The Sorcerer's Widow

CHAPTER NINE

It took another several seconds before Kel’s hearing finally came back, and before he and Dorna were able to confirm that they were both unhurt.

“That was loud,” Kel said, looking around at the scattered shards of metal. At least a dozen patches of grass were scorched where hot fragments had landed, though none seemed to be actually burning; that was presumably the source of the smell he had noticed immediately after the explosion.

“They probably heard it in Sardiron,” Dorna agreed.

“Did you know it would be that loud?”

She shook her head, then raised the hand holding her weapon. “I never used this thing before. I’m not sure whether most of that was from my magic, or from the Northern talisman.” She got to her feet and tucked the weapon in her belt.

Kel started to get up, too, but stopped when he heard Dorna’s sharp intake of breath. “What is it?” he said, looking up. “Isn’t it…”

“The fil drepessis,” Dorna replied. “It’s trying to fix it.”

“What?” Kel straightened up and looked.

Sure enough, the fil drepessis was moving again, and was using its dozen clawed legs to collect the scattered bits of the Northern device. It was moving with astonishing speed.

“We need to stop it,” Dorna said.

Kel looked at her expectantly.

“I’m not sure I know how,” she said. “I mean, I know some things about it, but I don’t know what Ezak did to it. He might have changed something.” She looked back toward where they had taken shelter earlier, and shouted, “Ezak! Come here!”

There was no response. A horrible thought struck Kel.

“Ezak!”

There was still no answer. “Maybe he’s asleep,” Kel suggested.

“After that?” Dorna said, pointing at the smoldering wreckage. “More likely he’s still deaf.”

“Maybe,” Kel said unhappily. He was not about to say so, but he thought it was far more likely that Ezak wasn’t there at all. He had probably run off with that bag of talismans the moment Kel was out of sight over the ridge.

Dorna frowned, and Kel thought she was considering going to fetch Ezak to help them. “He doesn’t know what he did,” Kel said. “He was just slapping it wildly.”

“You’re probably right,” Dorna admitted, turning her attention back to the fil drepessis and the ruined Northern device. “So how do we make it stop fixing that thing?”

Kel looked. It was still gathering fragments, and he remembered what Dorna had told them about talismans being made of exactly the right metals and crystals. It could repair things, it couldn’t make them.

So it needed all the pieces.

It was easier to act than to explain; he dashed forward and snatched up a shiny chunk of gray metal, the biggest one he saw, not counting the base of the cylinder. He almost dropped it again; it was hot. Instead he juggled it from hand to hand until he was able to wrap it in the hem of his tunic, which served to insulate it enough that he could hang onto it, though he could smell cloth scorching. This was his best tunic-really, his only intact tunic-and he knew this was going to ruin it, but he didn’t see any other choice. Once he had the piece secured, he turned around and ran.

The fil drepessis paused, screamed as it had back in the wagon, then came after him, still screaming, moving in that bizarre multi-legged trot it had used when it first left the stableyard.

“Wait!” Dorna shouted, as she followed them.

Kel did not wait; he dashed across the meadow.

When he topped the rise, he saw exactly what he had feared-Ezak was gone. The canvas bag of sorcery was gone. Everything was gone-Ezak must have systematically collected every last item they had brought with them, from Dorna’s talismans to the bloody cloth used to clean his wounds. Nothing remained but a circle of trampled grass.

He glanced back. The fil drepessis was still pursuing him, scarcely a dozen feet away. He had slowed to survey their huddling place; now he picked up his pace again.

“Wait!” Dorna called again, from somewhere behind him. He could barely hear her over the talisman’s shrieking.

Kel did not wait. He had done this sort of thing before, though previously his pursuers had always been human-usually merchants or guardsmen. He knew not to pause, even briefly. Keep moving, that was the rule. Dodge when possible, take unexpected directions, go places the people chasing him couldn’t reach or wouldn’t fit, but most of all, keep moving.

The screaming made it hard to think. Ordinarily he had a destination in mind-usually wherever he and Ezak were living, whether it was an alley, or a cellar, or the attic above Uncle Vezalis’ place on Archer Street, or even the Wall Street Field. The first priority, though, was to lose the pursuit, and then worry about getting home.

Losing the fil drepessis was likely to be difficult, especially out here in open country where there were no corners to dodge around, no carts to hide behind, no walls to climb, no crowds to blend into. It probably didn’t have the usual human limitations- he suspected it wouldn’t need to sleep, and it wouldn’t tire, and it couldn’t be distracted or fooled by any of his usual tricks. He couldn’t hope to just outrun it and go back home to Ethshar of the Sands.

So he needed another destination, one closer at hand. He had originally hoped Ezak was still there, and could slap at the glowing squares on the thing’s top as it went past, but Ezak was gone.

He might be able to stay ahead of the thing all the way back to the Golden Rooster, in Shepherd’s Well, but he doubted it. He had not slept since about midnight, and had eaten only one small meal in that time; he was already tired.

He didn’t remember any useful landmarks along the route; they had cut through farms and meadows, and they had all looked much alike to Kel’s city-bred eyes. He didn’t know where Ezak had gone, and didn’t see an obvious trail.

