Wizardborn (27 page)

“Oh,” Waggit said. The room was really spinning now, and Waggit sat and laid his head down in his hands.

“And you'll be needing those forcibles, see.” Scallon leaned close. His face was covered with layers of sweat.
Dirt from the mines had worked into the creases around his eyes. “See, you'll be needing them to sell. You're going to have a house and lands, and you'll be needing some money to get things going. Like, you'll want to buy a fine horse, and some carriages. Maybe now that you're going to be rich, you'll be wanting to marry Andella even.”

Once Scallon said that, Waggit could think of nothing else. Andella sold ale at the inn at Silverdale. She was the most beautiful woman ever. All the men told her so.

“You think she'd marry me?” Waggit said.

“My friend,” Scallon said in a reassuring tone. “There's one thing in this world that I'm sure of: that trollop would sleep with a hog for enough money.”

Waggit grinned and tried to imagine Andella lying sound asleep beside a pig. His head was spinning so badly, he couldn't manage the feat.

“So come on,” Scallon said. “Let's you and me go raise your fortunes.”

“I can't,” Waggit said. “I'm too drunk to walk.”

“That's okay,” Scallon said. “I'll help you.”

“But… I don't want to lose nothin'.”

“You won't lose nothing,” Scallon promised. “I'll hide the forcibles for you, along with all the other coins you've given me over the years.”

Waggit looked up through bleary eyes. “Are you … you sure you won't lose 'em? You lost my money once!”

“Oh, that was long ago,” Scallon said. “I found it all again, remember? I brought it to you all shiny and new. You bought those boots with it.”

That was the problem. Waggit couldn't remember. He couldn't remember Scallon ever finding his money. He couldn't recall ever having new boots. He forgot everything. He'd even forgotten his real name. People hadn't always called him Waggit, but he forgot what his real name was.

“Oh,” Waggit said, as Scallon lifted him to his feet.

They walked out of the inn, into the broad light of day,
and for a long time, Scallon kept urging, “Come on, lad. Keep your feet moving.”

Waggit had to stop once to throw up, and it took forever to reach the duke's keep.

The guards at the door seemed to recognize him, for they saluted with their swords.

He'd never seen such opulence in his life. He'd never been in a fine house. The duke had rich panels on his walls, and beautiful tapestries. The audience hall had the largest hearth he'd ever seen. When a wealthy man appeared, Waggit was all flustered. “Duke Paldane,” he blurted in awe.

But the small fellow with the pointed beard looked at him with crafty eyes, and said, “No, the duke is dead. I'm Chamberlain Gallentine, acting in his stead. I understand that you've come to demand forcibles?”

“Er, yes, your lordship!” Scallon said. “That's what he's after—just that what's rightfully his.”

Chamberlain Gallentine had fierce dark eyes.

“So you want your endowments now?” Gallentine asked.

“Uh, not the endowments,” Scallon said. “He just wants the forcibles for now.”

Gallentine smiled. “Is that so?”

Scallon shoved Waggit in the back, and Waggit nodded enthusiastically.

“I suppose that your friend here will sell them for you, to buy you ale?” the chamberlain asked.

Waggit shook his head. “No, he'll hide them good, so no one steals them. He's a good hider.”

Scallon shoved Waggit in the back again, and Waggit felt sure that it was a signal for him to say something. But he didn't know what.

Gallentine smiled even more coldly. “Sir,” he said to Scallon, “I trust you can find the door by yourself? Or do I need the guards to … take your hand?”

A low growling noise came from Scallon's throat. “I don't need no guards.” He gave Waggit another angry shove in the back and stalked from the room.

Waggit felt alone and scared. He could tell that Scallon
was mad, really mad. Sometimes when Scallon got mad enough, he'd punch Waggit real hard. Waggit figured that as soon as he got out the door, Scallon would be waiting to hit him. The worry drove all other thoughts from his mind.

“Now,” Gallentine said. “What shall we do with you?”

Waggit shook his head. He knew that something had gone wrong. He'd been bad. He wasn't going to get his forcibles or his lands. But he couldn't figure out what he'd done bad.

Gallentine walked around him, studying him as if he were a calf in the market. “You've got big bones. That's good. And you did kill nine reavers. That means you can move fast. How, exactly, did you dispatch those reavers?”

“I just jumped at 'em and whopped in the soft spot!” Waggit said.

“Who showed you the soft spot on a reaver?” Gallentine asked.

To his own surprise, Waggit remembered that. “Lugby did! He drew a picture on the ground, and showed me over and over.”

“No doubt when the reavers came, your friend Lugby let you take the first swing,” Gallentine said.

Waggit couldn't remember for sure. But now that he thought about it, he didn't have to push anyone out of the way to get at them.

“Tell me, Waggit,” Gallentine said. “Do you know what death is?”

“That's where … you go to sleep, and don't wake up.”

