A Wizard in War

17

Ciare saw Coll coming back toward the stage and turned to him with a glad cry that froze on her lips when she saw the grim set of his face. She ran to him, hands out to press against his chest. “Coll! What troubles you?”

“Can you come aside with me?” Coll asked. “There’s much I need to tell you.”

“Of course.” There were chores to do and her part in making dinner, but Ciare knew urgency when she saw it. Her friends would understand.

They paced out of the inn yard and into the center of the village common. Coll was silent until they were sitting on an old stump beneath a grandfather oak.

“They want me to be the master of all the serf councils,” Coll said abruptly.

Ciare stared at him in shock, feeling that she was seeing his set profile for the first time. There was a strength there that she had never seen before, and the beginnings of wisdom. Her eyes filled with tears, for she suddenly understood what he had come to tell her, that a simple player-lass could never be a fit consort for the secret master of all the common folk. But she resolved on the instant not to hold him back—she knew that thwarted destiny makes a bitter man. Calling all her actress’s skills to her aid, she forced a bright smile and said, “Oh, Coll, how wonderful!”

But he heard the tremor in her voice and turned to her, distressed. “If you don’t want it, I’ll tell them no! I still can—and a life with you is worth far more to me than any position! ”

She stared at him, shocked again, then melted into his arms, pulling his head down for his lips to find hers, and let her mouth melt into his. When they finally broke apart, gasping, she managed to say, “But can’t you be the Serf Master and still be my husband?”

“I can,” he said gravely, looking straight into her eyes, “but it could be very dangerous. Spies might find me out and take us all to the torture. Worse, they might torture you to make me obey. I can’t take that chance with your pain.”

She reached out a trembling hand to touch his face and smiled through her tears. “Silly boy! Don’t you see that I’d rather risk death than lose you? Besides, we’ve learned how to keep secrets, we player folk, and how to keep them from the knowledge of any town dweller or soldier anywhere! No, Coll, you can be the Serf Master and my husband—if you wish it.”

“I don’t wish to be Serf Master,” he said truthfully, “but I do want to be your husband.” He slipped down on one knee, taking both her hands between both of his, staring up at her with absolute concentration. “Ciare, will you marry me?”

She sat immobile for a moment, her eyes filling with tears, feeling that all her dreams had come true. Then she laughed and took his face in her hands to shower dozens of kisses all over his eyes, his cheeks, and finally his mouth. When they broke apart, she whispered, eyes still closed, “Yes, Coll. Oh, yes, I will marry you.” Then she opened her eyes, staring at him almost indignantly. “But you must be Serf Master, too!”

His face was transfigured with joy, but he protested, “I have no property, no money—and I don’t know how to be anything but a farmer and a soldier!”

“And a master of rebellion,” she reminded him. “Well, then, since you know nothing else, you’ll have to learn to be a player—if Master Androv will have you.” She intended to make good and sure that he would.

Coll talked to Master Androv that very night (which didn’t give Ciare much time to cozen the old fellow). “I know nothing of playacting,” he said, “and I don’t think I can learn. But I can help set up the stage and I can take tickets and quiet the rowdies in the audience—and I might come in handy if bandits attack you on the road.”

“To be sure you would!” Androv said heartily, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve been a stalwart member of this company already, Coll, and I’ll be delighted to have you stay with us for good! Be sure, though, that even if you rarely go on stage, you’ll earn your living in hard labor, just as you’ve said!”

Coll was amazed at such ready acceptance. “You’re sure I won’t be in the way?”

“In the way! Why, we’ll wonder how we ever did without you!” Privately, Master Androv was also delighted to know that he wouldn’t be losing Dicea, who was showing promise as a player and would have taken Enrico with her if she had left. But he was even more relieved to know that he’d be keeping Mama, who had turned out to have great skill, both with the needle and in keeping other people’s spirits up.

So Coll announced their engagement over dinner that night, and the whole company cheered the couple and drank their health. Then Androv announced that Coll and his family would be traveling with them forever more, and they all cheered and drank again. One drink led to another, and before they knew it, they had a full-fledged party going.

Gar slipped away early, though. He went out into the fields and waited as a large parcel came floating down from the sky. The next day, he presented Coll with his wedding gift—a stack of playbooks printed out by his ship’s computer, the best dramas, comedies, and tragedies that human playwrights had written since people learned to write. He and Dirk also presented Coll with enough gold coins to make both his eyes and his money belt bulge.

They stayed long enough to watch the wedding, three weeks later. Ciare insisted on being married in a church, which meant the company had to stay in one town long enough for the priest to read the banns three Sundays in a row. Gar knew they could never pull an audience that many weeks, especially since everyone in town had already seen every play in the company’s repertoire while they were waiting for the war to end—so he paid the landlord for three weeks’ room and board for everyone, and the whole company settled down for the first vacation they could ever remember.

It lasted until Coll gave Androv a copy of one of the plays Gar had given him—Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure. He read it in one electrified sitting, then shouted all his players back onto the stage and made them begin rehearsals. By the time the Church was satisfied that no one in town knew any reason why Coll and Ciare couldn’t marry, the play was ready to perform.

Even then, the priest would only marry them in the portico in front of the church, because they were players. But the other players costumed the bride in splendor and decorated bride and groom both with flowers, not to mention the pillars and, nearly, the priest. Finally falling into the spirit of the occasion, he smiled and prompted them.

