If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware thai

 this book is slolen properly It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"

 to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received

 any payment for this "stripped book "

 This book is an Ace original edition,

 and has never been previously published

 GEOMANCER

 An Ace Book / published by arrangement with

 the author

 PRINTING HISTORY

 Ace edition / January 1994

 All rights reserved.

 Copyright © 1994 by Don Callander

 Cover art by Daniel R. Horne.

 This book may not be reproduced in whole or in pan,

 by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

 For information address The Berkley Publishing Group,

 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

 ISBN: 0-441-28036-6

 ACE®

 Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

 ACE and the "A" design

 are trademarks belonging to Charter Communications, Inc.

 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 10 987654321

 This book is dedicated, with love and endless delight and

 not a little pride, to my very good friend and youngest

 son, Alan Brian Callander. Alan is my very own computer

 expert. He's given me a world of good, solid help and

 advice on which buttons to push and how to find things

 when I've lost them. I can truthfully say none of my books

 would have turned out nearly so well without his help,

 patience and encouragement' (I'll be very surprised if a copy

 of Geomancer doesn't appear, after publication, in Bender

 Library at American University in Washington, D.C.)

  

  

  

  

  

 Introduction

  

  

 The Story Up to Now

 DOUGLAS Brightglade, the son of a shipwright of Duke-

 dom lost at Sea, came to Wizard's High, a magical cottage

 under a tall hill, in Valley of Dukedom in the days when

 Frigeon the Ice King strove to enthrall World. Once there,

 he applied for the position of Apprentice to the Master

 Pyromancer, a Fire Wizard, Flarman Flowerstalk.

 For a number of years Douglas's education proceeded

 as he learned the rudiments of wizardry in general and

 pyromancy in particular. In due time he joined Flarman and

 the Pyromancer's oldest friend, Augurian the Aquamancer,

 in an attempt to stop Frigeon's wicked conquests.

 Cast away on a Warm Seas island while carrying a mys-

 terious Grey Pearl to Augurian, Douglas met and fell in love

 with Mym Manstar, a pearl fisher's daughter. When Mym

 was carried off by the usurping Duke Eunicet of Dukedom,

 Douglas went to her rescue, with the help of a Great Sea

 Tortoise named Oval. They managed to capture the Duke

 and his crew and set Mym free.

 Under cover of the Battle of Sea against Frigeon's hordes

 of monsters, ghouls, banshees, and evil goblins, Flarman

 and Douglas entered Frigeon's Ice Palace and destroyed

 the Grey Pearl, in which the Ice King had locked his

 conscience. Frigeon defeated, work to restore peace and

 well-being began at a Grand Homecoming Party at Wiz-

 ards' High.

 X!

 XI 1

 Don Callander

 In the second book of Douglas's and Mym*s adventures,

 Douglas set off alone on a Journey, necessary to earn

 promotion to Mastery, to investigate a Coven of Witches

 in Old Kingdom.

 Assisted by a newfound friend, Marbteheart Sea Otter,

 Douglas tracked down the wicked Witch Queen Emaldar on

 her mountain. Nearly killed by an eruption of the volcano,

 Douglas was rescued at the last moment by Mym, now

 an Apprentice Aquamancer, who had followed him to Old

 Kingdom.

 Emaldar was destroyed by her own selfishness and dis-

 trust in the awful eruption. Douglas and Mym managed to

 save her victims and slaves and set them to restoring their

 land, which the witch had enchanted.

 Planning to marry in December, the young couple

 returned with the Otter, now Douglas's Familiar, to Wiz-

 ards' High to prepare for the Journeyman's Examination for

 Advancement to full Wizardry.

 As a break from studying, Douglas went to visit Serenit,

 the former Frigeon, now First Citizen of New Land. Here

 the story continues....

 Chapter One

  

  

 Preparations

 BRONZE Owl, perched on the courtyard well curbing,

 nodded with satisfaction and a shrill screech of metal on

 metal.

 He waved aside ornate Ostrich-Plume Pen, which had

 been busily writing to his dictation all morning, and beck-

 oned to a pot of fine sand on the wide, flat well curbing.

 The wedding guest list was completed.

 The bowlegged clay Pot hopped cheerfully forward on its

 three stubby feet and broadcast fine yellow grains over the

 last page, being very careful not to smudge the flourishes

 and serifs of Plume Pen's swirled and curlicued callig-

 raphy.

 Bronze Owl hummed to himself for as long as it took

 a bluebird to loop lazily from the byre door to the mead-

 ow gate and back, carrying a kernel of fall wheat to her

 summer brood of chicks in her nesting box above the

 Wizards' workshop door. He then picked up the last page

 and poured the sand back into the Pot. He fanned the page

 three more times to be certain it was dry and, gathering up

 the thick sheaf of parchment, flew with a clatter of brazen

 wing-feathers to the open window of the Wizard's study on

 the second-floor front of the cottage.

 FIarman Flowerstalk, sometimes known as Firemaster,

 was nodding over his own high stack of papers, his hand

 so relaxed in sleep that even businesslike Crow-Quill Pen

 had fluttered to the floor.

 2                Don Callander

 "Wake up! Awaken, useless old firebreather!" cried Owl

 fondly. *This is no way to perform your important magical

 duties'"

 The Wizard of Wizards' High—one of the two such

 Wizards, he being the elder—jerked awake, blinked his

 eyes twice, and twisted about to face the bird in a whirl of

 stars, moons, comets, and other mystic symbols appliqued

 on his second best wizard's gown,

 "Ha! Huh?" he muttered, rubbing his chin, forehead, and

 ears vigorously. "Resting the old eyes, old friend."

 He rose and stretched his arms above his silver-fringed

 bald head and waggled his snowy beard, working out kinks

 and creaks.

 In his mind he heard echoes of Bronze Owl's words.

 "Useless? Old! Who says I'm useless? Why, I'm not

 more than three centuries! Or is it four? Young by wizardly

 standards, even you must admit."

 "Young is as young does," said Owl, shaking a claw

 significantly. "I've finished the guest list. You may want

 to cut it back. It runs forty pages, closely written!"

 "Forty -. - !" cried Flarman, fully awake at last. "There

 must be close on a thousand names!"

 "I thought it best to include everyone and let you and

 Douglas and Mym cut it down to size," Owl explained.

 The Wizard took the hefty list and began to read, pausing

 to draw a line through a name here and there, muttering his

 reasons as he went along. Bronze Owl listened carefully but

 said little.

 "Hmm! Hmm?" said Flarman, scratching his nose with

 Crow-Quill Pen. "Asrai should be invited, of course, but

 can it come?"

 "The Phosphorescence cannot exist in fresh water or in

 light of day, I agree," replied the Owl, finding a perch on

 the tall back of the Wizard's wing chair. "But it should

 receive an invitation out of courtesy, don't you think? It

 saved Douglas's life at least twice that I know of."

 "Of course! Oh, yes' I presume a great many of these

 people will fail to show, for a variety of reasons."

 Geomancer                   3

 "It's always that way at weddings," the doorknocker

 predicted confidently. "But you must ask them, anyway."

 "And hope they don't all show up, I suppose. What

 would we do with a thousand guests? I shudder to think .. ."

 "Marget of Faerie and her Consort and their newbom

 son alone will bring a couple dozen courtiers, I imagine,"

 Bronze Owl mused. 'The Becketts of Fairstrand number

 close to fifty."

 "Bigbelly! You've put him down?" cried Flarman. "He's

 but a rough, uncultured sailor! He wouldn't know what

 to do at a grand wedding—except eat and drink himself

 silly!"

 "That could apply to a lot of them," Owl laughed aloud.

 "Say, do we agree or not? Ask 'em all and hope some of

 them are too busy to attend?"

 Flarman Flowerstalk grumbled agreement and returned

 to the list.

 "Here's a problem now. Cerfew the Great White Gull?

 His family is very large and very close-knit."

 Bronze Owl shrugged his wings with a clash of metal

 feathers. "A person receiving an invitation to a wedding

 must know it is he alone who is invited, not his entire

 flock!"

 "We'll hope so," sighed the Wizard. "Actually, housing

 and feeding the Faeries will be no problem. They can come

 and go as they please, as does Deka the Wraith—between

 dimensions, so to speak. Bryarmote and his bride and his

 mother Finesgold, however, must be housed here at the

 High, of course. Bryarmote built the High, you'll recall."

 "I was here," reminded Owl, nodding several times.

 A great deal had happened since then, but few times,

 good or bad, equaled the excitement and satisfaction the

 Fire Wizard and his household had experienced white build-

 ing the cottage under the hill called Wizard's High ... as it

 was called in those days.

 But then one morning a lad of fourteen, small for his age,

 tousle-haired and a bit ragged looking, had come to the front

 door, seeking the post of Apprentice to the Fire Wizard.

 4                Don Callander

 Flarman, preoccupied by the rise to power of the wicked

 Frigeon the Ice King, had almost turned him away.

 Douglas Brightglade got the job, however, and the histo-

 ry of World would have been quite different if he hadn't,

 Bronze Owl knew. Together the Wizard and his Apprentice

 had marshaled the Forces of Light against the Ice King.

 They discovered the secret of Frigeon's invincibility and

 conquered him before he could plunge World into an arctic

 nightmare that would have lasted eons.

 "All these sailors and warriors who helped us in the

 Battle of Sea," Flarman was saying. "Yes, I suppose we'll

 have to invite them, although I admit I don't know many

 of these names."

 "They're all listed in the ships' logs and records," Owl

 assured him.

 After the great sea fight and the destruction of Frigeon*s

 Grey Pearl, things might have settled down for the Wizard

 and his Journeyman, but word came from afar that a Black

 Witch named Emaldar had formed a Coven of Witches with

 plans for conquering and enchanting the poor, scattered

 peoples of Old Kingdom, in the west, beyond the Broad.

 Douglas had gone off to check the witches' ambitions

 and, helped by his pretty and gritty fiancee, Myrn Manstar

 ofFlowring Isle, an Aquamancer's Apprentice herself, had

 seen the Coven and Emaldar utterly destroyed in a terrible

 volcanic eruption.

 "Who in World are Delond and Antia?" inquired Flar-

 man, keeping his place on the list with a stubby forefin-

 ger.

 "You met them briefly on your return from Pfantas," said

 the metal bird. "Delond is the Mayor of Summer Palace and

 Antia is his wife, I believe."

 "Ah, yes, now I remember," murmured Flarman. "Nice

 people!"

 "There are a number of people from Pfantas on the list,

 too, but I doubt many will actually come." Owl went on.

 "They're very busy setting things aright since (he dissolu-

 tion of the Coven,"

 Geomancer                   5

 In a very few days, at the Autumnal Equinox, Douglas

 would be examined by a panel of Master Wizards consisting

 of Flarman, Augurian the Water Adept, and the elderly

 Choinese Magician, Wong Tscha San. If Douglas passed

 the orals, and his journeying was deemed sufficient (No

 doubt about that, thought the Owl), the young man would

 be elevated to full Mastery, a Fire Wizard like Flarman, his

 teacher and close friend.

 Three months later the whole World, it seemed, would

 descend on Dukedom's Valley and on Wizards' High (as

 it was now called) for the wedding of Douglas and Myrn.

 The invitations were ready to be sent out.

 "What do ye hear from Douglas?" asked Flarman, look-

 ing up from the long list. "Did I miss his latest message?"

 "No," responded Bronze Owl, preparing to depart for the

 nail on the double front door of the cottage, his post as

 Doorknocker and official greeter. "He sent word yesterday

 that he'd go with Serenit to the face of the glacier today.

 Serenit had something strange to show him that has been

 uncovered by the melting ice."

 "I recall," said the Wizard. A worried frown creased his

 brow for a moment. "Well, let me know when he checks in,

 won't you? He should be back here at his books. I should

 have gone to check on Serenit myself."

 "You are quite overwhelmed with disenchanting all those

 people Serenit put under spell when he was Frigeon."

 "Yes, and I must get back to it quickly. Here, send all

 these invitations as quickly as possible. The Wraith can do

 it faster than anyone, I suppose, and with less fuss. We

 can only hope that our honored guests won't eat all Valley

 out of houses, homes, barns, bins, cribs, and silos, and the

 High, too!"

 Journeyman Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade followed

 Serenit, the reformed Ice King, up a steep, rocky path wind-

 ing between enormous, round-shouldered boulders. Trotting

 behind them came the Sea Otter. Marbleheart, Douglas's

 Familiar.

 6                Don Callander

 Traveling afoot, especially on uneven roads, was hardly

 Marbleheart's favorite exercise but he didn't complain. He

 loved, most of all, an adventure.

 From all around them came the rushing, gushing, gur-

 gling, and tinkling of water dashing over stones and minor

 falls, hidden in cracks and crevices or dashing across

 smooth, flat slabs of dark blue gabro granite. Where their

 way crossed an icy streamlet or skirted a shallow pool of

 meltwater, the Otter paused a moment to splash and dabble.

 Cold or not, water was his preferred element.

 The chill breath of the ice field ahead of and above

 them whistled down the twisting pathway to pluck at the

 men's heavy, fur-lined cloaks and threaten to whip away

 their woolen caps.

 "Not much farther, young Douglas," Serenit assured him

 as they stopped to catch their breaths in the lee of a curved,

 ice-carved outcrop.

 "How far has Eternal Ice retreated since . . . since Flarman

 and I came to Ice Palace?"

 Serenit was unbothered by the Journeyman's oblique ref-

 erence to his downfall. Flarman and Douglas had burrowed

 into the cellar of his Ice Palace from below and destroyed

 the Great Grey Pearl in which Serenit, then known as

 Frigeon, had locked his human conscience, his sense of

 right and wrong.

 The resulting catastrophe destroyed the Ice King's for-

 tress on the ice—and the vast glacier on which it had been

 built, as well. The glacier had been retreating to the north

 ever since.

 Since his conscience had been restored, Frigeon changed

 dramatically—he'd even taken a new name. He'd striven

 and worked and suffered and struggled to make restitution

 for his evil doings, reclaiming the rock-strewn valley the

 glacier left behind.

 In less than two years Serenit and his friend and former

 steward, Clangeon, had begun attracting Men to settle on

 the empty, harsh land- They'd managed to find markets in

 the south for the excess glacier ice, discovering ingenious

 Geomancer                   7

 ways to preserve it as it was carried by the merchant ships

 of Wayness and Westongue to distant ports. The frozen

 cargoes brought high prices in places where ice had been

 virtually unknown before.

 Now the southern margin of New Land, as Serenit called

 his empty wilderness, was beginning to show new greenery,

 rapidly growing spruce, cedar, fir, and pine forests, careful-

 ly tended by the earliest of the settlers against a day when

 they would cut lumber and saw timbers for the ships that

 increasingly plied a newly peaceful Sea.

 It was a hard life, with backbreaking labor and only small

 rewards, as yet.

 "We're eighteen miles from the coast, from Flarmanport,"

 Serenit answered the Journeyman's question. "The ice

 retreated twelve miles in the first few months after the

 destruction of Ice Palace. Slowed considerably since then,

 but still retreated five or more miles last year."

 "The ground beneath is still frozen, then?" asked

 Marbleheart. "It's that hard, I see."

 "Here it's still frozen. The warm winds Augurian sends

 from Warm Sea have melted and dried the coast. Our trees

 are growing as fast as the ice departs."

 He was proud of what he and his few men—and a few

 women, now. also—had accomplished. It showed in his

 eyes and step and sounded in his deep voice- He was no

 longer the proud, bitterly cold, wickedly arrogant Air Adept

 who had locked away his humanity.

 He was still imposingly tall, still had a ringing voice

 when he wanted to be heard. But his coloring, pale and aes-

 thetic in his days of power, was more the warm gray of the

 tough moss on the north sides of his young evergreens.

 Despite Frigeon's past, Douglas liked the new Serenit.

 He was modest, intelligent, witty, determined but kind,

 generous and thoughtful. He accomplished things but didn't

 brag about them, as Frigeon would have.

 'Twelve children were born in Flarmanport this year!"

 Serenit said, stepping out on the path once more. "I wish

 one or two had been mine! But I fail, yet, to find a lady who

 8                Don Callander

 will many such as I. Who blames them? You'll marry soon,

 I know, Douglas. Do you understand my desire to share my

 life with a special helpmeet—and sire children to make this

 thawing earth fruitful?"

 Douglas nodded a bit wistfully, thinking of Mym. She

 was far away to the south on Waterand Isle. Realizing that

 the First Citizen of New Land—all the title Serenit would

 allow himself—couldn't hear him nod, he answered aloud.

 "I've thought of marriage and decided it is many things.

 The comfort and the love of a good wife? Children are part

 of it, of course, and I know I'll love them when they come.

 If I can be as happy as some husbands I know, 1*11 be a

 much better Man and Wizard than otherwise."

 Serenit turned his head to grin at his former enemy.

 "Yet your Master, good old Flarman Flowerstalk, has

 never married. Nor the Water Adept, Augurian. Nor did

 I when I was a Master Aeromancer myself. Marriage and

 wizardry seem to conflict, for some of us."

 "Mym is Apprentice Aquamancer. It probably doesn't

 make any difference, however," said Douglas, returning

 the warm grin. "I wanted to marry her when she was just

 a pearl fisher's daughter."

 "The Lady Myrn seems to me to be an ideal candidate for

 wife and companion, from what I've heard of her. You're a

 fortunate man, Douglas Brightglade!"

 Douglas saved his breath for a particularly steep scram-

 ble beside a misty spate of icy waterfall. At the top they

 paused while the Otter inspected the cascade and its pool

 as a possible water slide.

 'There's the Face," said the First Citizen, pointing ahead.

 "I'm glad you found me warm clothing," shivered

 Douglas. "Do you mind if I set a Wanning Spell about us?

 Even this fur-lined jerkin leaks cold air down my back."

 "Not at all," cried Serenit. "I wish I could do it for

 myself. The few times I regret losing my ability to spell,

 it's almost always in small matters like keeping warm."

 The Journeyman made a small gesture and spoke a quiet

 word. Warmth flowed about them at once. They stood

 Geomancer                   9

 together surveying the Face—a towering, jagged, 200-foot

 cliff of clear, greenish ice topped with a gray mixture of

 dust and snow. At its foot lay great mounds of loose peb-

 bles, ground-up stone torn from the mountains on either side

 of its broad glacial valley in both advance and retreat

 The view was awe inspiring, to say the least. Between

 them and the foot of the Face was a wide area of pulverized

 rock, polished pea-sized gravel that crunched pleasantly

 underfoot as they marched across it.

 The sun was high overhead. Its rays provided some

 warmth, but the Journeyman's simple wanning spell made

 them both feet more comfortable. The Otter was accustomed

 to cold, having been born in the Northlands on the salt Sea

 bay called the Briney.

 In half an hour they'd crossed the rolling moraines and

 came to where the melting glacier gushed forth hundreds

 of streams of clear water from pores and channels both in

 the Face itself and underneath its foot, forming a crescent-

 shaped lake of wintry blue.

 "Look sharp now," cautioned the former Ice King. "That

 formation seems .. ."

 Before he could finish, a great pinnacle of green ice

 clinging to the Face shuddered, cracked like a cannon shot,

 screeched like a living thing, and collapsed into the lake,

 raising a cloud of mist, fine bits of stone, and ice.

 When the cold cloud reached them they turned their

 backs to the gust, protecting their eyes with their mittened

 hands.

 "Happens several times a day," Serenit commented,

 undaunted by the violence of the ice fall. 'The Face is

 a dangerous place to walk without extreme care."

 He led Douglas and Marblehearl off to one side, skirt-

 ing the shallow lake between them and the foot of the

 glacier wall. They rounded a house-sized chunk of ice

 recently calved from the Face, and stopped on the shore

 of the lake.

 "There it is, whatever it is," said Serenit, pointing across

 the again-calm water. "What do you make of it, I wonder?"

 Don Cailander

 10

 In the center of the lake rose a column of dark blue

 granite thrice as tall as a man. At first it seemed no more

 than that—a thin tower of smoothly polished stone. Looking

 more closely, Douglas realized that it was in the shape of an

 enormous man.

 It had a warrior's broad shoulders and narrow waist,

 sturdy legs set slightly apart for firm balance on the gravel

 of the lake bed. Its up-tilted face was mostly hidden by a

 heavy helmet and slitted visor. From the peak of the helm

 flowed a stone plume that all but fluttered in the sharp wind

 off the ice field behind.

 The statue wore a knee-length kilt, and its legs were

 encased in stone jambeaux and its torso in chain mail. A

 short sword, of a fashion so ancient that Douglas had only

 seen it in the very oldest of Flarman's books, hung from a

 wide belt.

 The subject was a Man, or rather, a Warrior, A person-

 age of stature and dignity, with an aura of defiance and

 tragedy.

 It faced away from the wall of ice behind it, and me fig-

 ure's eyes seemed to stare at the Journeyman, the Familiar,

 and the First Citizen on the shore.

 A thousand miles due south of New Land at the same

 moment, a dark-haired lass in a red swimsuit popped out of

 Sea's depths, blew a gust of pent-up breath like a porpoise,

 and grasped the side of a small sailboat.

 In me boat a graying, older man with the lined and

 weathered face of someone who spent all his days on salt

 water, reached over the gunwale to help Mym Manstar over

 the side and into the boat.

 "No luck?" the man asked.

 Mym picked up a rough towel and briskly dried her hair

 and her arms and hands as she answered.

 "Oh, mere's plenty of blue coral. Papa."

 "Then why .. . ?" Mym's father began to ask.

 "I met one of our friends, the Horniads," Mym explained

 quickly.

 Geomancer                   II

 "They're supposed to be sound asleep all this year,"

 Nick Manstar objected. "Or so say you and your intend-

 ed Wizard. I never speak to Sea Worms, if I can help

 it."

 "Oh, Papa!" cried Mym in exasperation. "I've told you

 and told you, the Homiads are friendly and harmless. And

 they've been very, very helpful to us finding pearls and blue

 coral, you know."

 "Noted and agreed upon," said her father with a rueful

 chuckle. "It's just that I feel the Worms would rather be

 left alone, and we Ftowringers would prefer to be left alone,

 too. except on pearl business."

 Mym pulled a loose cotton dress over her bathing suit

 and fluffed her hair with a second towel, softly uttering a

 Drying Spell as she did so. Her hair became dry and shiny

 almost at once with no traces of residual salt.

 "This Homiad told me worrisome news," the Apprentice

 Aquamancer said seriously. "I must return to Waterand Isle

 at once."

 Nick didn't protest. Gathering up the proper halyards in

 his strong hands, he set the jibs'l and then the mains'l,

 sending his boat skimming toward the distant smudge of

 smoke and purple hills marking Flowring Isle.

 "You care to say what it was. Daughter?" inquired Nick.

 "He ... it... didn't have any details. Sea creatures have

 several ways of sending information swiftly through the

 deeps but this Homiad had only heard rumors of serious

 events, somewhere in the Northlands."

 "Could it be King Frigeon, again?"

 Mym shook her midnight-dark head.

 "No, not Serenit. Douglas is convinced his alteration is

 sincere and permanent. Beside, Sea creatures are constantly

 watching Serenit as part of their agreement with us. No, the

 Sea Worm would have said if it involved the Ice King come

 back to plague us."

 It took but a few minutes after they had reached shore

 for Mym to say good-bye to her mother and brothers and

 her many friends on her home island.

 12 Don Caliander

 "If ye must leave, ye must," Tomasina Manstar said,

 heaving a mother's deep sigh. "Will ye wait on nightfall,

 this time? Perhaps you'd better, for me to fix supper."

 "I should use my pretty Feather Pin that Finesgold gave

 me," said Mym hesitantly, digging the magic talisman out

 of her pocket and pinning it to her shoulder. "Although I'd

 rather travel Sea-bottom with Cold Fire. Flying over Sea is

 more than a little boring and very windy, unless you find

 some birds to talk to, or a ship or two."

 "Ye say the Worm said it was urgent trouble," Nick

 reminded her. She couldn't call Asrai until full dark—five

 or six hours yet.

 "You're right, Papa!" cried Mym. "I can be home—at

 Waterand—before nightfall. Augurian needs to know this

 message, soonest. Yes, I'll go by way of the Pin."

 Suiting her actions to her words, the young lady Appren-

 tice kissed her folks once again, whispered. "Cumulo Nim-

 bus!" ... and shot into the clear, tropical island sky, head-

 ing south and a bit west for Waterand.

 Pushing the Feather's considerable speed as much as she

 dared, Mym arrived over the Palace of Augurian in just

 over three hours. Circling the highest tower, she land-

 ed like a bird on a balcony outside Augurian's tower-

 top laboratory and knocked on the casement before she

 entered.

 "Back so soon?" asked the Water Adept, raising his eyes

 from an elaborate microscope under which he had been

 studying a bit of green metal in a glass dish. "I thought

 you'd be gone until Monday, at least."

 "Master," Mym gasped, flushed by the speed of her

 flight, "I heard word of danger, up north."

 The Water Adept straightened from his instrument and

 laid aside his work apron as she told him the Homiad's

 cryptic message.

 "I've heard no such rumor or rumbling," the Water Adept

 said.

 He walked to a huge and well-worn tome chained to a

 marble stand under the westernmost of his tower windows,

 Geomancer                  13

 where the evening light was strongest, and began thumbing

 through it thoughtfully.

 Mym used the interval to straighten her clothes and comb

 the snarls out of her hair. She said nothing until he finished

 reading.

 "Well, there's some small hint of... something unspec-

 ified," Augurian sighed at last, closing the heavy book.

 "Maybe Flarman has heard more of it from his vantage

 point. Call Deka, will you, lass? I'll look into the Crystal

 Pool. There may be news there."

 It took Mym a minute or less to summon the Wraith Mes-

 senger, first drawing the room's heavy drapes against the

 brilliant setting sun. Deka was hard to make out in strong

 light. By the time the interdimensional creature blinked into

 view, Mym had lighted three candles and ordered a servant

 to bring a pitcher of lemonade—misctywine, a favorite food

 of the swift astral being—to the tower.

 Deka shimmered in the candlelight, a rather thin, trans-

 lucent femaleish figure with huge gray eyes and clouds of

 palest silvery hair. She was dressed in a pink-and-beige

 gown of a diaphanous material that floated about her rest-

 lessly on unseen, unfelt currents of air.

 "Greeting, Mym of Flowring Isle, beloved of Douglas

 Brightglade, my friend!" she said to Mym with a solemn

 bow. As Augurian returned from an adjacent room she

 greeted him by name and several titles as well.

 "Can you carry a message in haste to Wizards* High?"

 asked the Water Adept-

 "In a twinkling," replied the Wraith, for whom no distance

 was too great. "What shall I say to Flarman Flowerstalk?

 Douglas himself is not at the High just now. I carried mes-

 sages from him to Flarman yesterday. He and the Otter arc

 with Serenit in New Land."

 "Yes, I think we need to tell Flarman this news first," said

 Augurian. He dictated a short message about the Horniad's

 rumor and the hints he had seen in the Book of Cur-

 rent Events and in his Crystal Pool. Deka would deliver

 his words from memory, just as spoken. She would even

 14 Don Callander

 reproduce Augurian's inflections and accents.

 "Return with Flarman's answer, if it's not too long in

 coming," requested the Water Adept. "I know you are

 busy."

 "Never too busy to serve friends," said Deka. She winked

 solemnly at Mym. "I've just delivered hundreds upon hun-

 dreds of invitations to your nuptial feast, a total thirteen

 hundred and seventy-three persons all over World—and a

 few without!"

 "Good gracious!" cried Mym. "So many!"

 "Perhaps they won't all come," said Deka, daintily fin-

 ishing a second glass of lemonade and preparing to depart.

 "But think of the presents you'll get!"

 She nodded politely to the Water Adept and went out—

 like a snuffed candle.

 Chapter Two

  

  

 Under Eternal \ce

 "WHO'S the big guy?" wondered the Otter. "Long drink

 of water, at any rate!"

 "Remarkably lifelike," was Serenit's comment. "Every

 muscle chiseled in its proper place. Remarkable! You see

 why I wanted you to see it, Douglas."

 "Yes, it's most strange," Douglas murmured. "Yet... I

 feel something about it. Let me see ..."

 He seemed to be ticking items off on his fingers, one-

 two-three, but silently, when there was a great bong!, as

 of an enormous brass gong struck a single blow very close

 by.

 "What the mackerel was that!" yelped Marbleheart, jump-

 ing straight up in the air.

 "No idea!" replied Serenit. He added in a musing tone,

 "It's high noon, as you can see from the lack of shad-

 ows,"

 Douglas shaded his eyes against the glare of the sunlight

 reflecting from the Face and the still tarn waters, but he saw

 nothing unusual.

 At first.

 Three breaths after the ringing, they heard a loud, sharp

 crack and a low rumble, much like the calving of an iceberg

 from the glacier they'd heard a few minutes before, but

 nearer.

 "The statue's moving!" shouted the Otter. "Did you do

 that. Master?"

 15

 16 Don Callander

 "No," replied the Journeyman Wizard. "No, not at all!"

 Before they could move or speak further the stone figure

 in the lake stepped directly toward them, dashing the water

 into a diamond-bright spray. Serenit and Douglas stood

 their ground as might be expected of a Wizard and an

 ex-Wizard, but the Otter ducked behind a smoothly rounded

 stone half-embedded in the beach gravel.

 Douglas called hurriedly after the Otter, "Send for

 Rannan!"

 The granite giant reached shore in four strides and, with

 a sound, like two smooth stones rubbed together, he bent

 forward to examine them.

 "Ah, there you are, at last!" he said in a pleasantly

 hollow-ringing voice. "Come along! The Chief is waiting

 for you."

 He grasped Douglas*s waist in one hand and the former

 Ice King by the wrist in the other and, turning abruptly on

 his heel, waded back into the lake. In a moment the three

 disappeared beneath the disturbed surface.

 Marbleheart, rushing to the lake's shore, could see them

 moving steadily away under the water, receding farther and

 farther toward the foot of the Face. A huge shard of ice

 cracked sharply, calved, and slipped with a great roar into

 the lake.

 Marbleheart dashed to higher ground to avoid the ten-foot

 wave thrown up by the plunging berg. When he turned to

 look, the statue, the Journeyman, and the First Citizen had

 completely disappeared.

 The lake waters surged back and forth, slowly calming

 again.

 "By Remmit!" the Sea Otter swore to himself. "Kid-

 napped by a statue! Run for Flarman—or try to follow

 them?"

 He plumped himself down on a flat stone and considered.

 It would take him two or three weeks to reach Wizards'

 High, all conditions being ideal. Warning the Fire Wizard

 of what had happened was most important—indeed, it was

 what Douglas had ordered him to do.

 Geomancer                  17

 But wait that long? It might be days and days too late!

 Still, the giant statue hadn't seemed particularly men-

 acing. In fact, it had seemed to be expecting them. Yet,

 if Serenit was correct, this spot had been buried under a

 thousand feet of glacier ice for tens of thousands of years.

 No doubt about it. it's Magic. Marbleheart murmured to

 himself. And Magic needed more than a novice Familiar.

 What would Black Flame do in such a case? I wonder.

 Black Flame, Flarman's dignified, experienced tomcat

 Familiar, had become the Otter's mentor, teaching him the

 lore and precepts of Familiarity since Marbleheart's arrival

 at Wizards' High.

 "Never leave your Master's side," the cat said in the

 Otter's mind's ear. "A Familiar's place is beside his Wiz-

 ard, no matter what!"

 "Damme!" cried the Sea Otter, who had learned the

 language of sailors long before he'd met Douglas, "What's

 to do?"

 He looked around for inspiration and noticed a flock of

 white birds circling the head of the glacier, slowly and lazi-

 ly, enjoying the updrafts caused when the warm southern

 wind struck the Face.

 "Gulls? Yes, gulls! Hey, you guys! Ahoy! Ahoy!"

 His words echoed from the Face and rebounded from

 the walls of the valley on either side. The birds paid no

 attention.

 Drawing on his growing arsenal of useful little spells

 taught him by Douglas, Marbleheart gathered a double arm-

 ful of dried grasses into a pile and set it afire with a certain

 gesture and a word.

 A thick column of yellow smoke rose straight into the

 air until it was snatched quite away by the steady south

 wind.

 The Sea Otter waved his forepaws and shouted "Ahoy!"

 again and again. At last one of the gulls dropped below

 the edge of the Face and lazily swooped to circle about the

 column of smoke, cocking its head to study the ground and

 the creature waving at him, below.

 18 Don Catlander

 "Come down!" shouted the Otter. "You mangy, moulting

 fish thief Pay attention!"

 But the gull swung away and returned to its flock over the

 glacier. Marbleheart flung himself beside the dying grass

 fire in disgust.

 "I suppose I could find someone down at New Land to

 carry the message for me." he said to himself aloud. 'That

 Clangeon's a decent sort, I mink. That'd take only a couple

 of days."

 He had decided on this course when a shadow crossed

 overhead. Squinting up into the sun, Marbleheart saw three

 great white gulls flying there, looking down at him.

 "It's a Sea Otter, only," one croaked derisively. "Fish

 stealers, they are. Let's go catch some nice, oily sardines

 in the fjord."

 "He called to us, however," a larger, whiter gull reminded

 him. "Let's at least see what he wants."

 "Wants to wring our necks, probably, and make supper

 of us," said the first, but he followed his leader down to

 land beside the ashes of the fire. They stood at stiff-legged

 attention, their beads cocked to the side, regarding the

 stranger with one wary, beady eye and then, turning their

 heads in unison, the other eye.

 "You called us?" asked one.

 "I need your help, really," said Marbleheart, "and I am

 not going to wring anybody's neck—least not anyone in

 this gathering, gulls dear!"

 "Well, he's polite enough, anyway," said the sour-looking

 gull. "Who are you. Sea Otter? And who built a fire in this

 Man-forsaken place?"

 "I did- I am Marbleheart Sea Otter of the Briney, far

 west of here. I am the Familiar of the Wizard Douglas

 Brightglade of Wizards' High, You may have heard of

 him, if not of me."

 The gulls exchanged glances among themselves. Marble-

 heart felt he had said enough, so kept silent.

 "I've heard of the Fire Wizard Brightglade of Farango

 Waters," said the largest of the three birds. "We all have

 Geomancer                  19

 heard of his exploits. How are we to know you are what

 you say?"

 "I am his Familiar. I know Magic. I created the fire," the

 Otter pointed out, drawing himself up to stand tall on his

 hind legs.

 "Not so very familiar, it seems to me," sneered the

 second gull. "Never heard of any Marbleheart Sea Otter,

 and I used to spend my summers on Briney."

 "Well, I was just a kit when I left the Briney," argued

 Marbleheart earnestly. "I lived on the Farango Waters for a

 while, then crossed the Broad to the coast of Old Kingdom.

 That's where I met the Wizard Douglas."

 "I believe you," said the largest gull. "I am Aurora and I

 am Wing Commander of the World-famous Blizzard Flight.

 What do you here, Otter Marbleheart?"

 Marbleheart described Douglas's visit to New Land and

 his disappearance into the glacial lake, only moments

 before.

 "Yes, I noticed the Man-tike statue," observed the third

 gull, speaking for the first time. "It has disappeared, hasn't

 it? May have had something to do with the loud chime we

 heard."

 "Magic, then!" cried the second gull, backing off quickly.

 "Clear out of here, I say, Aurora! Magic is nothing to mess

 around with, even for a Wing Commander!"

 "It's gone now," observed Aurora calmly. "Keep cool,

 Codsnapper! The Otter has a claim to our assistance.

 Brightgtade is the pupil of the Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk,

 and Flowerstalk has long since won gratitude and service of

 all Sea gulls, as you'll recall once you stop nattering."

 Codsnapper shook his head angrily but accepted the

 rebuke in silence.

 "What can we do for you. Familiar?" the Wing Com-

 mander asked.

 "Merely take a message to Flarman Flowerstalk at his

 home in Valley. He must learn of this magical disappear-

 ance as quickly as possible. I can think of no faster means

 than gull-wing."

 20 Don Cailander

 The flattery soothed even Codsnapper, and in a few

 minutes the gulls flew off to rejoin their Wing, watching

 from high above- After circling for a few more seconds, the

 entire Wing suddenly wheeled and streaked south by west,

 following their leader.

 "I only hope they don't get distracted," Marbleheart mut-

 tered gloomily to himself. "Gulls can be so flighty'"

 Marbleheart trotted down to the edge of the tam, now

 completely still, reflecting the sky and the Face as if it had

 never been disturbed.

 He slid smoothly into the bitterly cold water and began to

 swim toward the far side, the direction the giant had carried

 Douglas and Serenit.

 When he reached the spot where the statue had disap-

 peared beneath the foot of the glacier, Marbleheart took

 several deep breaths and dived, swimming steeply, strongly,

 and swiftly into the depths.

 The glacial lake was much deeper here than he had

 expected. Shortly he was swimming under the Face into

 utter blackness.

 The longest most Otters care to swim underwater is five

 or six minutes. Marbleheart had long ago trained himself to

 stay under, swimming fast, for as much as ten, a remarkably

 long time even for otters. Even so, by the time he saw dim

 light ahead his lungs were beginning to bum for air and his

 head to pound painfully.

 He swam toward the light, knowing he was beyond the

 point of no return if the light didn't mean air, also. He was

 deadly determined to follow his young Journeyman.

 The spot of light proved to be a collapsed dome of ice

 under the belly of the glacier itself, allowing a dim light and

 a trickle of air to reach the surface of the water. Marbleheart

 gasped great painful gulps of frigid air, paddling slowly

 about the circular pocket, surrounded by smoothly trans-

 lucent green ice.

 Even here the situation was unstable. Any sounds louder

 than his breathing and paddling brought slivers of ice crash-

 Geomancer                  21

 ing down about his head. Marbleheart waited until his heart

 slowed, drew a dozen deep lungfuls of air. held the last, and

 dived again.

 Now the bottom of the ice was only a few feet above

 the lake bottom and getting closer. Was the bottom coming

 up—or was the weight of the ice bearing it down? He

 couldn't decide.

 Thrice more he found air in pockets and cracks in the ice

 above, managing to avoid drowning only by the narrowest

 of margins. He knew instinctively he was traveling in a

 straight line away from his entry point—you can't lose

 a Sea Otter that easily—and he estimated he had swum

 between four and five miles before he came to a much larger

 air pocket and crawled up on a beach of polished stones

 over which flowed a shallow stream of chill meltwater.

 "Have to walk from here, I guess," he muttered aloud.

 His voice echoed down long, empty corridors, tall cracks

 in the ice.

 While in most places the retreating ice rested solidly on

 the floor of its valley, there were vertical fissures wide

 enough to allow him to continue on—more to the sides

 of the ice river than in the center, he found. All the cracks

 ran parallel to the glacier's course.

 From every side he heard constant sounds of rushing

 water, of groaning and snapping ice, and the ages-slow

 grinding of ice on stone and stone on stone. Where once

 the glacier had flowed toward Sea, inexorably and very,

 very slowly, now its course was reversed. It was creeping

 back to the everlasting ice fields far to the north.

 Was that where the statue had taken Douglas? Only one

 way to find out!

 By the time night crept into the cracks and passages

 about him, the Otter had settled his most common neces-

 sities. There were numerous pools, ponds, lakes, and

 streams under the glacier, teeming with water-life from

 tiny freshwater shrimps to thirty-pound tunas and ten-pound

 codfish descended from those trapped by the shifting ice

 ages before.

 22 Don Callander

 He took advantage of the last of day's meager light to

 shag a small cod. He took it to a fairly dry rock shelf,

 several inches above the stream.

 He'd forgotten how good fresh-caught, raw fish could be.

 The cod was excellent.

 Comes from living with Wizards and such creatures, he

 thought.

 He finished off the fish down to the last scale and fin

 and curled himself into a heat-conserving ball, unmindful

 of the frigid air, water, and ice all about his sanctuary.

 Before he slept he spared a thought for the gulls, wishing

 them good speed on their mission.

 / could surely use a Wizard of some sort right now!

 Chapter Three

  

  

 A Wizard Whisked Away

 'THAT double-dratted, rat-nosed, crab-backward, rancid-

 rotten, trouble-brewing prestidigitator!" Flarman said in a

 conversational tone more startling than any rant or rave.

 He threw down his black Crow-Quill Pen, pushed the

 ivory-beaded Abacus away from his ample tummy, and

 puffed his cheeks until he looked like an angry Santa.

 "Speaking of yourself?" inquired Bronze Owl mildly.

 "Or some other Wizard?"

 "No, I'm but complimenting the craftsmanship of the late

 Ice King. What a loss his mind was to decent Wizardry!

 I've never seen a more devious, complicated, intertwined,

 cacophonous set of incantations than these he used to spell

 innocent, peaceful burghers and countryfolk!"

 "Even with all the help Serenit-that-was-Frigeon can give

 you?" asked Owl. He was busy tallying the Valley-folk's

 first responses to the wedding invitations, a tedious task

 at best.

 "Even with his willing help, yes! Serenit can't unravel

 his own purposes in some of these cases. Oh, my aching

 bead! Oh, my aching fingers'"

 "Take a break, old Fire-eater. You've been at it since

 before breakfast without pause," advised Bronze Owl, push-

 ing his own letters and lists aside. "If I were of human flesh

 instead of good, solid, honest, sand-cast bronze, I'd have a

 cup of tea and some of Blue Kettle's lovely sticky currant

 buns as a sure cure."

 23

 24 Don Callander

 "You are, without a doubt, the best adviser a Wizard ever

 had! These poor citizens of... Filabeggery, wherever that

 is... will have to wait a few minutes more while I tackle

 some current events. Currently I am dying of thirst and lack

 of sugar!"

 So saying, the Wizard clapped his hands and called

 toward the stairway: "Ho, Blue! Ho, favorite housekeeper

 and cook! 0 estimable reviver and resuscitator of harassed

 Wizards!"

 From below stairs rose a questioning whistle of steam.

 "A pot of that really excellent Choin tea Master Wong

 brought us, if you please. And ask the Choinese gentleman

 to join me. Good tea should be drunk in good company."

 From the kitchen came a clatter and a rattling as porcelain

 Teacups and Saucers rushed to arrange themselves on a

 silver Tea Tray, and Oven popped wide, allowing a savory

 cloud of cinnamon steam to precede Tea Cart up the kitchen

 stairs to the Wizard's study.

 Blue Teakettle herself did the honors, pouring the green

 tea and offering sugar from silver Caster and cream just

 that morning separated from the milk of the cows in the

 hay-sweet byre.

 "Where's Wong, I wonder?" asked Flarman. "It's not like

 him to miss midmoming tiffin."

 Blue Teakettle pointed her spout out the window facing

 toward the east.

 "Oh, off on another of his long rambles, eh?" Flarman

 said with a chuckle. "He says it's difficult to walk at home.

 The Imperial Police are always trailing him and spoiling his

 pleasure."

 "He's also struggling with Question Number Twelve on

 the Master Pyromancer's Examination," his bronze adviser

 reminded.

 "Well, Old Twelve's a real poser, no doubt about that.

 I wish I'd paid more attention to that branch of Wizardry

 myself. Fire always appealed to me more than rocks, stones,

 sand, silt, and dirt. I've forgotten most of what I learned

 about Geomancy as Apprentice and Journeyman myself."

 Geomancer                  25

 "Understandable," observed Owl.

 "Maybe and maybe not. I feel I'm letting Douglas down

 by not knowing more- It could cost him his Mastery, if its

 weight is enough to bend the curve."

 He sipped his tea, already in a better mood than when

 he had thrown down Pen. Owl chatted on about the early

 responses to the invitations delivered early that morning

 by Priceless, their closest neighbor, who was ever will-

 ing to saddle his ancient gray mare and visit the rest of

 Valley.

 "Bryarmote and Crystal will be here early, of course.

 Bryannote has some ideas for additions to Wizards' High.

 Princess Crystal says he has been filling their cavern apart-

 ments with blueprints, sketches, and intricate little models

 for weeks."

 "What does my cottage need with additions?" cried

 Flarman. "It's perfect as it is."

 "Nearly correct," replied Owl, "but remember that after

 me wedding there'll be more people living here than ever."

 "Mym? She's no trouble. Takes very little space. Nor

 does Marbleheart, who spends his bits of spare time in

 Crooked Brook. Oh, well, maybe a dressing room and bath

 added to Douglas's room. Can't expect a lady to bathe at the

 well, I suppose. And maybe a sewing room ... and space in

 the Workshop. Maybe those additions, I say. Not too much

 more."

 Owl laughed aloud. "I'm only made of base metal but

 even I know one common consequence of marriage is

 children. How about adding a nursery and a schoolroom,

 and a play yard with a swing and sandbox—just in case?"

 "Well... you're right, of course. But you know our good

 Dwarf. He'll go completely overboard, if I let him. He loves

 to build in stone and brick. He blasted out my Workshop

 last time I let him expand, and I still haven't found where

 all those passages go, deep under the High!"

 Owl launched into a description of Bryannote's Hall

 under the mountains almost a week's travel on horseback

 or afoot lo the northeast. Shortly he stopped, for Barman's

 26 Don Callander

 attention was not on his chattering. He was peering intently

 into the bottom of his empty teacup.

 "What is it, Magister?" asked Bronze Owl.

 Even Blue Teakettle stopped her cheerful bubbling to

 turn and stare at the distracted Wizard.

 "I see ... some sort of... trouble'." Flarman said softly.

 "In the tea leaves! It's been a terribly long time since I saw

 thai face . . ."

 Without further word the Fire Wizard rose, snatched up

 his best cloak and conical Wizard's hat, and strode from the

 room. He plunged down the curved stairs at a quick trot, a

 most determined but distant look on his face.

 "Care to tell us what you saw in the leaves?" called Owl,

 fluttering noisily to the rail at the top of the stairs. Below

 stairs there was no answering sound. Not even the click of

 a closing door latch.

 At the kitchen-yard door. Owl met the elderly Magician

 of Choin, Wong Tscha San, back from his long mom-

 ing stroll.

 "Did you see Flarman just now?" asked the bird.

 "No. not since breakfast," replied Wong. "Why? Is there

 something wrong?"

 Owl told what had just happened in the study. A search

 of the house, me byre, the Workshop, and the gardens and

 lawns down as far as Crooked Brook uncovered no sign of

 Wizard anywhere about.

 "If what he saw in his teacup sent him off, perhaps we

 should start by looking there," suggested Wong.

 The bird and the Magician, followed by a worried Black

 Flame and a distractedly puffing Blue Teakettle, climbed

 the stairs and entered Flarman's study once more.

 "Let me see me cup, please," said Wong.

 He studied the soggy green-black dregs for a long time

 before putting the cup carefully down and covering it with

 its saucer, inverted.

 "Reading tea leaves is something of a specialized art, of

 course, although I've often done it for amusement. Here,

 however"—he gestured to the cup with a graceful hand—

 Geomancer                  27

 '*if there is anything here to read, 1 quite miss it. Augurian

 or Myrn could undoubtedly do better. Reading tea leaves is

 in an Aquamancer's line of work. Leave the cup untouched,

 please. Blue Teakettle, so they can study it when we send

 for them."

 Owl's sharp eye caught a shimmering movement in the

 far comer of the study among the stuffed lizards and the

 strange pink eggs under crystal domes.

 Deka the Wraith had arrived.

 "I'll pull the drapes." Owl said at once. 'There, little

 mist lady! Welcome again!"

 "I bring an urgent message to me Wizard Flowerstalk

 from me Water Adept," announced Deka with a tiny smile

 and a curtsy toward the Choinese Mage.

 "Flarman has just departed and we don't know where

 he's gone. Starbeing," said Wong, returning her bow. "Can

 your message be delivered to any other here?"

 'To you. Magician, or to Bronze Owl, an old and trusted

 friend, certainly," Deka declared, floating closer. "Listen,

 then, to the words of Augurian."

 When she had finished Deka accepted a half cup of

 cooled tea from Teakettle, and perched daintily on the edge

 of Flarman's worn learner couch, waiting for a reply.

 "Not much to go on, really," observed the metal bird.

 "Some sort of warning of trouble in the north? Surely

 Augurian and surely Myrn sense more to what they report

 than just that."

 "I suspect they are concerned that young Douglas is in

 New Land and just now out of touch. Mistress Myro,

 at least, would make an intuitive connection," observed

 Wong.

 "And Flarman mentioned 'trouble' when he read the

 leaves—just before he dashed off. The connection becomes

 stronger. What else would cause Flarman to dash off with-

 out saying anything to anyone about his destination?"

 "Precisely," agreed Wong thoughtfully. "You must return

 to Waterand, Child of the Stars, and tell me Water Adept

 what you've heard here and what has happened- We will

 28 Don Callander

 need his experience and craft to look into this. Tell Mas-

 ter Augurian I will bend my own poor craft to discover-

 ing where the Wizard has gone, and how fares his Jour-

 neyman."

 "At once!" replied Deka, sliding gravely off the couch.

 "If I knew where either Flarman or Douglas were, I would

 go to them myself. But for some unknown reason, their

 whereabouts are hidden from me. Most strange and cer-

 tainly magical! Serenit was to show Douglas something he

 termed quite unusual in the north, where Eternal Ice melts

 away, day by day."

 "In the north," repeated Wong. "Go, then! We will look

 further than tea leaves can show."

 The Wraith nodded solemnly and abruptly . . . was no

 longer there.

 Wong retired to his room, where he spread a red-and-gold

 carpet on me floor and sat upon it, cross-legged, with his

 hands folded in his lap and his eyes closed. Everyone in me

 cottage that night and the next day walked or slid or rolled

 with extreme care and spoke in softest whispers, so as not

 to distract his meditation.

 It was so quiet that next afternoon that Bronze Owl heard

 the cries of a nock of gulls long before his sharp eyes could

 make them out in the darkening air over the Far Ridges.

 Gulls often passed over Wizards' High, and he thought no

 more of it until there came a sharp rap on the front door.

 Owl went to answer and found a large, snowy white gull

 with a golden beak standing on the stoop, gazing about with

 great curiosity.

 "Yes, ma'am?" asked Owl, for he recognized a ladybird

 of quality when he saw one.

 "I am Aurora, Wing Commander of the Blizzard Right

 of the Great White Gulls of Sea," she announced proudly.

 "I carry a message for the Wizard Flarman Howerstalk."

 "Wonderful! Come in. Wing Commander. Blizzard Flight

 is well known here in Valley. Unfortunately, the Wizard is

 not in just now."

 Geomancer                  29

 "The message is most urgent," said Aurora, with a wor-

 ried frown. "To whom or where should I deliver it, so that

 he will receive it as soon as possible?"

 Owl considered sending for Wong Tscha San, but the

 Choinese magician was still entranced. Better not to disturb

 that important work.

 "You can safely leave the message with me." he told the

 gull leader. "I am Flarman's adviser and assistant. My name

 is Bronze Owl."

 Aurora bowed deeply at the introduction. Bronze Owl

 was as famous among birds as Flarman was among Men

 and Dwarfs. She at once repeated Marbleheart's words as

 exactly as she could remember them.

 "And the great stone thing took the Journeyman and the

 First Citizen and carried them right into the tam and under

 the glacier itself," she concluded. 'The Sea Otter asks for

 assistance. I believe he intended to follow them, if he could,

 to see where the men were taken."

 Owl thanked the Wing Commander profusely and offered

 her and her followers what food they might like from the

 High's larder, also recommending the quality of trout who

 lived in Crooked Brook. Aurora thanked him in return and

 went off to see to her flock—and the trout.

