The Fall of Chance (31 page)

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A sticking point arrived when it came time to set snares for rabbits. The Wizard had already shown Unt how to kill a pigeon with a slingshot and was teaching him the bow but a snare was something else.

The Wizard had set the snare at a burrow’s edge and the two of them lay waiting in hiding.

“A snare’s the only way to catch a rabbit,” said the Wizard. “Unless you’ve got a dog, of course and I ain’t seen one of them in many-a-year.”

They waited until the onset of evening when a kit appeared. It edged forward, nose snuffling innocently as it inched toward its doom. It caught in the noose, the loop tightened and the trap was in effect.

Unt knew full well the ingenious workings of the snare, the way its victim’s struggles did the trap’s work for it, the panicked thrashing that made it tighter and only made the creature’s death more certain.

It was one thing to know it but another thing to witness it. “I can’t watch this,” he said, moving to roll away from sight.

“Yes you can,” said the Wizard, holding him in place. “And you must.”

“It’s too horrible,” pleaded Unt, unable to move from beneath the Wizard’s pinning hand.

“Horrible, aye,” said the Wizard. “And what do you think it’s like for the fish you net or the deer you stick with an arrow?”

“At least they don’t know it’s coming!” said Unt.

“And you think that makes a difference? This is what happens every time you take a life, boy and you’ve got to confront it.”

“I’ll set it free, then,” said Unt, making a renewed surge.

“The Wizard stopped him easily. “No you won’t,” he said. “If you can’t do this, you’ll always be hungry. Berries can keep you going for a bit, but if you’re living on your wits then you can’t afford scruples.”

“I don’t want to live at the expense of another life,” said Unt.

“Yes you do,” said the Wizard. “You’ve been doing this all your life every time you’ve had a joint of meat. The difference is, you’ve never had to experience the nasty end of it. You’ve got to be honest with yourself. There’s no-one you need to convince otherwise.”

Unt gave up the struggle and they lay and watched the young rabbit die. Afterwards they ate it, made a stock of the bones and hung the skin up to dry.

“You owe it to that creature to make the most of its sacrifice,” said the Wizard. Unt said nothing. His training had turned from a fun and enlightening experience to something altogether darker. He agreed with what the Wizard said but there was no comfort in understanding the truth.

20. The Seeds of Doubt

As time passed, Unt and the Wizard became an effective team. There was a master-apprentice relationship but the benefits didn’t only go one way. Even the hard-headed Wizard had to admit that there were advantages to having two people around.

One such occasion was on the day they killed a deer. After stalking the creature for hours, the Wizard had got in close to take a shot with his bow. Unt was getting better with his shooting but the deer was too choice a prize to risk. Unt got round the other side to take a second shot if the need arose.

The Wizard fired and missed and the deer shot off toward Unt. Unt’s heart leapt at the chance to do what his teacher couldn’t and as the deer bolted toward him, he loosed his bow.

The arrow missed by a clear foot and the deer turned away. It went back on itself, toward the Wizard and the old man was setting his second shaft. The deer passed by him, he fired and the arrow took the creature in its flank.

It sank down to the ground and the Wizard was on it in a flash, knife drawn to finish it off. By the time Unt had scrambled over, the deer was dead.

“Well flushed,” said the Wizard as he went to work with his knife. “I’d have lost him if it wasn’t for you.”

Unt was pleased but didn’t say so. The Wizard hated thanks.

*              *              *              *

Later, they sat on a patch of ground in front of the cabin with the deer roasting over a spit. The two men lounged, drank beer and ate meat off the bone: they were comrades in victory.

The Wizard was being unusually open about himself. He was unconsciously dropping crumbs as he spoke - verbal and otherwise - giving Unt little clues to put his life together.

It sounded like, at some point, the Wizard’s life had not been unlike Unt’s. He had been part of a town once - that much was certain - and it seemed that on some occasion he’d had a run-in with the authorities. Before that, he’d led an unassuming sort of life but then something had gone wrong. By choice or by force, the Wizard had left his town.

It was there that the Wizard’s story took a different path to Unt’s. The Wizard had reached another town and tried to fit in - more than once, if Unt understood correctly. The end result was the same: the Wizard left with a lot of bad will.

The way the Wizard told it, the townships were the ones to blame. Unt though, had his own theories. Either the same trigger kept being hit, or the Wizard’s first experience had soured his views, or his companion was inherently incapable of living with others.

