A Wizard in the Way

9

Finally Conn turned back to Gar. “No one here knows, mortal.”

Gar stared at him for a moment. Alea watched, frowning, wondering what he was thinking, then realized what it must have been: the ghosts had obviously conferred with one another, but in a way she and Gar couldn’t hear—telepathy on a different set of frequencies, perhaps? Or in a different mode?

Gar said, “None of you here? But there are some who do, many miles away?”

“There are,” the crone said, eyeing him warily.

“Tell him nothing more than he needs to know!” the sorcerer barked.

“Why not?” Gar asked. “After all, your ghost leaders have already discovered this for themselves.” He looked up at Conn. “Would you do me the courtesy of getting in touch with one of those first ancestral ghosts and asking him my question?”

“Not for a second!” the sorcerer snapped.

Conn gave him a glance of annoyance. “To spite you, I might.” He turned back to Gar. “It’s not so easily done, fellow. I can’t talk to one so distant mind to mind, after all.”

“Not one so distant?” Gar looked thoughtful. “There’s potential there.”

Conn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing that we can do right now,” Gar said. “It would take a great deal of thought and planning, then a string of very boring experiments—and I gather you have all had your fill of boredom.”

The ghosts gave a start of surprise; then the magician said warily, “What makes you say a thing like that?”

“Why else would you be so eager to flock to a person like Blaize, whose feelings overflow for you to sense?”

“Don’t answer that,” the magician snapped.

“I’ll answer what I please,” Conn snapped back. “When will you shadows of power learn that you have no authority past the grave?” He turned back to Gar. “I might be interested in these experiments you speak of, mortal—at first that is. If they become boring, of course, that would be another matter.”

“Could you find me someone to take up where you left off?” Gar asked.

Conn exchanged a glance with Ranulf. “Yes, that should be possible.”

“Let me work it out,” Gar said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m ready to try it.”

“Try what?” the sorcerer asked suspiciously.

“A sort of message relay, like couriers on horseback.”

“We’re not your servants!”

“I never said you were,” Gar said easily, “but if some of you choose to relieve your boredom by testing an idea, I won’t turn your courtesy away.”

The magician fixed him with a gimlet glare. “You are far too glib, mortal.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Gar sighed. “Sometimes I don’t even trust myself. But I’ll let you know when my divertissement is ready, and you can judge my worthiness then.”

“I know it now,” the sorcerer said.

“But, I don’t.” Conn grinned. “Let me know when you’re ready to begin, Magician.”

“Maybe then.” Ranulf yawned elaborately. “For myself, I find this exchange is growing dull. Good night, mortals, and may good fortune speed your amusements.” He flickered like a candle in a draft and disappeared.

The yawn was contagious; several of the other ghosts shared it, then began to wink out, one by one, until only the sorcerer, the magician, and Conn were left.

“They haven’t really gone, have they?” Gar asked.

“Most of them, yes,” Conn said. “Your novelty has worn off.”

“But some of them are still around?”

“I will always be near.” The sorcerer made his tone a threat.

“Well, then, so will I.” Conn locked gazes with the tyrant’s shade and grinned.

“Fear ghosts,” the magician intoned, glaring at Alea, Mira, and Blaize. “Fear our power!”

“But you have no power over the living,” Blaize objected, “as long as we refuse to be frightened.”

“Are you truly so courageous as that?” The ghost floated closer, growing, towering over Blaize, swollen and threatening. “Yes, he is,” Conn said, “especially since he knows I’m here to boggle you if you become too much of a nuisance.”

“Be still, peasant!”

“Oh, really! You command me, do you?” Conn threw back his head and began to sing, loudly and off-key.

The sorcerer winced. “Enough!”

“Not by half.” Conn sang again.

“I can’t take it anymore,” the sorcerer groaned. “You’ve been warned, mortals!” He winked out.

Conn broke off and turned grinning to the companions. “Yes, be warned, but don’t think you have anything to fear from the likes of him. Oh, he can make you feel fear even if he can’t really scare you, but that’s all he can do.”

“As long as we remember that all we have to fear is fear itself,” Gar said, “he can’t hurt us.”

“Well said, well said.” Conn nodded approvingly. “It was a wiser man than I who first said it.”