 "This gets more and more weird," Owl said to Black

 Flame. "First Flarman and now Douglas! I must send word

 to Mym and Augurian!"

 Augurian that afternoon spent an intense session with

 several magical instruments and appliances, spells and

 enchantments, becoming more and more frustrated as the

 time flew by.

 Mym assisted him silently, handing him books, reading

 to him from charts and scales and making adjustments to

 equipment as he required.

 At the fall of the short tropical dusk of Waterand the

 Water Adept sank wearily to a stool and shook his head.

 "All I can discover is that something is blocking my far-

 vision on every useful level of magic as regards this danger.

 30 Don Callander

 Or perhaps it really doesn't exist. No, the Homiads would

 never falsify such a rumor. It's like a stone wall between

 us and the Far Northlands."

 "Neither natural nor usual, would you say?" the Appren-

 tice asked, sinking down on the cushioned window seat,

 elbows on knees and looking as discouraged and upset as

 her Master felt.

 "Not at all! We should be able to see at least the shape

 of what blocks our view, its size, its density. Nothing! The

 power behind it is both very great—and very, very old. Old

 as the hills!"

 The sky about the westering sun flashed brilliant green

 just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Deka arrived,

 sharp and clear in the dim light.

 "[ have come from Wizards' High," she told them with-

 out her usual greetings.

 "From Barman?" asked Augurian eagerly.

 "No, Aquamancer! Flarman is suddenly gone, his where-

 abouts unknown. He read tea leaves and simply rushed off

 without saying where he was bound. And Bronze Owl relays

 word, arrived by a Great White Gull from the Northland.

 Will you hear it?"

 "Of course," replied Augurian and Mym, together.

 The Wraith repeated Marbleheart's message and Wong's

 addendum. After that me tower laboratory was complete-

 ly still.

 "Douglas captured by a stone giant?" Mym cried.

 'There's our connection with the Homiad's vague war-

 ning! The danger the Sea creatures spoke of must surely

 have been the living statue of stone in the glacier."

 Said Augurian, "I've learned to trust your intuitions, dear

 Apprentice. I agree that is my feeling, also."

 "We must go at once, before the trail gets too cold to

 follow," said Mym firmly. "Marbleheart is a resourceful

 creature, but he's just begun his Familiarity. He'll need

 help!"

 Augurian nodded his head. but said, "I will be of more

 use here. I believe in time I can break down the wall of

 Geomancer                  31

 stony silence and see what lies beyond. We'll need to know

 what has caused this blockage, sooner or later. You must go

 alone . . . better yet, stop at Wizards' High and take Wong

 with you. He's older than the hills himself, and his magic

 is strong."

 Mym admitted to herself that the Water Adept was right.

 The Choinese gentleman, if he agreed to accompany her,

 could be most helpful. He had tremendous reserves of

 magic lore and a special way of looking at things that

 told him secrets others, even Augurian, might not see.

 "I'm on my way!" she declared. "I'll keep in touch, if I

 can punch through this awful screening."

 Augurian turned back to his complicated apparatuses and

 magical searching-spells. He waved at Mym as she paused

 a moment at the door.

 "You sense this spell-screen, do you?" he inquired of the

 Wraith. "If so, stay awhile and consult with me if you will,

 please."

 Deka nodded brightly and perched daintily on the Water

 Adept's workbench.

 "The flight to the High will take me five or six hours,"

 Mym said to herself. "I'd better get something to eat before

 I leave. I can sleep when I get there."

 She headed for her apartments to throw together her

 traveling kit and ordered a light supper brought to her

 there. She ordered one sent to the tower for the Water

 Wizard, also, knowing he wouldn't think to eat unless the

 food was right there as he worked.

 "Someone must go to aid the Otter," Wong decided. "He

 is capable of most things required from a Familiar, but. . ."

 "Yes, there is strong magic in this, I'm afraid," Owl

 agreed.

 "We'll await the Water Adept's response, however. It

 will be brought by his Apprentice, I'm sure, knowing the

 Lady Mym as I do."

 The metal bird consoled Black Flame, Flarman's own

 Familiar. He had never seen him so upset before.

 32

 Don Cailander

 "Sorry, old boy," he said to the torn. "I know you feel

 you should be with Flarman, but perhaps you can help Lady

 Mym instead. Be patient."

 Black Bame cocked his head to one side, sat on his

 haunches, and seemed to say, Well, after all, patience is

 one quality we cats have in abundance.

 Chapter Four

  

  

 Stony Gorge

 BY midmorning of the third day since diving into the

 glacial lake Marbleheart was forced to climb out of what

 remained of the under-glacier stream and trot upon the

 surface of the ice. The corridors within the ice had become

 mere cracks and the cracks had become narrow scratches,

 only. It had grown ever colder, and very little water remained

 unfrozen on the surface.

 The Sea Otter was well suited for this journey- His thick

 fur kept him warm, and his padded feet gave him good

 traction on the slippery ice. In truth, it should have been

 considerably colder, he thought as he gallumped aiong.

 Even this far from Warm Sea the southerly wind sent north

 by Augurian tempered the arctic air, where the late-summer

 sun touched it.

 On either side the bare, blue mountains closed in, pinching

 off the glacier's valley at its head.

 Before long, I'll lose the glacier altogether, he thought.

 And the water, too, I suppose?

 Now he often trod on bare rock instead of slushy ice.

 He studied a series of fresh scratches in the blue gabro

 underfoot. Marbleheart decided that they were made by

 the stone man as he walked, dragging his feet slightly

 with each step. Ice-polished pebbles had split into jagged

 pieces, sharp-edged, where the statue crunched them under

 his ponderous feet.

 The trail led between shoulders of barren cliffs rising

 33

 34 Don Callander

 fifty times the height of a man. The path was paved with

 black ice here, sheltered as it was from the sun and the

 south wind. Marbleheart skated along blithely, making good

 time.

 The ice stream ahead of him tumbled down a six-foot

 frozen fall. He stopped to rest and look about.

 "Strange smell!" he sniffed. "Something like that volca-

 no, Blueye, over to Old Kay. Sulfurous, Douglas termed

 it."

 He scrambled to the top of the fall and stopped before a

 tall, black iron gate that closed off the way.

 It stood at least fifty feet high and forty feet from side

 to side. The frozen headwaters of Eternal Ice flowed from

 under the gate.

 "Arrrgh!" the Otter groaned. "How to get inside?"

 The leaves of the gate met closely in the middle and were

 anchored flush with the vertical cliff sides, leaving no space

 at all for a six-foot Otter to wriggle through- The bottom of

 the gate rested on the ice. The thought of climbing over the

 top made the Otter dizzy.

 Far above his furry head he spied a single keyhole. He

 thought. If I can climb that high, I can perhaps squeeze in

 through the keyhole.

 "And soon!" he said aloud. "Before someone comes

 along and opens the gate."

 If they were swung open, the leaves would crush him

 against the side walls—and even if he escaped that, there

 was absolutely no place to hide for a mile downstream.

 "Us Otters are pretty good climbers," Marbleheart assured

 himself, although he remembered with a shudder the canyon

 walls along upper Bloody Brook. At least there there had

 been ledges and clefts to use as claw-holds. But he and

 Douglas had met the Falls Pixies, who had shown them a

 better way past the falls.

 "No Pixies here!" he exclaimed, although he spent sev-

 eral minutes looking about for signs of little people or any

 sort of fairy, birds, or even an insect who might help.

 "So, I'll do it for myself," he declared stoutly, and

 Geomancer                  35

 began to climb. Fortunately the ornate scrollwork deco-

 rations some ancient Dwarf blacksmith had hammered and

 welded to the sheet iron surface of the gate provided ample

 claw-holds.

 The going became easier as he climbed. Every six feet

 the gate's designer had included a narrow ledge, intended

 to provide lateral strength to the heavy iron and keep it

 from sagging. Here he could rest a moment, but visions of

 the gate clashing suddenly open and sending him smashing

 against the wall hastened his climb-

 Just below the enormous keyhole there was a slightly

 wider horizontal beam. It took him several careful minutes

 to scramble over its lip. A slip here and he would tumble

 twenty feet to the rock-hard ice below.

 "I must have vertigo or maybe it's that acrophobia Master

 Barman talked about," he panted, refraining from looking

 back and down.

 "Almost there, Briney Otter!" he encouraged himself.

 While he rested he studied the keyhole just above him.

 It had a richly ornamented escutcheon that would provide

 claw and paw grips, but he'd have to leap the last six feet,

 just to grasp its lower edge.

 Not giving himself time to think about it, Marbleheart

 jumped upward and caught one foreclaw on a forged iron

 ivy tendril. He found a second hold, then purchase for

 several other claws.

 Drawing himself up by his forelegs and twisting his long

 torso upward, he just managed to hook his right hind foot

 over the edge of the escutcheon. With a final heave, he shot

 upward and collapsed inside the keyhole itself, gasping but

 safe for the moment.

 "I need more exercise," he muttered. "Gotten fat, living

 so easy since I came to stay with Wizards!"

 A warm, heavily misted breeze blew out through the key-

 hole, smelling strongly of rotten eggs. The mechanism of

 the lock—a great bolt, heavy levers, and a coiled spring—

 posed no problem to the agile Otter. He slipped past the

 36 Don Callander

 metalwork and peered cautiously out the other side of the

 keyhole.

 The sulfurous odor was at once explained. The iron gate

 closed off the lower end of a narrow, V-shaped hollow. The

 sides and floor of the gorge were dotted everywhere with

 splashing, roaring, bubbling, steaming and rumbling clouds

 of superheated white vapor and jets of boiling water.

 On level places between dark blue-green pines, yellow

 birches, and pale green poplars, hot pools of varying shades

 of aquamarine and turquoise burbled almost merrily. Boil-

 ing water gushed from hillside springs or spurted in inter-

 mittent geysers. On either side of the stone causeway that

 led to the gate on this side were puddles of viscous, choco-

 late brown, boiling mud, popping and plopping like oatmeal

 cooking in one of Blue Teakettle's Pots.

 Marbleheart had never seen, heard, or smelled any place

 like it.

 He half clambered, half slid down the inner facade of

 the gate and trotted along the causeway, taking cover in

 a twisted clump of deodars just beyond the mud pots. In

 the distance he caught a glimpse of three tall stone figures

 walking slowly away from him between erupting geysers,

 but there was no one closer by, no watch at the gate.

 The Otter hitched up his courage and followed the trio

 at a safe distance, taking advantage of outcroppings of

 yellow-stained stone and occasional scrubby bushes for

 concealment. After a time the statues disappeared over

 a slight rise- He approached the hill cautiously, swerving

 now and again to avoid pools of hot blue-and-green water

 or hissing jets of live steam.

 Peering over the crest of the rise, he faced a village of

 squat, round stone huts, roofed with thick, flat slate. The

 huts were set in a circle about a rough, stone-paved plaza

 before a larger, conical building, which was crudely deco-

 rated with primitive stone carvings of flowers and fantastic

 beasts.

 Between this and the open side of the square stood a

 squat, short stone dais or pillar. Seated on its flat top, ten

 Geomancer                  37

 or twelve feet above the ground, Marbleheart saw Douglas

 Brightglade and First Citizen Serenit.

 'Thank goodness!" the Otter breathed. "They appear to

 be alive, well and whole, and that's a blessing, at least."

 At first there were no stone natives in view but as

 Marbleheart moved cautiously around the edge of their

 village, individual statues began to emerge from the huts

 and move toward the larger building beyond the prisoners.

 They moved in stony silence except for the thudding of

 their feet on the paths.

 From their perch, Douglas and Serenit watched them pass

 without speaking. In fact, aside from the muted roaring hiss

 of distant fumaroles and the sudden sharp hiss of geysers,

 there was no sound at all.

 That silence was broken when a clash, loud and sharp,

 like two dense stones struck together, came three times.

 The tribesmen increased their pace and filed quickly into

 the cone-shaped building.

 Heavy iron doors crashed shut behind the last to arrive.

 Marbleheart slinked between empty huts, listening and

 watching, until he was on the edge of the cleared square

 around the stone pillar. Rather than cry out, he took a pace

 away from his cover and stood on his hind feet, waving his

 forelegs in slow arcs in the direction of the captives.

 Douglas, who had been relaxing as comfortably as pos-

 sible atop the pillar, sat up at once and waved back. He

 glanced carefully about, saw no guards or other passersby,

 and gestured to Marbleheart to come to the foot of the

 strange monument.

 "Welcome to Stony Gorge," said the Journeyman in a

 loud whisper, "You must have had a pretty grueling trek,

 following us here."

 "Are you well?" asked Marbleheart anxiously, shrugging

 off the comment.

 "We're as well as can be expected," replied Serenit as

 Douglas nodded- "These people don't feel the cold nor do

 they seem to eat, but having a Wizard along provides such

 luxuries as food and warmth."

 38 Don Callander

 "Not that it's so cold here," said Douglas, waving at the

 geysers and hot springs.

 "Personally, I've not had a thing to eat since I caught

 a land-locked salmon, some way back," complained the

 Otter.

 Douglas looked thoughtful for a second, made a gesture,

 and dropped a picnic basket covered with a red-checkered

 cloth down to the Otter. Marbleheart caught it quite neatly,

 spilling nothing.

 "Will you come away with me? We can maybe find a

 place to hide until we can get out of this place," he called

 up to the prisoners.

 "No, I think not. For one thing, hiding places are mighty

 hard to find, as you can see. And I want to find out just

 why we were brought here in the first place," Douglas

 told him.

 "They haven't told you yet?" marveled the Otter, lift-

 ing the edge of the napkin to see what sort of goodies

 Douglas had transported from the Wizards' High kitchen.

 Fried chicken pieces, a container of potato salad, ham,

 cheese, and warm, buttered dinner rolls'

 "No, the statue who brought us here wouldn't say a

 word," said the First Citizen.

 "He expected you. Maybe he thought you should expect

 him. Still, if you're comfortable and safe ..."

 "Safe as a mouse at Wizards* High," Douglas assured

 him. "It would be handy if you would hide yourself some-

 where, however, and observe a bit as a free and outside

 agent, if you understand what I mean."

 "Perfectly!" chuckled Marbleheart. "Well, I'll find a nook

 or a cranny somewhere and enjoy what's in the basket, if

 you don't mind."

 "After you've had your bite to eat, you might see if you

 can eavesdrop on their meeting inside," added the Journey-

 man, pointing over his shoulder to the building behind him.

 "Maybe get some idea what these strange Stone Men have

 in mind for us."

 "I'll certainly do that," the Otter agreed, his normal good

 Geomancer                 39

 humor restored by seeing his Master and the First Citizen

 fairly safe. "I'll report back when and if I can."

 He scampered off between the two nearest huts, avoiding

 a stream of slow-flowing, malodorous water, and disap-

 peared around one comer of the hall, carrying the picnic

 basket under his left front leg.

 After gobbling the chicken, three ham-and-cheese sand-

 wiches (with mustard—Fire Wizards love mustard), and the

 potato salad, Marbleheart hid the empty basket and circled

 the large stone edifice, studying its construction and layout

 as he went.

 It was built of rough-hewn, flat blocks of the dark blue

 granite laid in even courses to the height of thirty feet. Its

 walls were pierced with many small slit windows to let in

 light—the statues might not need air but they needed light

 to see by, he decided.

 Climbing the rough outer wall was no great task. He

 selected the eastern wall to scale, as there were fewer huts

 on that side of the building.

 He reached the lowest bank of windows but found that his

 view inside was blocked by the hips and backs of the throng

 of statues gathered within. He climbed another two dozen

 courses and peered cautiously through one of the top-row

 windows.

 The interior was just about as he had expected. Circular,

 its floor sunk well below the level of the plaza outside, the

 sides of the pit lined with rows of stone benches—really

 just square-cut granite blocks without backs—on which the

 Stone Men sat or stood.

 Opposite the single door was a low dais on which stood

 the largest and heaviest of all the statues Marbleheart had

 yet seen.

 As the Otter settled down to watch and listen on a narrow

 sill above the heads of the crowd, this figure raised his right

 arm for attention and the low crowd murmur fell away

 at once.

 This Stone Man, Marbleheart decided, was in Authority.

 40 Don Callander

 "I am Detritus," the statue chanted in a deep, booming

 voice that somehow reminded the Otter of a landslide. "I

 am Chief of Stones!"

 "We so recognize you, 0 Chief!" the gathered statues

 replied in rough chorus, some sort of ritual response.

 "Let us consult together," intoned the Chief of Stones,

 and he sank to the dais cross-legged and folded his massive

 arms on his knees.

 "Watchman has brought us two Wizards," announced

 Detritus- "He has done well!"

 "He has done well!" responded the assembly, turning to

 point to Douglas's kidnapper. Watchman raised his hand in

 acknowledgment of the accolade, but said nothing.

 "Without further preliminary," continued the Chief, "we

 shall interrogate these Wizards."

 The throng buzzed and nodded.

 The Stone named Watchman rose and went out through

 the door. Although he couldn't see from his high view-

 point, Marbleheart was not surprised when Douglas and

 his companion appeared in the doorway, floating casually

 along on air, followed by a disconcerted Watchman, who

 had evidently expected to carry or drag them into the hall.

 "Come forward, then. Wizards," said Detritus, gesturing

 imperiously. "We wish to interrogate you."

 Douglas floated right up to the platform and settled in

 midair at the level of the Chief's eyes. If Detritus or the

 other Stone Men were taken aback by the Wizard's bold

 move, they allowed no sign to show on their rigid faces.

 "I'm ready to answer questions or provide any informa-

 tion in my power," said Douglas pleasantly. Serenit floated

 down to a bench—with grave dignity—in the front row.

 "You are Wizards, we know," began Detritus, matter-of-

 factly. "How do we address you?"

 "If you mean my name, I am called Douglas Brightglade.

 By profession I am a Journeyman Pyromancer, student of

 Flarman Flowerstalk of Wizards' High," Douglas replied.

 "Never heard of either of you," grated the Chief, shaking

 his head.

 Geomancer                  41

 Douglas showed his surprise at this. Almost everyone

 had heard of Rarman.

 "My companion, however, is not a Wizard. He once was,

 but has since been stripped of his powers and title. He's

 therefore but an ordinary man and his name is Serenit of

 New Land. He was formerly known as Frigeon, the Ice

 King."

 Detritus nodded, but said, "I have no knowledge of Serenit

 nor of Frigeon, either."

 "These are fairly recent events," said Douglas.

 "Whether he is also a Wizard or not is unimportant,

 however. You are a Wizard, Douglas Brightglade!"

 "I am—a Journeyman Wizard, not yet advanced to full

 Mastery, however."

 "But you will right a grave magical wrong," Detritus

 persisted, leaning forward suddenly. "For such is said to

 be a Wizard's duty, ever!"

 "If I can, of course—or I may be able to find help for you,

 if your problem requires a full Wizard. Tell me about it."

 Detritus gestured to another of the Stone Men, seated in

 the front row near Serenit. This individual, not quite as tall

 or as impressive as Chief Detritus, rather bent and much

 older, rose and bowed to the dais.

 "This is Archey, our Tribal Storyteller," Chief Detritus

 explained to Douglas. "He will tell you our story, if you

 will please listen."

 "Proceed," said Douglas, settling back on a cushion of

 thin air to listen with evident interest.

 Chapter Five

  

  

 The History of the Stones

 THE Storyteller drew himself up as tall as he could,

 threw up his arms dramatically, and chanted in a high,

 singsong voice.

 "Hear now, stalwart sirs! Lovely ladies! Eager offspring!

 Hear the Tragedy of the Stone Warrior Tribe, 0 brave and

 trusty Stones!

 "The tale begins countless ages agone, when we were

 still true Men in body and stature, dreaded warriors but

 also lovers of and workers in, even worshipers of, hardest

 stone. World's very foundation, the Sacred Blue Gabro!"

 In those days, he said, there had been a long era of

 peace—not a peace of progress and prosperity, but a peace

 of languor, of disinterest, of self-indulgence. Men cared lit-

 tle what happened elsewhere in World at that time. The win-

 ters were easy. Larders were ever filled. Maidens danced

 in spring season's first soft nights. Children played in cool

 lakes. Men hunted for meat each day, sat before fires at

 nights, and told fantastic stories of the Beginning of Things.

 It seemed peace and contentment would last forever.

 But there one night appeared, as a sudden black-ice bliz-

 zard from the Star-marked Pole, a terrible and powerful race

 of Beings who called themselves merely Darkness.

 The mysterious, fearsome Darkness gathered about

 themselves all manner of discontented, evilly disposed

 and wretched Men and Near Immortals, even some few

 rebellious Fairies and twisted Dwarfs, Trolls, and Gnomes.

 43

 44 Don Callander

 They granted them powers and nches, invincible weapons,

 and impenetrable armor—and taught them powerful magic

 spells—in exchange for unquestioning servitude.

 Darkness's minions extorted gold, jewels, and the fairest

 of Men's daughters and sons as tribute, hiding them away

 betimes in deep cavities and crevices at the very top of

 World. They sent horrible, shambling armies under sub-

 orned princes to conquer Mortals and Near Immortals, Men,

 Fairies, Dwarfs, Elves, to slay or enslave them as they

 saw fit.

 "How long ago was this, do you know?" asked Douglas

 when Archey paused for breath and dramatic effect.

 "In centuries? A thousand, or close to," replied Archey,

 startled by the unaccustomed interruption.

 "History repeats itself, I guess," sighed the Journeyman.

 "But go on, please."

 The Storyteller nodded and continued his tale of fear,

 horror, loss of innocence, bloodletting, thunder, vivid light-

 ning, and senseless cruelty.

 "All this was not enough to satisfy Darkness, even so,"

 he continued.

 Here and there a certain few Beings, a handful of brave

 individuals, tribes, and nations resisted both the tempting

 bribes and the sudden, wild attacks, fought with desperate

 bravery and occasionally with success against the powerful

 Minions of Darkness.

 Often when things seemed darkest, a hero would appear

 and lead the fight for years, decades, even centuries, to

 preserve freedom and tife awhile longer.

 First among these few heroes was a tribe of great warriors

 who worshiped ancient menhirs. Stones of Vast Power,

 standing in secret places of World. These called them-

 selves Men of the Stones after the mysterious monoliths

 and circles of standing stones from the very dawn of life

 on World,

 "We Stone Men," said Archey proudly, "had a firm

 faith. A tribe or a single man, striving to be as strong and

 Geomancer                  45

 pure as the Sacred Blue Gabro, would be as everlasting as

 the stone. We had no need for the blandished wealth and

 power of Darkness. We feared no one, nothing, not even

 Darkness!"

 Darkness demanded these Stone Men become its ser-

 vants, for they were nearly invincible in battle, ever brave

 in adversity, willing to fight to the death against impos-

 sible odds.

 "We were the finest warriors and also the finest builders

 in World," claimed Archey earnestly. "We had become

 such by adhering to our bedrock principles for a cause that

 was right and just."

 Darkness sent wave after wave of heavily armed minions

 to conquer and destroy the Stones—to no avail. At last,

 the very Darkness itself came down from its hollow places

 under the top of World to lay siege to the Stones' stronghold

 here in Stony Gorge.

 "It was a time of bitter cold, yet of bright, all-consuming

 fire, of earsplitting thunder by day and continuous light-

 nings by night! But we endured!" Archey cried, caught up

 in his own tale.

 The Stones on their benches also sat enthralled by a story

 they had heard a hundred thousand times before.

 "Even Darkness itself could not overcome us by mere

 force of arms," Archey's voice fell lower and lower until it

 was almost a whisper. "Faceless Darkness decided that only

 the most twisted, the most wicked magic could defeat us."

 A powerful Mortal Wizard was summoned and paid a

 great deal of gold and many rare and powerful talismans

 to destroy the Stones or place them where they could no

 longer influence other Men. .. .

 "His full name we never knew. Wizards had always

 before been leaders against Darkness, you well know.

 To find that one of them was willing to do evil, cruel

 enchantment for mere pay and power ... the thought almost

 shattered our courage.

 "This Wizard stole his power from the very stone we

 46 Don Callander

 worshiped! He drew on earthquakes, avalanches, rivers of

 white-hot lava, dire secrets locked in the deepest interior of

 World, to do his terrible magicking."

 "A renegade Geomancer," guessed Douglas, although he

 had only read of such Wizardry in his studies under Flarman

 Flowerstalk.

 "Where we were once ordinary men—brave, strong, and

 mortal—in one great flash we became of the very stone we

 venerated! The Wizard made us eighteen feet tall, immense-

 ly strong, but painfully slow of thought and movement. He

 cursed us with almost-eternal life and buried us alive under

 Eternal Ice where everything was locked, forever frozen,

 still and dark- We knew nothing of World for a thousand

 years, except the slow rumblings and gratings of the glacier

 that drained the ice field away to the south."

 "The way Watchman followed when he brought us here?"

 asked Serenit.

 "Precisely," agreed Detritus.

 "We lived, for a millennium, knowing nothing. Oh, we

 heard great but distant explosions now and then and sensed

 awful cries of agony. Occasionally the very bedrock beneath

 us shifted uneasily, but we never knew what had happened

 out in World," continued the Storyteller, deeply saddened.

 After the most recent tremors, the ice above and about

 the Gorge suddenly began to thin, allowing some sunlight

 to reach them. One day it collapsed like a weakened dome

 of glass, burying the village in its shards. Then the geysers

 and hot springs began to erupt, steam, and flow.

 When they finally were able to open the Gorge Gate,

 the great outflowing glacier was receding at a remarkably

 fast rate.

 "The entire ice sheet was actually melting! If this was

 so, we saw, the glacier would grow shorter and shorter,

 shallower and shallower."

 "Ah, I begin to understand .. . somewhat," said the Jour-

 neyman. "I can tell you why and how the glacier receded—

 and that it will continue to shrink for some time to come."

 Geomancer                  47

 "We'd like to hear that story very much," said the Chief,

 "but let Archey finish his story first."

 "Of course! Sorry!" Douglas apologized.

 "Well, it's short telling, from then on," sighed Archey.

 'The glacier has indeed shrunk. It has released its grip on

 Stony Gorge, at least. We are almost free! We could walk

 out on the surface now, if we wished to.

 "We could have free contact with other free Men. But

 mere is still one problem, Sir Wizard!"

 Douglas nodded.

 "We are still men of enduring stone! We have never

 been comfortable not being true Men as we once were!

 We wish to return to our former state. To be no longer

 frightening ogres to all the rest of World! To be finally

 disenchanted! Surety you can understand that. Sir Wiz-

 ard?"

 "I do understand. But what do you believe I can do?"

 asked Douglas.

 "You must undo the spell that made us undying un-

 Beings," cried Detritus. "We wish to be flesh and blood

 again, to live a decent, proper span of years, to bleed when

 we are cut, to ache when we are struck, to sire sons and

 daughters and watch them grow, strong, clean! You must

 help us, Wizard Brightglade!"

 Douglas sat in midair, elbows on his knees and fist to his

 chin, pondering the problem for a long time.

 "1*11 do what I can, of course. There's no spell that can't

 be broken, but as my friend Serenit here will attest, some

 enchantments take longer to disspell than others."

 Serenit nodded, solemnly.

 "When I was Frigeon, I overdid my magicking in much

 the same way this unknown Geomancer did, and today

 innocent people are still waiting in terrible agony or, worse.

 in oblivion, for their release, just because of me."

 "What will you do?" Detritus asked Douglas, ignoring

 the First Citizen's explanation.

 Douglas replied at once. "I can call upon a Master

 48 Don Callander

 Pyromancer of great experience, and a Master Water Adept,

 also, as well as a Magician from Choin—I'm not sure what

 his specialty is, if any. Together we'll surely break your

 spell, in good time."

 "Well," said Detritus firmly, "to make very sure, we'll

 keep you two here with us, until the task is done.'*

 "That's neither friendly nor fair," objected Serenit, leap-

 ing to his feet.

 On his high window ledge Marbleheart clapped his paw

 over his mouth to keep from crying aloud in protest.

 Douglas gestured to calm the former Wizard—and the

 unseen Otter as well—and said, "Friends, you've been ter-

 ribly wronged. It's my duty to right such wrongs, where I

 can. It's not necessary for you to hold me prisoner. I will

 not desert you."

 "So you shall not," ground out the Chief of the Stones

 stubbornly. "For you will stay hostage here until we are

 flesh and blood again."

 Douglas looked at the Stone Man leader for a long

 moment, then nodded his head.

 "I see I can't do anything to change your mind. However,

 let me send a message to my Master Flarman Flowerstalk,

 for he is probably the most powerful of the Wizards remain-

 ing in World."

 "If need be, you may," said Detritus. "But I want you

 to try your own powers first. The fewer Wizards we call

 upon, the less it will cost us in the end."

 "There's no fee asked. Sir Chief," protested Douglas,

 shaking his head. "When I do it, it will be because I wish

 to alleviate suffering and set your people free, not for any

 hope of gain."

 "Nevertheless .. .," growled Detritus.

 "Honored Chief," spoke a member of the crowd, rising.

 "We will listen to the wise Master Dolomit but briefly,"

 snapped Detritus.

 "Sir, a word has been uttered here by the WizanTs com-

 panion, A word that we may have forgotten."

 Geomancer                  49

 "I fait to understand, Dolomit," Detritus ground out. "Get

 to the point!"

 "Simply that we perhaps are not being quite fair to this

 young man. After all, it wasn't he who imposed our ordeal

 a thousand years ago."

 Detritus scowled until Dolomit sat down amid a spattering

 of approving applause.

 "My decision is carved in hardest gabro! We will not trust

 any Wizard, since a Wizard betrayed us in the first place,"

 he declared angrily. "We will treat them well and fairly but

 I will not let him go free until they—or someone—work out

 our salvation."

 And that, Marbleheart saw, was that.

 Several minutes of heated debate followed, but the Chief

 of Stones refused to crack. At last it became a matter of

 either accepting Detritus's way or challenging his leader-

 ship. None of the Stones wanted to do that, now that he'd

 led them so close to their goal.

 "We may all suffer for your hard-headed distrust," warned

 the Stone named Dolomit. "The modem Wizards may pun-

 ish us for wrongfully holding one of their fellows. What if

 they turn their magic on us?"

 "No," Douglas interposed quickly. "I accept your con-

 ditions, Chief Detritus. I'll attempt the spell breaking on

 my own as you wish—and I may well succeed, for all I

 know."

 "You've already found some of your magics will not

 work against us, I suspect," Detritus said suddenly.

 "That's true! The original powerful spell used to enchant

 you protects you from my powers—at least for the moment.

 I say again, you need not fear me. My duty and desire is to

 save you all from the ancient Geomancy. I'll abide by your

 rules."

 "You've no choice," snorted the Chief.

 "I'll seek no revenge nor impose any punishment, unless

 I discover punishment is due for acts you've committed that

 50 Don Callander

 I don't yet know about. If so, you'll then be judged by

 fellow Mortal Men, not by any Wizard. That is a statement

 of fact."

 Douglas and Detritus locked equally stone-hard stares for

 a long-held breath, and it was the Chief of Stones who

 snorted and looked away first.

 'Take them back to the Column! Give them anything

 they need to work their magic," he ordered Watchman.

 "Does that suit you. Wizard Brightglade?"

 "Barely. It's warm enough and dry enough up on your

 Column, so 1*11 not complain. Allow the First Citizen to

 go home, however, I pray you. He can do neither good

 nor harm to you Stone Men, being no longer a Wizard

 himself."

 "We have only your word for that—and his word,"

 snapped Detritus, preparing to step down from the dais.

 "And we've not yet established whether we can trust any

 Wizard, have we?"

 "Well, then I'll begin at once—from the top of the col-

 umn outside, if you so insist. Anyone may watch who

 wishes. 1 have no secrets except as pan of my craft- Come

 one! Come all!" cried Douglas, floating over to Watchman

 to be led away.

 "You must take this seriously!" shouted Detritus after

 him.

 "Oh, I do! Very much so!" cried the pupil of Flannan

 Howerstalk with a nod and a wave. "I'll keep you informed

 of any progress I make, although I must say again it would

 go much faster if I could call in my Master."

 "Not yet," insisted the Chief, sounding weary now. "You

 must understand that we cannot afford to trust. . ."

 But me Journeyman and the First Citizen were already

 out the door, returning to their strange prison column.

 Marbleheart skipped gingerly down the outside wall of

 the meeting hall, and trotted off to find a cozy place to hole

 up and finish his picnic lunch. He would go talk to Douglas

 when the crowd had lost interest in him.

 Geomancer                  51

 "Which should be around an hour or so," he decided,

 "judging by what I've learned about Men, even Stone Men.

 By then it'll be time for a nice dinner from Blue Teakettle's

 kitchen, I do believe."

 Chapter Six

  

  

 Mym Sets Out

 WITHOUT the Magical Feather Pin, which the Dowager

 Princess Finesgold had given her, it would have taken

 Mym Manstar all of three weeks to reach the High. As

 it was, within six hours of leaving Waterand Island she

 whizzed over upper Crooked Brook and zipped down for a

 light-footed landing at the double front door, where Bronze

 Owl was hanging from his personal nail in pale gibbous

 moonlight.

 "I rather expected you'd be flying in," Owl said to the

 beautiful Aquamancer's Apprentice. "You and Augurian

 obviously take these disappearances as seriously as do

 Wong and I."

 "Of course!" said Mym emphatically. "I intend to get my

 Douglas safely back in time for his Examination. I don't

 want to have to put off our wedding until spring, either.

 Not with the invitations already out."

 "Besides, Douglas may need help," said the Owl, opening

 me door and letting out the cheery, homey air of the High

 to wash away her worry and concern like a warm, fragrant

 shower.

 "Come have some supper. Wong is still trying to make

 heads or tails of this business in his own ways."

 "Indeed," said Myrn as she entered the kitchen. She pat-

 ted Blue Teakettle fondly on the cheek and waved gaily to

 the neat rows, ranks, and racks of utensils, from stove lid to

 53

 54 Don Callander

 saltcellar. They clattered, banged, scraped, and rattled their

 fond welcomes.

 "First, let me have a cup of the same tea Flannan drank

 before he whisked off- And let me see his cup, if you've

 saved it, dear Blue."

 Flarman's teacup was produced at once, still covered

 by its inverted saucer, along with another cup of freshly

 brewed Choin tea from Blue Teakettle's spout.

 Myrn sipped her tea as she studied Flarman's dried

 leaves, now looking rather soggy and bedraggled. As

 she finished, the Choinese Magician appeared from the

 stairway, wreathed in smiles and bowing double in greet-

 ing.

 "I see you've already begun your own researches," he

 said, pointing to the teacups.

 "Yes, indeed. Take a cup with me, please do, and I'll

 look at your leavings, too, just in case," said Mym.

 "My pleasure, Honored Lady," said the Magician, and

 when he was seated at the great kitchen table—he looked

 like a child sitting at the vast board, so tiny was he and so

 huge was the table—he sipped tea while Mym interpreted

 what she saw in the other two cups.

 "There are always at least two layers of leaves," she

 explained. 'The obvious—and the hidden."

 "So I was taught," Wong said, nodding his understand-

 ing.

 "The obvious indication in Flarman's cup is that he is

 about to undertake a long, urgent journey. We already knew

 that. It doesn't say where he is going, however, or why—

 as far as I can see."

 "It never does, does it?" commented the Magician. "Do

 you see what lies hidden beneath?"

 "Contrary to what most people believe, it isn't the tea

 that provides prognostication," Mym murmured as much

 to herself as to the Magician. "It's the water, really. And

 the water in Flarman's cup has almost dried up."

 She peered into the cup for several minutes, frowning

 and muttering helpful spells.

 Geomancer                 55

 "This indicates . .. something to do with a deserted land.

 The direction indicated is either north by northeast or south

 by southwest."

 "But we already suspected that, too," observed Bronze

 Owl. "From what the Homiad told you, Mym, and the Otter

 told the gulls. Douglas is in the far northeast."

 "But the leaves don't indicate that Douglas is involved,"

 she added, looking puzzled. 'Time may have obscured that

 part. Flannan read them fresh and departed quite suddenly.

 Perhaps he was able to see Douglas's name here, but I

 can't!"

 "Perhaps because the Journeyman is no longer in dan-

 ger," suggested Wong, helpfully. "It might be so, if Flannan

 has already rescued him."

 Mym handed her own teacup to Wong.

 "Here, you can read my leaves better than I can- One

 should never try to read one's own future, Augurian says."

 The Magician took her cup and leaned back in his

 chair, almost disappearing below the table's edge. His

 voice floated up to them after a moment.

 "Yes, yes! You are promised a long. cold journey to the

 north very clearly. Under that the leaves say to look for a

 beacon of fire in the sky."

 "Douglas or Hannan?" wondered Owl, clapping his

 wings together loudly. "It must mean to watch for a

 signal."

 "Certainly my interpretation," agreed Wong, reappearing

 above the tabletop- "The leaves also say that you will marry,

 soon and well, my dear."

 'Well, that's a revelation'" said Mym with a slight touch

 of sarcasm.

 "But it does seem to indicate that our present problem

 will not delay the wedding," insisted the Magician.

 "Let me see your cup then, please," said the Apprentice

 Aquamancer. "Ah, yes, also a long, cold journey! I was

 planning to ask you to accompany me to look for Douglas

 and Flannan, Revered Sir."

 "I intended to offer my services," Wong answered.

 56 Don Callander

 "And. . . here it says something about returning home

 soon. I had thought you intended to stay for the wedding."

 "I had so intended, of course. My country . .."

 "Needs you, I'm afraid," said Myrn, peering at the leaves

 again. "I see confusion, death, and bloodshed—not a pretty

 picture—in your homeland."

 She put the cup down and looked sadly at the tiny Choin.

 He returned her concerned look for a moment, and then

 turned to the Owl.

 "We know we are to go north, then, and the two of us

 shall go ..."

 "Three," said Bronze Owl. "I'll go, too."

 ^Someone must stay here," Wong pointed out reasonably.

 "Mym will confirm what I have already sensed. There is

 a singular blockage of information flow from and to the

 northeast of us."

 "I feel it, too, as did Augurian," said Mym, nodding.

 "What ifFlannan sends a message to us here, or Augurian

 needs to tell us something and no one was here to receive

 it?" reasoned the Choinese Magician.

 Owl reluctantly agreed he would remain at the High to

 serve as their mutual point of contact. "But how shall I relay

 any messages to you?"

 "Send the gulls to look for us if you don't hear from me

 first," decided Mym. 'They fly as fast as anyone."

 "There remains only the question," said the Apprentice

 early the next morning as she gathered up her travel kit

 and slung it over her shoulder, "of exactly where we're

 going."

 'To New Land," said Wong. "Where we last know

 Douglas, Serenit, and Marbleheart to have been. Serenit's

 people can set us on their path. Flarman may also have

 stopped there for the same information."

 "Let's go, then!" Myrn exclaimed.

 They stepped through the back door into the mist-

 shrouded kitchen courtyard. Owl, Blue Teakettle, and

 Black Flame were there to see them off, along with the

 Geomancer                 57

 Familiar's wives, Pert and Party, the five Ladies of the

 Byre, who paused on their way to the dew-heavy meadow,

 the Thatchmice, who were among Douglas's most ardent

 admirers, and a score of silly doves from the cote above

 the Workshop door who came just out of curiosity.

 Mym, laying her hand on Wong's arm, whispered the

 words that activated her Feather Pin. The Magician grasped

 his lacquered black hat with his other hand while Mym

 pointed her free arm up and north.

 There was a whoosh of displaced air. The pair shot aloft

 and dwindled to a tiny double speck in mere seconds.

 Because Flarman might have stopped to have a word

 with Bryarmote, too, Mym shaped their course first for

 Dwelmland, the Dwarf's subterranean principality.

 On her most recent visit, when she was on her way to

 join Douglas in Old Kingdom, Bryarmote's chief steward, a

 jolly old dwarf named Fortoot, had showed Mym the hidden

 family entrance to Bryarmote's vast system of caverns so

 that she could call at any time without having to pass

 through the miles and miles of canyons, gorges, arroyos,

 passages, and tunnels that marked the other, more formal

 entrances,

 She flew, therefore, directly to a tiny patch of soft green-

 sward high on one shoulder of a peak above Dwelmland

 and found the heavy bronze door hidden behind a clump

 of purple rhododendrons. She knocked politely on the prop-

 er panel and within ten heartbeats the door swung wide

 open.

 "M'lady!" Fortoot himself greeted her with a broad smile

 and a sweeping bow. "Welcome back to Dwelmland!"

 "How did you know we were coming?" marveled Mym

 after she had introduced the Magician. They followed the

 plump little steward into the mountaintop and down a rap-

 idly moving stair that carried them along much faster than

 they could have walked.

 Fortoot explained proudly the stair had been a present to

 the Dwarf Prince and his bride from Barman; one of his

 own inventions.

 58 Don Caliander

 "Our Home Guards keep a keen watch on the skies, of

 course," the steward answered her question. "Little passes

 over our borders they don't detect and identify. Recently,

 for example, they reported a large flock of arctic gulls

 passing swiftly overhead, headed toward Valley."

 "Yes, they carried an important message to the High,"

 Mym told him.

 "This morning 1 chanced to be supervising the tuning

 of Princess Crystal's new carillon near the doorway when

 the word came of your approach. The Silver Dwarfs who

 installed the carillon turned out to be rather badly tone deaf,

 you see. The chimes were Prince Bryarmote's wedding gift

 to his bride."

 "A different sort of wedding ring," laughed Mym. She

 spent the rest of their swift descent into the heart of the

 mountain explaining the pun to her Choinese companion.

 Fortoot led them at once to Bryarmote, who was working

 in his office. He sat at a huge and cluttered drawing board

 set before a picture window overlooking one of the most

 spectacular views in Dukedom—of the deep blue, steep-

 sided fjord that opened onto Sea near Fairstrand.

 "We cannot stay very long," Mym told him with her hug

 and kiss of greeting. She waved off suggestions of lunch,

 dinner, staying the night, and talking the Dwarfs blue in the

 face, as he put it, then explained their mission.

 "No, Plarman didn't come this way or we'd have seen

 him. My Guards would have spotted him, you can be

 sure."

 "Which must mean he transported himself by a spell of

 some sort, for he would have flown close over here, in any

 case, even if he hadn't stopped," Wong reasoned. "I guessed

 that, of course. I could trace the course of his Transportation

 Spell but it's a rather laborious process, I'm afraid."

 "We'll go to New Land first, and without delay," Mym

 said firmly.

 "Give me five minutes to speak to my foremen and my

 wife and mother," the Dwarf Prince insisted, "and I'll go

 with you. My people came originally from Far Northland,

 Geomancer                  59

 you know, and I'm familiar with its ways and dangers.

 Not a place for the unwary, especially at this time of

 the year."

 "Why this time of year, pray?" asked Wong-

 "It'll be snowing heavily up north soon and the cold will

 be very intense, if it's not already. You can get as lost

 flying in a heavy snow as you can over Sea in a fog. No

 landmarks visible!"

 While he instructed Portoot and his staff, Mym took the

 Magician to meet Lady Finesgold, the Prince's mother, of

 whom Mym was particularly fond, and Bryarmote's shy

 new bride. Princess Crystal.

 "How I wish I could go along!" cried Finesgold after

 bearing of their mission. "I know just how you feel about

 that handsome boy. I'd do the same if it were my man lost

 in the Northland wilderness!"

 "You are certainly welcome to come along," said Mym,

 trying not to let her dismay show. Her party was already

 too large for her best comfort. Finesgold was as tiny and

 delicate looking as the Choinese Magician—and probably

 just as tough. "The Pin can carry us all."

 "No, no! I won't burden it or you with a little old lady.

 Besides, I'm in the middle of repotting my flowers for

 winter, and that can't wait longer."

 "Mym is burdened enough with a tittle old Magician,"

 agreed Wong, who felt immediately at home with the

 Dowager Princess- They were both of the same age as

 well as size.

 "Now you two!" cried Mym. "Any more of such non-

 sense and I'll leave you both behind!"

 "I go along with these adventures just for the amuse-

 ment," Wong confided in Finesgold. "I haven't lifted a

 hand in spell since I first came to Wizards' High."

 "That's not true!" Mym objected. "He's to be a mem-

 ber of Douglas's Examination Board. I have to be nice

 to him."

 Shy Crystal, who had said very little, was shocked by

 her teasing words.

 60 Don Callander

 "My dear mother-in-law tells me that I should learn to

 tease, as you do. I find it quite difficult. May I come and

 stay with you for a while at Wizards' High, someday?

 Perhaps I could leam such affectionate impudence from

 you, pretty Apprentice."

 "As soon as we are wed—well, perhaps not immediately

 after, but soon," promised Mym with an amused, embar-

 rassed chuckle.

 "How wonderful it is to be affectionately teased," sighed

 Wong. "My people. Princesses, forgot how to tease each

 other gently over seven centuries ago—and it's a fault I

 regret to this day."

 Finesgold left her pot gardening long enough to order

 them a picnic basket to carry on their way and returned

 them to Bryarmote*s study, where he waited for them.

 "Send us word of Flarman and Douglas as soon as you

 can," requested Finesgold.

 "And the cuddly Marbleheart," added Crystal.

 "The Sea Otter would love you, ma'am," Myrn told

 her. "If he likes anything better than eating, it's being

 cuddled."

 Chapter Seven

  

  

 A Column of Wizards

 AFTER midnight—the arctic late-summer days were still

 very long, the nights short—Marbleheart left his den under

 one of the huts and stole softly to the Stone Column. If

 there were guards, they weren't keeping very close watch.

 He found Douglas sitting cross-legged before a tiny flame

 with another hovering over his head. The First Citizen slept,

 wrapped in several blankets. Douglas was reading a small,

 thick tome of excruciatingly tiny print.

 "Hoy!" whispered the Otter from below. "Care to chat

 a bit?"

 "Come on up," called the Journeyman, marking his

 place with a forefinger. "I just remembered this little

 book in Flarman's library, so I sent off for it. It has a

 footnote mentioning a wicked, old-time Earth Adept named

 Obsydion. He seems to fit the Storyteller's description of

 the Stones' enchanter."

 Marbleheart leaped and scrambled nimbly to the pillar

 top and curled himself in front of the tiny fire. Serenit slept

 away, snoring lightly.

 "Huh! He's some help!" chuckled the Otter, pointing his

 nose at the First Citizen.

 "He's bereft of Wizardly powers but not Wizardly opin-

 ions," said Douglas. "It's better to have him asleep than

 trying to help."

 "Oh? Well, I think I hear you saying *go away' to me,

 too," said Marbleheart, pretending a huff.

 61

 62 Don Callander

 "Don't be silly! I was about to call you, anyway. Arc

 you safe? Have you had dinner?"

 "Yes and no," replied the other, curling up again. "I

 found a hiding place under yon hut, lined it with some

 sort of soft, dry moss, quite warm and snug. I've learned

 that Stone Men rumble and mutter in the night, although I

 don't think they actually sleep. Habit, I guess. And no, I

 haven't had a thing to eat in a terribly long time, beloved

 Master."

 Douglas made a quick gesture and a steaming platter of

 juicy pork chops and curried carrots appeared before the

 Otter, who was so used to this kind of magic by now that his

 only reaction was to wiggle over onto his belly and begin

 to eat with gusto.

 'Tell me," he said around a mouthful of hot, spicy car-

 rots, "if you can bring a book from Flarman's library and

 gourmet cuisine from old Teakettle's kitchen, why can't

 you send a message to the Wizard and ask his help on the

 Stone's enchantment?"

 "Good question. Familiar!" said Douglas- "Mainly,

 because Bronze Owl says Flarman is nowhere to be found.

 He's evidently already on his way here, so I don't need to

 call him. And the first thing he'll say when he arrives is

 going to be, 'What do you know about Geomancy, me lad?*

 So, I'm studying up on a sort of magic that isn't practiced

 much these days."

 "The kind of magic that did for the Stone Men?" asked

 Marbleheart, reaching for a third chop. "Do you want a bite

 of this?"

 "No, we dined as soon as we got back from the tribal

 meeting. What did you think of it, by the way?"

 The Otter sat up to sip a bit of hot, sugary coffee.

 "It had the feeling of family," he said thoughtfully, "and

 in the end, it was Papa Detritus who told everyone what

 was going to happen, or else."

 Said the Journeyman with an approving nod, "He did let

 them debate, however."

 "Oh, I guess so. But he'd have gotten his way even if

 Geomancer                  63

 they had all opposed him. Is that democracy? I felt most of

 the Stone citizens disliked the idea of holding you hostage,

 for example."

 'There is that," conceded the young man. "Even the most

 democratic societies work that way, however. After all, the

 Chief is responsible. They were probably right to let him

 try his way. If that fails, it'll be Detritus's neck, not theirs,

 you see."

 Douglas raised his head and seemed to be listening to the

 wind blowing over Stony Gorge. The sky was overcast and

 through the pervasive reek of hydrogen sulfide they caught

 the smell of snow in the air.

 "What is it?" inquired the Otter.

 "I need a way to signal," Douglas told him.

 "Easy enough," said his practical Familiar. "Build up the

 fire a bit- There can't be another fire within ten days' ride

 of this forsaken place, can there?"

 Douglas nodded as if to say. Why didn't I think of that?

 and waved his hands over the tiny flame between them.

 It sputtered gleefully and flashed a bright yellow shaft

 of light high into the air, pencil thin but considerably taller

 than the surrounding hills.

 From far down the Gorge a Stone guard cried out in

 startled alarm, and a moment later Detritus poked his Stony

 face out of the hut nearest the Meeting Hall.

 "Hey, you! Put out mat blasted fire!" he bellowed.

 "Sorry, Chief! Just part of my magicking," called

 Douglas, mildly. "Reiax. You'll be happy to know I'm

 making progress, if slowly."

 "Hmph!" growled Detritus, scowling, but he withdrew

 into his hut, letting the leather curtain fall back into place

 across the opening.

 'Think Flarman will see it?" murmured Marbleheart.

 "Without a doubt," said Douglas. "Eat up and get back

 into hiding. I may need you free tomorrow. Just in case,

 old friend."

 "Here I go. Mind if i take the bones to gnaw?"

 He scurried back to his hiding hole—apparently under

 64 Don Callander

 the Chief's own hut—and Douglas resumed his study of

 the ancient chronicle.

 "Did you see that?" cried Wong Tscha San.

 Mym's party was spending the night at Serenit's rustic

 lodge not far from where his Ice Palace had once stood.

 Clangeon, Frigeon's steward, had made them welcome, but

 had been unable to give them any news beyond pointing

 out the path his master and the Journeyman had taken to

 the glacier five days before. They planned to follow that

 trail, via Feather Pin, to the Face as soon as it became light,

 despite the threat of snow.

 "Did I see what?" growled the Dwarf from his bed.

 "What's to see?"

 "A bright, yellow shaft of light in the sky to the north,"

 explained the Magician. "It shot straight up and stayed for

 several minutes, then disappeared. Right over mere!"

 "Northern lights, probably," said Bryarmote, but he rose

 from his bed and began to pull on his clothes. "Better wake

 the Lady Apprentice."

 "If it was just aurora borealis," asked Magician, "why

 should she get up?"

 "Because it's time we were on our way, of course. Nights

 are longer here than they are in Choin. It's past my fast-

 breaking time, as it is."

 Mym had not seen the light in the sky, but she at once

 reminded them of the tea leaves* advice to look for fire in

 the sky.

