The Fall of Chance (30 page)

Also unusual were the different tools and utensils that were stacked in piles or hung from the walls and ceiling. Unt had never seen a luxury like brass used in something so common as a ladle but the Wizard owned many tools made from the same stuff. Other tools had strange black handles that didn’t look like the wood he knew so well. Everything had a regular, mechanised quality.

So much for the habitat but what about the creature that dwelt there? Unt watched him as he slept, unmoving, and tried to fathom it. The man seemed something like the place he’d made for himself: half-wild, half-civilised. Unt felt that underneath, there was an origin that had once conformed to regular lines and angles but had then been abandoned to the wilderness and become overgrown.

Then there was the puzzle of that name he used. What sort of rational person called themselves a wizard? Surely he didn’t believe it. He might look the part but looks meant nothing. Back home, they were sophisticated enough to dismiss such nonsense; surely the rest of the world did too?

Then again, the Wizard didn’t seem like he belonged to any town so maybe he had his own notions. Maybe he was in voluntary exile or maybe he’d been cast out like Unt. Possibly they’d sent him away because he was mad. He’d shown Unt kindness but he'd also talked to himself and seemed possessed with a skittish mental energy.

Unt was reminded of one of the bulls they kept back home: most of the time it was a tender, docile beast but suddenly the mood might take it and then it might gore a man to death just for being near. He felt the same nature in the Wizard, the animal potential to turn at any moment.

That wasn’t a good place to be, he thought. Maybe he was better off getting away.

He watched the Wizard sleep, the possibility growing in his mind until it became a certainty. He was now more afraid of this strange man than he was of the world outside. Unt decided he should go. He would get dressed, leave and never look back. He’d just take a few minutes to build himself up to it.

*              *              *              *

Unt dreamed he was being chased by a black stallion. It chased him down until he was flat on his back, looking up at the beast as it reared up, hooves flailing. Unt watched the iron shoes fall upon his face and almost welcomed it.

Unt didn’t wake with that start which is normal when coming out of a nightmare. He woke with the slow ease of a peaceful slumber. The memories of his current situation tumbled softly into place.

“Ah, the sleeper awakes,” said the Wizard from the fire and tottered over. “And nice timing it is, too,” he added. “I’ve just taken supper off the heat. Drink first and I’ll fetch some over after.”

He offered up the familiar ladle and Unt drank from it unquestioningly. “I took your temperature while you were sleeping and it’s dropped off. Looks like the worst’s over,” said the Wizard. “How are you feeling?”

Despite the water, Unt’s mouth felt cracked and broken. Rather than speak, he just nodded.

“An improvement. Good. One moment.” The Wizard lay down the ladle in its bucket and trundled off. He returned with a metal bowl filled with steaming wet stuff.

“Stew,” he explained. “Rabbit, no less. Get some of this in you and your strength’ll soon start coming back.”

He held a wooden spoon to Unt’s mouth. The warm aroma of meat juices and vegetables was glorious and he snapped it up eagerly. It was the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted, sludge though it was. The potato was softened until it was near-liquid and it melted away to leave succulent pieces of tender meat. Unt had never thought he’d see the like again. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Good, eh?” said the Wizard, pleased. “It’s been a long while since anyone but me ate my cooking, I must say. It’s always served me fine but all the same, it’s good to have one’s opinion reinforced.”

Unt didn’t answer but opened his mouth to invite more.

“’At-a-boy,” said the Wizard. “We’ll soon have you strong again.” Unt just nodded and continued to eat.

It was just a small serving but Unt was exhausted by the time he’d finished. “That’ll do for now,” said the Wizard. “You feeling ok?”

Unt nodded.

“Glad to hear it. Feel up to answering a few questions, my friend?”

Unt didn’t think so but it seemed wrong to refuse. “Ok,” he said, the word sounding like it had been dragged over gravel.

“First things first, then, what might your name be?”

“Unt,” he croaked.

“What’s that?” asked the Wizard, cupping his ear as though he’d misheard.

Unt said his name again.

“Unt?” said the Wizard. “That’s your name is it? I thought you were retching! More like ‘Grunt’ if you ask me. What sort of name is that for a human being?”

Unt wanted to say it was the name his parents had given him but all that came out was a dry rasping. He wanted to ask what the hell sort of name was ‘Wizard’ too but he had to give up when the effort brought on a coughing fit.

