Mallara and Burn: On the Road (9 page)

The goblin stopped, whirled to face Mallara,
and grabbed the edge of the boy's tunic.

The boy stumbled and turned. The goblin
pointed at Mallara, and she noted that this goblin, unlike the
others, had two coal-black eye-spots, ten fingers, and a small
lipless mouth made into a black O of surprise.

Mallara smiled and lifted her staff in the
Order's formal greeting. "Peace," she said. "My name is Mallara. I
hold the rank of Sorceress in the Ancient and Venerable Order of
Mages. I patrol and serve the Five Valleys, as aid, defender, and
agent of the Crown."

The boy gaped, his eyes as round as the
goblin's. Then, just as Mallara was about to lower her staff, the
sandy-haired youth croaked out a Word of his own.

The air above him darkened, and from the
patch of shadow a staff appeared and fell smoking into his
hand.

Burn buzzed angrily. "Big toys, Mistress," he
said. "That staff stinks of pre-Kingdom sorcery. Bad stuff."

Mallara heard and stifled a frown. "I'm not
here to hurt you," she said to the boy. "I'm only here to help.
With your spell."

The boy's knuckles grew white as he tightened
his grip on his staff. Mallara saw with shock that the staff was
made of a yellowed human leg-bone easily as long as the boy was
tall.

"It's not my spell anymore," said the boy.
"It's alive."

Mallara nodded. "I know, dear," she said,
lowering her own staff. "It's alive, and getting stronger all the
time."

The boy shook, his eyes welling with tears.
The goblin at his side put a hand on his shoulder, but the boy's
staff spat a tongue of flame at the goblin and it jumped away.

"I didn't know it would do this," said the
boy. "It wasn't supposed to. But I had so many chores and more all
the time and I was so tired--"

Burn whispered in Mallara's ear. "Make it
short," he said. "His staff is calling the goblins in."

Mallara smiled. "And then you found the
staff."

The boy's face froze. "It helps me," he said,
warily. "It knows things. It talks to me."

Mallara sighed. "It always has time for you,
doesn't it?" she said. "It never gives you orders or insults. It
never ignores you. It treats you like a friend."

Mallara could hear the boy's staff begin to
whisper.

"Mistress," said Burn. "Goblin army, a
hundred heartbeats."

"It's talking to you now," said Mallara.
"It's telling you that I'm here to hurt you, to take your staff
away, to take away all your power."

The boy nodded. His face was pale and covered
with sweat.

Mallara shook her head. "I'm afraid some of
that is true," she said. "I'm not here to hurt you. But I am here
to break your spell. And I'll have that staff. Broken, if
necessary, but I'll have it."

Burn groaned. The boy's staff spoke, its
words low and angry. The boy's face reddened.

"It's using you," said Mallara. "You're not
stupid. Deep down, you know that staff is greedy and cruel and
vengeful. It claims to be your friend -- but look at what it's
done. Your helpers don't heed you. Your spell won't obey you. And
your village is deserted, overrun by a goblin army that isn't funny
anymore."

Mallara could hear rustles in the forest at
her back. Rustles, and the soft crunching of leaves beneath eight
hundred pale feet.

"You've been hurt," said Mallara. "And I'm
sorry. But being hurt doesn't give you the right to do hurt," she
said.

"Mistress," said Burn "You're running out of
lecture time."

"You are a child," said Mallara. "I will not
strike you, even to defend myself." She met the boy's watery brown
eyes. "I may be able to turn your goblins," she said. "I may be
able to stand against your staff, for a while. But against both?"
she shrugged. "I will fall. Is that what you want? To hurt me? To
hurt others? I won't be the only one, you know," she said. "Just
the first."

"Go away," stammered the boy. "Go away now
and we won't hurt you."

"No," said Mallara. "I won't. And even if I
tried, your staff wouldn't let me."

"It would," said the boy. "I promise."

"That isn't true," said Mallara.

"It is!" said the boy. "Just go! Please," he
said. "Please just go. I never meant to hurt anyone."

"Get used to saying that," she said. "Because
unless you throw down that staff, you'll be saying it every day for
the rest of your life."

Mallara heard branches rustle behind her, saw
in her mind's eye ranks of soft white shapes creeping through the
trees.