“Do you, Coll, take this woman, Ciare, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness or in health, till death do you part?”

“ ‘I do,’ ” Dirk muttered behind him. “I do!” Coll gasped.

“And do you, Ciare, take this man Coll to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do!” Ciare declared, her face radiant.

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife.” The priest lowered his voice. “You may kiss the bride.”

Coll did, and Dicea cast a shy but speculative look at Enrico, who beamed back at her while the rest of the company erupted in cheers and led the bride and groom away from the church to a festival in the innyard where they had set up their stage. Everyone drank deeply and danced wildly, then with gay hilarity and many ribald comments ushered the newlyweds to the best bedroom the inn had to offer.

They emerged as the morning shadows stretched long across the grass of the village green, and Coll sobered at once, seeing the looks on the faces of Dirk and Gar. He hurried over to them, Ciare on his arm. “What troubles you, my friends?”

“Only that we have to leave,” Gar told him. “We’ve waited to say good-bye to you, but the time has come.”

A sudden void seemed to open inside Coll, and panic filled it. “But how shall we manage without you? What if the lords rise against us?”

“You know what to do.” Gar laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve taught you all you need to know. Just remember to be cautious always, and suspect every deed any lord does.”

Dirk nodded. “You can manage it. Have a good life, you two.” For a moment, his gaze rested on Ciare, and his face seemed gaunt with longing. Then he shook himself and turned back to clap Coll on the shoulder. “You lucky peasant!” he said in a husky voice. “You lucky, wealthy man!” Then he turned and strode away toward the forest.

They watched him go, and Ciare asked, mystified, “Why did he call you wealthy?”

“Because I have you.” Coll clasped her firmly against his side and lowered his cheek to rest against her hair. A great peace, an amazing sense of contentment, rose to fill the void where there had been only panic minutes before. “You are wealthy indeed, in all the ways that I wish I were.” Gar lifted Ciare’s hand to kiss it, then looked straight into her eyes. “May you have healthy children and a long life, my friends—and may the memory of these days of love sustain you whenever hard times come, all through your life.”

“They will,” Ciare whispered, her eyes filled with tears. “Farewell, O my friend!”

“Farewell,” Coll whispered.

“Fare well through all your days.” Then Gar bowed and turned away, striding fast to catch up with Dirk.

“I hope they find their loves,” Ciare said, nestling closer against Coll.

“So do I,” he breathed, “but I thank Heaven all the more that I have found mine!” He turned to kiss her, long, lingering, and lasting.

When darkness fell, Dirk and Gar stepped out of the trees into a wide forest meadow to watch a small black circle form overhead, one that grew steadily larger and larger still, until it blotted out all the stars. Then, abruptly, it was no longer a circle in the sky, but a huge circular spaceship that lowered itself into the meadow, nearly filling it, with only twenty feet or so between ship and trees. A boarding ramp lowered, leading up to light, and a voice said, “Ready to board, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Herkimer.” Gar led the way up the ramp. They came into the lighted lock. The ramp closed behind them, and the voice said, “Welcome home, Magnus. Welcome home, Dirk.”

“Home it is!” Dirk threw himself down into a lounger. “Ah, the blessings of the modern world! You can have the shower first, Gar. I think I’ll just sit here a while, and soak up some sybaritic luxury.”

He knew very well that there were four showers aboard. Gar took a drink from the dispenser and handed it to Dirk. “You might want to try this with it.” He headed toward a shower cubicle, calling, “Lift off, Herkimer.” He felt no change in weight as he shucked his clothes and stepped into the shower, but he knew that the spaceship was rising again into the night, up and up into orbit.

He came out of the shower to find Dirk’s glass and lounger empty. Magnus pulled on modern clothing, took a drink of his own, sat down in the lounger, and watched the planet Maltroit grow smaller and smaller in the viewscreen.

Dirk came out, wearing shirt and breeches of soft, shimmering, synthetic cloth. He tapped another glassful and took the lounger next to Gar’s, watching the planet turn from a huge presence above them into a swirling disk in front of them. “Strange to think it’s over.”

“Over for us,” Gar returned. “Just begun, for Coll and Ciare.”

“Think we might come back to see them again someday?”

“Not really,” Gar said regretfully. “It’s a big galaxy, after all—a very big galaxy. But I think the Wizard might look in on him from time to time.”

“He might, at that.” Dirk took a sip, then said, “Do you think he’ll ever figure out that the Wizard was you?”

“Only if he suspects I’m a mind reader,” Gar replied, “and since he’s probably never even heard the word ‘telepath,’ I doubt he’ll ever suspect anything.”

“And since he doesn’t know what a telekinetic is, he’ll never figure out that there was anything to that prison window coming loose other than old mortar…”

“It wasn’t,” Gar told him. “It was only ten years old, and hard as the holes in Hell!”

“…or why a handful of men were able to start the player’s cart moving, or why it rolled so easily, or how you knew where an enemy was going to swing next, or…”

“Spare me the catalog,” Gar groaned. “Remember, you yourself said I would be silly not to use the advantage I had.”

“And I’ll say it again, anytime you start developing scruples.” Dirk fell silent again, sipping his drink, watching the screen, and feeling the tension roll off him. Maltroit grew smaller and smaller until it occupied only about a third of the screen’s area. There, it stabilized.

“We have achieved orbit,” Herkimer told them.

“So.” Dirk rolled his glass between his palms, then looked up at Gar. “Whose world shall we save next?”