The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (17 page)

Jorelial Rey flew back to Theriole on Tashroth at first light, determined to find her sister before anything else distracted her. She intended to have a long talk with her, and apologize for being so rigid in her handling of the situation. But, there was already a crisis waiting for her upon her arrival, involving two regional lords coming in for the Council Meeting, bickering over which should have the rights to pitch tents closest to the palace. Jorelial sighed, splashed some water on her face, rolled up her sleeves, and launched into some rather inspired diplomatic machinations. Delphine, as usual, would have to wait. Jorelial trusted that her sister would forgive her the delay, but made a mental note not to let too much time pass before re-visiting the girl’s concerns. Predictably, with the Council Meeting just days away, hours flew by with one situation after another requiring her immediate attention. Embroiled in so many vital decisions, conflicts and plans, she forgot to do anything about mending fences.

Delphine, for her part, made several attempts both the evening before and at various intervals throughout the day to find Jorelial, or to intercept her between meetings, but without success. She was concerned and frustrated that their last ugly encounter was still hanging in the air between them without resolution, and torn between sympathy for her sister’s overwhelming schedule, and hurt that their relationship once again rated last priority. Failing in her quest to right things, she resigned herself at last to running into Rel whenever providence allowed. Then she went off to spend time with little King Darian, who adored her company, and with Mark, whose advice she freely sought on what they should do next.

Meanwhile, Tvrdik was up and out so early that morning that he might have noticed Tashroth’s shadow as the great beast soared back to the roof of Theriole. Perhaps he might have, had he been a little more awake and alert to the outside world. But the day promised to be fair once again, and he was determined to put a good day’s work in on The Cottage and have something measureable to show by the end of the day. He had dressed in his sturdy boots and coarse work clothes, and was making mental lists of the day’s projects in his head at the moment Jorelial and the green dragon swooped silently over his head. The whole day was his to dispose of as he wished – no appointments, no deadlines, no interruptions expected – and he felt invigorated to be once more tackling something physical and finite. It was the kind of project he was more than familiar with: one that showed real results very quickly. It was barely light when he arrived at the house and stood looking at it, hands on hips, formulating his plan. Then he bowed his head, uttered a blessing on the work he was about to undertake, spit on both palms, rubbed them together, and strode to the door. He unlocked both the physical and magical locks, stepped within to pick up a crowbar. Emerging again with tools in hand and a healthy dose of determination, he began to make his way around the building, prying the wooden boards off of the windows, letting light and air into the stuffy, dark, long disused rooms. The transformation had begun.

TWELVE
In the Cottage

I
T WAS NOON WHEN THE
dog came by to see what all the commotion was about, and what he saw must have thrilled the young wolfhound who had spent his brief life dreaming of wizards. Tvrdik was nowhere to be seen on the grounds, but two scrub-brushes were independently dipping themselves in a sudsy bucket, and applying themselves to the walls and mouldings of The Cottage. Four broad paintbrushes followed close behind, spreading fresh whitewash from another bucket, quite evenly and thoroughly – one might even say cheerfully – all over the house’s exterior. The place was already beginning to look brighter. No one else was anywhere in sight in either direction on the riverwalk. Stewart stood stock still at the gate, staring at the flying brushes in their orderly dance. He shook his head, woofed an enthusiastic greeting – and then sprang backwards in alarm as, all at once, the brushes fell lifeless from their endeavors, making a loud
sploosh
in their buckets. A pale head popped up from among bundles of straw thatch on the roof, peering down through spectacles that reflected the sun’s rays.

“Who’s there?” the head on the roof shouted, sounding a little nervous.

“It is I, sir, come to see what all the activity at The Cottage signified. Stewart, sir…ye remember, we met on the road the other day?”

The voice from the roof seemed to relax a bit, and the head, followed by a torso, lifted from its bundles to become more visible. “Oh, Stewart! Of course, and welcome. Are you alone, friend?”

“Quite so, sir.”