Unt tried asking the Wizard about how he’d learned the skills he was now passing to him. His hope was that in answering, the Wizard would give something away. It worked too, especially as the beer loosened his tongue. Somewhere in that shadowy past there had been someone like he was now, a mentor.

There was a continuity there, an inheritance like from grandfather to father to son. Although he liked the old man and was grateful to him, Unt hoped he didn’t inherit the Wizard’s cynicism.

Emboldened by his small successes and probably by the drink, Unt decided to try a direct question. “This is the life,” he said. “What the hell did you do with yourself before I turned up?”

The Wizard stopped mid-chuckle. His mouth set so straight it could have been drawn with a ruler. “I had peace and quiet and didn’t have to suffer foolish questions,” he snapped.

The outburst was fatal to the mood and fatal to the conversation. Not another word was said for the rest of the evening. There was much food left on both their plates and it was a long time in the eating.

*              *              *              *

When they were done, the Wizard took the carcass to the store-shed to cut up and preserve. Unt put out the fire and cleared away the tools. They entered the cabin separately and Unt laid out his bed by the fire. Not a word was said before the lights went out.

The stony silence continued into the next morning. For his part, Unt was willing to put last night behind them but the Wizard clung determined to his ire. He didn’t shout: he didn’t need to. He let his silence do his arguing, his point emphasised by doing everything that little bit louder than was necessary.

Unt wondered how long it would continue. They had no plans for the morning - they rarely made plans - but today was a unique occasion where they did nothing. Both just went about their own tasks. Unt cleaned some tools. What the Wizard did, he didn’t know. Then it started to pour.

The rain was so heavy that they both had to shelter in the cabin. They weren’t in long when the rain started to come in through the ceiling. Unt hadn’t even noticed before that there was a hole but the way the water dripped rapidly in, it was clear this was an established problem.

“I hate this damned roof,” said the Wizard, apparently forgetting himself.

Unt wasn’t going to point it out. “Does this happen a lot?” he asked.

“Whenever it gets above spitting, or worse.” The Wizard pulled a crate over and stood on it to take a better look.  “Rust. Eating through. I pack it with moss but every month, the hole gets bigger.”

“You’ve tried a long-term solution?”

The Wizard waved a hand. “I’ve tried a few hides up there but it still gets in and every time the wind gets up, it whips the skins away. A full replacement’s what I need.”

“What are we going to do?”

The Wizard stepped down. “There’s a great bit of sheet metal at the end of the yard. Big as the cabin roof. I found it at the foot of the mountain last year. Took me six weeks to drag it up here - six!” He sagged as though he’d just repeated the effort.

“So, why haven’t you put it up?” asked Unt.

The Wizard shook his head. “Couldn’t find a way to get it up there. I considered cutting it up and lifting it up in pieces but once you cut into metal, the water’s always gonna find a way in.”

“Could we do it between us?” asked Unt.

The Wizard looked at him. Unt knew what he was thinking. It was an affront to his principles. He didn’t want to admit needing help. He looked back at the ceiling. “I hate that drip,” he said. “Soon as the rain clears, you and I are going to get that roof up.”

*              *              *              *

There is something about a shared repair project that brings people together. The literal act of fixing seems to have a connecting effect with the human mind. So it was that in an afternoon of shared labour, the schism between Unt and the Wizard was sealed.

Later, the Wizard was in such good spirits that he promised Unt a slap-up meal. It would be some variation on stew, Unt knew - everything the Wizard made was a variation on stew - but he was just happy that his host was being friendly again.

The rain returned and they listened to the muffled sound of drops rebounding from the new metal roof. Unt sat by the fire while the Wizard cooked. He had offered to help but the Wizard told him to be seated so he did nothing but sit and watch.

The Wizard was in the process of explaining the herbs he used. “Time,” he said, “waits for no man and no dish should wait for thyme.” He threw a few sprigs in his solitary pot. “You’ve got to get your herbs in early for them to give any taste. Forget about ‘em till the end and you may as well forget about ‘em altogether. You need to let the heat do its business.”

“I know,” said Unt. “I’ve been an orphan since I was eight and I’ve been cooking my own meals ever since.”

“So, there’s at least one area of your life where you’ve always been free,” said the Wizard.

Unt didn’t think the loss of parents was worth choosing your own meals but he wasn’t going to rile the Wizard by objecting. “I suppose so,” he said.

