Wizard's Bridge

Wizard's Bridge by Karen McCullough

ImaJinn Books www.imajinnbooks.com

Copyright ©2004 by Karen McCullough

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Chapter One In the early afternoon sunshine, the bridge shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. Light shining off it splintered into masses of oranges and reds streaked with violet and indigo and green. Clouds of fiery yellow and serene blue swirled in its depth, constantly changing. Alsa couldn't discern what the substance of the bridge truly was, or even if there were any real matter to it. The general shape was of an arc, but the glimmer obscured any actual outline. She stared down the path that led to it. On either side of the bridge, the short down-slope ended abruptly at the brink of a chasm so deep she couldn't see the bottom until she reached the edge and leaned out. Beyond it, on the other side of the rift, the path wound upward again, climbing the side of the mountain to the castle, still well above her. Under ordinary circumstances, Alsa had too much sense to risk crossing a bridge of such dubious substance. But need rode her hard. The safety and survival of an entire town rested on her talent. That burden drove her to the span and forced her to attempt its crossing. She stepped onto it carefully, tentatively. Beneath her, the colors whirled in oily, sparkling slicks and puffed out from the surface in misty clouds. Her boots seemed to press into and through the surface, touching nothing solid, only a soft, yielding cushion. She sank into it up to her ankles, but found it supported her weight without trapping her or hindering her steps. 3

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The pliant surface inspired little confidence, nonetheless. Were she not so desperate, she would have turned back. Even now she badly wanted to, while she was still within reaching distance of the mountainside's solid, rocky ground. Too many people depended on her. She lifted one foot and set it down ahead of the other, wincing and rocking to keep her balance as it squashed into the cloudy nothingness that was something after all. The bridge was only a few feet wide, with no parapet, so she had to concentrate on keeping her balance. Each step planted at a different depth, and she could never anticipate exactly how much to adjust her shifting weight. Fortunately the attention required kept her from thinking about other things—like the fall she risked, or how far down the bottom of the rift was. Each movement was an adventure, every stride an invitation to disaster. Even after she'd crossed almost half the span, it never stopped feeling as though her foot might slide all the way through whatever material comprised the bridge, dragging her body into a fall too horrible to contemplate. With each step carefully considered, then just as precisely executed, it took a long time to cross. The end came upon her suddenly. After watching her feet so closely, she looked up finally to see the edge only a step or two away. Alsa gathered herself and covered the remaining distance in one giant leap that carried her onto solid ground. She stumbled as she landed and fell headlong. Winded, she lay stretched out on the ground while she struggled to regain her breath and her confidence. Her fingers dug into the 4

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thin layer of dirt over rock, clinging to its warmth and solidity. It felt like a mother, holding her to its bosom. Only after she turned her head and noted the position of the sun did she push herself upright and set off again. No more time to waste if she wanted to make it to the castle before dark. The path wound steeply upwards, in a series of narrow bends and sharp curves, with occasional short detours around downed trees or fallen rocks. Above and ahead, the tops of several slender towers appeared, their sharp, pointed tops spearing the clouds. The smell gave the first clue to the next hazard she faced: a compound of sulfur, smoke and something animal. She hesitated and sniffed and suspected, but having braved the bridge, she refused to let a little thing like a guard-dragon stop her. Or even a big thing, which the guard-dragon surely would be. The rumble made her pause again, after only a few more yards of progress. The creature surged into view from behind the castle's stone walls. Its long neck wove a graceful curve as it reared up, while sunlight glinted off its scales. Alsa ducked behind a nearby stone and then poked up her head to stare at it in frank admiration, despite the inadequacy of her cover, and with full knowledge that the dragon would likely char her on the spot. It must have extraordinary hearing to detect her approach from such a distance. She'd tried to keep her movements quiet and thought she'd succeeded. Wrong. "Little mortal!" 5

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The dragon's harsh, grinding voice boiled like a volcano. Its giant eyes trained on her. Gleams of colored light whirled in the depths of slitted pupils. Its sudden laugh had both the crack and rumble of thunder. "Little mortal, what do you here?" it asked. "We have visitors so rarely." Alsa risked poking her head out from behind the rock again. "I'm not surprised. Your hospitality is legendary." The blast that followed was probably the dragon equivalent of a chuckle. "Did you come to look at me? Your people seem to enjoy the challenge. I hear that in the town they say it's good luck to have looked on the dragon and lived. Since few do survive, I suppose it can be rightly said they are lucky." "I've come to consult with your master." "Master?" A puff of steam billowed from outraged nostrils stretched wide open. "Perhaps I phrased that badly. I wish to talk to the wizard. Would you grant your permission?" The mountain shook as the dragon bellowed its amusement. "Of course not. But thank you for asking." "Even if—" "I haven't had a good laugh for some time," the dragon went on, ignoring her plea. "Perhaps I'll let you get as far as the castle door, if you care to make the attempt. Perhaps. Have you the courage to risk it, little mortal?" Alsa abandoned the dubious protection of the stone, stood up and moved into an open area. "Yes." "Then walk. You've had no trouble finding the path so far." "It's well enough marked." 6

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"The wizard may not like commerce with your people, but he still has need of food and supplies." "You'll let me go on?" "I said 'perhaps.' Take your chances." "I will then." Alsa said it with more confidence than she felt, hoping dragons weren't as good at reading human emotions as they were at hearing human footsteps. She began to walk up the path toward the castle. And the dragon. "I like the ones with spirit the best." The dragon, it appeared, was in a chatty mood. "There haven't been many over the years. Plenty come to look, but mostly they turn and run the other way when they see me. Or sometimes when I loose the first blast of flame." The dragon reared back and made a sound like a giant sneeze. A sheet of fire poured from its mouth. The flame singed grass and trees directly behind her. Alsa kept moving, trying to ignore it, though the stench—a combination of sulfur and burning wood—made her gag, and the heat warmed her cloak more than felt quite safe. "What did those poor trees ever do to you?" she asked. The dragon nodded its head to one side, the dragon equivalent of a shrug, she supposed. "The woods need to be cleared out periodically. Encourages new growth. You're braver than most. That sent the last three who dared the path running for cover." "Have you lived here long?" Perhaps if she kept the dragon talking, he'd forget about frying her. "What is long? A hundred or so cycles of seasons. I confess the last few cycles have begun to feel rather meaningless. I 7

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mean, we're born, we grow up, we flame a few people, consort with a wizard or two, and we die. What's the point of it all?" "You're making me cry. Perhaps if you tried planting trees rather than blasting them, you might find a clue." "Do you think so? I've never been much for gardening. I tend to trample things." "Your size. I suppose that does make it difficult." "Extremely. So, tell me why you're so eager to see the wizard." "I have a deal to offer him." "Oh, ho! Perhaps I will let you get there. The last person who wanted to make a deal still has a nest in a corner of the chimney." He paused, and one eye half-closed. "Unless that was the one caught in the trap in the pantry last week. Oh well." Alsa refused to consider the implied threat. "I think I can offer something he wants." "And how would you know what a great wizard wants?" "I've heard enough talk." "In your puny town. What do they know about a powerful wizard?" "There are a few who've had ... rather close contact with him." Apparently the dragon knew what she referred to. It grew quiet for a moment, and then it loosed another hot, foulsmelling blast of fiery gas that cleared a new path through the trees, passing no more than three feet from where she walked. 8

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Alsa didn't stop, didn't even pause in the process of picking her way around rocks in the path. "You've really got to do something about that breath problem," she muttered, low, though, since she didn't see any use in offending the creature. For the last hundred yards or so, the path rose steeply to the castle door. Rocks littered the way in such abundance, it became more a stone staircase than a path, except they tended to roll out from underfoot or wobble when stepped on, making for chancy purchase. Alsa fell once, scraping a knee, but got up and continued, taking more care with her steps. She had no more attention to spare for banter with the dragon. When she reached an immense wooden door, she stopped and looked up. The dragon still watched her. Its huge head and neck were off slightly to her left and almost directly above, so she had to lean well back to see it. "Thanks for lighting the way for me," she offered. Steam hissed from its nostrils and its body rocked a little. A strange gurgling noise—another chuckle—issued from its throat before it responded: "The pleasure was all mine, I'm sure. Best of luck, little mortal. You'll need it." The dragon gathered itself, flapped enormous wings and launched itself into the sky. The backwash of air almost knocked her down the hill again. Alsa had to grab a nearby sapling and cling to it until the whirlwind passed and the sinewy, gleaming body of the dragon disappeared somewhere behind the castle. 9

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Chapter Two An immense knocker decorated the massive door, situated so high she could barely reach it. The ogre's-head base didn't exactly welcome visitors, nor did the heft of the knocker's bar—almost too heavy to budge—offer any encouragement. She managed to lift the bar high enough to let it fall with a clang against the bronze ogre's chin. The resounding bong sounded out of proportion even to the enormous size of the metal parts. The noise echoed in her ears, making her bones rattle. Long minutes passed with no result, and Alsa started to wonder if there was a back door she might tackle. The precarious perch of the castle on the mountaintop, bordering on a sharp drop-off behind, didn't offer much hope of success in finding an alternate entrance. About the time she'd decided to try to find one anyway, a metallic snap sounded, and the door began to swing, slowly, ponderously, inward. "Thank you for seeing me. I know you don't often admit visitors, but I thought you might want to..." She faltered in her prepared, oft-rehearsed speech as the opening grew wide enough to admit outside light to the darkened hall within. No one stood there. After a moment's debate, she stepped into the gloomy interior and peered around. A large antechamber surrounded her with high ceilings and walls of dark stone, lined with huge, dark tapestries. A very empty room. She even glanced behind the door. No one was there. 10

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She fought a quick urge to run out again when the door began to reverse its course and slide shut. But she'd braved an insubstantial bridge and a fire-spitting dragon to get here; little things like a door that moved on its own and a gloomy, unwelcoming room shouldn't terrify her. Her shaking hands didn't seem to get the message, though. The door crashed to a halt in its frame, and the echoes reverberated off the stone walls for some time. When they died down, and her head stopped ringing, she considered her next move. Wait for someone to show up to greet her? Or risk appearing discourteous by wandering around the castle uninvited? Alsa called out "Hello?" in the loudest, most forceful voice she could manage while still sounding friendly. Her query seeped into the emptiness of the cavernous rooms and shadowy passages leading off it, then disappeared, sucked into the vacuum. No response came. She waited a few more minutes, drew a deep breath when she still had no answer, and set off into the passage that led to the right. Occasional globes of phosphorescent material hung on brackets along the hall, lending an unsettling radiance to the stone walls and floor. They weren't the strangest feature of the corridor, however. Pieces of sculpture and pottery adorned its length, sitting on shelves or in deep notches in the wall, some in traditional shapes, others depicting weird, twisted knots or creatures she didn't recognize. They cast arrays of bizarre shadows around them. Periodically, rooms opened off the hallway. She glanced into a few that had open arches and no doors, but most were 11

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so darkened by heavy drapes at the windows she couldn't see anything of their contents. The few that were lit contained basic furniture, a bit more of the artwork, but no other person nor much indication of use by one. A thread of sound floated her way, soft strains of music echoing down the passage from somewhere well ahead. She followed the notes along the corridor to an immense, arched doorway. One of two large panels stood partly ajar. The music came from within. When she squeezed past the narrow opening, an enormous hall, like a vast ballroom, with a raised dais at one end lay before her. The platform was empty. A fire crackling in a niche along one side wall provided little help against the chilly feel of the room. A single armchair faced the fireplace, drawn up close to the warmth, and angled so she couldn't see if anyone occupied it. She glanced around, searching for the source of the music and found nothing to account for it. The sound surrounded her, a melody woven with strings and backed by a deep percussion, coming from every direction at once, but no instruments were visible. As she hesitated, the music stopped and a voice emanated from the vicinity of the chair. "You've come this far, you might as well come all the way in." The words boomed, then echoed off the bare stone walls and floor. Alsa shrugged and marched into the room, heading toward the chair. "You're a bold one, walking in here as though the place belonged to you." 12

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"The door opened. I got the impression I'd been invited." By sheer force of will, Alsa made the words sound confident and fearless. Rumbling laughter ensued. "The door will let anyone enter. The trick is making it let you out again." "I'll deal with it should the time come." She moved forward until she could see around the high back of the chair. And stopped there, momentarily frozen in shock. The huge, booming voice had come from a form so wizened and shriveled it reminded her of an oversized, dried gourd with a small, wrinkled head on one end and stick-like arms and legs. Standing, he wouldn't be as tall as she. The face was a mosaic of deeply incised lines and folds of loose skin. Thin, scraggly gray hair clung to the scalp. Only the eyes—buried deep in the sockets, but a clear, brilliant green with a spark in their depths—suggested anything of the power it was said the man wielded. This was the great wizard? The man the girls in the village whispered about and occasionally even sighed over? Had those who'd actually had contact with him lied? Or did he assume a different form to avoid disgusting them? The homely features didn't encourage her to get any closer as he let his gaze roam over her from head to foot and back again. "You're prettier than most of them." he said. "I'm more than a pretty face," Alsa answered. "But it did seem like it might be helpful. I'm aware you've found use in an attractive body before. I presume you're the wizard everyone seems so concerned about." 13

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For a moment he didn't react, then he loosed a roar of laughter so deep and resonant it threatened to shake the entire castle. She simply couldn't reconcile that voice with the form. "You're an impudent young woman. An imprudent one, too, to bait the lion in his den with all the doors locked behind you. "I have your attention." "Which only serves to prove my second point." "You haven't heard why I'm here." "Then perhaps we should come to that. First, though, you might want to consider what kind of creature you'd like to spend the rest of your life as. I have a reputation to maintain. And while a pretty face works to your benefit, I doubt you can offer me anything I can't find elsewhere." "But perhaps I can offer it to you in more convenient form." His expression changed suddenly from sarcastic amusement to surprise, then onto speculation and a genuine, if dangerous, interest. "You came to offer yourself to me?" "I came to discuss a deal, but before we go any further, I want it clear I came here of my own free will, and I must have the option to leave in the same way. And in the same form in which I arrived." "You walk into my home uninvited and think you can dictate the terms of any consequent discussion? You presume much, woman." He stood, but his diminutive size muted the impact of his approach. Still, scraggly gray eyebrows lowered 14

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into a dangerous scowl that narrowed his fierce green eyes into glowing slits. "Perhaps," she said, refusing to step back and admit he intimidated her, "but I won't go any further with the discussion until I have your promise." His voice thundered out the reply. "This is my home, and I'll decide what we discuss." Alsa forced herself to assume an appearance of casual nonchalance. "I can wait for you to think about it." "There's nothing to think about. You'll tell me why you came or I'll turn you into a fish and throw you in the moat." "If it suits you. But then you'll never know what you might have gained from me." For a moment she saw the anger begin to collect in a mist of power wreathing his head. A grayish cloud, slashed with angry red streaks, briefly obscured his features. Then it dissipated. He frowned and reached up to scratch at a crooked nose with a bony hand. His breath flew out on a loud sigh, and he flung himself back into the chair. "Oh, very well. I give you your promise. You may walk out again, should you wish, and in your own form." "Thank you." "Don't bother. Just tell me why you came." She looked around pointedly, but he didn't take the hint. After a moment she snorted, walked across the room to get a chair from a far corner, and dragged it over to the fire. The warmth provided an immediate reward for the effort, making her realize how chilly she'd become in the cold, stone interior. "I told you, I've come to offer you a deal." 15

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"That implies you have something I want." "Don't I?" She stretched a little, just enough to emphasize the push of her breasts against the fabric of her shirt. Whatever reservations she might have had about offering herself were squashed under the weight of need and desperation. She saw the direction of his gaze and felt a small stab of satisfaction in knowing she wasn't completely wrong. "And if I should be interested in discussing a bargain, what might you want in return for your ... considerations?" He assumed the air of a man discussing a theoretical situation. His interest was hooked and she knew it. "Training," she said. He looked perplexed. "Training?" "In wizardry. I have a spark of the talent, but I need someone to help me develop it and teach me how to use it." "What makes you sure you have any aptitude?" "I know," she answered. He accepted that. "And why do you need the training so badly?" "I have a talent that's crying for release and to be put in service." He studied her for a few long minutes, looking hard into her eyes. Actually, she had the impression he was looking through her eyes, down into her heart and soul. Without thinking, she threw up what mental shields she thought might keep him out of her most private musings. He recoiled sharply. "Don't get carried away by your meager talent. And don't insult my abilities with that sob story about talent crying out for release." 16

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"Are you interested in working something out?" "Possibly." He tapped the side of the chair several times before he continued. "You might just be able to give me what I need." He looked her up and down slowly, twice, a nasty amusement spreading across his ugly features as he did so. "Not quite what you think, though. You won't like what I have in mind." His expression turned oddly wry "First, though, I must know why you want the training so badly. The real reason." Alsa considered, then decided the truth might serve. "I come from the town of St. Michael's Spire at the foot of the mountain. Not all of our neighbors like us very much, and some are downright jealous because we have control of the river and some very good farmland. One of those other towns has tried to attack us a couple of times and will again soon. We just barely drove them off before, but they've made an alliance with another of our neighbors, and I doubt we can defend ourselves against a combined attack." "A trained wizard in your midst would be a great advantage." "Obviously." "But would it be enough? Even wizardry has its limits. A large enough army would push past it." "Is that why you live up here in this isolated place with your pet dragon?" He laughed, less dramatically and with more real amusement. "If you think that dragon a pet, you mistake the situation." "Quite possibly." 17

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He nodded. "Wizards are human, too, and vulnerable to arrows and swords on the battlefield like any other mortal." "Is that your concern?" Alsa asked. "I'm not asking you to take my place. I just want you to train me for it." "But should you die out there, I lose my part of the bargain." "It will be your incentive to train me well." "And so I shall, should we agree, but it will be your part to stay alive long enough to fulfill your end of the bargain. "Which is?" He studied her again, a glint of speculation in his eyes. "You will bear my child." When she could talk again, she asked, "A child? Why?" "Wizards are human, even if we do live longer than ordinary mortals. Eventually, though, we die just as others do, and the dying is borne more easily knowing one leaves part of one's own flesh and blood behind." "That I understand. But why me?" "I could say because you're here, but it's not just your presence alone. You do have a spark of the power. It would increase my son's chances of inheriting it in greater strength." "Your son? You're so sure it wouldn't be a daughter?" "It would be a son. And he would be mine. Once you've borne him, you leave. The child remains with me. You can be very sure he would be cared for well." The silence stretched so long he finally looked at her and said, "The price is too high?" "It's just a surprise. I never guessed..." She studied the misshapen face with deeper interest, trying to delve into the 18

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greenish eyes as he had looked into her earlier, willing herself to see him with clearest sight. For a moment, as she surveyed the wizened face with its scraggly eyebrows, loose skin, mismatched cheekbones, slitted eyes and crooked nose, something seemed to happen to her vision. Light wavered and misted, shapes contorted, and briefly there seemed to be another face behind the one visible, as though the surface were a transparent mask she could see through. Before she could really get a look at the visage beneath, he spoke again, breaking her concentration. "Did you not guess a wizard might have such a human need?" "I never thought about it." "Too outrageous even to conceive?" he suggested, smiling a little at his own pun. "But it needn't be quite as bad as it seems. I could come to you in a more palatable form." The outlines of the man suddenly misted again and blurred. For a moment she saw only a hazy mass as shapes bulged, twisted and reformed. The shape continued to pulse for a while longer, then settled into the form and visage of a different man. A much younger, very comely man. The face had a strong, square chin, evenly formed features and a pleasant smile. Only the eyes, still a rich, clear green, remained the same. The body was tall and slim, with shapely limbs attached to a graceful trunk, a strong chest, straight back and firm shoulders. A man to dream about. "I think you would find this form more acceptable?" The voice was the same deep baritone, with somewhat less reverberance to back it. 19

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She stared at the revised figure. This form was, without doubt, handsome. The body was nicely wrought and appealing. The face would have all the village girls sighing for him. And yet, knowing it an illusion, she found the visage did not appeal to her as much as it might have. As she watched him, she wondered if the previous form had been reality or another deception. She strained to see through the surface now showing to find what was within. If she had any power within her, she ought to be able to get some glimpse of the truth. For a moment, she thought the outline wavered again. She still saw the well-formed face he'd assumed, but hiding just underneath she could detect the shadow of another set of features. She brought all her power to bear on revealing that face. The current form didn't disappear, but a second shape began to solidify behind it. A different face, though the eyes were the same deep green ... Before she could get any real view of it though, the mist roiled again, thickened, and then settled back into the handsome face she now knew was a mask. "It's more acceptable, but I'd like your own face even better," she said "No, you wouldn't." Perhaps he needed his defense. She shrugged. "This will do, then." "You'd agree to such a deal?" He sounded more suspicious than confident. "You won't enjoy the training. Much of it is demanding, uncomfortable and unpleasant. I must have your complete and unquestioning obedience in everything, plus 20

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your constant effort and attention. I'll tolerate nothing less. It will be hard on you. And I guarantee nothing of the outcome. Learning your power is something only you can do, and the outcomes of any battles you engage in are your own responsibility." "I can't guarantee I'll conceive either," she pointed out. "You will," he promised. "My name is Korlen. You will call me Master Korlen."

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Chapter Three The beginning of the training, the next morning, was not at all what she'd expected. And she didn't enjoy it. After a quick tour of the castle, the wizard showed her a closet where he kept housekeeping supplies and instructed her to clean the floors of several of the main rooms. "What has mopping floors got to do with magic?" she demanded indignantly. "This isn't what I came here for." He wasn't impressed by her anger. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her with impassive green eyes. "Can you tell me what a drop of water has to do with magic?" "That's what you're supposed to be teaching me." "Precisely." He walked away before she could work out what answer she should have given. The floors, like almost everything in the castle, were a mess. It appeared the wizard dropped trash all over the place and never bothered to pick it up. Alsa had to use a broom and sweep before she could even think about the mop. The exercise did afford her a chance to look more closely at some of the various nooks and crannies of the castle, and their contents, while she rested between bouts of cleaning. There were a lot of odd little corners filled with more of the strange artwork she'd noted in the hall when she'd arrived. Statues carved from wood or chiseled from stone depicted bears and shrews, lions and dragons, and a few creatures she didn't recognize Paintings hanging or just propped against the wall showed landscapes of vast red, sandy plains and orange22

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yellow trees, unlike anything she'd ever seen before And occasional structures as tall as herself were wrought from a combination of metal fused into strange angles and twists, holding vivid panels of stained-glass mosaics. Niches, in series along the walls of several rooms, held porcelain vases and urns, in varying sizes, shapes and glaze colors. Everything needed dusting. Yet beneath the dust, each piece was beautiful in its own individual way. She wouldn't have guessed the wizard for an art collector. Then she wondered why, if he went to the trouble to acquire such beautiful things, he didn't bother to keep them clean. Her shoulders and back ached from the effort, but the terrazzo floors in the entrance hall, ballroom and a smaller reception room gleamed by the time she finished sweeping and mopping. In the afternoon, Master Korlen joined her in the ballroom where they'd first met, for the initial lesson in wizardry. He went to an enormous wooden armoire in a corner, dug out three fist-sized balls and demonstrated the technique of juggling them. It looked easy when he did it, and she wondered what kind of magic he used to keep them flowing so smoothly. Then he handed the balls to her and invited her to try it. She waited for him to explain the rest of the procedure. He frowned and said, "Go on." "Aren't you going to show me how to do it?" He rolled his eyes. "I did. Try it!" "You showed me how to toss the balls up in the air. You didn't show me the magic to control their paths." 23

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"The magic is that you train your muscles to throw the balls at precisely the right speed and angle," he answered. "Keep your mind on what you're doing and let nothing else intrude. Give it a try." "That's not my idea of magic. Anyone can learn that." "But few do. Try it." It took several attempts before she was even able to get all the balls in the air at the same time. And then they kept flying in different directions. He made her continue practicing until her arms were sore. "This is ridiculous!" she said, after she'd managed to drop the balls for the fiftieth time and had to chase them into various corners of the room. "What has juggling to do with learning magic?" "Try it again," he said, when she'd collected them. Master Korlen studied her calmly, raising his angled, dark brows only a bare fraction and waiting until she fumbled the balls up in the air once more. "Do you know the ten disciplines of the complete wizard?" He waited, but since she was absorbed in juggling, she didn't answer. One ball veered off to the left. Alsa stretched to reach it, and the other two drifted off on different trajectories. She swore under her breath, stopped and studied the wizard's face, the handsome, expressionless face that was a lie, and looked into the deep green eyes that weren't. But she couldn't find any enlightenment there, either. "Everything has its point," he said. "It will come together. We made a bargain. Do you trust me to keep it?" "I hope so," she answered. 24

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He watched her just as hard and finally nodded. "It'll do for now. I have work to do. Practice the juggling for another twenty minutes, then you can rest for a while before dinner." Alsa muttered about insufferable wizards and stupid demands as he turned and left the room. If he heard her, he gave no sign. She dutifully continued practicing dropping balls in new and creative ways, although she did have one small, memorable stretch of a couple of minutes when she was able to keep them all moving in synch. When her time was up, she decided to retreat to a spacious, walled garden that spilled off one side of the castle, where she could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. The wizard had shown it to her on the tour of the castle that morning. Rampantly overgrown clumps of perennial flowers, shrubs badly in need of trimming, weeds climbing over paths, and vines twining up benches and trees all suggested someone had planted the garden years before and then left it to survive or not on its own. One side of the garden faced over a steep drop-off. Alsa leaned over the wall, gazing down, but the valley below was a long way off. She'd hoped to be able to see her home, but this was the wrong side of the mountain. When she was young she'd wondered what lay beyond the wall of rock that loomed over her town. The answer appeared to be, from this height at least, not much. She moved back and stretched out on a nearby bench to rest. Moments later, the sound of wings beating heavily woke her from a light doze. She opened her eyes to see the dragon settling on a shelf protruding from the side of the mountain well below the garden wall. Even so, the creature's head 25

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loomed above her. It watched her steadily from enormous, red-centered, shimmering gray eyes. "The wizard let you stay," it commented. "We made a deal. It appears I can offer him something he wants." "Oh, I knew that." The dragon's immense brow crinkled a little. "I'm surprised he was willing to admit it. He's managed for a long time now on his own. But what is it you want here, little mortal?" "He's teaching me magic. At least I think he is. So far what he's shown me doesn't seem much like wizardry." "Give it time," the dragon said. "I'm glad he didn't turn you into a mouse or a rabbit. They're such boring creatures. You're going to be much more interesting." "Nice to know someone thinks so. He acts like I'm just a nuisance he must tolerate to get what he wants." "Well, aren't you?" the dragon asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Yes, but it isn't polite of him to be so obvious about it." The dragon considered that for a moment. "I don't think he's very good at being polite." "I know he isn't," she answered. "But don't you find him a nuisance you have to tolerate to get what you want?" the dragon asked. "You know, you could turn out to be a nuisance, too, if you're going to insist on being reasonable when all I want to do is whine and complain." "Oh. I misunderstood. Did you want me to argue with you?" the dragon asked. 26

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"No. A little commiseration would be nice. I'm feeling sort of lonely and homesick." "What's commiseration?" "It's when you act like you feel the same way as ... that you share someone's feelings ... oh, never mind. It isn't going to work if I have to explain it to you anyway. By the way, do you have a name?" "Name?" it asked. "Name. What people call you. You know like, I'm Alsa, and the wizard is Korlen. What are you called?" "I'm Dragon," it said. "Just Dragon? But how do you distinguish yourself when you're with other dragons?" "There are no other dragons around here." "You're the only one? There aren't any others around? Don't you miss them?" "Miss them?" Confusion made its eyes seem to whirl in an interesting, almost hypnotic, way. "Wish you could see more of them?" "Why should I? They just want to share my food and my treasures when they do come around." "Oh," Alsa said. "But don't you have—?" The conversation was cut short by the appearance of the wizard at the door, suggesting she should come in and dress for dinner. The dragon flapped its wings and rose from its perch without saying good-bye. Alsa got up also. But as she passed him to go inside, she asked Master Korlen, "Dress for dinner?" 27

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"It shows respect for the food and the person who prepared it. In this case, myself. My cooking deserves to be treated as an event worth noting." She heard a note of pride in his tone and wondered why a wizard who could move mountains and shift the course of rivers would value such a mundane skill. "I'm glad you think so. But I don't have any nice clothes with me. I don't have anything but what I'm wearing. I don't think these qualify, somehow," she said, indicating the dusty, dun-colored trousers, off-white shirt, and brown leather vest she wore. The wizard looked down his long, straight, handsome nose at her clothes and grimaced. "They don't. You'll find what you need in the closet of the room I've given you." She couldn't hide her astonishment. "You've provided clothes for me?" "You'll need some, won't you?" "Yes, but..." "Go dress, before the food spoils." His dark hair waved in the breeze. She wondered if that was part of the illusion of his appearance, something that gave it more credibility. It was dangerous, though, because it made him seem far too real, and the seeming was perilously handsome. She drew a deep breath and moved past him, into the castle. An assortment of lovely gowns, in a variety of styles and colors, awaited her selection. To her considerable surprise, all appeared to fit as though they'd been made for her. The food also justified his claim that his cooking was worth the attention. The roast was cooked to perfection, with just a 28

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hint of pink at the center to preserve the tenderness, and the vegetables were crisp and savory, the flavor enhanced by the addition of a subtle blend of herbs. Alsa, who knew little about cooking, had no idea what they were, but she appreciated the effect on the taste of the food. "You do your own cooking?" she asked. "Who else should I expect to do it?" "I don't know," she admitted. "I thought possibly you conjured things up and they ... appeared. "I could." He stared thoughtfully at a piece of meat he'd just speared with his fork. "But achieving the right taste would take almost as much work setting up the spell as it does to cook it." "It would? You can't simply say, 'meat, appear' or such, and have it be there?" He grinned suddenly, and it was so unexpectedly appealing her heart skipped a beat. "I could," he answered. "But you wouldn't want to eat the result." "Why not?" "You'll enjoy your dinner a great deal more if I don't tell you." "Oh." That silenced her for a moment while she grappled with possible meanings and ate a piece of carrot liberally coated with gravy. "What about the clothes?" "What about them?" "Did you conjure this?" She fingered the fine, light green broadcloth sleeve of the dress she wore. 29

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"In a sense. Although it might be more accurate to say I commissioned it." "I don't understand." "I presented the designs and proportions. The work was done under my direction." "It would take all the local seamstresses I know weeks of work to put together the selection of clothes in my wardrobe. But you didn't even know I was coming." She stared at him, trying to gauge how much he might know. "Did you?" "Not until the dragon spied you crossing the bridge." "So you admit you don't know everything. That's reassuring. But then how did you get these done so fast?" "Let's just say I have access to labor you can't even imagine at the moment." "Is this one of the things you're going to teach me about?" "Eventually." "Oh." They ate in silence for a moment. But she had too many questions to keep quiet for long. "Do you always dress for dinner?" "When I have guests." "How often is that? You don't exactly encourage visitors." "No. It's not often, though other wizards will drop in occasionally." "I didn't realize there were that many." "Wizards? There aren't. The trait for it isn't all that common, and many people who have it never realize it." "But you have a few friends among them." "A few." 30

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She chewed that over as she mopped up the rest of her food. "When did you realize you had the talent yourself?" The green eyes darkened. He drew a deep breath, paused for a moment, eyed her empty plate, and stood up abruptly. "I've had enough. Are you finished?" She looked up at him. "I presume the conversation is ended? You could just say you'd prefer not to answer the question." He stared back at her, his gaze direct and troubled. His fists curled around the edge of the table, holding it so hard his knuckles paled. "But then you'd inevitably want to know why, and I'd have to explain why I didn't want to answer, and you'd have another comeback, and we'd end up arguing about it." "A good argument can be an interesting exercise, too," she pointed out. "No doubt," he said, "but you've no idea what you risk when you quarrel with a wizard." She hated letting him have the last word, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of an adequate comeback. When he invited her to join him in the ballroom after dinner, she was surprised. He'd squashed their dinner conversation pretty effectively. What would they talk about now? Unless he planned more lessons. Neither of those was what he had in mind, however. He poured two cups of steaming tea from a carafe and led the way to the immense ballroom at the rear of the castle. Once there, he invited her to be seated in the same chair she'd dragged over to the fireplace on her arrival. A flame sprung 31

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up abruptly in the wood in the fireplace when he flapped his hand to either side and spoke a few words. Within minutes the warmth from it drove off the room's chill. He settled in the chair opposite hers, the teacup balanced on his thigh. Another motion of his arm, accompanied by a longer, murmured incantation, set a soft, sweet series of notes rippling through the air. The gentle music swelled gradually into a symphony of complicated melodies, interwoven with parallel lines of tunes, backed by percussive sets of counterpoints, and other complications. As it grew, it sounded as though more and more different instruments joined in. Alsa knew only a little of music, but she found this fascinating to listen to. There was no obvious source, however. She looked around the room, trying to trace the origins of the sound. The music didn't come at her from a particular direction. It surrounded her, ringing from every corner of the room, from each wall, drifting down from above and up from the floor. There were no instruments in sight, very little other furniture, and certainly no other people. Alsa looked to Korlen. The wizard sat back in the chair, his head resting at a slight angle, eyes closed as he concentrated. His face, the false one, was lean and narrow, with beautifully sculpted cheekbones and sensual lips. At the moment the hard lines of it relaxed as he followed the music, tapping his fingers against the side of the chair in time. It tempted her to try to look again for the true visage behind the mask, but she hesitated to invade his obvious peace. Nor did she want to deny herself the pleasure of studying him. 32

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Moments later, his eyes snapped open, anyway, and caught her staring. He didn't drop the eye contact but watched her just as fiercely for a few minutes. His green eyes captured her gaze and refused to let go. Deep eyes, hard and knowing, but capable of ... almost anything, perhaps. Something grew in the space of their consideration of each other, something almost tangible, stretching like a connecting line between them. Something that both disturbed and excited her. It joined them and then began to shrink, tightening, pulling them together. Part of her wanted to know what would happen when they came closer; another part was terrified by the idea. The music swelled to a sudden crescendo, drawing her attention again, breaking whatever spell he wove around her. Alsa turned her head to listen to the last sweet, pure notes, and the unseen linkage between them dropped away and dissolved. Just as well, she told herself, but didn't entirely believe it. "How are you doing that?" she asked, as much to take her mind off what had just gone between them as from curiosity to know. "It's beautiful, but I don't see any instruments." "Air elementals," he said, with just the slightest breathlessness betraying that he'd been affected as well. "Air elementals? How?" By the time she looked back at him, the impassive, withdrawn-from-caring expression was back on the mask that was his face. "Sound is just moving air," he said. "Our ears receive it, and our brains translate the vibrations into music or speech 33

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or whatever. I create air elementals vibrating in different ways and combine them to create the music." "It's beautiful. And amazing. Did you compose the music yourself?" "Not that piece. That was Malosky's third symphony. I've tried my hand at it a bit, but I can't match the genius of most of the classics." "Would you let me hear something you composed?" "Maybe sometime. Not tonight." He whispered again, and a new tune began. Livelier this time, with a simple, rapid melody line and a compelling beat. The kind of music she'd danced to in the town hall each Saturday night after the new moon. They didn't speak much again, except when she told him which tunes she liked and why. After a few more, he stood up, extinguished the fire with a hand gesture and a brief word, and said, "Enough for tonight. Sleep well." **** The rest of the mornings of her first week at the castle were spent in much the same way as her first—cleaning up the place. She washed light fixtures and dusted furniture, artwork and endless shelves of books. Alsa spent half of one day taking the tapestries outside to hang in the garden and beating them with a racquet-like thing to get the dust out of them. She ended up with dust in her hair, her clothes, her eyebrows and up her nose. The next day she polished every bit of brass hardware in the place until it gleamed. Master Korlen provided little help beyond what he referred to as 34

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"supervisory expertise," which seemed to involve pointing out every little spot or smudge she missed. When she objected she'd bargained for training in wizardry, not a position as housekeeper, he asked, "And what do you know of how training in magic is conducted?" "Not much," she admitted. "But I know the difference between a wizard and a washer-woman." "Do you, truly? I think I could show you at least one great wizard and, if you saw her on the streets, you'd say she was nothing but a washer-woman. You know nothing but the surface. If you truly expect to master the magics, you must develop a deeper insight." "So what exactly am I learning now by scrubbing windows and cleaning the cutlery?" The handsome face he wore remained still and cool, unmoved by her anger and outrage. Forget about the feeling of connection she'd gotten with him that first night. Alsa decided she'd never met anyone she loathed as much. An attractive face meant nothing if it didn't go with an attractive personality. "You'll have to find understanding of it for yourself. Most of magic is self-taught. A teacher only guides you onto the paths you have to trace to find what you need." He turned and left. Fuming, and no more reconciled to the effort, she got back to work. He generally disappeared into a private area of the castle he reserved for himself while she worked. He'd told her that entire end of the hall was off-limits. In return for her promise to respect his privacy, he agreed her bedroom and the suite 35

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of rooms adjoining it were hers alone and he wouldn't enter except by her explicit invitation. Alsa couldn't help wondering what he did all morning while she slaved away, cleaning up years worth of accumulated dust and grit. If the job she did actually offered a certain degree of satisfaction in the improved appearance of the castle's interior, she wasn't about to admit it to him. In the evenings they settled in the ballroom with cups of tea and listened to music. He could do a remarkable variety of styles and genres, from complex symphonic pieces to moving folk tunes picked out on a guitar. It was the only time of day when she thought she could like him, the only time he offered small glimpses into the soul of a man who loved music. **** The only remarkable thing to occur during her first week was the discovery that the castle was haunted. By what she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure when she first became aware of it. Several times while she worked, though, Alsa felt a peculiar warm breeze waft across an arm or hand or cheek, almost like a soft, tentative touch. It made her shiver when it happened, but only due to the unexpectedness of it. By the third or fourth time, she began to realize the warmth didn't come from random drifts of air. The air in the castle was generally chilly, and the drafts weren't any warmer. This was different. Something was trying to make contact with her. She sensed no overtones of evil or ill will in 36

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the touch, but she couldn't see or even feel it beyond the brush of warmth across her skin. Each time it happened, she'd look up and scan the area around her, but never saw, heard or smelled anything unusual. Eventually, Alsa stopped being startled when it brushed against her and wished she could find a way to communicate with the presence. There was something almost comforting in the gentle way it touched her. It began to feel like a friend. She asked the wizard about it over dinner one night. "Did you know something's haunting the castle?" He stopped before the piece of roasted potato on his fork reached his mouth. "Many things haunt the castle. Which one have you met?" She described the warm touches and watched his assurance turn to puzzlement. "I have no notion what that is," he admitted. "It could possibly be a ghost, but the only ones I know about don't manifest as rushes of warm air." "There are ghosts in the castle?" "The castle stood here long before I took possession. I did fix it up a bit, though, when I moved in. Most of the rooms were unusable at first. I had to clear out a lot of old junk, restore some of the stonework, and fix holes in the roof. I met spirits of some of the former residents while I did so. They seemed to welcome the company, though, and they haven't been any problem, so I haven't tried to run them off." "You haven't any idea what the thing I've met might be?" "No. But I wouldn't be concerned about it since it appears harmless." 37

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"I'm not worried about it. Just curious." **** In the afternoons, when she'd finished her morning housekeeping, the wizard taught her more stupid, brainless county-fair magic tricks like palming coins and making scarves disappear up a sleeve. He insisted she practice the skills involved until she could do the tricks without thought or effort. Pointless as the ability seemed to her, Alsa became adept at shuffling a deck so one particular card always remained in the same position. And making a bouquet slide from her sleeve into her hand became so fluid the flowers seemed to appear out of nowhere. She even got pretty good at juggling. "But what's the use of this?" she asked Korlen again one day, when her body ached from practicing turning cartwheels. "Mostly diversionary," he said. "But also an exercise in concentration." "Concentration on tricks. This isn't magic! It's useless to me." Again he gave her the superior look from a face frozen into withdrawal from all human concern. "It isn't magic, but neither is it useless. Knowledge is never wasted. We just don't always know when it will prove itself." They played games, throwing things back and forth or up in the air, or standing in awkward positions. She performed the same exercises over and over again until she ached in every joint and limb. Worse yet, the wizard insisted she keep her mind on what they were doing at every second. If her 38

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concentration wavered in the slightest, she risked getting knocked on the shoulder by a flying stick or hit in the head by a ball gone strangely awry. By the end of the first two weeks, she throbbed all over and could do no more than fall into bed each night, hardly appreciating the luxurious suite of rooms the wizard had provided her. For all her pains, though, she couldn't say she knew a speck more about the magical arts than she did when she arrived, other than the trickery of sleight of hand. He had little patience or gentleness with her increasing frustration and exhaustion. "Your mind and your muscles must be prepared for what is to come," he answered, when, late in the second week, she complained about the lack of progress in actual sorcery. "You mean I have to be broken in half before you can teach me anything?" "I warned you before we began you wouldn't enjoy it." He turned away from her, tossing a small ball up in the air. "Take a break now, and come back in fifteen minutes with a better attitude. If you really want to learn anything, that is." He might wear the comely form all the time for her benefit, but he made no other effort to endear himself. He was a tyrant and a slave driver, and she detested him. If she hadn't already known he had the emotional depth of a brick, she'd swear he actually enjoyed tormenting and criticizing her. The garden had become her favorite retreat from the demands of his so-called training, in part because the wizard left her alone there. The dragon, on the other hand, frequently flew in to join her, apparently eager for the 39

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company and conversation. He didn't disappoint her that day. Shortly after she sat down, he appeared, settling himself on his favorite sunny ledge in the cliff-side, just beyond the garden where he had room to fold his wings and curl up comfortably. "Feeling a bit battered?" The dragon asked after staring at her for a few minutes. Alsa shrugged. "Exhausted anyway. Those exercises he thinks up. Throwing a ball in the air and catching it? Fifty times in a row without dropping it? I ask you, what kind of wizardry is that?" The dragon chuckled, spewing steam. "There are many styles and levels of concentration, and a wizard must know all of them. Did anyone ever tell you learning to be a wizard would be easy?" "No one here, for truth." She looked up at the huge figure looming over the cliff-side where she sat. The creature's eyes were bigger than her entire head. "As I recall, you implied I should start planning a future as a mouse or some such thing." "Well, I can't say I understand what got into him." "Timor mortis, I think." Alsa sighed and leaned back against the rock, trying to ease weary muscles. "Your pardon?" "He feels his age and mortality creeping up on him." "He's not old—for a wizard," the dragon objected. "He's a man, too."