“And you’re wiser than any magician I’ve met,” Conn returned, “though I have heard of a few who realize that the good they do comes back to them—especially when they become ghosts. Well, be careful, mortals. We phantoms may not be able to hurt you, but living magicians and their guards can.”

“What of forest outlaws?” Alea asked.

Conn bared his teeth in a grin. “They’ll hear from me if they do!” He winked out.

The campsite was silent for a minute. Then Gar cleared his throat and said, “I think we can conclude that going into a trance helps summon ghosts.”

“Yes, I would say that was clear,” Alea said sarcastically. “However, I’d prefer to leave the rest of the lesson until tomorrow.” Gar rose and stretched. “If you don’t mind, my friends, I’d just as soon lie down for the night. We’ll work on spectral communications tomorrow, shall we?”

“Spectral communications?” Blaize frowned. “What’s that?”

“Gossiping ghosts,” Gar said. “Good night.”

The next morning, when chores were done, Gar and Alea sat down with Mira and Blaize to start experimenting,

“First,” Gar said to Blaize, “see if you can contact Conn and Ranulf…”

“By daylight?” Blaize asked in surprise.

“Of course. You heard Conn—last night the ghosts are still here even if we can’t see them. It’s just that the sun’s too bright.”

“That’s true.” Blaize turned thoughtful. “Of course, they might not be right here with us.”

“They might not indeed. That’s why I’d like you to call and see if they are.”

Blaize nodded, then closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he opened them, looking shaken. “They’re here.”

“I told you we’d stay near,” said a thin, faint voice. They all started, recognizing it as Conn’s.

“I’ve an idea I’d like to try,” Gar said. “Would you mind helping us, Conn?”

“Depends on what it is. Say, mortal.”

“I’d like to see if you can put words into the mind of a person who can’t read thoughts.”

“Interesting notion,” the ghost said. “Where will I find one?”

“Well,” Gar said, “I was thinking of Mira here.”

Mina shrank away in alarm.

“Yes, I thought you might,” Conn said. “She can read minds, you know.”

“No I can’t!” Mira cried.

“It’s a faint talent, lass, so faint you’re not aware of it—but haven’t you ever noticed that you have a hunch what someone else is going to do before they do it?”

“Well, yes, but … everybody does, don’t they?”

“Not all,” Conn said, “but she has a point, mortal. Most folk in this land have some little ability to read minds—very little, mostly, but it’s there. It’s one of the things you learn being a ghost.”

“Well, then,” Gar said, obviously digesting as he spoke, “would you mind waiting for Conn’s words to come into your mind, Mira?”

“I …I…”

“There’s no harm in it, lass.” Alea laid a reassuring hand over Mira’s. “From what he says, ghosts do it all the time anyway.”

“That’s true,” said Ranulf’s voice, “but only when we’re feeling mischievous.”

Alea looked askance in the direction of his voice. “How often are you not?”

“Only when we’re bored.”

“When are you not bored?”

“When we’re being mischievous.”

Conn cut in. “Was there anything in particular you wanted Mira to hear, mortal?”

Instead of answering, Gar frowned at Blaize, who looked startled, then gazed off into the distance.

Mira frowned too. “Because they both begin with the sound ‘r,’ of course. But wasn’t he supposed to try to make the words come into my mind?”

“He was,” Gar said, “but you only heard him speaking more loudly than he had been, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“He didn’t speak aloud, lass,” Alea said. “I was careful to listen with my ears, not my mind, and you were the only one who heard his words.”

Mira looked startled. Then she began to look frightened. “I thought the question at Blaize,” Gar said, “and he thought it at Conn, who thought it at you.”

Mira still looked frightened, but she asked bravely, “Was I right?”

“It’s as good an answer as any,” Gar said. “The man who thought up the riddle didn’t tell us the answer, and for six hundred years people have been trying to figure out why a raven is like a writing desk.” He looked toward the section of air that had generated Conn’s voice. “Could we try again, only this time, have Conn tell the question to Ranulf, who will tell it to Mira?”

“You’re just saying that because I was feeling left out,” Ranulf’s voice answered.

“No, I really do have a purpose,” Gar assured him. “Will you help?”