 "Keep the proper direction firmly in mind, please," she

 told the Magician, "while I borrow some warm coats from

 Clangeon. We'll go check on it."

 "A distress signal, do you think?" Bryarmote asked Wong

 while Mym was talking to the steward. "Does it mean one

 of our Fire Wizards is in trouble?"

 "A beacon, rather, I would think," said Wong. 'They are

 both more than capable of taking care of themselves."

 "Then why are we here?" grumbled the Dwarf. He was

 a slow awakener.

 Geomancer                 65

 "Well, sir Prince, there is always the possibility we can

 be useful," Wong replied quietly. "My people have a say-

 ing. 'Better sure than sorry.' "

 Bryarmote nodded in agreement, inhaled a cup of very

 strong, very black coffee when it was served, and felt more

 able to face the snowy skies over New Land. Mym came

 and ate heartily but quickly.

 "Ready to go?" she asked.

 Her two companions were, and in a few minutes they

 were skimming swiftly up the smooth-sided valley carved

 by Eternal Ice over countless ages.

 In less than an hour they pulled up just short of the tow-

 ering blue-ice Face, and landed gently on a gravel mound

 beside a deep, still tam.

 The Dwarf ranged back and forth on foot, bent almost

 double, searching for confirmation of the gull's story. Mym

 and the Magician sat back to back on a frosty rock beside

 the lake, studying the area closely in their own special,

 magical ways.

 "It hasn't snowed enough yet here to cover any tracks.

 I see the Otter's paw marks in this patch of sand, easily,"

 called out Bryarmote. "And two sets of prints that have to

 belong to Serenit and Douglas. Douglas is wearing the stout

 Dwarf traveling boots I gave him years ago."

 "A stout Dwarf's boots? Why not a thin one?" wondered

 Wong. "Sorry! Anything else?"

 "Not much—signs of gulls roosting, of course. Fishing

 in the lake from the looks of the mess they left."

 "You've missed one other sign," Wong spoke up, point-

 ing to the flat shingle beach before them.

 Bryarmote came to look at once.

 "No Man has feet that big!" he exclaimed. "He must be

 twenty feet tall!"

 They slowly circled the giant's footprints. They led out

 of the tam and returned to it again, clearly. But the marks

 made by Douglas's boots came just so far, then stopped.

 "That confirms it," said the Apprentice. "The gull Aurora

 had it right, sirs."

 66 Don Callander

 "And the Otter followed the statue right into the lake,"

 said Bryarmote. "Brave fellow! He followed the statue, or

 whatever it is, right under the glacier ice, beyond."

 "So I see it," agreed Wong. "But how are we to proceed?

 I suppose we can travel under the water, too."

 "No, we'll fly in the direction of that beacon you saw

 before dawn," decided Mym. "I'm sure it was made either

 by Douglas or by Harman. to show us the way."

 "No need to tarry here, then," agreed the Dwarf.

 They joined hands once more and shot up and over the

 Face, following Wong's memory of where the tight signal

 had been seen.

 "There's my Douglas!" cried Mym in relief as they

 glided over Stony Gorge several hours later. She put on a

 sudden burst of speed, arrowing straight at the two figures

 on the stone column in the cobbled square.

 "No, now, wait...," protested Wong. "Perhaps ..."

 But Mym's momentum carried them straight to Douglas

 and Serenit. Seeing them coming, Douglas waved cheerily,

 and Serenit quickly straightened his robe and brushed at his

 thinning hair. He was a bit vain about his appearance before

 ladies and strangers.

 "Ahoy!" Mym called out happily. "Are you mates cap-

 tives? Are you in danger? We come to help you escape

 durance vile, my dear!"

 Douglas gathered her in his arms, gave her a kiss and a

 tight squeeze.

 "Yes and no, as my Familiar said a few hours ago."

 "Yes to what?" asked his betrothed, forgetting to let

 him go.

 "Yes, we're prisoners. Hostages, really."

 "Hello, Serenit!" Mym said. "May I present Wong Tscha

 San of Choin, a Magician? You already know Bryarmote,

 of course."

 Everybody bowed or shook hands before Mym returned

 to the matter of being hostages.

 Geomancer                 67

 "You really are captive here, sweetheart?" she asked.

 "As I said."

 "But you said no, also."

 "I meant, 'No, you can't rescue us from durance vile,' "

 said Douglas calmly.

 "But come on! I can fly us out of here in a second," Mym

 protested.

 "You could, but we can't," Douglas said, and he sat them

 down by the fire and explained about the Stones and their

 enchantment.

 "I've given my word I would help them, you see," he

 concluded. "I was just doing my homework when you came

 dropping down out of the snowclouds. I'm certainly glad

 you're here, sweet, and that you brought Wong, for you

 both certainly can help puzzle out this strange spelling.

 Bryarmote, you're always welcome on an adventure, of

 course."

 "I will be delighted to assist you, Master Douglas," said

 Wong, with a formal bow. "It won't count against your

 Journeying this time."

 He referred to the Journeying rules that applied when

 the Journeyman had gone recently to Old Kingdom to

 investigate the Coven of Black Witches. To qualify for

 his Master's Examination, he had had to carry out that

 task without help from other Wizards.

 "No, this time I'll take all the help I can get. I can't

 find very much anywhere about Geomancy. It seems to be

 a blind spot in Flarman's library and my training."

 "Not surprising," said Wong. "There .. ."

 "Say," interrupted Bryarmote, who had been studying the

 stone village with great interest. "Where's Flarman, after

 all? He should've been here well ahead of us."

 "Haven't seen him," admitted Douglas. "I hoped he would

 see the light and come."

 "Well, we saw it, instead," said Myrn. "Where's Marble-

 heart?"

 "Around somewhere. Probably looking for some lunch,"

 68 Don Callander

 said Douglas. "He should be within call. anyway."

 "So he's safe, is all that matters," said Mym. "Now ...

 what can we do to help here?"

 Snow soon began to fall steadily and after noon tempera-

 tures plummeted. The Journeyman, the Apprentice, and the

 Magician sat earnestly discussing the magical matter of the

 Stones.

 Bryarmote and Serenit, used to the ways of Wizards,

 listened patiently and silently, keeping their eyes peeled

 for signs of hostility among the natives.

 Several times various Stones passed through the square

 but paid them no attention whatsoever, even though the

 number of prisoners had more than doubled.

 Twice Detritus came from his hut and stood glaring sus-

 piciously at them, rocklike fists on his hips, but he made no

 comment. He was content, it seemed, that something was

 being done on the Stones' behalf.

 "This ancient book I found in the library at Wizards'

 High," Douglas said, "has only a short footnote that men-

 tions a rock-hard Wizard named Obsydion- He was evi-

 dently a creature of Darkness, a long, long time ago. No

 other details."

 "I was going to say," Wong said, "that I know little or

 nothing about the craft of Stone Wizardry—Geomancy, as

 you call it—but I have a slight knowledge of the man

 Obsydion. Ten centuries ago, he lived. He was eventually

 destroyed by his own evil Dark Master, so there's no hope

 of finding him today."

 "His tomb, his remains? Perhaps they would provide

 further clues?" asked Mym with a slight shudder.

 "No, Lady Apprentice! If his body was preserved, it was

 hidden by the Darkness, perhaps under the top of World.

 Even I would hesitate to travel there and, beside that, an

 intruder in such a place might well stir up more than he

 bargained for. Best to let dead Wizards lie," warned Wong,

 snaking his head vigorously,

 "A bit like the barrow-wights in Old Kay, eh?" mused

 Douglas. "Well, what then? I admit I'm stumped."

 Geomancer                  69

 They sat in silence made even deeper by the blanket of

 snow about them. Douglas dug out a handkerchief from the

 sleeve of his gown and, with a long-familiar spell, arranged

 and enlarged it as a tent to cover them all.

 Mym in turn summoned a small, warm, dry breeze and

 blew all the snow from beneath the tent until their perch

 was completely dry and comfortable.

 Marbleheart appeared through the thickening whiteness

 and joined the party, greeting them all cheerily. He reported

 that the Chief had spent the afternoon in his hut arguing

 with his advisers about the hostages.

 "As I thought, the others aren't too happy about possible

 consequences of capturing a Wizard," the Otter said.

 "The quickest way to solve that is to solve this rid-

 dle," said Mym, and she set about preparing supper for

 the party.

 Wong was so still and silent for so long it was apparent

 he'd been in a "seeing" trance, an important tool of his

 craft- The smell of roast pork and fried rice, his own recipe

 sent along by Blue Teakettle, at last recalled him to the

 Gorge.

 While he ate daintily with ivory chopsticks, he began to

 speak.

 "Yes, Obsydion was almost certainly responsible for the

 spell cast on the Stone Warriors a thousand years ago. His

 Earth Magic is the most ancient of all the disciplines of

 Wizardry. Earth came long before even Water and Fire.

 Its spells are incredibly complex and unbelievably strong,

 for they include safeguards against disspelling by any other

 powers than those of a Geomancer."

 "Which explains," said Mym, "why we can't make a

 crack in this Stone business."

 "Correct, my dear Apprentice! Usually, one discipline

 has at least some entry into all the others, and vice versa,"

 Wong went on with a pedantic nod. "You recall? Fire

 can boil Water. Water can quench Fire. Air can attack or

 support them both. But Stone, Earth, is all but invulnerable

 to the others, except over a tremendously long time. The

 70 Don Caltander

 most ancient Geomantic enchantments ... they're like . . .

 well, like stone walls."

 "And there are no longer any Geomancers alive?" asked

 Marbleheart-

 "There was a Geomancer who belonged to the Fellowship

 of Wizards, before the war that ended in Last Battle three

 hundred years ago," said Wong. "I don't know his name,

 but perhaps Flarman or Augurian will remember. He may

 still be alive."

 "I've never heard either of them mention the craft, let

 alone the Wizard," mused Douglas, sounding quite discour-

 aged. "And the Fellowship scattered far and wide after Last

 Battle—this one could be just about anywhere in World!"

 Mym reached out and took his hand.

 "I think we must get in touch with Augurian. At least we

 know where he is. Goodness knows where Flarman is!"

 "I begin to worry about Flarman myself," admitted

 Douglas. "Yes, we must speak to your Master about

 this, I don't think anyone else knows more about the old

 Fellowship than he does, not even Flarman."

 "I'll try to call to Master Augurian, then," decided the

 Lady Apprentice. "If it doesn't go against your promise to

 Detritus, Douglas."

 "No, I consider only myself bound here by my word in

 that," said the Journeyman. "How will you get in touch with

 Augurian?"

 "Unlike some Masters," Mym said pointedly, "and their

 Apprentices, my Master and I long ago set up a way to

 keep in close communication. I should be able to let him

 know where I am, even with this blocking spell we feel. It

 seems to block incoming messages. Perhaps it won't stop

 an outgoing one. I'd go to him, except even the Feather Pin

 would take a couple of days or more, I'm afraid, from this

 distance."

 While the others watched in fascinated silence, the

 Apprentice stood facing south on the edge of the column,

 her arms folded across her chest and her eyes closed. An

 aura of power shimmered about her that all could feel and

 Geomancer                  71

 which Douglas and Wong could see as a faint blue glow

 against the snow-filled night.

 "Magister!" called Mym, although Marbleheart was sure

 she didn't move her lips to speak. "Magister, your Appren-

 tice Mym Manstar calls you."

 Silence for a long minute-

 "Yes, Master. I am with Douglas as well as Serenit, Magi-

 cian Wong, Prince Bryarmote, and Familiar Marbleheart.

 This place? It's known as Stony Gorge, I'm told. Six or

 eight days' foot travel due north of New Land. Yes. Yes!

 Thank you!"

 There was a sharp click! and the aura dispersed from

 about her.

 Before she could drop her arms and turn back to the

 waiting men and beast, a translucent image of Augurian

 materialized beside her, wavered twice, then became seem-

 ingly solid. He seemed to have trouble making contact with

 the stone surface. Even after they'd begun to talk to him, he

 would drift slowly downward into the stone, as if he were

 sulking into thick mud, and had to pull himself up to the

 surface of the rock again with an effort.

 Now he smiled at their welcoming shouts.

 "What can I do to help, friends?" he said in his very deep,

 rumbling voice, which always reminded Douglas of waves

 breaking upon green rocks.

 Chapter Eight

 ^

 Summit Meeting

 AS Douglas opened his mouth to begin, he was inter-

 rupted by an angry shout out of the snowy darkness.

 "You blasted Wizards'" shouted Detritus. "I'm keeping

 an eye and an ear on you! Don't think I'm going to feed

 all that great crowd you've got up there. You can all starve

 for all I care!"

 "Our kindly host," explained Douglas with a wry grin.

 "Name's Detritus and he's Chief of Stones, the people I was

 about to tell you about, Magister. They need our help."

 "Gracious!" said Augurian, a little startled. "I must meet

 him shortly, Douglas."

 "You undoubtedly will, Magister. But for now, tell us ...

 how go your researches?"

 Augurian shrugged his shoulder. "I must admit I'm as

 ignorant as I've been since Mym brought me the Homiad's

 brief message. It's clear the danger the Sea creatures spoke

 of was to you, Douglas. I would not have been so concerned

 had not Flarman disappeared at the same time."

 "Yes, where is Flarman? I wonder," interrupted Douglas.

 "I thought I felt him nearby but now I believe it was Mym's

 presence I felt, not Barman's, just before I sent up the

 flare."

 "I suggest that we start at the beginning, young Joumey-

 1 man," murmured Wong from deep within a pile of furs.

 -'" "Master Augurian needs to be brought completely up to the

 Vi

 ^                            73

 Don Catlander

 74

 moment. It wouldn't hurt the rest of us to hear it straight

 from the beginning, either."

 Douglas nodded and began with the discovery of Watch-

 man at the Face of Eternal Ice Glacier.

 The tale took quite a while to tell, ending with the Choin

 Magician's faint recollection of a Geomancer in the original

 Fellowship of Wizards.

 "Ah, yes!" cried Augurian at that. "Now that you mention

 it, 1 do recall an Earth Wizard among us before Last Battle.

 Litholt, if I rightly recall the name."

 "I can't recall," said Wong. "I was never a close member

 of the Fellowship in those days."

 "But your memory is correct. Revered Sir!" the Water

 Adept said- "Litholt was—I hope, stilt is—the last of the

 wartime Geomancers. The craft was dying even then. It is

 by far the hardest of the Mysteries, you know."

 "And the most durable, as witness these poor Stones,"

 Douglas said. 'Their spelling is at least a thousand years

 old!"

 Marbleheart shook his head sadly. "If this Litholt person

 is dead, as it might be, our best hope of disspelling the

 Stones is gone."

 "I hope it's not so, for their sake, and for the sake of

 an important and useful branch of Wizardry," said Serenit.

 "Perhaps . .. there may be Apprentices? Most of us had

 Apprentices, in the olden times, even I- You've met him,

 Douglas?"

 "We met Cribblon in Old Kingdom," the Journeyman

 answered. "He spoke well of you as his Master, Serenit—

 except as a cook, as I recall. He's even now working toward

 Journeyman, over in Old Kay."

 "Ah, yes, so Flarman told me," said Serenit. "But pardon

 my interruption, Master Aquamancer. Pray continue'"

 Augurian was considering, chin on hand, staring into the

 snow curtain that surrounded them.

 "Perhaps there was an Apprentice. But I think not.

 Barman was the first of us to take on a student after

 the Chaos. The thing to do to begin, at least, is seek out

 Geomancer                  75

 UtholL A Geomancer, I agree with Master Wong, should

 be able to undo the spell on the Stones."

 "And Flarman?" asked Mym.

 *The Fire Wizard has given no indication he needs our

 help, of course," said Augurian, gravely. "I believe the

 search for this Litholt should take priority, don't you?"

 "I agree, seeing that my freedom depends on settling this

 enchantment business," said Douglas.

 "Then I'll begin at once," said the Water Adept, and with

 a nod to them all and an affectionate pat on the arm for his

 Apprentice, he disappeared.

 'Then it's just a matter of waiting," sighed Marbleheart.

 "Why didn't you go with your Master, Mym Manstar? No

 need for you to shiver here on the rocks."

 "Oh. I would have, if I had my Magister's power to

 project myself back to Waterand. Not yet, anyway! Perhaps

 he won't take long to find our old Geomancer, now that he

 lias a name and a memory to go on."

 ** 'Project'?" wondered the Otter, snuggling down be-

 tween Mym and Douglas under the furs. "What do you

 mean? Augurian wasn't really here in person -.. ?"

 "Exactly," said Mym, sleepily. "We saw but his image

 here. His body never left Waterand. It's similar to what

 Master Wong does when he's entranced."

 While Marbleheart pondered this latest magical feat, the

 others settled down to sleep, to await the results of the

 Water Adept's search.

 They were breaking their night-long fast when the

 Aquamancer appeared once again, bobbing up and down

 through the surface of the rock before he managed to find

 equilibrium once more. He looked even more weary and

 drawn than before, Mym thought.

 "I've found it!" he announced. "I know where Litholt is,

 right now."

 "Catch your breath," Mym ordered him, as a fond daugh-

 ter might order a hardworking father.

 "There are some problems, however," added Augurian,

 76 Don Callander

 after a pause to steady himself.

 "Always are," grumbled Marbleheart, softening his words

 with a grin. "Nothing is ever simple and easy, is it?"

 "Long before Last Battle in Old Kingdom," began

 Augurian, "the Wizard Litholt left Old Kingdom and

 the councils of our Fellowship and retired from active

 participation.

 "We never knew, never had time to find out, where the

 Stone Wizard had gone ... but now I know. A place called

 Serecomba. . ."

 "Serecomba!" exclaimed Wong. 'That's a great, terrible

 desert in the far south of Choin!"

 "Correct'" said Augurian, nodding. "Do you know it

 well, then?"

 "Hardly at all! It's regarded as impassable, totally with-

 out water or any living thing. A deadly desert."

 "But is it so, Magician?" asked Douglas. "According to

 Flarman, no desert is ever completely deserted."

 "I... I... I admit that I never set foot there or even

 questioned the facts when I learned them as a young man,"

 the Choinese said. "I never had occasion to travel into

 Serecomba. No one lives there, as far as I know, so it held

 no interest."

 "Yet it sounds like quite a perfect place to go and become

 a recluse, an eremite," observed the First Citizen. "If this

 Litholt wished to be left alone, that is."

 "Evidently just what was desired," said Augurian. "The

 dark, stark, terrifying years of the War affected even us

 Wizards very strongly. As you well know, Serenit."

 The former Ice King nodded solemnly and sadly. "I find

 that I have blocked out most of my own memories of that

 time. I don't even recall the name of Litholt."

 "You must project yourself to this desert, then, and ask

 the Geomancer to come help us," Myrn said.

 Augurian shook his head.

 "That's the problem, my dear young Apprentice. I have

 tried and tried but I can get no answer. Litholt's not taking

 calls."

 Geomancer

 77

 "Maybe the Wizard is dead," Marbleheart said, wringing

 his forepaws.

 "No, someone has set up a live spell barring all inter-

 ference from outside," said Augurian. "Similar to the spell

 shrouding this place, actually. No, someone will have to go

 in person to Serecomba."

 "No problem, then," said Douglas. "I will go—if I can

 convince Detritus it's necessary in order to save his peo-

 ple."

 "How will we go?" wondered Marbleheart. "By the Feath-

 er Pin?"

 "Yes, if Mym will take us," said his Master.

 "Of course!" she cried. "I want to go. I've never been

 to Choin."

 "I shall go, also," said Wong. "It is my country. And the

 tea leaves suggested there would be danger, as I recall."

 Douglas warned him, "Your life will be in danger if your

 Emperor's advisers find you!"

 "But who could better guide you? Not only is Serecomba

 a tremendously vast wasteland but Choin itself is huge

 beyond most men's comprehension. You might take years

 to cover it all, even by the wonderful Dwarfish Pin."

 "Once we are on the desert, we can locate any Wizard by

 his aura of power, however faint it may have become," said

 Myrn. "Of course, the Feather Pin is the only way to fly."

 "Douglas, yourself, and me, then," decided Wong, rising

 from his snug nest of furs. "We can drop Serenit off at his

 home. Augurian is not really here. The Dwarf Prince ... ?"

 "I shall go with you, if you can carry the additional load,

 Mistress Myrn," said Bryannote. "You may need a strong

 right arm, and remember that I have great experience of

 deserted places."

 They agreed, and Douglas called out to Detritus's hut.

 In a moment the Stones' Chief was standing beside the

 column, looking at them irritably yet hopefully.

 "We're making good progress. Chief," Douglas told him,

 after introducing his companions.

 Don Callander

 78

 "About time!" said the surly Stone. "When can we expect

 results?"

 "First I must take a trip to find a certain Geomancer. Only

 a specialist can unravel your spell," Douglas explained.

 "When I come back, the actual disspelling will begin."

 Detritus shook his massive head stubbornly.

 "No! You have sworn to remain here until we are saved,

 Wizard Brightglade. The others may go where they please,

 but you must stay!"

 "Be reasonable, please," tiny Wong blinked up at the

 giant. "Douglas must go, for it is his duty to assist you.

 Mistress Mym must go, for she controls our means of swift

 travel. The Otter will go with his Master..."

 "Even if he hates waterless deserts," muttered Marble-

 heart under his breath, "No water! No fish!"

 "... and the Dwarf is sworn to protect the party by force

 of arms, if necessary. And it is to my country they go, so

 I must guide them."

 "That leaves Serenit, and he is no longer a Wizard,"

 sneered the Chief. "No! I wilt have to have at least one

 Wizard to hold as hostage, against your returning. I trust

 no one!"

 They argued the matter for almost an hour, until at last

 Detritus turned to walk away in an angry, stiff-necked huff-

 "You will stay. Journeyman," he said finally. "Or at the very

 least, another Wizard!"

 He disappeared into his hut.

 A number of Stones had gathered to hear the discussion

 from a distance. They stood about the square, looking rather

 downcast.

 "What's to do?" asked Marbleheart.

 "Well, I'll just have to stay, I guess," said Douglas-

 "Mym, my dear, you and Wong, with Bryarmote's help,

 can find this Litholt, I'm sure. I'll be fine here. I'll spend

 my time trying to trace Flarman."

 Mym shook her head firmly.

 "No. I have a better way."

 She unhooked the Feather Pin from her blouse deep

 Geomancer                  79

 underneath her warm furs and, reaching over, quickly

 pinned it to Douglas's lapel. "I give you the Pin!"

 "No, no!" he protested in surprise. "It's your Pin, given

 you by Dowager Princess Finesgold! Keep it!

 'Too late," said Mym with a laugh. "I've already given

 it to you, willingly and completely. Finesgold told me that,

 once given, it becomes the sole property of the recipient."

 "That's certainly so," said Finesgold's son. "You have

 the Pin now, Douglas, like it or not!"

 "Suppose I give it back, willingly and completely?" asked

 the Journeyman, ducking his chin to look at the golden

 feather.

 "Won't work," said Bryarmote flatly.

 "I'm very sorry you did this," said Douglas, taking Mym's

 hand tenderly.

 "I'm not," said she, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

 "It's yours now and, as I'm yours, too, in effect I still have

 it Call it my engagement present to my husband-to-be!

 That, and the right to finish what you've started."

 She taught him the magical phrase that activated the Pin—

 "Cumulo nimbus"—and the Journeyman recalled Detritus.

 "I think you are being unreasonable, stubborn, stiff

 necked, hard jawed, and wrong headed," Douglas said

 to him severely. "But we accept your compromise. The

 Wizard Manstar will stay in my place. She's not only a

 Water Adept, but my betrothed wife- You can be sure I

 will redeem her as quickly as possible."

 Detritus for the first time looked pleased—and even a

 little ashamed of himself. He at once accepted the offer.

 "She will be safe and comfortable here," he promised

 Douglas. "No harm will come to her that a whole tribe of

 Stone Warriors can prevent."

 "Nothing to worry about in that regard. She is a Wizard's

 Apprentice, you must recall," said Wong, also quite severe-

 ly, "and her powers are sufficient to protect her person,

 even from arctic storms, avalanches, and sudden eruptions

 of lava."

 "However," added Bryarmote, glowering darkly, "be

 80 Don Callander

 warned that if anything untoward befalls our pretty Mym,

 you will be held solely responsible. Chief Detritus, not only

 by the Wizards, but all my Dwarfs, and I suspect the Fairies,

 the Dragons, and all sorts of good Men, also!"

 "I must do it, however," said the Chief with downcast

 eyes before the Dwarf's smoldering anger. "I am compelled

 by circumstances. But hurry back with this Geomancer per-

 son, and all will be set aright.'*

 "We intend to," said the Journeyman briskly. "Bryarmote,

 stand on my left, and take Master Wong by his hand on the

 other side. Familiar, stand touching my leg, here. Serenit,

 take the Magician by his other hand."

 When they were so arranged, Douglas bent and kissed

 his bride-to-be on her lips and said good-bye softly. Mym

 hugged him reassuringly, hugged the Otter, and then each

 other member of the flight in turn.

 "Cwnulo nimbusF whispered Douglas, getting it right

 the first time.

 This strange flying company rose steeply into the snow-

 filled darkness and, with a final wave, shot off southward

 at a tremendous clip, making the air whistle with their

 passage.

 "I'll stay with you for a while before I return my image to

 Waterand," declared Augurian. "I need to rest and recharge

 my Being from the exertions of projecting all this way

 against the pressure of Obsydion's spell, twice in one day."

 "My poor Magister!" cried Mym, fluffing the furs about

 his tall, thin frame. "Rest here as long as you like- I'll be

 happy for the company!"

 "While we rest," said the Water Adept, drawing a heavy,

 deeply embossed leatherbound book from his left sleeve,

 "maybe we can use the time to study? You have your own

 advancement to Journeyman to think of, my child."

 He held the book up for her to read its impressively

 long, gold-stamped title: Studies in the Hydrographic Cycle

 Including Various Means to Utilize Its Great and Mysteri-

 ous Powers without Changing Its Nature to the Detriment

 of Its Many Other Benefits.

 Geomancer

 81

 Mym laughed, nodded, and groaned all at the same time,

 and Augurian began to lecture.

 A worried score of Stone Warriors stood in stony silence,

 listening.

 Chapter Nine

 <$>

 Chain

 DESPITE his brave face on the matter, Douglas was

 unhappy to leave Mym a hostage in Stony Gorge.

 "She's capable of countering anything the Stones might

 do," Wong pointed out, sensing his distress, "and she can

 always leave, if she is seriously threatened. Detritus believes

 he has the strength to hold her against her will, but he's

 mistaken."

 "Very true, I suppose," agreed the Journeyman- "But I

 know Myrn. She'll abide by our promise, if she possibly

 can. And I feel terrible about her giving up her Feath-

 er Pin."

 "As she said," Marbleheart said with a sudden laugh,

 "when she gave the Pin to you, she kept it in the fami-

 ly."

 "In that case," said Douglas, in mock asperity, "when we

 get back from this adventure, I'll give it to you!"

 The Otter squawked in consternation and changed the

 subject.

 "Here's New Land," he pointed down the long U-shaped

 glacial valley. They were just passing over the Face, and

 could feel the warm southern wind bounding up at them,

 bearing a heavy burden of swirling mist.

 "If you need me," offered Serenit, who had borne the

 high-speed flight stoically but without much pleasure, "I'd

 be happy to tag along."

 83

 84 Don Callander

 "You're needed here," Douglas told him. In addition, he

 didn't say aloud, you're still under banishment. To allow

 you to cross the New Land borders would sit badly with the

 Beings who sentenced you.

 "At least let me offer you luncheon," said Serenit, secret-

 ly relieved his offer had been refused.

 "Not a bad idea, that!" cried the ever-hungry Otter.

 Douglas angled down into the flat-bottomed valley and

 landed on the veranda before Serenit's lodge, set pleasantly

 in a forest of young pines and cedars, overlooking a shallow

 but fast-rushing stream that flowed where once the glacier

 had piled up hundreds of feet thick.

 They were met by Clangeon, much relieved to see them

 again, and shortly the capable steward had set a tasty meal

 before them: fresh-caught, broiled Sea bass, watercress sal-

 ad, spicy crab-cakes, and excellent corn bread, all of which

 Marbleheart declared were superb.

 While they ate they discussed the best course to follow

 next.

 "Mym said she doesn't know the top speed of the Pin,"

 Douglas said in answer to a question from Bryarmote.

 "Beyond a certain speed it becomes difficult to breathe,

 she found- But she's never timed her flights very care-

 fully."

 "We flew from Wizards' High to Stony Gorge in less than

 fourteen hours' flying time," observed Wong. He plucked

 an ivory-beaded abacus from his right sleeve and began to

 calculate furiously.

 "The distances between the High and Bee-Wing, which is

 the capital of Choin?" he muttered as he worked. "The dis-

 tance from Bee-Wing to the edge of the Serecomba Desert?

 The time from the High to Serenit's house, here .. . ?"

 He drew a chart with his chopstick on the rough plank

 tabletop, showing them the way he recommended they go.

 "Here we are in New Land, you see? Ten hours at most

 to Wizards' High, for that was our time on the way north,

 less the time we spent in Dwetmland. Overnight at the High.

 Check with Bronze Owl for word from Flarman."

 Geomancer                  85

 **Good idea!" said Bryarmote. "Owl can send word to

 Crystal that my trip has been extended. And I've got some

 useful tools, a sword or two and some stout chain-mail

 hidden behind the big fireplace at the High. They might

 come in handy."

 "You have a cache of weapons at the High?" exclaimed

 the Journeyman Wizard. "It shouldn't surprise me. Flarman

 says there are things about his cottage and workshop caves

 even he doesn't know."

 Bryarmote looked pleased and proud at the compliment.

 "It'll take us at least three full days, I'm afraid, to fly

 over Sea from Dukedom to my poor homeland," Wong

 estimated. "Closer to four days, unless we can find ways

 to add to our speed- We should stop and call upon my good

 friend Captain Foggery on arrival."

 "If you think we should take the time," Douglas said,

 sounding doubtful.

 "We must, for Foggery has all my maps and charts

 . hidden in his garden. I feared the Bureaucrats would ferret

 them out and steal them if I left them at my house. They

 arc most accurate and, therefore, most valuable."

 "Bureaucrats?" asked Marbleheart, finishing his third

 serving of crab cakes.

 "I refer to the hereditary professional managers who

 actually rule our vast Choin Empire," Wong explained.

 "Their posts were once earned by competitive examina-

 tions. In those days, Choin had the best, the most efficient,

 most humane, most honest of all World's governments.

 But several hundred years ago they persuaded the Emper-

 or to make their positions hereditary, passing from father

 to son."

 "With what result?" Marbleheart wanted to know. His

 curiosity was only a little smaller than his appetite,

 "The downfall of my wretched country! A certain Minis-

 ter of Finance might be capable and honest enough, but his

 son or his grandson might be a thief—or even worse, a fool!

 The best clerks are released to make room for know-nothing

 nephews and cousins with neither ability nor training—and

 86 Don Callander

 no tradition of devoted public service."

 "1 see the picture you're painting," said the Sea Otter,

 looking shocked. "Why have not the Choinese risen and

 changed the system back?"

 "A very good question," sighed Wong, pushing back

 from the table and folding his napkin neatly into the shape

 of a flying bird. "You have to experience the cruel and

 overweaning power of a hereditary Bureaucracy to under-

 stand. Any man not in some magnate's favor can be tram-

 pled into the dust, buried in procedural confusion, or even

 hanged on the Imperial gallows as an example to others."

 'That's awful!" cried the Otter in dismay. "Will it change,

 ever?"

 "I devoutly hope so," said the Choinese Magician, but

 said no more, for Douglas was signaling that it was time

 to depart for Wizard's High.

 The cottage beneath the tall, treeless High, when they

 slanted down to it just at dusk, looked empty, forlorn, and

 lonely. The meadows were sere and yellow, and the trees,

 except for the hardy old willows along Crooked Brook,

 had already dropped their leaves as tribute to approaching

 autumn.

 It was worrying that there would be no plump, cheery

 Fire Wizard waiting to greet them when they landed at the

 kitchen door. There was still no explanation of his strange

 disappearance—unless Owl had heard word.

 "Nary a peep!" said Bronze Owl. "Augurian did send

 Deka the Wraith earlier today to say you were on your

 way here. Will you have supper and sleep here tonight,

 Douglas? I realize from what the Water Adept said that

 you're in a hurry to find this missing Geomancer."

 "The rest would be worth the delay," replied a weary

 Douglas—he had gotten littte sleep the night before. It

 seemed as if a week had passed since he had last closed

 his eyes.

 At least Blue Teakettle's marvelous kitchen was brightly

 a-light and filled with cheer, warmth, welcome, and wafted

 cooking odors. Knives and Forks exuberantly chased tin-

  

 Gwmancer                  87

 kling silver Spoons three times about the great table before

 falling into their proper places on either side of the more

 sedate Dinner Plates.

 Pots at home on the range clanged their lids together

 like cymbals in time to the pure chiming of crystal Goblets

 marching in place before Decanter, the somewhat haughty

 Master of the Feast.

 "Bean soup, weary sirs? Get it while it's hot!" cried

 Tureen. Its Ladle performed miracles dipping the thick,

 savory liquid into the waiting Soup Bowls without a precious

 drop spilled.

 "Such a lovely Ladle!" shouted Marbleheart in glee.

 "And Blue Teakettle! Your dinners have kept us well fed

 and happy in many a strange place, Blue dear, but none so

 delightful as your very own kitchen. Pass the potato cakes,

 please, and let me have the rest of those sausages, if you

 don't want any more for yourselves."

 Douglas was lifted from a bleak mood to good cheer

 and ate everything on his plate before he excused himself,

 yawning-

 "We'll leave at dawn, sirs," he said to the Dwarf and the

 Magician. The Otter was already fast asleep, curled into a

 ball of soft fur on the stone hearth of Bryarmote's famous

 Dwarf's Fireplace.

 "Owl, I know you'd be happier going with us, but I still

 think someone should be here, in case messages arrive and

 need to be passed along."

 He didn't even hear Owl's assurances he'd stay on duty

 at the High. The Journeyman was asleep almost before he

 collapsed into the middle of his down comforter.

 The Thatchmouse Family peered down from their lofty

 nest under the thick thatched roof and hushed their children.

 "Let the Wizardling sleep," Mama Mouse whispered gen-

 s, dy. "Poor Man-child! He didn't even pull off his boots!"

 South of the High and a bit west the next morning, they

 soared high over bustling Perthside on Farango Waters.

 Douglas pointed out to his friends the house in which he'd

 88 Don Callander

 been born, and the shipways where his father, also named

 Douglas, built strong, fast sailing ships for Thomwood

 Duke's growing merchant fleet.

 "Five keels laid down, I see!" counted Marbleheart. "Your

 father's a busy man!"

 Once they'd passed over the southwest point of Dukedom

 and were well out to Sea, Douglas increased their airspeed

 to just below the point Mym had warned of, where breath

 became hard to catch.

 Once in the air it was no longer necessary for them to

 hold hands in order to fly together. Marbleheart dozed white

 Wong and Bryarmote chatted of the deep caverns and very

 old mines where the Choinese had once found rich deposits

 of jade, white gold, and diamonds.

 Douglas kept his mind and eyes on their progress, trust-

 ing his old sense of direction once he'd determined their

 course toward the distant Choin coast.

 Clouds swept by like full-rigged ships, laden with dignity

 and purpose. Occasionally the fliers passed between tower-

 ing autumn thunderheads glittering with lightning, swollen

 with rain and hail falling onto the roiling surface of Sea

 far below.

 Sea here was very deep and islands were scarce. Where

 they did break the surface they were little more than black,

 sharp rocks, the summits of submarine mountains, ringed

 with creamy white surf. They were good places for all

 manner of Seabirds to roost and nest at other times of the

 year, but in the last days of summer they were deserted and

 lonely.

 They met a flock of Frigatebirds gliding on their immense-

 ly long, tapered wings, coasting down the wind and calling

 saucily to each other as they went.

 "Hoy! Hey!" the birds shouted to the fliers. "Ahoy!

 There's Douglas of Brightglade, the shipwright's son, the

 Pyromancer's pupil. Ahoy!"

 "How's the weather ahead," Marbleheart called as they

 passed. He knew the Frigates of old. They were World's

 best weather forecasters.

 Gwmancer                89

 "Rain on the Choin coast, but quite warm and quite light.

 Wanner winds ahead, friend Sea Otter! It's still midsummer

 in Choin waters. We're going off Highlandorm way to

 find winter feeding grounds in Lasting Mists, where the

 grunnion will be running soon. We salute you, too. Honored

 Magician! Welcome back!"

 "Have you ever flown over the Serecomba Desert?" asked

 Douglas, circling the flock of Frigates to keep from shooting

 on past.

 "Never! Too far inland," the grizzled, old flight leader

 told him. "Some of them silly Skylarks go that far, and

 occasionally you'll meet a Robin Redbreast who has been

 there. Their sort don't mind the dry climate, but it's much

 too dry for us Seafarers."

 "Well, thank you anyway," the Journeyman called, speed-

 ing south again.

 "I'm not in favor of dry myself," observed Marbleheart,

 thoughtfully. "What kinds of beasts like to broil under a

 desert sun? I wonder."

 "You'll find out shortly," chuckled Bryarmote.

 "Lizards, of course," Wong answered the Otter's idle

 question. "Snakes, too- Many Dragons live in the endless

 empty places at the center of the Serecomba-"

 *Tve met a few Dragons myself," said Douglas. "Rather

 haughty at first, but good hearted. Fiery tempered when

 roused, I found."

 "They're sacred to our Empire," said Wong. "Not that

 fnyone ever tries to harm or even go near to them. I've

 never met one myself, but I'd like to."

 "I'm not at all sure I'd want to," said Marbleheart. "What

 would you talk of with a Dragon as big as a humpback

 whale with wings?"

 "History, mostly," Wong told him. "Dragons live a great

 long time, being Near Immortals, and remember everything

 that ever happened since the Earliest Times and before even

 that. I'm told."

 Chatting and dozing—even Bryarmote took a long nap

 • ffl the afternoon, which was unusual for him—they sped

 90 Don Callander

 on across the endless plain of Sea. They lunched on ham,

 cheese, and spicy sailor's sausage sandwiches on the wing

 without stopping, merely slowing down for comfort as they

 ate.

 Ducking under a dark patch of rain, Douglas had them

 open their canteens to replenish their water supply. He and

 the Dwarf used the opportunity to take a shower bath,

 which refreshed and cooled them. Wong was too modest

 to remove any of his clothing in public.

 "I'm getting stiff from being so still," complained the

 Otter.

 "Let me show you some useful exercises," Wong offered.

 "My ancestors developed them for living in crowded cities

 where physical exercise was difficult."

 For an hour or more they all stretched, bent, twisted, and

 swung their arms and legs. Passing birds, seeing them so,

 laughed aloud and called advice.

 "Flap your wings!" they shouted in glee. "Wriggle your

 tails'"

 By then they had all shed the heavy Northland cloaks

 and boots. The Magician, happy to do some little magic

 task, reduced the bulky New Land clothing to tiny bits of

 wool, fur, and leather and stowed them in his wide left

 sleeve.

 Nightfall came suddenly, for these were subtropical

 waters where the sun plunged over the horizon with

 startling speed.

 "We need an island where we can stop, have dinner in

 comfort, and stretch our legs," the Journeyman said to the

 others. "Keep an eye open for a suitable landing place,

 won't you?"

 Marbleheart, with the sharpest eyes of them all, spotted

 an island long before anyone and guided Douglas down

 to a worn and rounded mid-Sea peak high above thunder-

 ing surf.

 They dined on chicken and dumplings, hot from Blue

 Teakettle's pot, and drank sparingly of new-brewed, nut

 brown Trunkety ale drawn from one of the huge casks

 Geomancer                 91

 Flarman laid in each year from the cellars of the old Oak

 'N' Bucket.

 Douglas had intended to continue the trip immediate-

 ly, but when his stomach was full, his will to move on

 weakened. He proposed they nap on solid ground until

 moonrise. A fat, waxing moon would light their way until

 a bit before dawn.

 They slept. Marbleheart, who'd napped several times

 during the night, explored the isolated pinnacle of rock

 he'd named Marbleheart Isle, quite immodestly, from top

 to bottom, looking for someone to talk to. He met no one,

 except thousands of silvery sardines schooling where the

 cliff plunged into the deeps, providing them shelter.

 The little fish, assured the Otter wasn't hungry, talked

 lightheartedly of their life in mid-ocean. They asked the

 Otter for news from distant dry land, so he gave them

 a quick history lesson covering the last twelve or twenty

 years, from the rise of Frigeon Ice King to the death of

 Emaldar the Witch in the eruption of the volcano Blueye.

 Being isolated in mid-ocean, the sardines had little news

 to tell in return. The Otter left them to their schoolwork and

 climbed back up the island summit to waken the travelers

 with fresh, hot coffee just as the moon rose from Sea.

 "You have any idea how much farther we have to go?"

 die Dwarf Prince asked after they'd taken off.

 Wong was squinting at the moon and measuring angles

 from the horizon to certain stars using his fingers and arms

 as an astrolabe. He consulted an enormous gold watch he

 pulled from beneath his broad, red silk sash, and again

 produced the ivory abacus. His tiny fingers flew in cal-

 culation-

 "I learned celestial navigation from our friend Seacaptain

 Foggery. I calculate we've passed the halfway point," he

 said at last. "We have close to a thousand miles yet to

 go. If my mathematics have not entirely deserted me, we

 will fly half a thousand miles this day, unless we stop for

 some reason, and will fly most of tomorrow, again, before

 we reach the Choin coast."

 92 Don Callander

 "Well, I suppose it's faster than one of Thomwood's

 ships," said Douglas, "but it's not half so interesting."

 He found that while he could easily maintain the speed

 of the first day, it was uncomfortable for him and his

 passengers, especially the Otter, who tended to suffer most

 from drying out in the wind. Douglas reduced his speed by

 a third and flew much lower, where the air was moister and

 warmer. There they encountered occasional rainsqualls to

 wet them down—much to the Otter's relief.

 During the afternoon Douglas conducted class for his

 Familiar. Since returning from Old Kingdom in midsum-

 mer, he had little time to instruct the Otter in his duties

 and the lore he needed to serve a Wizard.

 The Choinese Magician, who'd never adopted a Familiar

 for some reason, listened with great interest, occasionally

 contributing a comment or an anecdote.

 Bryarmote, who had picked up a smattering of Magic

 here and there in his long life, also commented and demon-

 strated—his lore concerned mostly weapons and fighting or

 delving and locating precious metals or water underground.

 Later everyone took turns napping, even Douglas, now

 completely at ease with this novel means of travel.

 Another night at Sea. This time they dined and napped on

 a low-tying coral atoll, a ring of sandy islets barely above

 the waves, crowned by groves of tall, graceful coconut

 palms loaded with fruit.

 Remembering the Great Sea Tortoise Oval, Douglas

 showed them how to crack the tough, fibrous nuts with

 one of the Dwarf's short swords. They shared the sweet

 meat and drank the refreshing, wholesome milk for their

 supper and again for breakfast.

 They all took a morning swim, enjoying the rainbow-

 colored fish swarming in the glass-clear shallows. The Otter

 offered to catch a few for the frying pan, but had to agree

 with the others that the fish were too pretty to eat—espe-

 cially as the Otter wasn't sure which were safe and which

 might be poisonous.

 Geomancer                  93

 "Out of my element, really," he explained, and settled

 for a double armful of big, juicy clams that he discovered

 buried in the coral sand at the tow water mark.

 Their third night approached with storm clouds and winds

 that buffeted them about the sky—to Marbleheart's delight

 and the Dwarf's dismay. Just before full dark they saw a

 scattering of lights ahead and below.

 "Land!" cried Douglas, glad the over-Sea portion of their

 flight was over.

 "Not just lantern lights, either," observed Wong. "It's as

 if they built bonfires to greet us ... but that's not pos-

 sible, is it?"

 "No, not for us," said Marbleheart grimly. "Those are

 buildings a-buming!"

 Douglas circled warily over the great fires, keeping just

 within the lower fringe of the storm clouds.

 "Can you make out what's going on?" he asked the

 sharp-eyed Otter.

 "Yes and no," was Marbleheart's reply. "A num-

 ber of houses burning dreadfully, I can see, and occa-

 sionally crowds of men rushing about, shouting and

 waving sticks and torches. You can just hear them

 from here."

 "So I can," said Wong. "But I can't make out their words.

 I'm sure they are shouting in Choinese."

 "Well, they would shout in Choinese here, wouldn't

 they?" asked the Dwarf. "Unless we've gone far astray.

 Very far astray!"

 Wong asked Douglas to fly lower while he peered

 through a brass spyglass he drew from his right sleeve.

 They dropped with the falling rain beneath the scud of low

 clouds.

 "Ha!" Wong exclaimed at last. "A palace fortress, there!

 I know where we are, now. My home is a bit farther east,

 away from the coast a few miles. Go east until you see a

 large seaport city on an almost landlocked bay. Then I'll

 direct you to Captain Foggery's house."

 The Journeyman turned east along the coast.

 94 Don Callander

 "What a splendid surprise!" exclaimed the ancient

 Seacaptain when they dropped into his rain-washed garden

 and knocked at his door. "A wonderful relief, also! I was

 afraid you might be the Constables."

 All was quiet in this neighborhood—as a graveyard at

 midnight, Marbleheart thought, remembering the silent bar-

 rows of Last Battlefield with a shudder. Wong had guided

 them swiftly and unerringly to the retired Westongue sail-

 or's rambling wood-and-paper house not far from the port

 city of Choin Harbor.

 "Has the Governor's Constabulary given you trouble?"

 asked Wong, worriedly. "What of the fires and men running

 about in the night, over to the west?"

 "I know something about it," admitted Foggery, ushering

 them through a sliding door into his large, pleasant parlor,

 where they left their shoes by the door. "Perhaps the Gov-

 ernor's policemen have forgotten me in the confusion of

 the riots. Come in! I'll tell you all I can."

 When they were seated on cushions and each had been

 brought a bowl of hot water, soap, and towels, followed by

 tea laced with mint, the old Sea Captain explained.

 "The old Emperor is near death."

 "Ah!" sighed Wong. "It is a mixture of good news and

 bad, then. He has been failing for some time."

 "Yes. Of natural causes, we believe. He is quite elderly,

 as you know."

 "But from what our friend Wong has told us," said

 Douglas, "the Emperor is merely a figurehead, not a power-

 ful leader at all."

 "So the Bureaucrats always believed," said Foggery. "Not

 true! The people of Choin insist that power flows from the

 Emperor. The succession, they are crying, must be directly

 from him. Unfortunately, there are a dozen or more men

 who claim direct descent!"

 "And the Bureaucrats are divided, each wishing to name

 his own candidate, of course?" asked Wong softly.

 Geomancer                 95

 "Yes, one who each thinks he can control," Foggery

 declared flatly. 'That's bad enough! These days a num-

 ber of our Bureaucrats have the military and police pow-

 er to pull it off. The Ennobled Bureaucrats are actually

 fighting among themselves! That's what the fires are. Fac-

 tion against faction, and the poor commoners are caught in

 the middle."

 Wong rolled his eyes in horror and the others shook their

 heads in sympathy.

 "Our own Governor was assassinated just a week past

 when he attempted to march his Guards and Constables to

 Bee-Wing. He was the Emperor's Great Grand Nephew,

 and had a valid claim to the Dragon Throne. There was

 bloody slaughter, I hear. A grandson of the Governor's

 wanted his Constable thugs for himself, to press his own

 claim. The grandson's force was victorious . . . but he him-

 self was killed by one of his own officers, I hear!"

 Douglas threw up his hands in dismay. "Is it that bad?

 Is there nobody to bring order to this bloody mess?"

 "I don't know!" exclaimed Foggery. "I've been trying

 since you departed, Master Wong, to organize some sort of

 communication with my friends about the area. One friend,

 named Fong Wei—you know him?—was taken and thrown

 into prison by the Minister of Education. He cleverly trained

 a rice rat to carry messages out to us. That's how we heard

 that much. Fong Wei has since simply disappeared! I've

 sent my young men to find other Scholars and Sages, but

 they have all gone into hiding, I fear."

 "Poor Fong!" said Wong, shaking his head slowly. "Can

 he be helped, do you think?"

 "Nobody knows where he is," Foggery told him.

 The retired Westonguer mentioned a dozen other names,

 but in most cases he admitted he had no news. Most appeared

 to be fugitives, running from this or that faction of Minister

 or Nobleman, hiding in farmer's hovels or in forests or

 open fields disguised as peasants, waiting for the storm to

 blow over.

 96 Don Callander

 "Eventually the Bureaucrats will sort it out, of course,"

 said Wong. "They always have in the past, at the cost of

 much blood and gold."

 "But if I recall," protested Foggery, "was it not Wong

 Tscha San, a Magician, Scholar, and Sage, who once said

 that in such a time the small fanners, the town merchants,

 and the villagers must organize to throw the Bureaucrats out

 and reinstate the Ancient and Honorable Ways—a Choin

 where a man's life had value and government meant justice,

 harmony, protection from criminals, and a fair share of the

 wealth each labored to produce."

 Wong acknowledged the words as his own.

 "And it was ever my worst fear that when a Time of Con-

 fusion came, we would be caught without a single leader all

 of us could agree to follow. Is it not now so, Seacaptain?

 Who could—who would lead the disenfranchised? Who will

 they follow?"

 "You, for one," declared the Seacaptain, thrusting out a

 blunt forefinger at the Magician. "They will rally to Wong

 Tscha San."

 "I can't do that. It wouldn't be good for the country at

 all," said Wong, sadly shaking his head. "White Wizards

 and Good Magicians are sternly and wisely warned against

 accepting or imposing political leadership."

 "Yes, Flarman Flowerstalk says mat good Wizards make

 the worst kings," Douglas agreed. "His most recent example

 was Frigeon, the Ice King, who was a Master Aeromancer."

 "Wisdom from the Fire Master," agreed Wong, nodding.

 "Well. . ."

 They heard a thundering like a great herd of cattle being

 driven past Foggery' s front gate. Men and boys—even wom-

 en—cried out to each other, clashed rice hooks, butchering

 knives, and scythes, filling the rainy darkness with roars of

 violence and fear-

 Bryarmote hitched his Elvensword closer to hand and

 jumped up, while Douglas prepared a useful spell or two,

 just in case. The fur on Marbleheart's back stood on end

 and he bared his sharp teeth in a silent snarl.

 Geomancer                 97

 But the crowd passed on and their tumult faded into

 the night.

 "No telling what's going on out there," sighed Foggery.

 "Someone who can lead? Someone everyone respects?"

 asked Wong. He looked piercingly at Foggery for a long

 moment.

 "I am a foreigner myself," reminded the retired Captain.

 "Nobody would follow me."

 "Perhaps not. But perhaps they would! Absolutely no

 one else is remotely qualified that I can think of," said the

 Magician sharply. "The prohibition of magickers against

 accepting crowns is a good one . . ."

 "Unfortunately, it's a rule followed only by White Wiz-

 ards and such," said Douglas, recalling his history lessons

 on the summertime lawn of the High, taught by Bronze

 Owl. "A teacher I know said once. 'The only thing nec-

 essary for evil to triumph is for good men to remain idle.'

 If we don't act soon, Wong, a wicked, selfish, unscrupu-

 lous trickster might put himself forth—and be success-

 ful!"