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The dragon snorted and turned away. "Humans. What's the import anyway? There always seem to be more where you come from." "True. But we like to know some of those coming to replace us bear the same blood as ourselves. Have you no wish to reproduce yourself?" "One of me is quite enough for this world, thank you." The dragon's eyes glittered with myriad colored lights in their depths. "Something more bothers you, little mortal. Something beyond dealing with the difficult Master Korlen. A concern presses on you." "For a dragon who claims no love for humanity, you know us better than is comfortable," she remarked. The dragon harrumphed a puff of steam from its nostrils. "Why think you I don't care for your kind? Are you trying to avoid my question?" Alsa grinned at him. "Perhaps, though I don't know why. Time presses on me. I have so little of it, and he wastes it with housekeeping chores he could manage himself with a flick of his wrist. And those silly exercises he has me do." "Ah, yes, time," the dragon echoed. "A constant concern for all you mortals." "Not him." "The master? Then why is he allowing you here, if not for the fear of time running out for him?" Alsa glared up at the beast. "I hate it when you're right." "It's one of your kind's more redeeming qualities. But you're young. You've plenty of time ahead of you." "My people don't." 41

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"Your people?" "You know about the problems my town is facing with our neighbors. Spring is nearly here and soon the other towns will be on the march. They'll move quickly, since they'll want to get to plowing and planting afterward. I have, at most, a few weeks to learn enough wizardry to defeat them. And Master Korlen has me cleaning his house and playing children's games with balls and sticks." "Some things cannot be learned speedily." "I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever learn it at all. Almost two weeks now, and I've yet to move even a speck of dust without a mop." "The mastery of magic takes patience." "I'm not sure he really means for me to learn. Or believes I can." The dragon's huge head waved on its long, sinuous neck. "Then why make the attempt at all? It's doomed from the start, so just go back to your home and train with a sword instead. Perhaps you can learn to wield a weapon in a few weeks." "One more sword won't win our battle. This is the only chance we've got." "Then give it a real chance. Learn from the Master. He may not be much of a man, but he's a fine wizard." The dragon recognized a good exit line when he spoke one. He spread his wings and flapped away. Alsa braced herself against the rock as he took flight.

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Chapter Four Master Korlen waited for her in the great hall where they did most of their practice. The handsome face was no gentler when she returned, his green eyes still coldly determined. He held a few feathers, several inches long and dark in color. "Feel better now?" he asked without any semblance of real interest. He didn't wait for her reply, but selected one of the feathers and sat it across her nose. It immediately fluttered off and onto the floor. He nodded at it. "Pick it up, put it back on your nose and keep it there." Alsa just looked at him. "This is even sillier than catching the ball. Master Korlen, what's the point?" "Control," he said. "To learn control." "But what have feathers and handballs to do with the great arts of wizardry?" "Does a baby learn first to run?" he asked. "He crawls, then toddles, then walks, then runs, along the way learning greater control of muscle, balance and coordination. So it is with learning the art of magic. You master the skills in a small way first before you can handle the greater projects. And you must learn patience. That, too, is critical. So put the feather back on your nose." Alsa sighed and retrieved the feather, sat it on her nose and held it there. He swatted at the hand pressing on it. "Not with your hand. With your mind. Hold it there with your mind." 43

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"How?" she asked as the feather fluttered off again. She caught it before it hit the ground. "I can't." "You can. Feel it with your mind." "I can't." She put the feather back on her nose. It tipped to one side and started down again. "I don't know how." "You—" The word was loud and impatient, but then he stopped himself and waited a moment to regain control before he spoke again, more calmly. "It tickles on your nose, does it not?" "Yes." "It will tickle in your mind if you can find the place to feel it." She stuck the feather back again and tried to trace it inside her head. Instead she felt it fluttering down her cheek. After two more unsuccessful tries, she said, "This isn't working." "No," he said thoughtfully. "How to ... Hmmm. Hold it on your fingers. Out like this." He stretched a hand out level. She held the feather as he suggested. "Close your eyes and try to feel it with your mind as well as your fingers." For a few minutes, she felt only the feather tickling her hand. But as she concentrated on the sensation, she gradually recognized she was experiencing more of the feather than just its prickles against her finger. She could trace the shape of it and follow the shaft from the thick root end to the tapering tip, branching off, should she choose, to shape each small hairlet, all in the eye of her mind. More, she knew something of the feather that didn't show on its 44

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surface: the substance of it, the way it would float in a breeze or crush against the ground. In her concentration, Alsa didn't realize when Master Korlen muttered a few words of approval under his breath then removed the feather from her hand and placed it on her nose. She noted the change in position as if something in the feather itself moved but was unaware of the human agency involved. She didn't actually feel it on her nose, nor was she aware she held it there with her regard until a few minutes passed and she began to withdraw herself from being in the feather. Slowly she woke to the fact that she controlled it with only the force of her concentration. Finally, she drew a deep breath and let the intensity lessen, until, released, the feather once again fluttered to the floor. "You know what it feels like now?" the wizard asked. She looked up, startled by his voice. She'd forgotten anyone else was there, enthralled as she was with the astonishing discovery she'd just made. "Yes. But it's not what I thought. I never guessed it could be like that, that I could feel as the feather did. I could almost become ... part of it. How strange. And wonderful." He was looking at her now with more than just a teacher's pride in a pupil's achievement. "Yes. I'd forgotten," he said. "How strange it is when you first experience it. And how wonderful." His expression changed. "It can be a terrible thing, too. Know that now from the beginning. What is wonderful can be fearful as well."

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"I don't see how. It's just amazing, to be part of something so deeply. To know it so well from the inside. It's a miracle. A wonder." "You'll see," the wizard said. "Can I do the same with other things?" she asked him. "Try it." He held out a small stone to her. Alsa took it from him and studied it, letting her sight roam over it, trying to recapture the way she'd sensed the feather. For a while she could only see the surface of the stone and feel its heft in her hand. "Don't try so hard," Master Korlen suggested. "Relax into it." She closed her eyes and tried to do as he ordered. But she couldn't seem to find a way to force her tense muscles to ease. The excitement of discovery held her in tight thrall and refused to let her calm enough to repeat the effort. Until she felt strong hands rubbing along her neck and the tops of her shoulders, squeezing gently and kneading her flesh to encourage the knots to unravel. It was the first time he'd touched her. She was amazed at how good it felt, how surprisingly careful his clever fingers were at finding the tight spots and inducing them to loosen. It was a distraction in itself. "The stone." His voice was level and calm as he recalled her to the point of the exercise. The massage stopped, but it had done its work. She nodded and turned her thoughts to the stone in her hand, letting her mind roll over the hard, rough surface. And she did get her thoughts around it and into it, though, in fact, 46

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there was little enough to find in it. Minerals of several sorts went into its composition—hard, unresponsive, but enduring bits of the very substance of the world itself. She could move it with her thoughts, but the bulk meant it demanded more effort than the feather had. She withdrew from it shortly. "It's just stone," she told the wizard. "But you can feel its virtue?" "Yes, of course. It's strong and heavy, and it endures." He nodded. "Try it with this." He offered her a branch cut from a sycamore tree. It was easier this time. Alsa let her mind float a minute, then run over the bark she saw, savoring the texture and substance of it. Delving deeper, she opened herself to learn the branch from within. The tough wood sprang against her mind, strong bark surrounding it, protecting veins within carrying nutrients to leaves now missing and the denser inner core that held the branch in shape. It rocked a little at her slight mental push against it. It was strong but pliant, resilient, enduring, sad in its way. The living plant essence was dying, cut off from its source of necessary water and nourishment. A few cells survived still, but not for much longer. She could almost hear their mourning groans in her head. Yet, its shell and its meaning would continue for a long time, as its fiber held together and served whatever purpose demanded of it. She withdrew, frowning at it. "How strange. And sad." Instead of commenting on her reaction, the wizard said, "I'm getting hungry. Let's prepare dinner. You can help me today." 47

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Alsa had never been in the kitchen with him before. She'd gone there to get occasional snacks or drinks, and, of course, she'd cleaned the cabinets and mopped the floors. Her hopeful peeks at the contents of cupboards and drawers offered no satisfaction. It was a disappointingly ordinary kitchen. But he'd chased her out while he prepared meals, calling her to come only when he had food laid out on the sideboard of the dining room, which was large enough to seat forty comfortably. Fortunately he set places for them both at one corner of the table, so they didn't have to yell across twenty-five feet of polished mahogany at each other. The vegetables for a stew waited in a basket on the kitchen bench. "If you'll hold them steady, I'll chop," the wizard suggested. Alsa watched as a long knife rose from the table's surface and hovered over it. She reached for the top carrot and placed it on the table, holding it steady for him. Master Korlen shook his head. "Not with your hands. With your mind. I don't want to chop up your fingers." "Oh." She hastily withdrew the fingers and reached for the carrot with her mind. Finding its substance, diving into its essence to hold it steady wasn't too difficult. But she reeled back in shock when the knife sliced into it, shearing off an inch of the tip. It never occurred to her she'd feel the knife— not as pain, since the carrot couldn't sense such, but as an insult to the integrity of the plant. A second whack, and the dismemberment of another bit sent tremors along her nerves. She backed off from the carrot. "Stop it. No. I can't." 48

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The wizard turned to stare at her, no emotion apparent in his green eyes. "You begin to see. Go change for dinner," he suggested. "I'll ring when it's ready." "I don't know if I can..." "You'll eat," he promised. "You must if you want to continue to learn." He watched her, sighed and set the knife down on the bench. "Rule number five of wizardry," he said. "You've got to keep your body in optimum condition to wield magic effectively." "Rule number five? What are rules one through four?" she asked. "We'll deal with those when we get there," he said.

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Chapter Five Alsa stared at the array of clothes in her closet, absently wondering which lovely gown to wear. The assortment of possibilities continued to leave her stunned and dazed as she tried to choose one. Finer laces and trims adorned richer fabrics than any she'd ever worn—ever seen—before she came to the castle. She still couldn't understand how he'd managed to get the sizes so exactly right, and wasn't sure she really wanted to know. As she donned a dress of pale blue satin with a darker blue lace overtunic and skirt, Alsa wondered how she would face dinner—to eat something she'd actually been a part of. Yet the wizard must do it night after night since he apparently prepared all of his own food. Of course, considering the amount of empathy he'd so far displayed to her, it could be he simply didn't care. The bell clanged below. Alsa adjusted her skirts and went down. As usual, Master Korlen had laid the food out on the sideboard—a steaming tureen of stew emitting a mouthwatering aroma and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Whatever her mind might think of the situation, her stomach reacted to the aromas with a loud rumble. "Can you lay aside your squeamishness and eat?" the wizard asked. "You need the food." The visage he wore, the extraordinarily handsome face, showed no particular emotion—no annoyance, no concern, no sympathy. 50

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"Doesn't it affect you at all?" she asked after she'd put a portion of stew and a slice of bread on her plate, sat down and placed the napkin in her lap. "That you've been a part of that which you eat?" "I become part of it, and then it becomes part of me. That's the way of things." He sat also, a full plate set in front of him. "But you destroy it to make it part of you." He gave her an odd, almost pitying look. "The food is destroyed as one entity when it's eaten to become part of another. Life works that way. It always has. Why should it concern me? And what difference if I have briefly joined my mind with it in the preparation? Would the food be any less consumed did I eat it without having joined with it beforehand? You can't seriously tell me you have some fine, fellow-feeling for a carrot?" "It was a plant. A living thing. And at least I have some feeling for things. It appears you have none." "You who are trading on it can accuse me of that?" he asked, taking a forkful of stew to his mouth, then chewing with every appearance of delight. He was a good cook. Though the odor rising from her plate ravished her senses, she pushed bits of carrot, potato, onion, and a meat she didn't want to know about around on her plate. "I'm trading on your desire for a son to take your place." She sighed and watched him eat his dinner with enthusiasm. "How can you?" The pleased expression the food brought to his face faded as he turned toward her and looked her in the eye. "Didn't I 51

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warn you wizardry could be a terrible as well as a marvelous thing? Every marvel has a dark side. The knowledge you gain in wizardry forces you to understand some very basic principles of the universe. One of those is human life can only be maintained through the consumption of other once-living things. If we don't eat our fellow living creatures, we die." He shrugged. "It's not the only unpleasant thing you'll learn in the course of mastering your magic. Never forget such is the order of things, but for everyday use, keep the knowledge in a separate part of your mind. Acknowledge it, learn from it, benefit from it, but don't let it haunt you. And if you can't learn to handle it, to find a way to protect your more sensitive feelings from the darkness of reality, you should quit right now." "Why are you hoping so strongly I'll do so?" "Because I'll have fulfilled my part of the bargain in the attempt to teach you wizardry. You'll take care of your part and then go." "You want so badly to be rid of me." "My work has fallen behind these past two weeks while I've tried to teach you. My peace is shattered by your chatter and constant humming. My dragon complains I'm neglecting him." "Neglecting him? What does he need from you?" "That, my dear, is none of your business. Did I mention you ask a great deal too many impertinent questions?" "It won't be for much longer anyway. I have only a few weeks to learn all you can teach me." 52

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"Before this great battle you so badly want to win for your town. You truly think you can learn enough to make any difference in the outcome?" "You don't think I can?" "No," he said, baldly. She slammed her fork down on the table. "Then why are we doing this at all? Why are you even trying to teach me?" "It's my part of the bargain. I agreed to teach you." "But if I can't win the battle, how will you have your part of the bargain?" "I said I didn't think you could make a difference in the battle. I didn't say I would let you be destroyed in the pursuit of it." "You would save me, but not my people." "I have no bargain with them." He caught her speculative glance. "And they have no coin that could buy my efforts. Only you can give me the one thing I desire. And we've already settled on the terms of exchange." "You wouldn't care about them at all?" "Why should I?" he asked. "Because I do?" "That's your problem, not mine. And sooner or later you'll have to deal with it." Alsa stared at the handsome, emotionless face, wondering if she'd been wrong about his wearing a mask to conceal his emotions. Perhaps this was the real man, all of the man there was. "You frighten me," she said. "I should hope so," he answered. 53

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"Not like that. But I'm wondering if I've made a fool's bargain." "You have reason to wonder." "So do you. How can I possibly entrust the care of an infant to you? What do you know of nurturing a child? How can you hope to raise one? How can you give a child the love it needs? You don't know how to love." His expression darkened, not with anger or disdain, but merely the threat of anger to come. "I can learn all I need to of caring for a child. As for love—it's overrated as a necessity of life. But I can guarantee you I'm very good at taking care of what's mine." "Then why was the castle so filthy when I arrived? It's yours, is it not?" "There's a difference between caring for things and caring for people. "I'm relieved to hear you understand there's a difference. But you've yet to show me you know much about doing either." "It's not your concern to worry about it. The deal is made, and it is what it is. I expect you to honor your side of the bargain" "I made the bargain. I'll honor it." He nodded and lapsed into silence as he attacked the food again, not with as much pleasure now, but with vigorous effort, as though the stew itself represented a challenge. Alsa picked up her fork and started eating as well. However much it might offend her sensibilities, she needed the strength and energy for their coming battles. All of them. 54

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They finished dinner in an uncomfortable silence. For the first time, she declined to join him in the ballroom and listen to his musical efforts. Later that evening, she tried to relax into the comfort of the feather bed and put aside the disquieting emotions raised by her argument with the wizard. A warm, caressing brush of air swept across her face. She welcomed the ghost's undemanding company. Instead of talking to it, however, she reached for it with her mind, as she had for the feather and the twig and even the ill-fated carrots. And she did touch something, though not in the way she expected. It felt completely different from any of the objects she'd handled so far. Nor did it give her any sense of being human, or having ever been so. In fact, whatever reality she contacted was so alien, so different from anything she'd experienced, she couldn't guess what it might be. Probing with her mind, she found no real substance to it other than air. But it was alive and sentient in some sense. It responded to her attempt to communicate. "Breath," it said, in response to Alsa's question about what it was, although 'said' wasn't the right word. It whispered into her mind, a very small, quiet sound, little more than the soft murmur of a breeze. "Breath of what?" She'd never tried it before, but it wasn't difficult to figure out how to tender the question in the same way she projected her mind into whatever object she studied. "Breath is." "Breath is ... what?" 55

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"Breath is." It seemed to realize that didn't answer her question in any helpful way. "The air," it continued. "Called from. Friend." "A friend called you from the air? Or the air called you from a friend?" Puzzlement greeted her question. It didn't think the same way she did, or even along similar lines, which reinforced her doubts about whether Breath was in fact a ghost or something else entirely. In either case, communicating with it posed a challenge. "Air," it repeated. "From air. Breath is." Which still didn't tell her much, but she was too tired to worry about it further. "Thank you. I'm glad Breath is. And glad to have you for a friend. You're the only one I have around here. I'm grateful for your company." She felt her eyelids sinking of their own accord. "You likely don't understand the necessity, but I need to sleep now," Alsa told it and blew out her candle. The light, brief caress of warm air on her face felt like a good night kiss. When she told Master Korlen about it the next day, he suggested Breath probably wasn't a ghost at all, but a free air elemental, called by some past wizard who'd then either lost control of it or lost interest in it and didn't return it to the air. He was surprised to learn one had been hanging around the castle for some time without his knowledge. "Can we return it to the air or wherever it came from?" she asked him. "Yes. But why? Is it unhappy? Does it want to return?" 56

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"Well, no, not really. Maybe it's a bit lonely and confused, but it didn't seem unhappy." "Then better we leave it be" he said. That was what she wanted to hear since she appreciated the elemental's uncritical friendship. She couldn't know, of course, just how much she would need its comfort after the disaster the next few days would bring.

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Chapter Six Moving larger objects, such as the chair she currently balanced in the air in the middle of the room, took more effort and concentration than manipulating smaller ones. Unfortunately Alsa was having trouble maintaining the required level of attention. A footstool had already suffered a broken leg when she'd failed to keep her thoughts on it. Her mind tended to wander off, wondering about her family and friends and the situation back at home, how much time she had left, how preparations for the battle progressed... A noisy, splintering crash and a muffled yell from the wizard snapped her back to the present. The chair she'd been moving lay in three pieces on the floor. The wizard was still in one piece, but rubbing his leg in a way that suggested he hadn't been completely out of its path. "Oh, my goodness. I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" she asked. He glared at her. "Rule number four of wizardry: If you lose concentration while levitating heavy objects, make sure no one else is in the vicinity." He muttered a few unpleasant words under his breath as he kicked aside pieces of the chair. "All right. What is it? Since you can't seem to keep your mind on this, where is it?" "Where's what?" "Your mind, girl. Your head. What keeps distracting you? Some young lover you left behind in your town?" "No!" She made herself take a deep breath. "It's just that ... I don't know what's happening at home. The others may 58

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attack at any time now. And I won't even know. I need to go back and check on things. Find out how much time I've got." The wizard regarded her with a combination of irritation, impatience and speculation. "You'll never learn anything about wizardry if you keep running away to check on things every few days. Come with me." He turned and started out of the room without looking back, assuming she'd follow as ordered. His presumption irritated her, but curiosity won the battle with annoyance, and she followed him. He led the way down a rarely used corridor to an unfamiliar hall. The castle was something of a labyrinth, with rooms in unexpected places, and passages going every which way. Alsa knew much of it all too well from having cleaned, scrubbed and polished its surfaces, but this was an area she hadn't yet ventured into, so she stayed close behind him to avoid getting lost. And while she followed him, she admired from behind the lean, graceful form he wore so well, and the way he moved with such ease and economy. If you couldn't see the cool, disdainful expression on his face, he cut a fine figure, a very appealing one. He stopped at the door, mercifully unaware of the direction her thoughts had taken, and pushed open the heavy oak panel. The room was small. Shelves lined two walls, stacked with an array of books, papers, bottles and jars. A bench at the far side held another assortment of boxes, papers and small items. All bore a covering of dust, suggesting the room saw little use. A peculiar small table in the center of the room 59

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stood out because its smooth, flat top was pristinely clean, shining and free of clutter. The wizard moved to stand over the table, drawing her eyes to it for an even closer inspection. A stone pedestal base bore a round, flat top, polished to a high gleam. The surface was black, flecked with sparkling glints of every color of the rainbow. Master Korlen motioned her to stand beside the table. "Put your hands on it," he directed. When she did so, he moved them until she had one hand, palm down, on either side of the expanse of smooth black stone. "Feel it with your mind," he said. "Feel what?" she asked. "The stone table?" "It's a window," he answered. "Let it know what you want to see." "I want to see what's happening at home," she muttered, trying to concentrate on the stone tabletop, blending her mind with it, to bend its power to her will. As she stared at it, into it, clouds seemed to flutter around the surface, obscuring the glittery marble, then strange streaks of light shot across it, spreading to illuminate the whole to a bright glow, which faded to a different sight. The strange view disoriented her at first, making her dizzy when she couldn't sort it out, until she realized she looked down on the mountains and valley of her home from a great height, as though she were a bird soaring above it. Her town looked peaceful, slumbering, prosperous, where newly cleared fields showed wide swathes of green and brown, ready for the plowing to begin in a few weeks. 60

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Beyond the ridge of mountain at the far side, in the next valley, though, the view was more ominous. Large groups of people gathered, many more than could be accounted for by the population in the town where they met, a goodly troop of horses, riders and soldiers afoot. She also saw war carts and stores of weapons, food and other supplies being gathered and loaded. The sheer numbers made her reel in shock. Many more were gathered there than her own people had suspected. Their enemies had recruited further afield than they'd guessed, and the call had been answered. "So many," she muttered, trying to take in the numbers and sort out what it might mean to her townsmen. She surveyed the scene again, to gauge how soon they might be ready to march. A matter of weeks, no more than a few. It would take them an additional three or four weeks to make their way to and through the pass into her town. So little time! Disoriented, fearful, her mind shattered and scattered as she searched blindly for answers, for possible ways to defeat their enemies, for something beyond her minimal strength and knowledge of wizardry. All the possibilities she considered came to naught. Only the wizard himself might have any chance, and he wouldn't help her. Or maybe the dragon, if he could be induced to assist. But the master would surely forbid any efforts on his part. Still, she might try to recruit him anyway. As she groped for answers, she was only half-aware when the tabletop clouded over again, the light streaked across, 61

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spread, and faded into another scene. Something very different. She saw a crowd again, and one indeed prepared for battle, but of a rather different kind. This mob bore pikes and bows and daggers and a palpable awe and fear of the adversary that inspired rather than dimmed their ardor to destroy it. The creature backed up against the side of a hill hissed and spat fire in defiance of the armed band surrounding it. Its movements were limited by several oozing wounds, two of which still had spears impaled in them like giant splinters, and ropes wound around its legs. Wings and head drooped. "Your dragon," she said aloud. "He's in trouble." "What kind of trouble?" the wizard demanded. "An angry mob, attacking him with spears and swords and anything else they can get hold of. He's injured. Won't be able to defend himself much longer." "Not again ... Where?" "I don't..." She concentrated on the tabletop, seeking for his answer. "Some two hundred leagues to the south and west." As the visions in the tabletop faded to the glittery blackness of the marble, she looked up to see the wizard shake his head and sigh. "He must have gone hunting on his own. I've warned and warned him against it." "Are you going to help him?" The wizard shrugged. "He can get himself out of it." 62

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"But he's wounded and there are many people surrounding him." "He's not as helpless as he looks." "I know, but ... He's injured. Possibly seriously. And if he can get himself out of it, he'll do it only by hurting and maybe destroying a lot of people. Can you really be so uncaring? He's your friend after all. He's guarded your castle, chased away visitors you didn't want, helped guard your reputation. And you have no help to offer him?" The wizard shook his head, more in exasperation with her than as a denial. "You want to help him yourself?" She stared at him. "You think I could?" "I think you won't be happy until you make the attempt. And it might be an excellent test of your ability." "How do I do it from this distance?" "You can't. You'll have to go there." "And how do I do that in such a short period of time?" "Come," he said, and led the way out the door and down the hall, then through the kitchen and into a small mudroom. "Here." He picked up a set of boots from a low shelf at the side. "Put these on." "Seven-league boots?" she asked. "Don't be silly." "Then how do they—?" "One-league boots. Wear seven-league boots, and if you don't space your steps exactly right, you end up a day or more's regular journey from where you want to be. Oneleague boots mean more steps but easier maneuvering." "How do I know where to go?" 63

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"Just keep your mind on the dragon and walk. You'll get there." And so she did. The boots made for strange traveling. She felt she took only normal-size steps, but the countryside flew by her, the land whizzing past underfoot each time she lifted a leg and stretched it forward. She crossed the rift spanned by the rainbow bridge in one long stride. Descending the mountain resembled climbing down a series of steps. The trees blurred as she walked past. Less than half an hour's journey brought her to the outskirts of the town where the residents held the dragon at bay. Well before she was able to conceive some brilliant plan to remedy the situation. She stopped a little ways off from where the crowd gathered. The noise she hadn't been able to hear when she viewed the scene in the table assailed her ears. The crowd jeered and howled, shouting taunts and challenges at the dragon. The dragon bellowed its defiance. The smell was noxious, too, the aromas of smoke and mud mixing with the stink of a crowd of frightened people, most of whom hadn't bathed in a while. There were probably a hundred or more people present. She had no idea what to do next. She'd forgotten to ask the wizard for suggestions on how to stop angry mobs. Hurling a few stones, or having them hurl themselves, at the crowd didn't seem terribly productive, but maybe a good show would at least divert them from their intentions. She stepped forward until she stood between the crowd and the dragon. "Stop," she ordered the assemblage, yelling as loudly as she could. A man preparing to toss a spear 64

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toward the dragon held up the motion and halted with the weapon on the point of release. A woman nearby paused just before she would have thrown a heavy rock. Both stared at their weapons in shocked surprise when they stopped as though they'd hit a wall. Each exerted a second effort to launch the projectiles, only to watch them describe puny arcs into the ground rather than at the dragon's form. The dragon hissed at her. "Wizardling! What do you here?" "I came to save your worthless hide," she said. "Actually it's quite a valuable skin," the dragon replied. "But did you truly feel a need to help me?" "Let's discuss it later," she suggested as the crowd's general clamor indicated recovery from their collective surprise. "Woman," a man yelled in her direction. "What are you doing? Why protect the worm? He profanes our church and steals the sacred vessels." Alsa turned toward the dragon. For the first time she noted the gleam of gold near his left foot. "Dragon, you didn't!" "A few small baubles only," the dragon whined. "Those things are precious to them. Give them back," she ordered. "Wizardling!" The dragon sounded like an aggrieved child. "I've had no new baubles for weeks now. These are such small things." "Not to them. Give them back." "But they're mine now. I stole them quite fairly."

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"And they're going to kill you for it, quite fairly. And kill me, too, by the way, since I'm foolishly trying to defend you. Give them back!" "Oh, all right." The dragon hissed and snorted his displeasure as he kicked the gold vessels back toward the townspeople. The braver ones, mostly youths, scrambled to collect the treasure, chasing after rolling goblets and sliding plates. "She's a witch," someone in the crowd yelled. "The dragon is her ensorcelled creature! See how it obeys her." "A witch." Others took up the cry. Word ran through the mob, which gathered in a group again. "The witch who controls the dragon." Alsa was naive enough to think they were complimenting her and offering respect. Until the first stone came hurtling in her direction. "Destroy the witch and the dragon," the people cried. More rocks and spears shot her way. The first few she deflected by melding her mind with the stone or wood and redirecting them. The dragon dispersed others with its breath and powerful claws. But as more and more sped toward them, Alsa found herself unable to keep up, and one stone a little bigger than her fist finally crashed against her shoulder. The distraction caused her to lose concentration on the rocks. Others began to hit her in various places. The pain and her desperate effort to concentrate made her dizzy, especially after a rock struck her temple, sending her to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her head to 66

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protect it, though it meant she could no longer see to deflect the incoming missiles. Behind her, the dragon drew in a long pull of air. Alsa decided a nice show of fire breath would be a good idea right then, even if a few members of the crowd did get fried in the process. She tried to close her ears to the screams and moans she expected, but still she heard very clearly, when a loud, authoritative voice called, "Halt!" A rush of air followed on the word, building rapidly to gale force winds blowing between herself and the crowd. The edge of it whirled around her, making the loose ends of her clothing flap and her hair whip against the hands over her face. The barrage of stones stopped. Cautiously, she dropped her hands and peered up. The fierce wind sweeping between her and the mob tossed their missiles every which way. The crowd still held rocks and sticks, many of them poised to throw or frozen in the act. Others watched, jaws agape, as objects already launched turned in their paths and headed back the way they'd come from. A few tried more vigorous throws, but their stones and spears came flying back toward them as well. People ducked out of the way and muttered to each other in confusion The wizard stood a little apart. He wore the guise of a huge, monstrous, misshapen creature, with a face as ugly as dragon dung, but the same green eyes glowed out from under heavy, shaggy dark eyebrows, and she knew him that way. This form was as false as the handsome one he normally 67

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assumed for her, and just as useful in its way. The townspeople stared in dismay. Their crude weapons were useless and their opponents too terrifying to tackle barehanded, so staring was about all they could do. The wizard walked toward her, unchallenged, except by a couple of young men who thought verbal insults could have an impact their helpless arms couldn't. They were very young. "Come," he said, taking her hand and yanking her to her feet. "You, too," he said to the dragon. "The Powers know you've both caused me enough bother." The wind began to abate enough to let her make her way through it to his side. He turned and walked off, taking the first stride in his own one-league boots back toward his castle, assuming she would follow. Since she didn't much care for the alternatives, she did just that, muttering to herself about unfeeling wizards and greedy, shortsighted dragons. The murmur of displeasure from the crowd increased to cries of helpless outrage, interspersed with curses and threats as their victims disappeared, but the wind defeated their weapons long enough to let the two wizards and the dragon escape Alsa didn't slow down or draw a deep breath until they were several leagues off from the crowd. As she trudged along, rubbing at the bruise on her temple, with the ground speeding by beneath her, she thought about the situation, wondering why she'd even bothered with the dragon. He'd been reasonably friendly with her lately, but not exactly what she'd call sympathetic or understanding. She 68

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really didn't know why she'd insisted on trying to save his callous, grasping hide. Alsa rushed to catch up with the wizard, though it made her side ache even more in the tender area where one of the larger rocks had hit. "Did you set this all up?" she demanded, once she'd drawn even with him. "Set what up?" "This whole play. Get the dragon in trouble. Let me know about it. Refuse to do anything about it yourself. It all stinks of your machinations." "To what end?" he asked. "To demonstrate just how little the magic I've learned so far is worth in such a situation." The ugly face expressed no more emotion than the more attractive one. Still, something flashed in the green eyes, eyes that remained the same no matter what form the rest of him took. "No," he said, sighing. "I didn't set it up. I do believe in taking advantage of opportunities when they arise, however." "You're a ruthless, self-centered, unfeeling bastard." "You're not the first to decide that." His tone was as devoid of emotion as his face. But she noted that the one hand of his she could see clenched into a tight fist. She wasn't sure what it meant other than that the indifference he wore wasn't the entire truth.

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Chapter Seven "So, why didn't you just parboil them all?" Alsa asked the dragon later on, while she cleaned its wounds as best she could. She had to stand atop the wall of the garden on the side of the mountain while it perched on the ledge below, twisting and turning to give her access to its various injuries. "Or knock them over with smoke breath?" Her own bruises still ached slightly, though the wizard had given her a foul-smelling and worse-tasting draught that removed most of the pain and brought the swelling down quickly. "Uncivilized, don't you think, little mortal? Ouch! That stings," the dragon complained. "Hold still." She understood now why the wizard had a barrel of healing ointment put away in a storeroom. "It will help the wounds heal without festering. Now move this way." She beckoned it to lean over so she could reach a spear still hanging from its neck. "Truly, why didn't you fry them?" "You don't think I can act in a civilized way? Yeoww!" The last came as she yanked the spear out from under a scale. "Stop that. It hurts." "Quit being such a baby," she admonished. "And I didn't say you couldn't be civilized, only I've never seen you want to." "As long as you realize—Owwch! Bloody balls!—I'm no cruder than the next dragon." He stomped a foot as she slopped more goop on the puncture wound. 70

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Alsa lurched and crouched on the wall for a moment till it stopped shaking. "Hold still! You're going to knock me off the side of the mountain." "Sorry," the dragon muttered. "Can't the wizard make up some stuff that doesn't hurt?" "I don't think he deliberately made it to sting." She stood up and swiped at the injury again. "Anyway, why didn't you defend yourself?" The dragon sniffed and snorted. "We have an agreement." "Who is 'we'?" "The wizard and myself." "You and the wizard? What agreement? You won't flame any people or towns?" "Unless he asks me to," the dragon said. "And how often has that happened?" "Only once. Years ago. He took sides in some human squabble. I think someone he'd once cared about was threatened, so he acted. Many of the other humans resented it. They followed him up here with swords and spears. He asked me to take out their leader." The dragon hissed gently. "Just the leader. The others he let flee." "I see. Turn this way. There's one more cut on your side. So what do you get in return from this agreement?" "A protected hunting area," the dragon replied. "And pretty things. Gold, silver, shining things. He hides them for me to find." Alsa didn't ask what he hunted other than the treasure. She finished cleaning and swabbing the wound with ointment while he huffed and puffed and whined about it. "There," she 71

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said, at last, wiping her hands on a rag. "You'll live. Go rest for a day or two and let those heal. No hunting pretty trinkets for a while. And for goodness' sake, stick to the wizard's offerings. No more raiding towns."