“In that case, please come in, through the gate there. I’ll be right down.” Stewart started into the yard, his attention never wavering from the man on the roof, who…was no longer there. In his place an enormous white owl rose out of the thatching, circled once, and came swooping into the front courtyard, headed right for the spot where the big dog stood. Startled, the poor beast sidestepped just in time to miss colliding with the owl on its clumsy landing trajectory. And then, (perhaps he had blinked), a tall, dirt-smudged young man in work clothes and tousled hair stood before him, brushing himself off, and testing various joints to see if they still worked. He seemed to be already talking, a bit winded, but with good cheer.

“Stewart. Welcome. So glad you stopped by. Sorry about that near collision; I never can seem to get the landings right. Oh, and about my less-than-enthusiastic greeting, apologies too. It wouldn’t do to let just anyone passing by see magical doings yet; rumors would fly. I’m set back from the road enough to be safe from the casual traveler, but you took me by surprise. I was afraid my secret had been discovered.” He reached out a hand, which the dog sniffed by way of greeting.

“No apologies necessary, good sir.
I
should apologize for arrivin’ unannounced. But what indeed are ye up to here? No one has even gone in there in over a decade.”

“Aha!” Tvrdik shook a finger at the dog, “Well, we will remedy
that
soon enough. I have been commissioned by my Lady Regent to reopen and make repairs on Xaarus’ old house, such that it should be rendered habitable, and then I am to move in myself.”

Stewart waggled his tail. “Why, that is wonderful news. Hearty congratulations, sir. I hear it is a fine and spacious home. But what a lot of work it will be to restore, no?”

Tvrdik scratched his head, “Well, it’s not as bad as you might imagine, but there’s still a long way to go before I can give up my room in the palace and sleep here. I started off this morning doing each task by hand, and then it struck me, of what use is being a wizard if you can’t cheat a bit once in awhile, eh? I spelled some of the tools and brushes to go ahead and take care of a few of the more routine, repetitious tasks…”

“And a fine job of it they were doin’, to my mind, sir,” the dog interjected, “while ye, yerself were on the roof?”

“Why, yes. I was repairing and replacing the old thatching up there. There are quite a few thin spots, and perhaps some leaks as well. That I need to do myself, by hand. Which reminds me…” He waved a hand and in an instant, all the brushes rose up and resumed their chores. Stewart’s eyes were round as saucers under their charcoal brows, “Gorrrrrr!” he exclaimed, “That’s fantastic.”

“I’m supposed to keep in practice anyway,” Tvrdik sighed.

“Say, would ye mind if I, well, if I hung around here for awhile today? Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

“Not at all. Your company would be most welcome, and I’m sure you could be useful at that, if you don’t mind. For one thing, would you let me know if you spot anyone on the path who might notice these shenanigans? As I said, it is efficient, but I wouldn’t want any gossip getting out just yet…”

“Will do sir, and anythin’ else ye need, you just call fer me.” The big dog came to attention and dipped his head once in salute.

Tvrdik smiled, “Many thanks, friend. Well, it’s back up to the roof for me…quite a few hours of light left and a good deal to accomplish before this day is out.”

“Aye.”

And the young man vanished once again, leaving Stewart gaping at the large white owl with oddly rimmed eyes, winging its way to the top of the building.

For the remainder of that day, and the next four, Tvrdik worked hard on cleaning, repairing, and restoring the home of his youth. Each day he was up at dawn, and out to The Cottage as soon as he could dress and pocket some bread and cheese. He concentrated first on infrastructure, then on Xaarus’ personal apartments, so that they could be in shape for him to occupy as soon as possible. Despite the constant influx of visitors, dignitaries, and lords arriving for the council meeting on Friday, no one seemed to be pressuring him to vacate his luxurious suite at Theriole. This was a very good thing, as it was taking longer than anticipated to bring the house up to livable condition, even with the help of magic. He wasn’t spending many hours at the palace, but after a full day of physical labor, he truly appreciated the featherbed. Warlowe looked in on him each evening to see if there was anything else he needed, and to take a progress report, while the palace servants made sure there were wonderful meals, clean linens and clothes, and plenty of hot water for washing. Those evenings, before bed, he kept to himself, reading some of Xaarus’ intriguing books, picking up new knowledge and lore, and practicing his techniques.