 "True!" agreed the Choinese.

 "We must help," Douglas declared.

 "You, Douglas, have the important matter of the en-

 chanted Stones to concern you, not to mention your Exami-

 nation for Mastery, and your wedding," objected Wong.

 "What's more important?" demanded the Journeyman

 Pyromancer, looking about at his friends. "The Examina-

 tion can be put off, as can the Wedding. Even the Stones'

 disenchantment! Here, thousands of innocent people could

 die! I don't want that on my conscience, nor would Mym.

 We must do what we can to help Choin!"

 "No, no!" exclaimed Wong. "Consider the consequences,

 young Wizard, should you fail to break the Stones' spelling

 in a short time."

 "Chief Detritus may try to harm Mym," Marbleheart

 insisted: "He wouldn't be able to do it, of course. Mym

 is already too powerful, if just an Apprentice. And she's

 sharp as a Sea Nettle! She'd easily save herself, if the

 98 Don Callander

 Stones should break their promise."

 "But then, what?" asked Wong. "What would you expect

 Detritus and his Stone Warriors to do when their patience

 runs out? Sit at home and sulk?"

 "Hardly," retorted Marbleheart. "I listened to them in

 council. To Detritus. He's aggressive and ambitious. He'd

 lead them out to do battle for their cause, sometime, some-

 where."

 "Exactly my reading of the Man and his people," agreed

 the Dwarf, sliding his short sword in and out of its scabbard.

 "They're warriors, after all!"

 "And who would they attack?" asked Douglas.

 "New Land!" cried the Dwarf instantly. "Destroy every-

 thing Serenit has accomplished, perhaps shock him back

 to his old wickedness in his disappointment and frustra-

 tion."

 "Our friends agree with me," said Wong to Douglas.

 "All sorts of bad things would follow. How would Tet, his

 Highlandormers, and their War Dogs stand against Stone

 Warriors in pitched battle? Or Thomwood's Dukedom, for

 that matter, especially without you or Flannan to advise

 them?"

 "We're stuck in a dilemma, then," Douglas sighed.

 "What's to do?"

 Wong lifted his hands again, this time in supplication.

 "The Stones' problem should be simple, compared to

 quelling the unrest in all of Choin when the Emperor, poor

 old man, dies- I really believe we must pursue our goal in

 the Serecomba—the sooner the better. Find the Geomancer!

 Then we all can turn our full attention to Choin and the

 empty Dragon Throne."

 Foggery was confused by their talk of Stones until

 Douglas told him the story from the beginning. When he

 was done, the Captain agreed with Wong.

 "Get this Geo-whatever-it-is and take care of the enchant-

 ment first. We Choinese must fight our own battles, or

 they'll never be won. Oh, you Wizards can help, but some-

 one here has to take the helm and set our course."

 Geomancer                  99

 He stood and paced about the sparsely furnished sitting

 room, staring blindly at his collection of exquisite paint-

 ings of flowers, mountain landscapes, and bright-plumaged

 birds, and delicate jade sculptures in tiny, softly lighted wall

 niches.

 He turned at last to Wong and said, "Well! You must help

 Master Douglas. In the meanwhile, I'll gather the core of an

 opposition party and get them to agree on a single candidate

 for Emperor—and fight for him, if need be."

 "Good, my old friend! 1 will return to help my country

 as soon as we have the Stones disspelled, Douglas examined

 and confirmed in Mastery, and Mym and he married. No

 later than the first the new year, say?"

 "It'll have to do. Take some time for us few to organize

 even a small party of trusty men," said Foggery, and he

 drew himself up, looking decades younger than he had

 when he'd answered his door and admitted them to his

 house.

 "I... guess I just needed someone to say it. This is my

 beloved adopted country, even though I still love Dukedom

 and Westongue of my youth. It's time I did something to

 repay Choin's hospitality and respect."

 Wong applauded and shed tears of gratitude. The rest

 crowded around and vowed their assistance and advice,

 at least.

 "You may use my name and Flarman's, too," said

 Douglas, quietly. "With Wong Tscha San's name, that

 might be enough to rally your party and give them the

 needed confidence."

 Wong signaled a change of subject by asking Foggery to

 return his maps and charts of the Empire. They would plan

 the next phase of their search for the Geomancer.

 Chapter Ten

  

  

 Serecomha Search

 "YOUR boy'll never come back for you, now he's

 escaped me," sneered Chief Detritus, pushing his enormous,

 craggy, stern face close to the Apprentice's as she sat on her

 pile of furs atop the Column.

 "He will. Why do you doubt it? It's my word and his

 against yours. Chief of Stones. Time will tell!"

 "It's your life, really," snorted the Stone, stepping back

 and looking off down the Gorge, where a fifty-foot-high

 geyser was roaring into the frosty air in billowing,

 bellowing clouds of steam. "If you fail us ... If Wiz-

 ard Douglas fails me, I am finished as Chief. That

 would be intolerable! The shame! To be toppled just

 when I have a chance to free my tribesmen from this

 Obsydion's spell! To have to slink along behind some

 other Chief who will undoubtedly build on my foun-

 dation!"

 "Nonsense!" snapped Mym angrily. "If something goes

 wrong, how can anyone blame you? You're what my moth-

 er calls a worry-wart, always looking on the dark side. Give

 my Douglas a chance! He can hardly have reached Choin

 yet! I guarantee he'll be back, and with your Geomancer,

 too, or some other way to disspell your people."

 The giant stormed about the cobbled square, kicking

 three feet of soft, new snow high in the air and glowering

 at his worried villagers and at his hostage. The more he

 stomped, the angrier he got.

 ioi

 102 Don Callander

 "I'll tell you this, missy," he shouted, "if your poor ex-

 cuse for a Fire Wizard isn't back very soon, I'll teach him

 to throw us Stones over. I'll see to it he never finds you,

 his beloved, his betrothed! I may not be able to destroy you,

 Mym Waterspiller, but I know places to hide you away.

 forever and a day'"

 He plowed through the deep snowbanks at the side of

 the square and slammed into his hut.

 His words sent a chill down Mym's back, more from

 the tone he used—almost madness, she thought—than his

 words. She refused to let it show.

 "Don't you dare test me. Stone Man!" she called after

 him, not shrilly but with calm authority. "I am Water Pow-

 ered, an Adept, an Aquamancer! Pupil of Augurian of

 Waterand' In a contest between us, water wears away stone

 every time. You can be eroded, ground to pebbles, and split

 to splinters and shards! Beware of water. Detritus!"

 And shame on me for such an outburst, she thought

 to herself. Lifting the book Augurian had sent for her

 to study, she drew several deep breaths and calmly re-

 sumed her reading where the Chief had interrupted with his

 tirade.

 "Patience, Water Adept," came Augurian's voice from

 beside her. "His type of stone doesn't always stand up well

 under pressure."

 "Magister!" exclaimed the Apprentice. "He got me to

 boil over a bit, as you heard."

 "Understandable," said Augurian. wavering at her elbow.

 "He's a hard man; I saw that when I first met him."

 "Have you any word from Choin?"

 "Not yet. Owl sent word by Deka that the travelers

 came to Wizards' High three nights back and left the next

 morning. They should be somewhere in Choin by tonight

 or tomorrow. I've tried to follow them in the Crystal Pool,

 but there's a great deal of interference in the ether between

 us. Even Deka couldn't find her way across Sea in that

 direction."

 "Oh, dear!" cried the girl.

 Geomancer                 103

 ^

 t',

 "It happens now and then, of course. Have some patience,

 foster daughter! I'll keep trying and you'll be the first to

 know what I see and hear."

 "I'm sorry, Magister! I know you'll do everything you

 can. The question here is, what shall I do if I have to run? I

 can't break through the shielding that Obsydion put around

 his spell. All I can do is head for home or for the High."

 "If you can, you should stay close to Detritus and his

 warriors. In his anger, Detritus may attack the nearest Men,

 and that would be ..."

 "Of course, Serenit and his New Land settlers. Should

 we warn them of their danger?"

 "It doesn't exist yet, but if it comes, Mym, it must be

 you who warns them. Tell them to take ship and seek deep

 waters. They are a strong and self-sufficient group, but I

 don't think even they could stand long against these Stone

 Warriors in a fight."

 "And then what?"

 "Send for me. I'll see what we can do together to render

 them less harmful, despite Obsydion's magic. If I were to

 withdraw the warm south winds, for example ... ?"

 "I think I see, Magister. If we can't affect them directly

 with out magic, we may be able to affect their actions

 indirectly. Maybe slow their advance?"

 "Think about how you could do it. Apprentice. That's

 what I had in mind," her Master said with a broad smile

 of confidence.

 Mym asked for word of the elder Pyromancer but

 Augurian had heard nothing new. They talked for a long

 while about her Apprentice's lessons and as the arctic dusk

 fell, Augurian's image departed, promising to see her the

 next day, if his work permitted.

 Mym adjusted the fire Douglas had left for her warmth

 and light, ate a lonely supper, and read until she felt sleepy

 enough to pull the furs about her and settle down to slum-

 ber. At least it had stopped snowing and blowing.

 Dam it, Douglas! Here 1 am close to freezing my . ..

 and there you are where it's still summertime, hot and

 104 Don Caltander

 nice! Hurry back, not because I'm cold, but because I need

 you beside me, no matter what powers and magicks I leam

 to wield.

 "The snow and ice of Stone Valley seem almost inviting

 just now," Douglas said to me Otter.

 They were standing on a barren bluff overlooking an end-

 less sea of drifted sand and broken stone ridges, the northern

 edge of the Serecomba. Behind them, the dry rolling hills

 were scantily clad in brittle grey-green shrubbery and cactus

 armed with wicked barbs.

 Nothing, as far as the eye could see. A perfectly flat,

 treeless, plantless, grassless expanse all the way to the

 southern horizon. The sky had a harsh coppery hue. A

 steady, hot wind blew constantly, dry as sticks, hurling

 sharp bits of sand to irritate their faces and eyes.

 The harsh sun seemed motionless, unrelenting, a giant

 kiln firing the landscape like a clay pot.

 "Even with water a man, let alone an Otter, wouldn't last

 two days out there," Marbleheart said with utter distaste.

 "Ugh! Give me even a brackish stagnant swamp, rather

 than this."

 "But there is a Wizard out there, I can tell," Douglas

 said. He took a sip from his canteen and stopped himself

 before he took a second. The water was blood warm and

 left a foul, metallic taste in his mouth, but the last source

 of water was a muddy pool ten miles behind them.

 Nearer, Bryannote was enlarging a shallow cave for an

 underground camp. They could hear his tough Elvensword

 cleaving the stone—and his thunderous Dwarf curses.

 Even with his best Aquamancer-taught magic, Douglas

 knew the water from the pool would still taste of green

 slime and bitter salts. He planned to transport water from

 the well at the High that evening.

 "I feel it, too," agreed the Otter, his nose raised to the hot

 wind, his eyes slitted against the glare. "There definitely is

 a Wizard out there. Fairly strong, don't you think?"

 Geomancer                105

 "But still a long way off," Douglas answered with a

 frown. "Something else, too. Do you catch it?"

 "Yes, but I don't know what it can be."

 "You've never met a dragon," his Master said. "That's

 dragon smell—maybe many dragons—you feel, young

 Otter! Remember it!"

 "Desert scorch and dragon scent!" muttered Marbleheart,

 trying to spit but failing entirely. "Give me a sip of your

 water, Douglas, and tell me what we're going to do next."

 While the animal carefully wet his mouth and tongue,

 Douglas said, "We'll fly out over the desert. It'll be cooler

 a mile or so up. Maybe several miles. Maybe five miles!"

 "And from up that high maybe we can see how wide this

 desert is," agreed Marbleheart, handing the canteen back.

 "But will we be able to see a Wizard from that height?"

 "I'm hoping that he isn't just sitting in the middle of the

 desert right on the sand. He must have some sort of shelter.

 Maybe even water. He must have a source of water."

 "Maybe he imports it, as you're going to do. Soon, I

 hope! Before we're fairly broiled."

 "Actually, that's one of the things I'll be looking for—

 magic used to import water, food, maybe clothing. We

 don't actually have to see the Wizard. Just his habitat and

 his aura."

 "Habitat?" repeated the Familiar as they started back for

 the cave. "I guess I see what that means. Say! Why just

 bring water to drink? Why not send out for a block of ice

 from Serenit's glacier. He has plenty to spare."

 "Now that, I say, is a splendid idea, old Familiar!" laughed

 Douglas, bending to pound his furry friend on the shoulder.

 "Inspired!"

 "Only a Fire Wizard could find something to smite about

 in this place," grumbled Bryannote as they approached.

 "What's up?"

 "We will be—tomorrow morning," Marbleheart told him.

 "But before that, Douglas is going to bring some ice from

 New Land and some water from the Old Fairy Well at

 Wizards' High, and we're having sherbet for supper."

 106 Don Callander

 'The heat is getting to him, poor rodent,'* Wbng, who

 was beginning to learn to tease, said gently. "I must admit

 that, without my chrysanthemum parasol and a fresh breeze

 from my lotus-flower fan, we'd be crazed, also. Whew!"

 He was sitting in the deepest shade of a rock overhang

 in one of the last folds of the desert-edge hills, a gaily

 hand-painted silk parasol over his head, even so, and a

 flowered fan stirring the air near his left ear.

 "He was good enough to let it blow on me while I toiled

 under the ground," said the Dwarf. "His 'whew' should

 be 'phew' for I stink like a Troll after only two hours'

 digging."

 "Douglas's going to bring in some water, so we all can

 bathe," repeated Marbleheart. "Come, show us this hole

 you've bored."

 The Dwarf Prince proudly led them down into comfort-

 able quarters cut into a sandstone outcrop. He'd done it all

 with his Elvensword and a handy stone-cutting spell he'd

 learned, ages back, from a younger Flarman FIowerstalk.

 "Originally intended to let you carve your way into

 fortresses and such," Bryarmote explained, "but just as

 good for making a tunnel in rocky ground."

 Twenty feet beneath the desert, the air in the new-carved

 cavern was filled with fine rock dust but cooler by many

 degrees than the air outside—quite comfortable, indeed.

 To make it even more so, the Dwarf had hewed a flat-

 floored living space with a raised fire platform under a

 narrow chimney, already drawing up a thin trail of smoke

 from a blaze on the hearth.

 "I'm rather surprised it draws," said Douglas, craning

 his neck to look up the chimney. "I would expect a strong

 downdraft."

 "Secret of the trade," the Dwarf responded with a grin.

 "When you have only a few magic tricks, you tend to keep

 them to yourself. My chimneys always draw well, as you

 should know."

 He had just finished chopping three wide niches in the

 chamber walls, each serving as bedroom for himself, Wong,

 Geomancer                107

 and Douglas. The Otter preferred to sleep near the hearth.

 Douglas and Marbleheart admired his workmanship—the

 smooth, vertical walls, the gently rounded corner, and even

 the packed rock dust that formed the level floor.

 Now, at the Fire Wizard's request, the Dwarf drew his

 sword again and, with a dozen well-placed, loud-clanging

 swings, excavated a large, square pit in the floor and a

 smaller, round one beside it, connecting them at the bottom

 with a channel.

 Douglas sat on the cool floor and wove his best teleporting

 spell. The square pit immediately filled with a huge block of

 crystal-clear glacier ice, streaming cold vapors out across

 the cavem floor. The ice block was straight from the Face

 of Eternal Ice.

 A moment later in a rush and a splash, several hundred

 gallons of sweet-smelling well water filled the round cistern

 and seeped into the space around the block of ice in the

 square one.

 "Cool, clear water!" crooned the delighted Otter, and

 they each gulped a cup or two at once. "There will be plenty

 to drink and bathe and cook in for the rest of our stay."

 "And how long will that stay be, I wonder, Sir Wizard?"

 asked Wong.

 He spread his maps on a rock table while Douglas told

 mem his plan to sweep the desert methodically in an attempt

 to locate the Geomancer's hideaway from the air.

 "He is there, I know," said Wong. "I feel a strong Wiz-

 ardly presence here."

 "Do you feel the Dragons, too?" wondered Marbleheart.

 "Is that what it is? Rather daunting, I must say. So that's

 what a Dragon feels like! Well, well! Maybe I'll meet one

 or two yet, Otter."

 "I'll forgo that pleasure, if there's a choice- Anything that

 big and powerful should be avoided, I say!"

 "Oh, but you've met whales, I know," reminded Douglas,

 beginning to set out supper near the ice pit, where the

 air was nice and cool. "And they're quite huge and very

 powerful."

 108 Don Callander

 "Not the same thing," the Oner insisted. "Why, whales

 are mammals, just like you and me! Dragons are . . . rep-

 tiles, aren't they? I steer clear of reptiles, when at all

 possible."

 When the sun dropped behind the distant sand dunes, the

 air outside cooled rapidly, but the cavern retained its even

 temperature overnight. By dawn, when Marbleheart arose to

 check above ground, the glacier ice in the pit showed little

 sign of having melted. He took a long drink and splashed

 his face and feet generously before he went up to see what

 a desert morning would be like.

 He was prepared to hate it, as he had the white-hot

 noontime and endless afternoon. To his surprise it was

 delightfully cool, dry, and still. The air was as clear as

 a bell and Otter eyes could see almost forever. But there

 wasn't much to see.

 Did he catch a tiny bit of movement out over the flat

 floor of sand? A crow flying along? Hardly! Crows might

 be disrespectful and raucous, but they had more sense than

 to cross a baking wasteland like this,

 A vulture? Bronze Owl had lectured him about the fami-

 lies of birds, and he recalled the metal bird's distasteful

 description of the habits of such necessary scavengers.

 The speck disappeared before he could decide. His imagi-

 nation told him it might have been a Dragon.

 Chapter Eleven

 ^

 Mountains in the Desert

 THE Sea Otter laughed aloud when he considered how

 strange they must look, if there had been anyone or anything

 to see them.

 He flew close beneath the Journeyman, keeping in the

 young man's shade as much as possible. The sun, even this

 high over the ground, burned down on them with steady

 ferocity.

 Above him, Douglas glided along at a medium speed, his

 black-and-orange Wizard's gown hitched up to his knees to

 keep the skirts out of the way. His bare legs were beginning

 to get sunburned, Marbleheart noted.

 He warned Douglas of the potential pain and trouble.

 For protection Douglas floated his cloak like an awning

 over them both.

 A most strange sight, indeed, Marbleheart thought with

 a chuckle.

 As far as his eyes could see they were the only mov-

 ing objects in the desert landscape. No clouds scudded

 across the intense blue firmament. No birds—or dragons—

 flew over the desert floor. If there were small beings such

 as mice or insects living in or under the baking sand,

 Marbleheart couldn't see them from this height.

 "Something as big as a Wizard, however," he remarked

 to Douglas, "I would see easily, even from this far up.

 Unless, like us, Litholt has gone to ground."

 109

 110 Don Callander

 "It's something I've already thought about," conceded

 the Journeyman. "We may have to rely on our Wizard

 sense alone, if it comes to that. But right now I want to

 see if there is a castle or a fort, a hut or even a dugout

 cave somewhere out here, where Litholt might be living."

 The "sense" of Wizardness was still there, but so scattered

 they couldn't home in on it. As the morning progressed,

 Douglas found it grew slowly stronger the further southwest

 they flew.

 "Lithold came here for much the same reason Flarman

 retreated to Valley long ago, and Augurian fled to an island

 in Warm Seas," mused the Otter.

 "Yes," Douglas lectured with a nod. "Cribblon also fled

 after Last Battle, but to the far west of Old Kay. And

 actually, Frigeon, too, settled as far as he could get from

 Old Kingdom when he built his Ice Palace. They all wished

 to escape the horror and fear of the terrible conflict."

 "Then Lithold may not have hidden completely. Even

 Cribblon practiced a little magic for the benefit of his

 neighbors. And certainly Flarman and Augurian did, too.

 I mean, even if this Geomancer was horrified, terrorized,

 demented perhaps, stripped of most of his magic pow-

 ers, it doesn't mean he'd completely disappear, forever

 and ever."

 "According to Augurian," said Douglas, "Litholt fled

 some years before Last Battle. Maybe it was just too much

 for him, even that early- That it took marvelous, stupendous,

 reckless courage to even think of facing the Darkness, I can

 believe. You know what it was like facing the Barrow

 Wights, even three centuries later!"

 Despite the heat, Marbleheart felt a chill, as he always did

 when he remembered his captivity under the burial mound

 beside Bloody Brook. With that kind of mindless fear, a

 man—or even an Otter—might do almost anything; none

 of it remotely sensible.

 They flew on and on.

 "High noon," observed the Journeyman, squinting at the

 sun. "With the sun directly overhead, we can't see anything

 Geomancer                  11

 at all. No shadows. What do you think we should do?"

 Marbleheart shook his head. His eyes were burning from

 hours of staring down at glaringly white sand and an occa-

 sional bed of rock polished so highly by sand-bearing winds

 they reflected the sun's rays like mirrors.

 And the mirages! The first time he had cried out in

 surprise and pure delight. You guys were wrong! There's

 a lake here in the middle of the desert!

 But as they flew on, the lake receded and receded before

 them, until he had to admit that it was a trick of sun and

 shimmering heat. Most discouraging!

 "Well, we have only three choices, as I see it," he

 answered at last. "Go back and cool off in Bryarmote's

 cave, or fly on and take a chance we'll miss something

 in the glare, or land and try to find a spot to rest until

 the sun moves down the sky enough to cast decent

 shadows."

 "Going back is tempting, but I don't think we'll accom-

 plish much if we do that every noontime. As Wong says,

 we could take years scouring the Serecomba like this, day

 by day."

 They flew on for several minutes in silence.

 "The least sensible thing to do is land and rest, have some

 lunch, maybe take a nap," thought Marbleheart aloud.

 "Maybe the least sensible thing to do is the best thing

 to do, after all," Douglas responded. 'To just go on is no

 good. Even a good-sized castle we might miss in this fierce

 light. Maybe if we look at the desert from ground level for

 a while ..."

 "Whatever you say," sighed the Otter, and Douglas let

 them down easily, swooping gracefully to the sand.

 On the ground he pitched his handkerchief as a canopy

 for shade over them and brought cold water from the cave

 to drink and wash their hot faces. Once as comfortable as

 they could expect to be, they ate a light garden salad and

 some ice cream with strawberry sauce.

 Under their canopy the temperature proved surprisingly

 comfortable. To step out of its shade, however, was to

 112 Don Callander

 be pounded mercilessly by the sun's near-vertical rays.

 Douglas experimented with disks of blue-tinted glass and

 discovered that wearing them over their eyes as spectacles

 was a help in the glare, greatly improving their ability to

 see clearly and easing the strain on their eyes, also.

 He fashioned a pair for the Otter and another for himself.

 Marbleheart exclaimed over them when they again lifted off

 to continue their search.

 By now the sun had glided to an angle at which they

 could see low sand dunes and ripples, even the infrequent

 outcrops of sharp stone, by noting their shadows, not the

 stone or the dune itself.

 "An hour more, then we head back," decided the Jour-

 neyman Wizard in late afternoon. "We could stay out

 here overnight, but I yearn greatly for the comfort of

 Bryannote's cave and the taste and feel of the glacial ice

 water."

 "Not nearly so much as I do," groaned Marbleheart

 hoarsely. "I am, after all, a water animal. I've an idea.

 To find where we left off when we come back tomorrow

 morning, we must mark the desert floor somehow. No use

 going over sand we've already looked at when we start out

 again."

 "That's why I keep you as my Familiar," Douglas said.

 "You occasionally come up with a really bright idea."

 They discussed how to mark a desert that was a million

 square miles of total sameness, and in the end used the

 most abundant material they had—sand. Skimming over

 the surface, Douglas created a gentle but insistent wind

 that swept the loose grains before it into a circular berm

 several feet high. He repeated the process four more times,

 linking me great circles together.

 "There!" Douglas said as he finished. "We can see that

 from five miles up and fifty miles away, I should think."

 With that, they mounted as high as they easily could,

 where the air was thin and quite cold—it felt good—and

 at top speed dashed back the way they had come.

 Geomancer                  13

 The Magician and the Dwarf had spent the day in the

 cool of the cave, amusing themselves with alternate games

 of chess and gin rummy.

 Twice more the young Wizard and his Familiar left

 before dawn, located their circular end-marks, and flew

 straight on, fairly slowly so as not to miss anything.

 On the third morning it took them as long to reach the

 marks of the night before as it would to search.

 They had yet to see a single sign of life, present or past,

 upon the desert floor. Yet the feeling of Wizardly presence

 was growing stronger each day. The Dragon smell seemed

 to fade away, however.

 Now the far side of the desolation became visible—a

 range of blue mountains at the desert's far edge, serrate

 and tumbled against the horizon. In the clear air the range

 seemed only an hour's flight away, but all the third day

 they flew on without seeming to get closer.

 "Are you sure the mountains are not an illusion, too? A

 "super-size mirage?" the Otter asked, wearily.

 "I'm sure they're not," said Douglas, who really wasn't

 all that sure, in fact.

 "What next, once we reach the mountains?" asked the

 Otter at the end of that third day.

 "I wonder? ... I mean, Augurian's information was that

 the Geomancer was hiding *in the midst of the great desert

 of Serecomba.' What if what we've crossed so far is only

 half the desert?"

 "Ye Gods!" cried Marbleheart. "What are you suggest-

 ing, Wizard?"

 "That these mountains are in the middle of the desert,

 not at its far side."

 "I see, I think. You're saying that this Geomancer lives

 not on the sands but in the mountains, which are in the

 middle of me sand? Wow'"

 "It makes sense, if you think of it," Douglas mused, "that

 -t a Wizard who derives power from earth, rock, and stone

 .\ would prefer to settle in mountains rather than in a place

 114 Don Callander

 where his resources are pretty scarce."

 "I see! Yes, I think you're making sense. Which means

 either we are both crazed by the sun, or you've hit on the

 answer."

 "A possible answer, anyway," said Douglas cautiously.

 "Worth checking out, at least."

 "Not before tomorrow," his Familiar said quickly. "We

 can shoot over there at top speed in the cool of dawn and

 start fresh."

 Douglas agreed, turning toward home. They flew in wea-

 ried silence for more than an hour before Douglas said,

 "What are you thinking?"

 "About a drink of water, a cold bath, and supper, of

 course. Well, and that if I had a choice between mountains

 and desert, I'd live in mountains, too."

 'Take us with you, then," said Wong when they had

 explained their new plan. "We're doing nothing useful here.

 We weary of waiting."

 "I'm five rubbers ahead at gin," Bryannote said to tease

 the older man.

 "And I've cornered your King so often he must be con-

 sidering abdication," shot back the Choinese gentleman.

 The two were getting on just fine, it seemed, despite the

 heat and boredom.

 "No reason why not." agreed Douglas, much to their

 relief. "It'll mean establishing another camp."

 "So be it," cried the Dwarf. "Something constructive to

 do, at any rate."

 "And I may be able to help you search, if I can climb

 some of the peaks and look around. I have certain powers

 and spells that might help, under those circumstances,"

 Wong added.

 "I almost hate to leave our cozy cave, and our block of

 ice is not yet melted away," complained the Otter, half-

 seriously. "But it'd be pleasant to have two more creatures

 to talk to. Douglas and I are reduced to six or seven sen-

 tences a day, as it is."

 Geomancer                 115

 The change in venue proved heartening to them all,

 weary as the searchers and the waiters alike had become.

 The most welcome thing they discovered when they arrived

 at the edge of the mountain range was that there were

 numerous springs of fresh, sweet-tasting water, and grass

 and even trees along deep-cut water courses.

 Bryannote picked a campsite halfway up a mountain

 not so tall as many others, but graced with springs and

 their runnels, green grass, and brush to break the visual

 monotony-

 A natural cave, with few alterations, served as their

 new headquarters. While daytime was as hot as ever, the

 elevation made the nights quite cold. In the morning, their

 stream-fed pool had a delicate edging of ice crystals.

 Marbleheart was enchanted with the tiny waterway. He

 could swim once more, roll and slide over worn, moss-

 slippery rocks, dive and splash, and roll to his heart's

 content.

 Here also there were signs of animal life. That first

 evening Douglas took his old leather case from his right

 sleeve and, while the others watched with interest, removed

 two crystal vials, mixed very carefully a drop of clear green

 liquid from one and a pinch of white powder from the

 other, forming a tiny green-and-white bead, which he then

 dropped into the fire.

 "Summoning Spell," Marbleheart explained from past

 experience to the Magician and the Dwarf. "I saw him do

 ft twice in Old Kay."

 "An interesting variation of a delightful old charm I

 often use to find lost objects," murmured Wong. "Yes, I

 can see how it has been cleverly altered to find guidance

 and information."

 For what seemed a long time nothing happened, but just

 as Douglas was about to admit failure, they heard sharp,

 excited barking, and a long, low, iron-gray dog trotted up to

 the fire, sat hip-shot before them, and lolled out a long pink-

 (ind-black tongue, grinning at them in a friendly fashion.

  

  

 116 Don Caltander

 "Someone called?" the dog inquired, cocking its head to

 one side.

 "I called any nearby Fire friend," answered Douglas,

 hiding his surprise. "I am a Pyromancer, and my name is

 Douglas Brightglade."

 "Pleased to meet you, Pyromancer Brightglade! Not many

 of your calling in these parts for many, many years, I'm

 afraid. Still, we Fire Dogs remember our duties to the Fire

 Wizards quite well."

 "Fire Dogs!' exclaimed Marbleheart. "What's a Fire

 Dogr

 "Long ago we were cast from meteoric iron to con-

 trol home fires. Some of us settled here in the Wyvern

 Hills when we lost our Wizards. But we remember our

 duties, still."

 "I remember the Firefly in the Forest of Remembrance,"

 said the Otter to his companions. "And the Fire Lizard in the

 canyon below the Great Falls of Bloody Brook. I suppose a

 Fire Dog shouldn't surprise me."

 "Of course not," explained the Dog, tiring of sitting on

 its haunches and flopping onto its stomach before them,

 short legs tucked underneath its long body. "I was just

 going off to howl a bit at the new moon when I felt

 you calling, so I came by to see how I could help you,

 Pyromancer."

 "And we thank you for your courtesy," Douglas said

 gravely. "You're a good Dog!"

 "Thank you! Thank you! All dogs love to please, you

 know. Do you want me to support those lumps in your

 fire? It isn't burning as well as it might. Coal fires arc

 more particular than wood ones."

 Without waiting for an answer, the Fire Dog wriggled on

 his stomach under the larger chunks of soft coal Bryarmote

 had found on the mountainside and from which Douglas

 had made their fire.

 At once the flames bumed brighter and taller, gave off

 more heat and less smoke and smell. The Dog looked quite

 pleased with his effect.

 Geomancer                 117

 "What's your name, I wonder," asked Wong, intrigued

 by the strange animal.

 "I am Tongs," replied the Fire Dog. "My mother named

 roe after a good friend who worked for a blacksmith on the

 far side of Serecomba. Smithing is only one of the things

 we Fire Dogs help at extremely well."

 The travelers chatted with their visitor for a while, until

 Tongs reminded them he had been called for a purpose.

 "We seek a Stone Wizard we believe lives in these

 mountains. Called Litholt," Douglas told him.

 The Fire Dog's eyes lit up with interest.

 "Ah, old Litholt! Yes, I've heard that name. Where?

 Well, that's a problem, I'm afraid."

 His eyes took on a sad, hang-dog look so comical they

 all laughed. Tongs ran his tongue over his nose to hide an

 embarrassed grin.

 "I wish I could help. I know I've met someone called

 Litholt a number of times, but I just can't remember where

 or anything about him!"

 "The Geomancer's hiding spell again!" Wong guessed.

 "Litholt really must desire to be left alone! And like that

 of the other Earth Wizard, Obsydion, this magic making is

 very durable, very hard to crack!"

 "I'm terribly upset," confessed Tongs, rolling over in the

 coals, sending up a fountain of sparks. "My duty is to help

 you. Wizard, but the—something—prevents me! I really

 wish I could tell you. I do! I do!"

 Douglas soothed the iron animal as best he could. Short-

 ly, as the fire died down, the Fire Dog fell asleep in the

 embers, sleek head on his paws.

 "We almost had it!" Bryarmote said, shaking his head

 and beard in regret. "We've come so very close!"

 "We've made great progress, really," Wong insisted.

 "But I am at a loss for what to suggest next. We can no

 more break the Fire Dog's amnesia than we could break

 Obsydion's spell on the poor old Stones, in the time we

 have."

 "We at least know the Geomancer is somewhere near-

 118 Don Callander

 by, probably in these very mountains," the irrepressible

 Marbleheart insisted. "That's something!"

 "I think we concentrate on sensing the Wizard's aura,

 now that we know we're close," said the Journeyman as

 they crawled into their blankets.

 "I can help you with that," said the Choinese Magician.

 "You'll be a very important part of it, indeed," Douglas

 replied with a yawn. "Very important part, I promise you!"

 "It relieves me to hear it, Douglas. I have felt quite

 useless so far on this adventure."

 "You forget your charts and the maps and our introduc-

 tion to Captain Foggery," said Bryarmote to his elderly

 friend. "But I know how you feel."

 By then Douglas had snuggled down inside his blanket

 and resigned himself to slumber.

 The Otter lay on guard in the cave mouth, watching the

 stars wheel overhead in the clear air. After a while he rose

 and laid several lumps of fresh coal on the embers next to

 the sleeping Fire Dog, to make the fire last until morning.

 Tongs mumbled thanks in his sleep.

 Chapter Twelve

 ^

 Directions and Diversions

 "NOW!" said Douglas after breakfast. "My idea is this:

 If I stand on that peak up there"—he pointed—"and you,

 Master Wong, stand atop the farthest peak over there, and

 we both concentrate and let our Wizard sense tell us in what

 direction lies our hidden Wizard's center of power and mark

 AM direction carefully ..."

 "Where the two lines cross wilt be the Wizard!" cried

 Bryarmote. "I've used a similar method tunneling blind

 through rock."

 "And sailors use such a way to locate themselves off a

 strange coastline by converging lines of sight," Marbleheart

 said. "If you get a strong enough signal, and mark it with

 care, it might just work."

 "As there will be no active spelling involved, the Geo-

 mancer's magic shielding won't block our attempts. I hope!"

 added Wong. "Well, shall we try?"

 "What can / do," asked Bryarmote. "I have no feel for

 this Wizard sensing, at all."

 "Stay with me, Dwarf friend," the Magician invited, "to

 help me mark my sighting. Douglas will have the Otter

 help him."

 Douglas flew them to the top of the farther peak.

 "Snow!" exclaimed Marbleheart as they set down on this

 high vantage. "Who would have thought there'd be snow

 here so close to the desert!"

 "Wait a moment, please," said Wong. "We'll need warm

 119

 120 Don Callander

 clothing if we are to stand about up here for very long."

 He removed the miniaturized Northland boots and coats

 from his sleeve, made them full sized once more, and

 quickly passed them out. The wind was blowing ever more

 strongly.

 "We'd better hurry'" called Douglas as he and Marble-

 heart launched themselves into the air. "It's going to snow,

 I think. We have an hour, I would say, at the most."

 The little Magician and the burly Dwarf waved their

 understanding and were shortly lost to sight as Douglas set

 his course for the tallest mountain on the eastern edge of

 the range to take his own bearings. The sun, looking rather

 pale and wan that morning, was Just then clearing the mists

 from the horizon.

 "Watch your step!" yelped the Otter, who'd jumped to

 the ground as soon as they arrived. 'This wind is truly fierce

 and there's ice underfoot!"

 Heeding his warning, Douglas firmly grasped a handhold

 as soon as he touched the icy summit, for the gale threat-

 ened to whip him away before he could find a safe place

 to stand.

 "Give me a few moments to catch my breath—the view

 is truly breathtaking, isn't it?" puffed the Journeyman.

 "I'll admire the view. You get yourself in position to

 point out the Wizard."

 The Otter fell silent, crouching down fiat against the

 thin covering of snow, waiting for Douglas to find his

 bearings.

 "That way!" the Journeyman said soon after.

 The "sensing" came to him like a low murmur, as if some-

 one not far away were humming softly while he worked, not

 realizing anyone was listening. It was clear and quite strong,

 Douglas felt. He held his right arm outstretched, pointing.

 Marbleheart hastily scraped a line in the snow crust with

 a forepaw, parallel to the young Wizard's upraised arm. He

 added an artistic arrow's point, to show which way it ran.

 "How will you carry the direction back to compare it with

 Wong's?" he wondered aloud, scrambling back to where

 Geomancer                 121

 Douglas was clinging to the mountaintop with both hands.

 "It's simple navigation now," replied Douglas. He care-

 fully drew from his sleeve a flat, metal circle made of brass.

 Marbleheart looked at it curiously. It was engraved about its

 run with evenly spaced tick marks. Every fifth mark was

 longer and labeled with numbers that ran from 0 to 355 by

 fives, clockwise.

 "It's called a protractor," Douglas explained. "We point

 the zero line directly toward the rising sun—which is due

 east, of course—and note which degree mark corresponds

 to the line pointing to our hidden Wizard."

 He suited action to words and announced that the vec-

 tor—another new word for the Otter—was exactly 170

 degrees around the protractor from east.

 "Now what?" his assistant wondered.

 "Return to Wong and Bryarmote and see which way their

 line points," Douglas replied, and in a moment they were

 off again. "Remember the number. Familiar. One hundred

 and seventy degrees from east."

 "Not soon forget it," said the Otter, but he recited "one

 hundred and seventy degrees" over and over to himself all

 the way back to Wong's peak-

 They found the other two companions hunched close

 together behind a sheltering rock, out of the worst of the

 blowing snow. They could still see where Bryarmote had

 used his Elvensword to make a deep incision in the rock to

 indicate the direction of Wong's line of strongest "sense."

 "Let's see from here," said Douglas. Wong and he strug-

 gled to the summit.

 They knelt in the snow. The Familiar slithered here and

 there about them, trying to comprehend what they did.

 The Dwarf stood over them, sheltering them as best he

 could from the rising wind. ready to catch them if they

 should slip.

 "You heard it best at one hundred fifty-seven degrees, I

 see," said the Journeyman. He scratched a diagram on the

 bare stone, using a sharp shard of rock as a scribe. He and

 Wong studied the result carefully.

 122 Don Cailander

 "There are at least two higher peaks blocking our view,"

 the Magician pointed out. "We must go aloft and look at it

 from more directly above."

 "And quickly, for the snow is increasing and we'll soon

 lose your sun if we delay over long," Bryarmote warned.

 "We'll freeze in this mountain air!" protested the Otter.

 "Nonsense! No halfway fair Magician would come out

 without his warming spells. Let's go!" insisted Wong, who,

 for his age, had proved himself to be extremely hardy.

 By the time die Journeyman and his Familiar had made

 their sightings from high above and returned everyone to

 the warmth of the cave, the weather had turned even colder.

 It was snowing heavily.

 "Might as well have stayed with old Detritus," snorted

 the Otter.

 "Unless this clears in an hour or so, we'll have to wait

 until tomorrow to find where our lines cross," Wong pre-

 dicted.

 "Well, we might as well make ourselves comfortable and

 cozy, build up the fire, maybe break out some hot buttered

 rum," suggested Bryarmote, who loved being snowbound

 as much as anybody. It would give him a chance to explore

 the cave, as well.

 "I've never experienced this much snow in my whole

 long life," sighed Wong in some awe at the snow drifting

 about the cave entrance. "First in Stony Gorge, now here.

 Is it magic, do you think, Douglas? I can't detect any

 magicking in it."

 "No, just plain, ordinary mountain weather," Douglas

 answered. He and the Dwarf went out to gather a fresh

 supply of coal chunks before the snow got too deep for

 easy walking.

 The Fire Dog appeared through a veil of white snow and

 invited himself to me party.

 "Not very often there is a fire to dog around these parts,"

 he said with zest.

 "You're most welcome!" said Marbleheart. "What's your

 Geomancer                 123

 prediction of the weather. Tongs?"

 "Oh, it's hard to tell," answered the cast-iron beast, care-

 fully placing several lumps of coal just so on the hearth. "It

 could pass in an hour—or it could snow for a week. I'm no

 prognosticator."

 "Well, I am," claimed Wong, and he dug several instru-

 ments and other curious items from his sleeves and began

 to cast a weather forecast while the Dwarf and the Otter set

 the supper table.

 "Not before midnight will the snow cease, and then it

 will get intensely cold for a day or two," announced Wong,

 rather portentously. Then he laughed at his own tone. "Sor-

 ry! I'm so used to making a show of weather predicting to

 our rice farmers. They always like a little dramatic license

 with their weather."

 "So, let's just settle in and enjoy the forced rest, the

 food, and the company," said Douglas, although he was

 more than a little disappointed. They all wished to find

 the Geomancer immediately and head for Stony Gorge,

 snow or not. But nothing could be done. Even strong Fire

 Magic could do tittle to turn aside an alpine storm of this

 intensity.

 "If I tried anything it might just turn all to rain, and that

 might be even worse," Douglas decided. '*A heavy rain on

 these slopes could be pretty destructive, I fear. Besides, it

 would undoubtedly alert Lithold to our close presence. He

 might choose to move away."

 Marbleheart, with his sharpening magical skills, ordered

 up a feast of broiled steaks and plump baked potatoes, a

 crisp cob salad, bacon-flavored green beans, and chocolate

 layer cake. Meanwhile, Douglas sent for Deka the Wraith to

 carry messages detailing their progress to Augurian, Mym,

 and Bronze Owl.

 'The barrier I experienced here doesn't slow me when I

 have a known location at either end," explained the Wraith.

 She winked out with Douglas's messages and brought

 answers before they finished Blue Teakettle's scrumptious

 chocolate cake.

 ^•!

 -if

 124 Don Callander

 "Bronze Owl says he has nothing to report. No word from

 Flarman," the Otherworlder told them, sipping delicately

 from a cup of hot lemonade. "Augurian is concerned about

 Mym. He knows that Detritus is, as he put it, 'chomping at

 the bit.' "

 "It must be serious, when Augurian uses slang. What

 does Mym say, though?" Douglas asked anxiously.

 "Oh, the Lady Apprentice says not to worry. She has the

 situation well in hand."

 The bridegroom clucked with concern.

 "Mistress Mym could handle seventy Stone giants and

 sew a fine seam at the same time," claimed Marbleheart,

 loyally.

 "You're right!" admitted Douglas with a wry smile, "but

 somehow I can't help worrying about her."

 "A normal part of being in love, I understand," Wong

 consoled him. "Not that I know much of love, mind you.

 I've never met a lady willing to share her house with cruci-

 bles and thuribles and such, not to mention the sometimes

 nose-twitching odors of magical dabbling."

 "What? Never!" scoffed the Dwarf. "A handsome man

 like you, Master Wong? A good provider, too! I'd think the

 pretty and dainty Choinese maidens would trip over their

 own toes to catch your eye."

 "Perhaps ... at one time it was so," admitted the little

 Magician, actually blushing. "There was once a beautiful

 young poetess . .."

 Through the stormy evening and on into the night they

 sat about me slow coal fire. ate and drank and told stories

 until they fell asleep—all except the Fire Dog, who kept

 the fire going as the outside temperature plunged. He hardly

 slept, just rested from time to time among the comfortably

 glowing embers.

 Mym Manstar discovered to her surprise that Chief Detri-

 tus had an insatiable appetite for stories. The more magic

 and monsters, me better.

 'Tell me again about the Beings who came to fight

 the Battle of Sea with you and Augurian, Flarman, and

 Geomancer                 125

 Douglas," he all but begged, although he had obviously

 come intending to browbeat her once again.

 "Not tonight, sir," she said, with an unfeigned yawn. "I

 must get my sleep. I still have a lot of studying to do if I

 am to pass to Journeyman before too terribly long."

 "When can I come back and hear your story of the

 Destruction of the Ice Palace?" Detritus asked.

 "Come for lunch tomorrow, if you please," she replied.

 As he left the Column—he'd been standing in a freezing

 rain all that time, listening and exclaiming in wonder as

 she recounted the war against Frigeon—he asked, almost

 apologetically, "Do you think we'll hear from your Wizard

 soon?"

 "I had a message from him this very afternoon," Myrn

 said, turning down the firelight so she could sleep. "He

 is—they are—within a few miles of the Geomancer Litholt,

 even now. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day at the latest

 they'll find him. You must practice greater patience, Detri-

 tus. Your people certainly are patient and long suffering.

 Why not you?"

 "I am... responsible. I've promised them they would

 not much longer be hard, heavy, unliving rocks," he replied

 very slowly. "I must not disappoint them!"

 He strode away through the downpour.

 / have come to respect and even like the stubborn old

 rockhead, thought Mym. He's not as bad as he would like

 everyone, even himself, to think. It'll be more of a problem

 keeping him out of trouble of his own making than getting

 myself out of this gorge and back to my Douglas.

 She took a moment to jot these musings down, so that

 she would remember to give them to Deka, the next time

 the Wraith came with reports from the search party.

 Then she slept.

 "Strange request from an Aquamancer's Apprentice held

 hostage in a far land," Augurian said to Stormy, his Petrel

 Familiar. "Let me see! She wants me to send her Tales

 :^ of the Queen of Faerie and a copy, if I can find it, of

 126 Don Callander

 Adventures of the Fair Young Maiden and perhaps The

 Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Now, there's a hard one! Where

 can one lay a hand on a copy of that classic?"

 Stormy cocked his head to one side and squawked

 quizzically.

 "The Lord of the Rings7 Never heard of that one,"

 Augurian went on. "Maybe Harman has it in his library.

 He always did favor odd and little-known histories of

 that sort."

 He gathered together the requested volumes, some ancient

 and worn, others gaudily printed and illustrated in color for

 the pampered children of wealthy men in far-off lands to

 stimulate their imaginations and teach them of the real World

 beyond their fathers' walls.

 He slipped a note to Mym under the flyleaf of the copy

 of Maiden, which happened to be on top of the pile.

 "What Worldly use do you have for this sort of literature,

 if I may ask?" it read.

 Back shortly came an answer, in Mym's clear, careful,

 and feminine hand.

 Dear My Magister,

 Thank you for the adventure and history books.

 As for my reasons, they are twofold. First, my cap-

 tor, as he calls himself. Chief of Stones Detritus, is

 an absolute pushover for stories of Heroes, Fairies,

 Magicians, wicked Witches and all that sort of things.

 As long as I can keep him asking for—and as long as

 I can provide—such tales, he is tame as a library lion.'

 He can't think of sending me away or hiding me under

 the Ice Cap, for then he would miss my stories.

 The second reason should be more obvious. These

 poor people have been imprisoned in this Gorge for

 a thousand years. Think of all the history they've

 missed in ten centuries! I tell Detritus what I can

 of the past and I think he spends his evenings

 retelling it all to his people in the Meeting Hall.

 Geomancer                 1:

 / like to think they are learning a more civilized

 view of life, also. They have good souls within their

 stone-hard hearts but their World, long since passed

 away, was one of harsh cruelty, selfishness, war at the

 drop of an insult, and bloody fighting just to survive.

 They find the ideas of keeping peace and working

 hard for the satisfaction of accomplishment totally

 foreign. They will soon be rejoining our World.

 Perhaps I can help show them attitudes that will

 serve them something better than their old ideals of

 bitter conquest, cruel barbarity, and bloody strife.

 Thus the books. In the end, someone will have to

 teach them to read for themselves. Perhaps Flarman's

 Valley neighbors would lend them Schoolmaster

 Frackett, a former Wizard himself.

 —Mym, your Apprentice

 Chapter Thirteen

 ^>

 Litholt's Dome

 FROM high over the mountaintops Douglas peered down

 at a certain curious peak. It rose at the intersection of the

 two lines of Wizard power he and Wong had marked the

 previous morning.

 Unlike the other peaks about it, this one alone was softly

 rounded, falling smoothly to a circular vale surrounded by

 the more angular peaks and rougher slopes.

 It had no snowcap. About its base stood a forest of great

 trees, some perhaps fifty feet tall, with dark green or grey-

 green leaves in wide-spreading crowns. Where the sun's

 rays struck them, their leaves glistened a bright spectrum

 of colors.

 "That's the Geomancer's home," he declared with cer-

 tainty.

 "There?" asked Marbleheart, who had come along for the

 ride. "I don't see any houses or castles or even caves."

 "No, it's the whole mountain. See? The rounded one with

 the tall, dark trees."

 "Ah, yes, now I see. That must be the place! Something

 strange about those trees, though. Do you catch it?"

 Douglas circled the rock dome slowly.

 "No, I don't see . . ."

 "Their leaves don't blow in the wind. There's still a

 pretty strong wind and a pretty cold one, too. But see! The

 leaves don't move at all in the gale!"

 Said Douglas, "We'll find out when we get down there."

 129

 130 Don Callander

 He directed their course back to the cave to pick up the

 other members of the search party. An hour later the four

 of them stood on a mountain slope above the circular vale,

 staring at the remarkable dome opposite.

 "Look for a gate or a door," Douglas suggested quietly.

 "There must be a way in."

 "None that I can see from here," whispered Marbleheart.

 "No roads lead to mis spot. No goat paths on its flanks,

 even- No cave openings. What do you think, Bryarmote?"

 "Never seen a hill quite like it," the Dwarf admitted.

 "I think you're right, Douglas. It's hollow. I smell smoke,

 don't you?"

 "Yes, I do," replied the Journeyman. "But I don't see

 where it's coming from."

 Wong, perched on a ledge nearby, was slowly scanning

 the domed mountain with his wise old gray eyes, missing

 nothing.

 "We must pass through the wood," he said. "These are

 not normal, usual trees, dear friends."

 "I thought as much," said the Otter. "Yet... they don't

 seem menacing to me."

 "We can tell better when we reach them," said the

 Choinese Magician. "The Wizard sense is very strong here,

 do you notice? I wonder that Litholt has not yet noticed our

 presence."

 Said Bryarmote, "Well, come on' We'll never find the

 way in by standing out here."

 They could have flown down, but Bryarmote preferred

 solid ground beneath his feet if anything dangerous should

 happen, and Douglas agreed. Wong, rather than clamber

 awkwardly down the scree-slippery slope to the edge of the

 trees, opened his parasol and, using it as a parachute, floated

 gracefully after them, three feet above the rough ground.

 Marbleheart slid down a bank of new snow and splashed

 merrily into the brook in the bottom of the vale.

 The great trees grew so close together it was difficult to

 find a way between their boles. There was no underbrush,

 either, only bare rock and gravel underfoot.

 Geomancer                131

 "If there were underbrush, I bet it would be thick and

 thorny," grumbled Marbleheart. "What is it about these

 trees. Master Wong?"

 "I've discovered their secret already," Wong told him.

 He laid his small hands on the nearest trunk and gazed

 up at its crown, forty or fifty feet above.

 "Quite remarkable! Feel this," he said to the Otter, and

 when Marbleheart had pressed his forepaws to the bole, he

 started back in amazement.

 "They're not wood at all. They're stone! Stone trees!"

 Bryarmote and Douglas felt the trunks of several near-

 by trees.

 *This one isn't stone, however," called the Dwarf. " 'Tis

 metal' Iron, I believe. Magnetic, at that!"

 His steel dagger had leaped from its sheath and slammed

 with some force against the iron tree, stuck fast.

 "Hmm," said Douglas to Wong. 'That would explain . .."

 "Yes, the barrier to magic- Magnetism is very effective

 in throwing spells awry."

