Lawrence Watt-Evans: The Sorcerer's Widow

“I don’t think Irien would want to bring her inn,” Dorna said thoughtfully, “but she might want to come along all the same, if only to visit the city for a few days.”

“Can she really afford to abandon her livelihood for that long?” Ezak asked.

“Oh, I’m sure something can be arranged.” The sorcerer’s widow considered for a moment, then said, “If you would excuse me, I believe I’ll go speak to her right now. I hope you’ll forgive me if I cut your visit short?”

“Oh, of course, of course!” Ezak forced a grin. “We’ll get out of your way. Just let us know when we can be of service.”

“You can walk with me to the inn, if you like.”

Ezak bowed. “We would be honored.”

Kel did not see that it was much of an honor, since all three of them would be going to the inn anyway, but he didn’t say anything.

“If you could wait outside while I get my shawl?”

“Of course,” Ezak said. He bowed again, but did not move toward the door until Kel tugged at his tunic.

“Come on,” Kel murmured. He glanced at Dorna, who was looking both impatient and amused.

“I’m coming,” Ezak said angrily, as he straightened.

A moment later the two men were standing outside the front door, waiting. Kel was content to stand there enjoying the warm morning air while he listened to a bird singing somewhere nearby, but Ezak leaned over and whispered, “Why did you suggest bringing the innkeeper along? The fewer eyes we have upon us, the better our chances of making a clean escape with all the sorcery we can carry!”

“Oh,” Kel said. “I didn’t think of that.” He really hadn’t been thinking about the mechanics of the planned theft at all.

“Did you see all those talismans?” Ezak said, jerking a thumb toward the door. “There are hundreds of them!”

“I guess so,” Kel said. “I don’t know what any of them are, though.”

“Well, neither do I, not specifically , but so what? We can still sell them. I assume any sorcerer would recognize them, even if we don’t. We’ll be rich!”

Kel was not entirely convinced. He still remembered what that whip had felt like on his back, and Ezak had been sure that that scheme, selling phony spells to demonologists, would make them rich. Ezak had said that when the spells didn’t work, the demonologists would just think they had made mistakes somewhere; he had never guessed that they could ask other demons whether the spells were real. Kel was very much afraid that he was making some similar mistake in this attempt to rob or swindle the sorcerer’s widow. What if some of the talismans were used up or broken? What if no one knew what they were? This Nabal had apparently been a much better sorcerer than Kel would expect to find in a tiny village like this, if all those things were really magic.

Then there were all the lies Ezak had told. The more one lied, the more likely one was to be caught, in Kel’s experience.

Kel didn’t think Ezak’s plan was going to work, but they were here, and Kel was sure that Ezak was smarter than Kel was even if he made mistakes sometimes. He thought up all sorts of plans, and some of them did work. Maybe not very many , but some.

Then the ash-streaked door opened and Dorna emerged, her soft blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Kel stepped back out of her way, while Ezak made an elaborate bow and moved as if to take her arm.

She did not accept his gesture; Kel thought she looked amused, or perhaps slightly annoyed. Instead she headed directly for the inn without pausing, leaving Ezak scrambling to follow.

Kel was not in any particular hurry, and it wasn’t as if anyone was going very far. He took his time about following the other two, looking around the tiny village.

He could see why Dorna would not want to stay here. In fact, he didn’t understand how a sorcerer had ever made a living here in the first place-or for that matter, how the blacksmith or the innkeeper managed it. There were no other people to be seen in the village itself, though he could see a few figures moving in the surrounding fields. Yes, a road ran through the village, but he didn’t see anyone using it. Kel was a city boy, born and raised in the Smallgate district of Ethshar of the Sands, and he didn’t really understand why anyone would want to live outside the city walls; how could you make a living without other people for customers? Besides, it seemed so lonely out here! Most of the time the loudest sound was birdsong; that seemed almost unnatural.

If Irien didn’t want to come with them, Kel was sure Dorna could find plenty of new friends in Ethshar-but of course, old friends were the best. That was why Kel stayed with Ezak; they had been friends ever since they were boys, not yet wearing breeches. Ezak had protected Kel from the local bullies back on Barracks Street, and in exchange Kel had slipped into places where Ezak couldn’t fit, and taken things Ezak wanted.

Ezak had also told stories about his Uncle Vezalis, the traveling merchant. Kel had met Uncle Vezalis, of course, but they did not get along very well, so he had heard about most of the adventures second-hand, from Ezak, and not directly from the source. Kel had happily listened to those stories, but he had never entirely believed them. Ezak liked to exaggerate, and Uncle Vezalis liked to exaggerate, so by the time a story had gone through both of them it might have grown like a mushroom after a rain. Kel knew he wasn’t the smartest person around, but even he knew that some of the stories Ezak told him weren’t true.

This time, though, if all those things really were magic, Ezak’s uncle apparently hadn’t exaggerated at all.

Kel glanced around, and wondered why Uncle Vezalis had ever come to this tiny little village in the first place. Had he come to trade with the sorcerer, or had this place just been on the way to somewhere else?

Then Kel was at the inn door, and Irien and Dorna were talking in the common room while Ezak listened unhappily.

“…eat on the way?” Irien was saying as Kel came within earshot.

Dorna laughed. “ You’re asking that? Irien, did you think you run the only inn between here and Ethshar?”

“No, no, of course not, but…Dorna, are you sure?”

“Sure I’m going, or sure you should come with me?”

“Both.”

“Yes. To both.”

“You know why Nabal stayed here.”

“Yes, and I know I disagreed with him.”

Kel glanced at Ezak, wondering whether he knew what the two women were talking about. Why had Nabal stayed here?

“That wasn’t just bravado? I always thought you were…well, I didn’t think you meant it. If you didn’t want to stay here, why did you?”

Dorna turned up an empty hand. “Nabal was here,” she said. Her voice cracked. “And now he’s gone, so I’m leaving, and I’m asking if you’d like to come with me.”

Irien looked up at the overhead beams, then back at the big stone hearth, then back at Dorna.

“I’ll come,” she said. “I may not stay there, though. I don’t know whether I’ll like the city, but I admit I’m curious to see it.”

“Good enough!” Dorna said with a broad smile. “We’ll leave as soon as my wagon is ready.”

“It’s two days to the cartwright in Balgant, and two days back, assuming he has one on hand. Four days, then?”

Ezak spoke up. “I would be happy to make that trip for you, if you like.”

Dorna shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll send word right away. But I was thinking we might buy our wagons from farmers right here, and let them deal with the cartwright. I believe Grondar has one that would suit me.”