“Remember how we relaxed before?” he said. “Well, we’re going to do it again, only this time the experience will be rather different.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see. There will be a disorientation in time, but that is nothing to worry about.”
“All right.”
Once more he closed his eyes and allowed Vlad’s voice to lead him through each muscle in his body, letting the tension leave, letting it flow down, down, into the ground below him, until he felt the now-familiar sensation of floating, as if he were no longer part of his body—as if he stood apart from it, distant and unconcerned. Then Vlad said, “You are feeling very warm, and light—as if you are nothing but a bubble of air, and you can go anywhere. Yes. Think of yourself as an air bubble that moves where you will. You are surrounded by nothing, and you are empty.
Feel that you can move however you please. You are relaxed and confident.”
Yes, Savn agreed. I will feel that way. I choose to, and so I do. Isn’t that remarkable?
“Now,” said Vlad, “picture yourself, a bubble of nothingness, floating down through the ground, down through layers of stone, meshing with it, and, with each layer, you will fall more deeply asleep.”
Yes, I will picture that; I will do that, he thought, and it seemed as if his body were far away.
“Now very slowly, open your eyes, and look at me, but do not rise up. Look at me, and imagine that I am there with you—we are together, two bubbles of air beneath the earth. With the eyes of your body, you see me holding a small piece of fabric. Now you imagine yourself a wind, and you brush against the fabric. There, you see how it flutters? Touch it again, and again. Don’t push; will it to happen. Do you feel the texture of the cloth, smooth, slightly cold, the veins of weave distinct beneath the fingertips of your mind? Once more, a little push. Yes, that was you, you felt it.
“Now we, as two bubbles of air, will touch. Do you now hear my words, as if they were echoed, once spoken aloud, once whispered softly? One coming just ahead of the other, as if you were aware of the time it takes for the sound to pass your ears, because you are now aware of that time, and you choose to ignore it, so these sounds, both my voice, both identical, come together; they are strong, reinforcing each other. And now you hear only the whisper, and without making a sound, whisper back to me with only your thoughts—you form words, and you give them to me, as if you were placing a feather in my hand, but your mouth and tongue do not move. Tell me, in this way, that you can hear me.”
“I can hear you,” Savn said, feeling awe, but a distant, vague sort of awe, the reverse of a dream, as if it were normal and nothing special, but he knew, somewhere, that it would be remarkable when he awoke.
“And I can hear you,” said Vlad. “You will remember that feeling, of touching my mind with yours, and you will always be able to call it back.”
“Yes,” said Savn. “I will remember it.”
“Now, you begin to rise back through the ground, and with each layer, you begin to awake. You are coming back, closer and closer; you feel your limbs again, and know them as part of you, and you hear my real voice in your real ears, and with this sound, you awake, remembering everything that has happened, feeling rested, alert, and confident.”
Savn blinked, and felt as if he were opening his eyes, although they had been open. He said, “I feel ... funny. How much time has passed?”
“About half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Savn took a moment to see if this was true, then said, “Did I really move that piece of cloth?”
“You moved it,” said Vlad.
Savn shook his head, but found no words to say.
“How do you feel?” said Vlad.
“Fine. A little tired, I guess.”
“It’ll pass. You’ll have some trouble sleeping tonight. I’d suggest a great deal of physical exertion.”
“All right. I’ll run all the way home.”
“Good idea.”
They stood up. Vlad picked up his pendant and put it around his neck again. They walked slowly back to the road and started in toward town again. Savn couldn’t find anything to say, and he was too lost in wonder and confusion to try very hard. He shook his head. Even now, he seemed more aware of the breeze against his throat, of the sharp outline of the trees against the twilit sky, and the sounds of the birds coming from all around him. They had always been there—why had he chosen not to hear them, and why was he hearing them now?
Such were his thoughts until he realized that they were walking through the town, and, in fact, had arrived in front of Tem’s house. They stopped, and he said, “When will I see you again?”
“I’m not certain, my friend. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“All right.”
He did, indeed, run all the way home, relishing the way the air flowed through his lungs, the pounding of his feet along the road, the darkening sky, and the breeze, just getting chilly, biting at his face.
He made it on time for the evening meal, which prevented Mae and Pae from questioning him. Polyi, as usual, chattered throughout the meal, but Savn, who wasn’t really listening, caught a few pointed remarks about himself. Fortunately, Mae and Pae didn’t pick up on them.
That night, Savn fell asleep at once and while he slept, he dreamed that he stood in the street in front of Tem’s house, while Lova stood, while Lova stood in the middle of a faceless crowd and looked at him adoringly as he made the ground open and close, and made fire fall from the sky. When he awoke, he remembered the dream, and remarked to himself, “That’s odd. I hadn’t even known I liked her.”
What now?
She flew down toward the little structure where the Provider dwelt, knowing that her mate was already there. And, even as she cupped the air to light on the roof, and was reaching with her feet for a grip on the soft wood, he took to the air once more, passing directly in front of her.
She hissed, and followed.
