With regrets for the soft bed, daily baths, and regular meals, she put her hand up, too. It started trembling. Firmly she quashed her fears and held it steady with the other hand. Olen turned to her.
“Tildi,” he said with infinite gentleness, “you do not have to volunteer for this task.”
“Master, I do,” Tildi insisted. Now that she had made the resolution, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It took a good deal of courage to defy her master, but she must. She put both hands on his knee, and looked up at him, trying to find the best words to express what she needed to say. “You said that a wizard does what needs to be done. I don’t
want
to leave here. I have been very happy, and you have been the best teacher I could imagine, but if I am the only one who can carry this book without pain, then I should go with Edynn.”
Olen shook his head. “Tildi, there are other means to convey it to its next hiding place. Edynn and Serafina are as capable as I at levitating it.”
Tildi felt a surge of desperation. He couldn’t be refusing to let her go!
“But what if they can’t? What if … if they have to take it away from the one who’s got it? What if he won’t let it go? I can do that. I
will
do it.”
It was the least of reasons, filled with speculation, but Olen nodded, as if he could see what was in her heart. “Very well, Tildi. I honor your resolve.” He raised his voice. “Nobles, ladies and gentlemen, I would go on this mission myself, but I am needed to help hold this city together if all things begin to crumble. Instead, I will send my new apprentice, Tildi.”
Balindor sprang to his feet. “You’re joking. A smallfolk? You should not be going,” he told her directly. “Someone of rank ought to join this party. Someone who is trained to attack and defend! She will be helpless. You will not go, girl. I will.”
Tildi quailed.
Olen tut-tutted and dropped a confident hand on her shoulder. “Do not think to order my apprentice around, highness, no matter what rank you hold.”
“Why should she not go?” Edynn asked. “At present her reasons are better than yours, Balindor. She can see the signs. She has a sensitivity to the Great Book, which may be useful later on. She may not be able to wield a sword, but she is Olen’s student. She is probably very learned in magic. I am glad to have her.” Edynn gave Tildi a welcoming smile.
“How much magic could she know?” Balindor asked peevishly. “I thought you said she’d only been here weeks. You need someone strong. And big. No offense to you, smallfolk dame, but your size is against you in a test of force.”
“This is not a matter for swords, my lord prince,” Olen said patiently. “There is danger, of course, and I honor Tildi for offering to place herself in its way. It is no easy thing for me to send her, or to refuse you. Many others are perhaps as qualified as yourself to accompany Edynn, but you are needed at home. Who else but your family has the authority to call for searches in your realm? That is very important, more important than whether my apprentice has spent enough time with me to have learned magic.”
“Yes, and perhaps I can teach her some along the way,” Edynn added, with a sly look at Olen. “And she’s got to learn magic somewhere, not as a side subject she picks up in between taking notes and washing floors.”
“I do not
make
her wash floors,” Olen snorted. “That’s all her own doing. Buzz, buzz, buzz! I can’t make her stop. I’ve never had an apprentice before who wasn’t bone lazy. She’s relentlessly tidy. It’ll be peaceful to have you take her away with you. You may not thank me later.”
He stood up. “My lords and ladies, let us adjourn for refreshment, and we can discuss who else will go with Edynn, and who will coordinate other watches after we have had a rest.”
But no one else wanted to stop the discussion.
“Well, if
Tildi
is going, then I am going with her, and that is final,” Lakanta announced. “Someone needs to take care of this child.”
“What about your customers?” Magpie asked.
“Oh, I can find customers galore to sell and buy along the road. But hold, if anyone is going to the west, will you leave a message in Larch-brake for my cousin Dohondas to let him know I’m going out and about? He’ll tell all my regulars for me—and doubtless steal them from me while I’m gone, faithless brat.”
This last accusation raised a general chuckle.
“I will, Lakanta,” a brown-skinned man in an ochre-colored coat said.
“Thank you, Sayrewald.”
“But is this a journey for a mere
peddler?
” Merricot asked, horrified by the exchange.
“It’s a journey for the sake of us all,” Edynn assured them solemnly. “I will need more help than this if we are the ones who corner our thief.”
“What about me?” Magpie asked. “May I be one of this party? I can handle a sword, and I can be entertaining along the way.”
“No,” Olen insisted, “you’ve got to go back to the northeast and warn the lords and wizards in Orontae and Levrenn.”
“Orontae still has no wizard,” Magpie said.
