“Is it? At first that’s all he did—bring in fruits and vegetables to feed His Lordship’s staff, but then he found that if he went down to the river everyone wanted to buy something, so now, I think, he has more customers on the beach than in the servants, although I don’t know if that matters—”
“His name, you say, is Fird?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
Vlad watched a little longer, then grunted and turned away from the cliff.
“Are we going to the caves again?” said Savn.
“No, I was thinking of going back to Tern’s, for a glass of wine.”
“Oh.”
As they walked back along the slip, it seemed to Savn that the feeling had passed—that something which had been open within the strange man who walked next to him had shut again. Well, he thought. Now that it’s too late, 1 wonder what I should have asked him.
As they reached the top of the hill and found the road once more, he said, “Uh, Vlad?”
“Yes?”
“Did you, um, do something to Mae and Pae last night?”
Vlad frowned. “Do something? You mean, cast a spell of some sort? What makes you think so? Are they acting strange?”
“No, it’s just that I don’t understand why they weren’t angry with me for staying out so late.”
“Oh. I took responsibility for it, that’s all.”
“I see,” said Savn. He wasn’t convinced, but then, he had trouble believing that the Easterner had really put a spell on them to begin with. Because he didn’t want to leave that question hanging between them, he said, “What are your parents like?”
“They’re dead,” said Vlad.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He thought for a moment of what it would be like to be without Mae and Pae, then decided not to dwell on the thought. He said, “Are they the ones who taught you?”
“No, my grandfather did that.”
“Is he—?”
“No, he’s still with us. Or, at any rate, he was a few years ago. He’s an old man, but witches, like sorcerers, tend to live a long time.”
They came to the widening of the road that wagons used when they had to turn around, which was located just west of where the road began its twisting way into town. The forest still rose high on either side of them.
Savn said, “Were you going to show me some more witchcraft today?”
Vlad seemed to shrug without actually moving his shoulders. “What would you like to learn?”
“Well, I mean, I don’t know. I’d like to learn to do something interesting.”
“That’s one approach.”
They walked back along the road, passing the place where Savn had first seen Vlad, and started up the gentle slope that lead to the last hill before town.
“What do you mean?” said Savn.
“The Art can be approached from several directions. One is learning to do interesting things, another is the search for knowledge, yet another, the search for understanding, or wisdom, if you prefer, although it isn’t really the same—”
“That’s what you were talking about before, isn’t it? I mean, about witchcraft, and understanding.”
“Yes.”
“But isn’t knowledge the same as understanding?”
“No.”
Savn waited for the Easterner to explain, but he didn’t. Instead he added, “And yet another way is the search for power.”
“Which way did you go?”
“Like you. I wanted to learn to do interesting things. I sort of had to.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh. Well, what about me?”
“You should think about which direction you want to take.”
“I know already.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
“Like I said, I want to do interesting things.”
“Hmmm.”
“Like you.”
“Why is that?”
“To impress girls.”
Vlad looked at him, and Savn had the feeling that the Easterner was, somehow, seeing him for the first time. After a moment, a smile came to Vlad’s mouth and he said softly, “Well, why not? Let’s step off the road a ways. Forests and jungles always feel right for this sort of thing.”
“What about a place of power?”
Vlad chuckled. “Unnecessary—for this stage.”
“All right. I suppose I’ll understand eventually.”
“Yes, chances are you will, but we won’t worry about that for now.”
“Here?”
“A little further, I think. I don’t want to be distracted by the sounds of horses and wagons.”
Savn followed him around thick trees, over low shrubs, and under hanging boughs until he seemed to find what he was looking for, whereupon he grunted, settled down against the wide base of a sugar maple, and said, “Get comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable,” said Savn, seating himself. Then, realizing that he wasn’t, really, adjusted himself as best he could. He began to feel excitement, but he shook his shoulders back and waited, trying to remember the relaxed state he’d been in before. Vlad looked at him carefully, smiling just a little beneath the hair that grew about his lip.
“What is it?” asked Savn.
“Nothing, nothing. What do you know of psychic communication?”
“Well, I know people who can do it, a little. And I know that sorcerers can do it.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Mel Well, no.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I, uh, I have no reason to think I can.”
“Everyone can. You just have to be shown how.”
“You mean, read minds?”
“Not exactly. It’s more like speaking without making a sound. It is possible to read minds, but that is far, far more difficult, and even then you might be caught at it.” Vlad paused, and seemed to be remembering something, to judge by the distant look in his eyes and the half-smile on his face. “Many people become annoyed if you attempt to penetrate their thoughts.”
“I would think so,” said Savn.
Vlad nodded, then reached for a chain that hung around his neck, hesitated, licked his lips, and removed it. On the end was a simple setting which held what appeared to be a piece of black rock.
“What is—?”
“Don’t ask,” said Vlad. At the same time, there was a sudden flapping sound overhead, as if two or three very large birds had been disturbed. Savn jumped, startled, but Vlad shook his head, as if to say that it was nothing to worry about.
“Remember how we relaxed before?” he said. “Well, we’re going to do it again, only this time the experience will be rather different.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see. There will be a disorientation in time, but that is nothing to worry about.”
“All right.”
Once more he closed his eyes and allowed Vlad’s voice to lead him through each muscle in his body, letting the tension leave, letting it flow down, down, into the ground below him, until he felt the now-familiar sensation of floating, as if he were no longer part of his body—as if he stood apart from it, distant and unconcerned. Then Vlad said, “You are feeling very warm, and light—as if you are nothing but a bubble of air, and you can go anywhere. Yes. Think of yourself as an air bubble that moves where you will. You are surrounded by nothing, and you are empty.
Feel that you can move however you please. You are relaxed and confident.”
Yes, Savn agreed. I will feel that way. I choose to, and so I do. Isn’t that remarkable?
“Now,” said Vlad, “picture yourself, a bubble of nothingness, floating down through the ground, down through layers of stone, meshing with it, and, with each layer, you will fall more deeply asleep.”
Yes, I will picture that; I will do that, he thought, and it seemed as if his body were far away.
“Now very slowly, open your eyes, and look at me, but do not rise up. Look at me, and imagine that I am there with you—we are together, two bubbles of air beneath the earth. With the eyes of your body, you see me holding a small piece of fabric. Now you imagine yourself a wind, and you brush against the fabric. There, you see how it flutters? Touch it again, and again. Don’t push; will it to happen. Do you feel the texture of the cloth, smooth, slightly cold, the veins of weave distinct beneath the fingertips of your mind? Once more, a little push. Yes, that was you, you felt it.