 Bryarmote drew his Elvensword, which was made of

 some other metal than steel or iron, it seemed, and struck

 the trunk of one of the stone trees a terrible blow.

 The tree and the blade rang like bells, and a shower of

 intense blue sparks flew every which way, falling to the

 damp ground where they glowed and hissed for several

 seconds before winking out. Other than that, the tree bole

 showed no sign of damage from the magic blade, nor was

 the blade marked.

 "Well, maybe that'll tell the Wizard we're here," said

 Douglas, accepting the inevitable. "Did it dull your edge,

 Bryarmote?"

 "Nothing, not even cast magnetite or carved stone can

 damage an Elvensword," said the Dwarf, returning the blade

 to its scabbard with some satisfaction and then wrenching his

 dagger from the iron tree's bark. He slid the dagger into his

 sheath and hooked it in place with a loop of leather.

 "I ask myself," murmured Wong Tscha San, "why the

 trees are here at all?"

 132 Don Callander

 "They are quite beautiful in a hard and unyielding way,"

 observed Marbleheart. "Certainly quite durable, they'd be."

 "I imagine such creations would delight a Geomancer,"

 agreed Douglas.

 Bryarmote snorted in practical derision.

 "Nonsense! I'm an expert on fortifications, excavations,

 and construction of all sorts, and 1 say these trees were

 placed here to screen the entrance to the Wizard's house."

 "If that's so," said Wong, "we have but to pass through

 them to find Lithotd's entrance."

 For better than an hour they tried to find their way

 through the belt of close-set trunks. Each time they caught

 a glimpse of the cleared ground beyond, some circumstance

 forced them to take a different line, and they found them-

 selves drawing further away from the mountain rather than

 closer.

 "I recognize a Mazing Spell when I see it," said

 Douglas to Wong. 'The Geomancer has enchanted the

 trees so they prevent anyone passing them, although the

 way seems easy."

 "You're right, of course. Fire Wizard!" exclaimed Wong

 with a chuckle- "Do you know the Universal Mazing Solu-

 tion? I'm sure Flarman taught it to you early in your train-

 ing."

 "Yes, I remember it," said Douglas, stopping to think.

 "Yes, I have it now. But that's so simple!"

 "Mazing is a complex spell, worthy of our Geomancer,"

 Wong said, stretching out his right hand. "It begs for a

 simple solution. Follow me, honored sirs!"

 Douglas fell in line behind him. Bryarmote, wise in the

 ways of Magicians and Wizards, made no comment but

 got in line behind Douglas. Marbleheart, who was learning

 not to make hasty judgments where magic was concerned,

 brought up the rear.

 Wong set his left hand on the nearest stone tree and

 walked about it to his right, slowly. Before he had gone

 half way around his hand was stopped by an adjacent tree,

 Geomancer

 133

 pressed so close against the first at this point that they could

 not pass between them.

 Wong transferred his left hand to the new tree and,

 keeping it tightly brushing its iron bark, moved forward

 around the new bole.

 By many ingenious means the great trees always passed

 the Magician's gentle hand from one bole to the next, in

 a twisted, convoluted path, often seeming to turn back

 on itself, but always leading to a brand-new way in the

 end.

 Nobody spoke except in whispers—Marbleheart realized

 they had been doing so since arriving in this strange grove.

 If Wong lost touch, the Otter thought, they'd probably have

 to begin all over again.

 "What's happening?" he whispered to Douglas, unable

 to contain his curiosity longer. "What is Wong doing. Mas-

 ter?"

 'The Universal Solution—it'll solve any maze, anywhere,

 if you give it enough time. You put a hand on one wall

 and follow that wall without lifting your hand. Never

 fails! As long as you keep that same hand to the wall—

 tree-trunks, in this case—it'll eventually lead you to the

 center of the maze—or outside the maze if you started

 from the center. I've read of it many times, and even

 worked it out on paper, but I've never actually seen it

 done."

 "Is it working?" the Otter asked.

 "Hush!" said Bryarmote, who had built a few subterra-

 nean mazes in his day and was very interested to see if the

 solution really worked. "Don't take his mind off what he's

 doing."

 "His hand, rather," corrected Marbleheart. "Well, I'll be

 hornswoggled!"

 For they had rounded a particularly large ironwood trunk

 and walked out into the wide and neatly mowed lawn

 between the inner edge of the forest and the foot of the

 rock dome.

 "Aha!" cried Douglas in delight. "You did it!"

 134 Don Callander

 "A clever way to disguise a maze," conceded Wong.

 He was quite pleased by their sincere compliments. "I

 must commend Litholt for its ingenuity when we at last

 meet him."

 They walked some way around the dome, looking for an

 entrance both with their eyes and with the Wizards' sharp

 magic senses.

 'This may be a tougher problem than just the maze of

 trees," said Wong, frowning. "There is certainly a way in,

 but there are many ways to hide a door."

 "I know quite a few of them," claimed Bryarmote. "I've

 hidden some entrances, too, in my day."

 He took the lead, stopping frequently to examine what

 seemed to the others to be plain, smooth rock faces, or tiny

 cracks or narrow clefts. No snow had fallen here, at least,

 which made the walking easy.

 The air was chilled, but it was not the intense cold they

 had felt outside the ring of stone elms and ironwoods. Little

 sunlight penetrated the stone leaves, casting the clearing in

 a soothing twilight.

 At noon they stopped to rest and eat roast beef

 sandwiches, radish roses, and carrot sticks.

 "If the entrance is higher up the mountainside, I would

 think," said the Otter, "there would be steps or a ramp

 leading to it."

 "Unless the Wizard always flies in and out the front

 door," said Bryarmote. He sounded discouraged.

 "So close!" said Marbleheart. "So far, yet'"

 "Don't give up so easily," Wong Tscha San said, patting

 the Otter on the back.

 "It's not me! I just hate to see the Dwarf lose his confi-

 dence," said Marbleheart with a laugh. "He's beginning to

 turn bright red even now, you see."

 Aside from a sip or two of Trunkety ale with his roast

 beef sandwich for lunch, Marbleheart had not drunk any-

 thing since he had gobbled a mouthful of new, clean snow

 early in the morning. He tried to ignore his thirst, but it

 Geomancer                 135

 grew and grew until he thought he heard it grumbling in his

 tummy, saying all manner of nasty things about his mouth

 being out of order.

 The stream in the vale, of course, was outside the solid

 ring of trees. He had no desire to find his way back in by

 himself, even if he could find a way out.

 "I'm going ahead to look for water," he said at last.

 "Catch up with me later."

 "I was thinking the next step, now that we've just about

 circled the whole mountain," said Bryarmote, "is to circle

 it again by air, around and around, high and higher. Cover

 it all that way."

 "Well," said Douglas doubtfully. "If that's what you

 suggest, I'll go along with it. Don't go too far off," he

 added to the Otter.

 "I never get lost," claimed the beast, and he gallumped

 off ahead of the rest.

 "He's a restless creature," Douglas reminded the Dwarf,

 who had plopped to the ground, angry with himself and the

 whole business.

 "Let 'im go," growled Bryarmote. "I need to sit a quiet

 while and perhaps I can think of something. It makes sense

 that a main doorway be at ground level. Yet..."

 "If you decide to fly," said the Journeyman, "just let me

 know."

 Wong wandered off to examine an ironwood tree, won-

 dering if they bore fruit and thus had seeds and how long

 they took to reach full size. Iron trees would be handy things

 to grow in Choin proper, where metals were extremely

 scarce and mining a monopoly of certain greedy Bureau-

 crats who charged prices so high common folk couldn't

 afford to buy them. Iron tools were extremely expensive

 as a result. Steel was almost as dear as silver.

 Marbleheart, meanwhile following around the curved

 wall, cried out with satisfaction. From a nearly vertical

 crevice flowed a sprightly little stream, leaping in tiny

 waterfalls from ledge to ledge. At its foot it splashed

 merrily into a deep, clear pool.

 136 Don Callander

 First the Sea Otter took several long, refreshing gulps and

 then a joyful swim. The water was sweet and cold. He tried

 sliding off the lowest ledge into the pool, making a happy

 splash. He did this several times over again, then laid on

 the mossy brim to catch his breath and wait for the others

 to come along.

 Only then did he realize, with a sudden start, that he'd

 made an important find.

 "This poof drains back into the mountain," he said to

 himself. "It might provide us a way to get inside!"

 He swam across the pool to inspect its outlet under the

 dome wall. The water flowed under a low arch perhaps four

 feet high in the middle and as black as the inside of a boot

 beyond.

 He was tempted to explore on his own—he was com-

 pletely unafraid of the dark, but he remembered the Barrows

 of Old Kingdom once again. He wasn't prepared to face a

 possibly irate and undoubtedly powerful Wizard alone.

 He retraced his steps, surprised at how far he had come,

 and found Douglas napping on a soft bed of sunlit fems

 under an overhanging bit of outcrop. Bryarmote busily

 scribbled in a notebook with a chewed stub of pencil, draw-

 ing up a list of known ways to hide doors and entrances.

 Wong was seated in a shaft of warm sunshine, his legs

 crossed and his hands folded in his lap, eyes closed, hum-

 ming softly to himself.

 "How's it go?" Marbleheart asked the Dwarf, hugging

 his secret for a moment longer.

 "Blasted and beswizzled!" swore the Dwarf, throwing

 down his pencil and then stooping to retrieve it to return

 it to his jacket pocket, along with the notebook. "No ideas

 at all! Sorry for being such a grump!"

 "I completely understand," soothed the Otter. "Did your

 list include hiding a door under a waterfall?"

 "Oh, yes, I covered that possibility some time ago. But

 there are no waterfalls, here. No water at all.. ."

 He stared hard at the sleek animal, still soaking wet from

 his swim.

 Geomancer                 137

 "Where?"

 "Just a way along," responded Marbleheart with a broad

 Otter grin. "And the stream runs back into the rock!"

 "Hoy!" shouted the Dwarf, leaping to his feet. "Hey,

 fellows! Come on! This super Familiar has found us an

 entry."

 Wong stirred at once and rose gracefully to his feet

 without touching the ground with his hands. Douglas rolled

 over on his right side, groaned at his stiffness, and blinked

 a moment before he climbed to his feet.

 "A waterfall down the side of the dome," explained

 Marbleheart quickly. "Into a nice little pool that drains

 back into the dome\ Come on! It'll get us into the innards

 ofLitholt's Mountain."

 Chapter Fourteen

 ^

 AMostSurprising KindofWzard

 THEY waded into Litholt's Mountain along the tiny

 bum, bent almost double—except for the Otter, who went

 on all fours or swam happily in the rippling current.

 At first it was as dark as Marbleheart had said, and

 Douglas had to light their way with a flame floating in

 the air over his forehead. After a quarter mile straight into

 the rock, a dim, soureeless glow from the ceiling and walls

 made the flame unnecessary. The glow became brighter the

 farther they went. The tunnel ceiling rose to three times the

 Journeyman's six feet.

 "No signs of habitation," commented the Otter, looking

 around curiously.

 "You wouldn't expect signs of life in an aqueduct, would

 you?" snorted Bryarmote. "Which is what this obviously

 is- Besides, you're wrong. This tunnel may be natural,

 but there're touches of good harorock chiseling here and

 mere."

 He pointed to a high water mark well above his head on

 the tunnel side. "Just as well it's not spring," he observed.

 "With the snowmelt, the water must get pretty deep through

 here."

 They found their way easily down a shallow cascade and

 around a catch basin below. The stream disappeared into

 a narrow cleft in the rock, too narrow for even the Otter

 to follow. To one side of the catchment was a landing,

 however, and a steep, narrow rock-hewn stair mounted

 139

 140 Don Callander

 upward to and through a hole in the ceiling.

 They climbed through several levels where passages

 branched right and left. Douglas led them upward.

 "How can you be sure this is the right way?" asked

 Wong.

 "The Feather Pin," Douglas explained. "It guides its

 wearer through underground places. It served us well when

 Mym rescued me from the erupting Blueye, you'll recall."

 "I recall," said the Magician. "Do you sense, as I do, we

 are very close to our Wizard? The emanation is remarkably

 powerful. Twice what I would normally expect, actually."

 They came to an iron grille that blocked the stair before

 them.

 Said Bryarmote, "Here, my blade will hack it down in

 no time!"

 "Wait," Douglas urged. "Don't damage the Wizard's

 property, if you can help it. You yourself taught me lock

 picking—something every Wizard should know, you said.

 Let me see if I can get it open."

 He examined the grille carefully. It was set right into the

 rock on top and sides, without a handle or visible hinges or

 lock mechanism.

 "On the other hand ...," he started to say to Bryarmote.

 There was a startlingly loud clang behind them. A second

 grille dropped heavily into place, trapping them on the steps

 between the two gates.

 "Now can I smash it?" yelled Bryarmote, whipping out

 his bright Elvensword.

 "I guess you'd better," replied Douglas, skipping nimbly

 out of the Dwarf's way.

 "Hist! Listen!" whispered Marbleheart as Bryarmote

 raised the sword. "Someone's coming!"

 "A Wizard cometh," warned Wong.

 "Wrong, Wong! Two Wizards'" said a familiar voice.

 Flarman Flowerstalk pressed his round, smiling face

 against the other side of the grille.

 "I was right to let them in, you see," the older

 Pyromancer said to a figure standing in the shadows

 Geomancer                141

 behind him. "They're old friends! In fact, this one was

 once my Apprentice, and is about to become a full Master

 Pyromancer, if he can pass the Examination!"

 "Magister!" cried Douglas. "What in World are you doing

 here?"

 "I have the seniority over you. Journeyman, so I get to

 ask questions first," Flarman said, and laughed, his usual

 jolly self. "Let me introduce my long-lost friend and fel-

 low Master Wizard, Litholt Stonebreaker. Litholt, this is

 Douglas Brightglade, of whom I've told you quite a little.

 With him is the famous Choin Magician, Wong Tscha San,

 and the fierce-looking Dwarf—who was about to slice up

 your fancy grillwork with his Elvensword—is Bryarmote,

 Prince of Dwelmland. And there is Douglas's Familiar, of

 course, Marbleheart, Sea Otter of the Briney."

 He stepped aside to allow the stranger to greet his friends.

 All four gasped in unison and utter surprise.

 The long-missing Geomancer was—a Lady!

 "There is quite a bit to sort out and set straight here, I

 can see," Litholt Stonebreaker said pleasantly after she had

 raised the grille to allow them to enter her home. "I'm so

 pleased to meet you, every one! I feel as though I know

 you all, from Flarman's tales."

 She led them into a large, tall, rather ornately luxurious

 yet quite comfortable home under the top of the dome. In

 a great sitting room as filled with heavily carved furniture,

 bnc-a-brac, scientific curiosities, mementos, souvenirs, and

 strange artifacts as Flarman's study at Wizards' High, she

 served brisk Choin tea from an ancient teapot.

 It was painted with intertwined dragons in red and black

 and gold, which hissed good-naturedly at them as she

 poured.

 "Flarman never once told me that there was another Lady

 Wizard in World, ma'am," Douglas told her. "Forgive me

 for being quite ... flabbergasted."

 "Nothing to forgive, young Journeyman!" Litholt smiled

 graciously, patting him on the arm. "Flarman was but

 142 Don Callander

 honoring a long-ago request I made of him and of the other

 Wizards of our Fellowship. That was over three hundred

 years ago."

 "Before Last Battle, then," said Marbleheart, showing off

 his knowledge of World history.

 "Yes," Litholt sighed sadly- "I was the youngest member

 of the Fellowship."

 "As far as I'm concerned, you're still young and still a

 member, dear Lithott," said Flarman, contently lighting his

 pipe with a blazing forefinger.

 "Even though I deserted the cause just when things were

 getting really dangerous?" the Lady Geomancer asked, turn-

 ing to the Fire Master.

 She was a strikingly handsome woman, somewhat angu-

 lar, but well proportioned, for all of that. There was noth-

 ing soft nor gently curved about her, not in the way that

 Douglas found so wonderful in Mym Manstar. Her hair

 was the color of darkened amber, and her eyes jade green.

 Her demeanor was dignified yet warm; her smile was quick,

 kind, and merrier as she came to know her visitors better.

 She gently stroked the deep, soft fur of Marbleheart's

 shoulders and neck—he would have purred if he'd been a

 cat—saying as she did so, "I had a beloved Familiar myself

 once. A Golden Cockerel."

 "I remember brave Aurelius," said Flarman softly.

 "It was his cruel, most horrible destruction by the

 Darkness"—the Lady Wizard shuddered in revulsion at

 the memory—"that caused me to leave the Fellowship

 when I did. Most of my powers were stripped away by

 my grief. I would have been a hindrance, not a help, in the

 terrible battles we knew were coming—Flarman, Augurian,

 Frigeon, and I."

 "You don't have to explain further, madam," said Wong,

 bowing to her deeply. "I myself failed to be present at

 the War against the Darkness. I was only a half-trained

 Magician's Assistant when it began."

 "Well, there's certainly a lot to tell, as I said." Litholt,

 straightening her shoulders, shook off her remembered grief

 and reached for her teacup. '"Where shall we begin?"

 Geomancer                 143

 Harman pointed at his Journeyman to begin the tale.

 In as few words as he could manage, Douglas told of the

 statue in Eternal Ice, and the thrall under which the Stone

 Warriors had been held for ten centuries.

 "Go on to the end, before we stop you to question and

 explain or make comments," Flarman urged, waving his

 pipe.

 Douglas did so, briefly telling of their visit with Captain

 Foggery and their search of me Serecomba for the mysteri-

 ous Geomancer. Litholt and Flarman sat forward in riveted

 interest, but said nothing until the Journeyman had related

 how they at last located Litholt's Mountain.

 "It's my fault," said Litholt. "I forgot to lower my

 defenses. But Flarman and I were unaware of the other

 events and of your coming to find me."

 "My presence here is unconnected with your adventure,"

 Flarman explained. "Shall I tell it, my dear, or shall you?"

 "I want you to tell it, Flarman Flowerstalk—did I tell

 you how much more I like your new surname? Please

 go on! I shall interrupt from time to time, as is a wom-

 an's due."

 Flarman knocked the cold dottle from his pipe bowl into

 a fieldstone fireplace and turned to face the others.

 "When 1 glanced into my teacup no one was further from

 my mind than Litholt Stonebreaker. Imagine my shock,

 after more than three hundred and twenty years, to discover

 her message there!

 "I was so surprised, and her message was so unexpec-

 ted, that I rushed off without even packing a toothbrush.

 And without telling anyone where I was going. That was

 quite inexcusable, I know. I must have caused you some

 worry."

 "Especially as Douglas disappeared at almost the same

 moment," Bryarmote agreed. "We—Augurian, Mym,

 Wong, Owl, and I—were sure the two events were

 connected."

 "I kept looking for you to come zipping along to share the

 144 Don Callander

 new adventure," Douglas said. He added, a little ashamed

 to say it, "I'm sure Mym feels the same way about me,

 just now, stuck on that bare column in the Northlands with

 winter coming on!"

 "We'll see that she's relieved sooner than soon," prom-

 ised Litholt.

 *To go on, if I may," said Flannan, "the message said

 our old friend realized she could no longer hide from her

 responsibilities. She called on me to enlighten and then

 assist her return to World. We would have come to Wiz-

 ards' High before now, but for a turbulence in the magical

 ether between here and there. You may have noticed it

 yourself, Douglas my boy."

 "Deka told me of it, actually," the Journeyman admitted.

 "It didn't seem to affect the working of the Feather Pin we

 used to come here."

 "Well, I know something of that, for Finesgold asked

 me to redesign the Pin ages ago," Flarman said, nodding

 his head emphatically. "It was made originally by Cloud

 Fairies, you see, and their magic would be virtually unaf-

 fected by any worldly phenomena."

 "I don't blame you for delaying your departure from

 here!" said Wong. "I have come to the conclusion that

 the disturbance you—we all—felt arises from the pain and

 confusion of recent events in Choin."

 "We must hear of that, too," said Litholt. "Choin is my

 adopted land- The stability of her government was what

 attracted me to Choin centuries ago. I'm distraught that I

 was unaware of the fighting affecting the poor Choinese

 now, Master Wong! Yes, that would explain the trouble

 even Deka had penetrating the area."

 Flarman continued, "When I arrived here Litholt told me

 she had begun to hear whispers of hints of fears of civil war

 in Choin. But we thought no more of it, thinking we would

 hear further details as time went by."

 "I've been watching Choin all the years I've lived here,"

 explained Litholt. "1 couldn't do much, of course, because

 Geomancer                 145

 of the Prohibition. I certainly regret that now, because I saw

 the great Empire beginning to crumble and slump. I heard

 of the dishonesty, the greed, the cruel selfishness of some

 of its leaders, especially the Imperial Bureaucrats. I saw the

 people allowing it to happen, which was even sadder. You

 know better than I, Wong Tscha San, how it has been."

 The Magician bowed deeply to the Lady Wizard.

 "When Litholt learned, some days ago," Flarman said,

 "that the Emperor was on his deathbed, beyond all medical

 or magical help, she decided it was time to return to an

 active life in World. I'm flattered to say she first sent

 for me."

 "I didn't know Augurian's whereabouts, and I would

 have sent for you, also, Wong Tscha San, if I'd known

 where you were. My rather tenuous contacts said you had

 fled—and who could blame you? Flarman tells me you were

 with him. even as I sent the tea-leaves message."

 'Truly honored madam! If I hadn't taken a long and

 delightful walk in the springtime fields of Valley that

 morning, I would have been by Barman's side when he

 read your message in the tea leaves."

 "I agreed that we must do something to stabilize Choin,"

 Flarman went on. "Do you realize how many good people

 are bound to be badly hurt, starved, even killed, if a war

 between Bureaucrats begins in earnest?"

 "You must also remember our constant, ages-old con-

 cern," added the Geomancer, "that remnants of the Dark-

 ness still in hiding on the very top of World might take

 advantage of such a chaotic situation to rebuild their power.

 Especially if it could gain domination over so important a

 part of World as the Choin Empire."

 "While the Emperor yet lives, Choin's troubles are a

 matter of mobs and riots," Flarman nodded in agreement

 with her words. "An occasional burning, perhaps. An unfor-

 tunate murder. But once the Dragon Throne is empty and

 no one with sense, integrity, and a clear vision of Choin's

 future standing by to fill it, the Bureaucrats will be at each

 other's throats in earnest! The worst sort of war will rage

 146 Don Callander

 all over this vast land. Brother against brother, and neighbor

 against neighbor! Peasant against merchant against scholar,

 and so on!"

 "What shall we do, then?" asked the Magician of Choin.

 "Or, rather, what will we do, for I am at your service,

 Wizards."

 "Thank you. Master Wong," smiled Flarman. "Mistress

 Litholt and I have been consulting and trying to get a handle

 on the complications of Choin politics. First, I had to bring

 her up to date on recent history, of course."

 "My self-imposed exile was much too long," sighed the

 Geomancer. "I didn't even know who won Last Battle,

 although I might have guessed."

 "We have advanced to the questions: Whom, if anyone,

 to support? Whom to nudge a little? Whom to suppress,

 ever so gently, so that a worthy and capable Emperor-

 candidate can be found? Who can that man or woman

 be? With you here, Wong, perhaps we can begin to sort

 it out."

 "It sounds like we've been fencing the winds," put in

 Litholt, "but the unfortunate fact is, our hands are tied

 until the old Emperor actually passes away. I wish it were

 elsewise, but,.."

 "We're agreed, without my even asking the others, that

 Choin deserves and shall have our help," said Douglas

 stoutly. "If you can give me the key to disspelling the

 Stones, I can retrieve my bride-to-be, pick up Augurian,

 and we can give our full attention to matters here."

 "Of course, the Stones' disenchantment must come first,

 by all means," insisted the Lady Wizard.

 "And I agree. Both the Master's Examination and the

 Winter Solstice Wedding are of utmost importance to World

 and to all us Wizards, not just to Mym and Douglas," said

 Flarman.

 "Douglas," said Litholt slowly, "1 cannot quickly teach

 you the disspelling. I'll go with you to this place of me

 Stones' long imprisonment. The spell, from what I've

 learned from you, isn't going to be difficult for me to

 Geomancer                 147

 smash, but certainly it cannot be effected from this great

 a distance."

 "But you can do it?" asked Marbleheart eagerly. He was

 greatly impressed with this wise woman who knew the

 difference between "effect" and "affect."

 "No doubt about it! I've studied for years and years the

 wicked enchantments wrought by Obsydion Grindstone.

 Although he was long gone when I was bom, when I chose

 Geomancy for my craft, I willingly accepted responsibility

 for seeking out and reversing his many wickednesses. In

 fact, I have devoted my last three hundred years, here under

 my mountain dome, to just that work."

 **0bsydion made Frigeon look like a rank amateur,"

 claimed Barman. "For one thing, he lived a considerably

 longer time. He was one of the very first of all the Great

 Wizards."

 "I suspected that from what the Stones said," said

 Douglas.

 "Well, someone tell me what is to be done now," pleaded

 Marbleheart. "I think there's been altogether too much talk

 and not enough action."

 "I'll agree with my whole heart to that!" cried Bryarmote.

 "Find me a battle to fight. I'm ready!"

 Douglas summoned Deka the Wraith and sent messages

 to Mym, Owl, and Augurian. To his beloved Apprentice

 Aquamancer he said, among other private words:

 We 're on our way, as soon as we get some sleep and

 Mistress Utholt gathers together the spells she 'II need

 to take care of the Stones. We must stop and confer

 with Foggery on our way past, Fiarman says, but

 that shouldn't take long. We'll go by Feather Pin,

 as Flarman's Teleporting Spell is worn thin by his

 coming here, and Litholt's is dangerously uncertain

 through lack of use.

 They arrived at Foggery's pleasant seaside house in a

 msh of wind, a thudding hail of hand-sized stones, and a

 148 Don Callander

 flashing cloud of red-painted, black-fletched arrows.

 The Seacaptain's house was under attack by a troop of

 soldiers in red-lacquered leather greaves, breastplates, and

 helmets. They were bombarding Foggery's thick outer wall

 and tiled roof with three stone-throwing machines.

 "Good of you to drop by!" the elderly Seacaptain said,

 grinning despite a bloody bandage over his left ear. "As

 soon as we drive off the Minister of Finance's bullies, we'll

 have tea and talk politics."

 "Leave the nasty ballistae to me," cried Litholt. "Stones

 have plenty of good uses, but throwing them at people's

 houses is just not one of them!"

 With surprising agility for a woman of her age and

 dignity she climbed to the top of the wall, disregarding

 another shower of arrows, and raised her arms dramati-

 cally above her head, chanting a strange string of harsh

 words that not even the other Wizards present quite under-

 stood.

 Stones already in midnight completely missed their tar-

 gets, shooting instead straight into the evening sky a hun-

 dred, two hundred feet in the air. As tiny black specks

 they curved gracefully back on their trajectories and came

 screaming in vengeance down on the very machines that

 had launched them.

 The shrill war cries of the soldiers turned to screams

 of fear and pain. Jagged wood splinters from the heavy

 machines flew like spears. Rock missiles shattered on

 impact, shards ricocheting about the scene like a swarm

 of deadly hornets.

 In a single blow every ballistae had been reduced to

 useless kindling. The lacquered attackers fled in wild panic,

 throwing down their pikes and powerful, recurved bows to

 make flight faster.

 "Gather up those bows and arrows." Foggery ordered his

 orange-robed young men. 'There'll be use for them later,

 I'm afraid."

 "Why so?" asked Wong. He introduced Flarman and

 Litholt. Douglas and Bryarmote went off to inspect the

 Geomancer                 149

 damage done to Foggery's stout villa.

 "You haven't heard the news? It came from Bee-Wing

 this noontide. The Emperor is dead!"

 "I'm really very sorry to hear it," said Litholt, "although

 he was a poor excuse for an Emperor in a land once famous

 for its great rulers."

 "Was death from natural causes?" asked Flarman.

 "Or.. ."

 "I doubt even the most ambitious Minister would have

 dared hasten his death by even a few hours," Foggery

 replied.

 He led them through a gaping hole where once his sliding

 sitting-room door had stood. A group of Choinese maidens

 in the orange of Foggery's livery were already busy remov-

 ing the debris of destruction wrought by direct hits.

 'That can wait, ladies," called the Seacaptain. "Tea for

 our guests, and supper soon after—if there's anything left

 of my galley."

 By the rime Douglas and the Dwarf returned, reporting

 no serious damage to the wall and roof, and no one badly

 hurt, there were hot tea, sugared cakes, and salted almonds

 glazed with honey awaiting them.

 The orange-robed men, having collected and stored away

 all the arms dropped by the fleeing soldiers, set about at

 once repairing the paper wall and sliding door, working

 swiftly, skillfully, and silently so as not to disturb their

 revered Seacaptain and his guests.

 "Serious fighting began even as the word spread,"

 Foggery said, shaking his head. "As we feared it would,

 good Masters. I knew the Minister of Finance was anxious

 to stop my newbom Peasants' Grange and the Artisans'

 Guild, but it came as a surprise that they struck at me so

 soon and in such force."

 "I'm sorry we didn't arrive a little sooner. Captain," said

 Litholt, greatly upset by the beautiful Choin art objects and

 ceramics that lay smashed on the floor.

 "Thank you kindly. Mistress, but even 1 didn't know they

 were coming or for what purpose."

 150 Don Callander

 "And what was their purpose, can you guess?" asked

 Wong, who was seated comfortably cross-legged on the

 floor while the others chose low stools.

 "They shouted 'Death to the foreign dog,' or words to

 that effect, I'm told," said Foggery, sadly. Then his face

 brightened.

 "I've been urging various groups to resist the cruelties of

 the leading Bureaucrats all about our countryside. Response

 has been astounding," he added, glowing with enthusiasm.

 "We've already set up a Civil Guard to protect our towns

 and roads against the illegal private soldiery or to warn

 victims to flee, at the least. One such patrol sent word to me

 just in time to bolt my gates and be on guard this morning."

 "Lucky for you those raiders didn't have sense enough to

 use fire, rather than arrows and stones," said Bryarmote.

 "It wouldn't have done them any good," said Douglas.

 "When I saw the paper walls on our first visit, I wove a

 Fire-Prevention Spell all about here."

 "I have you to thank, then, Douglas Brightglade! That

 explains why they bothered to haul up their precious artil-

 lery,'* said Foggery, nodding his approval.

 Flarman, who'd been absentmindedly shooing shards of

 delicate pottery together and encouraging them to mend

 themselves, said, "I see you were wounded, Captain

 Foggery!"

 "Just a scratch," protested the Seaman, but he allowed

 Litholt to undo the makeshift bandage about his left ear to

 examine the gash made by a flying rock. She quickly and

 expertly cleansed and rebandaged it.

 "It feels quite well already! Thank you. Mistress Wiz-

 ard."

 "Change the dressing tomorrow morning," instructed the

 Geomancer. "After that the wound will be healed and no

 damage done. Not even a scar, I guarantee."

 "We fly on at once to Stony Gorge," declared Wong over

 a light supper that evening. "But only if we know you will

 be safe here for a few days, friend Foggery. What can we

 do for you? Take you to safety?"

 Ceomancer                 151

 "No, no?" cried he. "Those professional soldiers were

 minions of the Minister of Finance . .."

 "Ah, Wong Ti Wang?" inquired Wong. "No relation of

 mine, I hasten to add. Always was a scoundrel."

 "Yes, a scoundrel and a monstrous thief While his sol-

 diers were here trying to silence me, my new Sons of the

 Soil were burning his country seat. If they succeeded, it

 will drive Wong Ti Wang from the vicinity. He'll either

 have to take to the field—which I don't see him doing; he's

 too fat and it's too dangerous!—or retreat to Bee-Wing. He

 doesn't dare to be cut off from the capital at this time, nor

 to leave his bullies behind, either. We'll have no further

 trouble from Wong Ti Wang. At least not here!"

 Foggery insisted, now the local province had been organ-

 ized into several tongs, or brotheihoods, things would be

 quiet. The important action was shifting to the capital.

 "I'll leave in a day or two to assist the new brotherhoods

 in Bee-Wing province itself. If nothing else, they can give

 us useful information on the various Bureaucrats' move-

 ments and alliances."

 Douglas nodded his understanding and admiration.

 "But," he said, "you indicate you expect a full-blown

 fighting war at any moment."

 Foggery shrugged and smiled ruefully. "That's true, and

 I don't see how we can avoid it, as long as the Ministers,

 Princes, Imperial Uncles, and Nephews—and even sever-

 al Imperial Nieces, too—insist on vying for the Dragon

 Throne with armed force and secret murder. Our policy

 for the moment must be to guard Choin's subjects from the

 violence as much as possible, and gather information. Later

 we plan to publish our joint selection of a candidate for

 Emperor, within the old-time qualifications of both blood

 and capabilities, if possible. When the right time comes,

 that is."

 Flarman and Lilholt had withdrawn through most of this

 discussion, talking softly for some minutes. When they

 rejoined the group at tea, Flarman clapped his hands for

 attention.

 Don Callander

 152

 "Litholt has a grand idea!" he announced. "No, we'll

 say nothing just yet. When we return to Choin, we'll bring

 it into play. Wong—you, Douglas, and I, with Litholt's

 experienced assistance. Augurian and Mym, also. If all

 goes well, it'll halt the war in a single move."

 "Do it immediately'" urged Douglas. "The Stones and

 Mym can wait, if they must."

 'The scoundrels must be all in a single place, to make our

 plan work," the Lady Geomancer said, shaking her head.

 "Which means nothing can be done, just yet."

 Though they pressed them for details, she and Flarman

 refused to elaborate, saying that too many details had yet

 to be worked out.

 "I think I have a smidgen of an idea what you are think-

 ing," claimed Douglas.

 "Well, you know me better than most people, my son."

 said Flarman with a chuckle. "I won't be surprised if this

 has occurred to you, too. And to you, my dear Wong," he

 added.

 "I can't say that I have any idea." the Magician told him.

 "But I'm content to trust your instincts and skills, Barman

 Flowerstalk."

 "As do we all," agreed Marbleheart.

 "Foggery," said Flarman, "tell your people to continue as

 you have planned. Try to keep the conflict from spreading

 beyond the capital. We will return to Choin in a few days,

 a week at most."

 "We already trust in our Master Magician Wong and you,

 Flarman Flowerstalk, you can be sure!" said the Seacaptain

 gratefully, "More cardamom-sugar rice balls, anyone?"

 Chapter Fifteen

 <$>

 Stormy Weather

 WONG Tscha San stepped into Foggery's pleasant gar-

 den for a quiet moment to consult the stars, but returned

 hurriedly to say that a new problem was approaching.

 "A great Sea storm is about to descend upon us," he

 announced. 'The wind is already picking up and I see

 lightning flashes out to Sea!"

 "Oh, oh!" Douglas groaned. "We can't use the Feather

 Pin until it passes. No protection from wind and lightning.

 It's a grueling three-day flight to Valley in good weather,

 as it is."

 Flarman and Wong conferred with the Sea Otter to deter-

 mine the extent and duration of the storm. Douglas. Litholt,

 and the Dwarf helped Foggery and his crew complete repairs

 to the red roof tiles. A pelting rain was beginning to fall and

 a rising gale shook the paper-thin walls of the Choinese-style

 house and bent the beautiful cherry trees in the garden almost

 to the ground.

 "I can tell you," Marbleheart said, "it'll be a whiz-bang

 of a storm! On the Briney we call them hurricanes. This

 one feels exactly the same, but from the opposite direction,

 strangely."

 'Typhoon, it's called, here," nodded Wong. "I recog-

 nized the signs at once. Too strong for even our combined

 powers to safely avert, Flarman Flowerstalk. All we can

 do is practice patience and find shelter in which to wait

 it out."

 153

 154 Don Callander

 "How long do you think it'll last?" the Pyromancer

 asked the Otter. He respected the animal's understanding

 of weather. Only Bronze Owl was more accurate at weather

 prognostication.

 "If the storm's clear eye is close inshore? Perhaps a

 day," Marbleheart considered, looking worried. "Otherwise

 it could blow for as long as a week. Perhaps you can tell,

 Magician?"

 Wong closed his eyes and sat very still for a long while.

 The others waited silently.

 "It is obscured by its own tumult, but experience teaches

 that such a typhoon will bring high winds and tides and a

 deluge of rain for at least three days," he answered at last.

 Lithott came up to them in time to hear this.

 "I must use my own Teleporting Spell, it seems. We can't

 abandon poor Mistress Mym any longer, even if she is able

 to cope with her captors."

 "It'll be very dangerous for you after all those years with-

 out practice," Barman objected. "Perhaps ... if Douglas

 and I coupled our spelling with yours—and Wong's, too—

 we could generate enough power to get you to Stony Gorge

 safely. It must be done within the hour, however. Such

 storms are highly charged. Lightning is a terrible disrupter

 of spells and fiercely resistant to a Pyromancer's demands."

 "Let's do it," decided the Geomancer.

 Douglas was reluctant. He felt he should be the one

 to go to Mym, if anyone went. FIarman reminded him

 that the Earth Wizard alone had the lore to dispel the

 enchantment and gain the Water Apprentice's release from

 captivity. Litholt must go at once, alone, despite the dangers

 of distance and the wild weather.

 "So be it!" the Journeyman agreed after a moment. "Give

 Mym my love and tell her I'll be there as soon as the storm

 abates."

 The two Pyromancers, Journeyman and Master, joined

 by the Choinese Magician, sat in a triangle about the Lady

 Geomancer and began the difficult and demanding business

 of interweaving their powers.

 Geomancer                 155

 The rest of the company sat well across the room about

 a glowing charcoal brazier, breathlessly watching, listening

 to the storm's increasing rage and bluster.

 "I can manage shooting myself a hundred miles in an

 instant with such a spell," Bryarmote whispered. "Flannan

 taught me the trick years ago. But this will be thirty times as

 far' That's the kind of power we're talking about here!"

 Marbleheart, who was concentrating on the whirling,

 swirling spell-words heard from across the room, made

 no reply.

 Foggery sat on a pillow, surrounded by his young men

 and maidens in orange, looking greatly concerned and lis-

 tening anxiously to the angry young typhoon outside.

 "At least there'll be no battles fought as long as this

 lasts," he muttered to the Dwarf over the tumult. "That's

 a bit of a blessing!"

 "As my good Lady Mother says," replied the Dwarf,

 " * 'Tis an ill wind that blows no good.' "

 "When the Lady Wizard is at last on her way . . ."

 Litholt flashed from their sight.

 There was a sharp clap as air rushed in to fill the void left

 by her departure. All about the room lamp flames leaped

 and fluttered wildly for a long moment.

 "... we should seek safe refuge ourselves, preferably far

 inland," finished Foggery.

 "Preferably far underground," growled the Dwarf in

 agreement.

 Foggery knew the storm might completely destroy his

 beloved home as no red-lacquered soldiery ever could with

 puny arrows and stone-throwing machines. He rose and

 calmly began gathering his followers and friends about

 him, with instructions ready on what to do, wear, expect,

 and where to go.

 Less than a quarter hour later the villa, with stout wooden

 storm shutters tightly closed, stood empty.

 They fled the coastal plain that very night, soaked by

 sheets of warm rain and buffeted by insane winds. The

 156 Don Callander

 retired Seacaptain led them into the low, limestone hills

 a few miles to the south.

 "Here are caverns enough even for a Dwarf," he said,

 poking Bryarmote in the ribs.

 "None too soon for me," growled the Prince of Dwelm-

 land.

 He was watching the approaching storm-wrack over his

 left shoulder as they hurried along. Foggery's neighbors,

 farmers and country craftsmen, had preceded them into the

 hills, knowing from long, sad experience the best places to

 shelter from a typhoon-

 "Do you get anything from the Gorge?" Douglas anx-

 iously asked Barman as they walked.

 "No! I find the ether between us clogged with lightning

 and thunder. Don't worry, m'lad! She'll be safe. Both Lady

 Wizards, I mean. Our spelling was powerful and clear.

 Litholt made it to the High, at least, I'm confident."

 The Journeyman hunched his shoulders against the rain

 stabbing him in the back right through his coat and shirt.

 He tried to concentrate on keeping his feet on the slip-

 pery path.

 Twenty weary miles later Bryarmote unerringly pointed

 the way to the low, wide entrance to a great limestone

 cavern under the low coastal hills, large enough for them

 all—several hundred people by then—to find dry shelter.

 Marbleheart and Douglas went about setting campfires

 to warm and dry the refugees. Flannan and Wong began

 piling up food drawn magically from the stores at deserted

 Bureaucrats' castles and fortresses throughout the area.

 Soon all was quiet, except for the drumming rain and

 shrieking wind and the distant roar of tremendous surf

 pounding unmercifully at the Choin coast, felt as much

 as heard through thirty mites of shore.

 Wong sat gazing calmly into their campfire near the cav-

 ern mouth. Flarman. Douglas, and Marbleheart sat nearby,

 but said nothing to disturb his meditation. Bryarmote had

 gone exploring deeper into the cave, satisfying his Dwarfish

 Geomancer                157

 curiosity and love of the underground. There seemed little

 else to do.

 "Flarman Flowerstalk," said Wong, suddenly, "it seems

 to me this storm is not entirely a natural phenomenon."

 "But you said such typhoons were fairly common here,"

 protested Douglas.

 "Wait, laddie," cautioned the older Pyromancer. "Hear

 him out!"

 "Thank you, Fire Master," said the tiny Magician, sitting

 up straighter. "I have sensed a hidden presence in this

 storm. An emanation I have not felt for hundreds of years.

 Darkness seems in the center of it all. . ."

 "Yes, by Tophet! You're absolutely right, Master Wong!

 It's faint—but only because it surrounds itself with multiple

 lightnings, thunderings, and terrible constant winds. Now

 that it is passing over us its stench remains in the air."

 Douglas strained across a thousand wavelengths of sen-

 sation, sampling emanations and disturbances brought to

 him by light, heat, smell, texture, movement, sound, and

 the subtler forces of the innermost and outermost regions

 of World.

 Very faintly he caught a strange, uneasy mood, what

 Flarman had referred to as a stench, although it wasn't

 really an odor. It was like a tiny, incredibly black hole

 in time and space, a state of un-being, spinning at a tre-

 mendous rate, pulsating like the panicked heart of a rabbit

 waiting in dead-sure dread for the stooping hawk.

 As he examined it he felt it grow larger, slowly, until

 he might almost describe it as the size of a fist clenched

 tightly with tension and menace.

 "I think I sense what you mean," he murmured to the

 Wizard. "Black emptiness. Right from the heart of the

 storm's eye, I believe."

 "Good lad!" Flarman exclaimed. "Yes, that's it! Haven't

 heard or seen or felt that.. . whatever it is ... for three

 hundred years...."

 "You mean Darkness?" sputtered Marbleheart, horrified

 yet filled with curiosity.

 Don Callander

 158

 "Exactly!" breathed Wong softly. "I never have seen—

 heard—felt it so close before. It terrified a lowly Assistant

 Magician once. It frightens me even more now. Master

 Wizard!"

 "Well it should," said Flarman grimly.

 "What does it mean?" gasped the Otter, who had caught

 a comer of the Darkness from Douglas's mind, just at that

 moment.

 "What can we do?" asked Douglas at the same time.

 Flarman began to draw circles and triangles in the fine,

 white sand of the cave floor, carefully but quickly.

 "These are secret charms and wards," he said, rubbing the

 symbols away, smoothing the sand with both hands, then

 beginning again. "Help me now, Journeyman! I need a bet-

 ter grasp of the Outrider's strength, position, and purpose."

 For an hour the three magickers and the Familiar huddled

 about the sand drawings, muttering strange words, intoning

 low-voiced, frightened chants that, fortunately, only they

 could hear. Drawing and redrawing the circles, triangles,

 rhomboids, pentagrams, rectangles, sine curves and twisted

 ovals of infinity, they smoothed them away once again, and

 began again.

 "Well!" said Flarman sharply, after what seemed to be

 days and nights of struggle.

 He fed twigs to their dying fire. Around them the storm

 refugees had settled down to sleep, to await the passing of

 the shrieking wind and the roaring rain.

 "Well?" the Pyromancer repeated. "We were lucky, I

 guess."

 "It's gone?" asked Marbleheart. "Are we safe?"

 "Feel for yourself," suggested Douglas, rubbing his wea-

 ry eyes.

 "I don't feel anything," agreed the Familiar, much

 relieved. "It's either deeply hidden again or it's departed.

 Which is it, Magister? It's important to all of us to know."

 Said Flarman, "What do you think. Journeyman? If you

 aspire to Mastery, you must have an idea of what has passed

 over us just now."

 Geomancer                 159

 Douglas closed his eyes to aid in concentration, and

 began to speak slowly, feeling his way.

 "It was not full Darkness, I gather. A probe, perhaps.

 Attracted by the rumors of chaos and tragedy from the

 bloody-minded ambitions and cruel slayings here in Choin."

 "The Darkness was always deeply interested in Choin,"

 agreed Wong, opening his eyes just then. "When it first

 struck a thousand years ago, Choin was too well governed

 by good and able men, too strong for it to attack directly.

 Or so I was taught by my own Masters."

 "That's how I see it, also," Flarman agreed. "Go on,

 Journeyman. You have it right, so far."

 "It—the Outrider, did you call it?—stirred up the great

 storm to cover its spying. It sought to discover if it might

 be time, perhaps, to spend greater power on Choin; if

 the—chaos is all I can name it—is enough to allow it

 to seek control of Empire as it once tried to snatch Old

 Kingdom."

 "As I think, too," said the Pyromancer.

 "But its own storm blinded it to our presence—yours

 and mine and Wong's, I mean. It didn't sense us until it

 had passed close overhead. It felt us just when we felt it."

 Flarman spread his arms and Wong bobbed his head

 several times.

 "And it passed back out to Sea at once, having been—

 affrighted, perhaps? Surprised?—by the presence of our

 powers, and our awareness of it," finished the Journeyman

 Wizard. "It fled from us! As far as I can see, it has departed

 into the far Northlands."

 "Yes, we were lucky! Lucky to be here at all, and to

 present it with a sharp pause to its evil, deadly desire for

 poor Choin," said Wong. "I am grateful for you, Flarman,

 and Douglas, and you, Marbleheart. If it had come when

 I was alone in my ignorance and weakness it would have

 flung me aside like a bit of froth on the wavetop. It or

 its Dark Masters would have soon captured or suborned

 someone or some group and remolded Choin into its own,

 dark shape. Choin would have become the new battleground

 160 Don Callander

 of Darkness, as Old Kingdom once was. And been all but

 destroyed, as was unhappy Old Kingdom, even in victory!"

 "No doubt of that'" cried Flannan. "The lesson to be

 learned is this: we Wizards must be eternally vigilant if

 we're to preserve freedom and keep the peace!"

 He pulled his blanket about his shoulders and squirmed

 one hip into the sand to make a shallow groove to rest it

 in, preparing himself for sleep-

 "Well, yes, we were lucky. But we were also prepared

 and well skilled. That the three of us could have shooed it

 off at all tells us its power is still a tiny fraction of what it

 once commanded. In earlier times it would have attacked

 us on first contact," he muttered-

 "What in World is this Darkness thing?" Marbleheart

 whispered to Douglas as they settled down, also-

 "A most difficult question. Familiar. In the first place,

 it's not of this World. It comes from some extremely dis-

 tant Elsewhere—sent or driven away, we don't know. It

 feeds and grows strong on its victims' wickedness, the

 unthinking foolishness and greed and cruelty of Mortals

 and Near Immortals to each other. When we offer them

 such sustenance. Darkness comes among us and eventually

 rules us by our own weaknesses."

 "You're frightening me, dear Master!" shuddered the Sea

 Otter, pushing hard against the Journeyman's thigh under

 his blanket.

 "Don't be too frighted," murmured Douglas, half-asleep.

 "Remember the word Flannan just used: vigilance. As long

 as the Fellowship of Wizards is basically good-hearted,

 brave, kind, honest, sensible—as the overwhelming major-

 ity of us Men, Elves, Dwarfs and Fairies are—we'll never

 be conquered or enslaved by Darkness. So go to sleep. It's

 easier to be honest and good-hearted and sensible when

 you've had a good night's sleep."

 To his own surprise, Marbleheart fell immediately to

 sleep, cuddled against his Master's back. Wong slept sitting

 cross-legged yet completely relaxed. Flannan snored for a

 while, then turned more on his stomach and slept silently.

 Geomancer                 161

 Bryarmote, returning from his exploration, smiled fondly

 at them all and looked about for a smooth stone to use as

 a pillow.

 Then he, too, slept.

 A cool autumn rain fell on Valley, swelling the little

 pasture runs to overflowing. Pleased to be once more too

 wide for the shepherds to jump, they skipped excitedly

 down to find Crooked Brook, on their way picking up

 the fallen poplar, birch, sugar maple, and willow leaves,

 until in places their waters seemed plated with copper or

 gold. The water of Crooked Brook then became what the

 Fairies called Brook Tea. Black where the stream was deep,

 amber as good beer in the shallows. Crooked Brook foamed

 around rocks and bubbled about the jet ofAugurian's Foun-

 tain, just downstream from Wizard's High, before it and its

 burden of leaves dashed off to race merrily under the stone

 span of Trunkety Bridge. After that it slid along quietly

 through the smooth, deep stretch above Perthside, merging

 at last with salty Farango Waters.

 This scene was placidly surveyed by Bronze Owl, who,

 untroubled by the damp chill, swung on his nail in the middle

 of the great double front door of Flarman's cottage. Every-

 one else, that late afternoon, was within, gathered around

 me blaze in the Dwarf's Stone Fireplace, Bryarmote's pride

 and joy.

 Blue Teakettle flopped her lid and burbled, peacefully

 napping on the back of Range. Salt and Pepper whispered

 and giggled together in the center of the great table. They

 were constant companions, seldom apart.

 A long, lean Pushbroom, interrupted in its task of clean-

 ing the kitchen yard by the coming of rain, leaned comfort-

 ably against the broom closet door, playfully teasing old

 Sugar Caster, who was concerned that the damp would cake

 his contents and clog his holes. Sugar Caster was something

 of a hypochondriac.

 Pert and Party catnapped on either side of Black Flame,

 but the torn, at least, was alert, although purring contentedly

 Don Callander

 162

 for the ladies' comfort. They deserved their rest, as the last

 of their most recent litters had been found happy and com-

 fortable homes in Valley farmhouses and village kitchens or

 as mousers on Duke Thomwood's ships out of Westongue.

 In Hutch, a great, heavy cupboard made of mellow old

 walnut planks an inch thick, a gay young blade, a Paring

 Knife, flirted with abrasive old Sharpener, promising her

 they could really make sparks if he rubbed her the right

 way. Sharpener scoffed at the blade's blandishments, say-

 ing, "Oh, you'll be dull and useless again in a few days,

 Beau. Then you'll come running to me for a stroke or two,

 I know."

 "But, my darling," protested Paring Knife, stiffening in

 pretended umbrage, "I'm not that sort! Believe me!"

 If a whetstone could snort, this one would have, but just

 then their attention was distracted by one of the Bread Pans

 on the sideboard near the stove, who began to croon softly,

 calling to Blue Teakettle and saying, "Oh, Kettle dear, will

 you knead us!"

 "Who needs you?" sniffed a muffled voice from within

 a large, stoneware bowl covered with an embroidered dish

 towel. "Let poor Teakettle have her nap."

