Part 22 (1/2)

and Simon's lips curved in a small smile, ”... I have some skill in arms. I fended off his blow, and struck ere he could draw his fist again, and I did stretch the poor lad senseless upon the road. And whiles he lay thus, unwillingly in slum- ber, I knelt beside him, frantic in my need, crying out to him, 'Wake! Dost'a not see thou art ensorceled?' For this was my neighbor's son, look you, who had been my chil- dren's playfellow. I could not stand aside to let the sorcerer take him while breath yet pa.s.sed within my lungs. With every grain of my poor, puny witch power, I did seek to reach and wake his slumbering mind, where it lay 'neath Alfar's spell.”

The sergeant stared at him, round-eyed. ”And did he waken?”

Simon nodded, closing his eyes. ”He did. Praise Heaven, for he did. And when his body likewise woke, he sat up bewildered, for he'd no notion how he'd come to be there, lying in the midroad, half a league from home. I took him back to his father; yet I bethought me that what I could do for one, I might so hap to do for others. Thus, when any 148 Christopher Stasheff 149 boy from our village did gain that far-off gaze and wander toward the High Road in a trance, I followed, struck him down, and woke his mind; and when the spell began to wrap itself around my neighbors' minds also, I waited till night fell, and they slumbered, then pa.s.sed from house to house, standing against the wall and seeking to wake them from their enchantments. At length I fell ill from exhaus- tion-but my village held, alone free from the weird.

”And so, at last-two days agone-a warlock came himself, a meager, pimply-faced lad, but with soldiers at his back. Then I could do naught; the boys all marched away; yet, at the least, their parents saw they were com- pelled.”

”Yet did the warlock not seek thee out?”

Simon shrugged. ”He did attempt it; for with a whole village yet free-minded, he knew there must needs be a witch or warlock who had prevented it. Yet as I've told thee, my power's weak; I can only hear thoughts. And that I was adept at hiding what little force I had. I was careful not to think of witch powers, or spell breaking; I thought only of suspicion, and how much I did resent Alfar's do- minion.” He shook his head slowly. ”He could not find me; for every mind in all that hamlet thought as I did.”

”And this was but two days agone?” the sergeant cried.

”Two days,” Simon confirmed.

”Then 'tis months that thou hast held thy neighbors'

minds 'gainst Alfar's spell!”

”It is. Yet in all comely truth, 'tis not till now that Alfar's had soldiers to spare for such an errand.”

”Aye.” The sergeant's face hardened again. ”Yet with the Duke captured, he could spare the men, and the time- for all present threats were laid.”

”I doubt it not. Yet I a.s.sure thee, I did tremble with relief when that warlock pa.s.sed from our village.

”Then I bethought me that I'd cheated Death quite long enow. Nay, I reasoned that I'd done my part, and had es- caped thus far more by luck than skill-and, in comely truth, my daughter doth draw near to her confinement. Ac- cordingly, I sought the better part of valor, and turned my steps southward, hoping I might break from his evil-seized, ensorceled realm into the free air of Earl Tudor's county.”

He turned to Rod. ”And I have come near-so near! 'Tis but a half day's journey now, is't not?”

Rod nodded. ”Guards at the border, though. You'd have trouble getting across.”

Simon smiled, amused. ”Not I.”

”Aye.” The soldier gave him an appraising glance. ”Thou hast something of the look of the wild stag about thee. I doubt not an thou couldst find thy freedom through the forest trails, where no sentry's eye doth watch.”

”Just so. Yet I think I must not go.”

”Nay!” The sergeant leaned forward. ”Go thou must!

Make good thine escape whilst thou may!”

”And if I do? Wilt thou?”

The sergeant lowered his gaze. ”I must go back-for I've blood on mine hands, and must atone.”

”Stuff and nonsense!” Simon snorted. ”These deaths were Alfar's doing, and none of thine. Do thou make thine escape, to join King Tuan's army, and march back to take thy ven- geance 'gainst the sorcerer.”

The sergeant shook his head. ”Nay. 'Twould take too long. And... if we journey north again, my men and I, and take our places amidst the sorcerer's force-then there will be peasant lives spared, when next they send out to sweep the roads. And when King Tuan comes, there will be swords to fight for him, within the sorcerer's ranks.”

”'Tis worthy,” Simon mused.

”And stupid!” Rod snorted. ”The first warlock who runs a security check on the army, listening for traitorous thoughts, will find you out. All you'll accomplish is an early exe- cution.”

The sergeant glared at him, then turned back to Simon.

”Canst thou not teach us the way of hiding our thoughts?”

”I can tell thee the way of it,” Simon said slowly, ”yet 'tis not quickly learned. It will require constant practice- and never mayest thou relent. Such vigilance is well-nigh impossible, for one who hath but newly learned. Thou may- est quite easily be found out.”

”Then give them choice,” the sergeant said. ”Wake them from their spellbound sleep, and say to them what thou hast said to me. I doubt me not an all of them will choose as I do-to ride back North.”

150.

151.

Simon smiled, and shrugged. ”Can I do less? I, who am practiced at such dissimulation? Nay. I shall be a half day's ride behind thee.”

”That,” Rod said, ”is just a form of suicide. The only thing that's uncertain about it, is the date.”

Simon looked up, in mild surprise. ”Yet thou dost journey northward.”

”Well, yes,” Rod admitted, ”But I have duty involved.

It's required of me-never mind why.”

”As it is of me-no matter why.” Simon gave him the sardonic smile and rose to his feet, standing a little taller, a little straighter. ”Craven was I, to ever flee. My work remains. I must turn back, and set my face against the North, that I may go to aid more souls who labor in enchanted sleep, the whiles their bodies wake.”

”Nay, thou must not!” The sergeant stepped forward, alarmed. ”In truth, thou hast done all any man should ask of thee!”

”'Tis good of thee, to speak so.” Simon smiled with gentle warmth. ”Yet I'm beholden to them-for look you, these are my people, and have been all my life. They have aided me in all the daily trials that a poor man undergoes, and tended me and mine in illness, and consoled us in bereavement-as I have done for them. Such bonds are not severed only for reason that I'm the only one able to give aid now. Nay, i* truth I played the craven, when that I did flee.”

”Thou didst not,” the sergeant a.s.serted. ”What will it profit them, for thou to turn back? Thy spell-breaking will but draw the warlock to thee again-and when he hath taken thee, thy folk will rest spellbound once more.”

Simon fairly beamed, but shook his head. ”I may escape his notice, as I've done already. Nay, I'll not again play coward.”

The sergeant sighed. ”Thou wast not craven to be afeared; for certes, thou hast much to fear. Therefore, an thou wilt wake my men from this foul spell, we all shall company thee.”

”And make the danger greater!” Rod stepped forward, frowning. ”How much chance do you think you boys would have against a squad of twenty, Auncient?”

The sergeant hesitated, frowning.

Rod pressed the point. ”One civilian, going North with five armed men? Alfar's witch-sentries would smell a rat, even if they didn't have noses.”

Simon's face lit with a delighted smile. ”Yet think, good- man! They could say I was their prisoner!”

Rod gave the sergeant a jaundiced eye. ”Do you have any orders about taking prisoners?”

”Nay,” the sergeant admitted. ”We were commanded to but slay and rob.”