“Never mind, lad, never mind,” said the Wizard as he eased him back into bed. “Too much too soon. My fault.” He let the coughs subside before he spoke again. “Tell you what, I’ll just ask questions: yes or no. All you need to do is nod your head or shake it. Sound right?”

Unt nodded.

“Good. Now, from the state of you, I’d say you’re not a Wildman, right?”

Unt didn’t know what a Wildman was but he guessed he wasn’t one so he nodded.

“Didn’t think so. Would never have found one of them starving, would I? And if I did? Well, like as not he’d fix his hunger by fixing me.”

The Wizard laughed loud and mighty at the thought of being eaten then carried on. “So, you’re not a Wildman and you’re sure no brigand. Not a nomad either: those folk never leave their own kin. No, you’ve had a soft life, sure as spring. That’ll mean you’re from one of the settlements, is it?”

Unt nodded.

“How near? Twenty mile?”

Unt didn’t know how far he’d come but he had to assume it was more than twenty miles. He shook his head.

“From Pattiford is it? Masfolk?”

Unt’s ignorance must have shown.

“Ah,” said the Wizard, “Does it even have a name?”

He shook his head and so did the Wizard. “Then it could be anywhere,” he said. “Settlements,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Set themselves apart like they’re the last place on earth - more’s the pity that they aint.”

To Unt he said, “There are a dozen places like that within twenty leagues of here, all wilfully ignorant of each other. Each one keeps itself separate as though they’re the only good thing going when the truth is, they’re all as rotten as each other.”

“Well, if you can’t tell us where you came from, maybe you can tell us why you left. Runaway?”

No.

“Expelled?”

Yes.

“Monsters,” spat the Wizard. “Probably got you thinking it’s yourself to blame and not them too. Long story is it? Well, we’ll cover that when you’re feeling better.

“For now though, let me tell you, don’t worry about it. You’re your own man now, like me. We’ll make you into a column of granite tougher than the whole lot of ‘em together.”

The Wizard paused a moment and calmed himself down. “But I think we’d best stop there for tonight. We mustn’t push you too far, not when they’re questions that can easily wait a day or two. You get some more rest and then we’ll start thinking about your future.”

19. Recovery

Over the next few days, the vitality taken from Unt by his time on the road was slowly returned to him. With each cycle of sleep, he grew stronger. His voice returned and he and his host had many conversations. He learnt about the Wizard and the Wizard learnt about him.

For Unt’s part, his personal profile was delivered upfront. He was the guest of his benefactor and it was only right that he should give him the information he wanted. The Wizard, meanwhile, refused to be persuaded to talk about himself. Unt found he had to infer a lot of the man’s character or else draw him on into an emotional outburst. He felt guilty doing so but the Wizard was an emotional creature and it was an effective tactic.

Their first proper conversation came two bouts of sleep after their first aborted effort. Unt couldn’t guess the time in real terms: in the Wizard’s lair, it was always night. He reckoned it was about a day later. He felt a day stronger, anyhow.

When the Wizard came with his latest batch of broth, Unt was able to sit up and take it from him. The Wizard took this as a trigger to start questioning.

“So, Unt, ready to talk are you?” he asked. Since learning his name, the Wizard had latched onto it and used it at every opportunity. He pronounced it with satisfaction as though it had a peculiar flavour to it.

“Go ahead,” said Unt.

“We’ve established you’re an exile, yes? But we didn’t go into the nitty-gritty of why.”

Unt smiled sadly, “I was convicted of tampering with the Fall.”

“You did what?” the Wizard frowned.

“I told a lie that affected the draw to determine what profession I was going to be sent into.”

“You pick your jobs based on a lottery?” the Wizard laughed.

Unt was annoyed but didn’t let it show. “A lottery affected by factors,” he said. “I changed one of the factors and influenced the result.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Faith in blind Fate is the basis of our culture.”

The Wizard’s eyes widened in understanding. “Wait, I have it,” he wagged a finger. “I’ve heard of this cult. All your thinking’s done with dice, yes?”

“Decision making, yes. And we’re not a cult.”

The Wizard shook his head in mock despair. “I’ve heard tell of this but I didn’t believe it. Then again, you’re not the first people to have their lives ruled by the old dice, eh? Heh, heh.”

Unt didn’t understand but he was curious how these rumours of his town were received. “Where did you hear about us?” he asked.

