In his more realistic moments, Wiz admitted he couldn’t possibly imagine what that ability might be. The image of him standing before a boiling cauldron in a long robe and a pointed cap with stars was simply silly and the thought of himself as a warrior was even worse.
"Lady, may I ask you a question?" Wiz said to Shiara one day when Moira wasn’t around. The former wizardess was sitting on a wooden bench on the sunny side of the keep, enjoying the warmth from the sun before her and the sun-warmed stones behind.
"Of course, Sparrow," she said kindly, turning her face to his voice.
"Patrius was a great Wizard wasn’t he?"
"One of the greatest the North has ever seen." She smiled reminiscently. "He was not only skilled in magic, he—well—he saw things. Not by magic, but because had the kind of mind that let him see what others’ sight had passed over."
"But he didn’t make mistakes very often?"
"Making mistakes is dangerous for a wizard, Sparrow. Magicians who are prone to them do not last."
Wiz took a deep breath and rushed on. "Then he couldn’t have been wrong about me, could he?"
Shiara paused before answering. "I do not know, Sparrow. Certainly he was engaged in a dangerous, difficult business, performing a Great Summoning unaided. If he were to make a mistake it might be in a situation such as that.
"On the other hand," she went on as if she sensed Wiz’s spirits fall, "Patrius could look deeper and see more subtly than anyone I ever knew. It may well be that we cannot fathom his purposes in bringing you here."
"Do you think the Council will figure out what he was up to?"
Again Shiara paused. "I do not know, Sparrow. Patrius apparently confided in no one. The members of the Council are the wisest of the Mighty. I would think they would discover his aim. But I simply do not know." She smiled at him. "When the Council knows something they will send word. Best to wait until then."
In the event it was less than a week later when word came to Heart’s Ease.
It was another of the mild cloudless days that seemed to mark the end of summer in the North. Wiz was up on the battlements, looking out over the Wild Wood—and down at Moira who was busy in the garden.
"Sparrow," Shiara’s voice called softly behind him, "we have a visitor."
Wiz turned and there, standing next to Shiara was Bal-Simba himself.
"Lord," Wiz gasped. "I didn’t see you arrive."
"Such is the nature of the Wizard’s Way," the huge wizard said with a smile. "How are you, Sparrow?"
"I’m fine, Lord."
"I am happy to see that you made your journey here safely. Although not without peril, I am told."
"Well, yes, Lord, that is…" Wiz trailed off, overawed by the wizard’s size and appearance.
"I will leave you now, Lord," Shiara put in. "Doubtless you have things to discuss."
"Thank you, Lady," Bal-Simba rumbled.
"What did you find out?" Wiz demanded as soon as Shiara had closed the door.
"Very little, I am afraid," Bal-Simba said regretfully. "There is no trace of magic in you. You are not a wizard and have not the talent to become one. There is a trace of—something—but not the most cunning demons nor the most clever of the Mighty can discern ought of what it is."
Wiz took a deep, shuddering breath. "Which means—what?"
"It means," the wizard said gently, "that to all intents and purposes you are an ordinary mortal with nothing magic to make you special."
"Okay, so send me home then."
Bal-Simba shook his head. "I am truly sorry, Sparrow, but that we cannot do."
"Oh crap! You brought me here, you can send me home."
"It is not that simple, Sparrow."
"It is that simple! It is exactly that simple. If you can bring me here you can send me back."
"No it is not!" Bal-Simba said sharply. "Now heed me. I will explain to you a little of the magic that brought you here.
"Did you ever wonder why Patrius chose to Summon you at a place far removed from the Capital? No, why would you? He did it because he hoped to do alone what he and all the Mighty could not accomplish acting together.
"Normally a Great Summoning is done by several of the Mighty together. But such a gathering of magic would be immediately visible to the magicians of the Dark League. They would strive to interfere and we would have to use magic to protect it. Soon there would be so much magical energy tied up in thrust and parry that the circle could not hope to make the Great Summoning.
"Of us all, only Patrius had the knowledge and ability to perform a Great Summoning unaided. He knew he could not completely escape the League’s attention, but he apparently hoped that they would not realize what was happening until he had completed the spell." Bal-Simba looked grim. "As it happened he was wrong and the gamble cost Patrius his life.
"Simply put, Sparrow, there is no hope of returning you to your world unless we can perform a Great Summoning unhindered and there is no hope of that with the League growing in power."
Wiz’s face twisted. "Damn."
"Even non-magicians should not swear, Sparrow," Bal-Simba said sternly.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? You’ve just told me I’m nothing and I’ll always be nothing. I’m supposed to be happy about it?"
"I did not say you were nothing. I said you have nothing of magic about you. You have a life to live and can make of it what you will."
"Fine," Wiz said bitterly. "I don’t suppose you could use your magic to whip me up a VAX? Or even a crummy IBM PC?"
"I am afraid not, Sparrow. Besides, I do not think those things would work here."
Wiz leaned forward against the parapet and clasped his hands together. "So," he sighed. "What do I do now?"
"Survive," Bal-Simba said. "Live. That is the lot of most."
"That’s not very enticing," Wiz growled. "I can’t go home and there’s nothing for me here."
Bal-Simba followed his gaze down into the garden where Moira was kneeling among the plants.
"Things change, Sparrow. Things change."
"Not much to hope for, is it?"
"Men have lived on the hope of less," Bal-Simba rumbled. "Do you have courage, Sparrow? The courage to hope?"
Wiz turned to face him and smiled bitterly. "I can’t have much else, can I?"
They stood looking out over the battlements and to the forest beyond for a moment more.
"You can stay here for as long as you like," Bal-Simba said finally. "The Dark League still seeks you and it is not safe for you to wander abroad in the world."
"Thanks," Wiz mumbled. "I guess I can find some way to make myself useful."
"That will be your choice, Sparrow."
As he moved to go, Bal-Simba placed his left hand on Wiz’s shoulder and made an odd gesture in front of his eyes with his right. A thrill ran though Wiz’s body and he shivered involuntarily.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"A minor magic, Sparrow," the giant black wizard said. "It is for your own good, I assure you."
He left Wiz staring out over the forest and descended the stairs.
After Bal-Simba left, Wiz looked down at the flagged courtyard spread out below.
It’s a long way, he thought. It would take, what?, five, six seconds to fall that far.
That was one out, anyway. Short and relatively painless. He could just swing a leg over and solve everyone’s problems in an eyeblink. Moira could go back to her village, Shiara and Ugo would have peace again and him, well, he wouldn’t care any more.
He drew back from the edge. No dammit! I’ll be damned if I’ll let this beat me like that! Besides, he thought wryly, with my luck I’d probably just cripple myself. Oh, to hell with it! He went back to staring out at the forest.