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Chapter Eight Alsa held a fistful of dirt and transferred it from one hand into the other, sifting it from palm to palm in a thin stream. She let her mind meld with it, meeting inanimate soil, some organic remnants with bare whispers of animate memory, a few tiny living creatures, and one friendly earthworm. "You have to understand that an elemental represents the force beyond the physical reality of its substance," the wizard explained to her as they began their next training session. "There's a physical component to each, but the elemental is a part of the greater energy and potential of the reality. Take that bit of earth you hold, for instance. The earth has substance, a substance you can wrap your mind around and order. But if you really want it to work for you, you need to draw on its mass properties, its spirit, if you will, though an elemental isn't a spirit in itself. It's a piece of the whole that can become again part of the whole and order it." Alsa was listening to what he said, but she was also fascinated by the worm. Its view of reality, contained as it was by thoughts of wending its way through the rich, dark soil and finding the best site for its young, offered a new way of looking at the world around her. The worm wanted only the damp ground and a good food supply. Sun, light, and open air were the enemies, to be avoided. She became so interested in the way it viewed life she gradually lost track of Master Korlen's lecture on elementals. 73

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Until he grabbed her hand to stop the flow of soil from one palm to the other. "What is so fascinating about the dirt that you're not paying attention to what I'm saying?" he asked. She explained about the worm, expecting him to share the excitement of her discovery. "A worm?" he shouted, his affront more than evident. "I'm losing the battle for your attention to an earthworm?" He shook his head and stared at her until she wiggled uncomfortably under his regard. "Woman, I don't understand you at all. You risk your life and your future to come here and inveigle me into giving you lessons in wizardry, and then you pay no attention to them. You made a bad bargain to get what you wanted and, instead of taking advantage of it, you spend the time conversing with earthworms." "Well it was interesting," she protested, then sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. It was silly to be distracted by a little thing like a worm. But ... Was it such a bad bargain?" She thought she detected a glimmer of humor beneath his grim expression. Surely, she was wrong, though. So far he'd shown no sign of being capable of such a thing. "Of course it was," he said. "You just don't know how bad yet." "Are you being devious again?" she asked. That drew a full-fledged smile. Spread across the handsome face he wore for her benefit, it had a surprising effect on her heart rate, sending it suddenly hammering a wild, throbbing beat. "Would I tell you if I were?" he asked. 74

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"You just might. Your deviousness is two levels deeper than anyone else I've ever met." His smile dimmed but didn't disappear altogether. "You're beginning to understand," he said. "Deviousness is a requirement for wizardry, and the more devious you can be, the more successful you'll be at it." He paused for a breath. "Now. Are you ready to pay attention to the lesson? It's important. Particularly for trying to accomplish larger scale projects like the one you think to undertake." "Yes. But first I'd better put the worm back outside in the dirt." Instead of waiting for her, though, he followed her outdoors to the small, walled courtyard garden. Spring had just begun to weave its own magic there. Tentative buds dotted a few perennial plants, new green leaves emerged from vines and trees, and some of the early-flowering shrubs added clouds of pink and blue. Master Korlen ignored the glory around him and continued the lecture as soon as she put the worm back down on the ground. "There are four main elemental forces in the world, as I'm sure you know—wind, water, earth, and fire. The best method for trying to gain any large movement from those elements is to gain the cooperation of an elemental. An elemental is a piece of its whole that, in some way, contains the whole and is part of the whole. Every whisper of wind is part of the air around us, every tongue of flame part of a larger fire. Even when it's just a small tinder-flame, the potential of a conflagration to consume the entire world is there within it. Does all this make any sense to you?" 75

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She nodded and squeezed the lump of dirt in her hand. "Sort of." "It will become clearer as we progress. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. Calling an elemental, containing it and getting it to do your bidding, is a more complicated matter. That's why we use spells to accomplish these things. Nonwizards think the words themselves can produce magic. No such thing. Your mind pulls the magic and orders it. A spell is just a set of directions for the wizard, a sort of diagram for how to proceed through all the necessary steps to reach your goal. Once you're very proficient at it, you might not even need the words, but for beginners, we contain the basic spells in rhyme to facilitate remembering them." He watched her now, making sure he had her attention. "Dealing with an elemental can be dangerous as well as tricky," he continued. "At heart, they're little more than a driving force without any directing thought other than yours. Breath is an unusually peaceful and contented one, but with most of them, if you let them out of your control, they'll do whatever is in their nature to do, as often as possible, and in as massive a way as they can. The result is generally chaos and destruction. So every step in the spell must be done properly, completely, and in its correct order. Are you getting this?" Alsa nodded. She enjoyed watching him explain the mechanics of wizardry. The face he wore might be an illusion, but the occasional flashes of enthusiasm or worry he now permitted to cross it were not. They offered small hints of the personality behind the mask. Those brief glimpses of real 76

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emotion fascinated her, but she didn't make the mistake of letting them distract her from listening to his lessons. "We'll give it a try," the wizard suggested. "A small spell to call a little breeze to circle around us. I'll go through it step by step to demonstrate how it's done. The main thing to remember, though, is you have to put your entire mind and strength into bending these forces to your will. You can't just mouth the words and expect it to work. It requires every bit of your concentration." She nodded to indicate her understanding. "The first step is to set up a perimeter to circumscribe the action, a time and space limit for the efforts of the elemental. That's your containment of last resort. Should the elemental escape your other controls, the initial borders will hold it within them." He chanted softly, in a singsong voice: "I ask the wind to cease its screech, And take the form I would now teach. In space, a circle of fifty arms' reach, Its time, the span of this, my speech." The breeze blowing through the trees seemed to still, as though listening to the incipient spell and waiting for his command. "That signals the force you intend to invoke and sets the boundaries." He paused and met her wide eyes with an intense look. "Then you have to establish the scope of the task. Just how far you want its effects to go." Again he intoned: "A gentle wind is all I ask, To circle my space its only task. 77

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Twice 'round myself I'll see it blow, And as I'm bidding, it then will go." There was a definite susurration in the wind sifting through the leaves of trees around them. "Next, you make sure your control over the elemental is understood and acknowledged when it emerges. You have to really put your mind to this part of it. Your will must take complete control of the situation. You set all your limits and hold them in place with your mind. It takes some practice to learn, but, in essence, the process isn't so very different from melding your mind with other creatures. This time you meld it with the forces of the world rather than living consciousness. The feel of it is rather strange and different at first, but you get used to it. "Hear my call and join the living, But only while you heed my bidding. Breath of air to circle 'round, By my command be ye bound." The wind stilled so completely there was almost an emptiness to the space around them. It hadn't been there a few seconds previously. "Before the elemental can be free to do your request," the wizard continued to explain, "it must be separated from the whole it represents, culled from the mass, and pulled into separate existence. That's what this next step does." "From the grip of like to you, I split your being into two; A slip to come at my command The main to answer my demand." 78

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A tiny whisper of wind, no more than a gentle exhalation, seemed to rise from nowhere and brush by them, circled and gathered itself in a press of air around the wizard's outstretched hand. "You separate off the bit that will be the elemental carefully, gently, with subtle but steady pressure. Try to jerk it apart and you'll either fail and drive off the force from you, or pull it loose and lose control of the elemental." "In two I cleave thee, like from like, From the essence, I call the sprite. Air from air, a breeze to me, By my will I set you free." A gentle breeze rose up from somewhere behind them, stirring leaves and branches nearby in a soft flurry. It whooshed past and swung around them. Circling, the wind raced by on the other side, returned for one more circuit, then blew back the way it had come. It passed so swiftly, yet so calmly, she barely had time to appreciate the lovely feel of it brushing by her face, the caress of it on her cheek. Contained so expertly nothing else in the courtyard garden had been disturbed. Not even a leaf had been dislodged from its place. It had a different, more dynamic feel than Breath, yet its essence was much the same. For a few seconds afterward she couldn't say anything at all. Then she acknowledged, "That was wonderful. You truly think I can do it?" "I know you can." "But must you memorize spells for every different little thing you want to do?" 79

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"For the common ones, yes. Most wizards collect books of spells, though, and refer to them when they want to do something different or out of the ordinary." "Can you create your own spells?" "Of course. But only a very experienced wizard should undertake it. The danger is beyond imagining. Small mistakes can have terrifying consequences. Many wizards never try anything new at all, preferring to stick to what's been tried, tested and refined to perfection or something close to it anyway." "Can I try it?" she asked. "A spell? You're going to." He gave her the words to call a small tongue of fire, and he directed her how to set her mind to placing the limits and then how to claim the spirit of fire and separate out a small glint of it. She found that Master Korlen made working a spell sound far easier than it was. Although she could set her mind to meeting the force and feeling it, the texture and matter of it were strange. She'd had some experience in dealing with air elementals with Breath, but she'd never attempted to control it. And fire felt terribly alien, a roaring, snapping, crackling force, making it difficult to wrap her mind around and gain the necessary control. The wizard had to offer help and direction, as well as a healthy dollop of coaxing and cajoling, to get her through the process. With his aid, though, she did manage to call a tiny splinter of flame to dance across the palm of her hand, expand in a sudden rush of light and disappear. The effort left 80

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her wrung out and gasping for air. The sun faded toward the west by the time it was done. They spent most of the next afternoon doing the same thing, trying the most basic of spells for calling a water elemental, and then an earth elemental. Alsa did the binding, helped and guided by the wizard. She succeeded each time, but only after considerable effort and much assistance and support. When he announced later he thought it time she ventured to try one on her own, Alsa felt anything but ready for the attempt. As she'd already discovered, however, Master Korlen didn't accept "no" or even "I'm not sure I'm ready" for an answer. She'd taken care to memorize the words to the basic spells for calling each of the elementals. Their being written in rhyming lines helped her remember, but even so, she had difficulty getting into the proper mindset and locking her control around the spirit. When she looked to the wizard for help, he just sat firmly on the bench nearby, crossed his arms and shook his head. Alsa decided to try the fire elemental again. Though the weather was cool, sweat dripped off her as she wrestled with the spell and struggled not to be distracted by the moisture sliding down her temples. The effort to wrap her mind into and around the force took every bit of her concentration. By the time she was into the third step, she could barely get the words past her tight throat, and somehow her tension seemed to be interfering with her ability to bring her mind to bear on the effort. 81

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She did make progress, though. She set her controls, met the main force with her mind, and began to split off the elemental into the shape she ordered. The process got stuck at that point, though. The elemental refused to come to her bidding. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite bend her will around it sufficiently to bring it under her control. She wrestled and struggled and fought for what seemed like hours. It wouldn't cooperate. Finally, in her frustration, she made a mistake. Instead of trying to separate the elemental slowly and carefully as Korlen had directed, she gave a sharp, hard yank. The elemental separated. Definitely. Terribly. It jarred her so badly she reeled back and momentarily turned her mind from controlling it to regaining her balance. That was all the lapse it needed to escape. Loosed from its moorings in its major force, but under no particular control or order save the initial boundaries she'd set, the splinter of fire raced around the courtyard, bouncing from blade of grass to leaf to branch, searching for fuel that would allow it to feed and grow into its most resplendent form as a major conflagration. It danced down a stone path, skipping over small pebbles and newly-green plants. The elemental hesitated around an old, cracked sundial wreathed in vines, but apparently couldn't gain purchase there. Instead it continued to bounce along the ground, hunting the right material for its needs. It found the fuel it wanted in the trunks and branches of a series of still-dormant lilac shrubs at the far side of the courtyard. The elemental flared up to embrace each bush in turn, spread over it, and grasped it until the shrub exploded 82

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in flame. Small buds darkened and withered. Bark hissed and crackled. With their flesh shriveling in the flames, sap boiling in the veins until they burst, and twigs turning to ash, the plants screamed their dying agony in her mind. A bird caught on a branch of one of the lilacs was also trapped in the fire, and that death, too, echoed in her head. Alsa screamed herself, when she felt the impact of the fire on the living plants and unfortunate bird. The wizard jumped up from the bench and began whispering another spell, one that eventually tamed the elemental and extinguished the blaze, but not until the entire row of eight lilac trees was reduced to smoldering heaps of charred branches and ash. Alsa collapsed to the ground, sobbing, unable to control herself, torn with guilt and fear for what she'd unleashed. She was too far awash in her misery and despair over the destruction to notice when he came up behind her, until she felt his hand on her arm, dragging her to her feet. "What were you thinking of?" he shouted as he turned her toward him. "How could you let things get so far out of control?" Fury blazed across his face. "I killed them. The bird ... and the bushes. I let the fire loose on them." He heard her and tipped her face up to look at him. He looked closely at her, noting the tears smudging her cheeks and the sickening guilt and distress in her eyes. His angry words stopped as though a tap shut off, and his expression softened. Instead of saying anything further, he pulled her into his arms and dragged her to him, holding her head gently against his chest. She wept for a long time, sometimes 83

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grasping her hair or pulling on his shirt in her fury at herself, sometimes moaning and writhing in her sadness. He made soothing noises and ran gentle hands along her hair and down her cheeks, wiping away tears. "Shh," he admonished more than once. "It's all right. The plants can be replaced. The damage wasn't that bad." He waited until the main fury of her grief wore down to exhausted sobs, and then he picked her up and carried her inside. In the dining room, he set her down in a chair and used wizardry to make hot food appear instantly. She was too tired to cry anymore, but the lashing remorse and guilt didn't give her any peace. As tenderly as any mother nursing a baby, he spooned hot soup into her until her stomach refused to take any more. His patience and gentleness would have astonished her had she been in any condition to appreciate it. When she'd finally calmed enough to regain some minimal control of herself, she said, "I really made a mess of things this time, didn't I?" One eyebrow slid up, and a wry expression, not quite a smile, shaped his mouth. "The garden certainly wasn't improved by your efforts. But it's not the end of the world. My castle is still standing. The mountain survives. Most of the trees and plants on it are still intact." "Is there any hope for me?" To her considerable shock, he laughed. "You think you're the first person who's done something like this? Why do you suppose wizards learned to set all those controls and limits on their spells?" 84

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"I'm not? But ... Did you? Ever mess up like this, I mean?" "Oh, worse. Much worse, in fact. And much more spectacularly. Do you want to hear about it?" She managed a watery nod. He went to the sideboard and picked up the tea tray from it. "Let's get comfortable and I'll tell you the story." Alsa followed him to the ballroom and their chairs in front of the fire. She still felt a bit weak, wrung out from the efforts of the day and the storm of emotion. When he set the fire going, she edged her chair away, nervous of the flame for the first time. "Don't back away from it," he warned. "You can't let yourself learn to fear it. You have to master it. And you will. I assure you, you will." He set the tea tray on the floor and went behind her to slide the chair forward. As it moved, he leaned over so that his mouth was almost beside her ear. "Trust me," he whispered. His breath blew gently across the side of her face. She nodded and held her hands out to the fire to warm them. They felt like blocks of ice and shook a little. Oddly, she did trust him. In that much, anyway, that he would teach her magic and keep her safe in the process, limiting the damage. If anyone could help her learn her own talent, it was he. If anyone could... He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently, before he turned away to pour a cup of tea and hand it to her. The cup shook in her hand. He wrapped his fingers around it, over hers, and held it steady until the warmth penetrated. He watched her with concerned eyes. 85

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When she was able to drink on her own, he poured tea for himself and took a long sip before he sat back down. For a minute or two he watched the fire crackle and sputter as he drank His voice was low, soothing, and reminiscent when he started to speak. "I grew up some distance from here, near the eastern ocean. My father, a village healer, had only a little talent for magic, and my mother none at all. But they recognized the extent of my ability and knew they couldn't deal with it or teach me much beyond the most basic things. They sent me to another, more powerful wizard for training." Korlen grimaced in remembrance. "I had mixed emotions about it. I didn't really want to leave home, but I was eager for the wonders and glory of becoming a full wizard." He shook his head at his own youthful folly. "My master had a house right by the sea. He was good, very good, and he taught me all the forms of wizardry he knew. Because of our location, we worked extensively with water elementals. I was getting good at those kinds of spells. But I was an arrogant twit. I was sure I could do anything I wanted. I got complacent and tried it one day when I was ... when my mind was somewhere else. Like yourself, I lost control of it. The water elemental I'd called created a wave—an enormous wave—that engulfed the beach, the house, my master and myself. I had just enough time to see it coming and was able to yell a warning to him. We survived by holding our breath, rolling with the wave itself, then grabbing onto spars of wood from the wreckage until my master could bring the thing under control." He shook his head as he reminisced. 86

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"What happened then?" He grinned, driving those wonderful, attractive grooves around his mouth. "I had to listen to a long, boring, and mostly unnecessary lecture on the need for a wizard to keep his mind on what he's doing and stay in control at all times. Rule number three of wizardry: You can never afford to let your mind wander when you're working with elementals." She looked at him. "That was the end of it?" The smile deepened. It was so beautiful, it made her heart skip a beat then lurch into a faster rhythm. "Not at all," he said. "I spent the next few weeks practicing a great variety of basic spells as we worked to rebuild his home. I called an earth elemental to dig foundations, air to keep boards in place until we could get them nailed down, and even fire to temper bricks and mortar. I worked at it until I collapsed with exhaustion, but so did my master, so I never resented it. I learned a great deal about patience and persistence during that time. It served to give me much practice in working the spells. I learned a lesson I've never forgotten about the need for discipline and patience in the wizardly arts." "Is that true? Not just a story you're making up to make me feel better?" He held his right hand over his heart. "True. Every word of it. I swear." He reached over and brushed damp tendrils of hair off her face. "I can't restore the lilac bushes," she said. "Or bring the bird back to life." 87

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"No. And there's tragedy in that. We recognize it, acknowledge it, but it can't be changed. And life goes on, so we put right the damage as best we can and swear never to make the same mistake again. We can get other bushes. I know someone who grows them. And the work in the garden will be good for both of us." He stood up, took the empty teacup from her, set it down on the tray, and came back to offer a hand to help her from her seat. "And the bird?" She took his hand, surprised when he pulled her closer. "I think we can rely on the rest of the bird population to replace it." His eyes bored into hers with something more than their usual intensity of concentration, so she felt free to return the scrutiny. Not since her first day there, when she'd tried to see below the surface, had she looked so closely at him. She'd gotten used to the beautiful face he'd been wearing. Had even grown to like it. Quite a lot. She moved a step closer to him, drawn by some force she couldn't name or define. An odd sort of sparking permeated the air around them. Before she could guess his intentions, his head dipped down and his lips met hers. The kiss offered her another series of revelations. She liked the feel of it. His mouth was safe and comforting at first. Then it became something else, something more. His lips prized hers apart, deepening the kiss to a small invasion. Strange little tingles began running around her body, skipping along her skin, especially where he touched her. He didn't object when she ran a hand into his hair, letting it slide down along his neck and back. At one level, she knew 88

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the form he wore was an illusion, but there was a strange and subtle truth in it. It was the way he wanted to be for her, what he wanted her to see. By accepting it as a gift to her, she accepted him, too. Without realizing it, she'd been longing for this closeness, needing to explore the strange connection she sometimes felt between them. The heat that swept over her at his touch, the sparks raging through her body, the heaviness and need, though, were a surprise—a dazzling, thrilling shock. When he picked her up again, without breaking the kiss, she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, reveling in his touch, his warmth, and the energy that flowed between them as he carried her along the hall to his bedchamber. He set her gently on the enormous, curtained bed. For a minute or two, he sat next to her, watching her and brushing hair off her face, stroking her cheek in the process. Calluses on his fingers and a few roughened spots snagged lightly but not uncomfortably. Though there was little expression to read on his face, the eyes were deep, tempestuous seas in varying shades of green. She stared at them, losing herself in them, but didn't try to penetrate below the surface. She had to gather her courage because it felt like a great liberty, but Alsa reached up to touch his face. She ran her fingers down his temple and across his cheek. There was no rasp of whiskers, though she was sure he'd had them earlier, when they were out in the garden, and there'd been no time for him to slip away and shave. No doubt he could magic them away. His flesh felt firm and warm. She wondered if one 89

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could touch an illusion. The contours she traced seemed to match what she saw. A sparkle of warmth and excitement rushed through her fingertips as they brushed down his throat. He didn't object to her caress, but after a few minutes, he bent down and kissed her again. The world swam around her as his lips worked a more primal magic on her, making her feel hot and heavy. Music sounded, something smooth and velvety, but with an enticing rhythm. She thought it was her imagination at first, and then she realized the sound was actually there. The beat matched the increasing speed of her pounding heart. When he raised his head, a small smile played around his lips, softening the austere features in a most appealing way. Two narrow, concentric grooves delved into his cheek beside the lopsided grin. He muttered a word or two, made a small hand gesture, and the buttons on her shirt came undone. Small, exquisitely warm breezes fluttered around her, pushing back the edges of the shirt to bare her breasts. Wonder and appreciation lit his green eyes when he reached out and ran a hand over them, letting his fingers linger on the tips. Pleasure sharp as knife blades tore through her. She gasped and shuddered with it. A tension of need and longing woke and gathered in her belly, moving downward. The wizard spoke again, low, almost under his breath. Wind blew in toward her, and air gathered into a thickening cushion beneath her, raising her up off the surface of the bed. Another set of breezes pulled off her shirt, then worked on 90

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the laces of her trousers, and once those were undone, pushed them down off her hips. The drawers she wore under them were likewise removed and deposited in an untidy heap on the floor. After letting her settle gently on the bed again, the whirl of air dissipated, scattering. He leaned over and kissed her temples, cheeks, ear, and worked down her throat. It sent lovely, shimmery waves of sensation through her body. His hands sought her breasts again and teased until she was writhing with near-unbearable pleasure. She closed her eyes and sank into it. His fingers trailed down off her breasts and worked their way lower, across her stomach and abdomen until they reached the line of fine hair that guarded her secret recesses. He waited for her to signal her readiness, and after a moment she parted her legs to allow him access. He reached down even further until he was caressing the folds of flesh at the entrance. The feel of it boiled through her, making her gasp and moan. Then suddenly new feelings, almost like warm touches, broke out all over her. She opened her eyes to look, because he couldn't possibly have that many hands, and it didn't feel exactly like the contact of human flesh in any case. Staring down along her body, she saw small, sparkling lights dancing across her chest and abdomen. Hundreds of them. Red, yellow, green, and blue, the little sparks touched down on her skin, then quickly rose and skipped to a new location. Each time one settled on her, though, it imparted a small ripple of warmth, like a tiny kiss. Her entire body felt alive, electric, 91

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charged with the energy of thousands of those touches on every part of her from her forehead to her toes. The feel of those, combined with what his hands were doing to her, took her completely out of herself. Her breath grew quicker and harsher and her heart pounded harder as tension gathered to a near-unbearable tightness. She needed him in ways she'd never realized a woman could need. "Korlen." His name came out as a whisper, but he heard it and turned to her, raising questioning eyebrows. The lights sparkling over her body faded out. She glanced at his loose shirt. "I'd like to touch you." She waited, wondering if he'd be angered by the request. The corner of his mouth crooked. He intoned a few words while he stood up. No breeze or other force appeared this time, but nonetheless, the clothes removed themselves from his body in a matter of seconds. She stared at the long, graceful form revealed. Strong shoulders, narrow waist, smooth skin. He was too beautiful to bear. It was real and unreal at once, but she wanted him too badly to worry much about the philosophy of shape-shifting. He moved to the bed. When she slid over to make room, he stretched out beside her and pulled her close. The cloud of sparkly lights spread to cover and envelope him as well. The feel of his skin next to hers delighted her. She ran an appreciative hand over his chest, brushing the light dusting of hair there, savoring the hardness of muscle beneath the skin. When his breath caught in a harsh gasp, she rejoiced in her power to give him pleasure. 92

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He kissed her and this time it was hard, deep, and hot, a sensual assault that made her nerves smolder with need. His hands roved over her again, finding all the places that made her moan and tense. Deep in his throat he growled a few indistinguishable words. A whole new set of sensations rushed over her when myriad tiny, warm, spiraling breezes drove the sparks away, but lingered and fluttered around her, caressing every corner of her body with feather-soft strokes, teasing her into a frenzy. Nor did the airy touches stop when he moved over and then into her. He hit the barrier of her maidenhead and pushed on through, though a flash of surprise and concern crossed his face as he realized what it meant. The hesitation didn't last long, however. He muttered something, and her discomfort grew noticeably less before he began to move in and out in a rhythmical way. Waves and flows of warm air brushed over her, finding the most sensitive areas of her body to reawaken the heat and need that had dimmed with the pain of his entry. She began to sob as his quickening rhythm moved her into a tightening spiral of tension. The breezes concentrated their efforts in the area where their bodies joined, stroking her flesh with ever harder, faster winds. He tried to wait for her to join him, but he couldn't hold back. He groaned loudly as he spilled his seed into her. And at the climax, when he finally lost all control, he offered her a glimpse of himself, the real face and body he cloaked in other forms. He was neither as handsome as the 93

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visage he usually wore nor as ugly as her first view of him. His true face was older, more mature than the one he normally presented to her, though not as old as her father's, and nowhere near as ancient as the one he'd worn at their first meeting. Lean and angular, it summed up his life with austere, almost harsh lines of mouth and cheekbones and in old scars running across the left side of his chin and jaw and another at the right temple. Only his green eyes were as strikingly vibrant in this setting as in all the others he wore. She hadn't long to dwell on that view because shortly thereafter her own body reached some limit of endurance and suddenly exploded into a series of spasms that brought her the most astonishing pleasure she'd ever known. She panted and clung to Korlen's shoulders as the climax tossed her on a sea of breaking waves of bliss. When it finally wore itself out, she lay with him, unmoving, unable to do more than let her breath and heartbeat settle to a more normal rhythm. In the aftermath, she soaked in the feeling of peace and well-being. Korlen was no more able to move than she. His breath continued to move in heavy pants and sweat made his skin slick. Alsa drew him down against her, folding her arms around him when he rested his head next to hers as he lay, breathless and spent. She wanted to keep him that way, joined to her, open to her, as long as possible. An uncharacteristic possessiveness swept through her. She wanted to lay claim to him and hold him like this forever. A foolish thought, though. Their agreement required that she 94

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leave once she gave him the child he desired. The child she might well be conceiving right then. "I didn't realize," he whispered in her ear when he could finally speak again. "I didn't know it was your first time." "It doesn't matter. But I didn't know it could be like that," she admitted to him. "I can't imagine any woman has ever had a better first time." "I don't know that I've ever had a better time," he said He raised his head enough so he could look her in the eye. The handsome mask was back in place, but she didn't mind. Seeing his true self, she understood why he didn't want to display it to the world. Someday, she hoped he would be comfortable enough with her to wear it openly when they were alone together. Then she remembered their agreement that she'd leave after she bore his child. There wouldn't be a someday.

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Chapter Nine "You two put on quite a show last night," the dragon said to her the next morning while she rested between practice sessions. "What?" She sat straight up on the bench. She'd now heard it often enough to recognize the rumbling noise in his throat as a dragon chuckle. "You didn't know, did you?" he said. "Know what? "What happens when a pair of wizards makes love." She wondered if this were the draconian equivalent of a riddle. "Of course I know. But ... wait a minute. What happens that you can see?" "It can be quite a show." "Dragon!" "Well, it was. A nice one." She stood up. "What kind of a show?" "Of course, only creatures sensitive to magic would see it. It looks rather like lightning, swirling around the castle, only it's much brighter and lasts longer and the colors ... oh, my, the colors ... if you could only see. It was splendid. But then I suppose you were enjoying it in your own way." Alsa felt the heat in her face and knew she must be flushing bright red. "And I suppose he knew about this ... side effect?"

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"The master?" The dragon stopped and thought a second. "I suppose he must. But it's been so long since he's been with anyone, he probably forgot." "Next time I'll make sure he puts some kind of restraining spell around the place. If there is a next time. And if I learn he did know about it, those pretty colored lights will all be in his head." The dragon spread its wings and prepared to launch itself from the side of the mountain. "Don't be too hard on him for this. He's been lonely for a long time," the creature said as it pushed off from the rock.

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Chapter Ten Removing the piles of ash and splinters left from the burnt lilacs to the compost pile, digging out roots and creating holes for the new bushes entailed a day's work and a great deal of intricate spell-weaving to get the earth-elementals to do as she wished. By late afternoon, Alsa was so tired of interpreting spells and so mind-fuzzed from the concentration required, she was ready to grab a shovel and dig the holes herself. But Korlen wouldn't hear of it. "You've got to master those skills," he informed her, showing no sympathy for her tired, bedraggled condition at the end of a long day of practice. "And you've not much time to do it. So keep trying." Nor was there any respite for her in the evening, after she'd finally gotten the holes dug. When they'd finished dinner and reached the ballroom, he asked her to call a flame to ignite the logs laid in the fireplace, then several more to light the lamps. He could do it with no more than a few words and a flap of his hand. It took her almost an hour and a great deal of effort, even with this aid. They didn't sit around and listen to music either. He fetched a pitcher of water and a basin, and they practiced elemental spells to make water rise up and spill itself from pitcher to basin and back. That was easy. But making the water do pirouettes and swirls and blow bubbles during the trip from pitcher to basin left her depleted and dazed. 98

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Afterward, he invited her to come to his bed again. He rubbed her back and massaged aching muscles until her body came alive and demanded his touch in other ways, in other places. He gave freely, spending time to learn what pleased her, and letting her explore his body, which felt surprisingly real, though she knew what she saw and felt wasn't exactly the truth. At the same time, it was him, though. Hairroughened flesh rasped pleasantly beneath her questing fingers, and he reacted with gratifying intensity when she touched him. His gasps and moans were genuine enough, evoking a savage need, which she matched with her own fierce desire. Still, he didn't drop the mask until the moment of his climax, when for just a moment, he was unable to maintain the illusion. Those brief moments, when she knew she connected with the man beneath the mask, were the most gratifying of all. She longed for those times with a desperate intensity she couldn't explain, even to herself. She spent the next few days continuing to call elementals in the most common ways, trying to get comfortable with the process. With Korlen's support to get her past the fear, she learned to cajole a small flame to ignite tinder or the wick of an oil lamp. In addition, she practiced moving water through a tube—handy for washing one's hair, she discovered—or having it swish itself around soiled clothes and then rinse through them. Creating small holes in the earth and calling a freshening breeze to dry the clothes cleaned earlier by the water elemental became almost second nature. Breath made her presence felt frequently, as well. Although an air elemental could have no sex, Alsa thought of 99

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it as female. Its gentle demeanor and way of comforting her after long sessions of hard work or arguments with Korlen suggested a female friend. And it was a friend, although Alsa couldn't really say she understood it or why it hung around her. But it seemed to enjoy the contact they shared. And it clearly appreciated, in some unknown fashion, the other elementals Alsa called, though she had no idea how it connected with them or what it got from being in proximity. It made Breath happy and that was good enough. Alsa found the undemanding companionship restful. She'd hoped Breath might be able to help her in another way, by going down and checking on what was happening in the town. The air elemental was quite pleased to do it, but the creature's way of viewing the world and everything in it was so different from human patterns of thinking, the information it brought back couldn't be sorted or resolved into anything useful. So Alsa resorted to periodic returns to the mirror table to keep her apprised of the situation at home. On the day she saw the troops from the other towns begin to load the supplies they'd collected and prepare to set out on the march, she went to Korlen to warn him the time was near. He listened to her in silence, but his expression got darker and darker. She read anger in his expression but couldn't discern the cause. "You're not ready," he said when she was done. "Not even close. It won't work." He stopped, drew a deep breath, and began pacing up and down the length of the ballroom. She watched him walking, muttering to himself, clearly wrestling with something, and wondered if he would 100

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try to prevent her from leaving. How could she fight him, if he did? Her clenched fists were damp with sweat when he stopped pacing and came over to her. "Come with me," he said, taking her arm as he walked by. "I need your help." "What are you doing?" she asked, scrambling to keep up with his determined stride. "Delaying tactics," he said. "We need more time. You'll have to help me guide it." "Guide what?" "The storm." "You're going to make a storm?" They went outside to the garden. "Call it," he corrected. "But you'll have to show me where to send it." She tugged on the sleeve of his loose, white shirt. "Why would you do this? I thought you wouldn't intervene." "Only this," he said. His strained frown showed his unhappiness about it. "Because you're not even close to ready. You can barely control the elementals as yet. You stand no chance. And it's spring. A storm won't surprise them, even though it will be an unusually fierce one. No one will suspect wizardry in it this time of year." "What do you want me to do?" "Stay apart and don't distract me. Point in the right direction when I ask you." She nodded and stepped back from him. He went to the center of the garden. For a moment he didn't move, just 101

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stood there, gathering his thoughts, centering his concentration, then he slowly raised his arms over his head and began a low chanting. She couldn't make out the words he used, but it had the rhythmic cadence of the basic spells he'd taught her. He raised his face to stare into the sky. A light breeze sprang up and began to play around him, billowing the sleeves and body of his shirt, lifting his straight, dark hair and splaying it over his brow. He didn't move, except to continue reciting the spell. Within moments the wind swelled and surged, becoming louder, fiercer. Korlen's tall, slender form tensed in his concentration on the forces he summoned. He kept his arms straight up, fingers splayed but moving in small circles. His face set into hard lines, eyes closed, mouth still moving in the quiet chant she could no longer hear over the roar of the incoming wind. Above them, clouds began to gather, scudding toward them in answer to his call, melding into a gray haze that obscured the sun and turned all the visible sky a deep, angry gray. The mass began to rotate, slowly at first, then picking up speed, whirling until she had to look away from it or be overwhelmed by vertigo. Swirls and eddies of air blew around her, scrambling the leaves on plants, bending young tree trunks almost to the ground, and sending pots tumbling. Alsa grabbed her hair to keep it out of her eyes. She kept her gaze focused on Korlen. He seemed suddenly both smaller and taller—a fragile figure dwarfed by the immensity of the forces he called, yet at once magnificent and glorious in his command of them. His white shirt and trousers seemed to glow in the growing darkness. 102

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Thunder rumbled in the gathered clouds. Lightning flashed, small streaks at first, then growing in intensity, though it didn't strike anywhere near them. Without opening his eyes, Korlen called to her over the scream of rushing air, "Show me where to send it." She pointed in the correct direction but he didn't open his eyes. "Think it for me," he shouted. Not sure how that worked, she nevertheless brought to mind the geography of the area, the location of the valley relative to them, and the path toward the area where her enemies gathered. The clouds began to move away, grumbling and flashing as if in protest of the job they'd been set, drifting to the southeast, darkening even more as they went, taking the roar of the harsh wind with them. For another few minutes, Korlen held his tense pose, until the incipient storm neared the horizon. He added a few more muttered lines, before he slowly lowered his arms and then opened his eyes. The quiet left behind after the wind roared off was almost eerie, a silence that pressed on her with near-palpable weight. The air itself seemed lighter, too, as though the storm had pulled much of it along with itself. For long seconds she stood there watching the trailing ends of the storm, not wanting to admit to him how astonished she was by the level of power she'd witnessed. In truth, she was just a little frightened by it. After a moment, though, she turned to him to thank him. 103

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Korlen stood, staring blankly, not moving. Alsa remembered how exhausted even the smaller spells left her feeling. She could hardly imagine what a project of this magnitude might take out of him. Before she reached him, he took a step forward, stumbled and nearly went to his knees. She rushed forward, got a shoulder under his armpit, and held him upright. "Help me sit," he said, gasping for air. She put an arm around his waist, led him to the nearest bench, and lowered him onto it. He slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in the palms of his hands. Long, slender fingers ran up into the disordered hair. "What can I get you?" she asked. "Food," he said, the words muffled because he didn't lift his face. "A great deal of it. Before that, though, bring me tea. The more sugar the better." "I'll be back in a moment." She ran to the kitchen and called a fire elemental to heat the water, while she assembled pot, infuser, and tea. When she returned to the garden with a pot of heavily sweetened brew, he sat just as she'd left him. She poured out a cup for him and steadied his shaking hand. It hadn't been so long ago he'd done the same thing for her. A rush of tenderness made her want to hug and hold him. Instead she helped him get the first cup down, poured another one, and went to fix him the biggest dinner she could manage. The kitchen didn't offer a lot of possibilities for someone with little cooking knowledge or ability. Alsa broke every one of the half dozen eggs she found into a bowl, whipped them, 104

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and added grated cheese, chopped vegetables, and a few herbs she found in the pantry to make an enormous omelet. Several thick slices of bread, toasted and slathered with fruit preserves, completed the meal. He devoured every crumb of it and downed another pot of tea before color and animation began to return to his face. When he finished, he suggested, "You'd better go check in the mirror table. Make sure the storm served its purpose." She nodded and went to do that. The storm had indeed blown through the enemies' encampment, creating havoc. Ripped open bags of grain and other food stuffs, their contents scattered, testified to the intensity of the wind that had torn them apart. Supply carts and catapults lay in pieces or on their sides, mired in mud. It would take days, maybe even weeks, to reassemble the machines and the supplies, and then they'd still have to clear roads blocked by downed trees or washed out beneath rivers of muck. All in all, Alsa thought it might take as much as a month before the troops could be ready to move again. "Even that's not enough time," Korlen said gloomily when she reported the results to him. "It's what we've got. Teach me all you can. Would it be possible to show me how to do something such as you did with the storm? Only smaller, of course." The ferocity of his expression made her take a hasty step back and say, "Well, no, I guess not." "Woman, you have no idea what you ask. You're not even close to ready to handle forces such as those. And dealing in 105

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weather is always tricky. Don't even think of trying it. We'll have work enough teaching you what you can learn now." For the next two weeks, they worked morning, noon and night, with few respites. The wizard drove her hard, and Alsa did her best to comply, to follow all his directions and cram as much knowledge into her head as she could. She practiced the small spells with elementals until she could do them with some ease. Over time she improved to the point of calling and controlling more than one elemental at a time, and getting them to do more complex things. The effort wore on her spirit and her body. She fell into bed shortly after dinner most nights, with no energy remaining to think about any other activity. By the end of the second week, she was waking up still feeling tired and wondering if she could last through another day without collapsing. The wizard showed her no kindness and no mercy. He was tense, demanding, and furious when she didn't perform as he expected her to. Even when she broke down in tears from the pressure, he gave her only a short break before setting her to trying again. Each day's trip to the mirror-scrying table reminded her why she needed to work as hard as she could. **** The gathering troops still hadn't reassembled all their supplies after the storm on the day she spied a messenger heading toward the castle. A very young, very nervous messenger. She saw when he got to the bridge and his hesitation to dare it. He finally did, and she admired the 106

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courage it took. But then he darted from rock to stone, always staring upwards as he took the last part of the trail. Remembering her own first encounter with the dragon, she couldn't blame him for his worry. She knew now the dragon wouldn't flame anyone, but no one else was aware of it, and she understood the wisdom behind the deception. She went down to meet the messenger, on the assumption any communication from below was likely to be directed at her rather than to the wizard. In this case, she was correct. "M ... mistress, I h ... have a mes ... er, message from your m ... mother," the young envoy stuttered, swallowing hard, while his eyes searched the skies and woods around them. "You needn't fear the dragon," she said, hoping to soothe him and possibly get to the import of the message the sooner. "He won't attack while I'm here. I can guarantee it." The youngster heaved a deep sigh. "You're sure?" "Positive." "My thanks, mistress." "And the message?" she prompted. "Oh. Your lady mother bids me tell you your father is ill. She hopes you might be able to pay a visit. It would cheer him greatly." "How ill?" "I don't know, mistress. He did seem quite unwell when last I saw him. I don't know how serious it is." "I see. Thank you for delivering the message. You're very brave to come up here, knowing the risks." 107

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The boy tried to shrug it off, but his blush gave away his pleasure at her praise. "Your lady mother promised you'd pay me well for bringing the news." Alsa laughed sharply. "I should have known. Will you wait here while I fetch something? Even if you should see him, I promise again that the dragon won't harm you." The boy glanced left, right, above and left again, then nodded. When she returned with a couple of coins, she found the youngster staring upward, near-frozen with terror, yet also quite fascinated. The dragon returned the regard with equal interest. She shooed off the dragon and tried to reassure the boy by walking a little ways down the hill with him. "It's rather beautiful, isn't it?" the boy asked. "In a terrible sort of a way." "That's a good way to describe it, and you can now count yourself among the special lucky people in the world who've seen the dragon and survived." She added that she'd make sure the dragon didn't come after him as she sent him on his way. Restraining the dragon wasn't hard. Facing Korlen's reaction to her request was much more trying.