“Very good. Did you know that the reavers could have killed you?”

Waggit didn't answer. Gallentine sounded angry, and Waggit didn't know what the right answer was. He shook his head in bafflement.

“So your friends shoved you in front of the reavers, and didn't tell you that they might kill you?”

Waggit didn't remember anyone mentioning that.

“Let me ask you this, Baron Waggit: do you think you could do it again?”

“Kill reavers? I guess.”

Gallentine studied him for a long moment, nodded his head. Waggit had got the right answer!

“Let me ask you another question. Have you ever… dreamed of being like other men? Have you ever wondered what it would be like to remember things, to know things that other men know?”

Waggit nodded.

“Wouldn't that be worth more to you than gold?”

Waggit wasn't sure. “Scallon said I should ask for the forcibles.”

“You've earned the forcibles,” Gallentine said, “and you may have them. But the law only allows it if you use them in the service of your king. In other words, if you take them, you must do what he says.”

Waggit got confused. It must have showed on his face, because Gallentine added, “He'll want you to kill reavers.”

“Oh,” Waggit said.

“The king left no certain orders as to how I should handle you. Obviously, he wants to reward you, and he did leave some forcibles in my care to use as I saw fit. Rarely do our lords ever grant forcibles to fools. How about if I make you an offer? I'll give you one forcible now, one endowment of wit, so that you have the capacity of a common man?

“After that, I'll give you a horse and let you ride after the king. You can take your time, make your own decision. If you wish to become a knight and enter our lord's service, you may take more endowments.”

Waggit wasn't exactly sure what Gallentine offered. He used too many big words, like “capacity.” “Will I remember things?”

“Yes,” Gallentine said. “From now on, you'll be able to hide your own coins, and find them when you want them.”

“Will I remember … about riding on the horse with the king?”

“Do you remember it now?”

Waggit closed his eyes, pictured it. “Yeah.”

“Then you will remember it for as long as you live,” the chamberlain promised.

Waggit got so excited, he couldn't speak. He nodded his head real hard, and Gallentine smiled.

“Very well, sir,” Gallentine said, with a tone of genuine respect in his voice.

Gallentine led him to the facilitator. He climbed the tower to the Dedicates' Keep and waited for the facilitator to prepare. Peeking east out the archery slot was like standing on a mountain. Lake Donnestgree shimmered in the morning sunlight.

Boats bobbed on the water by the thousands—riverboats with high prows used for hauling goods, and makeshift rafts formed by lashing barrels together and laying planks on top. Waggit waved at the people, but no one waved back. “Someday I want to ride on a boat,” Waggit said.

“Not with those unlucky souls,” Gallentine said. “Those are the sickest of the sick. The king's evacuating them downstream to safety. It's the air here—the fell mage's curses. Too many people died of the rot last night.”

Waggit peered harder and saw that indeed the rafts and boats were loaded with wounded men and women, people who had been mauled by reavers or crushed by falling stones. They lay on the rafts with bloody bandages wrapped around them, or blankets laid over. He saw the tiny forms of children, and the gray heads of old men. He felt sorry for them. But he still wanted to ride a boat.

Soon the facilitator returned up the tower stairs with a Dedicate and a forcible.

The facilitator took the forcible, a thin branding iron about a foot long, made of metal, and put it to the young man who offered himself as Waggit's Dedicate.

The facilitator sang in a birdlike voice as he placed the iron to the Dedicate. Waggit was lost in the song for a long time, until he smelled charred flesh and heard the Dedicate wail in pain.

Then the facilitator waved the forcible around the room.
It left a trail of light that hung in the air, glowing like a fiery snake. The facilitator continued to sing in his piping voice as he pressed the forcible to Waggit's arm.

Waggit felt good then, better than he'd ever felt before. The forcible burned him, and as it did, he felt as if his head exploded, and the light itself filled him. At the same moment, he saw the eyes of his Dedicate go dim, and the young man stared at him, with a mouth like an open door that led to vacant rooms.

Waggit did, indeed, remember it for as long as he lived.

   20   

Since the days of King Harill, reaver bones have been a favorite trophy of warriors in Rofehavan, and thus gave rise to the trade in what is called “reaver crystal.” Many a lord delights in displaying long teeth or even whole skulls above the doors in his keep, while bits of reaver knuckles have been used for rings, bracelets, and necklaces.

New bones and teeth are nearly as clear as quartz, usually with a bluish or aqua tint. Impurities in the bone can sometimes make it almost opalescent, and some bones even seem to have images of animals or trees inside them. Unlike quartz, after a few dozen years, the colors in the bone mellow to a ruddy gold, and after two or three centuries they take on a richer reddish hue. The older bones are highly valued in Indhopal.

Artisans may engrave the bones, but the cost is prohibitive, since the only tools strong enough to shape the bone must have edges of diamond.