Back at The Cottage, Stewart seemed to have taken up a loose residency on the grounds, drawn by curiosity, respect, and a natural friendly nature. He made himself quite useful, fetching and carrying things, offering opinions, and telling amusing stories, mostly about his grandsire and Xaarus. Tvrdik enjoyed his company, and found himself growing attached to the curious wolfhound, looking forward to meeting him each day at the gate. Sharing the work of rebuilding made it seem easier, and chatting with a personable companion turned a day of labor into an enjoyable project.

At Theriole that week, the Lady Rey seemed to be functioning in high gear every moment, as the details of welcoming and housing so many visiting dignitaries, planning entertainment and menus for their comfort, and smoothing the feathers of those who had complaints about one thing and another fell upon her slight shoulders. After her brief, restorative escape, she felt better able to cope with it all, and handled herself with grace and easy diplomacy. During the few slower moments, she was thinking of the meeting itself, of what she might say and do and what might happen there. She was also keeping a weather eye out for her little sister, regretting that they had last parted on a sour note, and wanting to be sure all was forgiven. But they never seemed to cross paths, and, oddly, no one seemed to have seen her – or Mark either, for that matter. Since there was no time to go searching, Rel had to give up and trust that opportunity would be provided at the right time. Nights, which were starting later and later, she spent on the roof with Tashroth, in the clear, comfortable spring air, fragrant with early blooms. They sat up long into the quiet hours talking of what the day had brought, and what was to come. From this she took strength and courage for the next day’s demands. Even Tashroth, as solid and wise and unflappable as he usually was, seemed somewhat agitated with the overcrowding of the palace, and the anticipation of the big event. Sometimes, it was Jorelial who calmed him, bringing his thoughts back to the present moment, and keeping a sense of humor about every aspect of their situation.

On Thursday, as things were beginning to shape up at the house, and Tvrdik was contemplating whether he should move in that evening or wait another day, he had two surprises. Just after noon, as he and Stewart were clearing some underbrush from around the main entrance and gate, a strange little melody drifted through the air to his ear. He stood up where he was, very still, and listened. There it was again – someone whistling a tune, followed by what sounded like a splash. At the moment he remembered who might be responsible, a voice called out, “Lovely Man…Lovely Man! Are you here?” A grin spread across the young mage’s face from ear to ear as he dropped his tools and raced to the back of The Cottage, where the river flowed by. Ondine had found the place to come and visit him at home, and was turning cartwheels in the air as he rounded the corner.

“Welcome dearest. How good it is to see you! Found the place alright, I see?”

Tvrdik found a little break in the tall grasses that lined the riverbank, and half slid down to the lapping waters where Ondine was frolicking, Stewart bouncing along behind him. When his toes were nearly in the water, he squatted down to be closer to her level, took her tiny hand and drew it to his lips in a welcoming kiss. The little sprite giggled, blushed a deep purple, and finished with a back flip into the slow, somewhat murky waters. Tvrdik continued, “Ondine, I want you to meet a new friend: this is Stewart the dog. His grandsire knew my teacher, Xaarus, and he has been helping me with the repairs on this place.”

Stewart stood erect and cocked his head once politely, tail waving behind, “Pleased to make yer acquaintance, missy, though I can’t say as I’ve ever encountered such as ye before.” Stewart’s eyes were gleaming with delight. By now he had come to expect that anywhere Tvrdik was, exciting adventures were sure to follow.

“I do not know ‘dog’ either, but you are most courteous. Happy to meet new friend of Lovely Man.” She flashed a pretty smile, and twirled in the water, showering the dog as he stood there. Stewart responded with a full body shake that tossed the droplets right back at her, and at everything else in range, including poor Tvrdik. Ondine was delighted to find a kindred spirit in Stewart, and bobbed about in the river with laughter. Tvrdik was smiling so hard his face ached.

