'Veth - please, Veth, I'm sorry, I - I lost my temper - I didn't mean it - '
The boy looked at him with bewilderment. 'Eh, Master Van, I be all right. I been kicked by our old mule worse nor this - just let me get a bit of a drink, eh?'
Vanyel sagged back on his heels, shutting his eyes against the harsh sunlight, limp with relief. The boy got gingerly to his feet.
Oh, gods. I - I'm as bad as Jervis. I'm worse than Jervis; I know better. Oh, gods -
'Vanyel, young sir - '
He looked up; it was Reva, Veth's mother, her tired face anxious. He winced, and waited for her to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved.
It didn't come. If you'll forgive me for being an interfering old hen,' she said, with a little quirk of her mouth, 'I think you've about worn yourself into uselessness, young sir. I know you haven't eaten since last night. Now here - '
She offered him her hand; astounded, he took it, and to his utter befuddlement she hauled him to his feet. 'Now,' she put one arm around his shoulders, the other about Veth's, 'I think it's time you both got a bit of food in you. The time it takes to eat won't make Veth a better fighter, nor you a better teacher.' She hugged them both, as if they were both her sons, then released them.
The words he had thrown into Withen's face - was it only a year ago? - came back to shame him further.
'Let every man that must go to battle fight within his talents, and not be forced to any one school.'
I've been treating them exactly the way Jervis treated me. Forcing them to use things they don't know, to go outside of their talents. I am a complete and incompetent fool.
Vanyel blushed. And stammered. 'I - I'm no kind of a teacher, Mistress Reva, or I'd not have chosen what I did to teach.' He raised his voice so the rest of those practicing in the square could hear him. 'This is getting us nowhere. It's like you trying to teach me to - to plow and spin, for a Midsummer contest a week away. We haven't the time, and I'm a fool. Now, please, what are your real weapons? Any of you know the use of bow? Or sling? Boar-spear, maybe?'
It was not his imagination; there were looks of real relief all across the square - and the beginnings of smiles.
But in the end, all his preparations were in vain.
The villagers willing to fight were on the barricades; there were really only two blockades - there was only one road going through the village, and it led directly through the pounded-dirt square. The square itself was fairly defensible now; not even a colddrake would have been able to get past the buildings. The folk too frightened or unable to defend themselves had faded away into the shadows as they did every night to scatter and hide in the cellars and attics of the buildings around the square. Headman Gallen had by now come to the conclusion that Vanyel knew something of what he was about; he and two or three of the other folk not too cowed to take a stand (including the old herb-witch, who took a dim view of this young upstart wizard taking over her village) were having a hasty conference with Vanyel on supplies - when a surge of Gate-energy invoked practically under Vanyel's nose knocked him to his knees and very nearly knocked him out.
The only thing that saved him from unconsciousness this time was that he was completely under shield. He found himself gasping for breath, and completely disoriented for a moment. His eyes had flashing lights in front of them, and he shook his head to try and clear it. That was a mistake; his head reacted poorly to the abrupt movement.
He could hardly think, much less see. Gods - what in -
'What do we have here?'
The clear, musical tenor voice sounded amused - and Vanyel froze. The voice carried clearly; the petrified silence in the square was as deltas the Nine Pits.
He looked up when his eyes cleared, and found that all he could see were the backs of people. The members of his erstwhile war-council were standing huddled together as if to keep him hidden in the shadows behind them. Vanyel got hold of the splintery side of the storehouse and pulled himself cautiously to his feet, ducking his head behind Gallen's and standing on tiptoe to peek over the shoulders of the men in front of him. His gut went cold when he saw the flamboyantly dressed stranger in the middle of the cleared square.
This could only be the wizard Krebain.
The torches falling from the hands of the stunned villagers were unneeded; the wizard had brought his own mage-light with him. It hung over his head, a tiny green-yellow sun. People were slowly backing away until they ran into the walls and the barricades, leaving the stranger standing in arrogant isolation in the exact center of the dusty square.
The wizard was a gaudy sight; he wore scarlet and gold; skin-tight breeches, close-cut gold-embroidered velvet tunic, scarlet cloak with cloth-of-gold lining. Even his boots and velvet gloves were scarlet. He had a scarlet helm that was more than half mask, ornamented with a preposterous crest of a rampant dragon in gold. With one hand on his hip, he tapped at his chin with a gloved finger as he turned to survey the people surrounding the square.
'A rebellion - I do believe this is a rebellion! How droll!' He laughed; it had a nasty sound to it.
He was graceful, slim, and very tall. White-blond hair tumbled from beneath the helm in wavy, shining cascades. What could be seen of his face was like elegantly sculptured marble. Vanyel found himself caught by the wizard's sheer charismatic beauty. None of the villagers had said anything about that.
Vanyel felt almost sick. Evil such as had been described to him shouldn't be - beautiful!
But then he thought, Artificial - that really is what he is. He's changed himself, I'm sure of it, like - painting his face, only more so. If I had a lot of power and didn't care how I used it, I suppose I'd make myself beautiful, too.
'I wonder what could have roused you worms to think to stand against me?' Krebain mused aloud. 'None of you had half an ounce of courage before this. But then - none of you smelled of the mage-born before this, either, other than that foolish old witch of yours over there.' He smiled slyly. 'I think I detect a stranger among you - hmm?
