A Wizard in Chaos

CHAPTER 21

What more natural place for a scheming fighter to go into government?” Dirk retorted. “You might consider settling down here, too.”

“No, I don’t have your reason.” Gar sighed, “and I’m afraid it’s the only one strong enough to make me want to stay on one single planet. Have you asked her to marry you?”

“Yes.” Dirk grinned.

So did Gar. “I see she said yes. Aren’t you worried about not having children?”

“Not really.” Dirk shrugged. “We both know she didn’t have a decent chance to get pregnant in that first marriage. But if she doesn’t, well … children would be nice, but real, lasting love is more important.”

“Yes, because if you have children and don’t have love, the poor things grow up as blighted as plants in the dark,” Gar agreed. “You understand, of course, that marrying the local squire’s sister doesn’t automatically make you his heir, or give you any significant portion of her power.”

“Oh, I do understand that,” Dirk said, “but I’m not sure she does.”

“She will, believe me.”

“Never doubted you,” Dirk said, “unless you were talking about your own unworthiness. But I am braced for giving her all the support I can in her political struggles.”

“You can’t possibly do that without becoming involved in those struggles yourself.”

“Of course not.” Dirk grinned. “I have learned something in our wandering and revolution-mongering, after all.”

“Then you’ve realized that Quilichen will become the leader of all the free villages of this district.”

“After what’s happened here? Of course.” Dirk smiled. “But let’s not forget that none of it would have happened if Magda hadn’t been so merciful as well as being so excellent a leader.”

“Yes. That’s the main reason.” Gar nodded. “She’s a very intelligent woman, and it won’t take her very long at all to realize that the only way the free towns will stand together is if she manipulates them into it. That kind of intriguing can have only one of two ends.”

“Assassination,” Dirk said grimly, “and you can damn well bet that isn’t going to happen. Oh, they’ll try, all right, but they won’t succeed.”

“I suggest you do all you can to strengthen ties with the Fair Folk to help ensure that,” Gar said. “And the other end?”

“She becomes leader of the free-town party.” Gar nodded. “That will happen.”

“Which means that, like it or not, I now have a vested interest in developing enough of a government to give this land a fair chance of peace,” Dirk said, with a sardonic smile.

“Oh, come now,” Gar protested. “That was your aim all along. Magda only gave you a personal reason for it.”

“It was your aim, too,” Dirk accused. Gar raised a hand. “Guilty.”

“Well, everybody who’s been making a living from war won’t like it,” Dirk grumbled, “which means that for the first generation or so, we’re going to be supporting one hell of a police force.”

“And that means the taxes will still be heavy,” Gar agreed, “but at least the peasants won’t see their crops destroyed by armies chasing across their fields every other year.”

“And in ten years or so, we ought to be able to get that massive police force out to protect the villagers against banditry and rape,” Dirk agreed, “if for no other reason than to give them something to do.”

Gar smiled, eyes glowing, pleased. “You have the nucleus of a government now, with the Hollow Hills leading the free towns in developing a parliament. If you take care to include the bosses on the pretext of resolving disputes with the free towns, you’ll have an opposition party, but not an enemy, and the majority of the people will always vote with you.”

“Yes, if we make the signing of a Declaration of Rights the price of membership in that parliament, and insist on free and mandatory elementary schooling for everyone.” Dirk smiled. “You’ve taught me well, Gar. If you educate the people and guarantee their rights, some form of democracy will follow sooner or later.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Gar said with a sardonic smile. “I do wish I could have developed more variety.”

“Variety? The people we’ve helped have developed forms of democracy no one else ever heard of! Oh, I think you’re doing just fine for variety.”

“Yes, but only in democracies. I can’t help thinking some people are better off with monarchies or dictatorships.”

“Only when they haven’t learned enough to be able to rule themselves.” Dirk reached up and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Trust me, old son. You’re giving them what they want, what people will always want—the only possible compromise between anarchy and tyranny.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Gar sighed, “and I suppose I can always console myself with the thought that they always get what they deserve.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Dirk said darkly, “or that even if it was, we should let them have it.”

