The Wizard

Chapter 2. Is Dad Da Cad?

“Isn’t that Sir Able’s dog you have?”

“Why do you ask?”

“It is. I’d know him anywhere. Hello there, Gif old fellow! Remember me?”

Gylf snarled.

“Lady Idnn said the boy who said he saw Sir Able die had his horse and dog, but that’s not his horse.”

Toug said, “It’s the one her father gave him.”

“Ah! That explains it. You’re the boy.”

“Do you call yourself a man?”

“Certainly!”

“If you’re a man, so am I.” With heels and reins, Toug edged the lame white stallion closer to the newcomer’s black. “Do you want to fight mounted or on foot?”

“You want to fight me?” The stranger did not sneer, but seemed very near it. “You’ll be killed.”

“Mounted? Or afoot?”

The sneer appeared. “Mounted, then.”

The butt of Toug’s crude lance caught the newcomer full in the face, knocking him from the saddle. Gylf was on him in an instant, and both his arms could not keep Gylf’s fangs from his throat.

“No,” Toug shouted. Gylf, who had been growing bigger and darker, shrank again and backed away.

“Danks.” The newcomer sat up and spat blood; much more streamed from his face and neck. “I yield. I—I ask dad you nod leave me widout a ‘orse in dis wilderness. I’ve no more righd do Moonrise—” He spat again.

“Get up, and give me that sword,” Toug said.

Less than steadily, the newcomer did.

Toug handed it back to him. “You can keep your horse, your sword, and whatever else you’ve got.” Struck by a new thought, Toug added, “Except food. Give half of it to us.”

The newcomer nodded. With one hand on his bleeding nose, he opened a saddlebag and emptied it of twice-baked bread, a cheese wrapped in a white cloth, beans, and dried meat. Unwrapping the cheese, he drew a gold-chased dagger.

“You don’t have to cut that,” Toug told him. “Keep it and give me the meat, half the bread, and half the beans.”

The exchange completed, Toug stowed his loot in the saddlebag that had held Mani. “Now tell me who you are.”

“My dame’s Zvon. I’m Zir Abie’s ‘quire, or was. He’s really dead?”

Toug nodded. “What are you doing here?”

“Lookin’ for him.” For a moment it seemed Svon wanted to say more, but he spat blood instead.

Toug decided that his nose was broken. “Why weren’t you with him when I was?”

“Wish I’d been. I’d died wid him. Wanded do.”

“Only you didn’t.” Toug dismounted. “Sit down. I’ll bandage while you talk. Got anything for bandages?”

Svon did, a spare shirt they cut into strips.

“He ‘bandoned me,” Svon said while Toug was winding a bandage about his nose. “He’s angry wid me, an’ I don’ blame him. I was angry wid myse’f.”

“Uh-huh.” Toug was trying to get the bandage tight.

“Wish he’d bead me but he din. Stamped off indo da forest an’ lef’ me wid his servand. Derr’ble fellow.”

“Have you seen my cat?”

“Whad?”

“My cat,” Toug repeated. “Well, it’s really Lady Idnn’s cat, but I was keeping it for her, a really big black cat with green eyes. Have you seen it?”

“No,” Svon told him. “Din zee a cad.”

“Gylf’ll know. Where’d the cat go, boy? Back to her?”

Out of Svon’s line of sight, Gylf shook his head.

“He went into the forest by himself?” Toug asked Svon. “Sir Able, I mean.”

Svon nodded. “He jus’ walked ‘way an’ lef us.” For an instant he seemed to hesitate. “You know ’im well?”

Toug stopped his bandaging to consider the question; neither the dark sky nor the rolling gray-brown grasslands proved helpful. At length he said, “I didn’t know him very long, but I feel like I knew him better than I know most people. We talked a lot one time, and we were hunted by outlaws once, or anyway I think they were hunting us before we went to Aelfrice. And... There were some other things. I couldn’t talk for a while, but he fixed that.”

“He’s wiz’rd. You know dad?”

Toug shrugged. “I heard my sister say he was.”

“Si’der’s righd. Duke gave me do ’im for pun’shmend, I s’pose. Anyway Zir Able cursed me afder ’e lef. Lef ’is zerv’nd an’ me, I mean. ‘Is Graze gafe me do Zir Able, bud Zir Able gafe me do a ‘vis’ble mon’der.”

