He glanced desperately at the dean’s eyes and saw that the flecks of light from the streetlamp on his severe face had faded. The black sky over the square had become gray, and the even silhouettes of the houses were beginning to appear from the receding shadows.
“So you paid the price,” said the dean just as dryly, “for your thoughtless savagery. The man who put that curse on you has doomed you to eternal cowardice. It is possible that he wasn’t even thinking about punishment but simply decided to neutralize you, to protect those who aren’t like you, those who live differently, who cannot or will not arm themselves.”
Dawn broke out over the city. The dean stood up, this time heavily, as if Egert’s tale had fatigued him beyond measure.
“Dean Luayan!” exclaimed Egert, shrouded in despair at the thought that the dean might simply turn and walk away. “Dean Luayan, you are indeed an archmage. I—I have been through so much. I’ve been seeking. I wanted to seek help from you. I beg you; tell me what I must do. I swear I’ll do anything, just please take this, this scar from me!”
The streetlamp sputtered and went out. The sleepy guard emerged from the striped kiosk by the gates and glanced with amusement at the tramp who was conversing with a gentleman of such decorous appearance in the middle of the square. Shutters swung open here and there with crashes, the dairywoman cried out resonantly, and the square suddenly came to life, filling up with various people yawning tiredly while they waited: soon the gates would open.
The dean shook his head in defeat. “Egert, you just don’t understand; you don’t understand who it is fate has brought you into contact with. A curse that is laid upon a person by the Wanderer can only be removed by the Wanderer.”
The lock of the gates solemnly slithered down, and people started surging forward. The steel chain rattled in the rings; the guard—a new one had only just arrived to relieve the old—set about making himself comfortable. The gates emitted a majestic groan and smoothly, almost gracefully, proceeded to open.
“Then what should I do now?” asked Egert in a whisper. “Should I search for him, this Wanderer? Who is he? Where can I find him?”
The rooftops were bathed in sunlight. Yellow and white specks of light danced on tin and copper weathervanes.
“Who he is, no one really knows,” said the dean, almost smiling. “As for looking for him: What makes you so sure that he would even talk to you?”
Egert’s head jerked up. “But, that’s just, just … He’s treated me so badly! What he did to me, and he wouldn’t even talk to me?” Egert shook, he was almost in a rage. “All because of a student? Yes, I killed him! But it was a duel, and with the Wanderer, there was also a dueclass="underline" he should have killed me! I stood before him defenseless. Death for death. But what he did is worse than death and now I envy the student! He died with a sword in his hand, respecting himself. He had a future and he was loved.”
Egert stopped short. It seemed to him that a shadow had flitted across the dean’s face. Cold sparks blazed in the depths of his narrow eyes, and under his glare Egert’s short burst of anger faded away, just as unexpectedly as it had flared up.
“I must find the Wanderer,” said Egert vaguely. “I’ll take myself away, find him or … or, perhaps, I’ll die along the way.”
Hope rang out in these final words, but the dean shook his head with a smile. “‘Anything is possible,’ said the fish to the frying pan.”
Then he turned and started walking away. Egert stared helplessly at his back.
A new day was dawning; by the gates, a trumpet piped up thinly. The city broke open its jaws, forged from steel, so that the dust of the road could sink into the paved streets, so that any family man could set out for the far distances.
The departing dean suddenly stopped. Turning his face over his shoulder, he rubbed his temple as if he could not find the right words. He smiled at his own discomfort. Egert watched him with wide-open eyes.
The dean returned unhurriedly, as if in a reverie. “In any event, it is entirely unnecessary to search for the Wanderer.” He coughed and staggered a bit, and then said slowly, as if weighing each word, “Every year, on the eve of the Day of Jubilation, he appears in the city.”
Egert was stunned. He licked his dry lips and asked in a whisper, “And I will meet him?”
“Not necessarily.” The dean smiled. “But it is possible.”
Egert felt his heart pounding ferociously. “And the Day of Jubilation, when is that?”
“In the autumn.”
Egert felt his heart pound one more time and then freeze. “That’s so long,” he whispered, nearly crying. “So long.”
The dean again rubbed his temple pensively and smiled with just the corner of his mouth. Then, as if he had reached a decision, he took Egert by the elbow. “How about this, Egert: I’ll give you a place as an auditor at the university, but you’ll get room and board like a full-time student. Half a year remains until this possible meeting with your friend, the Wanderer. It would be good for you to spend this time sensibly so that, should he, in the end, indeed deign to give you an audience … I’m not promising you anything; I simply want to help you. Do you understand?”
Egert did not say anything. The dean’s offer seemed to come out of nowhere, and it stunned him a bit. The image of a pale woman in a window drifted through the depths of his consciousness.
“And of course,” added the dean, seeing his perplexity, “of course, no one and nothing at the university will harm you. Do you hear me, Egert?”
Wagons were driving through the open gates; peasants from the surrounding villages were swinging their heads back and forth, struggling through the mass of impudent street urchins, whose eyes unerringly saw and whose hands unerringly grasped anything from the carts that lay in temptation’s way. Egert recalled yesterday’s little adventure with these same urchins and scowled.
“What are you pondering for so long?” The dean seemed mildly surprised that his offer had not been snatched up immediately.
“Huh?” Egert jumped, caught in his thoughts. “Well, really, I … But didn’t I say? I agree.”
5
Two beds with high backs and an old table beneath the little window were all that would fit in the tiny, damp room with the narrow arched ceiling. The small window looked out onto the interior courtyard of the university. Right now it was empty except for the indefatigable old woman who came to clean twice a week; she was pacing back and forth with a duster and a broom.
Egert climbed down from the windowsill and returned to his bed. At the moment, he had more than enough time to lie on his back, stare at the gray arches of the ceiling, and think.
Spring would soon be over, summer would pass by, and then fall would set in. Yet again, Egert counted the remaining months on his fingers. The Day of Jubilation would arrive and a man would come to the city; a man with perfectly clear eyes lacking eyelashes, with fidgety nostrils on his long nose, with a biting sword in his scabbard; a man invested with an unknown but entirely relentless power.
Egert sighed and turned his face to the wall. A small spider was running across the dark stone, throwing its thin, articulated legs up high.
The university was full of students from all walks of life: the poorer among them had their room and board in this wing. The young men who were a bit richer—and there were many of them—rented rooms in the city. Egert avoided both rich and poor. He had written to his father a few days after his installation in the university; without explaining anything, Egert had informed his father that he was alive and well, and had asked for money to be sent.