“Of course! This is really interesting. Ask away, mortal.”

“This time, think the answer to Alea,” Gar said, “and let’s see if she can relay it to Mira. Is that all right, Alea?”

“As Ranulf said, this is becoming interesting.” Alea sat up a little straighter, smiling. “Ask away.”

Gar’s brow knit. Blaize gazed off into space. After a few seconds, Alea looked surprised, then Mira did, too. “How can one hand alone make the sound of clapping?”

“It can’t, of course,” Gar said, “but pondering that point will clear your mind of all other random thoughts. Thank you, Conn and Ranulf-it seems ghosts can pass messages from one to another, and the last can deliver the words to a mortal.”

“I should have thought that was rather plain,” Conn’s voice sniffed.

“It was, but I wanted to make sure,” Gar said. “Do you suppose ghosts would be willing to pass such a message from one to another over miles of land?”

“There would likely be many willing,” Ranulf’s voice said, “if for nothing but to pass the time—and of course, if the message had strong emotions toning it, they’d be all the more willing.”

“Exactly what are you trying to invent here?” Alea asked. “A ghost-to-ghost hookup,” Gar answered.

“It bothers me.” Blaize did look agitated. “This is too much manipulation of spirits; it seems more like the way most of the ghost leaders go about controlling the specters—by blackmail and bribery, not by the sort of persuasion my master Arnogle used.”

“We heard of Arnogle,” Ranulf said. “There were more spirits willing to help him than any other ghost leader, simply because his projects were exciting, which meant they were willing to protect him, too, so that the projects could go on.”

“Little good it did him!” Blaize said mournfully.

“Some mortals become so excited that they won’t listen to advice,” Ranulf sighed. “Remember that, young fellow. When you do make friends of a ghost, pay attention to what it tells you.”

“I shall,” Blaize said fervently. “But is binding phantoms to service as messengers a way of making friends?”

“I would not be binding them,” Gar objected, “only asking them to join in if it pleased them.”

“But so many ghosts all at once, all on one errand! Surely that is greedy!”

“Rather selfish of us, you mean?” Alea asked. “Well, I suppose it is, if the message were only for our benefit, but I know Gar well enough to say that he would have the good of all the serfs in mind.”

“Communications can be very important when you’re resisting a tyrant,” Gar agreed, “but we’re not simply saying that the ends justify the means.”

Blaize frowned. “What?”

“That it’s all right for us to hurt people or exploit them, as long as it’s going to end by making all the serfs happier, for instance,” Alea explained.

Mira leaned backward, eyeing Alea as if at the end of a long pole. “I would be very wary of such an idea!”

“Many people fall into it,” Gar said. “Alea and I try to resist it, though.”

Alea nodded. “But we don’t think there’s anything wrong with the means in this case. Any ghosts helping with Gar’s message chain would be doing so of their own free will—we’re not planning to threaten or blackmail anybody.”

“Neither living nor dead,” Gar agreed.

Blaize wondered why Mira was looking at him in so strange a way. “So you’re not trying to gain power and wealth for yourselves, and you’re not enslaving anybody or forcing them to work for you.”

Gar nodded.

“I can see no wickedness in that. I can’t say that of very many other magicians, though.”

“Are you planning to be like those other magicians?” Alea challenged.

“No!” Blaize declared. “Anything but that!”

“Well said.” Conn’s voice was approving. “If you ever gain power, boy, remember what you’ve said here.”

“If you don’t,” Ranulf’s voice promised, “we’ll remind you.” Blaize couldn’t help shuddering at the thought of the form their “reminding” could take. “I’ll remember!” Then his shoulders slumped. “But I’m not likely to gain much power. So much for my dreams of being a good master!”

“Perhaps it would be better to work to eliminate all masters,” Gar suggested.

“As though we could!” Alea scoffed. “You saw yourself how well that worked on Brigante! All they had done was change masters!”

“Well, yes,” Gar agreed, “but the Scarlet Company was certainly the mildest lord I’ve ever seen.”

“If it was, why were the people so frightened at the thought of going against its orders?”

“I don’t want people to be frightened of me,” Blaize said glumly.