Olen nodded. “Ah, you’re right. I forgot. Be discreet. Yes, tell them to expect the end of the world. In the meanwhile we will study and scry to discover how to recover and reseal the book in its tomb even if we have to fight a Maker to do so.”
Merricot bowed to Edynn, and mockingly to Tildi. “You may count upon me for aid in any way possible. If our paths cross again, I am at your service.”
“And mine,” Balindor said, rising.
“And mine,” Lindora added, with a graceful nod.
“I speak for Ivirenn,” Cadwallan said. “Our strength is yours, should you need it.”
“Someone of royal blood
ought
to go,” King Halcot said.
“To do what?” Serafina asked, with a disapproving frown.
Halcot sputtered at the thought that anyone might question him. “Why, to protect you all. To take the book back to where it ought to go.”
“We thank you for your offer, highness,” Edynn said, with a graceful bow, “but this task is better taken in secret, not where we must go heralded by an entourage to prevent anyone from facing you. The delay might alert our quarry. You would not want that.”
“Besides, my lord,” Olen added, “strong leadership will be needed in your realm, should the book pass that way. Do not underestimate the value of the intelligence you can send back to us.”
“I’ll send my guards, then,” Halcot insisted. “This little lass is valuable, if anything you said is true. If she offers any hope to help put the world back the way it ought to be. Captain Teryn, stand!”
A guard in helmet and supple silver mail sprang from near the wall where Halcot’s contingent had been standing, and marched to the king’s side.
“Sire,” Captain Teryn said, in a clear, high voice. Tildi realized that the captain, fully as tall as the king, was a woman.
“You will accompany these people where they go. Travel in their company. Serve them as you would me. Take anyone you wish to aid you.”
“As you will it, sire,” the captain said, raising her hand in a salute.
Halcot turned back to Olen. “Then, what may I do, to raise ‘intelligence’ as you put it?”
“We don’t want to cause panic,” Olen said, “but word must be spread to stop the one who has the book. Put out word that an item of magical significance was stolen; that much is true and will be undeniable, once runes are spotted. We don’t know where he is going, or what his aim is. We’re blind, and we must go back to the only clues we have, such as the runes that Tildi saw along her road. If you hear rumors of such things, then send them to me. I will see that they reach Edynn. We must find out where he—”
“Or she,” Serafina insisted.
“Or she,” Olen echoed with a smile, “is going.”
“Hmph,” the king snorted. “If I was in the shoes, or fins, or talons, of someone carrying an object that everyone sought, I’d be heading where I felt safe.”
“I
t is decided, then,” Olen said, holding a scrap of parchment aloft before the assembled guests. “The number of this company will be seven. The wizard Edynn shall lead it. You have known of her of old. She is a most powerful and wise woman. Her daughter, Serafina, will accompany her.”
Tildi glanced at the young woman, who stood looking balefully at the others as if daring them to disagree. She seemed to have the liveliest disapproval of anyone questioning her mother’s judgment.
“King Halcot of Rabantae has offered the services of his captain of guards, Teryn, and one of her soldiers, Morag, as protectors on this expedition.” Olen waved a hand at the side of the room. Teryn stood straight as a die, but Morag slouched so much that Tildi could not see the face under the long, straggly hair that peeked out from under the round
etal cap and coif. “Edynn has also accepted Lakanta’s offer to come along.”
“I might be of some use,” the peddler said with a cheerful smile. “I can mend things, and I can trade for what we’ll need.”
“She also welcomes Rin, sister of the Meadowlord, Lowan.”
“I can intercede with those people who do not approve of humankind,” Rin said, to the annoyance of the nobles present. “I wish to protect the interests of all nonhumans. I am an excellent tracker. Show me the signs to follow, and our thief will not escape us, I promise.”
“And finally,” Olen said, putting a hand on the head of his apprentice, “Tildi.”
A good deal of murmuring accompanied her nomination, but no one demurred after the demonstration of the page.
Most of the others who wished to go protested at limiting the number of the company to seven. Every one of the scholars had wanted to be part of the group. The danger did not deter them. The chance to see the Great Book for themselves removed all fear. As for the discomfort and privation of the journey, one had said, only half-humorously, no one could live in more penurious conditions than a lifetime student. The warriors had argued that they were not troubled by the danger of the journey, and they ought to be considered for the honor of the task. The werewolf lord had also wanted to come for the same reasons as Rin. The elves conferred for a long while before finally suggesting two of their number. Edynn had turned them all down. They could not conceal how miffed they were that they were not chosen.
