Under the drug, that hardly seemed to matter. Under the drug, nothing much seemed to matter.
Up till the Derlavaian War broke out, Ilmarinen hadn’t known many Unkerlanters. The vast kingdom had its share of talented mages, but they published less often than their colleagues farther east-either that or they published in their own language rather than in classical Kaunian. And Unkerlanter, in Ilmarinen’s biased opinion, was a language fit only for Unkerlanters. Mages from Unkerlant didn’t come to colloquia as often as their counterparts in the kingdoms of eastern Derlavai. Maybe they were afraid of revealing secrets. Maybe King Swemmel feared they would, and didn’t let them out.
Now Ilmarinen had all the chances he wanted to see Unkerlanters up close. A regular ferry service ran across the Albi River, which separated Kuusaman occupiers of Algarve on the east bank from Swemmel’s soldiers on the west. Ilmarinen found the idea of a ferry interesting, too. In Kuusamo, where the rivers froze up in wintertime, they were used less often than here in the mild north of Derlavai.
Ilmarinen, of course, found almost everything interesting. Whenever he got the chance, he stuck his mage’s badge in the pocket of his tunic and crossed over to the west side of the Albi to learn what he could about the Unkerlanters. The ferry, a stout rowboat, had a crew half Kuusaman, half Unkerlanter. When a man from one land needed to talk to one from the other, he was more likely to use Algarvian than any other tongue. For the master mage, that was one more irony to savor.
On the west bank of the Albi, the Unkerlanters looked less than delighted about having visitors from the east. But the Kuusamans were their allies, so they couldn’t very well point sticks at them and keep them out. Ilmarinen wondered what Swemmel’s men made of him. Without his mage’s badge, what was he? A colonel with too many years on him and too much curiosity for his own good.
As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too much curiosity for his own good. He walked here and there, peered at this and that, and asked questions whenever he found someone who would admit to speaking a civilized language-which didn’t happen very often; a lot of Unkerlanters seemed to go out of their way to deny knowing anything.
For a while, that not only perplexed Ilmarinen but also annoyed him. But he had a mind quick to see patterns. If Swemmel was apt to make someone disappear for saying or doing the wrong thing, what could be safer than saying and doing nothing? But Swemmel’s people couldn’t very well have beaten the Algarvians by doing nothing. It was a puzzlement. Ilmarinen loved being puzzled.
He did find a young lieutenant named Andelot who spoke some Algarvian and didn’t seem afraid to speak it to him. The fellow said, “Aye, is true. We have not so much initiative. Is a word, initiative?”
“It’s a word, sure enough,” Ilmarinen answered. “How in blazes did you win without it?” He had a good many shortcomings of his own. Lack of initiative had never been one of them. Too much initiative? That was a different story.
“By doing what our commanders order us to do,” Andelot replied. “This is most efficient way we find.” When he spoke Algarvian, he seemed stuck in the present indicative.
“But what happens when your commanders make a mistake?” Ilmarinen asked. Obeying without question struck him as inhuman. He had a certain amount of trouble-perhaps more than a certain amount-obeying at all. “What happens when a lieutenant like you or a sergeant, say, needs to fix a mistake? How do you do that when you have no initiative?”
“We have some. We have less than Algarvians, maybe, but we have some. I admit, if we have more, we do better.” Lieutenant Andelot turned and called in Algarvian to another, older, man, who came over and saluted. Returning to a language Ilmarinen could follow, Andelot said, “Here is Sergeant Fariulf. I am sorry, but he speaks Algarvian not. He has initiative. He shows over and over.”
“Well, good for him,” Ilmarinen said. At first glance, Fariulf was just another peasant in uniform, one badly in need of a shave and a bath. First glances, though, showed only so much. “Ask him how he decides to use it, then.”
Andelot spoke again in Unkerlanter. Fariulf replied in the same tongue. His eyes were guarded as they flicked first to his superior officer, then to Ilmarinen. Andelot said, “He says, if I do it not, who does? When I need to do, I do.”
Ilmarinen hardly heard the answer. He was staring at Fariulf. Sometimes- not always-a mage could feel power. Ilmarinen felt it here. It wasn’t sorcerous power, or not exactly sorcerous power, but it radiated out from the man like heat from a fire. Finding such in an Unkerlanter peasant was the last thing Ilmarinen had expected. He was so startled, he almost remarked on it.
A second look at Fariulf convinced him that wouldn’t be a good idea. The sergeant would have hidden that power if he could; Ilmarinen sensed as much. Whatever was inside Fariulf-if that was even the man’s true name, which Ilmarinen suddenly doubted-he didn’t want anyone else to know it was there. Andelot didn’t know; Ilmarinen was sure of that.
The lieutenant had said something. Lost in his own thoughts, Ilmarinen had no idea what it was. “I’m sorry?” he said.
“I say, how you give better answer about initiative?” Andelot repeated.
“I doubt you could.” But Ilmarinen was still eyeing the sergeant. And Fariulf, or whatever his real name was, was eyeing him, too. Something like shock showed itself in the Unkerlanter’s eyes. He knew Ilmarinen knew what he was- or some of what he was, anyhow. That alarmed him.
Little by little, Ilmarinen realized the fellow might be dangerous if he stayed frightened. This was, after all, the Unkerlanter side of the river.
Picking his words with care, the Kuusaman mage said, “I believe the more initiative a man shows, the more he does for himself, the better off he’s likely to be, and the better off the world is likely to be.”
Andelot translated for Fariulf. Ilmarinen smiled and nodded. He hadn’t even been lying. Now, would the Unkerlanter see as much? Andelot said, “Maybe that so in your kingdom. Believe me, sir, not always so in Unkerlant.”
Ilmarinen did believe him. In Unkerlant, from everything he’d heard, everything he’d seen, a man who stuck his neck out was asking the axe to come down. The mage wanted to talk more with Sergeant Fariulf, to see if he could learn just what sort of power burned behind the stocky man’s eyes. He would have to be careful. He saw as much. Andelot plainly had no idea what a wonder he had for an underofficer.
But Fariulf-an Unkerlanter, sure enough-was wary about giving up whatever secrets he possessed. He spoke in his own language. Andelot translated: “Colonel, he asks if you done with him, if he can go back to duties.”
What Ilmarinen felt like doing was kidnapping Fariulf and dragging him over to the eastern bank of the Albi so he could wring knowledge from him like a man wringing water from a towel. He reluctantly recognized he couldn’t do that. And Fariulf, alerted now, would yield him very little. Ilmarinen gave up, something he didn’t like to do. “I’m done with him, aye. Tell him thanks, and tell him good luck.”
The sergeant got to his feet and took off. His power, his secrets, went with him. Ilmarinen could feel them leaving. He sighed. Andelot asked, “Is anything else with me, Colonel? I too have duties.”
As Ilmarinen returned and started back toward the ferry, another officer came by. This one, Ilmarinen saw, wore a chest badge along with the rank badges on his collar tabs. Ilmarinen figured out what the badge meant as soon as the fellow looked at him. He felt himself recognized for what he was, just as he’d recognized Fariulf for something out of the ordinary. The newcomer spoke rapidly in Unkerlanter. Andelot exclaimed in surprise, then returned to Algarvian: “This mage say-
He couldn’t even lie. The other wizard would know he was doing it. “Aye, I’m a mage,” he replied. “So what?”
More back-and-forth in Unkerlanter. After a bit, Andelot said, “This other mage says you are no ordinary mage. He says you are strong mage, mighty mage. Is so?”
