words were only gibberish to Hasso. His magic seemed as sensitive, and as adjustable, as a radio tuner. Hasso couldn’t follow Velona’s reply, either. He sighed and shrugged. She was the one he really wanted to be able to talk to, and he still couldn’t. Life seemed to work that way. Aderno gave his attention back to him. “Tell me how you came here.” That seemed clear enough.
Hasso did. He couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. And talking about it – at last being able to talk about it – was a release, and a relief.
When he finished, Aderno sketched another sign in the air. This one glowed the color of the wizard’s shirt. “The truth,” he said, sounding faintly surprised.
“Why would I lie?” Hasso asked again.
For the first time, Aderno looked at him as if he’d said something stupid. “Outlander, man from another world, there are as many reasons as there are fish in the sea, as many reasons as there are leaves on the trees. You could have been part of some new wicked plot the Grenye have hatched – “
“No!” Velona broke in: one word of Lenello Hasso could follow.
“No,” the wizard agreed. “But it could have been so, which is why I applied the truth test. Or you could have been one of our evildoers on the run, looking to cover your tracks with a tale too wild to be disbelieved. Or you could have been a disgraced man looking to start over somewhere far from where you were born, and using a strange story likewise. Not too hard to pretend not to understand or speak. But no. You are not pretending. And if you saw gold in the air…”
“You still haven’t said what that means,” Hasso reminded him.
“It means your life, and mine, and everyone else’s, get more complicated than any of us might wish,” Aderno said. Hasso wanted to hit him for talking in circles. Decking a genuine wizard, though, didn’t strike him as smart. Aderno went on, “And it means you can’t stay in this miserable backwater post.” Mertois grunted at that. Aderno ignored him. “I shall take you to Drammen.” Seeing Hasso look blank, he condescended to explain: “To the capital.”
II
Once the Lenelli made up their minds, they didn’t screw around. Inside of an hour, Hasso was on a horse riding west. He wore his own short boots, trousers, and helmet. Grumbling still, Mertois doled out a padded shirt, a mailshirt to go over it, and a thin surcoat to go over that. The castle commander also gave Hasso a sword. He said something as he did.
He still had his Schmeisser. As long as his ammunition lasted, he was the toughest guy in town, even if only Velona knew it. Enough rounds for a few hours against the Russians – or a few minutes if things got hot. How long would it last here? Longer, anyhow, because none of these bastards had a weapon to match it.
Not only Aderno and his escort accompanied Hasso. At the wizard’s urging – or, more likely, command – Mertois sent along half a dozen of his men. And Velona rode out of Castle Svarag, too, which pleased Hasso for all kinds of reasons. It wasn’t just that they were lovers, though that sure didn’t hurt. But she was his sheet anchor here. Everything that had happened to him since happened because she ran by right after he squelched up onto the causeway.
The machine pistol and the extra magazines fascinated Aderno. Hasso made sure he unloaded the Schmeisser before he let the wizard handle it. Otherwise, Aderno might have killed half the people near him just by clicking the safety off, squeezing the trigger, and spraying the weapon around.
The Schmeisser’s cartridges interested Aderno even more than the piece itself did. He held them up close to his face to examine them – much closer than Hasso would have been comfortable eyeing them himself. He hefted first one, then another, then another. At last, reluctantly, he nodded and handed them back to Hasso.
“Your wizards understand the Two Laws well,” he said.
“Which Two Laws?” Hasso asked. He would rather have told Velona what beautiful eyes she had, but he didn’t know nearly enough Lenello for that. Talking to a wizard about sorcery wasn’t the same thing – not even close.
He did succeed in surprising Aderno, anyhow. Aderno’s eyes were almost as blue as Velona’s, but Hasso wouldn’t have called them beautiful.
“You don’t get it,” Hasso said. “We haven’t got any wizards. Till I sat down on the Omphalos, I didn’t believe in magic. We’ve got scientists. We’ve got factories.” He wondered how the translation spell would handle those two words.
“If that were so, I would call you as mindblind as the Grenye,” Aderno said. “But you saw gold, so I know this cannot be true.” He frowned, studying Hasso like an entomologist looking at a new species of flea through a magnifying glass. “Maybe the very laws of your world are different, forbidding magic or making it difficult.”
“Maybe.” Hasso shrugged. He neither knew nor cared – and he didn’t want to go back and experiment. An Ivan with an evil temper would plug him if he did. He glanced over at Velona. No, he didn’t have the words yet … but one of these days he would. In the meantime, he was stuck with the wizard. “Tell me about these Laws, then.”
“You truly do not know of the Laws?” Aderno asked, and Hasso shook his head. They happened to be riding past a Grenye farm. The Lenello wizard waved towards it. “Without them, without being able to use them, we would live like that.”
The farm put Hasso in mind of what he’d seen in Russia. If anything, it was even more backward, even more disorderly. The man of the family was chopping wood. Every few strokes, he would swig from a jug. Hasso wouldn’t have wanted to get lit up while swinging an axe, but the peasant didn’t seem to care. He paused to bow as the Lenelli went by, then attacked the wood with fresh ferocity.
His wife was weeding in the vegetable plot by the shabby, thatch – roofed farmhouse. Her butt stuck up in the air. Aderno mimed swatting it. Hasso chuckled. He and his men had played those games with peasant women. Some of the gals liked it. Others … Well, too bad for them.
A swarm of children, from almost grown to barely past toddling, worked around the farm. A boy with a beard just starting to sprout tended a handful of pigs in a stinking muddy wallow. He also bowed to his overlords. Hasso didn’t like the look in his eye when he straightened.
A girl a year or two younger tossed grain to some chickens. She might have been pretty if you fattened her up and scrubbed off a lifetime’s worth of dirt. Would anyone ever bother? Would it ever occur to anyone that he ought to bother? Hasso didn’t think so.
“You think these are bad, you should see the wild ones,” Aderno said. “These are partway civilized, or at least tamed. They know better than to yap at their betters, anyhow.”
Hasso wasn’t so sure of that. He cared for the way the peasant swung the axe no more than he liked the smoldering fury in the youth’s eyes. They might be cowed, but they seemed a long way from tame. And … “Those bastards who were chasing Velona – they were wild?”
“Wild, yes,” Aderno answered. “Without magic. Without hope of magic. Too stupid, too mindblind, to harness the Laws of Similarity and Contagion.”
There. Hasso finally had names for the Two Laws. Names alone didn’t help much, though. “What do they mean?” he asked.
Aderno clucked like a mother hen. He really couldn’t believe Hasso didn’t know. Plainly giving him the benefit of the doubt, the wizard said, “Well, you’re still a stranger here.” He might have been reminding himself. “The Law of Similarity says that an image is similar to its model, and if you do something to the image, the same thing will happen to the model. Actually connecting them in a magical way is more complicated, but that’s the idea. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Hasso said. Gypsies and other frauds used the same notions in the world he knew, but they didn’t really work there. Here… Well, who could say? What was he doing here if magic was nothing but a load of crap? “And the Law of, uh, Contagion?”
“An obvious truth: that things once in contact remain in contact – in a mystical sense, of course,” Aderno replied.
“