Tildi ate a meal that she did not taste, served by hands she did not see, as she listened, half in a dream, to the voices around her.
You volunteered for an adventure,
her own inner voice said accusingly, breaking into her thoughts. Tildi tried to ignore it.
Were you so comfortable that you want to go back to sleeping outside? You could have spent the rest of your life here. Olen would never turn you away.
It has to be done
, she told herself.
But by you?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that yes, it did. She had never shirked an honest task because it seemed too hard. If she needed help, she would ask for it. In the meanwhile, she had a skill that these educated, powerful folk did not. They needed her.
They do,
she told that doubting voice firmly.
I will go
.
After that, she listened to no more of the inner grumbling. There was
too much to be done. She would have to pack, not that she had much to take away with her.
“Tildi, is it?” Lists forgotten, she looked up at the sound of her name to see the minstrel. He dropped down on the bench beside her. “I’m Magpie. I have been in your homeland many times.”
“I think I remember you,” she said, carefully. There was no way that he could know she had spied upon him on her way out of the Quarters.
“Yet, for all the times I have visited, I find I know little about your people. I never knew they were so brave, and their women most of all.”
Tildi dimpled. “We do what needs to be done. Master Olen tells me that is also the way of wizards.”
“I knew of the runes,” he said. “I was one of the searchers that Olen sent forth to try and find signs of the book, but I never saw them. They are visible to you?”
“Oh, yes,” Tildi said, and became very aware of his. It was a nice rune, though very complicated for a human, with a spiral pattern inside another spiral pattern at the heart. She remembered Irithe’s admonition.
He keeps secrets, too,
Tildi thought.
“You are looking at mine,” he said with a grin. “I’d like to see it.”
“I … can’t do what Master Olen did,” she said apologetically. She wondered if he wanted her to go up and take the scrying glass off the wizard’s table, or draw it on the air in silver, but after the explosion of the candle she was afraid something awful would happen.
The minstrel smiled at her, his teeth bright in his tanned face. “I’m not asking for magic. Can you scribe it for me? I would consider myself in your debt if you would.” He produced a scrap of parchment and a pencil.
“Why, of course!” Tildi said, relieved. She took the pencil, and, ignoring the paper’s own faint sigil, she carefully traced the lines that she saw in the young man. Weeks of working on Olen’s assignments had trained her hand to be sure at reproducing the signs without error. One or two small details, and it was finished. “There you are. That’s you.”
Magpie took the little page from her and admired it. “Very interesting. Very. It’s different from the sign we write for
man,
of course, but I never dreamed it would have so many other features. And this is like no one else’s?”
“No one here,” Tildi said. “Of course, I have not met many humans. I know little of them beyond what I have learned here. I never traveled before I came here to Silvertree.”
“You handle us all with such aplomb, I would have thought you were
used to being around us all your life,” Magpie said. He tucked away the scrap in the breast of his tunic. “Thank you for this. I’ll do you a favor one day if I can.”
“You’re very welcome,” she assured him. He was really very nice. She regretted that custom had forbidden her from getting to know him when he had visited her village. “It’s nothing, really.”
“I could never have done it for myself, you see,” Magpie said. “I’m grateful. Good journey to you.”
“And to you,” Tildi said. She looked up as he rose from the bench and noticed several of the other visitors standing around, as though they had been watching them. Many of them looked as if they would like to ask her to draw their runes, too, but they all glanced away hastily when she tried to meet their eyes.
I
f Tildi had seen little of her master in the weeks before the conference, it was a good deal compared with the brief glimpses she got of him in the next few days. He seemed to be in all places at the same time, giving advice to the delegates, who would soon be going home, or in search of a fastness remote enough to secure the book a second time, should they be fortunate enough to regain it. She was aware of his scrutiny, though, always seeming to see his bright green eyes on her from across the room, where she was talking with one of the other chosen trackers, as Edynn chose to call them. She hoped that he would make time to see her before she had to go.
She need not have worried about her laundry, or any of the other small tasks necessary before setting out on a long journey. Liana and her staff were in and out of the small bedroom continually during those days, dropping off clean and mended clothing, new socks, a better made rucksack, a set of eating utensils appropriate to her size that looked like gold but were as light as paper, and other little conveniences.
A whirl of preparation filled the next few days. When Olen was not conferring with the delegates who would soon be departing to warn their people, he was stopping by Tildi’s room with advice and items for her to put into her pack. She sat on the floor trying to fit everything into the new pack.
