our teachers.”
“But why are you guarding the border?” Paul persisted.
“Making sure creatures of wild magic stay where they belong rather than coming down into the land of men.”
“Do you mean,” said Prince Lucas, speaking for the first time, “that there would be monsters down in our cities all the time if it weren’t for you wizards? I must say, you can’t have been doing a very good job or the gorgos wouldn’t have gotten to Caelrhon.”
“It’s not that simple,” said the wizard crossly. “Wild magic tends to stay in place north of the mountains, and it would most of the time even without us. And we can’t stop a creature that’s been called by very powerful or even black magic from going south. I expect that’s why you had gorgos problems. There were always hermit-wizards up here, but it’s all become much more orderly and reliable since the school was founded. Now we can stop most of the creatures that would otherwise wander south by accident, and we telephone the City to warn them about any unusual activity.”
“So you do have a telephone.” I glanced around without seeing one but assumed it was in the other room. The thought that the City was only a call away was very cheering.
“Yes indeed. With one of your far-seeing attachments, of course,” he added generously.
“But doesn’t it become dreary, being up here alone?” This was Paul.
“Not dreary. You lads won’t understand this, but Daimbert will. There’s something enormously seductive about the land of magic. All one’s spells work much better. Flying isn’t an effort any more. Even here, at the border, one can feel the difference. None of us are posted here very long, and they say it’s because they don’t want us to become too lonely, but I think in part it’s because they don’t want us going over the edge.
“It
“Then if you were at the wizards’ school two months ago,” I said in surprise, “you were there at the same time I was.”
He waved his hand vaguely. “Well, there are always a lot of people at the school, and one doesn’t see everybody.” It was true that, between the teachers, the students, the young wizards, and the older ones coming and going, there were always a lot of people at the school. But he had known I was there. He had just not wanted to see foolish old ‘Frogs’ until now, when he had no other wizards to talk to. “So I’m delighted I’m having a chance to see you now,” he added.
“I’m sorry in that case to have to leave,” I said, standing up, “but we really need to get the monstrous frog up further into the borderlands, somewhere we can dispose of it. Thank you for the tea. Maybe we can stop here again on our way back.”
“Then I’ll hope to see you all again in a few days. Very nice meeting you young fellows.”
PART SIX — THE BORDERLANDS
I
The air cart came down out of the mountains. The snow lingered on the northern slopes, but finally we dropped enough that the land beneath us was green again, and we spotted miniature flocks of goats followed by miniature goatherds. These were the first humans, other than the wizard, we had spotted in three days.
I filled my lungs with cold air and almost felt confident again of my ability to practice wizardry. But I reminded myself that this might only be due to the influence of the land of magic, not a sign of returning abilities.
Vor pointed. “There’s my valley.” Ahead of the air cart was a deep gash in the mountain slope, perhaps a mile wide and ten miles long. The sun had not yet reached down the sides of the rift, but I could see a waterfall pouring into it from the mountains and a dark green river winding the length of the valley.
The air cart slowly descended beside the waterfall, its roar loud in our ears. The tumbling water rushed downward like something solid, and drops of spray nearly reached us. Vor leaned what I considered dangerously far over the edge of the cart, staring ahead. The valley floor was a patchwork of fields, but there were no buildings. “So where do your people live?” I started to ask and then saw them.
Their houses were built into the nearly vertical rocky sides of the valley, half-hidden by gnarled trees. A network of steep stairs, ladders, and toeholds connected the valley floor with the doors of dwellings burrowed back into the rock. Theodora, with her love of climbing, would like this valley.
“How long is it that you’ve been gone?” I asked as though casually.
“Years,” Vor replied briefly.
“Why haven’t you been home again?” asked Paul.
“Three thousand miles is a long way on foot,” said Vor. “My men and I reckoned we might not be home again in our lifetimes.”
As we moved slowly downward, I could see people on the ladders, looking up. To them, I thought, we must appear as frightful, appearing without warning out of the sky, as the gorgos had appeared to the citizens of the cathedral city. “We don’t want to terrify anyone into falling,” I said anxiously.
Vor tore his eyes away from the valley long enough to give me a quick, amused glance. “Everyone knows these purple flying beasts aren’t dangerous. The only surprise will be when they see us inside the skin.”
I was interested to realize that the flying beast from which the air cart had been made was not unique, as I had always supposed. I found myself wondering if we could find an aged flying beast and induce it to come back south with us, so that after it died a natural death I could have an air cart of my own.
The air cart was now level with doors and windows, and heads protruded, staring at us. Paul waved cheerfully, and several people waved back. We landed with a bump in a meadow by the river, a mile downstream from the waterfall.
Vor leaped out at once and was off, springing from tussock to tussock across the meadow’s damp surface. Other people came running toward him, all with the short stature and unusually long fingers and toes of the cathedral’s construction crew. He had seemed calm and unhurried the whole time I had known him, but now he spoke animatedly, waving his arms, pointing toward the sky and toward us. Several people threw their arms around him, and he embraced them with fervor. Everybody was talking at once; they seemed to be calling him a name I did not catch, but it was not Vor.
“That’s curious,” commented Lucas. “From several things he said, I had the impression he’d
I had had the same impression, but all I said was, “Long absence makes quarrels seem trivial.”
Paul was looking not at Vor but at the houses. “Think what it must be like to live there!” he exclaimed. “In the heat of the summer, it would be comfortably cool, and in the winter it would be as cozy as a den. Will we still be here tonight? I can’t wait to see the hillsides all dotted with lamplight!”
Vor came back over to the cart. “I don’t want to interrupt your reunion,” I said. “Perhaps we should leave you here and continue north, until we find a good place to get rid of the gorgos.”
He was smiling as broadly as I had ever seen him. “We can go dispose of the gorgos whenever you like,” he said.
The air cart rose back out of the valley, and, with Vor’s direction, I guided it northward. We rose over a last range of hills that protected his people’s valley. The high snowy peaks were behind us, and before us a dry rocky land stretched out desolate. All of Vor’s cheerfulness left him as soon as we left the valley, replaced by a tension so tight it almost vibrated.
Thirty miles beyond the valley, just as I had been about to ask if he really knew where he was taking us, he pointed downward. “There. Put the cart down there.”
I saw nothing to distinguish this particular patch of loose boulders from any other, but I obeyed. “Do you think we’re far enough from your valley?” I asked. He nodded emphatically and kept peering about as we
