Wizards Conclave

Chapter 5
Mysterious Mission

Coryn was wrapped in a blanket, seated by the fire and sipping a mug of strong tea. Her grandmother had fussed about for a time, getting her settled and warmed. Now, however, Umma cleared her throat, looking at Coryn sternly.

"Tell me what this is about, young lady!" she demanded. "Showing up on my floor, soaking wet, scaring me out of a perfectly good nap? Why, the very idea!"

"I–I'm not sure, myself. I was hunting up on the bluff-I left the village… why, it was just this morning," the girl said, half in wonder, half stalling. Slowly, she reconstructed events. "There was a good deer trail, and I thought I could maybe get close to the herd. I promised Papa I'd bag a doe and a fawn, and of course, he told everyone else. I guess I went too far, farther than I should have."

Umma gestured, a command to "hurry up and spit it out."

"Walrus-men!" Coryn gasped, the full horror of the memory returning in a rush. "There was a hunting party of them, and they caught me against the gorge. I sensed them up on the ridge, knew they nearly had me in a trap. But I shot three of them, Umma-right away! Let me tell you how-"

"I'm sure you shot them, Girl. But the rest?"

Coryn frowned. Her grandmother was impatient, always cutting off her explanations. "Well, I started to run, down the valley. But the slope was too steep, and I was trapped against a big rock. One of them jumped on me, had me pressed into the snow. He was going to stab me with his tusks, right through my heart!"

"So how did you end up here, on my floor?" Umma's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Like to scared the life outta me! Not to mention all this snow you tracked in-why, look at that mess! Who's going to clean that up?"

"I will," Coryn replied meekly, with the momentary thought that perhaps the thanoi were not really the most frightening thing she had faced that day. Not when Umma was frowning down at her with a look that seemed capable of summoning storm clouds into a clear blue sky.

" 'Course you will. But that can wait. Now tell me! No dodging and weaving, now. What happened to get you down off the bluff and here into this soggy puddle on what used to be a nice rug?"

"Well, I'm not really sure what I did," the girl admitted hesitantly. "I said… something…"

She squinted, trying to remember while deciding exactly how much she should tell. "I don't really know the word… but I said it out loud, and I felt a strange flash, and here I am, on your floor."

Umma's bony fingers wrapped around Coryn's wrist in an iron-hard clamp. "Think, Girl!" demanded the old woman. Her dark eyes flashed, lightning brewing within that great storm. "What did you say? What word? Where did you learn this word? And what was the word?"

"I honestly don't know, Grandma! I thought of it right away, but now it's like the whole sound and shape of it is gone, wiped right out of my mind. But… I guess… I guess it was one of the words I read in your book. You know, the one you keep… um… under your mattress." Coryn braced for the eruption of the lightning, or-even worse-the searing lash of her grandmother's tongue.

She was surprised, however, when suddenly the steely clasp on her wrist eased, as Umma leaned back in her chair and regarded the young woman with a strange expression that Coryn could only describe as "amused." Suddenly conscious of her matted hair, her soggy shirt and leggings, tad the chill that was soaking through to her bones, Coryn couldn't hold back a flash of irritation. "What's so darn funny?" she demanded.

To that, Umma cracked a single sharp bark of laughter. Then her expression grew stern and full of dangerous lightning again. "You mean to tell me you been sneakin' more peeks at my old tomes? Why, them books ain't got a lick o' useful writin' in them anymore. Not since the gods of magic went away, before you was even born, Girl! Why are you wastin' time like that?"

The question, Coryn sensed, was far more than rhetorical. It was some kind of test. She drew a breath, intended to take her time forming an answer that might get her into trouble, but she was ever impulsive. A rush of words exploded, seemingly unbidden, from her lips.

"I've read all your books," she admitted. "Over and over. They're the most interesting things I've ever seen. They take me places beyond the muddy huts of Two Forks, beyond the bluff, beyond the whole Icereach. I've read about other people-like elves and dwarves and draconians-and places like Sanction, where the mountains are spilling fire right into the city. Forests… with trees everywhere! What that must be like! And Palanthas! Oh Umma, how I would love to go there some day, to see the fine ladies in their gowns, the palaces and manors and fountains and statues! Lords and knights on splendid horses, soldiers with armor shining like silver."

