Lawrence Watt-Evans: Relics of War

“Hm,” Tesk said. “Blaming my death on the baron may not be clever.”

“Maybe not,” Garander admitted. “So suicide there, too, then.”

“Or perhaps you could blame my demon half,” Tesk suggested. “Say that it killed me rather than allow me to surrender. Which it might in fact do.”

“Oh!” Garander said. “Of course.”

“This spell-how does it make me look so obviously dead that they will not cut my head off to be sure?”

“I don’t know,” Garander admitted. “But if they try, you’re fast enough to dodge, aren’t you?”

“That would ruin the deception.”

“I know. Then we’d have to try something else.”

“I see. Do you have another plan to try, if that happens?”

“Not yet.”

“I see.” Tesk considered that for a moment, then asked, “Will you be casting the spell?”

“No, one of the wizards agreed to do it.”

“Then this wizard will know I am still alive.”

“Yes,” Garander admitted. “I couldn’t see any way to avoid that. And it’s actually two wizards-the first one I asked didn’t know the spell we need.”

“Can we trust these wizards to remain silent?”

“I think so,” Garander said. “They don’t want a war. And I’ve always heard that wizards are good at keeping secrets-they keep the workings of their spells secret, after all.”

Tesk nodded.

“Then you’ll do it?”

“I have no better plan. I will try it.”

“I’ll bring the wizard to the woods once it’s full dark.”

“I will meet you.”

“Once the spell is cast, you’ll need to get those tools and talismans-enough so that each side will think they have all of them.”

Tesk asked, “Will this deception spell interfere with bringing the supplies?”

“I don’t think so. But we’ll ask the wizard. If he isn’t sure, maybe we can wait and cast the spell in the morning.”

Tesk nodded again. “Bring the wizard,” he said. He added, “Do not follow me,” and then sped up, changing direction and heading toward the forest to the northwest.

Garander could not have followed at such a pace in any case; he stopped, and saw that he had walked past his own front door without realizing it while they spoke. Tesk had said he wanted to say goodbye to the family, but apparently he had changed his mind, or been so distracted by the discussion of Garander’s plan that he forgot.

Garander turned back and headed inside. He found his family waiting for him. “What’s happening?” Ishta demanded, before anyone else could say a word.

“The Ethsharites made an offer,” Garander said. “A good one-they said they would send visitors, teachers and students, to keep him company, and teach him about Ethshar, and learn about his magic and the Northern Empire.”

“And the baron?” his father asked.

“He made a threat. He said he would have Tesk killed if he didn’t cooperate, or if he agreed to work for the Ethsharites.”

“Won’t the Ethsharites protect him?” Shella the Younger asked.

“I’m sure they’ll try,” Garander said. “If he agrees to their terms, anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Ishta asked.

“He doesn’t trust them,” Garander said. “And he doesn’t really want anyone learning about his magic.”

“Then what’s he going to do?”

Garander hesitated. He did not want to lie to his family, but he did not trust Ishta to keep a secret, not even when it might save Tesk’s life.

But on the other hand, she had managed to keep quiet about Tesk’s very existence for months.

Their father had not, though. Garander threw a quick glance at Grondar, then turned back to Ishta. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think he’s decided yet.”

Grondar gave him a look Garander could not interpret, then called, “Shouldn’t you be getting our supper, Shella?”

Garander’s mother started. “Oh, yes!” she said. She grabbed her elder daughter’s arm and hustled toward the kitchen.

“Ishta, help your mother,” Grondar ordered.

“But I…”

“Go! It will keep you busy and take your mind off your shatra friend.”

Reluctantly, Ishta obeyed.

“Garander and I will get on with the chores,” Grondar called after the women. “Just because we have wizards and aristocrats all over the place doesn’t mean the pigs will feed themselves.”

Garander was in no mood to tend to the livestock, but he knew his father had a point. He walked back out the door he had just entered, and started toward the barn.

His father caught his arm. “You have an idea of some sort, don’t you?” Grondar asked. “I saw you slip away earlier.”

“I…” Garander hesitated.

Grondar held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I can’t give away secrets I don’t know. You can tell me all about it later, when it’s all over.”

“Thank you, Father,” Garander said.

“Is there anything else you need to do?”

Garander glanced in the direction of the flying carpet. “Actually…”

Grondar gave him a shove. “Go do it. Don’t tell me anything. And if you can get back in time for your supper, good, but if you can’t, I’ll tell your mother the hogs were being troublesome.”

“Thank you, Father!” Garander repeated, more enthusiastically. He gave a look at the baron’s camp, but they would not be able to see much in the gathering gloom, especially if he went around the far side of the house. He hurried to the corner, watching over his shoulder as his father vanished into the barn.

Ellador was not at the designated meeting place, and Garander grew steadily more worried as he waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a fourth of one. The colors had vanished from the west, and the sky overhead had faded from dark blue to starry black, when at last the wizard’s voice spoke.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I was afraid you might be delayed.”

Startled, Garander looked around but saw no sign of the old man.

“I’m wearing the Mantle of Stealth,” Ellador said. “I didn’t want Zendalir or Shasha asking awkward questions.”

Garander had never heard of a Mantle of Stealth, but guessed it was some sort of invisibility spell. “Good,” he said. “This way.”

He hoped the wizard was following him, but had no way of telling for certain-his magic apparently hid the sound of his footsteps, as well as rendering him invisible. He was reassured when the old man stumbled and muttered, “Death!” as he struggled to recover his balance.

Garander made his way slowly and carefully from the farm into the forest, making it easy for the wizard to keep up, even in the growing darkness. Fortunately the greater moon was rising, and dull orange light trickled through the trees.

He and Tesk had not specified an exact spot for their meeting; Garander had relied on the shatra ’s superhuman senses to find him. He wandered almost at random into the woods, more or less aiming at a clearing where he and Ishta had visited with Tesk a few times.

He had not quite reached it when Tesk’s voice asked, “Is the wizard coming, or has something gone wrong?”

Garander stopped, and the shatra dropped out of a tree almost directly in front of him.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “The wizard’s right behind me.”

He hoped that was true.

“Gods!” Ellador’s voice said, relieving Garander’s doubts. “It really is a shatra !”

Tesk jumped sideways, and suddenly one of his black rods was in his hand. His head jerked upward, then back down.

“I can smell you,” he said. “And I sense your body heat…”

“I’m right here,” Ellador said, suddenly appearing in a patch of moonlight between two trees. He was holding a large piece of dark cloth in one hand; he was hatless, and his hair was rumpled.