The Wizard was strangely annoyed at this. “Long ago,” he said shortly. “And you,” he jabbed a finger, “need to forget saying ‘us’. They cast you out, remember? They made you nothing to them and you ought to make them nothing to you.”

Unt was taken aback and seeing this, the Wizard softened. “Hey, I’m sorry Unt but I can’t abide injustice. You seem a likeable young man and I can’t believe they’d throw you out over so small a thing.”

“It’s not a small thing where I come from.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“If I hadn’t cheated I’d have ended up a Medic. I didn’t want that.” Unt surprised himself with the answer. Through all he’d been through he’d clung to the old excuses, even to himself, but now the truth emerged, candid, pure and clean.

“Sounds pretty reasonable,” said the Wizard.

“Except that what I did caused harm to a lot of people.”

“Did you mean to harm them?”

“No.”

“There your conscience is clear. Bad actions and immoral actions aren’t the same thing.”

Unt didn’t want to be drawn into a debate on moral semantics. “I broke the law,” he said.

“Then it’s a stupid law. What sort of society binds a man to a life that he hates?”

“All society must have law,” said Unt.

“Then society is a prison,” growled the Wizard.

Unt mulled on that. “Is that why you’re alone out here?”

The Wizard frowned. “All you need to know is that I’m here because I choose to be. Whenever people come together, they start to strangle a man’s right to choose. The more people come together, the more the individual’s will is stifled. You’re a victim. Can’t you see the truth of it?”

Unt was wary of annoying the old man. “I don’t agree with what happened to me,” he said cautiously, “but there have to be some laws.”

“Laws?” said the Wizard, “I’ve signed no contract to abide by their laws. The only law I recognise is the natural law and by that I mean Common Decency.”

After that, the Wizard’s mood had soured. He wasn’t nasty about it but he quickly made moves to round off the conversation. Excuses given, he withdrew and left Unt sat up in bed.

His departure was a hidden blessing. Sitting up, Unt stayed awake and so broke the pattern of long sleeps and short bursts of wakefulness. The hours were tedious, the bed felt like a prison, but that was good. It meant he was ready to get up.

The Wizard returned in a better mood. A basket of mushrooms was clutched under his arm. “Dinner,” he grinned, slapping the basket down on the floor.

The Wizard cooked the basket’s contents and then perched on the end of the bed so the two of them could eat together. They didn’t discus the last conversation. There was a tacit understanding that they would let it be.

Instead, the Wizard talked at length about the surrounding countryside. He knew every inch of the land around him and he described it in such detail that Unt felt he knew it as well. When he’d finished talking, the Wizard promised Unt he’d take him outside tomorrow and show him around.

*              *              *              *

That next day began in paradise. The wintering sun was so bright it hurt. Unt had become a cave-dweller in just a few days and it took minutes to get used to daylight again. As he stood in the doorway, the Wizard closed behind him with a supporting hand on his back.

Unt grabbed the metal frame on either side and just listened. The birds were in high song and their musical notes lifted his spirits with every rise in pitch. Unt hadn’t heard birdsong in many days. It may well have been there and his ears might have detected it but the sounds hadn’t connected with his brain and the low place he’d been inhabiting.

The metal against his palms had a pleasant warmth to it. He drank the heat like a plant drinks water. It soaked through his fibres, enriched him at an elemental level and helped him stand tall.

The open air was fresh and pure. Not a few days before, it had been his enemy; ever-present with its potential arsenal of cold winds and bleeding rain. Now, after a short while stuffed up in a darkened box, it was restored to its friendly position. What had been isolation became freedom. It was funny, Unt thought, that something without conscience could have such total and sudden swings of allegiance.

“You all right there, son?” asked the Wizard, mistaking Unt’s respite for hesitation.

“Fine,” said Unt, taking a step outside.

They walked slowly. The Wizard kept a supporting arm on Unt all the way. He needed it at first: Unt was not only unsteady but it was minutes before he could see right.  It was some time before he could properly survey the Wizard’s little kingdom.

Unt remembered his first impression of order mixed with chaos and in the light of day, he decided he wasn’t wrong. Dotted around in roughly even spaces were small metal structures. Beside each one were piles of equipment, straw, or whatever seemed connected with the building’s use.

The Wizard pointed out the function of each one as they passed. “Storeroom, smokehouse, latrine,” he went on. Here and there, one of the buildings would be made of wood but the definite preference was toward metal.

Back home, metal was a scarce commodity and Unt had never seen it used to build before. The metal was made in sheets with a kind of wavy pattern that Unt saw would give the buildings strength.