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Chapter Eleven "You want to visit your relatives now?" Korlen set down the book he was thumbing through, letting it rap sharply against the table. His green eyes were brilliant with astonishment and anger. "Have you lost what little sense you have? You can't. There's too much to do and too little time as it is." "Just for a day. No more. My father is ill. Suppose he were to die and I didn't make a last visit?" "Did the messenger indicate he was dying?" "No. But it's always possible." The wizard's eyes narrowed, lips compressed, and the handsome features wavered briefly out of, then back into, focus. "Your father is a vigorous man not much past his middle years. He's likely to live a long life yet." "But suppose he doesn't?" "Would he want you to sacrifice the cause of your town to his own personal satisfaction?" "Of course not. But he doesn't know. Please, Master Korlen. Just for a day? It's been weeks since I saw my family. I miss them. And I need some time. I'm near to breaking from the constant exercise. I can't take any more right now. I'll work twice as hard when I get back. I promise." He sighed and ran a long-fingered, graceful hand through his dark hair, lifting and twisting strands of it. The disarray lent him an uncharacteristic but appealing boyishness. "I suppose you must. But you'll work all the harder when you return. There's still much to do and not enough time to do it." 109

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"Thank you, oh, thank you." She kissed him enthusiastically, then pulled back, feeling the heat rush to her face. Odd that, despite the relationship between them, she still felt uncomfortable in touching him uninvited. Alsa left early the next morning, borrowing the one-league boots for the purpose, and made it to town in fifteen minutes. Her mother ran from the house to meet her, and neighbors gathered around, some to say hello, others to gawk at the woman who lived with the local wizard and was learning sorcery from him. She wondered how long it would be before someone asked her to perform. She embraced her mother and exchanged enthusiastic greetings with what seemed like half the town. When they finally worked their way home, she found her father in bed, suffering from a cold or influenza, but clearly not at death's door. Nonetheless, he was so glad to see her, his only daughter, his pleasure more than compensated for the inconvenience and exertion of the journey. Their reunion was interrupted by a call from the kitchen, where she was obliged to partake of an extensive lunch, prepared by her mother and several of her mother's friends, Only after they'd polished off most of the food, cleaned up the mess, and the others had departed to afternoon chores or naps, did she get to spend a quiet hour talking with her father in his private chamber. As the wizard had noted, he was not an elderly man, but a large and vigorous one at most times. The illness had sucked some of the vitality from him, but she sensed he was in no danger of not recovering. 110

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"You'll get over this quickly, won't you?" she asked him. "Of course, of course. Your mother makes too much of it. You know what a worrier she is." "Sometimes with reason," Alsa reminded him. "And sometimes not. But where you're concerned, I'm inclined to agree with her doubts. This is a perilous thing you're doing. Are you sure it's right for you?" he asked her. "Trying to learn sorcery?" "Without question. It's difficult, and not always pleasant, but now that I've started, I realize how much I was meant to do this. How empty I'd be without it." "It's dangerous," he stated. "Sometimes. But then so is walking down the street. You could slip in the mud and hit your head on a stone, or a horse might run you down. It's worth the risks." "And that old wizard up there? He treats you well? But how could he do otherwise with my pretty daughter?" His smile betrayed his pride and affection. She thought about that. "He treats me as well as he knows how, I think. He isn't always kind or understanding, but he's trying to teach me as much as he can as quickly as possible, and that leaves little room for gentleness. Also..." "Also what?" "He's lived by himself, alone in that castle but for the dragon, for a long time. I think he's forgotten how to be with others." "And you think you can teach him?" "Yes, I think I can. Already we've started to understand each other." 111

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Her father sighed and patted her hand. "It's not as easy to change, or even to understand, another person as you might think. But if anyone can, you're the one to do it." "I know the difficulties, believe me. But we've made a good start." She noted the yawn he tried to smother, so she released her hand from his. "You look tired and I'm keeping you from your nap." "Worth the loss just to see you." "I agree, but now you should rest." She stood and kissed his forehead before leaving the room. Over coffee in the kitchen a little while later, her mother and brother also questioned her about her relationship with the wizard. Her brother wanted to know about all the wonderful things the wizard could do, and commented pointedly on how handy it would be to have him around in a fight. Her mother followed a different line of thought. "Is he very good-looking?" she asked Alsa. "It depends," Alsa answered. "On what?" "On what face he's wearing. He's a wizard. He can look however he wants to look. Most of the time he has a handsome face. But I've also seen him look terribly monstrous." "But his real face?" "Mostly he keeps it hidden. Not because it's ugly. It's not, in fact. Probably because it tells too much about him. Or maybe it's just that his real face is rather ordinary. It doesn't fit him. Or maybe it fits too well. I don't know. He's an 112

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extraordinary individual in many ways. So powerful, yet so ... human, as well." Her mother gave her a sharp look. "Are you falling in love with him?" "With him?" Alsa laughed. "Master Korlen, the wizard? No. He has no love in him. How could I fall in love with someone so cold?" "You said he was so human, too." "I meant he gets irritated and angry like anyone else. And he's lonely, I think, and maybe even a little frightened. But he isn't capable of love, so I couldn't love him." Her mother shook her head. "Everyone can love It's a question of whether they're willing to. And many people have fallen in love with someone who won't love them in return. But I'm glad you're not. It wouldn't do for you." "Why not?" "How could you be happy, living up there in that lonely castle, with only him for company all the time? It's not such a life as you should live." She wondered at that. Prolonged visits with neighbors and endless gossip sessions might be her mother's idea of a pleasant way to live, but it had never been what Alsa saw for herself. She'd always enjoyed running and climbing and exploring the hills with her brother and friends more than sitting and gossiping. She liked reading and learning new things. Several neighbors arrived then, preventing Alsa from pointing out the error of some of her mother's suppositions, 113

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even if she did, in general, agree she wouldn't be happy living with just the wizard. The people of the town wanted her to demonstrate some of what she'd learned. Alsa obliged with a few simple tricks, involving moving a few dishes, transporting a pot from hearth to table, and making one of the women's dress raise itself to her knees. None of her audience knew how easy those demonstrations were, so they exclaimed in wonder and looked a bit in awe of her. They also refused to go away until Alsa noted that her time was up and she had to get back to the wizard's castle Her family parted with her reluctantly, and she felt equally unwilling to leave. The warmth and enthusiasm of her reception contrasted all too sharply with the loneliness of the castle, the demands of the training, and the limitations of companionship with an immature dragon and an arrogant, chilly wizard. But the memory of the view she'd seen in the wizard's mirror, of forces gathering just beyond the mountains to attack her town, impelled her back to the castle and the lessons.

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Chapter Twelve Korlen met her on the rocky path leading up to the castle. That was surprise enough in itself, but his expression of open pleasure at seeing her was a definite shock. He wrapped her in a hug and kissed her lightly before he surprised her even more. "Your father? He's not too seriously ill?" he asked, as he led her inside, one arm wrapped around her waist. "No," she admitted. "He has a coughing illness, but it's not morbid. He's not well, but he'll recover. As you said before, he's a vigorous man yet." "And the rest of your family? In good health?" "They're all well." She turned to look him over. He wore the handsome face and slender, supple, young man's body, as well as his usual loose pants and shirt with leather jerkin. But today's clothes looked vaguely different, more carefully formed and fitted, she decided on consideration. His expression, too, differed somewhat from his norm—more gentle and friendly. The most puzzling thing, though, was his apparent interest in the details of her visit. "And what do they think of your spending time learning sorcery from the old wizard on the mountain?" "They have reservations," she answered carefully. "About myself?" "More about magic in general. They fear it's dangerous."

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"It is." They headed down the hall to the ballroom, where he lit the fire with a gesture and handed her a cup of hot tea before seating himself opposite her. "I didn't try to convince them otherwise," she said. "Only that I understood the risks and dared them willingly." "They know why you're doing this?" "In a fashion. They know I feel the need to learn the arts because I have the talent. My father, at least, suspects I want to learn something to help the village defend itself." "And your mother? What does she think?" He moved to the fire and warmed his hands in front of it. Though his chair was drawn toward the blaze, she'd never seen him make that gesture, never noticed he felt the chill in the castle at all. "My mother warned me against falling in love with you." He wheeled sharply around to face her. "She truly fears that?" "I don't know if fear is the right word. She worries about it. Yet, I think, at the same time, she'd be pleased by it." "You eased her fears?" "I convinced her it wouldn't happen." Some of the light drained from his face before he nodded and drew a deep breath. "Do they know about...?" "Our bargain? No." "They wouldn't approve." "Of course not." "It is rather outrageous," he commented. "It is," she agreed. "Are you regretting it now?" "No." 116

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He smiled again, showing the attractive grooves in his cheeks, bracketing his mouth, and making his green eyes glow. Her pulse fluttered in an uneven rhythm and her breath caught in her throat. "You're tired," he commented, studying her face with more interest than he'd ever evinced before. "Come to bed?" They went to bed. But it was some time before they actually fell asleep. She reminded him to bespell the room so the fireworks wouldn't escape to titillate nosy dragons.

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Chapter Thirteen For the next week she continued practicing the basic spells for working with elementals until she could do those simple exercises routinely and control more than one comfortably. For small, limited tasks, she even managed three. Then they moved on to the more complicated projects requiring new, extensive spells read from the wizard's books. Still fairly simple ones, he informed her, though they seemed anything but simple to her. The effort required to light all the candles on the elaborate chandelier in the ballroom at once, or to dig a trench through the garden and direct a stream of water along its length, left her gasping. At night she fell into bed beside him, too tired even to think about making love. He respected her exhaustion and made no demands. But just lying beside him or nestled against him with his arms around her was a comforting intimacy. She felt safe and protected in a way she'd never known before. Almost as though she belonged there. He seemed to recognize he'd been driving her too hard before her visit to her parents and eased off, giving her more frequent breaks. In the evenings, he halted work at dinnertime, and they retired to their sitting area in the ballroom afterward, to listen to music or talk. He tried to avoid telling her much about himself or his background in those discussions, other than to say he'd had a very ordinary childhood. He asked numerous questions about her past, wanting to know about her relationship with her 118

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family, how she'd spent her childhood, what she liked to do in her spare time, what activities she was good at, and what she'd learned at the town school. He listened carefully to her answers and drew her out into more and deeper explanations. After a couple of days of doing most of the talking, Alsa insisted he tell a bit about himself. He'd already told her his father had been a village healer in a town many leagues to the southeast. His mother was head cook to the local baron there. "I was a trial to them," Korlen admitted. "More than they could ever have been prepared to handle. My father had only a very small talent for magic. Unfortunately, I had much more talent, and it was obvious, even from an early age. I got into all sorts of trouble trying to do things I wasn't ready to handle." "Such as?" she asked. "I remember a time when I was very small—maybe five or six—I wanted to help my mother. I believe she was mashing potatoes and turnip roots. I told her I could do it. And I did. But it got boring quickly, so I tried to set the mashing thing— I don't remember what she called it—to keep going without my having to make it work. Unfortunately I didn't know how to gauge how much force was needed" "Oh, dear. Mashed potato eruption?" Alsa suggested. Korlen grinned and nodded. "More like an explosion. I still remember having mashed potatoes in my eyelashes, my hair, my clothes, and my ears, everywhere. It was all over the kitchen, too. It took hours to clean it up." 119

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His grin faded. "Not all of my accidents were that harmless, though. A couple of years later, I nearly killed another boy, when I was putting on a display of dancing rocks." "Dancing rocks. I should imagine that was an interesting sight." "It was," he admitted. "Quite a trick. But dangerous, too. When one of the other kids demanded to know how I was doing it, I lost concentration for a minute or so and the rocks flew everywhere. One of them brushed by that boy's head and hit him on the shoulder. Broke his collarbone. If it had hit his head, he'd likely have died. "It wasn't long after that my parents arranged for me to go to a powerful wizard for training. I suspect they were relieved to be rid of me. I was a constant worry for them. It got so they were afraid to let me out of their sight, and even then they knew they might not be able to stop what I would do." "What about the wizard who trained you? Will I ever get a chance to meet him?" His expression darkened. "No," Korlen said. "He's dead. Cathaly was—" His face twisted into a strange combination of sadness and anger. His hands tightened into fists and his lips pressed together as though the grief were still fresh enough to pain him. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have known him." "You would have liked him. He would've liked you, too. He enjoyed the company of other wizards." "Have you known many other wizards?" she asked. "A few. And I've heard stories of some others." 120

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"From your master?" Korlen nodded. "Cathaly loved to tell about the more glorious achievements and creations of those he'd known or heard about. Sometimes I've wondered if all the stories were true, but when they're such splendid tales, it barely matters if the facts are strictly accurate." "Will I ever meet any other wizards?" He shrugged. "I hope so." "I do, also. Until then, I'd love to hear some of those wonderful stories," Alsa said. The sadness lingering in his expression since he'd mentioned his master broke up into a reminiscent smile as he nodded. "Well, there was the ice bridge the wizard Worged created in the Foglind Gorge," he said. "That was a magnificent feat. I've heard it was five furlongs long, and nearly eight hundred people crossed it to safety after a rockslide made the entire mountain they lived on unstable. It took some fifty water elementals to create the span, and it nearly killed Worged controlling them all, to keep the water frozen and stable for so long. But when the sun shone on it, it's said it was a sight so dazzling it nearly blinded everyone who looked on it." "Fifty water elementals! I can't imagine how he could have..." But then Alsa remembered Korlen calling the storm and wondered how many air elementals it had involved. If only she could manage to master magic at that level before the invasion. But it would take years of practice, and she had at most a few weeks. 121

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He smiled. "It was an achievement. But not the greatest I've heard. My master spoke of a wizard he'd seen in his youth, who faced a hurricane bearing down on his town by the sea, and called every air elemental he could collect to force it back out to sea." "Did it work?" "I presume it must have. I don't think we'd still be hearing about it if it hadn't." "True." "My own master Cathaly did some wondrous things," he added. "He trained you," she said. His smile was sly, proud, and amused at once. "There are those who would argue that was nothing to brag about." "He did it well, at any rate," she pointed out. "He did most things well," Korlen said. "He was an artist in addition to being a sorcerer. I can only—" The wizard hesitated for only a moment before continuing, "He painted the most glorious pictures. Landscapes so real you'd swear you could jump right into the pictures. Portraits that made their subjects uncomfortable with the truths they revealed. He did the most exquisite rendition of a rose..." "Those paintings in the hallways," Alsa asked. "He did those?" "A few of them. He was remarkable. He loved nature in all its forms, too. He liked to stand outside during a storm and watch the winds whip around him and even let the rain soak his clothes. In spring he'd spend hours in the garden, smelling his flowers or just watching them grow. The roses 122

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were his greatest love, and he never ceased experimenting with calling different elementals to make sure they got just the right amount of rain, the perfect cooling breezes, and the best soil. I still remember their smell, the perfume so strong it could make you dizzy." "I definitely would have liked to have known him," Alsa said. "You would. His greatest achievement was created in honor of a truce between the two warring countries whose borders his land straddled. He concocted the largest, most brilliant and glorious rainbow you've ever seen. It took him two entire days of setting spells, calling forces, and directing all the different elementals. But the results were ... astonishing. The whole spectrum of colors showed, each band a brilliant ribbon so dazzling and bright, it almost hurt to look at it. It lasted for nearly an entire day, spanning the sky in an enormous arch. I don't know if anyone else who saw it knew how much effort and planning went into that display, or how much it meant to him." "That reminds me of the rainbow bridge below on the mountain." "It should, though the bridge is a poor, pale imitation. A combination of ideas, really—Worged's ice bridge and my master's rainbow. It was something Cathaly had planned to do one day himself because he could see all sorts of meanings and resonances in the idea. The rainbow bridge is one you cross in faith, believing there's substance beneath the glitter to hold you up and carry you across the chasm. Fitting, 123

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somehow, for what a wizard does. He never got the chance, so I did it for him and set it there to honor his memory." "What happened to him?" The reminiscent pleasure in his green eyes abruptly died. A ferocious anger replaced it, coupled with regret and something else, something she couldn't name. For a few minutes his silent, ragged breathing was all the sound in the room, and she thought he wouldn't answer. "An angry mob killed him." "Why?" "They were from one of the two countries I told you about earlier. The truce the rainbow celebrated didn't last very long. When they went at it again, each side thought the wizard was helping the other. The losers were determined it wouldn't happen again." His voice was hard and cold, the anger just barely contained. "How could that happen?" Alsa asked. "Wizards have so many defenses. Wouldn't he know they were coming for him?" "He knew." "Then why didn't he do something to stop them? Or fight back?" Korlen hesitated, teacup poised between his knee and his mouth. "They had a hostage. Someone he didn't want harmed." "Family member? Or someone he cared for?" "Sort of." 124

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Alsa stared at him, puzzled by his reticence, struck also by the level of emotion he revealed to her. Old anger, hurt and pain showed in the green eyes, mixed with something else— grief and guilt. "What does 'sort of' mean?" He drew a long breath. "Actually she was someone I cared for. Cathaly knew how I felt." "So for your sake, he made no move against the mob coming for him. And you've felt guilty about his death ever since. Were you there when it happened?" He nodded slowly. "I was there. He let them take him. In exchange for a promise that neither she nor I would be harmed." "You couldn't stop them?" "Not without risking harm to ... her. And Master Cathaly didn't force me to make a choice. He went to them before I could move to stop him." "And...?" "They stoned him. Right in front of me. When I tried to stop it, they did something to her. She screamed. And I stopped trying to intervene." "They killed him?" His fingers tightened around the side of the chair. "And more. Even after he was dead, they threw stones. For a long time." The words came out so rough and ragged, they must have torn at his throat. He paused for a deep breath. "I didn't have to worry about burying him. They built the cairn over him." Alsa studied his bitter expression, the awful stew of emotion hardening his handsome face into rigid lines. "I'm 125

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sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how terrible that must have been for you." But she could, in fact, by considering how she'd feel if something of the sort were to happen to Korlen. Her stomach roiled at the thought. "They came close to destroying two wizards with those stones," she ventured. He met her eyes, held them, then slowly let some of the tension escape him on a long sigh. "Perhaps, in a way, they did." "What about the girl? Did they keep their promise? Or did they ... hurt her, too." "They kept their promise. They could afford to. After that terrible display, they knew I wouldn't interfere in others' affairs, and she..." The sudden venom in his tone made Alsa wince. "She'd been working with them all along. Her relationship with me had been a convenient way for her to spy on us, to learn what we were doing. She wasn't even very good at it. The spying part anyway. She was good enough at convincing me she cared, or maybe I was just willing to be convinced. But she didn't even get it right about my master. He knew better than to intervene in the affairs of other men." "And you learned not to trust anyone," Alsa added softly. "Not to get involved with anything or anyone." His expression warned her against any display of sympathy. "Experience teaches memorable lessons." "And its wounds take a long time to heal," she added. She wondered if he would ever heal enough to let another person touch his heart. But so little time remained for her before the battle. Not enough for him to heal or for her to learn how to turn the tide of a war. 126

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Chapter Fourteen When the day she'd both dreaded and awaited arrived, she was just beginning to really master a few of the more complicated spells. Checking in the scrying mirror, as she'd done each afternoon for the two weeks since she'd returned from the visit with her parents, she discovered the army of the other towns had begun to move toward her home. A wave of panic rolled over her. She still had no idea how she could go about stopping an entire army. She didn't have the skills or knowledge she needed. But she had to try anyway. "Master Korlen," she said as she returned to the great room. "I've just looked into the scrying mirror." His expression tensed. "It's time?" She nodded. "The army is on the march. They'll be at my town in a week or so." He winced, drew a deep breath, and nodded. "I have to go. I have to warn them, help them get ready, consider what I can do." "You really think you can do much of anything?" he asked. "I don't know. I really don't know. But I have to try. That's what all of this has been about ... Unless you could—?" "No." She waited for the rest of his answer but that was all he said. Finally she said, "You did it once."

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"Once they'd see as a natural thing, a bit of bad luck. Twice, and they'd look around for sorcery. And eventually know where to find it." "I see." She nodded, thinking of his master. "I understand. Then I'd better get ready to go. I don't suppose there are any other spells you could teach me quickly that would be of help on the battlefield?" "None I can think of," he answered. His face was solemn, strained. "You're still not ready for this, you know." "I know, but I've got to try. I don't suppose ... you'd consider coming with me." "I've told you from the start I wouldn't intervene in your town's problems. You know why. If you go, you go on your own, with what little you now know of sorcery to defend your people." He hesitated a moment. "It might be enough. If you're very clever and devious, you might be able to make it enough. But I can't tell you how." He shook his head, slowly. "There's something else you should know. You'll be carrying my child into battle with you." "I will?" She smiled at the thought. "I didn't know. I haven't been sick or uncomfortable with it." "Does it make any difference?" "It makes a difference. It's another person to consider. Not just my own safety, but his or hers as well. But it doesn't change what I have to do. This is what our bargain, all my training has been for. I can't not do it. No matter what the risks." He sighed deeply. "I wish I knew the right words to make you stay here. I believe it's a mistake. I could constrain you— 128

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" He waved it off as she opened her mouth to protest. "Yes, I could, but I won't. It would only make you hate me the more. And it would violate the person you are too deeply. But I almost wish I could do it." She looked at him, recognized how affected he was by her imminent departure and the peril she went into. "Would it make you feel any better to know I, too, wish I didn't have to go? I would rather stay here with you. But that would be a betrayal of all I've valued through most of my life—my family, my relatives, my friends. I have to go." "I know." He went and sat in the armchair near the fire, but almost immediately flung himself upright again to pace around the room. Finally he came back to stand next to her, and pulled her into his arms, against his body. "I knew it would come to this, but I'd hoped not so soon." The embrace felt so good she wondered how she could bear to leave it. "We knew the time was short, and you've pushed me to learn all I can. There's no way to tell you how grateful I am for everything. I'll try very hard to keep myself alive and bring your child back to you." "I believe you will. Go and do what you must."

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Chapter Fifteen As she left the castle and started down the path toward her town, the dragon surged up from behind the cliff, much as he had on the day of her arrival. He didn't spit fire this time, or make any wisecracks. "Little mortal!" he called, causing her to pause on the tricky path. "I hear you're leaving us to go risk your life in some foolish human squabble. Is it true?" "It is," she answered. "Why?" "Why do I go? I have an obligation to my people to give them what assistance I can. It's why I came here in the beginning, you know. To learn enough of wizardry to save them." "You can't go. We need you." "The two of you did just fine for a long time before I arrived. You'll do well again together when I leave." "But it won't be the same. And you have a gift, a rare gift for wizardry. That's so much more valuable than all those petty human squabbles." "Is it? I also have a great love for some of those people whose lives are at risk if I can't protect them." "We love you, too, and we don't want you to go," the dragon protested. "We?" "The wizard and me. He'll never say so, of course, but in his own way, he does love you. He'll miss you." 130

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"He'll miss me," she acknowledged. "But he doesn't need me, except as the vessel to carry the child he wants. The people of my town need me. To warn them, and organize them, and ultimately to help them win this battle with the others who'd take by force what rightfully belongs to us. They've loved me all my life, without stint or reserve, and I owe them whatever I can do to help them." "But I don't want you to go," the dragon said, in a sulky child's voice. "I don't want to go, either. But I'll return, if only to bring to the wizard the child he wants much more than he wants me." "You promise you'll come back?" the dragon begged. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to survive, and if I do, I will come back." "And you'll miss me while you're gone?" She had to laugh, he sounded so much like a pleading child. "Yes. I'll miss you very much while I'm gone." "Then take care of yourself, little mortal. And take care of the other little mortal you carry within you. I'm looking forward to having more company around here."

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Chapter Sixteen She'd only gone a little ways down the mountain, had just crossed the rainbow bridge, an experience that no longer cost her the same level of anxiety as it had on her first trip across, when she realized she wasn't alone on the journey. A rush of warm air brushed across her cheek, then down an arm. Alsa found it comforting to have Breath with her. Though the elemental was still more enigma than anything else, its companionship was reassuring and welcome at a time when she felt very alone and unsure of herself. She found her townsmen unaware of the imminence of the danger, though they would have known within a day or two anyway when the guards posted along the passes spotted the marching army and sent the alarm. Her notice gave them a little extra time to prepare. No one doubted the woman training to be a wizard when she warned of an invading force. Nor was there any question about her joining in the battle with them and helping to plan the defense. It frayed her nerves knowing her friends and relatives expected more of her than she feared she could deliver. The young soldiers whistled and sang gleefully as they sharpened swords, strung bows and cleaned leather armor, secure in the knowledge they had a wizard in their midst and certain, therefore, of victory. Even the elders who ordered the preparations, gathered supplies, oversaw the erection of new fortifications along with renewal of the existing walls, and laid plans for the defense harbored few doubts of their eventual 132

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victory. Alsa's repeated warnings about the invading force being larger than they'd guessed—and her powers less—didn't penetrate. Only her father, recovered from his illness and back to his usual vigorous condition, seemed to understand her reservations. "You're more worried than you want them to know," he commented after one of the meetings with the elders where they discussed battle plans and strategies. "They expect me to win this war for them," she answered. "I don't know how. I can do small things, move objects or stop them, call and manipulate small elementals, but I don't have the skill to halt an entire army in its tracks." "Your wizard friend won't help?" "He won't get involved in other people's affairs. Even mine. And I asked him if there was anything he could quickly teach me that would help in this. He said no. He also said there might be a way, but I'd have to find it myself." "Then don't drive yourself to madness over it. You aren't the only one responsible for the well-being of this town, you know. The charge is on all of us, and we must all do our best and hope it's enough." He gave her a quick hug, as much a show of affection as he generally allowed himself to make. "Do what you can, but don't worry about what you can't do." It was good advice, but easier to give than to follow. Alsa spent most of her waking hours over the next few days considering what she might do to thwart their enemies. Her disastrous attempt to rescue the dragon from the crowd had taught her the futility of trying to stop large numbers of 133

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individual weapons one at a time, but she hadn't the skill to call a wind of the power and precision the wizard had. She could find no solution to her dilemma. The things she could do weren't sufficient to stop an army. The things that would stop an army were beyond her current ability. Nor did she dare attempt things she knew were beyond her. The potential for tragic disaster was too great. She was consulted on every aspect of preparation for the coming battle, as though training in magic could provide answers on any possible subject. She offered advice where she could and deferred to others who had greater knowledge, wondering why anyone would think she could string a better bow or build a better lookout tower than those who'd been doing so for years. Breath stayed with her for the most part, occasionally giving her a warm caress to remind her of its presence. She touched minds with it a few times, though the thoughts swirling in the elemental's consciousness were still incomprehensible to her. Alsa wondered if Breath could understand her any better. But the elemental clearly liked the contact, for whatever reasons of its own. The mouth of the pass the invading army traversed lay almost a day's ride from the town over some fairly rough roads, but she accompanied the party sent out to survey the area to see if there was any advantage to be gained there. The geography of the area aided them. All but one of the passes narrowed as they neared their country, and the walls at that end rose steeply enough to make it difficult for an invading army to ride in anything but a long, narrow formation. The confining space meant the first arrivals would 134

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have to camp on the plain and wait for the rest of their company to straggle through the constricted openings. She considered trying to create a rockslide to block the path, then thought about the possible consequences if she lost control of it. The entire town could be buried or cut off from trade with other areas. It wouldn't be a wise place to try to make a stand, either, with little cover and fewer resources available, but Alsa concurred they might gain some advantage by stationing a small force to ambush and pick off as many of the enemy as they could before retreating into the safety of the surrounding hills and making their way back to town. That alone wouldn't ensure them any victory, however. There were still four times as many soldiers riding toward their valley as there were people defending it. Alsa beat her brain against the problem and came up with no solution. The closer the time for confrontation drew, the tenser she grew. Plans, schemes and spells roiled in her mind as she searched for something, anything she might do to give them an advantage. A thorough review of all the lessons she'd had from the wizard provided no obvious answer, either. Her control of the elementals simply wasn't good enough to create anything but small, localized phenomena, nothing significant enough to stop an army, or even a substantial part of an army. The breezes she could call might turn an arrow or two from its path, but would have little impact on a full barrage. Water, fire, earth ... The scale of what she could do would barely impact on the force of an army. 135

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While she rested in the shade of a tree during the hottest part of an afternoon when she knew battle was no more than a day or two off, she remembered the earthworm that had distracted her from the wizard's lecture, and the way she'd been able to make contact with it on its own very simple level. She put a hand on the ground next to her and let her mind search for creatures in the soil below. Quite a number of them in her immediate vicinity suspended their burrowing, tunneling activities to respond to her mental greeting. Enough of them to have a real affect on the ground, if they were to work together, at her direction. And there were other small creatures in the area responsive to her call. Sometimes an aggregate of small effects could add up to a bigger one. Alsa had glimmerings, not too well organized or planned, but the beginnings of a plan. If it wouldn't defeat the enemy, it should at least make them more vulnerable. Which might just be enough. She worked feverishly for the next day and a half, stopping only to get a few hours of sleep or eat a hasty meal. Once she knew what she wanted to do, there was barely time enough to get it set up. When the alarm sounded, indicating the imminent arrival of enemy troops, she still didn't know if all the preparations had been made adequately, or how much it would actually help them. As she rode back inside the fortifications of the town, she could only hope and encourage her small friends to keep up their efforts. 136

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The waiting was an agony in itself. Unable to do anything further, Alsa paced the town, testing with both hand and deeper sight the material of the walls surrounding and protecting it. Hasty repairs were made to unstable joints and a section where she detected the wood wasn't as solid as it appeared. She listened to a rousing speech from the mayor, in which he promised that, if everyone did their part, there was no question they would emerge victorious. Particularly since they had a wizard in their midst. The "wizard" in question wished she shared his confidence. At nightfall everyone but a few sentries retired to get what sleep they could, knowing the invasion would come to them the next day, probably in early morning. Aware of Alsa's worry and concern, Breath stayed close and kept in constant contact through the darkness, while she tossed and turned and searched for last-minute ideas to turn the tide in their favor. In the early morning she fell into a light doze for a couple of hours, until the ringing of the alarm bell roused her. Alsa had never seen or participated in an actual battle herself, nor had anyone in the town, other than some of the very oldest residents. She'd been raised on the stories and legends of glorious struggles of the past, had heard the songs and poems celebrating great victories and shed a few tears over tales of tragic loss. She doubted the reality would match her imagined picture of glorious deeds, valiant charges, brave defenses and honorable combat. The tension as she watched on the walls at the break of day, still groggy from the restless night, for the approaching army to come into sight and then within range of their 137

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weapons, stretched her nerves wire-fine. Nor was she alone in that feeling, though the young men laughed and butted each other and proclaimed in bold tones their readiness to do great feats of valor and strength. Older, more sober men and women talked quietly, making last minute plans, leaving directions for others should they not survive, shaking hands and sharing hugs, possibly for the last time, with lifelong friends. Her mother, father and brother found her looking out over the plain to the east, toward the enemy's encampment. The four of them shared hugs, tears and the struggle not to break down under the weight of their unspoken concern for each other and fears for the future. Her father intoned a quick prayer to whatever Powers might be listening, requesting aid for their cause, adding a special plea for the safety of his family. They split up, her mother departing to the main storehouse where she'd help distribute food and drink, her brother to take up his position with bow and arrow on the north wall. Her father went to recheck the positioning of the cauldrons of oil and help with any late additions. Two young men, probably in their late teens, climbed up on the wall and approached her. She knew them vaguely, remembered seeing them around town, but they were too young to be in her school class, and too old to be friends of her brother. Daneas, the younger of the two, explained that he and Martile had been assigned to guard her and provide cover for her when she needed it. Martile smiled bashfully when she glanced his way. Daneas held her gaze steadily. 138

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Both bore swords, bows, and the confidence of the inexperienced. She almost shooed them away. She wanted to tell them to go join the battle themselves. Further thought showed her the wisdom of having them, however. The concentration needed for working magic might leave her exposed and vulnerable. She nodded acceptance, but warned, "Don't get in my way." "We won't," Daneas assured her. Martile worked his way past her on the wall to take up position on her right, while Daneas stationed himself to her left. They didn't make idle chatter. Alsa watched the light rise in the sky and the distant campfires fade from view. All too soon, clouds of dirt and the dark mass of approaching enemy troops obscured the horizon. The force wasn't as large as it had appeared when she'd seen it from the wizard's castle. The soldiers waiting in ambush at the mouth of the pass had likely reduced the numbers. But it was still an army large enough to take the town with relative ease unless her fellows were very lucky, very good, or she could manage something extraordinary to turn the balance. Her earthbound friends' tunneling efforts took some toll, too, as the enemy closed. She watched the wheel of a cart conveying a battering ram run into one of their holes, sinking up to its axle. Horses and men also foundered abruptly, disabling some of them. But the main part of the force swept around those, barely pausing in their forward surge. 139

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A short, sharp horn-blast brought the troops to a halt just beyond bowshot distance. A couple of men on horseback, the leaders apparently, rode up and down the front line, forming them into a long, shallow arc that would encompass the town and surround it on three sides when they advanced and closed in. For a few eerie minutes, there was no sound at all, as though even the wind held its breath. Invaders and defenders stared at each other across grassy fields. At this distance she couldn't descry the faces of the soldiers facing them, but she could see the tense way they held their bows, arrows notched and ready to be loosed.