 "I'll knead you. Dough," offered Butter Chum, unctuous-

 ly- "And later you'll need me, after you've baked well."

 "ShhhhhhF hised Blue Teakettle, wakening abruptly.

 "Get ready, all' Someone's coming!"

 Owl was surprised by a sharp and quite close-by clap

 of thunder, but thought nothing more of it than to say to

 himself. Thunder's unusual in autumn showers, isn't it?

 Shortly after, however, he jerked to full attention, rattling

 his wings in surprise. Crossing the ancient plank bridge

 from Priceless's neat rows of apple, crabapple, and peach

 trees, he spied someone coming along at a brisk pace,

 cowled head bowed to the raindrops, straight for the cot-

 tage gate.

 "Ho, a visitor!" Owl called to those within, and a moment

 later he was joined by Black Flame, who pushed one of the

 Geomancer                 163

 door leaves ajar to come and see for himself.

 "A lady, I see," murmured Owl. Black Flame nodded

 calmly and glanced at the bird for a moment.

 "Not just any sort of woman, however? Yes, I agree,"

 replied Owl.

 The traveler hesitated at the gate, studying the house and

 its surroundings with lively interest from under her hood.

 "Come up, ma'am!" Owl called, fluttering noisily from

 his nail toward the gate. "Welcome to Wizards' High!

 Come right in out of the rain and chill."

 The amber-haired woman in slate gray hood and cloak

 opened the rickety gate and approached, first carefully clos-

 ing the gate behind herself.

 "Sign of good breeding," Owl muttered to the cat. "Closes

 gates without being asked!"

 'This is the home of Flarman Flowerstalk, I see," said

 Limolt Stonebreaker to Bronze Owl. She showed no sur-

 prise at all to be speaking to a metal bird. "How fortunate

 for me! For a moment I thought I'd lost my way."

 "This is Wizard Flannan's cottage," replied Owl. "I am

 Harman's doorknocker, adviser, and friend. I'm also in

 charge here in his absence, so I invite you again to come

 within to dry and warm yourself. It will be night before

 long."

 "I am Litholt Stonebreaker," the Lady Wizard introduced

 herself.

 "Ah, I've heard of you!" Owl cried, genuinely pleased.

 "Last I heard, Flarman and Douglas and the others had

 found you in the middle of a desert."

 "Correct, friend Owl. And I am on my way . . ."

 "Come in, please, ma'am! No need to stand in (he drips

 from the thatching," interrupted Owl. He led the Lady

 Wizard past the empty front parlor, down the center hall

 past the sweeping curved staircase into the big, brightly

 lighted kitchen.

 "Ah, just as I heard!" cried Litholt, striding at once to

 the Dwarf's Fireplace. "A marvelous stone construction,

 thisi Made of lovely stones and powerful and everlasting

 164 Don Callander

 magic as only a Dwarf Prince could do. I adore it!"

 "Yes, I remember now," said Bronze Owl, perching on

 a handy chair back. "You're a Geomancer. A lover of fine

 stone and stonemasonry."

 'The wonderful, marvelous stones here will help restore

 to me the powers I must have to continue my journey to

 assist the Apprentice Mym Manstar!" explained the Geo-

 mancer, running her hands lovingly over the craftily cut and

 closely fitted stones. "Stones like these are as life's blood

 to an Earth Adept, you must realize."

 "Make yourself right at home," Owl invited politely.

 "And when you've imbibed what you need from the stones,

 come and have supper as only Blue Teakettle can prepare,

 before you go flying off again. Mistress Mym would be the

 first to recommend it, I know well."

 He fully understood what the Lady Wizard's mission

 must be.

 "Have you the proper warming spells?" Owl asked Litholt

 a bit later, after she was seated at the table before a hearty

 supper of golden waffles with maple syrup and butter, spicy

 sausages, strawberry jam and peach butter (always a great

 favorite with Geomancers, because of the stones), with

 strong black coffee—just as Geomancers like it. Somehow

 Blue always knew.

 "My spells were rather rusty, just now," she replied to the

 Owl's question. "Both from long disuse, you understand,

 and because of the buffeting I suffered at the hands of the

 great storm at Sea. Fair stripped my repertoire of everything

 useful, I'm afraid, which is why I unwillingly landed so

 short of Stony Gorge."

 "Better stay here tonight, then," Owl urged. "Plenty of

 room here at the High, Mistress Wizard. Rest and a couple

 of Blue's good meals will do wonders for recouping your

 magic, as well. You'll need all your wit and craft to break

 the Stone Warriors free, if what Douglas tells me is true."

 Said Litholt, "Yes, I am weary and a good night's sleep

 is certainly what I need. Thank you for your kind offer,

 Geomancer                 165

 Bronze Owl! In the morning I'll ask you to speak precisely

 of the location of this Gorge where Douglas's fiancee is

 being held hostage."

 "I'll draft you a map showing all I know of it," promised

 Owl, "while you bathe and get some sleep."

 Black Flame, ever protective of Wizards no matter their

 gender or specialty, showed the weary Geomancer to a

 comfortable guest room above stairs.

 Owl summoned Deka the Wraith, who came after a

 short wait.

 "Hail Bronze Owl of great beauty and wisdom!" she said

 in greeting when she'd materialized into the soft candle-

 light- "How may I serve?"

 "We're certainly overtaxing your willingness to serve

 these days. poor Deka," commented Owl, waving her to

 a seat near the fire.

 "No more than I'm pleased to serve," she answered with

 a curtsy.

 "You appear a bit ruffled, if I may say so," observed

 the bird.

 "I've just been battling a monstrous atmospheric dis-

 turbance," the Wraith explained. "It delayed my arrival by

 almost a minute'"

 "Not so much as to be noticed, however," soothed Owl.

 "Rest a few minutes here. When you're prepared to go on

 again, I must send messages to Mistress Mym and Master

 Augurian, this night."

 "The storm is to the south of here," Deka reassured him.

 "I can leave at once, of course."

 "Have some lemonade," Owl offered. Pitcher, filled with

 tart-sweet misctywine just as the Wraith loved it, appeared

 right on cue. "And listen carefully to my messages."

 Deka popped through from some unknown Otherworld to

 the Stones' Column in time to hear Detritus shouting from

 his door yard.

 "Miserable, useless, indolent, procrastinating woman

 Wizard! How long will you delay and betray us? We

 166 Don Callander

 will be freed of the curse of Obsydion, or we will bring

 dire havoc on Men everywhere we find them!"

 Deka cocked her head to one side and decided Detritus

 was performing a ritual of some sort, of obscure signifi-

 cance. Certainly his feeling didn't match the furor of his

 words.

 "You make a great deal more noise than you do sense,

 Rocky," said Mym in a conversational tone. "Oh, hello,

 Deka! Don't pay any attention to the Chief of Stones there.

 He's doing it all for political show."

 "Me? Show!" howled Detritus, coming across the square,

 curious despite himself to hear the Wraith's message.

 "Well, you were," said Mym firmly. She and all the

 Stones had heard his tirade a hundred times in the past

 three days. "And I understand it, too. But a few more hours

 or days will not harm you or your people."

 The Stone giant opened his mouth to hurl a stinging retort

 but Deka, with consummate timing and tact, announced that

 she brought word from Bronze Owl of Wizards' High. The

 Stone Chief swallowed in his pro forma ire to listen.

 "So this Geomancer will be here tomorrow, sometime?"

 asked Mym when she had heard the words Owl had sent.

 "Good news, Detritus, old rockhead!"

 "I'll believe it when I see this rock Wizard of yours.

 Another woman! What sort of trick is that, I ask you?"

 "I am a woman Wizard, too, I'll remind you," said Mym,

 near the edge of her great patience. "And as good as any

 you'll ever find, I do assure you."

 The giant retired hastily to his hut muttering to him-

 self.

 "What do they need huts for?" Mym whispered to the

 Wraith. "They never sleep or eat, and the cold and snow

 don't bother them at all."

 "I suppose like all creatures they need to be alone at

 times," replied Deka with a wan smile.

 "Oh, poor Deka! We've been keeping you shooting back

 and forth like a shuttlecock! Please stay awhile and talk to

 me. I'm nearly starved for news and companionship."

 Geomancer                 167

 "You don't happen to have any lemonade, do you?"

 asked Deka with a brighter look. "Yes, I'll stay as long

 as you like, unless I'm summoned."

 The two old friends. Apprentice Wizard and Wraith,

 chatted of anything at all that came to mind, as long as

 it wasn't stones or rocks or dead Wizard's enchantments.

 Mostly they talked of weddings.

 Chapter Sixteen

 ^

 The Disspelling

 STONY Gorge at that time of year hardly ever saw direct

 sunshine. The days were getting shorter and shorter, the sun

 rising only part way toward the zenith before sinking back

 under the horizon again. The skies were overcast, promising

 more snow at any moment and frequently delivering.

 The dimness and drab colors got on Mym's nerves more

 than anything about her voluntary captivity. She had the

 choice of flitting off to the nearest friendly habitation of real

 people—in this case. New Land and Serenit's house—or

 doing something to make her surroundings more bearable.

 Two days before Deka's evening visit the Apprentice

 Aquamancer experimented with superheated steam jetting

 from one of the largest geysers in the valley. She enclosed

 a great cloud of the almost invisible gas in a globe of

 cooler mist, and sent it floating over the village square like

 a second moon, aglow brightly blue with its own heat.

 Detritus and a number of other Stones, including several

 of the Stone women who seldom were seen out of doors,

 rushed out of their huts and stood gawking at the strange

 sight, wondering at the sharp shadows it cast on the vil-

 lage walls.

 After a quarter hour the steam cooled enough to lose its

 incandescent glow, the surrounding globe warmed enough

 to turn to mist itself, and the whole thing collapsed in a

 torrential shower of warm water that rinsed all the dirty ice

 and snow from the village roofs and streets, making them

 169

 170 Don Callander

 gleam in the wan light filtering through the low clouds.

 It reminded Mym of her laundering of Pfantas some

 months before, but the final result was not gratitude from

 the citizens, but flinty looks from the populace as a whole

 and snarls from Detritus.

 "I know you did that. Wizard!" he cried. "Where is our

 soft and fragrant rock dust?"

 "I was not about to deny it," said Mym, primly. "I think

 your gritty, grimy streets and rooftops are much more pres-

 entable, now they are clear of that ratty old snow. Why,

 some of it must have been there for hundreds of seasons!"

 "Exactly!" snarled the Chief with a terrible scowl. "It was

 our ice and our decoration and you had no right. - ."

 "Oh, Rockhead!" laughed the Apprentice. "You are an

 absolute pill!"

 Detritus went storming off—mostly for show, she had

 long since figured out—and missed the scene, a few min-

 utes later, when the ladies of Stony Gorge emerged quietly

 from their huts armed with stiff heather-twig brooms. They

 swept the last remaining ice and snow from their flag-

 stone walkways, and scrubbed their stone stoops, studiously

 avoiding direct glances at the Wizard on the Column.

 "Huh!" snorted Mym. 'That's interesting. Stone house-

 wives are just like housewives anywhere!"

 The experiment with the steam geyser prompted her to

 more creative hydro-engineering. Most of the very hot water

 spewed forth by the geysers—there were, she counted, 120

 that erupted at least once an hour, or even more often—

 seeped back into the ground almost immediately or ran off

 down the vale and under the great iron gates.

 Carefully maneuvering loose boulders that had long ago

 rolled down the Gorge hillsides, she constructed a large,

 shallow basin below the village and into it channeled a

 portion of the steaming water.

 In a few hours she had created a circular pond fifty feet

 across, and five feet deep in the center. From its surface rose

 lazy tendrils of steam, which, when they hit the cold rocks

 Geomancer                 171

 all about, froze into splendid, lacy ice-crystal flowers.

 The pure white flowers were very pretty, with no two

 quite alike, and Mym was justly proud of her inspiration.

 Detritus angrily ran to the pool side and began stomping the

 blooms into icy dust, roaring his frustration all the while.

 He gave it up when he noted a group of Stone wives

 standing nearby, shaking their heads in regret and their fin-

 gers in disapproval. He retreated hastily to his hut, throwing

 hard glances at the Apprentice, who was now busy intro-

 ducing subtle pastel colors to the newer crystal flowers,

 lending a festive atmosphere to the shore garden about the

 pond's margin.

 The Stone wives quietly nodded their approval. It had

 been a very long time since they had seen anything as

 beautiful. Later, when Detritus did not reappear, a number

 of Stone Warriors came gravely to admire the new garden

 with their ladies.

 Later in the evening Mym noticed a number of Stone

 children—the first she had seen since arriving—wading

 and splashing in the cooling waters of the pond, getting

 much quiet pleasure out of falling flat on their backs in the

 shallow water to see who could make the biggest splash.

 Detritus ignored their play.

 Their mothers watched from their hut doors and gossiped

 back and forth across the stone fences between their tiny

 yards. The village took on a much more neighborly feel

 with that—and the pond and the ice flowers stayed.

 Some of the children walked casually past the column the

 next morning, looking with frank childhood curiosity at the

 pretty Wizard and the tented pavilion Douglas's magic had

 provided to keep the snow off the column top. They smiled

 shyly when the Water Adept caught their admiring glances

 at the sumptuous furs that kept her warm and cozy despite

 the wintry wind and heavy overnight snowfall.

 "You know," she called to the youngsters, "I bet I can

 guess something. I guess, even though they are made of

 stone. Stone Warriors don't really like being cold all the

 time!"

 172 Don Callander

 The children clattered away at once, trying very hard

 not to giggle. Later the older ones returned and asked her

 politely if she would tell them a story from History, such

 as their parents had heard retold by their Chief.

 She invited them to sit around the column—on the

 side away from the Chief's hut—and quietly described

 to them Wizards' High and Valley of Dukedom, then

 distant Waterand Isle and Warm Sea. Closer to home, she

 explained what Serenit was doing in New Land now that

 Eternal Ice was withdrawing northward.

 They were fascinated by the splendors of Bryarmote's

 rock-hewn, underground Dwelmland. By the following

 evening, as Mym waited for the Geomancer to arrive,

 virtually every child and young person in Stony Gorge came

 to listen to her tales of the unknown outside World. ...

 Beyond the Ice, as they termed it.

 Their mothers and fathers watched and listened from their

 front stoops- Detritus, who loved stories as much as any

 of them, leaned over his front wall, taking it all in while

 pretending to ignore everything, especially Mym.

 When she had sent the children off to their play, Myrn

 prepared to study for a while from several of the big, old

 books Augurian had forwarded to her from Waterand. Only

 then did a quiet and subdued Detritus approach the chair.

 "Mistress," he began, "I have had enough! No more

 tantrums' No more cursing and ranting. This curse can no

 longer be endured. If your Geomancer isn't here by noon,

 tomorrow, I must put you on ice in a place from which

 you'll never find your way home, and I will lead my warri-

 ors against First Citizen Serenit, capture or slay his follow-

 ers, and destroy all the things they are so proud of doing!"

 He said no more, shouted no longer, appearing sad rather

 than angry, and went into the Meeting Hall, where he was

 joined after a while by the tribal Elders.

 "Oh, dear, I'm afraid he really means it this time!"

 sighed Mym.

 She thought of calling Augurian, but decided against it.

 If the Lady Geomancer came in time, things would shortly

 Geomancer                173

 sort themselves out. If not, she had some ideas on how to

 stop Detritus and distract his Warriors.

 In preparation she spent the evening scooping fist-sized

 balls of hot water from the pond and whirling them about

 her head until they froze into balls of slush.

 These she accurately hurled—assisted by a Levitation

 Spell Douglas had taught her—to the lower end of the

 Gorge, where they splashed against the inside of the iron

 gate.

 Before she quit and crawled into her fur-lined nest to

 sleep, the gate was frozen tight shut by the freezing slush.

 As the nighttime temperature in the Gorge dropped well

 below zero, the ice hardened like the iron itself. Only heat

 would unlock the Gorge Gate after that.

 Eariier that evening Litholt had stopped to speak with

 Serenit at his lodge- The former Ice King greeted her shyly

 but as a long-lost friend—he now remembered her from

 the days before Last Battle in Old Kay—and insisted she

 spend the fast-approaching arctic night at his pleasant rus-

 tic home.

 Litholt was happy to rest for a while. She was fascinated

 with the glacial valley, carved from hard, blue granite over

 tens of thousands of years, forming the wide, perfectly flat

 bottom and perpendicular sides.

 A heavy overnight snowfall slowed them down when

 they set out to walk to the Face the next morning. Litholt

 wanted to conserve her Wizardly power as much as pos-

 sible, knowing she would need every bit when it came to

 addressing Obsydion's spell- She couldn't afford to expend

 even a small part on flying or teleporting.

 Bundled warmly against the intense cold, she followed

 Serenit up the twisted and uneven pathway to the Face, said

 good-bye and thank you. and levitated herself up and over

 the river of ice, then followed its gently curving northward

 course until she came to its end at Gorge Gate.

 "Aha!" she snorted, recognizing the ancient Geomancer's

 handiwork in the iron gate as clearly as if he'd signed

 174 Don Callander

 his name to it. When she attempted to swing the heavy

 leaves open, however, she discovered Mym's frozen slush

 barricade.

 "Clever Water Adept!" she chuckled.

 She left the icy barrier in place, and sailed gracefully over

 the gate by her own magic.

 She glided swiftly up the narrow Gorge, admiring the

 geothermal fountains and pools and naming the rock for-

 mations on either hand as if they were old friends. When

 she came to Mym's pond, now with a thick layer of clear

 blue ice over most of its surface, she recognized it as

 Aquamancer's work, too.

 Mym and the Stones saw her coming almost as soon

 as she had appeared over the gate, and by the time she'd

 skimmed over the pond, where a few Stone children were

 already experimenting with ice skating, a large crowd of

 older Stones stood in silence in front of the Meeting Hall,

 watching her approach and looking both fearful and hope-

 ful.

 The stranger could only be the long-promised Stone Wiz-

 ard.

 "Good morrow!" Litholt called politely -

 They murmured solemn greetings and bowed in return.

 "Good morrow, Earth Adept!" came Mym's softly car-

 rying voice. She floated down from the Column and ran to

 meet the new arrival- "Welcome to Stony Gorge, although

 it should be the Chief to say it, not I."

 The Stones nodded agreement and turned to stare stoni-

 ly at the Chief's door. He was nowhere to be seen or

 heard.

 'T suspect he's rather ashamed of himself and the

 way he's doubted us," Mym explained, giving the old-

 er woman a warm hug. "It's so good to meet you,

 Mistress Stonebreaker! Douglas sent word of you and

 how surprised he was to find another Lady Wizard in

 World."

 "I hope you aren't jealous of me," said Litholt seriously,

 "No need, I sincerely assure you. You are a famous Wizard

 Geomancer                 175

 even before your Journeying, my dear."

 "Nonsense! There can't be too many female Wizards

 for my money. We've all got a lot to do, and the Wizard

 menfolk, however hard they try, need a woman's touch and

 viewpoint- Don't you agree?"

 "Yes, indeed I do!" cried Litholt, and the two hugged

 each other again, laughing together like old friends.

 "Nor would I ever do without them," added Litholt. "I

 like them very much, even Serenit, now that he's come

 to his good senses. He was always rather somber, intense,

 and withdrawn in the bad old days. Flannan was my very

 favorite magic maker. Your own Master Augurian himself

 came courting me once. He was so very serious. So solid

 and dependable!"

 "Augurian?'1 cried Mym. "I would never have believed

 it! About his courting a Lady, I mean."

 "Oh, yes! And a most handsome suitor, too, although

 much too shy. Those were our halcyon days! The descent

 of Darkness began just then and all such pleasant pastimes

 ceased, I'm sorry to say. We were much younger then, and

 fighting a supremely deadly foe seemed more important

 than love and marriage. Which is one reason I am so

 pleased to leam that you and young Douglas are pledged

 to be married."

 "You approve? I'm quite relieved, to tell you the truth.

 Some might say that a Water Adept wife would dampen a

 Fire Wizard's way."

 "No, you won't stand in his way." replied Litholt, seri-

 ously. "We found out the hard way, way back then. Love

 is more important than any kind of power! Remember that,

 Mistress Mym."

 "I remember it every day," the Water Adept assured her

 new friend with a grave nod.

 "Now, to begin with,'* said Litholt Stonebreaker to Mym

 and the assembled company of Stones, "I'll need answers to

 a few basic questions from someone who was present when

 this wicked spell was cast. How about your Chief?"

 Don Callander

 176

 "I'll call him out, if you wish," said Dolomit the Hardy.

 "However, a number of us here were present that night."

 He pointed out Storyteller in the back of the crowd. Of

 all the Stones, he had been the first to speak to Mym kindly

 and had listened to her stories and histories most closely,

 committing them to his remarkable memory.

 "Storyteller, you were there when the Wizard named

 Obsydion wove his Petrification Spell, were you not?"

 Mym asked him.

 He was surprisingly shy before the Lady Wizards.

 "Aye, Mistress! I recall it perfectly well, every word

 and gesture. As is my job, of course," answered the tribal

 historian modestly.

 "Then maybe you can tell me some things I need to know

 to speed the disspelling," said Litholt, levitating to the top

 of the Stone Column and drawing Mym with her so they

 could see eye to eye with the giants.

 "Willingly, Mistress'" said he, coming to the foot of the

 Column. "Ask away! If anyone remembers that dire day,

 it's me—Storyteller."

 Litholt asked but three questions:

 First: With which hand did Obsydion actually cast his

 Petrification Spell?

 His left. Storyteller said confidently.

 Second: What was the color of the sky when he cast

 the spell?

 Black, recalled the Stone.

 *' 'Twere midnight and raining hard and no stars or moon

 shone through that night."

 Third: Did Obsydion wear a robe when he cast the spell,

 or was he clad in metal armor?

 Storyteller thought about this question for a long while

 before he answered.

 "I can't be sure of that, as it was quite dark, but I think,

 Mistress, that he wore both a black robe and silvery armor.

 I distinctly recall the bright glint of metal up his sleeve

 when he reached high up to hurl the spell onto us like a

 thunderbolt."

 Geomancer                177

 "Excellent, Storyteller! Exactly what I needed to know.

 Silvery armor, you say? Well! Now all of you—Chief Detri-

 tus, also—come sit before me where I can see you all while

 I do my work. Yes, the young ones, too, and the babes."

 The sullen, stubborn Chief had almost to be hauled by

 force from the Meeting Hall where he had been hiding . ..

 and listening. He was made to sit on the paving stones in

 the middle of their half circle before the Geomancer,

 "Now, dear children," she said, with a wink over her

 shoulder at Mym, "it will help if you will remain quite silent

 throughout. Try to recall what exactly you were doing, what

 you wore, how you stood the moment the wicked Wizard

 Obsydion enchanted you and imprisoned you here in Stony

 Gorge under Eternal Ice."

 The entire village, even the smallest children—who had

 remained children for a thousand years—sat in stony silence,

 frowning in concentration.

 Litholt pushed up her sleeves, took a great breath, and

 began.

 It was midmoming when she spoke the first chantment.

 Nobody moved or made a sound for hours and hours,

 waiting for the first signs of disspelling to begin to show.

 Myrn was somehow expecting spectacular fireworks, fly-

 ing sparks, or, at the least, exotic rituals, but none were

 forthcoming. She could, however, feel the climax of the

 breaking enchantment in her fingertips and tingling toes,

 as the sun slid toward the barren southwestern hills.

 Litholt stood before them, looking calmly from one to

 the next as if memorizing their faces, ending with Detritus,

 without saying another word.

 Yet, and yet.. . Myrn saw changes come over them.

 Their flint-hard visages gently softened. Their faces,

 deeply engraved by time and sadness or chiseled fine by

 ten slow centuries, seemed suddenly more mobile, more

 infused with warmth.

 Detritus stirred first, raised his right hand and watched

 his blunt, strong fingers move in fits and jerks. He examined

 his newly pink fingernails and rubbed the stiff hair on the

 178 Don Catlander

 backs of his wrists against his square chin.

 He struck his thigh hard with the palm of his right hand.

 It made a loud, fleshly smack. In dawning wonder, he

 watched the muscles ripple under the tanned skin of his

 right forearm, as if he had just discovered muscles and

 tendons and skin for the very first time ever.

 Great, crystalline tears rolled down his cheeks.

 Sobs of purest joy escaped his heaving breast. He buried

 his now-ruddy face in hands of real Mortal flesh.

 They all were shrinking. In a few moments, when Mym

 jumped down from the pillar top and ran forward to greet

 them and mingle her own tears with theirs in her immense

 relief and delight, they were all once more of normal size

 for ordinary Men. Tall and muscular, surely, but no stronger

 or taller than they should have been.

 No longer obdurate, everlasting blue gabro.

 Obsydion's blackest magic was completely disspelled-

 Marbleheart trotted in his rather comic gait up the last

 slope to the cave mouth, beaming broadly and shouting

 that the storm had passed. He'd made a trip alone to the

 shore before dawn. Pelicans, petrels, and a few frigatebirds

 confirmed his forecast. Fair, cooler, and light, dry winds.

 "The sky at Sea is the most beautiful blue I've ever seen.

 There are still huge combers breaking on the beach, but

 the wind has shifted to the northeast and is moderating

 quickly," he reported.

 "Damages?" asked Foggery fearfully.

 "Few houses have their roofs on, still," replied the Sea

 Otter, accepting a cup of tea from one of Foggery's orange-

 clad maidens. "Not many were actually destroyed, however.

 They are more sturdily built than I thought, I guess."

 "Typhoons are common on this coast, of course," said

 Wong. "Roofs are easy to replace. Walls, less so. We Choin

 learned long ago to build like that. The important thing is,

 we seem to have lost few lives."

 "I saw a number of corpses washed up where streams

 had flooded," admitted Marbleheart somberly. "Most wore

 Geomancer                 179

 that hard leather armor the soldiers had on when your house

 was attacked. Captain."

 "Their officers were not quick enough or humane enough

 to lead them to high ground," guessed Flarman. "Well,

 Douglas, m'lad, it's a long, long trip to the Far Northland.

 Shall we depart at once?"

 "If we can do nothing further to help the Choinese, I am

 ready," said Douglas.

 "We're capable of picking up, burying the dead, and

 carrying on," said Foggery. "Besides, this storm had one

 good effect. It has given us a respite of at least a few days

 from the Bureaucrats and their soldiers. The Bureaucrats

 have all fled from their country houses to the capital, taking

 their soldiery with them, I'm told. They'll leave us alone for

 a good while and when they come back, our new militia will

 be ready for them, with any luck."

 "Marbleheart, Douglas and I will go as soon as we've

 had some breakfast," decided the older Fire Wizard. "Will

 you come or stay. Master Wong?"

 "I have a date four days hence at Wizards' High," the

 Magician reminded him gravely. "I understand that it can-

 not be postponed."

 "Yes, yes, the Examination!" cried Douglas. He'd for-

 gotten it completely until that moment.

 "It must be taken the night of an Equinox," Flarman

 said. 'The next won't be for another six months, if we

 miss this one."

 "I'll stay here and help Foggery, if I can be of use," said

 Bryarmote, to no one's surprise. He liked to be where the

 action was. "Just send a note to my sweet bride and say I'll

 be a little late getting home, won't you?"

 , With just the four of them, and Flarman's intimate knowl-

 edge of the workings of the Feather Pin, the return trip was

 much faster than any previous flight.

 "Wrap your faces in your cloaks," instructed Flarman as

 they shot into the clear sky over the Choin littoral. 'That

 way you will breathe easily and we can go twice as fast.'*

 Don Callander

 180

 "Why didn't I think of that!" cried the Otter, burrowing

 into Douglas's coat tail, as he had none of his own.

 Where it had taken them three full days to cross Sea

 between Choin and Dukedom before, now they were cir-

 cling over Valley by noon of the second day.

 "Need to check things at home," explained Barman, as

 Douglas sent them into a shallow dive to land at the kitchen

 door. "And a couple of hours of sleep if you want it."

 "I'm ready to go on immediately," said Douglas.

 "So be it," said the Fire Wizard. "You, Wong?"

 "I will remain here," the Choinese decided. "There are

 still a few Examination questions to be prepared, you'll

 remember."

 "Give me a half hour in my study," said Harman to the

 Journeyman, "and we can go by Teleport Spell, my boy,

 and be there in minutes, rather than hours."

 'Time enough for lunch," declared Marbleheart, who

 had been napping with his lithe body draped like a fur

 boa about Douglas's shoulders all morning. He slid to the

 ground, cuffed playfully at Black Flame when the cat came

 to greet them, and added, "Wonder what old Blue Teakettle

 has cooked up for us?"

 "Your favorites!" cried Flannan, waving to Bronze Owl,

 who had flown around the cottage from the front door at

 the sound of their arrival. "Tuna salad! Anchovy pizza!"

 When they entered the warm and savory kitchen, all

 the utensils—Plates, Goblets, Knives, Forks and Spoons,

 Platters, Sheers, Choppers. Graters, Griddles, Pots, Pans,

 Trivets, Pot Holders, Shakers, and Spatulas—cheered lusti-

 ly from every comer, shelf and cupboard.

 The Otter reared to his hind feet to examine the broad,

 crowded tabletop and said, in awe, "She's done it again!

 How does she know?"

 "Who's done what?" asked Douglas, seating himself at

 his accustomed place and reaching for a pot of fresh may-

 onnaise to spread on his new-baked white bread.

 "Blue Teakettle! She's fixed lunch, and just what I was

 craving, ready when we walked in unannounced, and for

 Geomancer                 181

 just the right number, too. Amazing!"

 Blue Teakettle puffed in steamy pride at his sincere

 compliments and made sure the Sea Otter had enough tuna

 salad for a second and a third helping while Flannan went

 off to recharge his teleporting batteries—as he put it—in

 his study.

 Bronze Owl was telling Douglas and Wong of the visit

 from Litholt Stonebreaker.

 "Obviously a great, remarkable Lady," was Owl's opin-

 ion. "I admit to you that the idea of a female Wizard would

 have seemed ... well, unusual, to say the least, if it weren't

 for Mym."

 "I understand that there were several other Lady Wizards

 very long ago," the Journeyman told them. He stooped to

 add a log to the fire in Bryarmote's great fireplace.

 "Most of them are gone now," said Flannan, reluming

 just then, beaming with the pleasure that only returning

 to his beloved house after a long absence could bring.

 "My own mother, bless her heart, was one of them, you

 know."

 "You never mentioned that!" exclaimed his former

 Apprentice. "There is a lot I don't know about you even

 now, Magister!"

 "Gives you something to think ahead about, if you pass

 your Exam," teased Flarman. "Yes, Mama was an old-

 fashioned General Practitioner. In those days, not many

 specialized as Augurian, Litholt, and I chose to do."

 Chatting of Flarman's mother prompted Douglas to ask

 him, privately, just before they started off again, "About

 Mistress Litholt, Magister?"

 "Yes, a lovely, wonderful woman! Great lady and highly

 accomplished Wizard, too. I'm immeasurably pleased she's

 gotten over her grief at the loss of her poor Cockerel. What

 of her, lad?"

 "I sense a... uh, well... an untold relationship between

 you and Litholt," stammered Douglas.

 "Maybe. Maybe not," said Barman with a low chuckle.

 "I.mustn't tell you my whole history today, must I?"

 182 Don Callander

 And he would say no more, but drew a circle around them

 in the dust of the path beyond the courtyard gate and made

 a lifting, shooing sort of gesture.

 There was a rush of air, a flash of bright light, and a

 snap of displaced air.

 "Here they are!" cried Mym excitedly, and she threw

 herself into Douglas's outstretched arms and kissed him

 eagerly and joyfully. "We were just wondering when you'd

 be dropping in."

 Litholt stood nearby with Storyteller and a much-subdued

 Detritus, all beaming warmly.

 "You've been restored, then!" exclaimed Douglas, rush-

 ing to shake the Chief's hand. "I can't tell you how delighted

 I am it's so!"

 "And I," said the Stone Chief, his eyes still downcast,

 "can't apologize long or hard enough to you for the way I

 mistrusted you and your bride-to-be. I just couldn't believe

 anyone would help us unless I forced them to it. You

 must.. ."

 "... do nothing at all except congratulate you," Douglas

 finished for him- "Come and meet my Master! Hello, Story-

 teller! Litholt Stonebreaker, ma'am, everyone looks just

 great!"

 The Geomancer gave him an auntlike kiss and a broad

 smile when he thanked her for coming to Mym's assis-

 tance.

 "I imagine you'll find occasions to regret not being giants

 of enduring stone," Marbleheart said to the tribesmen and

 their women.

 "Never!" they cried. "We've been stoned far too long for

 regrets!"

 "There are, however, a few problems yet to be ironed

 out," put in the Geomancer after the new arrivals had

 shaken hands with the entire village and patted the lively,

 excited thousand-year-old children on their tousled heads.

 "Let me see," said Marbleheart quickly. "Food, I sup-

 pose. Not much of it here, is there?"

 Geomancer                 183

 "When we were stone," sighed Storyteller, "hunger and

 cold never bothered us. But it's been a thousand years since

 I had my last lunch and the cold of arctic wind is already

 biting my fingers and toes severely, sirs."

 "I can make it cozy as toast here in Stony Gorge,"

 Flarman said. "And I think we can get some vittles sent

 up, at once. Do I sense you don't wish to remain here in

 this interesting Gorge, now that you are Men again?"

 'Too cold! Too isolated!" agreed Detritus, and the vil-

 lages chorused their agreement. "And too barren. Nothing

 but Mistress Mym's beautiful ice flowers grow here, as you

 can see, and they'd make poor eating, I fear."

 With Douglas's help Flarman threw a blanket of clear,

 warm air, imported from Warm Sea, over the whole Gorge—

 somehow excepting the ice-flower garden—and a minute or

 two later they conjured up a great pile of foodstuffs in the

 center of the square, boxes, bales, bushel baskets, bundles,

 and casks all neatly marked as to contents.

 "Now, if you good Stone Ladies remember how to cook,"

 Douglas said, "we can have a feast and be warm and cozy

 while we discuss our next move."

 "I've dreamed of cooking meals again for nine hundred

 years," gasped one of the older women, clapping her hands

 like a child. "I see beef and pork, turkeys and chickens,

 flour and butter and splendid eggs! Eggs' Come, Ladies'

 Let's show our gratitude to our wonderful Geomancer, to

 the patient Mistress Mym, and their Wizard gentlemen by

 preparing a Stone Warrior victory feast!"

 As they went to work, Flarman spoke of professional

 matters with Litholt, while Douglas told Mym of their

 adventures in Choin, the typhoon, and how they'd dis-

 covered a Darkness Outrider in the storm.

 Marbleheart enthusiastically supervised the cooking until

 he was good-naturedly shooed away by the village wives

 for sampling the berry pies, marble cakes, and cookies too

 liberally before dinner.

 "Where shall we go, I wonder," asked Detritus of Mym

 and Douglas. He had apologized again and again for his vile

 Don Callander

 184

 temper, impatience, and unsuitable language. They smiling-

 ly forgave him, again and again.

 "I doubt my people will want me to remain as Chief."

 Detritus said glumly.

 "Why would they change?" wondered Myrn. "You

 brought them successful relief from the spell, didn't you?

 They must be very grateful for that."

 "Well, perhaps you're right, although I did it rather poor-

 ly, I think," said the Chief of Stones.

 "Cross that bridge when you come to it," advised Douglas.

 "For now, they seem quite content to follow your lead."

 "Which brings us back to your question," said Mym. "I

 have an idea."

 'The same one I have in mind?" asked the bridegroom.

 They knew each other very, very well.

 Chapter Seventeen

 <$>

 Master's Examination

 "WELL, I don't know ...," temporized Serenit. "I'd do

 it for you. Master Flarman, and for Douglas, who has been

 my mentor and adviser since I became -.. what I now am.

 But these Stones are neither fanners nor lumberjacks, but

 savage warriors...."

 They had stopped at Serenit's lodge on their way home,

 to offer him the Stones as settlers in New Land.

 "Oh, come now. First Citizen!" exclaimed Mym rather

 impatiently. "A new nation needs a few trained fighters

 handy, just in case."

 "And they'd come to you not just as warriors," Barman

 pointed out. He took a bite of Clangeon's freshly made

 bread, thickly spread with wild raspberry jam. 'They're

 experts in quarrying and stonemasonry, as you might

 guess. And they'll be very hard workers. They'll need

 some polishing, of course. Some sophistication that a trusted

 leader could give them."

 "He means you, Serenit," said Douglas, clapping the

 First Citizen on the back. "Beside, New Land needs hardy

 settlers—tough, resourceful, and experienced in the wilder-

 ness. The Stones are ideal for you!"

 "And we're loyal and rock-solid honest," added Detritus.

 "I personally guarantee it."

 Before the tribesmen had marched out of Stony Gorge,

 they'd unanimously reelected Detritus as their Chief. He

 185

 186 Don Callander

 was beaming with pride and brimming with confidence

 once more.

 "Well. . ." Serenit still hesitated. "Your work will be

 quite arduous. Very little glory in it for warriors."

 "We learned patience well, while under Eternal Ice,"

 insisted the Chief.

 "For example, I need tons and tons of clean pea gravel

 carried from the Face of Eternal Ice to build a breakwater

 at Flarmanport. Ships must have a sheltered place to tie

 up close inshore to take on cargoes of ice and timber.

 Lightering in small boats is slow, dangerous, and very

 expensive."

 "We can build your breakwater before the first of spring

 shipping arrives," Detritus promised. "We already know

 where the very best pea gravel is. We'll tote it in bas-

 kets if necessary! We'll even weave the baskets ourselves.

 And cut great interlocking blocks of gabro for the mole's

 facade."

 "As a trial, then," agreed Serenit. "My older settlers have

 worked for a year just to begin to make this empty, barren

 land ready to bloom. They've put up with disappointments

 and earned frustrations as their wages. I must be sure, you

 understand, that new arrivals pull their weight."

 The Stones' Chief agreed to a probationary period, after

 which the hundred-odd citizens of New Land would vote

 whether or not to accept them as naturalized citizens.

 "A very good solution, I think," said Mym with satis-

 faction.

 "Now, what about our other problems?" asked Litholt.

 "As I mentioned, I have a plan to settle things with

 the Bureaucrats in Choin—enough to allow the sane and

 sensible selection of a new Emperor," promised Flarman.

 'Trust an old Firebreather! When we return to Choin, it will

 take but a day or three to implement the Flowerstalk-Litholt

 plan!"

 "I trust you absolutely, my dear," laughed Litholt. "But

 I was speaking rather of the Master's Examination, not of

 Choin's empty Dragon Throne."

 Geomancer                 187

 "The day after tomorrow is Equinox, isn't it?" Mym

 anxiously asked the Journeyman. "Are you ready?"

 Douglas shook his head and said, "I guess I'm as ready

 as I'll ever be."

 Flarman rose from the table in Serenit's rambling stone-

 and-log lodge, preparing to leave at once for home.

 "I've taught you all I can," he sighed. "It's up to you

 and your brain and your heart to finish the task, foster

 son."

 "Will Augurian come to the High, do you think?" Litholt

 asked Mym. "I haven't seen him in over three and a half

 centuries."

 "He'll be there when we return." Mym assured her. "He

 wonders if three centuries in a desert have changed you

 much."

 "A great deal... for the better, I hope," said the Geo-

 mancer. "How shall we travel this time, Flarman? Feather

 or spells?"

 "Spelling, it must be," said the Pyromancer. "The Feather

 Pin is too slow for the short time we've remaining before

 the Examination must begin."

 They said good-bye to Serenit, Clangeon, and their

 New Landers, and went to take leave of the Stones.

 The tribesfolk were busy building rounded stone huts

 near the bank of the rushing, milk-colored stream, which

 carried the glacial meltwater with its burden of rock

 dust down to Sea. Serenit had proposed to name it

 Brightglade River, and the sunken valley into which it

 flowed Flarman Fjord.

 "I'm flattered, of course," Douglas told Storyteller, "but

 I gather the first settlers already call it New River, and the

 long bay, Frigeon's Fjord. They do agree to Flarmanport,

 however. I suspect their choices will stick, especially as

 they're more appropriate."

 'Time alone will tell," philosophized the tribal historian.

 He proudly exhibited blisters and calluses on his hands

 from his work.

 188 Don Callander

 "Been a mighty, mighty long time since I had a callus!'*

 he cried. "And for them, I thank you. Wizards!"

 "Let's go home, shall we?" asked Mym, eager to be

 off.

 And they hastened to join the others standing in Barman's

 magic circle in the gravel beside New River, ready to take

 them home to Wizards' High.

 The day of the Autumnal Equinox dawned bright, cool,

 and clear. The hint of fall in the air the Choin Magician

 had enjoyed just two weeks before on his morning walks

 had come to full realization.

 The spring that gushed from under the High giggled

 happily down its stone-lined channel past the byre, steam-

 ing like Soup Pot in the chilly air- There was a smell

 of burning leaves carried up from Trunkety on the brisk

 breezes.

 On the cottage's east-facing windowglass fantastic scenes

 had been etched in hoarfrost overnight. Almost as Wong

 studied those on his bedroom windowpanes, they began to

 melt away under the first level rays of the sun striking over

 distant Far Ridges.

 "Most remarkable!" he exclaimed to Party. She had come

 to waken him. "I must meet this Jack Frost elf one of these

 days. He has a wonderful touch in a very difficult medium!

 I wish he would work his designs in me most delicate Choin

 porcelain, too!"

 The little Magician finished dressing in his most magnifi-

 cent gold brocade robe, slipping dainty gold sandals on his

 tiny feet He regarded himself in the mirror for a moment,

 then carefully put his flat, broad-brimmed black Hat of

 Magicianship on his snow-white hair. The last thing he

 did was carefully to comb his thin white beard and arrange

 his long-drooping moustache.

 From below stairs came a musical chiming. Blue Tea-

 kettle was calling everyone to break their fast.

 As he and Party gracefully descended the wide stair to

 the center hall, the Choin Magician sniffed appreciatively

 Geomancer                 189

 the messages carried up to him by the warm air rising from

 the kitchen.

 "Hot coffee!" he said to Bronze Owl, who came along

 just then. "Fragrant breakfast tea, too! And your marvel-

 ous idea of toasted bread! I must introduce toast to my

 people."

 "What do you do with leftover bread, then?" asked Mym,

 who was waiting at the foot of the stair for them.

 "Soak it in chicken broth, perhaps, for lunch. Or sauces of

 soy and chopped peanuts for breakfast," replied the Magi-

 cian, smacking his lips at the memory. "Good morning,

 Master Candidate! I trust you feel alert and well rested?"

 Douglas bowed to him and gave Mym a morning buss

 and hug. He shook his head.

 "I lay awake half the night," he moaned. "I kept thinking

 of things I didn't know."

 "How can you think of something you don't know?"

 asked Flarman reasonably, already seated at table with a

 big. starched linen napkin tied about his neck. He spooned

 steaming oatmeal into his bowl and crooked his forefinger

 for Creamer, who slid nimbly into his outstretched hand.

 "That's what kept me awake," admitted the Journeyman,

 seating Myrn and dropping into the chair next to her. "If I

 knew I didn't know it, then I could not have not known it,

 I said to myself."

 "I understand quite perfectly' But too late for regrets'"

 said Flarman cheerily. "You'll do quite well, my lad! I

 passed my Master's with flying colors, you know."

 "Yes, on the third try," said a new voice, and Lady

 Wizard Litholt. looking particularly beautiful after a good

 night's sleep and a long, hot bath, swept into the kitchen.

 The gentlemen rose to greet her but she waved them back

 into their seats.

 "I'll have a three-egg omelet with onions, cheese, and

 ham," the Lady Wizard told Sugar Caster, who was taking

 orders for breakfast. "Brown bread toast and strawberry pre-

 serves with sweet butter. Oh, and a cup of the delicious tea

 that I smell steeping in yon magnificent stoneware teapot."

 Don Callander

 190

 Douglas toyed with his breakfast steak, his eyes unfo-

 cused and distant.

 "Are you all right?" whispered Mym, concerned, for he

 was usually a wide-awake early-riser and a devotee of

 hearty breakfasts.

 "Just reciting the Gozintus to myself one more time,"

 Douglas replied with a wry smile. "I couldn't be more

 nervous if this were our wedding day!"

 "Oh, yes, you could," she teased. "And will be, 1 guar-

 antee!"

 Marbleheart was banished from the Examination Room,

 Flarman's comfortably cluttered, book-lined study. Famili-

 ars are much too easily tempted to assist their Principals on

 tough questions, Augurian ruled.

 "But a Wizard is never separated from his Familiar! He

 could be argued to be a part of the Wizard^s self," the Sea

 Otter complained.

 "By just being near, the rule makers felt, a Familiar

 might project clues and hints to the Candidate, even without

 intending to," countered Flarman firmly.

 "But I've only been a Familiar for three months!" the

 Otter protested.

 "Out!" growled Augurian sternly. It was his task to

 enforce the rules.

 Flarman's task was to interpret them. He'd written most

 of them in the first place, anyway.

 "Break a leg!" Marbleheart called to Douglas as he

 scampered out.

 "A strange wish for his Candidate," whispered Wong to

 Litholt.

 "I believe it's an old superstition among strolling play-

 ers," the Lady Wizard explained absently, flipping through

 the pages of a thick, old book in front of her. "Some-

 thing to do with reverse charming. Time to begin, gentle-

 men!"

 She would be the Examination timekeeper. The Examin-

 ing Board originally was to consist of Flarman, Augurian,

 Geomancer                 191

 and Wong Tscha San, but the addition of Litholt allowed

 Flarman to act solely as Chairman. As the Candidate's

 Master, he wouldn't participate in the examining, other

 than to rule on disputed points.

 He felt both the better and the worse for it. He knew

 he would be too emotionally involved in the Examina-

 tion of his own Journeyman, which was bad, but he also

 felt he should have a larger part in the actual question-

 ing.

 "This is, after all," Augurian said to him gravely, but

 with an understanding twinkle in his eye, "a test of your

 Mastery as well. You were his primary instructor in our

 Craft."

 "Well, yes, I suppose so," said the Fire Wizard with a

 wistful sigh. "You're absolutely right, of course. What am

 I worried about? The Candidate was the most remarkable

 Apprentice and is the most resourceful Journeyman I've

 ever known or heard about, present company not excepted.

 He can't miss!"

 "We shall begin, then," said Litholt, nodding to Flarman.

 "Candidate is to present himself," announced Flarman

 in a loud voice, rapping on the table with an old wooden

 mallet he'd brought from his Workshop.

 The door opened and Myrn ushered Douglas in. She

 touched his hand for a brief moment, then slipped quiet-

 ly out to take a long walk down Crooked Brook toward

 Trunkety. Staying in the house would be too worrisome.

 She would call on Priceless and Lilac at their house across

 the rickety plank bridge, and perhaps go shopping in the

 town. It was Trunkety Market Day.

 Marbleheart walked with her as far as the bridge, then

 turned off to take a bracing swim, hoping that his cousins

 the River Otters would come along and invite him to lunch

 on freshly caught brook trout.

 The Wizards' High cottage fell absolutely silent. Even

 the usually hilarious washing up of the breakfast dishes was

 accomplished very quietly. If anything made an accidental

 noise. Blue Teakettle hissed sharply, Shhhhh!

 Don Callander

 192

 "Candidate, state your true name, rank, and birthplace."

 intoned Flarman.

 Douglas stood easily at attention and identified himself-

 Bronze Owl scribbled rapidly on the first page of a bound

 book of blank pages, prepared specially for just this pur-

 pose. Black Flame looked in at the door, but padded softly

 away, followed by Pert. Party was nowhere to be seen.

 Overhead in the roof, the Thatchmouse Family settled

 down to being very, very still, so as not to disturb the

 Candidate or seem to be coaching him. Living in the roof

 of Wizards' High for all these years, they'd picked up a

 surprising amount of magical lore. Most of it they used to

 avoid capture by one of Port's or Party's kittens when the

 kits were first learning to hunt.

 The Board Chairman solemnly explained the Rules to the

 Candidate, and invited him to take the straight-backed chair

 facing them across the narrow library table-

 He was allowed a clean slate, a sponge, and a supply of

 white chalk with which to make notes and do calculations,

 if need be, but otherwise he was without notes or books,

 papers, or devices of any kind.

 Douglas was dressed in a traditional Journeyman's white

 shirt under a soft grey linen vest, blue buckram britches

 with silver buckles, and a deep blue Wizard's gown with-

 out the usual embroidered stars, comets, moons, and other

 mystic symbols.

 He doffed a flat, blue velvet cap with a silver tassel

 hanging down the middle of his back. On the breast of his

 shirt was embroidered in gold and red threads the ancient

 Pyromancy oriflamme.

 "Now, Candidate," began Augurian, leaning forward in

 his chair, "please tell us in a hundred words or less why you

 seek to become a Master of the Craft of Wizardry known

 as Pyromancy . .."

 Examination began at ten o 'clock sharp. Owl noted in his

 book with a nourish. It must be completed by 8:46 P.M., the

 moment of the Autumnal Equinox at the latitude and longi-

 tude of Valley in Dukedom. The first question was posed by

 Geomancer                193

 the Master ofAquamancy, Augurian of Waterand. . . .

 The questions at first were not all that hard. Perhaps the

 hardest was the first, asked by the Water Adept: Why did

 he want to be a Master Wizard?

 How forthright should he be?

 Certainly he found the Craft deeply absorbing, highly

 interesting, filled with potential for personal satisfaction. It

 gave him the tools to be useful, to accomplish things for

 himself and for others, too.

 Barman Flowerstalk taught that Wizardry must always

 be practiced for the sake of others. There were the folk

 of Valley and Dukedom, the Sea Creatures who had

 befriended him. The good folk of Flowring Isle. The

 Realm of Faerie ...

 Even Frigeon, once he had been compelled to take back

 his conscience, hidden for years in the Great Grey Pearl at

 the bottom of Sea, eagerly embraced this principle.

 The townsmen of Pfantas and the helpless, ensorceled

 Undead servants of the Witch's Coven. And, of course,

 the Stones, most recently.

 Caspar Marlinspike. Bryarmote. Chief Tet of Highland-

 onn. Crimeye, Tet's adopted son and heir. Oval the Great

 Sea Tortoise. The Waiters of Summer Palace in Old Kay.

 His shipwright father and his lovely mother GIoriana. The

 good fisherfblk of Fairstrand.

 Even sweetly sad, faithful little Jenny Greenteeth, keep-

 ing vigil beside her husband's watery grave in the marshes

 along Bloody Brook.

 But... he had to admit, didn't he? He wanted to become

 full Master Wizard because he just plain enjoyed Wizardry?

 It was fun' It had already brought him fame and even some

 fortune. And a beautiful, talented, loving bride! People

 everywhere recognized his name and respected his skills

 . and powers. He was a friend to the Golden Dragons and

 s- of the Queen of Faerie herself.

 After considering the question for a full minute in this

 way, he answered exactly and completely, just as he had

 ,- formed it in his mind.

 Don Callander

 194

 The Examiners nodded with satisfaction.

 Litholt next asked, "What is the recommended formula

 for a Spell of Invisibility and what are its limitations and

 dangers. Master Candidate?"

 This was familiar ground. Douglas had several times

 practiced Invisibility, His answer was quick and crisply

 professional.

 The Board Members nodded again.

 Wong smiled gently at the Journeyman.

 "A green, a blue, a red, and a brown?" he asked; no

 more.