Toug froze in the act of tearing another strip from the shirt. “What?”

“‘Vis’ble mon’der. Id’s dere bud you har’ly efer zee id. Don’ bel’ve me?”

“No,” Toug said shortly.

“I’m dellin’ da drud.”

“Are you saying that there’s a monster we can’t see here with us now, listening to what we say?”

Svon winced as a bandage was applied to his neck. “Dad dog was goin’ do kill me, wasn’ he? Guf or w’atefer da name is. Zir Abie’s dog.”

“Sure.”

“He’s durnin’ into somedin’ elze w’ile he’z doin’ id. You mus’a zeen id.”

Toug said nothing.

“I dink I could’a held off a ord’nary dog. Efen a big dog. Den he s’arded do change.”

Svon waited for Toug to speak, but Toug did not.

“You wand do know w’eder we god a mon’der wid us? Da answer’s yes. Bud dad isn’d my mon’der—isn’t da mon’der Zir Able gave me do. Id’s your mon’der.”

Toug stared at Gylf, then looked back to Svon. “I want to know about yours. Why isn’t it here?”

“’Cause I been ridin’ hard. Id can’d drafel fas’ as a fas’ horse. But w’enefer I s’op, jus’ for a day, id finds me. I dried do go home w’en Zir Able ‘bandoned me. Did I dell you?”

“I don’t think so.” Toug was inspecting his work while wiping his hands on what remained of the shirt.

“We’d been dravelin’ nord,” Svon explained. “Zir Able was do dake a s’and ad a moundain pass. When he ‘bandoned me, hiz zerfand zed he’d keep goin’, dad he’s zure Zir Able’d come. I doughd Zir Able’d given up on da whole idea. Id wasn’

‘zactly drue, bud wha’ I zaid.”

“Was his name Pouk?”

Svon twisted around to look at Toug. “How’d you know?”

“Was my sister with him? My sister Ulfa?”

Svon started to shake his head, but was dissuaded by his nose. “Dis hurds.”

“Sure, but I can’t do anything about it. Was she?”

“No. Id’d been jus’ Zir Able an’ me, an’ da zerfand. And da mon’der, an’ dad dog. I doughd id had s’ayed wid de servand, w’ich was fine wid me. I dind wan’ do be remin’ed of Zir Able den. I hadn’t lef him, he’d lef me, an’ I was goin’ home. If he wanded me, he’d send for me. Dad’s how I was dinkin’.”

Toug nodded.

“‘Fore long I had da mon’der wid me.” Svon swallowed. “I douched id once. I dink I douched a arm, an’ id was like douchin’ da pigges’ znake in Mythgar’hr.”

“Or a dragon,” Toug suggested.

“Dad’s id. Dad’s id ‘zac’ly. Hod. Dad’s w’en I knew I had go back. I’d been pressin’, you know? Dryin’ do go fas’, bud nod so fas’ I’d wear oud my horse. For a w’ile I was keepin’ ahead like dad, bud ‘fore lon’ id’s back. We’re in da moundains an’ dere’s pig churls dere, churls dad live in caves. You mus’a zeen dem.”

Toug shook his head. “Do you mean the giants? I’ve never seen one.”

“Da Angrborn? Not as pig as dad. Just fery pig. Dink a’ da piggesd you efer saw, den a man, oh, dis much pigger.” Svon’s hands showed the increase, a cubit or so.

“I see.”

“I give dem gif’s an’ gained deir frien’ship. Or doughd I had. Zoon as da s’ars came oud, dere’s one ‘round my camp. I’d hear an’ shoud do go ‘way. He’d grund an’ zeem do go, bud ‘fore long he’d pea pack. Da mon’der caughd an’ killed him. I heard him die, drashing ‘round, an’ afder dad I heard id crackin’ bones.” Svon fell silent.

“So you rode hard after that.”

Svon nodded, not moving his head much. “Up ‘fore da zun an’ off. Jus’ now I overdook Lady Idnn, who’s leadin’ a pardy on food. She dol’ me her fader was up ahead wid men-ad-arms, an’ dere’s a boy—man, I mean. A man wid him who’d zeen Zir Able die. I’d ‘splained dad I was lookin’ for Zir Able. I never found da baron an’ his men-ad-arms. I—I dried do cud across where da road made a wide zweep.”