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Chapter Seventeen There were no hails or preliminary parlays. A trumpet blast sounded. The front line of troops surged forward and launched the first volley of arrows. Defenders on the wall answered in kind. The rain of incoming arrows sent everyone, herself included, scrambling for cover and started the chorus of yells, moans and screams that would become the constant background noise of the day, etching themselves into her memory forever. More horns sounded. The thud of charging horses boomed and shook the ground. The enemy roared and yelled. Alsa crouched down, along with everyone else. Most of the town's able-bodied men, women, and older children were stationed on the walls, with a few posted below to handle transfer of weapons and supplies. The defenders were set most thickly on the east side, defending the city's main gate, fronting the invading force, while some on both north and south sides waited to take on the flanks. Although the enemy troops also concentrated in the center of their lines, the catapults and battering rams had been stationed closer to the ends than the middle. That worried her as she rose up enough to see over the wall and watch the forward thrust of the enemy. She wished she had some way to hear the orders from the enemy's leaders. If the frontal assault was mostly deception... There might be a way to find out. She'd never tried to join her mind with another person's, although Breath had given 141

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her some practice in dealing with sentient creatures. She reached out toward one of the men who appeared to be a leader of the enemy troops. It took a few moments, but then she made tentative contact with a human intelligence. It felt as though she penetrated a soft, cloying wall. Once through it, a crazy, dizzying, nauseating jumble of thoughts, images, feelings and reactions assailed her. People, places, things, images, bits of dialogue swirled around her, pulling at her, so many impressions, she couldn't sort it out, could barely hold her own thoughts together under the barrage. It threatened to drown her in a maddening overload. She jerked her mind probe away, breaking the contact. The sudden cessation of information left her weak and gasping. "Are you all right?" Daneas asked, putting a hand on her arm to steady her as she swayed. She could barely make out his words over the cacophony of screams, roars, yells and thuds. She leaned closer until she could hear him, nodded, and sighed, letting her head hang as she recovered, but not prepared to give up yet. A human mind was too complex to join with safely, but she'd done it with small animals and plants. Perhaps she could manage a larger animal, like a horse? A scream nearby distracted her for a moment. Hanna, the baker's assistant, collapsed with an arrow in her throat. Blood spurted from the injury as the woman writhed and finally rolled off the wall. Alsa put the gory scene out of her mind and concentrated on making contact with one of the horses. The first one she tried, part of a team of four pulling a catapult, resisted the 142

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intrusion into its mind. She pushed through gently, bracing herself against the flood of impressions and impulses. When she got in, the barrage came at her, but the mass wasn't nearly as great as it had been with the man's mind. The horse's sentience wasn't as deep as the man's. If she could endure the dizzying confusion for a few minutes, she thought she could sort it out and find what she needed. She held on and soon had the logic of the flow of the horse's mind, but she found no useful information there. It was a follower. She withdrew and turned her concentration to the lead horse. Again she braced herself against the confusion, until she got in and the logic of its mind functions became clear. It had no idea of what the plans were, didn't understand but a few spoken words, and didn't know why it was where it was or what it was doing, beyond moving as it had been trained to do at a signal from the driver. On the most visceral level, though, it was very good at understanding those signals, even to picking up small motions and clues from the driver and how he held the reins. Which was why the horse knew that, even though they were pointing in one direction, when the signal to move came, they would actually veer sharply to the right before proceeding. As soon as she'd disengaged from the horse, Alsa reached for her two bodyguards to alert them and nodded toward the nearest ladder. Daneas led the way, with Martile behind her, as they skirted one of the immense water barrels positioned at intervals on the walls, and made their way to the ground. Once down, the two young men flanked her and stayed with her as she fought her way through crowds of people running 143

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this way and that, some helping injured fellows to shelter, others carrying food and fresh weapons to the walls. They ducked and dodged to avoid incoming arrows, while Alsa sought one of the town elders. She turned sharply at a scream to her left. A small girl, no more than eight or nine, had taken an arrow in the arm. A woman nearby grabbed the child and pulled her back toward the safety of a building. She found her father first. He was helping pour hot oil out of the cauldron into a barrel, but stopped when she called to him and looked up. He yielded his position to another man and came over to her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow. "No. They're trying to fool us." She hastily outlined her suspicions about the enemy's intentions to him. "You're sure of this?" he asked. "Close to certain. It looks like the catapults and rams are positioned to move straight ahead, but they're actually going to pull them around to the sides. I imagine they'll wait until the frontal assault is progressing forward to draw as many of our defenders there as possible before they make the move." Her father nodded, accepting her word. "I'll go alert the others." Alsa thanked him and went back to the top of the east wall, where she crouched in the shelter of a guardhouse, flanked by her bodyguards. Not an archer herself, nor even much of a swordswoman, she nonetheless clung to her short sword for additional protection as she watched the battle develop. Several more volleys of arrows flew back and forth across the open area. Most shafts buried themselves in the 144

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ground or the wall, but not all. A young man a few feet from her staggered, pierced by a shaft through his chest. He toppled toward her, making a strange, gurgling noise, then he rolled backwards off the wall. On the whole, she judged from where she stood, the enemy took the greater number of casualties from the arrows, since they had no shelter. Not enough, though. Through the morning hours, the lines of enemy troops surged forward, skipping over the bodies of fallen comrades, advancing steadily toward the gate. Gaps appeared in the mass as men went down, but others moved up from behind to fill them. The ends of the line didn't close in to join the frontal assault as logic would dictate they should. She knew her father had spread the word and tactics had been reassessed when Conrad Tierson, one of the town elders, called several groups of men and women down off the east wall and sent them scurrying to the north or south. Her chest tightened and nerves tingled when she considered the outcome if she were wrong. The siege engines weren't moving as yet, though. If she could stop them now ... She whispered to her guards to keep watch. The first part of the spell she could do in shelter, but when she directed the fire elementals, she would have to poke her head up, be exposed to incoming arrows. Some of those arrows were now wrapped in pitch-soaked rags set alight. Martile had to jerk her aside once, out of the path of death, but otherwise she was able to call and send the elemental without interruption. That was the successful part of the operation. She'd hoped the flame would spook the 145

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horses into bolting, but these were war-horses, trained to their job, and it took more than a few sparks of fire to disturb them. Her next effort focused on the supply cart dragged by the horses she'd targeted. The fire elemental was more effective this time. The sacks on the wagon ignited. The driver leapt off, and the horses, lacking direction and feeling the lick of the flames, stampeded, roaring through the line and over a number of the soldiers. While she'd been working on that small feat, the enemy lines massed close to the gate. At that point, their leader judged the time ripe and signaled the catapults and rams to move. Not forward, but to either side of the town. The charging line also separated into three groups, the smallest now remaining at the front while the largest masses moved to each side. As each division advanced on the town's flanks, Alsa scurried down from the east wall, still accompanied by her bodyguards, and studied the situation to either side, trying to size up which were the best defended and where her help would be most needed. A small roar went up in warning, followed by a very loud thud on the north side. She was close enough to that side to see the wall there rock and a couple of people, shaken off by the impact, fall hard. Alsa ran that way, pushing through the crowd again, avoiding the injured, the hysterical and the busy. She paused once when a flaming arrow whizzed toward them. The crowd around her screamed and scattered out of its way. The arrow embedded itself in the wooden roof of a 146

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well house and a tendril of smoke started to curl up. She whispered a quick spell for a water elemental to extinguish it, then hurried to the wall and clambered up. Daneas tried to stop her, saying, "It may not be safe for you." "No place is safe if they aren't stopped. Don't interfere with me." The boy nodded and scurried up after her, followed by Martile. Here a force of men on the field hurried toward the wall, carrying ladders as well as their swords; others guided horsedrawn wooden carts forward. One of those carts held an enormous battering ram. Two others drew catapults. One of the latter was already stationed, and men were loading another rock onto its arm. The battering ram wagon hit one of the soft spots in the ground where her earthworm friends had tunneled under the surface. One wheel sank so deep the cart tilted sharply, and the huge log rolled ominously to one side before being contained by the leather straps holding it in place. The soldiers accompanying it worked feverishly to get it loose, beating the horses to pull harder, pushing from behind, but they finally abandoned the attempt and joined the foot charge. A number of them stumbled as they hit other soft spots, and a few got up limping. It didn't stop many of them. Bowmen on the walls took down the first wave of the charge, but others scurried up behind them. The catapult launched its second load, a pile of heavy rocks that thudded against the wall and shook it. Alsa had to hold on tight as the wood structure wavered beneath her and sent her stomach 147

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into rebellion. A woman below—an old friend of her mother's, unfortunately—was unlucky enough to be in the direct path of a stone falling inside the fortification. She staggered and collapsed, ending up sprawled and very still. Alsa had to do something about the catapults. They were already loading one for another, even more devastating, heave. Troops of the enemy piled oil-soaked balls of straw wrapped around stones into the dish. Closing her mind to the din around her, she concentrated on touching the substance of the catapult, probing for a weakness in the structure or a mechanism she could exploit. She found no real flaw, but realized a facet of the design itself would serve: four large metal pins held the arm on the movable lever that caused it to swing upward when the catch was released. If even one those pins came out, the machine wouldn't function properly. Bringing to bear every bit of the concentration the wizard had taught her, she sought those pieces with her mind and began to pry them loose with her thoughts. Just as the men put torch to the oil-soaked straw balls, preparing to launch them from the catapult, she induced the first pin to withdraw itself from the wood. She had no chance to get a second out. The first one pulled loose at the same moment the men released the mechanism. The arm began to swing up. It tilted at a crazy angle as it continued its upward drive, and then rotated nearly forty-five degrees just before it flung its load. Instead of reaching the walls of the town, the rocks and flame-balls landed amid the same forces that had launched it. Men and horses screamed and scattered as the 148

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missiles struck in their midst, some igniting small fires in the grass. An agonized, piercing scream broke through her concentration and jerked her back to the present. Looking around, she couldn't find the immediate source of that scream. There were too many candidates. Bodies lay strewn on the ground below her, some still moving, and others very still. The noise level kept increasing. Shouts and yells intermingled with the clash of metal on metal, thuds and booms, men running and calling to each other. Smells assailed her as well, the reek of her own and others' sweat, excrement, and, over all, the stench of blood and death. As long as she lived, she'd never forget that mix. She closed her mind to the distractions and concentrated on disabling the second catapult. It took a while, but she finally loosened the same pin on that one, too. Meanwhile, the charging troops had reached the wall and were starting to scale it. Beside her, a group of women had lugged a barrel of hot oil into position, ready to pour on the men below starting to hoist ladders into place against the wall. Alsa considered the other big piece of battle equipment still on the field, the enormous tree-trunk battering ram on the stranded cart. Three heavy leather straps held it in place. If she could undo those and nudge the log off the side, gravity would make it roll right into the midst of the charging enemy. Before she could start on it, though, she was shoved heavily to the side, and a body thudded against her. When she got her breath back, she looked up. Daneas leaned 149

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against her, his face drawn into a rictus of pain. She grabbed his arms and held him away a little until she could see the arrow stuck in his right shoulder. He smiled grimly at her before his eyes closed. "I'll take care of him," Martile whispered from behind. He moved around her, grabbed his friend, and slung him over a shoulder. "Don't move and don't get up until I get back," the young man begged before he carried his friend down the ladder. She couldn't afford to dwell on anything but what she needed to do now. Alsa closed her mind to everything but the task she needed to accomplish. Working the straps loose didn't require much effort since they were held in place with large buckles that were easy enough to release. The weight of the battering ram itself was so formidable, however, it took several minutes' intense concentration to nudge it enough to set it rolling off the cart. As she'd anticipated, the log continued barreling down the slight incline toward the largest mass of troops. Men yelled warnings to each other and bolted out of its way, though several unfortunate soldiers were unable to clear its path before it knocked them off their feet and rolled over their bodies. It crushed several of the ladders as well. Meanwhile, the defenders on the wall used the opportunity to pick off more of the enemy while they dodged it. Martile returned as she was peeking up to survey the scene below. The reduced force was scattered and would take a while to gather themselves for another attack. A quick 150

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check of the numbers on either side showed her people should be able to hold the wall now. "I told you to keep your head down," Martile said, pushing her out of the way of another arrow coming toward them. "We're done here," she answered. "We're going to the other side." Martile nodded and followed her down the ladder. They had to make their way through town, again pushing through people running, screaming and dodging incoming missiles. Alsa hurried along the street, weaving her way around the wounded and dead. She tried not to look at their faces, fearing to know the truth. The noise of yells, screams, the thud of stones and bodies landing, people shouting directions, and flames crackling and timbers falling nearly deafened her. She saw people she knew, even passed her mother once. They smiled in relief at each other, buoyed by the knowledge the other still survived, but they traded no words. She rushed past older men beating out flames in a couple of buildings, joining with a squad of women hustling more buckets of oil and quivers of arrows to the battle front. She guessed the time at somewhat after midday. She stopped in the shelter of the last building before the open area between it and the south wall, and wiped sweat and grime out of her eyes. The stench of smoke, vomit, and death rose even more strongly here. It filled her nose and made her gag. Bodies, some writhing, many still, littered the street much more thickly than on the other side. Alsa recognized her cousin, Rannel, and the master cooper among 151

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them. She had to fight the urge to run to Rannel's side and see if he could be helped. The wall bore several ragged gaps where missiles had torn though and part of the ledge at the top was gone. With Martile behind her, she climbed to a remaining part of the platform ledge to survey the field below. Soldiers of the enemy already started to swarm up ladders and onto the wall. So far, her people had been able to hold them off, but the numbers gathering at the feet of the ladders were ominous. There was no battering ram over here, but the single catapult was doing its job all too effectively. Those still defending the town fought the surge on the ladders with swords and valor. A few remaining bowmen loosed arrows as fast as they could grab, knock, and draw them, while the women poured bucket after bucket of sizzling hot oil over the side. She agonized for a few minutes about what to do next. Work on the catapult or the ladders? Could her people hold off the men swarming up toward them long enough? But would it matter if the catapult brought down the wall completely? She had to take care of the siege engine first. The work of getting the pin to come loose from the wood became easier each time she did it, but it still took time. Precious time that cost lives and risked defeat. Nonetheless, she shut out the noise and smell and shuddering of the wall, and bent her efforts on the catapult. The sleepless night and long day were taking a toll on her energy, making it harder. But she persisted and finally felt the metal pin come loose. Shortly 152

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she heard yells of dismay from the men manning it as the arm swung wildly and pitched its load into the throng of enemy troops. She drew a deep sigh and sagged, but couldn't afford to rest for long. Too many enemy soldiers were swarming upward. One, in fact, was far too close to her. A pair of faces suddenly popped up over the wall no more than three feet from her. Martile and another man on the other side of the enemy converged on them, trying to drive them back with their swords. A short ugly battle ensued. Martile suffered a slash across the arm but sent his opponent tumbling to the ground. The other defender let out a sharp scream as his opponent drove his sword into his throat. The man tumbled backward off the wall. He had distracted the enemy's attention long enough to let Martile lean out over the wall's edge to push the ladder away far enough that it fell backwards. He reached too far, however. Martile teetered over the side as well. Alsa lunged for him, tried to grab for a sleeve or shirt, but wasn't in time. The young man tumbled over the side before she could get to him. His yell mixed with the screams of the other men on the ladder as they all tumbled twenty-some feet to the ground. She sat, numbed, dazed, and sick for a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened, not wanting to believe it. Screams and shouted directions and encouragement roused her. She had no time to indulge in anger or grief. There was work to do. The ladders were the next key, Alsa realized, but she had no time to search out weaknesses or try to induce the wood 153

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in their structure to break. She needed something faster. The answer was obvious, but she hesitated, weighing the risk. She could call what she needed. She had the talent for it, but did she have the skill to maintain control of the number of elementals she'd need? She'd had so little time to practice. And if she couldn't keep control, what were the risks, for her and the town? Was it worth taking the chance? A yell close by interrupted her reverie. She looked along the wall in time to see one of the three or four remaining swordsmen defending it fall backward, blood pouring from a dreadful gash across his body. Seconds later, one of the bowmen went down also. Hordes of soldiers, bearing more ladders swarmed to the wall and began to scramble up. Her choices were limited now. She could gamble to save the town, or watch it die. She closed her eyes. She risked having one of the soldiers on the ladders gain the top and come at her before she could finish the spell. She had to take the chance. Shutting out the noise and the smell and the likelihood of death was still difficult. For the first time, she realized the point of some of the seemingly useless exercises Korlen had insisted on. It took an effort of will to ignore the danger and give her entire concentration to the forming of the spell she needed and performing it properly, with all the precise care and strength required. The first fire elemental came relatively easily and went to the ladder to set it ablaze just as she ordered. It took the fuel, fed on it and blazed up in satisfaction. The second elemental likewise was detached from the flame of its 154

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inception without much difficulty and set to its task. A third as well. So far, at that point, she still worked within her capability. But there were eight more ladders now on the field, three others already propped against the wall. She needed more help. Even if additional elementals would tax her ability to control those she'd already created. It was all the weaponry she had to turn the tide of this battle. A sudden, dizzying insight made her realize she could afford to take the risk, as long as she kept herself in the front line of defense. She had the wizard's word that he wouldn't let her be harmed for personal insurance. After setting the first elemental to working on another ladder, she created a fourth, and then a fifth and a sixth. With so many working, all the ladders propped against the wall were quickly set ablaze. Soldiers no more than halfway up the rough steps dropped to the ground and ran, many with clothes or hair already aflame. Those unfortunate enough to be too far up either swarmed onto the dubious safety of the wall or chanced a potentially fatal jump from the blazing wood. The few defenders still remaining on the wall were able to deal with the soldiers fleeing the ladders. Maintaining control of six rampaging fire elementals took every bit of concentration she could muster. But she hadn't reckoned with the smoke and the effect it would have on her as it began to rise in clouds of hot, choking fumes from the burning wood. It made her eyes water and soon set her to coughing almost uncontrollably. Nor did she realize soon enough that the oil poured over the sides of the walls would prove an irresistible lure for the fire elementals. 155

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The effects of the smoke began to weaken her even before all the wooden ladders were consumed, and she found it an increasing struggle to maintain control. She had no idea how or where she could get the additional strength needed to confine the elementals once again to their governing spirit. As her lungs rebelled at the smoke invading them, she failed to notice when the first fire elemental finished its job with the ladder and sought additional fuel. The oil beckoned too strongly for an elemental to resist. Alsa gathered herself after a wracking coughing spell and realized her own fellows were retreating from the wall where it was starting to blaze up in sheets of hungry flame. They yelled for her to follow them down, but she hesitated, unwilling to completely loose the elementals to wreak their havoc. Hoping she still might have a chance to contain them, she began working the reverse spell to return them to their medium. She had three taken care of before the heat and difficulty in breathing warned of her danger. On either side of her, flame completely engulfed the wall. The blaze rushed toward her from both directions. Her only retreat lay in a perilous leap to the ground. Below, a group of people gathered, screaming directions, prepared to try to catch her. They begged her to jump, promising they wouldn't let her hit the ground. Sparks landed on the hem of her tunic; she smothered them before they could ignite. She could barely see for the smoke searing her eyes. The heat rose to an uncomfortable intensity as well. She had only a few seconds to decide to jump, but couldn't make herself do it, even with flames closing in from both sides, prickling her 156

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skin to an alarming itch. She might survive such a jump herself, but the child she carried wouldn't. A brush of air on her arm reminded her she wasn't alone. Then the small warm breeze that was Breath's normal form changed suddenly. The soft, light wind intensified, speeded up, and broadened into a wall of air swirling around her, forming a barrier between herself and the greedy flames. She had no idea how long Breath could hold the fire off but suspected it wouldn't give her much time. The heat increased so rapidly even Breath would be consumed before long. She couldn't let that happen. But she didn't know how to save even herself. As she'd calculated, she didn't have to. A sudden, astonishing silence surrounded her, the noise level falling off as dramatically as the last notes from a horn. Flame still crackled and hissed, a few timbers crashed some feet away, periodic groans tore across the field of battle, but the shouts, the yells, the trumpets sounding encouragement, and the clash of metal on metal and wood on wood went strangely still, as though all the participants had suddenly frozen in place. Her eyes still watering from the smoke, Alsa couldn't see what caused the abrupt stillness. She wondered if the wizard had finally relented and come to their aid. He'd said he wouldn't allow any harm to come to her. If ever he meant to keep such a promise, now was the time. But it wasn't the wizard, she realized, as a huge, flying shape swooped down toward her, hooked one claw around her waist, and lifted her off the wall. Sunlight glittered off a 157

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scaly side as it dropped just low enough to set her down gently on the ground, then rose again. Instead of departing, however, the dragon flew in lazy, dipping circles around the perimeter of the town, circling it again and again. The enemy didn't need to watch more than a couple of loops to get the message. None of them had any illusions they could take a town guarded by a dragon. Most of the troops flung down their arms and fled. Safe on the ground and away from the heat and smoke, Alsa drew several huge gulps of oxygen into her lungs, and then she set to work regaining control of the still raging elementals and returning them to their whole. She concentrated so much attention on her effort that she didn't hear the cheer go up, first from the men still standing on the remaining walls, then from the people on the ground, as word spread. When she finally got the last fire elemental safely packed off, she woke from her abstraction to find her fellows cheering and laughing and hugging each other. The enemy general was showing a white flag and asking for a parlay. She waved to the dragon, letting it know she was safe. The creature turned its head to the side and nodded twice to acknowledge her signal before swooping around and winging its way back toward the wizard's mountain. Townspeople throwing buckets of water on the remaining flames and beating at them with blankets were soon able to control the last remnants of the elementals' rampage. No one objected when she went to join the party meeting near the gates of the town. In fact, people tended to step back, as though frightened, when she passed. She barely 158

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noticed them in her shock and bemusement, but after seeing it happen several times and wondering about it, she decided they thought she'd summoned the dragon herself. Her dismissal of it would be proof enough for any who doubted, even after it had rescued her from the burning wall. She wasn't sure how she felt about being regarded as that powerful. She'd have to consider it later, much later, when she'd had some sleep and time to recover. More than anything else, she was relieved they'd won, and dazed by all that had happened. The general of the enemy was a handsome man of somewhere just above middle years. He wore his leadership seriously and took the defeat in stride, though neither happy nor at peace with it as yet. But he was able to put aside his own emotions to make what arrangements he could for the remainder of his troops. Her father suggested the broad outlines of the deal they finally arranged. The general chose thirty willing and ablebodied men to stay behind and help clean up the damage and rebuild the town. In exchange, the rest of his men, those who were able, would be allowed to leave and make their way home in peace after burying their casualties. The townspeople agreed to tend the enemy's wounded along with their own, to the best of their ability, and to give decent burial to those who subsequently died. Alsa wanted nothing more than to go home, fall into bed and sleep for at least the next day and a half, but such could not be permitted to the wizard who had saved the town. She had to join the surviving adults of the village, and much of 159

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the youth as well, in the local tavern. Round after round of locally brewed beer was lifted in her honor. Her wondrous accomplishments were recounted, already garnering layers of addition and speculation offered as fact, until Alsa could barely stand to listen to it. The only satisfaction she found there was to learn both her parents and her brother had survived the battle. Her brother bore a bandage around his arm where it had been nicked by an arrow and another round his brow. He wore his wounds with pride. Alsa drank enough cider to slake her thirst before exhaustion caught up with her. She fell asleep at the table and remembered nothing further until she woke in her own bed in her parents' house, unsure of how she'd gotten there or how long she'd been asleep.

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Chapter Eighteen No one else was in the house when she woke. The sun rode high in the sky. She washed thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of herself, from toes to hair, removing layers of smoke and grime and dried sweat. Then she put on fresh clothes, grabbed a slice of bread and an apple, and went out to see what was going on. Alsa found people already engaged in the process of assessing damage and beginning to restore necessary facilities, though fewer than she would have supposed. When she asked where everyone else was, she was told they were either assisting the healers with the wounded or on burial detail. There were a lot of graves to dig. The grim visages told her the euphoria immediately following the victory had given way to awareness of how much had been lost. Shortly thereafter, she ran into Esne Toldorsen, a longtime neighbor, hurrying by on the street. The woman's eyes were red and swollen, her shoulders slumped in sorrow. Alsa stopped her to say hello and, noting her obvious distress, asked if she could do anything to help. The woman barely mumbled in return. "What's wrong?" Alsa asked. "Were Nicholas or Sarek injured in the fighting?" Nicholas was her own age; Sarek just a couple of years older. Much of her childhood had been spent running and climbing and playing with Esme's two sons.

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The woman just stared at her for a moment. "Gone. Both of them. Gone, now. Sarek lived till this morning. He took an arrow." "Oh, no, I'm sorry," Alsa whispered, feeling how worthless and futile the words were. The news felt like a sword-thrust through the heart. The woman just nodded and started to move on, pausing only to say, "I've got to get clothes for them to be laid out in. Their shirts ... Oh—" With that she hurried on, dipping her head to hide her eyes from other passersby. Alsa stared after her a moment, struggling with her own sorrow, then went to find where the hospital had been set up. She located it in the town meeting hall, next door to a shop maintained by a couple of herbsmen. A list posted on the door held the names of those who hadn't survived. Someone came out and added two more as she approached. Reading down the list brought a choking lump to her throat and tears to her eyes. So many names she recognized. So many people she'd grown up with were gone. She gasped back a moan when she found Daneas's name. Martile's was farther down the list. Several school friends, including one young man she'd had a crush on for years, had died. When she finished reading, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and drew up her courage to enter the building. The noise coming from within made her hesitate at the door. Moans and groans were punctuated by the occasional louder scream. She steeled herself to enter and face it, but the smell that assailed her nostrils when she stepped inside made her pause again, fighting nausea. On the battlefield, 162

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she'd become familiar with the stench of death and would never fail to recognize it again. It was so strong here, mixed with the odors of alcohol, vomit, and unwashed bodies, she had to struggle to hold onto the meager contents of her stomach. Again she forced herself to go on. Walking between a row of people lying on mats thrown on the floor, she recognized friends from her younger days, though sometimes she wondered how, so drastically changed were they. She found Conith Sidrison, the village's best healer, taking a break to have a drink of water from a pot in a corner. She went to him and volunteered her efforts. The man looked astonished and pleased by her offer, though she warned him that she knew nothing of any magical healing arts. She could offer only the same efforts anyone else might venture. She agreed to try her limited knowledge of wizardry where she thought it might help, but anticipated no great success. For the rest of the day, she moved from one mat to the next, offering what comfort she could. It was far too little. She persisted, though, because it didn't seem to matter when she couldn't produce any great, obvious miracles. Most of the injured wanted to believe she could help them, and therefore her mere touch soothed many and gave hope to some who'd sunk into despair or were wracked with pain. Recognition of a young woman on a mat near one corner stopped her short and made her heart speed up. She and Teralyn had been friends during their early teenage years, though they'd seen less of each other after the young woman had apprenticed to Jordanet, the leathermaker. Teralyn had 163

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been one of the prettiest girls in the town. Rumors Alsa had heard in the last year or two said she'd had offers from several local men and even from a baron over the mountain. Alsa hoped one of them had wanted Teralyn for more than her looks. She couldn't see the extent of the injuries under the bandages swathing her head and face, but the quantity of blood soaking them suggested serious damage. The young woman's mother sat nearby, with clean cloths and a jug of water. Alsa turned to her first. Laska's eyes were red and her face bore more lines and creases than Alsa remembered. Teralyn didn't stir while they greeted each other. "She's had a sleeping draught," the woman said. "Merciful for now. The pain was bad enough, but when she realizes what her face is ... The scars..." She gathered herself again after a moment. "But she'll live. And Conith thinks she'll have the use of at least one eye. I suppose we should be thankful..." Laska looked up at her with sudden hope. "They say you're a wizard now, Alsa. Can you...?" She gestured to her daughter. Alsa hated what she had to say, to see the dimming hope in the woman's eyes. "I have no talent for healing. I can do little that Conith can't. And none of what I can do would help her. I would if I could, believe it. But any effort within my ability is at your service. Just let me know" The woman nodded and sank back into her grief, stroking the bit of hair that strayed from beneath the bandages on her daughter's head. "I will." 164

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Another piece of Alsa's heart pinched and fell in on itself when she got up to move on to the next person. There were so many injuries, and she had so little ability to relieve the suffering. With practice and experimentation, she found a few small things she could manage that seemed to be of benefit in some situations. Air elementals were set to the task of pumping breath into men with broken ribs or lungs damaged by smoke. The healer thought it would improve their chances of survival. Water elementals provided trickles of liquid for thirsty patients at their need. Her skill in maneuvering objects with her mind proved useful in setting broken bones. As the healers manipulated damaged limbs, she could guide snapped pieces together to ensure better joining of ragged breaks and a quicker placement of the damaged ends. In some cases, she could find ways to ease a patient's pain by moving a bone shard off some pressure point or relieve minor swellings. But there was nothing she could do for many other injuries. No skill she had would repair limbs lopped off or heal cuts too deep or restore burned skin or damaged eyes. For those, she could only secretly grieve while trying to impart hope and encouragement. Her most wrenching hour of an otherwise very bad day came late in the afternoon, while she sat at the side of Rorgan, master tailor. The man was just under her father's age and would get no older. He'd taken a sword thrust to the abdomen and was in considerable pain, despite the doses of tincture of poppy Conith had administered. He groaned continuously. 165

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Alsa took his hand in hers and washed sweat off his face with a damp cloth. Her touch seemed to calm him so she stayed with him and struggled to find some way to ease his suffering. She tried joining her mind to his body, avoiding his mind, focusing on the sites of his injuries, but once there she didn't know what she might do to give him comfort. The risk of increasing his pain kept her from experimenting very much. Finally she gave up and just held him and talked to him quietly. His moans finally stilled as the life faded from his body and his pulse slowed. Twice, he opened his eyes. The second time he saw and recognized her. The painful smile he summoned drove into her stomach like a fist. Shortly after that, though, he went limp in her arms. Conith came by moments later and helped her to her feet again. Late that night, she returned home well after dark and tumbled into bed, weary to the bone from the labors of the day but unable to rest. In her agitation, she reached for the comfort that had stayed near at hand through the last few weeks. But Breath wasn't there. She realized, then, Breath hadn't been near since the elemental had spun its vortex of air around her on the wall to protect her from the flames. When she sought it with her mind, searching as far afield as her limited ability would let her, she found only emptiness where once Breath had answered. And she knew in her soul the air elemental hadn't deserted her. It had given itself up to save her life. It was the last and most personal blow in a day already too packed with pain and tragedy. The agony poured out of her in 166

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screams and sobs. Her alarmed parents came running to her room. They tried to comfort her, but nothing they said or did gave her any relief. She cried for a long time while wrapped in her father's arms. Her mother patted her back and smoothed Alsa's hair as hard, broken sobs burst from her chest and hot tears burned her cheeks. The tears helped release some of her pain, while the rest of it turned into anger, a fierce, hot, raging fury directed mostly at Korlen. So much of the carnage could have been prevented if he'd been willing to intervene. Had he sent the dragon a couple of hours earlier, many more people would be home sleeping peacefully in their beds tonight rather than in the ground, and many fewer lives and hearts would be broken.

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Chapter Nineteen Alsa spent several more weeks in the town, assisting where and how she could in restoring the place to its former efficiency. She gave two more days to the healer, days that nearly broke her remaining spirit, yet also fed the quieted but not dissipated anger. The time she put in thereafter working outside, calling earth elementals to dig graves, didn't offer much of an improvement. The load did lighten somewhat the next week when she used some of those same elementals to help plow the ground for spring sowing. With the population depleted and many of the surviving still injured, they needed help to get the necessary start on nurturing the year's crops. She joined remaining friends and neighbors in planting sapling fruit trees to replace those hastily cut to provide wood for fortifications or arrows. Carefully nurtured seedlings of new herbs and vegetables were set out. It felt good to scatter the seeds of the future over the wreckage of the past. Six weeks after the battle, she judged the town sufficiently rebuilt to go on without her presence and aid. She'd done all she knew and a bit more, sometimes using nothing more than her own bodily strength to help repair damaged homes and shops. Hard physical labor helped tire her out enough to ensure she slept at night. Her body was starting to change, waist thickening and breasts growing fuller. She didn't want her family or the rest of the townspeople to know she bore Korlen's child. She 168

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couldn't predict how they'd react, and she wasn't in any emotional shape to deal with the possible repercussions. She warned her parents it was time for her to go back to the wizard's castle and asked them not to tell anyone else about her departure. Her mother clung to her and wondered why she had to return. "You've learned enough magic to save us," she said. "Why should you go back there? Unless you are in love with him?" Alsa laughed bitterly. "In love with him? The wizard who could have stopped all this with a flick of his wrist? Who could have sent the dragon sooner and spared hundreds of lives? Oh, no. I'm trying not to hate him, but I'm not sure I can keep from it." "Then why are you going back?" her mother asked. "We had an agreement. I promised to do something for him in return for teaching me magic. I have to go back and keep my part of the bargain. Believe me, I don't want to. If I didn't have to, I'd never go near there again. But I made a promise, and he did keep his part of the bargain, so I have to keep mine." Her mother watched her with worried, tear-filled eyes but refrained from asking the obvious question. Her father hugged her tightly and said, "Do what you must. And try not to be bitter. Life and death is the way of the world. Death comes to us all sooner or later. And remember, if he hadn't taught you as well as did, we might not be here at all today." She set out for the castle the next morning, leaving with the dawn's first light to avoid word getting around and a 169

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crowd coming either to see her off or beg her to remain. Only her parents were on hand to say good-bye and wish her good speed on the journey. The return trip took longer and seemed more arduous than she remembered. Too much weight she hadn't carried before dragged at her body and spirit. Alsa stopped to rest on a rock overlooking the deep gash in the mountainside crossed by the rainbow bridge. Not so worried about the risks in crossing it this time, she had more leisure to consider the span itself. And seeing it that way, without the layer of fear, she realized what a remarkably beautiful thing it was. The bright, graceful arc sat lightly, almost delicately, across the dark space of the rift and shimmered with every color imaginable. It seemed to gather whatever light drew near it into itself, mold it to its form, then split it into all its component colors and spit those out in endless rays in all directions, each with its own separate, radiant hue. The soul-wrenching beauty of the creation didn't reconcile easily with what she knew of the wizard and his cold, withdrawn heart. Korlen came down from the castle to meet her, as he had the last time she'd returned from a visit to the town. He wore the same handsome face and body. The tall, lean form looked almost regal as he waited on the path ahead and above her. Recognizing the irony of it roused the fury she'd nursed since the day she'd realized Breath was gone. He either suspected or knew the woman returning to him was deeply changed. He didn't smile lightly at her, or even move toward her from where he stood. He let her come to him. Nor did he attempt to touch her when she drew close 170

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enough. She would have shaken off any hand or arm he tried to place. "You've returned." He sounded as though he'd truly doubted she would. "We had a bargain. You fulfilled your end. I'll keep my part." She stared into his cold, handsome, controlled face and wondered how she could ever have thought him human. How could she have so willingly shared his bed? He nodded. "You won your battle." "I did. With help from a dragon." "I didn't think you would. You made me proud." "It didn't make me proud. It made me sad. And angry. I had to do things no one should ever have to do." "You did things I didn't think you could manage. I taught you better than you knew." Even she was a little shocked at how cold and cutting her voice sounded when she said, "You didn't teach me enough. Any success I had owes only a little thanks to you. You never believed I could win this battle. I'm not even sure you wanted me to. Most of the answers I had to find for myself. If I'd known more, less blood might have been shed." "You knew all you were ready and able to know. You took what skill you had and found ways to make it serve your purpose. I told you when we started, most of magic is selftaught. A teacher only guides the student onto the right paths. You forged your own trail from there, and you did it well. You even found a way to force me to act." They watched each other like boxing opponents circling in the ring, and she saw the first sign of some actual emotion break through. A 171

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muscle twitched at the side of his mouth, as though he held something inside with an effort. His next words surprised her. "When you first came, I told you you'd made a bad bargain. I was wrong." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and brushed by him, heading toward the castle. She felt rather than saw when he turned to walk beside her. "No," she said. "You were right. I made a bad bargain. I made the wrong bargain." "You made the only bargain available." "Easy to say now with your son growing in my womb. Would it have been so then?" "I do not intervene in human affairs. Nothing would move me from that. Nothing." "Which is what I am, indeed, in your regard." "How can that be when you were able to force me to act? You're the only one who could possibly have done so." "Only because you wouldn't risk the life of your child. Not because I wanted it or asked for it." "If anyone could have, since ... since the events that led me to make that vow, if anyone could have gotten me to break my oath, it would be you." "But nothing can move you." "Some things a wizard shouldn't do," he said. "Truth there, indeed. Things such as calling a fire elemental to engulf a ladder on which a number of men stand, forcing them to choose between burning to death or jumping to their deaths." 172

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"I wonder if you'll believe me when I tell you ... Had I intervened to prevent this battle, nothing would have been resolved. Hostility would continue to fester, more casualties would result, and the end would have been a much worse war, rather later than sooner, but a conflict that would have produced a great deal more carnage than occurred this time." "I didn't realize wizards could predict the future." "No wizardry in it, but those who've studied and learned from the past ofttimes can tell with considerable accuracy what will happen next. Events tend to repeat themselves in predictable patterns." "And you, of course—" Her reply was interrupted by a roaring and a hiss of flame overhead. She looked up and saw the dragon rise up beyond the wall of the castle, much as he'd appeared to her on her first journey there. "Little mortal! You came back!" In his exuberance, the dragon scorched another path through the trees. "I promised I would." The creature's eyes gleamed as he looked down at her. "You've been gone so long. Your battle ended weeks ago." He sounded almost petulant. "There was a lot of cleaning up to do." "Oh. Well. We're glad you're back. It's been very boring around here with you gone. So much moping." He looked meaningfully at Korlen. Korlen glared back up at the dragon. "And who's been doing most of it?" 173

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"Someone forgot to feed me." The dragon sniffed and huffed. A dribble of smoke curled from its nostrils. "Twice. And how many new treasures have I gotten in the last six weeks? One. One! Somebody's thoughts were elsewhere." "He was worried about his child," Alsa said. "And so he should be," the dragon answered. "You took such risks with your life and his. How fares the unborn mortal?" "Well enough, so far as I can tell. And for that we both owe you thanks. You saved my life. I'm grateful." "It wasn't my—" A quelling look from Korlen stopped the dragon's sentence. "It wouldn't be bearable around here should anything happen to you. I'd have to find another wizard to give me food and presents." "Or grow up and learn how to take care of yourself without having to beg or steal," Korlen growled. "I serve my purpose here," the dragon said, blowing a curl of foul-smelling smoke toward Korlen, who grimaced and waved it away. "Anyway," the creature continued, "it will get better now. And I look forward to having another mortal around here. It's been so dull. Will you let me play with him?" "If you behave yourself," Korlen answered. "Maybe." Turning to Alsa he said, "Come inside now. You look tired." But first he glanced again to the dragon. "Have you checked the north wood beyond the crestline pass? Something's been there, waiting for you, for nearly a week." The dragon blew out a joyous stream of fire into the air. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" 174

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"I didn't want to disturb your moping," Korlen answered. "You seemed to be enjoying it."