A soft one? Her mate was thinking about a soft one. But how to tell one from the others?
She tried to understand what her mate was asking of her. She understood something about fruit, or the smells of fruit, but when she tried to find out what sort of fruit, her mate became agitated.
At last, she understood what her mate wanted, and thought, if it must be, it must be. And at least it was flying.
Now up, out, upon the currents, treading them, through the overcast, careful not to breathe. Then up higher, higher, and, for the sheer pleasure of it, diving, falling like a stone past the cliff, to catch the air and drift, and glide.
Something like a laugh came from her thoughts, and echoed from her mate.
He found the one they were to watch, and she followed the path he indicated. Yes, that was the one. So be it. A long, dull time would follow, she thought.
She hoped she would be able to stay awake.
Chapter Six
I will not marry a cursing wizard,
I will not marry a cursing wizard,
I’d ask for snow and get a blizzard.
Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!
Step on out ...
After breaking his fast, Savn went outside. He looked at the stubble that covered almost every field in sight, his view interrupted only by the bins and the outbuildings. The soil looked lumpy and harsh, and somehow more brown than it had in the spring, though he had been told that was just his imagination.
It seemed such a short time ago that he had come out here and seen the little flowers everywhere, most of them blue, a few areas of pink or white. But now it looked almost like a wasteland, save for the long, narrow strip that ran next to the road, where the densely packed flax stood as high as his waist. It was here that he and his sister would be working today. Mae and Pae had already finished the chores and were out among the flax plants, working from the west, and Polyi was holding the small reaper and waiting for him.
It was a fresh, cool day, and the air felt dry and clean. It was a good day to work; he hated the ear
ly part of the harvest most, because everything seemed twice as hard when it was hot. Rain was almost as bad, but it didn’t feel like rain today, and there was no greying of the orange-red sky, so perhaps they’d continue to be lucky with the weather.
He took a couple of the long cloth bags from under the porch, shook them and turned them inside out, then nodded to his sister.
“We’re almost done,” she said.
“I know. Today, or maybe tomorrow.”
Polyi, hands on her hips and scythe leaning against her side, twisted in place a couple of times, as if to loosen muscles that were already tired. Savn rolled his shoulders and put his lyorn-skin gloves on. His hands would be hot and sweaty in half an hour, but blisters, as he well knew, would be worse.
He said, “Let’s get to it.” They headed out to the last field.
Savn collected the plants into sacks while his sister went ahead of him with the reaper. They fell into the rhythm easily—which was important. If they didn’t, Savn would have had to pick the plants up off the ground, which was hard on his back and took much longer. But by now they knew each other, so that as Polyi swung the tool for each cut, the plant would fall neatly into Savn’s gloved hand, and then he would take a half-step backward in order to miss the back sweep. He didn’t have to watch either his hands or the plants—only his sister, to be certain that if for any reason the rhythm changed he would be able to avoid the sharp blade. He knew well what could happen if he looked away at the wrong time—he had helped Master Wag patch up three people this harvest.
It was boring drudge-work, but also easy and satisfying now that they had the system worked out, and he could hear the steady shhhick, shhhick as Mae and Pae worked from the other end. Soon—probably tomorrow, he decided, they would meet, and that would be the end of the harvest for this year. Then Mae and Pae would prepare the ground for the winter, and next year they would start all over again, and the next year, and the next, until the day Savn would begin earning money as a physicker himself, either in Smallcliff or elsewhere. Then there would be a few lean years before he could afford to send enough money back to pay for the work he could not do, but after that Mae and Pae would be able to hire someone, and after that he could begin saving, until he had so much money that he’d be able to travel, and—
When did I decide I wanted to travel? he asked himself.
Well, he wasn’t sure he did want to, come to that, but he remembered when he had begun thinking about it—it was while he was standing outside his house, and the night had seemed to speak to him of distant places. He remembered his own question of Vlad, which had seemed to impress the Easterner: are you running to something or away from something? If he, Savn, were to leave, would he be leaving his family, or searching for more? Would he be deserting his home, or would he be setting out to find adventure and fortune? Had the Easterner inspired all of these thoughts? Was the Easterner somehow responsible for the experience he’d had on that strange, wonderful evening? I don’t care what they say, I’ll bet he didn’t kill Reins.
They finished the row and began on the next, and so the morning passed. When it was nearly noon, their rhythm was broken by Pae, who whistled through his fingers to signal that Savn and Polyi were finished for the day.
As they walked back to the house, Polyi said, “Do you think they’ll finish without us?”
Savn looked back at what remained to be done and said, “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.”
Polyi nodded. “Me, too. Shall we go to Tem’s house today?”
“Sure.”
“You didn’t wait for me yesterday, you know.”
“I didn’t? That’s right, I didn’t. I guess I was thinking about other things.”
“Such as what?”
“I don’t know. Things. Anyway, today we’ll go there.”