"You have Talent, young man," said Mallara.
"You couldn't have done all this without it. You don't need that
staff -- or any staff -- to do magic." She paused, and held her own
staff out level before her. "My own staff is a powerful tool," she
said. "A friend, even, wise and helpful. But I can put it down, if
I wish," she said. "Any time I wish."

Mallara bent, laid her staff on the grass,
and stood up empty-handed.

"Can you do that?" she asked.

Goblins stepped out of the trees.

"I'm free," said Mallara. "Free to choose.
Are you?"

"Pick up the staff," hissed Burn. "They've
got axes, Mistress, pick up the staff--"

Mallara crossed her arms. The goblins marched
forward, ranks, closing, five steps away, then four, then three
--

"Stop!" cried the boy. The goblins hesitated,
but only briefly, then took another step.

"I said stop!" shouted the boy. His staff
muttered and grumbled. "I order you to stop! Now! Stop!"

"It won't listen," said Mallara. "It needs
you to say the Words. For now. But it won't listen to any words it
doesn't want to hear. Put the staff down."

"Stop!" The boy sobbed, shaking the staff,
then beating it against the ground. "No more!"

Burn made angry hornet buzzes in the air
above Mallara's head. "Axes raised, Mistress," he said."I can't
stop 'em, pick up your staff and fight!"

"Let it go," said Mallara. "Let me help
you."

The boy screamed and flung the staff
away.

It flew perhaps a hand's breadth, and leaped
back into the boy's hand. The staff began to speak, its voice loud
and rasping, its words short and furious.

"Help me," shrieked the boy. "Take it
away!"

Mallara smiled and uncrossed her arms and the
grassy meadow shook with the force of a blow that sent four hundred
goblins flying and three dozen medium-sized juniper trees crashing
down.

The yellow bone staff cracked zig-zag down
its length and fell from the boy's fingers.

"Come here," said Mallara. The boy stared,
open-mouthed and frozen."Get away from the staff."

The black-eyed goblin grabbed the boy's hand
and dragged him toward Mallara.

"They're getting up, Mistress," said Burn.
"Hurry."

The goblin and the boy reached Mallara. The
goblin shoved the boy's hand into Mallara's and looked up at her,
hand out, black eyes pleading.

Mallara sighed."Oh, stay," she said."Stay
put, stay still, and stay out of my way."

The goblin saluted.

Mallara snatched up her staff and spoke a
Word.

A column of fire fell from the sky and struck
the yellow bone staff. It jerked and danced and rolled, but the
fire followed. The sand about it blackened and ran like hot
glass.

The goblins picked up their axes and hammers.
Mallara turned to face them. "Watch the staff," she said to
Burn.

Burn hummed. "How long can you keep it
squirming?" he asked.

"Not long. Braided lightning is hard to
maintain." Mallara pulled boy and black-eyed goblin close. "I'm
keeping the staff busy," she said. "For now. Your helpers will
listen to you, young man, as long as the staff isn't telling them
otherwise. "

The boy shook. Mallara squeezed his hand.
"You can undo this," she said. "You still have the power. Use
it."

"Stop," said the boy.

"Louder," said Mallara.

"Stop!" he said, his voice cracking. "Drop
that axe! Drop everything! Back up! Leave us alone!"

The goblins halted. An axe fell. And
another.

Tears ran down the boy's face. "Begone," he
said. "All of you."

The black-eyed goblin took a step away, head
down. "Not you," said the boy. Then, "He's not like them."

Mallara shook her head. Black eyes met her
own.

"No," she said. "He isn't. He can stay."

"Old Mage Herridge will have a conniption
fit," muttered Burn.

Behind the trio, the shaft of lightning began
to fail.

"Unbind the spell," said Mallara. "It's not
enough to send them away."

"How?" asked the boy. "It never told me
how."

"It had you make something," she said.
"Something material. A wand or a necklace or a bag."

"This?" asked the boy, fumbling with a
leather cord around his neck. From the cord hung a pair of short
smooth sticks, bound with a long blond hair. "Staff said it was for
luck."

"Pull out one of the sticks," said Mallara.
"Hurry."

The lightning ceased. Thick billows of smoke
rose up from the blackened sand around the staff of bone.

The boy pulled out a stick.

"Now break it," said Mallara.

The boy shook his head. "What about him?" he
asked nodding toward the goblin at his side. "Will it hurt
him?"

