Gaelinar looked away from Silme to confront Larson. His glower made it clear he understood Larson's intentions, and equally apparent that they displeased him. "We may be delayed."
Larson remained adamant. "Unless we're killed, we can make it back in five days."
Gaelinar rattled his fingers against the sheath of his katana impatiently. "I consider death a more extreme delay." He met Brendor's stricken stare and relented. "Fine, no rations. But I'm certain Brendor knows I could think of better ways to be rid of a young wizard than leaving him in a town, with my name and description, to wreak future vengeance." Gaelinar patted his sword pommel to make his pronouncement perfectly clear. Still staring at the boy, the Kensei pointed at the adoring peasants and changed the topic. " Brendor, Silme has many friends in Manivoll. If you ever wanted to become a silversmith or a baker or a cooper, let her know."
"I want to be a wizard." Brendor's pout was uncompromising.
"And?" Gaelinar asked as if the child had not finished.
"Just a wizard." Brendor jerked his head with resolution. "Wizards are the smartest people in the world."
"Gaelinar laced his fingers on his chin as he pondered a situation which had grown more complex than he anticipated. Larson tried to help. "What's so special about wizards?"
Brendor answered without hesitation. "Wizards make magic, and they know more than anyone else."
"More than silversmiths and coopers?" Larson asked, though he was unfamiliar with the latter occupation and could only guess at its meaning.
Brendor nodded.
Larson winked at Gaelinar. "Then I guess you already know how to fashion jewelry and: urn: shoe horses."
"Welclass="underline" no."
Gaelinar chuckled at Larson's misinterpretation of a cooper's profession. "Did your Uncle Crullian know how to: um: shoe horses?"
Brendor bit his lip and nodded assent.
"As does Silme," Gaelinar finished. "Wizards are supposed to understand simple things like that." He cast a furtive glance toward Silme who had already begun working her way toward them through the crowd. The Kensei's voice dropped to a whisper as he addressed the child again. "Lucky for you Silme never discovered the gap in your education or she wouldn't have let you become her apprentice. You've only five days to correct your serious deficiency. But don't worry, we won't tell her." The swordmaster clamped a hand over his mouth in mock conspiracy as Silme dispersed the throng and returned to her companions.
"We won't have any problem finding a temporary home for Brendor." Silme jabbed the road dirt with the base of her dragonstaff. "I've found more than enough volunteers."
Gaelinar winked at no one in particular. " Brendor has requested a five-day apprenticeship with the blacksmith."
"Fine choice," she said to the boy. "I'm certain Sigurdhr would appreciate your company." She led her companions through a town smaller and poorer than Forste -Mar, stopping occasionally to exchange greetings and introductions. Larson met scores of blonds and redheads with names which required spelling out. He found that most had final pronounced e's or silent r's and promptly forgot all of them. For their part, the townsfolk spared Larson more than his share of stares, but he recognized none of the hostility against elves he had received in Silme's hometown. He wondered how much Silme's presence might have altered the events in Ura's tavern.
Larson heard the crash of hammer against anvil long before they rounded the corner of Sigurdhr's house. They found the blacksmith intent on a bent strip of steel, his honey-colored beard sweat-plastered to his chin. Back to the newcomers, a youngster a few years older than Brendor worked the bellows with an effort which grew sloppy with fatigue.
" Yo, Eirik!" Sigurdhr bellowed at the boy. He raised his head, caught sight of Silme, and stopped in mid-yell. "Silme!" He gestured her forward with an exaggerated wave. Sigurdhr examined his works briefly, dismayed to find only horseshoes, barrel hoops, and a wood-cutting axe, none of which seemed the proper gift for a lady. Eirik released the bellows with a relieved sigh and shook cramps from his arms.
While the blacksmith introduced his son, Eirik, and Silme presented Tier companions, Brendor clung to Larson despite the fact that the elf was every bit as inexperienced as himself. Eirik greeted Brendor with so much exuberance, the healer's nephew regained sufficient confidence and interest to release Larson and speak. "I'm a wizard!"
Eirik's features twisted in awe. Sigurdhr nodded encouragement. "Silme. You and your distinguished companions must stay for dinner and the night. Kelda's prepared lamb stew with goat's milk cheese. She always makes enough for a boat load of warriors. And we've plenty of room." He waved his guests toward the door of the cottage without waiting for confirmation.
For the first time, Larson noticed the streaks of gray in the sky which heralded sunset. The gnawing in his gut which he had attributed to the anxiety of entering the town became a tense grumble of hunger. They had traveled right through without pausing for lunch. Eagerly, he followed Silme and Brendor through the cottage door, into the welcoming aroma of gravy and fresh-baked bread.
Gaelinar bowed politely to his hosts. "Forgive me, Sigurdhr Blacksmith. Lord Alleruni and I cannot attend your meal. We've a sword lesson to complete."
Larson turned suddenly and reluctantly from the feast. "Now? But there's food on the table."
Gaelinar bowed again, but his words were without compromise. "Practice. Now."
"Excuse me," Larson mumbled to their host. He found abandoning dinner for swordplay painful, but he followed the Kensei across the brown grasses of the blacksmith's lawn to an open area beyond the forge. An edge of the sun had already slipped beneath the horizon, coloring the western sky as red as the blood in Vidarr's vision. Larson scowled as he reached for his sword. "You're one hell of a gung ho gook."
"Pardon me?" Gaelinar's hand paused on the brocade of his katana.
"Nothing." Larson sighed, enjoying the sound of English in this legendary Northern world. "But where I come from, it's impolite to refuse dinner with a host."
Gaelinar nodded once, his eyes dark as midnight. "Hero, if you miss a meal tonight, you will have another tomorrow." He paused as the air hummed with the first of the evening's mosquitoes. "If you skip practice, you may not. Begin."
Larson obeyed with reluctant annoyance. In two days, he would face the greatest challenge of his new life with nothing but the knowledge of a few dodges and strikes. Surely one lesson more or less would make little difference to his abilities. But Gaelinar seemed to think otherwise, and Larson found it impossible to argue with the swordmaster concerning his own trade.
Gaelinar worked Larson without mercy far into the moonless night. For each success, the Kensei presented a new challenge until Larson's annoyance folded beneath all-encompassing fatigue. More and more frequently, he relied on Vidarr's cues. By the time the practice concluded, without ceremony or. praise, Larson no longer wanted food, just a place to lie down and a full night's rest.
Gaelinar and Larson returned to the cottage in a silence which pleased the elf. Condemning words or maxims would have rekindled the exasperation he struggled to suppress. Inside, Gaelinar joined the conversation of Silme, Sigurdhr, and Kelda who shared tea before a roaring fire. Larson excused himself with a yawn, and Kelda showed him to a bedroom with a straw pallet and a hand-knitted quilt. There, Larson promptly fell asleep.
The dream seized control of Larson during the shallow, twilight slumber near to awakening. It began as a pleasant vision of the extension of their journey. Gaelinar, Silme, and himself rode along a meandering path beside the river Sylg, which twisted like a silver serpent, widening to a torrent of ice-flecked waters. The trail forked many times. Always in the past they had taken the branch which most closely paralleled the river. But in the dream, Silme indicated a wooden sign corroded by fungus and started down a side path which led away from the stream.