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Chapter Twenty Korlen drew one of the more comfortable chairs in the big ballroom close to the fire and invited her to sit in it. The day wasn't cold, but the stone castle felt as chilly as usual, and she welcomed the warmth. He brought another seat, placed it so it faced toward her, and sat down himself. Although they'd rested this way so many evenings before, the tension between them reminded her of the day she'd arrived. Only now she had the victory she'd come for then. She'd mostly won it herself, too, when the wizard had thought she wouldn't be able to. The dragon's appearance had helped, but her side had already repulsed the enemy on two of three fronts with only her assistance. They would have won in any case. So why did something she'd wanted so very badly before feel so worthless now that she had it? "You can't let it eat you up," Korlen said. "It'll paralyze you and you'll never master your talent." She stared at him. The long-limbed, well-formed body looked relaxed in the chair, but not lazy. The bland, handsome face gave away nothing. How could he fail to understand the devastation she'd just endured? "I have no intention of going any further in learning magic. I've all the mastery I'll ever want or need. More than I want." "You say so now, but in time, as you recover from this shock, you'll want to continue your studies. Your talent will demand it." 176

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"No. Once the child is born, I'll return home and make a different life for myself. Forget wizardry and learn a craft. An honest craft, working with my hands and mind. Do something useful and constructive with my life." "You may think it will make you happy, but eventually you'll find it too limiting." "When that happens, I'll remind myself of what my talent allowed me to do. The lives I wasted." His green eyes never wavered from her face. "This is the wrong time to have this discussion. You're exhausted and soul-weary. You need a long rest." "Most certainly. But no more training in magic." "I'll not push it on you," he said. "We've plenty of time before the child is born. When you're ready for it, we'll begin again. You still have much to learn and you'll find not all of it is as difficult or grim as what you've studied so far. There are some marvelous and joyous aspects of it as well. I look forward to teaching you." She wondered if he'd heard her words at all, or if they just made no difference to him. Did he care anything about her at all? Would he ever be able to offer any kind of human face to her or anyone else? "Would you wear your true form for me while I'm here?" she asked. He went completely still for a few moments, staring hard at her. "You've seen my face. When we made love. I couldn't help it, though I would have spared you the sight. Why do you want me to wear it? So I'll appear as repulsive to you on the surface as you know me to be beneath?" 177

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"Your face isn't repulsive, and you know it." She studied him, looking for any kind of reaction, but found none. "It's just an ordinary, pleasant face, and that's what you truly can't bear. To be ordinary. To be like any other man. Perhaps there's the tendency to reveal too much of who you are as well. This face and body are extraordinary, outstanding among men, and they get you whatever you want. It got what you wanted from me. But they give nothing back. Nothing of yourself. Unless the mask is the truth, and that's a thought almost beyond contemplation." "It gives you no pleasure to look on this body?" "Once, perhaps, it did. No longer." He hesitated just a second before he asked, "What is it you want to know of me?" "Nearly everything. But truly what I would most like is just to see the play of emotion and thought across your face. Your true face." "I can't do so. Please don't ask it of me." "Can't or won't?" "Sometimes there's no difference. Now, perhaps, I think you should retire and rest. I'll make some dinner. You're too thin. You need better nourishment to grow our child." His glance sharpened. "You'll not refuse to eat, will you? Have qualms about the food I serve?" She almost laughed. "One thing I can say I've learned over the last couple of months. Food will never bother me again. No matter what the form or how it has been prepared." And she did eat heartily, with little thought for what the food had been before. Afterward she declined to sit and listen 178

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to music with him, claiming she was too tired, which was partly true. He didn't ask which bed she wanted to use, and made no comment, then or ever, when she chose to retire to the suite of rooms she'd occupied when she'd first arrived, before she'd begun to share his quarters. A new set of garments had been added to her wardrobe, featuring looser construction to accommodate her increasing middle. The next morning, after she got up and had some tea, she set to work cleaning the castle again. When the wizard found her at it, he was outraged. "What are you doing?" he asked, seeing her down on her knees, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the kitchen floor. "Get up. This isn't your task anymore. You'll not take any risks with yourself or my child." "A bit of honest labor won't hurt either of us," she answered. "And it will help to fill the time. In this at least I can accomplish something." He watched her for a moment, then came over, took the scrub brush from her hand and dropped it back in the bucket. "There are easier ways to do this. The spells are fairly simple." She straightened, still on her knees, finding it more difficult than she expected, though she'd only just started to gain weight. "I told you I wouldn't learn any more magic." "You won't have to. You know those spells already. But in any case, I'll see to it myself." "When I first came here to learn from you, you had me clean the castle with my own labor." He nodded. "And you learned from it." 179

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"What did I learn? I'd mastered the art of using a broom long before I arrived here." "But you hadn't learned the art of mastering yourself. Or of yielding yourself." "I don't understand. I didn't learn either of those things with a mop." "Perhaps not. But it's not that simple. You didn't learn those things from a mop. But you learned how to learn them." "I still don't understand." If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was a twinkle in his green eyes when he answered, "Actually I don't understand it, either. But that's how wizards have started their training for many generations." "You mean it's just tradition that you put novices to work for a while before you teach them any magic?" "Tradition," he affirmed. "Even though you knew my time was short, you still went through with that ridiculous routine?" "Who am I to alter tradition? And who am I to say the experience doesn't have some profound purpose? You wanted my best attempt to train you. I could only use my own training as a guide. As it was, I shortened the preliminary time considerably. I spent months at it, myself. My master Cathaly had the cleanest house in several hundred leagues by the time I started to learn magic." He reached out a hand to her. "Please get up off your knees. If you're looking for a way to pass the time, I have an alternate suggestion." 180

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She sighed and let him help her to her feet. "Make sure you get those splotches under the table when you finish the floor in here," she told him. "Of course." He guided her to the hall leading to his own quarters, but before they reached his bedroom door, he opened one on the left and escorted her into a room she'd never seen before. "My work room," he said. It wasn't exactly what she'd expected of a wizard's study. To begin with, although the space was large and somewhat crowded, it was very neat and orderly. And it held a number of things that didn't seem particularly relevant to sorcery. An elaborately carved desk sat in front of a bank of windows offering a view over the side of the mountain and the spread of valley below. An open book, an ink well, pen, and a few sheets of paper sat on its surface, sharing space with a set of three small, porcelain vases in graduated sizes but shaped with similar graceful lines. The chair behind the desk was pushed back as though he'd stood hastily. Korlen crossed the room and stopped behind the desk, standing with his hands on the top of the chair, his back to the windows. She scanned the room. Tables lined two of the walls, with racks of neatly organized tools hung above them, and floorto-ceiling bookshelves covered the entire, considerable length of the fourth wall. Two freestanding benches sat in the middle of the room, one bearing an assortment of hand tools. The other had a potter's wheel built into it. An easel in a corner held a half-finished painting, showing an exotic landscape with dusty red-gold hills and a long stone arch. 181

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It astonished her. The room seemed almost more artist's retreat than wizard's study. Her eyes settled on the easel in the corner, and a memory made connection with it. "The paintings in the hall and the reception rooms ... You told me your master Cathaly painted some of them. You did the others." It sounded more like an accusation than a compliment. He met her eyes warily. "Not all of them. I've collected a few from friends over the years." "But much of it is yours." He drew a breath and nodded. She noted the potter's wheel. "The vases in the niches?" Another nod. "The sculptures?" Nod. "The things with the metal and stained glass?" "Another sort of sculpture," he acknowledged. She thought of him sitting up in his castle, painting or chipping away at wood while her people fought and died in the valley below. She didn't say anything, but he must have caught something from her expression. "You remember some time ago I told you that mastering magic meant facing a number of unpleasant realities about life?" She nodded slowly, fighting waves of red-hot fury. The bitterness still gripped her and she didn't want to listen. "Here's another one. Nature is a more powerful force than anything a wizard can do, and the tide of human affairs, one of its more complex manifestations. Any time a wizard 182

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interferes in the course of nature, there are unanticipated effects. When we do it in small ways, we set our spells to contain the side effects as much as possible, and because small efforts make small waves, it's not difficult to do so. Interfere in large ways, though, and it's much harder to anticipate and contain all the ramifications. Dealing with large numbers of people is possibly the most complex thing any wizard can attempt. Which is why most don't. You already know what happened when..." She refused to follow out that thread. Instead she said, "You stopped the villagers from stoning me when I went to rescue the dragon." "That and nothing more. I was simply cleaning up the ... tangle you created. And keeping you from harm. Nothing more. It's better and safer for wizards not to interfere." "Safer certainly." He drew a sharp breath and turned his face so he looked out the window. His lean body, silhouetted by the light coming in behind him, went rigid. Fingers curled around the back of the desk chair, gripping it hard enough to show white at the knuckles. Even the slight frown and tightly pressed lips couldn't mar the beauty of the false, clean-cut profile of the mask, but it was a stone-cold beauty that didn't move her. He remained silent and tense for a long moment, breathing so hard she could hear it. Finally he sighed and shrugged, accepting her condemnation. "We each have to make our own judgments about what's right," he said. "The decision isn't always as easy as you might think." 183

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He waited, but when she didn't respond, he nodded toward the easel, the potter's wheel, and one of the work benches. "Would you like to learn?" She stared at the potter's wheel. "Do you use magic with it?" He followed her line of sight. "Sometimes. It adds to the challenge to have elementals or the substance itself assist you. The results can be interesting ... and unexpected. But you don't have to." The anger still simmered as she thought of him bent over that wheel while Daneas and Martile died to save her. Alsa almost gave in to it. But she did need something else to keep her occupied during the months of pregnancy still to go, and pottery would be more interesting than scrubbing or dusting. It might also provide a useful skill she could draw on to earn a living after the baby was born and she left. That thought gave her another pang in its turn as she thought about leaving a child, her child, with this cold-hearted wizard. That was the agreement, however. He'd done his part, just as much as needed to fulfill the terms, nothing more. But he'd trained her. She would keep her end as well. "I'd like to learn," she said, nodding toward the wheel again. He found her a set of coveralls, explaining that pottery was a messy job, and showed her how to prepare the clay, work the wheel, and the basics of creating shapes. Then he left her alone to try it out. Her first few attempts were pathetic, of course, producing shapeless lumps or wobbly, lopsided vases with odd bulges and dents. Korlen reappeared occasionally to 184

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give advice or demonstrate new techniques. She got better over the next couple of weeks. A few things emerged under her fingers looking almost as she'd pictured them in her mind. And while she tried to resist using magic at all, the continual, close contact with the clay made it almost inevitable she'd reach for it with her mind, and manipulate it with her thoughts as well as her hands. That small use of magic didn't bother her. The soothing rhythm of the wheel and watching the clay take shape under her guidance brought a healing peace to her spirit. Korlen sometimes read quietly or attended to his own projects while she worked, but mostly he left her alone in the study. Little changed between them over the next few weeks. They slept apart and spoke very little, except at meals. Once or twice he raised the issue of her continuing her studies in wizardry, but she cut him off sharply and definitely. In addition to the pottery, Alsa let the wizard teach her to cook, again using basic aspects of magic she'd long since mastered. Both activities offered enough potential for creativity to give her real pleasure. Korlen had almost as many books of recipes and treatises on other aspects of cookery as he had books on magic, and Alsa dove into them with enthusiasm. She'd learned the simple principles long ago from her mother, but her family had no time or money for doing more than providing nourishment in the most efficient form. From the wizard's cooking, she'd learned the subtle differences combinations of spices could provide or the way alternative approaches to heating food could affect the tenderness and flavor. If pottery 185

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didn't work out, perhaps she'd become a cook when she returned to town and lighten people's lives with the tastes she created. As spring wore on into early summer, she also worked in the walled garden at the side of the castle. Aside from the recently replaced, much lamented row of lilacs, a number of trees, shrubs and flowering plants grew there, in rather wild profusion as though someone had planted them in a burst of enthusiasm and subsequently lost interest. She cleared out weeds, pruned overgrown bushes, tilled the soil around them, and divided clumps of perennial flowers. The dragon returned to his habit of appearing to chat with her while she worked. Korlen often came out to watch also as she worked in the garden and lent a hand when she needed a strong back to tote or dig. But some days she saw him only around meal times, and sometimes not even then. He would occasionally disappear for several days at a time. He always warned her when he expected to be gone, never stayed away more than three days at a time, and he never returned empty-handed. A new and interesting variety of clay appeared in the storage bin one day. New packs or clumps of exotic spices found their way onto kitchen shelves while she wasn't looking. Unusual plants or shrubs frequently waited in the garden when she went out for her morning tour of inspection, and pretty new dresses or loose pants and tunics, cut to fit her increasing waist size, appeared in her closet. When she tried to thank him for the gifts, he repeatedly brushed it off, saying "It's good for the child to keep you happy." And that was as close as he'd come to showing any 186

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personal feeling or concern for her. Yet he continued to join her periodically in the workshop or garden, though they spoke little. After dinner, when he was home, they rested in the parlor together. Sometimes they just sat quietly, reading side-by-side. On other evenings, he shared some of his own musical compositions with her. She expected they would be polished, technically accomplished, with vibrant and appealing melodies. The occasional plaintive undertone of sadness or loss surprised and unsettled her. As her pregnancy advanced, his trips away from the castle decreased in both frequency and length, but the gifts didn't stop. Gradually, so gradually she couldn't say when she first became aware of it, she felt the stirrings of consciousness of the baby within her. It was an odd sensation, akin to her connection to Breath, but closer, more intimate, more constant and more comprehensible, though the child himself was aware only of sensations and had no frame of reference do more than experience them. But she felt them, too, through his awareness. Around the end of her sixth month, when summer was starting its downhill slide into autumn, she sometimes caught a worried frown passing across Korlen's face as he watched her. If he noted her observance, he'd quickly clear it away. "What is it?" she asked when she saw the look on his face for the third day in a row. "What's bothering you?" "I'm not sure," he answered. "Would you let me feel the child? With my hands and with my mind?" She considered and agreed. 187

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She lay on her bed while he sat next to her. He pushed up her tunic to reveal her swollen belly and placed both his palms flat against her flesh, closed his eyes, and concentrated. Sensation assailed her in a variety of forms. The feel of his fingers against her stomach reminded her vividly and uncomfortably of the times they'd lain together and his hands had roamed much further over her body. A spark of desire still smoldered in her. She ruthlessly tamped it down, concentrating instead on the press of his mind to the child's, which she could perceive through her own connection with the baby. Then he withdrew a little and she sensed him tracing the outlines of the child in her body, working out its position, checking for normal development. "You agree he's well?" she asked, when he'd pulled his mental touch back and opened his eyes. "He seems well. I'm not sure about you." "Me? But I'm perfectly healthy." "I'm not sure," he repeated. "There's a shadow of some kind." He sat quietly a moment, then said, "There's someone I'd like you to meet. Another wizard. Would you come?" "Who? And why?" "You remember I once told you I could show you a great wizard whom you would think a washer-woman did you meet her on the street? Her name is Dortee, and she is very good at healing." "Yes, I'll go," Alsa said, "but I don't see the point." "I'm not sure I do either," Korlen admitted. "But I'm not taking any chances." 188

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Chapter Twenty-one Dortee lived in a tiny, cramped cottage on the edge of a tangled wood, a good distance from Korlen's mountain. Even in the one-league boots, it took them nearly an hour's journey to get there. Alsa wondered why a wizard who could arrange quarters pretty much to suit his or her own tastes should want to live in such a small, rough, crowded place. Three of them in the parlor made it difficult to move. The place was comfortable, nonetheless—warm, spotlessly clean, very organized, and decorated with quiet, pleasant good taste. The wizard herself was an older woman, or at least she wore the visage of one. Korlen had warned her that wizards didn't probe each other in any way without permission, so Alsa made no attempt to discern if this was the woman's true form. In any case, Dortee held herself straight and proud, wearing her long, silver hair braided and coiled into a regal coronet on her head. Her eyes were a penetrating, pale, almost icy blue, but their expression was kind. She greeted them warmly and insisted on serving tea and a plate of dry, chewy, but pleasantly flavored biscuits before they did anything. She sat with them and chatted for some time about her animals, a few requests she'd gotten from people in the neighborhood, and her garden. Dortee and Alsa compared notes on plants. Alsa tried to draw her out when she discovered the extent of the older woman's knowledge 189

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and experience in horticulture. Dortee promised to share some seeds and plants from her own beds. Finally Korlen pointed out that time was advancing and he wanted to get back to the castle before dark. Dortee set aside her tea and nodded Alsa to accompany her to another room. This one held a long bench loaded with bottles, pots, books, bunches of plants and an assortment of tools. A narrow bed occupied the other side of the space. After asking Alsa's permission to read her condition, the older wizard had her lie down on the bed and relax. Dortee put a handful of herbs in a pot and pounded them with a pestle until they released a heavy, woody fragrance. While she worked, the woman threw out a number of questions about Alsa's health, what she ate, the health of various members of her family and whether her mother had had any difficulties with her pregnancies. She leaned over Alsa and placed her hands, palm-flat, as Korlen had, on her stomach. "Don't try to feel the child right now," she advised in a low, gentle voice. "Try not to feel anything. Just relax and let yourself drift." The herb Dortee had ground up emitted a soothing aroma. Alsa found little difficulty doing as the woman directed. Some time later, she heard Dortee calling her name and she woke, startled. "Easy, child," the wizard advised. "You just drifted off." She nodded. "The baby?" she asked. "He's well?" "He is. A strong and hearty specimen. A good omen for all of us. There are few wizards left and we don't reproduce well. 190

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This child of yours will be very welcome. And very encouraging. You conceived so readily, there should be many others from the two of you." "No. There won't." "Why not? You're very young, just now coming into your talent, and he's not old for a wizard." "His only interest is the child. He made a bargain with me to get it. He fulfilled his part, now I'm doing mine. And when the child is born, I'll leave and return to my home. That, too, was part of our agreement." "Oh." Dortee frowned. "Not good. Not good at all. I believe I'll have a word with him." "No, please," Alsa begged. "I only told you to explain why you mustn't hope for more children, not to have you do anything about it. The agreement is between us, and I'm content with the terms." "You wouldn't want to stay with Korlen? To be mated with him for life? We have a wonderful ceremony celebrating such a commitment, but we haven't had one for a long time." "I don't think I could," Alsa said. "He's a cold and arrogant man." Dortee shook her head, but in confusion, not denial. "He can appear that way, but I would have thought..." "He wants nothing from me but the child, and he gives only enough to ensure he gets the best of his bargain." Even as she said it, Alsa thought of the gifts he'd brought, and his rather facile explanation for them, but it didn't seem enough to weigh against all the other ways he'd indicated his lack of trust in and feeling for her. 191

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"You're quite sure you don't want me to speak to him?" "Quite sure," Alsa said firmly, then changed the direction of the conversation. "You can find no problems with the child? What of myself? I think Korlen had a concern." "Yes," Dortee answered slowly. "There is something— nothing so specific one can pinpoint it at the moment—but a shadow of impending trouble. Yet I have no idea what it might be. Your blood is a bit thin, I'll give you something to take for it, but it shouldn't cause any real problem. I suppose we can but wait and see what develops. You appear to be a strong, healthy young woman." She turned away to go to her bench and started gathering bottles. "You can get up now. Go wait with him in the parlor. I'll bring this to you in a moment." On returning to the other room, Alsa found Korlen standing in front of a shelf full of books, one held in his hand, claiming his attention. For a moment, before he became aware of her presence, she studied him. He wore the handsome face and body easily, and somehow, the more she was around him, the better it seemed to suit him, even though she knew it was a disguise. She wondered briefly what it would be like if he did care for her, if she could stay with him once the child was born. She indulged a moment of yearning for something so nebulous and inconceivable she could put no name to it, then shook it off, tucking it away with the other things she had occasionally longed for in life and decided would never be her lot. Probably for the best, anyway. He looked up and caught her staring at him. "Something's amiss?" Mild alarm showed in his face. "What is it?" "Nothing. Nothing's amiss." 192

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"You're well, she says? And the child?" "We're both well." "Then?" "There's a shadow of a possible problem, but she can say nothing more specific." He nodded briefly. "I'd hoped for a more definite word." She related part of her conversation with Dortee to him, not mentioning what had touched on their relationship. He listened, then sighed and nodded. "We'll have to be careful and vigilant." Dortee returned to the room, bearing a packet of pungent herbs, which she handed to Alsa, directing her to add a pinch to each of her mealtime teas. She also bore cuttings of a number of plants for the garden and took a few minutes to go over the requirements of each. As they were leaving, she drew the younger woman aside again. "He hasn't told you this, I think," Dortee said. "For a fullfledged wizard to show his or her true face to another is something rarely done. It's an act of great trust and intimacy. Korlen did so once. The talentless woman he entrusted it to has much to answer for." "He told me about it." "But I wonder if he could make you understand how deeply he was attached to her, how freely he gave her control of his heart and his spirit, and how devastated he was by her betrayal?" "He gives me no access to his true feelings and little to his thoughts." 193

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"She did terrible damage to him. For a while, I didn't think he'd survive it. The scars, though, are extensive and difficult to penetrate. Still, for one who loved him enough, it might be done." "I doubt it," Alsa answered. "And giving my heart into his keeping is a risk I'm not prepared to take." Dortee accepted it with an equanimity that surprised her. "Then there's nothing more to be said. Except take good care of yourself, my dear, and the child you bear."

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Chapter Twenty-two During the hot days of late summer, Alsa had to confine her gardening efforts to the early hours of the morning. Her increasing body became so cumbersome, she could no longer bend over the pottery wheel for any length of time without her back protesting. She grew fatigued more quickly and spent more time resting in bed or on the bench in the walled garden, chatting with the dragon. Korlen brought her books with stories of all kinds. Sometimes he would sit and read to her from them. At other times, he left her to consume them for herself. She'd never before had much leisure time to spend reading and found it almost a compensation for her decreasing mobility. In the last two months of her pregnancy, her body swelled greatly, until staying on her feet for more than a few minutes became impossible. Neither could she find a comfortable way to sleep, and her back ached all the time. The wizard massaged her shoulders, flanks, and legs, which sometimes provided a little relief, but for the most part, the end of her pregnancy was an unpleasant time that seemed to drag itself out far too long. Dortee came to the castle a month after their visit to her. She returned every few weeks thereafter, gradually increasing the frequency of her appearances until she was showing up at least once a week as Alsa's time drew near. The first labor pain woke her in the middle of the night, but having never experienced it before, Alsa didn't recognize 195

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at first what was happening. By morning, the contractions had become harder and closer together. She yelled for Korlen to come to her. He arrived within seconds. "What is it? Is it time?" he asked. She could only nod because another contraction rolled over her and robbed her of breath. "How long now? I'll let Dortee know." "Still some time off, I think," she gasped as the contraction faded. "Get me some water, please. I'm thirsty." He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "Stay here, I'll get it. Oh, I don't suppose you're going anywhere. Hold on, anyway. I'll be right back." It was as close to flustered as she'd ever seen him. He returned shortly with a stack of clean towels, a pitcher and a portable brazier. He muttered a spell to fill the pitcher with clear, cool water, then poured out a cup for her and supported her while she drank it. When another contraction started, he put the cup aside and held her hand as the pain gathered and squeezed until she couldn't bear it without moaning. He wiped away the sweat that beaded on her forehead and trickled down her temples. "I wish there was some way I could ease this for you," he said when the contraction abated. "Find a way and every woman in the land will be at your door begging for it." "I could become a very rich wizard, I suppose," he answered. "Are you not already?" 196

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"I don't know, actually. I have all the things I want. I suppose that's rich enough." "Most men want more, purely for the power it represents." She encouraged him, glad for the distraction. "Ah, yes, but power games are always dangerous to play." "How so?" "However much money and power you accumulate, there are always those with more and those with less than you. And those who have more are frightened you'll take what they have, so they scheme to eliminate you. Those who have less are jealous and try to take what you've got." "An interesting—Oh!" "It's starting again?" She could only nod and cling to his hand, squeezing hard when the pain was at its worst. When finally it was over, she said, "I wish I knew how much longer this would last. It would help." He nodded. "Perhaps Dortee will be able to give us an idea when she gets here. I wonder what's keeping her?" "You summoned her only a short time ago, and it's over an hour's journey. And she's not a young woman. Oh!" "Not another contraction? So soon?" "No. Worse. My water broke." "Dortee better get here in a hurry," he said darkly. His efforts to change the bedclothes for clean ones were interrupted by another contraction. "They're getting stronger," she told him. "Hold on," he pleaded. "Just hold on until Dortee gets here? Please." 197

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She held on, mostly because there was no alternative. Korlen got fresh sheets moved into place, but they were soon damp again with her sweat. The contractions came faster and harder. Her body began to push the baby down. Korlen did his best to keep her comfortable, but his unaccustomed helplessness frightened and frustrated him. Dortee arrived just after midday, entering the room unannounced. She walked straight over to Alsa's side, felt for the child, then examined the birth passage. "It shouldn't be much longer now," she said. But she was wrong. The pains continued into the evening with no obvious progress in the birth. Time after time, Alsa fought to push the child out. It wouldn't come. She panted and sweated and bore down as hard as she could, straining for all she was worth, but something inside her body refused to release the baby. Each contraction would ease, only to resume again moments later, with no more success than the previous. And each fruitless effort sapped her. An entire day of painful, wracking labor brought increasing exhaustion and depression. As the effort went on into the night, the constantly recurring, but apparently futile, contractions sucked the vigor from her body just as they wrung sweat and blood from it, leaving her more dazed and enervated each time. Only when the spasms seized control did she thrash about, still trying to push with her last remaining strength, sometimes moaning weakly. In the too-short intervals between, she dozed or just lay still. Korlen, who never left her side throughout the ordeal, brushed soaked hair back from 198

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her forehead, wiped her face with cool cloths, clasped her hand and begged her to hold on and not give up. But the long, unproductive labor took a grave toll. Sinking into the apathy of exhaustion and weakness, Alsa grew less aware of what was going on around her. The hazy darkness she retreated to between contractions offered the only comfort and escape from the awful, enervating pain. She barely knew when Korlen and Dortee withdrew to the corner of the room, to consult out of her hearing for some time. She hardly felt it when Dortee returned, rearranged her, probed both inside and out with mind and fingers, then reached inside her body and yanked, tugged, and prodded. Finally, after a grueling session of pushing on her part and pulling by Dortee during the span of several contractions, the child finally made its appearance in the world of men and wizards, protesting the event with a loud, healthy yell.

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Chapter Twenty-three A few minutes later, Dortee held the baby up where Korlen and Alsa could both see him. "What name do his parents grant to this male child?" "His name is Gereth," Korlen said. Alsa could barely talk, but she refused to let something so important go. "His name is Adam," she said. Dortee looked from one to the other. "The baby needs cleaning up. I'll ask again in a few minutes." Korlen came to her side and took her hand again. Alsa had no energy to argue with him. She hardly had the strength to keep her eyes open. "Would Gereth Adam be acceptable, if we called him Adam?" he asked. Alsa nodded. "He's your son. Congratulations." "He seems a fine, healthy child." Wincing as the baby protested Dortee's ablutions with loud cries, Korlen added, "He has strong lungs." "His father's son for a certainty." He smiled briefly, the expression a glorious burst of light on a face dragged into tense lines by the effects of terror and lack of sleep. "I thank you for him. It wasn't easy for you to bring him forth. And I could do so little to ease the passage. That I truly regret." "You did what you could."

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He studied her face. "Do you want to try to feed him? You look tired. Perhaps you should rest first. I'm sure Dortee can find a way to get him some nourishment." "No. I'll feed him. Please." Dortee returned with the child, now wiped clean and wrapped in several layers of soft cloth, but still unhappy with the state of things and declaring it firmly. Again she held him up where they could see him and asked, "What name do his parents grant this male child?" Korlen spoke for them both when he answered, "Gereth Adam." "Gereth Adam, he is," Dortee pronounced. "And I think he would very much like to have a bit of breakfast now. Are you sure you're up to it, my dear?" "Yes." Tired as she was, Alsa felt compelled to examine her newborn child closely, even removing the wrappings so she could count fingers and toes. He was red and wrinkled, with blue eyes and dark hair, perfect and perfectly beautiful. His tiny hand, complete with miniature fingers and minuscule fingernails, fascinated her. His skin felt so soft, so fragile. When put to her breast, the boy began to root right away, and soon he was sucking strongly and contentedly. Alsa fell asleep with the child in her arms. For the next two days, she did little but sleep, waking only long enough to nurse the baby and eat, before giving him back to Dortee or Korlen and dozing off again. But then she started gaining strength back. Another day and she was able to get up and move around for a limited time. A rocking chair 201

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appeared in her room. She found pleasure sitting in it while the baby fed. Afterward, she would cradle him gently, letting him fall asleep on her shoulder, his soft head pressed into her neck, silky hair tickling her chin. She'd vowed not to become attached to the child, since she would be leaving him behind when she returned home. The promise was easy to make, but difficult to keep. When he cried, she had to pick him up and rock him until he was calm again. She changed his clothes and learned from Dortee how to bathe him. She couldn't keep her hands from his soft, fine skin. He was so small and helpless and fragile. She wanted him in her arms all the time, where she could feed him and shelter him from all the dangers of the world. Korlen would sometimes come in and watch her with the baby. No emotion showed now on his controlled features, if indeed he had any to give. Once or twice he took the boy from her, but he was awkward and uncomfortable with him, and would soon return him either to her arms or to his cradle. The question she'd asked early in their relationship reasserted itself and began to haunt her. How could she leave a child to the care of this cold, heartless man? What kind of life would she be consigning him to, with only the wizard to provide for his care? How could she do it? But then, how could she not do it? That was the agreement they'd made. And she couldn't continue to stay in the castle. She wasn't made for such a chilly, lonely life, even with a son to lighten her days. Nor would she willingly spend her time surrounded by Korlen and his magic, tempted to try it again herself. 202

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Dortee departed a week after the birth, convinced both mother and child were well and Alsa knew how to care for him properly. Another week later, as Alsa sat with her son in the rocking chair, Adam opened his eyes and looked straight at her. She was sure she saw the fear in his baby-blue gaze, the knowledge she'd be deserting him not too far in the future. Tears blurred her vision and began to run down her cheeks. She swiped her sleeve across her face to keep them from dripping onto Adam. "Is something the matter?" She hadn't heard Korlen enter the room and wasn't aware of his presence until he spoke. She could only nod, choking back the sobs. "The child?" "He's fine." "Then?" "I ... I'll have to go soon. And I'll be leaving him here." For a moment, Korlen didn't say anything. He came over and knelt beside her chair, pinning her with his gaze. "You don't have to go. I know I set it as a condition, but I'm willing to revoke it. I didn't understand how much a baby would need its mother." "I can't stay." "Why not? I can provide everything you'll need. Neither of you will want for anything." "Anything but love." "You love him. He'll love you in return when he's able."

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"It's not enough. I need to do something useful with my life. And I need to share it with people I love and who love me in return." Korlen turned away and said, "Don't fret about it now. There's still time before you have to leave. Adam needs you too much right now, and you're not yet recovered from his birth." "But the time will come." "We'll see what happens when it does."

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Chapter Twenty-four A few days later, on a fine, crisp, unseasonably warm late fall afternoon, Alsa brought Adam outside to introduce him to the world. The child sat in her lap or rode around the garden on her shoulder, wide-eyed as he stared at the immensity of space around him. The dragon soon came to join her. "The new mortal," the creature exclaimed joyfully, seeing the baby in her arms. He whooped a spire of flame into the air. The child eyed the column of fire then turned his attention to the dragon, fascinated by its size and glittering scales. "His name is Adam," Alsa said. "Gereth Adam, I understand," the dragon corrected her. "Gereth Adam." "He's a very small mortal. And he doesn't seem to do much. Can he talk?" "Not yet." "Can he see me?" "I suppose he can." The dragon straightened itself and blew another line of flame into the air. The baby followed it with his eyes, wiggled enthusiastically, and then let out a startling little chuckle. "He likes my fire." The dragon sounded rather delighted as well by the discovery. "Don't let it go to your head," she advised. Too late, though. The dragon was already emitting another mouthful of flame, puffing it out in alternating swathes of 205

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bright reddish-orange fire, then paler yellow, then brighter again. Adam wriggled with excitement and cooed loudly. The dragon spit a series of small bursts of flame. The baby kicked and waved. A long thin rope of fire followed, twisting itself into blazing circles overhead. The wizard came out of the castle and stared at the display. "What's going on? The fire elemental I was working with nearly had a flameout." "The dragon is entertaining your son," Alsa told him. The creature blew out a spectacular whirling corkscrew of flame, and the baby laughed in delight. Korlen's mouth dropped open as he watched. "He's laughing at it," Korlen said. "He and the dragon do seem to share a taste for fireworks." She stood up and shifted the child in her arms. To the dragon she said, "I hate to stop the fun, but it's starting to get cool out here and it's time for Adam to nap." The dragon looked a little crestfallen. "You'll bring him out again?" "Of course. But you'll wear yourself out if you put on this kind of display every time you see him." "I was just welcoming him to the world," the dragon answered. "And he certainly seems to appreciate it. There will be time for you to teach him more about the world. Later." Korlen accompanied her when she went back inside and took the baby up to her room to settle him in the cradle. 206

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"I'm not sure it's wise to encourage the dragon to entertain him," Korlen said. "What harm can it do? And where else will he find companionship here? This will be a lonely place for him if you won't even let him play with the dragon." "I'm just afraid the dragon isn't really a safe companion. Not that he'd deliberately harm Adam. I don't know if he understands how fragile humans are and how strong he is. Nor if he's always in complete control of his fire." "Well, of course, we couldn't leave him with the dragon unsupervised until he's older. But ... there is the question of what kind of company Adam will have here. How much time can you spare for him? Will you bring others here to train and teach him? Will you create some elementals to keep him company? Invite other children in to play with him?" "He'll have me," Korlen answered. "I'll teach him." "And give him everything he needs?" "Of course." "You'll love him and nurture him and make him happy?" "He'll have everything he needs." "Everything? Will he have affection? Will you play silly games with him? And sing to him? And read stories to him?" "Certainly I'll read to him." "And the other things? The games and the play time?" "He'll have everything he needs." "Will you spoil him a bit? Just a little? Enough to let him know you truly love him and want to make him happy?" "Pointless questions," Korlen said. "He'll be raised as a young wizard should be. He'll want for nothing. Except his 207

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mother. But children have learned to live without a mother before. It can be done." "Yes, it can," she admitted, and very quietly, so he wouldn't hear it, she asked herself, "But should it?" Alsa continued to regain strength and energy, a good thing since Adam took up much of her time. She got little help in his care from Korlen. He seemed to withdraw even further from her, if possible, and had little interaction with the child. Some days, she saw him only at meal times, if at all. He again started spending more time away from the castle, without telling her where he was going. When he was at home, he passed the greater part of his time closeted in his study or workroom, and rarely joined her in the ballroom "parlor" in the evenings anymore. As fall moved toward winter and the weather turned colder, Adam grew more attentive to his surroundings and loved to sit, carefully propped up, where he could see whatever happened to be going on. When laid on a blanket on the floor, he'd roll over and reach for any nearby toys. He learned to scoot himself along, pushing with hands and feet, to get to something interesting. Alsa debated when she should plan to leave. By the next summer, Adam would be ready for weaning. But could she last until then? She was lonely, terribly lonely. Korlen avoided them as much as possible, and Breath, enigmatic company though it had been, was gone, so her only companionship came from a baby and a rather childlike dragon. She missed the laughter, the warmth and easy affection of her family and friends. She missed having people to talk to. And aside from 208

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caring for her son and occasionally cooking a meal, there was little for her to do at the castle. She discovered, to her dismay, she particularly missed the time when Korlen had been teaching her magic, when she'd had nearly all his attention for most of the day, and they'd shared her progress and her mistakes. She'd enjoyed the challenge of mastering new skills and stretching her talent under his direction. She missed their conversations, the intimacy, even their arguments. Not that those things would induce her to resume the study of magic and risk the possibility of again doing the terrible things she'd had to do before, but ... There was a gap, an empty aching hole in her life, left by the loss of their former relationship. A pain made worse by her being here, near him, but no longer a part of his life, nor he of hers. Strange, she thought, when she still hated him for his refusal to help the town. She couldn't stay. But how did she face leaving her son to the dubious care of a cold-hearted wizard who, when he was around, wanted daily reports of the child's progress and development, but rarely held or played with or even visited him? He showed no pleasure or other interest in the boy. On a grim and dreary day in late winter, one of a succession of such days, when she still had no answer for her dilemma and no solution to the question of how to pass the endless, dragging time, she made an astonishing discovery. Alsa sat in the rocking chair in the nursery they'd set up in the room next to her own and watched Adam play on a mat set on the floor. The baby could now push himself around, sit up and crawl a little. He grabbed toys, chewed on them and 209

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tossed them around. He particularly liked things that rattled, clanged or squeaked. She watched as he reached for a brightly colored ball lying on the edge of the mat. He snagged it and held it in a chubby hand while he tried to chew on it. He deliberately dropped it. When the ball rolled away from him, he followed it with his eyes and started to creep toward it. He reached out for it, but his fingers just brushed down the side, and the ball scooted farther away. Adam chased it again and almost grasped it, but again it escaped. When that happened a second time, his small face puckered into an angry frown. He pointed his hand at it and waited while the ball rolled back across the mat toward him. The first time she saw it move, Alsa dismissed it as a fluke or an accident. The ball must have been sitting on a slight incline where just a little force would make it roll back. But when it happened a second time, a third, and a fourth, she could no longer discount it. Her son, at less than a year old, had already figured out how to manipulate objects with his mind. As soon as playtime ended and Adam was settled into his crib for a nap, Alsa sought out Korlen in his study. He looked up from the desk where he sat with quill to paper, startled and alarmed, when she entered. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "Not exactly. But something surprising has happened." The handsome face he wore assumed sterner, colder lines. They made him look older than he had when she'd first 210

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arrived. He set the quill down carefully in its stand and hesitated a brief moment before he asked, "And that is?" "Adam is a wizard." The lines of his face relaxed a fraction, and he looked almost amused when he said, "I'm not too surprised." "No. I mean he's already displaying the talent. He's learned to move toys around with nothing more than his mind." "Already? You've seen him do it?" "Just now." Sparks of something—pride perhaps?—glowed in the wizard's green eyes. "Was today the first time?" "Yes." "Amazing." A genuine smile spread across his face, reminding her why she'd once found him attractive. "More than that, surely?" "He is rather younger than is usual," the wizard said. He stood up and came around his desk to approach her. "He's not even a year old," Alsa said. "Isn't it extraordinary for a child so young to display such talent? I didn't know I had any until I was much older, and then I had to have your training before I could use it." "But you have the talent from one side of your family only. Adam's father and mother are both wizards." "It makes a difference?" "It does. And it's very rare. Wizards don't normally mate with each other. There are so few of us, it's unusual to find two of compatible age and temperament." 211

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"Well, we had the age part at least," Alsa said. "And I've wondered, how is it that I do have the talent? I don't think either of my parents has any." "Actually, both your grandfather and your father carry the talent in latent form." "Latent form?" "A very small spark. Most likely, they've never been aware of it themselves. But your great-grandfather was a wizard of considerable power. The talent can appear in different strengths in different generations of a family. Apparently, like your great-grandfather, you bear it in greater force. He renounced it, however, to take up farming in your town." "How do you know this? Did you know him?" Korlen smiled again. "I may be older than I choose to look, but not that ancient. I, too, was curious about your unexpected talent, so I did some research." "Do you know why he renounced the power?" "No." "Oh." She drew a breath. "Anyway, what do we do about Adam?" "Nothing very different than we'd planned. It's only more imperative he be trained from an early age to control his talent and learn to put it to proper use. His childhood will be ... interesting." She nodded slowly, sighed and turned away from him. "Alsa?" He came over to join her, walking around her until they stood face to face. "What is it?" He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, apparently thought better of it, and let the arm drop back down to his side. "What's wrong?" 212