But that left one other possibility. He was not going to wait for Dorna, but he decided he was going to loop back to her and see if she could stop the fil drepessis somehow.

He slowed to let the fil drepessis get closer, then suddenly dodged sideways, turned left, and put on a fresh burst of speed, running behind the ridge. The fil drepessis turned to follow him, still screaming; a glance back over his shoulder showed him that it had made the turn more efficiently than he had hoped. He turned left again, charging up and over the ridge, and out across the meadow.

Dorna was standing in the middle of the meadow, off to his left, holding her ears; he made a third turn and headed straight for her, calling, “Can you stop it?”

“I don’t…” she began.

Then he was skidding to a stop beside her, holding the fragment of Northern sorcery over his head.

“Try,” he said, as the fil drepessis came rushing toward them.

The talisman did not hesitate; still screaming, it began to run right up Kel’s body, those strange black claws grabbing at his clothes, metal legs wrapping around him.

Dorna grabbed for it, then caught herself and waited until the thing was standing on Kel’s shoulders, stretching three claws up toward the fragment, leaving the glowing blue squares facing her. She reached out and tapped a sequence.

Kel could not see clearly just what had happened, since two metal legs were across his face and the main body of the fil drepessis was on his right shoulder, but the screaming abruptly stopped, and he glimpsed a change in color-blue reflecting on one of the metal legs suddenly mixed with yellow. The talisman stopped moving, and said something in that strange language. Dorna tapped again, in an almost musical rhythm.

It said a single two-syllable word that sounded almost like “coffer,” then climbed back off him, settled to the ground, and folded itself up into its original compact form, the legs sliding into slots in the side of the main body and becoming ribs again. A heap of fragments of the ruined Northern device spilled out of it and lay on the grass beside it.

For a moment Kel and Dorna both simply stood there, panting and looking down at the fil drepessis.

“I wasn’t sure that would work,” Dorna said.

“I’m glad it did,” Kel said. “What did you do?”

“Something Nabal taught me,” she said. “It’s a pattern-you tap it out to the tune of ‘Harbor Bells,’ and it shuts down the fil drepessis. It works on several other talismans, too.”

“‘Harbor Bells’?” That was one of the few songs Kel actually knew, though he always forgot the words to the second verse. “I didn’t hear any music.”

“I was…it was in my head,” Dorna said. “I didn’t need to sing it out loud, so long as I tapped the buttons that went with the tune.”

“Oh.” Kel glanced around, then pointed. “Are we going to do anything about the Northern talisman?”

Dorna shook her head. “It’s broken,” she said. “It isn’t going to hurt anyone. Besides, it was dug into the ground, and I don’t know how far down it goes. I wouldn’t know how to get it out, and what would I do with it if I did? I don’t know how to control it. It’s been there for a couple of hundred years; as far as I’m concerned, it can stay for a couple of hundred more.”

“Oh,” Kel said.

They stood a moment longer, considering the fil drepessis; then Dorna looked up. “Where’s Ezak? I think he should be the one to carry it back.”

“Oh,” Kel said again. “Um. He’s gone.”

Dorna turned to stare at him. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“He’s gone,” Kel said miserably. “He ran off with your bag.”

“He what?” She turned and stormed over to the top of the ridge, where she looked down at the empty space where Ezak should have been.

Kel stayed in the meadow, watching and chewing his lower lip. Only when Dorna had turned and was marching back, fists clenched and brows lowered in fury, did it occur to him that he could run away himself. Dorna wasn’t much taller than he was, and she was probably at least twenty years older, and he had far more experience at such things; he could almost certainly get away from her, unlike the fil drepessis, and then head for Ethshar. He could find Ezak-if he wasn’t in their usual hiding places, he could be reached through his Uncle Vezalis. If Ezak wasn’t back in his uncle’s attic, he would almost certainly have left word there. Vezalis had never liked Kel, nor Ezak, for that matter, but family was family; he would give Kel any message Ezak told him to give. Especially if Ezak had promised him a share of the proceeds from selling the stolen magic.

But that would be…well, Kel wasn’t sure what it would be, but he wasn’t going to do it. He was going to help Dorna get the fil drepessis safely back to Shepherd’s Well. After that, there would be plenty of time to go back to Smallgate and find Ezak.

He stooped and picked up the fil drepessis. It was heavy, as he had expected, but not unmanageable. With an effort, he heaved it up onto his shoulder.

“Ezak, you stinking son of a minor demon, get back here!” Dorna shouted, waving her fist in the air. Kel shook his head. That wouldn’t do any good; Ezak did what he pleased, regardless of what anyone said. He always had, and Kel supposed he always would. When they were children Kel had admired Ezak for it, but more recently he had begun to wish Ezak would behave better; he was tired of running and hiding and having no other friends. Kel began trudging toward the sorcerer’s widow, the heavy talisman on his shoulder.

He was about twenty feet away when Dorna turned and saw him. “I suppose you’re going to steal that, now?” she said.

“No,” Kel said, not stopping. The possibility had not even occurred to him. “I’m just taking my turn carrying it. It’s a long way back to Shepherd’s Well, so I thought we might as well get started.”