 "Ah, oh," said Douglas, puzzled. "Um?"

 'Take your time," said Litholt, glancing at the wall clock

 pointedly. "You may defer the question, if you wish, but

 you'll be docked five points, if you do so, even if you

 eventually answer correctly."

 The Journeyman pondered the Magician's cryptic ques-

 tion. Ah! Yes! The colors referred to types of winds that

 can be conjured at will by a Wizard. Very handy thing

 to know.

 Douglas explained in some detail.

 "Excellent!" cried Wong.

 Bronze Owl had no trouble keeping up with the questions

 and answers- The Board's pace was leisurely, although

 Douglas thought the minute hand on the wall clock spun

 much too fast about its ornate dial.

 He explained how FIarman's Cold Boxes worked, in

 detail, including the properties of balsa wood or cork as

 insulators. He added that his researches suggested it would

 be even better to line the cold chamber within the box with

 thick glass.

 "I've found glass to be a much better barrier against both

 cold and heat," he said, warming to his subject. Part of a

 Candidate's problem was to answer not in too much detail.

 The clock was against him.

 Control.

 Concision.

 Care.

 Geomancer                 195

 Blue Teakettle bustled merrily in at one o'clock, riding

 Tea Cart piled high with sandwiches, dill pickles ("Good for

 the concentration and the constitution, too"), hot cocoa or

 coffee, and ginger cookies ('To make the Candidate smart

 as a snap!"), the kind with walnuts and bits of chocolate

 that Douglas especially loved.

 Flarman rapped the table sharply with his mallet and

 declared an hour recess for lunch.

 Owl noted the time and the menu in his record and laid

 down Ostrich Plume Pen.

 "May I ask how I'm doing thus far?" asked the Master

 Candidate, reaching for a second ham-and-cheese sandwich

 on rye bread with mustard. He recalled eating practically

 nothing for breakfast.

 "I guess it would not be an infringement of the Rules

 to say you have scored almost a hundred percent so far,"

 conceded the Water Adept, pouring tea for Litholt and

 Harman. He glanced at Flarman for a ruling.

 "The Rule is not specific about lunchtime conversation,"

 the Pyromancer said around a drumstick of cold fried chick-

 en. "So, I'm inclined to suggest that such questions be

 ignored. Talk about the weather, if you want a safer sub-

 ject."

 "It's going to be a nice afternoon," observed Douglas.

 "Wish I were with Mym at Market."

 "As do we all," grumped Flarman, but he softened his

 words with a grin. "When you've finished that third sand-

 wich, my b——Candidate, we shall resume."

 "We have twelve minutes left, Douglas, before lunchtime

 is officially elapsed," said the official timekeeper, con-

 sulting Wall Clock. "Now, you stop that!" she scolded

 the timepiece. "You'll spoil the Examination, cheating in

 Douglas's favor like that!"

 Case Clock shrugged apologetically and rearranged its

 hands from 1:18 to 1:28 again.

 "I may need those minutes later," Douglas said, shaking

 his finger at Clock. "I'm ready to resume."

 196 Don Caltander

 "The thirteen types of induced ignition?" asked Litholt

 at once.

 Bronze Owl snatched up Pen and dipped it hurriedly in

 Inkwell.

 "And the two most useful uses of each? And how can

 a Wizard proceed to combine which three to intensify all

 the others? With examples from past experience, if you

 can."

 Douglas blew a puff of breath at the thatch overhead and

 began to recite-

 "Woosney!" whispered Mrs. Thatchmouse to her young-

 est and wriggliest child. "What is the matter with you?"

 "I gotta go. Mama!" squeaked the mousling, squirming

 all the more.

 "Then for heaven's sake, go!" said his father. "But be

 quiet as a mouse!"

 "Remember what he says and tell me it all when I get

 back," pleaded Woosney of his next-youngest sister. He

 disappeared down a tunnel in the thatch reeds.

 "Boys!" snipped one of his older sisters.

 "Mind yourself, missy," her father warned. "You'll wish

 that your youngest is as housebroken as Woosney is, one

 day soon enough, mark my words!"

 The mice settled back to listen to Douglas recite, explain,

 expound, suggest, describe, demonstrate, refute, correct,

 edit, elaborate, and elucidate. Most of what he said went

 right over their tiny heads. Much of it was beyond even

 Owl's vast knowledge, although he was pleased that the

 things he had personally taught the young Wizard had been

 well learned and well remembered.

 Flannan listened with his eyes half-closed, nodding from

 time to time.

 Both Litholt and Wong sat erect, hands folded, leaning

 forward to listen carefully to each answer.

 Augurian was erect, also, but relaxed, calm, and counting

 off salient points on his long, slim fingers. Occasionally

 he made scribbled notes on a sheet of foolscap before

 him.

 Geomancer                 197

 Mym wandered aimlessly through busy, boisterous

 Trunkety Market.

 On every hand she was greeted with warm admiration

 and respect by the Trunkety housewives and the Valley

 fannwives. On Market Day the latter were all in town to sell

 their eggs, cheeses, dressed chickens, apple butter, fancy

 breads and meats, butter in carved wooden molds, whole

 and shelled nuts, fudge, divinity, sticky toffee wrapped

 in colored wax papers, rolled soft, rich caramels, peanut

 - and walnut brittles, pecan pralines and sumptuous penu-

 . che, fat fruit pies and artistically sugar-and-butter-frosted

 cakes ... as well as knitted woolen winter wear and sturdy

 wicker baskets in an amazing variety of styles, sizes, and

 purposes.

 At first they all asked how the Examination was prog-

 ' cessing, but when it became evident that the Water Adept

 knew as little about it as they did, the subject changed to

 ' flie Wedding.

 "Lilac has done fantastically good work on your bridal

 ;./ gown. Mistress," exclaimed one. "Dicksey must be making

 « a fortune on silk thread alone!"

 "Nonsense!" cried another. "Good old Dicksey is donat-

 ing all the materials, so good has business been since Dead

 '* Winter and Dry Summer."

 ''\  "I do hope you're wrong about that!" cried Mym. "There

 "' would be no reason in World why the storekeeper should

 give us so much! We intend to pay for every yard and every

 spool!"

 "We'll all be repaid for our trouble ten times over

 just to have you living at the High permanent, my dear

 , Wizardling," insisted the eldest grandmother.

 "Tell us about this new Wizard who came back with

 you," another pleaded. "A Lady Wizard! Who ever heard

 of such—save for you, Mistress Mym, of course."

 She took lunch with several of them at the Oak 'n'

 Bucket, sitting in the Ladies' Parlor beside a cheery fire

 of Sea coal and pine logs. The men in the bar next door

 198 Don Callander

 talked and laughed as they always did, although, as it was

 market day, their language was toned down somewhat, all

 the women knew. They were bragging now about their

 crops, which had been excellent that year, and why it was

 so many travelers were being seen on the Brook Road these

 days, now that the roads were safe again.

 The women mostly talked of their children and grand-

 children.

 "You dint the waiting most well. Mistress Mym," Inn-

 keeper complimented her in kindly fashion as he cleared

 away the luncheon dishes.

 "Not as hard as it would be without so many friends to

 help me through it," replied Mym, graciously and sincerely.

 "I'll have a piece of the crumbly yellow cheese, if I may,

 and a red-cheeked Valley apple, please."

 The Sea Otter swam and floated miles and miles down

 Crooked Brook, looking, but not too hard, for his smaller,

 shyer cousins, enjoying being off by himself with his

 thoughts for a change. The role of Familiar was still new

 to him, but he had to admit it was quite wonderful. Exciting.

 Fulfilling. Adventurous. Well fed.

 And brought a measure of respect and admiration most

 Otters never knew, he realized. Otters were expected to

 be more or less clowns. And. of course, for good rea-

 son!

 He found a place where a tiny joining streamlet bounded

 down a grassy embankment into the Brook, and spent an

 hour sliding down it and plunging into the tea-colored

 water.

 A number of Blue Jays watched his antics and chortled

 with raucous glee every time he hit the water with a satis-

 fying splash.

 But as he shook himself damp, spelled himself dry, and

 turned back toward the High, a drab female Jay hopped

 down to him with a shy request.

 "My littlest one—we calls him Azure—he's not quite

 right," she whispered shyly.

 Geomancer                 199

 "Not right? You mean in the head or in his body, ma'am?"

 asked Marbleheart, instantly sympathetic.

 "No, in his wings'" said the worried young mother. She

 began to weep softly. "He ... he ... won't or can't fly. and

 all his brothers and sisters are long out and about the nest

 already. Some of them fly miles each day!"

 "Well, well, and well!" said the Otter, seriously, but with

 an encouraging smile, "I knew a litter-runt Otter once who

 refused to learn to swim, which is much the same to Otters,

 you see, as flying is to Jays."

 "What did his poor, distracted mother do?" sniffed the

 : Jay lady, sounding not so sure that being an Otter was

 (he same.

 "His father convinced him he could be as good a swim-

 mer as any of his sibs- It seems he felt he couldn't do well in

 competition with his bigger, older sisters. It isn't easy being

 the smallest in the litter—or the clutch, for that matter."

 ,, "Yes, well, I suppose we haven't really encouraged him

 K as much as we should, put that way," admitted the mother.

 .""But his father's worried sick, and so am I."

 "I remember my own mother saying, about this runt Otter

 I spoke of, that he learned to swim eventually because it is

 : in the very nature of Otters to swim, and he couldn't really

 -refuse forever."

 "Oh, so you think . . . ," the Jay mother said, hopefully.

 ;, "I say, if young Azure is still not flying by Hallowed

 Even, you must bring him up to Wizards' High. There

 arc those there under yonder roof who know more than I

 ever will about such things. I recommend you bespeak the

 Water Adept's Apprentice, Mistress Mym. She is particu-

 larly good with young animals, I've noticed."

 The Blue Jay and her more resplendent mate, who had

 been hanging back but listening carefully to all they said,

 thanked Marbleheart profusely and promised to try build-

 ing Azure's self-confidence—and to bring him to Mym, if

 things didn't get better.

 "Fortunate that Jays don't migrate," said the male with a

 200 Don Calfander

 quick shake of his head. "But what you say is so very tme.

 It isn't easy to be the smallest hatchling in the nest."

 By design or accident, the Apprentice and the Familiar

 met on the road up from Trunkety, just after she'd crossed

 Tmnkety Bridge to the south bank.

 "Had a nice day so far?" Marbleheart asked, not knowing

 what else to say.

 "Not especially," admitted the young lady. "I didn't even

 buy anything, and I really wanted some marjoram and some

 of Frenstil's saddle soap. We're all but out of it at home, at

 the High."

 They walked together in silence for a mile, passing

 Augurian's Fountain and then passing under the edge of

 Priceless's orchard before they set foot at last on the plank

 bridge. The sun was below the horizon and the sky was

 afterglowing with wonderfully rich fall colors, too-

 Mym stopped in the middle of the plank bridge to survey

 Wizards' High in the purple twilight.

 "It's still going on," Marbleheart observed. He pointed

 to the glowing windows of Flarman's study.

 "Everything's going to be just fine," Mym reassured

 herself as much as the Otter.

 "Of course it is!" cried Marbleheart.

 He remembered to tell her about the little Blue Jay who

 refused to fly.

 "Oh, the poor little bird! Perhaps I should look his folks

 up. He just needs some Wizardly encouragement, I think."

 "It's too late to go back now," said Marbleheart. "But if

 you want, tomorrow I'll take you to them. They'd come to

 you, but as the young 'un won't fly ..."

 "No, it'll have to wait- We return to Choin tomorrow."

 said Mym.

 They crossed the bridge and as they approached the

 double front doors, they felt and saw the first lacy flakes

 of snow of the coming winter.

 "Oh, I love it when it snows!" Mym sang.

 Geomancer                201

 "Hmph!" snorted the Otter. "I'd have thought you'd had

 enough of it, up there in the Gorge."

 "Never!" she said, trying to catch a flake on her gloved

 hand. The one she caught was surpassingly beautiful. She

 murmured a tiny spell to prevent it from melting.

 "I'll show this one to Douglas," she explained. "I wonder

 bow-much longer they will be."

 Full darkness fell by half past six, thanks to the low-

 ering snow clouds- They saw Blue Teakettle escorting a

 fresh pot of tea and another of hot cocoa into the Wiz-

 ard's study.

 By seven-thirty, when Marbleheart stepped out the kitch-

 en door into the courtyard, two inches of snow had already

 fallen. The temperature was not low, but he could, for the

 first time that year, see his breath.

 "Want to practice blowing rings?" he asked, but there

 Was nobody there to answer. Mym was curled up snugly in

 soft, cozy Easy Chair by the front parlor grate—she could

 just see the head of the stair from there, in case anyone left

 the study and came down the steps with news—reading one

 of her interminable Aquamancy textbooks.

 "Oh, well," sighed Marbleheart. "What's for supper, any-

 way?"

 Douglas came down to the front door for a breath of cold

 air. It had become rather stuffy in the Examining Room

 toward the last, what with Flarman's and Augurian's pipes

 and the many beeswax candles burning- He was drenched

 with perspiration.

 He almost passed the front parlor but Easy Chair waved

 an overstuffed arm to attract his attention. Mym was sound

 asleep in its embrace, her book fallen to the floor.

 The young man went softly to his betrothed, stood look-

 ing at her for a bit, then reached out to touch her cheek.

 "I'm so sorry!" she murmured, hurling herself into his

 arms. "I wanted to be near when you finished."

 202 Don Callander

 "Well, and you are, and most prettily, here by the fire,"

 soothed Douglas. "I want you to know I love you, no matter

 what the outcome of the Examination."

 "I love you, too! So much! What was the outcome?" she

 demanded.

 He settled on the arm of the chair when she slid over

 to make room for him. Easy Chair sighed contentedly for

 them both.

 "We'll know in a couple of minutes," he told her.

 'They're still up there, toting up my score. Come outside

 and let me catch my breath and not think of anything except

 you for a while. It's snowing hard, I see!"

 The snow covered the front stoop to a depth of four

 inches and still fell, slowly and very, very softly. There

 was no wind.

 Bronze Owl found them standing very close together,

 blowing their steamy breath into rings that would have

 made Bryarmote very proud. Owl clanged himself onto his

 nail, attracting their attention.

 "You are now ... a Master Pyromancer!" the metal bird

 shouted. "Congratulations! One of the highest scores ever

 achieved by a Journeyman, Augurian claims- Personally, I

 never doubted the issue."

 "Well, neither did I!" cried Mym, hugging Douglas

 anew.

 "/ did," admitted the brand-new Master Pyromancer, hea-

 ving a tremendous sigh of relief. "Whew! Let's go inside

 before we freeze to the ground!"

 Marbleheart was on the stairs, jumping up and down

 from step to step in highly pleased excitement. Barman

 and Litholt, followed by Augurian and Wong more slowly,

 came down, beaming broadly at everyone.

 For the center hall was suddenly crowded wall to wall

 with the whole Wizards' High household, from Blue Tea-

 kettle, blowing hot, pink steam to the ceiling, to Sugar

 Caster, shaking with excitement, and all the Plates, Spoons,

 Knives, Forks, Tongs, Griddles, Grills. Slicers, Mashers—

 well, it was a madhouse.

 Geomancer                203

 "He made it with twenty minutes to spare," announced

 Lilholt over the din. "You could have taken the twelve more

 minutes for lunch. Wizard Douglas Brightglade!"

 "There were no infringements or infractions," claimed

 the Water Adept, heartily. "Nothing to argue about at alt."

 "My task was the easiest," said Flarman, coming down

 to embrace his former Apprentice and Journeyman. "But

 then, 1 knew all the answers."

 "Because you wrote the questions," cried Marbleheart.

 Everyone roared again, this time with laughter.

 Chapter Eighteen

 ^

 Unfinished Business

 THERE were several legal and logical candidates for

 Emperor, including several completely useless Princes of

 the Imperial Family, each of whom had long since gathered

 his own force of armed bullies and spies.

 None of these logical candidates was ever considered

 seriously by the various Ministers of the Imperium, includ-

 ing the Ministers of Finance. Treasury and War, or even by

 the Minister of the Imperial Household, perhaps the most

 capable of all the hereditary Ministers of State by virtue of

 his closeness to the dead Emperor.

 These gentlemen, instead, each sought a different, more

 pliable puppet they could control, someone with absolutely

 no power base, who would depend on his sponsoring Min-

 ister for survival during and after the coronation—a nice,

 quiet, dunderheaded fool with an easily inflated sense of

 self-importance, preferably but not necessarily with some

 slight claim to the Dragon Throne.

 Bee-Wing, the Choin capital, was abuzz with ambition

 and uncertainty, filled from outer wall to inner palace with

 furtive Bureaucrats, their private soldiers and sly secret

 agents.

 Each Minister huddled in his luxurious palace in the

 fashionable precincts of the beautiful, sprawling city, con-

 ferring, gathering information, stealing adherents from each

 other, and waiting for a chance to strike.

 205

 Don Callander

 206

 The main roads in a large part of the central province

 had suffered greatly from the floods following the torrential

 typhoon rains. Bridges had been swept away and whole

 sections of Imperial Highways were still underwater. The

 feverish jockeying for influence and power had slid to a halt

 until the typhoon passed. Communications were impossible;

 armed men were unable to move. Assassins and spys were

 hampered by the disappearance of escape routes.

 The aggressive Minister of Finance had been getting the

 upper hand before the storm, but he'd fled his fortified

 stronghold on the coast and his red-lacquered private troops

 were scattered across the soggy littoral. Some of them had

 been caught and drowned in flash floods. The remainder

 were isolated by still-raging rivers and smashed bridges

 between them and their employer in the capital.

 Finance talked to Agriculture. Agriculture sent for Min-

 ing. Mining brought powerful Fisheries to a meeting at

 Roads* villa just within the walls of the city. A day-long

 debate among them settled nothing but bought Finance

 some time.

 Meanwhile Finance opened his private coffers to hire a

 free-lance regiment from beyond the eastern Imperial bor-

 der, and sent his most trusted ally, the Minister of Trade,

 to Choin Harbor in a river barge to meet and move them

 as quickly as possible to Bee-Wing.

 Trade thus found himself at the head of his own private

 army.

 He began to move the mercenary troopers toward Bee-

 Wing as soon as the rivers returned to their normal beds.

 He was sorely tempted by the realization that he was now

 a force to be reckoned with himself.

 From his bunker under a bank of oleander north of

 Imperial House, a self-styled Prince named Too Wang Sung

 announced that he was the most direct heir to me Dragon

 Throne. He planned to move his ragtag army of woodcut-

 ters and paper-millers into Imperial House the following

 morning.

 Geomancer                207

 It appeared a desperate outside bid for power—except

 that Too had gathered nearly ten thousand discontented,

 out-of-work mil) workers, farmers, and woodsmen armed

 with double-bitted axes, hay knives, chain flails and wick-

 ed pruning hooks—and five ancient ballistae they had

 unearthed somewhere—to back his move.

 He'd found them in the poorest of the provinces, enticed

 them with promises of unrestricted looting in revenge for

 real and imagined wrongs. As they faced certain starvation

 if they stayed at home, the countrymen flocked to Too's

 banner.

 They were by far the best-motivated if worst-organized

 army in the capital. They also, purely by accident, stood

 between Trade's approaching mercenary troops and the

 capital.

 Having made his announcement. Too settled back under

 his oleander hedge, smoked his pipe, smiled enigmatically

 in answer to all questions, and waited for allies to present

 themselves.

 Within an hour delegations from several minor Imperial

 functionaries promised their departmental treasuries to sup-

 port Too's Peasant Army. The Minister of Police, relative-

 ly powerless due to the practice of stronger Ministers of

 maintaining private police and military units, arrived just

 at dusk, bringing with him several hundred police spies and

 a shorthanded company of ceremonial Mounted Imperial

 Bodyguards whose duty was largely crowd control at rare

 public Imperial functions.

 The Pretender and the Minister of Police met by lantern

 light among the oleanders and struck a bargain. Police was

 to have overall military command of the peasant rabble. His

 new command would surround Imperial House, flood its

 network of dry moats, and stand off any attempt to interfere

 with Too's occupation of the palace long enough to form a

 revolutionary government.

 Police sealed his bargain with Too by striking his fore-

 head on the ground before him three times—the traditional

 submission to an Emperor—and as soon as he could get

 208 Don Callander

 away on pretext of preparing for the morrow, sent a mes-

 sage to the Minister of Finance, offering to betray the

 Pretender as he approached Imperial House, in exchange

 for the highest police post in the new Imperium, when

 Finance had selected the new Emperor.

 Privately, Police thought he himself would be the ideal

 candidate for the Dragon Throne. He sent his police spies

 out to put the suggestion in important ears about the town.

 Finance, when he received the offer from Police, almost

 choked himself laughing. He sent back word that he wanted

 time to think about it.

 "No time to think'." shouted Police when he heard the

 reply. 'Time only to act. Finance will regret his decision

 not to decide."

 This situation met Flarman, Douglas, Mym, Litholt,

 Marbleheart, and Wong Tscha San the morning they

 returned to Choin.

 "How can we contact Foggery and Bryarmote?" won-

 dered Flarman.

 They had chosen Wong*s own house near Choin Harbor

 as their starting point. Wong was delighted to extend them

 hospitality, although his low, pleasant house had been badly

 damaged by me typhoon and by vindictive Constables of

 the murdered Imperial Governor of Harbor. They'd torn

 everything to pieces searching for mystic secrets left behind

 by the Magician when he'd escaped to Caspar Martin's ship

 earlier that year. It seemed much longer ago than that, as

 Mym said to Douglas.

 "I'll summon an old retainer of Captain Foggery's,"

 Wong decided. "He has a farm a half day's journey to

 the west. He'll certainly know where his master is."

 He asked one of his neighbors—all of his own servants

 had long since fled—to fetch Foggery's retired gardener

 and, meanwhile, he, Douglas, and Mym, helped by the

 Otter, restored some order to the Magician's house.

 Flarman and Litholt excused themselves, went outside,

 and stood facing southwest for an hour, seemingly con-

 Geomancer                 209

 juring a slow but hot wind that brought more than a hint

 of Serecomba, drying the deeply rutted roads and flooded

 fields left by the awesome typhoon.

 Augurian went in the other direction to a delightful lit-

 tle lake surrounded by weeping willows and inhabited by

 graceful blue herons with bright orange beaks and legs.

 "He's gathering an overall picture of the situation,"

 guessed Mym, wielding a puff of damp breeze like a

 broom to sweep debris from the floor of Wong's parlor.

 Douglas was resetting paper panes in the sliding windows

 that opened on Wong's badly neglected garden.

 "I think Flarman and Litholt are enlisting an ally," he

 said.

 "Do you know their intent?" asked his fiancee. "If it were

 my own Magister, I'd expect him to conjure up a tidal wave

 or reroute a few rivers. But I'm not sure what that pair

 would do."

 "I've a good idea—with which I'll let them surprise

 everybody," grinned Douglas. "There, those windows will

 keep out the chill night air, or as chill as it gets here. What

 shall I do next, do you think? You're the experienced home-

 maker here."

 "Fill the roof reservoir with fresh water, if you can

 handle an Aquamancer's task," teased Mym. "No, let me

 do it. That table needs a new leg. The wicked Constables

 expected Master Wong to hide his secrets in table legs and

 down-filled cushions, it seems. Woof? It's good to be rid of

 all those feathers."

 They had arrived in early evening, and by noon the

 following day the house was fairly well refurbished and

 ready for occupancy once again.

 Wong stood in the middle of his sitting room and spun

 slowly on his heel, taking it all in, tears in his aged grey

 eyes.

 "What would a man do without good friends?" he won-

 dered aloud.

 Litholt bowed deeply and respectfully to their host and

 sad, "It is a privilege to serve a good friend. It will take

 210 Don Callander

 us a while to set your perennials and peach trees to rights,

 I'm afraid. Those wicked, thoughtless men were certainly

 destructive!"

 "It's a result of serving a master like our late Governor,"

 sighed the Magician. "My people are not usually destructive

 or violent. Only fear could drive men to such vandalism."

 "How about some lunch?" demanded the Otter, who

 had been exploring the house, the grounds, and the

 neighborhood. Housework was not his forte, he'd decided.

 Dust balls gave him fits of sneezing.

 "I'll take care of it," said the Water Adept's Apprentice.

 She began the spells that would import a hearty hot lunch

 from distant Wizards' High. Lunch was soon laid out on

 the repaired table.

 "First order of business," declared FIarman. "Find out

 what the political and military situations are before we go

 any further."

 "We can rely on Foggery to supply us with that infor-

 mation," observed Wong.

 A very old, gnarled Choinman, in rusty brown robes and

 wearing straw sandals and a broad-brimmed straw hat, rang

 the bell at the front gate.

 "Here's Lee'" Wong interrupted himself, and Douglas

 hastened to admit the old man, who grinned happily at the

 Magician and bowed rapidly to each in the company as he

 was introduced.

 "I am Lee Liung Lee," he said several times. "Until I

 became too decrepit to hoe and plant, prune and graft, I

 was honored, sirs and ladies, to care for the garden of the

 revered Seacaptain Foggery."

 "If Captain Foggery's beautiful garden is your handi-

 work," said Litholt, making the newcomer comfortable at

 the table, "you do splendid work. Master Lee. Such grace

 and poetry!"

 "You must teach me the names of the flowers and the

 trees of Choin. So many of them are unknown to us across

 Sea," added Mym.

 Geomancer                211

 The retired gardener beamed ecstatically and offered to

 begin teaching botany and horticulture to the Water Adept

 right then and there.

 "First," Augurian reminded them, "we must attend to the

 sad business at hand. A garden needs a dedicated gardener,

 and an Empire needs a good Emperor, do you not agree?"

 "No doubt at all about it!" cried Lee. "How may I serve

 you in that cause. Masters? Lee Liung Lee is at your ser-

 vice!"

 "You can put us in touch with your former Master,

 Captain Foggery," said FIarman.

 "Of course! By last word—it came yesterday evening

 by messenger—he is in a village in the hills above Bee-

 Wing."

 "What said he then?" asked Wong eagerly.

 "Well, sirs and ladies, it made mention of his present

 location in case you came, not a detailed account of what

 he did. I understand from other sources that he gathers

 information and organizes his farmers' granges and arti-

 sans' guilds, and contacts trustworthy noblemen who can

 be relied upon to assist us. I would also suspect they're busy

 trying to discover the good gardener we spoke about,"

 "Perhaps it's best if we go to him, then, rather than ask

 him to come here," suggested Augurian to FIarman.

 "I intend to go to him," said the older Pyromancer. "It's

 important to Litholt's plan that we be close to Bee-Wing,

 once Foggery's people agree on their candidate."

 "They're such a diverse group! I fear they'll never agree

 on a single candidate, sirs. except through force of arms,"

 Lee sighed.

 "We'll see about that," was all FIarman would say, and

 he suggested that they depart at once for Foggery's head-

 quarters.

 "We'll all go with you," said Mym. "We can each con-

 tribute at least some common sense to the outcome."

 "A commodity all too scarce in rebellious times,"

 observed Wong. "I dislike leaving my beloved home so

 soon again, but it's necessary, so I must be content."

 212 Don Callander

 "What is it Flarman plans to do, I wonder?" Mym asked

 Douglas again as they prepared to leave.

 "I'm not entirely sure, and even if I were, I would rather

 have him tell about it," Douglas said most seriously.

 "Oh!" she said. "I can't wait!"

 "Nor can I, but we must. Tomorrow will probably bring

 it all into the open."

 'Tomorrow," she murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.

 They found the retired Seacaptain and the Dwarf Prince

 in a large, airy workshop in the middle of a small village

 set just under the brow of a hill overlooking the lush,

 landscaped splendor of the Imperial Capital.

 Foggery sat surrounded by large, flat tables covered with

 tall stacks of blank paper and amid various mysterious pieces

 of ink-blackened machinery. Beyond they saw Bryarmote,

 spattered with greasy ink, working furiously on one of the

 machines with a long hand-lever and a confusing welter of

 rollers, pivots, plates, pedals, cranks, and gears.

 "This is the Imperial Print Shop," Foggery explained

 after he greeted them. "It was damaged by a mob sent by

 the Minister of Finance a few days before the typhoon, but

 not destroyed. Bryarmote hopes to get it up and running

 shortly. Very useful."

 "Not many knew it even existed," explained Bryarmote.

 "The Bureaucrats printed paper money and Imperial edicts

 here and thereby controlled the economy and all official

 news from the Throne."

 "A print shop!" exclaimed Douglas- "I've never been in

 one before."

 "How does one print money?" wondered Marbleheart,

 who was just getting used to the notion of paying for

 materials and services with metal coins. "I thought money

 had to be silver or copper or gold and things like that."

 "I'll explain it to you later. Sea Otter," said Litholt. "If

 done properly, it is a convenience greater than carrying

 heavy metal coins, of course."

 "Thornwood has spoken of introducing the practice to

 Geomancer                 213

 •»

 •e

 • •i

 *t

 l k

 Dukedom," observed Flarman. "It was used long ago in

 Old Kingdom, until King Grummist got greedy and printed

 far too much and its value fell to almost nothing."

 "Sounds complicated to me," sniffed Marbleheart. "Well,

 I leam something new almost every hour of the day."

 "And we are here to learn the political and military

 situation." reminded Augurian, getting back to business.

 "I'll answer all your questions that I can, then," said the

 Seacaptain, seating them all at one of the tables.

 He described the confusion of cross purposes that had

 been wracking the country since even before the typhoon.

 Minister against Minister against demagogue against parties

 and factions.

 "It all appears to be on the verge of exploding, I fear,"

 he said. "Given a tithe of a chance, by tomorrow the conflict

 may shake out as between the two major factions—that of

 the Minister of Finance and Too's Peasant Army. Everyone

 else will be forced to take sides."

 'Tell us of them," suggested Flarman.

 "One is led by the very ambitious and ruthless Minister

 of Finance. You remember, he sent the soldiers to attack

 my house on the coast? He's managed to draw to himself a

 majority of the important Bureaucrats, including most of the

 top Ministers. At least on paper. What strength he actually

 has, no one can guess—least of all old Finance himself.

 "He faces this unknown Too Wang Sung and his so-

 called Peasant Army. Do you know this Too, Magician?"

 "I never heard of him," replied Wong, shaking his head.

 "Yet he has gathered an army?"

 "An army of ten thousand hungry rebels, mostly from

 Doonchong. which has been sorely depressed for years, the

 scene of unrest and violence, ever since the Bureaucracy

 ordered a stop to papennaking."

 He gestured to the piles of paper on the counters around

 him.

 "They announced that, as no more books needed to be

 published, no more paper was required," Wong remem-

 bered. "Doonchong is a most sore spot, I know. The poor

 214 Don Callander

 woodsmen and paper-millers were cut off without a trade

 or craft, almost overnight, when they were forbidden to cut

 trees."

 "Right, Magician! Well, these men have flocked to Too

 Wang Sung, who'd been a rascally itinerant gambler, as far

 as I can find out. He purchased a minor position as Inspector

 of Forests from the Minister of Manufacture with his win-     , 'j

 nings, they tell me, and milked it for all it was worth."         ^

 "How does he come to lead an army, then?" asked     ^

 Marbleheart before anyone else could ask.                    ||

 "When the Bureaucrats decided to cease papermaking      ^

 and woodcutting. Too took advantage of the unrest—it took      ^

 no great vision—and began making speeches in the idle      ^

 logging and mill towns of Doonchong. He claimed he was      |

 related to the late Emperor's fourteenth son. No one in the      t

 Bureaucracy bothered to dispute his claim so it's probably      1

 true, as far as that goes. It became a common belief among     , ^

 his followers. Then it was too late to dispute his claims.         J^

 "When it became obvious that the Bureaucrats would     if

 start a civil war, contending among themselves to appoint

 the next Emperor, Too told his followers that if they would

 set him on the Dragon Throne, he would pension them all,

 resume logging and papermaking—and in the meantime

 provide plenty of loot, rape, revenge, and bloodshed. It

 proved an irresistible combination. Thousands flocked to

 follow him."

 "And now?" asked Augurian.

 "Now his rabble is armed and camped on the northern

 edge of the city, just within the walls. Too has announced he

 will march on Imperial House tomorrow. Once in the pal-

 ace, he will proclaim himself Emperor and form a new gov-

 ernment- I think he reasons the people of the Empire will

 gladly accept him rather than submit to the confusion and

 bloodshed of the Bureaucrats and Princes. He must think

 he has men enough to withstand attacks from the Minister

 of Finance and his allies. He may very well pull it off."

 "Is that your estimate of the outcome?" asked Mym.

 "It's a toss-up!" exclaimed Foggery, waving his hands

 Geomancer                 215

 wildly. "Too has a large number of men willing to risk death

 in his cause, but they are ill organized and ill equipped, even

 if you count the few professionals the Minister of Police has

 provided.

 "On the other hand, Finance has hired highly trained and

 well-armed mercenary soldiers, professionally led, but they

 are few. His officers are said to be bidding against each

 other for power, prestige, and higher pay."

 "Seems to me history will favor the trained, disciplined

 force," put in Douglas.

 "Except that Finance's mercenaries were until last even-

 ing isolated from the capital by the aftereffects of the

 storm," explained the Seacaptain, "and are just now moving

 this way."

 "Finance took a terrible risk hiring foreign mercenaries,"

 declared Wong.

 "Yes," agreed Foggery, "Finance's own officers are on

 the verge of mutiny! They all want to be the one in com-

 mand, it seems."

 "Well, then, what will happen?" demanded the Otter.

 "What we've said all along," Foggery replied, suddenly

 quite angry. "Chaos! Bloodshed! Anarchy! Looting and rap-

 ine! Disruption of food supplies, hence widespread hardship

 and starvation far beyond the battlefield. You can write your

 own log on this, can't you, Sea Otter?"

 "I've read of such times in World history," Marbleheart

 said, shaking his head. "Such things never happen among us

 beasts. I guess that's what keeps us from being civilized."

 They went out to the hilltop, which provided a splendid

 view of the whole capital, with its sparkling, pagoda-towered

 palaces, shining lakes and wide canals, public buildings with

 manicured lawns, gardens and groves.

 In between stood the neatly aligned houses of merchants,

 lesser Imperial servants, and minor court officials.

 Around it all looped a fifty-foot-wide boulevard lined

 with graceful, ancient weeping willows. To this came roads

 from all points of the compass.

 Every half-mile along this road stood a tall, round tower

 216 Don Caliander

 looking out over a countryside cleared of trees and brush for

 at least a mile beyond the boulevard. No huts or farmhouses

 were allowed to stand here, nor was anyone allowed to plant

 crops or trees.

 In normal times the lawns were kept close-cropped by

 flocks of black sheep that Wong explained belonged to the

 Emperor himself. This day, no sheep were in sight.

 "Probably herded in by the country folk against food

 shortages," guessed Marbleheart gruffly. "Well, can we

 blame them?"

 A dusty messenger arrived on foot, laboring up the steep

 hill from the capital. He thrust a sheaf of papers into the

 Seacaptain's hand, saluted, and fell panting on the grassy

 verge without a word.

 "You've managed quite well, getting information and

 setting up your organizations," Augurian complimented

 Foggery. "What news?"

 Foggery read quickly through the dispatches, nodded his

 head, and gave them a brief summary.

 "Too is on the move. He'll be at the palace before

 dawn tomorrow, unless he's stopped by Finance's mer-

 cenary force. Too's people are singing and marching and

 looting private houses in the north suburbs. Too, who is

 calling himself Prince Too now, has been joined by the

 Imperial Police, as we suspected. Too rides surrounded by

 these mounted policemen! That sounds foolish to me. He

 shouldn't trust the Minister of Police."

 Other messages were also fraught with perils.

 "Finance's mercenary troopers under the Minister of

 Trade hasten to cut off Too's Peasant Army from Imperial

 House. They may try to drive the rabble away and install

 Finance, or some unknown candidate of his picking, in the

 palace, although they are vastly outnumbered.

 "Finance's own soldiers are moving swiftly toward the

 capital after crossing the largest of the swollen rivers by

 an ingenious bridge of boats. Whether they'll attack the

 mercenaries or help them beat off Too's army, no one will

 hazard a guess."

 Geomancer                 217

 "Chaos!" exclaimed Augunan. He turned to Flannan.

 "It would seem time for your plan to be put in motion,

 Firemaster, if we are to save many lives!"

 Flannan shook his head.

 "Before we make our move, we need one thing to be

 decided or it will all be in vam. Who will your people

 choose, Foggery, to be your next Emperor? Once that's

 agreed, it'll be time to spring Litholt's surprise."

 "You ask a tremendously difficult thing," warned Fog-

 gery.

 "But we must and can come up with a suitable Candi-

 date," insisted the Magician. "Come! Let us again urge our

 leaders to agree for once."

 "Can they do it in time?" wondered Mym, almost to

 herself.

 "They must," Flannan insisted.

 Augurian agreed. "We could dictate their choice—pro-

 claim Wong himself the new Emperor."

 "He'd be popular," said Marbleheart approvingly.

 "But magic and politics never mix," Douglas said quite

 firmly. "It's proven historical fact, dear friends. The

 Choinese must decide for themselves who will rule them.

 After that—well, after that maybe we can give him a fair

 chance to succeed."

 The Combined Council of the Grange, the Workingmen's

 Association, the Artisans' Guild, and the Patriotic Society

 of Choin met with Wong and Foggery at dusk on the

 reverse slope of the hill so as not to be seen too easily

 from the city.

 Armed patrols from various Bureaucrats' strongholds

 tried to penetrate the thick forest clothing the lower slopes

 of the hill, but were turned away time and again—not by

 force of arms, but by maze confusions sewn by the four

 Wizards. Marbleheart, a slightly darker shadow in the night,

 acted as their eyes and ears.

 The soldiers thrashed about, swearing in frustration and

 tangling time and again in wild grapevines, thickets of briar,

 218 Don Callancter

 and deadfalls that always seemed to block their way.

 Mym attended the Geomancer, listening to her mazing

 spells and learning something of her craft. At moonrise

 they stopped to rest under a spreading chestnut. Marbleheart

 came gallumping up the hill to report nothing moving in

 the woods below. The soldiers had given up and returned

 to their masters.

 "I'm getting sleepy," said the Flowring lass, yawning

 mightily. "Will we watch all night?"

 Flarman's voice came from nearby.

 "I've got some coffee brewing here. if you want some.

 Augurian has gone around to the other side to see if he can

 get some sort of progress report from the politicians."

 Litholt and Mym found the two Pyromancers hunched

 over a tiny flame screened by thick holly bushes. Over it

 bubbled a scarred and scorched blue-spackled coffeepot, a

 distant kin of Blue Teakettle. The delicious aroma of fresh

 coffee wafted to them in the cool wind off the heights.

 "Never travel without a Pyromancer," advised Mym,

 accepting a cup and sipping it appreciatively.

 "I'll agree to that," said Flarman. "Here comes someone.

 It'd better be the Water Adept or we're in deep trouble."

 "It's my Master," Mym assured him, and a moment later

 the tall Aquamancer sat down on the soft grass next to her

 before the fire,

 "Well, the Otter says the last of the Bureaucrat troops,

 including their scouts, have given up and gone back to their

 beds," Flarman said in greeting.

 "Coffee? Wonderful! If I may?" said Augurian. "Delight-

 ful!"

 "Anything from over the hill?" Flarman asked as he

 poured.

 "Well, yes and no. They've spent hours arguing with

 Wong Tscha San that he should accept the Dragon Throne.

 They trust him as no other, they say."

 "And Wong refused," guessed Marbleheart. He, too,

 accepted a cup of Wizardly coffee, although he felt wide

 awake.

 Geomancer                219

 "Yes, of course! No White Wizard would let himself be

 placed on a throne," said Augurian.

 "Aren't you ruler of Waterand, though?" asked the Otter

 innocently.

 "Of course not!" snorted the Water Adept. "The Water-

 anders rule themselves through an elected all-island Coun-

 cil. They have the courtesy to ask me to attend their meet-

 ings, but I have no vote."

 "And if they make a wrong move, or pass a bad law?"

 asked Marbleheart. "Do you veto their action?"

 "No," said Augurian. "I feel obliged to point out pitfalls,

 if any. If they still insist, I give way as gracefully as

 possible."

 "I don't recall there ever being a bad law passed, do you,

 Magister?" asked Mym.

 "Well, from time to time they get a wild idea. I let them

 have their way. People sometimes learn best by making

 mistakes."

 The midnight passed quite pleasantly, despite the chill

 wind soughing among the trees. From time to time the

 Otter slipped away to scout the lower slopes, but he found

 no further expeditions coming to pester them.

 "They weren't really trying very hard to find out what

 was going on up here," he decided when he last returned.

 "The Bureaucrats find it hard to think of commoners as

 any sort of threat, I guess," said Litholt. "They are too

 caught up in their own ambitions and plots."

 At length they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and

 tried to catch some sleep.

 The moon dropped below the hitltop and plunged the

 east-facing slopes into velvety blackness. The wind died

 with the moon. With his sharp ears Marbleheart heard, from

 a great distance across the city, shouts and screams, drums

 pounding and shrill laughter, sometimes cries of anger.

 He shook Douglas gently by the shoulder.

 "I mink I'll slide down into town. See what's going

 on."

 220 Don Callander

 "Be careful, Familiar," said the young Master Wizard

 sleepily.

 "I'll find you when I get back," the Otter assured him,

 and in a moment he was gone.

 Chapter Nineteen

 <$>

 Battle on Fair Ground

 A flock of large, white Gulls circled the town on the hill.

 Their good-humored badinage awoke the Earth Wizard just

 as dawn broke in the east.

 Litholt climbed the hill to the edge of the town, looking

 for Wong Tscha San and Captain Foggery.

 "Wake up, lazy Wizards'" called the Geomancer when

 she returned to the fire. "What! Drunk all the coffee and

 left none for poor, overworked Stonebreaker?"

 Mym rolled from her blanket with a cheery greeting and

 set about repairing her tossled hair. Douglas reached for the

 coffeepot to refill it for the early-rising Earth Wizard.

 Flannan waved the Lady Geomancer to a seat on the soft

 grass beside him.

 "Are those your Gull friends?" Litholt asked him.

 "I sent for them, yes. They'll give us some useful aerial

 reconnaissance," Barman yawned- "Sugar?"

 "One lump, please," she replied. "Can you trust Gulls?"

 "Never failed me yet! Why? Do you have reason to

 mistrust the breed?"

 "Oh, no. In fact I know very little of them. I mistrust

 Crows..."

 "So do I," agreed the Pyromancer.

 "... and these birds seem alike in size and shape, if not

 color."

 "Gulls," said Mym, pulling a platter heaped with hot

 caramel buns from empty air and passing it around to the

 221

 222 Don Callander

 others, "are among the noblest of birds. They're dedicated

 guardians of Sea, harbingers of storms, rescuers of ship-

 wrecked sailors. I could go on and on."

 "Yes, yes," complained Augurian, "but on the other hand,

 they've never learned when to keep silent, as you can hear."

 "They'll keep watch for us from above and tell us of

 battle movements and such," declared Flarman, nodding

 toward the city. "For maximum effect, Litholt and I need

 to time our next and final brilliant gambit just so. Too

 soon, and it'll be less than completely effective. Too late,

 and many innocent—and a lot of not-so-innocent—people

 may be harmed or slain."

 'That's enough of a reason for me," said Litholt- "I

 withdraw my objection to Gulls forthwith."

 "But you haven't told us yet what decision they reached

 up there," Douglas said to her. "How did it go?"

 "Here's Wong," she answered, pointing to the tiny Magi-

 cian as he moved carefully through the underbrush to their

 fire. "He can tell you better than I."

 Wong stopped before them, declined to sit down, accept-

 ed a cup of coffee, and reported the night's momentous

 decision.

 "We agreed—at long last, just before false dawn—to

 raise a certain bright, personable, well-liked young physi-

 cian named Phong Foo Chong to the Dragon Throne," he

 told them.

 The assembled Wizards, Dwarf, and Otter applauded

 sincerely.

 "Phong's of good family, yet not ennobled," Wong went

 on, bowing to their praise. "Foggery and I recommended

 him highly. He's not tainted by political or regional biases.

 Given a fair chance, he'll think clearly, act wisely, and

 rule compassionately. He now enjoys the support of all

 Foggery's diverse groups—farmers and professional men,

 merchants and artisans, the backbone of an Empire."

 "Long live Emperor what's-his-name!" cried Marble-

 heart, who'd just rejoined the group. "Got any more of

 those luscious sticky buns, Mym, my sweet love?"

 Geomancer                 223

 "If there aren't enough for your dainty appetite," said the

 Apprentice fondly. "I'll send to the High for more."

 "When you catch your breath," Douglas said to the Otter,

 "tell us what's happening down below."

 "Catch my breath! Me? Catch my ... I ran at top speed

 up the hill just now, faster'n Black Flame could ever go,

 and I'm not even sweating! Catch my breath!"

 "Well, then, when you've filled your tummy," amended

 the young Wizard, "tell us your news."

 'That's more respectful-like, anyway," snorted the Otter,

 pretending to choke on his second sweet roll. After a gen-

 erous gulp of coffee, he began.

 'Too's Peasant Army, I heard, came up against the Min-

 ister of Finance's paid foreigners just at midnight. On the

 north side of the palace complex. There was a great deal

 of shouting and swearing and some arrows were shot, but

 no great damage done."

 "Were you there?" asked Mym, concern for the Otter in

 her voice.

 "Oh, me? I was safely hidden under the Minister of

 Finance's command post. Bee-Wing has a remarkably

 elaborate sewer and storm drain system, fortunately. Perfect

 for moving about unseen and unheard."

 He swallowed a bite of his third bun before he continued.

 "Runners kept coming in from the fight and I just lis-

 tened. They were breathless, I can tell you, sirrah! Anyway,

 the Peasants now hold fast in the fields just to the north

 of Imperial House—the Emperor's residence, that is. The

 Finance Minister ranted and raved for an hour but his

 vaunted Mercenaries refused to attack again until first light

 or later, since their ambush failed to send the Peasants

 running for home. The Peasants outnumber 'em something

 like ten to one."

 "Wise of them to wait for light, I would imagine," said

 Augurian, "from what I hear of this Too person and his

 followers."

 Marbleheart nodded and went on, 'The idea now is to

 bring up Finance's personal Guards—who've just now

 224 Don Callander

 entered the city from the east—and combine them with

 the mercenaries to fight on an open stretch of level ground

 mostly used for fairs and jousts and such- From what I

 hear, it should be getting started just about now. Can't you

 hear it?"

 Faintly from the valley rose sounds of drums and trum-

 pets, the clanging of brass gongs. And the shouting of a

 multitude in extreme excitement.

 'Time we got our own show on the road," grunted

 Barman, jumping quickly to his feet and assisting Litholt

 to rise. "Douglas, call our friend Cerfew the Great White

 Gull, and get his people started observing. 1*11 be right along

 to hear their first reports."

 With the arrival of Finance's own soldiers, the odds

 against the Mercenaries were reduced by an encouraging

 amount. With the rising of the sun, the soldiers were able

 to see that the Peasants were a disorganized rabble, badly

 led and impossibly armed. Most of them carried only their

 heavy, double-headed felling axes. The small company of

 mounted policemen around "Prince" Too made a brave

 splash of color but posed no great threat to anyone—except

 perhaps to the Prince himself.

 The Minister of Finance, accompanied by his allies,

 the ministers of Agriculture, Mining, Transportation, and

 Imperial Household, most of whom contributed moral sup-

 port but very little military strength to the joint cause,

 climbed to the pagoda roof of Imperial House to watch

 the fighting.

 A constant stream of couriers dashed importantly back

 and forth from the palace to Fair Ground. Unfortunately,

 both the Mercenary Captain and the former Minister of

 Trade, who now commanded Finance's personal soldiers,

 insisted he was in overall command- Each dispatched his

 own message to Finance for confirmation of command.

 Mercenary's was terse and factual, usefully realistic.

 Trade's was over-long, filled with meaningless, flowery

 flattery, and wildly optimistic.

 Geomancer                225

 A dozen Great White Gulls circling overhead had a much

 better idea of what was going on than either military leader

 on the ground.

 "They're mostly shouting insults at each other, in splen-

 did parade-ground voices," Cerfew reported to Flarman and

 Douglas, trying to keep a straight beak. "The Peasant rabble

 has brought up its throwing machines, whatever they're

 called..."

 "Ballistae," Douglas supplied.

 "Yes, whatever you said. Throwing machines. Quite

 heavy and cumbersome. I imagine they take forever to

 load and shoot, if they're like those Thomwood had at

 Battle of Sea. Completely useless in an infantry battle."

 Flarman nodded, listening with his ears to the Gull's

 report but searching the southern skyline with his eyes.

 Douglas could just make out the figure of the Lady Geo-

 mancer standing on a rocky promontory against the morning

 sky. She seemed to be casting a spell of some sort, but the

 distance was too great to be sure.

 "Maybe I should return to the battle skies with Cerfew,"

 suggested the new Master Wizard. "You may need a more

 experienced eye."

 Flarman nodded. Cerfew was fierce and faithful to a

 fault, but not terribly bright, his grasp of military matters

 limited to being at the Battle of Sea. "You guess what's

 about to happen—if I'm not entirely wrong?"

 "Yes, Magister, I have it figured out, all but the timing."

 "Timing is the hard and uncertain part, relying on Gulls

 as we are. You may have to use some spelt of your own to

 keep the whole thing from getting really serious. I leave it

 to you, Douglas my son."

 With no further word, Douglas selected a spell magical-

 ly reducing himself to about four inches tall and hopped

 nimbly onto the Great White's back, shouting, "Let's go

 to war, Cerfew!"

 Mym watched him leave, biting her lip to keep from

 insisting she go along. Flarman put an arm about her shoul-

 der and gave her a hug.

 226 Don Callander

 "There'll be times you'll go and he'll stay behind," he

 soothed. "As I'm sure you must realize."

 "Oh, I'm not worried about Douglas," Mym stoutly

 insisted. "I just want to fly over there and help keep things

 under control."

 "Do you guess Flarman's mysterious plans?" inquired

 Wong, nervously nicking his ornate ivory and peacock-

 feather fan open and closed. "He has not confided yet

 in me."

 "Nor in me," said Mym. "But. .. well, that's Flarman's

 way."

 "See?" called the Otter. "Flarman keeps watching Mis-

 tress Litholt to the south."

 'Tongs, the Fire Dog, perhaps?" guessed Wong.

 "Hardly," scoffed Marbleheart. "Look out, something's

 going on down there!"

 Douglas had a perfect view of the beginning battle.

 The combined Mercenary Force and Finance Guards line

 formed a wide arc around the north edge of Imperial House's

 beautiful grounds, facing the empty Fair Ground.

 They were armed with long pikes, with broad, curving

 swords, and with short spears. They lined up neatly in

 perfectly straight ranks, ready on command to stride for-

 ward.

 On either flank rode cavalry mounted on the tough, shag-

 gy ponies of Choin with long, thin lances held high, poised.

 Flags snapped in the light morning breeze, looking rather

 brave and gay.

 Their opponent was by contrast a vast, dun-colored, mill-

 ing crowd of men in plain, often ragged leather jerkins

 and filthy hose. The Peasant Army wasn't organized into

 discernible companies or troops. It stood about in groups

 of various sizes, shouted, laughed, and cursed at each other

 and at the enemy across the open ground.

