“I could,” Matt agreed. He looked around the village and saw a huge boulder filling the space between two houses. “You ever think about getting rid of that rock?” He pointed.
Lugerin turned to look. “Aye.” His smile turned vindictive. “None can move it, of course. We must build around it.”
“Well, you never know,” Matt said. “Erosion can wear down a mountain.” He drew his wand, pointed at the boulder, and started chanting.
CHAPTER 28
He hoped Tennyson's ghost wouldn't object. After all, it was in a good cause—clearing living space in a congested area.
The boulder started to vibrate. With sounds like gunshots, cracks appeared at its top, then ran down its sides until the whole mass was segmented like an orange. All at once it fell in on itself with an avalanche's rumble. Where there had been a huge boulder, there was only a heap of tumbled blocks.
The humans poured out of their houses to gaze in amazement.
Lugerin and Ginelur could only stare, thunderstruck.
“Those blocks will need finishing, of course,” Matt said, “but they're basically squared off. Should make fine building stone.”
The two leaders turned to him with awe and fear. Beyond them, their people glanced at the stranger in terror, then looked quickly away.
“So you see, I really am a wizard,” Matt explained. “The young lady who cast the spell that freed your dragons was my apprentice, but she learned everything I could teach her in a year. I'm sure she'd be glad to come back here for a visit if I asked her. So would Stegoman and Dimetrolas, for that matter.”
“How would you know what passes here?” Ginelur asked through stiff lips.
Time to bluff. “I have a dozen ways, of course. I'm sure you've heard of crystal balls and ink pools. Then there are animal sentries, supernatural spies, and … well, I won't bore you with the list.”
They weren't bored. Lugerin glared defiantly, but Matt could see in his eyes the certainty that he was boxed in. Ginelur, on the other hand, was clearly aware that Matt might be bluffing—but it was even more obvious that she didn't dare call him on it.
“Not that my insisting would be necessary, of course,” Matt said. “I'm sure your people will realize the good sense of these ideas. You may have to explain it a bit, but they'll see the wisdom of it.”
“No doubt they shall,” Lugerin said in a monotone. He looked down at Ginelur. “Let us tell them the plan to which our colleague Brongaffer has agreed.”
They went on toward the biggest building, which Matt was more sure than ever was a meeting hall. He smiled to himself as he turned to go back to the young couple.
“You told me a wizard should never make an exhibition of his powers,” Balkis accused as he came up.
“An unnecessary exhibition,” Matt reminded her. “In fact, as I remember it, I said not to be a show-off—don't go working magic without a good reason.”
“And your reason was to make clear to these dragoneers how little choice they had in agreeing to your terms?” Anthony asked.
Matt nodded. “Some people never get beyond thinking that a law only exists if it's enforced. I just showed them that Prester John has a long arm when it comes to his laws.”
Balkis' eyes widened in surprise. “Why, my—” She bit back the word “uncle” and went on. “—emperor has outlawed slavery and banditry, has he not?”
“For a century or more, I'm sure,” Matt said, “and this valley is well within his jurisdiction. They just thought they could do as they pleased because they were so far out of the way from him.”
Anthony's gaze turned distant. “I had not thought of wizards as enforcing laws.”
“Magic can be used for good or for ill,” Matt explained, “and the temptation to use it selfishly is always there, as these bandits demonstrated by enslaving dragons and people with the spells their ancestors' shaman worked out.”
Anthony frowned. “It is well I'm not a wizard, then. I might not prove equal to the temptation.”
“You would use your powers for naught but good.” Balkis clasped his upper arm with both hands. “I can think of few men I would trust with such power as readily as I would you, my love.”
He looked down into her face, drank deeply of the glory of her eyes, and smiled. “With you to strengthen my will, I could.”
“Well, let's find out if you have any power to speak of.” Matt sat down on a big rock, as Balkis moved away, to afford them privacy. “Now, here's a little spell that comes in handy on rainy camping trips; it's for starting a fire …”
Half an hour later Anthony had learned a dozen verses, each on the first try, and was cheerfully making rocks move into fire rings, lighting small blazes, and conjuring up three-foot-wide storm clouds to put them out. Worse, he had managed to come up with improvements on three or four lines in each spell.
“Where did you develop such a quick memory?” Matt asked.
“ Whiling away long winter evenings making up new verses for old stories, with my brothers,” Anthony told him. “The first line I crafted was: 'Thus Alexander's sword swung high to slice the ropes clean through.'”
“Your very first line?” Matt stared. “How old were you at the time?”
“Six, before they let me join the game,” Anthony said, “but I really did very little crafting; I made the line by remembering pieces as my brothers had told them.”
“At six,” Matt echoed, “remembering half a dozen different versions and putting them together.”
“Aye. There was nothing original about it. A year later I improved it to become: ‘His sword swung high to slash the ropes.’ I revised it over the next few years until I made it thus: ‘Then with one blow he cleaved the knot.’ I like that best, but I've had to finish that verse many times since, and had to make the line anew each time. Still, that was the best I phrased it.”
“If you say so,” Matt said. “Do you remember every line you ever made up?”
“I'm sure I have forgotten a few,” Anthony said, “and I only remembered the three or four best versions my brothers crafted of each legend.”
“Oh, is that all.”
“Aye. I fear I have little prominence in memory,” Anthony sighed. “I will remember these verses you have taught me, though.”
“Just use them well,” Matt said. “Tell me, was there a reason why you always made up a variation of the same line?”
“Oh, aye. I am the youngest, so the last line in each verse always fell to me.”
“Seems to me your brothers might have wanted a bit of variety,” Matt said, “though there is something to be said for predictability. Listen, what if somebody shot an arrow at you and you had to make it break before it hit you?”
Anthony frowned in thought. “It would have to be a couplet, for an arrow's flight leaves little time—and iambic or trochaic trimeter, for the same reason.”
“Good thinking,” Matt said. “Give it a try.”
“Why… ‘Arrow, cease your…’ No, that would be to stop it, not to break it.' Snap in flight, arrow of…' No, the meter's wrong. 'Turn and crack, speeding…'No…”
Balkis came back as he was fumbling, growing more red-faced with each failure. Before he started stuttering, she said, “Speeding arrow, break in flight.'”