Dorna glared at him as he approached. “I can’t stop you from taking it,” she said. “I don’t have any more magic.”

“You have that crooked black weapon. Or you could just trip me, or hit me with something-I can’t run or dodge while I’m carrying this, it’s too heavy. But I’m not stealing it.”

“Why not?”

Kel sighed. “Because you have the weapon and I can’t run, and because I don’t want to. It’s yours.”

Dorna stared at him for another few seconds, then burst into tears.

Kel stopped. He considered putting down the fil drepessis to comfort her, but the thought of lifting it again once it was off his shoulder was daunting, and he didn’t really understand why she was upset, and he had no right to touch her. Instead, after a brief pause, he resumed his slow walk and said, “Come on. Irien is waiting.”

She was still snuffling as he trudged past her, but she turned and followed him.

They had gone most of a mile, and Dorna had dried her eyes, when she said, “I suppose you’re going to meet Ezak somewhere and split the loot.”

Kel needed one hand to steady the talisman, but he turned up the other one. “We don’t have anything planned,” he said. “But I can probably find him back in Ethshar, and he’ll probably give me a share, if there’s anything to share.”

“What do you mean, if there’s anything to share? The sorcery in that bag must be worth fifty rounds of gold!”

“Is it really?” Kel asked, astonished. “That’s a lot of money.” It was, in fact, an almost unimaginable amount of money.

“The thing on your shoulder is worth at least twice that,” Dorna replied.

Kel glanced at the talisman on his shoulder. It was large and heavy, but it was compact, and the leg-ribs made it easy to hold onto. It did not look as if it was worth all that money, but he knew he wasn’t a very good judge of value, so he didn’t say anything..

“Why wouldn’t there be anything to share?” Dorna demanded.

Kel sighed. “Because,” he said, “when Ezak gets it back to Ethshar he’ll either take it to one of the fences in Smallgate, the people who buy and sell stolen things-”

“I know what a fence is,” Dorna interrupted.

“Oh. Well, he’ll either take it to a fence, or he’ll go to Wizard Street in Eastside and look for a buyer there. The thing is, most of the fences don’t like him and don’t trust him. He’s broken a lot of promises, and sold them things that weren’t what he said they were. They might just take the bag from him, beat him up, and throw him in a gutter somewhere; it’s not as if a thief can go to the magistrate about someone stealing the things he stole.”

“Oh,” Dorna said.

“Or he might try to hide most of the magic, and sell it a little at a time, so the buyer would pay up to get the rest, but that doesn’t always work. When Perrea the Rat-Chaser tried that with the stuff she stole from the ruins when Firizal the Blue accidentally turned himself into a dragon and wrecked his shop, Vorak the Fence followed her back to her hole and took everything she had.”

“Oh,” Dorna said again.

“If he goes to Wizard Street-well, the thing is, Ezak always tells some fancy story about where he got whatever it is he’s trying to sell. The fences don’t care, but if a magician knew Ezak was telling lies about where the talismans came from, and some magicians have magic that tells them when someone is lying, well, he might tell the magistrate, or the guardsmen. That would be bad.”

“I see,” Dorna said.

They walked on in silence for awhile after that, as the sun sank toward the western horizon. Then Dorna asked, “Why do you stay with him?”

Kel blinked. “With Ezak?”

“Yes.”

“Because we’re friends. He takes care of me.”

“It seems to me that you take care of him.”

“Sometimes,” Kel agreed.

“It sounds as if he gets you both into trouble a lot.”

“Sometimes,” Kel repeated.

“You might do better on your own,” she said.

Kel shook his head. “Ezak is smarter than I am. I need him.”

“No, he isn’t smarter. He’s an idiot.”

“He’s always been smarter,” Kel insisted.

“When you were kids, maybe-he’s older than you?”

“A couple of years, at least. We don’t really know exactly how old he is.”

“Well, you aren’t kids any more, and believe me, Kel, you’re smarter than he is.”

Kel shook his head and said nothing.

A moment later he said, “He’s bigger than me. He protects me.”

“You wouldn’t need so much protecting if he wasn’t getting you in trouble!”

“He’s my friend.”

“Sooner or later, he’s going to get one of you killed.”

Kel didn’t answer.

The sun was down, and the light was fading, so that Kel no longer saw every rock or rathole and stumbled occasionally as they marched on across the fields, when Dorna suddenly said, “You know there’s still plenty of sorcery in the wagon back at the Golden Rooster, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Kel said.

“So you know I’m going to use it to hunt him down and get my things back?”

“Yes,” Kel said again.

“I warned him.”

“Yes, you did.”

She stared at him for a moment, then said, “For your sake, I won’t kill him if I can avoid it.”

“Thank you,” Kel said. He pointed at a farmhouse ahead, where a lamp had just flared up in a window. “Could we stop there for the night?”

“We can ask,” Dorna said. “I wonder where Ezak will sleep?”

“Probably in a ditch somewhere,” Kel said. “He doesn’t have any money.”

Dorna grimaced; Kel could see that, even in the dim light.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’s used to it.”