Conn’s voice heaved a weary sigh. “If you have any power at all, lad, people will be afraid when they stop to think what you can do—and if you don’t have power, you can’t do good.”

“But I can’t do evil, either!”

“Which will it be, then?” Ranulf’s voice challenged. “Too weak to do any good, or keeping a close watch on yourself to make sure you don’t do any harm?”

Blaize lowered his gaze, scowling.

“You have to decide, lad,” Conn said. “You can’t do the one without doing the other.”

“Well—if I must I’ll choose to do good,” Blaize said, “and trust you to tell me if I’m doing harm.” Then he looked up, astounded. “What am I saying? I’m not likely to have the power to do either!”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Conn said, “for you’re a magician, albeit one who still has a lot to learn.”

“You’re a ghost leader,” Ranulf reminded him, “and you’ve won two ghosts most thoroughly to your side.”

“Won? No! It was Gar who won you over.”

“No, lad,” Conn’s voice said kindly. “It was your own agonizing about trying to make sure you used your power wisely and well.”

“If you really mean to help the serfs, though,” Ranulf said, “you might start paying attention to them. There are two crouching behind that yew, and three more watching from the rock pile against the cliff face.”

Surprised, Blaize started to turn toward the yew, but Alea said softly, “Don’t look.”

Blaize froze—and found himself staring at Mira, who had been turning to look at the rock pile, too. For a moment, all he could see was her face, her eyes …

Then Gar’s voice broke the spell. “You have to be careful if you try to do the head carpenter’s job.”

“Yes,” said Alea. “You might cut your thumb.”

Gar nodded. “So telling a man to do the master carpenter’s job is like asking a turtle to dinner.”

“Not a good idea,” Alea returned, “if they’re serving turtle soup.”

Blaize stared in consternation, then leaned over toward Mira and asked out of the corner of his mouth, “What are they talking about?”

“Riddles of the Way,” she answered, low-voiced. “We’ve both heard them go on like this, but they always explained them before.”

“You mean they’re actually trying to confuse the serfs?”

“Confuse them, or make them curious,” Mira answered. Blaize nodded slowly. “They’re succeeding. They’ve certainly confused me, and I’m curious as to what they mean.”

“Probably nothing,” Mira opined.

“The highest virtue is low as a valley,” Gar said.

“Yes,” Alea agreed, “and the purest seems to be soiled.”

“Vast virtue never seems to be enough,” Gar lamented. “The virtue of strength seems weak,” Alea said.

“When you get right down to it,” Gar sighed, “reality is simple, but it keeps seeming to change.”

“All virtues are gathered in the Way,” Alea answered.

“Of course,” Gar said, “since the Way includes everything that exists.”

“Including people,” Alea said. “The uncarved block of wood is best.”

“Yes,” Gar said, “but somebody cut it into a block.”

They went on and on. Eventually Blaize, confused by conundrums and bored by hearing what he’d heard before disguised as riddles, rose and went to chop some wood of his own. Mira apparently decided it was a good idea, for she came to her feet, went to fetch water, and set a kettle on to boil—without any turtles.

Finally, dazed and inspired, the serfs slipped away. Alea and Gar kept on until they were well out of sight; then Alea said, “I think we impressed them.”

Gar’s eyes lost focus for a moment. Then he smiled at her. “We did. They’ll be back tomorrow, even though they haven’t the faintest idea what we were talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do myself,” Alea confessed.

“Nor I,” Gar agreed, “but we managed to get across the basic concept of the Tao and people’s proper place in it.”

“So tomorrow we work on how they gain and lose that place?” Alea asked with a grin.

“A good strategy.” Gar nodded. “We might mention why they should want to.”

“All very interesting,” Mira called from the campfire, “but the stew is ready.”

Gar and Alea stared at one another, then burst out laughing.

The serfs came back the next day, still in hiding—only there were eight of them now. Gar and Alea batted paradoxes back and forth like tennis balls while Blaize and Mira demonstrated how to put yourself in harmony with the Way by doing the camp chores. By the forth day there were fifteen peasants, and the youngest ones were edging closer and closer to the limit of the yew bush and the rock pile, perilously close to being clearly visible.

“Shall we give them the final nudge?” Gar asked. “Let’s,” Alea said with a mischievous grin.