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She drew another deep breath. "I'll have to leave soon." "There's no great hurry. Adam needs you still and will for some time to come." "Not for much longer." "He's not weaned yet and won't be for many months." "He can be weaned sooner." "He could," the wizard agreed. "But would it be in his best interest?" "I think perhaps it would." The green eyes grew cooler. "I don't understand." She dipped her head so he couldn't see her face. "I have to leave here eventually. That being so, it's better I do it sooner. The longer I stay, the more ... attached we get. I to him, and he to me. The longer we leave the parting, the harder it will be. As it is now, I don't know ... I believe it would be best if I were to go now. Or at least very soon." "You don't have to leave," he said. "I told you once I'd be willing to modify the terms of our agreement. You may stay here, for as long as you wish." She recognized the concession from him, but it wasn't what she needed or wanted. "But I don't wish. There's nothing for me here. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, no useful service I can perform." "You're raising our son. How much more useful a service can there be?" "It's not enough. I miss my family, my friends, having someone to talk to, being around people who ... care for me. Doing things for them and enjoying their company." 213

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For a long moment, Korlen said nothing. He stepped away from her, went over to his desk, and idly picked up one of the three vases that adorned it, a graceful little piece with flowers painted on the surface, one of the few purely decorative items in the room. He ran his fingers down the side of it. "You surprise me," he said, finally. "I wouldn't have thought you so shallow, so eager to get back to the simple, carefree pleasures of your former life that you'd willingly abandon your son at such a vulnerable age." "You think this is an easy decision for me to make?" She stepped toward him and didn't try to hide her anger. "I don't want to abandon my son. It cuts into me like a knife ripping out my insides to think of leaving him. But to stay here ... It's so cold, so empty, so futile. It eats into me, sucks the heart out of me. A few years of this and I, too, will be a cold, bitter woman. And that isn't what I want for my son. Better he not have me at all than bear the burden of responsibility for an angry, resentful mother who sacrificed everything for him and possibly learned to hate him for it." Faint shock showed through the immobility of his face. "You could never become such a thing." He didn't sound as confident as he usually did, though. "I could. And likely would." He held the vase up to the light coming through the window and studied its lines before he lowered it and set it down carefully on his desk. He sighed and turned back to her again. His face was set, stern, so hard it might have been carved from granite. 214

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"I offer you an alternate bargain then. If you'll stay here, with Adam, until the end of his first year, and let me teach you what you need to know of magic to foster and control his wizardry, you may leave then and take him with you. As long as you agree to bring him back twice a year so I can follow his progress. And you'll send him back to me when he's fifteen, so I can train him to the full mastery of his talent. Would that be agreeable to you?" Alsa was stunned. This was a much greater concession than she'd ever have thought him willing to make. "It would be." She stared at him, trying to read through the mask of stern, handsome features to find the reasons, the thoughts leading to the offer. Whatever he felt, he still hid it too well for her to find. "Why?" she asked. "Why what?" "Why are you doing this?" For a moment, he loosened his control as he thought what to say, and she saw a shading of sadness in his eyes. But then his face hardened again, so swiftly she wasn't sure she'd truly seen anything else there. "Right now, our son needs his mother a great deal more than he needs his father. And he needs a mother who can love him wholeheartedly. Without resentment or anger." She approached him, stopping when she was within arm's reach. "That's very generous of you." "Only realistic," he said, taking a step back and away. "But you have no idea what it's going to be like to live with a young wizard." 215

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Chapter Twenty-five The next few months passed quickly and more pleasantly than the entire previous year. While Adam slept or played, Alsa resumed working with Korlen to learn a new level of mastery of her magic. She practiced calling elementals again and increased her knowledge and understanding and strength with them until she could create dozens of minor ones without losing control. Then, with the wizard's assistance, she learned to summon and direct more major elementals. She created a storm to sweep across the mountainside, blowing with fierce winds and driving rain, which froze into sleet on the way down. The sleet melted, and a water elemental guided the runoff into a stream that wove its way along the crevices and hollows of the mountain to the river bisecting the valley below. Fire elementals under her control provided a display even the dragon couldn't match for dazzling effects. And she made the rock of the mountain move below her feet, holding its motion so expertly it only shook slightly and didn't dislodge a single stone to roll down the side or uproot even a single tree. She heeded well his warnings to take care how she used the major forces. "Any small change you create can have major consequences," Korlen advised. "Pull too much warm, moist air up this way, and you risk creating a drought elsewhere. You should only use such powers in direst need. Nature is 216

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better at ordering those forces than we are, and we meddle with them at our peril." As the wizard had promised, there were thrilling triumphs and moments of enchanting delight. She let her mind soar with a wind she called and experienced the nerve-stopping astonishment of flying, without wings, without support. Her spirit rushed along with the air as it sped over the countryside. In the heart of a roaring flame, she found life in its barest yet most intense form. The fiercest of ravening hungers consumed its fuel utterly, transforming the matter it devoured into the pure energy of heat and light. And part of the delight, a treacherous knife pointing toward her heart, lay in again having Korlen's time and attention, his company and conversation, his direction, and even the fascinating heated arguments with him. Against her will and desire, something of Korlen's own being called to her when they worked together. Sharing the wonder with him enriched and deepened the thrill of discovering the marvels she could create. At those times, she had to remind herself the sole purpose of learning this level of magic was to protect and guide her son. She faced the dangers of the temptations it posed, forced herself to recall the sounds of men screaming as the flames she'd created fed on their flesh. The wizard could have prevented much of the death and destruction. Her need hadn't counted with him enough to make him act. Nothing about his behavior with her now suggested he'd make a different decision. 217

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After she'd mastered working with the elementals, they moved onto the highest level of wizardry, dealing with other humans and wizards. A wizard's mind could touch and even manipulate others'. Her first attempts to do so during the battle had failed when she couldn't deal with the flood of information released to her when she touched another mind. Korlen showed her how to keep the contact just shallow enough to give her access, but not so deep the activity of the other intelligence overwhelmed her. He showed her how to reach various key senses, how to induce thoughts or remove memories, and then warned her, in the strongest terms he'd ever used, such efforts should be attempted even more rarely than calling the major forces. It was difficult and dangerous and normally futile, given the complexity of the human brain, so was generally tried only in extreme situations where no other method answered the need. He gave her little opportunity to practice the skill since he was the only available subject other than their son. He wouldn't offer either of them as victims for experimentation. The more effective way of maneuvering people when necessary, most wizards found, used illusion to change what others believed they felt, saw, heard, tasted or smelled. No mind touch was needed. A simple manipulation of the space around the person did the job. It had the advantage of being effective on anyone in range, whereas mind touch could only be done one on one. And inducing others to think they saw or heard or smelled something beside the truth could be so much more effective than trying to alter a stubbornly held belief or opinion. 218

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The change of appearance most wizards used to mask their true looks was one of the more obvious examples. But odors, even imaginary ones, could sicken people or soothe them. The sound of church bells ringing or a child calling for help, the sight of an illusory army approaching or the appearance of a rainbow, all could affect the behavior of a single person or many people at a time. Love charms altered the way one person perceived the sight and smell of another. Curses likewise doomed the recipient to hear and see threats everywhere, cutting him off from all normal life. It took remarkably little effort on a wizard's part to create those illusions. Alsa was stunned by how easy it was. Korlen warned her it could also be dangerous. Some were immune to it; others would recognize the illusion for what it was. Usually those were persons with some latent talent themselves. But no one liked discovering they'd been fooled or thinking someone had tried to manipulate them and nearly succeeded. They tended to resent, quite fiercely, the one who perpetrated the deception. "It's rule number two of wizardry," he told her. "Be sure you know exactly who you're trying to fool and test their capacity for it before you make the attempt. Use the power sparingly in any case. Casual use of it, especially among normal people, will get you into trouble." During the time Korlen trained her, Adam grew and developed from baby into curious and insatiable toddler. Once he'd learned to walk, he wanted to go everywhere, get into everything, examine, feel, shake, shuffle, and taste everything he encountered. And of course, he could retrieve 219

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any object he wanted to investigate, which meant they had to keep spells of protection set on him all the time he remained awake. Between the training and keeping up with her rambunctious, energetic son, Alsa had no time to miss friends or family. The wizard still spent little time with the boy, neither holding him nor playing with him, but Alsa did occasionally notice Korlen watching while she rocked or fed the child. The handsome, expressionless face effectively hid whatever emotions the scene might have roused in him. If it there were any. She really didn't know. The dragon, however, delighted in Adam's company and couldn't get enough of it. Whenever Alsa brought the boy out to the garden to let him play, the creature would show up, settling on his favorite shelf. She kept careful watch at those times, but was surprised by the dragon's gentleness with the child. Perhaps it had heeded her warning that the 'small mortal' was fragile and could easily be hurt. Once Adam could toddle around, he liked to play hide-andseek or roll-the-ball with the dragon. The creature rarely had any trouble finding Adam's hiding places behind shrubs or benches, but that seemed to be part of the delight. And their version of roll-the-ball had some unusual features. The dragon used only a single claw, which was as big as Adam's entire arm, to nudge the ball, while Adam used his mind to return it in his own variation on the game, pointedly trying to keep it from getting within the dragon's reach. They could spend hours straining and giggling over the contest. Although Alsa and Korlen both worried about the dragon losing control 220

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of his fire or failing to recognize his own strength, it never happened. In fact Adam proved to be a greater danger to the local wildlife than the dragon was to Adam. The boy chased birds, butterflies and bees, and he used the power of his mind to gain the prize when his own short legs and arms didn't get the job done. The one time he actually caught a bee before Alsa could stop him, the result served to cure him of chasing stinging insects, but it didn't stop him from trying to collect birds and other small animals. Still, she couldn't be truly angry with him when his small face lit with an angelic smile as he proudly displayed for her the colorful butterfly or frantic bird he'd just caught. She usually was able to free the creatures before Adam could harm them. The dragon actually proved an ally in diverting him from some of his more dangerous pursuits. When Adam learned the joy of throwing rocks, the dragon knocked aside those that threatened harm to the castle's windows, her favorite plants or Adam himself. The creature also held down the bench and the sundial when Adam attempted to relocate them. At Alsa's direction, the dragon only served up Adam's favorite treat—displays of fire breath—when the boy had been well-behaved and followed his mother's directions. As winter turned to spring and then summer again, Korlen completed his lessons with her, telling her he'd taught her all he could without much more time to delve into the higher, most esoteric brands of magic. Then he retreated, becoming cool and distant once again. He spent increasing time 221

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closeted in his study, burying himself in his work there. It left her feeling oddly bereft. She asked herself what she really wanted and couldn't answer more specifically than that she wanted to go home. Following a long internal debate, she decided to leave the day after Adam's first birthday. The dragon threw a tantrum when he learned of her plans. "You can't go," he insisted, stamping a foot so hard the mountain shook. "And you can't take the littlest mortal. He belongs here." "I can't stay," Alsa tried to explain. "And Adam needs to be with me." "Why can't you stay?" the dragon asked. "Dragons may not have need of each other's company to live and thrive, but humans do," she answered. "I need to be with people who love me, who will share their lives with me, who need me to love and care for them in return." A small, sad curl of smoke dribbled from the dragon's sinuses. "I love you. And I need you." Alsa sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I know you do," she said. "In your own way. But it's not enough. I need more." She drew a deep breath. "We will be coming back to visit regularly so Korlen can monitor Adam's progress." "Twice a year," the dragon moaned. "It's not enough. I'll get lonely." "You were fine before we got here. You and Korlen have each other." 222

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"He needs you. I don't know what he'll do without you," the dragon protested. "He'll go back to doing exactly what he was doing before I came along. He'll likely forget me an hour after I leave." "You're wrong, you know, little mortal." The dragon chuffed and stamped and spit a line of bright orange-red flame into the air. Finally it flapped giant wings, pushed away and flew off, dipping, diving, and snapping its wings to show its irritation. Telling Korlen was even harder, though his reaction was less dramatic. "You're resolved on this," he said, standing at the window behind the desk in his study. "You've given it much thought." "I have. It's what I need to do." He turned to the window for a quick look out, then faced her again. "We have something special together. When we delved into the mountain, surely you felt it? When we rode the clouds? When we brought Adam into the world? When we ... When we made love?" "Yes, I felt it." Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to clear the obstruction before she could add, "But is it enough?" His lips tightened and he held himself almost rigid. "If I asked you to stay, told you I wanted you to stay, would it make any difference?" She studied him, weighing his request against the yearnings in her heart. She wanted to let it make a difference, but how did he really feel about her? He'd showed her so little real warmth. Was he even capable of really deep 223

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feelings for another person? "If I asked you again to help defend my town, would your answer be any different?" He stared at her for a moment, and then he closed his eyes briefly while the lines of tension at the corners of his eyes and mouth deepened. He heaved a deep breath and let it out slowly before he opened his eyes again. "No. It can't be." **** They had a small party for the child on the anniversary of his appearance into the world. Alsa baked a cake to celebrate. The dragon provided fireworks and gave Adam a gift of a golden cup, forgetting for a while the snit he'd been in ever since learning of Alsa's plans to leave. The wizard's gift was a fine small bed, suitable for a young child, which he promised to have delivered to wherever she settled, and a number of toys, including a set of wooden blocks, elaborately carved wooden horses and some tin soldiers. That night, after she'd finally calmed Adam and tucked him in bed, Korlen waited for her outside the door to the boy's room. "Alsa," he called, surprising her in the dimly lit hallway. "I'm sorry to startle you. I have a ... Can I talk with you for a few minutes?" She nodded and went with him to the ballroom, where he lit the fire and pulled up their usual chairs for both of them. "You'll not forget to bring him back here twice a year?" Korlen asked, once they were settled. "It's essential we be 224

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acquainted and I be able to assess how he progresses in his talent." "I will." "And you'll notify me if he progresses too fast to the next level?" "I will." "And you'll remember to watch for the possibility of him using his talent to injure anyone else? He's at a troublesome stage. He's still a normal child and will have the usual temper tantrums and selfishness and irritations of the age, but his power makes him more dangerous than most. You'll have to watch him carefully." "I know." The wizard went on for some time offering mostly useless warnings and injunctions, asking questions, until Alsa realized he was nervously trying to build up to something else. She finally interrupted him to ask, "What is it you really want to tell me?" He threw her a startled look, before he sighed and hitched himself straighter in the chair. "I was wondering ... Would you lay with me tonight? One last time. I promise there will be no child. I'd just like to ... say good-bye." It was Alsa's turn to be stunned. Of all the favors he might ask, that one hadn't occurred to her. She stood up and walked over to him, put a hand in his and drew him to his feet. "Yes," she said. A pure, intense joy softened the austere, handsome features just before she leaned into him and kissed him. He 225

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lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber, then laid her gently on the bed. "Don't forget to bespell the room," she reminded him as they stripped off their clothes. "We don't need to put on a show for nosy dragons." He surprised her even more when, after removing his clothes, he also let slip the mask of the very handsome form he'd wore. And contrary to his prediction, she did prefer his own face and body. His true form lacked the astonishing beauty of the mask, but it also lacked the hardness and the arrogance. It was, as she'd recognized earlier, the rather average, ordinary face of a man not quite into mid-life, though she knew he was older in normal human years. But wizards didn't necessarily age at the same pace as others. Only his eyes were still extraordinary, the same bright, clear green color. He probably thought the scars on his jaw and temple disfiguring, but in fact they merely lent character and a bit of tough edge to features otherwise simply lean and austere and tinged with sadness. His body wasn't as beautiful without the mask but it wasn't unattractive either. He wasn't quite as tall in truth, nor were his shoulders as broad or square, nor the skin as smooth and unmarked. It was still a strong man's body that wore its experience of life with minor scars and blemishes. When he joined her on the bed, he waited for her to reach out for him. It hadn't occurred to her until then that he might truly believe she'd be repelled by his true form. She reached out to touch him, running her hand down the side of his face, tracing the paths of the scars, and moving along his throat 226

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and shoulders. She stroked down his chest, shaping the muscles there with her fingers and palms. He gasped and pressed a hand over hers, to still her exploration, but holding her palm against him. He turned to her and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss started as a light salute, but grew deeper and hotter until their tongues mated and explored. Her body tightened as need roused. "Show me how you did that thing with the little sparklies," she begged him. "Were they fire elementals?" "Very tiny ones." He gave her the words and outlined how he did it, then urged her, "Try it." She did. A hundred tiny sparks in radiant colors winked into being around them. Under her direction they swept over his body, touching down here and there. His eyes widened, and he gasped as the sensations worked into him. Then he spoke himself, and even more of the tiny elementals showed up and washed over her. His hands ran up and down her body, as well, stopping at her breast to tease and tweak, then dipping lower to drive her into near madness by stroking the flesh between her legs. Taking turns and sometimes simultaneously, they stroked, tasted, tweaked, pinched and licked each other into gasping tension. They explored to find what pleased the other, engaging in a playful contest to top each other in giving pleasure. Only when she felt ready to explode did he finally enter her. He bespoke more elementals to tease her, and she matched it for him, until they were surrounded, almost smothered by a cloud of vibrant particles. The sensations 227

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drove her to the edge of endurance until she climaxed in wavelike spasms of release. When it was over and they could breathe again, and the elementals had all been released to return to their whole, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her against him, holding as though he never wanted to let her go.

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Chapter Twenty-six Her departure was painful and difficult, much worse than she'd anticipated. The dragon went from sulking to protesting to pleading with her to stay, and even did the dragon equivalent of a pout and snuffle as she finished her preparations. The promise that she'd be returning regularly didn't seem to mollify him at all. Korlen had little to say, having let his body do the talking the previous night. The next morning, the other face was back in place, and it effectively masked any emotion he might be feeling as he bid her and their son good-bye. He wished her safe travel and reiterated his offer of assistance should she need it. The journey down the mountain was more difficult with Adam, and she couldn't help feeling she'd left a piece of herself on the mountain, an odd thought because she had no idea which piece it might have been. She'd never felt much attachment to the castle, itself, and her feeling for the occupant was impossibly mixed. She'd sent a message to her parents, warning them of her return and the child she brought with her. Apparently they'd let word get out to their neighbors, also. A reception committee, consisting of nearly every resident of the town, met her at the gate. She received a formal welcome from the mayor, offers of the use of two different empty cottages, and gifts of food, clothing, beverages, jewelry, fabrics and a variety of trinkets. The fuss stunned her, flattered her, and 229

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made her uneasy. They addressed her with the honorific title "lady," which disconcerted her even more. Settled once again, temporarily, in her parents' home, though, she regained some equilibrium. Their loving warmth and acceptance helped compensate for whatever loss she felt in leaving Korlen, and reinforced the belief she'd done the right thing in coming back. Her mother and father were both entranced by Adam, after getting over the initial hesitation caused by her warning that he was already a wizard. He won them both over when he climbed into his grandmother's lap, cuddled up there, and fell asleep. The enchantment was short-lived, ending abruptly two days later when her mother refused Adam's demand for a sweet right before dinner. Alsa was in another room at the time, but came running when she heard the ruckus and entered the kitchen to find pots flying, plates smashing themselves into walls, chairs beating themselves against the floor, flour settling over half the room, and her mother cowering in a corner, white and shaking. After that Alsa never left her son alone with them, except when he was asleep. A month later she moved out of their house into one of the other places whose use she'd been offered, a cottage only a few doors down from her parents. They didn't want her to go, but she felt it was for the best. Even with her constantly guarding against wizardly temper tantrums, their place was too crowded with both her and Adam in residence. It had been a long time since her parents had had a small child in the house. The normal noise and activity of a toddler put enough strain on them without the additional fear. 230

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Alsa searched for something she could do to make herself a productive and useful member of the town. She wanted to try cooking, but the public houses refused to let her join their culinary staff. She couldn't tell if people feared her using magic to prepare their food or if they thought it beneath the dignity of the town's wizard to be working in a kitchen. Or maybe they worried about the child she insisted would have to stay with her at all times. Whatever the cause, her efforts made everyone so uncomfortable she finally gave up the idea. A pleasant but short stint as assistant to the town's main potter ended in disaster when Adam chafed at having to stay in his mother's sight all the time and threw another temper tantrum. After they swept up the thousands of shards that represented nearly two weeks' work, the master potter politely suggested the job in his shop might not be the ideal solution for her unusual circumstances. Which left her at a loss. She'd had no skill with needle or loom—things she might be able to do while keeping Adam in sight, not to mention having less fragile product—before her magical training. A number of fumbling attempts convinced her that knowledge of sorcery hadn't improved her ability with a needle. Her own offspring aside, she had little patience with children, which let out teaching. She didn't bother to ask herself what the local parents would think about having their sons and daughters tutored by a wizard in any case. Of course, she was the only one in the town who seemed concerned by her lack of a useful skill to contribute to the economy. Everyone else considered her mere presence in the town adequate service. She never wanted for food or other 231

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necessities. Whatever their goods, each merchant or server took care to provide the local wizard a share of it. All of which further disquieted her, making her wonder when some sort of repayment would be demanded and what form it might take. It wasn't long in starting, with someone showing up at her door just two days after the fiasco at the potter's shop. The young man planning an orchard wanted her advice on where to plant new fruit trees and how to care for them. Drawing on her memories of Dortee's suggestions, Alsa willingly shared what knowledge she had and made suggestions about planting, location, and care. The man paid her a small fee and left satisfied. It took a bit more wizardry to coax a cat off a roof, the subject of the next request, but Alsa had no qualms about using it in those circumstances. When the healer asked her assistance with setting the broken arm-bone of a young man who'd taken a bad fall, she agreed to try. She'd warned one and all that she had little healing skill, but they remembered her success in bonesetting after the battle. The results were so satisfactory she agreed to assist in that way whenever needed. Those and other small services she did with pleasure. But Alsa tried to make clear to everyone her skills had limits, and gave some idea where her abilities ended. She set the boundaries well below her actual ability to give her a way to eliminate requests she felt she couldn't honor. She considered for some time the requests for help with home repairs, building renovations and soil improvements. In 232

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the end, she declared it as policy she would lend no magical assistance in cases where normal human labor could bring about the desired result, unless there were unusual circumstances to justify the need. The new master tailor, who'd inherited the designation on the death of the former holder during the battle the previous year, came to ask magical assistance in completing a set of garments for an important client by the time specified. The man begged and pleaded for her aid, swearing it would happen only this once, because there was no other way the clothing would be ready on time. The decision wasn't an easy one, and Alsa knew she'd made an enemy when she declined. She also realized that if she did rescue the man from a situation he'd created by his own poor sense and lazy work habits, the odds were he'd come to depend on her rather than learning how to manage the business more effectively. She also turned down requests for cures for illness, assistance improving livestock breeding, readings of the future and the inevitable desire for love potions. On the other hand, she willingly offered her services mediating disputes and had considerable success settling them. Few people argued too long with a wizard. Especially one who tried hard to be fair. She used magic to rescue a dog that had fallen into a well and a cow who stepped in a hole and ended up with his leg trapped. For a baby born with underdeveloped lungs, she set air elementals to the task of keeping breath moving in and out of the child. The same application also helped some victims of coughing fever recover. 233

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They kept her busy enough, but they weren't the only petitioners making their way to her door. Alsa's looks had always attracted male interest, but she'd never before experienced such a relentless parade of suitors seeking to catch her interest. Many of the unattached men of the village, including the town's wealthiest bachelor, came to pay court. She didn't have to be a wizard to know a pretty face wasn't the primary attraction with this group, though it surely didn't hurt. At least once a week some swain showed up, dreaming of the benefits to be reaped from a wife with a talent for magic. Because there was an empty spot in her heart, a longing she hadn't known before her time with Korlen, she gave some of the more promising candidates a chance. She invited them to come and visit while Adam napped, served them tea and cakes she baked herself, and let them talk. Unfortunately things generally fell apart at that point. If the erstwhile suitor could converse with any intelligence at all, the topic usually concerned the minutiae of their daily lives. The wealthy bachelor, who served as banker, moneylender and accountant to many local businesses, spoke at great length about the wonderful financial advice he'd provided to important persons and the dismal results when people failed to heed his word. A prosperous winemaker regaled her with a vine-to-vat life history of a grape, including a great deal more detail about presses, skins and corking than she'd ever wanted to know. Some, especially the younger ones, grew so tongue-tied in her presence that she took pity on them and carried the conversation herself. The most obnoxious 234

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candidate was the gorgeous young man who presented a verbal list of his former conquests as some sort of reference. He took great pride in his success. Alsa took considerable pleasure in showing him the door. There were a few who wanted something else entirely. One evening in early winter, a young woman came to her door and asked to speak with her. As a matter of policy as well as politeness, Alsa gave everyone a chance to make their request, so she invited in the girl who identified herself as Delie and asked what she wanted. Delie's face turned red and she stared down into the cup of tea. Alsa prepared herself to field another request for a love potion. It wasn't the most common wish, but had come up often enough she'd developed a pat response explaining her inability to create such a concoction. "You went to the wizard for training," the girl asked. Alsa nodded when Delie paused. "You had a child by him." "Yes." "But you didn't stay with him." "No." Alsa was thoroughly perplexed by then. "Do you think ... that is, is it possible..." Delie finally blurted out, "Do you think I could go to him, too?" Alsa accounted for the pause that time. She was near speechless for a moment. "You want to learn wizardry?" "Yes," Delie said. "Is it very dangerous?" Alsa studied the other young woman, searching for a spark of talent. She thought she'd be able to detect it if it were there, though she couldn't expect to feel it pouring off the 235

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young woman the way it did from Korlen or Dortee. There was nothing, no trace of magical ability in her. "Yes, it is," Alsa answered. "You're dealing with forces that are very strong and inherently somewhat wild. They can be very destructive if they escape your control." The girl nodded, looked worried, but then brightened. "But the wizard is there to protect you." "Yes." "Is he ... Is he a good teacher?" "Good? I suppose so. Yes, he is. But he's demanding. Learning magic isn't easy and he can't make it so." "But he could teach me?" Alsa drew a deep breath and then sipped her tea while searching for the right words to let her down gently. "I doubt he would." "Why not? He taught you." "Yes, but there were special circumstances. I could give him something he wanted, so I was able to bargain with him for the training." Delie looked at her. "I could..." She choked and started again. "I could offer him the same thing." "You don't know what he wanted from me." She stared into the teacup, blushing furiously. "I think I do." "But you're wrong. It wasn't me he wanted. It was the child." "Oh." Delie set the cup down with a clatter. She looked down at her hands and tears shone in her eyes, but then she gathered herself up. "I don't suppose he'd want—" 236

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"No." The girl frowned and bit her lip. "If you asked him, though, do you think there's a chance...?" She stopped when she saw Alsa shaking her head. "No. I'm sorry." "What about you? Could you teach me?" "I don't have that level of skill yet." It took a few more minutes to convince Delie she couldn't teach her anything, but Alsa persisted until the young woman was convinced. It wasn't the truth, but it was kinder than letting the girl know the problem wasn't Alsa's ability to teach but her own capacity to learn. **** Over the next couple of months, two other people, both young men, came to her with similar queries. Although one pushed his request so aggressively she feared she'd have to use wizardry to hold him off, she convinced both of them that they wouldn't be welcomed. "I was told the last person before me who went to the wizard with such a request ended up as a mouse or a rat," Alsa explained to them. "He doesn't like company and tolerated mine only so he could sire a son." The more aggressive one then also tried to convince her to give him magic lessons herself. It took almost an hour to convince him she couldn't do it, and then she suspected it was only her threat to turn him into a toad that induced him to leave. He muttered and cursed under his breath as he 237

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went, warning that selfish wizards who wouldn't share their gifts might get what they had coming. Although she judged him more talk than action, for the next few weeks she nonetheless walked carefully and checked the door before she opened it. **** She recognized a subtler but more real danger in the situation when the mayor's daughter appeared at the door to her cottage one evening and hesitated before accepting the invitation to enter. Alsa had already tucked Adam into bed for the night and made sure he was asleep. The girl accepted her offer of a cup of tea before they talked business. Given the condition of her face, which bore serious scars from a childhood fight, Alsa could guess the nature of her request. They discussed general topics for a while, though, including memories of the town school, which Alsa had finished two years ahead of the other young woman. Finally, the small talk wore down and Alsa waited pointedly. Tresa Marisdon drew a deep breath before she said, "I've heard you're a wizard, that you trained with the wizard on the mountain. You've done some incredible things. I saw the dragon you called to end the battle last year. Do you think you could do something about..." She pointed to the ugly scar down one cheek and the hump left where her nose had been broken. "I'll pay whatever you want to fix it." Alsa shut her eyes for a moment. In this case, she would be willing to help, but the requested repairs were beyond her 238

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skill. "I can't," she said, trying to make the refusal as gentle as possible, wishing she didn't have to see the tears the girl was fighting back. "You know my father can afford it," Tresa said. "I'll pay anything. Or do anything, if you can just fix this." Alsa shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to. I would if I could, believe me. I just don't have the kind of skill required for this. I don't think any wizard could fix it, in truth." "You don't want to," Tresa said. "You don't want to make the effort for me." "Not so," Alsa insisted. "I do want to help you. I would certainly do it, if I could. I can't." "I don't believe it! You're a wizard. Wizards can do anything!" "No, we can't. There are limitations to our power. I don't think any wizard could do what you're asking, but I certainly can't. I have no training in anything related to healing." She tried to keep her voice level, both to soothe the girl's emotions and to keep from waking Adam. Neither effort succeeded. "You're mean! You just don't want to try!" Tresa jumped up and ran out, slamming the door on her exit. Adam let out a howl. The girl's father showed up the next day to reiterate he would pay whatever was necessary to have his daughter's face repaired. Alsa explained again that lack of ability rather than inclination motivated her refusal. The mayor was a bit 239

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more understanding, though no more happy about the answer than his daughter. Within a few days, Alsa heard rumors and grumbles around town about her meanness in refusing to help the mayor's poor, disfigured daughter. Others who'd made requests Alsa couldn't or wouldn't fulfill joined the slighted girl in sympathy. They could do little more than grumble, however, and complain to anyone who would listen. The town remembered what Alsa had done on its behalf and knew they might, at some future time, need her help again. The more resentment she heard about, though, the more she worried about her own safety and Adam's. The loneliness she'd thought would be cured by her return to the town grew inside her again, even more raw in its intensity.

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Chapter Twenty-seven In the spring, she took eighteen-month-old Adam back up the mountain to visit his father. She faced the trip with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The anxiety she understood, but the anticipation was an unsettling surprise. The wizard waited for her on the path leading to the castle door, as he had on previous occasions when she'd returned. He wore the same mask of the handsome, young face, but it wasn't quite the same. She saw through it more easily. She could read more of the thoughts and feelings he tried to conceal. Or perhaps it no longer functioned to hide his emotions as well and revealed more of the man. He seemed older than when she'd left, grimmer, tired, and more strained. It worried her, though he'd deny any problem if she tried to ask about it. "This is your father, Adam," Alsa said to him, presenting him to Korlen. "Can you say 'Da'?" The boy declined to say anything at all. He stared hard at his father and wailed when the wizard tried to pick him up to carry him into the castle. Korlen quickly handed him back to her. He led them inside to the parlor, where he retrieved a box of toys from the cabinet in the corner. Adam watched his father warily when the wizard showed him balls, beanbags and blocks, but the boy offered a toothy grin at the sight of a plush stuffed dragon and snatched it away, giggling softly as 241

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he rubbed his face against it. Alsa smiled to see the balls that had figured in her early training. "Are you going to teach him to juggle?" she asked, watching Adam set aside the plush dragon, dip into a box full of wood pieces, and begin to build a tower. Korlen turned to her with a smile that drove some of the harshness from the handsome face. "I don't think he's quite ready for that. Or am I wrong?" "No. Though he's managed to do a remarkable job of juggling pots, pans and crockery when he doesn't get his way. He's not too concerned about what else might be in the room at the time, how they fall, or where they land." "I warned you his childhood would be interesting." "You did. But I had no idea he'd be able to create so much havoc. He's so small compared to the destruction he can cause." "Aren't we all?" Korlen asked. "Man and wizard alike?" "True. But most of us are amenable to some degree of reason. Or force or bribery when reason fails. Nothing gets through to a cranky toddler." He motioned her to her normal chair, turned enough to let them watch the child while they talked. He poured tea for each of them, then sat and studied her face for a few quiet moments. "It's been a difficult few months for you," he said at last. "You look tired." "It's had its challenges," she admitted. "But there are rewards as well." He nodded. "Tell me about them. Tell me what he does all day long. I gather he can speak a few words?" 242

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For almost an hour they discussed Adam's development, interests, activities and progress, until the subject of the conversation ended it by getting frustrated with a collapsing tower and sending blocks sailing down the length of the room. Korlen caught them and directed them back to the box. Adam ran to his mother, curled up in her lap and promptly fell asleep. The next day, Korlen spent most of his time with the boy. He held him and fed him and played games with him. Most of the games tested, in one way or another, the extent of the child's abilities and development. Adam resisted at first, unsure about a father he barely remembered, but as the day passed the boy warmed up and even chuckled with him over a contest of wills when they played a game of tossing the ball back and forth, with the object of keeping the ball from reaching the opponent. Alsa remembered Adam playing a similar game with the dragon. Korlen seemed pleased by the results of his tests and complimented Alsa on the good job she was doing bringing him up and working with his talent. In the afternoon, they took Adam outside to the garden to play. It took the dragon longer than she expected to appear, but he did finally fly in and settle down on the ledge, though he just sat there for a bit and didn't say anything. The pout didn't surprise her. When he didn't show up to greet her on arrival, she'd suspected he was still miffed. Adam stared up at the creature as it came in and settled on the ledge. Though his eyes grew wide, there was no fear. His astonishment quickly turned to a brilliant joy. He ran over to it and said, quite clearly and distinctly, "Fire!" 243

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"He remembers!" The dragon quickly forgot its annoyance. It shot a quick corkscrew of flame into the air, making the blaze roil with yellows and reds and a touch of blue. "Fire," Adam repeated, begging for more. The dragon put on a nice display of fiery creativity while the boy oohed and aahed, clapped and chuckled. When both finally had enough of that game, and Adam began to entertain himself by moving around piles of dirt, the dragon settled on its shelf again and stared at her. "You took so long to come back," it said. "Six months. It's when I said I'd come back. And what's six months to a dragon, anyway?" "Too long," the creature muttered back. "We missed you." The dragon looked pointedly at Korlen, who sat next to her, but Korlen said nothing. "It's been too quiet around here," the dragon said. "I thought you liked your peace and quiet?" Alsa asked. "It's gotten too quiet." Again the creature shot a look at Korlen and the latter ignored it. "Then you'll value our company all the more when you have it," she answered. "We'll be coming and going for the next few years." The dragon huffed a curl of smoke from its nostrils. "I don't know why you can't stay here." Alsa explained it all to the creature again, but it didn't mollify him. Eventually he flew off, still muttering that he couldn't imagine why she'd choose to stay in her boring old town when she could be here on the mountain. 244

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That evening, once Adam was asleep, and Korlen had set an air elemental to watch over him, Korlen asked her again about her life in town for the last few months, but it wasn't the day-to-day details or the funny stories about the baker's failures he wanted to hear. She told him about her initial problems in finding useful employment, the reasons she'd moved out of her parents' home, the petitions and requests people brought to her, and the difficulties she sometimes faced in deciding which ones to honor and which to decline. He grinned at her account of how Adam's explosive temper had put an end to her stint at the potter's shop. He considered thoughtfully the situations she recounted, the petitions she'd received, and rendered his own opinions before she told him how she'd handled them. She was surprised by how often his suggestions mirrored what she'd actually done. And when it didn't, as often as not, she wished she'd had his advice before she'd acted. She told him about the mayor's daughter's request for repair of her scars. "Is it possible to do something like that?" she asked him. "Are there any wizards who can do healing work of that sort?" "I have no idea," Korlen admitted. "Perhaps Dortee might know. It wouldn't be easy, as you'd have to deal with rearranging small elements of a human body. I've heard of wizards trying such things in the name of better healing, but as I recall, most concluded they were too dangerous. The body is a complex, delicate balance of forces and systems working together, too fragile to be lightly or easily altered." 245

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She nodded. "I thought as much, though I wouldn't know where to begin, myself." The next morning, while Korlen continued to work with Adam, Alsa went out to look more closely at the neglected garden. Seeing the weeds overtaking the perennial beds, the rampant growth of plants needing pruning, and the struggles of more tender sprouts induced a melancholy thoughtfulness. Her own little garden outside the cottage was better tended, but smaller and limited to just a few plants. It was all she had the time and energy to care for. The dragon showed up again, apparently reconciled to the new reality that Alsa and Adam wouldn't be staying. "How much longer will you stay this time, little mortal?" the dragon asked, watching her check the garden. "No more than a day or two." She yanked out a weed threatening to choke a struggling flower. "He doesn't take care of it anymore," the dragon said. "Did he ever? It looked pretty neglected when I first arrived." "At one time he did. Then he got interested in other things. I don't think gardening suited him." "He seems to prefer painting and composing music." "He did," the dragon agreed. "Did?" The dragon dipped its head to one side. "He used to spend a lot of time painting or making silly pots. He painted a picture of me. Have you seen it?" "No. I'll ask him to show me. He doesn't paint or do pottery anymore?" 246

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"No." "What does he do now?" "Not much. He sits around and thinks too much. He forgets to find treasures for me." "I'll remind him," Alsa said. The dragon's observations bothered her, but she wasn't sure whether the creature spoke the truth and how much it might be trying to manipulate her. Korlen himself might be behind it, for that matter. She'd observed before that he could be devious when it suited him. That evening she mentioned the dragon's complaint to the wizard. Korlen sighed and nodded. "I'll take care of it tomorrow. I haven't been paying as much attention as I should." "Why not?" He gave her the arrogant, flat, hard stare she expected, and then let it relax into something less irritating but not much more revealing. "I've had other things on my mind." And that was as much as he'd say about it. To head off further questions, he asked how the people of the town reacted to Adam. It was a bit of a sore point. Since the incident at the potter's shop, word had gone round the town saying the boy had his mother's talent for magic. What they tolerated in her, because most of them had known her all her life, induced fear when it came in the guise of a small child. "They're afraid of him," she admitted. "No one will say it openly because they don't want to offend or irritate me, but I've seen the way people watch him. Everyone's friendly, but 247

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they keep their distance. They'll smile and offer treats, but they don't try to talk to him. Other families keep their own children away and don't let them come around to play. I suppose I can't blame them." Korlen wasn't surprised. "They may be right. He's more dangerous to them than they can guess." Alsa sighed. "I know. But he's also a little boy. He's too young to understand it yet, but eventually he will. It'll hurt him. I don't know how I'm going to deal with that." "You have time yet." Korlen watched her. "What about yourself? How do they treat you, when they don't want something from you?" "They always want something from me." Even she was surprised by how bitter that sounded and tried to downplay it. "But they treat me well enough. Most are friendly. And they remember the battle. No one's forgotten what I did for them." "But there are those who resent you," he guessed. "Surely some get angry when you can't or won't help them?" "Sometimes." He let it go then, but on the next evening, their last before she returned to town, he brought it up again. "The memory of what you did in the battle will fade," he warned. "It's the way of things. All they'll remember is what you've done for them recently. And when you refuse them, they may turn on you." She nodded, hoping what he said wasn't true, yet knowing the possibility was there. "Not everyone, but some would. I'm aware of the possibility, but I don't think there's any danger of it right now." 248

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He frowned and tapped his fingers against the chair. "There will be, though. Sooner or later, you'll anger the wrong person with your refusal. Or the town may need you to do something you can't." "Wizards have many defenses," she reminded him. "And they're still human. A sneak attack from an unexpected quarter can be just as fatal to a wizard as to any other man or woman." "I watch my back. And my sides." He bit his lip as a look of pain flashed briefly across his face. "There are people in your town you care about. That's a vulnerability." She remembered what he'd gone through, then considered how it might apply to her. It was true that a threat to her parents or brother might coerce her into doing something she didn't want to do. "You're right. And that's something I'll have to think on, long and hard." "If you ever—" He stopped and thought some more about it. "If you ever need a safe place to stay, you can come here. And if you ever need help, I hope you'll ask me." "I did once," she reminded him and watched his face freeze into the hard expression that hid his emotions. "Would your answer be any different if I asked you that question today?" His body froze into an almost painful rigidity. She expected another flat refusal, and was surprised when he drew a deep breath before he said, "I don't know. Perhaps it might. But I don't think you'll ask that question again." 249

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They left the issue there and moved on to her plans for the next few months, which contained, she admitted, little different than what she'd been doing for the previous few. That night she wondered if he'd ask for her company again, as he'd done on the occasion of her last departure. He didn't. She was disappointed. And dismayed by the disappointment. She was also oddly worried about him, though she couldn't say why. A shadow of some problem seemed to hover near him ... of what, she couldn't say. Leaving again the next day wasn't any easier than it had been the previous time. The dragon rose up above the castle to watch them go, head hanging and small curls of smoke drifting from its nose. It said nothing. Korlen showed no obvious emotion as he walked a short way down the mountain with her and Adam. When he stopped and said he'd go no farther, he reiterated his warning and his offer in even stronger terms, concluding with, "Promise you'll come to me if you need help or if you're in any danger." Alsa offered him the promise. He pulled her against him, leaned over and kissed her gently, before he released her and turned away. Again, when he touched her, she had that feeling of something being wrong. She almost called him back to ask about it, but experience said he wouldn't answer, in any case. If she could have known of the circumstances of their next meeting, she might have cried at the irony of it. But as she didn't, she only felt depressed, unhappy, and torn, as though she were the rope in a game of tug-of-war 250

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between the wizard and the town.