“Who are we to say otherwise?” Gar demanded. “People who want to be free,” Dirk answered. “People who want our rights guaranteed.”

Gar couldn’t get used to a wedding without a church, but since the planet didn’t really have religion, they had to manage with the castle itself. As many of the townsfolk and yeomen as could, crowded in to watch their castellan marry. Music came from every side, musicians throughout the crowd playing the same tune on fiddles, bagpipes, hautboys, gambas, all manner of instruments. It set Gar’s teeth on edge, but the locals seemed to enjoy it.

From the shelter of the barracks, Dirk said, “I’m not too sure about this.”

“You will be in half an hour.” Gar flicked an imaginary speck of lint off Dirk’s doublet and adjusted his cloak for maximum effect. “I have it on good authority that grooms always get cold feet.”

“I’m sure being married will be great. It’s just the wedding I can’t stand!”

“All of Quilichen must see that their castellan is well and truly married,” Gar told him severely. “You’ve faced battles—you can face a bride, a sage, and a crowd! Come on, let’s go.”

Trumpets burst forth in fanfare as the two men stepped out of the barracks—almost enough to make Dirk go right back in. But the honor guard of archers closed about him, and there wasn’t much he could do except march in their midst to the sage who stood in the center of the courtyard, his humble peasant tunic and leggins made festive for the occasion by the chains of flowers the village maidens had festooned all over him.

The honor guard halted near the sage, and Gar nudged Dirk’s elbow to make him go on three paces more, to stand before the old man.

“Thank Heaven I’ve got you with me,” Dirk muttered to Gar.

“We’ve been companions in danger for eight years now,” Gar reminded him.

Then the trumpets blared again, and all the instruments burst forth in a tune that Dirk was amazed to realize was the age-old wedding march from Earth! He turned to the castle portal—and his jaw dropped as he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Magda was resplendent in golden embroidery and lace, her veil thrown back so that he could see her face, more lovely than it had ever been. Three children carried her train of cloth-of-gold, and two more sprinkled flower petals in her path.

She came up to Dirk and flashed him a smile that told him her full intent. He couldn’t smile back—he was too thoroughly paralyzed. Together they turned to face the sage …

And Dirk was jolted back to reality. The sage, severe at first, asked them each a set of searing questions about living together and making their lives one, but still respecting each other’s identities. It would have thrown them both for a loop, if he hadn’t challenged them with worse when they’d come to him to ask to be married. Then the sage told them both, loudly and clearly enough for the crowd to hear, that they must never make the mistake of thinking that they could become one person, for they were really two independent people, and must always respect that independence in one another—but that they could form a solid relationship in which each would help fulfill the other’s needs, and receive as well as give.

It was intended as a reminder to the crowd that marriage wasn’t for everybody, and Dirk took it in good part. Then, and only then, did the sage turn to the couple and ask Magda, “Do you take this man for your husband?” And in spite of everything she had just heard, Magda said “Yes!” loudly and clearly, then turned to Dirk, her gaze challenging, but also burning with ardor. Dirk stared back, more lost than ever in those beautiful, deep eyes …

“He asked you if you take Magda as your wife,” Gar muttered.

“Oh, you bet I do,” Dirk said, softly but with great intensity. Then Gar’s elbow jolted into his ribs, and he came out of his trance long enough to call out, “Yes!”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife!” the sage declared. He said something after that, too, but Dirk couldn’t hear what it was, because the people were cheering too loudly.

The celebrating went on all afternoon, with Magda and Dirk growing quite weary from going to as many people as they could, yeomen and merchants and craftsmen and mothers and maidens and bachelors and … well, virtually everybody, accepting their good wishes and thanking them. Finally, as the sun was setting, they managed to sneak out the main gate with Gar, leaving the sage to keep an eye on things for an hour. They stepped into the town’s single coach to ride out to the top of the ridge overlooking the town. There they stepped down, and Gar told the coachman, “Drive the horses down into the fields, and come back in fifteen minutes.”