Umma's eyes narrowed to mere slits now. She nodded, muttering ominously not to Coryn, but to herself. Coryn couldn't catch all the words. Finally she looked up, as if remembering that Coryn was there, and stared at her.

"Yes, of course. That's what books do, Girl." Umma gestured to a pile of tomes, leather-bound and well worn, teetering precariously on a table near her fireplace. "At least, those books. Those books, I daresay, will indeed lead you to such fancies about nobles and manors and elves and Palanthas." The old woman's eyes became two slits of darkness in a scowling mask of leathery skin.

"But you mentioned something about a particular book, didn't you? One I keep under my mattress, you said… one you know darn well I put there to keep the prying fingers of curious young girls off of it. But that didn't work, it seems. Now what made you to go poking around there? Tell me true!"

Coryn gulped. She looked at the stack of books, volumes that she had virtually memorized over the years. Yes, the other tome fascinated her more than any of rest, and again impulsively she blurted out the truth.

"Actually, Umma, I read your secret book for the first time a long time ago, even though it seemed like so much nonsense. I couldn't make anything out of it. But then, later, I felt almost like it was calling me. Last winter, it was, the first time it called me. You were napping out here in your rocking chair. You just had some of those winterberries I brought you, and a little nip of that bottle on the mantle-"

"You never mind that bottle, Child!" Umma said sternly. "That's an old woman's medicine, not for the likes of you!"

"No-I mean, I know! I've never touched it. Well, only touched it to pour some for you, I mean. But I don't even like the way it smells!"

"Never mind my bottle-tell me about the book!"

"Well, I started to tell you, if you would only let me finish! I felt the book calling me that day, last winter. I remember when-it was just after the Night of Two Moons. At least that's what the villagers called it. You know, when the big white moon changed, got smaller. And there was a red moon, too, one I had never seen before. But Papa told me they had been the moons when he was a boy, only they went away when the gods left. All the old hunters were talking about it… about the two moons coming back."

"Yes, yes, the moons. Stop dawdling, girl. Tell me!"

Coryn set her chin and spoke defiantly. "Like I was saying, if you'd stop interrupting, they all were talking about two moons. I didn't say anything to them, didn't want them to think 1 was crazy… again. But there are three moons up there now, aren't there? The red and the white. Everybody sees the two. But there is a darker one, too-a black moon? One that nobody can see."

"Nobody?" Umma's eyes, for the first time, glimmered not with irritation, but with concern for her granddaughter. "You are saying you can't see it then?"

"No, I can't see it," Coryn replied, surprised to see relief soften the old woman's visage. "But I can sense that it's there. Sometimes I watch the night sky, and see that stars blink out of sight for a little while. And I know, somehow I know, that's because the black moon is crossing."

"Get back to the book! What about the book? Tell the truth, and don't waste my time!"

"Grandma!" The young woman stared defiantly. Without softening her own gaze, Umma waited for her to continue. "It's… it's just the most fascinating thing I have ever seen," Cory admitted. "A lot of it doesn't even make sense to me- like it's written in a whole different language. But even when I don't know the words, I like reading them, thinking about what they mean, and trying to make the sounds."

"Surely you haven't read that whole book? Many a fool has tried and failed!"

"All of it," Coryn said, getting angry. "All of it! Twice. The first time, when I didn't understand a thing, and the second time, when it called to me."

Umma sat back in her rocker and looked at the girl with an expression as close to astonishment as anything Coryn had ever seen on the old woman's generally cross, stony, and inscrutable visage.

"All of it! Huh!" It was as if Umma were speaking to herself. She looked at Coryn, shook her head once, and snapped curtly, "Help me up!"

Cory climbed to her feet and extended both hands, taking her grandmother's thin but deceptively strong fingers. She pulled her up, and the old woman hobbled over to the crowded writing desk next to her small dining table. She fumbled through the stack of objects, pulling out a sheet of parchment that, while torn and ragged, seemed to be free of writing.

"My quill!" she snapped. "Where is it? And bring some ink, too! Hurry, Girl!"

Coryn hastened to obey, finding the writing implements on the hearth over the big stone fireplace. Umma sat down at the desk, uncapped the inkwell beside the flat sheet of parchment, and scowled at her granddaughter who stood, full of curiosity, nearby.