 They Shook their gleaming, sharp axes on high and dared

 the enemy—or their own fellows—to make the first move.

 They showed no inclination to attack.

 Geomancer                227

 Yet, Douglas saw, their position was not entirely without

 logic or purpose. The ground north of the Fair Ground

 was roughly furrowed by a great number of intersecting,

 steep-sided ditches half-filled with slowly flowing mud-

 dy water, hidden below tall grasses and clumps of bam-

 boo.

 Heavily armed soldiers and, certainly, heavy and short-

 legged ponies, would be at a grave disadvantage, Douglas

 realized, if the Peasant Army could hold its ground and

 draw the enemy to them.

 That was their main advantage—that and their great

 superiority in numbers.

 "If they stick close together and take their lumps,"

 observed Cerfew, glancing sideways at his passenger, "they

 have more a chance than I would have thought."

 "Where is the man. Too Wang Sung?" wondered the

 Wizard. "Ah, there he is!"

 "Yes, the tall, lanky man with the metal cap and the

 much-too-long sword," agreed the Gull. "He's found a

 mound to stand upon, to see and be seen. Brave sight!"

 "Now ..." Douglas started to say something, but move-

 ment below caught his eye. 'The Finance center moves

 out!"

 Mercenary foot soldiers heard their officer's shrill orders,

 walked slowly forward, slanting their pikes and spears at a

 slight angle, poised to thrust and jab or slash.

 The Doonshong axmen stood their ground.

 Sudden silence. Then renewed shouts from both sides.

 As the professional soldiers came within a few yards

 of the Peasant line—it wasn't really a line, but an edge

 of the crowd—they slowed, expecting the inexperienced

 countrymen to break ranks and flee in panic.

 Without orders, the Peasants in the forefront suddenly

 dashed at them, swinging their heavy, double-bitted axes

 over their heads and screaming like madmen.

 The lines collided, producing sounds of axes on armor, of

 blades on flesh—terrible sounds—combined with screams

 of the first wounded on both sides.

 228 Don Catlander

 Companies of mercenary archers rushed on foot to either

 side until they were within bowshot of the close-packed

 Peasant Army. Most of the ragged woodsmen never saw the

 bowmen until the first cloud of black arrows wacked into

 their ranks, some fired directly at them, some launched in

 high-arching trajectories to fall straight down from above.

 Men cried out in surprise, pain, and fear. For a breath the

 Peasant front shivered and quaked.

 Into that quiet came a shouted command even Douglas

 could hear. A crowd of Too supporters suddenly dashed

 from flanking ditches on either hand, where they had hid-

 den, flinging themselves straight at the bowmen as they

 reached for a second flight of arrows.

 The archers were preoccupied with the massed target

 before them- Before they could change their aim. the lightly

 armed farmers bowled into them, dashing their bows to the

 ground and slashing and stabbing at the fallen bowmen with

 skinning knives and hayforks.

 Another loud, clear shout and a blast of trumpet call. The

 bowmen retreated in good order, defending their backs with

 their own light swords and knives, pursued by the flankers.

 Still another cry over the din of battle caused the Peasant

 flankers to swerve suddenly to the right and left, converging

 from both sides on the Guards infantry in the middle of

 the line.

 The Finance soldiers were, for just a moment, confused

 by the attack from the sides. Many turned to meet the new

 threat, easing their deadly pressure to the front.

 The massed horde of axmen surged suddenly forward

 again, sensing the soldiery's uncertainty in the face of the

 flank attacks. Hand-lo-hand fighting flowed back onto me

 level grass lawn of Fair Ground.

 Here the Peasants were at a disadvantage, Douglas saw,

 for the soldiers managed to shift themselves into a solid wall

 defending both sides and the front. Just before a renewed

 archery attack came flying over the soldiers' heads, the

 attacking Peasants fell back to their original defensive posi-

 tions between, among and in the deep ditches.

 Geomancer                 229

 Rather than mounting a counterattack at once, the Mer-

 cenary troop beat a hasty but orderly retreat to the south

 edge of Fair Ground, to regroup and fill in the ragged gaps

 in their lines.

 The suddenly empty field was littered with swords, spears,

 lances, axes, scythes, hayforks, spent arrows, discarded red-

 lacquered armor—and a hundred dead or dying bodies. As

 the sounds of the attack and counterattack died away, the

 screams of the wounded became terribly clear.

 "Back to Flarman!" ordered Douglas, shaken by the sights

 below. "Hurry!"

 He found the older Pyromancer studying the southern

 horizon with a pair of binoculars he had taken from his right

 sleeve. He lowered them when Cerfew landed beside him.

 "There has been an attack, and the Peasants rolled it

 back. A draw at the moment," piped the temporarily tiny

 Douglas. "Why Finance's officers didn't order a cavalry

 attack, I can't imagine, unless it was fear of the uneven

 ground north of the Fair Ground. Both sides have drawn

 back. In a minute or two .. ."

 "Listen," said Flarman sharply. "When the next attack

 comes, right at the climax of the effort, with both sides

 fully occupied, then ..."

 "I understand," said Douglas. "Where are Mym and

 Litbolt?"

 "They went down with Wong and Augurian to help tend

 the wounded," explained Flarman, impatiently. "Do your

 own job, young Master Wizard! They can take care of

 themselves!"

 Douglas sent the Gull into the air again. In two minutes

 they were circling low over the bloodied Fair Ground.

 "What will they do next?" wondered Cerfew, caught up

 in the intense excitement of the battle.

 "If I were Too, I'd order an all-out attack," decided the

 Wizard. "Casualties would be high, but at the moment the

 soldiers are shaken and surprised that they couldn't win it

 all in one frontal attack."

 230 Don Callander

 "You still want to keep an eye on that Too person?"

 asked another Gull flying close by,

 "Yes! When the climax comes, I'll need to know exactly

 where he is."

 The tableau seemed at rest for a moment.

 Douglas searched for Mym and the Lady Geomancer. At

 last he located Mym on the edge of the Fair Ground, right

 where the worst of the fighting had taken place moments

 before. She was directing volunteers to carry the wounded

 away, far to the side, where they wouldn't be trampled in

 the next attack.

 Litholt was not with her, but he saw her a moment later

 bending over a line of fallen men laid under a pergola at

 the edge of the formal garden. Wong, Marbleheart, and

 Augurian were nowhere to be seen.

 "My boy," he heard FIarman's excited voice ring in his

 ear, although he knew him to be several miles away, "I'm

 all set here! Just need the right moment to move in and

 scare the leather shirts off these gents. It's up to you! Give

 me the word but allow a minute or two for us to get into

 position."

 "Right!" Douglas cried aloud. Cerfew took it as a word

 of encouragement and spurted forward, heading back to the

 center of the field. Douglas snatched a glance to the south,

 but saw nothing unusual.

 Except perhaps a coarse grey cloud shot with silver light-

 ning, a great distance away.

 Having failed to move the Peasant Army back with a

 direct attack. Manufacture argued, they should send the

 Mercenary cavalry around to both sides. The thunder of

 tough little war ponies had always struck fear into farmer's

 hearts, he insisted. They'd flee at once!

 "Pony soldiers be damned!" yelled the Mercenary Cap-

 tain. "We need something more fearsome than a few lit-

 tle horses prancing about! Order an advance of the entire

 line, I say! Cavalry to fight on foot once they get inside

 the defenders' front. I'll send my best company straight

 Geomancer                231

 after Prince Too. He's still posturing about on that hillock,

 making a clear, fine target."

 Manufacture shrugged, "Well, give the orders yourself.

 My men will follow yours. It's your responsibility if they

 fail!"

 With such sudden, cowardly abdication of command, he

 turned his own pony and trotted back to where Finance

 and the other notables were watching the action and being

 served iced drinks.

 The morning sun was quite warm and the air filled with

 acrid dust. Despite their close view of the first encounter—

 perhaps because of it—the Ministers had no idea of what

 had happened in the field right in front of them.

 "We should keep riding straight on through the city

 and out the other side," suggested one of Manufacture's

 officers, shakily. "Let those boorish hirelings do the bloody

 work. He intends pure slaughter for both sides, I can see."

 "No, not yet," snapped his commander. "We'll tell

 Finance that we are falling back to guard him, just in case

 the others aren't able to overrun Too's rabble this second

 time. That way, no blame to us if the Mercenaries fail."

 "There they go!" shouted Douglas to Cerfew. "Hold

 steady now!"

 "Steady as she goes, sir!" responded the Seabird.

 The entire Bureaucrat line began to walk, to trot, then to

 run across the level Fair Ground. The Peasants fell silent,

 watching them come swiftly on.

 The voice of Too could be heard urging his men to

 stand firm, meet the attack among die ditches. Douglas

 was surprised that so few of the axmen turned to flee.

 They were both brave and desperate!

 The lines crashed together with a furious shout. Horses

 screamed in fear and pain. Men cried out in terror and in

 anger. Blade met blade and bright red blood stained the

 long grass.

 "Now!" shouted Douglas in a far-carrying Wizard's voice.

 "Now!"

 232 Don Callander

 The sky, a moment before bright with sunlight, turned

 grey, and darker grey yet, then almost black. A deep bass

 vibration filled the air, and a swirling wind shook the trees

 and nppled through the grass.

 Fighting men on both sides froze in the sudden twilight.

 They glanced up ... and almost to a man threw down their

 weapons and fled or flung themselves to the ground, cov-

 ering their heads with their arms, whimpering in abject

 terror.

 The cloud that blocked the sun resolved into hundreds of

 individual bodies, great black-winged, red, gold, and green

 Dragons!

 They came on in all sizes, from foot-long Fire-Drakes

 snorting shafts of red flame before them, to ten-ton, fifty-

 foot-long Great Goldens, singing their ancient battle song,

 charring the Fair Ground lawn, sending up roiling clouds

 of steam from the watery ditches.

 Men who were present later often tried to tell what it

 was like, looked like, sounded like, smelled like. Few found

 the words, ever- For while the Dragons carefully avoided

 serious injury to men of both sides, panic spread faster than

 their flames-

 The few warriors who, for whatever reason, held their

 ground found their weapons smoking and glowing red in

 their hands, until they threw them to the ground and howled

 in pain.

 Tough lacquered-leather body armor began to fume and

 stink from Dragon's-breath fire. Soldiers stripped off their

 breastplates, greaves, and cherry red iron helmets in panic.

 When they tried to run, low-circling smaller Fire-Drakes

 herded them back toward the center of the field.

 Among the Peasants, it was the same story. The dragons

 forced them to the ground. Some tried to hide in wet

 ditches but the water steamed and bubbled about them,

 forcing them to scramble out and throw themselves on the

 smoking ground, hands over their heads, calling for mercy,

 offering their bits of stolen treasures for escape.

 Geomancer                233

 The entire Battle of Fair Ground was over in less than

 four minutes.

 Douglas flung himself from the Gull's back as Cerfew

 dropped to the ground in a heart-stopping dive. Before his

 feet hit the grassy verge of a canal, he suddenly shot back

 to full size.

 Leaping over the narrowest part of a boiling ditch, he

 sprinted up the hillock to confront the tall, lanky Pretender.

 Too Wang Sung stood frozen m dumb shock.

 'Too Wang Sung, order your followers to throw down

 their arms and lie flat on their faces," the Wizard cned in

 a tremendously amplified voice that carried over even the

 screams and clamor, the crack and the whirr of dragon's

 wings, the roar of fires. "Do it now\ Or I can't guarantee

 your safety!"

 "He's right!" said Myrn, coming up the other side of

 the mound. "Enough—too many—have already been hurt

 here. Only instant obedience will stay these terrible Dra-

 gons!"

 The two magickers stood on either side of the shattered

 former petty gambler, looking like avenging Fairies on the

 torn and bloody field.

 "But... but. ..." stammered Too. "We must defeat the

 Imperial Bureaucrats or die trying! We must seat our own

 Emperor! Can't you see that?"

 "No need," said Douglas, calmly. "The Bureaucrats are

 already beaten—and so are your wild woodcutters. The

 matter of the succession has been settled in the best interests

 of all—including you. Long live the Emperor Phong!"

 "Emperor Phong!" screeched Too, "Who in World is he?

 / am a grandson of the old Emperor's Honored Fourteenth

 Son. The Dragon Throne is mine by right!"

 "If you'd care to argue the point with a few angry Dra-

 gons," said Mym, with a grim smile, "I think I can arrange

 it in no rime at all!"

 "When your men are headed back to their camp," added

 Douglas, "we'll escort you to Imperial House to offer your

 allegiance to the new Emperor. You'll find your enemies

 234 Don Callander

 are there, too, for the same purpose."

 The dazed Pretender gave the proper orders in a shaky

 voice. Most of his officers were already prostrate in the

 grass, cursing or weeping in frustration and fear, by turns.

 They rose and stumbled northward, back to the oleander

 hedges.

 "Come along, Master Too!" the younger Fire Wizard

 said, more gently now. "Your army is to remain in camp

 until ordered home by the new Emperor. Food and medi-

 cines will be brought to them there- For the moment, you're

 all prisoners of the new Imperium, but good behavior may

 cam them parole."

 "And as for me?" asked Too somberly-

 "I don't know what Emperor Phong will decide about

 you, but as far as I'm concerned ... in your shoes I'd

 probably have done the same thing. Perhaps not for the

 same motives—who knows? You did what you thought was

 right, and you might have succeeded in the end—if that's

 any consolation. I'd forget about being a great-grandson

 of the old Emperor, however. There're a dozen or more

 other Princes with closer ties and better claims, if it comes

 to that."

 Heartened by assurances from the two young Wizards,

 Too Wang Sung walked between them passively across

 smoldering Fair Grounds. Above them the Horde of Dra-

 gons circled, watching and calling excitedly to each other,

 but no longer raining down fire and fear.

 By the rime they had walked their prisoner across Fair

 Ground and through the badly trampled formal garden to

 Imperial House, things had settled down to a low roar.

 The lawns, gardens, and avenues about Imperial House

 were filled with Dragons of all sizes, shapes, and colors,

 mostly green, red and gold predominating. The beasts were

 in a jubilant mood.

 "We don't all get together so very often," explained one,

 recognizing Douglas from the muster on Waterand before

 Battle of Sea against Frigeon.

 Geomancer                 235

 He escorted them through the throng of scaled fliers

 admiring a life-size bronze statue of a quite fantastic Dragon

 at the palace's main entrance.

 "You're the Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade, aren't

 you?" one of the medium-sized dragons asked politely.

 "Yes, and this is Water Adept Mym Manstar, my fiancee,"

 replied Douglas.

 "A great pleasure to meet you! My great-great-great-

 great-grand-uncle, the Grand Golden Dragon, said I should

 look you up."

 "My old friend!" cried Mym. "We spent many a happy

 afternoon talking and telling stories on Highest Point of

 Waterand Island, you know."

 "He's told me," said the young Golden with a delighted

 laugh.

 "Is your great-grand-uncle here in Choin?" asked Doug-

 las.

 "He insisted on coming, although Wizard Flarman told

 him not to stir from home if he didn't feel like it. Great-

 grand-uncle says reports of his advanced age are great-

 ly exaggerated. He's within the palace right now, taking

 charge of everything, as usual."

 They parted from the Dragon, promising to spend some

 time with him later—and extending an invitation to attend

 their wedding in December, which pleased him even more—

 and led their utterly amazed and thoroughly frightened pris-

 oner into Imperial House.

 Self-appointed ushers showed them to the Grand Audi-

 ence Hall in the center of the huge palace complex. They

 were members of Foggery's Patriotic Society of Choin.

 If they'd grinned any more broadly, Mym whispered to

 Douglas, they'd probably dislocate their jaws.

 The scene inside the enormous, ornate Audience Hall

 was close to pandemonium. Around the wall of the circular

 room crouched a solid phalanx of fierce-looking Dragons,

 the biggest ever, glaring at the Choinese with fiercely glow-

 ing eyes,

 236 Don Callander

 Douglas, who knew the breed better than most, could

 see that their fierce looks were just part of an act. The

 Dragons were intensely excited—as witnessed by the occa-

 sional bright bursts of fire when they sighed, laughed, or

 coughed—and even a little awed by the majestic palace.

 A densely packed crowd of jubilant Patriots, Guilders,

 and Grangers milled about, looking for vantage points from

 which to view the events about to begin before the solid

 jade Dragon Throne, set in the middle of the floor on a

 high platform.

 To one side, watched intently by the Dragons, were the

 ministers of Finance, Commerce, Transportation, Roads,

 and so on and so on, pulled from their rooftop perch and

 looking sick with apprehension.

 Their faces were smudged with smoke and tears, and

 their clothes, once splendidly elaborate, embroidered, and

 bejeweled, were dirtied and rumbled. They had been round-

 ed up by a platoon of medium-size dragons led by Wong,

 assisted by Bryarmote, waving his gleaming Elvensword

 and giving orders in a loud, rough voice.

 A smaller group was held on the other side of the room.

 These were dressed only in the underclothing warriors wore

 beneath full body armor. Their rumpled doublets and jer-

 kins of wool and linen were marked with black scorches

 and bums. They were completely disarmed, looking rather

 fearful but still rather pathetically defiant.

 Wong Tscha San stood as an island of calm on the second

 step of the Dragon Throne, his hands folded in his wide

 sleeves, waiting for some sort of order to be established

 by the shouting ushers and marshals.

 Augurian, Litholt, Marbleheart, Bryarmote, and Flarman

 stood together just to his right on the. lowest step, chatting

 amiably with Foggery and the leaders of his coalition.

 "Here's the man Too," said Flarman in a cheery, loud

 voice- "We can begin, if it pleases Your Imperial Majes-

 ty!"

 He turned, as did everyone else, to face the throne of

 green jade and the new Emperor of Choin seated upon it.

 Geomancer                237

 He was a youngish man, taller than usual for his race.

 He had a pleasant, kindly face, honestly open, broad, and

 round. He was dressed in the sober robes of a physician,

 unadorned except for Wong's ivory-and-peacock-feather

 fan, which he waved self-consciously as he waited for

 silence to fall.

 "What do you suggest we do first, revered Wong Tscha

 San?" the new Emperor of Choin asked in a carrying but

 pleasantly modulated voice. "May we have silence, please,

 so that all may hear?"

 "And obey," added the elderly Magician. "I think I shall

 begin by introducing everyone to Your Majesty. I know

 things have happened very quickly, and you are probably

 confused by so many new faces and names."

 "Please!" said the Emperor. He sat back gingerly into the

 throne's cushions, ready to listen.

 The Magician began with the Wizards' party, not

 excluding himself, saying who each was and how each

 had helped in the crisis following the death of the late

 Emperor.

 "I—or should I say *we'—will shortly attempt to express

 my gratitude for your powerful and timely assistance," said

 Phong, smiling at them broadly.

 "Not at all necessary, Majesty," said Barman with a

 low, sweeping bow. "It was both our pleasure and our

 duty."

 "Nevertheless ...," replied the Emperor. He nodded to

 Wong to continue.

 The Magician of Choin introduced by name and title,

 with no further comment, the Ministers, Clerks, Officials,

 and other Functionaries of the imperial court and gov-

 ernment.

 There were thirty in all. All but a handful, Douglas knew,

 had had greedy hands in the civil unrest of the past months.

 Some had bloody hands as well-

 Wong introduced the Mercenary Captain and his officers.

 Phong nodded to them calmly. They returned his nod with

 respectful bows.

 238 Don Callander

 "You need no longer tarry here," said the Emperor to

 their Captain. "Recross our borders, sir, and never return.

 Choin is henceforth closed to you."

 The Captain bowed even more deeply, muttered his grati-

 tude in formal words, and the Mercenary officers left quick-

 ly, looking neither left nor right. The former Ministers

 carefully averted their eyes as well.

 Foggery introduced the elected leaders of the various

 organizations that had contributed to the swift end to the

 civil war, and who had, meeting peacefully together, select-

 ed the new ruler in the name of the people of Choin.

 All of this, stripped of almost all ceremony other than

 common courtesy, took well over two hours, with everyone

 standing except the Emperor on the Dragon Throne and the

 silently watching dragons.

 "Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk," said Wong, "please intro-

 duce our fiery friends from the south of Serecomba."

 The Grand Golden Dragon himself stood forth, bowed

 haughtily to the Emperor, and said in a booming voice,

 "Majesty, Magician Wong, Flarman Dragonfriend, Water

 Adept Augurian, Master Douglas, and Mistress Mym, my

 good friends and war companions' I move we dispense with

 the naming of Dragons. A Dragon's name is his own private

 business, and he will tell it in his own time, to whomever

 he chooses."

 "Of course, if that is what is suitable," agreed Emperor

 Phong. "I do not wish you Dragons to think we are ungra-

 cious or unmannered!"

 "We were called to assist our friends in a matter to

 which, to be frank with you, Lord Emperor, we would

 have paid no attention whatsoever, if they hadn't asked.

 I mean no disrespect. Majesty! The doings and misdeeds

 of Men, Elves, and Fairies are generally of no concern to

 us. If anyone is to be thanked for our participation, it is

 the Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk and the Lady Geomancer

 Litholt Stonebreaker."

 "Nevertheless," said the Emperor, leaning forward ear-

 nestly, "I offer my heartfelt gratitude, not for my humble

 Geomancer                239

 self, but for the sake of my whole people."

 "The people of Choin have been always most courteous

 to us," said the Great Golden Dragon with a smile—a rather

 fearsome sight for those unused to Dragon smiles. "And I

 must admit to you. Majesty, that we are not as indifferent

 to Choin's fate as I led you to believe. Our ancestor, the

 Highly Honored Primary and Primordial Dragon, was a

 close friend and mentor of your Founding Emperor, Chan

 Lee Fwong, known as the Sensible. Which is why he called

 his jade chair there the Dragon Throne."

 "I had suspected it!" exclaimed the Emperor with great

 interest. "Records of those early days were long ago mud-

 dled and lost, dear sir! Could you perhaps, someday, send

 us someone of your clan to tell us what actually happened

 at our beginnings?"

 "Be delighted, once you've settled the fates of these

 wicked culprits, here assembled under guard," rumbled

 Grand Golden, a bit pompously, glaring ferociously at the

 quaking Ministers. "We'll have a long, long talk about it, the

 first pleasant afternoon available, I promise you, Honored

 Emperor of Choin."

 The Emperor rose and walked down the five steps of the

 Dragon Throne, surveying the assembled throng, culprits

 and heroes together.

 "It is well past the middle hour, dear friends. If someone

 will direct us to the dining halt. I hope we wilt find enough

 to feed everyone adequately."

 As if on cue, a gorgeously attired imperial servitor

 appeared to announce that luncheon was served. There was

 a general movement through the side doors in his wake.

 Phong grinned delightedly at the Magician and the Wiz-

 ards and their companions.

 "I was scared out of my wits, I can tell you!" he con-

 fessed.

 "The hardest part is over, I think," Flarman Flowerstalk

 chuckled. "We'll consult with you further, if you wish,

 on what's to be done with the offending Ministers and

 Princes."

 240 Don Callander

 "Let's find a quiet place to eat our own meal. I never

 had breakfast," said the Emperor.

 "Come to think of it," cried Marbleheart in surprise,

 '•neither did I!"

 Emperor Phong listened gravely to their advice and ideas

 over lunch, but the decisions he announced were his own—

 and showed him to be a clear-minded, compassionate, yet

 realistic man.

 "He'll do," said Wong later, with a deep sigh of satis-

 faction. "I suppose it is too much to expect that everything

 will go smoothly, however."

 "I guarantee it won't," said Douglas. "Which is why there

 are Wizards."

 "That's why one so often finds a Wizard where there is

 trouble," said his pretty fiancee. "So a sailor friend of mine

 once told me."

 "Old Caspar Marlin!" Flarman laughed aloud. "Majesty,

 if it hadn't been for Caspar and his loyalty to Foggery, his

 retired Seacaptain, we might not have been around to help

 put down the Bureaucrats* plots."

 "I think I'll have to raise some monuments," said Phong.

 "One to the Dragons, or at least the Primary Dragon, we

 already have. It should be covered with purest gold! One

 to Seamen like Captain Foggery and this Marlin, of whom

 I've never heard until now, would be appropriate, I believe.

 I have so much to leam!"

 "As long as you're willing to leam, you'll do just fine,"

 said Augurian.

 The Mercenaries were returned what was left of their

 armor and arms and marched to Choin Harbor, where they

 took ship for their homeland, away to the west. They were

 allowed to keep the fees advanced to them by Finance

 Minister from his own treasury. No one came forth to ac-

 cuse the hired soldiers of rapine or pillage. They had be-

 haved quite professionally, all agreed, whether you favored

 their employer or not.

 Geomancer

 241

 The Peasant Army from Doonchong, stripped of their

 loot but allowed to keep their weapons (as they were nec-

 essary tools of trade) was disbanded immediately and sent

 home with a generous present each from the imperial treas-

 ury—which surprisingly contained far more money than

 anyone ever thought, thanks to the careful collection of

 taxes, imposts, duties, and fees by the Minister of the

 Revenue. Although Revenue had given cautious lip service

 to his more powerful colleague Finance, he was an honest

 accountant. Phong decided to keep him in his post.

 "Honest and capable accountants are very hard to find."

 he explained.

 The woodsmen and paper-mil! workers were promised

 the new Imperium would shortly lift the illegal ban on

 logging and papermaking. Phong announced an end to all

 imperial censorship of printing and publishing. The paper

 mills would soon be back at work, giving full employment

 to the mill workers in their mills and woodsmen in their for-

 ests. They in turn would patronize the fanners and merchants

 of the Doonchong, once they were earning their keep in the

 forests.

 Too was truly shattered by the horrors of the Battle of

 Fair Ground. The Emperor was inclined to be lenient. They

 had a long, private talk.

 "Yes, I admit that 1 formed and led the Peasant Army as

 much for my own purse and glory as for any cause," Too

 confessed. "I have been a gambler since my earliest youth.

 I saw my chance and I grasped it, eagerly and knowingly.

 I am now ready to take my losses like a professional."

 "I don't see that your reasons were so shameful," decided

 the Emperor. "I allowed myself to be persuaded to take this

 Dragon Throne as much for my own glory and enrichment

 as for what I could do for my country. Well, almost as

 much. To gain great rewards. Too, we have to take great

 risks."

 He decreed that Too could return to Doonchong and work

 to improve that poorest of provinces. He would be granted

 242 Don Callander

 certain imperial mandates. One was to establish a good,

 honest, professional police force. Doonchong had for too

 long had the reputation of a rough, tough, lawless place,

 Phong said severely.

 Master Too eagerly agreed. His good repute with the

 Peasant Army veterans would be his biggest asset, Douglas

 decided. But he advised the Emperor to keep an eye on the

 man just the same.

 The ministers quaked in their tattered slippers when

 Phong started to examine their roles in the civil war.

 "This will take some time," he said to them. "Meanwhile,

 the Dragons, specifically the Fire-Drakes, have agreed to

 act as your close keepers. You will be taken to a distant

 spot in the very center of the Serecomba and held there

 while we examine your actions most carefully."

 The Ministers wailed, begged, and wept, but Phong was

 firm.

 "You may not take servants or luxuries of any kind," he

 ruled. "You will be safely housed and adequately fed. Your

 families may visit you once each month for a day and a

 night, if you behave well for the Dragons. Some of you may

 be cleared of the greater crimes. Those will be restored to

 their lands and honest titles.

 "Others of you may look forward to a number of months,

 perhaps years, of healthy but lonely desert life. He who

 complains the loudest will be longest held, I suspect. Mean-

 while, your departments will be reorganized, modernized,

 and assigned dependable new Ministers chosen on the basis

 of competitive examinations—with the advice and approval

 of the Combined Council. There is some talk of establishing

 an elected parliament, but that is a way off, yet. In the

 meantime, the Combined Council will serve without pay

 in its place."

 Complaining and wailing ceased as though someone had

 closed a valve, and the Fire-Drakes herded the thirty mourn-

 ful miscreants off to where the largest Golden Dragons

 waited to carry them off into the bleak, broiling hot, almost

 endless Serecomba.

 Geomancer                243

 "Rather harsh, wasn't it?" asked Mym. "Not all of them

 did great wrong, surely?"

 "Ah, but you miss the point, my dear," explained the

 Emperor. "While not all of them caused the crisis, not a

 one of them did a single thing to prevent it. That in itself

 is abdication of responsibility."

 "I'm inclined to agree with Your Majesty," said Augurian.

 "Sins of omission are as serious as sins of commission."

 "Or, to put it in terms of my own profession," the Emper-

 or added, "a physician who refuses to treat a patient when

 he has the skill to do so is as culpable as one who knowingly

 mistreats him. The patient dies just as surely."

 They had a picnic lunch on the broad lawn before Imperial

 House, on a gentle hill, where passersby on the broad, paved

 avenue that circled the palace could see their Emperor enter-

 taining his friends.

 A politely nodding and bowing crowd of minor civil ser-

 vants and merchant's clerks on their lunch hours gathered on

 the far side of the dry moat. Almost as soon as they began

 to gather, pushcart vendors with savory fried rice balls, egg

 rolls, and mounds of crisply fried noodles appeared and did

 a lively business.

 "You really should try their egg rolls," suggested Emper-

 or Phong, pouring tea. "1 adore them myself Better than

 even in the best restaurants, I swear."

 "I would love to spend a much longer time in your

 beautiful country." said Mym. "However, I have a few

 other things that must come first."

 "Ah, yes, your approaching wedding!" The Emperor

 smiled brightly. "I would not ever presume to suggest you

 delay that."

 "A lot of events have tried to delay it already," said

 Flarman, chewing lustily on a rib of spicy barbecued pork.

 "Luckily, nothing can stand before a woman's determina-

 tion to be married, it seems."

 "There is also the matter of Journeying in your Craft,"

 cautioned the Aquamancer, waving his finger. "You are still

 244 Don Caliander

 but an Apprentice, Mym Manstar."

 "I'm well aware of it, Magister," said she with a loving

 smile for the Water Wizard. "It's not at all forgotten."

 "Time for that after the Winter Solstice," he relented. "We

 Wizards have a great deal to do yet to untangle Frigeon's

 evil enchantments. With Witches' Covens and enchanted

 Stonemen and Choinese rebellions, we've neglected the

 poor ice-enthralled, I fear."

 After they'd eaten and were seated in a semicircle on

 the lawn before the Emperor, Phong signaled for their

 attention.

 "You are eager to return to your homes, I know. I said

 before that I could never adequately thank you each for your

 help in a dire and dangerous hour. There is stiti much to

 do here, of course, but to continue that work I will have

 the inestimable assistance and wise council of Wong Tscha

 San, my very own Imperial Magician."

 The picnickers applauded and the modest Magician

 blushed crimson and bowed to them all several times.

 "Master Wong has agreed to act as my chief adviser and

 mentor," continued the Emperor. 'T am most grateful for

 that! I couldn't do it as well or as quickly, if at all, without

 him and other trusted advisers like Captain Foggery."

 "Speech! Speech!" called Marbleheart. He reached for

 the last piece of banana cream pie.

 Wong stood, tiny and delicate as a child yet somehow

 strong and forceful, in the brilliant, warm subtropical sun-

 light. A vagrant breeze from distant Sea stirred his silken

 robe and ruffled his thin white beard.

 "My friend and Emperor will be laboring for some time

 to bring this huge land back to calm, justice, and good

 government. There are bandits in the forests, pirates on

 the coast, thieves in the cities, wicked magickers under

 our loveliest hills. I will advise him and his people, and so

 will my very good friend and fellow subject, the Geomancer

 Litholt. I hope that, if you will find time in your busy lives,

 you'll come back, singly or together, to lend your own

 skills and wit. Or to just sit and enjoy jasmine tea under

 Geomancer                245

 the fragrant peach trees in my garden."

 "Ever and for ever'" called Flarman. He was lying flat on

 his back, cradling his head on the Otter's soft flank. "You

 can depend on us. Magician and Majesty!"

 They all added their agreement.

 "Now, Imperial Master," said Wong, "will you be upset

 if I ask your leave to absent myself for a short while, a few

 weeks hence? I have a wedding to attend."

 Everybody, especially Mym and Douglas, shouted with

 delight. The Emperor beamed, saying he gave his leave, but

 only if he could come to the wedding, also.

 "You are invited. Majesty!" cried Mym. "You'll find we

 heartily enjoy ourselves at such celebrations at Wizards'

 High in Valley."

 "Come and welcome!" chimed in Flarman, rolling over

 on his stomach.

 Across the moats an old man in ragged trousers peddled

 sweetmeats from a wheeled cart, smiling broadly at his

 customers, most of them children.

 "Hear that, boys and girls?" he chuckled. "An Empire

 that has an Emperor who can laugh with friends on the

 grass has a very special ruler, I can tell you!"

 All around him the children, grown-ups, and even poor

 old women and men peddling dried fish and green spun-

 sugar floss joined in the laughter.

 "Oh! Look!" cried a pretty ten-year-old girl dressed in

 yellow. 'They're gone! All expect for the Magician and the

 Emperor."

 And so they were.

 Chapter Twenty

 ^

 Home to the High

 "YOU what\" screeched Bronze Owl. "You invited

 whoT

 "Not the whole Dragon clan! Just the Grand Golden Dra-

 gon and his great-great-great-great-grandnephew—a most

 decent sort," said Marbleheart, shrinking from Owl's sud-

 den wrath.

 "Grandy will bring at least twenty others, 1 promise,"

 howled Owl, spinning his head three times completely

 around. "Where will we put them? Where, where, where?

 They'll blanket the whole Valley! They'll eat everything in

 sight! Do you have any idea how much a single Dragon eats

 in a day!"

 "Easy! Easy, old bird!" soothed the Sea Otter. "We can

 handle it. Put 'em up in Parch. They'll like it there better

 than anywhere else, I believe. Dragons prefer barren, deso-

 late places, I hear from Black Flame."

 "I suppose you're right," the harassed bronze bird agreed

 reluctantly. He was perched at Flarman's study table, sur-

 rounded by bales and stacks of paper covered with Plume

 Pen's precise calligraphy, lists and checklists, memoranda,

 notes, and diagrams.

 Marbleheart, deciding the matter of the Dragons was

 settled, scooted off to look for his friend Black Flame. It

 was time for his daily Familiarity lesson.

 He was replaced at the door to the study a minute later by

 247

 248 Don Callander

 the new Master Wizard, bearing a double armload of enve-

 lopes just brought from Trunkety by Postmaster Possumtai!

 and three postal ponies.

 "Owl, let me help you with these. I'm not at all busy at

 the moment."

 Bronze Owl accepted his offer gratefully and set the

 young man to opening and sorting the day's mail into three

 piles: "regrets," "acceptances," and "special handling."

 "Here's 'regrets' from Pargeot," Douglas said. "He'd like

 to come but the Town Council of Pfantas voted to send

 Featherstone as its official representative. Pargeot says he

 doesn't wish to steal the new Mayor's thunder."

 "Huh!" Owl snorted. "He's still a bit smitten with your

 bride, I'll wager."

 "I don't think good old Pargeot is that small-minded,"

 Douglas disagreed. "We know that Featherstone will be

 coming, anyway. As Mayor of Pfantas, I suppose you'll

 put him up here at the High?"

 "No chance of that!" snorted the bird. "The cottage will

 be crammed, packed full of really important people like

 your mother and your father and the Manstars of Flowring.

 And the Emperor of Choin, too. We can't very well put an

 Emperor up in a Valley farmhouse, can we?"

 "Actually, I don't think he'd mind that at all. He's not

 that highfalutin, I assure you."

 "Still, some protocol must be observed. Hmmmm!

 Bryarmote wants to use the secret room over his fireplace.

 That's agreeable. Few people know how to get behind the

 fire wall, anyway."

 "I'd worry more about the Fairies," said Flarman

 Flowerstalk, popping his head through the door while

 passing by. "Aedh and Marget Brightwing are at least

 equal in rank to Emperor Phong. And they're bringing

 the infant Justin Flowerbender with them. The little Prince

 of Faerie must need a corps of nursemaids and launderers,

 I suppose."

 "I've already taken care of them," Owl assured him.

 "Aedh has arranged to open a Fairy Gate for just this

 Geomancer                249

 purpose, over near the First Ridge."

 'They'll make a splendid sight riding down from the

 hills for the wedding," exclaimed Douglas. "Can't we put

 Featherstone up with Frenstil? They should be about equal

 in rank, I'd say."

 "Perfect solution!" cried the Owl, directing Plume Pen to

 make the entry. "I was wondering with whom to saddle the

 former Master of Horse, anyway."

 The older Wizard laughed loudly and nodded with satis-

 faction as he went his busy way.

 "Any surprises in this batch that you can see?" asked

 Owl.

 Douglas skimmed rapidly through the 153 "acceptances,"

 quickly evaluating the contents of each. "Oh, dear! Who the

 dickens is Pride, do you remember?"

 "Pride? Pride? Let me check my list," muttered Owl.

 "Ah ha! He's Caspar's First Mate aboard Donation. Will

 he come? I'll put him up with the delegation Thomwood

 will bring from Capital."

 " 'Wouldn't miss it for World,' he says," Douglas

 quoted,

 It took them better than an hour to catalog, enter, catego-

 rize, and settle the accommodations of the day's responses.

 "You go on, now," said the bronze bird at last. 'The rest

 are merely clerical and I can do them tonight while you

 flesh-and-blood types are asleep. Thank you for the help,

 Master Wizard."

 Douglas waved his hand as he disappeared through the

 door. In a moment the Owl heard him clattering down the

 winding stair.

 Just like old times, when the young Wizard was a mere

 Apprentice; small/or his age and a bit gawky, at that. Owl

 thought. Eager to learn and interested in everything.

 Turning back to the dwindling stack of "special handling"

 correspondence. Owl swooped to pluck from the floor a

 much-worn, brown, stained and dusty canvas packet, where

 it had fallen unnoticed.

 "How now?" he muttered. "This one's come a long way,

 250 Don Callander

 I think. No superscription. Addressed to Master Pyromancer

 Flarman Flowerstalk. Ha! Doesn't anyone know how to

 address a formal invitation anymore?"

 He slit the heavy green wax seal with a sharp bronze

 talon, opened the heavy canvas outer wrapper, took out the

 enclosed letter, and began to read.

 "Hoy! This is something entirely different! Must show it

 to Flarman at once!"

 Grasping the folded parchment tightly in his claws, he

 launched himself from the table, straight through the study

 door, and headlong down the stair.

 Flarman Flowerstalk was contentedly boiling a frothy

 magenta liquid in a fat glass flask over a hot blue-white

 flame. He hummed under his breath the while, watching

 the rising steam make arabesques in the Workshop's cool,

 still air.

 Black Flame and Marbleheart sat facing each other in

 the dimness at the back of the vast Workshop. The torn

 was expounding on ways to keep a Wizard under close

 watch, an art at which he excelled. The two conversed

 almost silently, with the lift of a paw or the wag of a tail,

 a tilt of the head and a slow wink—ways cats have spoken

 since the first cat first sat on a sunlit stoop.

 Bronze Owl shot from the kitchen door opposite, nar-

 rowly missing the well housing, and crashed to an untidy,

 rattling landing on the tabletop near Flarman's experiment.

 The pink steam patterns fluttered and dispersed at once.

 "That took me all morning to accomplish, clumsy bird!"

 cried the Wizard. "Well, too late to do anything about it

 now. What's to do?"

 "Read this, Magister!" the metal bird said, sounding short

 of breath—which was not possible, since he didn't breathe

 at all. "Read and tell me I did wrong!"

 Flarman wiped his hands on his stained work smock and

 picked up his reading glasses as the Owl handed him the

 battered missive.

 "Just came with the rest of the mail," explained Owl

 Geomancer                 251

 ^

 'i

 i ;

 to Black Flame and the Otter. "We almost overlooked it

 among the wedding responses."

 Flarman scanned the letter through quickly, studied the

 signature, and sat abruptly on his stool to read it again, more

 carefully.

 '*! feared this," he groaned. "Well, there's not much we

 can do at the moment. After the wedding trip... it may

 be something that Mym could handle on her Journey. I'll

 speak to Augurian about it when he returns from Waterand

 tomorrow. Damme! I was hoping for a few quiet weeks—

 at least until spring."

 "What is it, Magister?" inquired Marbleheart.

 "Nothing that need concern us just now," replied Flarman,

 folding the letter and slipping it into his left sleeve. "It would

 just upset a lot of people and might spoil the party."

 "Yes, but is it something that should be put off, I won-

 der?" asked Owl.

 The Pyromancer scratched his bald pate, looked pensive-

 ly into the distance for a moment, then shook his head, a

 decision made.

 "No, we won't mention it, fellows, until Douglas and

 Mym are off on their wedding trip. Less than a week

 off, now! We've had distractions and delays enough,

 haven't we?"

 "If you say so, Magister," said the Otter.

 "If it isn't six things, it's a half a dozen others," mut-

 tered the Wizard, clearing away the ruins of his experi-

 ment.

 Marbleheart looked at Black Flame with grave concern,

 then the two of them left the Workshop to walk down to

 the Brook through freshly fallen December snow conjured

 especially by a certain Apprentice Aquamancer for her

 Wedding. They quietly discussed this new development

 until there was nothing left to say about it.

 Bronze Owl went back to his letters and lists, shaking

 his head in doubt.

 Flarman summoned Deka the Wraith to carry a message

 to Waterand Island.

 252 Don Cailander

 Everywhere at Wizards* High the excitement of antici-

 pation was like the aroma of a fresh-baked apple pie,

 cinnamony and sugary, sweet, tart and tantalizing.

 Valley wives baked, roasted, broiled, simmered and pre-

 served, cleaned and recleaned. Farmers selected their best

 fruits and vegetables and grains and sent it off to Trunkety,

 where a big, new post-and-beam warehouse was storing the

 foodstuffs needed for the wedding.

 Children in his class almost drove usually placid Frackett

 frantic with their questions and plans. In self-defense he

 took them out into the Common and set them to sculpting

 snow statues—of Flarman and of Douglas and Mym, of

 Augurian, and even Marbleheart, a great favorite already

 with the young of Valley who didn't consider the Sea Otter

 a clown at all.

 Down Crooked Brook, near a tiny waterfall not yet fro-

 zen, a deliriously happy Blue Jay nestling swooped and

 looped, climbed and dived, laughing and shouting to his

 amused nest mates.

 His drab little Jay mother swept a happy tear from her eye

 and his cocky father bobbed proudly at the neighbors before

 he set off to gather some pine nuts as a special present for

 Mistress Brightglade-to-be.

 Blue Teakettle snapped her lid sharply at a silver-

 polishing Cloth that had paused too long to chat with a

 Dust Rag just returned from shaking itself at the court-

 yard gate.

 "Get back on them trays," Blue Teakettle rumbled. "Here!

 You missed a spot on Butter Dish, too, right where Masters'

 guests will see it, you can be sure. Where's Master Douglas's

 hot cocoa? He's in the library, being fitted for his wedding

 suit. Go take him and Master Tailor a platter of our best

 sugar-and-oatmeal cookies. Tea Tray—the ones old Oven

 let get a mite too brown. Taste just as good, but not as

 pretty, I say!"

 The Thatchmouse family was at work in a cool cellar,

 Geomancer                253

 sampling and passing on the quality of a dozen or so big

 wheels of robust yellow Valley cheese sent to the High from

 the Valley Dairy Cooperative-

 "I'm beginning to get tired of cheese," sighed Mama

 Thatchmouse, shaking her head rapidly, as if to rid her

 mouth of the taste of sharp yellow Valley, a semi-soft

 slicing cheese, perfect for eating with soda crackers and

 tomato soup.

 "How can you say that!" cried her youngest child, buried

 up to his backside in a round of pale ivory-colored church—

 the holey cheese just arrived by ox cart from Douglas's

 mother, Gloriana of Brightglade. "This is pure heaven!"

 "It won't be if you make yourself sick before the

 Wedding," his older sisters teased. 'Take a break, little

 Woosney! Leave some of that church cheese for the Wed-

 ding guests!"

 Mama Thatchmouse shooed them all off to their beds

 in the thatching over Douglas's bedroom, newly enlarged

 and decorated with bright chintz curtains and billowy new

 pillow shams on the bed.

 Mama excused herself and went off to the wine cellar to

 retrieve her husband. If he didn't leave off sampling the

 fifteen great casks of Oak 'n' Bucket winter amber, she

 said to herself, he'd be too ale-silly to climb to their own

 bed that evening.

 Besides, it sets a bad example for the children.

 At Lilac and Priceless's cozy overbrook farmhouse, a

 group of Valley-farm and Tninketytown wives and their

 daughters sipped sweet cider and nibbled coconut wafers.

 They circled around, watching and offering advice as Lilac

 basted the final hem of Mym's flowing white, pearl-strewn

 Wedding gown.

 Mym stood on a footstool, straight but relaxed, ignoring

 the bustle about her. She was silently reciting a mnemonic

 poem that hid clues to tracking still waters running deep, a

 difficult and demanding Aquamantic skill. She was sure it

 would be part of her Master's Examination, when it came.

 254 Don Callander

 Lilac, her mouth stuffed with straight pins and her hands

 so busy they seemed to blur, pinned and measured, stood

 back to look, and pinned and measured some more, ignoring

 the well-meaning chatter, also.

 'The most beautiful Wedding gown ever seen in Valley!"

 said an elderly granny, sniffing back a sentimental tear.

 "In all Dukedom!" said Marietta, daughter of Dicksey,

 the General Store proprietor. "I've been to Capital twice,

 and I never saw the likes of this gown even at Thomwood

 Duke's court, b'lieve me!"

 Marietta enjoyed bragging about her distant travels. Her

 father had taken her once as far as Wayness, far to the

 south, right on Sea. Most of the ladies had never gone

 farther than Farango Waters or up to the broad, grassy

 north slopes when the flocks were summered.

 "My Joel," said another housewife, "brought me a col-

 ored picture of the Duchess, Thomwood Duke's mum. She

 had on a flame red velvet gown that reached from chin tip

 to toes! Gold piping and diamond embroidery, it had!"

 The ladies exclaimed, as they always did when the Duch-

 ess's red velvet gown was mentioned. .. about thrice a

 week, these days.

 "Speaking of embroidery," said Lilac, straightening up

 with some difficulty and carefully spitting the remaining

 pins into a glass dish so she could safely speak, "where

 is that border lace you were working up, Milida?"

 Milida ran to fetch the thirteen yards of most finely

 tatted lace she had made for the gown. After everyone had

 exclaimed at its delicacy and frothy whiteness. Lilac held

 it up to the hem and bodice of Mym's gown and expertly

 tacked it into position with neat rows of pins.

 Mym, aroused from her spell study, bent to glance down

 and exclaimed, "Oh, how exquisite! Oh, Milida! You do the

 most splendid tatting!"

 The tatter was so overwhelmed with gratification at the

 Lady Apprentice's praise she had to go out onto the back

 porch to regain her composure. She found orchardman

 Priceless and Squire Frenstil standing together in the biting

 Geomancer                 255

 eventime chill, smoking their pipes.

 "Lilac says she don't want the gown smelling like Hay-

 seed's Best Latakea," Priceless chuckled. "Mistress Mym

 never complained on it before, that I recall."

 "No accounting for ladies fussing for a Wedding,"

 observed the Squire. He was as close to Quality as Valley

 boasted, having long ago been a Master of Horse in the

 ducal household. "Well, must be off before it gets total

 dark, friends. Have you carried that aged cider up for the

 wedding, yet?"

 "No, tomorrow I'll get Possumtail and his boys to help

 me haul it over the Brook," decided the orchardman. "Best

 year for apples and pears, too, since long before Flarman

 ever came to Valley."

 "For beef and lambs and porkers, too, thank goodness,"

 said Frenstil, preparing to mount his favorite chestnut mare.

 "We'd have trouble feeding this wedding crowd if it'd been

 a worse year. Might have some shortfalls, at any rate,

 as 'tis."

 Priceless waved him off onto the Trunkety Road and

 excused himself to Milida to go open the byre doors for his

 small dairy herd, already standing patiently in the barnyard

 waiting to be relieved of their milk and bedded down with

 sweet hay from the loft.

 Mym joined the ladies in oohing and aahing a few more

 minutes before she pulled on her doubly furred coat and

 snow boots for the walk back to the High.

 "If you'll come by in the morning, not tomorrow, but

 the next," said Lilac, kissing the Apprentice's rosy cheek

 and giving her a grandmotherly squeeze, "we'll make final

 adjustments in peace and I can look to your special night

 things, as you asked me to do."

 "Friday morning, then," agreed Mym. "Dear, wonderful

 Lilac! What would I do without you! My mother sews a

 fine sail, but she never learned to make such dresses as you

 make, so easily and beautifully,"

 "Oh, lots of the ladies could have done as well, I vow. I

 was just the logical choice, as we lives so close by," Lilac

 256 Don Callander

 demurred—but she blushed with great pleasure-

 "I'd have come to you for my gown, if you had lived

 in Stony Gorge in midwinter!" the Flowring lass declared

 with a bright laugh.

 "Well, here it is midwinter," said the orchardman's elder-

 ly wife. She hugged herself, feeling the bite of the cold.

 She'd heard the tale of Mym's captivity by the Stone War-

 riors, and shuddered at the thought. "Imagine how cold it is

 up there right now!"

 "Makes me feel quite toasty to be here," exclaimed the

 bride. "I'll never complain of winter in Valley."

 They stepped off the porch and met Priceless returning

 from the byre, whistling cheerfully and swinging two ten-

 gallon pails filled to the brim with steaming, creamy fresh

 milk on a yoke across his shoulders.

 "How is your supply of cream up there, missy?" he asked

 Mym. "We've got more than we'll ever use on our peach

 cobblers if Blue Teakettle needs more."

 "I'll inquire, sir," said the Apprentice.

 She gave him a quick peck on his whiskery cheek, smell-

 ing the air about him of winter orchard, cows, cider press,

 hayloft, milk shed, and Hayseed's Best Latakea, a comfort-

 ably homey odor for all its diversity.

 She skipped up the path from the gate to find Douglas

 sitting on the front stoop in his shirtsleeves and open vest,

 sipping cocoa and talking to Bronze Owl.

 "You'll frost your fingers out here," Mym chided

 playfully, plopping down beside him. "Do you realize that

 my Wedding gown has fifty-two tiny pearl buttons down the

 back? One for each week of a year. Lilac says. You'll undo

 each one, one night very soon! Keep your fingers warm and

 supple, please! Share the Hot Spell, darling Wizardling!"

 Douglas blushed bright crimson, and in a moment she

 was warm as toast, partly from his spell, and partly from

 the arm he put about her.

 The three sat in contented silence for the while, the

 young people puffing clouds of pale breath-steam but not

 attempting anything as demanding as blown rings.

 Geomancer                257

 The Stones had been delivered from a wicked and ancient

 enchantment. A new Wizard had joined—and an old Wiz-

 ard rejoined—the Fellowship of Wizards. Marbleheart Sea

 Otter proved a useful, talented, and companionable Famili-

 ar—and a good friend to them all.

 Party was roundly pregnant again, and pleased as punch

 about her condition—as happy as Black Flame was proud

 and Pert was envious.

 Despite the mysterious letter, everything was as perfect

 as it could possibly be. Owl thought. And a new adven-

 ture on the horizon wasn't the worst that could happen

 to them.

 That's what Wizardry is all about, after all, he said, but

 the bride and groom didn't hear his words of wisdom for

 he said them to himself.