“I’ve missed you, girl. I’ve been so busy with this place that I never realized days were passing. Can you forgive me for leaving you on your own so long?”

“No worries, Lovely Man. Ondine busy too. Look, I also bring new friends.” She gestured with her head, and for the first time everyone’s attention went to the four timid little souls who floated just upstream of Ondine, their eyes bulging and their mouths open at the scene they had just witnessed. “Come, come!” Ondine beckoned sharply, “Come, cousins. This is my Lovely Man and his dogfriend, Stewart. Here are cousins I find after long searching…” The cousins hung back, clearly terrified. “They are shy. Lovely Man, say hello.”

Tvrdik stretched out a hand toward the small sprites, but they sprang backward. He took a good look at them. Cousins of Ondine they might be, but distant at that, the years of hiding from men and swimming in less than pure waters having taken their toll. Where Ondine was bright blue and seemed to sparkle, these little creatures were an odd shade of greenish grey, dull, without light. Where she was slender, they seemed positively frail. And where she was playful and sociable, they seemed afraid of their own shadows. Still, it was a coup that Ondine had routed out evidence of a community of water sprites still living among men, and perhaps, with a little tender, loving care, even these could blossom, and regain something of their cousin’s spark. The young mage summoned his kindest smile and most non-threatening tone of voice, “Wonderful to meet all of you. I will be living here soon, and hope you will not be strangers.”

“This your house now?” Ondine interjected, glancing with curiosity at the house and the grounds.

“As soon as I can clean and fix it up, I can move in, and you can hang around here anytime you want. I can even put in a pond, or a fountain, if you like?” Ondine raised one eyebrow. “No, really. A little fountain for you to visit would not be so difficult…” Tvrdik sat down on the river bank, feeling weary, but content. Stewart was stretched along beside him, his sharp eyes fixed on Ondine. The local sprites seemed to calm down a bit as they found themselves no longer in the spotlight, but kept mostly to themselves. Still, they remained close by, and seemed to be listening to the conversation. Ondine floated in the slow, mossy water and related to her friends on shore how she had gone exploring up and down the river searching for her own kind. Two days ago, she thought she caught a glimpse of something: a familiar silhouette, a furtive movement. But it had taken the better part of a day to track the shy creatures, root them out of their hiding place, and convince them that she was only a country cousin come to visit, and meant them no harm. It took even more persuasion to get them to accompany her on her visit this noon. But in the end, curiosity had won over nerves, as none of them had ever had much contact with humans before. Ondine had made a persuasive case that a real wizard would be something worth seeing. Tvrdik heard the cue in that sentence that he ought to make good on that promise, and started his trick of levitating pebbles high in the air with one finger, and letting them splash into the river, careful of course not to hit anyone.

A small, delighted commotion erupted among the visitors, who seemed to be squealing and conversing among themselves in some otherworldly language. Tvrdik flashed them a charming smile, and made the next pebble do a loop-di-loop in the air before its descent. Ondine giggled and paused in her narrative, watching the reaction of her little charges. Stewart’s tail thumped the ground. Feeling encouraged by his audience, and in a somewhat creative mood, the wizard levitated some twigs and grasses over the river and formed them into the shape of a sailing ship, suspended in the air. Then he pulsed a finger and set the whole thing ablaze with green flame as it made its way across the sky, the ashes falling harmlessly into the water as the picture faded. A chorus of
ooos
greeted the feat, and Ondine clapped with enthusiasm. A few more such pyrotechnic displays in various shapes and colors, along with some rings and heart-shapes summoned from the smoke, and he had their rapt attention, enchanted expressions on upturned faces. It was all play and silliness, of course, but who doesn’t have a child within that loves such magical performances? And Tvrdik, for all he had spent twelve years in near solitude, had an innate knack for making friends. It might have had something to do with his openness and utter lack of guile, or perhaps his wizard’s intuition made him sensitive to what was needed in each new encounter. But, at any rate, he knew how to listen and respond with a compassionate and generous heart. Whoever met him seemed to let down their guard and warm to him quickly.