"Well? Shouldn't you brew some tea or something? And get out of those wet things-can't have you catching a chill! Not now, of all times! You're going to be needing all of your strength, you are. Besides, your hair's a mess-you'll have rats making a nest there if you don't take care. Move, Girl!"

Shrugging her shoulders with irritation, Coryn hurried to fill the teapot, stoke the fire, doff her soggy trousers, and run a stubby brush through her long, dark tresses. Every time she glanced toward the desk, she saw Umma busily scribing away. Every once in a while the old woman looked up and gave her a fierce stare, and Cory quickly went back to her combing. She had a particularly stubborn tangle, where her hair had picked up some burrs during her struggles in the snowbank.

"My stamp!" Umma snapped, looking up finally and rolling the parchment into a tight roll. "And don't forget the candle!"

Obediently, Cory lit a long wax taper with a coal from the fireplace then carried the burning candle and the small brass stamp over to the old woman. She tried not to show her burning curiosity as she peered at the scroll of leathery paper. Wasting no time, Umma melted a spot of wax and dropped it onto the edge of the parchment, then stamped it tightly shut.

"Here," she said abruptly, thrusting the scroll at Coryn as if it were a short, blunt sword. "Take this now!"

"Sure," the girl replied. "But, urn, where? "

"Why, to Palanthas, of course," snapped the old woman. "Weren't you just telling me how much you wanted to see that place? 'Fabled city'… 'shining knights'… 'ladies in their fine gowns?' It's all kind of overrated, if you ask me, but I 'spect you young'uns have to find that out for yourself."

"Palanthas!" gasped Coryn. Her head was spinning, and she wanted to sit down and jump in the air at the same time. She settled for standing stock still and staring at Umma in disbelief. "Why, that's on the other side of the world! It's got to be a thousand miles away from here! I can't go to Palanthas! I can't even leave Two Forks! What will Papa say? And Mama-I have skins to tan, nets to haul…" Her voice trailed off as a myriad of real obligations, boring and mundane to the last, rose in her mind. Was her grandmother going crazy?

"And what about the fish? You know how the men need me to tell them right before the salmon start running-I listen to the water, and I know."

"Bah, I'll talk to your Mama and Papa-remind your Papa of when he decided to take off for Tarsis, if I have to. Let the fishermen fend for themselves. Stop babbling, and get moving. You're going to Palanthas!"

"Why? Why am I going to Palanthas all of a sudden?" demanded Coryn, determined to get a grip on the conversation before her mind spun completely out of control.

"Why am I going to Palanthas?" Umma mimicked the question, her scratchy voice harsh with sarcasm. "Why, you were just telling me, Girl. Knights! Ladies! Nobles! Sounds like you know that city better than some folks who've lived there all their lives. Now, get cracking."

Coryn didn't budge, but now her face looked puzzled and worried.

Umma's mouth creased into a hint of a smile as she reached and lifted up her granddaughter's chin, stroking it with an affection she didn't usually show. The old woman gestured to the parchment scroll that Coryn was clutching very tightly in her hands. "You are going to visit an old friend of mine, one of those 'fine ladies' you're all hepped up about. You are to do me a favor and deliver her that scroll, and after that, you are to do whatever she tells you to."

"You mean, I'm to be her servant?" asked Coryn, aghast. The old woman shrugged. "If that's what she wants, yes. Hear me well, Child-you are to do whatever my good friend tells you to do."

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Jenna. I knew her long, long ago-before the moons changed for the first time. Before your mama was born, even." There was a hint of wistfulness, and also of tenderness, in Umma's voice, that Coryn had never heard before.

"Jenna will take care of you, once you get there. But there's no time to waste!"

"B-but Umma!" Cory was nearing panic. "I've never been out of the Icereach. I don't even know where Palanthas is! And I told you, I have to check with Mama and Papa! I have things I'm supposed to do around here! I can't just go away, not now, not like this!"

"When can you go away, then?" The old woman's tone was as stern as ever. "I'm not going to be around here forever, you know. And don't you think your pop, and all them other brave hunters and fishers, might be able to keep their bellies full even with you off to the north? Fact is, it will do them old hook-baiters some good to get up and about, not leavin' all the chores to bright young girls who got more important things to do!"