"He's not spell-stuff anymore, like the
others," said Mallara. "He's a part of you. He's here to stay, if
you will it."

The bone staff began to mutter and grumble. A
harsh white light flared within the staff, leaking from the crack
and casting strange, moving shadows in the smoke and steam.

"Break the bloody stick," said Burn from atop
the boy's head. "Or would you like to face your old friend
again?"

The boy grimaced and broke the stick.

Every goblin in sight, save the one at his
side, evaporated, adding their substance to the cloud of steam
already wafting over the grass and between the trees.

The yellow bone staff howled. The black-eyed
goblin patted the boy on the back, and its slit of a mouth lifted
in a smile.

"One goblin army down," said Burn. "One
pre-Kingdom necromancer's staff to go. What about it, Mistress? Run
or fight?"

Mallara glared. "This fight is over." She
spoke another Word, and the staff of bone fell silent and dark. "We
win."

Smoke and steam coiled about the grass. The
melted sand-pit in which lay the staff of bone popped and
hissed.

"That's it?" asked Burn. "Old Bones is
dead?"

Mallara raised an eyebrow. "Next time I'll
try for more flash and thunder," she said. "But now I'm tired. And
we've still got things to discuss."

Mallara kneeled and wiped the boy's
tear-streaked face clean with her sleeve. "It's over," she said.
"All done."

The boy stared. "I'm sorry," he said. "I
found the staff, one day last winter. It was under a stone, by the
creek. Over there," he said, pointing. "It talked. I asked it about
magic, and it told me what to do. I just wanted help with my
chores. That's all. I'm sorry, um, Highness."

Mallara patted his hand. "Apology accepted,"
she said. "And I'm Sorceress Mallara, not Highness. And what is
your name?"

"They call me Pots," said the boy.

Mallara shook her head. "I didn't ask what
they called you," she said gently. "I asked for your name."

"Pots is all I know," he said. "They said
Pots was good enough for a foundling."

"Pots isn't a name, boy," said Burn from the
vicinity of the boy's right ear. "Pots is what you wash." The boy
went round-eyed.

"That's only Burn," said Mallara. "He travels
with me. Burn is a shimmer, and shimmers have no visible bodies --
just loud, penetrating voices."

"Bah," said Burn. "First thing we've got to
do is give our rouge wizard a proper name. Can't go marching up to
the Council of Mages and Sorcerers with a name like Pots."

The boy's eyes darted frantically to meet
Mallara's.

Burn snorted. "You think maybe we can just
kick sand over Old Bones there and forget this ever happened?" he
said. "You think your people here won't figure out who to blame,
eventually?"

"They aren't my people," said Pots. "Never
were." He paused. "What will the wizards do to me?"

"They'll make you study," said Mallara. "And
read. You'll think you've read every book in the world, and then
they'll bring you another stack," she said. "You'll learn
mathematics, and natural history, and how to raise and shape power.
You won't see much daylight, for a few years. I didn't."

Pots shook his head. "I don't
understand."

Burn snickered. "That's the truth, boy. That
is the entire profound truth. I'll make it simple. You're leaving.
Right now, with us. We're going to take you on our rounds, teach
you to wash behind your ears and tie your boot-laces, and next
summer you're going off to the Order's study-dungeon. If you behave
yourself maybe one day you can make your own staff and give your
goblin friend here some facial features. That clear enough?"

"I'll be a sorcerer?"

Mallara shook her head. "Maybe. Maybe not.
But either way you'll be educated, well-fed, and far away from this
place."

Pots stared at his goblin, which smiled and
nodded yes.

"First magic lesson," said Burn. "Talking
staffs made out of people-parts and found buried under rocks are
best left alone."

Pots grinned. Mallara tousled his hair and
rose from her crouch. "Second lesson," she said. "Leave before the
villagers return," she said. "Not that I'm particularly sympathetic
to any bunch that takes in orphans as slave labor," she added. "In
fact -- Burn, can you find this Mayor's red-lettered wagon
again?"

"Easily," said Burn. "I'll just look in front
of taverns."

"Do it," she said. "Find him. Tell him to
wait for me."

"Ooh," said Burn. "She's got her dander up,
Mister Pots. You and dough-boy behave, while I'm gone."