The coachman nodded and slapped the reins; the horses trotted off down the road.

Dirk looked around. “This should be high enough.”

“And dark enough,” Gar agreed. He touched his medallion and said, “Let it come down, Herkimer.” Then he looked out over the lights of Quilichen, the castle on the hilltop in its center almost garish with the lamps of the celebration. Even at this distance, they could hear the music and the noise of revelry, though it was faint.

“You have a lovely town,” Gar told Magda. “You have made it into something of which you may be proud.”

“I am,” Magda said, and reached out to take his hand. “Are you sure you won’t stay in it with us?”

“I thank you,” Gar said gravely, “but I have work to do in this life before I may settle down, and it’s not done.”

“It has to end sometime and somewhere,” Dirk said. “Why not here?”

“Because I haven’t found what you two have,” Gar said, struggling for composure. Magda saw, and let out a little cry, reaching up toward his face, but hesitating.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Dirk asked.

Gar managed a sardonic smile. “I traveled alone before I met you, Dulaine. Don’t worry about me—just do the best you can to take care of each other, and of your world.”

The couple exchanged a glance that lingered, then smiled and turned back to Gar, holding hands. “I hope you will find what we have found,” Magda said.

“A woman with the key to a golden box,” Dirk seconded.

Gar looked up in surprise, almost alarm, then frowned. “That’s right, I did tell you about that dream once, didn’t I? Well, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. After all, I have Herkimer for company.”

“Who is this Herkimer?” Magda asked, frowning.

“That.” Gar pointed upward.

Dirk had told her about it, warned her about the impact, but still Magda cried out and clung tight to him as she saw the huge golden disk falling out of the sky.

It landed on the hilltop, and the ramp slid down. “Ready to board, Magnus,” said the resonant voice within.

“Good-bye.” Gar clasped Magda’s hand, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Best man’s privilege,” he explained, then turned to clasp Dirk’s hand and arm with both of his own. “Good-bye, my old companion. Fare you well.”

“Oh, fare you well!” Magda cried, tears in her eyes, and Dirk blinked once or twice himself as he said, “Fare you well, old son. Stop by to visit someday.”

“I will,” Gar promised, then grinned. “Probably with pursuit hot behind me.”

“I shall have the porters ready to open the gate, and the archers ready to fire,” Magda promised.

“I thank you,” Gar said softly. He pressed a quick kiss on the back of her hand, clapped Dirk on the shoulder, and turned to mount the ramp, alone.

He came into the control room, sat in his acceleration couch, and fastened his shock webbing across his body, not speaking. The computer read his presence in the acceleration couch and rose. Gar felt the weight press down on him as the ship hit escape velocity. Then it eased off, and Herkimer’s voice said, “We are in orbit, Magnus. You may move about.”

Gar unfastened his webbing and stood up, feeling the persona of Gar fall from him like a travelworn cloak, becoming only Magnus again. Slowly, he moved to the shower cubicle, undressed, stepped under the ultrasonic beam, waited as dust drifted from him, then hit the spray and let himself linger under the warm water for a good half hour.

Finally, cleaned, dried, and wrapped in the sybaritic luxury of a soft white robe, he stepped out, dialed a drink from the dispenser, and sat down in the acceleration couch again, to sip and contemplate the image of Durvie on the viewscreens. Herkimer, correlating his needs from his unusual silence and Dirk’s absence, kept soft music and the sounds of distant chatter going on, careful not to let the ship seem too empty. Finally he asked, “Where shall we wander, Magnus?”

“Oh, choose a planet at random,” Magnus said carelessly. “Just take the next one down that index of human misery Dirk worked up.”

“As you wish, Magnus.” The computer was quiet for a few minutes, then said, “Course plotted. Leaving orbit.”

There was no change in weight, no sensation of movement at all, but Durvie began to shrink in the viewscreen, very slowly at first, then faster and faster.

Gar watched the planet recede and whispered softly, “You lucky knave, Dirk. You lucky, lucky prince!”