Savn bathed, and as he’d promised, waited for his sister, and the two of them set off for Tem’s house. They spoke little as they walked, although it seemed to Savn that a couple of times Polyi started to say or ask something, then thought better of it. Eventually she started singing “Dung-Foot Peasant,” and, after a verse or two, Savn joined in, changing pronouns as appropriate. He hadn’t heard it in some time, and laughed at a few of the verses that had been added since he was his sister’s age. He also sang her a few verses that had apparently been forgotten, and he was pleased that she liked them.
When they reached Tem’s house, Vlad was not in evidence, but there was the usual noon crowd, and Savn noticed that he was receiving some odd looks from many of them. Polyi noticed it, too.
“Do you see that?” she said. “The way they look at you? They’re wondering why you’ve been spending so much time with that Easterner.”
Savn quickly looked around, but no one was looking at him just at the moment. “Are they really?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Hmmm.” He shrugged. “Let them wonder, then.”
“Well, what are you doing?”
“I’m learning things.”
“Like what?”
“Like, um, like how to catch gems in the wind—no, I mean, catch water in, um—oh, never mind. I’m learning stuff.”
Polyi frowned, but couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, which was perfectly all right with Savn. He quickly finished his salad, said goodbye to his sister, and headed off to Master Wag.
On the way, it occurred to him that the sharpness of sensation that he’d felt the evening before was gone. He wondered if it was something that would return as he became more adept in this strange art he had begun to study.
The Master was in better spirits today, puttering around his small house (which had seemed much larger a year before, when Savn had begun studying with him) scattering bits of history with explanations of both the general and the particular. Savn wondered if he had solved the problem of Rein’s death, but decided that, if so, the Master would speak of it in his own time, and if not, he had best not bring the subject up.
And in fact, Master Wag made no mention of it during the entire day, most of which Savn spent cleaning up the Master’s house and listening to the Master’s stories and lectures—a pastime Savn rather enjoyed, even though once Master Wag began to speak he soon lost track of his audience and went far beyond Savn’s knowledge and understanding.
He’s quite a bit like Vlad, he thought, then wondered why the notion disturbed him.
Toward the end of the day, the Master had him recite the questions, conclusions, and appropriate cures for various sorts of stomach ailments, and seemed quite pleased with Savn’s answers, although, actually, Savn left out stabbing pains in the side, and the questions that would lead to a dose of pomegranate seeds to ease an attack of kidney stones.
Master Wag was standing in front of Savn, who was seated on the stool with his back to the hearth; there was a low fire which was just on the edge of being too warm. As the Master finished his explanation, he said, “So, what have you been thinking about, Savn?”
“Master?”
“You’ve had something on your mind all day. What is it?”
Savn frowned. He hadn’t, in point of fact, realized that he had been thinking about something. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Is it our friend Reins?” the Master prompted.
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s nothing for you to worry about, in any case. I still don’t know what he died of, but I haven’t quit looking, either.”
Savn didn’t say anything.
Master Wag stared at him with his intense gaze, as if he were looking around inside of Savn’s skull. “What is it?” he said.
“How do you know what to believe?” said Savn, who was surprised to hear himself ask the question.
Master Wag sat down opposite Savn and leaned back. “That is quite a question,” he said. “Care to tell me what it springs from?”
Savn found that, on the one hand, he couldn’t dissemble when the Master was staring at him so, but on the other hand, he wasn’t certa
in of the answer. At last he said, “I’ve been wondering. Some people say one thing, others say another—”
“Who’s been saying what, about what?”
“Well, my friends think that the Easterner had something to do with Reins’s death, and he says—”
“Rubbish,” said Master Wag, but in a tone that was not unkind. “Your friends know nothing, and the Easterner is not to be believed.
“On the other hand,” Wag continued, “that doesn’t answer your question. The way to tell what is true is simply to keep your eyes and ears open, and to use your head. That’s all there is to it.”
Savn nodded, although he felt as if his question hadn’t really been answered. But then, was Master Wag really the person to answer the question at all? He knew about helping people who were ill, but what need did he have to wonder about what truth was? He could ask Bless, but Bless would only tell him to trust the gods, and Speaker would tell him to trust what Speaker himself said.
But then, he wondered, what need did he, Savn, have to think about any of this, either? To this there was no answer, but it didn’t help. He discovered that he wanted very badly to talk to Vlad again, although he wondered if trusting the Easterner too much would be a mistake.
He said, “Thank you, Master. Is there anything else?”
“No, no. Run on home now. And don’t worry so much.”
“I won’t, Master.”
He stepped out into the warm autumn afternoon and immediately began running back toward town, wishing he could teleport. That would be best, he thought. All this time I spend getting from place to place, I could just be there. He wondered if he could convince Vlad to show him how that was done. Probably not, he decided. Most likely it was too difficult, in any case.
Soon enough he was there, and, almost to his surprise, he found Vlad right away, sitting in Tem’s house drinking wine and watching the door, as if he was waiting for Savn, and the smile he gave seemed to confirm this. There were three or four familiar faces as well, but no one Savn felt the need to speak to.