantin broke into a full run, splashed across the stream, and pounded forward up the far bank. If the Gray escaped and warned his masters it would mean both their lives. Grantin cut into the line of trees where the Gray had disappeared. Only a few feet ahead were the open farmlands. Grantin pounded around a last gnarled trunk and almost ran over Castor and Chom.

Castor's nerves had been stretched almost to the breaking point by his plot against Hazar, then his capture by the Fanist. Now Grantin's sudden appearance seemed sufficient to complete the process.

"What do you want of me?" Castor asked fearfully. Strangely enough, his terror was not for his own personal safety but rather that his pack would be searched and that he might weaken and betray his fellow conspirators.

Grantin was too winded to speak coherently, and so it was Chom who began the conversation.

"We only wish to talk to you, to gain information, and to ask of you a favor," Chom began. "We are strangers and know this country only by reputation. We do not wish to be killed out of hand. You might, we thought, give us helpful information about what we might expect upon reaching Cicero."

Castor examined Chom and Grantin critically. Could such an improbable story possibly be true?

"I have no money, no wealth. What is this favor you want of me?"

"Our lives," Grantin broke in. "You must give us your promise not to report our presence to your masters."

"Why should I wish to do that?"

"You Grays do their bidding, or so I've been told. Are the Gogols not your masters?"

"They are our masters only because we are too cowardly to live otherwise."

"Strange sentiments for a Gray," Chom commented.

"You are right, of course," Castor said as he sank weakly to the ground. "They say I am mad. I have defied the random factor and the Gogols and gained for my trouble only a stint in the scullery and my life hanging by a thread. Now I am accosted by two vagrants who clearly would kill me if they thought it necessary. Very well. As to the customs of the Gogols I can tell you this: they are vile and a canker that should be removed from Fane. As to the favor which you ask of me, consider it done. I have no one to whom I would wish to report you. More than that I cannot do. So, now either let me go or do your worst."

Totally disarmed by the Gray's unorthodox behavior, Grantin and Chom removed their hands from the butts of their knives and joined Castor in sitting on the grass.

"We don't want to kill you," Grantin assured the Gray. "The Gogols are our enemies as well. You may leave if you want, though I would appreciate it if you would stay and talk with us a little more. You are almost right about us. We are not vagrants. For myself at least, I'm a fugitive. For personal reasons I must find a girl who I believe is now in Cicero. If you were to tell anyone about our presence I would not last a minute. I'm sorry that we frightened you. If you hate the Gogols as much as you say, then we are allies against a common enemy. Isn't there some way that you could help me get into Cicero and find the girl? Or, failing that, take a message to her and ask her to meet me beyond the gates?"

"What about you?" Castor asked, looking suspiciously at Chom.

"My reasons for being here are complex. Part of my purpose is to help this human who saved my life. Besides that, I will admit to a deficiency of character as well-I am curious. I wonder what will happen to him."

Castor looked from Chom to Grantin, then, without speaking, he stood and walked out of the line of trees. The travelers made no move to follow. They were seized with apathy. By unspoken agreement they decided that this was as good a time as any to take a nap before pressing on to the conclusion of their foolhardy journey. Ten minutes later Grantin was startled from his nap by a soft, paw-like hand on his right shoulder.

"I've decided that I believe you," Castor said. "We must hurry. I have to reenter the city before the end of the fifth hour. Come with me. I will hide you in my quarters. We will make our plans as we travel."

The Ajaj ran almost at a trot to keep up with Chom's long strides. "You say there is a human female whom you must meet," Castor said between gasps, for breath. "Who is she? What does she look like?"

"She is fair and not too tall, not too short, well shaped, with a lovely face…"

"To me that means a female three feet high and covered with light gray fur," Castor snapped. "Can you give me a more objective description?"

"Long, straight, light brown hair," Grantin began again, "light blue, almost gray eyes, pale skin, perhaps five and a half feet tall, and about my age, slender at the waist, but otherwise well padded in the normal places for a human female."

"That could be any one of a hundred human women. How am I to tell them apart? I fear this is hopeless."