“I am King of the Warimu,” the boy replied, his attempt at insulted dignity coming out as a pout. “My powers are greater than any of yours. However,” he added, rescuing himself from acting completely the fool, “I have come to offer you my help. I will take this dangerous invader into my custody, for you have other, far more serious things to concern you. The Savishnon are gathering again to the north of the plain.
You need my powers, Ashuru. You need my armies.”
“The Savishnon were soundly defeated four years ago,” the queen told him. “They remain in small bands, an annoyance, but not a threat to a united front such as we represent. If you fear them, Norgu, you are welcome to join with us for protection.”
“You are the ones who need protection!” the boy fumed.
“All your great Seers have not warned you of the danger. See with me!”
It was as if the diamond head of his staff came alive with light-whirling colors that resolved into a view of the plain with its herds of animals, to the north of the huge lake. Apparently Norgu shared some of the talent of a Grioku.
Then they were traveling northward. The herds of beasts disappeared. Bands of horsemen appeared, growing more numerous as they converged on-
— a camp of thousands!
Around the shore of a small lake an army was gathered. They were making weapons.-arrows, spears, throwing sticks like the ones Wulfston’s attackers had used along the shore. Wagons brought whole trees from the strip of jungle separating the plain from the sea, and craftsmen built catapults, a certain sign that walled castles like Ashuru’s were included in their plans.
The vision faded.
“Norgu,” Ashuru said, “we thank you for this warning, and welcome you to our company.”
“I rule-”
“Will you waste your strength in a contest of powers when our common enemy is readying to attack?”
Ashuru demanded.
“The Savishnon will attack here first,” said Norgu. “If I do not aid you-”
“If you do not aid us,” Ashuru replied, “we may be able to stop them, and we may not. If they defeat our combined powers here, you will stand alone… in their path toward their avowed destruction of the city of Johara! Alone, Norgu, you will be squashed like a beetle beneath the foot of an elephant.”
“No one squashes me! Remember how I dealt with the assassins of Matu? Only a year ago, three assassins caught my father by surprise and killed him while his powers were weakened with use. Like you, they thought me too young to be a danger to them. But they were wrong!” He raised the diamond-headed spear. “They had lost the element of surprise. After they had murdered my father they turned on me, but I easily deflected their pain and their thunderbolts! Summoning my powers, I picked up my father’s fallen spear, and with all my Mover’s strength flung it at them, piercing all three bodies at once! Thus did I revenge my father’s death. Thus did I become King of the Warimu. And thus will I treat all who deny me the rights Shangonu has given me with my powers!”
With that, Norgu leveled the spear at Wulfston, the diamond tip pointed at his throat.
“Would you be a Grioka, Norgu?” Barak suddenly challenged. “Then you must speak only truth. Child, you would like to believe this story as you have just told it, but you have not succeeded in destroying the actuality of that terrible day. What truly occurred was tragic-a wound you have yet to heal.”
Again Barak’s storytelling powers took them all to a different time and place. This time the scene was a village outside the walls of a castle-Norgu’s castle. It was a sunny day. Women gathered at the river that ran nearby, to gossip as they washed clothes. They looked healthy and prosperous, as did the children splashing in the stream.
Norgu, looking slightly younger and even chubbier than he did today, walked beside an older man-his father, Matu, Wulfston knew with everyone else. The older man carried the diamond-headed staff.
Matu was instructing his son; Wulfston was strongly reminded of the days when Nerius took him out into the villages, and taught him his duties to their people.
The lesson was familiar. “While it is true that your people must fear your power, they should fear only to disobey. Do not be capricious, Norgu, or they will hate you. Hate can overcome even the greatest fear…
and then your people will turn on you. If they have not the courage to attack you, they will simply fail to defend you from your enemies. And enemies rise quickly against the ruler who does not have the support of his people.”
“But we are great Movers, Father,” Norgu protested. “We can protect ourselves from our enemies.”
Matu shook his head. “It is no blessing that your powers have developed so early, my son. Already they nearly equal mine, but I have the wisdom of experience. I have friends with powers-friends, Norgu, not servants or reluctant allies. If I need help in teaching you that no man can stand alone against the world, I will have it.”
They came into the marketplace, where people turned to smile and bow as their ruler and his son passed.
Beside the well at the center of the market was a canopied stand with two thronelike chairs. Matu and Norgu took their places, and people began coming forward one by one with their petitions.
Wulfston was impressed. This was the way he had been taught to rule, making himself available to his people at certain times and places where no one could be turned away.
There were differences, though. He liked the way Matu and Norgu came alone, no guards or servants, into the midst of their people. It was friendlier than making them come into the castle-more like Lenardos habit of taking petitions in the forum at Zendi, although he was always amidst a retinue.
Most of the petitions were for healing. The two Movers were also Seers, able to locate broken bones, infections, growths inside people’s bodies, and thus work as the best healers did at home. Matu did most of the healing, Norgu observing as a Seer, learning the techniques.
Wulfston was interested in the way Matu used the diamond-headed staff, touching its head to his patients as if his power flowed through it. He had never before seen an Adept use an instrument to focus his powers. Once
Matu handed it to Norgu, and had the boy heal a vicious infection inside a man’s bowel that had him in agonizing pain.
As the strain and paleness left the man’s face, he looked up at Norgu and whispered, “Shangonu bless you,” and drifted off into healing sleep.
Matu put a hand on his son’s shoulder, and Norgu smiled at him. Then he returned the staff, and Matu continued with his work.
Wulfston estimated that the work Matu had done by then would leave an average Lord Adept weary-not exhausted, but ready for a good meal and a night’s sleep. If Matu went on, it would suggest that his powers were beyond the average for a ruler, more on the level of Wulfston’s or Aradia’s.
Soon, though, Matu stood. “At the quarter-mooR,” he said, “there will be another healing day. None left among you is in pain, or has any problem that will be worsened by waiting until then.”
“Excellent king!”
It was a cry of despair. Matu looked up sharply, and he and Norgu Read a ragged group of strangers guiding a rickety wagon drawn by a half-starved donkey. A woman ran forward, her emotions a jumble of grief and terror. “Oh, King Matu, please! My husband!”
On the wagon a man lay moaning, burned so badly that he hardly appeared human.
The moment Matu Read his pain he gasped, then sent the man to sleep, saying, “Bring him here at once.”
Two men in hooded robes shoved the wagon forward while a third lashed the exhausted donkey.
Matu touched the diamond-headed spear to the injured man’s forehead, and concentrated. Norgu Read that the patient was close to death, and was stepping forward to add his strength to that of his father when he suddenly Read something from the anxious woman.