“This compass never fails,” he said, handing her a small brass disk. “You will be able to read it even in the dark, even underground.” He started to go out of the door, then glanced back. “I feel I have not prepared
you enough to send you out in this manner, Tildi. I am remiss. I did not foresee you leaving so soon. I am afraid that my vision has been seeking out across the ages, and not giving attention to what is here in my own household. I am sorry to have neglected you.”
Tildi jumped up and hugged him around the legs. “You have been so kind to me, master. I’ve learned so much. I hope it is enough.”
The long hand touched her hair. “You have been a most interesting pupil. I will miss you. We will all miss you. Liana has been scolding me without cease for allowing you to go. If I can give you anything for your journey, it is yours. Edynn is a good teacher. I would give you three pieces of advice before you go. First, don’t stop learning. I know you are on fire for knowledge now. Second, keep both your eyes and your heart open. One may tell you something that the other cannot see. Third, trust yourself. I believe in you. Otherwise you would not be going on this journey. And come back safely.”
Tildi felt her throat tighten as tears started in her eyes. “I will do my best.”
A
t last it was time to go. Tildi stood on the doorstep on a sunny, late summer day, taking affectionate leave of Silvertree, its master and staff. The footmen and housemaids stuffed what little room was left in her carry sack with small presents and sweetmeats. Silvertree itself had also given her a small keepsake: a twig the breadth of her thumb had fallen out of the branches and landed beside her feet when she had been walking outside alone. Not another leaf or twig had fallen, so she knew it was a deliberate action. She patted the wall one last time, and descended the steps into the courtyard at Olen’s side.
Many of the guests had remained on to wish the party well. Halcot and his son had gone, but Cadwallan and the children of the Melenatavian king were still present. Komorosh, huddled miserably in his thick, shaggy fur cloak, towered above the circle of human and elf scholars, all talking excitedly to one another. To Tildi’s delight, Magpie sat on a stone in the garden playing his jitar. When he saw her he began to sing.
’Tis the tale of Tildi that I tell,
Out from Silvertree where she did dwell,
Set she with a doughty force to look
For that troublesome, fearsome, magical book,
A centaur who is known as Rin,
A peddler of cloth and pin,
Two soldiers strong in armor guise
Serafina fair and Edynn wise.
But none so vital to the day
As the smallfolk with her vision fey.
Though mountains move and kingdoms fall
Stormclouds threaten, rivers crest,
She will set the book to rest.
Hail, Tildi! Hero of us all!
Tildi beamed at him. Even though her brother was an able, even inspired musician, she had never had a song written for her before.
Magpie sprang up and bowed to her.
“A farewell gift,” he said. “I hope to give you a similar welcoming gift when you return victorious.”
“Let us concentrate our thoughts upon making that success,” Olen said, guiding the smallfolk to where the rest of the party waited.
Edynn and Serafina stood by their horses, who were nearly identical white mares with dark noses and dark tips to their ears and tail. The saddles and bridles were silver and white. The only way Tildi could tell them apart was by the saddlecloths. Edynn’s was a soft green, and Serafina’s a vivid rose. Each of them could easily reach her staff, which was slung along the edge of the saddle by a couple of loops. Captain Teryn and Morag stood by their horses, glossy brown animals with black tails, on whom the Rabantavian white and scarlet livery looked very smart. Even the pack animal seemed dignified by the livery on his harness, though he was piled higher than his head with odd-shaped packages. In sharp contrast, Lakanta’s short-legged little horse was an undistinguished straw color, and the large, round leather packs on either side of its wide rump made it look like she was carrying a yoke of buckets. Edynn floated over to take Tildi’s hand.
“Are you ready, my dear?” she asked.
“You are riding?” Tildi asked in reply.
“Yes. We may have to cover a lot of ground. Do you have a mount?”
“Er, no. I’ve never ridden a horse by myself in my life.”
“Gracious, how did you come here?” Serafina asked, looking down her nose at the smallfolk.
“On foot, mostly,” Tildi said, feeling her face flush.
“Well, no more,” Olen said. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.”
He signaled to a groom, who brought Sihine forward. “This child’s saddle ought to be small enough for you. The stirrups are short enough for your legs. Try it!” The groom heaved her high in the air and set her down in the saddle. Sihine looked at her over his satiny shoulder and let out a contented
hwwwnnnh
. Gingerly, Tildi patted him on the neck. She looked down, and began to tremble. She was so high off the ground, and there was nothing to keep her from falling off if they started to trot. What if Edynn decreed they should fly?