“So did I,” Toug said.

“Bud I caughd sigh’ a’ you, an’ rode over here. You’re da one Lady Idnn dol’ me ‘boud?”

“Yes,” Toug said miserably. “Yes, I’m sure I am.”

“You zaw him die? You zee his body?”

Toug shook his head. “He fell into the sea.”

“Here? Dad’s nod poss’ble!”

“You don’t know what’s possible.” Toug stalked off after his horse, caught it, and mounted. “You just think you do.” Memories of Disiri and the griffin had come rushing back. “Things you think aren’t possible happen every day. Did Lady Idnn tell you we were going to fight the giants?”

“She did.” Svon had risen, too, much more slowly. “You can’d coun’ on me for fighdin’, I’m ‘fraid. I—I’m priddy weak jus’ now.”

“Do what you can.” Toug felt sure it was what I would have said. “I’m going over to have a look at them. Then I’m going to find Sir Garvaon and Lord Beel and tell them—”

He stopped as he caught sight of Mani, who had emerged from the tall grass to stand regarding him. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m going to have to leave.”

“Is dad da cad?” Svon wanted to know as Mani jumped high enough to get his claws into the skirt of Toug’s saddle. “Lady Idnn zaid she’d los’ one. You goin’ do dake id back?”

“Not now. I’m just going to make sure he’s all right. You can go back to the road. Whatever you want.”

Left alone, Svon took a water bottle from one of his saddlebags and sat down again. The twice-baked bread was hard and dry, but not without flavor. Sips of water made it possible for him to eat and even enjoy it, and the cheese Toug had left him was better than good. The wounds Gylf’s teeth had inflicted seemed to burn, and his nose (still oozing blood into its bandage) hurt worse. For a time, eating and sipping cool water provided a welcome distraction.

When he had finished, he took off his steel cap and studied his face in the polished metal. Noblemen rarely had broken noses, although knights often did. It was one more indication that he would never claim his father’s lands. As a knight, he might get lands of his own. Not his father’s broad and smiling acres, and nothing like his castle. A little manor house somewhere, with farms to pay him rents. It would be better than hanging on as someone’s dependent. Drilling his brother’s men-at-arms.

It’s not an ax, Olafr, (His own voice spoke in his mind.) Put your thumb here, parallel to the blade. Parallel means in line with it. No, you don’t have to remember that. I mean, you have to remember about your thumb but not what parallel means. Remember what I told you about your thumb, and remember you mustn’t cut wood with your sword. Take good care of your sword, and it will—

A manor would be better. Much, much better.

Pain made him shut his eyes. It was childish to cry. He managed to stifle the sobs, but the tears came anyway, overflowing bruised and blackening eyes. His handkerchief was already sopping with his blood. He found what remained of the shirt, and though it was bloodstained too, dabbed at his eyes with it.

He had thought himself handsome once, and he would never be handsome again; but he would cheerfully have consented to be hideous, if only the pain would stop.

I should have brought wine, he told himself. Then he remembered that he had, and had drunk it, too.

Moonrise, who had been peaceably cropping grass, raised his head, ears up and forward.

Svon resumed his helmet, got to his feet, and loosened his sword in its scabbard. Thrust at his groin to make him lower his shield, then thrust at his face. But the rush of the outlaws—

It was only the boy come back, Sir Abie’s new servant or whatever he had been, with his knife lashed to his stick and the cat (absurdly) riding his shoulder, and the monster dog at his horse’s heels. Svon jogged to Moonrise and picked up the reins, but the boy—Toug?—dismounted.

“There’s a farm that way.” He pointed. “It’s not very far. The giants have stopped there, and I’m going to sneak over to see if I can find out what’s going on. After that we’ll have to find Sir Garvaon and Lord Beel, and bring them here. I want you to look after the horses while I’m gone.”

“No,” Svon declared. “We can hobble dem.”

“But I want—”

“I’m comin’. An’ if you’ve god a man’s good sense, you’ll go for riders an’ led me do de spyin’ lone.”

Later, when the hulking farmhouse was in sight, Toug whispered, “There’s supposed to be a old man here. A blind friend who’s looking for Sir Able.”