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Chapter Twenty-eight The petitioners came even more frequently on her return, as many who'd been waiting while she was away descended the minute word got round of her return. She had to fight through depression and a sense of loss to attend to what they asked. To add to her burden, shortly after their return, Adam developed a bad case of terrible twos. His occasional temper tantrums before had been difficult and destructive enough. More frequent explosions pitched her life into chaos. When he said he wanted a glass of milk, he wanted it right then, not after the few minutes it would take to obtain it for him. He expressed his displeasure at having to wait by trying to rearrange the shelves in the kitchen and dispose all the contents on the floor. If he decided he didn't want to take a nap, everything within ten feet of him would make a round of the room before being left to land wherever it dropped. Alsa was able to contain the outbursts, but the effort exhausted her. And she received no breaks, except when he slept, since she dared not leave him with anyone else. Several of the elderly people in town came to her for help with their arthritis. She'd discovered almost by accident that she could touch the material of their bones and shift some of the matter enough to give temporary relief. Word got round quickly and it became one of the most often requested services. 252

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One day while she was concentrating on an older woman's misshapen fingers, Adam woke and fretfully demanded her presence. Since she was close to finished, she decided to wait the few more seconds it would take to complete her task. The thud and crunch from the other room dragged her out of her concentration. Her elderly client looked terrified as a terrible series of crashes shook the cottage. Alsa jumped up and raced into Adam's room. He was jumping up and down on the bed, impatient for her arrival. The bed was also jumping up and down, lifting itself several feet off the floor when he leapt and crashing back down moments before he came down on it. Pictures and lamps, shaken off the wall lay in pieces on the floor. "Adam, stop!" She held the bed down with her mind, then captured the child in her arms. She went out to apologize to the client and found the woman in a near-faint. When the lady opened her eyes, she stared at Adam with naked terror and fled the cottage as fast as she could gather herself to get out. The drain of caring for Adam cut more and more into her ability to serve the townspeople's requests, resulting in more disgruntled would-be customers and more grumbling. She started noticing other things going on in the town that bothered her as well. Not everyone was doing all they could to prepare for emergencies or natural disasters. Irrigation and drainage ditches were allowed to fill up with debris. Instead of planting sturdy trees for windbreaks, some outlying homesteads used fruit trees instead. Parts of the town wall still hadn't been 253

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repaired after the battle, though all the residences had been, and the mayor's house bore an extensive, elaborate addition. The assembly hall had new, cushioned chairs and mahogany tables. When she checked with the master armorer, she learned he'd had only a few small orders from the town to replenish weapons stock, not enough to bring it up to the level of reserve it had been at before the battle. She knew why they felt they could do so. The crisis came midyear, after a normally damp spring gave way to a dryer-than-usual summer. She suspected she knew what they wanted when a delegation of eight of the town's twelve council members showed up at her door one afternoon. Adam was napping at the time, so she was able to welcome them and provide refreshments. Finally, after a while, the mayor stood up to speak on their behalf. The man still harbored some resentment about his daughter but was politician enough to understand the need to put aside personal feelings. "My Lady Alsa," he addressed her, using the honorific generally reserved to those much older or wealthier than herself. She still hadn't gotten used to hearing it applied to herself. "My lady, we need your help." "In what way?" she asked. "The weather." His voice broke and he coughed. "You know it hasn't rained in some time. The crops ... they're not doing well. Another dry, hot week and some will begin to die." "The irrigation ditches haven't been cleared again?" She knew they hadn't been and wanted them to understand she was aware of their laziness. 254

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"There's been no time, my lady, since they were torn up in the battle." "It's been nearly two years, and the winter was mild." "But there was much else to do." True, to some extent, she had to admit. But those irrigation ditches could have been cleaned and dredged. "What would you have me do?" He coughed again. "We thought, my lady, perhaps a small storm? Or a shower? It needn't be much. Just enough rain to let us hold on." "What makes you think I can do such a thing?" The mayor backed up a step and the fatuous, pleading look faded into something more worried. Or bothered. "We know many wizards can." "Many can. But not all. And possibly not me." He got his face back under control. "Please, my lady. We don't ask much. Can you call a small rain for us?" She turned halfway from them. "I don't know," she answered. "Don't know if you can? Or don't know if you will?" he asked. "Sometimes they're not that different." She vaguely remembered the wizard saying similar words to her. These people would likely be no more understanding of them than she'd been. "But, my lady," the mayor argued, "If you can't give us some kind of help, there is a risk—people will go hungry. Some will starve." And that, too, was possibly true. 255

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"Give me a day or two to think about it," she asked. In the end, she did as they asked, though not in the form they wanted. To minimize disruption to the natural forces, rather than gather a storm, she called on earth elementals to help clear out and recreate the irrigation ditches so water could be pumped into them and sluiced to the crops. It served to keep the plants moist until a few rain clouds moved in on their own a week or so later. The incident improved her relationship with her neighbors, temporarily at least, but it had much deeper ramifications for Alsa and her future. It made her realize she'd have to leave. "They're already becoming too dependent on me and my talent," she told her mother and father later, trying to explain why she felt the need to go away soon. "They're putting off things they should be doing, as they did with the irrigation ditches, as they're still doing in not replacing all the rain vats, because they know they can rely on me to take care of any real emergencies. And I'll have to do it for them. Because I love them, and because I have to live here. But it isn't healthy. For me or for them." Her parents were wise, and she'd always been able to rely on them to understand. And in this case, they did, all too well. They both nodded over her explanation. "I told them last summer we needed to get those ditches cleared," her father said. "But no one wanted to listen. They were too busy planting more orchards and plowing up new fields we couldn't keep watered in a drought. Shortsighted, but easy. They wouldn't listen to me." 256

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"But where will you go?" her mother asked. "Back to the wizard on the mountain?" It tempted her. She thought she understood him better now than she had a year ago. She might even like the idea. But she couldn't do it. "I need more human companionship. People who will care about me and let me care about them. He likes his calm, peaceful life up there by himself on the mountain." "But you had his child. Surely he grew to care for you at least a little bit?" She remembered the gifts she'd received throughout her pregnancy, surprises which had continued to appear occasionally even after Adam's birth, and his warning about possible dangers. "A little, but not enough. He'd let me stay if I needed the shelter, but I'd disrupt his life too much and it would get too lonely." "Have you any other ideas?" her father asked. "No. But I'll be going back up there with Adam in the fall. I'll ask Korlen if he has any suggestions." "My uncle, your great-uncle, has a son in the long valley down south. You might stay with him for a while." "I might do that," she said. Summer raced toward fall. Alsa considered her options as she tried to balance giving people what they needed and withholding what wasn't justified, fend off more suitors, and discourage others who wanted training in magic. She also struggled to keep her precocious, temperamental son in check. She'd made no decisions as the time approached for her to return again to the mountain and the wizard. 257

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Before that day arrived, she had a surprise visitor. Or actually, initially, a group of several small, wide-eyed, excited visitors who knocked on her door. They entered her cottage when she beckoned them in, chattering all at once in a cacophony which suggested something unusual had occurred, something startling and a bit frightening. She was puzzled until she caught a single revealing word. "A dragon?" she asked them. Several nodded at her, eyes and mouths agape. "In the west field," one little boy managed to choke out. "It wants you," another girl chimed in. A group of adults arrived shortly after the children, as Alsa was gathering up Adam to take him with her. The troop, both adults and children, accompanied her through the town and out to the field. They hung, back, however, when she approached the immense, glittering form of the recumbent dragon. Adam squirmed in her arms and said, "Fire." For once, the dragon showed no inclination to comply. "Little mortal," the creature rumbled an unusually subdued greeting. "And the smaller mortal. Not so small as he was." "No. He's growing. But you seem ... Is something wrong?" The dragon nodded slowly. "That's why I'm here." "What is it?" "The master." "Korlen? He has a problem?" The dragon didn't reply immediately, and Alsa felt a stirring of real alarm. 258

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"Is something wrong with him?" she asked. The dragon nodded again, definitely with an air of sorrow. "What is it?" Alsa begged. The dragon lowered its head almost to the ground. "He's dying."

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Chapter Twenty-nine "Dying? He can't be ... What do you mean, he's dying?" Alsa asked. "He doesn't get out of bed anymore," the dragon said. "I've been watching him through the window, these last three days. He hasn't eaten. He doesn't move much." "Three days!" The dragon nodded again. "Little mortal, I don't know what to do. I don't know what's wrong. Please, will you come and help him?" Alsa felt something close to panic. "I don't know if I can. But I'll certainly try. Can you carry Adam and me up the mountain? It's the fastest way to get us there." "Of course I can carry you." A trace of disdain crept into the words, contrasting with his previous morose tone. "Then let's go." The dragon put a claw around her waist and drew her against its breast, just as she in turn held her son against her heart. The watching crowd began to murmur. She yelled to them, trying to assure them it was all right, she needed to go on a short journey. They weren't happy about it, but neither were they prepared to argue with a dragon. The creature flapped its wings and rose into the air. The flight reminded Alsa of the time when she'd let her mind soar with the wind, rejoicing in the exhilaration of height and speed. She would have enjoyed the trip immensely had she not been sick with fear of what she might find at the castle. She didn't even 260

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know what kind of diseases could fell a wizard, if in fact there were any. Wizards were still mortal beings, so she supposed it possible, but the control they could exercise over their bodies would make it difficult for anything to take hold. The trip normally consumed more than an hour on foot, but the dragon could clear the distance in a matter of minutes. Even so, it took too long. She chafed at the delay until they actually got to the castle and the dragon set her down in the side garden. She ran inside as soon as her feet hit the ground and went straight for the master's bedchamber. What she found there shocked her more than she could have imagined. The wizard lay on his back, completely still, so immobile she feared she was too late, until she noticed the very slight rise and fall of his chest. He didn't move. He didn't respond when she called his name, or when she came to the side of the bed and picked up his limp hand. His body felt far warmer than it should have. He wore no disguise, but she still barely recognized him in his true form. Though fairly tall, he was not naturally a big, husky man. Now the lean body had been pared down to a thin layer of gaunt flesh over slender, fragile bones. Nose and cheekbones protruded more sharply than she remembered from the still, grayish face. Oddly, he didn't look older. In fact, he looked rather younger than she thought he'd seemed the last time she'd viewed his real face. He just didn't look alive. "Powers around us," she swore. "Korlen!" 261

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He didn't wake. She felt for his throat and the pulse there. It wasn't as weak as she feared, but his breath sounded too light and shallow. He was very warm and deeply unconscious, and she had no idea why, or what to do for him other than get blankets and wrap him up in them. "Korlen." Her call still drew no response, nor did the hand she ran along his forehead and cheek. She put Adam down and found things for him to play with while she tried to probe into the wizard's unconscious body. She was uncomfortable invading his privacy, but surely the circumstances would justify the intrusion. She could think of no other way to get any clue as to what was wrong. The effort yielded no answers. With no training in healing, she had only a minimal idea of what the various parts of the body should be doing and how they should feel to her probe. Being unable to recognize normal made it hard to distinguish abnormal. Other than his obvious fever, nothing she encountered seemed particularly unusual or different. She had hoped to reach his mind, to see if she could find some kind of clue there, but it was somehow closed off and barricaded against her attempt. She picked up Adam again and started to leave. At the door, she turned and hesitated, staring at the wizard's recumbent form. He looked so helpless and vulnerable, so lifeless. She hated to leave him in his present condition, but she needed help. The dragon waited for her on his normal ledge below the garden. "Take me back to the village," she asked him. "The master?" 262

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"I don't know. I've no skill for healing. I have no idea what's wrong with him, or what to do. There's a healer in the village, though, and we're going to bring him back here." The dragon agreed. Conith Sidrison was more dubious, especially when he saw the proposed means of transportation. But he owed Alsa several favors for the help she'd given him after the battle and since, so he said he would come. He warned, though, that he knew nothing of the differences between wizards and others, or the implications for their health. The man went very pale when he got close enough to the dragon for the creature to reach out and put a huge, clawed hand around him. "He won't injure you," Alsa assured Conith. "He's very careful with people." The healer's face turned a more interesting greenish shade as the dragon rose into the air with Alsa and Adam tucked into one elbow and he in the other. A good thing it was a short trip. Had it gone on much longer, Alsa wasn't sure the healer would be in any condition to help anyone. She gave him no time to pull himself together once they were back on the ground, but led the way right into the castle. The wizard's condition hadn't changed in her absence. Conith went to his side. He felt Korlen's forehead, looked into his eyes, searched for a pulse at throat and wrist, listened with an ear against the wizard's chest and belly, even opened the wizard's mouth and stared down his throat. Before he spoke again, Alsa knew from his expression what he would say. 263

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"I don't know. He's feverish, so clearly there's some form of infection, but I don't see anything obvious." He reached for the lacings at the throat of the wizard's tunic and started to undo them. When Alsa helped him lift Korlen's head to pull the tunic over it, the healer looked at her. "I need to undress him completely. There might be some hidden injury or mark to tell us something." Alsa paused only a moment, considering the indignity, but the need was greater, and she nodded agreement. When the healer still hesitated, it took her a few minutes to understand his reservations. That issue had been so far from her mind, it never occurred to her until then. "We may not be formally joined," she told Conith. "But I have borne his child, a child conceived in the normal way. And, at this point, I doubt I could ever mate with any other man." The healer accepted it and let her assist him. But even those efforts yielded nothing. They found no hidden wounds, no sign of injury, no untoward marks or blemishes, nothing to account for Korlen's condition, which the healer described as a "deep coma." In the end, he could offer her no help or advice, beyond the obvious of keeping him warm and trying to get him to swallow liquids. She didn't want to desert Korlen again, but she owed it to Conith to accompany him back to the village and did so. During the journey, she considered other possibilities. Only one thing occurred to her. It involved leaving both her son and Korlen for a longer time than she liked, but there were no other options. On returning to the castle, before she left 264

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again, she heated up some meat broth and attempted to get it into Korlen, spooning it into his mouth and stroking his throat to induce him to swallow. A little of it did dribble down, but not enough to make any difference. She held a long internal debate with herself over the choice of baby-sitters for her son. Her parents would know better how to care for a child, but they couldn't cope if Adam decided to have a temper tantrum and started using magic to throw things around. The dragon could. He could also be counted on to protect Adam from most of the normal dangers such as predators and falling from high places. Of course, he might decide to serve a live pig for a snack or bring the whole cow should the boy ask for a cup of milk. Still, the magical outbursts were her biggest fear, and the dragon could handle those. Before she left, she rattled off a long list of reminders, notes and suggestions for the dragon, who insisted he was entirely capable of taking care of one very small mortal for a few hours. After another glance at Korlen, she dug the one-league boots out of the closet and set off. The hour it took her to get to Dortee's cottage seemed much longer. The older wizard was at home when Alsa knocked on her door and looked genuinely glad to see her. She invited Alsa into the parlor and tried to serve her tea and crackers. "No, please," Alsa answered. "We don't have time. Dortee, I need your help, and I need it quickly." She explained the situation to the woman, including all the background on what had happened between her and Korlen since Adam's birth. "He has no injuries? No rash? No swellings?" 265

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"No, nothing anywhere I could find. Would you please come and see what you think? I'm so afraid. I don't know what to do." "Of course, I'll come," the woman said. "Let me get a few things together. In the meantime, there's bread and cheese by the stove. Cut yourself some. You haven't eaten for a while and you need to keep your strength up. If only so you can take care of him." Alsa feared it might choke her, but prepared herself some food as Dortee had directed and forced herself to eat. As they traveled back to the castle, Dortee moved more rapidly than Alsa thought her capable of. The woman's impatience showed the depth of her concern. Adam and the dragon played happily in a corner of the garden when the two women arrived. Alsa left them there and took Dortee to Korlen's bedchamber. The older woman sucked in a quick, gasping breath when she saw how still Korlen lay. "Oh, dear," she said, half in alarm and half in sadness. Dortee crossed the room, stood over him, placed her hands on his head and went into what looked like some sort of trance. It lasted for quite a long time. When she finally came out of it, she shook her head sadly. "I don't know. I can't get through." "What do you mean?" "I can't find anything obvious wrong with his body. There is some mild infection, but it's nothing he shouldn't be able to shake off easily on his own. That doesn't mean there isn't something else, but he would have to tell me what it is, and I can't reach him." "Is there anything you can do?" 266

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Dortee thought for a few minutes then shook her head. "Nothing?" Alsa asked. "But we can't just let him die. We have to try something." "Nothing I can do," Dortee said. "But there might be something you could do. If you were willing." "What is it?" "A spell. A way to reach into his mind and find out what the problem is." "Of course, I'd do it. Why wouldn't I be willing?" "You didn't stay with him. You told me once you wouldn't risk giving your heart to him." "Because he has no love in him to give in return. But it doesn't mean I don't care for him or I would let him die without doing everything in my power to save him." Dortee regarded her with something unreadable in her ice blue eyes. "The spell I suggest can only be used by one who loves another deeply enough to tie herself to him permanently. I can't use it. My heart was long ago given elsewhere. But you could." "What do you mean by 'tie herself to him permanently?'" "You commit yourself to him in a way so deep your love can never go anywhere else." "I would give my heart forever into his possession?" "Just so." Alsa sighed and turned away to think about it. "That is no small thing to commit oneself to." "No, it's no small thing. Is there anyone else for you?" the older woman asked. 267

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"No." Alsa searched her heart for honesty. "And not likely to be, in truth. I can't conceive any other man being for me what he has been. Still, to say that I reserve my love entirely to him, for always, knowing he'll never return it..." Dortee nodded. "As you said, it's no small thing. Before you make the decision, though, there's something you should know. Something he asked me not to tell you. But I believe the time to keep that secret is at an end." "What is it?" "When you were in labor with Adam and having such a struggle birthing the child, there came a time when I wasn't sure it could be done, when I doubted you would be able to bear the child alive. I didn't know if I could save both of you. I explained the situation to Korlen and warned him he might have to make a decision concerning which of you should survive. It shook him greatly. And he had to think about it. But he chose you." For a moment Alsa couldn't answer, could barely take it in. "But he wanted the child so badly. Everything he did—all he did for me—was to get the child. We made our bargain so he could have this son." "I've no doubt," Dortee said. "I don't understand." Alsa sat on the side of the bed, near Korlen's very still form and picked up his hand. She stared at his lifeless face as memories began to rearrange themselves in her mind, taking on different meanings: the gifts, the concern for her health, his surprising generosity in letting her leave and take Adam, the last request he made of her. And later, his concern for the danger she might face in her town. 268

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The figures remained the same but suddenly they added up to a very different total. Warm tears splashed against her hand. "I've been a fool," Alsa admitted. "But still..." "Yes," Dortee agreed, "always there is 'but still'. Life has never offered guarantees. Even wizards can't." "No." "Something else you should know before you decide. There is a risk. A very real risk to you. The bond this spell creates is very strong. If you are unable to reach him or to pull him out of his path toward death, he could take you with him into it." Alsa stared at the wizard's hand. Even in this form, she admired his hands, strong, masculine, long-fingered and graceful. "If I don't survive, will you make sure my son is cared for? My parents would do it, gladly, but they would need a wizard's help to control him." "Of course I would. You'll do it?" "Yes."

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Chapter Thirty The technique was a variation on the mind-touch she had learned from Korlen but had never had much chance to practice. A guiding spell would assist her in molding her thoughts to match the patterns of his. It should enable her to penetrate whatever barriers guarded his unconscious mind, and once in, let her organize and comprehend its contents. Its effects were permanent and irrevocable. Dortee assisted her through the recitation and activation of the spell, but once it was done, Alsa had to find her own way. She shifted her seating on the bed to move closer to Korlen's head and put her hands, palm down, on either side of his face. She kissed him lightly, on his forehead, then on the lips. She wasn't expecting any response and got none. Closing her eyes, she reached out for him with her mind. Her spirit dove through the outer shell of skin, into the depths of the man. She felt the beating of his heart, the movement of blood in his veins, sensed the impulses running along nerves and the slide of air up and down his windpipe. The life-processes continued, but sluggishly. Fighting a spear of panic, she set out in search of the cause, making her way toward his mind. Before she got there, she came up against the wall that guarded it. The spell she and Dortee had worked should let her penetrate it, but nowhere did she remember the words spelling out exactly how it might be done. Beating a mental fist against the barricade brought no result, nor did calling his 270

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name and begging him to let her in. But when she stopped, let herself relax, and examined the barrier with a gentle mind probe, she discovered a sense of how it was put together, and then realized how she could prize it apart. Gently, very gently so as not to startle or hurt him, she searched for a seam in the substance of the mental wall, and, finding one, pushed a fine tendril of thought against the joint, increasing pressure gradually until she felt it begin to give. It unraveled slowly, fine strand by fine strand. Alsa parted it with infinite patience, careful not to force or tear it, until she had a gap wide enough to let her mind probe enter. Once within, she staggered in the chaos of a swirling maelstrom of mental activity. The assault of thoughts, feelings, facts, sensory images, impulses and memories forced her to reel back and wait for a few minutes at the edge of the fray to acclimate herself. So many different things, coming at her in no particular order, battered against her awareness: fear, peace, joy, pain, calm, love, despair, hope, tension, loneliness, beauty ... Too much for her to keep up with or make sense of. She didn't try. Instead she let herself drift slowly into it, like a swimmer moving into the deeper part of a river, immersing herself in the flow of his mind without trying to understand it. All the various impulses and mental movements washed over her, brushing her with their trail of associations, until she began to recognize some of them and discern their patterns. The flood of impressions started to assume an order, a direction, a trend. She began to understand the world as viewed through Korlen's eyes, how he saw, heard, 271

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tasted, felt; what he wanted, feared, hated, loved; how he classified impressions, evaluated words and actions, considered responses. She looked at the castle, the mountain, the town. She knew all the surrounding lands as he knew them, and learned, in that instant, more than she had suspected there was to know. She saw herself as he viewed her—a surprising, humbling and frightening experience, as it showed her how much more he found in her than she thought possible, how much more he wanted from her than he ever dared let her know. Most frightening of all, she discovered the extent to which she herself was responsible for his present condition. Her image in his mind triggered waves of desire and fascination, joy and longing, almost swamped, though, by hopelessness, loneliness and despair. He wanted her with a wild desperation that led nowhere but desolation. He had no confidence that she—a creature of light and air and beauty—could ever desire him—who was plain earth, haunted by darkness. He had refused her the most important thing she'd asked of him, and in that refusal, he accepted that he'd relinquished any claim on her affection or gratitude. He'd been lonely before her arrival, but with nothing to offer comparison, was unaware of what it meant. Only after her departure, with the son he'd wanted so badly, did he really understand how bleak the emptiness truly was. Life, love, magic meant so little, offered no comfort, if they could give him no way to hold her or bring her back. He'd been tempted to keep her with him by less than honorable means but resolutely rejected such a solution. 272

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Even the things he'd found so fascinating before her arrival—the artwork and the magic—couldn't distract him from missing her presence, her laughter, her beauty. She had brought into his life possibilities he hadn't known existed: companionship of heart, mind and spirit; joy in sharing with her; and pleasure. The loss of both her and his son tore a hole in the center of his being. That hole was now sucking his spirit and vitality into its depths until only the empty shell of the man remained. With no resources left to fight even a minor infection, his body wouldn't last much longer. Fighting her own guilt and remorse, Alsa considered what she could do to repair the damage. The hole in his spirit had to be the key. If she could pull back out what it had already claimed, and then seal off the gap, she might be able to rescue him. But first she had to negotiate the whirlpool of emotion and thought spinning toward the oblivion at the center of it. She set out carefully to wade into its midst. Mental streams rushed past her, swirling by or buffeting her with waves of heavier emotion. She tried to move with the flow of it, while resisting the pull. She had to remain in control of her progress through it. The business was tricky. The movement had eddies of faster current she had to avoid. Once a sideslashing current almost knocked her off her feet. If she lost her bearings, she risked being swept up and pulled into the same oblivion that sucked Korlen's life away. As she approached the center, the maelstrom around her grew faster, wilder, blasting her from all sides, washing against her and threatening to overwhelm her. For a while, it took all her 273

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concentration to keep herself in hand while making slow progress. On the edge of the hole at last, she stopped to look down into its black and ominously empty depths while she considered her next move. She would have to wrap her mind and will around the fall of his spirit into the maw, reach for what had already drained down and try to pull it back out, before she plugged the opening. Despair shook her. It was too much for her. Too much for anyone. But if she didn't do it, Korlen would die. Alsa braced herself, gathered her strength and worked up the mental net she'd need to catch the outflow, weaving it strand by thoughtful strand, light, yet dense enough to hold a man's life in. She created its stuff from her own feelings about him: her admiration for his courage and endurance, his generosity, his artistry, his magical talent. She strengthened it with her need for him, her desire, her love. For insurance she added the recognition of how empty and lonely she'd be without him. When it was done to her satisfaction, she tossed it into the dark gap. It sank into the depths. The net swelled out, firm and large enough, blocking off the opening, capturing and stopping the outrush. The sudden pull of it against her shoulders as it plugged the gap and was tugged inward jerked her forward, almost off balance. She wrestled it, straining to yank it back toward her. But the suction at the hole drew her hard. She felt herself start to give, beginning to slide into the hole with it. She willed herself to resist that tug, but it wasn't enough. She had to fight it, to wrestle the net and its 274

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contents back toward her instead of just grasping to maintain her position. She yanked backwards, striving to reclaim the wizard's life from the sucking tug of the gap. For long moments, the forces balanced against each other. Sometimes she made a little progress in dragging her burden out of its clutches, at other times her strength failed a bit, and the gap won back its losses. She refused to concede, refused to let it take what was hers. Even when the whirlpool began to drag more and more of what she grasped toward it, she would not give in. She wrestled and pulled against it, though her feet slipped, and the weight was a strain she could barely tolerate. She continued to lose the battle. She needed help Freeing one small strand of her mind from the struggle with the hole, she sent it out to Dortee, hoping to touch the other woman's mind and gain her help. For a time, the tendril met nothing, found nothing, then suddenly it was grasped. A strong, soothing touch clutched the end of it, giving the promise of aid. Invigorated by the additional power, Alsa tugged harder at the net. This time when she pulled, she felt Dortee's strength behind her, helping her. She began to gain ground, moving her load back, bit by precious bit. But she progressed too slowly. Retrieving what had slid into the depths of despair was costing her too much in strength and will. Her energy level dropped sharply as the struggle depleted her. Even Dortee's additional power was drained quickly. Alsa dared not let the battle continue much longer. She would have to put everything she had left into one desperate maneuver to win the war. Using what remained of 275

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her waning energy, she formed a plug with her mind, gathered from the substance of her determination to keep him with her and her willingness to join her life to his. She molded it to the shape she needed and slid it under the net, pushing it into the gap. For a moment it rocked and wavered, threatening to wash away uselessly, then it dipped into the hole and held fast there. The swirling tide of unchecked emotion abruptly quieted, and the maelstrom settled down to a calmer flow of thought and sense. For a moment, stillness so profound she could feel it in her bones reigned. Then a more orderly motion began to take over. The rippling backwash steadied into normal patterns. Alsa felt when Korlen's own awareness began to stir. She shared with him the realization that she was there and the understanding of what she had done. The rush of joy, pride, and love brought a light and warmth so glorious it hurt to be too long in its presence. She could hardly bear to endure it, but would never forget it either. She withdrew her touch from his mind, swimming up through the layers of her concentration to find herself again. For a moment, she hesitated to open her eyes, half-afraid the whole thing was a dream, her success only the wishful, wistful product of her tremendous desire, half-fearful of what she'd done if it were real. Movement under her hands made her blink and look at him. Green eyes stared back at her, unguarded, letting her see all that was in him. 276

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"It worked," she murmured. The room spun around her. Starry darkness gathered at the corners of her vision and spread, engulfing her. Something warm and strong held her, drew her gently down against a solid body, and she let herself sink into oblivion. She heard him whisper against her ear, "It worked."

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Chapter Thirty-one "Alsa!" Something rubbed her hands, while a cool dampness shrouded her forehead with tendrils that ran along her temples and into her hair. She blinked and looked up. Two people stared down at her from either side of the bed, a man and a woman, Dortee and... "Korlen. I didn't dream it." "No," he said, squeezing the hand he held, and reaching for the damp cloth sliding off her forehead. He kissed her, quick and hard, in passing as he grabbed the towel and moved it out of the way. "You didn't dream it. You pulled me back from the brink." "You were ill," she said. "Why am I laying here then, while you're standing?" "Because you did all the work to heal me," he said, "and gave it everything you had. You fainted once it was done." "Fainted? Not me. I never faint," Alsa said. "You had a sinking spell," Dortee said. "A well-earned collapse. That was as fine a piece of wizardry as I've ever seen." "I agree," Korlen echoed. "And being on the receiving end of it, I have to say I've never been more grateful for anyone's efforts." "Good. Then help me up. I hate having people hovering over me." 278

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With Korlen's assistance, she managed to get upright. The room wavered, and he put an arm around her shoulders to support her until everything settled into place and stayed there. She turned to look at him and then couldn't look away. So much was there to read in his eyes. So much he might never find words for, but he wouldn't need them. Not with her. Not ever again. He had assumed once again the handsome visage, but she could now see his true form underneath at the same time. Perhaps the spell that permanently joined them ensured he could no longer completely disguise himself from her. It was disconcerting, but oddly pleasing. When they kissed, it was a different experience. Not only their lips met, touched, melted into each, but shy edges of their minds brushed against each other and tested the match, found an even more intense layer of pleasure in the additional contact. Lost in the glory of it, neither of them heard when Dortee left the room. They both heard when she returned, however. "Korlen. Alsa. I'm sorry to disturb you. Bad timing, I know, but ... You'd better come see what your son is doing." They stepped apart quickly. "What is he doing?" Alsa asked. "Is he all right?" "Oh, he's fine," Dortee said, dryly. "You'd really better come look." Alsa and Korlen followed her out to the garden. And stopped there, staring at the sight of their son and the dragon in the corner. 279

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"Now you know why I couldn't let you die on me," Alsa said to Korlen. "I may wish you had before he gets much older." The wizard's expression held equal parts pride, dismay, and delight as he stared at his son. The arm he had draped around Alsa's shoulders tightened briefly, before he said, "I suppose we ought to get this back under control." While Alsa had been busy saving his father, Adam had managed to progress to another level of wizardry and had figured out, entirely on his own, how to call elementals. Lots of elementals. A laurel and two marjoram plants still smoldered, while a number of other plants and a wooden bench had already been reduced to piles of ashes. Small tongues of flame danced around Adam's head and flickered on the dragon's outstretched claws. Others skipped across the wall, down the walkways, settled on branches without consuming them and nestled in concrete planters. Adam hadn't limited himself to just fire elementals, either. Holes of varying sizes pocked the garden at random, with balancing piles of dirt scattered in other places. Large rocks blocked a walkway. Broken branches and tipped-over pots littered the course of now-gone air elementals, and wet spots darkened paths and walls, as well as the back of Adam's shirt. Liquid still dripped off scales on the dragon's side, though he appeared not to notice. He was entirely fascinated by the fire elementals. "A fine baby-sitter you turned out to be," Alsa said to the dragon, as she snuffed the fire elementals and picked up her son. 280

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"The small mortal is still whole and healthy and happy. Is that not the primary duty of a baby-sitter?" the dragon asked. "Dragon, did I ever tell you I hate it when you're right?" "I think it's been mentioned before. Oh, and don't bother to thank me. The pleasure was mostly mine." "I can tell," Alsa said. "Adam, stop!" Too late, though. Alsa felt the pressure of a breeze from the air elemental her son had just called. It reminded her vividly of the way Breath had brushed against her to get her attention when it sought her company. "I am," a quiet voice whispered against her mind. "You are?" she answered "You are what?" "I am..." Alsa felt it seeking a term and offered it a series of possibilities: Breath, breeze, wind, zephyr, air, song, whistle, sigh, shout— "Sigh," it said. "Sigh is." "Yes," Alsa agree. "Oh, no, you don't," she said to Adam, who was working on calling another earth elemental. "Korlen, take your son, please, and don't let him call any more elementals for now. We've got more than enough already." Korlen came over and took the child from her. He held the boy close. Joy suffused his unguarded face as he walked with the child around the garden, beginning the process of getting reacquainted. The dragon moved its head closer to her. It tried to make its words for her only, but dragons weren't built to whisper. "Thank you, little mortal. For saving him." 281

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Of course, Korlen heard. "She had to," he called to them. "I never did tell her what the first rule of wizardry is. And besides, her life would be too quiet and lonely without me." As if to demonstrate the truth of his words, Adam began squalling a protest when Korlen stopped him from setting a lamp bracket on fire. The wizard took the protesting boy back inside the castle. Sigh brushed gently across her face and arm. The dragon beamed at her. Dortee came over and said, "Quite a family you've got here." "More than I bargained for," Alsa admitted. "More than I ever dreamed possible when I first came here to ask for lessons in wizardry." "More than he bargained for when he asked you to give him a child in return," Dortee observed. "You'll both have your hands full." "No doubt." Alsa said, straightening up a planter. "I wonder if I'll ever be able to have a garden that isn't constantly getting fried, frozen, drowned or plowed up." Dortee grinned. "You'll find a way. In the meantime, I'll stay tonight and mind the child so you can have some quiet time alone with him. Then you're on your own. I'm an old woman and only have so much time with a squalling wizardly brat left in me." "Thank you," Alsa told her. "And don't forget to remind the wizard to shield the room," the dragon offered, helpfully. 282

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The room was shielded and the child in his bed, with Dortee in a room nearby to answer should he cry out. Alsa lay in Korlen's arms much later that night, sated temporarily, relaxed, almost dozing, but replete with a joy beyond anything she'd imagined her life could hold. "Will you stay with me?" Korlen asked softly, the question so quiet and tentative she understood how much it meant to him. "Yes, I will." She kissed him and realized being with him felt comfortable and right, like home, more like home than any place else had in years. "I'd already realized I couldn't stay in town any longer," she admitted when she drew away. "But I'll have to go back and visit. My parents are attached to Adam. And the town will still need my services at times." "Of course." He hiked himself up on an elbow and ran a finger through her hair. "I suppose I can afford to be generous and share your company occasionally." She roused at that, turned quickly, and bashed him with a pillow. "I'm willing to share my company with you as well as the town." He didn't sound all that humble, when he said, "Oh, of course." The way he kissed her then wasn't in the least humble. That led to a tussle, which led to other things, and it was a while before they spoke again. Later, with her face resting on his chest, she asked, "What is the first rule of wizardry?"

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Wizard's Bridge by Karen McCullough

His lips nuzzled against her ear. "The first rule of wizardry: the most powerful spells in the universe are the ones done in love."

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