Lyndon Hardy - Riddle of the Seven Realms

Kestrel pushed past the openmouthed magician without bothering to offer any more explanations. He clambered onto the wagon and lent an arm to help up Phoebe. He whipped the back of the horse. In a sudden cloud of dust, the three again were on the road.

Kestrel pushed the horse recklessly, not bothering to make sure of holes and ruts before he chose his path. The more distance they put between themselves and the field, the longer they would have before rediscovery by demons who would not so easily be fooled.

"I do not deny it, mortal," Astron said, after they had bounced along for more than an hour in silence. Kestrel glanced sideways in the torchlight and saw the demon's nose relaxing into a straight line.

"You have shown me that there is more to learn in the realm of men than the things that can be described easily in my catalogues." As he continued, he looked Kestrel in the eye. "But also I wonder," he said. "I wonder if any amount of your tugging and pulling would have gotten the lead balloon off the ground."

THE race up the coast was a blur. There was no time for the luxury of sleep or even food for the horse. How long it had taken, Kestrel could not recall. Through half-open eyes, he spotted the simple sign that marked the turnoff from the main road to the ward of the archimage. With aching arms, he steered the wagon onto the narrow gravel lane that wound into the low hills on his left.

After they had climbed to the pass between the nearest peaks, he could see down into the valley that lay between him and higher buttes farther away. Birch and aspen climbed partway up the hillsides. Tall green grasses filled the valley floor, waving in the breeze like ripples on a stagnant pond. One area was cleared of vegetation near the center. In it stood a dozen wooden cabins arranged in a circle around a two-storey house of stone. Pulsing bellows like those at the foundry spat blasts of cold air near the closest. Curls of wizard's smoke rose from chimneys of the next two in line. Three spinning energy wheels of the thaumaturges whirled on the far side of the compound. Next to them, magicians slowly added spars to a complex latticework in step to the intricate jingling of hundreds of tiny bells. A few of the cottages were totally dark, sorcerers' lairs with even the windows painted black to block out the sun. On the grounds between the structures, knots of robed masters argued and gestured as they walked quickly from one experiment to another.

"I see no high walls or metal gates," Kestrel said. "Anyone could approach the archimage with no resistance at all."

"There is a little hut at the foot of the road." Phoebe pointed. "I believe one states his reason for calling to a page therein, and he arranges an interview, if it is worthy. As for security, the power and reputation of the archimage is such that he has no need for walls and gates. If not for honorable means, it would be folly to approach."

Kestrel grunted and urged the horse onward. There was as yet no sign of imps or more powerful devils; but, even with having to reestablish the trail, they could not be far behind.

Phoebe reached out and grabbed Kestrel's arm as the wagon gathered speed down the last incline. "Before-before we meet the archimage and I am possibly questioned about my craft, Kestrel, I must understand all that has happened at my cabin." She lowered her eyes. "Perhaps it was something that would embarrass me," she said. "Yes, that is it. The demon made me do something quite unladylike in front of the other wizards. You are too much the gentleman to tell me about it."

Kestrel pulled his lips together in a grim line. He looked at Phoebe's attractiveness in the fancy dress. Despite the fatigue, he felt a great longing. Without the immediate rush, it would be easy to say the words that would result in another conquest of a master of the arts.

But the well-spun phrases would not come, not even ones that set the foundation for later. Phoebe's apparent trust was too overwhelming. How could he deceive her as he had done to all the others when what she wanted had so little value?

"The past cannot be changed," Kestrel said, "no matter how much one might wish it. If you were embarrassed, would you really want to know?"

"No, I would not," Phoebe said after a moment. "Not if it caused me to lock all that I am behind a barrier through which no one else can see."

"What do you mean?" Kestrel asked.

"You know full well," Phoebe said. "For the length of this headlong flight, I have been chattering away, telling you everything about myself that came to mind. Perhaps it took my thoughts from what would happen if we are caught, but I have said much nonetheless."

"I did not wish it otherwise," Kestrel said. "If you suspect that I was bored but just being polite, put your mind at ease. I enjoy your company."

"And so about the wizard you can now recite volumes," Phoebe continued. "About the woodcutter, what can be said other than that he indeed did at one time chop some trees?"

Kestrel slumped over the reins, wishing the entry hut all the closer. Mixed with everything else, he felt an onrush of discomfort. It was not enough that he refrain from further deception. Phoebe wanted more. She was asking no less than that he reveal things that long ago he had vowed never to share again.

"I can be only one of many possibilities," he said while continuing to look straight ahead. "Why me and not some other? One more suited to your station."

Phoebe tightened her grip on Kestrel's arm and pulled herself closer to him. "It gets to be lonely in the cabin of a wizard," she said. "Lonelier than you might otherwise believe. And at first, I admit my thoughts were for a brief interlude. You appeared far better than most that I had seen in the past year.

"But there was something else," she said. "Something I saw behind the eyes of one who professed to be a simple woodcutter."

"Do not probe too deeply," Kestrel said. "You might not like what you will find."

"No, my first impression has been confirmed." Phoebe reached up and turned Kestrel's face to hers. "I saw the excitement when you explained to me how we would cross the border. I witnessed the swordsman rushing to defend when he was outnumbered two to one. There is perhaps more to Kestrel the woodcutter than he dares admit even to himself."

"Does not the ritual prescribe that the male pursues and the female demurs?" Astron poked his head out from under the wagon's canopy. "Or does the fact that the woman is the one that wears the logo of a wizard alter that? It is no wonder there is so much anguish and confusion in the matter. The variations are too many for one to keep track of them all."

Phoebe pulled back her arms, like a child caught in the fruit larder. She frowned at Astron as she dropped her hands to her lap. Kestrel felt a wave of relief and then a twinge of annoyance. He could work out his feelings without any help from the demon.

He darted a glance at Phoebe. No, perhaps it was best that Astron had come forward. What he would have said if he were forced to answer at this moment he did not know. A silence descended on the three. For the rest of the distance to the entry hut no one spoke.

When they arrived, Kestrel glanced over his shoulder and then back to Astron. The demon shook his head, indicating that he detected nothing. Kestrel vaulted from the wagon and into the hut. Soon all three stood facing an ancient page, bald-pated with splotchy skin, sitting behind a high desk. His folded hands rested on a huge appointment book bound in gilded leather.

Kestrel returned the page's stare and glanced quickly about the small room, trying to seize on the story that would get them immediately to the archimage.

"Elezar," Astron said before anyone else could speak. "I have a message from Prince Elezar for the archimage that should be heard at once."