"Huh! You think I'm bright?" asked Cory, inordinately pleased.

"Did I say I was talking about you?"

"No," she admitted, instantly humbled. "But then, how am I supposed to find Palanthas."

"Open the door," Umma declared.

Puzzled, Coryn crossed to the lone entrance to the small hut, and pulled open the wooden-slatted portal. She gasped in surprise as she saw a person-a small person, but most definitely not a child-standing outside. "It's a kender!" she blurted. She had never seen one, but she identified the fellow's race by his wizened features, long topknot, and the haphazard collection of pouches, purses, packs, and pockets dangling from every part of his frequently patched garments.

"Moptop Bristlebrow, at your service," said the kender, with a bow so deep that he tumbled through the threshold to fall in a heap a Coryn's feet.

"Who are you?" gasped the girl. She spun to face her grandmother. "Who is this?"

"He's your guide. I hired him. He'll be taking you to Palanthas-in fact, right to Jenna's house. So you don't have to worry 'bout a thing."

"Don't have to worry?" Coryn's eyes, wide open, took in the ramshackle figure who was clumsily climbing to his feet, stuffing various items-she noticed a teapot, a branding iron, a small frying pan, and her grandmother's brass stamp-into his pouches. Firmly the young girl reached into a leather pocket and retrieved the stamp. "This doesn't belong to you!" she said firmly.

"Well, of course not! I was just returning it to your grandmother. See that she gets it, won't you? Hey, who's in charge here anyway? I don't need young whippersnappers talking to me rudely-"

Umma cut in sharply. "I meant, you don't have to worry about finding the way to Palanthas. You'll have plenty to worry about, believe me. Why, there's bandits in the forests and thieves in the cities. You'll have to book passage across the Newsea-let's see, I have a few steel pieces stashed over there, should help you with that."

Coryn's head was whirling as she put the stamp back on the desk. Yet Umma's dark eyes were alive with amusement. "I've packed some sandwiches, and a few slabs of jerky for you," Umma said, gesturing to a bulging knapsack near the door. Coryn hadn't noticed it before, but now it seemed perfectly natural that it be packed and ready for her departure. And where had that kender come from, so suddenly?

"I'd better get dressed," she said, blushing as she realized that she had greeted the kender in nothing but her knickers and shirt.

"Good thing, too," said Moptop. He pulled a sheet of paper from another purse and unrolled it, releasing a cascading scroll that spilled to the floor and then some. "I've got our route marked on my map. Let's see,"-he squinted, inspecting his notes-"if we start now, we should make it to the Icewall tonight. All due speed. Them's my orders!"

Coryn felt a glimmer of concern. "But-the Icewall is south of here! Isn't Palanthas in the north?"

The kender squinted, lifted his map, turned it around in his hands so that the voluminous top of the scroll was draped over his head. "Why, so it is!" came his voice, from beneath the makeshift shroud.

"Are you sure he knows the way to Palanthas?" Cory asked her grandmother.

Umma cackled, one of the few times her granddaughter had ever heard her laugh out loud.

"Well, he did okay when he took me there. That was fifty-seven summers ago, but I don't think it's moved all that much. Now, daylight's wasting. I'll see your folks know what's happening, count on that. Get going, girl, and you, Moptop, you'll know my wrath if anything goes awry."

The kender saluted stoically, as if indeed he did recall Umma's wrath.

"What will my parents say?" Coryn asked, suddenly feeling an intense wave of homesickness.

"Why, they'll say they love you. And they'll miss you like parents tend to do. No doubt they'll have a few special things to say to me, but don't you worry about that. I can take care of myself, you know. Now, good-bye, Girl, and good luck, and hurry! Hurry!"

Only a half hour later, the little cottage in its grove of cottonwoods was nearly out of sight. Coryn paused only long enough for one last squint, until she saw a wisp of smoke from her grandmother's chimney. The kender was hurrying along a dozen feet in front of her, showing no signs of slowing his pace for her benefit. With a sigh, and an unmistakable tingle of adventure, the young woman adjusted the straps of the heavy pack and turned her steps toward the north.