“And how did you learn what went with what?” asked the Wizard.

“Recipes, I guess,” said Unt. “I started off with the basics and learned to mix it up how it suited me.”

“Recipes,” the Wizard snorted, “Just another form of telling a man what to do. But I’m glad to hear you make it into your own meal. I always say that a man knows his own stomach better than anyone else. There’s no better feeling than eating a meal made to your own taste.”

Unt disagreed. He thought about how good Crystal’s cooking had tasted. There was something in a meal made by someone else that made it taste better. He’d also always had the idea there was more joy in cooking for others than in cooking for oneself. Again, though, he held his tongue.

“Surely the feeling of a woman’s better,” he joked instead.

“An expert on women, are you?” asked the Wizard.

“Not really.” Unt groaned inwardly at another eggshell stepped upon.

“Had your fair share?”

“Just the one. The girl I was married to after the Fall.”

“And was it everything you hoped for?” the Wizard stirred his pot with vigour. “Did she make all your dreams come true?”

“No.” Unt admitted.

The Wizard was mollified. “That,” he said, “is because your dick betrays you.” He thrust a fork at him loaded with a lump of meat, as though that lump was the offending article. “What your dick’ll do is tell you the be-all and end-all of everything is getting a bit of tail. But the reality never lives up to the promise, does it? Because it’s a lie.”

Unt let the tirade run its course.

“Man,” the Wizard went on, “is bound by his primal urges. Ancient kingdoms used to turn boys into eunuchs so they wouldn’t be distracted by sex and could put their energies for better use. Men need discipline to say ‘no’ and that’s a commodity in short supply.

“Just look at husbandry. Same thing. Every farmer knows that unless it’s a breeder, every animal has to be neutered before it can become useful.”

Unt doubted that either eunuchs or bullocks appreciated the gift of being liberated from their balls. “I take your point,” he tried to laugh it off, “But I’d rather give up being useful than surrender that.”

“That’s because you’re young, hormonal and stupid. You spend some time with me and you’ll soon see what you can make of yourself.”

“Some people say sex is a great motivator,” said Unt. “My old boss used to tell me that love motivated great works of art and poetry - even culinary expression.”

The Wizard waved him off with a spoon. “Wasted effort on a pointless pursuit.”

“Maybe frivolous things are what make life worth living.”

“If you believe that, you’ve no business being here.” The spoon came prodding in. “Life, boy, is the only thing there is to living. Everything else is distraction.”

He went back to cooking but returned as more words came to him. “If everyone used their energy into making themselves better off there’d be no end to what Man could achieve but instead, folk fritter it away on useless talk.”

Unt took the hint and was quiet.

*              *              *              *

Nights later, the two of them were sharing a meal in silence. Since their last chat, conversation had become diminished and silence was now their default position. The Wizard would talk only of work. Any other subject seemed to end in an argument so maybe he was right.

It was the Wizard, however, who ended the silence. “You asked me a while back how I spent my nights before you broke my peace,” he said abruptly.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but go on.”

“The answer is that I used to put the time to good use by planning ahead.”

“Go ahead then. I’m not stopping you.”

The Wizard grumbled something low in response.

A crash of metal cut in from outside. It was a big noise, like one of the sheds had collapsed. Both men leapt up.

“What was that?” said Unt.

“An animal,” said the Wizard.

Unt thought of the size of the noise. “What sort of animal?”

“I don’t know, do I?” the Wizard shouldered past Unt and grabbed his hunting spear from the wall.

Unt didn’t have a spear of his own. The Wizard hadn’t yet shown him how to make one. Unt would have grabbed his bow but when they weren’t in use the Wizard kept them unstrung to preserve their power. That left him an axe and a hoe to choose from.

The axe was powerful-looking but it was a clumsy weapon. The Wizard had gone straight for the spear and the hoe was the most similar tool remaining. Unt grabbed it and dashed toward the door. The Wizard had already stepped outside and was leaving him behind.

By the time Unt reached the same point, the Wizard was already half-way across their camp. He moved fast for an old man.

Somewhere across the way, the Wizard had grabbed and lit a torch and that torch now spread a seeking light all across the clearing. It set a perilous stage.

Dead ahead of the Wizard was the cause of the noise: a great black bear. Unt had seen sketches of bears and knew one to look at. He had heard about their size but the reality was something else.