“What?” Valder realized he was still holding his drawn sword; he had never sheathed it after cutting through the wall of the hut and had picked it up without thinking when he got to his feet. “What do you want it for?”
“I want to get rid of you, idiot.”
“How? By killing me?”
“No, of course not. You may be a fool, but that’s not enough reason to kill you. I don’t kill anybody. Besides, you are an Ethsharite, even if you are an idiot, and I’m still a loyal Ethsharite myself, even out here.”
“Then what do you want my sword for?”
“I’m going to enchant it. I’m going to put every spell I can find on it, every enchantment I can come up with that might help you fight your way back and out of my life forever.”
“Can you do that without your supplies?”
“I can do something; I know a few spells that don’t take anything fancy, and a couple of them are good ones. It may not be the greatest magic sword in the world when I’m done, but it will get you home, I promise you. I’ve got one spell I invented myself that I’m sure will do it, and it doesn’t need any ingredients I can’t find here in the marsh. If you stay around here very long, I may kill you, Ethsharite or not — and neither of us wants that to happen.”
Valder was still reluctant to give up his weapon, though the offer was tempting. He had not really wanted to build a boat and sail down the coast; he was no sailor, and storm season was approaching. He couldn’t even swim. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.
The wizard snorted. “You don’t need to trust me. You’re twice my size and a third my age; I’m a feeble little old man and you’re a trained, healthy young soldier. Even if I had the sword, you could handle me, couldn’t you? You’ve got the knife on your belt; I’m not leaving you defenseless.”
Valder remained wary. “You’re a wizard, though, not just an old man.”
“Well, then, if I’m a powerful enough wizard to handle you, how much difference can that stupid sword make? I’ve already got my own dagger, if I need a blade for some spell. You can’t have it both ways; either I’m too old and feeble to worry about, or I already have the advantage. Look, soldier, I’m in no hurry. I can’t do any magic to speak of until morning, because I’ll need to see what I’m doing. You can either get yourself out of here before dawn, or you can stay and let me enchant your sword — or you can stay and annoy me enough that I’ll turn you into... into something unpleasant. That would be better than killing you, at least. You suit yourself. Right now I’m going to try and get some sleep and see if I can forget that I haven’t had my dinner and that my house is a pile of ash. You do as you please.” He turned and stamped his way up out of the marsh onto the mounded rim of the crater.
Valder stood for a moment, sword in hand and his bare feet in briny muck, thinking it over.
After due consideration he shrugged and followed the old man.
CHAPTER 3
The rain began around midnight, Valder judged, though after the clouds covered the moons it was hard to be sure of the time. It trailed off into morning mist an hour or two before dawn. He was soaked through and had slept very little when the sun’s rays managed to slip through the trees to the southeast and spill across the marsh, slowly burning away the mist. Worst of all, he was dreadfully thirsty and ravenously hungry; he was unsure whether a splash of marsh water was responsible, or the blood of the Sanguinary Deception, but something had disrupted his Spell of Sustenance. The bloodstone was still secure in its pouch, but his fast had been broken.
The wizard had stayed dry throughout the rain, Valder noticed when the morning light illuminated the old man’s white hair; it was still a tangle of knots and fluff smeared with phantasmal blood but not plastered to his head as Valder’s was. The soldier assumed that the hermit had achieved this enviable state of desiccation by somehow keeping the aversion spell going.
The old man did not appear very comfortable, though; at first light he was up and pawing through the debris that lined the crater where his house had stood, spattering unreal gore in all directions.
He did not appear to be performing a spell, but Valder never felt very confident when dealing with unfamiliar magicians of any sort and knew better than to risk interrupting a wizard at work. Besides, by daylight the lingering effects of the Deception made the little hermit unspeakably repulsive.
Valder had spent the night curled up between two grassy mounds, above the waterline but still fairly sheltered. Now he climbed up atop one of the hillocks and settled down to watch the old man.
The hermit heard the rustling and looked up. “Oh, there you are, soldier,” he said. “Have you seen anything to eat?”
“No,” Valder said. “Have you?”
“No, and I’m hungry. My stomach has been growling for hours. I missed my dinner, you know.”
“I know. I’m hungry, too, and thirsty.”
“Oh. Spell broke, did it? Can’t say I’m really sorry, after all the trouble you’ve brought me. There’s a clean stream back in the woods, over that way,” he said, pointing vaguely northeast. “If you can find something that will hold water, go fetch some. You can drink your fill while you’re there; I don’t care. I’m going to see about catching some breakfast, since I can’t find anything left of my pantry. You might bring back some firewood, too, so I can cook whatever I find; everything here is either soaked or already burned.”
Valder nodded. The old man’s tone was not very friendly, but at least he was willing to talk. “I’ll do my best,” he answered.
“Do that,” the hermit replied. “Oh, and give me your sword; I want to look it over.”
“You still intend to enchant it somehow?”
“Oh, yes; how else can I get rid of you quickly? I’ve found a few things here; I’ll manage. Now, give me that thing and see if you can find something that doesn’t leak.”
Valder shrugged; he made his way across the blasted remains of the hut to where the wizard prowled and handed over his sword and sheath. After all, he told himself, he wouldn’t need it while fetching water, and he would need both hands. The northerners were gone, and he could handle most other dangers, either by running or with his dagger.
The old man accepted the weapon and looked it over casually, noting the ugly but serviceable workmanship — bow grip, straight blade, without any frills or ornamentation. He nodded. “It should do very well. Go get some water.”
Valder said nothing, but began looking for a container.
A quick circuit of the crater showed nothing suitable for the job, but a second glance at one of the outer slopes turned up the top half of a very large glass jar, the lid still screwed tightly in place; Valder hoped that would serve. Careful of the jagged edge, he cradled it in one arm and headed off in the direction the old man had indicated.
Unlike the old man, however, he had not spent years living in the marsh and learning its every twist and turn; he found himself slogging across muddy ditches, climbing over crumbling sandpiles, wading through branches of the sea, and pushing through reeds and rough grasses. His unshod feet acquired a variety of cuts, scrapes, and bites; his socks were soaked through and rapidly falling to tatters. Eventually he gave up following the direct route through the marsh and instead turned his path toward the nearest dry land. Once firmly ashore on solid ground, under the familiar pines, he turned north and made his way along the edge of the marsh until he came to a stream he assumed to be the one the old man had pointed out.
The water was clear, but salty and brackish; he turned and walked upstream, cursing the wizard.
Roughly a hundred yards from where he had first tasted the water, the stream poured down across a rocky outcropping, spilling exuberantly from one pool into another along a narrow stony path down the face of a rise in the ground. The water in the upper pool was fresh, sweet, and cold; Valder lay on his belly and drank eagerly.
When he lifted his face, he was momentarily shocked to see blood swirling downstream; then he remembered the Deception and laughed.
He rinsed out his broken jar, then filled it, and was relieved to see that it could still hold a decent quantity