As they passed a pile of kindling, the Wizard stopped to rummage among it and came out with a solid-looking stick. It was straight and as high as Unt’s armpit. “Here, support yourself,” he said and gave the stick to Unt.

They carried on and were following the outer curve of the clearing and that curve was now tightening to a point, like the tip of an egg. One last building gave way to a small field of corn.

“Winter wheat,” said Unt, recognising it.

“What’s that?” said the Wizard, “Is that what you call it? Retard wheat’s what I call it on account of it always being late.”

“The last grass crop before winter sets in,” said Unt wistfully.

“That it is,” said the Wizard, “A late arrival, like yourself.”

“They look ready to harvest,” said Unt.

“I was just starting to bring them in when you showed up and disturbed me,” said the Wizard.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted you,” said Unt.

“No matter, no matter. I guess you can see where I got to.” The Wizard pointed at a bare corner of soil.

“You’ll be planting a winter crop soon?” asked Unt.

“Know your business, do you? Well it happens that I know mine too. Wait there a moment, will you?”

Unt leant on his walking stick and watched as the Wizard ran off to a nearby shed. He emerged with a small bulging bag that looked like it had once been the skin of a cushion. He held it up to Unt’s face, its edge open.

“Know what this is?” he asked.

“Turnip seeds,” said Unt.

“That’s right,” said the Wizard. “Do me a favour will you and throw some on that patch there, eh?”

Bemused, Unt did as he was asked.

“There,” said the Wizard, “That crop’s now yours. Its development will be tied to your recovery. When it’s ready to be taken out, you’ll be rebuilt as a new, strong man.”

They returned along the high edge of the clearing and Unt got a good look at the building where he’d spent the last few days. Not that ‘building’ seemed to be the right word. It was like the older brother, or mother, of the shacks that surrounded it.

It was a rectangular box of dead-straight lines. It looked like it had been created whole rather than made. There was such craftsmanship and yet it seemed so casual and uncaring. One thing was for certain: the Wizard could not have made this. It was older than his occupation here and made by a hand unseen.

The Wizard saw him looking. “Home sweet home,” he said.

“Why all the metal?” Unt asked the question that had been playing on his mind.

The Wizard shrugged. “It’s what there was. It’s what I’m good at working with. I’ve tried my hand with wood but it’s not where my skill lies. Carpentry’s the skill of the gods, isn’t it?”

Unt didn’t understand that. “You’ve more skill than I have,” he said.

The Wizard laughed. “Survival ain’t your skill, sure, but you’ve got other talents, kid. You know your way around a field, that’s obvious.”

“I wanted to be a farmer,” said Unt.

“And they wouldn’t let you? Madness. Or at least, I’d call it madness if it weren’t plain, wanton cruelty. A man should be allowed to use his talents like the beasts in nature. You wouldn’t see a cow go fishing, would you?”

“I wanted to help people,” said Unt.

The Wizard nodded, “And what could be a more fundamental way of helping than feeding people?”

“Turns out I can’t even feed myself,” said Unt.

“It’s not your fault, lad,” said the Wizard. “Civilisation makes you soft. People need feeding because they’ve forgotten how to feed themselves. What animal, other than man, is reliant on something else to feed it?”

“Pets?” Unt suggested.

“Exactly. Domesticated. Civilised. Useless. People are crutches to each other, Unt and they encourage one another to use ‘em.

“The whole world’s held up by people leaning on each other with nothing to hold them underneath. And you know what happens when something leans over with nothing to support it? It falls. The whole world’s fallen but nobody’s noticed because everyone’s falling at the same time.”

“I’ve fallen,” said Unt.

“Fallen from favour, aye,” said the Wizard. “But you’ve landed on your feet. Now I’ll show you how to be truly independent.”

*              *              *              *

In the following weeks, the Wizard was true to his word. He taught Unt many new things. He taught him how to make water-collectors and how to make tools, how to navigate properly and what edible things grew where. He told him how to make a shelter and how to keep it repaired.

Unt soaked it up like a sponge. Some, he knew, had been part of his forgotten training but back then, survivalism had been an abstract concept. Now, he was in earnest and he hung on the Wizard’s every word.

It wasn’t all hardship either. The Wizard had a brewery and next to that, a distillery. The old man laughed and said the alcohol was medicinal but when Unt pointed out the beer, he just laughed more.